Surprising him with a lingere set and a blowjob after dinner ❤️❤️
you’d spoiled him rotten. his favorite dinner, a delicious dessert, and now, he sat waiting for you in the living room, relaxed against the plush couch, legs spread wide, unapologetically taking up space. your lips had been hot against his ear as you murmured “go get comfortable on the couch, baby. i’ve got a surprise for you,” while you ran your hands over his broad chest, nails scratching slightly over the fabric. rhett’s blood pressure rose slightly as he pictured what the surprise could be.
you knew that rhett didn’t care what you wore, he could watch you flounce around the house in sweat pants, a baggy shirt, and no bra and still find you wildly sexy. he never requested lingerie, he was perfectly content with your cotton panties and simple bras. however, you wanted to do something extra special for his birthday, so you’d bought a gorgeous blue lingerie set to model for him. the color reminded you of his eyes, which was what originally prompted you to snatch it off the store rack in the first place.
now you admired the set in the mirror, hands smoothing over the satin fabric. you felt hot. satisfied with your outfit, you finally turned on your heel and sauntered out of the bedroom. you found rhett on the couch, his ever fidgeting hands picking at the label of his post dinner bottle of beer. when he heard your footsteps, he perfect up, gaze falling upon you.
then his jaw went slack, eyes moving down your figure, as if memorizing every inch. when you innocently asked “what do you think?” he couldn’t find the words on his tongue to even utter a reply. his speechlessness was made all the worse when you approached him, holding eye contact as you sank down into his lap. “what’s the matter, baby? cat got your tongue?”
“fuck, you’re…you’re unbelievable,” he gasped. when you kissed, it was messy, salacious. tongues delving into each other’s mouths, wet and sloppy. his hands explored, traveling over the satin of your lingerie. when your hips shifted against his lap, you felt him, already hard against the fabric of your panties. truth was, he’d been hard since you whispered in his ear that you had a surprise.
“wanted to make you feel extra special, birthday boy,” you cooed. your hands skimmed down his chest, over his abdomen, heading for his belt. when you slid off his lap to kneel between those strong legs of his, he groaned low in his throat. you knew how much he loved when you sucked him off. though he never demanded it, it was one of his favorite things. now he got to watch you, kneeling in a gorgeous lingerie set, ready to take him in your mouth.
touch deliberate, you ran your palm over his cock, still in the confines of his jeans. thick and insistent, it twitched beneath your hand, and it sent a jolt of molten desire between your thighs. “you’re so hard. bet it hurts so bad.” the way you looked up at him, through your lashes, took his breath away. “don’t worry. i’ll make it feel better.”
“shit,” he groaned, as you unbuckled his belt. “y’can’t say stuff like that.”
“why? afraid you won’t be able to last?” you teased. then you pulled the zipper of his jeans down, and he moaned low in his throat.
“s’exactly what i’m afraid of.”
“guess we should put that to the test, huh baby?” you kitten licked his cock through his boxers, before you patted his thigh in a silent motion for him to lift his hips so you could get his jeans down. he complied immediately, shifting to allow you to pull the denim aside. then came his boxers, and soon, his cock, heavy and hard, sprang free. your mouth watered at the sight.
your nails lightly scratched at his thighs as you leaned in close, holding eye contact with him as your tongue darted out to swirl around the glistening tip of his cock. then, your lips wrapped around it, suckling softly before the pressure grew more deliberate. rhett swore under his breath, fighting the urge to thrust upward.
this was your favorite part. just teasing him, suckling at his pretty pink tip until he was squirming underneath you. you knew he wanted to grip the back of your head and shove you down fully onto his cock, but he always exercised self-control and let you go at your own pace, unless of course you gave him the green light to use your mouth as he please. tonight, you planned to treat him to the latter.
as you released his dick with a soft pop, you rested your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him with the softest, most innocent eyes you could muster. “want you to fuck my face.”
his lashes fluttered, mouth parting. “really?”
“really. my mouth’s all yours to use. so go right ahead.” at that, your lips parted, tongue lolling out, awaiting his next move.
“you pinch my thigh if it gets to be too much, y’hear?” he cautioned.
with your tongue out, all you could do was nod and hum “uh-huh.” anticipation fluttered in your belly as he guided you back down to his aching cock. you had a feeling that your mouth would be sore tomorrow. but it was well worth it, knowing you’d taken care of your man and given him the birthday present he deserved.
don’t you hate when real life keeps interrupting your extremely serious commitments like your wip, your fanfics, and the emotional support music group you’ve been hyperfixating on for the past three months.
You and John have spent every summer together since high school, but something about this one feels different.
warnings: 18+ fluff, flirting, tension, yearning — so much yearning, mentions of past trauma (john), making out, dry humping :), a little mixture or book and show Logan.
wc: 5.3k
authors note: Hi! this is my first John Logan fic. I’ve been working on it for a few weeks now, and it helped me get out of a month of writers block. I’m pretty proud of the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy. 💕 I comment and follow from my main @loveshotzz
The diner was quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that only happens when the weather outside demands the small population of Munsen to spend a day at the lake. You watch the tiny hand on the black kit-cat clock that hangs half hazardly on the wall slowly land over the bold number seven. With a loud click its eyes open and shift from side to side. The early evening rays shine golden through the glass paint on the front windows that rattle off this week's specials in sloppy cursive. Small specks of lint dance in the air from wiping down every possible surface, the faint smell of lemon cleaning solution lingering in the empty restaurant.
Leaning against the cream colored linoleum counter top, you prop your chin in your hand, gaze dropping back down to the book you’ve been reading to pass the time. You only get two sentences in before the bells hanging over the front door interrupt you with their familiar chime. Tearing your attention away from the dog eared page, the steady beating of your heart stutters meeting the deep brown eyes that belong to your favorite part about summer break.
John Logan.
The smile that he greets you with pushes up his dark stubble covered cheeks, crinkling the soft tan skin under his big round eyes. Their deep chestnut is brighter in the daylight, amber swimming inside illuminating the dark edges. His tall frame takes up the small space next to the host stand, broad shoulders exposed under his white grease stained tank top. The sleeves of his brown jumpsuit are tied around his narrow hips, the baggy legs of it framing his black work boots. He runs a big hand through his dark hair that’s gone curly at the ends from the heat, the faded caramel tips standing out more from his time in the sun.
“I’m interrupting a very busy day, I see.” He grins, one side of his mouth ticking up.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to get you a table.” You shrug, biting your bottom lip to hide your own growing smile, stomach flipping catching the way his eyes track the movement.
“Not even for a Briar U athlete?” He presses, slowly closing the space between you. “You know I’m a forward, right?”
“Actually, hockey players have to wait extra. Right hand forwards specifically.” Straightening your posture, you tilt your head up to meet John’s eyes that sparkle with amusement.
Summer, grease, and the leftover spice of his cologne invade your senses when he stops right in front of you, the tips of your white keds brushing the steel toe of his boots. Leaning his elbow against the counter with a blinding flash of teeth, your fingers itch to push back his hair that flops back down, framing his face.
“Is that so?” He asks with a hum, eyes trailing over your face before dragging your book closer with the pads of his fingers. Logan reads the cover, the corners of his lips twitching before bringing the full weight of his attention back to you.
“But what if this hockey player isn’t trying to get a table? What if he’s trying to see if he puts in a to-go order at the new burger spot, that maybe a certain waitress might want to have dinner with him on top of the water tower after work?”
Warmth spreads across every inch of your skin at the hidden intention behind his question. There’s always been a subtle attraction between the two of you that started a few years ago, or at least when you noticed it existed, but last summer something shifted. You’re not sure when it happened or what specific moment changed everything. All you know is that this summer feels so much different than all of the rest.
“Oh really? Is that why you’re here?” You tease, jutting out your hip with a raise of your eyebrow.
“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes playfully, pushing himself back up, moving one foot between yours. Black stained finger tips reach down, straightening out one of your rings before bringing his dark eyes back to yours. “So, what do you say?”
Fingers curling softly around his, there’s an electric current sparking inside the light touch. You give them a gentle tug and John’s pink lips stretch over perfect white teeth. He leans closer, turning your heart beat into a jackhammer, thrumming in your ears so loud that you wonder if he can hear it. Licking your lips, heat blooms across your body watching his gaze follow the bob of your throat.
You both know the answer before it even leaves your mouth.
“Pick me up at 8:00.”
Sherbet pink kisses the edges of the dark violet, swallowing up the rest of the sky by the time John’s truck chugs into the diner’s parking lot. He leans over the cabin, pushing open the driver side door before you have a chance to do it yourself. Syrupy eyes trail over the curves of your body no longer covered by a work uniform causing butterflies to migrate, fluttering along your rib cage at the look on his face that can only be described as enamored. Half way through the summer, these nightly rendezvous have become a regular thing, and the change of clothes you always stuff inside your duffle started to get picked from your closet with more and more care.
“Hey.” He breathes pushing his freshly washed hair back, the humidity keeping his curls still thick at the ends.
“Hi.” You reply shyly, eyes raking over his change of clothes, setting your bag down in the empty bed of his truck.
A short sleeve brown button up sits open, revealing the black tank top underneath. His silver chain hangs loose off his neck shining against his tan skin, landing just over the dip of his pecs. Dark wash denim fits snug to his thighs, stretching across the trained muscles in a way that dries up your throat, the cuffed ends framing the white tips of his converse. John’s always been handsome, but the past two years at college have turned him broad and lean. Jaw line a little sharper, facial hair a little thicker.
“I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.” You tease, fingers wrapping around the handle lifting yourself into the truck.
He looks confused for a moment, before his gaze lands on the bright green numbers on the dashboard.
8:03pm
“Wow, I didn’t realize I had you waiting for so long.” He says with the kind of disappointment that almost feels real, jutting out his bottom lip. “Can you forgive me?”
“I’ll have to think about it.” Buckling yourself in with the smallest twist of your lips, you pretend to be nonchalant with a roll of your eyes.
“Ah, I forgot. You looove to hold a grudge.” John laughs, shifting the truck into drive, clearly remembering the one you still hold against the boy you’ve both known since high school.
“If you’re talking about Joey Buckingham. Yes, I still hate him.” You beam proudly, meeting his eyes from over the to go order sitting on top of the familiar plaid blanket he brings every time.
“I am very aware.” He grins, something a lot like adoration flickering behind his gaze as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I’ll give that one to you though, that dude was always such an asshole.”
“Exactly!” You exclaim with a giggle and a loud vindicated clap. Secretly relishing in the way it makes his face light up. “And it’s not past tense, he still is.”
”Oh, you guys are still close friends?” John’s goading is obvious despite his perfected serious expression, but you take the bait every time. Mostly just to hear his laugh.
”Shut up Logan, or I’ll put you on my list right next to him.” You huff with a cross of your arms, earning you the exact sound you wanted to hear.
Rolling to a stop at the red light, he flips his turn signal just in time for it to change green. His hand moves back to the stick shift, adjusting it into the next gear, lurching the truck forward down the dirt path that leads to the tower. He keeps his hand resting on it, so close that his fingertips brush softly against your knee with every bump in the road. Digging your teeth into the fat of your bottom lip, you try subtly scooting yourself closer, searching for more of his touch. Selfishly, you consider tossing the food separating you right out of the window because it would be worth it to go hungry.
John seems to pick up on it, studying you like he’s not sure if he imagined it or not from the corner of his eye. You swallow the butterflies trying to flutter out of your throat, meeting his gaze a little shy — a little unsure. A silent exchange floats in the thickened air of the cabin, a quiet reassurance that he did not imagine anything. Licking his lips, one side of his mouth pulls up bringing his attention back to the road.
There’s a brief moment of panic like maybe you’ve been reading this wrong all summer. The thought tightens in your chest, but before you have a chance to fully spiral, the rough warmth of John’s palm covers the soft skin of your thigh. Right below the cotton hem of your shorts. Goosebumps pebble under his touch, even more sprouting under the gentle brush of his thumb that dips under the fabric with every swipe.
“Are you going back to the hockey house tonight?” You ask, cutting through the tension with a shaky voice, nerves threatening to get the best of you as you desperately try playing it cool.
”Tonight? Oh — uh no. I’ve got some stuff to do in the shop tomorrow morning. And um -“ Logan’s eyebrows furrow, keeping his gaze focused through the windshield, the swipe of his thumb never faltering. “I’ve also got to get some things to get in order at home. Mom’s getting discharged out of rehab in a few days.”
There’s a heaviness that fills the small space that you can see the weight of in the way his shoulders slouch and jaw clench because this is the fifth time that sentence has left his mouth since you’ve known him. Reaching down, you thread your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“I didn’t realize it’s been three months already.” You whisper, running the pad of your thumb over his knuckles. “How are you feeling about it?”
John lets out a sigh that’s laced with years of instability and exhaustion. The sound has you desperately wanting to take it from him, absolve him of the responsibility even just for one night.
“I want to say I’m happy. I know Jules is.” He pauses for a moment, squeezing your hand back before letting it go to shift gears, as you get closer to the tall metal structure.
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there.” You smile weakly, already missing the happy boy from just a few minutes ago.
“Buuut,” he starts, appeasing you, the corners of his mouth tugging up gingerly as he pulls into your usual spot behind the trees. “I just can’t go into this again without wondering how long she’s going to last this time.”
His quiet confession has you reaching for him again, bringing those big brown eyes to yours. So much swirls around inside of them, darkening the gold just like the sky, but even in the blanket of black, there’s still the hint of stars shining through. A small part of him clinging to the hope that always seems to find its way back in, that maybe it will be different this time.
“She’s lucky to have you. All three of you.” You add, including the brother that seems to only come around when John’s gone, only getting a small nod in return.
“Y-yeah.” He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair trying to shake the unwanted feelings off, giving you a toothy smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. Should we start heading up?”
John gestures towards the rusted white tower next to you, the dim lights shining below it adding to the structure's intimidating height.
“Yeah, let’s go.” You grin, fingers wrapping around the plastic loops of the small to-go bag you snuck inside. “I also may or may not have snuck you a slice of apple pie.”
The heaviness that weighed down his features lightens its load, brightening his handsome face.
“You buttering me up for something?” He asks with a suspicious grin.
“What? Me? I would never.” Scoffing, you refuse to meet his eyes grabbing the rest of the food to hide your smile.
“Oh yeah?” John laughs, raising his thick brows in playful disbelief.
All you want to do is bottle up the sound, this version of him, so you can listen to it on bad days after you both leave to go back to your separate lives after summer ends.
“I’ll get the reason out of you, I always do.” The edges of his lips curve as he swipes the blanket off the seat climbing out of his truck. “Regardless of the ultimatum, thank you, gorgeous.”
That’s…new.
Walking ahead of him, you tug your bottom lip between your teeth working up the courage to try something new too. Tossing him a flirtatious look over your shoulder, you make sure to look at him from under your lashes.
“Anytime.”
It’s impossible not to hear his sharp intake of breath, or how close he trails behind you with every crunching step of his converse. Heat spreads across your body like a wildfire because of it, crawling up your neck to your cheeks only getting worse when you feel his hands wrap around your waist once you reach the ladder. His long fingers flex around your hips, giving them a squeeze before stopping you from going any further.
That’s also new.
”Give me the food. You’re too clumsy not to use both hands.” He chuckles softly next to your ear.
”Doesn’t feel like you have a lot of faith in me, Logan.” You tut, craning your neck to meet his eyes.
”I’ve seen you trip on air. I’m not taking any chances.”
Pulling you close enough for your back to hit his chest, the tip of his nose brushes against your ear sending a shiver down up your spine. One of his hands leaves your hip, calloused fingertips ghosting down your arm sending goosebumps pebbling in their wake. He takes his time, like he’s taking full advantage of this moment in case it doesn’t happen again. The quick beating of his heart thumps against your back matching the one inside your chest, pulling at the edges of your lips. He softly tugs the bags from your grasp, giving your hip another squeeze before taking a step back.
”Alright, let’s get you up.”
It takes you a few seconds to snap out of the haze of being so close to him, your lungs slowly waking up, remembering how to work.
“I want you to know that I would’ve carried it up there perfectly fine.” Turning around to face him, you cross your arms over your chest.
”Just a safety precaution, that’s all.” He appeases with a shrug, but you know he’s doing exactly that, so your stare narrows.
”Mmhm.” You hum shortly, fighting the smile that's threatening to give you away. John sees it though, something knowing his eyes when he clocks it. “So how are you going to climb up there with both the blanket and the food then?”
All he does is grin before slinging the blanket over his shoulder, and sticking the handles of the bags between his perfectly white teeth.
”Like this.” He argues with a full mouth, opening his arms as if it proves his point.
”Yeah, cause that’s safe.” You snort with a roll of your eyes that just makes his sparkle. “If you drop our dinner, I’ll make sure you never hear the end of it.”
John salutes you sarcastically, gesturing towards the ladder like he’s impatient, trying his best to rile you up more. You shoot him a glare that doesn’t hold any venom before turning around. Wrapping your hands around the first bar that hangs over your head, John’s find their way back to your hips, giving you a gentle boost. You try not to overthink it, despite the way your skin seems to pulse where he touched. Making your way up the chipped painted metal, you can feel the heavy weight of his stare the whole way up to the top.
The wind whips wildly around you once you reach the landing, that familiar swoop in your stomach making itself known at the realization of just how high up you are. Gripping the railing, you focus on the small town glowing below trying to settle your growing feelings for John that don’t have anywhere real to go. Stars shimmer above you, sparkling inside the midnight blue contrasting with the warm golden light of the houses not nearly bright enough to pollute the sky like the city does. Inhaling a deep breath of what feels like a perfect summer night, you close your eyes and let it sit in your chest, willing your brain to commit this moment to memory.
Commit John to memory.
“As much as I can’t stand this place.” He sighs quietly, coming up next to you, interrupting your thoughts that only seem to be about him. “It’s really fucking pretty from up here.”
A gust of wind blows the spiced amber of his cologne in your direction, and the sweet bitterness of grease from the day that's still hidden underneath his nails.
”Careful John, I might think you’re going soft for Munsen.” You tease with a grin, finally looking up at him from the corner of your eye.
“Some parts of it.” He admits, holding your gaze as his pinky wraps around yours.
Heat blooms on your cheeks and crawls up to the tips of your ears at what he’s insinuating. Swallowing hard, you curl yours around his too, holding him tight for just a moment.
“Yeah, me too.”
Licking his lips, that same smile he greeted you with diner earlier breaks out across his face, shining bright just like the moon above you. Once he realizes that he’s just starting, he clears his throat, straightening his posture before gesturing to your usual spot on the landing.
“Shall we?”
It doesn’t take long for the two of you to devour the burgers and fries that were still somehow warm. Or the slice of apple pie that John insisted you share, feeding you every other bite with hooded eyes that made you squirm. Sitting with full belly’s and your backs against the warm metal of the tank, every inch of your body is pressed to his, turning your skin electric. John’s hand rests on his thigh, close enough to feel whatever has been bursting at the seams begging you to let it flourish. But the nerves of misreading whatever this is and the impending end of summer, has hesitation revealing itself in the light tap of his fingers against the denim of his jeans instead of lacing with yours.
“I’m off tomorrow.” You start, tearing your gaze from the sky to meet his eyes, only to find they're already fixated on you. Roses bloom on his cheeks getting caught, a sheepish smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
“Well, I’m very happy for you.” He laughs quietly, with a supportive squeeze of your thigh that drips in sarcasm.
“Shut up, you didn’t let me finish my thought.” You giggle shoving his shoulder playfully, and when he bounces back he’s somehow closer.
“I just — you know, in case you —.”
Suddenly all the confidence about what you’re about to offer disappears. A new fear that maybe you’re over stepping takes its place, but it’s too late back down now. You’ve always been a shit liar.
“I just mean, if you want some help tomorrow. I’m free.”
The silence that falls between you feels quieter than most, tightening your chest with anxiety. Teeth digging into your bottom lip, you try to read the series of emotions that flash across his face, noticing that anger isn’t one of them.
“That’s um — that’s really nice of you.” He finally says with a soft voice.
His brows knit together, staring down at his lap, he loses himself in his thoughts for a moment before bringing his eyes back to yours. The depths of them swirl with all the selfless excuses to do this on his own just like he’s done his whole life.
“But, I wouldn’t want you to spend your day off like that.” John stubbornly tries to wave off the idea, but you stop it before it even has a chance to start.
“I want to.” You cut him off quickly with the kind of unmistakable sureness in your voice that it seems to knock down a little more of the brick wall he’s built around his family dynamics.
“Yeah?” He asks like he can’t really believe it, like help has never been an option before.
“Yeah.”
Smiling, you decide to be bold and do what you’ve both been tiptoeing around since finishing dinner. You lace your fingers with his. Leaning his head back against the tank, he turns his face towards yours. He’s so close that the heat of his breath fans against your lips that want him even closer. It would be so easy too, just the slightest tilt of your chin.
“So when are you gonna transfer to Briar?” He grins, a little starry eyed pulling your hand on his lap, letting the calloused pad of his thumb brush over your knuckles. “We could hang out all the time.”
“Oh my god.” You try to laugh off the question he’s asked almost every week this summer. A question you won’t tell him you’ve started to think about a little more seriously. “When are you gonna let that go?”
“Never.” He winks, licking his lips, gaze dropping down to yours, making you feel fizzy and light, the air shifting turning it thick in your lungs. Leaning your head towards him with a shy smile, the whites of his teeth peek out just for you.
“You wouldn’t have time to hang out with me, mr. hockey man.” You whisper, eyes sweeping across his face, lingering longer on his mouth.
“I’d make time. For you.”
His insistence feels like firecrackers, heart skipping two beats.
“John —“
“Just think about it.” He murmurs, so close now that the tip of his nose runs up the bridge of yours. Feather light and barely there, it has you forgetting how to breathe.
“I will.” You say reluctantly, trying not to show just how close you are to giving into the fantasy that maybe you two could be like this all the time.
Licking his lips with swelling pupils, his gaze stays trained on your mouth, chestnut eyes flicking up asking silent permission from under the thick hood of his lashes.
“That’s all I want.”
There’s a new air of confidence about him that hasn’t been directed towards you like this before. His other hand reaches towards your cheek, fingertips gliding along the warmed skin before cupping the apple of it. Your breath hitches at the new contact, lashes fluttering as your body leans into him all on its own. He lets go of your hand to find purchase on the metal landing behind you, angling his body towards yours he becomes the only thing in your line of vision, blocking out the rest of the world. You tilt your chin up at the same time he bends down, closing what little space is left.
Plush pink lips cover yours, soft and tentative, moving with the kind of care that tells you he wants this to be good. Like he’s been thinking about this moment, desperate to get it right. Your fingers bury themselves into the thick locks at the nape of his neck, weaving through the curls twisting the ends. It’s all he needs to take control of the kiss, turning it into something deeper. Licking at your bottom lip, he begs you to let him do it.
There’s no hesitation in the way you grant him access, the tension that’s done nothing but build over the course of the last two summers breaking free from the restraints you’ve kept it in when your tongues finally meet in the middle. John groans at the new contact, exploring your mouth with an eagerness that’s contagious. You tug at his roots doing the same thing, massaging his muscle with your own, languid and slow, tasting every inch of him.
“Fuck.” He breathes, breaking away for just a moment to collect himself. Chest heaving just like yours.
His hand leaves your cheek to tenderly grip your chin, holding your heavy lidded gaze inside the darkness of his, letting everything linger in the middle of your parted mouths.
“Come here.” His request is gentle but firm, guiding you without much effort onto his lap.
Your knees bracket his narrow hips, the cotton of your shorts riding further up your thighs, squirming at the way John’s eyes track the movement. His hand squeezes the soft fat of one on its way up to curl around your hip using it as leverage to tug you even closer. The other hand that grips your chin, pulls you back down towards his lips, while your palms slide up his broad chest, settling on the hard muscles of his shoulders. His kiss bitten lips stretch, showing his white teeth in a way that shouldn’t be so charming.
“What?” You breathe, nudging his cheek with the tip of your nose.
“Nothing.” He hums, letting his full top lip catch against the soft pout of your bottom one. “You’re just really pretty, that’s all.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls.”
You dismiss him with a teasing edge to your voice, fingers finding their way back into the thick silk of his hair, fully aware of the puck bunnies at Briar U.
”It’s different with you.” He confesses, the deep pools of his eyes giving all his secrets away like they always do.
”Yeah?”
The one word question comes out shyer than it should perched on his lap like this. But it’s hard to ignore how everything feels as if it’s on the precipice of changing into something new. Something unknown.
“Yeah.”
Letting go of your chin, John takes that as all the permission he needs to collect your lips again. His big hand splaying across your cheek, the pad of his thumb coaxing the corner of your mouth open so he can taste you. This kiss is assertive, completely sure, almost claiming, doing his best to prove it to you.
Tugging at his roots, you use him as leverage to pull yourself close enough for your chests to touch, John’s arm loops around your waist in an iron clad hold, keeping you there. His mouth moves like he’s trying to devour you, like he has to take it all so no one else can have it. Your teeth nip at his bottom lip before soothing it with your tongue, earning a groan from the back of his throat that only spurs you on. With a subtle roll of your hips your body persuades another one out of him, and you decide right there and now that this is your favorite sound.
A gust of wind hits the side of the tower, a slight chill hidden inside of it that sends goosebumps pebbling along your skin, only getting worse when John’s hands slip up the back of your shirt. It’s his turn to shift his hips, lifting them up, he smiles into the surprised gasp that leaves your mouth at the feel of him. He doesn’t hesitate to do it again, desperate to see if the next one might be his name. It is.
You grind against the length of him with the kind of pressure that makes his kisses stutter, the blunt ends of his nails digging into the soft curve of your back. Warmth spreads between your legs, thighs squeezing his hips feeling the way he shudders underneath you. It makes you wonder what he’d look like doing that from above you, that silver chain hanging in your face.
“John.” You whimper, fingers gripping his curls, lips searching for him.
“Baby.” He breathes with a smile, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth, pulling away only after stealing two more. “As much as I want to keep going — and god, do I want to keep going. We should get back to solid ground first.”
As if on queue, another gust of wind rattles the metal railing and you swear you feel the tower sway this time. Dropping your forehead against his, John laughs at your irritated groan, hand curling around the back of your neck pulling you in for another kiss, letting this one linger.
“Fine.” you grumble against his mouth, nudging your nose with his before climbing off his lap in a huff.
His hands refuse to leave you until they have to, finger tips dragging along your skin till you’re standing up. Those big brown eyes stare up at you from under the thick hood of his lashes, drinking you in like it’s the first time today, admiring the way you’re all wrinkled and mussed because of him. Standing up, he grows another foot or so above you, wasting no time to pull you in by your hips. Your hands fall easily on his chest, feeling the way his muscles still dance with nerves underneath your palms.
“Tomorrow, after we do all that boring stuff. Let me take you out?” There’s apprehension laced inside of his question, like there’s a world where you’d actually say no.
“So you are going to let me help you then?” You smirk, raising a brow, relishing in the playful roll of his eyes you get in return.
“I mean, what else screams romance besides figuratively and literally unpacking family trauma.” He shrugs, squeezing your sides before letting you go to pick up the blanket and trash off the ground.
“Maybe, if you’re lucky. I’ll unpack some of mine too.” You wink with a wiggle of your eyebrows.
John laughs that deep bellied one you don’t get as often as the others, draping the blanket back over his broad shoulder.
“Sounds like a date to me.”
Lacing his fingers with yours leading you to the ladder, he insists on going first as a safety precaution, ignoring your protests on how he shouldn’t be so willing to use his body to break your imaginary fall all the way back down. His hands find your hips again once you reach the last step, helping you the rest of the way, shushing you with a kiss on your flushed cheek.
John’s affection comes easy all the way back to his truck, his touch always finding you like it’s natural. As if it’s always been this way. The familiar flutter of butterflies return deep in your gut when he grabs your hand over his console, pressing his lips to your knuckles before shifting his truck to drive. It’s here, next to him, windows down driving home that you decide to just enjoy the last month of summer. You’ll worry about the end of August when you have to.
Maybe transferring to Briar wouldn’t be the worst idea.
