Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Thirteen. "As An Idiot Sees It."
Hooo boy! So! An update after less than two months! Now that is more fucking like it! I hope you all love this. See this year I wanna focus more on my long fics and my original writing, expect some more of this, more frequently. I got some very sweet comments and messages about this fic and it gave me a good kick in the ass, so here it is. After the way the last chapter ended, I couldn't stay away for long. Series Masterlist found here. Now let's go!
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.9K. Charles Lee Ray/Tiffany Ray Valentine/FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings. Confessions Of Feelings. Pain Play. Cigarette Burns. Coming Clean (In Some Regards.) Drinking. Blood. Gore. Murder. Intense Violence. Stabbing.
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The words left you with a startling ease, as if completely natural, expected, as if you had uttered them a million times to him, instead of them being the first time you said them to anyone period.
You are looking into his eyes, and you witness the change, your words wash over him and his eyebrows raise a fraction, he asks quietly, “What?”
His tone is as if it is fabricated from pure disbelief, yet he wears a half smile, and you confirm it, warmth personified as you realize that you don’t regret it at all even if you hadn’t planned on saying it. Now it was out there, and you tell him again, reverent and sure, “I said I love you.”
Again the expression changes, eyes intense once more, a reminder of the look he had that first night at the club, or when he wants you, when he craves your body, when he's hungry. He leans in, his hands find your wrists, he grips, tugs and pulls them up and with him leading you let him change your position, you fall on your back, head to the pillow and him on top of you, his hips slotted between your legs. He squeezes your wrists, nails bite in slightly, you realize his cigarette is still between two of his fingers, your mind flicks the thought of how dexterous he is and how easy it would be to burn you again until his hands start moving as does his body, continuous perpetual movement.
Chucky is watching you as his hands roam, wander and touch, neck, shoulders, arms, chest, stomach and sides, careful he doesn't burn you again. He reaches your hips, and he finally speaks, spoken like a statement of fact he is still in the process of coming to terms with, “You love me.”
He is leaning down, between your thighs, his fingers circle easily around the shiny pink burn mark he left, “I hurt you and your response is to tell me that you love me?”
His question isn't unexpected, and from his perspective it makes sense.
“I loved you before you hurt me, this just…I don't know why, but it prompted me to spill my guts.” You laugh nervously as he presses the burn with his thumb, you inhale and then so does he from his cigarette.
He exhales, smoke curling out over your hips as you continue, “I think I have felt it for a while, but I've never said it before, to uh, anyone. So I think it took a while to really identify the feeling. If it helps, as soon as I knew for sure? It came out.”
He leans in, his tongue licks over the cigarette burn, before his teeth nip and the new spike of pain affects you deeply, tugs at you from within. It is as if his arms broke through your rib cage and his hands are cradling your heart, fingers and palms flexing as he squeezes the organ and wrings further emotion from you by doing so, the image of the most morbid kind of massage possible unignorable.
You swallow thickly, and tell him again, on a swell of emotion you confess again, “I do. I love you.”
He smiles at that, the remainder of his smoke is finished, forgotten to the side, and he climbs back on top of you properly. His body covers yours, much skin to skin contact, hip to hip and chest to chest, he kisses you. It steals breath, the taste of lingering smoke, overwhelmed by the turn of the afternoon and of him, when the kiss breaks it has you asking, “And do you?”
He laughs, “What, love you? Are you asking, do I love you?”
A minor nod and he kisses you again, deeper, and you want to push him up, make him answer, but fuck kissing him is too good to ever want to stop it early. He doesn’t make you wait long and when that kiss ends, he tells you, in what might be the most honest tone of voice you’ve ever heard from him, “Yeah, of course I do, you idiot.”
That last word is said as sweetly as any term of endearment could be, said the same way as someone saying baby or darling would, and you love it. You never thought you could love being called a disparaging remark so much and treasure it as if it were a precious gem. Idiot, you were an idiot but not only that you were his idiot, and you could get behind that, you think that you could be very happy being an idiot in love.
The rest of the afternoon is spent about as close together as can be. You end up making some sandwiches for a late lunch, you eat in bed, share a pretty fantastic nap. When you wake the conversation is light, a drink is shared, the mood is sweet and leaves you feeling delightfully syrupy and by evening you are sending him off, asking him to tell Tiffany you missed her, he told you he would.
You lean against the door frame and tell his retreating form, because you can, and you want to, you tell him, “I love you.”
He looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet yours, and he stops, he comes back over with a grin, that confident sort of swagger you know him for, his hands reach out, and they find purchase on your hips, and he kisses you. When he pulls back, he says simply, “Love you too.”
And then he leaves for real.
There are a myriad of reactions a person can have when they are in love, some people want to hold it close to the chest, protect it like an injured bird, treat it like an aggressively private matter, while others, like you, apparently, want to tell everyone about it. You couldn't do that easily, but the following night at work, you decide to be much more honest than you had been previously. You loved your coworkers, considered them close friends, and why not tell some stuff, revel a tad?
Once your fantastic shift had come to a close, and you had totally crushed it and made a ridiculous stack of tips, you are sitting at the bar, counting your bills, watching Logan out of the corner of your eye. He is cleaning one of the more delicate specialty cocktail glasses, polishing it when you say far too casually, “So I told my boyfriend that I loved him yesterday.”
The next sound is of your friend fumbling, muttering, "No, no, no-", followed by glass hitting hardwood and breaking, followed by Logan cursing, “Shit! God-fucking-dammit!”
He hangs his head for a moment, a deep breath in, and then he lifts his chin, hands on his hips and asks, “What the fuck?”
You smile, coy as can be, asking him in a tone of faux innocence, “What?”
He steps over shattered glass, rests his elbows on the bar, hands brought up together in a prayer pose, and leans forward, eyes studying you intently for a moment before he asks, “Are you serious?”
You can't hide it or help the grin that creeps onto your face and that gives him his answer, and his brows raise, eyes wide, back straight and his palms slap the bar, “No fucking way!”
That gets some extra attention, Jackson, Rachel and Marcy have wrapped up their work and made their way over, almost ready to leave. Jackson asked, “What are you yelling about?”
“Oh nothing major, I was just in shock, she just casually dropped that she not only has a fucking boyfriend but told him she loves him yesterday.” Logan informed with a gesture to you which caused an overlapping chorus of, “What?!” and “No fucking way!” and further still, “Why didn't you tell me?”
You are surrounded, other stools are yanked off the bar top and set back down right side up, coats and bags dropped, seats are taken, and you know the questions are about to begin. Logan is pulling out a bottle and getting glasses, you are laughing, fully aware this was going to be the reaction. You put away your tips, banded now that they are counted.
Logan is pouring drinks, and the rabble quiets, Marcy starts it with the question, “Who is it?”
You take the offered drink from Logan giving a quick, “Thank you, so-” and he cuts in, “Wait, wait, don’t start without me.”
Everyone had drinks in front of them, but Logan was rushing with a brush and dustpan sweeping up the glass from earlier. Everyone else jokingly taunted him, you starting it, “Hurry up!” causing Rachel to chime in,“Yeah! Hurry the fuck up!” and Jackson, not one to miss out, tacks on, “We are all waiting on you, bar bitch!”
“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!” You hear the sound of the glass going into an empty box to be tossed safely on the way out, and he stands up, “Okay, I’m ready!”
Marcy asks, “So again, who is it?”
You draw it out, let everyone lean in as you take a sip from your drink, let it hang for a touch too long before you say simply, “A guy.”
The chorus of groans that ring out as well as everyone pulling away makes you laugh heartily before telling them, “Okay, okay, his name is Charles, but he prefers to be called Chucky.”
“Finally a name, oh my God.” Rachel says with a grin before asking, “Where’d you meet him?”
You take another deep pull from your glass before imparting simply, “Here.”
That got some raised eyebrows, Logan asked the next question, “You met him here? He is a customer?”
“Yes he is. That a problem?” You asked, and Jackson was quick to cut in and say, “No! Just you are like literally the last person I think any of us pictured dating a customer.”
Logan agreed, “Yeah, exactly!”
You start, “Well, even I in my infinite wisdom can be proven wrong. We just clicked, and it was a slow thing, I met him like three months ago-”
“Three months ago?! And we are just hearing about him now?” Rachel’s mouth was agape, and you continued, “Yeah! But it was just a regular customer kinda thing, to a, we ran into each other outside here, started dating a while ago and became official not that long ago."
You fight off the curious stares, adding on, "I didn’t want to say anything until it was serious, and I mean, fuck, saying those three little words usually makes a relationship serious from everything I’ve ever heard.”
Marcy reassures you, “Don’t listen to them, I get it, I’m just glad it has been working out, and you are telling us now, so what’s he like?”
You brighten, “Thanks Marcy, and he isss…” Your voice trails off for a moment before you find the words, “He is funny and biting, sarcastic and can be a bit intense, fun to watch movies with, I like his opinions and outspokenness, how he is down for new experiences and can go with the flow. He smokes, but it isn’t a dealbreaker, dresses well, he likes art, our last date we went to a museum.”
Jackson hums with a genuine smile, “Wow, he sounds like a great catch.”
“Seriously, talk about winning the lottery.” Rachel muses, and you sigh, “Yeah, he is really great.”
Logan asks the one question you had been dreading, “So when do we get to meet him?”
You laugh, then respond, “Haaa, uhm, I was thinking never?”
Of course, your bar tending friend objects to that and naturally voices his displeasure, “What? Why not?”
“Because I want to keep him around! Why would I throw him to the fucking wolves?” You accuse with a point all around before taking another drink.
Rachel cuts in before more complaining can occur, “Yeah, you know I am on her side for this.”
Jackson gasps, “Rachel, not you too-”
“Yes me too!” She throws her hands up, “I get it, we can all be a lot and with the third degree that likes to get laid down when anyone has brought a boyfriend or girlfriend around this group, you want to wait for the right moment. There is prep and care that must be taken, factor in that she has never brought someone by, and how protective we can get over her and yeah no shit she wants to save him.”
Thank the Lord for Rachel’s level head. “Seriously guys, I love you, but my relationship just got started, I’d hate for it to end so abruptly because you all scared him off.”
There is grumbling, but they all ultimately agree to you taking your time on this is probably a safe bet. “I really like him and if it works out, of course you will end up meeting him at some point, just, not yet.”
That was more than enough to placate them, you all finish your drinks as you tell them about a few of your dates, but this is tinged with a not so small amount of sadness because it isn’t the whole truth and keeping Tiffany out of it feels wrong. You know they all love you, but you are terrified they wouldn’t accept it and by extension, you. So pushing it down and swallowing that part up, you just tell them the safe, squeaky clean, heterosexual and decidedly monogamous version of events, as your finger traces the cigarette burn he left on your inner thigh through your sheer tights, as a reminder that not all secrets need to be shared, some can be just yours.
Jackson walked you to the train station as usual, the conversation was normal, away from the rest you asked about how it was going with that guy he was seeing, and it was going well, they spent most nights together, and it was also getting a little serious between them. You were happy for him.
You felt secure, in a bubble of bliss, totally confident and content after your last date and shift at work. You hadn't set up a date with either of them, but you think you might call them tomorrow to set that up. It was a quiet moment at work, opened not that long ago, still basic set up being carried out but no large groups of people present. Tonight wouldn't be crazy anyway, you expect some people getting drinks post work, but that's all. You certainly didn't expect Tiffany to show up an hour and a half into your shift, bag of take out in hand.
You give her a quick hug with a delighted, “Hello!” which she naturally returned, one arm slung around, other hand holding the bag, that sweet voice uttering, “Hey sweetheart.”
You pull back, a point to what she held as you asked, “For me?”
“Of course. I was in the area, figured why not stop by with a treat?” She handed it over, you opened the bag onto the nearby table, two containers, one holding those seasoned crispy fries you love, still hot, the other that classic birthday cake style slice from the diner you all frequent.
You remember that night it was pouring rain, and they invited you to sit with them, and you had this very order, the weight of the food in your hands, the sound of water hitting glass combined with the comforting din of the restaurant, the surprised joy at seeing them. You can't believe she remembered, but maybe you should have expected that, she is so sweet after all.
You look at her, standing there, pretty painted lips curled into a smile, eyes radiating warmth, expression completely soft, attention totally on you as the lights across the way flash in time to the music pouring from the DJ booth.
It feels right. It doesn't need some big dramatic moment, a lot of the time the smallest gestures can mean the most, make us realize the true depth of our feeling. No, it doesn't matter that it's a quiet and slow Wednesday and you are in the middle of a shift and in your work uniform. Life can be far too short and finite, when you feel this way for someone, you should say it.
So you do.
A step forward, leaving the open containers on the table next to you, your hands lock onto Tiffany’s arms, staring into her eyes you say firmly, confidently, and thoroughly honest, “I love you.”
Her lips part, eyes widen before they dart to the left and right, even with the lights you notice how her cheeks turned pinker, the music is loud enough and everyone is far away, not paying attention. You squeeze her arms and say again, wanting her to absorb your words, want her to feel what you do, “I mean it. I really do, it took me a while to realize it since it's so new to me, but I love you.”
Her eyes are back on you, and she nudges closer, she confesses, “You know I feel the same way. I have for a while.”
Your mind is running over and over, "Say it, please say it, say it-" Your heart feels near to bursting, you need to hear it more badly than you realized, and she doesn't disappoint, not a moment later, those amazing words cross her lips, “I love you too.”
God, you wish you weren't in such a public venue so you could kiss her. You settle for another hug, she returns it fully this time since her hands are free, arms tightly around you and you both stay like that for a while, when she pulls back you thank her for the food and ask, “Stay?”
The expression she wears is conflicted, “Oh. Oh God, I wish I could, baby, I've got something important to go do, but I can come back when the club closes, take you home?” She offers, and you can get behind that, a wide grin as you tell her, “Yes, please, I'd love that.”
“Fantastic. I'll see you in a few hours.” Tiffany gave your hands a final squeeze and turned to leave, you watched her go, enraptured by the swing of her hips and the click of her heels.
She wasn’t expecting that, but fuck was she happy about it, she walks with purpose, her and Chucky have a date tonight, one she cannot be late for.
Tiffany arrives on time and well-dressed, she enters the bar in question and sees who she is set to meet, sitting there, waiting for her. Eyes scan and find the familiar sight of red hair, seated at a table, a brief moment of eye contact and a nod, she paints on a flirty smile and walks to the bar, sitting next to the man, greeting him warmly, “Hi.”
He turns and unsubtly looks her up and down, a cock of his head with a big smile, “Hi yourself sugar.”
It takes one drink to convince the man to leave with her, and it was not a drink consumed slowly, he has his hand placed on her lower back as they headed down the sidewalk.
They got less than a block away before she grips his sleeve, she tugs, pulls him into the alleyway, the guy naturally follows. He is probably of the school of thought that Tiffany can’t just wait to get him alone, as if she was so attracted to him, she couldn’t help it, that she just has to have him, now. What an egotistical prick, but he isn’t totally wrong, she does want him for something.
She pushes him up against the wall, and he lets her, letting out an amused exhale at her show of control, he speaks, “You taking charge?”
An upward curve of her lips as she responds, “You got a problem with that?”
“Not at all, baby, rock my world.” Tiffany laughs so she doesn’t gag. She covers his mouth with a gloved hand, it got a raised brow, and she reassures him, her voice flirty, “So we don't get caught too early, you understand, right? I'd hate to get interrupted before we reach satisfaction.”
She can feel him grin for under her fingers, his gaze is more of a leer, obviously lewd in its intent, he nods once, giving his consent to more than he could have ever hoped for.
He doesn’t expect the knife. Then again, why would he?
She had removed it from her coat pocket effortlessly, hit the release switch on the side and the blade flicked out, it was stabbed into the buzzed and hapless dumbass before he could even register the sound of it clicking open. Poor bastard never stood a chance against the practiced effortlessness and perfected elegance of her wielding the pearl handled switch-blade. Chucky is coming towards them now, hands in his pockets, gait casual, an undercurrent of that excited swagger he is well known for.
“Got him started?” He asked, tone gleeful, and thank God for how Tiffany had covered this idiots mouth. Combined with the knife in the side of his neck, blood pouring down the inside of his throat, the sounds he lets out are muffled, wet and gurgled, disgusting to anyone else other than the two posied and ready to end this guy's life.
He wasn't struggling much at all, he must still be in shock.
Tiffany’s head turned and looked at her partner in crime, “Yup, you wanna get him from both sides?”
Chucky laughed, a big smile as he drew his own knife as he said, “You know it.”
Tiffany's hand rips the knife from his throat, blood gushes, the angle is well-chosen, the spray hits the brick wall instead of her, thank Goodness for that.
She curls her fingers in the lapel of his jacket, her palm still holding the handle of her weapon, she yanks him from the wall, turning his body, presenting the man's back to Chucky.
“Quick and dirty!” She declares, gripping the knife harder, her hand moves and she drives the knife into his stomach, Chucky reaches forward, a hand clasps onto his shoulder, his own blade jutting forward and digging into the man's back. He responded to Tiffany in a joyous tone, “Just the way I like it!”
She kept the man gagged, even when his blood spills from his mouth and squeezes between her leather glove covered fingers.
Sometimes when they do this the victim puts up a lot of struggle, a hell of a fight, but not this man, oh no, this guy? He is a dream, he moves, reacts gives them plenty to work off of and some wonderful responses to enjoy, cries out as much as he can around the drowning torrent of blood surely pouring inside of him, tears trail down his face, however there is no attempt to get away. The guy was cut very off guard after all.
They fall into a wonderful rhythm, cold steel sliding into one side of the body as it is withdrawn from the other, on and on, one stabs as the other retreats, and the other pulls out while the opposite drives in. The pair when they kill together have phenomenal chemistry, it is undeniable, and fantastic, they kill just like how they fuck, in sync, passionately, revelling in it and having the most fun possible. Rip, tear, penetrate deep, cut brutally, taunt, and tease, on it goes.
The frenzy finds its natural conclusion, the man dies, his body turning to dead weight, slumping in their shared grasp. Tiffany wipes her glove on the man's jacket with a sigh, both of them are breathing heavily, enjoying the moment of quiet when it is over.
She speaks first, asking, “Drag him behind the dumpster?”
Chucky agrees, they both pull him along, set him against the dumpster, hidden from the entrance way of the alleyway. An earlier stashed blanket is pulled out from said dumpster, it is stained and smells terrible, it is unfolded and put over the man, covering the bloody mess, at first glance you'd think he was a homeless man who passed out drunk.
The blood was flowing freely during their fun, there would need to be a bit of clean up, nothing crazy, their clothes made it out relatively unscathed for the most part. The pair help each other out, tissues pulled out, specks of blood wiped off cheeks, a wet wipe taken to leather gloves and wiping down the outside of coats long before the blood could hope to sink in or stain. The act of cleaning is broken up by the intimacy that permeates the pair post kill, the intense feeling settles like thick mist, kissing, hands wander, pulling closer, nearer, but not desperate.
Spring is coming in, but it is still late, the cold is present and so the alleyway is abandoned.
“Home?” He asks, and she grabs his arm, holds up his wrist to her eyes, she is checking his wristwatch for the time, “Yeah, I can head home for a while, I got some time to kill”
“What, you gonna go back out later?” He asked, and she says, “Yeah, I promised when I dropped that food off earlier, I said I’d pick her up from work, take her home.”
She drops his arm and then hits his chest with the back of her other hand, a gasp accompanying the gesture as she says, “Which! I had to launch right into the date for this kill, so I couldn’t tell you, guess what she told me when I came by?”
He rubs at his chest, the action is joking, the hit she laid down hadn’t hurt at all, he is smiling, brows pinched as he asked, “What?”
The pair had been walking, and she stopped, her hand now clasping his, staring into his eyes, “She told me she loves me.”
“Oh my God!” He threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly, she returns it, and he asks, “How’d it feel?”
She sighs softly, telling him, “Incredible. We were at her work, so we couldn’t do much, but I cannot wait to see her soon, get her alone. I wanted to kiss her so badly.”
He pulls back, his hands resting on her forearms, “She does have that effect, wanting to kiss her and having to hold that urge back is fuckin’ painful sometimes, right?”
She nods, and they start walking again, both pull out their packs of cigarettes and lighters, they light up and continue the trek after that first post kill inhale is taken, a shared delighted moan as they do so. He waits until they are half way through their smoke and Tiffany has finally stopped gushing about you, before Chucky then says, “So now I guess I can finally tell you.”
“Finally tell me what?” She asked and he responds easily, “That day you were busy and we had our museum date?”
“Yeah, that day you told me you stole the shirt for her and went back to her place, I remember, it was all of like two days ago.” She does remember when he did come back home, he smelt like your perfume and was happy as could be, he filled Tiffany in on his date already, what else could there be to share?
“She told me she loved me then too.” He revealed it with little fanfare and it made Tiffany stop in her tracks, a loud excliamation, causing echos down the street as she called out, “What?!”
He stopped too, three steps ahead of her, he turned slightly, a big shit eating grin, and she asks, “Are you serious?”
He nods and says in that tone of voice that tells her that he is being honest, not fucking with her at all, contrite and sincere but still being a dick about it, something she is sure only he can pull off, “Oh yeah.”
“Chucky what the fuck?” She stomped one heel and he laughs, she storms up to himi and smacks his arm, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!”
“And miss this kind of reaction? Not a chance!” He is still laughing, and she huffs, “Stop fucking laughing, oh my God!”
She starts down the street briskly once more and lights up another cigarette, the last one abandoned in her shock and minor indignant rage. An aborted cigrette is one of her least favorite things, she intends to finish this one fully or she won't be satisfied, the itch would still be living nestled in her ribs. He is following up quickly, still all smiles and snickering, “You really thought that you beat me on that front, hm? Finally got one over on me with her?”
Tiffany throws a withering look to her boyfriend and says, “Yes, I did, but that isn’t the point, you were sitting on this for days without telling me, why? And don’t just say to see me flip out! I mean really why.”
He sighs, fingers comb through his hair, and he explains, “Cuz I know you Tiff, I know how jealous you can get, and so far with her, it hasn’t been a problem, but I didn’t wanna go spilling this before she said it to you too, just for, I dunno, safety’s sake.” He takes one last inhale before dropping the end of his cigarette, finishing his statement with, “Sue me.”
She hates that he is right and loves that he cares. Instead of expressing either of those, she scoffs and rolls her eyes, “I woulda been fine, you asshole. I’m a big girl.”
“Mmhmm, you mighta been okay, or you might not have been, whos to say?” He still has a smile on his face, the tone is still light, he shrugs, hands now in his pockets.
She lets the conversation die, when her second cigarette is done she asks, “How’d it happen for you?”
He tells her, about being in your bed, about the banter and talk, how he burned you, and it just slipped out, “You should have heard the way she said it, gasped it out, just totally swept up in it, was real flatterin’.” He expounds further, about how he asked for clarification, and you went harder, told him it was your first time saying it to anyone, what a big deal it was, how you didn’t regret it.
Tiffany is quiet.
She gets why he didn’t tell her right away, she might have gotten in her feelings about it, especially if the next time you saw each other, you didn’t confess to her too, she might have put weird pressure on it, potentially ended up ruining this.
She loves what you have and doesn’t want to screw it up, and she isn’t saying she would have, but she might have, the might is more than enough reason.
Chucky’s precaution has merit, besides you would have always had to confess to one of them first, the fact you hadn’t ever said it to anyone other than the two of them made it unbelievably special, she is glad some stupid petty jealous feelings didn’t even have a chance to ruin your first time saying those three little words. She is smart and knows herself, well aware that she can let her emotions get the best of her at times, her temper can flare, and it can run away from her on occasion.
He is the first man you have ever told that you loved and she is the first woman, both were different, speical, intimate moments. She could never be mad at you, or at him for this, Hell, she loves him too, she understands better than anyone how you fell for him.
When Chucky is done they are back home, she hugs him, kisses him, and then thanks him quietly for his forethought, and he surprisingly lets it go and doesn’t say I told you so, instead he asks, “Share a drink with me and tell me how she said it to you?”
She does just that, she tells him how sweet you were, the look in your eyes, the body language, how she felt at the moment it happened, shares just as much as he does, in equal detail, “She jumped right into reassuring me she really meant what she said, and I told her I’d been feeling the same.”
Chucky took a sip of his drink and set it down, his hand holding hers squeezes and says, “You know if you had another solo date with her before I did, she would have confessed to you first, right?”
She sighs, a hearty drink of her own before telling him, “I do know that now, and sorry I was kind of a bitch earlier, you did what you did for good reason.”
“Don’t mention it.” He leans back into the couch and says, “All I ask is that you remember this the next time somethin’ like this happens,-”
She laughs, leaning into his shoulder as he continues on, “-they say a broken clock is right twice a day, but Charles Lee Ray is right a lot more than anyone gives him credit for.”
Tiffany snorts a laugh into the sleeve of his shirt as he hooks an arm around her, she rests a hand on his chest and the giggles quiet down. She says softly, “Tonight was really fun.”
“Oh, the most, I love killing with you.” Chucky agrees, a kiss dropped onto the top of her head, “It’s been so good lately, racking up the numbers with you.”
She looks up at him, “I cut out an article earlier from the paper, by the way, gonna put it in the scrapbook later, they finally found that body we dumped last month.”
He laughs again, louder, “God they are so behind it is embarrassing!”
“Chicago cops are hopeless.” Tiffany coos, and that is a statement he agrees with wholeheartedly.
He leans forward, scooping up his glass he says, “I swear everything has been getting better ever since she came around, she is pointing us in the directions to some of the best victims we could hope for, all without her even realizing it.”
The blonde presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, “On that note, there is something I wanted to run by you.”
A questioning hum from him, and she says, “I was thinking, with all the wonderful, blissfully ignorant help she’s been giving us for our favourite ‘hobby’, and with how great everything is going, what about we get her a gift?”
“What kinda gift did you have in mind?” His interest is piqued, she can tell.
“One that further satisfies our desires but also would benefit her in a major way.” She raises an eyebrow, and he gestures for her to continue. She takes another drink, lets the anticipation build, allows it to all hang for a moment longer before she asks, “How familiar are you with the financial district?”
He catches on immediately, he kisses her, and when he pulls back, that look in his eye that a plan is already starting to take shape, he tells her, “Not familiar at all, but I sure as Hell would like to be.”
They still had a while before you would be done work, before Tiffany had to break away to go pick you up and take you home, and your boyfriend and girlfriend had an awful lot to talk about before then.
Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Twelve. "The Bigger Picture."
Well hey! I wanted to update this one more time before the new year and here it is! With some time to spare! I hope you all enjoy this, cuz it has been a long time coming. There is a moment near the end of this that I have been planning since before I started writing this fic, so I hope this lives up to expectation. Series masterlist here.
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 7.3K. Charles Lee Ray/Tiffany Ray Valentine/FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings. Polyamory. Fluff. Date. Stealing. General Crime. Making Out. Grinding. Vaginal Fingering. Raw Sex. Rough Sex. Forced Cream Pie. Spanking. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Scratching. Multiple Orgasms. Kink Without Communication. Choking. Overstimulation. Cigarette Burns. Feelings.
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You wake up with feet that are a little sore from so much dancing in your heels, hair that is a mess and caught in the middle between him and her. Tiffany is already awake and starting to untangle herself, she gets out of bed and fuck, it’s cold! You huff and roll over, Chucky already pulling the blanket up higher to cover you both, you nudge closer into him, and he slips an arm around you. Ahh, blessed warmth, much better.
This is such a comfort, you find yourself craving this more and more the nights you are away, wishing you could wake up to Chucky and Tiffany, you cuddle more into the firmness of his chest as you muse silently. Your nose traces up his throat as you inhale, smelling the slight lingering of last night’s post sex cigarette, a smell you have come to associate with them and find yourself enjoying in a way you never used to B.C. (Before Chucky)
You can hear Tiffany messing around in the ensuite bathroom, you still doze a little until she comes back into the room, the drawers start to open as does the closet and is she already getting dressed?
Chucky must be thinking the same thing, after another minute of rummaging, he lifts his head up slightly and asks Tiffany, “Where the fuck are you off to in such a hurry?”
She laughs, a beautiful melodic sound, you look over your shoulder to see her fondly shaking her head, “I told you last night before I left for my date, I had that appointment this morning, and then the thing after it, and after that too, basically my whole day is booked up so I gotta go.”
You sit up and Chucky groans, “Don’t you get up too-” Ignoring him and the chill on your exposed skin, arms crossing over your naked chest, nipples hardening with the temperature shift and attempting to ease it, you ask her, “You didn’t say anything last night, everything okay?”
She smiles in that comforting way you love, she comes over, she is half dressed, bra and jeans on, she leans down and kisses you, it’s soft yet firm, a hint of tongue and totally Tiffany, your eyes fall closed. As soon as you lean in she is pulling away with a laugh, you pout, eyes opening back up to see her apologetic expression as she says, “I'm sorry baby, really, I wish I could spend the whole day with you both and I hate to have to run, but I can carve out a little time to see you later this week?”
You sigh, pretending to be put out, hiding the true reaction inside, the one of your heart fluttering over getting to see her multiple times this week, “I suppose I can live with that.”
“You’re too good to me.” She straightens up and walks over to the dresser, she pulls out a tank top and slips it on before reaching for some socks. You finish watching her get dressed, and then she is sitting at her make-up vanity, you love to watch her do this, you bring your knees up and hug them as you observe her. She applies powder, liner and eyeshadow, lipstick in such a precise manner, knowing exactly the look she is striving for, you enjoy the domestic nature of it and the quiet of the morning, lose yourself in sweeps of colour over her lips and the clink of the jewellery she puts on, the hum of the radiator kicking on.
She is done with the process all too soon, she comes over and gives you both a peck goodbye, Chucky tries to entice her into a deeper kiss which makes her smack his shoulder in response before she breaks off, “Asshole-” She says it with approximately zero bite, tone lighter as she said next, “-love you Chuck, I’ll see you later, bye!”
“Bye Tiff, love you.” Chucky echos your statement, you hear her shoes being put on, and the door slamming closed, and she was gone.
You look at him, he is laying back, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his chest, he is looking up at you and with a smile he says, “Hey.”
A small laugh as you greet him in kind, “Hey.”
“Just you and me, hmm?” He reaches over to his pack of cigarettes that had been left on the nightstand, you watch him do the usual moves of pulling it out, putting it between his lips and grabbing his lighter. You hum in response as he lights up, once he exhales he says, “Almost feels like you’ve been favouring Tiff over me.”
You laugh, “I have one date with her just us and you start getting jealous?”
He scoffs and bites back as he flicks the lighter open and closed, a habit you've seen him do many a time while smoking, “You have had more than one solo date with her, and no I am not fucking jealous, I just wanna spend some time with you too.”
“Just us?” The question is soft in tone and content as you look in his eyes.
He takes another drag, maintaining eye contact, confirming on the exhale, “Yeah, just us.”
You lay back down beside him, facing him on your side, and you say, “Well I’m off today. What are you doing?”
His eyes squint in consideration, “Not a damn thing. Why?”
“I was thinking how about we spend the day together then? I have nothing planned, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” You grab his hand that wasn’t holding his smoke and pull it towards you, kissing the back of it.
He grins at that, fingers run over the curve of your cheek and says, “Soon as I am done with this-” he gestures to the cigarette, “-we’ll get presentable and go out for breakfast and then plan what we are gonna do.”
Sounds perfect. You and Chucky laze in bed a little longer, enjoying the warmth of the sheets, before finally starting the day. As you are using your finger to give your mouth a once over with some toothpaste, you wonder if you are going to be spending the night more often if you should keep a toothbrush here, you wonder if that is too soon to suggest, or is it okay to ask because you are their girlfriend?
You end up borrowing some clothes so you aren’t running around in last night's clubbing attire, you can get away with a pair of Tiffany’s pants and one of her tops, your shoes and coat are fine and honestly, after brushing your hair and stealing some eyeshadow and lip gloss? You feel pretty cute, you think she’d approve, the heels elevate the whole thing.
Spring is coming in, you can feel it in the nearly aggressive sunshine, the warm wind starting to blow, you are glad you got that last skate in, no way would you be able to have another go at the rink until next November at the earliest. You and Chucky are holding hands as you make your way to the usual diner, the sidewalk is wet, much less icy from the thawing of winter hitting the city, you think that you kind of love that breakfast food is becoming your thing with them.
Once seated in the usual booth, steaming food in front of you and a mug in your hand, the conversation flows over what to do, starting with a joke from you, “So what are you going to do to win my favour? Because I dunno if you’ve noticed, but Tiffany plans some superb dates.”
He nearly chokes on his coffee, setting his mug down, with a clearing of his throat, he asks, “And what was last night's date that was so stellar?”
“She took me out to my first gay bar.” You say nonchalantly, and he pauses for a second before cursing, “Fuck, that is good.”
“Duh.” You taunt with a smile, and he says, “Well I can show you a good time too, and I don’t need an abundance of lesbians paired with flashing club lights and too loud music to dazzle you-”
You mouth the word, “dazzle” in question, disbelief that he said that as your eyebrows furrow, and he cuts in before you can make fun, “-shut it, point is, I can prove, by day's end, without a shadow of a doubt that I can give you a date as good as she does.”
“I’m excited to see you try, doing it sans lesbians though will be a challenge.” The tone is playful, and he sighs as he starts cutting into his eggs, then pointing at you with his now egg yolk coated knife, “You need to have more faith in me.”
Taking a sip of your coffee, you hum before setting the mug down, “You are right, so what are you thinking of for the rest of our day?”
A swallow before he imparts, “I feel like any day out like this needs to have some element of spontaneity, so here is what I think, we pick the main event and then see where the rest of the day takes us.” His offer held endless appeal.
“And what do you think the main event should be?” You inquire, and he says simply, a gesture of the silverware in his hands, “The museum.”
You like it, but still you ask, “Which museum? There’s kinda a lot of them in a city like Chicago.”
He laughs, as if it is obvious, “The Art Institute Of Chicago.”
Of course, where else would you go? You remember very vividly the conversation you had over pizza and sodas that night awhile back, after Tiffany spilled about his love of art, told you about that date he had with your shared girlfriend where he painted her. You suggested going to the museum sometime offhandedly, and him remembering and suggesting it first made you happy.
“I love it, let’s do it.” You gush, and he seemed pleased by your enthused reaction.
Breakfast is delicious, he thoroughly enjoys the usual eggs, bacon, potatoes and toast, as do you the fruit and whipped cream and syrup laden waffles you decided on. You steal a bite or two of his hash browns, he gives you shit over it, a joking call of, “Hey!”
You mollify him with some bites of waffle in trade, which he accepts without complaint.
Next up you go to throw money down for the meal, and he stops you, “Put that shit away, I got it.”
“You sure?” Asking as you bring your mug up to finish the remaining coffee.
He pulls out the appropriate bills and puts them down on the bill. “Yeah, honey, M’ sure, think of my masculine pride.”
You laugh unapologetically, “Oh if I don't, who will?”
A raise of his eyebrows, a mischievous smile as he starts to put his coat on, “Exactly. Now come on, got a whole day ahead, let's not spend it all in this diner, hm?”
That you more than agree with, your own coat shrugged on and you were off.
You had a good handle on the subway system and finding the nearest station and how to get to the museum was an easy enough task, it was near the water, totally too far to walk from the diner you all liked. The trip took less than an hour all in, the time filled with idle chat and comfortable silences.
While you and he were on the train, you were seated, him standing and holding the bar above his head in front of you. He had his favoured long coat open, showing off the mostly buttoned red wine coloured shirt and dark-coloured slacks, he still had some gloves on to fight the lingering chill.
“So you’ve been to this museum before?” You asked, and he gave a nod, “Yeah a few times, when I got the time and want to-” still holding the bar with one hand he made air quotes as he said, “-immerse myself in the arts.”
You smile at how he said it, and ask, “And that is often?”
He shrugs as he tells you, “Yeah, often enough. It’s a good way to kill time, especially since they almost always have some new stuff or exhibits that are there for a shorter stint, hard to find a better place to wander for free.”
You had to agree, and you were very excited, the knowledge of him being an art lover and a painter was relatively new to you, and being in a place where you could talk on it at length and hear all his opinions? Sounded like a fantastic way to get to know him on a deeper level.
The ride passes smoothly and once getting off at the right stop you both make your way to the museum. You had never been to this particular one, you’d been to others in the city sure, but this one had escaped you till now, that fact made this date all the more special in your eyes, sharing this brand-new experience and letting him take the lead, Chucky was good at that. You both had your coats off and holding them, folded over one arm, while you held hands with the other, making your way through the rooms.
“So, I gotta know-” You begin, and he hums questioning, a look away from the impressionist work he had been eyeing and instead turning his attention to you.
“-where did the love of art start?”
He looks thoughtful for a moment, he usually speaks his mind easily, his mouth opens and words flow off his tongue, natural, him taking time to seriously think on something wasn’t the norm. “Probably sometime before I started school even. I was one of those kids that could be easily entertained with finger paints or a box of crayons and sheets of paper.”
“Early start then.” You say, and he tells you, “Yeah, kinda always remember being into it, sure it has changed, shifted, focused over the years, but it’s one of those-” he makes a gesture with his hand, a kind of wishy-washy movement, eyes up to the ceiling, before snapping his fingers when finding the word he wants, “-constants! Yeah. It’s been a constant in my life. You?”
“Eh, I took a few art classes in school, but it all kinda stopped after that, the most artistic and creative thing I do now is nail art.” You say, holding your joined hands up, showing off your current manicure, a deep sapphire blue and sparkly.
“Still a skill, still pretty, besides, I dunno if my ego could take it if you were a better artist than me.” He teases, and you laugh, he piles on before you can respond, “I mean it! I need to be the most creative person in the relationship, otherwise what am I bringing to the table?”
“Oh, I dunno, your sparkling wit? Your car I still haven’t seen or ridden in? Your company? Your dick?” You list off, grinning all the while, and he says, “First off, thank you, second off, when the salt is off the roads you’ll get a ride in her, third, so true it is a gift and I think that last point should be higher up on this list.”
“My mistake, you are right, my sincere apologies to you and your fantastic dick.” You pivot next, “So, back to the topic at hand, what do you like the most about art?”
“Full of questions-” He starts, and you scoff, “Oh fuck off, you can’t have it both ways! We are in an art museum, you are THE artist boyfriend, the supposed creative one in our little three-way relationship, this is the time and place for this, so please, expound.”
You said it in a very comical way, and he laughs this time, head thrown back, and you add on, “Seriously Chuck, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, your girlfriend is over here begging for you to brag on your artistic knowledge, do I gotta wave you in like a plane coming in for landing, just so I can lap up your every word? You’ve got a good thing here, take advantage of it, perhaps?”
“Quit while I’m ahead, hmm?” He offers, and you release his hand only to link your arms together, pull him nearer as you walk, “Yes, precisely. Now. Tell me, puh-lease, what do you like most about art?”
“I think it’s the practical application, the execution, the reward of it. You think of something, you put in some work, you see the results, and when you nail it? When it matches your expectations? It’s satisfying, a kind of rush on its own, an odd kind of power in the feeling.”
You sigh, “I can relate to that, not in a big way, but in small ones, seeing the fruits of your labour is one of life’s pleasures.”
“Exactly! It’s a pleasure, the work can sometimes be hard, or frustrating or whatever, but it is a pleasure.”
You and he share a look, and you feel good, hearing him talk about something he is passionate about is good.
The conversation grows, evolves, you ask about favourite artists, and he has ones he likes, but he doesn’t know much about them as people, said he didn’t care to know about their lives, just could appreciate their work. You pried a bit, and he pointed out aspects he liked, colours, use of light and shadow, and he went on further, it wasn’t so much about technical skill but more personal than that. It was about how it made him feel, if he likes a work it isn’t about who it came from, or how expensive or old it was, or any other pretentious crap, it was about the complete work in front of him. The bigger picture.
He had some artists he liked, but he could be objective, he wouldn’t quote, “-be some dick sucker like oh everything this guy does is amazing, if I don’t like a subject or a pose looks weird, I’ll be honest about it, every work should stand and speak for itself, not be lauded just cuz what’s his face slapped his name on it.”
You listen to everything he has to say, you provide some of your own thoughts when he asked your opinions on paintings you stopped in front of. You’d on occasion ask what the true meaning and artist intent’s was on some work, and he laughed that off, “Who cares? I read some art books sure, but I mostly just looked at the pictures, or read how a couple particular brush and paint techniques worked, that is the important stuff.”
“Really? You think the original artist's intent doesn’t matter?” You asked, and he said, “Sure it can have some value, but you know what I find much more interesting?”
“What?” He stopped your step and put his hands on your shoulders, he turned you around and steered you towards another work, a massive painting that took up several feet, no one else was around, he stopped you right in front of it. He leaned over your shoulder and said, “I’d find what you have to say about how this looks and makes you feel a thousand times more interesting over what the jackass who painted it was thinking or ‘intending to say’ with it.”
He squeezes your shoulders and says as his hands falls away, “So!” He steps to be right beside you, he claps his hands once and then points, his eyes on you. “Enlighten me.”
Wow. You weren’t sure what to say or where to start or why he was even doing this, you say, “Chucky…I…I’m flattered, sure but why?”
Your eyes meet his, and he looks confused, a cock of his head, and he says what might have been one of the sweetest things he ever has to you, “Why? Why I would find the opinion of my girlfriend, who I care for, and give so much of a shit about it is crazy, over, what? Some dead dude I have never met? Why I would value your insight on this work of art and what that says about you more than the idiot who put a brush to a canvas?”
When he laid it all out like that, it seemed painfully obvious, and you felt a little stupid, not from how he spoke to you, but because of the doubt you had in yourself to begin with. You say softly, “Yeah. I guess.”
“Humour me?” He asks, and you can do that. You shake your head and breathe out, confidence still a bit shaky, but you are willing, you start.
You take in the work, the people, figures walking in the rain, the architecture of the buildings, the wet cobblestones, the almost yellow cloudy sky. Taking a moment you let yourself think, as you look, let your eyes get naturally drawn along, and finally you speak, “It feels weirdly, lonely. Considering all the people depicted.”
He hums, and you say next, “The more muted colour emulates how a rainy day feels to walk through, so does the body language of the people. They aren’t enjoying being out there, it’s more rushed, trying to get somewhere, it gives me the feeling I get when I have to brave shitty weather because life demands it.”
You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Go on.”
“I am left with a question though, this couple, here-” You point at the pair in the foreground to the right, sharing an umbrella, “-their gaze is somewhere off over there, I wonder what has their attention on a day like this, what they are looking at, what can make them linger for a moment in weather like this. I like a painting that lets you wonder about things like that. I like this one. It feels rooted in reality and human nature, even painted so long ago, also I love how wet the ground looks, it’s what sells it to me even without actually painting in the raindrops, the hazy quality of it all helps communicate that.”
You look, and he isn’t looking at the painting, he is looking at you, and you are unsure of how long he had been doing that. “How was that?”
“Illuminating, obviously truthful, it was revealing about you, everything a guy could hope for when talking about art like this.” He sure can have a way with words sometimes.
“So that is why you find this interesting? For what it can tell you about someone else?” You inquire, and he says, “That’s one reason sure, another is, I just like hearing what you think, now come on.”
He starts to pull you away, and you look at the name of the painting as he does so, you laugh and ask, “Wait what about your thoughts about it?”
He looks over his shoulder and says with a smirk, “Baby, why do mine matter when you already nailed it?”
The shockingly sentimental fucker. “Ask me about the next one.” He offered, and you would take him up on that.
Two hours flew by at the museum, when you are leaving the sun is higher in the sky, it is warmer still and both you, and he were happy. You feel a little high, you come away feeling like you have a better understanding of a side of him he doesn’t trust just anyone with, and you feel special.
As you walk down the street, coats on but open, you wonder what to do next and soon enough an answer presents itself, you see a thrift store, and you decide to go in, browse about, because why not.
You aren’t looking for anything in particular, except for some stuff that you could wear outside of work, something fun, a thing you can get just because you like it, and not because of the tips it could rake in. You are flipping through racks, as is he, and after a while you come across a shirt. It is cute, weirdly it reminds you of him and her, it is a more masculine style but in a colour and material Tiffany would totally rock. You think you could pull this off, wear a tank top under it and have quite a few buttons open, pair it with some pants and that would be a good look, and one you wouldn’t traditionally wear to work.
You take the hanger off the rack and turn around, holding it out, “Hey, what do you think of this?”
He looks over at you, a brief scan of his eyes over the garment in question and he smiles, “Oh, I love that.”
“Me too.” You then look at the price tag for the first time and your eyebrows raise, “Yeesh.”
“What?” He asks and you say, “Expensive.” You look inside at the inner tag and see it is a higher end brand name, usually thrift stores don’t know what they have, but not this one apparently, they are all too aware how much this is worth. You have a couple bills you need to square away and as much as you like the shirt, it probably isn’t a smart idea. Putting it back with a sigh, you look at a few other tags, and apparently this is the cities most expensive thrift store.
You both leave empty-handed and when you are down the street a few storefronts, he turns his head to you and says, “Hey.”
A quirk of your brow, paired with a sideways glance, you respond, “Hey?”
He opens his coat and pulls a wad of fabric out, he tossed it to you, “Catch.”
You reach out and snatch it out of the air, “Woah!” You stop, holding it, you unroll it, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, you bought me the shirt? When? You were beside me basically the whole time and also fuck, it is SO expensive, you really shouldn’t have.”
“Oh don’t worry. I didn’t buy it.” He said, an air of mystery and a shit eating grin on his face. It takes all of two seconds to connect the dots. Your voice drops, “Chucky, you stole this?”
He says in a way that shows how proud of himself he was, “Yeah, I did.”
“Oh my God, why?” You were genuinely shocked, and he said, “I saw how bad you wanted it, and that place is charging highway robbery, so fuck them, I’d much rather you get that shirt than some rich asshole.”
You step forward, shirt gripped in one hand, arms hooking around his shoulders, hands behind his neck, you say genuinely, “Thank you.”
He is staring into your eyes, mouth so close to yours as he says, “Hey for you? Anything, anywhere, anytime.”
He calls you variants of sweet all the time, but you think he is the real sweet one, especially today. You kiss him on the street corner there, revel in it, before he breaks it, “C’mon, not a good idea to linger at the scene of the crime.”
He leads you down the street, quickly, as you ask, “You got a lotta experience with this?”
He throws a look over his shoulder as he says, “Oh yeah, more than you know, haven’t you picked up on it by now? I’m a total bad boy.” You laughed then, if only you knew how true that statement was.
Once you were another block away, you were wondering what to do next, and he said, “Well, to be perfectly honest, I think I want to see you in that new shirt.”
You could do that, but before you could think of taking your coat off, he says, almost as if he'd read your mind, “Just that new shirt.”
Smooth as butter and very doable. Your place was closer to where you were than theirs, and also, you honestly just wanted to host him, so the effort was made, and you find yourself back at your place, you picked up light groceries on the way to make lunch eventually too.
The door is unlocked, and you hold the door open, “After you.”
He heads in, you follow, door closed, keys and bag dropped, coat hung up, and you take his as his own shoes come off. You tell him, “Welcome back.”
“Been too long.” He admits as he looks around, you go to the kitchen and start to put away the groceries, once they are in the cupboards and fridge you come back out, leaning on the door frame of the kitchen entryway, looking at him, “You want a drink?”
He was standing in your living room, a few feet away, “Sure, won’t say no to that.”
“Anything you are craving?” You ask, and he tells you, “You mean other than you?”
A look over your shoulder has him saying in a tone of mock innocence, a hand to his chest, “Oh, you mean for the drink? Nah, I’m not picky. Surprise me.”
Soda it is, you bring back a can for him and yourself, he has taken a seat on your couch, you come close, and hold out the can, he takes it with a simple, “Thanks.”
You set your can down on the coffee table and you step away, you pick up the new shirt from where you had set it down, hearing him crack open the can behind you and make your way back over, dropping the shirt on the couch beside him, you start to undress. Chucky’s eyes are immediately on you as the shirt comes up and off, you open the pants and slide them down until they pool on the floor, stepping out of them, leaving you in just your underwear.
A move is made to pick up the shirt again, and he stops you, a hand on your wrist, “You forget what I said already?”
You hadn’t, but you liked him stepping in, taking charge, reminding you in that tone with a slight edge of warning to it. You grin and say, “Nope, just testing you.”
He lets go of your wrist and sighs, “Swear to God, more playful than a puppy, that’s you.”
“You got my number, alright.” Your hands go behind yourself, you unhook your bra and slip it off, dropping it with the rest of your clothing on the floor and then your thumbs hook in the sides of your panties, you drag them down and now standing there totally naked, him drinking in the view all the while. “Don’t think I am ever gonna get tired of this.”
Why would he? You feel the same, a partner stripping in front of you is a treat no matter what, it strikes a chord, what is that old saying? A sunset is beautiful whether the first time it’s viewed or the thousandth? You think there is something to that.
“Flattery suits you.” The comment is light as you start to shrug on the shirt, it fits a little loosely around the waist, but doesn’t obscure your curves in any major way, the material feels good on your bare skin. It falls near your hips, you do up the two buttons in the middle, a fair amount of stomach and cleavage on display, you lean forward, a hand resting on the back of the couch near his shoulder, body brought closer for him to get a better view, “What do you think?”
His own drink has been abandoned on the side table, on the end of the couch that you keep your telephone on, hands coming forward to rest on your waist, thumbs rub, he says, “Looks better than I thought it would.”
His hands grip tighter, he pulls you nearer, and you allow it, you lean down, a knee comes onto the couch cushion he is seated on, and you kiss him, one of his hands slides onto your lower back, and soon you aren’t half standing bent over, you are on top of him, straddling him, seated comfortably on his thighs. It is one of those kisses that as soon as your lips tough you feel yourself filling with lightness and warmth, nerves coming to life and need curling low in your stomach.
Your hands find him the same way his do you, with an easy kind of intimacy, the kind that has been improving and developing, deepening as of late. Your fingers run over the back of his neck before starting to tangle into his hair, winding carefully and using that point of contact to draw him closer, and in response it has his hands running down your back and kissing you more fervently.
This is by no means the first time you’ve made out with Chucky, and not the first time you’ve done this solo, but it is the first time you’ve had him like this totally alone in your apartment. You do notice that the mood feels more intense this afternoon, the atmosphere a little hotter, a bit needier, you aren’t sure what it is, maybe the increased vulnerability earlier, it feels incredible and right, so you go with it.
You feel lightheaded by the time his hands are on your ass, and he starts to lead you, helping you grind on him, and you feel that you are not the only one who is excited and wanting more. A particularly good grind has your mouth breaking apart from his, a moan falling freely, it gets louder when his mouth doesn't relent and attacks your throat. It is messy, teeth bite and your body tenses, you can't help it as you grind down, you curse his name, and he says yours in kind. You tug on his hair, and you get the wanted response, he bites you again, harder. Yeah, you don’t want to be in the living room any longer. You remove your hands from his hair, and get up on slightly unsteady feet, you take his hand and pull, “Come on.”
You lead him to the bedroom, leaving the cans behind, and in less than a minute you are falling into bed. Next you are on your back, he is on top of you, his hand is between your thighs, fingers curling inside of you, causing your own fingers to fumble as you unbutton your shirt, letting it fall open.
While all this feels incredible, you want him already, you reach out to the nearby nightstand and open it, fumble blindly and fingers catch on the cardboard of the box. You yank it out and towards you, moving to dump out the contents, only to find it empty.
You groan and ask, “Do you have any condoms?”
“On me? No.” He sighs, fingers slowing, and the idea of not getting to fuck him simply won’t do. You've been seeing him for a while, and you are official, he is your boyfriend for fuck’s sake. It isn’t like he is fucking around to catch something, and you are on birth control, the condoms were meant to be an initial precaution anyway, and now? You feel like throwing caution to the wind.
“Fuck it, we don't need condoms anymore, I'm safe.” You breathe, his fingers curl into that sweet spot once more, and you bite your bottom lip. Giving him a pleading look, you tell him, “I want it raw.”
Time isn't wasted, he trusts you and there is no asking if you are sure, he has been wanting this, badly. He pulls his fingers out, you are glad for it, no more foreplay is needed, you are aching for him, and you start to help him undress, you rush, and soon he is even more bare than you are.
You don't let him get on top of you, as soon as he is on the bed, you get astride him, one hand wraps around the base of him, and you line him up, tip kissing your hole, he speaks, “Fuck hurry up, enough wasting time.”
He doesn’t get the full sentence out before you begin to drop your hips. His hands grip your thighs as you sink down, taking more of him inside, the stretch is as amazing as it always is but combined with the feeling of him bare it is even better. Your eyes are on him, taking in his expression the same way you are sure he is, the wash of pleasure across his features is intoxicating when you settle down. You enjoy the feeling of fullness for only a moment before you start moving. The ride doesn't stay easy for long, his nails bite into your thighs, and you moan, your hips rise and fall, you adjust, pitching forward so you hit the spot you need, grind inside and out beautifully, a hiss of pleasure sucking the air through your teeth as you grapple with the intense feeling.
You've had a good amount of sex so far, but this afternoon, it's different. He is more intense, rougher, you aren't on top for long. You work yourself up, he helps, encourages, or rather demands you find release, and it works, the cocky half smile, brows knitted together as he tells you to, “Go on, do it.”
His words are what tips you over when you are close, you cum while gasping his name, and before you are even through the pleasurable spasms he is taking over.
The position is switched, quickly, he manhandles you, and you end up face down, ass up, your cheek to the covers and he roughly renters you, one hand gripping the back of your shirt, the other in your hair. He is in deep immediately, every thrust in grinds over that perfect spot inside but still, goes further past that, he bottoms out and that is accompanied by a slight stab of pain. It has you loud, like potentially get a noise complaint loud and his ego eats it up, increases his efforts. The mix of pleasure and pain is fantastic, he pulls your hair, and it's like both points are connected, every tug on your hair causing your cunt to pulse and ripple around him, threatening to milk him early.
The words he spits are degrading, talk of what a slut you are for not only letting him fuck you like this, but for clearly loving it, and so loudly at that. You do love it, every scratch of his nails and slap to your ass, the loud skin on skin of your bodies meeting, you cum again pinned under him minutes later, his chest to your back as he taunts you, “Cumming again so soon?”
You are squirming, weak, your body is failing you, legs slipping out from under you and that isn't going to do so another position is found. Once you are on your side, one leg brought up, knee to chest, and he slides back in. His hands are now focused on your throat, they wrap around, and he squeezes, the pressure and slight lack of air has you wide-eyed, pleasure renewed as he thrusts with abandon, no care for a sense of rhythm, you've had yours a few times over, now he's getting his.
Even with all the rough treatment, the bruises that will surely form tomorrow and him still getting so deep at this angle he is battering your cervix you experience a new sensation, ripped to the edge, your legs together how they are squeezing and putting just enough pressure on your clit to aid as much as needed, but this orgasm you experience is derived much more from pain than pleasure. On your come down, weak and struggling to breathe with his hands around your throat, and with you gripping firmly at his wrists, he reaches his end, a few more sure thrusts, and he is cumming raw inside of you.
He didn’t ask, as if being allowed to fuck you raw was all the permission he needed, like it was a question he never thought even needed to be asked, he is inside you raw? Cumming into your pussy is a give in. As he unloads in you with a groan of your name that is so arousing it sends a shiver through you and causes your cunt to clench around his shaft involuntarily, trying to draw every last bit of him out and into yourself.
His hands let go, you suck down a few deep breaths now that you are able, in a few minutes, you've untangled, laying beside each other. Your mind is quiet, you feel satiated, sore and happy, you ask him, “Where the fuck did that come from?”
“What do you mean?” He leans over the edge of the bed, gets his smokes out of his pants pocket, and comes back onto the bed, carton and lighter in hand. He lays back and starts the ritual of lighting up, and you are reminded of this morning. You laugh as you respond to him, “What do you mean, what do I mean? Look at my ass! Redder that tomato soup.”
“Figured why not try something new? Besides, it seems like you really enjoyed yourself, came yourself stupid, seriously, how many orgasms was that?” He quips, cigarette lit and exhaling, a healthy lungful.
“Who counts?” You joke, your shoulder nudging his.
This day has been one of your favourite in recent memory, a truly fantastic date, you feel unbearably happy, honestly the sex with them both has already been some of the best you’ve ever had but this afternoon, you feel like you’ve unlocked another level. You feel like your compatibility is ever-increasing, you feel soft, warmth, content beyond measure.
He hums, amused by your joke, and you decide to take it further, “But seriously, wasn’t expecting all that, trust me I am not complaining, I did love it, just didn’t know you had all that in you. Anything else you are hiding from me?”
“I am an incredibly deep individual, I contain multitudes that will continue you to surprise you, I promise.” The look in those intense eyes, you believe him and yet you can’t help it, an unshakable urge to twist your finger in an open wound. “Oh, I dunno, I doubt you have that much more that could shock me.”
“Oh yeah?” He gives you a considering look, as if mentally weighing his options, before he sits up, one hand rests on the back of your neck, he leans in and kisses you, slower than before, a searing meeting of your lips and his that could melt you, completely ruin you if he so desired it and then, the twist he promised.
His other hand, the one with the cigarette held between two fingers, comes down, he touches the burning tip to your thigh and your whole body responds, you tense, attempt to move away, but he doesn’t let you. He presses the cigarette closer, twisting, burning you deeper as his tongue parts your lips, his tongue touches yours and once again, joy and agony meet, a new experience foraged that when both points of contact lift, you feel changed on some level. Your eyes had closed when you were overcome by what he had done to you, now they opened to see him, that wide grin, face still mere inches from yours as he asked, “How was that? Surprising enough?”
His gaze drops for a moment, his thumb passes over the fresh burn, and you can’t help it, everything has built up, it all swells, and you gasp out, “I love you.”
Through The Heart Is The Only Way: Chapter Fourteen. "A Plan In Motion."
Hello, hello, hello! It’s the first day of Multi-May, and did you know that May 1st is also Charles Lee Ray’s birthday? It really works out because I was already planning on covering his birthday in this chapter, so let’s kick off this month-long event right with an update to the current long fic I am so sweet on! I know it has been a while since I updated this, but I hope everyone loves it. Series Masterlist found here.
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Rating. Explicit. Charles Lee Ray/Tiffany Ray Valentine/FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Word Count. 5K. Warnings: Sweetness. Fluff. Murder Plot. Birthday Surprise. Making Out. Tribbing. Sex. Marking. Biting. Hickies. Breaking And Entering. Semi-Public Sex. Implied Blowjob/Cum Eating. Smoking And Drinking. Actual Murder.
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Tiffany is waiting for you when the club closes, the shared greeting is a giddy pair of hellos, barely able to hold yourself from launching at her.
She can’t get even halfway down the street before she has you in a big hug, her restraint apparently much weaker than yours, where you wrap your arms around her neck in response and hers hold tighter around your waist, she lifts you up. Her raising you up so suddenly has you laughing when she swings you to the right, then the left and when she drops you back down the mood shifts in a moment, pressed together; faces inches apart, from overly happy to the realization you are alone enough to do what you both desperately wanted earlier. Your hands are on her shoulders and hers rest on your waist and no one tugs the other to them, no you both meet in the middle, as if totally in sync, kissing each other.
At the meeting of your lips, you feel the happiest you have all night, sharing this intimate moment hidden in the shadows of this dark street, kissing Tiffany for the first time since you’ve mutually confessed your love for one another.
You don’t stay on the street, hand in hand you head off to the station, only letting go when you take the train to your place, and the kissing continues once inside your place, she doesn’t leave that night. You bare yourself physically and emotionally further, entwined and blissful.
It reminds you of the other afternoon with Chucky, the rougher, more intense nature, but mixed with a certain and intense brand of emotion that is heart-rending. Totally stripped the pair of you are locked together, her on top of you, a thigh between yours and one of yours between hers, the pair of you using each other to grind against, able to keep making out all the while. It is unbearably hot, moaning into each other's mouths, panting and using each other to find your respective ends.
Tiffany and Chucky both love to talk, and you love that about them, but this time, any sort of conversation was decidedly absent, you weren’t quiet, far from, ample moans and heavy breathing, the communication was all physical, pure body language. The pleasure could drown you if you let it, but she keeps you tethered to reality and to you, she does that with the shocks of pain she delivers. Nails dig in harder than needed, sharp smacks laid on soft parts of your body, twists and flicks that inflict the sweetest and most arousing agony.
You wonder fleetingly if she talked to Chucky about that, how you responded to it, loved it, until her teeth sink in again, biting your nipple and tied together that with a roll of her hips and your mind goes blank again. You only have one thing leaving your mouth, over and over when you do speak, her name, nothing else.
Losing track of the peaks is easy with her, simply focused on the enjoyment, moment to moment, drifting with such ease, completely fluid, warm and water light.
When it is all over you are heaving, exhausted, and thoroughly marked. There are bruises and hickies littering your skin, some makeup will be needed for the few on your neck and other exposed areas, you might have to get a bit creative with your work outfits for the next bit. You treasure the marks on your inner thighs the most.
“You really laid into me.” You sigh, fingers tracing the indents of her teeth left on your hip bone, and she is enjoying an obligatory post sex cigarette, “Couldn’t help it, you make the best sounds when it hurts.”
She coos, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, a lazy smile crosses your face, you ask, “Bring out the sadist in you, do I?”
“You can say that. I didn’t go too far, did I?” She asked with a tinge of concern, and you shake your head, uttering teasingly, “No, you could have gone further honestly.”
The grin that crawls onto her face is indulgent, “I won’t forget that.”
You hoped she didn’t, but you were positive she wouldn’t. You bask in the afterglow for a while longer, the conversation stopping and starting, the kind of pillow talk that is about everything and nothing. Moments you will remember later and smile on, delighted when you will find the feeling you hold in your chest during tonight will be recalled too along with those mental snapshots.
Sleep comes easily and quickly, and you both enjoy a nice lie in, wrapped up together. When you do leave bed, breakfast is made quickly, eggs and toast with fruit, nothing complicated. The two of you eat at the small kitchen table, talk and share coffee, Tiffany speaks up, “Sooo, Chucky’s birthday is coming up.”
“Ooh, when?” You ask excitedly, and Tiffany says easily, “May 1st.”
You are spreading strawberry jam on your toast as you say jokingly, “He’s a Taurus, of course.”
Tiffany laughs, she sounds amused when she says, “See I am much more accommodating to that kinda thing, you say that to him and expect a heavy eye roll.”
You ask around a bite of warm bread and sugary sweetness, “He isn’t into astrology?”
A shake of blonde hair and a sip of coffee before she tells you, “No, he is into some other out there stuff sure, but astrology? Not really.”
Strange, you dig in further. “Wait, what do you mean by other out there stuff?” You ask, and your girlfriend swallows her mouthful of eggs before she says, “Ask him about it later, we have more important things to discuss, namely, how we are going to come together to spoil him.”
The previous thought is abandoned, jumping onto the new track she laid out, “You’re right, anything you are thinking of to kick it off?”
Breakfast is spent with the two of you talking over the start of your plan for his birthday, which is in exactly two weeks, until she gets herself in order to leave.
The goodbye is sugary sweet, lingering, but it feels like it ends too soon for your liking, off she goes.
When Tiffany comes home and doesn’t bother to remove her heels or jacket, she comes right into the bedroom and throws herself down onto the bed, waking up Chucky in the process. He jerks up, long red hair a wild mess, to see Tiffany who is all smiles spread beside him, “Hiya sweet face.”
He sighs, a fond roll of his eyes before he drops his head back down, muttering into the sheets, “Hey yourself.”
“How was your night?” She coos, hand coming forward and brushing some of his hair aside to catch sight of one of his eyes looking up at her, he raises his head once more, “Fine, didn’t get up to much after you left, watched the news, had another drink, caught a shower, you know how it goes.”
She nods and begins to fish out her cigarettes, “Used a fistful of lotion while you thought about me and her, sure, sure.” She jokes, and he laughs, “Yeah, you got me.” Then he asks, “How about your night?”
A dreamy look in her eyes, she sighs, “Oh it was lovely, her and I had sex, rough and perfect, I left some serious marks on her that will last for days.”
He reaches out and snags one of her smokes from the open box before she can, moving to sit up as he encourages, “Go onnn-”
Tiffany laughs as she selects her own smoke and brings the lighter out, “Fucking pervert, that’s what you are.”
“You knew what you signed up for.” He jokes.
She helps light his then her own, and they sit in bed as they chat more idly, by the time they are stamping their butts out in the bedside ashtray she is saying, “I meant what I said before I left last night, I want this to be our focus, we need to end that scumbag, not just cuz it will feel good for us, but it’ll be good for her.”
Chucky nods in agreement, “I’m right there with you, I was already thinkin’ on it last night.”
“Catch me up.” She prompts and he does.
- - -
The next two weeks are as close to perfect as you think it can get. Whenever you aren’t at work you are busy with friends or with your partners, not a lot of time with them together but lots of one on one. You don’t question it, just happy for the time with them, soaking up this undeniable high point of your relationship. You and Tiffany have been planning for your shared boyfriend’s birthday, whenever you are alone without him, or on the phone, you were excited to contribute and had been pouring over it quite a bit.
Little did you know how much Tiffany and Chucky were planning on their end, learning the soon-to-be victim's schedule and deciding when would be the best time to strike in the draft of his schedule that had made up. When you were occupied with one, the other was seeing to the work of it all. The perfect opportunity presented itself after only a week and a half, they don’t think it could get much better, so they jump on it, and it goes flawlessly, the pair feel closer, happier and infinitely better for it, all while you are completely unaware, busy at work.
All too soon it is May 1st, no shift scheduled later, and you were so excited about the day ahead, ready to spend it with the pair of them. You did work last night, so you slept in, you felt fine with this because Tiff and Chuck stopped into your work midway through your shift and helped shut the place down, so you know they are going to be lying in late too. You take your time making yourself up and getting ready, after doing your hair, you slide yourself into a red dress made of silky red material, black high-heeled boots that hit around your ankles, a lighter jacket is thrown on, and you head out, set on gathering what was asked.
When you arrived to their apartment, bags in your arms, Tiffany answers the door, excited to see you, a kiss hello along with her telling you, “He went out to go get a drink or two with some friends.”
This was something she pushed for, and you agreed was a great idea, get him out of the place so you can do what you’ve been planning. The door is closed, and she brings you into the kitchen, the place is clean and looks great, she is complementing your choice in attire, proclaiming how much she loves your dress and make-up.
Naturally, Tiffany looked incredible herself, it was nearly artful, the pieces she selected, the skin she chose to display and hide, you wish you were wrapped as tightly around her as the skirt and top she’d chosen, you made sure she knew how good she looked. You tried to make her feel it when you kissed her, as you set the bags down onto the counter, before you pulled away and told her in no uncertain terms, “You blow me away every single time I see you.”
That sentence earns you her hands cradling your face and another kiss from her.
Once you are both done being so saccharine together, you take out the box you had picked up on the way over, “Have you looked at it yet?” She asked, and you nod, “I have, check it out.”
She opens the white cardboard lid and peers down at the cake she ordered, the blood-red frosting, the big black 30 sitting in the middle, surrounded by the gorgeous swirls and swoops of icing decorating the two layer round dessert, “Oh my God, it’s perfect.”
“It’s just like you described, they nailed it.” You gush, and she asks, tone unsure, “And it’s chocolate marble?”
“I triple checked, and they assured me it is.”
A sigh of relief is breathed out, “Good, thank you so much for picking it up.” She closes the box, and rewards you with another kiss that you return for a moment. You tell her that you got the candles, and picked up some of the ingredients for dinner that she asked for.
“Amazing, let's decorate and then get started on dinner.” She starts to unpack everything, and you help her out. The apartment got a few balloons, a banner strung up and a few streamers, nothing that crazy or elaborate.
“So he’s turning thirty-” You say, and she hums, a nod, and you ask, “-do you think we’ve done enough? It is a big milestone.”
“It is, but I think we have, I think he’ll be real happy about it.” She assures, and you ask, “How do you want to ring in your thirtieth?”
Tiffany laughs as she's finishing taping up a twisted streamer, “Oh God, that’s like a decade from now, who knows.”
You don’t think often about their age gap, you found it out a while ago, you are sort of the middle ground between them, closer to her age than his, but still, she doesn’t read as young as she is. The question that comes next is one you should have expected, “You’ll be hitting thirty before me, what do you want to do for it?” It was still a long way off, but you say, “I think just… Indulgence, that is what the theme should be, ridiculous excess of fun, food, and drink, you know?”
“Sounds like a perfect way to ring in any new decade, in my opinion.” Tiffany praises.
You wonder if you will still be with Tiffany in “like a decade” all the way in 1998, to help her ring in her turning thirty, part of you really hopes you will be.
- - -
She has informed you that Chucky’s favourite food is Swedish meatballs, and you were surprised it hadn’t come up before, but naturally that is what you had to make. You had never made meatballs from scratch, you suppose it isn’t that different from making burgers, and Tiffany was a good teacher, she never made you feel bad when you had a question. The meat mix came together quickly, you are rolling them into the size she outlined as she is peeling potatoes for the mash, as water heats in a pot on the stove top.
The radio is playing and with her guidance the rest of the meal speeds along, potatoes chopped, the cutting board tipped and all of them dumped into the rolling boil. While the potatoes cooked and oil in a pan begins to shimmer, you begin to cook the meatballs. A frankly wild and amazing side dish Tiffany told you about was being constructed by her, green beans with a dill caper butter and toasted hazelnuts, you teased her by asking, “Is he gonna like something so fancy sounding?”
She rolls her eyes fondly just thinking about his reaction but says, “He’ll scoff about it but eat it and love it, trust me.”
When the meal is nearly done, Tiffany watching over it and ensuring it all finishes at the right time, you are setting the table and you feel happy. This all feels incredibly domestic in a way you haven’t really experienced previously, you could get used to this.
Chucky comes home to dimmed lights, the decorations and a banner proclaiming, “Happy birthday.” You and Tiffany echoing the same thing.
Chucky is seemingly pleased as punch as he says, “So this is why you wanted me outta here.”
“You got us.” You say as you start to take his coat, and Tiffany said, “We wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, I am, it smells amazin’ in here.” Shoes off and you both take him to the table, he makes this sound upon seeing the spread that you would pay to have on tape to play it over and over, bottling the sound of pleasantly surprised tinged with happiness.
Dinner came out fantastically, you had plated the Swedish meatballs in this wonderful creamy sauce, rich mashed potatoes and the aforementioned complex green beans, you got his favourite high-end beer to match it. You can see why he likes this meal so much, and Tiffany called it, he did love the green beans, but he did shit talk how overly pretentious it sounded.
You and her leave the dishes in the sink filled with hot soapy water to soak, and next came gifts, Tiffany presented him with a long wrapped box, he opened up the purple paper and laughs upon seeing the full carton of his preferred brand of cigarettes, “You tryna kill me that bad hm?”
She grins, chin rested on her hand, as she quips, “Every day.”
He leans over and kisses her, when he pulls away she slides another box over, “I didn’t just get you smokes, here.”
This box is much smaller and thinner, he unties the ribbon and opens it to find inside a new pair of black leather gloves. “Oh baby.”
She shrugs and says, “I know your other pair were getting real old and were starting to crack, so.”
He takes them out and slips them on, he flexes his fingers and takes a good look at his hands, “Seriously, thank you, I love em.”
They do look good on him, you associate him with leather gloves, you remember fondly that alley hook up months ago where he was wearing them, when he had those gloved fingers inside of you, and you are excited thinking you could help him break this new pair in some time. You watch as he peels them off, and you ask, “Ready for my gifts?”
“Yes, definitely.” He slips the gloves off to the side.
You haul up one bag, which he opens it and slides out the very fucking nice bottle of whiskey you bought that had him asking, “Woah! How much was this?”
“With the amount you have both dropped on me with tips, don’t worry about it.” You brush him off, and he says, “We have to open this tonight.”
“It’s your birthday, whatever you want.” Tiffany says, and you agree.
The next gift was a bit of a gamble, Tiffany had given you the idea, you had questioned it, but she assured you he’d adore it and to trust her on this. You bring up the next gift, you carefully set the pot with the big ribbon tied around it down and wait for his reaction.
It is slow, the smile that comes to his face, his brows quirking before he reaches out and adjusts it, his gaze travels down the cascade of vines and leaves, and you feel a bit unsure, leading to you saying, “It’s called a philodendron hederaceum, or a heart leaf philodendron, or it’s even called the-”
“The sweetheart plant.” He finishes your sentence.
Tiffany and you had met up for lunch without him last week, you had been lamenting to her that nothing seemed right for a present, we're clearly stressed over it and in response she took your hand and said, “I am gonna share something he probably doesn’t want me to but, I am sure you’ll find out eventually anyway, and it’ll help you get him a great gift you wouldn’t think to otherwise, so fuck it.”
You listen closely, and she asks, “You know all the plants at our apartment?”
“Yeah.” You nod, and he says, “Those are his. I like the plants, don’t get me wrong, they brighten up the space a lot, but I don’t look after em, he does.”
“He gardens?” You ask, dumbfounded, and she laughs, “I mean as much as a person can in a Chicago apartment with shit lighting.”
Will he ever stop surprising you? Admitting to Tiffany, “I never thought he’d be the type.”
Tiffany lets go of your hand, she shrugs, telling you, “It’s like the love of art and his painting, you’d never expect it but there it is.”
“So you think getting a plant would go over well?” You ask, and Tiffany tells you, “Mhm.”
After lunch, she helps you further, takes you to a garden centre and helps you pick up a good plant that would suit the apartment and isn’t one he already has. You couldn’t help being taken with the tumble of heart shaped leaves that spilled forth when you heard the moniker, he’d called you “sweetheart” so many times, you felt like you had to, handing over the money was easy.
Back in the present moment, he is running his thumb over the curve of one of the leaves, his eyes flick from it to you, “So Tiffany sold me out, huh?”
Only slightly sheepish, you say, “I was stressing over what to get you and yeah, she told me for your love of greenery.”
You reach out over the table and take his opposite hand that isn’t touching the plant, asking, “Is it okay?”
“Okay? It’s great, I love it.” He assures in that tone that feels like warm honey. A hug is shared and while he squeezes you, he adds, “Thank you.”
When he pulls back, he shoots Tiffany a look and says, “Can’t tell you anythin’.”
“Oh, shut up, it isn’t like it was that big a secret, get over it.” She laughs, and you cut in, “These aren’t the only presents, by the way.” You assure, and that has him curious, “There is still more?”
“There is, you have to wait for a while, though.” Your tone is light and teasing, he grouses and keeps his attention on you, which allows Tiffany to slip off unnoticed to the kitchen, and in two minutes with you keeping Chucky distracted, she comes back with the cake, candles lit on top.
You and her sing the corny birthday song, Chucky pretends to be pained by it, making you and Tiffany laugh through the rest, but you get the feeling he likes the attention, candles blown out and cake cut, it was more than worth the money, it was moist and delicious. The evening stretches out, another drink, that nice new whiskey you got him, some cards while the TV is on.
Your last gift is one that took some doing. From waking late, getting ready, coming over, cooking, eating dinner, the gift giving, cake and more it is late, you timed it well, by the time you get there the place is empty. As you all stand outside the main entrance for your work, now closed for about an hour, Chucky asked, “Your work? We kinda missed last call, sweetheart.”
That is the moment you remove your hand from his, choosing it as the time to flaunt the keys you managed to snag, holding them up and saying, “I thought a private party might be more appropriate.”
You step forward and start to unlock the door, and he laughs, “I can’t believe you are doin’ this, breaking and entering for me?”
“Hardly breaking and entering when I have the keys, but we can call it that, sure.” You say with a smirk, door unlocked, you hold it open and urge them, “Come on.”
You sneak in easily and quickly, locking the door behind yourselves, the three of you are a little buzzed and riding the high of the evening thus far. Taking the lead, you bring them into the main room, and they are looking around, “Looks different without all the crazy lighting going,”
“Don’t worry, I can fix that.” You make a move over to Jackson’s DJ boot, you were close enough to him that when you suggested this idea he was on board, he showed you how to run the basic functions and play songs. You were endlessly thankful, and he simply told you next time you go out for dinner, you were paying, a proposition you agreed to easily. Light jackets you wore on your way over were taken off, piling them on an empty table.
Climbing up the few small steps you find the controls you want easily, you flip a few and the flashing lights that filter through pink, blue and purple turn on, white dots dance, and you get calls of excitement in response. You have listened to Jackson talk previously about the energy of being in the DJ booth, about the infectious nature of it, you lean over the booth and look at Chucky, “Any requests?”
Chucky has harder tastes, you manage to find a few songs among Jackson’s catalogue that are to his liking, you recognize them from his personal collection he added to your work’s offerings. You take requests from both of them, play a few of your own, and you enjoy the totally open dance floor. You even play Logan’s part, making a few simple cocktails that you had watched him make countless times, and no wonder your work is always so busy and spoke of so highly, it is very fun when you aren’t run off your feet serving hoards of people, easier to appreciate when you aren’t working.
At one point, you were finishing up the drinks, placing them on a tray to bring them over, and you were watching Chucky and Tiffany on the dance floor, the pair of them were dancing, and it throws you back to months ago, to when you met them here. His hands on her hips and her arms loosely around his neck, the pair swaying, not to the beat necessarily, but that didn’t matter when it is just you three and in focus is closeness and fun.
It feels like it that night, was years ago, the longing and wanting to have what they do, and now? You are included in it, you bring the drinks over and instead of them taking them with a thanks but remaining wrapped up in each other, you are brought right into the fold, each taking their drinks and holding out their unoccupied hands, beckoning you.
Taking the chance, you fulfill yourself at this moment, slot yourself between them and the dance continues, just as you always do, you lose yourself in them.
Later on, Tiffany is flipping through the available songs and you and Chucky were leaning against the bar, he has a hand on your lower back, you were pulled tight to him, and he says, “Tonight has been incredible, still cannot believe you did this.”
“Oh c’mon, I took some keys-” You started to downplay it, and he wouldn’t let you, “Nah, I mean that you could get in trouble for this, you’ve talked about how good this job has been, if you are found out could throw all that in jeopardy, and you did it just to do something nice for, what? My birthday? That’s...” He sighs, trails off, you feel his hand move and his thumb strokes over your hip, “-crazy. Good crazy, but still.”
You laugh, head tipping back, and he joins you, his own laugh tumbling out after yours, he takes the opportunity of your exposed neck to kiss you there, still giggling, you respond softly, “Maybe you are worth breaking the law for.”
A new song starts playing and Tiffany comes over, your head turns in her direction, looking at her as you say, “I think you both are.”
You never thought you were the kind of person who would hook up at work, in fact, you always used to insist that you would never. Other people have, Logan had told you on a drunken night out when off from the club that he had slept with some girl after close. Jackson admitted that once to exchanging hand jobs with a cute guy in the men’s bathroom, some of the other waitresses had admitted to some illicit activities at other different jobs they have had. You always listened to these stories and laughed, saying once again that would never be you.
Tonight ends in a way that makes it so you could not claim that ever again without lying through your fucking teeth.
You all stay up late, you are glad you have the next day off too, called in some favours to cover your shift, the cleanup doesn’t take that long and when you shut everything down, you leave you have a few more marks, the taste of cum thick on your tongue, tied and happy. The trip back to their apartment is quick, the events of the day catch up with you all, and you crash hard.
- - -
Tiffany is in the bedroom, fixing her make-up, half dressed, Chucky is in the bathroom, and you, fully dressed, are seated on the couch, you are putting your boots on. The TV is on, it’s the news, you aren’t paying it any attention at first, until you are done with your footwear, you lean back and make yourself comfortable while you wait for your partners to finish getting ready so you can head out for a late breakfast.
It is a repeat of last night's report, you didn’t watch it, obviously busy, so you half pay attention, until something is said that makes your heart nearly stop and sit upright. Did you hear that right?
You don’t move, you watch intensely, the male news anchor is reading off the information, and it sticks in your head, “Trent McDonald was found dead, authorities described his body as severely mangled, identifying him was difficult, they are on the lookout for potential suspects as this is suspected to be murder.”
Holy fucking shit. Trent McDonald, that asshole that had been borderline obsessed with you way back when, had been murdered.
Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Eleven. "Trying To Get Settled."
I know a bit late today but here is today's addition to Multi-May! The long awaited update to Through The Heart Is The Only Way! Sorry for the eight fucking month long hiatus, but we are back! Hopefully updates will be more frequent from here on out! Series Masterlist is here. Hope you all enjoy this and find it worth the wait! Also partly inspired by me going to my first gay club last summer.
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Charles Lee Ray/Tiffany Ray Valentine/FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Stressed And Anxious Reader. Drinking. Softness. Making Out. Fingering. Implied Threesome.
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The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. Rachel stays behind after close, you and your coworkers sit, huddled around a table, all the other ones already wiped down, chairs upside down on top of them, hushed tones as you try to comfort her. Logan makes drinks, the lights are low as you all talk it over, trying to make her feel better. By night's end she looks less shaken, you and Jackson walk to the train station, hand in hand.
You hold his hand very tightly, fingers interlaced, you wonder if your grip makes his knuckles ache. You walk with him and the air feels a bit tense. Jackson and you talk about anything and just about everything, filling the spaces with whatever else mundane shit that you can. When finally on the train platform, a moment of silence has overtaken. You are the one to break it. You ask quietly into the cold, breath fogging in front of your face, “Why am I so scared right now?”
Jackson’s head turns, so does yours, he looks down as you look up and concern has painted his features, his mouth opens and then closes. He seriously considers what to say before responding, “Because it’s normal. It’s really normal to be scared by this kinda thing, Rach was…She was freaking out, and we care about her, so we are freaked out too.”
You know it’s more than that, you are sure Jackson knows it is more than that, too. You remember a conversation you had with him over a year ago where he confessed to you his own story similar to the one you had about Trent.
It was winter back then too, it was cold, you and he were having a drink post work, crowded around a table, hoping the snow died down a bit before leaving as he filled you in. Jackson told you about some guy who came onto him and then, asshole that he was, got violent with him after, making claims that he “wasn’t really like that” and blaming it all on him, that Jackson was asking for it on and on. You held his hand and listened intently over half drunk cocktails and didn’t judge him, handing over a napkin for him to wipe his eyes.
It was totally unfair bullshit.
What happened with Rachel is another fucking reminder that this job is a touch more dangerous than you’d like. It reminds you that there are total fucking jerks at every turn, whether it be customers who treat you like shit and less than human, or even some of the good ones could be at the mercy of similarly terrible treatment. You love your job most of the time, but it is exhausting on nights like this.
You rest your head on Jackson’s shoulder, and he says as he leans his head on yours, “She is going to be okay. I am going to be okay, and so are you.”
Your mind wanders to them, thoughts flood your brain of your newly minted boyfriend and girlfriend. You worry. What if something were to happen to them? What would you do? Your heart is beating out of your chest and your palms are sweaty, you are thankful for the gloves you wore, that Jackson couldn’t feel how slick your hands were and feel in turn your massive anxiety. Christ you are being crazy you just started dating them, you need to reel in your emotions right now, this is an outlier of a situation, this is fine, you are fine. You shake off the bad thoughts and look back up at him, a quick glance as you make the decision to try and believe him, you say, “Yeah you’re probably right. Thanks.”
Jackson smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re welcome.”
You stand in heavy silence once more, both your eyes and his staring forward until the train comes. When it does arrive you part from Jackson reluctantly, waves and promises to see each other the next day at work again. The ride feels too long, when you come to your stop you race home and once there you have trouble sleeping, when you eventually attempt to.
Tossing and turning, sleep claims you after quite some time.
Over the course of the next few days, you slowly start to calm down, but you are still on edge, the knowledge of what happened to Randall poking at the back of your mind, reminders cropping up at inopportune moments and giving you small setbacks. You should be over this, it’s been a long time, why is this sticking with you so badly?
There was no news.
You’d see Rachel at work and meet her eyes and she’d know what you were going to ask, she’d shake her head and your look would turn from pleading to know what she did, to instead sympathetic as your stomach turned and heart ached for her.
It’s late, it’s after work on a different day, you need some serious stress relief, Jackson had the day off and so you didn’t have accompaniment to the train station, too alone with your thoughts at the moment. You can’t keep feeling like this, you can’t keep hiding, so you make the decision to do something for yourself, try to feel a bit better.
You go to your favourite rink.
Winter is slowly on the way out, the extreme storm is beginning to thaw, this will probably be your last skate of the season. The rink is closed this late, you weren’t planning on this and don’t have your skates, so you snagged a pair that other people would pay to rent, no one was around, not like you’d get caught. You find your size easily under the open air renting counter, and soon you are at a bench, boots off and lacing the skates up.
Your bag is left near the bench, and you make your way out onto the ice. You start to skate, gliding on the ice easily, it’s quiet, cloudy but not snowing, it’s very still and the only sound is metal on frozen water and your breath. Mind turns to them as you turn on the ice, the last time you were here was on your date, you smile, lips turning up as you recall how shitty Chucky was at skating, how he had to cling to you and Tiff to stay upright. You wonder if you will still be together to do that again next winter, maybe you can teach your new boyfriend a thing or two.
You pick up the pace, skating faster, sharper turns, you enjoy the speed, the wind on your face, the chill and then the silence and rhythm you had gotten into before it is broken, a call of, “Hey!”
It makes you stop short, ice shavings kicked up from the abrupt halt, a turn of your head towards the voice and look who it is, boots crunching through snow, tight jeans, a fashionable jacket and that familiar blonde head of hair with a warm smile.
You skate up as she reaches the edge of the rink, she holds her hands out, and you take them, a quick glance and no one is around, so you do it. Leaning in, she meets you in the middle, she kisses you and the cold of the night is forgotten. The bliss is short-lived, but it is a balm to your frayed nerves and calming to your rushing mind. You pull back, smile stretching wider as you say softly, finally returning her greeting, “Hi.”
You squeeze her hands and ask, “What are you doing out?”
“Coming back from seeing a friend, just cutting through the park on the way home-” She leans closer while looking in your eyes she jokes, “-probably a bad idea with all the news lately.”
You stiffen immediately and without meaning to, your smile faltering a little. The reminder isn’t helpful, it’s well after midnight, and you are skating alone in a park, it’s asking for fucking trouble. Gaze has dropped, and your mind is churning, one of her hands releases yours and cups your cheek, tilting you to look at her again, “Hey, you okay?”
You bite your bottom lip, and you know that you should be honest, if you can’t be with your girlfriend than who could you be? You spill, “I’ve been having some stress lately, not been feeling the best, just kinda, bogged down.”
“Oh sweetheart.” She hums, she pulls you into a hug, arms tight around you, “I am so sorry.”
You slip your arms around her, return the affection, and melt into her closer. God, you needed this, needed her, you had really been missing her without realizing it. The smell of lingering cigarette smoke and her favored perfume has become an intimate comfort, mixing with the winter night air, it’s more than welcome, it was craved. Eventually she pulls back, her hands on your arms, and she says, “I think you need some help with your stress and if there is one thing I am good at, it’s relieving stress.”
A small laugh bubbles out of you, “Okay, doctor Valentine, what do you recommend?”
“I’m gonna take you out, night on the town just you and me, a special date.” She offers, and you ask, intrigued, “A special date?”
“Yeah! I know a great club, I think a night to cut loose would do you good.” Her eyes were alight with mischief, she seemed excited and honestly, so were you at the idea, your first official date out with her being your girlfriend. It had been forever since you’d gone out to a club, last time was probably before you started working at one, the idea of going out to one with her sounded like just what you needed.
“Tiffany, that sounds amazing, I’d love that.” You tell her sincerely, and she makes a sound of pure delight, it’s adorable, “Yessss! When is your next day off?”
You tell her and the date is set for then. You end up taking your skates off and returning them, she walks you to your train station as you talk and get caught up on the past few days she had, and then she bids you goodnight, leaving you excited about your next night off.
Tiffany came by to get you as opposed to you meeting her out and that felt nice, not like you didn’t like going to her, but getting picked up was still special and an appreciated gesture.
You’d seen her dressed up for clubbing before, obviously, the many times she came to your work, this was just a touch different, almost hard to put your finger on, but then it clicks. She is wearing things you’ve complimented on her previously. The instances flit over your mind, times you’ve told her particular hem lines or cuts look good, what colours you think look best on her skin and further, she absorbed every sweet word, took it to heart and was dressed not explicitly for you, she was still dressed like herself, but had just taken what you’d expressed that you liked and applied it. Her coat was open at the moment, leather gloves on her hands to combat the cold outside your apartment building, the skirt was tight, the top was flattering, the belt sitting on her hips was more decorative than to help keep anything on, and you wanted to dip your fingers in the shiny chains and tug her close to kiss her, ruin the pretty lipstick she wore.
Your arms open, lean close, inviting her in, the hallway is empty, and she takes you up on it, the hug is nice, the kiss is nicer, you breathe the compliment as your lips break apart, “You’re stunning.”
“And you’re sweet.” She hums, pulling back she tells you, “And you’re one to talk, you look incredible, angel.”
You preen under her praise, you had purposefully made sure to wear something different from what you usually did to work, typically dark colours and clothing designed to get boat loads of tips as opposed to something that reflected your personal style, not tonight. Now you’d chosen something with colour, a dress that was well suited to go out, on the tighter side, you felt good in it and hoped it’d invite her to touch, give her that same craving you found yourself always infected with when near her.
“You ready to go?” She asked, and you nodded, your own coat was shrugged on, purse over your shoulder, and you closed the door, she stood next to you as you locked the door. Soon you and her were walking down the hall, headed to the stairs, and you asked, “So where you taking me?”
“I told you already, M’ taking you to a club, gorgeous.” She teased, and you laughed slightly, “Yeah I know that, but what club?”
She refused to tell you, not until you were there. The club entrance was a little hard to find, well it would have been hard to find if you were trying to get there solo just off the address information, Tiffany seemed to know just where it was, the front of the building was dark, a single light over the metal industrial looking door with one person standing out front to let people in.
You were ushered in with no issue, the music now reaching you once the door was opened, you check your coats and let her lead you deeper into the bar, coming near the end of the darker hallway you ask, “You finally gonna tell me what is so special about this place?”
In a moment of ridiculously perfect timing, you come around the corner, the music gets louder, the lights are bright, and you see the crowd, people close together, dancing and as your eyes struggle to adjust, she leans closer. Next, she is saying into your ear so you could hear over the thrum, “It’s a gay bar.”
Holy fucking shit.
What that means hits immediately, you can act like any other couple, can act like her and Chucky do out at your work or how you and her do in private, you can hold her hand and kiss her and more without worry. A full on date without restrictions in public. You had no idea this was possible for you and her.
You were so happy you could hardly stand it, you threw your arms around her neck and hugged her tightly to you, “Oh my God, are you serious?!”
She laughs, her hands rest on your waist before sliding slowly over your lower back, hugging you as she responds, “As the dead, beautiful.”
You pull back, hands on her shoulders as you say, “Well c’mon, I don’t want to waste any time.”
Tiffany grins and let's go of you, taking your hand she leads you deeper inside. First order of business was getting you both a drink, you pass through the moving bodies on the dance floor towards the bar. You stand next to her, fingers lacing together with hers as you observe the people nearby, you try not to stare any place for too long, which is easy because you can’t help moving from one person to the next. You see couples not unlike Tiffany and yourself, groups of friends, easy displays of intimacy in any and every direction, it makes you feel warm and affectionate. You lean closer to her, press a kiss to her cheek, and she turns her head, saying, “You can do better than that, can’t you?”
You take her hint, the hand that wasn’t currently holding hers coming up, fingers stroke over her impossibly soft cheek, and you lean in, soon kissing her. She kisses you back, the taste of her lipstick and faint cigarettes greets you, it is easy to get swept up in it, in her, you can’t believe you can do this in a crowded public place. One thing snaps you out of it, namely a person misjudging how close they were to you, accidentally bumping into you, the kiss breaks and the person says, with a wave, “Sorry!”
The stupid grin takes over your face, you squeeze Tiffany’s hand and say, “No problem.”
And there really wasn’t. Just the fact that it has the potential to happen, a totally harmless and innocuous annoyance of someone accidentally interrupting you kissing your girlfriend, is a fantastic change of pace. You would gladly take it over trying to steal small moments of affection, terrified of someone seeing you and outing yourselves.
You get your drinks after that, fruity cocktails that Tiffany selected, you end up at a standing table near the dance floor, it is hard to talk over the thrum of the music, but you are just giddy to be out with her. After the first drink you can’t help it, pulling her out onto the floor, the music isn’t even necessarily to your taste but who gives a fuck about that when she is pressed against you like she is at this moment. The smile on her face is infectious, the sway of her hips captivating, and the mood is undeniably high. You realize you’ve only ever watched Tiffany dance before this, never had the opportunity to dance with her and God, you need to go out clubbing more often for the chance to.
You love the time you spend with her and Chucky together but getting to have her to yourself is addicting, how she brushes hair aside to whisper in your ear, leading you as you dance, you find yourself forgetting your stress, all your problems seem so far away.
After getting both of you another drink, you come back to someone hitting on Tiffany. She looks amused at the nervous attempt, the short haired redhead is doing her best, and it’s endearing, sweet, you come up and slot yourself against her side, giving her the cocktail, she takes it as you kiss her cheek, “Hey honey, who’s this?”
“Someone who I think is trying to ask me out.” The blonde responds with a smirk. The cute girl ends up profusely apologizing not aware she was seeing you, “Oh my fucking God, I am so sorry, I wouldn’t have if I knew-” Tiff and you laugh it off, and end up having a good conversation with the girl.
The night stretches on, you end up talking to some other people, you have more drinks and dances, at one point you are in the bathroom, she is washing her hands, and you are looking at her in the mirror. Her eyes caught yours, and she grins, “What? Something on my face?”
You laugh, a shake of your head, “Sorry, just, I can’t get over how great tonight has been.”
“Yeah?” She asks as she dries her hands, and you nod once, finding it impossible to look away, “Yeah. I am so out of the loop, I’ve never been to a place like this and coming here with you for my first time has been incredible, you, Tiffany, are incredible.”
She tosses the paper towel into the trash. She inquires, “You always this soft and sentimental when you drink?” She closes the distance, no one else is in here at the moment, funny how you keep finding yourself alone in empty club bathrooms with her.
“Hardly.” You reach out, fingers brush down her arm as you tell her, “You just bring it out of me.”
“My sappy little sweet thing.” She hums before leaning in, she kisses you, and it has the ability to do your head in more than any drink. The realization you are kissing again in a club bathroom is not lost on you.
The time together flies by after that.
The club is getting near closing, you and her are splitting one last drink, you ask over the music, “Can we come here again sometime?”
She beams and tells you, “Anytime you want.”
Lucky you.
The last dregs swallowed, the last call completed, you and her are headed back out into the night, you see that redhead from earlier ended up with someone else, and it makes you happy to see. Your coats pulled tight around yourselves, holding hands and unable to stop smiling.
“You wanna come back to our place?” She asks, and you couldn’t agree faster.
Your feet ache, and you feel lightheaded and joyful as you stumble into her apartment, heels are discarded, you are moving backwards towards the couch, fumbling to get your coat off. She has shrugged her own coat off, letting it drop onto the floor along with yours, you’d pick them up later.
Her mouth is moving down the side of your jaw and down your neck and soon the backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch, and you flop onto your back, hands hooked on the straps of her top you pull her down on top of you.
The heat sparking inside of you is stealing your breath away, you gasp her name as her leg slots between yours as she starts to suck a mark into your collarbone. You tug uselessly at the straps, she is already as close as could be, but the move shows just how needy you are, a move of your hips, grinding on her thigh you let out a weak moan.
She breathes out your name as your hand moves, slides down her body and between her own legs, her head tips forward with a sharp inhale from the rush you provide her. You are constantly taken aback by how she can make you feel, whenever you have a moment like this, that you affect her in just the same way, it does everything for you, strokes your ego, turns you on further.
She helps with her clothing in the way and your hand is in her underwear now, you can feel how wet she is and when your fingers slip inside, curling to find that spot you’ve come to know so well, you remember you aren’t alone.
“Man, you two are not good at being quiet.” Your head jerks up as does hers, a look over, and you see Chucky standing there in the doorway of the living room, cocky half smile on his face.
“Who says we were tryna be?” You giggle as you press, fuck your fingers in and out of Tiffany, and she moans louder, unapologetic smile on your face at the sound you dragged from her.
“Ye-ahhh, sorry sweetface, did we wake you up?” Tiffany asks with a small upward curve of her own mouth.
“You did! Terrible, the both of you.” He laughs, very amused, as he comes over. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, or socks, just a pair of pyjama pants sitting low on his hips, and you want to reach out and touch him too.
“We are the worst. You should come teach us a lesson.” You tease, and he gets onto the couch next to you, a hand reaching down, fingers stroke under your chin, tilting your head up, and he says, “Yeah I think you are right about that. Can’t let you go around thinking you can just do whatever you want, when you want.”
“Mmm, that would be truly awful.” Tiffany mused, watching as Chucky kissed you, making you melt. Being pressed between both your partners, passed back and forth, in the early hours of the morning, there isn’t anything better than tasting the heady mix of him and her.
U can skip this if u want but what would poly chiffany x reader be doing for Valentine’s Day
Okay, I adore this, and of course I wouldn’t skip this! It’s THE Valentine's event and poly!Chiffany is THAT couple! So they weren’t that deep into their relationship in Through The Heart Is The Only Way, so I am gonna cover it here, what would they do if they had been an established couple on Valentine's Day and I think it would be just like this. No warnings apply! TTHITOW canon compliant.
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It is an all day affair, or rather it would have been, if you three could have pulled yourselves out of bed before noon. When you do manage to crawl out of bed with them, none of you want to cook really, so instead the obvious solution is brunch at your favourite spot. From brunch, it turns into shopping, you are helping Tiffany select things for dinner, going out to a restaurant on Valentines is a fool's errand none of you want to engage with so you decide you won’t, opting for a nice meal in. At some point, Chucky broke off and comes back with a bag he is being pretty secretive about.
The walk back to their place is leisurely, and the afternoon is spent between a few movies you rented and helping Tiffany in the kitchen. She wants to make one of those classic vintage heart shaped cake, and you help make it happen, the thing comes out beautifully and what is so fun about making one of those cakes is without the heart shaped pans you have to cut them to form, leaving the cake scraps for snacks while you work.
Dinner is pasta that you helped her make, a good sausage penne pasta, garlic bread and salad. They don’t have a formal dinner table, so it is eaten sat around the coffee table on the floor, but it might as well be a five-star restaurant to you. The gift exchange is sweet, Tiffany got you a book you’d been going on about and Chucky got you a houseplant, he finds the lack of plants in your place depressing, he tells you it is easy to care for, and he will help, more excuses to come by your place? Sounds fantastic to you. Also, the plants around their place being in his care, rather than hers, makes you smile. You got the pair of them new matching engraved lighters, nice polished silver that can be refilled and they both freak out, they use them for their post dinner cigarette immediately.
Cake is shared, and then you are shared after that. Overall it is a perfect mix, good food, great company, a relaxed and intimate atmosphere, romantic but still a bit dirty right at the end. Simply perfect and totally beautiful.
Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Nine: "Stay." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.
Well here we are! This might very well be the LAST fic of Multi-May! Can you believe it?! This month has been insane, I mean just look at all I accomplished! With this fic it brings the total up to 12 fics and one update of my current long fic, the total word count of all of these even beating the amount I wrote for Kinky December back in 2020! I might get one more thing out before the month is out but maybe not, don’t hold your breath, a few things I received during this month will still get written though! So if you sent in a request but didn’t see it get done, don’t give up hope! It might just come out a little later. Now, I have been writing this chapter update on and off all month between my other projects, it is a massive labour of love and I hope you all love it too, this is a DOOZY of an update. Massive shout out to @eggsandbeer who proofread this! A very long time coming in many respects, so let’s not waste any more time and let’s finish this month off RIGHT! Masterlist for the whole series is found, here.
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 12K. (I KNOW! Okay I know!) Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Masturbation. Softness. Fluff. Big Emotions. Spoilers For Night Of The Lepus AND Stand By Me. Cuddling. Kissing. Making Out. Smoking. Alcohol Consumption. Grinding. Dirty Talk. Taunting. Voyurism. Teasing. Banter. Lingerie. Multiple Orgasms. Vaginal Fingering. Hand Job. Blow Job. Eating Out. Vaginal Sex. Safe Sex. Threesome. Cum Swapping.
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Normally waking up to a sink full of dishes that you neglected to do the night before would start your day off on the wrong foot, but the following morning after your date hosting Chucky and Tiffany? It feels like nothing could sour your good mood, almost as if the sinkful of sticky and stained porcelain and utensils was an old friend you were excited to see.
Okay that might be a small exaggeration but fuck it, you were happy, you allowed yourself to be a little silly, a bit giddy over how well it went. So with the radio on and coffee brewing you are soon elbow deep in hot soapy water and scrubbing grease laden plates and the heavy bottom frying pan you used last night, humming all the while.
You keep playing last night, particularly the end of your date, over and over in your mind. God, it was such a good time, you were genuinely very excited for your next date, curious what you would do. That kept on occupying your thoughts, every date had been pretty different so far, you wondered if they were going to call you up with a plan all laid out or what. Once the dishes were done the rest of that day was spent pretty typically. After the dishes and some breakfast you find yourself retreating back to your bed, you thought about them so much previously and didn’t satisfy yourself last night so before starting the rest of your day proper you got that out of the way, twice. It isn’t like it took long while you thought about the taste of him thick on your tongue and Tiffany touching and encouraging you the whole time.
Next you did some errands, some self care, went to work, and it was a lovely day with you in such a good mood, totally in your element, tips flowing well for a normally not great night for them spelling out just how happy you were. Logan and Marcy commented and with a shrug you just told them, “I dunno, lucky night I guess.”
The pair scoff, unconvinced, “Uh-huh, sure.”
For some reason they didn’t believe you that you were simply just that happy to be at work but thankfully they didn’t pry as much as they had previously.
You don’t let them bother you either way. As excited as you are for this next date, whatever it will be, you were still more than willing to be patient, secure in the knowledge that they would get back to you when they could just as they said.
You continue on living, a night out with co-workers here, working there and finally you get a call a week after your last date. When the phone rang you jumped slightly before hopping to rush and grab the phone, picking it up with a hopeful, “Hello?”
And then you hear her voice, “Ahhh there you are, hey, I’m glad I caught you.”
You hold the phone closer, a soft sigh, your other hand on the table top as you feel yourself sink into the warm honey of her voice filling your ear, you slide down into the corner of the couch next to the end table you kept your phone on. “Tiffanyyy, how are you?”
“Good, very good, how are you?” She asks and you hum out, “The same, good, been busy at work, waiting for your call.”
“Sorry for the wait honey, what Chucky and I had to do took longer than we were expecting.” You didn’t think she needed to apologise but it was still appreciated, especially when she said it like that. “Oh no worries, I kept busy, it wasn't like I was just sitting by the phone.”
She laughs, “No way, I could never imagine you doing that. You? Spending a whole week sitting alone at home every night?”
You giggle along, fingers instinctively go for the phone cord and curl around the coil as you respond, “You’re right, very much not like me.”
“Oh yeah, total party animal.” She agrees and you say after a moment, “I’d call myself more of a zoo keeper.”
“A zoo keeper?” She inquires and you respond, “Yeah, I corral and control the party animals and keep 'em in check when I’m working.”
She laughs again, you love the sound. “Cute! That is very cute but still, you should be partying it up when you aren’t corralling the wild animals you feed drinks to night in and night out.” You take that as your cue, “So you got some big party animal plans for our next date then?”
“Well about that…We were feeling so bad about us taking longer than we were thinkin’ it would, that we wanna make it up to you and wanted to ask what do you want to do?”
Tiffany was so sweet, offering for you to pick what you would all do was nice, offering to host since you did last time was even better. You want to see her and Chucky sooner rather than later, you are off tomorrow and then not for days and days, thus, you don’t want to wait almost another week. So you ask, “Are you both free tomorrow?”
“Short notice, but let me check.” You hear her pull the phone away, she calls out, asks something to who you assume is naturally Chucky and the phone is brought back, “We are wide open.”
Success.
There is one hurdle however. You’d been keeping an eye on the weather as you always did, considering you either walked or relied on the subway system to get basically anywhere, you had to be aware of what you were stepping out into and sadly, even though it is late into March they are calling for a snowstorm tomorrow. It wasn’t supposed to be anything nuts but enough that going out would be a bit of a pain. You had been working hard all week and so the idea hit you and you said, “How about we rent some tapes and have a date night in?”
She lets out this pleased hum and you grin as she says, “Oh that sounds perfect, I hear it’s supposed to be miserable out tomorrow. How about you come over here and we host you since you had us over last time?”
“You wanna check with ol Chuck first? How is Chucky anyway?” She told you how she was but not how he was, she says, “He’s fine and I am sure he will be alright with the idea of you coming over to us and him not having to do a thing.”
Fair point, you laugh at how easily she dismissed your worries. “Rent whatever you want and come by at about four tomorrow before the snow starts?”
Sounded perfect. “I’ll be there, can’t wait.”
“Me either-” And then she said something that you were thankful she chose to do over the phone, if she would have said it to you in person you might have just died, “-I missed you.”
“You missed me?” You asked, slight disbelief and she corrected yourself, tone quieter, as if she was trying to hide it from a certain redhead. The image of her turning her body, both hands cradling the phone, a smile on her face that could almost be read as shy as she makes the small confession, floods your mind. “Well, WE missed you but he wouldn’t ever say that out loud.”
Oh you were sure that was the case, you were also sure you’d wear him down eventually and get some semblance of softness out of him. You hadn’t thought that was possible previously but with how this is all going, you think it might happen eventually. You could see it when he was with her, the intimacy, comfortability, the closeness and how he didn’t lean away from it but rather to it. The fact you were allowed to see that, given that little peak in makes you wonder, were you special? Or is she too alluring and makes him react like that even when he rather wouldn’t expose himself in that fashion?
“Oh my God, you’re getting soft on me!” You exclaim and she says, “What? You think I can’t be soft because I look this tough?
“Yeah the gothy exterior is real misleading, hm? You totally suckered me.” You claim and she laughs, “Hook line and sinker.”
You hear another voice and then Tiffany saying in an annoyed but amused tone, “Alright, alright, here-” And then his voice is in your ear, also sounding very amused, “What is so fucking funny that you all keep laughing over?”
“Awe you feeling left out Chuck? Don’t worry about it, I’ll be there before you know it and her and I can fawn all over you.” The promise seems to please him, “Now that's what I like to hear. Haven’t been too bored without us?” You can picture how he looks too, leaning over the back of their couch, right next to Tiffany, that cocky smile you have gotten to know as he talks into the phone, the occasional glance to her as he does so.
“Hardly, I was just telling your lovely girlfriend that I’ve been keeping myself plenty busy but I can admit that shit is much better with you both around.” Your fingers had been getting tangled in the phone cord during this conversation as you played with it and now you were unwrapping them as he responded, “Naturally, course it is, we’re the best.”
“Mmm you sure are, and now I hate to cut this short but I gotta start getting ready for work tonight.” He groans, “Booo-”
You hear Tiffany, she is still close by just like you thought, “What?” He fills her in, “She’s gotta get ready for work now.”
Tiffany echoes his sentiment, “Boooo-” It sounds like he is holding the phone so they can both hear and respond to you now.
“You remember where our place is?” He asked and you hummed, “It’s tattooed on my brain.”
You could hear the beginnings of Chucky complaining and you cut him off, “C’mon, less than twenty four hours, I’ll be at your place, think you can live until then?”
“I’ll do whatever I have to make sure he is alive for your arrival.” Tiffany promises and Chucky jokes, “Anything? Even mouth to mouth?”
You hear the sound of a playful smack and a quiet, “Ow-” Laughing you tell them, “See you both soon, bye.”
“Bye.” Comes the call in unison out of the phone, before you hang up. Getting off the couch you make your way to the bedroom to get yourself together for your shift and start to think about just what to wear to their place and what just to watch. Work flies by, you look cute and Logan gives you minimal shit and before you know it, you are back on the walk to the train station with Jackson, deep in conversation.
“So you got the day off tomorrow, what are you getting up to?” He asked and you still weren’t at liberty to give the whole truth, but you could say something, “Oh not much with the storm that is supposed to be rolling in, think I am gonna have a night in, rent some tapes.”
“Oooh, cosy, sounds good, smart too, not trekking out in that shit.” Jackson says with a nod up to the cloudy sky. “Right, you have fun braving the last vestiges of winter, solo.” You tell him and he groans, “So mean.”
“I’m no meaner than you deserve.” You tease. You wish you could be fully honest with him, but hopefully one day, Jackson takes your hand and you let him, fingers lace and you rest your head on his shoulder as you wait on the platform for your respective trains in comfortable and companionable silence.
What does one wear to a mostly meant to be casual date in watching movies? That is what you kept asking yourself and ultimately, after much rifling through your drawers and closet you settled on a comfortable sweater and jeans, you didn’t want to look too try hard and this was supposed to be low key after all.
Now the implication of this was clear, being alone with them in their place like this, you didn’t want to make assumptions but you aren’t dumb, it could very easily get physical again and God after how the last date ended you were liking your chances and hoping that was the case. So with all that in mind, you might have dressed up a little more under the wool and denim. You catch a last look at yourself on your way out the door and yes, you look really fucking cute, you didn’t go as heavy on the make-up as you do when you are at work but you hope Tiffany likes it all the same. Coat pulled tight around yourself and bag over your shoulder, you head out into the late afternoon chill, first stop was the video store.
You stand in front of shelves, eyes scan over vhs cases and countless titles, you are seriously considering what would be entertaining, what would they like? You wander between the aisles and then it hits, that first date you had, the movie that ended up being pretty bad, and all the fun you had ripping on it afterwards over dinner. You found the perfect movie on a bottom shelf, near a corner, it was dusty, you wondered who rented it last and maybe if it had been forgotten about. You selected one other tape and after paying the rental fee you were back out the door, another stop had you then heading for their place, a plastic bag in each hand, one with the movies and the other loaded with snacks. Soon you are inside their building and knocking on their door with a well manicured hand promptly right when you said you would be there, four o’clock on the dot.
The door swings open to see Tiffany there, gorgeous as ever, even in what you assumed were her own more casual and comfortable clothes, the grey sweater she was wearing was big, hung loosely off one shoulder and the spandex showed off what you could see below the hemline of said sweater, very well.
“Look at you! So punctual as always.” She praised and you said, “Oh I know I couldn’t keep Chucky waiting much longer or he would be totally insufferable.”
She held the door open and let you inside, “Trust me, I can handle him. You look fantastic again by the way, adorable sweater.”
You came in and set the bags down so you could take off your boots, “Awe thank you, same for you, looks like you could be in a hot chocolate commercial or something, so comfy.”
In the process of being half bent over you get a look at the fact Tiffany is wearing some very fuzzy and soft looking slippers. Your boots off you stand back up and she is smiling, you tell her, “Cute slippers.”
A glance down and she asks, “You like em?”
“They look comfortable but leopard print?” You ask and she laughs, “What? It isn’t like they are made of real leopards.”
You laughed loudly, “I know that!” Tiffany’s hand rests on your shoulder and she leans over, presses a kiss to your cheek before asking, “So what’s the problem then?”
My God, even that, the soft and small press of her lips to your cheek makes warmth spread through you along with the smear of gloss she left and all complaints and issues are forgotten. You sigh out as she squeezes your shoulder, “None, not a damn one.”
Caught up staring into her eyes for a moment then that familiar voice is cutting in, “Are you not telling me when our guests arrive anymore?”
A look over your shoulder to see him coming into the room, definitely the most dressed down you had seen him, also looking comfortable and at you, relief washes over you, glad you took it easy and didn’t overdress. “You know I think you can get away with wearing t-shirts more often.”
“Right? I keep telling him that all the time.” Tiffany agrees as her hand leaves your shoulder and he grins, “Starting on the praise already, making up for lost time?”
“Can you blame me?” He was close enough now that you opened your arms, invited him for a hug, he took you up on it but asked, while you were in his arms, “I know what this is really about, she is just tryna keep you all for herself and distracting from that with the sweet talk.”
“Heaven forbid I want some solo time before you get your grubby mitts all over her.” Tiffany taunted and he laughed, “Yeah, you weren’t complaining they were grubby earlier.”
She scoffed and he ignored her in favour of asking, “And what? No kiss hello for me?”
You exhale amusedly and roll your eyes, you are sure if any other guy said that to you the urge to clock them in the jaw would overwhelm but with him, saying it in that teasing tone, you can’t help but want to oblige. You pull back, hands remaining on his arms and you lean up and do just what he wanted. It wasn’t especially long but it didn’t need to be to have an effect on you just like hers had earlier. When you broke that kiss, back flat on your feet Tiffany had picked up your bags that you brought in, “Look at all the goodies you brought along!”
“Sweets for the sweet and all that.” You muse before telling them, “I made some guesses on what you both like for movie snacks.”
“Oh well we will have to grade how you did.” Chucky said with raised eyebrows as he pulled away and all of you moved into the living room, you threw your hands up, “Oooh scary.”
You had the chance to really take in their apartment, the last time you were sufficiently distracted but now you could really see it. The couch was comfortable looking, lower lighting provided by the few lamps scattered around, and facing the couch, a low coffee table, end tables bracketing said couch, a few windows and something you didn’t expect, plants. A few well tended potted plants were around of various types, you couldn’t place them but they looked nice, definitely added to the space, the lush pops of green are welcome after so much winter. Tiffany patted the spot next to her and you took it, Chucky sitting beside you before turning the bag upside down onto the coffee table.
“Milk duds? Hell yeah.” Tiffany praised as she plucked up the box and Chucky said, “Junior mints-”
“You got something against chocolate and mint, Chuck?” You cut in and he was already opening the box and popping one into his mouth, “Hardly, I think it’s an underrated combo, but telling that I open my mouth and you think I’m gonna be critical and complain.”
“Well when you do it so frequently-” Tiffany started and he bit back, reaching over you to playfully push her shoulder, “Shut it.”
“Awe, I thought you liked me with my mouth open?” She asked and he agreed and corrected her with a well timed raise of his eyebrows, the innuendo clear, “Open yes but full preferably.”
You cut in and ask, “So we making this popcorn I brought or what?” Tiffany picked up the package, dropping the box of candy for the moment and said, “Of course, on it.”
“Need any help?” You ask and she said while patting you on the shoulder, “I think I got it covered, but thanks honey.”
You could get so used to her calling you names like that. You watch her go and you are on the couch with Chucky alone, turning to him you asked, “So what did you and Tiff do that ended up running long? You never said.”
“Oh didn’t we? Nothing major, a work thing.” He shrugs and you realise at that moment that they had never told you what they did for work. How has that happened with how long you have been seeing them? It hits then, whenever you are making plans to hang out it is all centered around your work schedule with very little issues from either of them on their front, weird.
“You know you and Tiff never shared what you do for work.” You said and he asked, in a seemingly uninterested tone, “Didn’t we? Coulda sworn we did.”
“No, pretty sure you didn’t.” And after he didn’t say anything further you prompt him, “Soooo, what do you do?”
He glanced over to you, tipping the box over and letting a few more junior mints fall into his hand, “Freelance work, it’s real open ended and flexible, which is nice for us, gives us a ton of freedom.” He said it so easily and you had no reason to not believe him, before you could pry further into what KIND of freelance work Tiffany was coming back in, bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine, “You opposed to a few glasses?”
“Oooh not at all!” Tiffany grabbed wine glasses next and sat next to you again on the couch, she started to pour and Chucky asked, “So what did you rent anyway?”
“Two movies-” You reached out and snatched up the other bag, pulling one VHS tape out, “-Night Of The Lepus is up first.”
“Night of that what?” He asked as he took the tape, as if the clear plastic case would give him a better indication of the movie’s content and you said, “Lepus, Chuck. Night Of The Lepus.”
“The fuck is a Lepus?” You laugh and pluck the tape back out of his grip, “Guess you will have to just watch the movie and find out.”
“Yeah sweetface. I am sure it is going to be good if she picked it out.” You leaned over, a kiss to her cheek, “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She coos and in short order the tape is put in the VCR player and the three of you settle in to watch. You liked this, being between the pair of them, sinking into the cushions of the comfortable couch, ample snacks, a drink in your hand and casual points of contact. This feels right. Your thigh was against hers as she leaned into you and Chucky had his arm over your shoulders, his hand playing with some of the loose hair at the base of Tiff’s neck and you felt as relaxed and at ease as you do in your own apartment.
The movie is rolling and as expected for your little group, there was easy conversation and riffing about what was happening on screen.
The newscaster on the screen is speaking at this moment, “-it’s difficult to conceive that such an innocent furry rabbit, scientifically known as lepus, can be so destructive.”
“Oh so that is what lepus means? Rabbits?” Tiffany asks and Chucky chimed in, confused tone, “This movie is about what? Mutant bunnies?”
“Mutant killer bunnies. And yeah! Just wait, trust me, it’s to your taste.” You assure and he decides to but not without a roll of his eyes.
As the movie goes on Tiffany is very into it, when the scientists are capturing bat specimens she is even happier, “Bats AND bunnies? So cute.” Chucky smiled as he said, “You are just in heaven, aren’t you?”
He starts getting into it too, the jokes flow more, conversation more fast paced, Chucky pointing out, “They just blatantly re-used that news footage from the opening-”
“I like rabbits, mommy!” Exclaims the girl on screen which has him abandoning his original thought to say, “Yeah something tells me she won’t by the end of this.” The tone he says it with almost makes you choke on your sip.
“Wow those sure are some zoom-ins.” Tiffany said and Chucky asked, “What do you think they put on the rabbits faces for the blood?” You offered up, “Jam? I think it's probably jam.”
“Growling, the rabbits are growling.” You say and Tiffany laughs, “Did you hear that scream?!” Chucky himself laughing, “Like it came from 12-year-old, so high pitched-” You all on cue at the same time mocked it together before falling into another laughing fit.
“These rabbits just do not stop growling.” You say later on and Tiffany says, “I know they are big and bad and we are supposed to hate them but they are just still so cute!”
It is quiet for a moment before Tiffany asks, “Hey sweetface?”
Without turning his head he says firmly, “We are not getting a rabbit.” She pouts, “Oh why not?” He turned towards your direction, a hand landing on your knee as he said, “You did this, I’m blaming you.”
You put your hand on his knee in kind, leaning in closer as you say, “I’d apologize and say I’m sorry but It’d be a fat fucking lie, Chuck, so I’ll spare you.” He deadpans, “I love your honesty, it's so sexy.”
And more towards the end of the movie, you had an arm around her, saying, “They aren’t really dying Tiff.” She pulls her glass back from taking another hearty sip and says, “I know that but it looks so convincing, you know?”
Later still Chucky is saying, “They are talking about the railroad a lot.” And once the movie reached its finale, all the massive nearly car sized bunnies being electrocuted at the railroad trap that was set up he said, “Oh. Well fuck. It was important.”
Once it wrapped up Tiffany was still going on, “They are so big! Do you think I could ride one?” You ask, “Like a pony?” She excitedly agrees, “Yeah like a pony!”
“Well I gotta admit, for a dumb movie about killer bunnies, it was pretty entertaining.” Chucky said, giving it up and you say, “The jokes and drinking helped I am sure.”
Tiffany leaned over, a quick hug as she said, “The company did too.”
“Mannn, between this, the slippers, loving the bunnies, you are getting soft.” You tease and she lets you go, “Insulting me in my own home. So rude.”
“We gonna do some dinner before the next movie?” Chucky asks and you perk up, “Oh that sounds great! What are we thinking?”
“I pre-made a lasagna earlier in anticipation for this, can just put it in the oven and mid-way through the movie when it’s done I can serve it up and we can eat.”
“Look at you, thinking of everything.” He praised as she got up and with a big smile asserted, “Someone’s gotta.”
You got up, had been on the couch the whole time the movie was on, you stretched and asked them, “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Oh down the hall there.” You thank him and head off where he directed. When you were washing your hands you turned your head to look out the window and the whole thing was covered with snow. After you dried your hands you figured you should check this out further, you opened the window, took more force than you thought it would, the thing was practically frozen shut and when you got it open you were greeted with pure white sleet so thick you couldn’t see more than a foot in front of you. The chill was bitter, the wind biting and it had you slamming the window closed with a shiver, hands brushing over the front of your shirt, wiping away the snow that had stuck to you in the ten seconds you had the window open.
The weather channel lied. The storm has evolved into an all out blizzard and it is bad, the worst one in a long time. You come back outside and ask, “Have you seen outside?”
“No, why?” He got up and went over to the window and looked out, “Holy shit, it looks fuckin’ nightmarish out.”
“Yeah. Maybe I should uh get out of here before it gets worse?” Tiffany and Chucky shared a look before she looked back over her shoulder at you, “No way are you going out in that mess!”
“Yeah you should spend the night.” Chucky offered, and you asked, “Really? You’d be okay with that?”
“Duh of course. No way should you be out walking in that, we wouldn’t even drive you in it-” Tiffany said and you asked, “Wait drive? You guys have a car?”
“We do. We don’t drive her much in the winter in the city, that much salt you are just asking for rust problems.” Her, the car is a her, he is one of those car guys, you bet “she” even had a name, it was weirdly endearing, and also opened up lots of possibilities too for future dates. “Does he care for the car more than you?”
“Sometimes I wonder.” She muses, “And besides we still have another movie and dinner too.” She makes a good point, you don’t want to leave yet and it would be stupid and dangerous to try and brave that blizzard. The care and concern is sweet, you say, “Thank you both.”
Chucky waves you off, “Don’t even mention it, so how about that next movie?”
The oven had been preheated, dinner was in and going, drinks were refreshed and at that time Tiffany was asking, “And what is the second movie exactly?”
You snatched up the bag that had been pushed to one of the upper corners of the coffee table and brought out the second tape, “Stand By Me.”
“Oh, never seen it.” He admitted and you said, “Me either but I have read the original story by Stephen King.”
“What is it about?” She asked and you filled them in, “It’s about four twelve-year-old boys and this adventure they set out on to go see a dead body.”
“This is your follow up to giant killer bunnies?” Chucky accused, thoroughly amused and you laughed, “What? I thought it was a good follow up, much more mild, less nuts and out there, a palette cleanser if you will-”
“Just a weird double feature is all.” He says, hands up and Tiffany hums, “Unconventional certainly but I am more than willing.”
The VHS was slid into the VCR and the positions had changed on the couch, you were at one end, back against the arm rest, legs stretched over Tiffany’s lap she is leaning against Chucky as he is resting against the other end of the couch. You feel even more at ease, knowing you were spending the night, having your first sleepover with them, movies and dinner and drinks was the perfect recipe for relaxation.
You felt good, not really tipsy or even buzzed but rather light, happy, the wine they selected was great.
Chucky spoke up first, the same pattern as the last movie, talking about it as it went on, “These kids got some good insults.” Tiffany exhaled amusedly, “Yeah you really have to step it up.”
“Can’t be outshined by a gaggle of twelve-year-olds in the fifties, think of your rep Charles.” You tease and he gags, “Ugh, can we not?”
“What no Charles?” You ask and he says, “I’d rather we didn’t.”
“Touchy, touchy. But fine.” You conceded.
It was quiet for a while until he spoke up again. “Christ, everyone is doing it in this damn movie, I want a smoke.”
Tiffany carefully moved your legs off her lap, “Me too, open the window.” He gets up and goes over to the window and does so carefully, it is still coming down so he opens it just enough for a small crack to blow smoke out of. Both he and Tiffany have a smoke while standing on either side of the window, still in view of the tv.
“Train dodge?” Tiffany asked, shocked as three out of four friends tried to get the last one off the tracks, trying to explain why attempting to dodge the train was a terrible idea, and Chucky laughed on the exhale, “Oh this kid is gonna die.” You agree with a chuckle, “One hundred percent.”
You all watch as Chris manages to yank him off the tracks before disaster can strike and Chucky’s hands cup around his mouth as he calls, “Booooo, you shoulda let him try.” You laugh, “Is the body they are going to see not enough?”
He is musing as you all watch, “You know I’ve always wanted a dog-” Tiffany cuts him off, “So no pet bunny but we can get a dog you can train to bite balls off, real fair.” You are laughing hard, “My God what a sentence.”
“You would do that.” Tiffany said and Chucky asked, “Spit in your face? I mean, only if it got you off.” She bit back with, “Like it doesn’t get you off.” Causing Chucky to say, his fingers brushing over her cheek, the action soft and in no way matching his tone, “Never said it didn’t, I was only concerned for you.”
“Mmm real concerned, I’m sure.” Said Tiffany. Those moments you see between the pair of them are some of your favourites when sharing time together, the easy air and banter they share is amazing, you hope to reach a similar level one day.
You speak up, “You think the body is gonna be gross?” Chucky responded in turn, “I mean we can only hope.”
While watching the older group of guys in the gang carving into each other, Chucky asked Tiffany, “Should we brand each other?” She laughs as if the idea is hilarious, “Yeah, I’ll get your name right over my heart, how’s that sound?” You all share a laugh over that.
You mused after a while, during a lull with a sigh, “Bull-true. I love that.” Chucky asked, “That gonna end up in your daily lexicon?” You say, “It might.” He takes the chance for the joke, “Bullshit.” Tiffany groans with a roll of her eyes as he is busy snickering over his own quip.
The scene where the boys are crossing the train tracks over the river, nowhere to jump off without falling one hundred feet into the water you speak up, “You feeling this tension or just me?”
Chucky responds with a nod, he is sitting more forward, eyes locked on the screen, “No, no, I'm feeling it.” And when the train actually did show up Tiffany was gripping your arm hard, pretty manicured nails biting into your bicep through the wool of your sweater, “Shit, shit, shit, fuck! Are they gonna make it?!” The level to which Tiffany is into the scene playing on screen makes a smile break out on your face even with all of the previously commented upon tension, she is so cute.
They manage to but just barely and you exclaim, “God, that was so good.” Tiffany gets up, “Stressful more like, I need another smoke.”
The next few scenes were watched with them both at the window, indulging again. She says easily at one point between drags, “The word of the movie is sincerely.” He nods in agreement, “Seriously.”
Watching the kids around the fire, you speak, asking, “I don’t smoke so I don’t get it but is a smoke post meal really that good?” Chucky and Tiffany moan in unison just as he is closing the window and they have finished their second smoke of the movie, “Ohhh my Godddd-” she calls and him following up with, “Yes, yes yes-”
Their impassioned reaction gets another laugh from you, true you didn’t get it first hand but they sure got the point across.
Dinner was finally ready and you all ate in front of the tv as you did so, not wanting to interrupt the movie. It was really fucking good, you were impressed at the skill she displayed, you wished you knew how to make something this good. The fact she liked the dinner you made for them made you happy considering her own cooking ability. “Tiffany this is fantastic, and you just did this today?”
She shrugged as if it was no big deal, “Yeah this afternoon before you got here. I can show you how sometime, maybe have a date cooking together.” Chucky piped up, “I’m all for it.”
“Pfft, no shit, we do the work and you get to eat.” Tiffany laughed.
As the boys finished crossing the river, Tiffany groaned, “Oh nooooo, not leeches.” And Chucky states firmly, “This is why you will never, ever catch me swimming in a river.”
And finally the boys had reached the end of their journey and you spoke up, “Woah.”
Chucky was setting his plate aside, getting ready for that aforementioned post dinner smoke and his third of the movie, as he said, “There he is.” Tiffany asks, “What do you think? Worth it?” You shrug as you say, “I think it’s one of those things where it’s more about the journey than the destination.”
A mutual hum of agreement as the pair are lighting up.
It is silent during Chris’ comforting and Tiffany said quietly, “This kid is a good friend.” Something you and Chucky both agree with.
When the ending finally comes there is much exclamation, “Chris became a lawyer oh my God-” And very shortly afterwards, “And he dies?!”
“You show us this movie, get us all invested and Chris bites it?” Chucky asked and you defended yourself, “Yeah years later-” He presses on, “The point still stands!”
The credits roll and as Tiffany is collecting up plates as she says, “Still hurts either way.”
“That is the point though. This movie is like life, it’s happy but sad, funny but tragic, you know?” She concedes to you on that. Chucky turns to you, “These are the two weirdest movies you could have ever picked for our date night.”
“But?” You ask and he follows up, “But so fun.” Tiffany calls over her shoulder as she carries messy plates to the kitchen, “So fun!”
“Seriously you should pick for movie nights more often.” He praises and you ask, “We wanna do this a lot more then?”
He shrugs and says easily, “Shit, I mean why not?”
Why not indeed.
“Sooo the movies are all done, what do we want to do now, since I’m staying?” You ask and he says, “Cards and some tv?”
Sounded good to you, it was still a little early and so you all ended up sitting on the floor around the coffee table, some made for tv movie you didn’t care about providing background noise as you played. There was more conversation flowing over all manner of things, everything and nothing and whatever in between before another few hours later the decision to get into bed for the night was made. Tiffany loaned you something to sleep in, a rather large t-shirt that was warm and comfortable.
You were feeling tired but once you saw Tiffany’s choice in pyjamas, a tank top and short shorts you felt significantly more awake, looked like she had this set for a few years and it was criminally tight. You sat on the edge of the bed and joked, “So you saved the better pyjamas for yourself, I see how it is.”
“Ha, hardly, you look good, really cute.” She said easily, she was putting her hair up as she sauntered over to you and keeping eye contact was difficult, something she picked up on as she said, “You know you can look, right? It’s kinda what I am hoping for when I wear something like this.”
“Oh I know just what you mean.” You get bold and take what she said as an invitation to open your legs as your eyes drag over her curves. Your hand dropping down, you pull up the bottom of the t-shirt she loaned you and show off the frankly gorgeous lace and silk underwear you picked out hoping to impress her. Eyebrows raised and she says, “Yeah that is the kinda thing you wear when you wanna garner certain kinds of attention.”
She finishes putting up her hair and you ask, “Well do I have your attention?”
In place of a verbal response she leans down, hands rest on your thighs and she kisses you. The speed with which you return her affection is impressive, your hand lets go of the shirt and you reach out, hands on her biceps as you deepen the kiss and she hums into it. That is the moment you hear him come in, “Starting without me again. Is that the theme for tonight?”
You and Tiffany break the kiss with a laugh, big smiles as you look over Tiffany’s shoulder and she does the same, “You were taking too long and she showed me what she has on under this-” She pulled on the sleeve of the t-shirt you had on, “-and what am I supposed to do after that? Not kiss her?”
“Yeah, you snooze, you lose Chuck.” You tease and he comes over, “Apparently, and what exactly do you have on under this?”
He sits next to you on the bed, side saddle, one hand meets your knee and he makes a move to open your legs to get himself a peek and you forcefully keep your legs closed, pretending like you aren’t dying for him to see, “Ooh I dunno-”
“Tease.” He scoffs and Tiffany leans in again, she turns your face back to her, breaking the eye contact you had with Chucky and kissing you again, you melt in short order and focus on her instead. He is able to open your legs easily and when the fabric is pulled up he says, “Christ you weren’t kidding. How can any sane person with a heartbeat not want her after seeing that?”
The kiss was forcefully broken when he pushed you over onto your back and he climbed onto the bed. The action is surprising and honestly much too arousing, you like when he takes charge, the confidence works on him and you are into it.
He is moving closer as he is talking, “You know, we kept on talking about you while we were away.” He leaned down and you asked, “Yeah?”
“Could not stop thinking about how that last date ended.” He admits and Tiffany agrees, her hands hadn’t left your thighs and they were moving upwards now. “You were too hot for words.”
Her saying that about you? As she is bent at the waist, her finger starting to dip below the edge of your t-shirt, her ample cleavage on display from the angle, biting her bottom lip and that mischievous glint in her eyes, you think that “too hot for words” fits her much, much better. You still graciously accept the compliment on your oral skills and apparently how good you looked while doing it.
“I can’t stop thinking about it either.” You divulge as their hands start wandering quickly, her fingers run over your hips before beginning to move back down and his hand is sliding up your side, thumb tracing the curve of your breast and you say, “I want to do more too if you both do-”
“You think we can resist when you are spending the night in our bed, especially wearing something like this?” Tiffany asks as her fingertips brush over the soft edges of the delicate material that was currently encasing your quickly dampening cunt. He was so close now as he told you, “Yeah c’mon, we are only human and we can only show so much restraint.”
Thank fucking God, this has been coming for way too long and with it being so explicitly stated means all bets are off, you can hardly wait to indulge but that doesn’t mean there is any reason to rush.
You tell him, “So stop holding back.” Before your hand is on the back of his neck, leaning up the last bit, you kiss him, and even though you initiated that kiss, he is soon the one taking over and leading it.
He clearly takes what you say to heart, they both do, because clothes are coming off in between heated kissing, his shirt and her shorts, and you take off the shirt Tiffany had loaned you, all in all you ended up wearing it for less than ten minutes and when it was taken off both of them pause. The bra was part of a set, it sat on your body beautifully but didn’t leave much to the imagination since the cups were sheer, intricate lace that matched the panties curling around the edges and framed your nipples. “God, she is asking for it, isn’t she?”
You were.
Tiffany didn’t give much more than a hum with a nod in response, she was on her knees, kissing up your leg as her hand found its way in between, deft fingers stroke up and you arch into her touch. You were plenty warmed up, her fingers slide back down, more pressure and it draws from you a quiet exhale, head falling back and he takes the opportunity to kiss up your neck one of his hands feeling up your chest. His fingers get greedy, dipping into your bra, blunt nails catch on your hardening nipples and the small edge of pain the action provides makes the pleasure radiating out below your waist increase. Tiffany was very into her current task, head resting on your inner thigh, fingers touching, rubbing consistent and steady circles through the satin like fabric over your clit, taking in every reaction of your body as well as watching the sight of the wet spot steadily growing.
“You good down there?” The question is spoken into the hollow of your throat, another kiss ending his sentence and making your breath stutter as her fingers press harder, she speaks, “So good.”
“I bet.” You feel his smile against your neck, fingers squeeze your nipple and he continues on, “Little known thing about Tiff is she looooves lingerie-”
“Really?” You ask breathlessly with a big smile, the wash of pleasure increasing between the pair of them working you over, “Guilty.” She sighs.
“Maybe we should go lingerie shopping together sometime.” You suggest absentmindedly, the friction of the thin layer of fabric between your clit and her fingers is making it hard to breathe normally and Tiffany perked right up, fingers slowly slightly, “Oh you mean it?”
“Yeah, I am sure you have all kinds of things you want to see me in.” You tease and Chucky chimes in, “Think we both have lots of things we want to see you in.”
Tiffany agrees and you ask, “Like?”
He huffs, teeth grazing your pulse point before he asked, “You want to keep talking or do you want to get fucked?”
She was moving your underwear out of the way, fingers hook in the wet material and she pulls, her thumb stokes over your clit and you gasp out the answer they were hoping for, “Fucked, definitely fucked.”
“God I cannot wait to see that.” Tiffany’s voice, Christ, it was enough to do your head in on an average day, but like this, almost naked, their hands all over, and the tone she spoke in, it clued you into how desperate she was for it, clearly she was being genuine. You had the smallest wondering if she had masturbated to the thought, the idea of her doing that at all, thinking of you getting railed by her boyfriend or otherwise has your hips bucking to get closer to her touch. Her other hand is on Chucky, nudging him and he takes the hint, he is still close to you but more on his back, his hands abandoning you for the time being, she is helping him out of the rest of his clothing. Her touch on you at this moment is light, rocking gently, you get lost in the feeling and before you know it he is completely naked.
Your attention is drawn to this because of the groan he lets out, your eyes start at his face, the expression he is wearing is betraying what is already going on, but still you take your time to see it for yourself. You treat it as if it were something you had been greatly looking forward to, which to be honest, you had, allowing time to indulge, not wanting to ruin it by taking it in too quickly, appreciating it. Your eyes are raking down his chest and stomach to then see it live and in colour, Tiffany with one hand around his shaft and the head of his dick between those pretty kissable lips of hers. This is still so new but you sincerely doubt you are ever going to tire of seeing the pair of them be physical with each other.
Now that she is in a good rhythm with him she picks up the pace on you once more, you had no idea that she was so good at multitasking. Between the pleasure she was foisting on you and the view and sounds of Chucky you can’t take it, you need more, you reach out, a hand meets his cheek and you bring his face over to you, initiating a deep kiss that both of you moan into. It continues on like that, the energy is impressive, all of you are feeding into each other, Tiffany’s tongue flicks over his tip and the inhale is draws from him makes more heat spark inside of you and kiss him deeper, the brush of his own tongue on yours makes you moan and causes her to redouble her efforts and it just doesn’t stop. In between kisses you ask, “How do you stand it?”
“Mmm? What you mean, ugh, her?” He laughs a little breathlessly, a groan spilling out after that and you nod, “Yeah, exactly, her, she’s too much.”
Tiffany pulls up, he leaves her mouth with a wet pop and she teases, a call back to a previous joke he had made on your last date “The most.”
You love this too much, the way that even with the hot and heavy atmosphere, feeling this good, you can all still joke around and keep it light. Your forehead leans against his as you snicker, “And funny too, you got yourself quite a catch.”
“Yeah we lucked out big time.” He agrees, his mouth is back on yours and you feel yourself melting.
“You flatter me so.” She sighs but your mind is caught up on the “we” still. You wonder if it was an accident or purposeful but him saying we in this context isn’t a small thing. No time to follow up or question however, Tiffany has two fingers sliding into you as she is back to sucking his dick and you are moaning with a grind of your hips to increase the feeling she gives. Between the hot and heavy make out you keep on stealing glances at her, whenever you and he break apart your eyes are drawn down to see how she is taking him nearly to the base with no issue. Her hand and mouth moving in tandem, you notice too that when she takes him as deep as she can that is when she curls her fingers into you, her thumb swirling over your clit while she pulls him out, the level of control she has over you and him is enough to leave you speechless.
Unlike before you are leading the kiss now, keeping it fun, playful, ample moans and when you can manage to get the words out, scattered praise for Tiffany is spoken until she is the one who can’t take it anymore, she is the one to push it further. She slides him out of her mouth, resting her head on his thigh, her hand still stroking him and her fingers curling into you again, “Are you both ready?”
“Oh you all needy, hon?” He asks with a surprisingly lack of condesension and a smile, she nods, “I want to see you fuck her.”
Heaven above how she says that, you clench on her fingers, speaking of his fingers, they brush over your cheek and while catching your gaze he asks, “Well? You ready?”
A bite of your bottom lip before you practically moan out, “God thought you’d never ask.”
You were dying for this just as much as they both were, is it possible to be so hot and bothered that your own blood can threaten to boil you alive in your veins? You have no clue but the culmination of all this time with them about to come to a head, to get fucked by both of them, in their bed, a total dream come true, soaked and more than ready you don’t need the rest of your clothing.
Her hands slip away and his hands are on you, he helps you, taking care of your bra and you sliding your panties off, now completely bare and then he is helping move you how he wants.
Repositioning you is easy, you wonder if they had planned this because they both seem to be on the exact same page about just how they wanted to have you, not like you have any complaints about that. You are on your side, Chucky is behind you, his back practically to your chest as Tiffany is getting onto the bed, taking her tank top off as she does so and now she is in just her panties and your eyes are wide, “Holy fuck-”
His chin on your shoulder, looking over to see the view of Tiffany in barely anything and he says, “I never, ever get tired of seeing that. Her body is fucking insane, those tits? I mean come onnn-” His hands are on you, the small shake as he moans that out makes you giggle.
She is throwing the garment aside with a fond roll of her eyes and a smile on her lips, one hand in his hair, an arch of her back pushing her chest out further and she asks you softly, “You wanna touch?”
You tell her, “If I ever say no to that I think you can assume something is seriously wrong with me.” She scoots closer as she says with a smile, “Well go ahead.”
You do as she encourages, one hand cupping her and she is impossibly soft and incredibly warm, she sighs, leaning more into your touch, eyes falling closed and your thumb circles one of her nipples. All of the nice tits comments and filthy compliments aside that you could tell her, instead you utter completely sincerely, “You’re fucking beautiful. Just my God, Tiffany, you’re stunning.”
Her smile widens and she looks almost shy? As if she wasn’t expecting you to say that, and certainly not so sweetly and earnestly, you sound practically awed and that gets to her. Makes her heart beat faster, she wonders if you can feel it as you explore. Shocking Chucky doesn’t make some kind of comment on this but you do feel him grind against you, his enjoyment of the view more than apparent.
You vaguely register him pulling away for the moment and hearing the sound of the nightstand drawer pulling open and snapping closed, Tiffany has gotten more comfortable, she is on her side in front of you, she had initiated another kiss as your fingers carefully pinched her nipple between two fingers and rolled it. His hands are on you once more and his hand is between your legs, starting to move, you take the hint, moving with him so he is holding your leg out of the way, your other leg resting tangled between his, chest to back and you feel him there, hard shaft grinds over your lips and you moan into her mouth.
You break the kiss as his mouth is next to your ear, warm breath sends a shiver up your spine he is grinding against you, wetness from you spreading onto him, head of his dick bumping over your clit. Eyes flit down and you manage to catch a glimpse and the view is hot, you also realise why he leaned away before, while caught up playing with Tiffany he’d grabbed a condom. You were glad you didn’t have to ask, this was still so new, the first time you were doing this so of course it was a necessary precaution, who’s to say it will always be this way, if it is just you and Tiffany being with him there isn’t a reason to not feel him bare.
It’s just another fun thing to look forward to honestly, this is just the first of many.
He doesn’t need to ask because you take the initiative, reach down, fingers meet his shaft and you tilt your hips back, the position just right you push back as he moves forward and finally starts to sink inside. Your eyes close with a sharp inhale, it doesn’t hurt, far from it with how prepared you are, the stretch of him sliding halfway in on that first stroke feels exquisite. You can feel Tiffany’s eyes locked on the point of connection between you and Chucky, his grip on your thigh near the back of your knee tightens, he pulls out most of the way before driving back in, deeper, causing you to take more and you moan his name softly. A few more purposeful rocks of his hips and he is completely inside, he exhales heavily into your ear, you feel his forehead rest against you, both soaking in the feeling for a moment before Tiffany’s hand on your cheek snaps you out of it. Your eyes open to see her right there, so close you can feel her body heat and she asks, “How’s it feel?”
You don’t know if it is meant to be directed at you or him but you both answer anyway. First you, choking out, “So good, so full-” and then him, “Tight, wet, amazing.”
A steady pace is started, not fast or slow, a good even tempo that has you wanting to go limp in his grasp. One hand still occupied with holding your leg out of the way, his other arm was hooked around your body, over your shoulder, hand resting over your breasts, the extra point of contact makes it easier still to maneuver you, pull you down as he fucks up. Tiffany is watching intently, her bottom lip is tugged between her teeth, flushed cheeks and eyes flitting over, trying to capture every moment and movement and detail. She is really into this, you knew she would be but this is still a pretty big line to cross, fucking her boyfriend in their shared bed right in front of her, and there seems to be not a single hint of jealousy, no she loves it, that helps you sink even further into it. A turn of your head and you manage to catch his lips in a sloppy kiss, you start to move too, desperate to make this better, increase the feeling as you rock together.
“He’s being so nice to you.” She praises and you break that kiss with a laugh, asking, “Is he us-usually me-an?”
He exhales amused and thrusts harder into you, “I can be.” He breathes that to you in a way that makes you clench around him, maybe you’d like him being mean to you.
“M’ sure he won’t be able to be on his best behaviour forever.” Tiffany tells you and you want to sigh out, “Promise?” But instead an incoherent moan leaves you because Tiffany’s hands are getting back to work, fingers press to your clit and swirl making the euphoria spike aggressively. A weakened and hiccupping moan of her name as your movements become sloppy, trying to buck back onto Chucky is becoming more difficult with both of them so focused on you.
“Fuck Tiff, keep going.” Was he reading your mind when he said that because you were about two seconds from begging for that yourself, his breathing is as laboured as yours. You didn’t think you’d last much longer like this at all and the small fact of that, of getting close makes it worse, unable to keep any of the sounds inside, moaning openly. Tiffany’s fingers working over your sensitive flesh as he continues to fuck into you, steady and deep strokes you are panting, your head raises from where it had been laying on Chucky’s arm that was still hooked around you, managing to catch his gaze. The eye contact is intense, the shared heavy breathing, bodies moving together and consistently getting better, adjusting and figuring each other’s bodies out, your eyes break away only for a second to catch Tiffany’s, she presses harder and you whine out that you are getting close. It is only a few minutes into this and you are threatening to fall apart between them, your hand catches the back of Tiffany’s neck, you pull her close, kissing her, tongue in her mouth and she returns your affection with a groan of her own.
“Shit, you’re too hot-” Chucky pants out, his grip on your leg just might leave bruises, you don’t care as he fights to keep pace, “-practically stranglin’ me, so tight I can barely fuck-ing move.”
You are right there, on the very edge, your mouth slips from hers, face buried in her neck and with the combination of one more purposeful thrust from him and a move of her hand you gasped out a pathetic warning of, “-cumming!”
“Yes, fuck yes, come on.” His encouragement fills your ears and makes your skin under his touch tingle. Before it happens, you slip and ecstasy overtakes, body tenses further, trembling as the weight of the feeling threatens to crush you, no real coherent sound, just pitched fluctuations of your breathing and murmurs that could be read as curses if you squint hard enough. You don’t think, you just feel, completely given over to the moment and to them. Her touch only begins to ease when your whimpering sounds like it is beginning to border on painful, he doesn’t relent though, it draws the remnants of your orgasm out for a long time, eventually you do regain some words, mostly it is his name, muttered between kisses you laid on Tiffany’s throat where your face is still buried. You can’t see but you are positive she is touching herself now, the way her moans are mixing with yours and his, how her body shudders, your tongue darts out and tastes the salt of her skin and she arches closer to you.
Chucky’s entire body is nearly pressed to yours, he is talking again, fractured praise, “So good, I knew you would be but fuck, you-you’re-” His sentence trails off with another groan as his hips slam into yours but you don’t care, even without finishing the compliment it effects you deeply.
When she moves away you want to question it, want to ask what she is doing but it becomes clear in short order, she sinks down. Her hand that isn’t between her own is on your inner thigh, she managed to get in just the right position and she moved in, her lips press gently and carefully to your straining clit and your body reacts as if shocked, spasming with a cry, he must feel it too from the hiss he lets out. “Goddamn you just clenched so hard-”
Tiffany listens, her own fingers are moving quickly between her legs but her mouth moves faster, pretty pink tongue licks up over and over a few times, pulling delicious sounds from you whenever she does before her lips lock around the throbbing nub and she sucks. This one has very little build up, it seems one minute you aren’t and the very next you are, as if she forcefully dragged you to the edge and threw you over the cliffs edge into heaven in a few short minutes. You are calling her name, fingers tangled in soft blonde hair as you ground on her tongue and just when you’re orgasm is at its peak you push on her head, she doesn’t relent, she forces you to feel every single bit of it and only leaves you when she is satisfied with her work.
You are still shaking, trying to breathe through the aftershocks when three last hard thrusts cause your whole body to move once more with his spell Chucky’s end, your name staining his tongue as he drives that last time to the hilt and holds as he spills into the condom. You feel him slightly trembling through his high and that makes you smile dreamily, feeling powerful you were able to do that, he released this huge breath and sighs as his body starts to go slack, “Jesus, holding out till you were done was practically torture.”
You clear your throat, finding your voice you say, “M’ sure it’s the kinda torture you’ll happily come back for a second helping of.”
He laughs breathlessly, “You’re not wrong.”
The sentiment is nice, him caring enough to make sure you got yours before getting his, he slowly pulls out with a grunt and he lets go of your leg, your hand comes back, you rub your hip as you close your legs again, you feel incredible but this wasn’t over yet. He is on the same page as you because now that the condom was thrown away he was moving closer to Tiffany. She just did a ton of heavy lifting for you both, helped make the first time he fucked you incredible and saw to it that you and he came insanely hard and the only thing on both yours and his minds were returning the favor. You realised she was still wearing those panties and you had to do something about that. Your fingers hook into the sides of the thin material covering the last part of her and you begin to move it out of the way, sliding them down her thighs and exposing her to you.
Keeping your mouth closed was impossible, it is involuntary, your lips parting slightly as seeing her totally bare and Chucky laughs, you look over to see him, head pitched forward, shaking his head slightly, fuck, his hair was a mess from how your hand was buried in it at one point while he fucked you. “What is so funny, Chuck?”
“Nothin’ just-” His hand runs through his hair before popping back up, sideways smile, as he says, “-I had that exact same look first time I saw her naked.”
“Only the first time? Try every time.” Her tone is light but at the same time it is undercut with clear need, “Can you blame a guy? You look like you were ripped right outta a magazine.”
He leaned down, a kiss to her forehead and you reached out, your hand touched down and her legs jerk at the feeling, she was drenched, absolutely soaked and as you learned within a minute, very responsive. You had just cum twice in pretty quick succession, you felt totally satisfied but she was changing that. He was kissing her, hand stroking over her neck and moving to play with her ample chest, you got more comfortable as you used your hands, your head was swimming, finally touching her after so long, hearing the sounds she made, how different touches made her react, you ended up pressing your thighs together when your fingers slipped into her, she gasped your name into his mouth and fuck, you did that.
She felt incredible inside, slick, pulsing, tight, if it feels this good for your fingers to be inside her you can only imagine what it is like for him to fuck her. He is pulling away from her kisses to ask, “How’s she doing?”
“Amazing-” She sighed that out, lips parted and eyes half lidded in bliss, and he is ginning, “Yeah seems like.”
He looks over to you and then sits up again, he motions for you to come closer, you do so, leaning nearer and not stopping touching, he whispers to you, telling you, “Make it like you are crossing your fingers like you’re lyin’, twist em back and forth and then curl them up and press hard.”
Your nose wrinkles in confusion but you do as he suggests, upon you following his instruction, her whole body bows and she cries out louder than you have ever heard previously, your eyebrows raise in shock and he teases, “Told ya.”
It turns out that she didn’t need long, between him pinching her nipples, whispering more commands on just what to do, she is cumming on your fingers loudly within five minutes. You wished you looked half as good as she does when she cums, you are totally captivated, the way her body rolls and the moans she lets out, it’s nothing short of pure art.
Her hand locks on your wrist and she begs, “Please, stop, fuck-”
You do, you’d been so caught up in her that you hadn’t let up for a second, overstimulation must have been setting in hard, poor thing, you slowly and reluctantly pull your fingers out. Before you get the chance to taste her he is pulling your fingers into his mouth and your mouth drops in shock, “You asshole! I worked hard for that treat-”
Your fingers pop out and he says wetly, “You want it? Come get it.”
“You’re such a bitch.” You sighed but you still pulled him nearer and kissed him either way. Sharing the taste of her when you kissed him might just be one of your new favourite things. When the affection finally reached a natural end, Tiffany said, “My legs might not be working right now but don’t leave me out.”
You and Chucky oblige. You both kiss her, one after the other and wrap her up in your arms. Sweaty and tangled limbs all cuddling on top of the messed up sheets as you relax and breathng slowly starts to even out. "That was-" You start, voice trailing off.
"Is there no words, again?" Tiffany asks and you say, "Nope! I swear to God I have a good vocabulary, my brain just doesn't work after what you both do to me."
"Awe yeah sweet thing, you are real smart, we both know it." Tiffany praised. "Fucking you dumb is a good pass time." He muses as he presses a kiss to your cheek.
The come down takes a long while. The bedroom window is cracked the smallest amount possible because it got stiflingly hot in the room as well the snow still coming down so hard making opening it any further a stupid idea. The pair of them doing what you has to assume is their normal ritual post fuck, both lighting up for another cigarette. You were still naked but actually in bed now, under the sheets and just watching them. Sitting up in the low lamp light, easy conversation and joking between the pair, she had his shirt on and he’d tugged his underwear back on, both their hair a mess and you just felt happy. Really fucking happy.
Nowhere to be, just soaking up the moment with them. He asks, “Is there any of that lasagna left?”
“What are you hungry at this time of night?” She asks on an exhale of smoke and he says, “Yes I am, all that really took it out of me.”
“Sex like that is hungry work, I have to say I could do with a snack myself.” You say and between the pair of you she can’t say no. So at nearly three AM, smokes finished, the three of you are sitting up in bed and sharing a plate of lasagna, by the time you all do fall asleep it’s almost four and you are thoroughly exhausted and slotted between them, you are positive this has to be the best sleepover you’ve ever had.
Would it be weird to send a thank you letter to the weather station for getting the forecast so wrong and making all this happen? Probably. And yet you were still considering it.
Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Ten: "Getting Better All The Time." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.
Okay! Here it is! Chapter fucking ten at long last. So I hope everyone loves this, shit is getting serious in a lot of ways. Just wait for shit to pick up after this one because it is about to go off. I’d looove to see ChatGTP do something like this but we all know that it is incapable. Either way, I adore this fic, it’s my baby, I am obsessed with it, this has some moments in it that I have had planned since the fic was in the planning stages. Masterlist for the whole series here. Shoutout to @eggsandbeer for the proofread on this and betaing it. Enjoy!
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Rating. Somewhat NSFW. Length. 6.6K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Softness. Fluff. Mentions Of Sex. Emotional Closeness. Cunnlingus. Smoking. Drinking. Serious Emotional Developments. Mentions Of Murder.
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Why did the lasagna she made earlier taste even better when reheated? Was it that you were that hungry or was it the fact that Tiffany is the one currently feeding it to you while you are post sex and still in the warm sheets of her and Chucky’s bed that made it so delicious? You did not know and you did not care, you found that to be the trend when you were with them.
“You have to show me how to make this.” You sighed with your hand over your mouth, trying to still be polite even with the bite she fed you, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.
She is leaning against Chucky, her head on his shoulder, you take them in at this moment, they look so right next to each other, the easy physical contact between the pair is second nature. Tiffany responds to you, “Name the time and place.”
“So you were serious about your offer before?” You inquired and she gave a questioning look before you filled in the blank, “When you said you would show me how to cook?”
She sounded slightly confused, “I said show you some recipes but don’t you know how to cook? You made us that great dinner.”
“Yeah, those burgers were fucking good.” Chucky affirmed with a nod and you looked away, “Welll-...I’m not that great at cooking, I know how to make like five things, I eat out and do takeout the rest of the time, I don’t have that many skills in the kitchen. But I’d really like to get better.”
Tiffany’s hand landed on your knee, your eyes drop to the new point of touch before looking up to see that she leaned closer and said, “Oh sweetheart, c’mon we all have gaps in places, if you didn’t have someone to take the time to show you, how would you ever know?”
She was so impossibly sweet. A soft smile creeps onto your face as you respond, “You make a good point.”
“So it’s settled, I’ll show you how to cook.”
She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, with a casual shrug. You couldn’t wait.
When you all did settle down for sleep it wasn’t like a typical sleepover. No talking in the dark for hours, you were all beat, their bed was comfortable, on top of that you felt so safe, you passed out between the pair of them sometime around four in the morning. You didn’t wake up until a while after noon, the start of the morning, or afternoon rather, was slow. You weren’t in a rush to get out of bed, you didn’t have anywhere to be for hours yet. Once you were all aware of being awake you managed to get even closer together. You didn’t know that being in bed like this, squished between two people could feel so fucking good, it doesn’t feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable or too hot, you just feel embarrassingly and overwhelmingly happy.
You all move slowly.
No real rush. You didn’t have work for hours yet, not till tonight, and intended to soak up this last bit of time with them. Chucky is brushing his teeth and you are sitting on their bed while Tiffany is perched in front of her vanity, brushing her hair and she breaks the comfortable silence to suggest, “How about we all go out for breakfast?”
Sounded perfect to you and the pleased hum of agreement that comes from the bathroom tells you that he thinks so too.
You get in your jeans and Tiffany offers you a shirt, you all get your stuff together and around a half hour later are stepping out of their apartment building into the warm sunlight. The storm is definitely over but Christ the city got dumped on hard, piles of snow everywhere, the snowplows still hadn’t caught up even though it is almost one p.m. There was, of course, only one option of where to go to eat.
The diner you love, the one near your work, that same one that you ran into them that rainy night and they invited you to stay and talk. It wasn’t busy at the moment, you end up in that same booth, both of them on the other side and you across from them just like before, you had the coats piled on the seat next to you, menus in hand and coffee in mugs, more awake as you talk about what to get. You know you look a bit ridiculous, the smile just will not leave your face but you are too happy to care.
You think you might have ordered a little too much, the table is practically covered between the plates of food, mugs of coffee and glasses of juice. You wanted sweet but also craved something more savoury so compromise was made. You all got your own more traditional meals, bacon, eggs, hash browns but got a big plate of the small stack of pancakes to split.
The mood is light and seemingly brightening, Chucky doesn’t seem like much of a morning person but with coffee and food he seems to be much more present, Tiffany also seems to be in better spirits. They both got their eggs the same way as that previous night, his over easy, hers scrambled with chives, she prefers white toast, he takes rye and you like learning all these small details that help make them, them. The tiny things that they like and dislike, that you come to know through spending ample time with someone or in their case, someone’s.
“So what are the best pancakes?” You asked as you were cutting into the one you’d just hauled onto your plate, and Chucky answers easily, “Chocolate chip.”
“Really?” You asked and he hums, “I don’t always want something sweet but when I crave it I want it really sweet.”
“Fair enough and you?” The question is posed to Tiff and she says, “Plain jane, butter and syrup is enough.”
You told her with a smile, “Weak answer. I expected better of you.”
She quirked a brow at your teasing, responding with, “Yet we got the plain and you’re busting my balls.” And you tell her, “Blueberry is clearly the best, when the berries are in season it is divine but sadly, tragically they are-”
“Out of season, yeah I get you. So you’re stuck with subpar cakes, how terrible.” She reaches across the table and holds your hand and you sigh, “Right? I am so hard done by.”
Chucky was cutting into his eggs as he said with a smile, “Poor thing. You should kiss that frown right off her face.”
If only you weren’t in public then she could, she lets go of your hand and picks up her knife and fork again.
“I am shocked he doesn’t pull that card more often.” Tiffany said and you responded before you take a sip of your coffee, “I think it might get worse now that he’s fucked me.”
“Think?” Tiffany questioned and you laughed and he glanced around as he said, “Ignoring how mean you both are to me-” once sure no one in the place was looking or listening he was leaning closer over the table and he said quieter, “-how fun was last night?”
“Oh my God.” Tiffany put down her silverware a little too loudly and you nearly dropped your mug at the flood of memories as well as how candid he was being, your response leaves you hushed and quickly as you reply, “Unreal. I am pretty sure if we filmed and tried to sell it we might never have to work again.”
“Wow one time in and she’s ready to be a porn star, you know how to pick em Chucky.” He fires back at her, “Like you weren’t loving seeing her and I fuck.”
“Oh no I was very, very into it.” She admitted and you bite your bottom lip for a moment and nod, “Yeah Tiff we both felt how wet you were, we know.”
This was great. Being able to go out and quietly but openly talk about how great the sex you had with them last night in hushed tones over plates of bacon and eggs is fantastic, it’s needed and thoroughly exciting.
You paid for breakfast since Tiffany made dinner last night and you all end up outside the place saying good-bye. They were lighting up for their first smoke of the day, post meal, and Chucky said on an exhale of smoke, “Great time last night, can’t wait to do it again.”
“Me either. Wish we could keep hanging out but I have to go return these tapes and do some stuff before work.” You explained and Tiffany waved you off, “No worries, we’ll see you soon. I’ll get that shirt back from you one way or another.”
“You’ll have to steal it off my back.” You tell her with a wave.
“Tempting, tempting.” Tiffany said and Chucky chimed in and you hear him asking her as you break off, “I get a front row seat, right?”
You laugh with a shake of your head as you head into the opposite direction, you return those video tapes, you have a shower, get ready for work and have as good a shift as you can.
Things with them just got so much better, it really felt like that sleepover brought you much closer together.
They visit you more often at work again, you have dates here and there. You have planned dates and short spur of the moments that you carve out in busy schedules to show how important you all are to each other as well as being able to just satisfy those needs to spend time together. Some of these dates included more dinners out, grabbing coffee, another movie here and there and of course, enjoying the new expanded physical aspects of your relationship immensely.
You are happier than you thought possible, you didn’t think you needed a serious romantic attachment like this, assumed you were content as is but this isn’t the first time that you were wrong about something. You are deep in the honeymoon period of dating them and intend on just soaking it up.
It had been about three weeks since that first sleepover and there hadn’t been another one yet but you didn’t mind that at all, things had been a little hectic and you had seen them more than enough to make up for it. You even had some fantastic solo dates with them one on one which were really great. You loved spending time together but appreciate that you could spend time with just one of them and there were no weird feelings or jealousy. Being able to get together with just two of you was easier at times than being able to get all three of you in the same place, you are glad that you all were on the same page, if you only saw them when you could be a trio you would see them much less.
You had that solo date with Tiffany about a week and a half after your sleepover. She and Chucky had stopped by your work for a drink and after you set down her glass she took your hand before you could pull it away and said, “I love your nails. Where do you get them done?”
The current colour was a good one, you had painted them this adorably soft glittery kind of blush pink, nail ends longer and rounded, they were shiny and bright. You painted them last week and liked how they looked against the darker uniforms you usually wore for work along with the harsher make-up, the dichotomy was fun. “I paint them myself.”
Her jaw drops, she brings your hand up closer, inspecting your fingers more carefully and said, “No way! These are like salon quality! Like I thought this was a professional manicure.”
You respond to her, smiling warmly, “Tiffany, Jesus that is so sweet, you mean it?”
“I do! You totally have to do mine!” Her eyes were bright, her smile big and her hands felt so soft as they held yours, you tell her, “I’d love to.”
So a date was made that night. Chucky encouraged it heavily since he had something to do and the next day Tiffany was coming to your apartment after lunch for a little spa date in. You let her in and soon you are sitting at the kitchen table, nail kit out, radio on and she sat with you as you began to scrub the old colour off her nails, “This is so nice, I was going to go pay for a manicure this week but now you are saving me some money.”
“About time after how much you and Chuck spend on me.” You tease as you remove the deep purple and she asks, “So where did you learn to do this?”
“Self taught. I love having nice nails, I think it makes a good impression, I love how they make me feel, so I thought instead of spending money I thought why not do it myself?”
“I love that.” She said it so sincerely and this was lovely. Having her alone in your place, doing one of your favourite things, is there a better way to spend an afternoon? She leaned over, she kissed you and your fingers stopped working for a moment as you returned it, leaning over, kissing her deeper, revelling in it before she moved back, breaking it. You have her nails clean and you are shaping them with a nail file and asked, “What colour are you thinking of?”
“I am considering black.” You hummed, you thought of her with sharp shiny onyx nails and it is a good look, you nod and agree with her, “I think that would look great.”
You focused on filing and a comfortable silence fell over you both. Your mind however was still whirring and running, you had been getting into this habit ever since that sleepover, you started to feel more comfortable overall and would ask them questions about the relationship Chucky and Tiffany had before you were in the picture. The questions were small and quick, posing them to her or him on occasion when they pop up, “When did you get together?” “What is the first meal you cooked for Chucky?” “How did you bond so quickly?”
You got satisfactory answers and they found it sweet you wanted to know, it had gotten to a point they were offering up some information on their own. Which led to this, to now, a break in the conversation, with you starting up the conversation by asking quietly, “Is there anything about Chuck you don’t know?”
“Oh I dunno, he has told me a lot but I don’t think I know everything, you however, still have so much to learn.” She muses and you ask with a small smile, “Yeah? Like what?
Her grin nearly splits her face, eyes full of mischief, she asks, “Are you trying to get me to tell all his secrets?”
“No, God no, not all of them, Tiff.” You tell her before asking, “How about you just start by telling me one?”
“Just one?” She asks and you nod, “Just one.”
“How am I supposed to pick?” She muses and you cut in, “How about your favourite one?”
The look in her eyes shifts, she says, “I can do that.” She thinks, takes a moment and hums and then she says, “I got just the one.”
“Ooh this’ll be good.” You say mostly to yourself and she says, “You have no idea how good.”
You finished filing, you were cleaning up and preparing to start painting her nails, “Well don’t keep me in suspense forever hon.”
“I won’t! I’m just building tension.” She assures and after another beat she tells you, “He loves art.”
That makes your eyebrows raise, “He loves art?”
“Loves it, more than that he is an artist himself, a painter mostly.” She says it so sincerely and you just have to believe her but still you question, “What does he paint?”
“Portraits, abstract, still life, fuck, almost anything and everything that strikes him just right.” She says and you say, genuinely surprised, “No fucking way.”
You love that, appreciate the fact she shared something so personal. “And how is he gonna feel about you sharing that?”
“He might not be the biggest fan but it will come out eventually, plus, I bet he will ultimately end up thanking me for it.”
“So confident.” You sigh as you shake the bottle of polish, she asks you, “Can you blame me?”
“I can not.” You unscrew the cap of the polish and take her hand, and you say as you bring the brush down, “You know, I’m something of a painter myself.”
She laughed, head tipping back as you start to paint, “Yeah you bring that up to him and I am sure he will find that hysterical.”
Your conversation continues as you work, she tells you in soft tones about sweet things he had done, times he got her gifts, dates they had, intimate dinners, moments of tenderness and closeness and it makes you ache. You love what they have and adore that you get to be included and privy to this information. Your gaze moves up from painting her nails, taking in her expression as she has this heart wrenching gorgeous smile on her face, telling you about the time he managed to get her a reservation for a truly wonderful birthday dinner for her.
He makes her happy and that makes you happy too.
Once they are done you are screwing the bottle top back on and telling her, “Right, they are done, tell me what you think.”
She excitedly turned her hands over, fingers folded over to check them out up close and you watched the expression on her face shift, “Oh wow!”
“Good wow?” You ask and she scoffs, “Amazing wow.”
You had to admit you were pretty proud of yourself. You went in really hard, sharpened the ends a touch, gave shape to her natural nails and the small slight sheen of glitter, very subtle, still didn’t go unnoticed by her. She flexed her fingers, watching how the light caught her nails at different angles and she said, “Seriously, you did it so quick too.”
True, less than an hour and her nails were good to go. “Now be careful with what you touch, they still need to dry properly.”
“Terrible. I want to touch you.” That makes you pause from cleaning up your nail kit, your eyes flick to her and say carefully, “Well I guess you will have to wait.”
She gets off her chair, starts to come around the table as she says, “Orrrr I could just not use my hands.”
Now in front of you, bent at the waist, she kisses you and you return it easily before she starts to move, lips drag from your mouth to over the line of your jaw and down your neck. Head tipping back, you moan her name quietly at the affection, the quickness of the arousal sinking in, the heat she makes spark inside of you. Soon she is on her knees after having worked down your body, she is between your legs, cheek resting on your inner thigh and you got her hint.
You assist her, strip what is needed and all too quickly you have a leg over one of her shoulders, her mouth working eagerly between your thighs and her hands holding yours, fingers laced together, showing off her pretty new manicure thanks to you. She is holding your hands for a few reasons, one, the added affection and closeness, and another, to keep her good and your hard work safe, otherwise she doubts she would be able to stop herself from touching you.
By the time she is leaving you are on cloud nine. The afternoon once her nails were dry and you both had cum at least twice you spent more time doing your little at home spa date, face masks and a shared bath and more, you feel relaxed and boneless as you lean against the door frame, clad in just a robe as you waved goodbye to her.
You could get very, very used to solo dates with her, it was different than when you dated both of them at the same time but you liked the up close and personal look you got at her, how she acted just alone with you when he wasn’t there.
Similarly when you were alone with him it was different but welcome. One night, a few days after your solo date with Tiffany, while you were at work he came in, she was apparently busy that night, he came by for some quality time, it was nice. When the place closed down, your duties finished and you managed to wiggle away from your coworkers you seek him out. He was waiting outside for you, a block over right where you told him to. He was leaning against the brick outside of a building, having a smoke and upon seeing you again he lights up, “There she is! Hey baby.”
You come up with a greeting of, “Hiya Chuck.”
His hand that isn’t holding his smoke is gripping your hand and tugging you to him, he kisses you, it’s playful, you feel him smile against your lips and you return his kiss before pulling back, “Someone’s happy.”
“I am! M’ happy and hungry too.” He was very tipsy from the drinks you’d served him, he had just thrown an arm around your shoulders and you asked him, “I could eat. So where are you thinking?”
“I dunno, you know this area well, any ideas?” He asked and you knew just the place, took him to that late night pizza place near your work you’d visited with your coworkers from time to time.
Sitting at one of the two person tables at the back, a medium pizza to split and sodas you ask, “So you never said what is Tiffany getting up to tonight?”
“Ah nothing major, seein’ some friends of hers.” He said with a shrug. You wonder briefly if you will get to meet them and you asked, “And you didn’t want to go?”
“Nah she deserves some time alone with them and besides, I wanted to do this.” He said as he picked up a slice of pizza, “Do what?”
“This. Spend some time with you solo, Tiffany did and seemed like it was real nice.” He admitted and you asked, “She told you about it?”
“Yeah, filled me all in. Kept going on and on about how much she loved her nails.” He nodded before taking a bite, the rise of his eyebrows tattled on the fact that she told him about how she was on her knees in your kitchen. Your fingers were playing with the straw in your drink, “Did she tell you what she told me about you?”
He looks confused and asked after swallowing his current bite, “She told you somethin’ about me?”
You figured she wouldn’t spill and you grin, “She did.” You let it hang for a moment and he said, “I hope it was good or flattering. Was it either of those things?”
“Oh yeah I loved hearing it honestly. She told me that you like art, more than that, that you are an artist yourself.” He dropped his slice with a laugh, non greasy hand coming up to comb through his hair, “Christ Tiff, selling me out.”
You laughed, “Awe, what? I think it’s great! Why didn’t you tell me yourself?”
“S’ not something I talk about with just anyone, some people have given me shit over it previously, alright?” Fair enough. Again, you hid a pretty big thing and this was small in comparison. “I get that Chuck, but seriously, I’m not like them, you can talk to me about it.”
He looks you over, considering and he can’t help it, the smile comes back to his face and he sighs, “Fine, you’re right.”
You appreciated his willingness and ability to be open with you. “How did it even come up, anyway?”
“I was asking her more stuff about you both before I came into the picture and she told me that.”
“Is that all she said?” He asked and you told him, “No hardly, she told me about some dates you’ve had, sweet things you’ve said and done, she made you look really good.”
It is true. How she is around him, looks at him, speaks about him, makes you like him more, look at him in an even better light. “Well shit, I don’t wanna be left out, maybe I can tell you some stuff too.”
That was a pleasant surprise. “Really? You are offering up information?”
“I am. Maybe I’m a little too drunk but M’ in a good mood, so!” He clapped once before pointing at you, elbows resting on the table, leaning forward, “Fuck it. Ask away.”
What to ask him? You had no idea how long this deal would be good for. Maybe he is just willing to be this open because of the amount of drinks he choked down earlier, you should take advantage of this. The idea strikes like lightning and you ask, “She told me about some dates you’ve had, but I am curious, what is your favourite one?”
He didn’t need to think about it, he knew just which one, is he seriously going to tell you all about it? You were looking at him expectantly. Leaning closer and clearly very excited and fuck it, why not tell you? Who were you going to spill this too anyway? Cat was already out of the bag about him being into art so with that important detail divulged, the risk was nil.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. So back in New Jersey there was this old as fuck building, no one was using it for anything, no one cared about it, place was practically falling apart, right?”
You nod along and listen as he tells you about it. This old building he talked about, the one no one gave a fuck about, he was able to do whatever he wanted with it because of that and what he decided to do with it was use it as a makeshift art studio. He’d do all his work there and spent ample time within the dilapidated walls. He’d been doing work in said building for months, the city didn’t seem in a rush to sell it or tear it down, just one of those things that fell through the cracks, he came and went as he pleased, no one bothered him and he liked it that way.
“I met Tiff that night we told you about, where she was just so incredible I totally forgot about that other girl. We had been seeing each other for a while, and had started getting to that point of spending more nights together than not. I wanted to be in the studio that night but I also wanted to see her and I thought, you know what, fuck it? Why not bring her there.”
He proceeded to tell you that he told her he had something to show her, brought her to the place and let her see all of it. She loved it, he talked to her about what pieces he liked best, motivations, times in his life and what was going on when he made them, what drove him to create them. Sounded like a very vulnerable conversation but you aren’t that surprised, Tiffany is a special kind of lady and they have a particular kind of bond.
“She was looking at this series I had done, was tryna push myself by doing this set of still life and using very precise colour palettes, blah, blah, it ain’t that important but what it led to was.”
“What did it lead to?” You were all too into the story and he could tell, he smiles and then expounds, “She asked me in that very Tiffany way of hers, I am sure you can hear it, all, ‘do you paint people?’ and I told her I have, I just hadn’t in a while, hadn’t had anyone to the studio but her.”
“Oh you fucking smooth talker. She must have eaten that up.” He shrugs but there is that cocky air about it that makes it totally clear he knows how what he said got to her. “I mean who wouldn’t?”
You certainly would have in her shoes. “So an idea struck me then, I told her why don’t I fix that?”
He didn’t have to say it, you realised it right then before he could utter the next sentence but you still listened, hanging off every word. “I offered to paint her.”
How fucking romantic is that? You didn’t think he had it in him, even after all the sweet things Tiffany told you he did the other day. You wonder why she left this one out but you didn’t focus on it much. Just listened more as he told you the rest of it.
“We were up all night. We ended up getting takeout, we drank, we smoked, we laughed and talked and I painted her.”
“How was she?” You asked quietly and he imparted, “I had this bed there, this mattress I dragged into the space because sometimes I’d get so caught up working and I didn’t want to go back to my actual place, so I’d crash there. I wanted her to be comfortable, so she sat there, I had this stool and my canvas and-”
The place was going to close soon, you still had some slices left, soda’s half full, you don’t care, you ask, “And?”
It was summer. It was hot but not stiflingly so. He isn’t sure the time, it’s that time where it stops being late and the question of it being early creeps in. He can’t stop looking at her, she is not in much, the dress she wore suited the weather, straps slipped down her shoulders, hem had rode up her thighs, heels off and next to the empty and overturned bottle of wine at the foot of the mattress. She wore a smile, cigarette between her fingers, blonde hair piled up and out of her face except for the few small bits framing it. She was stunning, a perfect subject really, all curves and kept him engaged in conversation while he worked. She was so funny. She was telling him some story about her sister and he was making sure to keep his brush away from the canvas, and didn't want to make any mistakes so close to being down with this. His hand that wasn’t holding the brush was resting on the top of the canvas, his hair was pulled out of the way, his button up shirt was off, white tank top as well as his pants and arms sported a few paint stains.
“And then what did she do?” He asked amusedly, and she giggled before telling him with a gesture of the cigarette in her hand, “She left! I mean fuck, would you stay after that shit? I dunno how she ever showed her face again!”
He laughs and so does she.
The urge of it surprises him. The laughter goes quiet. The conversation stops, falling into a comfortable silence, he is staring into her eyes and she is looking back. The space between them wasn’t much, he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to and fuck, he did want to. He speaks without thought, just tells her, honestly, “You know…Tiff I…I’ve never said this to, fuck, well anyone before but…”
“But?” She asks, a cock of her head, genuinely curious and he says it, almost as if he doesn’t believe it as the words leave his mouth, “I think I’m in love with you.”
She leans over, the remainder of her cigarette stamped out in the ashtray, looking at him all the while, “Oh my God Chucky.”
Eyes scan his face and she takes in his body language and she says quietly, “You’re serious.”
A nod, a somewhat nervous laugh that is more of an exhale than anything else, “I am sweetheart, I really am.”
The tension is thick, it is quiet again, he asks, “Are you gonna leave a guy hanging here forever orrr?”
She smiles, a small laugh as she shakes her head, “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t think I had to say it, sweetface. Of course I love you.”
Her hands reach out, the canvas is leaned carefully against the stool and he joins her on the bed. He kisses her first but she returns it fast, desperate, needy, laden with emotion and the main event of the evening, the painting, the act of creation, him the painter and her the muse, is forgotten, now both of them are consumed with expressing feelings for each other. The ceiling of the place isn’t intact, the orange light filtering in making her look even more gorgeous if that is somehow possible, as they have sex while the sun comes up, it is the most inspiring non violent experience he has ever had.
After it is over they lie together, they smoke more, they talk and they have been on this date for over twelve hours. They go out for breakfast after, he finishes the painting at a different time, he tells you that is when things got really serious between him and Tiffany, that is when they start making plans, talking about a fresh start, moving.
The pizza is eaten. The soda drank. The place is closed. You are on the street with him and stunned. “No wonder that is your favourite.”
He is lighting up another smoke, he hums in acknowledgment and nods.
After it’s lit you reach out, your hand closes his lighter, snuffing out the flame, he turns, looking down at you and you tell him, “You…Didn’t have to tell me all that but, the fact you did, it isn’t lost on me Chuck. Thank you. Really.”
“Course. I thought you’d like to know and honestly? It felt good to share.” He has this expression, it is hard to define but it is one that you had seen look at Tiffany with previously, it says, affection and that makes you melt almost as much as the story did.
You lean up, you kiss him, soft and sweet, when you break it, pull away you say, “I had no idea how much you loved art.”
He tries to play it off, tone very casual as he tells you, “Eh, it’s alright.” You laugh, a scoff with a roll of your eyes. You let it go. You hold hands and he walks you to the train station, you tell him, “We should go to a museum sometime.”
He squeezed your hand and told you sincerely, “Sounds fun.”
You get home safe that night, feeling like you know them much, much better. You feel included, part of this, of what they have even before you were there by having this knowledge of how they were. A call from them a few days after brings you to dinner with them before you had to work.
Showing up to their place dressed up, having to go start your shift sooner rather than later and happy to see them, it is a pretty usual date by all accounts. They talk you into a glass of wine, the food is lovely and you are just enjoying their company. So when the food is eaten, both of them take a hand of yours and the question of, “Will you be our girlfriend?” shocks you.
“What?” You asked and your eyes flicked back and forth between them, hands were sweaty, you didn’t want to let go but you wanted to wipe them off on your napkin, she speaks and distracts you, “We’ve been talking a lot.”
“So much.” He nods and she says, “We’ve been doing this for a while now and we both really like you.”
You had no idea what to say. Sure you had been dating, you’d kissed and had sex and shared pieces of yourself with them that you hadn’t with anyone, they had done their own fair share of divulging but still, you thought you were just a side thing, you knew they cared but not to this level, you thought you were ultimately some fun. You were okay with that, just getting to have them in any small way was fine for now, you didn’t think about the future, didn’t think this was building towards anything serious.
He asks, “So what do you say?”
Yet here they were, offering to bring you into the fold, actually make you a part of their relationship. They were offering it out and you felt your heart burst. Warmth floods and you tell them, “Yes, I say yes, of course. I’d love to be.”
You kiss him first. You kiss her next. They both pull you back to their bedroom.
You are late for work that night, coming in with hair that is just a little too messy, lipstick that is smudged and legs that are just a tad too shaky and a smile that refuses to leave. There are apologies to your coworkers, a lie about the train being late and they buy it, they don’t question because you are never late.
Losing yourself to the rhythm of work, your mind isn’t focused thought, it’s on them. Girlfriend, you are their girlfriend. You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, you have two partners, there is no question of how this would work because so far it has been working super well. You wondered how much better things could get, what this would mean. Your mind runs back over all the times you had seen them both, especially before you got together, are you going to get to that level but not just with one person but both? God, you hoped.
You were absurdly overjoyed, so light.
Mid-way through your shift, there is a call of your name. You turn and see Rachel, she wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, wasn’t working, at first you smile, figuring maybe she came in for a drink. You wave but then your smile starts to fall, she looks pale, sickly, and rushing towards you frantically. She catches you, hands taking the one of yours that isn’t holding your tray, “Woah Rach, hi, what’s wrong?”
She was breathing so hard, she was talking so fast, babbling out, “I can’t believe it, I know you said not to worry and I tried not to but it felt wrong, not like I thought you were wrong but it just wasn’t right, you know?”
“Rachel, honey, please, slow down, I can’t follow you at all.” She was freaking you out. Your stomach was sinking, you were very worried about her, you’d never seen her so frazzled. She nods, sucks down a deep breath and nods before forcing herself to say slowly, “Do you remember Randall? My old regular?”
You nod as you asked, “Yeah of course hon, what about him?”
She then says something that makes your blood run cold and feel like the floor drops out from under you, squeezing her hand as hard as she was holding yours, “The police just questioned me, he is missing, presumed dead.”
I'm doing a re-read of Through The Heart Is The Only Way to refamilraize myself and get a solid timeline of what I have done so far written down and bitch, I really fucking went off with this thing didn't I?