você aperta os pulsos mais forte e sydney parece notar. "você quer me bater de novo, não é?" ele fala enquanto retira os óculos e os coloca sobre a mesa.
avisos: uuughhh eu nunca escrevi algo que julguei digno de mostrar pra alguém antes, então primeira fic eu acho, gramática mais ou menos, só..?
wc: 538
neste momento, você está no quarto de sydney, seu namorado há poucos meses. ele não é uma pessoa difícil de lidar, sua ingenuidade o torna um pouco irritante as vezes, mas isso nunca foi um problema. é sempre um garoto prestativo que faz tudo o que está ao alcance para ajudar, como agora, em que ele oferece o rosto à você para que você possa aliviar seu estresse, te lembrando da primeira vez na qual ele fez isso, mesmo que seu tapa tenha sido impulsivo por conta da raiva que borbulhava nas suas veias.
agora não é muito diferente, visto que seu sangue começou a ferver e dentro dos últimos meses, você passou por situações tão desestabilizadoras que sua raiva tem se tornado difícil de manter sob controle.
assim que ele termina a frase, sua mão vai ao rosto dele num estalo alto. sydney arfa enquanto o impacto do tapa faz seu rosto virar. você não espera que ele se recomponha para descer a mão novamente, o assustando e fazendo seu rosto mais uma vez virar de forma abrupta para o outro lado pela força do tapa. o corpo do seu namorado recua com mais um sopapo, agora formando uma marca vermelha com os cinco dedos da sua mão no lado esquerdo da face dele. ele soluça ao ter o rosto atingido novamente, agora no lado direito, e lágrimas começam a acumular no canto externo dos olhos castanho claro do loiro. os joelhos de sydney levantam instintivamente na cama quando seu rosto leva mais um tapa, agora deixando as lágrimas caírem enquanto seus lábios se formam em um leve beiço, não conseguindo mais manter os soluços. no quinto tapa, gemidos sôfregos de dor escapam a boca do garoto e em nenhum momento ele te pede para parar, apenas aceitando toda sua raiva como o bom namorado que é.
suas mãos se cansam lá pelo oitavo tapa, quando você finalmente se dá conta do que está fazendo ao sentir a mão molhada pelas lágrimas de sydney, seus gemidos de dor te tirando do seu estupor, culpa te atingindo instantaneamente ao ver o estado que em que deixou o próprio namorado, ambos lados do rosto extremamente vermelhos, apertando os lençois com o corpo jogado sobre a cama.
ele mostra perceber sua mudança de comportamento quando nota seu choque, "você se sente melhor agora?" levando a mão abaixo dos olhos para enxugar as lágrimas, ele sorri fraco enquanto sua voz soa falhada pelo esforço para suprimir o choro.
numa tentativa de tocar o rosto dele e pedir desculpas, sydney recua com a pele ainda ardendo, agora um pouco mais por conta do seu toque. "meu bem, me desculpa, eu não deveria ter descontado em você dessa forma. eu só perdi o controle e-" sydney toma suas mãos na dele enquanto te cala com um selinho. "está tudo bem, é isso que um bom namorado faz, não é? eu só quero te ajudar, fico feliz que pareça melhor agora e para te ver bem, eu faria isso mais um milhão de vezes".
PLEASE please please make something, ANYTHING about doL
DJAKSNSJSJS DYING. Okay, talking about DoL, the first thing that comes to my mind is Sydney. Pure Sydney... Faithful Sydney...
We have many scenes of walking to school with her. She's always so sleepy and lovely, her body pressed against your side while you walk under grey skies, not even the sun has come out yet.
And you're trying to be a good girlfriend, you both are a part of the temple, and you have started to share some of her beliefs—they aren't half bad if you stop to think about it. But you don't think they are as pure as she thinks.
So, yes. You're trying to be a good girlfriend and not make her uncomfortable and ask more than she can give you. But the thing is... She is so beautiful, so breathtaking. It makes it quite hard to think or not to spend every single second you can against her body.
She has to usher you away sometimes, reminding you that you still have classes or stuff to do. And pushing you by your waist—her hands feel like they might as well burn your skin and leave a permanent brand on you, and her breath on your neck. And the worst part? She doesn't even realize the effect she has on you.
It's driving you a little insane if you're honest. And you really don't want to sound needy, cause yeah... She gets flustered too, you have seen her and she looks absolutely sweet when she does—you don't want to do anything else than wrap her in your arms and never let her go. Your point is she has so much self control.
She looks so put together that you don't want to look like a needy girl who is incapable of resisting the claws of lust.
"Darling?" Her voice is sweet as nectar.
By the time you come back to reality and turn to look at her she's already looking at you—amber eyes analyzing you intently.
"What's wrong?"
You cannot tell her something like this, can you? She is always telling you lust is the most dangerous of sins—and frankly in this town you believe her.
So, you shake your head and hum. "Nothing... Everything is alright, love."
And you should have expected the unamused look in her face. "C'mon, you know I know you better than that."
Sydney cradles your face with one of her hands, the other still linked with yours. "It doesn't fool me, and I'm not keen on lies."
You sigh, and your gaze lingers on her lips—just for a second, but enough for her to catch on.
"Oh, so it's that..." She says, with a teasing smile.
She seems awfully entertained if you consider how much you have tried.
You blink. "What?"
"You want me..." It's a whole statement really—she knows she's right and you know it too.
Her thumb caresses the curve of your cheek. "It's lovely actually, but you didn't need to torture yourself so much."
There's something amused in her gaze and you're convinced you must be missing something.
At your silence she continues.
"You know... our vows don't actually forbid us of everything, and we are together." Her smile is indulgent. "We can share some things... Wisely, together."
You brighten up. "I'd like that."
There's a spark in her eyes right before she leans closer while still holding you.
Her lips are soft when they meet yours—your first kiss was straight out of a movie, but this feels great in a different sense. It reminds you of cherry blossoms falling down under the soft breeze.
The kiss is long and soft—erasing any lingering worry off your mind, and bringing your souls even closer.
“I can only show you once you’ve done it.” That wasn’t entirely true, but you had a faint idea of how you wanted this to go, and you need something to be reassured by. Your fingers dug into your palm to try to calm yourself down, the thought of you explaining everything to her just like that already made your head spin.
You knelt on the rug. It took a few seconds for her to accompany you on the floor.
“This… This is…” your words came out hoarse with lust, fingers digging into her back.
“Please… Just… Just try again with me? We can… We can be better this time…” she panted. When you didn’t respond she kissed you. It was incredibly sloppy; she wanted to touch every part of you. Instead, she tried to focus on rolling her tongue inside your mouth, hoping that would communicate everything she struggled to put into words.
And despite how hot her face was, when Nat closed the door to the walk-in, she resumed humping your knee again. You stopped her and told her it was best to not have a session Sunday coming, but the week after. She teased that she'd come to your place like she did before, but you released her with such a speed it was hurtful, and sternly told her no.
She stared at the last message you sent her on Friday:
“Does the same rule apply to you?” She questioned, putting on an air of mock innocence.
“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m the one making the rules right now.”
She perked up and excitement travelled between her legs. That shouldn’t have made her react like that. Besides, you said this was more so for yourself than for her.
Then why did she have to fight the urge to close her thighs for more friction? Or goad you on so much, in the hopes you’d touch her more?
Not ready to leave, she stepped to the side of you and watched you fiddle with your camera, unaware of her proximity as a smirk passed your lips as you clicked through images you’d taken around the restaurant. A really endearing one of Ebra prepping made her smile, and you scribbled some notes down. You clicked through many photos until one in particular made her take pause.
“Oh my god… Why… Do you have those on there? Wait, do you use the same camera?”
You coyly stared up at her. “I brought this camera instead of the one I normally use while working here by mistake. Chill Syd, no one here is going to see them. Though, I’m sure at least half of them would appreciate it in one way or another.”
It really isn’t like Sydney to take chances, or to let herself get distracted at work.
It’s one of the things that drew you to her when you first started waitressing at The Bear—her singleminded focus and dedication. She seemed so unshakable for the first month or two you knew her; no matter what else happened during service (and with this place, there was always a lot happening) her concentration never seemed to break.
You were convinced your crush on her was completely one-sided because she rarely spared you a second glance during service. It was ages before you realized you had a chance—when she began offering you sodas after service, shooting you stray smiles whenever she had a moment, gifting you one of her scarves that she said matched your eyes. You gathered up the courage to kiss her for the first time after the two of you stayed up talking in the alley behind the restaurant until the sun came up.
You’re learning now that Sydney outside of work is a completely different person than the one you first met—she's still charming, and dedicated, and everything else that drew you to her in the first place, but she relaxes when the two of you are away from the restaurant, letting you see a different side of her, one that hardly ever slips past her professional side in the kitchen.
Today, though, something must’ve gotten into her. You’ve never seen her like this before. She was clearly frustrated all day—as she prepped her station for service you watched her hands slip more than once, and saw her curse and start over again, annoyed at her own imperfections. As you helped fold napkins with Richie, you watched Carmy pull her aside, asking if she was sick or something. She just shook her head in annoyance, returning to her work, not glancing over at you once as she worked, jaw clenched, posture pin-straight.
No one at the restaurant knows there’s something going on between the two of you. Sydney says she doesn’t want any of her coworkers to give you shit, and you understand. Things are still new between the two of you anyway. Still, on days like this, you sometimes wish you could just pull her into your arms in the kitchen and kiss her on the nose so she felt better about whatever was bugging her. She acts so indestructible around here, but you know that sometimes, she just wants to let you hold her until everything calms.
It was twenty minutes before service when you walked past Sydney’s station and without looking at you, she reached out and grabbed your arm, squeezing hard. You froze, looking at her questioningly.
“Office,” she said, the word a little strained. She cleared her throat. “I need to speak to you.”
“Oooo, someone’s in trouble,” Richie said next to you, and you and Syd rolled your eyes at the same time.
“She’s not in trouble,” Sydney said, dropping your arm and starting toward the office. You followed quickly behind her, trying not to look too eager, until she walked inside the small room, shutting the door behind you, and you smiled at her hesitantly.
“Everything okay?” you asked.
Her eyes swept over your frame.
“Everything’s fine,” she said in her chef voice—the one that led an entire kitchen through service on a daily basis. You can’t deny it does something to you, that commanding tone, but you try not to let yourself get too turned on thinking about it. You’re at work after all. You need to be professional.
“So…” you said. “What did you want to—“
You didn’t get to finish. Sydney put her hands on your waist, pulling you into a messy kiss. You froze at first, startled by the contact, but you quickly melted into it, lips parting for her.
She pulled back an inch.
“I'm ovulating,” she said breathlessly. “You’re really fucking distracting me. And I need to lock in for service. You good for a quickie?"
“Oh,” you said, everything suddenly clicking into place in your mind and beginning to make sense. "At work?"
"Everyone's distracted," Sydney said. "Won't take long."
You laughed softly. Sydney wasted no time in kissing your neck, lips hungry and searching. You whined quietly at the feeling of her teeth dragging over your pulse point.
“Jesus, Syd,” you breathed out shakily as her hands palmed at your breasts through your button down.
“Want me to stop?” she asked.
“No,” you answered quickly.
“Good,” she said, hands traveling lower, tugging imprecisely at the edge of your shirt until it comes untucked. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this.”
She pushed you gently back to lean on the edge of the desk, hiking your shirt up to expose your chest and pressing messy kisses to your breasts over your bra, the hand not occupied holding up your shirt roaming over your bare skin. You tipped your head back, forcing yourself to stay quiet as she mouthed at your chest, stepping forward to slot one of your thighs between her legs, grinding down against you with a half-swallowed moan of relief.
"Fuck, baby," Sydney breathed against your skin, rocking forward against you.
It was intoxicating, feeling her take what she needed from you without hesitation or shame. You loved knowing she felt comfortable enough with you to let herself be desperate like this—she doesn’t let anyone else see her that out of control.
You might’ve heard the doorknob turning if you hadn’t been so preoccupied by Sydney’s shaky exhales close to your ear.
Now, as the door swings open, all you can do is freeze, mouth open as you make eye contact with Carmy. Richie is right behind him. The two of them stop walking, Carmy looking horrified while Richie laughs in surprise.
“Fuck,” Sydney says, pulling your shirt down for you and stepping quickly from you.
“In my office?” Carmy says disbelievingly.
“You two are hooking up?” Richie says, grinning like a twelve-year-old boy.
You bite your lip, face burning in embarrassment.
“Shit, this was, um, completely my idea,” Sydney babbles. “I am so sorry.”
Carmy is blushing, avoiding eye contact with both of you.
“This is such an HR violation,” Richie says, not sounding at all serious.
“We’ll talk about this after service,” Carmy says, shaking his head as he walks away.
“I’m reporting you two,” Richie says.
“Shut the fuck up, Richie, we don’t have HR,” Sydney says, smoothing out her shirt and clearing her throat. “Tell anyone about this, you’re dead.”
She reaches back to take your hand in hers, squeezing it silently as she leads you out of the office.
“Syd,” you say, halfway down the hallway.
She turns to look at you, eyebrows furrowed together in that cute overwhelmed look she sometimes gets.
“Find me after service,” you say. “My apartment door actually locks. You know, if you wanna finish what we started.”
Her eyes widen a little, and then she’s nodding rapidly.
You can’t help but grin every time you catch her eye for the rest of the night as you both work, not the slightest bit guilty.
