18+ below the cut or i’ll haunt you like a ghost from your past <3
***
He was in heaven.
“Say it…” He growls, his hips rocking forward.
Deep, deeper, deepest.
It didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.
“Tell me what I wanna’ hear.”
You have one hand fisted in his damp hair and the other leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his shoulder. You pant, your face buried in the crook of his neck, soft whines leaving your raw, kiss-flushed lips with every snap of his hips.
He wasn’t sure how long the two of you had been there. Mere minutes? Hours? Days? He’d stopped counting, stopped questioning— had he ever questioned this? He couldn’t remember. If he had, all of those queries had long sank into euphoric oblivion. All that was left was you.
Leaning down he cages your head between his arms and demands once more, “Tell me, Baby. Tell me what I’ve always known.”
“M’yours,” You mumble, hand tugging softly at his hair, back arching up, your soft body meeting to contours of his hard one.
He moans in your ear and the sound rocks through your body. You shiver, another soft whimper leaving your parted lips between pants.
“Mine,” Stephen says, the single syllable coming from somewhere deep inside his soul, his body trying to match his timbre as he sinks impossibly deeper into your heat, “You’re mine, Augustine.”
Deep, deeper, deepest.
It still wasn’t enough. He needed more.
He needed to live inside you. He needed to feel your warmth wrapped around him for life. Longer than that.
Maybe religion wasn’t such a bad idea… if it meant he’d be able to spend eternity wrapped up in you.
Pulling back just a bit, Stephen looks down at you. Your face coated in a thin sheen of sweat, blonde lashes fluttering as your eyes open and close. Beautiful eyes. Magnificent eyes. He’d never considered himself a poet or a romantic, but he could see worlds inside your irises. Layers of greens and browns and gold unlike anything he’d ever seen.
Your hand runs down the plane of his back, gentle fingers sliding over his obliques, a soft smile on your lips. White hair falls over your shoulders and pillows.
“Beautiful,” He whispers, “So beautiful.”
Your smile grows, your hands settling on the small of his back as you reply, “You should see yourself.”
But he could see himself.
Why could he see himself?
“Tell me what you told me earlier,” You request, rolling your hips upward, “That’s what I want to hear.”
And he hadn’t said it earlier. Not that he remembered. But somehow he knew exactly what you wanted him to say.
“I love you.”
You flutter around him at the declaration, lips parting as you let out a soft moan, your eyes rolling back.
“I love you,” He repeats once more, reaching up to take your face in one hand, “I’ll love you forever.”
In a flash of no specific movement, you’re sat atop him, large, plush thighs straddling his waist, bare chest on display. You balance yourself using his thighs and throw your head back. You look glorious. You feel incredible… indescribable.
Your hips roll like waves, using his body to chase your own pleasure, and that was pleasure enough for him. His hands find your hips, kneading at the soft flesh, his eyes devouring you.
Perfect.
Perfect.
“Perfect,” You moan, “Feels so good, Stephen,” Your legs quiver, “S’too good.”
He reaches down and strums over your clit, though his eyes don’t stray from your face. You looked radiant. Literal light seemed to emanate from your person. Blinding and hot and—
Stephen’s eyes shoot open. Directly in front of him, the San Diego skyline. Yellow sunlight beams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He rolls over, groans as if in agony— which he felt he was— and slams his fist into the pillow at his side.
Warnings: age gap, flirtation, mentions of tattoos (?), mentions of drinking, strict/overbearing parent. smut: masturbation (m), oral (m receiving), Daddy kink. timeline? canon? never heard of them.
Word Count: 7,581
Reading time: ≈ 28 mins.
A/N: to anon who originally requested dbf!stephen… here you go bestie XD i would reread the first part because things have been revised and edited! pt. 2 will be all the smut you crave. this is very start of their little relationship. and big thanks to @tessieds for the larger plot idea.
You were sitting in one of the old, worn-out chairs in the hospital lobby, kicking your feet back and forth, waiting for your dad. He was supposed to be out minutes ago, but every time the elevator doors dinged open, you were met with another unrecognizable face. That was until those doors dinged open to reveal human perfection in the form of Doctor Strange. You immediately pulled your eyes from the elevator, your cheeks ablaze. Of course he would make it down before your dad.
You couldn't speak to Doctor Strange alone. Not as like... as a rule or anything. Your dad loved the man. Best friends since Strange took up residency under him over a decade ago now. But as in physically, you couldn't talk to him like a normal person. You got all tongue-tied and sweaty and had a really, really hard time not falling into the chasm that were those beautiful eyes. He was just… so fucking gorgeous. A head full of dark hair, bright eyes, full lips, broad shoulders, strong-looking arms, towering over you…
You’d had a little school-girl crush on the man ever since you’d moved to New York to live with your dad. You were promptly introduced to Strange at sixteen years old, all awkward and hormonal. And at the time it was mortally embarrassing and you were a little grossed out with yourself— the three years it’d been since then had done little to quell the embarrassment, but you didn’t feel quite so gross. There was no shame in finding a hot man hot.
But even worse than just being hot, he was hot and cocky. With the brains to back it up. And you could swear every time he spoke to you, he just loved watching you get all tongue-tied. He'd quirk a little half smile as you sputtered and struggled to form an articulate sentence, eventually offering a response to his own question on your behalf. Maybe he wouldn't notice you?
"Y/N?" Came that beautiful deep baritone you heard late at night with you hand between–
Ugh.
You looked up and tried to force a soft smile on your face, though it probably came off more as a grimace. He immediately flashed you that beautiful smile and you were grateful you were sitting, or your knees certainly would have gone weak. He was still in his scrubs. Oh, God. He just looked so dreamy and authoritative and sexy. There was no way scrubs should fit any man that well. It looked like if he flexed too hard the shirt would rip straight off his body.
Oh, that was so going in the spank bank.
"Hello, Doctor Strange." You murmur, toying with the hem of your skirt
"What are you doing here?" He asks curiously
"Oh, well... Dad and I are going to dinner tonight. He was supposed to get off at–"
"Five." Strange finishes for you, "That was before he got in a kid that shoved a dime so far up his nose, they nearly sent him to me instead." Stephen realized very quickly when your face fell, "He didn't tell you?"
You give a weak laugh, "I guess he forgot about me..." You cringe when you realize how sad and desperate the joke sounds, "I just mean– he's forgetful, you know? Not that he… yeah.”
Stephen nods and agrees, "Forgot my birthday ten years running... until last year."
Your face flushed a shade darker as you recalled the dinner your dad had taken Stephen to to celebrate... after you'd reminded him that morning that it was Strange's birthday. You'd been invited. You, your father, Strange, and the woman your father had been talking to at the time— now his girlfriend. His girlfriend that he spent all his time with. She was sweet enough, gorgeous, worked at the hospital with him, but man… she really took a lot of his time.
It was no secret to Stephen that you were lonely. Your parents were separated, your dad up here and your mom in Atlanta. Your friends were... few and far between, your so-called 'boyfriend' was a dick from everything your dad had told him— and Stephen had been told quite a lot. But still better company than none, he supposed. Stephen would offer his own services as company for the night if it weren’t… such an odd thing to do.
If he trusted himself with you.
You were nothing but trouble for the Doctor. Too young, too related to his best friend, too naive. You had the power to singlehandedly disrupt everything that he’d worked so hard for. You, who was just a kid not so long ago. But well… time had certainly won that battle. There was no doubt you had grown into a beautiful young woman. Shy and underconfident perhaps, but very attractive all the same. And yeah, such an observation was left better in his own mind— and it had been. He would never admit to another soul the things he’d started thinking about you in the last year or so. But oh…
He’d been thinking.
And what he thought about when it came to you wasn’t kosher, to say the least. Most of his thoughts of you came late at night in bed with his hand tugging at his cock, or in the shower the same way. The way you blushed and stuttered and squirmed. And he probably should have felt bad… he knew such a reaction was likely due to discomfort and anxiety, but you just looked so pretty like that. Like you did now.
"In that case..." You sigh, grabbing your purse and pushing up from the chair, "guess I'll be calling a cab."
"Well, um..." Stephen clears his throat, "I could drive you somewhere? Back home? Your boyfriends' house... damn, what's his name?"
A few more minutes with you. A few more minutes to find the perfect instance to play back in his mind over and over when he got home and stepped in the shower.
Your face goes cherry red and you shuffle back and forth on your feet, "David? David and I... well, he broke up with me."
The Doctor snorts, "Why on earth–"
To redirect him from having to answer that question you accept, "But I'd love a ride home."
Stephen nods slowly, looking you up and down and noting your outfit. A short, flowy black skirt that was snug around your waist, a sweater low cut in the top, a pair of black boots, and an oversized denim jacket. Your hair was even done in soft waves, makeup natural but there. You looked so sweet.
How could he possibly let you be alone tonight?
"Sure, yeah, I could do that." He nods slowly, "Or uh, if you wanted... I'm sure you were excited for dinner. I could go home and change, and we could go wherever you had in mind?"
He told himself it was just a favor to your dad. No one wants their little girl alone on a Friday night. Who knows where you'd end up without someone to keep an eye on you? And who better than his best friend? Someone he… trusted… more than anyone.
Fuck. Stephen was a scumbag.
You were speechless.
Dinner? Alone? With Doctor Strange? At his invitation?
Stephen took your silence and wide-eyed stare as discomfort and immediately rushed out, "Only if you'd be comfortable, that is. I didn't mean–"
"Oh, no!" You exclaim, "I would love– like... that would be great... good... fine." You stutter out
Strange quirked a little smile, "We'll aim for great."
And that’s how you ended up sitting across from Doctor Strange at your dad’s favorite steak house in Manhattan, trying to pinch yourself awake from this dream, while also ignoring the fact that it was clearly real judging by the slick between your legs. When Strange said he was going to go in and change, you’d expected some khakis and a polo… not navy slacks and an olive-colored sweater that he just looked divine in. He knew how to dress. You were so used to seeing him in scrubs or jeans and a tee, this was delightful.
And he kept rolling the arms of his sweater up, his forearms bulging, biceps straining against the fabric. He’d fussed with his hair some while he was inside, coming back out and apologizing for it looking a mess. There was a single strand out of place. Right up front that kept falling over his forehead, causing him to continuously reach up and run his hand through his hair.
“So, how’s school going?” Stephen asks after the hostess leaves, noticing the way you nervously pull at the tablecloth
“Oh…” You give a little giggle and glance up at him through your lashes, “You know… I always feel so silly talking about school with people like you— dad too.”
Stephen placed his napkin in his lap and leaning forward a bit prods, “Why’s that, Sweetheart?”
Your brain went haywire. Sweetheart? He’d never called you that before. Never, ever. You surely would have remembered that. Maybe it was just a slip?
“Seriously?” You smile, “You and he are saving lives and finding new ways to do it… I’m just good with pens and pencils.” You consider a moment before admitting, “Not that I don’t think that’s not important. The arts are necessary too, just on a different level. And I’m proud of what I can do, but it feels ridiculous to talk about when— well, like I said, you go to work every day and save people. Makes you feel a bit insignificant, you know?”
Stephen knew that a lot of that “feeling silly” probably came from your dad. To say he was displeased when you’d decided to pursue art as a career was… putting it mildly. Your dad was a good guy, but he was high-strung. He worried about you, your future, your finances… the sort of thing kids like him and Stephen get brought up worrying about and consequently never stopped worrying about. But it didn’t seem to get through to your dad that he’d done something right for his daughter to be so disconcerted with the same thing. You felt safe and secure because of him. You felt like you could support yourself and do something you loved at the same time. Stephen admired that.
“Well, it’s not.” Stephen reaffirms, “You’re right, it’s plenty important. Have you decided what you want to do with it yet?”
You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and Stephen desperately wanted to reach across the table and pull it out. You reached up and tucked your hair behind your ear, fiddling with your earring. Stephen couldn’t help but note how the soft candlelight at the center of the table made you look so warm. He didn’t stop looking at you, not as you deliberated, not as the waiter came back and served you your water and Stephen his wine, not when he waved the waiter away murmuring that you needed some more time, and not as he continued to watch you deliberate.
“C’mon, Sweetheart.” Stephen encouraged, “It’s just me, you can tell.”
“You won’t tell dad?”
“I won’t tell your dad.”
“Promise?”
Doctor Strange rolled his eyes but smiled, reached across the table, and offered his pinky, “Pinky promise.”
You smiled shyly and reached over, twisting your pinky around his. Oh. Oh, his hands were big. You withheld a little whimper at the observation. Stephen nearly laughed at the difference between your hand and his own. Weren’t you just adorable? Such a sweet little thing…
You disjoined your pinky from Stephen’s, taking a quick sip of your water before murmuring, “I uh— I’ve been thinking body art.”
Stephen nearly choked on his wine, “Like… as in tattooing?”
You nodded and shrunk back a bit, though there was a small smile on your lips from his reaction. Your dad would so not be down for this. There were a few things Stephen had learned about your dad over the course of their friendship, and one of those things were his preferences when it came to women. You wanna’ guess what one of his biggest turn-offs was?
That’s right, tattoos.
Your dad thought they were trashy. Trashy and cheap. Many more derogatory terms had been used before, but Stephen wasn’t exactly in agreement. He didn’t see the big deal. It was just a little ink, and it was their body. What the hell should it matter? But Stephen could draw a pretty strong inference… if your dad didn’t like tattoos on women in general, he certainly wasn’t going to like the idea of you being the one to put them there. Or God forbid, get one yourself.
Stephen dabbed his mouth with his napkin and continued, “Is that it? Just a tattoo artist?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. And first of all, it’s not just tattooing anymore. It’s body art, piercing, cosmetic tattooing—“
“Sounds like tattooing…” Stephen teases with a grin
“Yeah, well it is!” You giggle, “But it’s not… it’s a whole different process, okay? And I wanna learn it all.” You pick at your nails, “I just… I know starting off it’s not exactly lucrative, but in the long run, I think it’ll turn out alright. Who knows, I may end up somewhere crazy reputable? Or I could even open my own place. A-and I’d never be bored. And after some time I’ll get to a point where I only have to take the jobs and do the work that I really want to do. Creative freedom, free time, freelancing my other work still.” You shrug and glance back up at him nervously, “It just makes sense.”
Stephen takes a long sip from his glass before trying to gently dissuade, “It sounds perfect for you, it does. But is a tattoo shop going to hire someone who doesn’t have tattoos themselves?”
Stephen thought he was going to pass out when you gave a little smirk and murmured, “Who says I don’t...”
You let out a laugh at the way Doctor Strange just sat there blinking at you. You smiled when you noticed his cheeks turning red… he never had been a fan of being wrong, but you’d managed to catch him off guard.
“W-well… what… when…” Stephen stuttered out, before succumbing to the inevitable, “where?”
“The first one I got the day I turned eighteen. It starts right about here…” You reach across your body and point at the very upper part of your ribcage, parallel to your chest, “and it wraps under here.” You trace your finger along the underside of your breast, which Stephen watches with great interest before realizing just how great his interest must appear and redirecting his attention to your face as you explain, “Olive branch, fine line, love it to death. The second is another fine line, got that as a present for making it through the first year of college, on my sternum… a sort of north star design I drew up as an accent for a larger work and really loved.” You could see the Doctor’s face growing redder and realized, “Oh, Doctor Strange, I’m sorry… I should have asked— I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”
Doctor Strange shook his head, “No, no. You’re… it’s fine.” he gives a little laugh, “You’re just normally… much shier than this.”
You feel your own cheeks heat up, “I guess I just get excited talking about it, I never get to, you know? Dad would kill me if he knew…” You flit your eyes back up to Stephen, “And I would like to live a few more years of life.”
“Secret’s safe with me…” Stephen reassures, “Is it just those two?”
You force back a smile at his genuine interest, “One more… just got it a few weeks ago, after the breakup.” You snort, “Maybe not as cheap as a therapy session, but super fun.”
Stephen chuckles, “Alright, where and what?”
“Well, this one was just sort of silly and… and I just thought it’d be funny and cute.” You giggle, “It’s… it’s on my ass.” You watch as Strange forces back a smile, “And it says ‘bite me.’”
Stephen couldn’t have held back his laugh if his life depended on it. Fucking perfect.
“That… that’s a good one. Sure he’d have loved to see it.”
Stephen sure would.
You give a little huff and roll your eyes, slinking down in your chair and muttering, “Yeah, that was like… the whole issue.”
Oh?
Oh.
“Oh.”
You looked up to find Strange staring at you seriously. He sits up straighter in his seat and leans forward, studying your face intently. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you didn’t guess he found it, as his brow furrowed, lips turning down in a frown.
“Y/N… he didn’t… hurt you?” Stephen suggests quietly, “And I need you to be honest with me, Sweetheart. Tell me the whole truth.”
You swallow hard and look away, “I mean, he never… he’d stop when I asked him to, he just never asked in the first place.” You shift in your seat, “I just— it’s not like we never did anything— he just wanted to do a lot more and go a lot farther than I was willing to right now, and…” You shrug, your hands coming up to smooth over the tablecloth, “He gave me an ultimatum revolving around it at the start of the month and I refused, so he ditched me.” You give a shaky exhale, “And I know that’s for the best, really, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting any less, you know?”
“Sure, but for what it’s worth…” You startled as the Doctor’s hand came over one of your own fussing with the table cloth, “I’m really proud of you for doing what was best for you.”
You nod, looking down at Strange’s hand over your own. Though over your own implies that you could see your own beneath his, and you couldn’t, but it was there. He was touching you.
Holy shit he was touching you!
“I-I uh…” You stutter, “Thank you, Doctor Strange. That’s nice to—“ A wave of panic washes over you, eyes going wide as you look up to him, “I uh… my dad doesn’t know that I— well, he knows I have… more so had— a boyfriend, obviously, but he doesn’t know that I…” You trail off
Your face was tilted downward, Stephen suspected to hide your blush though he could see it clear as day. Stephen knew what you were trying to say. Much like the tattoos, your father anticipated nothing but pure innocence from his little girl. The idea that she would engage in any sexual act, even at the age of nineteen, would be completely unacceptable. Though it sounded to Stephen that what you had engaged in was very minimal. He took his hand from yours gently and pulled his chair closer to the table.
“Again, secret’s safe with me, Y/N. You’re a legal adult and nothing you’ve told me you do is illegal or harmful to your health.” Stephen smiled when he saw the tension fall from your shoulders, “But just so we’re clear, if you are having sex or plan to any time soon you should be using protection and—“
“Doctor Strange!” Your eyes blow wide and you whip your head around to see if there’s anyone nearby
Stephen couldn’t help but laugh at the reaction, “Well, Sweetheart, if you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”
“I… can! I just— not with you!” You choke out, bringing your hands to your cheeks which have caught fire
Stephen chuckles and takes another sip from his glass, “Well, as long as you have someone to speak to about the subject.”
“My mom.” You agree, “She’s never been as strict as dad, you know?” Your brow furrows a bit, “I think… I think I’m going to talk to him about moving to Atlanta with mom for a few years.”
“Oh?”
“Well, we both know dad won’t let me start an internship at a tattoo shop while I live with him—“
“Wow, okay. You’re serious about that.”
You give a little huff, “Imagine that. I actually have brain cells and can think for myself.”
Strange gives you a stern look, “That’s not what I meant.”
“Sorry…” You murmur, “Just sounds like him. But yes, I am serious. And it’d be easier to get into the scene in Atlanta or Athens… their state university is in Athens, big crowd. And maybe with mom I can start… actually living. Instead of straight to school and straight home.”
Strange’s brow tensed, “I mean, I knew he was sort of hard on you, but is he that strict?”
“Doctor Strange, it wasn’t far off from the truth when I said he’d kill me if he found out I had tattoos. He wouldn’t actually, of course, but I don’t put it past him to put me on the street. My dad is… my dad has done right by me. He has taken great care of me, provided for me beyond what he had to, given me the opportunity for a great education, I’m not blind to that. He loves me and he is so proud of me…” You hesitate and take in a deep breath before whispering, “As long as I’m doing exactly what he wants and pretending to be this perfect paradigm of a daughter. He is so controlling. I will never get anywhere if I stay here.”
The sentiment struck a little too close to home for Stephen.
“Speaking as his best friend, he’ll miss you if you go.” Stephen offers, “But speaking as one human to another, if you think that’s what’s best for you… it’s what you should do.” He shrugs, “I wouldn’t have gotten far without leaving home.”
“Where is home?” You ask, placing an elbow on the table and propping your chin on your hand
“Home is here now.” Stephen says, “Home was Iowa.”
“Did you… get along with your parents?”
“No.” He says flatly, “Not at all.”
You hesitate before trying, “May I ask why..?”
Stephen takes a deep breath in. How much is appropriate to share and not? How close can he let himself get? How much can he let you in?
“Dad was abusive. Mom was neglectful.” He states simply, “Just… wasn’t a good environment.”
You give a little nod, “I’m sorry— I know you probably hate to hear that, but I am.”
“That’s alright. Turned out okay, didn’t I?”
“Hm… from what I know.” You agree with a little bit of a teasing smile
“And it’s best for both of us if you don’t know the rest.” Stephen smiles back
You laugh and Stephen’s heart skipped a beat. What a pretty sound, what a pretty smile. A real smile, not that timid one you usually gave him. When the waiter came back to take your order, Stephen allowed it. He also noticed the way you kept glimpsing at his glass of wine from time to time.
He smiled softly and offered, “Would you like a sip?”
“Hm?” You asked, drawing your eyes back to Stephen
“My wine. You keep looking at it, would you like a sip?”
“Oh…” You laugh, “I’ve just never had it, I don’t drink. I know Dad and Christine like it— white at least.”
“Red is better.” Stephen says, taking the glass and holding it toward you carefully, “You wanna’ try?”
You reach across the table timidly before reminding Stephen, “I’m only nineteen.”
“I know. But a sip won’t hurt.”
You took the glass gently, feeling sparks against your skin as his fingers brushed your own. You brought the glass to your nose and gave it a sniff, tilting your head. You looked around quickly before taking a small sip. Stephen gave a little chuckle at the way your nose scrunched up, the laugh turning into a smirk as your tongue darted out to lick at your bottom lip.
“I don’t think I get it.” You say passing the glass back to Stephen
Stephen reached out and let his hand linger against your own for a moment too long before informing, “It’s an acquired taste.”
“I think I’d like it better if I couldn’t taste the alcohol.”
He quirks a smile, “Juice… you want to juice.”
You flush at how childish the admission made you seem but murmur, “Maybe…” And changing the subject while the two are still on your mind, “How are they? Dad and Christine, I mean. If you… if you think it’s your place to say. I never really hear about them, Dad and I don’t really talk like that, you know? But I want him to be… happy.”
“You don’t think Christine makes him happy?”
You hesitate before admitting, “No, she’s fine. She’s just a bit… young for him.”
“Ten years isn’t as large a gap at our age as it is at yours.” Stephen defends your father, “More appropriate, at least.” He tacks on to the end as a reminder to himself
And ten years and nearly twenty were two very different things.
“Well, yeah, but I still— I feel like they’re in two different places. Dad has already done his whole stint with the family thing… I don’t think he wants any more kids. And unless Christine isn’t looking for children… and she seems like the kind that would— which I guess is wrong of me to assume, but she gives me that vibe, y’know?” You look back up to Stephen and apologize, “I’m sorry, I know I should just talk to him about it, but he is so awkward with the relationship discussions.”
“Well, does he seem happy to you?”
“He seems the same as he ever has.” You look off into the distance pensively, “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. And maybe I’m just too young and have my own idealized version of what it’s supposed to look like…” You trail off
Stephen leaned forward and asked curiously, “And what is it supposed to look like?”
“I dunno’… not as cold as it seems with them sometimes? They hardly ever touch each other or see each other outside of work. She comes over and then leaves instead of saying the night. And I guess I just expect it to feel… warm and fuzzy. And I know things can’t be perfect all the time, but I feel like they should be closer than they are. It’s been almost two years. Is that naive?”
Stephen considers a moment before answering honestly, “I don’t know. I’m not exactly a great authority for this sort of thing.”
“What? Love?”
“Yeah, that.” He smiles shyly, You give something like a snort and look away with a roll of your eyes and Stephen scoffs, “What was that?”
“I just don’t believe you—“ You cut yourself off and shake your head, “I don’t know if I believe that someone like you doesn’t know about love.”
“Someone like me?” Stephen smirks and teases, “Now what am I exactly?”
You clear your throat, “Good job, good finances… attractive.” You mutter at the end
“What do you know about my finances?” He asks
“Well, I was just in your car… and Dad says you have a nice place, and you know if he says so it must be nice.”
Stephen chuckles and picks up his glass, a twinkle in his eye as he murmurs, “And you think I’m attractive?”
“I—“ A furious blush covers your face and you stutter out, “I- I mean… well, yes.” You reach up and tuck your hair behind your ear, ducking your head, “I just— anyone with eyes can see that, Doctor Strange. S’only a fact.”
Stephen felt a bit bad about the state he’d put you in with the question and apologized, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking you things like that.”
“That’s alright, I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.” You say, face flushing a shade darker, “I was just trying— you must have a girlfriend or two.”
“Girlfriend?” He snorts, “No, not… not exactly.”
“Not exactly? What does that mean?”
Stephen tilts his head at you and gives you a stern sort of stare, “What do you think it means?”
Your brows tense for a moment before your eyes go a bit wide. You duck your head, but not before Stephen sees the small smile on your lips.
“Oh, I see. So the tabloids don’t lie?”
Stephen huffs, “Don’t tell me you read that trash.”
“I may take a glimpse when I’m in line at the grocery store sure.” You shrug, “Great entertainment value. Have there really been that many women?”
Stephen was shocked by your forwardness, a little laugh escaping his lips, “Now, Miss Y/L/N, is that a strictly appropriate conversation for us to have?”
“You were trying to give me the sex talk not an hour ago.”
“That’s different!” He argues, “I just want you to be safe— bad decisions happen when you’re young and having sex!”
“Doctor Strange, I’m not having sex— I’ve barely…” You huff, “Can we not talk about this, please?” You beg, “I really, really don’t need to talk about this with you.”
“Well, you can’t talk about it with your dad.”
“Again, I have a mom.”
“Would you finish school in Georgia?”
“Oh, yeah. I like school.” You agree, “And I can start my internship at the same time.”
“Won’t you miss your friends?”
You give a little shrug, “I don’t exactly have friends to miss. Acquaintances, people I’m friendly with, but no one it’d kill me to leave behind. Again, I don’t really get the opportunity to meet people outside of school, and Dad would flip his lid if he did meet the people I hang out with.”
“What’re they like?”
“They’re… a diverse bunch. Physically, mentally, morally… it just wouldn’t go over well.”
“Hm…” Stephen muses, “Well then maybe it would be for the best you go live with your mom. Maybe you end up loving Atlanta?”
“I think I’d learn to.” You agree, “But I would want to come back. I love New York, I know this is where I want to end up in the long run.”
“Well, wherever you end up, I hope it’s exactly where you want.” Stephen says earnestly, “You’re a good kid and you’ve been given an opportunity to make a great life for yourself. I know you’ll use it well.”
You smile at him softly and nod, “Thank you, Doctor Strange.”
Stephen dropped you off at your place… the place you and your dad lived together. He walked you to the door and had to use all his willpower not to ask if there was something else you wanted to do, somewhere else you wanted to go. He’d have taken you on something like a real date, though neither of you would have ever called it that. But it would have felt that way. He’d enjoyed his dinner with you. He’d gotten you to open up and talk to him about everything; Family, friends, school, morals… life. And you were more than the pleasant that he’d always known. You were kind and genuine and refreshing.
And afterward, he returned to his own place, the penthouse dark and feeling so devoid of life. And he wondered what it might be like to have someone like you— warm and fuzzy— there to greet him. There to talk about his day and make dinner with. Someone to sit in his lap and hold for just a while; Small, soft, gentle, shy. And you were so beautiful. He’d seen you from every angle tonight, putting his photographic memory to good use. The soft candlelight, the street lamps as you’d both walked through the dim parking lot— you’d walked so close to him, head on a swivel, always looking for danger. He’d wanted to tell you that you were safe with him. You didn’t have to be on guard. He could protect you.
God, he wanted to.
He wanted to protect you and care for you and give you that warm and fuzzy feeling you were so excited to explore. Wanted to show you the life you’d been denied thus far living under your father’s roof.
Stephen stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor outside of the shower. He turned the hand of the shower all the way to the left, letting the water burn his skin, watching as the steam crept up the glass. And he lost himself in a fantasy of the two of you, your inexperience, your innocence, how he would treat you.
How before you left for New York you’d show up at his doorstep, red in the face, embarrassed, but desperate. Desperate for him. And oh, how he’d be just as desperate for you. You’d find yourself in the living room, wrapped in his arms as he tilted your head back, placing rough kisses up and down the column of your throat, already forcing sweet little noises from your mouth. Your hands in his hair as his groped at your hips and ass. A very nice ass from what he’d caught glimpses of tonight.
“Doctor… please.” You’d beg, even if you weren’t sure what for
“What do you want, Baby?” He’d whisper
“Will you teach me… will you show me how to make you feel good?” You’d whisper shyly, face flushing that pretty shade of pink
He’d trail your hands slowly down his body, bringing them to a stop at his zipper, “Take these off first.” He’d instruct
And you would eagerly, unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them quickly, staring up at him the whole time; Your sweet gaze completely enrapt, focused entirely on him. Maybe you’d surprise him a bit, sinking to your knees as you stripped the denim from his legs. You’d look up at him at a loss for what he wanted next and he’d show you, taking your hand and running it across his erection. You’d flush and look away, a bit ashamed of the act.
“Look at me, Sweetheart. It’s okay. You aren’t doing anything wrong.” He’d reassure, cupping your cheek gently, pulling at your bottom lip with his thumb, “Take those off for me.”
You’d nod and bring your little hands up to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down slowly. When they were in a pool on the floor he’d watch as your eyes went wide, lips parting slightly.
“You’re… so big.” You’d whisper, “I don’t know… what if I can’t—“
“You can, Baby.” Stephen would encourage, “You’re going to make me feel so good. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You would nod eagerly, swallowing hard and staring up at him all wide-eyed and innocent, “You’ve never done this before?” You’d shake your head no, “What a sweet little girl you are. Been saving it for someone special? Who did you want to use this pretty little mouth for the first time?”
Stephen sighed and leaned back against the shower wall, reaching to the side and getting a small pump of body wash. He brought his hand to his half-hard cock and started massaging it slowly, throwing his head back. Him. You were saving it for him…
“You, Doctor Strange.” You’d whisper, “I want you.”
Stephen would smile at you and run a hand over the top of your head, “That’s such a good girl. You wanna be my good girl?”
Stephen shocked himself when your answer was, “Yes, Daddy.” The name caused him to groan aloud, the sound echoing off the walls
It shouldn’t have shocked him like it did. Like he said, he wanted to protect you, care for you, have you... so innocent and sweet and willing for him.
Stephen smiled down at you softly, “Go ahead and open your mouth for me.” You open your mouth and Stephen chuckles, “Wider than that, Baby Girl… and stick out your tongue.”
You give a shy little giggle and open your mouth wider, sticking out your tongue and staring up at him wide-eyed. Stephen grabbed the base of his cock like he would in his fantasy. The way he would shift his hips forward, relishing in the way the warm saliva would feel against his head.
“Suck on it soft. Like you would a lollipop.” He’d instruct, “Be careful with your teeth.” You’d close your lips around him slowly, suckling gently at first and he’d praise, “Good Girl. Use your tongue too.”
Stephen ran his hand over his soaped-up shaft and toyed with his head gently, emulating what it might feel like. But he knew it would feel much, much better if it were you. The way your tongue would swirl around his head, the way your lips would start to glisten with your own saliva, pretty eyes staring up at him the whole time.
“That’s it, that’s my Good Girl.” He’d coo, “Now stop for a second and let me have your hand.” You’d hold it up to him and Stephen would demand, “Spit in it.” You’d do that too— shyly, embarrassed by such and improper act— and Stephen would wrap your hand around his base, keeping his own on top of yours for the time being, “You’re gonna stroke me up and down…” He’d say starting to guide your hand across his length, “Use a little more pressure than that… there you go, that’s a Good Girl. Now put it back in your mouth, suck it like a lollipop again.” You’d lean forward and take his tip in your mouth once more, your eyes fluttering closed as you tasted the precum beading on his tip, “You’re gonna stroke Daddy’s cock and suck on his head, just like that. You can do that for me, yeah?”
You’d nod and take his head out of your mouth to reply, “Yes, Doctor.” Before resuming your work
Stephen started stroking himself slowly but firmly, moaning aloud. He liked building himself up, liked the drama and tension of it all. He’d hold the back of your head, his fingers buried in your head pulling gently.
“Now lick the whole thing, make it messy and wet. Doesn’t have to be pretty, Baby Girl.”
You’d let him go with a little pop and lean forward, stilling your hand and running your tongue flat and soft up the entirety of his length, working all around him. You’d be smart enough to return to his head from time to time, suckling gently before returning to your lapping.
“Very good. Now try to take it in your mouth, just a little. Keep using your tongue and use your hand for what you can’t take.”
You’d nod and take a deep breath, opening wide and taking him only a quarter of the way. He’d just be too big, you’d be too intimidated. That sweet little mouth only capable of so much for the time being. But that’d be alright, he’d be patient with you— gentle— like you deserved. You’d start bobbing your head slowly, little by little learning how to take more and more. Your hand still stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, eyes still transfixed on his face. Your other hand would be on his hip, fingers digging into the skin gently, trying to ground yourself.
You’d get braver little by little and when he saw you were comfortable he would ask, “Can I take control?”
You’d pull away from him and ask hesitantly, “W-what are you doing to do?”
“I’m going to use this pretty little mouth…” He’d trace your bottom lip with his thumb, now wet with your spit, “All I need you to do is keep your mouth open for me. You seem to do that well enough.”
You would blush but agree, “Yes, sir.”
“I won’t hurt you. And it’s okay if you can’t take it all. We’ll try again some other time. But you’ll do your best for me, won’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He’d pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail and bring his hips forward once more, “Move your hand, Sweetheart. Let me do the work.”
He’d start gently for you— for both of you, pacing himself— guiding your head up and down his shaft, only ever taking you halfway. And when he got impatient he’d still your head and start thrusting his hips, forcing himself farther in your warm little mouth. You’d get all teary-eyed and look up at him so wanton and lost, squirming on your knees, growing more and more desperate for him.
“That’s it, Baby Girl. Doin’ so good… so good for Daddy…” You’d moan around his length, causing him to groan and pull you off for a moment to catch your breath, “Take a deep breath. I’m gonna’ try to go farther this time.”
And when he did you’d immediately start gagging around him, panicking and pulling away embarrassed, confessing, “I- I can’t it’s too much.”
“You can, Baby.” He’d insist, “It’s okay if you can’t take it all, remember? I just like seeing my cock in that pretty little mouth. Those lips feel so nice.” He’d pull you back to his cock with a little more force, “Open up.” You would and he’d compliment, “Good Girl. Just like that. You just keep that pretty little mouth open and let me fuck your face.” You’d give a little whimper, brows tensing and gagging once more as he touched the back of your throat, “There you go, it’s okay if you choke. You look so pretty gagging on Daddy’s cock. Can’t wait to have you screaming for me—“
Stephen came with a groan. His cum spurt out in thick ropes, painting the shower floor and being quickly washed away. He was panting, his skin sticking to the wall behind him, covered in a layer of clean sweat. He continued stroking himself slowly, working off his high, a sigh falling from his lips as he blinked his eyes open.
It really would be for the best if you took some time away from New York.
You collapsed in your bed and stared up at the ceiling, finding yourself incapable of wiping the stupid grin off your face that had been present nearly all night. God, he was just so dreamy. And sweet and real. You’d heard from more than a few people that Doctor Strange was a bit of an egomaniac, but you were having serious trouble seeing that. Was he cocky? Absolutely. But egomaniac? Far from it.
You wouldn’t have blamed him if he were. He was a god among men.
Fuck, you wanted him so bad.
You groaned and rolled over, burying your face in the pillows and beating your fists against them. What the hell was wrong with you? He was nearly two decades older than you and your dads’ best friend. You were just some kid. Someone he was obligated to look out for.
But that wouldn’t normally include taking someone to dinner, would it?
“Y/N, Hon?” You heard your dad call, “You here?”
You lift your head and called back, “In my room, Dad!” Before face-planting into the pillows once more
There was a pause and the sound of his heavy tread before a gentle knock on your door, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
He pushed open the door and walked into your room, immediately starting, “I am so sorry about dinner tonight, Hon. I just got swamped at work— I kept meaning to call…” He trails off and notes your clothes, “You haven’t been waiting up for me?”
“No.” You disagree, “Only sat in the lobby for twenty minutes before Doctor Strange came down and saw me. He told me what was going on.” You hesitate before adding, “He got me dinner and drove me back here.”
You Dad smiles softly, “Nice of him. He’s a good kid.”
And there lies the problem. Strange was in his early thirties and still a kid in your father’s eyes. You were a baby.
“Yeah, I told him thank you, but you should text him and thank him too. He didn’t have to do that, you know?”
“I will.” Your Dad agrees, “And you can come out to dinner with Christine and I tomorrow to make up for what I missed tonight. She’s been asking to see you.”
You give a soft smile, not really wanting to third wheel but appreciating both of their efforts, “Okay.”
“Well… get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, Hon.”
You watched as he closed the door softly, listening carefully until his door shut down the hall. You felt bad— felt awful about the idea of leaving him. He was a good dad. But he was also infuriating. It was nine on a Friday night and you were laying in bed alone, not a friend to call or text, nowhere to go, nothing to do. Your curfew was in an hour anyways, so what would you really do? Nineteen with a curfew of ten o’ clock. There were high schoolers allowed to be out later.
You reached for your phone on your night stand and clicked the first contact in your recent call list, listening as it rang twice before the phone was answered, “Hey Baby!”
You smiled softly to yourself, “Hey Mom. Can I— I want to run an idea by you.”
Hi! Maybe where Stephen is in a relationship with Christine but he is having an affair with a reader and they meet at her house for a romantic dinner which leads to rough sex
Just That
Pairing: Surgeon!Strange x Fem!Reader
Warnings: SMUT! PinV, oral (m receiving), rough sex, choking, slapping (three instances to the face), degradation (use of names like whore and slut). Angst, no comfort (or maybe if you squint real hard?), unfaithfulness.
Word Count: 4,583
Reading time: ≈ 17 mins.
A/N: Besties, I do not condone cheating in any way, shape, or form. I especially dislike making Stephen explicitly cheat on Christine in detail. I feel like she gets such a bad rep in this fandom and it’s always people comparing themselves to her or trying to put her down and idk why y’all gotta’ pit two bad bitches against each other 😔🤘🏻 That being said, I know that there are also a lot of people who just hate the PalmerStrange ship, so this one is for y’all i guess 🤪
18+ or i haunt you like a ghost from ur past <3!
The air in your apartment was thick. It always was with you and Stephen. Whether the tension was bitterness, longing, jealousy, lust… it was never just comfortable. It couldn’t be comfortable, not for you, at least. You had become someone you didn’t recognize, someone you knew you would never trust again after this was all said and done. How were you supposed to respect yourself when you sat at the kitchen table across from a man in what his partner figured was a committed relationship? It was wrong and you knew it. But if what you felt when you were with Stephen Strange was wrong, you were certain you never wanted to be right ever again.
There was an excitement to it that a regular committed relationship couldn’t have. The stolen moments in the hospital, the longing glances across meeting rooms, the subtle brush of fingers, the possessive nature that was necessary to keep under the surface. She worked at the hospital too and of course that made your job of keeping your jealousy in check much harder, but you could tell he had to do it too. Whenever another doctor or nurse tried making conversation with you, you would watch out of the corner of your eye as he clenched his jaw and seethed in silent anger. Your favorite moments were your interactions with the EMT boys. Not one of them was shy about their attraction and you never turned away their flirtations. You liked watching how angry it made him, liked to think that for a second he felt what you felt every time you passed him and Christine in the hallways.
“I heard the ER was busy today. What happened?” Stephen asks, his voice and genuine curiosity cutting through part of the tension in the air
“There was a major car crash a few blocks away.” You explain, “A semi started it and it all went downhill from there.”
“Mm… nasty business.”
“It was awful. You should have seen the shrapnel West had to pull out of one guys head—“
“And did he manage on his own?”
“Well, I was there too, Stephen, but I’m certain he’d have done just fine.” You roll your eyes and smirk, taking a sip from your glass. This was your favorite button of his to press. No one in the wide world could be a better surgeon than Stephen Strange— especially not Nicodemus West. “He did phenomenal, actually. Completed that extraction in record time and clipped an aneurysm straight after in a particularly tricky spot. Never seen such steady hand before.”
Stephen gives a tight smile and asks, “Well then, why didn’t you ask him to dinner to celebrate such a wonderful day?”
“And let you out of this when I know damn well she asked you to come over tonight?” You scoff, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
You look over the table, congratulating yourself on a dinner well done. Homemade pasta and bread, top shelf wine, table all pretty with a nice cloth, flowers in a vase, and a few candles. It really would have been romantic… it should have been. The two of you always tried, but what was the use when romance wasn’t the objective? Something stronger bound the two of you together than romance or love or dinner dates…
Lust. Plain and simple.
“You’re spiteful.” Stephen murmurs, “You’re lucky green looks good on you, Honey.”
“I’d never have to wear it again if you’d just break the girl’s heart already.” You say bitterly, poking at your pasta, “I’m not even asking for a relationship, unlike her I’m not dumb enough to believe you’re willing to give over that much of your freedom. But I’d at least like not to be the other woman.”
Stephen is quiet for a moment before murmuring, “You know I can’t…”
“Yeah, yeah. Your image. Trust-worthy, reliable, empathetic… if only the world knew the real you, Strange.”
You throw down your fork and grab your bowl, walking over to the sink and turning on the water. You walk back over and grab his empty bowl and the leftovers, too fed up to worry about food conservation, you stuff it all down the drain and turn on the garbage disposal. You brace yourself on the counter and listen to the mechanical whir, letting it drown out your thoughts as best you could. But the truth was, they were always there. You had gone against every societal and moral rule you had and now you were what?
The other woman.
Cheater.
Whore.
The words spun around in your head making you feel dizzy. It was all so overwhelming, all so unfair. To do this to yourself when you knew, as you had just told Stephen, it would get you nothing in the long run. It afforded you companionship for the time being, good— great— sex, and occasionally a shoulder to cry on, though you did your best to keep your feelings far away from Stephen. And you wondered what was so different between you and her that she was the one they all saw as his? It may have simply been that she got there first.
The sound of the disposal whirring comes to an end and silence fills the room. You give a deep sigh as his arms come around you, pulling you back against him. It’s at moments like this when all the tension dissolves and it feels worth it. Just for a moment, to be held by him without expectation… it’s all worth it. His lips find your neck and leave a trail of soft kisses up to your ear.
“I’m sorry.” He says. Loud, clear, truthfully. “I know that it isn’t fair to you.”
Your bottom lip trembles as you croak out, “I can’t keep doing this, Stephen. I like you so much but I just… she loves you. It’s so obvious. And I should have never let myself come between you two in the first place, but you should have never started calling her yours when it’s clear you don’t love her.”
“I’ve told you… I try to explain to her that it’s not as deep as she feels it is, but she doesn’t hear me.”
“Probably because everything you do says the opposite, Stephen.” You sigh, shrugging him off and returning to the dishes. “Probably because on the outside you look just as much in love with her as she is with you.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Then you should probably tell her.” Your scrubbing becomes more frantic with every syllable, as if you could wash away your own sins and see them spin down the drain with the rest of the dirty water. “It isn’t fair to her either.”
“It’ll crush her.”
“Yeah.” You snort out sardonically, “It would also crush her to know that while she had planned a date for the two of you tonight you were at your whore’s house discussing how not in love with her you are—“
Your wrist is grabbed, sponge still clutched in hand, suds dripping from your fingers to the floor as Stephen spins you around to look at him. His cheeks are flushed pink, eyes narrowed in challenge, and nostrils flared. His grip on your wrist is not kind or gentle and that’s not what you’re used to. Stephen was brash and callous in words, but he always treated you with care physically.
“Don’t call yourself that.” He says lowly, “That isn’t what I would call you and you won’t speak about yourself like that.”
You wrestle your wrist away and spit out, “It’s what I am! I’m not in denial and you shouldn’t be either. I am the other woman, the whore, the slut who knows you have a girlfriend and lets you fuck her anyway—“ You let out a yelp as Stephen grabs the sponge from your hand, throws it to the counter, switches off the tap, and hauls you over his shoulder all in one swift movement. You beat on his back as he carries you toward the bedroom and yell, “Stephen Strange! Put me the fuck down!”
Your wish is answered as he all but throws you onto the bed, when you attempt to sit up you’re met with the heavy weight of his body scaling up your own. You let out a little gasp as a strong, steady hand wraps around your throat, pinning you completely to the mattress. It’s hard to swallow as he grits his teeth and leans down to get in your face.
“You want to call yourself a whore? You want to be treated like a slut?” He bites out, “Fine then. We can play that game.” Without wasting another second he’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans with one hand, the other still keeping you at bay. He shimmies his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, not hard, but not totally soft either. He takes his hand from your throat and demands in a low tone, “Suck.”
“Stephen—“
You were absolutely shocked when before you could get another word out, his now free hand was smacking your cheek. It wasn’t hard, it wasn’t even something that could be called a slap, but it was shocking nonetheless. And much to your surprise, made your stomach twist in hopeful anticipation.
“Whores don’t speak, they do what they’re told.” Stephen says, “So next time you open your whore mouth, it better be to do what I said.”
And so, you parted your lips and craned your neck up to suckle on his head. Stephen stares down at you for a moment before deciding you’re apparently being compliant enough to do something else. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head slowly. Your chest went tight as each inch of his smooth, clear, pale skin was revealed to you. After disposing of his shirt Stephen reached down and grabbed the back of your head, lifting it farther for you.
“Don’t miss the balls, Baby. Suck on those too.” He demands, giving a deep sigh as you comply, “There we go… I guess you do listen like a good whore would.” He chuckles when your eyebrows tense, your pout clear despite your mouth now full of cock again, “What? You wanna call yourself a whore but don’t want to hear it from me? Well, that’s too damn bad.”
He grabs your cheeks between his hand and pulls out of your mouth before rolling off you and to the head of the bed. You watch as he strips his lower half completely. You can’t help but faun over him. His long, lean legs. His narrow waist led up to nice, broad shoulders that you often found yourself clinging to as he rocked in and out of your heat. Just the thought sends arousal pooling between your legs.
“Don’t just sit there and look at me, take your clothes off.” Stephen demands. You start pulling your shirt up slowly, the tease he normally enjoyed but he snaps, “Uh-uh. I don’t want to look at you tonight, I just want to feel you. Move quicker.”
You give a slight huff that seems to only bring a smile to his face, shedding your clothes as quickly as possible. Your jeans, your blouse, the matching bra and pantie set— you always wore a matching set for Stephen, and he normally loved it— before you were completely bare. You watched as he laid back in the bed and pat his thigh, gesturing you forward with his other hand. You crawled over and straddled his waist, knowing full well you weren’t totally prepared to go at it yet, and he must have known too.
“Go ahead and hop on it, Baby.” He commands, “You’re gonna be doing the work tonight. That’s usually the purpose of hiring a whore and since that’s what you’ve decided you are, go ahead.”
“Stephen, I’m not ready…” You whine
“You know where the lube is.” He says jerking his head to your bedside table. “Coat some on my cock and then jump on like the good little slut you’ve decided you are.” He raises a brow and suggests, “Or you could be a real slut and get it nice and wet with your mouth.”
Not one to back down from a challenge and spurred on by the rigid tone of his voice you crawl back down his body. You ducked down and took his tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him slowly and stroking him at the base. You sat up a bit and gathered spit in your mouth, letting it dribble slowly from between your lips onto his head and working it over him slowly.
“Oh, you can do better than that, Baby.” Stephen tuts, “You always look so pretty sucking cock, but you’re a whore now, so get messy like one.” He sits up on one arm and extends the other outward, threading his fingers through your hair, “Open up and I’ll show you how.”
You open your mouth and Stephen immediately brings it around his cock. Without further warning, he thrusts upwards, gently at first, though it soon becomes harsher. You feel the tip hit the back of your throat and saliva gathers thick in your mouth, the next thrust making you gag around him, making you unable to hold back the spit. But Stephen didn’t stop then. He kept thrusting, kept making you choke on his cock. It was so different than usual. He was normally so soft, but now… now he was rough and unrelenting. Now, he was making you exactly what you’d made yourself out to be.
And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.
To be treated like this— what you felt like— than someone he actually cared for, someone who meant anything to him rather than the body taking up space in his bed was a twisted relief. There was a freedom to the acknowledgment that you normally didn’t feel. For just another moment, the tension is gone. You lose yourself totally to the moment, allowing yourself to be everything you’ve said you are.
“T-take it just a little deeper…” He groans, wiggling his hips to settle farther into the warmth of your mouth, “Fu—ck, that’s it, Baby. Take it like that. Such a good fucking slut. Think you might’ve had the right idea, Honey. Slobber on my cock like a good little whore.”
He finally lets go of the back of your head and you pull off with a great gasp, choking and spitting up more. Tears cloud your eyes but with a new appreciation for the task at hand and refreshed arousal, you crawl up Stephen’s body and immediately situate yourself over his erection. You hold it upright with one hand and spit onto your other, taking it down and passing it over your hole. With a deep breath in and a slow exhalation, you begin sinking down on him. Stephen gives a satisfied moan as your warmth envelopes him, your own little whimper as he stretches you further with every inch forcing a small smile to his face.
“Eager for it now, aren’t you, Honey?” Stephen teases
You give a pleased hum as you sit down on him fully, his cock lost somewhere deep inside you. You lean forward, trailing kisses along his chest and neck as you go. You give his earlobe a gentle nibble, running your hands along his sides and feeling his obliques tense beneath you. At his lips you pause, hovering, a smile forming on your lips as he tries to chase you down.
“Would you kiss a whore, Stephen Strange?” You murmur softly against his lips
“If her pussy was this tight I may.” He mumbles back, trying to kiss you once more
You draw back from him, place your hands squarely on his chest and start moving your hips up and down. Slow, rhythmic, up and down, steady, feeling every feeling possible. Stephen’s cock was an impressive size and taking him like this could be painful straight on. But taking him at an angle where his tip could rub against that pleasure spot deep inside you was amazing. You couldn’t stop your moans as you worked yourself over him again and again. It was incredible how quickly you could find your finish on top of him.
“Shit Baby, you ride it so good.” Stephen groans, grabbing your hips, his blunt nails digging into your skin. “Move faster for me, Honey. Give it to me.”
His hands help guide you up and down, the sound of your ass against his thighs ringing through the room. You drive yourself over him again and again letting gravity and the firmness of the mattress do most of the work for you. In an attempt to hear him moan, that beautiful, deep timbre that echoed through your room, you started adding a small rotation to your hips. It worked like a charm and you had him moaning beneath you in no time. You flashed him a devious smile as Stephen let go of your hips and threw his hands behind his head, propping himself up to watch the way you worked him.
“F-fuck m-me.” He stutters out, “Didn’t know you could move like this, Honey. Gonna’ have to ask you to ride me more often.”
“Works for me.” You breathe out, “Quicker to finish now fucking myself than it is waiting for you to find the right spot.”
You found out quickly that was not an appropriate response as Stephen’s hand came up and darted across your face. Your hips stuttered but you felt ashamed when your pussy clenched around him at the sensation. You liked it. It only made you ride him faster, only made you that much more determined to chase your own orgasm. And it was right there. You were on the precipice. You could feel it in your pelvis, the tightening, the flutter, it was right there—
And then all at once you were beneath him. He grabbed your waist and in a motion you weren’t sure how to describe with the speed it was completed, you were face down, ass up, his cock still buried deep inside you. One of his hands went to the back of your head where he shoved it into the pillows. You gave a groan as he leaned farther over you, his length pushing new limits as he bit roughly into your shoulder.
A chill ran up your spine as he whispered, “Whores don’t get to finish.” He licks the shell of your ear and mutters, “When I sit up you better arch that back and keep that pretty face buried in the pillows. Am I understood?”
You give a little squeak as he gives a gentle roll of his hips and agree, “Yes, sir.”
Stephen sat up on his knees and watched as you immediately arched your back as dramatically as possible. You move your arms in front of you, searching for space to grab between the mattress and the headboard. You give a squeal at the first thrust, hard and deep.
“So deep.”
“Shut the fuck up and take it.” He commands, his palm coming down over your ass cheek hard, “Just keep sitting there pretty for me and let me use your fuckhole.”
Rendered speechless by such filth from the Doctor’s mouth, you can do little else but obey. You cling to the mattress for dear life thrust after thrust into your weeping cunt. You feel his hands move to your ass where he spreads you open nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. The air is thick now with the scent of sex and a sense of aggression. He had never fucked you like this before. He wasn’t as rough a man as everyone deemed him to be— but this— this display was exactly what everyone must picture him to be behind closed doors.
“My cock is fucking covered in your cream, Honey. Stop moaning for a minute and listen.” He suggests. You do your best to quiet your moans and whimpers until all that’s left is the wet squelch of him pumping in and out of your heat. You must have been more turned on than you could ever remember. You could feel your slick dripping between your thighs and causing your skin to stick to his own as his hips met your ass. “Shit, I love the way that sounds. Looks beautiful too. Too pretty to be a whore’s cunt.” He lets out a moan and mutters, “Too tight to be a whore’s cunt.” You let out a cry as his hand comes down over the opposite asscheek and he gives an evil sounding chuckle, “And this cute little ass flushes too quick to be a whore’s ass.”
Stephen drills into you, his grip on your hips so tight you feel like they may bruise. Every thrust of his is accompanied by a grunt that has you feeling absolutely feral. Your legs were shaking, and despite your earlier taunt, Stephen had no trouble finding that perfect spot in this position either. Your jaw was, for the first time ever, literally hanging slack from being railed so good. You didn’t even realize when you started to move your own hips in tandem with his thrusts, working yourself over his cock. You only knew that when you took a chance at looking back behind you, Strange had his arms laced behind his back, a cocky smile on his lips, and had stopped his own work.
He looks down into your eyes and encourages, “That’s right, Baby. Fuck me back like the desperate little slut you are. Fuck yourself back onto this dick.”
Your eyes roll back in your head as you do what he says, picking up your speed to make up for the lack of his own power. The cocky bastard didn’t have to do a damn thing to have you falling apart underneath him. Right as you’re on the edge again, he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing everything to a stop. He pushes himself all the way inside you, making you whine and wiggle impatiently.
He orders quietly, “Lay down on your stomach. Slow. Don’t let it slip out.” You do as he says, lowering yourself slowly to the mattress until his arm slips out from underneath you and the firm muscle is replaced with the softness of the mattress. You give a quiet sigh as his body comes over your own, his hands on either side of your head the one thing keeping his weight off you entirely. He leans down in your ear and murmurs, “I told you whores don’t get to cum.” He reaches over and brushes the hair out of your face, running his knuckles across your cheek and when you glance up you’re shocked to find some deep emotion in his eyes. “Whores don’t get to cum, so if you want to cum, you better take it back that you are one.”
You shake your head defiantly and curse him as tears sting at your eyes, “It’s what you use me like, Stephen.”
You wish you could hear every thought inside that mysterious mind as he reassures, “That’s never been what I see you as.” The next words are soft and nearly a plea, “Tell me you’re worth more to yourself than that.”
“Am I worth more than that to you?”
There’s a long moment of silence before he admits, “I don’t know what you are to me, but you’ve never just been some whore. Never. I could never see you as just that.”
You swallow hard and murmur, “Then I won’t think of myself as one to you.”
You let out a sigh of contentment as one of his hand goes around your throat, gently forcing your head back to look him in the eyes as he resumes his thrusts. You stare up into those beautiful blue eyes as he ruts himself into you. If you concentrate hard enough you think you can hear both of your heartbeats. If you concentrate hard enough, the tension is gone, and it’s just you and him as you are.
“Harder.” You beg quietly. Stephen replies immediately, grinding into you deeper, but you need more. “Faster. Fuck me rough again, Stephen, please.”
He drops his hold on your neck to gain leverage on the bed, his pace steadily increasing until it matches the racing of your heartbeat. You squeeze your eyes shut and reach back, grabbing his wrists to ground yourself as he starts pounding you into the mattress once more. Your walls flutter around him and you feel the sensation building in your spine in this position. Your toes curl and you know it’s coming. You moan out his name and a string of curses follows quickly from his lips in response. You can imagine him, head thrown back, hair falling over his forehead, eyes shut tight. Euphoria so close, just in reach.
“That’s it. Cum. Cum for me, Honey.” He pants out, his cock throbbing harshly
Your entire body goes tense as you fall off the ledge, relief rocking through your entire system, only amplified by his continual thrusts. Three more solid strokes and four unsteady ones before you feel him reach his own release, your name tumbling past his lips like an oath as his weight crashes down around you. The only sound left in the room is your combined labored breathing, the smell of sex stronger than ever, but the air not quite as heavy as before.
“It is how I feel knowing everyone else believes you two are together.” You murmur after a long silence, after a long moment of enjoying his weight on top of you. “You may not feel that way because you don’t believe you’re together, but Stephen, everyone else does. And you’re smart. You know how this would look to anyone else… to her.” He’s silent so you continue, “I don’t want a relationship, I mean it when I say that. You make me laugh, you can hold a conversation, and the sex is great, but I don’t want to be tied down any more than you do. Casual sex wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to think about the fact you have a girlfriend every time we do it.”
Stephen pulls himself out and off of you, rolling over to the side and laying facing you. He looks you over carefully, reaching out and brushing your baby hairs off your face. And there’s care in his eyes. It’s not romantic and it’s not brotherly, but it’s somewhere in between, and it’s something you’re both comfortable with. There’s a mutual respect that you know could exist more often if you two hadn’t found yourself in this situation.
“If I called her… if I called her to say we needed to end things, would you sit with me while I did?” He asks softly, “I hate the idea of hurting her, you know? She didn’t deserve this.” Stephen gestures to the two of you
You give him a sad smile and agree, “No, she doesn’t. And that’s why it needs to end if things are going to stay the same.”
He nods, “Am I a shit person?”
“Maybe.” You huff out slowly and turn to look at the ceiling, “But then so am I.”
“I guess that’s why we’ve always gotten along so well.”
Warnings: age gap, flirtation, sexual themes and tension, mentions of tattoos. smut: masturbation (f), dom Stephen, sub reader, choking kink, hair pulling. timeline? canon? never heard of them.
Word Count: 11,349
Reading time: ≈ 41 mins.
A/N: surprise, there will be a part three ;) i love this trope too much to give it up after two!
Stephen was exhausted. For the past two days, he’d been trapped in a convention hall trading off between small group presentations and keynote speaking. He wasn’t just exhausted but also bored out of his mind. There was rarely anyone new these days, and never anyone interesting. Then again, that could very well have been the ego speaking. But he was bored of it. There were only ever two things the men wanted to talk about and it was procedures and women; and the only thing the women wanted to talk about was procedures and sex. One of those he tended to mind far less than the other, and it wasn’t the option that had anything to do with work. But even that was starting to bore him as of late… it was still good, but it was that and nothing more. He’d been so bored, in fact, that he’d considered hiring a call girl while he was away from home. Just something to spice things up.
Instead, he now lay in his bed on Saturday night, staring at the ceiling above him, praying that any minute now the music would end and the smell of smoke— cigarette and otherwise from what he could tell— would cease to invade his nostrils. He felt, at the moment, that he was back in the college dorms, the sounds of a party from his freshman-year dorm mates thrumming above him through the night.
“At least there’s no exam tomorrow.” Stephen sighed aloud to himself, running his hands over his face
No exam but another keynote speech and a plane ride after that. Meaning he’d be sleeping like shit two nights in a row— unless he called and canceled his speech for tomorrow morning— which could come across as snobbish and unreliable despite his attendance both Friday and this morning.
There was no right answer.
Stephen had already tried complaining to the staff with no results, and even the manager had spoken to his neighbors, but it hadn’t really worked. They’d turned down the music a touch, but not enough to keep it from reaching his ears. His only solace was that it was rock. Even then, it wasn’t his rock— it was shitty 90’s dad rock. The higher being controlling Stephen’s life must have thought itself so funny.
But Stephen was at his wits end. So with a huff and determination, he rolled out of the bed. He grabbed the fluffy white hotel robe that’d been left for him and tied it haphazardly around his body, mostly concerned with his lower half where he only wore a pair of boxers. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he unlocked the deadbolt and turned the doorknob, stepping into the hallway and immediately feeling as though the music was rattling his skull.
He walked over to the door and banged both fists against it roughly, “Hey!”
The music was turned down another notch, but no one came to the door.
“Hey!” He called once more, pounding against the door, “Can you open up? I just wanna’ talk!”
The music was lowered significantly and Stephen felt a hush fall over the room. He listened intently, his ear to the door before it flew open and he took a few steps backward.
He brought his hands to his face to rub at his eyes and perhaps hide his frustration as he began without so much a glance to his addressee, “Listen, man. I know it’s only now about to hit one, but I have to be up in about five hours, and at this rate I don’t see myself falling asleep. If you could at the very least turn the music off…”
Stephen trailed off as he looked up to find not the former frat boy businessman or rock star he’d expected, but a very attractive young woman. A very attractive young woman staring at him wide-eyed. Her arms and chest were covered in tattoos from what Stephen could see, but he didn’t dare look down to get a glimpse at her legs. Her hair was thrown atop her head, the smell of smoke clinging to her body and flowing freely from the room. And why did she look so… familiar?
“Doctor Strange?” She asked meekly
Stephen looked down into those wide eyes and remembered, “Christ… Y/N?”
“I- I… yeah!” You say with a little laugh, turning and calling into the penthouse, “Hey guys! Keep that music turned down right now!” Before softly shutting the door behind you, “Doctor Strange…” You repeat with a little smile, a look of disbelief on your face
“Y/N.” He returned once more, “Sweetheart, I— how are you? It’s been… five years.” Stephen answered himself just a bit too quickly, “Yes, yeah… five years. What’re you…” He nods toward the door, “What’re you doing here?”
“I was at a body art convention this weekend trying to network and there was one party that turned into two…” You smile sheepishly, “And several more until we somehow ended up here.”
“We?”
“My coworkers… Reese, Alexis, and Jameson. They’re cool, Alexis is my mentor actually, Reese and Jameson are kinda’ a pair too, but Reese was in way before me…” You trail off still in complete and utter shock to have Doctor Strange— one man who never ceased to plague your dirty dreams— standing right in front of you again, “Anyways, why are you here?”
“Uh… similar reason, actually. NNA convention this weekend, I’m a keynote speaker. But I’m staying here.” Stephen turns and points back to his door, “Right here.”
You quirk a small smile and flush, “I’m sorry. I’ll see if I can get everyone to clear out… at least most of them. Does that work?”
“It’s the music more than anything.”
You nod, “Got it. Let me go… I’ll go talk to a few people.”
“Th-thank you.” Stephen nods
You smiled at him softly and turned to disappear into the room, and Stephen did the same, retreating back into his own room. His heart was hammering against his chest so violently that he thought he might have a heart attack. Five years. Five years had done little regarding the physical attraction he’d once felt for you, though it was clear you were a very different person than he once knew. The girl he’d known would have never found herself in the middle of all… that.
To Stephens’ amazement, he heard the music go dead as voices started floating through the hall. He looked out the peephole to find you herding people from the penthouse. You looked so different. Well— your face was the same as ever. But you were now covered in patches of ink across your arms and chest and yes, even your legs— none of which he could make out from this position— and you just looked… older. Your body was insane. Even your voice sounded more mature.
And you’d seemed happy to see him…
Which must mean you didn’t know.
As soon as you’d gotten everyone out of the penthouse that wasn’t already passed out or living there for the weekend, you sat your own three friends that you were responsible for against the wall and told them to give you a second. You walked over to the door across the hall and knocked on it softly, in case he’d already passed out. He had looked exhausted. But you were pleasantly surprised when the door cracked open, a very handsome, sleepy face peeking through.
“Better?” You ask quietly
“Much.” Doctor Strange agrees, “Thank you.”
“Yeah…”
“Would you uh— do you want to come in and talk? Catch up? It’s been forever.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the offer but you gestured behind you and denied, “I can’t. I’m sober tonight for these three—“
“The hotel is only two blocks away.” Jameson argues, “And I haven’t drank in hours.”
“No, you haven’t drank in a hour…” You hint as subtly as you can, pointing to his eyes, “but I doubt you’d fair too well without me.”
“Then get them to their hotel and I’ll pay for a cab back over here.” The Doctor offers quietly, his eyes searching your face, “Really… I haven’t seen you in too long. Just grab some clothes and you can use my shower. There’s a guest bed too.”
You smile softly, “Are you sure…”
“Yes, Y/N.”
“You were just complaining about needing to sleep ten minutes ago.”
“I’ll take a power nap and cancel my plans.” He offers
“Doctor Strange…” You give him a look of disbelief
“They’ve already heard me speak two days in a row… I’m sure they’re as tired as I am.”
You quirk a smile and nod, “I’ll come back on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Have a bottle of their best red ready for me.”
The Doctor gave something like a grin and agreed, “You got it.” Before closing the door softly
You turned back to your friends whom you shushed before the flood of questions could begin. You then kept them shushed from the top floor all the way into the lobby and out of the hotel. At that point there was really nothing you could do to stop the onslaught of questions and answers…
“Who is he?”
“Doctor Stephen Strange.”
“He was hot!”
“Hush.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-something.”
“Was he an ex?”
“No…”
“Were you someone’s sugar baby in New York?”
“God, no!”
“Are you actually going to go back?”
“I think I might.”
“How do you know him?”
“He’s a friend of my father’s.”
“You and your dad—”
“No, but Doctor Strange was always nice to me.” You say, “And I would like to talk to him. Maybe I can get a gauge on how dad is since he can’t be bothered to speak to me anymore.”
“Is that the only reason?” Alexis teases
“Are you trying to fuck him?” Reese asks more bluntly at the same time
“Please…” You scoff, “Let’s just... let me get you three back to the hotel and I’ll let you know— well, I guess I will be staying, he said he had another bed.” You sigh, “I’ll meet up with you three bright and early. Alexis and I have to go in around one.”
“Oh my God, yeah! You’ve got that rad back piece!”
You smile and nod, “Biggest project yet.”
“Are you excited?” Jameson asks half-heartedly, struggling very hard to walk in a straight line
He was abhorrent when he was crossed.
But luckily still very cute.
“I’m very excited. The client gave me a lot of freedom for this one.”
You spent the rest of your walk detailing the concept you’d drawn up and the last-minute changes your client had asked to make. You were sure to get a good tip off of this one, and Jalen— the store owner— would be ecstatic with the business. He always loved seeing new clients in the store, and with the social media following you’d garnered in the last few years, there were plenty of new faces coming in and out of the store. He was devastated when he heard you and Alexis were moving. But you were so damn excited.
You paused outside the hotel door and ushered your friends through the door, dropping the key in Jameson’s hand. He shut the door a bit and shuffled back and forth on his feet in front of you.
Jameson pauses and looks you up and down, “Are you… trying to fuck him?”
You sigh, “Jamie…”
“I think I have a right to know.”
“It’s been two years. You don’t have a right to know.” You argue, “What if I was?”
“I just don’t know the guy—“
“And I haven’t known the last twenty you’ve slept with.” You shoot back, “Can we… not? Can we not do this? You do this every time and it makes me feel like shit.”
“Then why aren’t we still together? If you’re so concerned for my feelings?”
“For that exact reason! It’s not fair to me.” You run your hands through your hair, “I’m not playing this game with you, not tonight. I’m gone in half a year anyways, and I’m not doing long distance—“
“Why not?”
You tilt your head and bite your bottom lip, deciding to go in for the kill, “Because I can’t trust you.” You see his face fall immediately, “I couldn’t then and I don’t think I can now.”
“It was one drunk decision.”
“I know.” You nod, “And I forgive you, but I’m not putting myself in that position again.”
He looks to the floor but nods, “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Just… let me know when you get there safe. Or… or if you get there and don’t feel safe. I’ll be there.”
You give him a small smile and kiss his cheek gently pushing open the bedroom door, “Thanks. Now go sleep off your high.”
Stephen had been pacing the floor of the bar area in his room for the past thirty minutes, listening as the water beat down against the tile in the bathroom. You’d actually come back. You came back to speak to him. And Stephen wasn’t necessarily banking on anything else, though he wouldn’t say no. There was no attachment this time, the age gap was still as prominent as it ever was but feeling far less severe now that you were well into your adulthood and clearly more than capable of taking care of yourself nowadays.
Stephen heard the water shut off and finally settled himself in one of the plush chairs. He was afraid to take the couch and have you that close that quickly. And if you chose to sit on the couch, that could be seen as an invitation for him to get closer at some point. Until then, he would keep himself firmly planted right here on this chair. He turned on the television and tried to make it look as if he hadn’t been eagerly awaiting your company for the last hour. Unfortunately, when he turned on the television it was already on CNN where Stephen’s face had been plastered for nearly a month.
He cringed when he heard, “Well… I never understood when people claimed you had an ego, but maybe they were right after all, Doctor…”
Stephen tried to defend himself, “I wasn’t— I just turned it on.”
“Did you turn it on so I’d see your face plastered across it and be impressed?”
“I don’t know, are you?”
You came traipsing around the couch and flopped onto it backward, “No, definitely not.” You turned to lay on your stomach and reach to the side for the glass of wine Stephen had already poured you, “Maybe if my father wasn’t who he was I could find it in me to be a bit more impressed, but…”
Stephen was too busy observing your legs to think about anything else. He quickly realized that the tattoos on your legs were symmetrical. What was on one side was mirrored on the other. At the moment he was particularly fascinated by two optical illusion-esque shapes on the upper part of your hamstrings. Which were… very much… out due to the teeny tiny black silk shorts you wore. He couldn’t see your arms now, you’d put on a matching black silk robe and a Sublime band tee, totally covering more than a few things he was dying to see.
“Your dad…” Stephen breathed out as you rolled back over, “How is he?”
You furrow your brow, “You’d know better than I would.”
“Afraid not.” Stephen is honest up front, “We had… a falling out. Some years ago now.”
“Oh?” You raise a brow and look him up and down, “What did my father do to you?”
“Who says he was at fault?”
“Easier for me to believe.” You simply murmur into your glass, “Never mind all that. How have you been, Doctor? I’ve tried to keep up, but I can’t say I understand a lot of it when I do.”
Stephen cracks a smile, “Sweet of you to show your support. I’ve been fine. Busier than ever. Made more than a few breakthroughs that a lot of people are interested in. I’m exhausted mostly. But certainly well.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” You smile at him softly, “You always were a hard worker… talented too from what I remember him telling me. It’s no surprise to me that you’re doing well.”
Stephen nods and offers a small smile, leaning forward to refill his own glass, pleased when you hum and tilt your own toward him for more. Stephen takes the opportunity to stand and sit on the opposite end of the couch. Close enough to reach you for this purpose, but little else. He swore he saw your cheeks flush as he passed you your wine glass, your fingers brushing against his own. You leaned back against the armrest, turning to face him with your legs crossed one over the other, one arm wrapped protectively beneath your chest.
He leaned back against the armrest and asked, “What about you?” Stephen pushed his luck just a bit, reaching forward to trail his fingers over the ink across your shins, “Tattooing must’ve worked out?”
Chill bumps prickled across your skin despite it being warm already as you replied, “Very, very well. My mentor Alexis and I get along well… we’re actually opening a little shop in New York.”
Stephen’s brows shot up in surprise, “You’re moving back?”
“Dad doesn’t know yet.” You sigh and throw your head back, exposing the column of your neck, “Not like he’d care if he did. He hasn’t spoken to me in years. Not since the last time he actually saw me and the tattoos.”
“He always was a bit narrow-minded in that aspect.”
“Every aspect.” You correct with an eye roll and a sad sort of smile, clutching your wine against your chest, “But yes. I’m splitting time between here and there while we get things set up and signed off, but by next year we’ll be up and running and I’ll live in New York full-time.”
“Living by yourself?”
“No, with Alexis. It’s not cheap up there… not cheap down here either, but…” You shrug, “We make do.”
Stephen studied you for a moment before saying, “Don’t take this the wrong way… but never hesitate to reach out if you need help. You’re right. The cost of living is too high up there for two twenty-somethings on their own. And I’m one nearly forty-something with more than enough. So, if you—“
“Doctor Strange…” You eye him with a smile, “that is very sweet— you always have been— but I have to learn to live on my own. I haven’t relied on anyone in years and I… I don’t want to go back to that.” You shrug, “You were right— I doubt you even remember— but you once told me that I’d have to leave home if I wanted to get anywhere.” Stephen remembered, “You were right. And I love who I am now. I hate that my dad can’t love me for who I am still—“
“I doubt he doesn’t love you, Y/N.” Stephen says with a frown
“Well, you didn’t hear the way he spoke to me last time we were together.” You insist, stalling hard and glancing up at the TV, “If someone loves you, they don’t speak to you like that.”
“I’m sorry he was cruel enough to make you feel that way.”
“It is what it is.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“But it is.” You glance back to him, “You know that too.”
Stephen swallows hard and agrees, “Yeah… I do.”
A moment of silence settles over the two of you. You slink down farther in your seat, resting your neck against the armrest, your legs falling in Stephen’s lap. Stephen quickly recovered from his shock and brought his free hand to your shin, gently running his thumb up and down the smooth skin. There were moths on either one, a pattern like sunshine below your kneecap that the moths seemed to gravitate toward, and below that were snakes coiled around your calves and looking toward the moths.
“I like these.” Stephen says, just to keep you talking
You smile, “Me too. Did the moths myself.”
His brows shot up in surprise once more, “You did it on yourself?”
“Mhm.” You shrug, “Best place to practice is human skin.”
“That’s… you’re very talented.”
You blush and mutter a small, “Thank you.”
“Did you do the snakes too?”
“Drew them, but Alexis tattooed them.” You turn over on your stomach to show, “They wrap all the way around, couldn’t have gotten the angle right.”
Stephen swallowed hard and nods, glancing up to see you watching him. He reaches out and trails along the snakes back and pauses for a moment, wondering how far he can push…
“What about these?” He asks lowly, trailing his fingers farther up to the optical illusion tattoos on the backs of your thighs
“Jameson. He’s really niche— works in optical illusion design. I thought it was pretty when he drew it up.”
“He tattooed it?”
“Mhm.”
“He one of the ones I saw tonight?”
“Yeah…” You breathe out, body relaxing as the Doctor traces over the lines delicately, “The bigger guy…”
“Looks like he eats protein powder for breakfast?”
You give a soft giggle and sip from your glass, “That’s the one.”
“Alexis was the girl?”
“Yeah.”
“She looked sweet.” Stephen says, “Not exactly… not what you’d expect from a tattoo artist.”
“What? The bleach blonde and spray tan?” You laugh, “That’s just one of her personalities.”
“Who was the other guy?”
“That’s Reese. They’re non-binary.”
“Apologies.”
“They don’t sweat it. Just a note.”
“Mm. Anything by them?”
“No. Reese specializes in color and that’s not really my thing. I’m all red, white, and black.”
“White?”
“Yeah!” You sit up and crawl toward him, sitting back on your legs and tucking your hair behind your ear, “Hard to see. They fade fast no matter how well they’re done… and to be honest, I didn’t take care of it the way I should have. It was the first one I got when I moved down here.”
Stephen leaned forward and looked carefully in the low light of the room. Three little sparkles right behind your ear. He smiled and reached out to touch it, but thinking better of the action withdrew his hand.
“You can.” You say, having seen him out of the corner of your eye, “I don’t mind.”
So he brought his hand up and gently brushed back the baby hairs laying over the tattoo. He smiled to himself as more goosebumps trailed up your neck. He ran his thumb gently over the little tattoo and dared to lean in a bit closer.
“Did it hurt?”
“Maybe… a bit. Been so long ago, I hardly remember.” You whisper softly
“Which has hurt the most?”
“I uh…” You hesitate before asking, “It’s on my spine. I can show you if you want?”
Stephen moved his hand to rest behind you on the couch and replied, “Only if you’re comfortable.”
He was rather pleased to find you didn’t hesitate for a second. You spun around, still sitting back on your calves and shrugged your robe from your shoulders. Stephen watched with bated breath as you reached down and stripped your shirt off as well. A branch of some sort ran up your back; Thin, meticulously drawn-out lines running up your spine. He also noted that on each of your shoulders you had one of the hands from Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam etched into your skin in the same delicate manner, though in red ink. He also couldn’t help but marvel at the shape of your form. The slope of your waist and hips, the fact that you wore no bra…
“I have a thing for flora and fauna… symmetry too, if you haven’t noticed.” You say after a moment of silence
“Really? Hadn’t caught on.” He teases
You turn and smack him gently in the shoulder with one hand, the other hand and arm tasked with hiding your more intimate bits, “Hush.” You scold lightly
He cracks a smile and you watch his eyes dip lower for a split second before he rights their position and murmurs, “Michelangelo.”
It was your turn to raise your brows, “Yes… a fan?”
“No, only educated.”
You snort and roll your eyes, “Better than most, it would seem. I guess those eight years of school did something after all.”
“Six.” Stephen corrects as you pull your shirt back on, though noting you don’t pull your robe on as well, “Six years. I got my M.D. and Ph.D. at the same time.”
You scoff, “Of course you did.” You mock, “Mr. Perfect.”
“Doctor Perfect.”
You laugh and push his shoulder, “Fuck off, Strange.”
Stephen smiled and gave you a little jab in the side in return. He took another sip from his wine and glanced at the television to find that the Avengers were destroying upstate New York. Then again, they normally were.
“Hey, uh… do you want to watch a movie?” He offered, “Unless you’re tired and need some sleep?”
You smile sheepishly and shake your head, “It’s the middle of the day for me. I work closing hours at the shop, so I’m normally up between one and three in the morning.” Stephen shot you a disapproving glare and you immediately rushed out, “I still get my sleep! It’s a stable pattern, it’s just not yours.”
“Hm…”
“Yes, let’s watch a movie.” You press on, dying to spend more time in his company, “What’d you have in mind?”
“Let’s see…” Stephen picks up the remote and starts flipping through the channel guide, “Top Gun, Ocean’s Eleven… Jaws!”
“No, no, no…” You object immediately, “No scary movies.”
Stephen snorts at you, “Jaws is a scary movie?”
“Yes!” You defend immediately, “I don’t like the ocean and I definitely don’t like— I don’t like mechanical things in the water.”
“Remind me never to take you to Disneyland.”
“Oh shut up.”
“C’mon! It’s a great movie!” He wiggles his eyebrows and teases, “If it gets too scary I’ll let you curl up close.”
You give him the side eye and test, “Oh? Was that your plan all along?”
“No… but it’s been my plan since a minute ago. It’s one of my favorite movies, don’t make me skip it.”
“Oh, now you’re guilt-tripping me?”
“Y/N?” He groans
“Okay, okay… but then we watch one of my picks afterward. No complaints.”
“No complaints.” He agrees, “Pinky promise.”
You smile as he extends his hand and offers his pinky. That bashful smile returns and you wrap your pinky around his own. Stephen— feeling brave, whether it be the flirting or alcohol— immediately grabs your wrist and pulls you closer. You blush wildly, staring up at him wide-eyed as you land situated between his leg and the armrest, your legs thrown over his own. Stephen pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over the both of you before clicking on the movie.
Offering as his only explanation, “It gets scary quick, Sweetheart.”
One hour and the entire bottle of wine in, you were feeling delightful and warm and fuzzy and… well one other certain type of way. You’d relaxed significantly, finding very quickly you adored this proximity and his touch. He didn’t seem to mind yours either as you’d gotten so bold as to start playing with his hair at some point. He’d given a little sigh, his eyes fluttering closed, head lulling back a bit. You’d had a hard time focusing on the movie at all, too rapt with the moment trying to memorize every little detail possible.
But as soon as the end credits rolled the Doctor asked, “Now then Sweetheart… was that so bad?”
“Mm… no. Not under the current circumstances.”
“Glad to hear it.” He smiled down at you, “Now, what’s your pick?”
“Pretty Woman.”
“Ah, great movie.” He agrees immediately
You laugh, “Really?”
“Of course really. It’s wonderful.”
You hum contentedly and place your finished glass of wine next to his and the empty bottle, “That’s nice. Jamie never wants to watch it with me.”
“Jamie?”
“Jameson.”
“Oh.” His brow furrowed together, “Are you two…”
“No. Well, we were and then we weren’t shortly after.” You shrug, “Did a friends-with-benefits thing for a while after that but… I didn’t like that either.”
“Oh.” He smirks at you, “Look at you go.”
You blush furiously, “Shut up!”
Stephen laughs, “Only teasing. Had any other boyfriends down here?”
“Nope.” You say popping the ‘p,’ “The one was enough.”
“That bad, huh?”
You sigh, “I um… I walked in on him cheating on me about six months in. In the fucking shop. He had a girl laid out on his table with his head—“ You cut yourself off, “Yeah… one has been enough.”
“Sounds like a dick.”
“He claims he was drunk.”
“At work?”
“It was after hours.”
“Great excuse.” He huffs and rolls his eyes, “You’ve always had shit taste in guys.”
You gawk at him, “No I have not! I—“ You blush a shade darker and snap your mouth shut, looking back to the TV
“You?”
“Am not going to say that.” You giggle, “I shouldn’t say what I was going to.”
“Well, now you have to. Inquiring minds would like to know.”
“I can’t.” You groan, “It’s too embarrassing.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
You hesitate a moment before deciding there’s enough alcohol in your system to play it off as a tipsy admission somewhere down the line. So you do admit…
“I used to have the biggest crush on you.” You smile shyly
“Like I said: Shit taste in guys.”
You throw your head back laughing and he laughs with you, his thumb tracing circles against your thigh.
“Was it that obvious?”
“A bit.” He admits, “But I thought it was cute.”
“Shut up…” You grumble, “God, that is so embarrassing.”
Stephen hesitates a moment before murmuring, “I never minded…”
Your head snaps toward him and you search his face for a moment to find total earnesty in his expression, “No?”
“No.” Stephen breathes out, turning to look at you, “I thought it was sweet. You were also adorable, which never hurt…”
“Oh, so I’m not adorable anymore?”
“That’s not what I said.” Stephen looks you up and down, “But no... less adorable and more beautiful. You grew up well.”
He watches as your cheeks flush brighter and you return, “You haven’t changed a bit. Still gorgeous as ever.”
“No. I’ve got grey in my hair and frown lines from dealing with idiots.”
You giggle and reach up to pet at the grey streaks in his hair, “I don’t mind. The grey suits you, Doctor.”
Stephen watched you observing him for a moment before asking, “Can I admit something?”
“What’s that?” You ask, glancing up at him through your lashes
Stephen’s eyes flutter shut as you reach up and brush his fringe off his forehead, “I might have had a bit of a crush on you too. Is that perverted?”
“I guess that depends on when the crush started.”
“Mm… definitely not until your second year of college or so. You were a little weird before then.”
You gasp and slap his shoulder, “Take it back!”
“Can’t and won’t.” He smiles and shakes his head, “You were. You were awkward and miserable… it wasn’t until college when you started opening up that I started taking notice of you.”
“Hmph.” You pout up at him, “Well, just to fuel your ego, I found you very attractive long before then.”
“How long?”
“Too long.”
“And after that?”
You pause before admitting, “Never stopped.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Me either.”
“And now?” You ask quietly, staring into his eyes, trying to pull his thoughts from that gorgeous mind
“And now… you’re still over a decade younger than me.” A bit of the light dims in your eyes and Stephen rushes to rectify, “And I am… more attracted to you than ever before.” You watch his eyes fall to your lips as he whispers, “And I’ve never wanted you more.”
“You… you won’t get in trouble?” You ask, tilting your head up to his own ever so slightly
“You’re an adult.” Stephen says, “If you wanted the same thing— only if you want the same thing… if we keep it quiet after the fact...“
You squirm a bit, your cheeks flushing pink, “If I can’t tell anyone… should we be…”
“Probably not.” He admits, inching closer to you as well, “People will talk if they hear— about both of us. Not just me.”
“You’re not looking for a relationship are you?” You ask quietly
“No.” He replies immediately, “Just a good night.”
You swallow hard and weigh your options. Do you give up on some schoolgirl fantasy and walk away without ever fulfilling the dream? Or do you try? Do you at least say you gave it a shot? Where were the boundaries, where did your morals lie? He’d been your father’s best friend… at one point, though that now seemed moot. He was nearly two decades older than you, but you were well into your early adulthood yourself. And he was kind and honest. He wasn’t leading you on. He told you just then exactly what he was looking for.
“I won’t tell.” You whisper, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Still as sweet and innocent as ever. Always so pure in his mind’s eye. The perfect picture of goodness. But he… he was tainted. He had been from the start. Stephen was never the “good guy.” This was his role. To take and take, more and more. It was never enough to have a good thing near, he always needed absolution. He needed to be consumed by the good thing if only to feel that he was good himself for a moment.
Though he usually left the good thing worse off than he found it.
Stephen asked softly, “Can I kiss you, Sweetheart?”
You gave a nod and whispered ‘yes’ and Stephen took your face in one hand. He cradled your cheek and softly brought your lips together, and he thought he could just explode when he heard you give a little whimper in response to the gentle touch. He grabbed your hips and gently lifted you so you were straddled over his waist, making you give a little squeak as he sat you in his lap. He brought both hands to your face and pressed his lips to yours once more, moving one hand to your neck to tilt your head back and deepen the kiss. He smiled when your hands ran from his shoulders into his hair, pulling gently, coaxing him on.
Stephen bit into your bottom lip gently… just enough to force a small gasp from the shock of the action. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you gave another little whimper. He tasted like red wine and little else, but you couldn’t say if it was that or his lips that had you so intoxicated at this point. Stephen was shocked to find you had a tongue piercing… a thousand perfectly filthy images flooded through his brain. Stephen’s hands explored from your hips to your waist to your upper back… and back again, incapable of staying in one spot for too long. He was clawing and pawing at the fabric like he wanted to rip it clean off your body. He reached up and grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back and placing rough kisses across the skin. You whimpered and ground yourself against him causing him to groan in your ear.
“We shouldn’t be doing this…” He breathed out, still trailing kisses up and down your neck
“No…” You agreed, your hand in his hair urging him on despite your words, “It’s an awful idea.”
“Thought about it before?”
“Way too often.”
“Yeah…” He groans out, grabbing your hips and forcing you to rock against his growing erection, “Right there with you.”
You reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling on it gently to signal your want. Stephen complied easily, sitting up and letting you pull his shirt off. You bite into your bottom lip and give a little giggle, out of nervousness or pure girlish excitement. You ran your hand down his chest, excited to see his skin was slightly tanned and there were sprinkles of freckles and moles across the skin. You traced a little pattern across his skin, connecting the dots and Stephen sat there watching you with great amusement. The flush on your cheeks and the smile on your lips were enough of a thrill for him.
“Planning out a tattoo?” He teases
You give a little laugh and disagree, “No. You’re not the type of guy to get a tattoo. And anyway, you have all these sweet little freckles. It would be a shame to cover them up.”
“I’m not the type of guy— well what does that mean?” Stephen asks, slightly offended but greatly bemused
“Well you’re just… all professional and stuff. Ink doesn’t tend to match that.”
“No one would see it if it were on my chest.”
“Oh, and what would you get, Doctor? An anatomically correct heart? A scalpel and a surgical mask?”
Stephen chuckles, “Very funny, Sweetheart.” Stephen snorts, “No, I was actually thinking your name. Big red heart with an arrow through it or something.” He teases
You throw your head back laughing and shake your head, “I won’t tattoo names on people. Bad, bad idea.”
“Can you do that?”
“Deny people a service? Absolutely.” You say, “It’s frowned upon for beginners, but I’ve always refused to put names on people. Besides, I’m well established now, I can do what I want.”
“Aren’t you just all grown up?” Stephen murmurs, running his hands up and down your hips gently
“All grown up.” You repeat
“Can I ask how many men you’ve been with?” Your cheeks turn another shade darker and Stephen gives you a soft smile, “You can tell me, I won’t judge.”
“Just… just Jameson. I almost— well, I did some stuff with another guy, but we didn’t…” You trail off and explain, “It was only a month or so after Jameson and I had texted Alexis to make sure someone knew where I was. Well, apparently Jameson had asked where I was and Alexis told him I was on a date and he totally lost his shit. Showed up at my fucking apartment and—“
“Holy shit, what the hell is wrong with him?” Stephen asks, “Guy sounds like a psycho.”
“Oh, he was only worried about me.” You try to defend, reaching up and toying with the ends of your hair, “He didn’t like that I was with him alone for a second date.”
“Then he should have asked Alexis to go check on you. Or called or texted you first. You don’t barge in on someone during a date.” Stephen argues, slowly putting pieces together that it didn’t seem like you had, “He… does he go after you often like that?”
“I… I mean, he calls and checks on me a lot. And he waits for me to get off my shift to walk me to my car and stuff. He likes to go out with me on our days off— he always wants to go out and do something. He does some stuff that’s annoying… he shows up at places where I am sometimes, but I know he just wants to make sure I’m safe. Dad used to do stuff like that, so…” You give a little shrug, “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“I mean… yes.” Stephen says bluntly, “How is he getting your location? And why does he need to be with you constantly during your free time?” Stephen shakes his head, “It’s one thing for a parent to do that to a child who’s a minor, a boyfriend— much less a normal friend— shouldn’t act like that. Don’t you think it’s a little creepy?”
You knit your brows together and sit back. Stephen could tell you didn’t like his observation, but he didn’t care. He didn’t like the idea of this guy always being on your tail like that. There was something off with that. There was a difference between devotion and obsession, and this guy was seriously walking the line. Stephen also had his doubts that you were telling the whole truth on the matter, and he understood that too. As you said, your father had acted like that for so long it was unlikely you could distinguish its inappropriate nature.
“It’s not creepy.” You disagree, “He cares about me.”
“Sure, I’m sure he does.” Stephen says, trying to de-escalate, “But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have boundaries.”
You crawl out of Stephen’s lap and stand up, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “We have boundaries.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like… he’s not allowed at me and Alexis’ place anymore after the date incident. And he’s not allowed to be in my phone anymore.”
Stephen blinks at you slowly, “He would go through your phone?”
“Yes, I didn’t have a problem with it.” You shrug, “I wasn’t hiding anything.”
“Would you go through his?”
“I mean… I’d look through his photos because that’s how I would stay up to date with his work, but nothing aside from that.”
“And what was he looking at on your phone?”
“The same thing. My messages and social media sometimes.”
Stephen shakes his head, “Are you sharing your location with him?”
“What? No. Only Alexis.”
“Check it.” Stephen says
“What?”
“I think you should check it.” He repeats and stand up from the couch, head reeling, “Well… I um, after some consideration, I don’t think that we should be doing anything tonight.”
Your face falls, “What?”
“You clearly have stuff you’re working through and I— I’m not trying to get caught in the middle of that. I’m seriously concerned for your safety concerning this guy, and my advice would be to ditch him as soon as possible, but I can’t do anything more for you in this sense, because you are clearly in denial about—“
“I am not in denial about anything!” You object, “He’s just a friend. There’s no reason for you to be getting yourself worked up over this. And I definitely don’t see how it correlates to us sleeping together.”
“Y/N…” Stephen sighs, “If he has your location if he knows where you are, who you’re with, and he is this crazy over you, how do you think he’d deal with that— us sleeping together?” He shakes his head, “I can’t risk my career on that.”
“I’m a legal adult!”
“Yeah, well shit gets twisted pretty quick.” Stephen huffs out, “I’m sorry. You’re gorgeous and I’ve thought about you like that for so long, but the timing isn’t right.”
“It was right five minutes ago when I was in your lap.”
“Yeah, before you told me about your psycho ex.” He laughs, “Sweetheart, I need you to see this through my eyes—“
“Oh, I see perfectly.” You say, “I’m still just some fucking kid too dumb to understand the complexities of the life of the great Doctor Stephen Strange.”
Stephen rolls his eyes and groan, “Oh, come on.”
“No. I get it.” You grab your robe off the couch and slip it back on your shoulders, “If you were going to let me down, you could have at least had the hindsight not to get me drunk so I could escape.”
“I wasn’t trying to get you drunk. You asked for the wine.” Stephen clarifies
“Jesus, you’re already trying to cover your own ass.” You huff, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Stephen rushes after you as you turn to walk down the hall, “Wait, wait, wait… Y/N, come on. Don’t go to bed angry with me.”
“I am angry with you.” You say, taking your arm from his grasp, “I get that people couldn’t know if we slept together, but you are blowing this so out of proportion. Jameson isn’t who you’ve made him out to be.”
He smiles at you softly and murmurs, “You’ve always seen the best in people, Sweetheart. And that’s served you well, ut I’m telling you, from the very little you’ve told me, that guy is no good. You’ll be better off when you get back to New York.” You blink up at him and turn your gaze away, “Do me a favor, yeah? You and Alexis don’t give him your new address, and double-check your location sharing. Don’t turn it off now, but just… look. Yeah?”
You nod slowly, “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Sweet. I can’t risk it with this.” Stephen murmurs
“I understand.” You mutter back, sniffing harshly to force back tears threatening to spring to your eyes, “I do. Thanks, Doctor Strange. I’ll be out of here by seven tomorrow morning. Early day at the shop.”
Stephen nods, “Alright. I um… feel free to wake me up and say goodbye. If not…” He leans down and places a gentle kiss to your temple, “goodbye and be safe. Come see me when you get to New York. Maybe you can show me your shop?”
You quirk a little half smile and nod, “Yeah. Thanks for tonight.”
“Anytime.” Stephen whispers and hopes you realize how much he means it
You lay in your extremely luxurious bed wrapped in the comforter and staring at the empty space beside you. You were devastated to say the least. This night had not gone how you’d expected at all. You’d been laying on the bed for a half hour feeling miserable for yourself. You were grown and willing, but you were still too young and naive for him to want anything to do with you.
You also had yet to check your phone as Stephen recommended, because the more you thought about it, the more what he said started making sense. You had developed severe angst living under your father’s thumb in the same way Jameson treated you now. He was constantly texting you, constantly wondering where you were, who you were with, and what you were doing. And like you had told Stephen, if you didn’t answer, he would show up.
You gave a grunt and sat up in the bed, snatching your phone off its charger. You first went into your find my friends, and sure enough, you could see Alexis’ location, right at the hotel where you’d left her. She was likely fast asleep, sleeping peacefully in the bed the two of you had been sharing that weekend. But you couldn’t see Jameson’s location. But then you saw his contact off to the side. You clicked on it and the option of ‘stop sharing your location’ popped up. Your breath caught in your throat, an awful feeling bubbling up in your chest.
You were furious.
You plugged your phone back in and shoved it under your pillow, now thoroughly angry and stressed. You didn’t have time to be angry or stressed. You had to be up in just a few hours. So you did what you normally did when you needed to get to sleep fast. You closed your eyes and started to imagine. You had the perfect scenario set up for you this time. You imagined the bedroom door creaking open, sitting up to find Stephen walking toward you.
“I changed my mind.” He would say, “If yours is still set.”
“Yes.” You murmured aloud to the empty room
He would descend upon you, crawling toward you over the foot of the bed. His lips attached to your neck, his hands roaming your body once more. You didn’t want foreplay in this fantasy. You just wanted him inside you. You wanted him to take your body, you wanted him to whisper dirty things in your ear while he thrust in and out of you.
“Tell me you want this.” He’d demand
“Yes. Yes, Stephen. I want this— you. I want you, please.” You would beg
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me.” You plead, “I dream about it. I dream about you, what it would feel like. Show me what it feels like.”
You could imagine the low groan he’d let out, how he’d touch you softly but intently. He’d be scared to hurt you, but he’d be just as desperate for you as you were for him. He would strip you of your clothes slowly, pressing his lips along your skin, teasing your nipples, rubbing your clit over your panties. You would take his clothes off as well, pulling at whatever fabric you had to, just trying to get your hands on his bare skin.
“Hold onto me, Baby.” He’d whisper in your ear, “Tell me if it hurts. We’ll go slow.”
He’d prop himself up with one arm, the other down below guiding his cock to your entrance. It would burn for a moment, the stretch feeling uncomfortable before it turned into something wonderful. He’d watch your eyes as he slid into you, a small breath of satisfaction slipping through his own kiss-flushed lips. He would pause after a moment to check on you, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, pressing soft kisses to your lips and across your face.
“More.” You’d request, wrapping your arms around those broad shoulders, “I want more, Stephen.”
“Okay, Baby.” He’d smile down at you, burying his face in your neck as he slowly slid further into your heat, “Christ, you feel so good, Y/N.” He’d murmur, “Feels so much better than I imagined. And I imagined it so gaddamn many times.”
You could hear your own little whimpers as you slid two fingers into your dripping heat, unsatisfied with the length and stretch. You were craving one f your toys, or better yet, the real thing. The real thing was a decent size from what you’d felt sat on top of his lap, and there was no toy that compared to a real, warm, pulsating member sliding into you. You could imagine how full you would feel when he finally bottomed out, the moan that would slip through your lips, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“Oh my God…” You’d sigh out, “Stephen, that’s so fucking deep.”
“Yeah? Did he reach all the way back there?” He’d ask cockily, arrogance showing through
“N-no.” You’d laugh out, “God, no. I can feel you in my stomach.”
You could almost feel his Cheshire smile against your skin, the pleased tone in his voice as he asks, “Does it feel good? Am I too deep? Do I need to pull out some?”
“No.” You would wrap your legs around his back, effectively trapping him in your heat, “No, stay.”
“Awe… good girl.” He would coo into your ear, “You like it nice and deep, huh? You like feeling me buried in this pretty cunt?”
“Yes.” You would agree, “Please move, fuck me now.”
He would start with a gentle roll of his hips, holding you gently, taking the time to feel you wrapped around him, his free hand exploring your body. His lips would trail across your chest and collar bones, up your neck, his lips wrapping around your nipples and sucking gently. His hips would start moving faster, coaxing louder sounds from you. You moved your finger faster, your back arching slightly off the bed.
In your fantasy you grab his hand and wrap it around your throat, something you’d come to thoroughly enjoy. The slight light-headed feeling it gave you, the trust required for the action, the power it put in the hands of the man above you. Stephen would reply without hesitation, squeezing the sides of your neck, grinning at the dirty little secret. He would sit back on his knees and watch as he thrust his cock in and out of you.
“Fuck, you look so pretty, Baby Girl.” He would pant out, “Obsessed with your body, Sweet. Never gonna’ be able to get enough now.” He would pull out of you and grab you around the waist, flipping you over to raise your hips and thrust back into him, “Mine now, Sweetheart. All mine.”
“All yours, Stephen.” You would agree
You could imagine him twisting your hair around his hand and pulling your head back, forcing you to look back at him. His lips meeting yours for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss, your jaw hanging slack as he pounds into you, reaching another new depth that would have you seeing stars.
“Oh my God… right there, Baby. Fuck me hard like that.” You would plead
You’d always imagined Stephen would be a fan of dirty talk and so his reply would naturally be, “Come on, Sweetheart, talk to me. Let me hear how good it feel.”
“You’re so fucking big. You’re so deep, it feels so good. I want more, I want you to fuck me dumb.” You would beg for him, “F-fuck… make me cum like that.”
He’d speed up, pulling you back against him harder, the sound of your skin slapping together ringing through the room, your pussy gushing and producing an obscene sound. He would hit that one spot, that spot that would have you shaking, the spot only your dildo had been able to reach thus far. Stephen would let go of your hair to wrap a hand around your throat and pull you flush against him.
“You feel so good, Baby.” He would moan in your ear, “You’re so tight— shit, keep squeezing me like that.” He would growl and sink his teeth into your shoulder, marking your skin not covered in ink with love bites, proof of where he’d been, “I’m gonna’ cum at this rate.”
“Cum inside me.” You would ask, “Please, Stephen. I want to know what it feels like, please.”
“You want me to cum in this pretty pussy? Make you mine for real?”
Your eyes rolled back in your head at the idea, “Yes, Steph— p-please. I want you to make me yours. I wanna’ be yours.”
He would move his hand from your throat to your clit, rubbing it around in small, tight circles. Perfect precision from those perfect hands you adored. Hands you had spent far too much time studying in your younger years, hands that had explored your body briefly tonight, hands you wanted more from.
“Cum with me.” He’d demand, “I want to feel you come undone around me. Let me feel you.” He would ask, “Look at me while you cum, let me see those pretty eyes roll back in your head. Bet you won’t be able to see anything up there. Fucked you nice and dumb like you asked.”
“I-I…” You would whimper, “Steph— gonna’…”
“Yes. Yes, let go. Let me have it.” He would growl, “Give it to me and I’ll give you mine.”
You felt your body convulse, your orgasm curling your toes and causing an audible gasp to leave your lips. The sound seemed so loud in the empty room, the bedsheets sticking to your now sweaty body. Your head felt light as though Doctor Strange’s hand had truly been wrapped around your throat, taking your breath away. You didn’t stop circling your clit until you were well and truly certain your body was spent. And after that, you slowly rolled out of the bed. You went to the bathroom and peed, washed your hands thoroughly, and then debauched one of the bathroom’s towels, wiping yourself down thoroughly.
You walked back into the bedroom and collapsed on the opposite side of the bed. You closed your eyes and it worked like a charm, you drifted off to sleep peacefully, a small smile on your face having achieved exactly what you’d come here for.
If only in your dreams.
Stephen had woken up bright and early. His sleep hadn’t exactly been peaceful. He’d been haunted by dirty dreams, refusing to chase a release with you laying in the next room over. There was nothing wrong with it, it was just based on principle. He had called down for room service, hoping you would crawl out of your room with enough time to grab something decent to eat. He wasn’t sure what you liked, so he had gotten a bit of everything. He was currently enjoying an omelet with a steaming cup of black coffee, glancing back and forth between his plate and the television.
He heard a door open down the hall and did his best to look disinterested until he heard the sound of boots on the hardwood floor. He looked up to find you in a black peasant blouse, black mom jeans, and chunky black boots. Your hair was thrown lazily in a bun on your head, but you had on a full face of makeup. It wasn’t typically Stephen’s preference, but he could admit that the dark black liner on your lids was entrancing. Your glossy lips were simply an added layer of torture, looking perfectly kissable. He wondered if the glass tasted like something fruity or if it simply had the chemical taste that most women his age seemed to be endeared to.
“Good morning.” Stephen greets, “I called down and got us some breakfast. Fresh coffee if you need it and plenty of food. Come sit down.”
You seemed to hesitate before walking over, dropping your bag to the floor and plopping down. You immediately reached for the bowl of fruit and picked up a strawberry, popping the fruit between your lips. Stephen watched with great interest before redirecting it quickly to the TV.
“How did you sleep?” He asked, simply to make conversation
“Fine.” You say vaguely, “How about you, Doc?”
“I’ve slept better.”
“I sent away a party for you to get shit sleep?” You ask amused
“I’m old. We don’t pick and choose our sleep stability.”
“Mm, you’d think you’d have it down by fifty.”
“Excuse you, I’m thirty-five.” Stephen scoffs looking back at you
You shrug and to piss him off say, “Same difference.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Do I need to call you a cab?”
“No. Jameson is picking me up.” You reply, taking a muffin and peeling back the paper, “I have a back piece today. It’s supposed to be a five hour job. It’s my longest sitting yet.”
“What is it?”
“The head of a Wendigo with snakes wrapped around the antlers. We won’t do the nature forms he wanted until next session.”
“What is a Wendigo?”
“Native America folklore, you should look into it. Really interesting.”
“Hm.”
Stephen doesn’t ask what he wants to. He doesn’t ask if you checked your location services, he doesn’t ask if you’re mad at him, and he definitely doesn’t ask if you’d be willing to see him in New York. Maybe then it would be the right time. He would have you to himself. No prodding friends and no silly disagreements.
Your phone rings a few times and you roll your eyes before answering, “What?”
“Well jeez… good morning to you too, Princess.” Jameson says, “We’re outside whenever you’re ready. The doorman wouldn’t let me in.”
“No, of course, the doorman didn’t let you in, you don’t have clearance to be in the building. I told you to just call me when you got here anyways.”
“Well… I’m here.”
“I’ll be down in ten minutes. Let me finish eating.”
“Why don’t you call down and let them get me to come up?” He suggests
“It won’t kill you to wait in the car for ten minutes, Jamie.”
“Why can’t I come up?”
“Because I’m literally just finishing—“ You let out a huff, “You know what? Fine. Be there in three minutes. Not like I wanted to enjoy my morning anyways.”
You hand up before he can reply and stoop down to grab your bag. Stephen stands and shifts awkwardly on his feet, trying to decide where to go from here.
“It was nice seeing you, Doctor Strange. Thanks for letting me stay the night.”
“Yeah.” Stephen says stepping forward, “It was nice to see you too. Really nice, I mean it. I’m sorry last night ended—“
“It’s whatever. You were right anyways.” You shake your head and shove your bag onto your shoulder, grabbing your phone from the table, “Hope you get back to New York safe.”
“Y/N, wait.” Stephen sighs as you turn on your heel for the door. He grabs your arm gently and waits for you to turn back around, letting out another deep sigh seeing the disappointment etched into your features, “I… I’d like to see you when you get settled in back home. I’d like to finish what we started… what I think we were going to start.”
You shake your head, “C’mon, Stephen. I don’t want to do this again. And I don’t want to listen to you spew some bullshit about your career to avoid sleeping with me again.”
“We won’t do this again.” He says certainly, “Well… we’ll do the movie part. Wine again if you’d like. But we won’t do the arguing about moving forward. And it wasn’t bullshit, Y/N. C’mon. It’s my reputation on the line, Sweetheart, you know that. Think about the light they used to shine on your dad and Christine. They get one hint that I’ve been anywhere doing anything with you, I’m done for.”
And you knew he was right. But it didn’t make it hurt any less at the moment.
You seem to consider for a minute before unlocking your phone and shoving it toward him, “Give me your number. I’ll text you when I’m settled.”
Stephen felt a small sliver of joy course through him. He put in his number hastily and labeled himself as simply ’Stephen Strange.’ You took the phone back and without checking the number put it in your pocket. Always so trusting.
“If I was right, you need to tell someone your trust.” Stephen says softly, “Things like this escalate every day. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I don’t live here. I can’t do anything about him. Talk to Alexis or your boss and tell them what you’ve noticed. Alexis sounds like a good friend, she’ll believe you. And if she sees it too, it will be able to talk to your boss. Okay?”
You nod and whisper, “Okay.”
“Good.” Stephen gives your arm a gentle squeeze and reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, “Don’t leave mad at me, Sweetheart.”
You shake your head, “I’m not mad, I’m just… disappointed, Stephen. I’ve been… I got so close to something I wanted for so long last night. I’m frustrated with the way it ended.”
Stephen could have moaned at such a confession. He took another step forward and dipped his head, brushing his lips over yours. You pushed up on your tiptoes and slotted your lips more thoroughly over his own. He wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you closer, reveling in the last bit of you he would have for a long time. He pulled away slowly and reached up, brushing the baby hairs back off your forehead, smiling at you softly. His heart fluttered when you gave a shy smile back.
“I will make it up to you when you get to New York if you want.” He promises, “And if not, no hard feelings, but I’d like to know you made it safe and things are going well. Even if you don’t want to see me, just shoot me a text and let me know you’re doing alright, yeah?”
“I will.” You agree, “I hope life keeps going well.” You say sweetly, cheeks flushing as you look away from him to murmur, “I will for sure text you when I’m settled.”
Stephen smiles, “I look forward to it. Now go have a good day.” He kisses your forehead and opens the door for you, “See you soon, Y/N.”
“See you soon.” You return, stepping out into the hall and throwing a quick smile over your shoulder
The last thing you saw as the door closed was his smile, the dimple in his cheek winking at you. Your smile quickly faded as you remembered what you were walking away to. You stormed down to the lobby and only managed a half-assed ‘thank you’ to the doorman as you stomped toward Jameson’s shitty van. You flung your bag in the back seat and then slammed your door shut, resulting in a disgruntled comment that you couldn’t hear over the cogs in your head turning.
Your brain did however process the first question he asked which was, “Did you sleep with him?”
And while you so badly wanted to reply, ‘None of your goddamn business,’ you instead remembered the implication that could make against Stephen and answered, “No.”
You could practically feel the grin bloom on Jameson’s face as he said, “Could he not get it up or something?”
“No, dickhead. He’s just my father’s best friend. It was not and never will be like that. He was just checking in on me.”
You seethed silently as Jameson’s hand came to rest over your thigh as he pulled onto the road, “Well good. I’m glad to hear it. I mean, I know you have daddy issues, but I was hoping you wouldn’t take it that far.”
“Oh, fuck you, Jameson.” You spit out, “The only poor decision my daddy issues have ever resulted in were you.”
“What the hell, Y/N?” Jameson asks, “I was just joking, chill out.”
“Well it didn’t sound like a joke to me. It sounded like you being a dick. I’m tired of you making those jokes, they aren’t funny.”
“You usually laugh.”
“Yeah, I’m too uncomfortable to do anything else when it comes to you.” You huff, “Take your hand off of me. I don’t want you to touch me anymore.”
You look toward him to find his jaw hard set and his teeth grit together as he checks, “Are you sure you didn’t sleep with him? You sound dick-whipped right now. Where the hell is this bitchy ass attitude coming from.”
You don’t respond, instead laying back your seat and closing your eyes. Another half hour of sleep wouldn’t hurt. And you would need every bit of energy possible to get through this session and the conversation you needed to have with Alexis and Jalen afterward. If Jalen didn’t believe you, the upside was you only had to last a few more months. And you needed to double check with Alexis she hadn’t given or shown Jameson your new New York address— home or shop. Maybe it was only paranoia, but Doctor Strange had seemed so earnest in his concern. And he’d been right about the location tracking. That had to mean something.
Stephen leaned back against the door and looked at the table full of food. He had at least resolved the issue of your anger to some degree. He really hadn’t meant to make you angry in the first place, and he knew in his heart you understood why he couldn’t risk a situation like that. But he also understood your frustration. He was feeling it too. He was certain the two of you would be offered another opportunity, and next time, it would be on your own terms, not some random act of fate.
He was hopeful when you turned up in New York you would be drama free and excited about all the new possibilities for yourself. Maybe you’d take him up on his offer and show him around your studio. After that he would offer to take you to dinner somewhere casual, and following that— if you wanted— he would take you home.
Yeah. It would all work itself out when you got back to New York.
Snippet: “Make love to me, Stephen. Just tonight.” You plead softly, repeating those two words from earlier, a reminder to both of you how this would end
Warnings: SMUT, but like soft n’ sweet this time. Explicit language, verbal fight, one shove.
Word count: 7,266
Reading time: ≈ 26 mins.
Chapter 34/41
A/N: YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM NO QUICK ENOUGH!!! If you want to be tagged in updates say so in the comments! Happy reading <3
The door closed behind the two of you and you took a long inhale. The apartment smelled so distinctly of Stephen, every time. He placed a gentle hand on your back and you turned your head to look at him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back into him, resting his forehead on your shoulder.
“I’m not… if you don’t want to—”
“I do…” You whisper, turning to face him
“So I can take care of you?”
“Yes, Stephen.” You smile as he presses his lips to his neck, “I’d like that.”
And with that permission, he led you into a long, slow, soft kiss. No teeth, no tongue. Just lips against lips and arms wrapped around one another. He brought his hands up to your face, cradling you softly. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones delicately. You turned and your hands found residence against his back where your fingers dug gently into the fabric. You leaned farther into him, getting as close as possible.
You both stood there and lost yourselves in each other in a way you never had before. You thought you could feel every part of him despite all the layers between you, and Stephen thought he could feel every cell responsible for your composition. He moved one hand to the back of your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss, and you gave a little whimper, moving impossibly closer to him. He tried to pull you closer as well, tried to satiate his need for you. Something deep and unexplainable, but inexplicable.
He reached down and hauled you upward, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist, his lips not leaving yours for a second. He carried you into the penthouse and set you down gently on the couch, falling to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving your own. You leaned forward and smiled into another kiss, and Stephen found himself smiling into it right along with you. He let himself smile into it, let himself enjoy the foreign action.
He tilted your head back and slowly trailed kisses down your chin to your jaw and your neck. He moved slowly and touched you gently, savoring every part of you he could. He trailed his hands from your shins up to your thighs and pulled your legs apart to get himself closer to you before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your sweater. His fingers brushed across the bare skin of your abdomen making you inhale sharply. Stephen was in no rush. He would make this last all night if he could. He wanted to memorize you, every curve and dimple and line that adorned your body.
He pulled at the waistband of your leggings and you lifted your hips to let him slide them off, and he chuckled when you brought your hands to his face to ensure he didn’t break away. You giggled and brought your kisses down along his cheek and jawline, nipping gently at his neck and soothing over the sting with your tongue. Stephen wasted no time on teasing you, immediately moving to slide your panties off as well. He didn’t even pause to see what they looked like— he didn’t care about the show tonight.
He brought his thumb to your slit and relished the way you gasped from the small touch alone. Your legs fell open further allowing him access to the absolute treasure between them. He circled your clit lightly, his lips never leaving your own until you fell back into the couch, your eyes fluttering closed as you reveled in the feeling of Stephen’s skilled fingers working over you. You swallowed hard and gripped at the couch cushion. Stephen pulled you forward gently and spread you wider to slot his head between your legs.
You felt his breath against your heat and murmured, “Stephen, please.”
“You don’t have to beg tonight, Doll. I’m gonna take good care of you. You just sit back and enjoy it for me, alright?”
“Yes sir.”
He kissed at your thighs gently and smiled, “Mm, still so well-mannered. Such a sweet girl for me, huh?”
“Mhm.” Was all you were able to hum out as Stephen stuck his tongue out and gently licked a stripe through your slit
He kept his hands resting on your thighs, fully aware of your propensity to try and shut them as you got closer and closer to climax. He licked at you gently, running his tongue flat against you. Your hips shifted forward and you let out one of those sweet little moans. He smiled to himself and closed his lips over your clit, sucking gently before licking roughly and sucking again. Stephen watched as your back arched slowly off the couch. He snaked one arm up under the fabric of your sweater and groped at your chest, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You moaned and shifted, wanting desperately to be closer to him. Needing to be closer to him.
Stephen took both hands and spread you open for him, humming happily at the sight of your arousal glistening, “You’re so beautiful, Baby. I love watching you react to me like this.”
You whimpered at the praise, always truly happy when Stephen used his mouth for something other than bossing others around or boasting about himself. He stuck his tongue inside you and you keened, delighted at the intrusion. Stephen fucked you with his tongue nice and slow, more than happy to spend as much time between your legs as possible. He loved it. He loved eating you out. He loved the way you gushed and coated his tongue. He would spend all night worshiping you like this if you’d let him.
“Fuck, Stephen.” You whined, “Feels so good, so fucking good. Oh… God.”
He pulled away and licked another stripe up your sex, placing a kiss against your clit, “Yeah, Honey? You like having my head between your legs?”
“So much.” You agreed
“I like it too.” He said bringing his hand up and gently pushing one finger into you, making you sigh happily, “I could do this all night. I would spend my whole night between your legs like this. Making you cum over and over again.” He slipped a second finger inside you and you moaned obscenities under your breath, “What do you think? You want my mouth again?”
“Yes, please. Yes. I love it when y— you use your mouth on me. You do it so good, Stephen. I— I can’t think straight… Jesus.” Stephen brought his mouth down over your clit and traced circles over the bud with rougher pressure and you gasped, “Yes! Right there… right there. Don’t stop, please.”
He didn’t. He told you, he was taking care of you tonight. He wouldn’t tease you, wouldn’t drag out your release a second longer than necessary. He loved watching you come undone for him. He felt one hand find its way into his hair where you pulled gently. He moaned at the sensation making you jump a bit and gasp from the vibrations. He smiled when he glanced up to find you staring down at him, your lips parted and your chest heaving as your body tried to decide between necessary function and surrendering to pleasure. He curled his fingers inside you and you moaned out your pleasure. He did it again and again, sliding his fingers out of you slowly just to slide them back in at the same pace, always curling them to reach for that special spot inside of you.
Stephen watched as you came undone, pulling back only to watch the way you gushed your release before leaning down to lap it up. God, he loved the taste of you, the scent of you, the feeling of you. He kept working at you until your legs were shaking and your hand fell from his hair. He sat up and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around your back and bringing his lips to your own once again. You threw your arms around his neck and smiled at the feeling of his hand against the small of your back, his fingers curling lightly as if a plea for you to get closer. This time he licked at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You opened your mouth gladly and let the taste of both you and him flood your senses.
“You’re just as pretty from down here as you are anywhere else.” He said earnestly, pulling away to catch his breath. You felt yourself flush at the compliment and tried to turn away, only to have your chin gently grabbed and your eyes forced to meet his once more, “You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you…” You whispered back, and he knew it was a lie
He quirked a little half smile and kissed your lips gently, “How should I make you cum next, Pretty Girl? Let me spend all night between your legs, however you want it. Let me prove how beautiful you are. Let me keep taking care of you.”
Your heart skipped a beat and your lips twitched into a smile. You knew he didn’t mean the words he was saying because it was Stephen Strange saying them. You knew he didn’t care whether you asked him to continue from here or not. You knew they were just pretty words spoken to make your head spin, your knees weak, your heart flutter.
You knew.
But you decided to let yourself believe them for now.
“Make love to me, Stephen. Just tonight.” You plead softly, repeating those two words from earlier, a reminder to both of you how this would end
“Just tonight?” Stephen asked, a wistful tone to his voice
“Just tonight.”
“One condition.” He posed, “You stay when we’re done. Don’t run off and leave the other side of my bed cold.”
You nod and agree, “I’ll stay.”
“That’s my Good Girl.” He praised, standing and lifting you off the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist
He carried you into the bedroom, his lips between your neck and lips the whole way. He set you gently on the bed and stripped off his shirt as you worked on the tie of his sweats. He was already hard, fully and completely, merely from having been between your legs. His dick was not broken. Listening to your little moans and whimpers as you came in his mouth was all he needed when it was you. You pulled his sweats and briefs down and he kicked them and his shoes off before reaching down and ridding you of your shirt and bra.
He crawled on the bed and shifted you toward the head to the mass of pillows. He kissed your lips short and sweet before trailing down to your now-exposed breasts. He loved your chest just as much as your ass— he wasn’t in the mood to choose which was his favorite, nor had he ever been. Palming one breast he ran his mouth over the other, nipping gently at your nipple and hearing the moan it drew from you. He took his time, lavishing attention to each, running his hands down the curves of your body and back up. He studied the way you arched into his touch, every squirm, every twitch.
You reached down and found his cock, grasping it lightly and toying with his head. Stephen groaned and his head fell forward into your sternum, relishing in your touch. You pumped your hand up and down his shaft slowly, watching as his back heaved with efforts of composure. He picked his head up and crushed his lips against your own. He opened his mouth and you dove into him, making your grip around him just a bit tighter as you worked your fist over his length. You drew back from the kiss to stare up at him. Your free hand came to cup his jaw and you watched as he surrendered to the touch, letting his head fall into your hand without restraint.
“You’re so pretty.” You murmured, studying the angles and plains of his face in the light of the sun just peaking through his bedroom curtains
You felt his face grow warm beneath your touch and smiled when you saw his cheeks go red— not just pink, but really and truly red. His cock twitched in your hand and you smiled, knowing your words had at least meant something. His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but nothing left them and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and gave a bit of a sigh, resting his forehead against your own.
“I mean— you always have been. I’ve always thought so. But you really are just… beautiful, Stephen.” You run a thumb over his cheekbone, noticing for the first time he has a light smattering of freckles there
Stephen was so dumbfounded by the admission that he was left totally speechless. No return, no ‘thank you,’ no smart-ass comment… nothing. His heart felt like it was swelling in his chest. Was he having a heart attack? Given the loss of words the only thing he found himself capable of doing was kissing you again. A small gesture of gratitude in comparison for what he’d really felt for the words, but it was something. You returned the kiss eagerly, taking it as the ‘thanks’ he had intended. You knew it was likely he was tired of women telling him how good-looking he was, but you needed him to know you saw it too. You needed him to know you’d seen him the same way he’d seen you.
Stephen wrapped one arm around you and as if you read his mind you began guiding his cock to your entrance. He thrust into you slowly and you and he both moaned happily. He’d never entered anyone this leisurely and he decided he’d do it with you every time— if there ever was another time. You loved feeling him stretch you slow like this, loved how it felt he fit just right. Stephen could feel every bit of you, every stretch, every pulse, every flutter of your walls. He was throbbing already, every part of him so thoroughly absorbed in your being. You made the prettiest face when he finally bottomed out in you. Your mouth twitching into a satisfied smile, a breath of relief pushing past those pretty kiss-flushed lips. Your eyes rolled back just a bit as he pushed at that boundary somewhere deep inside you— somewhere he wanted to be the only man to ever feel.
“Just like that, Doll.” He cooed, “You feel so good stretched out around me, always do. My beautiful girl.”
He leaned down and pressed his chest against your own, desperately wanting to feel as much of you on him as possible. You wrapped your arms around him in return, rolling your hips up toward him gently. He let out one of those rare and beautiful moans, his head falling forward to watch where the two of you were connected. He withdrew slowly before pushing back in the same. You both found a perfectly lazy pace, grinding into one another. His pelvis pressed into your clit when he rolled his hips against yours, creating wonderful friction right where it needed to. Stephen kept his arm around your back and held you as close to him as possible.
This was new.
This was not how he normally treated his women, and he could feel the difference. Even he wasn’t emotionally dense enough to ignore that. He was doing exactly what you’d asked of him— he was making love to you. He wasn’t fucking you or having you or even just having sex. There was something different, some perfect and indescribable feeling attached to it. It made the swelling in his heart continue and his breathing labored despite the fact it wasn’t half the normal energy he put into it. And he knew it was dangerous, whatever the feeling was. But he didn’t care. Not now.
Not tonight.
Stephen rest his forehead against your own and demanded, “Look at me, Augustine.”
You did so immediately. Your eyes weren’t hazy and far away like normal. You weren’t lost in it, you were right there with him, feeling the same exact thing. Those calculating, mesmerizing, stunning, green and gold eyes were right there staring up at him. He could see every fiber of your iris, every thought in that pretty little head if he looked hard enough. Your face was flushed pink and there was a light sheen to your skin, your hair cascading over his pillows in a white waterfall. You looked absolutely angelic.
“God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered
Your heart and stomach both twist and you moved your hands from his back up into his hair, pulling him into another kiss. It was lazy the same as his thrust and the roll of your hips. So undone and unconcerned with whatever the hell was happening with the rest of the world behind those four walls. When he broke the kiss his eyes were right there, boring into your own again. His nose nudged against yours as he kissed you softly once more.
“Stephen.” You breathed out, cradling his face in your hands
“You alright, Doll?” He checked, placing a kiss against your forehead as he sheathed himself in you once more
“So much better than alright.” You confirmed, “So g-good. Taking such good care of me, Sweetheart.”
Stephen found himself groaning at the praise, his cock twitching. Since when was that something he was into? He felt your walls flutter around him and moved his hand to the small of your back, angling you upward ever so slightly. But he knew the adjustment made all the difference when you gasped and wrapped your arms around him tight again, your eyes fluttering closed.
“Yes, yes. Stephen…”
“Right there? Just like that, Beautiful?”
“Yes. Please. Oh my God. Oh, you feel so good.” Even as you said it he could feel your walls fluttering, squeezing him tighter, “You fill me up so right, so right, every time. I’d spend forever with you buried inside me. Forever.” You muttered, your head falling back to the mattress, your chest rising and falling quickly, “Just want you.”
Stephen groaned at the admission, “I’m here, Doll. You have me.” He reassured, brushing the baby hairs off your forehead
“Stephen.” You moan for him once more, quiet and sweet, right into his ear causing his whole body to break out into chill bumps. “Don’t stop, please.” You beg, “Stephen, don’t…” Your nails dig into his hair, pulling gently, listening to his breathing and… you don’t know if it’s your heartbeat you hear or his own, but you didn’t mind either way
“C’mon, Beautiful.“ He coaxes, “Cum for me.”
It all felt so right.
“I’m right here. You can let go.” He reassured, staring down into your eyes, your brow tensed in pleasure, lips parted slightly as you panted
Stephen tightened his grip on your back and made sure to angle you just right, brushing against your g-spot and grinding against your clit. With a few more thrusts he watched as your mouth fell agape and you came with a silent scream. You mumbled his name over and over again in a quiet plea. He brushed his lips across your own gently, a small smile on his face as he watched your orgasm work through you. He pulled back and felt as you trailed one of your hands to his chest, your eyes locked on his own. He brought one of his own hands up to yours and pressed it firmly to his heart. He nuzzled his head into your chest and you thread the fingers of your free hand through his hair once again, pulling softly as you came off the high of your own orgasm.
But Stephen couldn’t make himself let go. He wouldn’t let go. Because he knew this was the last time. This was it. This was the first and last time he’d have you this way. And he couldn’t fathom letting you go.
God, he didn’t wanna let go.
You listened to Stephen’s labored breathing. Felt the way he was pulsing inside of you. You ran your hands down his back, feeling the way the muscles tensed under your touch. He was holding out, holding back.
“Cum, Stephen.” You whispered, hooking your legs around his back and resuming your own grinding against him, “Cum for me.” You plead again, running your hand through his damp hair
He moved gently to bury his face in your neck and left gentle kisses over the skin. He was so wrapped up in everything you were in that moment. The rest of the world could have been falling apart and he wouldn’t have batted an eye. As long as he was there with you it wouldn’t have mattered what else was happening. He slotted his mouth against your own once more, kissing you tenderly. With a few more slow and deep thrusts he felt himself come undone. His head got light and he swore he’d never felt anything better than this in his life.
Not his release… just you.
“Oh— Augustine, Doll.” He murmured against your lips, “You— you’re so good to me.”
You kissed him, little whimpers falling through your lips as he rocked in and out of you a few more times. He kissed across your collarbones and buried his face in your chest, leaving little kisses there as well. You reached out and pushed the hair back falling over his forehead, smiling when it fell right back into place.
You whispered, “Don’t move. Stay in me.”
You kept your legs wrapped around him tight and Stephen looked up to find your eyes clouded with tears. For a moment he panicked, thought you were hurt, thought something had gone wrong. But you just brought your hand up to his face and rest your forehead against his own. He nodded and relaxed into you, resting his weight carefully against your body. You untangled your legs from around his waist and made room so he could lay on you comfortably. You liked his weight resting over top of you. It felt safe.
You wrapped your arms around his back and he nuzzled once more into the crook of your neck where it smelled of his shampoo. Had you been using his stuff at your house? He kissed right below your ear and heard you give a sweet little hum. He rest his chin on your chest and looked up at you. You wore a soft smile, so sweet and content-looking. Your eyes were closed as he lay there, still inside you as you’d asked. He felt his head rise and fall with your deep breaths and stopped to memorize your breathing pattern. In for four seconds, a pause for two, out for three. Your bodies relaxed into one another so naturally, so perfectly, that the idea that you hadn’t been molded just for one another seemed the most ludicrous idea to him in that moment.
You looked down to him and gave a nod, so he carefully pulled out of you.
“Stay right here, Doll. I’m ganna’ get something to clean up.” He said
You gave a little pout but nodded in agreement and Stephen rolled out of the bed and wandered into the bathroom. He wet a washcloth with warm water and brought a separate one to dry you off after. He found you in the same position he left you, sprawled out in his bed looking perfectly undone. He crawled back onto the bed and wiped over your face first, your nose scrunching and making him chuckle. He continued down your neck and to your chest and stomach— you didn’t tense when he touched you there and it made him smile. He spread your legs and gently cleaned between them, trying not to overstimulate you. You gave a little whimper, but that was all. He pat you down dry with the towel and went back into the bathroom to clean himself up.
When he returned he reached in his drawer and found that oversized band tee of Victor’s that you preferred and you immediately sat and let him pull it over your head. After that, he pulled on a pair of boxers and turned off the bedroom light. He lifted the covers and you complied, crawling beneath them. He slid into the bed and was pleasantly surprised when you immediately rolled over and curled up next to him. You buried your face in his chest and placed a gentle kiss over his heart. His hand found yours and he entwined your fingers, resting your hands on his hip.
“That was amazing, Augustine.” He murmurs, tearing down his barrier for you, “You’re amazing.”
He felt you smile against his skin and you returned, “It was perfect, Stephen.”
He couldn’t help but take your chin in his hand and tilt your face upward to him. He kissed you, so slowly, so deeply, so thoroughly that it took all the air straight from your lungs. You lay there for a long time trading deep kisses and air. It felt unreal. This wasn’t part of the sex, he wasn’t looking to go again— you’d know if he were. Stephen was kissing you simply because he wanted to. He was kissing you to kiss you. Like it was totally natural, like you were his.
And with the deep ache in your chest you realized how badly you wished you were.
Stephen’s free hand cradled your cheek and with a start he realized you were crying.
He broke the kiss immediately and asked, “What’s wrong, Doll?”
You gave a sort of weak laugh and shook your head, “I don’t wanna tell you.”
“Why shouldn’t you? You’re crying while I kiss you.” He stated with an ache in his heart knowing something was hurting you, brushing away a tear with the back of his hand
“I can’t tell you what’s wrong, Stephen.” You sniff and squeeze his hand gently, “Because if I tell you, it has to stop.”
He nodded with some vague sense of understanding, “Then don’t say.” He kisses your forehead, “Tell me some other time.”
Because whatever you two felt seemed to him like a problem for tomorrow. Whatever you needed to say could wait until the sun came up again. He just wanted you here and now. Wanted to pretend this wasn’t the arrangement. This was just you two. You would allow yourself to get lost in him until you woke up tomorrow. And he would lose himself to you happily.
Just tonight.
When Stephen turned over in the bed he was immediately aware of the absence of your body. He bolted upright and looked to the bathroom door, and seeing it wide open knew you weren’t there. He looked to the floor and realized your clothes were nowhere to be found. He quickly rolled out of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. He walked into the living room much quicker than appropriate. You stood at the island, speaking on the phone quietly, your back turned to him.
“Yes, I know I forgot to call you. I got… distracted.” You smile to yourself
“You did go home with him.” Bryce teases, “I fucking knew it.”
“Yes, but to be fair there was an emergency.”
“Was the emergency you needed someone else’s dick?”
“No, Bryce. There was an assault victim.”
“What happened?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“God, you’re no fun.”
“That isn’t what you said last night.” You remind him in a teasing tone
Stephen’s stomach gave an awful twist. The reality of the situation set in on him. He’d been too eager to think it through last night, but it all fell into place now that the sun was well and truly up. You had been with another man hours before you’d been with him. Another man held you, touched you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You’d been in another man’s bed, sleeping when he called you. He’d wrapped you in his arms and buried his head in your shoulder. Maybe you played with his hair as he fell asleep. And then you’d turned around and done the same with him.
And you didn’t say so.
And that felt so goddamn bad.
“I was in a haze from my sleep.” Bryce tries to defend
“So you don’t want to see me again then?”
“Woah, now. I didn’t say that. You agreed to be friends and you’re stuck with me now.” He paused before saying, “I work tonight. Come keep me company.”
“How long do you expect my company, sir?”
“As long as you can stand it for. I’ll save a seat for you at the bar.”
“What time?”
“Nine.”
You fake groan, “There better be a glass of bourbon in it for me.”
“I can’t just give you product.”
“Actually, you can give me whatever I want since I’m being so obliging to spend my night with you, Mr. Hamilton.”
Stephen felt sick. You were flirting with another man. You were bargaining for who knows what, though it was clear from the teasing tone he knew all too well that you didn’t actually mind the outcome of the barter either way. You were practically giddy, grinning ear to ear as you spoke with the man on the other side of the line.
Bryce snorts, “Are you always this catty?”
“I just woke up, cut me some slack.”
“I’ll see you tonight.” Bryce says with a smile
“Nine. I’ll be there.” You agree, “Bye-bye.”
You were serious about this guy. This wasn’t the distraction Christine and Nic had thought it was. You were excited to see him and easily compliant with his wishes to see you. He could see the small smile on your face long after you’d hung up from where he stood leaning against the door frame. This guy was no distraction… you liked him.
You were— you really, truly liked him. You liked him in the way Stephen craved for you to like him. He wanted to be the reason you were smiling like an idiot right now. He wanted to be making plans to see you for a date. He could pour you a glass of bourbon just as well as the next guy…
It should be him.
You bring your hands up to your head and rub your palms over your eyes. Last night had been a mistake. God, it had been a huge mistake. Not only should you not have gone home with Stephen, but you should have never been intimate in that way. That was not just sex. He had done exactly what you’d asked him to. He made love to you, and that was something that would have been better left to dreams. You should have never stayed, should have never let him hold you, should have never let him kiss you…
You wanted him.
“Three rounds in twenty-four hours with two different guys… classy.” Stephen’s baritone invaded the space, his voice echoing off the walls of the large living space
Had you just heard that right?
“Excuse me?” You ask, eyes blown wide as you spin on your heel to face Stephen, “What was that?”
“No boyfriend, huh? But you’re calling to let him know you made it ‘home’” Stephen scoffs looking around his apartment, “safe from a call-in? Setting up another date so soon? Let me ask— who was better? You must know given it was just one right after the other last night.”
“Are you accusing me of cheating on someone right now?” You scoff, “Are you serious? When I told you just this morning that I don’t have a boyfriend? And if I did… you think I would risk it on a one-night stand so soon?”
“A one-night stand? That what you call me?” Stephen’s temper started burning bright very quickly as he felt that now all too familiar God-awful ache starting in his chest
“Where is this coming from?” You ask, “I just woke up—“
“Right, to call your boyfriend and let him know you made it home safe. Of course, you conveniently left out the part where it’s not your house you made it to. But, understandable, can’t give him the impression you’re fucking around with other men.”
And Stephen said it so seriously, he made the accusation with such certainty in his voice… it just irked you like nothing else. He wasn’t fucking listening. You weren’t even sure he was listening to himself speak he sounded that ridiculous. But the accusation made was hurtful. And that made you defensive— because you were not a cheater.
You tilt your head at him and give a sort of maniacal smile, “What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?”
“Wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Stephen pushes himself off the doorframe and comes to stand right in front of you, “For someone who once lectured me on respecting the women I sleep with you have a lot of goddamn nerve to sleep with two men— one of which you’re dating— and not tell either of them about it. Do I need to go get tested? Did he stick it in you raw t—“
“You’re a prick!” You exclaim, “Are you serious right now, you don’t even know—“
“Gonna make up some bullshit about only hearing one side of the call? Seems pretty hard to misconstrue, Augustine.” He shrugs, “Anyways, it’s like Gray said, you came from a date. You rolled out of his bed, went to work, and rolled straight into mine.”
“Leave my patient out of this!” You practically spit out, “And yeah, I did. At your request!”
“Yeah! I didn’t realize another man had used you hours before!”
“Oh, and you’re so above that yourself? Like you weren’t nailing a new nurse over Christine’s desk every hour on the hour!”
“But they fucking knew—” Stephen yells, getting in your face, practically snarling
“So when it’s you sticking your dick into anything with a pulse it’s all good—”
“what the deal— I like to think my standards are a bit higher than that!”
“but I couldn’t sleep with one man last night and you this morning?”
“I never hid the fact that I was a piece of shit—“
“That’s not something to be proud of!”
“At least I can admit it!”
Without another thought, you shove Stephen. Hard.
Both hands to his chest, shove him back, and scream, “Get the fuck out of my face!” Stephen stumbled back and nearly fell on his ass, completely caught off guard and shocked by the action, “Get the fuck out of my face, and stay the fuck out of my face! You walk in here and start accusing me of shit that isn’t even true, slut shaming me, and have the audacity to call me a shitty person? Are you fucking serious, Stephen?” He moves forward as if to approach you but you hold up your hand, “Don’t! Don’t you come a single step closer right now. Don’t you fucking touch me!” You snatch your bag off the kitchen counter and make a beeline for the door
“Augustine! Come back here!” Stephen bellows, racing after you, “Don’t you walk out that goddamn door!”
“Or what!” You yell back, spinning on your heel, “Or what?” You repeat, “What the fuck are you gonna do or say that you haven’t already?” You challenge, “I have shit going on in my life, Stephen. And if there’s finally a guy, finally a man—“
“So there is a man?” He tried speaking over you, but you pressed on
“…that I think can treat me right, who the hell are you to try and play mind games to make me second guess myself? Because that’s all this is. That’s all anyone has ever been to you! Nearly eight billion people in this goddamn world and you truly believe you are the only one with any real say. We are all just fucking toys for you to play with! We are pieces on the chess board, randomly generated characters, supporting— no you don’t even give us that much credit— fucking background actors in your life! And you can’t stand the idea that outside of your permanence, the rest of us have separate lives! You are so fucking selfish!”
Stephen studies you for a moment. He swore he could see fire in your eyes. They were burning red. Your face was pink and your hands were shaking as you raised your finger to point at him. Stephen stopped short, not coming any closer for fear you’d actually act in self-defense if he did. He rakes his hands through his hair before settling them on his hips and looking at the ground.
He takes in a deep breath and threatens, “If you walk out that door, don’t you dare come looking for me ever again.”
You feel tears spring to your eyes, but hold steady. You give Stephen a once over, before looking him dead in the eye and twisting the door handle. Your turn and without another look back slam the door shut. The whole building seemed to shake as the door slammed, and the fact nothing cracked or broke was a miracle in and of itself. Stephen stood there, looking at the door, his lips parted as if to say something… as if there was anyone else left to say it to.
“Fuck.” He cursed aloud to himself, panic immediately settling in, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He beat his fist against one of the support beams with far more force than appropriate
What the hell had he just done?
“Billy?” You ask, your voice coming out cracked
“Hey, Auggie. What’s up? Did you talk to Steph—“
“I need you to come over.” You cut him off, “Now, please.”
“Just me, or—“
“Christine is coming too. I need to talk to both of you. Please, come over.”
Billy furrowed his brow and held a finger up to Gavin who whispered asking what was wrong, “Augustine, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I just need to talk to you and Christine. So please—“
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Billy agreed, hanging up the phone
You slammed the Jeep door shut and stormed up into your apartment. You threw your go-bag on the floor and stalked over to the bookcase, beginning to pull albums out one at a time, stacking them in the order they’d need to look. You went over to the linen closet and pulled down a shoebox containing more recent photos in frames and a few odds and ends that served as proof.
Five minutes later you heard a knock at the door and rushed over, pulling it open to reveal Christine, dressed in scrubs, straight from work. You immediately fell into her arms, a sob finally bubbling up from your throat. Christine sighed and kicked the door to, wrapping her arms around you and swaying back and forth gently.
“Billy is on his way… I’ll explain when h-he gets here.” You explain through sobs
“Alright, okay. Can you at least let me know you’re not physically hurt?”
“M’not.” You sniffle, shaking your head against her shoulder, “I hurt him. I shoved him real hard. He almost fell. I can— can’t b-believe I would do that to him.” You sob out, overcome with guilt
“Shove who, Sweetie?”
“Stephen.” You say, “He got in my face… he was saying such mean things—“ You cough and bury your head deeper into Christine’s shoulder, “I said awful things too…”
“That seems to be the theme the last two days.” Christine mutters, “Did he tell you what happened with Nic and I?”
“Yeah.” You say, “I wish you two hadn’t spoken to him like that.”
“I know, I know. It wasn’t our place.”
“No, it wasn’t.” You agree, “And I know you were trying to protect me—“
“But you don’t need anyone to protect you.” Christine murmurs, “I know. I know that, we all do. We just— I just… it’s what I would have wanted someone to tell him. But you aren’t me.” Christine pulls back and looks at your face stained pink from trails of tears and sighs, “What happened, Sweetie?”
“I can’t believe I pushed him, Christine. That’s… it was so mean. I said so many mean things.”
“Auggie, he knows you didn’t mean—“
“I did.” Your voice cracks, “That’s what makes it so awful. I meant every word I said.”
There was another knock on the door and Christine opened it to find Billy standing there red in the face, out of breath, leaning on the door frame.
“Here.” He says
“Did you run here?” You ask with a small half-choked, half-bemused laugh
“The— the elevator was taking too long… ran up ten flights of s-stairs. Christ, I gotta start working out again.” He huffs out
You pull him into the apartment and lead him and Christine over the bar, encouraging them both to sit. Christine eyes the photo albums set on the countertop suspiciously. You hand Billy a glass of water and offer one to Christine as well, who accepts with a smile. You stand in front of them across the bar, arms hugged tight around your chest as you start fidgeting with your sleeves. You think about where to begin. You hadn’t gotten this far. You didn’t know where to start.
So you tell them, “I have a story for you two.” Billy and Christine look at you expectantly and you continue, “And I’m s-sorry that it’s taken me this long to be honest with you two. And I hope you can understand— it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. Time just got away from me and… and when things started with Stephen I thought it was best I kept it to myself. I didn’t want to freak any of you out…” You trail off as your eyes start to cloud with tears and look to the ceiling
“What is it Augustine?” Christine asks, “You’re not sick or—“
“No! No.” You shake your head vehemently, “Nothing like that. Not half that bad. Not really bad at all.” You shrug, “Just hard to talk about…”
Billy clears his throat and sits up straighter in his chair, “Is this why you called things off with Stephen? Whatever you’re about to tell us?”
“Yes…” You admit, “And I don’t want to… I don’t want him to know right now. Not after the yelling match we just had at his place—“
“You were at his place?” Billy repeats, “Doing what?”
“What do you think?” You sigh, leaning your elbows on the counter and resting your face in your hands, “I am... pathetic, I know. Barely two weeks and I couldn’t—“
“You’re not the first.” Christine says and you peek out between your fingers to see her smiling at you, “It doesn’t make you pathetic to want good sex.”
“It cannot be that good.” Billy mumbles
“I wish it weren’t.” You murmur back, “That— anyway, that’s not the point. The point is: what I’m about to tell you two, I don’t want you to tell Stephen yet. But I… I have to get it off my chest. I need you two to see why I made the decision to end it… and I think you’ll agree that I made the right call.”
Billy knew exactly what you were about to tell them. He sat there with bated breath waiting, watching you try to defend yourself as if they’d hate you for it.
But they weren’t gonna hate you for this. Never.
And neither would Stephen… if you’d just tell him.
Snippet: You cradle his face in your hands and bend down to say, “You don’t have to be lonely anymore. I’m here.” Stephen’s eyes flutter shut as you press a kiss to his lips, “And I’m done being awful for the day. It’s about you again.” You consider and correct, “Well… mostly. I do want to edge you a few more times. Is that okay?”
Warnings: SMUT! Dom/sub dynamic (fem!dom this time), PinV (unprotected), Daddy kink, degradation, edging, oral (fem receiving), face sitting, sex toys. Then turns into so much fluffy fluff and my heart just burst. Explicit language.
Word count: 8,576
Reading time: ≈ 31 mins.
Chapter 39/41
A/N: Not Stephen actually taking into action his plan to get to know her 🤪 proud of him. Happy reading <3
“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” You tilt your head at him and stick out your bottom lip
“Fucking bitch…” He laughs and mutters under his breath
“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, “You just found out one of the women you were fucking—“
“Yeah, okay, I get it. Could be worse.”
“Could definitely be worse.” You agree, “I gave you three rules and you broke two of them. Care to tell me which two it was?”
“No speaking unless spoken to. And no cumming unless you say so. Though, to be fair, I told you I was gonna cum.”
“I didn’t ask you to tell me when you were gonna cum, you do that anyways.” You roll your eyes, “I told you you wouldn’t cum without my permission. Are you hearing the difference or…”
“Fine.” He huffs, looking you over as you take a long sip from your glass, “You just gonna stand there and drink your whiskey?”
“If you keep up the attitude I just might.” You say, “But no, figured it’d be easier for you to get me out of this while you could see it.” You walk over and turn your back to him, pulling your hair over your shoulder, “You wanted it off.”
Stephen huffed and pushed himself off the back of the bed, scooting forward to the edge and ignoring his painfully hard cock and the mess running down the side of it, resisting the urge to take himself in hand and finish what you’d oh so cruelly started.
“Can I touch you?” Stephen asks monotonously
He watches your shoulders shake with a little laugh as you agree, “Go ahead, Sweetheart.”
Stephen brought his hands to the ties of the corset and realized it was admittedly much more complicated than he’d realized.
“How the hell’d you get into this thing alone?”
“Practice.” You shrug
Stephen knit his brows together, “When else have you worn it?”
“It’s in some of those photos I took for you.” You say
“That it?”
“Stephen…” You sigh
“It’s a fair question.”
“Just in the photos for you.” You reassure, taking in a deep breath as the strings on the corset loosen and exhaling heavily
Stephen smiles and places a kiss on your shoulder, “Feels better, Doll?”
“Mhm.”
“Good.” He places another kiss on your opposite shoulder
“You realize I have slept with other people before, don’t you?”
“I’d rather not think about it.”
“Well, that’s ridiculous.” You scoff
“Why is that ridiculous?”
“Because it’s part of life. You realize if you do decide to ever settle down with someone, statistically speaking, it’s likely they’ve had previous partners too. What’ll you do when you have to come to terms with that?”
“Well...” He sighs before you continue
“And what does it really matter anyways? You’ve had your fair share of women— more than most men, I’m willing to wager. It isn’t fair of you to get jealous like that. Especially when it comes to something casual like what we have going on.”
“I know that.” He sighs, “It’s just the ego. It gets in the way of a lot… that’s what Dr. Ward says, at least.”
“Sounds smart.”
Stephen works on the laces slowly, taking time to steady himself after the last half-hour of torture, not so sure he wants it to start again, but knowing he wants you. You would occasionally roll your shoulders back and flex every once in a while to help loosen the strings just a bit quicker and Stephen took note that your deltoids were nice. There was strong muscle between all the soft skin and curves. He couldn’t help but wonder how many people had taken note of it before.
“Out of curiosity. There was Kelley…” He mumbles, “And who else?”
“Mm. Not many. Kelley was my first, we’ve gone on and off forever since then. He was the last guy I slept with before you. Right before I left home.” You admit, “There were a few frat boys at Harvard, a guy from my chem class, one more guy at home… that’s been it.”
“Hm.”
“How about you?”
“Um…” Stephen swallows hard, “Not as many as everyone seems to think. I mean, yeah. Plenty of the nurses… maybe around fifteen or so at this point? A woman here and there from bars. But before that… two girls at college, both in my final year. One of them was my first time—“
“You didn’t lose your virginity until that late?”
“No.” He shrugs, “Never fit into the schedule, and I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular—”
“Oh how the turn-tables.”
He snorts, “You’re stupid.”
“You like me.” You argue, finally having enough room to shrug out of the corset, turning to face Stephen, baring all for him to see
You take note his eyes are on your face as he says, “I do.” His thumbs trace soft circles against your hips, his cock throbbing knowing just how close he was to having you back on him, “Can I still touch you?”
You nodded and Stephen immediately leaned forward, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. You sighed and thread your fingers through his hair, leaning into him and letting your head lull back. He ran his hands over the curve of your hips and waist, letting his fingers sink into the soft skin. His thumb brushed over your covered tattoo and you smile to yourself. He reached one hand up and toyed with your neglected nipple and your lips parted as you let out a shaky breath.
“Can I speak to tell you how beautiful you are?” Stephen speaks against your skin, making your skin prickle
You smile down at him, “Yes, Sweetheart. Thank you for asking.”
“Am I really not allowed to call you baby anymore?” He nips gently at your opposite nipple, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Doll.”
“I know, Steph. You were just drunk.”
“I was lonely without you.” He whispers, his heart pulling as he admits, “Lonely. Not just alone.”
You cradle his face in your hands and bend down to say, “You don’t have to be lonely anymore. I’m here.” Stephen’s eyes flutter shut as you press a kiss to his lips, “And I’m done being awful for the day. It’s about you again.” You consider and correct, “Well… mostly. I do want to edge you a few more times. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you want.” He agreed
“Good boy.” You smile against his lips, and Stephen’s eyes go sort of wide. You giggle, “Looks like I’m not the only one who likes to be praised. Then again, I guess we already knew that. S’why you like to hear me scream your name, right? You like hearing how good you make me feel, just not the same way I like to hear it.” You brush your lips over his, “And you always make me feel so good, Pretty Boy.”
“Thank you.” He whispers
“Go lay at the head of the bed for me, Sweetheart.”
Stephen scooted back and laid his head in the pillows, watching as you gathered each part of the outfit you’d been wearing and threw them in the corner of the room with his dirty laundry. You walked back over to the foot of the bed and crawled onto it, immediately dropping down and laying on your stomach in front of him. You took him in hand and ran your hand up and down his length slowly and Stephen gave a sigh of relief.
“How’s the cock ring?”
“The aftermath of this is going to be a mess.” He replies
You laugh, “I’ll take it off soon, it isn’t supposed to stay on for too long. But, until then…”
You press the button on the remote control and it buzzed to life. Stephen inhales sharply and grips at his own thighs. You lean forward and lick the trail of slick left in the wake of his ruined orgasm and he hisses. You start sucking on his head gently, your hand working over him as you stare up at him. You always loved giving him head because he kept his eyes on you the best he could— like seeing you was part of the pleasure, not just the stimulation you provided. And if he did happen to look away, throw his head back in a moment of pleasure, he made the most beautiful noises.
Stephen was already on a hair-pin trigger, and between your mouth and the vibrations, he knew he wouldn’t be lasting long. He watched as you raised your ass in the air and sat farther forward, taking him down your throat. You gave a little gag and pulled off of him, your nose scrunched as if you’d tasted something bad and Stephen couldn’t help but laugh.
“What’s that look for?”
You grabbed the remote control and powered the vibe off explaining, “Hated the way that felt.”
Stephen chuckled, “Sorry, Doll. If it’s any consolation, your mouth feels perfect without it.”
You smile, kissing his cock head, “That what you think about when you touch yourself? Your cock down my throat?”
“It’d be easier to list what I don’t think of when it comes to you.”
You take him down your throat in one deep stroke once more, sending him a glare as he tries to thrust up. Stephen gives a frustrated growl and settles his hips back to the mattress. You bob your head up and down his length quickly, moving back down to his base and sucking hard as you pull off of him. Stephen groans, his hands clutching to the pillows at either side of his head.
“Maybe you are a flatterer after all?” You muse, ducking down and sucking on his balls gently
“Sh— shit.”
“You’re so sensitive down here.” You tease feeling as his cock twitches in your hand
“August— ganna cum.”
You immediately retract your hands and mouth from Stephen and smile up at him, “Good boy letting me know.” Stephen sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the embarrassment of feeling precum dribble down his shaft, “Always cum so quick when I play with your balls.” You tease, moaning as you lick the precum from his shaft, “Can we try a new position?”
“What’s that?”
“Sixty-nine.”
Stephen’s eyes roll back in his head and he groans out a, “Fuck yes.”
You giggle, “I would just sit on your face, but I don’t want to—“
“Do it.” Stephen demands before adding a, “Please? You won’t hurt me, August. Fuck— please sit on my face.”
You quirk a shy smile, “Seems like something you’ve thought about before…”
“Too often.” He admits
“Why?”
“Because eating you out turns me on?”
“But why?” You ask again, lifting yourself and crawling up his body
Stephen thought about it before answering very honestly, “Used to be I liked eating pussy because it’s fun to watch a woman fall apart like that.” He swallows hard as you straddle over his chest, “I do still love the way you fall apart for me. But you… you taste like fucking heaven to me. I love the way you taste, the way you smell, the way you love it. Augustine, I could spend all day with my face between your legs.”
“Real sweet.” You smirk down at him, “You love it so much? Beg for it.” You move forward to straddle his face and Stephen wraps his arms around your waist. You gently swat at his arms and he removes them with a scowl, but you just shrug and reiterate, “I said beg.”
“Let me taste you, Baby. Wanna make you cum so bad.” Stephen groaned, “Fuck, let me taste you, Doll. You know I love being between your legs. Let me have it, please.”
“One more time, Pretty Boy.”
He groans, “C’mon, let me rub my face in that pretty pussy. Y’know you want it just as bad as I do. Let me taste you. Been so long.”
You giggle, “It’s been a week.”
“That’s too long.” He stares up at you all wide-eyed and hopeful, “Too long when I wanted to spend every goddamn second away from you with my hands on your body. Please, Baby. Let me have it.”
“No using your hands on my clit. Only your mouth.”
“Yes…” He breathes out
You straddle his face and allow him to wrap his arms through your legs, his large hands groping at the fat of your ass. As soon as you’re comfortable he sticks his tongue out and drags it through your folds, groaning. Just as wonderful as he remembered.
Now here was the problem.
There were times when Stephen had gotten himself damn near close to cumming from eating you out without any prior stimulation. Now? When he was already on the precipice? When he was so attuned to every moan and plea leaving your lips? When you took that fucking remote control in your hand again and turned it on. He groaned into your cunt as the vibrations started once again, his nails digging into the fat of your ass, pulling you more insistently on top of him. You did your best to support your weight, clinging to the headboard, but Stephen was making it a real challenge with the way he kept pulling down on your hips. He had clearly lost all concern for his safety, pussy drunk and craving more.
“S-Steph, Sweetheart. Can’t keep pulling me down like that. I- I’ll crush you—“
He detached himself from your clit long enough to lament, “You told me how you want to go last night. Well, this is how I want to go.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous notion, but the laugh quickly evolved into a moan as Stephen started guiding your hips back and forth, rocking you against his tongue. You were grateful for his arms as support, because you really might have crushed him with the way your knees went weak.
“Holy fuck…” You moaned, “Fuck, Baby Boy. Feels so good. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”
Stephen’s eyes rolled back in his head when you called him that, his cock throbbing an unfortunate amount, his balls getting tight. He did his best to focus on you and you alone— the way you were leaking on his tongue, the way your tits bounced as he rocked you back and forth, the hope that if he gripped your ass hard enough he’d leave behind bruises for everyone to see when you showed off your new tatt—
Ah, shit.
“August, I’m gonna—“
You grabbed his hair and shoved his face back in your cunt with a growl, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare. I’m right there… finish your job.”
To your credit, you did at least turn off the vibe. But the damage was already done and Stephen was finding it very hard to concentrate on you when his cock head was weeping. He thought he was going to combust.
He drew his last card— a dirty move, he’d admit— and gave your ass a firm slap demanding, “Cum for me, Baby Girl.”
And as per usual, your body obeyed his voice like it was law. His voice so deeply ingrained into your brain as a trigger for your pleasure, the phrase leading your body to do exactly what he needed it to. You threw your head back and cried out, grabbing your tits as you did so painting a very erotic picture that was not at all helping Stephen’s case at the moment. As soon as you came off your high you fell backward as gently as possible onto Stephen’s chest and reached back to grab his cock around the base hard, aiding in the pressure of the cock ring, discouraging him from his own release. He gave a sharp hiss, dragging his nails down your hips to your thighs, angry red lines forming against the pale skin.
You carefully removed yourself from his upper half and gently released him, watching as cum dribbled down the side of his cock. You gave him an unimpressed stare and he scoffed in response.
“You’re kidding, right? Have you ever— do you even know what it feels like to hold an orgasm.”
Your unimpressed stare became even more thoroughly unimpressed as you reminded him, “Yes… I do. And you’re the one that did it to me.”
“No. This is not the same. I only halted your progress, I didn’t decimate an orgasm already in progress. And I did it once.”
“Don’t be such a baby.”
He scoffs, “Bite me.”
You raise a brow at him, “You know… that actually sounds like the perfect idea while we wait for you to cool down.”
“What?”
You carefully slid the little vibrating bullet from its hold in the cock ring to make it easier for the toy to stretch as you took it off of Stephen. He gave a sigh of relief and you just smiled to yourself, throwing it, the bullet, and the remote control in the corner with your lingerie to be cleaned. Stephen watched suspiciously as you crawled over next to him and was very confused when you simply laid down next to him. You shoved one of your arms beneath the pillow his head was laying on and placed your other hand gently on his chest. You felt the unsteady rise and fall as he tried to calm himself down. You moved your arm up and behind his neck, lightly scratching the hair at the nape of his neck and he gave a contented little sigh at the action.
“You okay, Steph?”
“I will be much better when I get to cum.” He grouches
You lean over and place a kiss on his neck, smiling against the skin, “Don’t be so grumpy, Birthday Boy.”
“For the record— I’ve decided I’m not a fan of this edging thing.”
You giggle, “You are such a baby. I’ve done it twice.”
“Three times.”
“And you’re still alive.”
“Hanging on by a thread.”
“Oh stop it…” You huff, trailing your lips across his neck, down to his collarbone, trying to map out the perfect spot to…
Stephen’s eyes shot open as he felt your teeth sink into the skin of his neck. He let out a whimper, and immediately was very embarrassed by the sound. He— a grown-ass man— whimpered. And this was not one of your usual sweet little love bites. He realized very quickly exactly what you were trying to do.
“Uh— hey!” He objected, “I have to be upright, upstanding, and professional looking in scrubs tomorrow.”
“Well, I doubt it’s the first time someone will catch you with evidence of unsavory activities from the night before on your body.” You mutter, ignoring his warning and reattaching your lips to his skin
Stephen brought his hand up to your face and pulled you off of his neck, “Yes. It would be. Because I don’t let anyone put marks anywhere on my body.”
You gave him a challenging look, grabbing his hand and removing it from your face, “First of all: No. Touching. Do I need to cuff you again?”
He sneered at you but answered, “No.”
“No?”
“Ugh… no ma’am.”
“Second of all…” You ran your hand down his chest and across his abdomen, snaking it across to his hip bone and thumbing gently over the tattoo, “sort of seems like you let someone mark you.” Stephen flushed at that realization and you just smiled at him all soft and sweet, which was a direct contrast to the filth of the sentence, “Be a good boy for me… let me leave one more.”
“Augustine, Doll…” He sighed, his resolve already weak… always was with you
You drew your hand back up to his cheek and kissed his lips gently, not missing the way he tried to chase you down when you pulled away, “Let me mark you, Stephen. I want people to see and wonder who. I want her to see and know she could never do something like this to you. I want them all to see. And I want our friends to know exactly who put it there and that you let me. I want to pass you in the halls tomorrow and see it knowing I put it there.”
You nibble on his bottom lip, pulling it back and letting it snap into place, some emotion on his face you can’t quite identify, “I want you to see it every time you look in the mirror for the next week and remember who put it there. Who you let mark you like that.” You scratch at his scalp gently and pout all innocent, “Don’t you want to think about me? I’ll even ride you while I suck the bruise onto your neck. Then you can think about the way you make me whimper and moan when your cock is buried inside me every time you see it.” You heard him swallow hard and used your piece de resistance— foul play, you knew— but how could he resist when you asked, “Just this time, Daddy?”
His heart thundered in his chest, his face flushing, cock twitching as he agreed, “Of course, Baby Girl. Anything you want…”
Like he said…
Weak.
You absolutely beamed at him before leaning in and taking his lips in yours once more. You moved to straddle his waist and Stephen couldn’t believe you were actually making good on your promise. You were still, unfortunately, a cock tease. Sitting on his cock and rubbing it through your slicked folds, humming happily every time you managed to catch your clit just right.
You postured up tall and sat up, guiding him to your entrance. You sank down with a hum of satisfaction while Stephen moaned wantonly into the empty room. You wasted no time in leaning forward, nudging his head to the side with your nose, and setting back in on his neck. Stephen probably should have felt a bit more of the sting of your teeth against the soft skin, but when your pussy was working over him like that, it was very, very hard to think of anything else. You’d struck a rhythm quickly and all he could hear was the slap of your skin against his as you worked yourself over him again and again.
“Let me hold you, Baby. Please?”
You pulled away to nibble on his earlobe and agree, “You can hold me.”
He immediately wrapped one arm around your back, pulling you closer, his chest pressed to your own. He thread the fingers of his free hand through your hair and tilted his head farther back, giving you as much room as you could possibly want. You hummed happily and with a smile clamped your pelvic muscles around him as you sank down over his length.
“Oh— God. What the fuck?” Stephen hisses, “Please… keep doing that. F-feels so good. Oh… Augustine, Doll. You feel so fuckin’ good.”
You pulled away from his neck and smiled to yourself seeing the deep red mark already appearing, leaning in his ear to whisper, “You feel good too, Pretty Boy. This dick always does. Missed it so much.” He gave another little whimper at the praise, “Sweet Boy, done so good for me. S-so proud of you, Sweetheart. Make me feel so good. Love your cock so much, Stephen. F-fuck.”
“Augustine…” He whimpers below you
“What is it, Baby Boy?” You ask, lifting your head and resting your forehead against his own to find his eyes squeezed shut
“I-I need to cum. Please let me cum. W-wanna cum so bad. Pussy’s so tight and warm. Want to fill her up.”
“Mm… need to cum, Stephy?” You pout at him, brushing the hair back off his forehead
“Yes. Oh— God, A-August. It hurts. Need to cum so bad. Please… it aches. Please let me cum. Tell me I can cum for you.”
“One last condition.” You challenge
“A-anything, Baby. Anything.” He pants out, his grip around your back much tighter, afraid you’ll pull away from him once more
“Pull out.”
You smiled to yourself. You knew you’d just poked the bear. You were fully anticipating it when he finally snapped. Stephen literally growled and used what little strength he had remaining to flip you over onto the mattress. He was panting, cursing you out under his breath as he brought both of your wrists above your head and held them down. He started pounding away, your cries vague and far away from all the adrenaline crashing his system.
“I-I’m sorry. Can’t do it, Baby. Been so good this whole time— shit— was so fuckin’ good, on my best behavior, and now you t-tell me I can’t even cum in you?” He was rutting into you like a fucking animal, drawing his hips back and snapping them against you as hard as possible. He released your wrists only to grab under your thighs and push your legs back to your chest, “N-no. Gonna cum and gonna cum inside you. You get to mark me? I get to mark you. I-if I could make everyone see it I would. Make ‘em watch it drip down your l—egs. Greedy little hole f-fluttering and fucking begging for more.”
His hair was a wild mess, sticking up in the back, his fringe falling into his eyes, his hands slipping against your legs, too sweaty and covered in God knows what other fluids. He watched you scream out for him, your hands grabbing at and clawing down his arms. This— he couldn’t deny— this is what did it for him.
“Say it, Baby Girl. You know what I wanna hear. Fucking say it!” He barked at you
Stephen gave a guttural groan, releasing your legs but still rutting in and out of you roughly as he reached his peak. You felt as he started to cum— hard. You squealed when he leaned down and took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on the bud roughly, one of his hands toying with your clit. Not even to make you feel good, but just because he fucking could now. You felt like it was ages that he sat there, thrusting in and out of you, toying with your body, his release seemingly never-ending. You pawed at his chest and pulled on his hair making him moan out to you.
“S-Steph… too much.” You whined
“I’m sorry, Doll. Can’t— can’t help it. Pussy’s still so nice and tight for me. C-can’t stop cumming for you, Baby Girl. S’much. Can’t help it. Gotta fill you up. S’already fucking dripping out of you, you feel it?” Stephen reached down and swiped underneath his shaft, holding his fingers up in front of your face and demanding, “Open up.”
You, somehow in your lusty, overstimulated haze, managed to comprehend the instructions and stuck out your tongue. He grabbed your cheeks and ran his fingers over your tongue, but before you could swallow he leaned down over you. He stuck his own tongue out and proceeded to lead you into the filthiest, grossest, most intense kiss you’d ever had. He put his hand around your throat as he kissed you, squeezing gently, feeling the pulse in your neck, tasting the proof of his satisfaction and your own mixed together.
“I think we taste perfect.” He purred against your lips, giving a few much gentler thrusts into your weeping cunt, “What do you think, Baby Girl?”
“S’real— really good.” You gasped out as he relinquished his grip on your throat, “Thank you, Sir.”
Stephen gave two last slow, deep thrusts before pulling out of you. He watched as his seed spilled out of you and dripped down your ass onto the bedsheets below. Your hole fluttered pushing more of it out before contracting and trying to take more of it in. He absolutely beamed at the filthy scene. He pats your hip and collapses on the bed next to you, breathing so hard he thought he’d pass out. He gave a sort of relieved-sounding laugh and you looked at him with a small smile and a brow raised.
“Happy fucking birthday to me.”
It wasn’t quite eighteen times that Stephen fucked you stupid that night, but you’d lost count after round six, so who could really say? Now you were both in the shower on the bench, him holding you close, running his hands through your hair, telling you how good you’d been for him all day. You were… to say overstimulated would have been an understatement. Exhausted was much closer to the correct analysis. You’d been grateful when he promised it was the last time for the day. He’d used you everywhere— the bed, the couch, the kitchen counters, the coffee table, the washing machine, the literal fucking floor. But he took such good care of you each time, double and triple checking that you were okay.
He knew he’d finally had you spent when you picked your head up off his shoulder and murmured, “Done.”
He gave a little laugh and agreed, “Yeah, Doll. We can be done.”
“M’kay.” You paused and asked, “You want dinner?”
“I want to get you clean, in bed, and warm.”
“But it’s your birthday…”
“And that’s why you have to do what I say.”
You nodded and gave him a sleepy smile, “Whatever ya’ say, Steph.”
He helped you wash your hair and body, moving carefully, pressing kisses to your new bruises. You asked him if you could wash his hair and he didn’t hesitate to comply. He sat on the bench and stared up at you softly as you rubbed your fingers against his temples and scratched at his scalp, his thumbs tracing circles on your back. It was only about seven now, but both of you were clouded in a perfectly welcome haze of tiredness. You forced him to take the time to care for the new tattoo, careful to disinfect it with a soft-soap given the unholy activities that had taken place in the prior hours. Both of you stumbled out of the shower and into his bed, neither of you bothering with clothes for the moment. You curled up on the naked mattress— both of you too lazy to put fresh sheets on it— a blanket shared between the two of you for warmth. Stephen ran his hand over the top of your head and placed a kiss on your forehead. You preened at the touch and gave him a soft smile.
“Are you okay, Doll?”
You nodded, “I’m good. Don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, but…”
Stephen chuckles, “I’m sorry.”
“M’not.” You say, “It’s been a very good day.”
“Yes… it has.” He smiled to himself
“I’ve decided something.”
“Oh?”
“I much prefer you in the position of power during the sex thing.”
He laughs, “I think I agree with you there.” He then corrects, “Not that I didn’t enjoy it… just don’t think it’s my thing. And being edged is… literal hell.”
“It was fun. Worth a shot.” You agree, “Admit it… you kinda liked the cock ring.” He sighs and rolls his eyes, “C’mon…” You tickle his ribs and he grunts, “Just admit it.”
He heaves a sigh and admits, “I kinda’ liked the cock ring.”
You give a little gremlin giggle and kiss his chest, “I know.”
“You’re such a little shithead.” He chuckles
“Awe.” You bat your eyelashes at him, “So sweet.”
“Shut up.” He mumbled, pulling your head to his chest, his hand resting on your back
“Happy birthday.” You whisper
He tilts his head down and kisses the top of your head, “Thanks, Auggie.”
You and Stephen lay there in blissful silence for a while, only the hum of the AC turning on and off and the quiet sounds of the wind blowing against the windows accompanying the two of you.
“Tell me something about yourself.” Stephen whispered after a while
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“Anything.” He replied, “Like I said last night.” He paused, “I mean, I know your full name is Augustine Elaine May… your middle name is your mom’s first. Your best friend’s name is Kelley Kavanaugh. You grew up on a farm in north Georgia— Talking Rock. That’s where you grew up and your family lives. No siblings, a troublemaker in your youth. Avid shoe and sticker collector, attracted to tall, dark-haired men with gorgeous blue eyes—“ You laugh and he looks down at you with a smile, “What else?”
You think for a moment and say, “We had two cattle dogs when I was little. Blue heelers. Jack and Brandy.” You watch his lips quirk to the side to hold back a laugh, “I’ve always been a dog person, but I don’t mind cats. Got lots of barn cats to keep rodents out the feed.”
“What else?” He reaches up and brushes the damp hair off your forehead and your heart flutters at such a small gesture and the intimacy of the moment
You swallow hard, “I uh— I really like shooting skeet. Like shooting for fun a lot, but I don’t believe in hunting for sport.”
“Why not? Kinda’ a big thing down south, isn’t it?”
You nod, “Yeah but… I don’t think it’s right to kill a living thing just to put its’ head on the wall. Now if they use as much of the rest of the animal as possible— food, pelts, all that good stuff— I don’t mind. But to just take something’s life for your own satisfaction feels… cruel.”
Stephen informs you, “I used to hunt. Don and I both did… she still does, actually.”
“Why’d you stop?”
He smiles to himself, “The same reason, actually.”
“Now tell me something else about you.” You encourage, turning over to lay on your stomach, resting your arms against his chest and your chin on your arms
He thinks for a minute, “I um… my favorite color is blue. Navy blue. Is that a cop-out?”
“A little, but I’ll allow it. You’re warming up.” You tease, “I want to go back to school and get a degree in writing and pub.”
“Oo, nice one. You should.”
You shrug, “Maybe when I get a bit older… settled. After— after I know what’s gonna happen with Mama and the farm. See what Abby and Jason wanna do.”
He nods and to distract you from that train of thought says, “I played hockey when I was young. Really young— until high school.”
“Why’d you stop?”
He shrugs, “No reason to keep going. It was fun, but… it was mostly just an excuse to be out of the house. And it would’ve just taken time away from school and studying which I also needed to do in order to get out of the house.”
“Never had big dreams of going pro?” You giggle
He snorts, “I’m not built for that. Need a few extra pounds for it.”
“Wanna borrow some?”
“Only if none of it leaves your ass.”
“You’re so stupid.” You roll your eyes and smile against your arms while thinking before saying, “I’ve always wanted to dye my hair. Brunette. Just to see what it’d look like.”
Stephen wrinkled his nose at this, “I wish you wouldn’t. I like your hair blonde. It’s so pretty and soft— dye would ruin it.”
“Are you a certified cosmologist?”
“Only a man with opinions.”
“Lots of opinions.” You chide, reaching up and running over the little patches of gray at his temples, “When did this start?”
“Twenty-one… probably twenty if I’m being completely honest, but I’d like to believe twenty-one.”
“I like it.” You say softly, “It’s pretty silver. Maybe one day you’ll have a head full of white hair to match mine, since you seem to like it so much.”
He nods, “It’ll be silver. Dad’s is.”
“Was your dad always…”
He gives a sort of shrug, “Not really… not until Victor. I was about ten or eleven when it got bad… or maybe I just got old enough to start to see more of the bad in him, you know?” You nod and he asks, “What was your dad like?”
You give a little giggle, “He was… funny. Really, he could make anyone smile, just one of those people. And he wasn’t even trying most of the time— that’s what I loved about it. He wasn’t book smart by any means… not unless we include the Bible, which you can imagine he had a penchant for as a preacher.” Your lip quirks to the side, “He just… really loved life though. He loved the life he was given. He loved my Mama with everything he had and loved me just as much. I got real lucky with him.” You think for a moment and try not to acknowledge your eyes getting misty as you add, “He called me Puddin’. ‘Nilla Puddin’ because vanilla pudding was his favorite sweet.” Stephen chuckles and smiles at you, “He was so proud of me… always.”
“I’m sure he was, Doll.”
You give a little sniffle and force back your tears to ask, “What about your mom?”
“She… I remember a lot more good about her than I do Dad.” He admits, “She tried to be there for us. I know she wanted to be a good mother, I do. And I know given our circumstances she was doing the best she could. Her name was Beverly, which is Donna’s middle name. She was really… soft, from what I remember. Timid the way I guess she had to be— guess all of us were at home. But she had a really sweet sort of laugh— just airy and light. I tried to make her laugh all the time when I was little. Victor always did better at that. I’m not exactly Mr. Chuckles.” You snort and he smiles at you, “I remember her doing her best. And I know she was resilient. She had to be. Must be where Don got it from.” You open your mouth as if to say something and then snap it closed, looking away from him, “What’s it Auggie? Go ahead and ask.”
You hesitate before complying, “Will you tell me about Victor?”
You feel him take a deep breath in, his chest rising and making your head move with it. He debates with himself for a while, his eyes searching the ceiling.
He looks down at you and breathes, “I can’t… I’m sorry.”
You just smile at him softly, “That’s okay, Steph. I understand.” You swallow hard and murmur, “Some things are just harder to bring up than others.”
He nods, “Yeah… been talking about it at therapy though. Been helping a little.”
“What’d you talk about last week?” he gives you a look that says ‘really?’ and you giggle, “Okay, okay. My bad.”
Stephen huffs and looks over to your phone ringing on his bedside table. He picks it up despite not recognizing the caller ID and answers…
“Hello?”
“Oh, um…” A man’s voice comes through the speaker, “Hey. I’ve got a delivery for Augustine May to the 30th floor.”
Stephen’s brows knit together and he looks down at you. You giggle and nod excitedly, burying your face in his chest.
“Yeah, right. Tell Mr. Carroway you’re good to come up— Stephen Strange sanctioned. First door on the left side of the hall.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Stephen reluctantly let you drag him out of bed and throw some sweats at him. You pulled on your favorite shirt of his— Victor’s shirt— and a pair of his socks which were much too large for your feet and ran down the hallway, pulling a risky business move as you tried to stop and turn to the front door. Stephen chuckled and watched as you skipped over to the door, looking through the peephole. Poor guy didn’t even have time to knock— you just threw the door open and gestured him in. Stephen watched wide-eyed as a literal cart of food was rolled into the penthouse, the most amazing smells immediately overtaking his nostrils. You helped the delivery boy unload all of the food onto the island, and the kid excused himself quietly. You locked the door behind him, turning to Stephen beaming ear to ear.
“What the hell is all this?” He asked with a laugh
“Your favorite! According to Chrissy, at least. Your favorite the last time she checked. Philippe Chow!”
Stephen’s mouth popped open in surprise, his eyes lighting up in excitement before the realization hit him, “Augustine! This has to be like... the entire menu.”
You considered and agreed shyly, “Well, yeah… wanted to make sure I got something you’d like.”
Stephen sighs and moves forward, cupping your face in his hands, “Too much. Way too expensive, Doll.”
“But it’s your birthday.” You pout up at him all sweet, “And… and I’ve never had Asian food like this. S-so I got a bit carried away. And Chrissy said the portions were small and I figured if I ordered too much we’d at least be well-fed at work for a while…” You wring your hands together, “Is it too much, really? I wasn’t trying to—“
“No, no, Augustine.” Stephen kisses your forehead, “It’s great, I— I love it, thank you. I just wish… you’ve already spent so much on me today.”
“But this is for both of us.” You insist, “And like I said— I’ve never had it, but I can be kind of picky. And this way I get to try it in a nice, comfortable environment without having to put on a dress… so I can eat so much!” You exclaim with a giggle, making Stephen chuckle at you, “And we can just be comfy and… talk. Just us.” You tack onto the end shyly
Stephen’s heart melted and he couldn’t find the words to say what he was feeling, so he just smiled and nodded. You grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the counter where all the boxes were neatly stacked and labeled…
“Now… I didn’t get any soup, because I felt like soup would suck ass delivered. So I made up for that by getting beef and shrimp satays… didn’t even know what the hell that was, had to look it up.” Stephen laughs and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you continue, “I got all the little appetizer-type things— the calamari, spare ribs, and prawns. The prawns sounded gross to me, but Christine says you like them, so I’ll try it for you. Then, we got lobster fried rice and one serving of lobster noodles because lobster does not sound like it belongs in noodles, but I like both separately, so it can’t really be that bad.”
“Mhm.” He hums quietly, just pleased to be listening to you go on and on
“Seaweed just because I was curious, scallion pancakes because I don’t know what the fuck that is…” You feel him exhale hard against the top of your head in an attempt to hold back a laugh, “Bok choy— heard of, never had. It’s a vegetable, it can’t be much worse than broccoli. Speaking of— Chrissy said you like their broccoli so I got you that. Peking duck spring rolls because duck is delicious. Every available noodle on the menu. Wok fried pork dumplings… again, Chrissy says those are your favorite?” You look up at him for confirmation and he nods, “Good… ‘cause I got two orders. Also got duck and cilantro dumplings, again with the duck.” You pause and take a deep breath in, “Now, I will level with you… I avoided the seafood nearly altogether even though it’s one of my favorites. Admittedly, I did almost get something called ‘Drunken Bass’ because that name is funny as hell, but I don’t think fish to-go sounds very appetizing. However, I could not resist the offer of King Crab.”
“Mmm… good choice, good choice.” Stephen compliments, still incapable of wiping the stupid smile off of his face
“Tried to start dialing it back at this point, but so much of the meat sounded good.” You say sheepishly, making him chuckle, “Beijing, Kung Pao, and sweet and sour chicken. Spicy pepper mignon and lastly, good ole’ vegetable fried rice.”
“Perf—“
“Oh wait!” You backtrack, “Dessert! Chocolate trilogy, peanut butter explosion, and red velvet cake.” You look back up at him, “Done now.”
Stephen didn’t know how one person could make him so absurdly happy. The fact that anyone would go through all this trouble for him was beyond belief— the fact that you had done it was beyond all comprehension.
“You’re—“
“Ridiculous? I know.”
Perfect. He was going to say perfect.
“I don’t mind. It’s very sweet, Auggie.” Stephen reassures, pressing his lips to your temple, “I don’t know how the hell we’ll ever manage to eat it all, but it’s still very sweet.”
“Like I said… leftovers for work. Could even take some for the other three if you’re feeling particularly nice.”
Stephen ponders before saying, “I think Billy likes noodles…”
“We’ll try and leave some for him.” You agree, “Now, where do you wanna start?”
“Oo, do I get to pick?”
“Of course you do, Birthday Boy.”
“Hmm…” Stephen rocks you back and forth gently while deliberating, “Can we start with dessert?”
“Only if you promise to just take a few bites. We have too much to get to for you to fill up on sweets.”
“Promise.” He agrees, letting you pull away from his grasp and over to the drawers to fish out silverware, “Never had the trilogy… sounds good.”
“It’s three different types of chocolate stacked on each other.” You inform him with a smile, “Do you see why I insisted we wipe everything down before we showered now?”
“Mhm, you were plotting.” Stephen agrees as you pop open the container of chocolatey goodness, “Ahh…” He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue at you
You roll your eyes and take a swipe of the dessert on a spoon, placing it in his mouth and watching his eyes roll back in his head for the umpteenth time tonight.
“Good?”
“S’good.” He agrees happily, “Cake and then peanut butter… prawns after that.”
“Alright.”
“N’ then…” Stephen speaks through the second bite of the trilogy you shove in his mouth, “‘Fanks. Dumplin’s next n’ then calamari.”
You smile up at him softly, “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”
Stephen only tapped out after having a bite of everything. You tapped out much sooner, laughing at the fact he simply couldn’t restrain himself when it came to his favorite food. You were proud of yourself— you definitely owed Christine big for this one— a fantastic idea. And the four of you would for sure be well fed into the week— Billy simply requested some of the leftover dumplings to take home to Gavin, which Stephen was too full to argue with. He would never eat again after tonight.
“I’m ganna be fat.” He groaned as he rolled into bed
“Then we’ll be fat together.” You say with a laugh, flipping off the bedroom lights, “S’not all bad. You’re good for cuddles and really good for making other people feel better about themselves… which I realize would be quite the change of pace for you—“
“Awe, shut it.” He whines, “I think I’m ganna die. I’m ganna explode in my sleep.”
You grimace, “I’d really rather you didn’t. I prefer to keep blood, guts, and feces off of me when I’m not in the ER.”
“Then you shouldn’t have fed me like that.”
“You could have stopped at any point.”
“But… it was so good.” He pouts at you as you roll onto the opposite side of the bed
“Well, I’m glad.” You smile at him
Stephen holds out his arms with a little pout and you giggle, holding your arms out in return, “Still before midnight. Birthday boy gets cuddled.” His eyes light up and he clumsily rolls himself into your arms. He nuzzles his face between your breasts and you giggle, “You better not be—“
“No, no, no. Just comfy.” He says, “N’ warm.”
You notice he’s angled the majority of his body away from you and offer, “You can lay on top of me, you know?”
He picks his head up and says, “I don’t wanna hurt you. I’ll crush you.”
You shake your head, “You ain’t gonna crush me, Stephen.” You force yourself closer to the center of the bed, “C’mon. I know you wanna…” You tease
Stephen hesitated before crawling farther up your body, nuzzling his face into your neck and forcing his arms beneath the pillow behind your head. His legs fell between yours and he did his best not to rest his full weight on you. You gave a little huff and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, your legs around his back, and pulled him against you as much as you could. He gave a little groan as he settled atop you fully and only then did you release him from your death grip. You kept your arms around his shoulders, tracing gentle patterns against his skin. You noticed he had a few little moles here and there and smiled at the observation. You kissed the top of his head and smoothed back the wild locks— you hadn’t let him blow dry it before you two had crawled into bed the first time— and to your absolute delight you realized there were strands that seemed to want to curl. The few pieces in the front in particular were intent on the action.
“Bedtime?”
“Bedtime.” You agree, “Go to sleep, Stephen. You have to go to work tomorrow and hear everyone’s day late birthday wishes.”
“Ugh.”
You smile, “I know, Sweetheart.”
Stephen was quiet for a minute before asking softly, “Can I have one more birthday request?”
You look at the nightstand, “Only eleven forty-three, you’ve got time.”
“C-can you…” He trailed off all shy
“C’mon, what’s it, Pretty Boy? Anything for you.”
He buries his face back in the crook of your neck and forces out softly, “Will you hum while I try to fall asleep?”
You hoped he didn’t hear the way your heart absolutely scram at such a sweet request.
“What do you want me to hum, Stephen?” You ask, burying your nose in his hair
“Anything.”
“Even if you don’t recognize it?”
“Mhm.”
You thought for a moment, before just choosing the first song that had popped into your head, hearing the lyrics in your head as you hummed…
‘That glass doesn't break
My voice doesn't shake
We're talking cause we wanna
I swallow my pride
You acknowledge your side
we're not acting out our trauma
Oh I know it's weird but
I'm jealous of us
Somewhere in the multiverse
There’s a you and me that works
We never fucked it up
We’re out there still in love
Somewhere in the multiverse…’
Stephen closed his eyes and listened as you hummed softly in his ear. That sweet, gentle sound that he’d thought of so many times since the first night you sang to him. His eyes fluttered closed and he found himself wishing midnight would never come. You two would stay like this forever because it would be forever his birthday, and that’s what he’d ask for.
Snippet: He’d never cared if he meant anything to anyone, never cared if anyone meant anything to him.
But then there was you.
And how could he ever not care about you?
Warnings: Explicit language, talks of a breakup, sexual themes, mentions of rape (no detail), alcohol, drunkenness.
Word count: 6,916
Reading time: ≈ 25 mins.
Chapter 41/41
A/N: here she is… the last chapter of PART ONE!!! surprise bestie. more info to come, until then… leave questions, theories, and comments below. If you want to be tagged in updates say so in the comments! Happy reading <3
“You’ll be needed in court— both of you— between the fifteenth and seventeenth of January. After that, it’s out of your hands. Ms. May, you’re familiar with that part of the process?” You nod before realizing the lawyer cannot see you through the phone and reply quickly, “Yeah— yes. Unfortunately, yes, I am.”
“Doctor Strange, from what Christine has told me, you’ll do just fine. Flash a smile and be honest. I recognize this is your alma mater—“
“My alma mater is responsible for a barely legal teenagers’ drugging and rape, I’m a bit far beyond caring about what the school means to me.”
“Forgive me. I never can be too careful.” Mrs. Ramirez apologizes, “Now, I must go. I suggest the two of you do the same, enjoy your weekend. Put the case out of your mind until January, okay?”
“Yes.” You sigh, “Thank you Mrs. Ramirez. Goodbye.”
You press the end call button and lean into the island, resting your forehead against it and letting out a deep breath. Stephen pats your back and you pick up your head to look at him. He quirks a small smile and reaches over, brushing flour off your forehead. You give a little huff and a ‘thanks.’
“Feel any better?” He asks
“I’d feel better if this turkey would hurry up.” You grouch
“You’re the one that wanted to do Thanksgiving for everyone.” He reminds you
“Yes, I know. Please stop me from proposing ridiculous ideas from now on.”
“It doesn’t help when I do.” He argues, “Besides… selfishly, I think it’s nice. I haven’t celebrated Thanksgiving in years.”
You, Stephen, Christine, Nic, Billy, and… maybe Gavin. That had still been rocky.
“It’s not even Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving was two days ago.”
“Yeah, but our chef had to work that day.”
“That’s probably my favorite part of the job.” You say sarcastically, “The times I rarely get holidays off.”
“Someone’s gotta’ do it.”
“Oh, but not you?”
“I said someone.”
You smile at him and roll your eyes, “Mhm.”
“What time is everyone supposed to be here?”
“Billy may be early… depending. Nic and Chrissy will be here between half past five and six.”
“That mean I have time to shower?”
“It’s only three. Doesn’t normally take you three hours.”
“What if you joined me…” Stephen comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, bending down a little to whisper, “We said holidays.”
You smile to yourself and tilt your head back to look at him, your nose brushing against his as you repeat firmly, “Thanksgiving was two days ago.”
Stephen pouts at you, “Yeah, but I’m trying to give thanks now.”
You giggle and swat his arms from around your waist, “No, Strange.”
He huffs and pulls away, grumbling as he walks down the hall to his room, “Comes into my home, uses my credit card at the store, makes a mess of my kitchen, sleeping in my bed tonight…”
“I’m not a prostitute, you know?” You call with a smile, “It’s not transactional! You’re just being a good friend!”
“Being a good friend sucks when there’s no reward!”
“My presence is your reward!”
There’s a pause before he admits, “Good enough… I guess.”
You chuckle to yourself mixing up the cornbread. He was such a horny mess.
You loved it.
But no. You had to hold strong. You’d almost made it to the week mark, and you were hoping you’d make it until after Christmas. Well… you’d let him have Christmas eventually, just not in your parent’s house. And after that… after you made it through to the new year safely and things calmed down you would tell him. You’d tell him and he’d either never wanna see you again or it would be fine. Your heart dropped thinking about it though… you had a strong feeling he’d choose the former. So you pushed that thought away and instead chose to focus on getting the corn ready. Corn on the cob— better for you than creamed corn.
Thirty minutes later when Stephen came back out— thirty minutes was still too long— you served him a knowing glare, but he just smirked and shrugged. You rolled your eyes and turned to hide your smile. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey sweater. He looked so cute and homey. You stifled a laugh noticing his socks were grey to match the sweater… another one of his strange little habits. His socks always matched his shirt.
“You look good.” You compliment
“Thanks, Doll.” Stephen says pacing behind you, “Not too dressy?”
“Nope. Very cute. That sweater looks very nice on you.”
Stephen was grateful you were turned to hide the blush on his cheeks from such a simple compliment, “Ah, thanks. Dug it out the back of the closet.”
“We really should do a closet and drawer cleanup for you, you know? I bet there’s tons of stuff you never wear anymore— we can donate.”
“You’re one to talk, shoe hoarder.”
“But I wear all my shoes.” You defend, “You don’t need three different coats— you don’t even wear your coats.”
“Well, I’m not wearing Tom Ford into the hospital if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“No, I’m just saying there’s probably someone who could really benefit from a nice coat.”
“I’m not giving away my designer coats for some hobo to destroy in the streets.”
“Stephen…” You sigh, serving him a glare
“Sorry.” He mumbles, “I do wear them. I just don’t have the occasion to wear them very often. But they come in handy when there are winter galas to attend. The problem is, the gala season is usually in the spring and summer. And I don’t tend to go overseas to conferences anymore, which is where they were originally bought and worn.”
“Hmm.” You hum, “Where all have you been?”
“Uh… England, France, Italy, Germany, Japan…”
“Wow. That’s… really cool, Steph.”
“Where’ve you been?”
You roll your lips together, “Don’t laugh at me please, I’ll cry. I’m emotional this last week, you know?”
“I’m not gonna laugh at you.”
You had been emotional. A nervous wreck really. He was almost certain it had something to do with your new meds, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention something about it. Didn’t feel like his place.
“Never left the southeast until I moved up here for college.” You admit, “We didn’t really have the time for it. Money, sure, but not the time. Can’t just up and leave a farm for a week.”
“Oh, God, Doll. We gotta get you out in the world!” Stephen exclaims, “C’mon, where do you wanna go?”
You turn to him and shrug, “Never given it much thought.”
“Anywhere.” He insists, “I offer you a flight right now to anywhere in the world, where are we going?”
“Promise me you won’t actually book the flight first.”
He rolls his eyes and leans against the island, “Promise.”
If you didn’t have the job you did, he would have.
“I dunno… maybe Ireland? Iceland? Greenland? Northern Europe. Somewhere cold and away from everything.”
“No, no, no. That’s a vacation for after you’ve traveled and actually seen things, we can’t start there.” He objects
“Hey! This is my vacation!”
“Not anymore. Nope.” Stephen goes into planning mode, “I think we’ll go to Paris first— that’s where the Monet Marmottan Museum is, you like Monet—“
“Says who?” You challenge
“Says your key chain, several stickers on Daisy, and the pattern of the pillows on your couch.” Stephen shrugs, “The clouds in the pond.”
“Reflections of Clouds on the Water-Lily Pond.” You correct, “But yes…” Your heart fluttered at the little attention to detail
“We’ll do lunch at a little café that you’ll be comfortable in— I’ll try to flirt with French women in French and you’ll pretend to be annoyed when you’re secretly impressed and oddly a little turned on because I speak very good french.” He gives you a very charming smile that forces you to quell one of your own, “After lunch, we’ll go see the Notre Dame de Paris. You’ll be beside yourself with excitement, I’ll think it’s very cute, you little bumpkin…”
“Uh— hey!”
“Then Tuileries Garden. Ferris wheel, flowers, you can be irate about the horses they parade around all day that you have to pay to ride. For dinner we’re going to Jean-François Rouquette, which you will hate because you have to dress like a proper lady and sit like a proper lady and use your table manners like a proper lady and eat foreign food and not makes faces at it like a proper lady— but I will love it, so you’ll do it for me. Finally, we will go back to our hotel— Shangri-La Paris— which I chose specifically because of the view of the Eiffel Tower at night.” Stephen finishes, holding his arms out wide as if to say, ‘ta-da!’
You attempt to choke back your smile at such enthusiasm and fail completely as you laugh out, “Oh? That simple is it?”
“Yes, but I forgot the best part.”
“And what’s that?”
Stephen grabs your arm and pulls you against him, pressing your hands to his chest and ducking down, his nose brushing against your own as he looks into your eyes and murmurs, “The part where I get you drunk on the best champagne available and fuck your brains out on the balcony of our room while you stare at the Eiffel Tower all lit up.”
You roll your eyes and look up at him through your lashes with a grin, not bothering to pull away and lessen your proximity as you breathe out, “So it was all an elaborate ploy to get into my pants?”
How dare he?
How dare he tempt you with such a wonderful fantasy? How dare he smell so wonderful fresh out of his shower? How dare his lips be so perfectly full and kissable looking? How dare he try to seduce you with such a silly little scenario!
And how dare you for falling for it!
But one little kiss couldn’t hurt, could it?
“No.” He pouts at you, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair that’s escaped from your bun behind your ear, “Not all of it. Only the dinner and champagne. You know you love seeing me in a suit.”
“I’ll consider the offer.” You tease
“Really?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “Because I need to start booking things n— oof.” He grunts as you jab him in the stomach
“No, not really! You’re supposed to be behaving, Stephen Strange.”
“I!” He exclaims, bright blue eyes wide, “I just offered to take you on an all-expenses-paid, once-in-a-lifetime, romantic, dream vacation! Most women would be on their knees right now— you know that right?”
You bite into your bottom lip and tilt your head just a bit closer, your lips millimeters away from his own as you whisper, “Then go talk to another woman, Stephen.”
Christ, he wanted to kiss that smile off your lips. And if he was reading these signals right, you sure did want him to. Then again, it could have just been wishful thinking. Luckily, he was saved from his stupidity by a knock on the door. He narrowed his eyes at you and settled for placing a chaste kiss against your temple. You giggled and turned back around to start peeling potatoes while Stephen got the door.
“Hey Bil—“
“Where’s my wife?”
“Kitchen.”
Billy stormed straight past Stephen and into the penthouse. Stephen closed the door gently, leaving it unlocked for Christine to barge in as she preferred to do. He walked back into the kitchen and gently nudged you out of the way, taking over peeling potatoes while you listened to Billy. And Stephen listened too, of course…
“He left this morning. He told me he wouldn’t go until next week, he told me we had until next week—“
“And he left this morning without warning?” You ask, completely gobsmacked
“Yeah. He called me at five, told me he had a flight at eight. I went, we argued, he left… we’re through.” Billy shrugs
“Oh, Bill…”
“It is what it is now, isn’t it?” He shrugs, “No use in—“
“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t pull a Stephen.”
“Excuse you?” Stephen objects, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s supposed to mean you like to pretend things don’t hurt when they do.”
“I’ve been better…” He mumbles
“You’re right, you have been.” You correct yourself seeing the hurt on Stephen’s face, “I’m sorry, Steph.”
“S’fine. You’re right anyways. You shouldn’t internalize things, only makes it worse when it all comes out.”
“Oh, does it?” Billy sent a pointed glare to you and Stephen both individually. Maddeningly neither of you seemed to notice he was talking to both and not just one of you. “Look, I’m not internalizing— and don’t regurgitate your therapy sessions at me!” Billy huffs to Stephen, “I’m just… I’m not ready to talk about it. It all happened so fast…”
You nod and look to your feet, holding out your arms, “You wanna’ hug?”
You glance up to watch Billy quirk a small smile and step forward into your arms. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed you tight, making you giggle.
Billy looked over your shoulder at Stephen, “Do I get a hug from you too?”
“What about a solid fist bump?” He counters
“Oh my God.“ You reach behind you and grab Stephen’s sweater, pulling him behind you and wrapping his arms around you and Billy. He grumbles but doesn’t fight too hard because at least you’re a part of it too. Billy looked up and wiggled his eyebrows at Stephen and that’s where he had to draw the line. You whined when Stephen pulled away, teasing, “I was enjoying that.”
“I bet we can put you in a similar position that you’d really enjoy…” Billy wiggles his eyebrows at you now and you burst into a fit of giggles
“Enough.” Stephen grunts, “Do you want me to keep peeling potatoes or is there something else I can do to help?”
“Potatoes are good.” You agree, “Thank you.”
Stephen nods and turns his back to you and Billy to resume his work in peace. You creep over to the drawer you knew Stephen’s aprons and rags were kept in and snatched one out. You padded over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, disguising the action of placing the little waist apron on with a hug. Billy snickers to himself when Stephen just gives a little smile, not even noticing the apron’s been tied around his waist. You held a finger to your lips to shush Billy and Stephen kept about his chore happily as you moved to get a big pot of green beans on the stove.
“Go sit down and rest, Bill. There’s not much you can do.” Stephen says, “She’s a control freak in the kitchen.”
You pout, “Things just get done better my way.”
“You still owe me cooking lessons.”
“I show you how to make something for lunch tomorrow.” You promise, “Even though you’ll have so many leftovers.”
“Can I take leftovers?” Billy asks
“Yes, please.” Stephen begs, “We just got rid of all the Philippe Chow yesterday.”
“Cool.” Billy says sauntering over to the couch and eyeing it wearily, “Quick question. Do you two do… it… on this thing?”
“No.” You deny
“Oh, yeah.” Stephen says at the same time
“Ugh.” Billy groans
“It’s been cleaned!” You defend, “I promise.”
Stephen looks back and suggests, “Wouldn’t touch that blanket though.”
“Gross.” Billy whines
“Oh, shut up.” Stephen rolls his eyes, “Would offer you my bed, but I doubt you’d find that any better.”
“Definitely not.” You snort, beginning to shuck corn on the other side of the sink, sharing the trash bag with Stephen
“Please don’t.” Billy begs
“You started it.”
“Hey, Bill?” Stephen asks
“Hm?”
“For what it’s worth… we’re glad you’re here.”
You smile softly to yourself, “Which is Stephen’s way of saying he’s glad you’re still here without revealing too much that he actually cares about you… a lot.”
“I know.” Billy smiles, “I love you both too.”
You watched out of the corner of your eye as Stephen quirked a little half-smile, quickly masking it with indifference. He also still hadn’t noticed the apron. He looked awfully cute all domesticated in his sweater and waist apron. What a sweet little housewife he made.
You were snuggled up in Stephen’s lap, him cradling your legs and holding your head against his shoulder as he talked and laughed with the other three. Dinner had been wonderful and warm and familial. Your little hospital family all sat around the coffee table in Stephen’s living room and laughed and ate together. Christine and Nic didn’t ask about Gavin… perhaps due to a text you sent about the situation before they arrived, or perhaps not. Who could really say? And now after dinner, stuffed full and perfectly content, you all laid around on the couches listening to music and just talking. About yourselves. Not the hospital, not tragedy, not Gray’s case— just your lives. You were feeling… very light and very sleepy. Five full glasses of wine will do that to a person. Stephen attempted to lean forward to grab his own glass— only his second, he’d been on his best behavior— and you whined, pouting up at him.
He gives something between a laugh and a scoff, “Pardon me, ma’am. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.”
“Ah, it’s that time of the night, huh?” Christine teases, “Clingy girl comes out.”
“And she’s gone.” Billy adds
“N’I’m right here.” You say, “Wif, Stephy.”
“Oh, with Stephy, huh?” Nic chuckles, only laughing harder when he sees the blush that covers Strange’s cheeks
“Mhm.” You hum
“Have you ever considered maybe Stephy needs to move?”
Your pout got deeper and your eyes immediately welled with tears, looking up at Stephen. His heart could’ve imploded as he cradled your head back to his chest reassuring, “I don’t need to move, you’re alright.” He turns to look at Billy, “She’s been sensitive the last week, now is really not the time.”
“She has been, hasn’t she?” Christine muses, “What’s that about? She’s not preg—“
“Shit, I sure hope not after a whole bottle of wine!” Billy exclaims
Stephen starts at such an idea, “Christ, no she’s not pregnant, Christine— don’t say shit like that.”
You point lazily at Stephen, “Doesn’t wanna’ be daddy.”
‘Not quite like that.’ Stephen thought to himself
“Not at the moment, certainly not.” He huffs aloud in agreement
“Well, then what is it?” Christine prompts
Stephen hesitated before theorizing, “I think it’s her new anti-anxiety meds. They do not appear to be helping… at all.”
“I’s ‘posed to take that.” You murmur
“You need to take it now? I’ll go get it for you, Auggie.” Stephen asks and you shake your head on his shoulder, “Why not?”
“Left ‘em home.” You say
“Why’d you do that, Doll?”
“‘Cause I don’ like ‘em.” You whine, “Scary dreams. All the time. No sleep.”
Stephen’s brow furrowed, “You’re still having nightmares?”
“When did she start having nightmares?” Nic asks, “And is she saying the meds are what give them to her?”
“They do.” You insist
“They’re more like… terrors.” Stephen says, “She woke up in a cold sweat one night— they make her talk in her sleep, she normally doesn’t.”
“What are they about? Can you tell what she’s saying?” Christine asks
“Not really, it just sounds like she’s somewhere she doesn’t want to—“
“‘Bout rape.” You say very bluntly
The other four fall quiet at this. Very, very quiet. Three of the four are wide-eyed looking at each other to see who makes the first move.
When you try to continue, “‘Bout rape ‘cause—“
“Because that’s what you see for a living all day every day… yeah. Guess that will do it, huh?” Christine interrupts hurriedly, standing from her seat, “Auggie, Dear, let’s… let’s maybe go get you ready for bed, yeah?”
You cling tighter to Stephen, enjoying his embrace far too much to just let go, “But… Steph.”
“Stephen will be in super soon, okay? The other boys are gonna help him get stuff cleaned up and he’ll come lay with you, right, Stephen?” Christine prompts
Stephen’s mind was reeling. Was that what you’d been dreaming about that night? Had you been dreaming about it every night since then? And technically speaking… were you watching something from the outside or were you actually—
“Stephen!” Christine says more firmly
“Uh— um, yeah. Yes, Auggie, Doll? Go with Chrissy and let her help get you ready for bed. I’ll be there soon.”
You pull back and look up at him all teary-eyed, “Promise?”
“Yes, promise.” He agrees, ignoring the flush he can feel creeping up his neck. He was not used to you being this affectionate or needy in front of the others. Part of him loved it, while the other part was worried it made him look lovesick— as if Billy needed any more ammunition, “Go on.”
You placed a big kiss on his cheek before standing unsteadily from his lap. Stephen grabbed your hips to balance you and you giggled. Christine stifled a laugh at the look of pure shock on Stephen’s now very red face. He had not been expecting that smooch. She wrapped her arm through your own and started walking down the hall with you. The other two boys just sat there staring at Stephen, trapped between amusement at his state of discombobulation and fear that they were about to have to cover for your ass and all be on the same page as they made up the cover on the spot.
“So… Stephy?” Nic finally chokes out, bursting into a fit of laughter
“Ah— shut it.” Stephen gripes, sinking farther back into the couch cushions
“I mean… I don’t know what more proof you need than that, Stephen.” Billy chuckles to himself
“She’s drunk and she’s always over affectionate at this time of night anyways. It doesn’t mean anything.” Stephen objects
“Oh yeah…” Billy says, standing with a sigh, “Because people never say what they actually mean when they’re drunk.”
“Speaking of which, did she just say she’s been dreaming about—“
“Like Christine said…” Nic interrupts, “what would your nightmares be about if you’d been working SANE for five years? And especially with what’s been happening with Gray… she’s shaken. Exhausted and shaken. Her body is just trying to process. And if you really think those meds are what’s causing those dreams, we should probably talk to her about switching them over.”
“Yeah…” Stephen says, “Don’t think she’ll be… upset at the suggestion?”
“No, Stephen. She’ll like that you care enough to bring it up. You’re not just some rando, she knows you care about her. You knew she was on them in the first place, so clearly she trusts you with the information.” Billy reassures
“Exactly.” Nic agrees, “Now c’mon, everyone up. Let’s get this place in decent order so Stephy can go cuddle with the baby.”
“Bite me, West.”
Billy had just shuffled out the door when Stephen heard a, “The baby is in bed.” Christine looked frazzled as she came back out into the kitchen, “Are you sure you want her to stay here tonight? I could take her home—“
“Babe, we aren’t getting her away from him tonight.” Nic says, “She didn’t want to leave his arms, how do you think we’re gonna get her out the door? Much less into the car.”
“She doesn’t need to go anyways.” Stephen objects, “I’m not gonna try to—“
“Oh, Steph, no.” Christine says, placing a gentle hand on his chest, “Thought never even crossed my mind. She’s just… very… needy at the moment.”
“That’s alright.” He insists
Christine gives him a small smile, “You don’t mind too much, huh?”
Stephen returns the smile, “No. Not at all.”
She nods, “Still, if you need anything call, okay?”
“I will.”
“Good. You two enjoy your day off tomorrow.”
“Have a good night, Stephy.” Nic claps Stephen on the shoulder, helping Christine shrug on her jacket with one hand
Stephen glares at Nic but says, “Both of you get home safe. Good night.”
The door shut softly behind Christine and Nic, and Stephen locked the bottom lock and deadbolt. He normally didn’t bother, but always when you were in the house. He glanced toward the pile of dishes in the sink. He rolled up his sleeves and started washing things off, placing them in the dishwasher. He almost never hand-washed anything— though that seemed to be your preference. But honestly, Stephen was just trying to get stuff in and turn the thing on so he could get to you. He was halfway through the pile in the sink when he heard the floorboards creak behind him. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Doll?” He calls, not receiving an answer, “Did you get out of bed?” He shakes his hands off and dries them quickly on the towel, turning to face you
You stand in the hallway with a giant blanket wrapped around you, pouting at him like a disgruntled toddler, “Yeah.”
“Why’d you do that, Sweet Girl?”
“‘Cause I missed you. You din’t come to the bed.”
“I’m coming.”
“Now?”
“I need to finish putting the dishes away and I’ll be right there.”
“Now.” You repeat again, clearly not a question this time around
Stephen chuckles and makes his way over to you slowly, “You’re awfully bossy tonight, Little Girl.”
“But I need you t’come now.” You say drawing out the ‘o’
“Why’s that?”
“‘Cause I need you t’hold me.” You pout, holding out your arms
Stephen moves forward quickly, scooping you up in his arms and settling your legs around his waist. You give a little squeal and giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck tight. Stephen smiled into your shoulder… such a sweet little sound. You wrapped the blanket over Stephen’s back the best you could as he carried you to his room. You didn’t want him to be cold. You wanted him to be warm. He deserved to be warm and in bed with you.
“Don’ drop me.” You murmur against his shoulder
“Have I ever dropped you, Auggie?”
“No.” You admitted, “But you’re drunk.”
Stephen laughed at this, “Baby, you’re the drunk one.”
“Oh, yeah. I forget.” You hum out
“You don’t drink often, do you?”
“No. Only when I go see Bryce.” You grouch, “N’ he never lets me have more than three drinks. That’s not a whole lots. N’ he waters them down.” Stephen places you on the bed carefully and you pout up at him, “Where you goin’?”
“To put on some PJ’s so I can come cuddle with you. Is that alright, Princess?”
You preened like a happy cat when he ran his head over the top of your head and nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah.”
“Alright. Stay right there for me.”
You sat on the edge of the bed perfectly still, watching as Stephen walked over to his dresser. He shed his jeans and his sweater, turning away from you for proprieties sake. He heard some shuffling on the bed and glanced back to find you watching him intently, a silly little smile on your face. He flushed— God it was like he was in fucking middle school. He quickly pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and started making his way over to you.
“C’n I have my shirt?” You ask
“Your shirt?” Stephen asks, “Aren’t you wearing your shirt? I don’t remember ever owning anything with Taylor Swift’s face on it myself.”
“No, no, no.” You shake your head, “My shirt. My Victor shirt.”
Stephen stifled a laugh and repeated, “Your Victor shirt?” Stephen turned and dug through his shirt drawer briefly before holding up the Our Lady Peace band tee, “You mean my little brother’s shirt?”
“Yeah, that one.” You agree
“This is my shirt.” Stephen says firmly, but walks it over to you all the same, “You hear me?”
“I hear me.” You nod, snatching it from his hands. Stephen shook his head and turned while you shed your own shirt to trade it for his. When he went to turn off the overhead light you objected, “No! Big light, please.”
“Big light? To sleep?”
“Yeah…” You said shyly
“Doll, I can’t sleep with the overhead on. How about we turn on both of the lamps? Would that work?” You hesitated before giving a little huff and nodding your agreement, “Thank you.” He said, flipping off the light
After he turned on both of the lamps he walked over to your side of the bed and pulled back the covers gesturing you under. You crawled over, but sat up on your knees in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him forwardly quickly. Your lips were on his before he even realized what was happening. You gave a little whimper and pulled him closer, putting your hands in his hair. You loved his hair. Soft. So, so soft. Lips were soft also. Very good lips… good for kissing. Stephen smelled good too. He smelled good. He smelled like Stephen.
You loved Stephen.
When Stephen’s brain caught up with his body, he immediately brought his hands to your face and pulled you away gently, searching your eyes before whispering, “You’re drunk, Baby Girl. We can’t do that right now.”
You frowned, “But you wanted to fuck me at the Eiffel Tower.”
Stephen gave a little laugh, “No, not quite. Very close though.”
“M’kay so fuck me…“
“No, Augustine. Not right now, Doll.” He shook his head
“You don’ wanna’?” You asked, a trace of— was it desperation or sadness— laced in the words?
“I do. You know I do. But not when you’re drunk. Remember?”
“But y’know— I think it’s okay, because we’ve—“
“But that was at a different time, Auggie.” Stephen reminds you, “That was when we were something different.”
“Something different…” You repeat
“Yeah.”
“W-what are we now?” You ask quietly
“Friends.” His brows knit together, staring down at you softly
Your eyes welled with tears and you mimic, “Friends.” You hesitate for a moment before observing, “But— but friends don’t sleep together. We do— did. Since we aren’t that anymore.”
“No… no, I guess friends normally don’t sleep together.” Stephen agreed
“S’that why I can’t kiss you?”
“You can’t kiss me because you’re drunk and less than eight hours ago you told me we weren’t doing that today. And I would feel very bad if I let you kiss me now when that’s not what you wanted sober.” Stephen explains to you gently
You let out a shaky sort of breath and a tear rolled down your cheek as you whispered, “I wish you’d kiss me more.”
“I’m sorry, Baby. I can’t right now.”
You shake your head in his hands, “I don’ mean right now.”
Stephen’s breath caught in his throat, “Well—“
“I mean all th’time. Any time.” You explained, “Just ‘cause you wanted to. Just ‘cause I want you to.”
Stephen’s heart thundered in his chest, but he closed his eyes and reminded himself just as much as you, “You’re drunk, August.”
“But I mean it.” You insisted
Stephen rests his forehead against your own and realized just how wet his palms were against your face. When he opened his eyes to meet yours he was met with the sight of tears running rivers down your cheeks. Your eyes were lost in a storm of hazel color; green and brown and gold, his own eyes reflected back at him in your iris. He ran his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the tears, but more took their spot just as quickly. The tip of your nose was pink and you sniffed harshly. He searched your eyes for a long time, but neither of you said anything. And he relished in it— the silence, those four words all that existed between you two— that and the exchanged air.
“I mean it, Stephen.”
He nodded slowly, his heart breaking as he said, “Then tell me that tomorrow morning, okay? I swear, if you tell me tomorrow morning, I’ll kiss you. I’ll kiss you to make up for all the times you wanted me to. I’ll kiss you to make up for every time I’ve wanted to… just because.”
You nodded quickly, “‘Kay. I will. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“Good.” He nods back, trying to fight away the tears welling in his own eyes
You take in another shaky breath and admit, “I wish you’d have told me again in the morning.”
Stephen paused, “What?”
“You— you said you liked me th-than more as a friend some days. I wish you’d said it again.”
“When?” Stephen’s brows tensed and you smiled weakly at the little bump, reaching up to soothe it away with your thumb
“You told me when you were like me.” You try to explain, “When I wouldn’t let you kiss me ‘cause you were like me.”
When he was like you?
Drunk?
But what— oh. Oh, that first night.
Stephen squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, “That’s what you said I didn’t mean.”
You nod, “Din’t mean it, s’okay. I understand.” You try again, “B-but I mean it. N’ so I’ll tell you again in th’mornin’.” A tear escaped from the inner corner of Stephen’s eye and you reached up to wipe it away clumsily asking, “Why are you sad? Is it ‘cause… should I not tell you—“
“Please, Augustine.” Stephen begs, “Pl— do what I didn’t. Tell me again in the morning. Please.”
He knew he’d have better luck asking you to lend him a thousand dollars tomorrow morning. He knew this would all fade away into your sleep, and you’d wake up terribly hungover, not a word of the conversation remembered. But for right now… for right now he’d let himself believe you’d still feel this way when the morning came.
“Will it make you less sad?”
He gives a choked sort of laugh, “Yeah, Baby. Yeah, it will.”
“I will.” You promise again, “N’ then you can kiss me. And we can both not cry anymore.”
“That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“But we gotta’ go to sleep if you’re ever gonna’ wake up and tell me tomorrow, right?” Stephen prompts, “You gotta’ lay down and let me tuck you in. Gotta’ come cuddle up next to me. I’ll hold you all night. And you can wake up in my arms and roll over and tell me you want me to kiss you.” Stephen ran a shaking hand gently over the top of your head, trying to see you through the tears glazed over his eyes, “You tell me and I’ll kiss you.”
“You will?” You double-check, sniffling to try and clear the tears in your eyes and your runny nose
“Promise.”
“‘Kay.”
You sit back and move carefully to the head of the bed, pushing your legs under the comforter and laying down. Stephen pulled it and the blanket at the foot of the bed over you, turning and taking in a deep breath, running a hand under his eyes to try and dry the rest of his tears. He walked around to his side of the bed and settled, and you waited patiently until he held his arms out to you. You smiled and rolled over to meet him halfway, immediately burying your face in his chest.
“M’sorry if I snot on you.”
Stephen gave a great laugh and simply pulled you closer, teasing, “You’re so gross.”
You give a little giggle and apologize, “M’sorry.”
“That’s alright.” He exhales slowly, “You sleep good, okay?”
“I will. Hope I have a good dream.”
“I bet you will.”
“Good. Hope you have good dreams too.”
“Thanks, Doll.”
“G’night, Steph.”
“Good night, Auggie.”
Stephen sighed, turning to stare at the ceiling. He ran his hands over your back, feeling as you wiggled about trying to get comfortable. About twenty minutes of silence followed before he felt you settle: your breathing evening out, your body going lax against his own, little hands wrapped around his neck still tangled in his hair. He took in a deep breath before releasing it, tears streaming down his face and neck. Stephen didn’t know when the last time he’d cried like this was, and he could have done without crying like this ever again. But his chest fucking ached, his heart felt like it was tearing in two— he couldn’t think, he could only feel.
He turned slowly and pulled you closer. Closer and closer and closer, and it wasn’t fucking enough. He dug one hand into your hair and buried his face in the top of your head. He grasped roughly at the shirt you wore— his shirt— balling it up and dragging you closer. Closer and closer and closer. And it would never be enough, not like this. And Stephen would have never thought another person could make him feel like this. No one had ever been able to break him like this, and he was so mad that you had. But still, he’d do the whole night over again just to hear you tell him one more time… you meant it. He’d never cared if he meant anything to anyone, never cared if anyone meant anything to him.
But then there was you.
And how could he ever not care about you?
“I’d kiss you anyway if I wasn’t afraid.” He whispered to your sleeping form, “There’s a lot I’d do with you if I weren’t afraid, Augustine.” Stephen lets out a deep sigh, “I wish I weren’t scared. There’s a lot I wish I weren’t for you.” You shifted a little and Stephen held his breath until you settled again, “I— I think there’s some stuff we gotta’ figure out, Doll.” He swallows hard and lies to himself, “I think I’ll tell you in the morning.”
You woke up to the feel of soft sunlight on your face. You immediately groaned, a pounding headache setting in. You eased open your eyes and were immediately met with the sight of a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. You smiled internally at the gesture, the physical act feeling like way too much effort for the time being. You recognized that Stephen wasn’t in the bed with you, though that was probably for the best. You just knew you looked like a wreck. You gave yourself ten minutes before shuffling out of the bed and going into the bathroom— you forced yourself to puke to get out whatever remnants of last night’s drinking escapades remained. You peed and rinsed your mouth out with water and went back to the bedside table, downing three ibuprofen with your water.
Lazily you drug yourself into the kitchen, pausing when you saw two suitcases sitting by the island. Stephen was leaning over the counter, writing something out on a piece of paper.
“Good morning.” He bolted upright and immediately threw his hands over the paper, crumpling it up in his fist and you smiled, “Whatcha’ doin? I thought I told you no Paris?” You gestured to the luggage at his feet
He gives a weak half smile, “Yeah— no. No Paris… just… I’m headed to California for the next two weeks.”
“The next two weeks?” You repeat, a twinge of disappointment in your tone
“Basson— Kohl had an availability much earlier than he thought. And… well, I’m gonna need a lot more of his help than I’d care to admit. He’ll be my second in command, it only makes sense to be over there while we parse things out.” Stephen rushes out and holds up the piece of paper he had been scribbling on, “I was gonna leave a note, but… you’re awake.”
You watched as Stephen tore the note into little pieces and threw them in the trash can and nodded, “Alright, well… let me get my stuff and I’ll—“
“You can stay.” He says, “I was gonna leave these too… just… if you needed to be somewhere that wasn’t your apartment.” He drops his house keys on the counter, “Just no house parties… or whatever the kids are doing these days.” He drops the pen he’d been using into one of the junk drawers and continues, “But there’s a whole bunch of food in my pantry and fridge that’ll go bad in the next two weeks… figured you could make good use of it.”
You nod slowly, “Right… you want me to be here when you’re not?”
“I don’t see why not.” He mutters, refusing to meet your eyes
“Stephen…” You take a step toward him, “Are you alright? You seem… a bit out of it.”
“I’m fine. Good. Just didn’t sleep well. Had a bad dream. Been up for hours.”
You frown, “I’m sorry… you must’ve taken mine. First night I haven’t had one in weeks.”
“Well worth it then.” He offers a weak smile, “I uh— back in two weeks, like I said. Then two more full weeks of work and we fly to Georgia for your birthday. We’re leaving that Friday and not coming home until Tuesday… Christine somehow worked it out with Ricky, don’t ask me how. Guess we shouldn’t expect Gavin to be there now—“
“Awe, shit. I didn’t even think about that. I can pay you back for—“
Stephen shakes his head, “No need, you’ll see.” He pats his pockets checking for his car key and drops it on the counter, “Leaving the Huracán here too. You are not permitted to drive her.”
“Not even in an emergency?”
“What emergency is there that you need to drive my car for and not Daisy?”
“What if Daisy spontaneously combusts?”
Stephen gave a grunt, “As likely as that is, I regret to say that if Daisy spontaneously combusts, you may drive the Huracán.”
“Understood.” You beamed up at him
Stephen forced himself to look away from your smiling face, instead checking his carry-on one last time, “Alright, I really need to get going— already running behind.”
You nod, “Okay. Sorry if I was awful last night…” You say shyly, “I know I can get pretty annoying—“
“You were fine. Just needed some cuddles.” He gives a strained laugh, “Anyways, I’ll be going now. Just make sure you lock the door when you leave and when you’re here alone— if you’re here alone, no pressure.”
“I will.” You step forward and stand on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, hoping maybe it’ll calm him down just a bit
Stephen freezes in place and looks at you wearily, “What was that?”
“A goodbye kiss?”
“A goodbye kiss.”
“Yeah. Why not?”
He cracks a half smile and mumbles, “Just ‘cause?”
You shrug, “Yeah… just ‘cause.”
Stephen’s heart gave a small pull. Not exactly the ‘just because’ he’d been hoping for, but a ‘just because’ nonetheless.
He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your opposite cheek, pulling away and watching your cheeks flush as he returns, “Just ‘cause.” You nod shyly, “I’ll see you in two weeks, Auggie. Stay safe, do good work, if you need anything call and let me know.”
“Okay.” You agree, “Be safe, Sweetheart.”
“I’ll be back here in one piece this time in two weeks.” He promises
“You better be or else my family is gonna think I made you up.”
“Well, as tempting as that is…” He smiles down at you softly, “I’d like to meet your Mom.”
Your heart flutters, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Stephen swallowed hard.
‘Just do it.’ He begged himself, ‘Kiss her now. Kiss her just because you want to.’
But he didn’t.
He grabbed his bags and popped up the handles, starting toward the door, “I’ll see you soon, Doll.”
“See you soon, Stephen.”
He gave you one last smile before walking out the door, letting out a deep breath. He’d have plenty of time to think about this on the plane. Plenty of time to text Donna. Plenty of time to talk to himself. He’d make a plan and when he saw you again in two weeks he would tell you.
And he’d spend however long you’d let him kissing you… just because.
