Trust Fund Baby Series + Meg's Kinktober #21 Almost Caught AKA Late Night, a Few Drinks
Description: Carmy invites you to try the new drinks for The Bear's opening. (This fic is actually sfw sorry to disappoint)
Trust Fund Baby (nsfw)
“Saint Anthony, huh? Didn’t know you were Catholic.” You say, hooking one finger under the gold chain around his neck, leaning forward with a drunken giggle as you inspect it.
“I’m not, just Italian.” Carmy says, his lips mere inches from yours, when you look up and realize how close you two are. He’s so pretty like this, and his eyes are so, so, blue you swear you could drown in them.
You’re practically in his lap, one hand balancing yourself on his knee, the other holding his chain, his gaze holding yours, looking as if he wants to devour you.
“Ah, yes, makes perfect sense.” You nod, smiling, smiling, smiling, smiling, it’s all you can do around Carmy, especially when you’re drinking.
“Yeah?” Camry asks, leaning back on his hands, half lidded eyes, slightly glazed from alcohol, watching as you toy with the small pendant.
“Yeah.” You echo, eyes flickering down to his lips.
“Real nice of you to come help out with the tastings.” Carmy says, pink tongue darting out, wetting his lips.
You swallow hard, the rational part of your brain telling you to pull back. “Can’t say no to free drinks with my favorite chef now, can I?”
His eyebrows lift and he cocks his head slightly to the side. “I’m your favorite chef, sweetheart?”
“Of course.” You say it so simply, like it’s a fact, because to you, it is. “Well, you and Syd, she makes a killer breakfast.”
He laughs, his head rolling back, the sound infectious.
You lean back, letting Carmy’s chain drop and settle gently on his chest.
“That all it takes to win you over? A good breakfast?” Carmy asks, smiling that half smile that makes your stomach do flips.
“I guess so.” Your face is warm, from the alcohol, embarrassment, desire? You’re not sure.
“I’m pretty good at making breakfast too.” He says, the low lighting in The Bear makes his eyes impossibly dark, like the ocean during a storm, and you’re one drink away from diving in.
You gather your courage, hoping you still look as good as you did when you left your apartment. “Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll have to come over and try it some time then.”
Carmy’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but it’s enough to knock down every bit of confidence you built up.
“Shit, sorry, that was such a weird thing to say.” You look at your glass, though you know it’s empty. “I think the drinks are getting to me.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, nah, wasn’t weird at all, love to make you breakfast sometime.”
You bite your lip to hide your smile. “Yeah?”
He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a moment too long, his eyes darting to your bottom lip, still trapped between your teeth. “Yeah, anytime, love cooking for you, it’s cute when you get all excited, and you got that pretty smile on your face.”
And there go the butterflies. “Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” You tease, dragging out the “y” sound, and laughing when he rolls his eyes.
“Fuckin’ know I think that. Everybody thinks that, prettiest damn girl in the whole world.” He says, voice low, but earnest.
“No way, prettiest girl in the world is Jessica Chastain.” You laugh, cheeks burning as you try to wave off his compliment, your heart doing double time jumping jacks in your chest.
He lets out a low whistle. “Almost forgot about her.”
Ouch.
You try not to let that hurt you considering you brought it up, but it still stings, and you look away, feeling the sting settle in your skin.
Carmy sits up, his hand cradling your cheek, bringing your eyes to his. “Hey, hey, what’s up with you, what happened?”
You smile at him, but you know he can see it’s a bit forced. “Nothing, nothing, just got lost in thought.”
“Don’t get all sad on me, I don’t like when my pretty girl’s sad.” He says, thumb caressing your cheek slowly.
My pretty girl. Has he ever called you that before? Ever staked a claim, expressed any real desire to have you as his? You don’t think so, and now the moment has weight. Weight you’re not ready to think about.
“Just got a bit insecure, don’t know why. I literally love her, and don’t have any ideas that I’d actually look as pretty as a celebrity, that would be crazy.”
Carmy lets out a huff and his thumb brushes against your lips, the touch sending shockwaves through you, and Carmy as well. “Don’t be fuckin’ dumb, of course you’re as pretty as a celebrity, fuckin’ prettier than all the celebrities.”
“Hey…” You warn, scrunching up your nose. “Don’t call me dumb.”
His face falls. “No, no, sweetheart, I’d never, I just meant—”
You stop him with a hand on his chest, right over the gold pendant. “I’m kidding, I know what you meant, and I appreciate it.”
Carmy visibly relaxes. “Got me scared for a second.”
“I’m sorry.” You giggle, going to move your hand.
He catches it and brings it to his lips. “I’m serious, you’re so fuckin’ pretty y/n, like it makes no fuckin’ sense.” His lips warm, a bit chapped, but still soft, and your skin tingles, butterflies erupting in your stomach all over again.
“Oh.” You breathe, heart fluttering, your eyes locked on your joined hands. “Well, um, genetics I guess?”
“Genetics.” He echoes, relinquishing your hand and leaning back on his own, his eyes drifting to the window, leaving you to try and fight the lovesick smile threatening to appear.
“Yeah, my mom is gorgeous.” You say, wishing his gaze would drift back to you.
It does, and you beam at him.
“I bet.” Carmy says, his eyes darting down to your lips, to the way you’re still half leaning on him, the way your shirt clings to you, like a second skin, his free hand settling on your hip.
“I really do appreciate you asking me to come try the drinks with you.” You tell him, voice quiet, unwilling to break the sudden tension that’s appeared.
“Of course, I always have fun with you, wouldn’t want anyone else here with me.” His hand burns on your hip, and you want to pull it either lower or higher, just want something to happen.
“You’re so sweet to me.” You smile, eyes dropping to his lips, then flickering up to his eyes.
He’s so close, and you can practically taste the alcohol on his lips, the bitters, the orange, the burned sugar.
“Easy to be sweet to you.” Carmy says, it’s more of an exhale against your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek once more, your noses brushing against each other, the sound of your blood rushing in your ear and—
“Yo cousin, where you at?” Richie’s voice booms through The Bear, and you jolt backwards, pushing away from Carmy as if he burned you.
He looks dazed, lips still parted, eyes soft and focused on you. Then he blinks, and it’s all gone, he’s back to normal. “In the front, by the bar.”
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