Flew Like A Moth To You
flew like a moth to you
read part one here
pairing: richie jerimovich x fem!reader
summary: thoughts of a certain infuriating older man seem to keep racing through your mind and as the two of you continue crossing paths, you’re bound to be drawn to the flame you ignite in one another.
warning (s): implied age gap | language | angst | verbal arguments | smut | titty suckin | dry humping | p in v | unprotected sex | foreplay | dad bod richie | vaginal fingering | cunnilingus | blowjob | oral sex | penetration | richie’s pull out game is immaculate | edited to the best of my ability |
wc: 16k (i’m sorry y’all i just wanna be their third real bad)
The summer breeze drifted through your open bedroom window as you sat on your bed while Xiomara rooted through your closet looking for something to wear for her date the following night. You weren’t sure what was so special about your closet considering you knew Xio’s taste in clothing was more expensive than yours but the both of you treated each other’s apartment like a thrift store whenever you visited.
You scrolled through the calendar on your laptop organizing the upcoming tutoring dates for the next few weeks making sure they didn’t interfere with the days you were working with the summer reading program at the library. You were beyond grateful you didn’t have to sign up for a session of summer school this year, even though you were still doing academic-centric jobs it felt nice to do something you enjoyed without being trapped inside a classroom.
Summer break was treating you exceptionally well even after it only being a few weeks. You’d been recruited by a family friend of one of your students to help tutor their middle school-aged child, and while they could be a pain in the ass at times, the pay was too good to pass up, pair that with the summer reading program through the local libraries you were working at and you were set until the next school year began. Although you were working you still had time to yourself, finally not too tired to miss a night out, even falling back in love with your hobbies because you weren’t dead on your feet from chasing around sticky six-year-olds.
“Ohh wow, this is actually so cute I love the fit of it. Did you thrift it?” Xio’s words drew your attention, your eyes still focused on the digital screen before you finally looked up to see what she was talking about.
You frowned trying to ignore the irritation that crawled through you at the sight of the suit jacket hanging off of Xio’s shoulders. “No, it’s uh not mine.”
Xio’s eyes lit up at the crumbs you’d given her in just those five words, a large grin lined her lips as she slipped out of the jacket holding it up to the light streaming through the room to examine it. “Girl who’s fucking jacket is this? And why the fuck does it smell like a forest?”
A chuckle left your lips eyes rolling as you shut down your laptop before setting it on your nightstand and folded your legs to your chest doing your best to keep a neutral expression. “Just some guy I met.” You shrugged your shoulders hoping you sounded nonchalant.
“Mhm,” Xio’s hum was punctuated by her throwing the jacket at you. “Was it that guy you went on a date with? The boring finance guy?” Her eyebrows raised as she looked at you in question, she had that smile on her face like she already knew the truth.
You played with the sleeve of the jacket, finger tracing around the cuff link. “Okay, so there was another guy.” You bit your lip to hide your smile as Xio squealed before bouncing onto your bed, her hands clapping in excitement.
“When was this?” You didn’t even get a chance to respond before a dramatic gasp ripped through her. The sound seemed to fill up the whole room. “You sneaky girl you got wined and dined by finance bro and then ended your night with mystery jacket guy?” You weren’t sure how she did it but it was like Xio knew things without having to be told it was a superpower of hers.
“I wouldn’t call it wining and dining if I paid for my meal.” The two of you scoffed in disgust at the same time before divulging into a fit of laughter, you’d completely forgotten the way you left out the moment you shared with Richie when you first debriefed your friends on the date.
Maybe it was selfish but you had a strong urge to keep what happened between you and Richie to yourself, sure that another opportunity like that wouldn’t present itself again, not that you even wanted it to. The following school week he hadn’t dropped off or picked up Eva and instead of taking it as a personal slight against you, you took it as a sign from the universe that whatever happened between the two of you was just an outcome of the passion brought on by your arguing, a moment of lust filled weakness.
Xiomara laid on her stomach propping her head in her hands as she looked up at you, “So, any reason you haven’t returned his jacket?”
You shrugged looking down at the fabric in your hands before standing to hang it back up, “I chickened out.” It wasn’t a lie you had every intention to stop by the restaurant and drop it off but every time you worked up even the littlest bit of courage you always talked yourself out of it. “And I don’t even think he cares about it.”
“You are so full of shit!” You didn’t have to turn around to see Xio’s eyes rolling or the knowing look she often wore. “You like him!”
The scoff you let out wasn’t even believable to your ears as you exited the room, Xio’s feet eagerly padding behind you as she caught up before plopping down on the stool at your island while you grabbed the takeout menus from your kitchen drawer and tossed them onto the island.
“Absolutely not, if anything I tolerated him. He’s actually fucking insufferable.” You eyed the menus trying not to catch Xio’s eye.
“Oh, so you knew him prior to that night then?” If you thought Richie was insufferable Xio was being even more insufferable as she gave you the third degree in your apartment. You couldn’t be upset though, you knew you’d be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed.
You were just glad that the whole friend group wasn’t here to gang up on you. You hesitated before speaking, pondering the best way to go about the situation, not particularly in the mood to hear the wild fantasies Xio would come up with. “He’s the father of a student I had this year.”
Xiomara’s scream of excitement was exactly last thing you wanted to hear at that moment as she shot out of her chair and ran around the island to jump up and down in excitement with you, your energy far from matching hers. “Wait till everyone hears you bagged a dilf! They’re gonna fre-,”
“What? Xio, no!” You placed your hands atop her shoulders, halting her excitement before it could get too out of hand. Eyes watching as she folded in on herself lips turning into a full-on pout, “I didn’t bag anybody, I almost fucked him in a parking lot and I haven’t seen him since, that’s it, end of story. Now can we please choose what to order?”
It was beneath you but you gave her the puppy dog eyes, feeling victorious as you watched her completely deflate before nodding and pulling you into a hug, “A parking lot?” She looked at you with mirth in her eyes before you swatted her on the arm with the takeout menus.
The two of you divulged into less Richie-centric conversation, your mind sometimes wandering to the mystery man. Did he think of you as much as you thought about him?
You knew the universe could be cruel, but at this point, you felt like whatever higher power was in control of the timeline of your life found joy in putting you in the most awkward and unexpected positions you could imagine. Case in point being the small blonde child soundly asleep in the backseat of your car, as you stared up at the daunting building facade of a restaurant you had zero intentions of ever visiting again.
You could have easily said no, apologized to Ms. Gattina over the phone, and let her know it wasn’t your job to shuttle kids to and fro once your shift with the library reading program finished for the day, that once the clock struck 2 p.m. the children in the reading program were no longer your responsibility. But then you found Eva sitting all alone at the library help desk long after all the other kids were picked up sitting and listening as the librarian spoke to her mother over the phone to explain the situation and while you wanted to help in any way, you’re not sure what made you agree to dropping off the forgotten child with her father.
A feeling of unease rose inside you the longer you sat there. While you knew you were putting yourself in an awkward position by involving yourself in the middle of a familial dispute, hearing Ms. Gattina’s stressed pleas as she divulged probably more than you deserved to know about the stress she felt with the possibility of Eva being left alone along with said stress brought on by her ex-husband, you found yourself agreeing to her request out of some misplaced feeling of guilt.
And now all you had left to do was drop Eva off with her father, hope that he was aware his ex-wife enlisted your help, and be on your merry way and hope this doesn’t become routine. Sighing one last time you gathered your belongings along with Eva’s bag full of goodies given out before stepping out of the car and hurrying around to the back seat to get the still-sleeping child.
“Eva, sweetie,” your voice was quiet as you gently shook her shoulder trying to wake her. “I need you to wake up.” You stopped as the little girl let out a quiet whine obviously not ready to be roused from her sleep, another sigh left you as you carefully undid her seatbelt and reached in to lift her out of the car hefting her onto your hip and checking the back seat for anything she may have left behind before closing the door and locking your car as you headed to the entrance.
You were surprised at how easily the door swung open, positive it would be locked considering the restaurant wasn’t open to business at this time but you gave it little thought as you stepped into the air-conditioned establishment. It was odd seeing the restaurant like this, quiet not filled with the hustle and bustle of nightlife, the ambiance much more different than the one you experienced when being a paying customer. It was an eerie feeling but it also wasn’t the reason you were there.
The small voice emanating from your neck made you jump, eyes shooting down to Eva’s bleary blues as your eyebrows raised in confusion unsure of what she said. You watched as her small hand lifted, tiny finger pointing in the direction of the kitchen before she spoke once more.
“S’uncle Carmy.” Your eyes moved from the tip of her small finger to look through the small sliver of window that offered a peek into the kitchen, surprised to find a group of people all talking over each other, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard the raised voices before but as you continued staring the ongoing argument was made more obvious.
The one person you needed to notice you was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t help the sense of worry that filled you, because if Eva’s father wasn’t here what the hell were you supposed to do with her? Hopefully whoever the hell Uncle Carmy was could take her off your hands, before you could even think about your next course of action you locked eyes with one of the women standing in the group, her own eyes dropping to the child in your arms in recognition.
You breathed a sigh of relief as she excused herself from the conversation, not that anyone paid her words much attention as she moved out of the kitchen and began making her way to you.
“Hi, sorry to just show up but Ms. Gattina asked me to drop Eva off with her father. I messaged him but he didn’t respond.” You gave the woman a forced smile trying not to stare at her heavily swollen belly before realizing she deserved a more thorough explanation. “I was Eva’s second-grade teacher this past school year and I work with the summer reading program through one of the libraries and Eva’s…” You trailed off as the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement at the frantic way you were speaking.
The woman sent you a gentle smile before moving closer, “It's okay, Tiff told me to be on the lookout for you two.” Her hand raised as she gently caressed Eva’s head causing the little girl’s head to poke out from its place resting in your neck, her eyes brightened as much as they could in her tired state as she smiled at the woman in front of you. “Just a bit of friendly advice Richie’s back there on the phone with her now and he did not sound happy.”
You gave a nod of appreciation her underlying tone telling you it was best to get the hell out of dodge, you sent her one last smile before craning your neck to look down at Eva, “Alright sweetie I’m gonna leave you here with…” you trailed off unsure who this woman was to the young girl.
“Aunt Nat…by association at least.” Your eyebrows raised at her words, the sound of them not providing you with any more confidence to leave Eva in her care.
But before either of you could speak another word his tall figure emerged in your peripheral vision, the glare he was sending your way not what you expected. You watched as his expression changed when his gaze dropped to the small girl in your arms, it was almost instantaneous the way his eyes lit up mouth settling into a gentle smile as his hand reached to softly rub up and down her back, his hand bumping into yours before he carefully extracted her from your arms.
“Hey, little monster.” His voice rang through your ears as Eva let out a small giggle before throwing her arms around his neck, the two of them squeezing each other las though their lives depended on it. You tore your eyes away from them as he began whispering to her eyes finding the only other person in the room only to find her already looking at you curiously as you offered a small smile. “Nat could you uh, take Eva for a bit the two of us need to speak.” His words were punctuated by his hand gesturing between you and him.
The woman you now knew to be Nat stood there for a moment before nodding her head as Richie set Eva down so she could walk. You let out a small laugh as Eva moved to wrap her arms around your legs in a goodbye hug before you squatted to her level passing off her goody bag, the small child wrapped her arms around your neck in one last goodbye hug before moving to follow her aunt. “C’mon Eva, why don’t you show me all your goodies in the office.” Nat sent you one last smile before spiriting the two of them away.
You stood to your full height next to Richie both of you watching as they disappeared through the kitchen before the older man rounded on you, hand shooting out with lighting speed as he gripped your bicep and pulled you further from any prying ears in the kitchen finding a perfectly good corner to berate you in.
“Who in the fuck do you think you are?” Richie’s lips curled into a sneer as he looked at you awaiting your answer, the anger he felt translating his iron grip on your bicep.
Frowning, you shook your head confused as to why you were the object of his ire before he spoke over any words you’d thought about spewing. “Waltzing in like some fucking hero carrying my daughter and shit like you just did me the biggest favor in the world.”
Your anger was beginning to peak at the hostile attitude you were receiving, the confusion quickly replaced by how irate you were beginning to feel as your hand came up to shove his arm off of you watching in satisfaction at the look of surprise with how much force was behind it.
“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is Mr. Jerimovich, but you’re not going to stand here and berate me like I deserve it.” Your brows pinched in irritation as you took a step closer into his space, the man's huffs of breath hitting your face. “And for the record, I didn’t do this for you, because while Eva may have been happy to see you a moment ago, you don’t know how distraught she was sitting all alone at the library thinking you’d forgotten about her.” It wasn’t necessary but your last few words were followed by your fingers poking harshly into his chest as you tried to get your point across.
Richie clenched his jaw as your words rang in his ears as he took that last step closer to you closing whatever distance was left between the two of you, your chest brushing against his every time you breathed. “Don’t you ever fucking speak on me as a parent ever again? You fucking hear me?”
The timbre of his voice dropped exceptionally low, his words having taken on a warning tone as they ghosted across your lips. The anger he was stewing in basically emanated off of him, you knew you should have taken his warning, should’ve nodded your head and been on your way and washed your hands of the whole situation but against your better judgment, you just had to have the last words.
“Maybe next time, don’t put the responsibility of parenting your child on me.” You should’ve expected the blow-up, it was written all over his face the moment he saw you upon exiting the kitchen, but for some odd reason when it came to him you just weren’t satisfied until he looked like he hated you.
You let out the breath you’d been holding as he turned to walk away from you, only to be surprised when he spun back around just as fast, finger-pointing in your face as he backed you further into the corner.
“Fuck you!” His voice boomed across the restaurant, your eyebrows raised at just how loud he was, eyes darting behind his imposing figure as you hoped his outburst wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me huh? Well, guess what sweetheart, if I’m such a shitty fucking parent what does that make you then huh? Letting me spread you out in pub-.”
His words cut off as you placed your hand on his chest before shoving him back remembering that regardless of how he felt about you, you didn’t have to sit there and take it not getting much further as he quickly moved around you to stand right back in front of you, “No, I’m not fucking done with you.”
“You think because you put on a suit and tie it makes you important?” You paused waiting for him to digest the words, watching on as the anger that once marred his face gave way to confusion. “You’re a 40-year-old fucking nobody.” You watched the hurt flash across his face, a sick feeling of satisfaction coursed through you at just how much you could hurt him with just your words as you tried to ignore the small inkling of guilt you could feel rolling around inside.
Richie’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times, you followed the movement, eyes lingering longer than necessary at the peak of his Adam’s apple over the collar of his shirt before watching as he opened his mouth to speak only for you to beat him to it.
“Tell me this Richie, are you the type of man you would want Eva surrounding herself with?” The question wasn’t meant to rile him up anymore, it was a genuine question you thought he deserved to sit with. And as you stepped around him you tried not to let the embarrassment take over you at the sight of the audience that had since gathered listening to your spat.
Only offering them a small apologetic smile followed by a nod of your head as you took your leave, vowing that you wouldn’t ever give Richie another moment of your time willingly.
Richie did his best to listen intently as the woman across from him spoke passionately about her accounting job, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the circle of condensation that dripped off his glass of water. Dating was still weird to him, the idea that he was no longer loyal to the one person he planned on spending the rest of his life with would sometimes creep up on him when he least expected it, reminding him of how much of a failure he was in this life after already spending four decades on this earth.
The woman across from him wasn’t boring by any means, she was a great conversationalist and while her topic of conversation wasn’t anything to write home about, he appreciated the obvious love she had for her work. Since he decided to move forward with his life Richie’s dating history was mediocre at best, dates were few and far between and that was mostly due to his lack of trying and busy schedule with the restaurant, but on the nights that he did secure a date he was at least somewhat interested in it never felt like that interest was returned; as though he’d never met the level of expectations his dates held him to.
Familiar laughter made Richie sit up straighter in his chair, the restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet in any way but the fact that his ears latched onto that specific noise forced him to pay better attention to his surroundings. Richie’s eyes quickly found the source that caused the ringing in his ears; his hand unconsciously moved to adjust his tie and suit jacket as though doing so would catch the culprit's attention.
There you were tucked into one of the few darkened corner booths in the establishment, eyes locked on the person whose arm you were tucked under, whatever they were whispering in your ear was funny enough to deserve your laughter. Richie found himself watching you, unsure as to why he felt as though he couldn’t look away, the two of you weren’t on good terms by any means but for some reason he always found himself drawn back to you no matter how much you and your attitude pissed him off. He wasn’t even sure how he knew it was your laughter having only heard it a handful of times and never because of him, but it wasn’t like he could just un-notice you no matter how upset your words and observations from weeks ago made him.
If Richie was sure about anything in his life at the moment it was that you were avoiding him, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever the case was neither of you had contact with the other since you both spewed such scathing words to each other at The Bear, whenever it was his day to pick up Eva from the reading program it was like you were nowhere to be found even though he knew Eva preferred being by your side while she waited. Richie hadn’t realized just how much the whole ordeal frustrated him until hearing Eva make a passing comment about how she thought Frank was funny because you thought he was funny. His frustrations seemed to reach such a point that Syd even brought the argument up to him doing prep one day helping him to see the error of his ways in taking his frustration out on you when you were only doing what his ex-wife asked of you and putting Eva’s safety first when you could’ve easily left his daughter all alone because of his mistake.
He was pulled from his train of thought by his date across from him, the furrow of her brows had him rushing to assure her that he wasn’t ignoring her, using some excuse about how life at The Bear made him scatterbrained and while it definitely wasn’t the reason his mind wandered, with all the new shit Carmy was implementing it also wasn’t a lie. And that’s how the rest of his date went making idle conversation with a woman he was almost positive wasn’t interested in a second date with him as he let his eyes subtly drift to your corner every so often trying to ignore the way watching you radiate in your happiness made him feel a bit better about the whole night. Although seeing you tucked so snuggly into that corner against a man that wasn’t him made him envious.
Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved when his night ended and even more so relieved at the amicable decision to not take whatever this was or could’ve been any further. But he was less than relieved to find you standing on the sidewalk waving off who he assumed to be your date for the night as you stood all on your lonesome, no ride in sight. He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that it wasn’t his responsibility that you made it home safe, but he also couldn’t allow himself to return to the safety of his own home only to wonder if you’d ever made it home at all. Maybe offering you a ride could extend an olive branch, he could even offer up the apology you deserved during the drive. But more than that, any chance you got you put the care and safety of his daughter first, he told himself it was only right to return the favor.
One of his hands reached to loosen his tie before he forced himself to put his pride aside and take the few steps he needed to get to you. Unsure of how to breach the topic of conversation he gave himself a few minutes watching as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, his irritation not only growing at the fact that you were left here alone but also the fact you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.
Richie cleared his throat before speaking, “Did they just leave you here with no way home?” It was a straightforward question and maybe he should have approached you differently as he watched you jump and clasp your phone in surprise at the sound of his voice.
The silence lingered between the two of you as Richie watched your eyes land on him in recognition, your eyes ran over his attire before looking from him to the restaurant. He took the time to let his own eyes roam trying to ignore the way your chest rose and fell as you tried to calm down from the fright before his eyes moved further down your figure, silently and respectfully drinking in the way the fabric of your outfit hugged your figure.
Richie tugged at his tie as he awaited your answer, eyes latching onto the bare skin of your shoulder where the strap of your outfit had fallen from when he scared you. He cleared his throat before looking into your eyes once more.
The noise seemed to rouse you from your stupor as you blinked away your surprise before opening and closing your mouth until you landed on the best response. “Why? Gonna critique my choice of date again?”
Richie bit his tongue ready to do exactly that, he decided to forego the eye roll and scoff he felt was necessary before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks rocking back and forth where he stood trying to decide if it was even worth offering you a ride with how comfortable you seemed to just stand there waiting.
“How was your date?” The curiosity was obvious in your voice but Richie didn’t allow himself to think anything of it as he raised his eyebrows in your direction.
A chuckle escaped him as he watched you look anywhere but his eyes, maybe this was your way of trying to keep the conversation cordial and make up for your snarky question. “What makes you think it was a date?”
“I…walked past your table when I got here.” He followed the motion of your head as you nodded to the restaurant, your eyes falling to his dress shoes afterward. “Seemed like you were having a good time.”
Richie shrugged his shoulder kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk, “Not as good as you and your date seemed to have.” He knew it wasn’t the answer you were expecting as he watched your eyebrows raise as you finally looked at him, but he hoped his curiosity would pay off.
As another silence settled between the two of you, Richie was sure that was his sign to leave. While the two of you could engage in conversations that lacked substance, maybe it was best not to push this moment between the two of you into hostile territory and just cut his losses when he could.
The sound of your voice made Richie’s brows raise as he listened to the timber of your voice dance through his eardrums. “What makes you think it was a date?” The slight uptick of the right side of your mouth had Richie biting back a smile of his own, a smile that he wasn’t interested in giving a second thought at that moment.
“The two of you seemed real chummy in that dimly lit corner. But you’re here and he isn’t so I’m not sure what to think anymore.” Richie wasn’t sure what forced the words out of him, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment these less-than hostile borderline flirty moments between the two of you brought him.
His eyes tracked the way you began chewing on your bottom lip, a part of him hoped you were just as confused as him in the feelings department. “Now, what kind of person would I be if I made him choose between me and the surgery he was called into?”
A fucking surgeon of course. Richie couldn’t help but let his mind drift to your words in the restaurant about how he was four decades into life with nothing to show for it. The ice-cold claws of reality sank further into him as he stared at the small smirk that painted your lips clueless to the inner turmoil raging through him.
Richie shrugged, settling back into the cocky facade he always wore, “Seems to me like he didn’t make the right choice.”
The surprised laughter that forced its way out of your lips caused a genuine smile to grace Richie’s lips while he stood only feet from you watching you indulge in his stupid words as Chicago’s nightlife painted you in a cacophony of colorful light imprinting a most memorable image of your joy into his mind.
There were two options for Richie at that moment, end the conversation with you here and be on his merry way. Or he could offer you the ride he’d planned upon first walking over here and make sure you made it home safely; he decided on doing the latter.
Richie eyed you for a moment longer hyping himself up as his eyes landed on the naked skin of your shoulder one more time. His long legs closed the distance between the two of you before he reached his hand out, fingers tracing up your skin as he adjusted the strap in its rightful place, the appendages lingering longer than needed before he dropped his hand back to his side.
“You uh…want a ride home?”
Silence wasn’t ever something that bothered you much, sometimes it was just nice to appreciate the moment without a bit of sound passing, but sitting in Richie Jerimovich’s car with nothing but the quiet sound of the radio station to fill the void of silence as he drove to your apartment bothered you more than you’d liked to admit.
And if the awkward car ride wasn’t enough here the two of you stood just outside your apartment door as you searched through your clutch for your keys. You couldn’t be sure what compelled you to invite him up or what even compelled him to accept the invitation but it felt too late to rescind the offer as you slipped your key into the lock, standing in the quiet hallway as the door knob gave way before moving to the next lock.
You could feel the heat of him against your back as you worked the lock, trying to ignore the involuntary goosebumps rising on your skin rushing to push through to your apartment before turning to him with a tight smile and gesturing him inside. You watched as he hesitated, probably as apprehensive as you considering your track record with each other before he stepped over the threshold into your abode allowing you to close and lock the door.
A quiet deep breath filled your lungs as you hyped yourself up for what you were about to do. In the short amount of time you’d known him, Richie Jerimovich was a consistent pain in your ass but you also couldn’t deny the sensual touches and hungry kisses the two of you shared in the parking lot all those nights ago, or the way you oftentimes found yourself thinking about the older man. And if you were being honest with yourself, you felt guilty for the scathing words you left him with when dropping Eva off.
Turning from the door your eyes landed on the back of his suit jacket watching as he stood in your living room with a framed picture in his hand. It wasn’t surprising that he would look around your home, but the sight of him in your space didn’t make you as uncomfortable as you first thought it would.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” You leaned against the island to take off your shoes as you let your question linger in the air, looking up to already find him staring at you, hands clutching the picture frame.
He cleared his throat before turning to place the frame back where he found it, “Just a water…please.”
You nodded, moving to the sink and washing your hands before grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet and filling them up with the filtered water from the fridge. You turned to find Richie standing opposite you on the other side of the island as you held out the glass to him ignoring the way his fingers brushed yours as he took hold of the glass.
“Thank you for driving me home tonight.” you paused as he shrugged off your words like they were no big deal. “I really appreciate it.”
This whole ordeal felt awkward, him sitting here in your home, the two of you playing at being cordial or whatever the hell this was, especially considering the few words he’d spoken since stepping in were curt with no room to continue the conversation.
“Don’t mention it,” he raised the glass of water to his lips taking a sip. “Should probably drive yourself if you plan on going on any more dates.”
You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you chuckled, knuckles drumming against the counter as Richie’s words of warning rang through your ear, an obvious shot at the fact he’d found you alone outside the restaurant waiting for the car that was sent for you.
“Why? You not gonna be there next time to take me home?” You raised your eyebrows letting him know his words weren’t as subtle as he might have thought they were.
“I dunno, you gonna invite me in if I do?” Richie’s lips pulled into a smirk as he watched the visible surprise encapsulate your face at the fact he was willingly bantering with you after all of the harsh words previously shared between the two of you.
Snatching the glass out of his hand you turned to refill his half-empty cup needing a moment to compose yourself before you allowed your interest in him to get the best of you and make a mistake you’d be sure to regret. Reminding yourself of the initial reason you invited him up with you, and it wasn’t for the two of you to go tit for tat with flirty words.
“I…uh,” you cleared your throat as you spun around to hand him the glass back. “I want to apologize for what I said to you…about you all those weeks ago.”
You watched as his lips settled into a grim line, eyes falling to your hands that sat between the two of you flat against the surface of the island. “It wasn’t fair of me to call your parenting into question. It’s really none of my business-”
“No uh, you were right,” you stopped mid-sentence as Richie’s voice interrupted you, confusion marred your features as he spoke once again. “I fuckin’ forgot about her.” The admission seemed to weigh heavy on him as you watched Richie sink in on himself, his shoulders losing the tenseness they usually held as he moved to sit on the stool at his side plopping down on it unceremoniously.
“That night she uh…Eva just started crying about how scared she was, how she thought she wouldn’t see me again. And it sounds ridiculous as I say it, but she’s a fuckin’ kid ya know everything is the end of the world to her.”
You didn’t interrupt him, allowing the man to speak about a situation that took up a lot of space in his mind. It wasn’t your place to listen and comfort the man across from you, but the two of you were already so messily entangled with each other that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop his venting.
“You uh…you didn’t deserve all that shit I gave you at the restaurant, I was just blaming you for my fuck up, using you as a fuckin’ punching bag. So I uh…I want to apologize 'cause I was being a fuckin’ jagoff disrepectin’ you and shit by bringing up the parking lot.” He’d finally looked up at you, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment looking as though he’d just been scolded for his transgressions against you.
“I’m sorry for speakin’ to you like that, it wasn’t right and you didn’t deserve it.” The intensity of his gaze froze you in your spot as he bestowed you with a proper apology. “And thank you for looking out for Eva the way you do.”
You nodded, sending him a tight smile as you let his words soak in appreciating the fact that he was aware of just how uncouth trying to shame you about the moment you shared with him in the parking lot was. If you were a worse person you would’ve allowed him to take the brunt of the blame, and as much as you hated admitting you were at fault for something, the least you could do was match his vulnerability with a sincere apology of your own.
“Thank you Mr. Jerimo-,” you paused as his index finger gently tapped the center of your palm, eyes landing on yours as he shook his head with a slight frown, the understanding washed over you immediately. “Richie…thank you for apologizing. But you should know that I only said those things out of anger, and I know that’s no excuse…I just lashed out intending to hurt you. And I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you.”
It felt immature as the words left your lips, finally speaking aloud your reasoning for even insinuating that he was a bad parent. And maybe it was just wishful thinking but it felt as though the two of you understood each other just a bit more, not that the conversation was deep enough for anything of the sort but through all your run-ins with him you’d gathered that he didn’t respond well to his parenting being called into question.
Your eyes fell to your palm where the pad of his finger remained, the lightest bit of pressure still there. The organ in your chest picked up speed as you watched the appendage slowly begin moving further across your palm skating closer and closer to your pulse point all you could do was watch, the feeling of yearning you felt just a few short months ago returning more intensely than the last time.
“Eva has a bracelet similar to this.” His whisper was accompanied by his thumb swiping across the skin of your wrist just under the material of the bracelet. You felt frozen as his eyes looked up to meet yours, thumb grazing back and forth as he waited for an answer.
You gave a slight nod trying to ignore how touch-starved you felt, the calloused pad of his thumb provided you with such a small comfort you weren’t aware you were yearning for. “I know,” your eyes bounced between his eyes. “It was the last day of school activity I did with the kids.”
Richie’s thumb caressed the vein on your wrist once more, a gentle back-and-forth guiding motion. You watched as a tiny grin curved the side of his mouth, and his eyes fell back to the accessory snuggly wrapped around your wrist.
He thought it was cute the way you wore something you made with your students long after they moved on from you. His heart warming at the thought of Eva being taught by someone as thoughtful and as kind as you, well at least when it comes to children. A stray thought raced through his mind wondering if life would ever offer him the chance of surrounding himself with someone like you. As his thumb continued to absentmindedly trace back and forth across your pulse point he came to the harrowing realization that what he longed for wasn’t someone like you; it was you.
You watched in real-time as the small smile dropped from Richie’s lips and his thumb stilled on your wrist before snatching his arm away as though he’d been burned. Your eyebrows creased in confusion at the visceral reaction making you question if you did something to unknowingly cause it.
Richie’s tall figure rising from the barstool guided your eyes, “Thanks for the water, but I should head out.” His words sent a wave of dismay through you as you quickly schooled your features, nodding along to his words as you tried to put on a neutral front watching as he walked around the island towards the front door.
You followed after him, mind straying to the article of clothing that hung in your closet. He hadn’t asked for it back but you intended to return it to him all this time and the longer you stood there thinking about it the harder it felt to willingly part with the jacket. Was it weird of you to want to keep it for just a little longer? The thought left as easily as it came when Richie began unlocking your door and another more pressing matter came to the forefront of your mind.
“Richie,” his slender form turned around faster than you expected and you looked into his eyes unsure of how to word your next sentence, the fleeting idea of asking him to stay crossed your mind before you wrangled your thoughts and settled back on your initial inquisition. “I uh know it’s been a few months but I just wanted to make sure…no one knows about that night, right?”
You felt vulnerable under his stare as you watched his eyes flash in recognition slowly roving over your figure, drinking you in like you were the last bit of water on earth before he cleared his throat looking into your eyes once more, a slight dusting of pink atop his cheeks. You held his gaze trying to ignore the tension-filled air as you were more than positive both of you were silently remembering the short-lived affair of that night.
A quiet intake of breath filled the living area of your apartment as you allowed Richie to close the distance between the two of you, his fingers slowly reaching out entangling with yours, the two of you enraptured by the other’s stare. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before his unoccupied hand hesitantly reached up nimble digits softly ghosting the side of your neck, eyebrows raising in question as you offered him a small nod of approval before his hand came to gently grip your neck, his gaze never once leaving yours.
“I told you that night nothing was gonna happen didn’t I?” The way the rough pad of his thumb stroked back and forth against the side of your neck had your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned further into his body head slowly nodding along to his words. “No one saw us. I promised you that…and I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you even if someone did.”
Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the breath of his sentence against your lips. The hand entangled with your fingers slowly traced a path up your arm guiding over the bracelet on your wrist and ghosting over your pulse point before settling on your tricep, his thumb massaged gentle circles into the muscle in tandem with his other thumb moving from caressing the side of your neck to your jawline.
The two of you easily could’ve stayed in that position all night just basking in each other’s gaze, the both of you teetering dangerously on the edge of this will they won’t they game you both seemed adamant to indulge in. You found yourself standing in his embrace imagining what things would be like between the two of you if that night went further than it did, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here in your apartment wishing that one of you was brave enough to make the next move and send the two of you spiraling into whatever kept drawing you back to the other.
It was almost imperceptible and if it wasn’t for his nose gently bumping against yours as he breathed you wouldn’t have realized he leaned in. You wanted more than a lean in, you wanted to feel his kiss against your lips, to allow his work-weathered hands to map out your body. But as you searched his eyes you realized his uncertainty matched yours, you could meet him halfway easily and maybe that’s all you needed to do. To let Richie know you were just as unsure as he was, but you were willing to test the waters as long as he was.
A moment of hesitation passed before your eyes fluttered shut once more as an insurmountable amount of want swelled in you as you allowed yourself to take what you wanted, what was willfully being offered to you. Your free hand reached up to press into Richie’s chest just before you leaned in softly slotting your lips against his, pressing a gentle apprehensive kiss onto his lips appreciating the way his hand just under your jaw gave a slight squeeze when you moved to pull away, carefully keeping you in place increasing the tenderness of the kiss, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.
Pushing off his chest caused your lips to slowly detach from his, your eyes not daring to open as his forehead pressed into yours, lips ghosting together with each breath you shared. You could feel his hand flexing against your neck, your hand burning as you felt his heartbeat against it. A gasp escaped your lips as his hand left your bicep to grip the other side of your neck tilting your head back just slightly, your eyes shot open to quietly watch as one of his thumbs glided across the seam of your lips with a sense of awe.
Richie’s pupil seemed to swallow the blue of his irises as you looked into his eyes watching in wait as his eyes darted around your face cataloging whatever features he could get his eyes on before finding yours once more. On instinct your hand that wasn’t on his chest moved to grip his left wrist, fingers delicately tracing the veins on his hand before subtly turning your face into his wrist and placing a lingering kiss to his pulse point relishing in the quiet groan that rumbled through his chest.
Having Richie in your apartment like this was dangerous, but as the shrill ringtone of an incoming call rang through your apartment you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that another moment with the man was interrupted, maybe for the best. You weren’t sure if the deep breath he let loose was in disappointment or relief as the heat of his forehead moved from yours followed by the roughness of his palms and he stepped out of your space before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.
“Hey little monster what’s going on?” You watched Richie’s back as he spoke into the phone shame filling you at the thought of telling him not to answer when the phone initially rang now that you knew it was Eva on the other line.
You tried to calm your racing heart hoping it wasn’t visibly obvious just how much the man affected you in such little time. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself having never felt awkward and out of place in your apartment before, knowing that you looked ridiculous just standing where the older man left you as you tuned out his conversation, instead moving to the frame he picked up earlier and adjusting it to its rightful place so you at least didn’t look like you were just waiting for him to finish his conversation.
The clearing of Richie’s throat from where you left him had you spinning around to face him trying to keep your eyes locked on his face even though seeing him stand there with his tie loosened and hands in his slacks made your mind race with dozens of scenarios.
“I should be getting home.” Richie’s rough voice reached your ears and the earlier disappointment returned tenfold.
You nodded, sending a forced understanding smile his way, moving to once again close the distance between you two only stopping just before you invaded his personal space folding your hands in front of yourself and trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “Thank you for the ride, I'll uh pay you back.”
“You think I helped you today 'cause I wanted somethin’ from you?” His voice dropped an octave as he straightened up eyes moving all across your face as he awaited your response.
You hesitantly shook your head at his words unsure if you could string a coherent sentence together with the way just his look heated you. You stood silent as he took a step forward invading your personal space once more, not that you minded as you allowed his hands to grip your waist lazily holding you in place as though he knew you had zero urge to be rid of him or his touch.
No words were spoken as you allowed his hand to slowly glide from its place on your hip up the curve of your torso biting your lip at the touch before once more finding purchase cupping the underside of your jaw and forcing you to hold his stare.
“I helped you because I wanted to.” His hand slowly began its descent down your neck before skating across the bare skin of your clavicle and landing atop the strap of your dress, fingers gently playing with the fabric. “Don’t think you owe me anything for it okay?”
Richie’s eyebrows raised as several seconds ticked by without a response from you, hand giving a soft squeeze to your shoulder in a bid for you to show him you understood.
“Okay.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you gently nodded enraptured with the trance he seemed to put you in.
“Good,” the timber of his voice was punctuated by his thumb and forefinger slowly pushing the strap of your dress off your shoulder, leaving the skin fully exposed to the cool air of your apartment, his eyes burning into you as he caressed the space your strap once sat. “You should get out of these clothes and get some sleep.”
You stood still as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead before removing himself and leaning in to brush an opened mouth kiss against the skin of your shoulder. He pulled back before you could even ask for more, you watched as he gave you one more longing look before turning his back to you and taking his leave.
Quiet music drifted through your apartment as you sat in your living room. A relaxing glass of wine sat on the coffee table next to the puzzle you started working on not long after Xiomara left, your nighttime shower and skincare routine having already been knocked out. You usually didn’t stay up this late, but your weekly dinner with Xio ended later than usual as the two of you filled each other in on anything interesting that happened in your lives, including your little back-and-forth with a certain older man.
The sound of knocking drew your attention, you brushed it off as your neighbor. They were always up doing random shit at this time. Another round of knocks led your eyes to your door. You realized there in fact was someone knocking on your door at almost midnight. You were happy to just ignore it as it seemed whoever the culprit was gave up due to the silence but the sound of quiet cursing raised your curiosity so you rose from your position on the floor deciding to check the peephole.
As you gazed through the peephole you were surprised to see Richie’s figure turning to head back down the hallway presumably to the elevator. Confusion swept through you as you tried to think of any reason he would be at your door so late at night only to come up empty. In a split second without much thought, you were undoing the locks on your door before swinging it open.
“Richie?” Your quiet call of his name stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning into his back as you waited for him to face you curious about his presence. “It’s almost midnight, is everything okay?”
You tried to think of any reasons he would be in the hallway leading to your apartment at this time, surprised to see that he even remembered where you lived. He spun on his heel to face you, your eyes darted around his figure to make sure there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him but found he seemed to be unscathed dressed in what you were still getting used to being his usual attire; a dress shirt and tie with slacks sans a jacket.
His lack of speaking was worrying you, and you were sure a few nosy neighbors would quickly poke their heads out if you continued speaking out into the hallway any longer.
“Did you want to…come in?” The confusion was evident in your voice but you felt relieved as he gave a slight nod before making his way back to your door and stepping into your apartment. He walked past you as you closed and locked your door trying to figure out what the next steps were in this situation.
You moved to walk around him, sending a small smile his way as his eyes followed you, “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to call anyone?”
It was like Richie realized just how weird he was being showing up on your doorstep late at night, offering you no words or explanation. Maybe it was the worry in your voice that finally got through to him. “No sorry I uh,” he paused, clearing his throat before settling into the man you were used to interacting with, taking a small step forward into your space. “I wanted to see you.”
The sincerity in his words took you by surprise, and a flurry of emotions swam through you, relief that nothing was seriously wrong with the man followed by a fluttering in your chest at the idea of him randomly showing up on your doorstep just to see you.
“Oh.” The lackluster reply was the best you could do as you tried to reign in the way a simple sentence made you feel.
Richie’s chuckle drew you from the thoughts racing in your mind eyes meeting his as he watched you, almost like he could see your thought process, “You uh look pretty busy though sorry for interruptin’ you.”
You followed as his eyes looked to the coffee table over your shoulder, a smile lining your lips as you turned to look back at him, a false sense of confidence radiating through you. You reached out for one of his hands taking a step forward to close the minuscule distance separating the two of you and gazing into his eyes as your chest brushed against his with every breath.
“Did you want to help?” You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips then to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Your mind envisioned a myriad of sinful ideas about his beard before you cleared your throat to find his gaze once more.
A more serious look settled across his face as his own eyes were preoccupied with something else before he gave a small nod in agreement.
“Yo no! There’s no fuckin’ rules to puzzles.” Richie’s voice boomed through your apartment as he pointed at the puzzle pieces in front of each of you.
Laughter bubbled out of you at how passionate his argument was becoming, you weren’t sure if it was the wine getting to you or if the lack of animosity between the two of you was finally allowing you to relax in Richie’s presence.
The pounding on your kitchen wall made you jump in your seat surprised by the noise but unsurprised by the yelling that followed, “Shut the fuck up over there!”
“Oh fuck you!”
You raised a finger to your lips trying to get Richie to quiet down as you fought to control your laughter, not wanting to wake up with a noise complaint taped to your door. You watched as the frown on Richie’s face smoothed out before a smile grew on his face and his laughter emerged.
A small smile remained on your face as you replied to Richie’s earlier grievance, “Everyone knows you build the border of the puzzle first.” You pointed down to the border you’d barely added to since Richie’s arrival, instead allowing him to regale you with what his night consisted of, surprised to find that he’d been just a floor below you for most of the night with friends and you never would’ve known if he hadn’t decided to visit you.
Richie sucked his teeth before looking at the puzzle pieces you pointed at, shaking his head as though they offended him, “No, you leave the border for last cause it’s the easiest. Brings the whole picture together.”
You didn’t want to admit that his point was valid so you shook your head in disagreement, “Come on, building the border is like building the foundation of the puzzle.” Your hand traced the bit you’d put together so far before motioning to the irregular-shaped pieces. “Then you just keep building it up piece by piece, the fun is in realizing that even if certain pieces don’t fit together everything has its rightful place and once you’ve done all the building you get to see all your work pay off.
The weight of Richie’s gaze felt heavy on you as he allowed your words to sink in, having no initial comeback wasn’t something you were used to. You gave him a small smile the longer he stared at you before fingering through the puzzle pieces and deciding to continue it.
“You always spew weirdly poetic shit at 1 a.m.?” The smile in Richie’s voice was apparent before you even looked up, his lips upturned softly as he stared at your hands idly messing with the pieces on his side of the coffee table.
You shrugged your eyes shooting at his pile of pieces before reaching over to grab a piece that looked like it might fit, “I’m usually not entertaining guests past midnight.”
Richie gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment as his focus landed back on the puzzle pieces scattered around the table, the two of you basking in each other's calming presence as you worked to finish the puzzle, quiet words exchanged regarding which pieces fit where.
With a quarter of the puzzle left to complete you found your eyes straying to Richie more often than probably necessary, watching the concentration on his face as he aligned pieces where they fit. It was odd seeing him so calm in your presence considering how rocky your relationship started with him, you didn’t think you’d ever willingly let him into your safe space let alone enjoy having him there.
“How’s that doctor of yours?” Richie’s words pulled you from your study of him.
Confusion marred your features at the tightness of his voice, he showed up on your doorstep at one in the morning and that’s what he was fucking asking you about?
He caught your eye as he looked up eyebrows raised in question, “I can give you his number if you’re that interested in him.”
The loud scoff from across the table made you smile, “What about you? Any luck with the dating apps?”
Richie’s knee knocked against yours and you weren’t sure if it was on purpose or accident, but as you looked up you realized he’d been watching you for some time, “Decided I’m done with all that shit.”
A chill raced down your spine at how sure he sounded, and maybe it was wishful thinking or you were just being full of yourself, but you couldn’t help but think you were the reason for that decision. You cleared your throat unsure of what to say as you let your attention fall back to the puzzle on the table, it was comical the ease with which you could argue with the older man. But these polite flirtatious conversations just felt different, the underlying tension in them felt different and you weren’t sure how to go about dealing with it. The quiet clearing of Richie’s throat and the slight removal of his knee from the space your legs were internally made you cringe. He was expecting a much different reaction from his statement.
Quiet descended upon the two of you once more as you tried to keep your focus on finishing the puzzle, only for your mind to constantly drift with all the things you wanted to admit to Richie in that moment. You remembered clearly the day when he told you all those months ago that you were a constant in his mind and now all you could do was wonder if this is what it felt like for him. The way your mind latched onto him after the parking lot didn’t feel healthy but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want more of his time, more of his presence even when he pissed you off to no end.
You smiled to yourself at the thought of it all, once more looking up from the puzzle to find Richie so engrossed with the pieces he was putting together. You couldn’t be sure but outside of Eva being around, this felt like the calmest you’d seen him in your presence. The tension in his shoulders seemed almost nonexistent, his face was relaxed and not at all filled with whatever stress the day brought him. It was like a different person was sitting in your living room, no animosity filled the air between the two of you and the longer you let your eyes rove his face the more confident you were that you liked this version of Richie best.
Hesitantly your hand reached across the table before gently landing atop Richie’s, watching as his eyes moved from the puzzle pieces to your hand on his then to your face. You bit your bottom lip before speaking, “If I asked you to stay the night only because I was worried about you getting home safely what would you say to that?”
The thudding of your heart made you sure it was trying to beat out of your chest the longer Richie sat there staring at you without saying anything. A part of you wished you could take it back, it was a lame excuse, but you could never be too sure with the older man and this option seemed to offer less teasing than if you asked him to spend the night with you outright.
“I would say,” His words were followed by his hand turning over so his palm was just under yours, the roughness of his fingertips brushing against your wrist as he held your gaze. “It’d be rude of me to disregard your hospitality, leave you here all alone late at night worried about me. So I’d stay to ease your worries.”
“Good.” A small knowing smile lined your lips before you removed your hand from under his, making sure to grab your empty wine glass and standing.
As you made it to the sink and began washing out the glass, you felt like you were too far out of your depth. Maybe you overestimated whatever false confidence being around Richie gave you, but didn’t you deserve to go after something you wanted? Richie was an adult and you were sure if he had no interest he would’ve left whenever he was ready, hell he wouldn’t have even shown up in the first place. You rinsed out the glass before setting it on the drying mat.
You turned to find Richie sitting on your couch with the book from the side table in his hands. Smiling as you walked towards him stopping to stand in front of him as he looked up at you, the desire to touch him had your hands pushing his legs apart giving you enough space to stand in between them as he leaned back further into the couch manspreading gently placing your book down next to him.
Your hands unconsciously rubbed up and down the fabric over his thighs as you stood as close to him as the couch would allow, your right hand slowly traced up his thigh following the anatomy of his body up his torso before your hand landed on his slightly loosened tie.
“You know for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night…thinking about you,” you paused as your fingers nimbly began to undo his tie. “And then you drove me home last week and for a moment I thought I’d finally be able to have you in the way I wanted.”
The warmth of his hand reaching out to cup the back of your thigh raised your confidence even higher, carefully climbing atop his lap as he tugged you closer caging him in between your legs. Your hands landed on his shoulder before caressing down his chest and landing on the top button of his dress shirt. Richie’s hands landed upon your own, your lust-filled eyes taking in the apprehensive look on his face. You paused, unsure of yourself before you moved to get up only to stop when his hand fell to your waist keeping you in place.
“Did I do something wrong?” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you couldn’t help how small and insecure your voice sounded.
You moved your hands back to his shoulders trying to create a bit of space between you two looking at a spot over his head instead of at him.
“No, hey look at me,” one of Richie’s hands moved up to cup your chin, gently turning you to face him.“All of this shit…it’s just new to me you know I don’t know how to do this casual shit.” His thumb lightly rubbed across your chin, the vulnerability in his eyes and words keeping you locked in.
“I haven’t done shit like this in years, never thought I’d be divorced trying this shit again. Believe me, I want tonight with you, but what happens after that? Am I supposed to just fuck off and act like I don’t want more with you?”
Slowly your hand moved across his shoulder before softly cupping the side of his neck. It wasn’t the time to mention it but you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted to the man in front of you as he shared the insecurities he was feeling about the growing attraction between the two of you.
“You enjoy tonight,” your thumb traced a path up the side of his neck eliciting a shiver. “We indulge in each other, in our desires and then we go from there. Maybe breakfast in the morning.” You smiled at him watching the tense line of his silhouette relax. “I don’t know what’s going to come from this…but I know I don’t want this to just be one night.”
Your words lingered in the air as the two of you stared at each other, Richie’s smile growing to match yours as the two of you kept your hands on each other's skin. The way Richie stared at you brought back that familiar warmth he always seemed to elicit within you, his pupils slowly dilated as they roved over your face.
The previous tension between the two of you before the turn of conversation ignited once more, your eyes locked on the others as though in a trance. The feeling of his fingertips tracing the skin of your bottom lip made you feel dizzy at the thought of how easy it would be for him to touch you however he wanted, sent a surge of desire coursing through you. You could see the realization flash across his face his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his fingers that once pressed into your hip began a featherlight trail under your shirt and up the skin of your back, your teeth latching onto your bottom lip at the delicate touches your eyes fluttered as he traced his way along your spine your shirt rising the higher his hand moved his fingers ghosted across the space between your shoulder blades pushing you further into his chest.
Richie’s hand gently grazed down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake as it found your hip once more pulling you down against him your quiet moan being drowned out by his unabashed groan as you settled atop him relishing in the way the hardness in his pants pressed up against you. His mouth fell open as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hip before his hand skirted down the side of your hip traveling further and further before it met the skin of your leg below the hem of your sleep shorts, his calloused hand running just under the cut of your ass before cupping the back of your thigh, the heat from the palm of his hand warmed your thigh before he gripped your skin his thumb located near your groin slipping under the fabric of your shorts to caress the junction of your hip so close to where you wanted to feel him most a wanton moan escaping you as you unconsciously trapped his hand between your bodies and began rubbing yourself against him needing any bit of reprieve you could get.
His labored breathing hit your face as you allowed yourself to grind against him without consequence, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at not only the feeling but the way he was allowing you to use him to make yourself feel every bit of pleasure you deserved to feel. A high pitched keen left your lips as his free hand tugged the collar of your shirt before attaching his lips to your neck sucking and biting any piece of skin he could get his mouth on.
“R-Richie.” Your moan of his name was followed by his hips rutting up into you, his mouth falling open against your collarbone as he spewed out soft curses against your skin. It was all too much and not enough at once a part of you having no problem dry-humping your way to an orgasm but selfishly you wanted him in every way he was willing to give himself to you. You wanted to know how his body would feel against yours, what he looked like under all the layers of clothing separating the two of you, what he felt like. You needed to know what he would look like atop you and what expressions would he make as he fucked himself into you, in and out in and out. Or maybe missionary wasn’t his thing, what would it feel like if he took you from behind his body crowding you in would he be gentle or would he fuck you in the way he thought you deserved harsh thrusts and bruising slaps to your ass as he punished you for all the attitude you gave him.
The thoughts racing through your mind had you grinding down faster and harder than you previously were. The tension building inside of you on the cusps of shattering through you, just a little more, and you’d be convulsing against the man below you who brought out so many emotions in you. The rough feeling of his lips finding yours startled you not realizing that your equilibrium was off until your back pressed into the carpet below a muffled whine ringing through you at the loss of contact you were once grinding against.
“Quit your fuckin’ whining and let me take care of you,” you felt like you were going insane as his hands slowly slipped under the waistband of your shorts dragging them down your hips and legs at a painstakingly slow pace. “Been wanting you like this ever since that night in the fucking parking lot.” His words were so quiet you weren’t sure you would’ve heard them otherwise, your body clenching against nothing as the cool air of the living room met the slickness spread between your legs.
You sat up on your elbows watching from your position on the floor in a daze as Richie stood above you eyes glued to your cunt as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt shrugging out of it before pulling the white tank top beneath it over his head. You let out an appreciative moan at the sight of the softness of his body wanting to run your hands over the planes of his torso, lavish him with the attention he deserved. You pushed off your elbows on instinct fingers wrapping into the belt loops of his dress pants catching him off guard as your lips met the softness of his tummy leaving eager kisses to whatever spots you could reach as he towered over your sitting form. Your hands moved eagerly from their position, one fiddling with his belt buckle wanting him to feel half of the pleasure he brought you in such little time as the other palmed his bulge through the material.
A surprised gasp ripped through your lips as his hand found the back of his neck pulling you off of him, the desire swimming in his eyes heating you even more. His hand moved from the back of your neck before cupping your jaw and tilting your head further up, you were surprised by the softness of his kiss your eyes closing on instinct as you relaxed into him, his hand on your jaw squeezing as he snuck his tongue into your mouth the appendage running across your own several times over as you followed his lead the passion in which he kissed something you never experienced before. You began maneuvering around trying to raise yourself wanting to feel more of him against you, until he pulled away your shared saliva connecting the two of you as he looked down on you. There was only a moment’s reprieve before his mouth was on yours again his lips moving so slow and sensually, this kiss was different from the very few you shared with him both of his hands now cupping your jaw as he lavished you with everything he had his lips wrapping around your much smaller tongue his head bobbing back and forth as he slowly sucked on your tongue before reluctantly pulling himself away, your eyes finally opening at the feel of his thumb caressing your cheek as he stared down at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.
“Lay back f’me.” Richie’s words were whispered against your lips as you mindlessly obeyed lifting your shirt from under your bottom before leaning back on your elbows and then flat on your back.
You could hear his breath hitching as you found the confidence to spread your legs open so every bit of you was on full display. You waited in anticipation listening as he undid his belt before his pants landed somewhere away from the two of you, he gripped your ankle first, fingers skating up the skin of your leg in a slow almost teasing way as he traced a path up to your hip hand gliding across the skin of your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt and gently pushing it over the curve of your breast.
There wasn’t any time for nervousness to grip you as he settled between your legs, his head bending as he placed a soft kiss into the center of your chest. You could feel your heartbeat speed up as one of the hands he was using to hold himself up cupped the weight of your breast, the heat of his calloused palm drew a moan from you. A quiet gasp filled the living room as Richie kissed his way down your chest stopping to lavish your pebbled nipples in kisses before sucking one into his mouth.
The urge to cry out at finally being laid bare for him as he worked you up sat heavily in you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rose from your breast with a pop. The cool air making it even harder as he moved to show your other nipple the same appreciation. The feel of his teeth grazing across the nerve jolted you a quiet whine followed the movement as you gave in to just how good he was making you feel. You enjoyed the last few moments of pleasure his mouth gave your chest before he began to leave wet kisses down your torso as your legs squeezed around him in search of friction.
Richie’s quiet laughter vibrated against the bottom of your stomach before he moved to scoot back dropping kisses to your hip as he settled himself at eye level between your thighs. His groan reached your ears as he stared at all of your bare to him a whispered “fuck” followed before his lips were attached to the inside of your thigh earning him a guttural moan.
A gasp rang through the air as you felt Richie’s finger slowly trace the circle of your anatomy, you strained to look down your body just as the tip of his finger ever so slightly stretched you out, your hooded gaze finding his blue eyes already staring at you a flush blooming across his face. He held your gaze as he followed the same circular motion this time pushing his finger into the second knuckle as you bit your lip knowing it was way too late in the night for the noises you wanted to make.
Richie’s finger slowly moved inside you experimentally before finding the pattern that made you clench around him and crooked his finger inside your expertly eyes never leaving yours. “You gonna let me hear those pretty noises while I eat you out?”
The rough timber of Richie’s voice had you clenching around his finger, his tongue poked out to lick his lips as he patiently awaited your response maneuvering his finger slower with each second that passed. Your head moved up and down rapidly, sure you’d begin crying if he teased you anymore. “Y-yes Richie, please.”
You were thankful for the care he took when removing his long finger, the feel of every inch of it reverberated through you. He gave you one last small smile before his head disappeared, arms moving to snake around your thighs as his hands landed atop of them wearing your legs over his shoulders as though they were roller coaster restraints.
The first lick of his tongue from your hole to your clit had your head thudding back against the floor ignoring the pain of it as you moaned. Richie’s teeth sinking into your inner thigh caused a delicious hiss of pain to race through you, “Be careful.” You hummed in acquiescence, anything to keep him pleasuring you.
Richie’s tongue pressed flatly against you licking several languid stripes through your folds, each stroke of his thick warm wet appendage mingled erotically with your slickness as the mixture of fluids slowly dripped down you. At the feel of his tongue dipping in and out of you your stomach constricted in pleasure before your hands found purchase on the back of his head trying to anchor yourself to this moment with him. Vibrations from his moans traveled through you adding to the building pleasure along with the way his nose caught your clit just right as he dined on you like a man starved.
You couldn’t help the way you began grinding against his face chasing your release. You’d never been catered to like this before and as his arms moved to hold you down, mouth traveling through your folds before suctioning to your clit you were sure you were seeing stars. The muscles in your stomach tightened the longer and harder he sucked on you, your head grew fuzzy as the knot in your stomach grew tighter, incoherent babbling falling from your lips with each moment.
A loud whine rang through the quiet of your apartment as you finally gave in to your orgasm, you convulsed against Richie’s mouth as the waves of pleasure flowed through you. The aftershocks of it all caused you to jolt against him as you rode through your orgasm, overstimulation brought you back down to earth as you struggled to sit up finding Richie still attached to you.
“R-Richie,” a moan cut off your plea as you found yourself struggling not to succumb to the wickedness of his tongue. “Too much, i-its too much.”
Slowly Richie released himself from your placing a gentle kiss against your clit that jolted you before he leaned back on his haunches eyeing how debauched you looked. Your eyes traced the wetness that decorated his chin following the trail of your slickness into his now shiny beard before landing on the wet spot on his chest as it rose and fell.
Seeing him like this had you clenching around nothing as your hooded eyes fell to his happy trail, wanting nothing more than to return the pleasure. A silent conversation passed between the two of you before Richie stood up causing you to eagerly rise to your knees as you shuffled over to him before hungrily pulling down his boxers.
You stared up at him in appreciation, allowing your eyes to take in every line of him. The softness of his body was a welcomed surprise, he was strong you could see it in his arms and legs, there was no denying that. But you could tell he enjoyed life, indulged in what he liked, no rigid routine of diet or exercise. As you drank him in you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall to the tuft of light brown hair between his legs home to the part of him you’d been waiting to experience.
Unconsciously you licked your lips before shuffling closer on your knees, one hand moving to grip his hip as you steadied yourself before holding the weight of him in your hand, marveling at his impressive erection. The feel of your hand softly caressing up and down his length drew a throaty groan from him as you watched pre-cum drip from his tip in pleasure.
You leaned forward tongue darting out instantly to swirl around the head of his cock needing to hear the noises he would elicit. You were rewarded with a softer moan looking up to see his head thrown back. Opening wide you took the weight of him in your mouth taking in what you could without gagging, moaning around him as the tuft of hairs gently touched your face. Richie’s moans of approval egged you on small back-and-forth movements were your starting point bobbing slowly against him with your eyes closed as sucking him off increased your pleasure.
As you bobbed faster against him your nails dug into the flesh of his hip, your tongue swirling around him as you listened to his mumbled curses. Richie’s hand moved to settle against your neck anticipation growing in you as you waited for him to fuck your face only to be disappointed when he gently pulled you off of him spittle on your lip the only thing connecting you to his cock.
You looked up in confusion, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to steady your breathing. Before you could question him he was leaning down to meet you the softness of his kiss not matching your previously voracious ministrations. You leaned into the kiss not at all minding how slowly his lips moved against you passion radiating through both ends of the kiss both of you getting a taste of the other.
Richie’s lips chased yours as you pulled away his eyes slowly opened to find you already staring at him, he cupped your jaw pressing a kiss into your forehead before helping you to stand. Once you were steady on your feet you placed your hand on his chest guiding him back into the loveseat in the corner of your living room watching as his body unceremoniously plopped down, his legs spread wide as his erection bounced off the surface of his stomach.
You moved to kneel in front of him once more, stopping as a hand gripped the front of your sleep shirt pulling on it to get you to climb atop him, resuming your earlier position. You sat above him on your knees, hands resting against his shoulders to hold yourself up doing your best to ignore just how close he was to being inside you.
“What’re you poutin’ for?” Richie’s voice was quiet as his fingers tapped against your lips.
You hadn’t meant to showcase your discontent but now that he brought it up you felt comfortable in voicing what bothered you. “Why’d you stop me?” You realized how immature your ire was as you spoke the words, annoyance growing towards yourself as you were sure you ruined the night.
“It’s nothin’ against you I promise,” his free hand moved to your side skating under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your hip. “Just not sure I’d be able to give you more if I let you do that.”
It was like every little thing about this man kept turning you on, understanding washed over your face as you pulled your lip between your teeth having to stop yourself from sinking onto him. The wheels turn in your head at just how starved of intimacy he must be.
“Has it been that long?” You weren’t sure why you asked, you had zero desire to hear about the intimacy he shared with anyone else but his explanation made you curious.
Your hands unconsciously rubbed into his shoulders helping him to release any tension this intermission might have brought forth.
“Too long,” you bit back a moan as both of his hands skated along the naked skin of your hips, dipping so close to where you wanted him. “I take care of myself though.”
His answer intrigued you, just thinking about him alone in his home late at night using his hand to pleasure himself. You hummed in interest as you looked down on him, your right hand on his shoulder traced a path down his chest appreciating the fact you were finally able to touch the softness of him. Your hand continued traveling down running through his happy trail before finally gripping him in your hand finding him still semi-heard as he moaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.
You languidly stroked him a few times watching the motion as you did so before looking back up at him to find his head tossed back against the loveseat, your free hand moving to grip his chin and force him to focus on you.
“What do you think about when you touch yourself,” you lowered yourself just enough to run the tip of his cock through your wetness choking down a moan. “Because I think about you.”
Richie let out a quiet curse before speaking. “Yeah?” His voice was breathy as he forced himself to hold your stare, his hands pressed into your hips with a vice-like grip as he helped to rock you back and forth against him.
“Mhmm,” you nodded your head trying to pretend you were unfazed by how delicious it felt every time his head caught your clit. “After you left my apartment the other night…I spread out right where you're sitting and played with myself wishing it was you.”
Richie let out a guttural groan as he thrusted up into your hand surging forward to attach his lips to your neck surprising you with the vigor alternating between open mouth kisses and sucking just hard enough for you to know where his lips decorated your neck through feeling alone, but not harsh enough to leave any evidence.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me if you keep talking like this and don’t let me fuck you.” Richie’s hands raced over any inch of skin he could find just needing to touch you in any way possible.
You lined yourself up with him, drunk on the obvious need he was exhibiting and it was all because of you. Slowly you lowered yourself, relishing in the tip of his cock as it burrowed inside of you, the movement earned the older man's full attention.
“Who said you were fucking me?”
Richie looked at you, mouth slightly agape at the feel of you slowly sliding down onto him, twin moans filling the apartment. He groaned, hands sliding around your hips to grip the curve of your ass to help you start moving.
It started slow, far too slow for two people who weren’t even sure they meant anything to each other but neither of you mentioned that, eyes locked on each other as you placed your hands on his shoulders using them to help steady yourself. Up, down…up, down.
“Arms up pretty girl,” Richie’s command was almost so quiet you didn’t hear it stopping as he held you down against him, moaning at the way he brushed that spot inside you just so. His hands moved from their place on your backside before gently tugging the hem of your shirt over your head whispering his approval at having you naked atop him.
Your hands found his shoulders once more as you began to ride him again. Speeding up as his lips found the curve of your breast and kissed across them. Richie filled you so well the length of him hitting just where you needed every time.
“That’s it, keep ridin’ me just like that. Fuck!” You threw your head back moaning at Richie’s words clenching around him at the idea of being coached through an orgasm he gave you.
A sharp gasp escaped you as he grabbed your backside once more, anchoring himself so he could thrust up into you helping add to your pleasure. You hadn’t been riding him for long but everything about this man drove you crazy, your up-and-down motions growing more restless the harder he thrust into you.
You arched against him, hands finding the back of his thighs as you rode him like your life depended on it chasing the high your last orgasm brought you.
“You look so pretty like this, you know that right? Look so pretty ridin’ me f-fuckin’ usin’ me to get off.” Richie’s hoarse voice was going straight to your clit encouraging you to keep going even though your quads burned. “Say it.”
A quiet hum of agreement left your lips as you continued your ministrations the pleasure you searched for not far away. Richie’s hand roughly gripped your jaw pulling you from the world you were in, forcing you to look into his eyes the pupils having swallowed the blue of his irises. “Let me hear you say it?”
“W-what?”
The grinding of your hips slowed down once more as Richie held you there, his hips undulating at a slower pace as well. “Tell me h-how pretty you look r-ridin’ me.” He choked on his words as the two of you moved in sync taking in equal what you were giving back to each other.
You clenched around him, mouth falling open at his command unsure if you could get the words out before cumming. You moved atop him as he gave you a lazy nod encouraging you, you nodded along with him trying to work up the courage as your hand moved from his thigh to rest above his heart the thumping rhythm of it imprinted on your palm.
“I…” your words cut off as his hips languidly rolled into you, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck to pull your face closer, your forehead pressing into his. “I look s-so pretty riding you…l-like this.”
It was a struggle to get the words out but the way you clenched around him told the both of you just how aroused you were by the simple words. Richie let go of your neck allowing you to move back if you chose to but enjoying the way you stayed close to him, lips brushing against his with each move of your hips. One of his hands slipped between your bodies pressing into your clit as he simultaneously bucked into you with a fierce pace fucking you just how you wanted.
You wrapped your arms around his neck messily following his thrust chasing the pressure that built up in your stomach. Your nails raked down his shoulders as you babbled incoherent pleas into his ear essentially begging him to let you come.
No sooner were the words out of your lips did you cry out in ecstasy, tears escaped the corner of your eyes at how forceful your orgasm was your teeth sunk into Richie’s shoulder as you tried to silence your sobs of bliss body convulsing against him for the second time that night as he helped you ride out your orgasm.
You collapsed against him in bliss boneless feeling your equilibrium shift once more, Richie gently laid you on the love seat, one leg kneeling atop the cushion while his other leg held him up never once disconnecting the two of you.
Richie’s hips pistoned into you at a punishing pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he held your body in place from his harsh thrust. You struggled to keep your eyes open wanting to watch him come. Richie’s loud grunts drowned out your quieter moans, both noises combining as you watched in awe as Richie chased his orgasm, desire rising within you once more just watching Richie use you in the way you used him only moments ago.
You watched in anticipation as Richie’s face scrunched up in concentration, his thrust becoming sloppier by the minute. You wanted to reach out to touch him but felt too blissed out to get your motor skills working instead enjoying the show being put on for you. Richie gave you two more harsh thrusts before quickly pulling out of you causing you to hiss at the suddenness and watch hungrily as his hand pumped himself one final time before he spilled all over your stomach and cunt, the sight of Richie riding out his orgasm burned into your brain.
Richie collapsed atop you uncaring that his cum was getting all over him. His forehead rested against your upper chest, his panting breaths cooling your heated skin. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, your hand coming up to run through his hair as exhaustion settled into you. The feeling of lips pressing into your sternum forced your eyes to flutter open.
A lazy smile lined your lips as you tilted your head to find Richie’s forehead pressed into your chest as he pressed gentle kisses across your sternum. A soft giggle escaped you at the ticklish feeling his facial hair left behind watching as he looked up at you his exhaustion matched yours.
“We gotta get you cleaned up.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke to you with his cheek pressed into your skin.
You gave a noncommittal hum in agreement moving to sit up as Richie stood hands out to help you up. You pulled him behind you as you headed to the shower ignoring the way Richie perked up as the two of you entered your bedroom before reaching the bathroom, moving to turn the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up.
Richie helped you step into the shower before willfully following after you. You stood under the water with your head resting on Richie’s chest letting the warmth relax your muscles as Richie wrapped his arms around you pressing a kiss into the crown of your head.
The end of your night was spent pressed against the shower wall as Richie sensually fucked into you from behind, both of you indulging in everything the other had to offer. Before you both finally showered and got into bed, the softness of Richie’s fingers tracing patterns into your skin lulled you into a peaceful sleep engulfed in his warmth.
a/n: ayee yo they fuckin’ over here!!! i swear i’m so funny anyway here’s part 2 finally its long but worth it i promise. i hope anyone that dedicated their time to this tome of a fic enjoyed it and your days are forever filled with joy. also talk to me about it i love shootin the shit about the unhinged fics i write. anyway love y’all besties!!! 🫶🏽💕
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Michael Cole! With Pat yelling, "Say it!"
Thank God these two are back together
Chemical Reactions (P. 1)
Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader
Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity
Words: 1,867
Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.
It was just before Christmas when you took up a scholarship at Berkley and, since you were young woman at the tender age of twenty-two, you still could not believe your luck.
You got in to one of the most sought-after courses in the US when it came to quantum physics, which was a field so new and progressive that, to many, its attributes appeared to be rather absurd whereas, to you, it was a way of understanding the world.
Keep reading
series masterlist:
a collection of one-shots where steve falls for the new girl in town
part 1 ✿ new neighbour
steve is down because of his dating life, or lack thereof. that is until the new girl captures his attention
part 2 ✿ built to last
steve was just supposed to help you build a bookshelf. he definitely wasn’t supposed to have this much fun doing it
part 3 ✿ for you? always
you’re unravelling, badly, but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone
part 4 ✿ stay for dinner?
a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was
part 5 ✿ never second best 18+
after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick
part 6 ✿ jealous much? 18+
steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best
Watch Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022) and then Read...
I absolutely loved Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022). I think it was a triumph of the female gaze, Emma Corrin being the Period Piece Pinch Hitter we all need in a post-Keira world, and fucking in the woods.
To be clear, the book is not a romance. It does not end unhappily (more like "to be continued", without any intention of a continuation and clarification) but it's not a romance. The movie, I would argue... is pretty close to being a romance, or just a romance outright. Joely Richardson looks at the camera and goes "this is a love story", and by God, who am I to question Joely Richardson (who also was Lady Chatterley once). It hits many of the classic notes of a historical romance novel--hardcore fucking and immediately having an existential crisis after, "my god, how could this constant unprotected sex I'm having result in a PREGNANCY???", a douchey rich guy who wants to publish his stupid novella.
After watching it, I wanted to go through my rolodex of books and throw up some recommendations for what to read after watching this movie and getting a bit. Interested.
I tried to focus on a) interclass dynamics or b) illicit affairs. Ideally both, but it's more about the vibe than the readalike nature.
The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt. In many ways, a Lady Chatterley vibe without the annoying husband and *with* a murder mystery. Our heroine is a wealthy heiress who travels to an estate she recently inherited on her own, employing an experience steward to help her with the business side of things. And with the business side of things. Elizabeth Hoyt writes some of the best sex in the game, and there's a lot of great class conflict in this one.
Waking Up with the Duke by Lorraine Heath. A Lady Chatterley setup but with less class conflict and more *secrets*. The Duke of Ainsley, genteel and well-mannered, still feels real bad for that time he got into a carriage accident with his best friend, which resulted in said friend's permanent impotency. Friend asks Ainsley to pay him back by fucking his wife, Jayne, in order to ensure that she has the baby she's always wanted. Jayne is like "say what now", because she does in fact hold the accident against Ainsley, and Ainsley is all "I COULD NEVER--but if you're like... insisting..." because of course, he has always carried a torch for Jayne. A month of hot, angsty, "don't kiss me on the mouth" cottage sex ensues, and the emotional fallout for these idiots is MAGNIFICENT.
The Countess by Sophie Jordan. Not out yet, but put this one on your TBR because there is certainly a married lady discovering her sexuality in the arms of another man (wealthy, but of a different social class) around these parts. Out 3/28/23.
Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath. For the "this coarse man is lighting my ladylike fires" vibe. Our heroine is a recently widowed duchess with a young son, who comes to find out that--what the fuck--her husband left the guardianship of their child to a man she doesn't even fucking know. The hero grew up on the streets and has risen to become a successful club owner, but is still very much lower class. They move in together, and incredible sexual tension and heightened emotions ensue. TW: discussion of childhood sexual abuse.
Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas. This might seem a bit left field at first, but I shall recommend it because a) there is a huge emphasis on class in this novel. Sara is not necessarily a hugely upper class lady, but she is a genteel lady, and Derek Craven's awareness of their social differences and his roughness against her softness is a huge part of their conflict in the first half of the book. B) sexual awakening is very emphasized in Sara's journey. C) Sara does have a boring fucking fiance who's like "Sara, it's okay if we aren't that into each other sexually" while Sara, having just gotten her titties sucked at a party, is like "UHHHHHH NO THAT IS NOT OKAY". D) Much like Oliver Mellors, Derek Craven suffers from "is very smart but sometimes we don't know what he's saying" syndrome.
Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night by Stacy Reid. Our heroine is another widowed duchess with a young son--but this time, she's on the hunt for the governess that ditched in a flash. She hires the coarse, lower class but nonetheless successful fixer in town to help her... And his price ends up being a bit more carnal than monetary. VERY illicit affairs dot mp3.
Notorious Pleasures by Elizabeth Hoyt. No class difference here, but we do have a lot of illicit sneaking around when our heroine begins sleeping with her betrothed's roguish brother--who might just fuck the rigid rule following sensibility right out of her.
Her Night with the Duke by Diana Quincy. A widow has a one night stand with a handsome stranger, only to discover that he's courting her stepdaughter. It's messy, it's angsty, it's hot, and I do believe there are some outdoor activities.
Claire Novak + Hugs
The Less I Know The Better
Sydney likes Luca's cooking and Carmy wants to kill himself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI, Arguing, Angst, Toxic Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Unprotected Sex, Jealousy, Alcohol, Panic Attacks, Codependency
Divider: firefly-graphics.tumblr.com GIF: thiscoldheart.tumblr.com
Part 1 | Part 2
A/N:
I used to pray for times like this. I'm so happy I finished the fic and I am unburdened by it. I have one more installment planned. It's not a continuation but how I imagine they got together in the first place. I'll try to get that out soon. The title is based on The Less I Know the Better by Tame Impala. Posted on AO3.
She didn't feel like she was in her body when she woke up the next morning.
Her head was floating away to some vast unknown paradox, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling. It made her senses fall out of whack. She felt cold, even in his warm embrace. His body was always so warm. When he pulled her against him she’d sink into it, against his artfully crafted body, she felt at home.
She missed the mindlessness his touch brought. He’d look at her and hold her like she didn’t have to worry, ever, about anything. He always made her feel safe. She briefly registered an emotion she hadn’t felt since her business failed. It was gone, shaken off by the flexing of her fingers down to her toes.
The feeling left her and she could finally move.
She slipped out from under him, a stealth mission to leave the house before he woke up. He stirred when she stood up, her blood ran ice cold. With a heart fighting its way out of her chest and tightly closed eyes - she begged god to keep him asleep. Just for a little longer, she wasn’t ready to face him. After a few moments of silence his breathing evened out and she could safely open her eyes. The breath she released was sure to be quiet.
The morning didn’t greet her with the smell of freshly cut grass or a warm radiant sky, but with a brittle bite. Her cheeks were stinging and her lashes were wet by the time she reached her father’s house.
Emmanuel stood by his coffee maker. He watched as his sweet'n low disappeared into his coffee. His back was to her when she turned her key and welcomed herself inside. She never got rid of her key when she moved out in case something went wrong. God knows she was used to things going wrong.
“Something tells me you want to talk.” He called behind him as he added cream to his cup. He watched as the color of his coffee lightened until it reached the desired hue.
Sydney weakly snorted as she shrugged out of her puffer and heeled her shoes off at the door. She hung her coat on the rack and sat on the too stiff wooden seat sitting at the table. She sat in silence as the sounds of her father’s spoon clinking against a ceramic mug filled the air.
She absently noted that it was the mug she sculpted for him when she was just 9 years old.
More silence stretched between them.
She liked it though. She didn’t feel the need to perform or pretend like she wasn’t burning on the inside. He finally turned around bringing an extra cup with him, already filled with coffee prepared just how she liked it.
“What’s on your mind sweet pea?” He took a seat, the wooden chair shifted under his weight and the floor creaked.
Each time she tried to speak the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t form a coherent thought and the longer she struggled the more she thought about how stupid this all was.
Finally, she let herself breath.
“God, I wish mom were here.” She stared down at her reflection in her coffee. Nearly black with 2 sugars.
“So it’s one of those problems.” He spoke into his cup just before taking a healthy sip. The mug hit the table with a subtle 'clank'. “I can call auntie, but it’s close to midnight where she is.“ He was already moving to grab his phone when she stopped him.
“No, don’t bother auntie!" Her outburst made him pause. He slowly moved back to his previous position, watching his daughter with intensity. "It-“ she sighed glancing between her cup and her father’s befuddled face. He patiently awaited her confession. “It’s just about Carmy…” she bitterly chuckled as she she played with one of her braids. Twisting it around her finger before letting it fall. “Stupid really.”
“Ah,” he raised his eyebrows. “It’s one of those problems.” He hummed, contemplating his next set of words. Silently pondering how to best go about this. “Why do you say it’s stupid?”
She shot him a deadpan stare, “Come on. Boy problems, at this age?” She rested her elbows on the table and ran her hands over her face. Her fingers rested firmly against her eyes.
She pressed and pressed until the burning feeling of tears subsided. She wished she didn’t feel the need to be so strong all the time. She wished she could just breakdown and let those feelings flow instead of intellectualizing them every chance she got.
Emmanuel gently nudged her shoulder effectively bringing her back down to reality.
“If you have a problem, you have a problem.” He waited until her glassy eyes reached his. “Talk to me, you can tell me anything.”
She sniffled, laying her hands flat against the table, sliding them back so she could feel the smooth surface. A grounding technique that always seemed to work. She slid them until they fell off the table and rested in her lap. It wasn't working this time.
“I just didn’t think I’d ever find myself back here again.” She muttered more to herself than to him. But he nodded along nonetheless. “We broke up. It was finished. Yeah, it was awkward at the restaurant but it was working…” she lifted one shoulder and let it drop before adding. "Working enough." She shook her head in disbelief. “Then- then he came to me for help and I just couldn’t say no. It’s like he knows just what to say and I’d do anything for him. Anything.”
Emmanuel nodded slowly taking in her words. Hanging onto everything she said, saving his response for later when she was done pouring her heart out.
“Then I learn he hasn’t let go of his ex and they’re still” her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she felt her throat burn with constriction. She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth slide down her throat and warm her belly. “They’re still friends and he brought her to family dinner and I don’t know. I think I did something stupid just because I was jealous and afraid. Now i'm debating if I even want to go to California still and you know this opportunity is all I ever really wanted. I still lo-“ she choked on her words before gulping them down.“I just don’t want to lose him.”
He inhaled deeply taking in everything she said. But he thought not to speak. - at least for now. He let her words linger and he let them penetrate his mind. His daughter was his heart, a spitting image of her mother, he just wanted to coddle her. To hold her against him and tell her everything would be okay and that he’d get rid of anything causing her distress.
As he stared at her he realized she wasn’t that little girl playing in his shoes anymore. She wasn't tripping over her feet and scraping her knees on the hot concrete. That was back when his kisses could make the pain go away in an instant. She was different. She had complex thoughts and even more complex feelings that he was afraid to admit he didn’t quite understand.
He didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know what to do.
“I ever told you about the time your mother and I broke up?” He watched as her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah it was Summer of '83, she was missing home. Her parents were getting older and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with them.”
She watched as his eyes drifted to the ceiling and he recalled what happened all those years ago.
“I think I told her that if she left me I’d never forgive her, that I’d never speak to her again.”
“God dad.”
“I know, I know.” He chuckled to himself. “But I just couldn’t imagine losing her or living apart. I wanted a family and I knew I didn’t want that with anybody else but her.” He shrugged. “I was being selfish. Selfish and stupid-”
“What'd she do?” She questioned before the tail end of his sentence could leave his mouth.
“She left.” He chuckled with the shake of his head. “I was dumb, a kid. I didn’t fully understand what love was. I didn’t think it could exist when there was such a great distance between us.”
Sydney thought about Carmy again. The way she’d felt sick at the thought of leaving him and The Bear. She shooed those thoughts away when her father began speaking again.
“I lasted about three days, I think...” He recalled. “Maybe two and a half before I called her parents’ house. She didn’t want to speak to me but I wore her down and the first thing I said to her was that I missed her and that I was sorry.”
She felt a warmth spread from her heart throughout her body. Despite herself, a smile broke over her face.
“She of course told me to go to hell.” He laughed. His infectious laughter pulled Syd in, beckoning her to participate in his delight.
“So what?" She chuckled between her words. "You just wore her down even more?”
“Well, sorta kinda” he hummed with a grin on his face. “I got the next flight out and showed up at her parent’s doorstep with flowers and a ring. Hat in hand, I asked for her back.” He quirked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “I think I gifted her parents some fresh fruit so they didn’t run me off their property.”
“Jesus, so did she take you back?” She leaned forward, cheeks aching from her smile. She loved hearing new stories about her late mother.
It was bittersweet, she knew that one day there wouldn't be anymore stories to tell.
“She did.” He supplied. “I asked her father for her hand that night and we were engaged the next morning. Flew back to the states a few days later.”
“Real smooth dad.” She chuckled. “Did she come back with you?”
“No, she stayed there for a few more months after I went back but we talked all the time. She taught me a lot, Syd.” He rested his hand over hers. “She taught me about patience and trust. She taught me to put myself first just like she did. Most importantly she taught me that love is something tangible, something real and nobody can define what it means for you, but you.” He let her sit with those words. “Now, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. I know things are different nowadays in relationships. Kids aren’t getting married all willy nilly” he stopped short. “You’re not thinking of marrying this kid are you?”
“No dad.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. “It feels like we are though.”
“Well, I’ll ask you this: How does he feel about all this?”
“He-“ she stopped with a sudden realization. She hadn’t even spoken to him. She left him alone in her apartment in her bed after she confessed that she was leaving the state for an undetermined amount of time.
A fog lifted from her mind and it donned on her just how much of an asshole move that was. She hadn't even consider how he'd be taking all this.
“Dad I gotta go.”
Carmy blinked a few times adjusting to the sun's rays bleeding through the blinds. He let a yawn pass his lips as he rubbed his eyes. His arms reached out as the kinks in his shoulder popped and relaxed. He was used to mornings with Syd being spent in leisure. Quiet and intimate.
Whoever woke up first usually started breakfast. They never spent the morning after separated. Syd teased him once about being a ‘water sign’ (whatever that means) but Carmy hated the idea of waking up alone.
This was something Syd knew.
Carmy frowned when he felt that the other side of the bed was cold. He opened his eyes fully to examine the wrinkled bed sheets beside him. She'd been gone so long that the bed was now cold to touch.
“What the?” He turned his head around searching the space for her, listening for anything. “Syd?”
He stood up tugging on his pants and stumbling out of her room.
“Sydney?” He rushed through the space looking for her, a note, anything. But, she simply wasn’t home. He huffed pushing his hair back and staring at the white wall before him. No note, no notice, nothing.
Was he not worth the decency of a quick nudge, ‘Hey I'm headed out’? He just never thought she’d leave her own apartment to avoid an awkward rejection the morning after.
He felt so stupid.
He never felt stupider.
Of course, this was nothing, of course, this was a sympathy fuck or something worse. Like closure.
What else could it have been if shes that eager to get up and leave?
Carmy’s spiral of self-deprecation was cut short by the sound of keys turning in the door.
“You’re up!” She notes before turning completely around and locking the door. She used this precious time to squeeze her eyes shut and count to five. With a steadying breath, she turned around to face Carmy.
She always loved how sensitive he was when it was just the two of them. It was the look on his face that reminded her of their little agreement.
Leaving each other after having sex wasn’t something they did. Sex felt sacred to them, the time carved out was far too precious to ignore. After breaking up, the pact to remain in each other's embrace after still stood apparently.
“Yeah, I’m up!” He met her with a warm embrace, a warm smile on his face.
She was surprised at his reaction but decided that she liked this more than the expected awkwardness.
“Sorry, you had to wake up alone.” She exhaled sincerely into his shoulder.
He closed his eyes enjoying their closeness before pulling away.
“Where were you?” He grabbed the bags out of her hand and pecked her cheek before bringing them to the kitchen. “What's all this? You went grocery shopping?”
“Yeah on my way back I stopped by the store. I’m out of eggs and bacon and milk and you know everything.” She shrugged. “Wanted to make us breakfast.”
Something to soften the blow. Butter him up.
“That tends to happen when you spend all of your time at the restaurant.” He replied, playful sarcasm in his voice. He moved to begin cooking their breakfast. “Don’t feel bad, my place doesn’t look much better anyways.”
She wanted to help him but holding onto this secret, this brewing confession, left her mute and stagnant. After a few moments of watching him she cleared her throat and leaned against the counter.
“I bet.” She remembers all the mornings and nights when they had to make something out of thin air or order delivery if they were too tired from working.
She began putting the groceries Carmy didn’t need away.
"Where were you on your way back from?"
“Oh yeah I um I also went by my dads...”
Carmy sliced a square of butter and let it sizzle in the skillet. Something peculiar was in her tone, he knew that much.
“Yeah? How is he?” He glanced over at her finding that her face matched her tone. Peculiar.
“Still buying canned cabbage.”
He barked a laugh before sparing her a glance. “Gotta get him to see the light, Chef!”
“I’ve been trying, Chef.” They both laughed, naturally letting it tapper out. A swollen silence filled the air. “I talked to him about us”
That seemed to make Carmy’s ears perk up. “What about us?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she knew him well. Each inflection in his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter how normal he tried to sound.
“I asked for advice.” She slowly delivered “Carmy. I don’t know if what we did was smart.”
He momentarily stopped scrambling the sizzling eggs, it was only for a second but the hitch in movement was noticeable.
“I’m not saying I regret it or anything,” She supplied quickly. “But I already have my plane ticket. I’m leave soon and we’re-“
“We’re not gonna work long distance.” He finished her sentence, realization seemingly hitting him in that moment. “You're right we won’t.” He admitted dejectedly.
Frankly, she was surprised by his answer and how understanding he sounded. She wished that she could fully understand the breadth of her decision herself.
She promised herself from a young age that she’d never let anything hold her back from her dreams - not money, not circumstances, not relationships - one thing seemed to slip through the cracks.
She misses when she never looked twice in a guys (or a girls, for that matter) general direction.
She kept her head down for so long working, working, working now her dreams were being fulfilled right before her eyes and she found herself hesitating. All because of some blue eyed man with anger issues.
She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave The Bear.
But she knew she had to. She’d resent him. She’d resent herself. If her mother’s death taught her anything, its to always live your life for yourself. Time here on earth was so short, a drop in the boundless ocean. She had to spend her time doing what she loved even if it called for great sacrifice.
“I can’t pass this up.” Her voice cracked. A very surreal feeling thickened the air as they accepted defeat.
This felt eerily final.
“I wouldn’t want you to," He let a beat pass before adding on an obligatory, “Chef.” He sighs, clicking the front burner up a few notches. “Just don’t go over there and decide you like working in their kitchen more than mine."
"Yours?" She raised an eyebrow, her teeth winked at him as she smiled.
"Ours." They both smiled at his words and settled into more tension-filled silence.
“What's gonna happen to us?”
Carmy rattled the words around in his head as he plated the eggs and moved on to frying bacon. He focused on the popping sound of the grease and the smell of crisping pork. His movements were cathartic.
Cooking never left him. It never disappointed him. He could rely on this.
“Carm?” She tilts her head and meets his eyes.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat “We'll be,” he searched for the words. What would ex-lovers become if they ran a restaurant together? "Friends?"
She chuckled surprised at how heavy and foreign the word sounded in this context. But that was better than strangers or whatever the fuck they've been these past couple months.
"Friends with Chef Carmen Berzatto." She slowly nodded becoming familiar with the term that now described their relationship. "I'll take it."
They waited for the words to settle and for the air to return back to normal but it hadn't and eventually Carmy finished plating their breakfast.
"I'm gonna hop in the shower then head out.” He began walking away before she could reply.
"We're not eating together?"
"I'm not that hungry actually!" He closed the bathroom door behind him.
Time apart would be good, Carmy thought. They’d get time to think and to grow. This was good.
This had to be good.
✓ A pen.
✓ The ceiling fan.
✓ Boots.
✓ The TV.
✓ A pillow.
Five things he could see, check.
‘Gauge your surroundings. This will help ground you.’
Carmy's therapist taught him this method not too long ago. It quickly became one of the only things that could ground him nowadays.
She taught it to him towards the end of one of their first sessions. Her voice was calm and slow, drawing him out in a steady tempo of gentle negotiation. She spoke to him as if he had a bomb strapped to his chest and any sudden movements would set it off. He’ll never forget that day.
He was finally opening up about Mikey, telling her all about how they didn't have the best relationship but he somehow felt closer to him after his death. He hadn't realized how much he'd spaced out until he opened his eyes and he was back in his mother's house. Glass was breaking. A million alarms blared in his ears replacing his thoughts. Everybody was yelling. He couldn't breathe.
A panic attack in front of a stranger was new.
When he finally calmed down he realized that the world hadn't exploded and chunks of the rock weren't drifting through space leaving him to float in the vast unknown.
He was still in her office. He was still alive.
He blinked the memory away and rubbed his hands against his jeans, hoping the rough feeling against his sweaty palms would bring him back to earth.
He began naming four things he could touch under his breath.
"Jeans." He continued moving his hands over his thighs.
"Lambskin jacket." The inside was lined with fur.
"Shutter." It sat atop his bedside lamp - the warmth felt nice again his palm.
"Blanket." Sugar gifted it to him this past Christmas, it was way too fluffy but it did keep him warm at night.
What could he hear?
A bird chirping just outside of the window. It’d been going for a while he realized.
The low hum of electricity.
His phone beeping.
He took note. Then it beeped again and again until he descended from the clouds and found that it was ringing. He did a double-take at the contact before answering.
“Carmy?” Her voice bled through the receiver and he felt like he could breathe again.
Light. He felt it shining through the phone.
“You there?”
“Yeah, I,” He inhaled more air before blowing it out in once quick exhale. “I’m here.”
“Are you okay?” She worried her bottom lip, listening for any signs of distress.
She promised herself before her move that she'd focus on looking forward not back. But being friends with Carmy kept her feet firmly planted in the past. She felt them slipping back into the place they were at just before they got together.
Their exchanges were far too soft, far too thoughtful, and far too tense to be simply platonic. She had to remind herself that they'd been there and done that. This was good.
This was better.
“I am. I was just- it’s nothing." He scratched the back of his head. Unruly curls tangled around his nimble fingers. "Trying this 5,4,3,2,1 method my therapist taught me. It helps me calm down..." He plopped down on his couch and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I was actually thinking about things I could hear before you called.”
“I know that method." She replied before checking the time.
She didn't need to leave for another 15 minutes. “If I’m not mistaken you have 2 more steps to go then.”
“I'm okay now, you- you help me breathe.” He confessed through a relieved chuckle. "So, tell me are you running that place yet or what?"
Sydney grinned but didn't let his charming words deter her. “What are two things you can smell.” She encouraged.
He realized his leg was still bouncing, maybe he wasn’t completely grounded. “I made spaghetti earlier and accidentally put too much garlic, so, garlic.”
“I bet it was still fire.” She hummed almost dreamily remembering the taste of his cooking.
“Wish you were here to taste it.” He muttered sadly playing with a rip in his jeans.
“Alright, big guy don’t go soft on me now.” She teased ignoring the butterflies in her belly. “What else can you smell?”
“Ah, my cologne I guess it’s new I kinda hate it." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, bringing it up to his nose before dropping it. "Too, I don’t know, fancy.”
“Yeah, you do love an earthy scent." She closed her eyes missing him now more than ever. Missing the way he smelled when he held her close and did the thing with his hips that made her words sound like simlish. "Now lastly what can you taste?”
“I had a stick of orbit earlier and the taste is still in my mouth.” He waited a beat. "Happy now?"
“Beaming!" She switched ears and walked to look out her window.
The small apartment she was subleasing was located smack dab in the middle of the art district. She enjoyed the sounds of the neighborhood at night and there was always some sort of performance art near the corner store she frequented. None of that mattered though, she rarely got to enjoy the artistic views because just outside of her window was a brick wall.
She ignored the symbolic implications that screamed at her every time she'd stare at it for too long.
“I feel alright- great actually, thank you Syd”
“No prob Carm." The heavy silence only reminded them of their distance. Sydney was the first to speak. "I'm adjusting to this place quicker than I expected actually.”
“Of course you are. You’re an amazing cook.”
He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her image in his head.
It was fuzzy and out of focus. Her complexion wasn't as vibrant. Her eyes were the wrong shade of brown. He missed how they flashed red in the sun. And pictures were just sobering reminders that she wasn't there with him.
He had to stop looking at them for his sanity.
“You’re reliable and confident."
A day without seeing her face was a day too many.
"Hey, you wanna Facetime?”
“Yeah one sec.” After a few seconds her face came into view.
Carmy felt his chest tighten. He’d spent their time apart creating this image of her in his head. He assumed because he missed her so much the image he created wasn’t accurate, there’s no way that she was that beautiful.
She was though. She was even more captivating than he remembered.
Venust: beautiful, comely, graceful, elegant.
Their busy schedules kept them from speaking to each as often as they wanted. Even when she lived in Chicago, they’d seen each other mostly in the kitchen.
Now they had to schedule appointments to talk. How bleak.
This phone call wasn't scheduled though.
“Hey, why’d you call?”
“Shit! Right, I called you. I was talking to Marcus the other day and apparently his friend from Copenhagen is coming here to fill in for someone. Isn’t that cool?”
She had her phone set up on her counter as she went about cooking. Carmy watched her in silence missing the way she moved around his kitchen.
“Luca? That's new. At least you'll kinda know someone there.” He hummed. “Are you making Bouillabaisse?”
"He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow." She stirred her simmering concoction. "How do you do that?" She chuckles keeping her eyes on the cloudy liquid. “I am. I’m cooking for everybody tomorrow including Luca and I’m super nervous so I’m trying out a few things!”
“Why are you so nervous?” He could really only think of one or two times she was genuinely nervous about her cooking.
Each time he wanted to grab her and convince her just how amazing she was. To stop doubting herself.
Then again he was probably being bias.
“Marcus speaks so highly of Luca and I know you and him are acquainted. I just want to live up to the hype.” She rambled.
“You will Syd.” He promised.
It was late. It was very late in Chicago so it was late in California and she still hadn't called.
He'd been busy all day so he didn't think twice about her promise to call later that day. But, he couldn't sleep and he'd grown tired of watching black and white reruns.
He tried not to watch his phone like a hawk but each time it lit up he couldn't help but grab it.
When she finally did call he had nodded off to sleep.
"Did I wake you I'm sorry!" She winced realizing how late it must've been. "I'll call back-"
"No!" He sat up "it's okay, I'm up." He yawned checking the time, 3:00 AM. He yawned again as he stood to grab a glass of water. "What's got you out so late?"
"It's only 1:00 where I am!"
"Still."
"Luca brought this special wine and we all got drunk off of one glass and did karaoke"
"Sounds like fun." He replied sincerely, preoccupied with boiling water. Tea would help him get back to sleep after their conversation. "How was the dinner? Did you impress everybody?"
"I did!" She exclaimed. "Sorry if I’m being loud.” He could almost see the expression she was donning. “Did you know that weed is legal here?"
Carmy grinned realizing she was still tipsy and probably a little buzzed. Whenever she had a little bit too much to drink she'd get this slur in her speech. Each word would hug the next and her Chicagoan accent grew thicker. She laughed a lot more, Carmy would worry about her cheeks hurting by the end of the night.
He gnawed on his lip to keep from confessing how badly he wanted to see her and kiss that smile off of her face. That's not how friends talked to each other after all.
"They loved it but Luca made this braised wagyu," She groaned. "Hands down, the best dish I've ever had!"
Carmy paused switching his phone to the other ear. "The best?" He masked the crack in his voice with a chuckle. "Luca?" He scrunched his nose up.
He didn't understand why that statement made him feel uncomfortable (for lack of a better term) but it did and he didn't like it. Previous to this development she always remarked about how his food was the best she ever had. He held that close to him, clinched between his finger afraid of losing it. Afraid of losing her favor. Her compliments felt like a drug and he was forever chasing that high. Wanting to please her. Have her direct that smile and those dangerous eyes at him.
"Yes, you have to try it!"
"Maybe...'m not a huge fan of Wagyu. Also, I've tried his cooking before." He didn't know why he was lying. He loved Wagyu.
Luca was a good enough cook, not better than Carmy, but decent.
His hands rattled as he stirred honey into his piping hot tea. That unwelcome feeling twisted within him tugging him down to a level of immaturity he despised. Maybe as a teenager this would feel more normal but as he stands now it felt unhinged.
His chest burned as he tuned back into Syd's rambling.
"…I invited him to eat at The Bear when I fly back for my birthday next month."
"Ah, so you two are friends?" He continued, voice soft. He couldn't bring himself to ask her the question any louder.
"Of course! He's so cool Carmy. He's a beast in the kitchen. He's teaching me how to make this cake that has an insane amount of layers tomorrow."
"You really like this guy..." He muttered. "I'm happy you're getting on well there. Really, Syd you deserve this." He continued with renewed interest.
Aside from those weird feelings, he couldn't quite pin down, he knew that his job was hyping her up. Being a supporter. A friend.
One day he’ll stop having to remind himself of that sobering fact.
"Thanks." She settled on her bed. "I miss you."
He hoped it happened soon.
"I miss y-" he began, but she continued on without missing a beat.
"I miss everybody at The Bear"
"Well, we miss you too."
Today was slow. It went smoothly. There were virtually no mistakes made in the kitchen and Carmy found himself with extra time on his hands.
He could be normal and go home or go out for a drink, but alas he preferred the kitchen. There was always something to do in the kitchen after all.
"Hey are you busy?" Sydney lounged on her couch, exhausted from the busy day she had.
He looked around finding that he was in fact not busy and had finished all of his tasks.
"Nope, what's up?"
"I got secret shopped again!"
"Damn chef," he whistled "you're on fire. Once this year once last year."
"The asswipe said my lobster tail was 'overcooked'."
"Lobster tails' easy to mess up." He shrugged "I have this method I can show you when you visit."
"No, actually its okay. Luca taught me this technique and it came out so much better."
“Right, right." He cleared his throat hoping the popping in his ears stopped. He tugged on his earlobe before grabbing a damp towel and wiping down the same spot he'd just finished wiping down.
There goes that weird feeling again, creeping up his body forcing him to move until it subsided.
"What is he like,” he hesitated. “He’s mentoring you now?”
If she heard the shakiness in his voice she ignored it.
"Not sure if I'd say all that. He's a good teacher though, kinda filling that gap." She replied busy multitasking.
Her phone sat on the bathroom counter with the speaker turned up so she could still carry on with the conversation. Her braids bunched up comfortably under her silk scarf. By morning her scarf would've slipped from her head and made its way to the floor and her braids would be sprawled across her silk pillow. It's the thought that counts.
"You told me he was good but dude he's like your level good."
She grabbed her phone and made her way to bed. At the sound of his bashful laughter she felt a pinch in her chest akin to an esophageal spasm.
Missing him had grown physical and she just wanted to keep him on the phone. She was hoping that the sound of his voice bleeding through her phone would comfort her.
She could lie back and imagine that he was right beside her, that he followed her here like she wanted him to. But he had his own shit he had to sort out. She knew begging him to come and see her every time she missed him wouldn't be feasible because she missed him every second of every day.
But Carmy, who was on the other side of the world, it seemed, didn't know this. He only heard her praises of Luca shooting out of the phone like spears and piercing him until he didn't want to be on the phone with her anymore.
"I actually do have something I need to do. Catch up later?"
"Sure..." she stared at her phone screen as he hung up.
She remained there trying to figure out where things went wrong and why he rushed off the phone. The screen soon turned black and she saw her reflection staring back at her.
She didn't get much sleep that night.
"So you're just not gonna visit?" He frowned. "It's your birthday Syd, come on just take a couple days off I'll buy you a ticket myself."
'I just wanna see you!' He stubbornly thought.
"I can't. It sucks for me too, but it’s the mayor. I can't exactly pass up serving the mayor." She frowned looking at a framed photo of the two of them at The Bear's official opening.
'"Come on Carmy stop working for one second and get a picture with Syd!" Sugar grabbed his arm dragging him out of the kitchen and out front where Sydney directed a delivery man around back. She moved to follow him and make sure he found his way when Sug grabbed her arm and placed her next to an annoyed Carmy.
"Natalie we open in 2 hours I don't have time for this." He huffed placing his hands on his hips.
"Yeah and I think he's taking the order to the wrong entrance." Syd looked behind her following a delivery man with her eyes. She began to call out to him when Sug grabbed her shoulder making her turn back around.
"If you two stand still for a second I can get a picture and you can go back to stressing out, okay?" She rolled her eyes "You guys looks so cute in your matching outfits!" She beamed holding her phone up.
"Uh, everybody's wearing these?" Sydney looked around ignoring Sugars sound of indignation. Carmy stifled a laugh agreeing with her.
"Just smile." She gave up trying to reason with them. Carmy threw his hand over Syd's shoulder and threw his other hand out to Sugar.
"Okay, okay see I'm smiling come on take the picture!"
Syd was caught laughing, her eyes closed. While Carmy was caught with his mouth open, his hand thrown towards the camera. He hated it, but Syd thought it was perfect.
"No, no- yeah, you're right." He settled. Not much else was said after that. Carmy sighed closing the cookbook he'd been perusing for the perfect cake recipe and headed home.
“Fuck, sorry Chef!” Syd winced feeling warm all over. She’d stayed behind with Luca so he could teach her a few tricks. However, in the span of just an hour she compared his cooking techniques to Carmy’s about five times. But who's counting.
“All good, Syd. I never thought about trying that! He laughed. “And relax you can call me Luca”
”Right, Luca.” She continued “I’m just feeling a little homesick. My birthday is tomorrow and I decided to stay back because you know the whole mayor hoopla.”
She was close to saying screw the mayor just so she could hop on a red eye and do something pathetic like beg her ex-boyfriend for sloppy, rough, no-strings-attached birthday sex.
He nodded sympathetically before putting down his knife, a brilliant idea on his tongue.
“How about I take you out for a drink afterwards?”
”Maybe...I’m usually so tired after work. I was talking to a few servers last week and Fay talked about wanting to go out this weekend too-”
”I mean I can take you.” He waited a beat before hesitantly adding. “Just us...”
”Oh," she cleared her throat finding it harder to look him in the eyes. "Like a date?” She raised an eyebrow.
”Yes," he chuckled. "If that’s okay with you?”
She never got used to being hit on or asked out. She grew up awkward and introverted. But something happened when she turned 20.
Like a Cinderella transformation or something. Men were falling over themselves. Women began batting their eyelashes at her and inviting her to sleepovers. She soon realized that they were flirting with her and by sleepovers they meant sex.
Her immediate thought was to turn him down. But she couldn't find a good enough reason other than it would probably hurt Carmy's feelings.
He had been dodging her phone calls though. They barely spoke these days. Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he didn't care what she did.
She eventually remembered herself and she remembered that she and Carmy were just friends. So she put on her best smile and nodded.
"I'd love that."
Later That Evening
“I got the knives you sent me." She toyed with one, balancing it on her fingertips gauging how heavy it was. "Thank you they're really fucking nice.”
“I'm happy you like them. Just something I saw and decided to pick up...” He ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "For you. F-For your birthday I mean."
He didn't know when he started feeling nervous speaking to her but it sucked. He felt like a teenager. He even found himself avoiding her calls, figuring that if they continued speaking every day and night he'd never get over her.
At this point he didn't know if he wanted to get over her or if it was a possibility.
She'd gotten under his skin. Digging her way to his fractured heart and somehow making a home out of it.
He felt like a fucking loser, blushing during a phone call. A fucking phone call.
“You saw five hundred-dollar knives just lying around and bought them?" She replied endeared.
“Well, you know how it goes." He shrugged.
Heat rushed to his face again.
Realistically he figured he was going to get them for her months ago, but telling her that felt too eager. Like he was trying too hard to impress her.
“So," She sat the knife down but couldn't stop eyeing it. The pristine set sparkled under the warm lighting in her living room. Her eyes caught her name engraved at the bottom of one of the vegetable knives.
Warmth covered her neck and traveled up her cheeks.
''Just decided to pick them up' my ass.'
"How's The Bear been with me gone?”
“You know, we’re staying afloat. The new hires are all great. Everybody's been getting better and better. And Marcus?" He whistled. "He's doing some shit I haven't even tried."
"I'm gonna have to ask him to overnight me some donuts or something." Her phone vibrated momentarily pulling her from the conversation.
Luca (restaurant): I know we'll probably be wiped after tomorrow so I'll stop by later on around midnight? I know this great place that's open late
"Looks like Copenhagen did him well." Carmy noted.
Like an incessant alarm her conscience rudely screamed at her. She had to tell him sooner or later.
"Hey, so, speaking of Denmark, I have a um I have something to tell you..."
He waited for her to continue speaking for a bit, but her deep sigh caught his attention.
"Whats up? Everything okay?"
“It's just-" she clenched her fist over her mouth wanting to swallow her next set of words. Through gritted teeth she finally choked it out. "Me and Luca are go-going on a, going on a date tomorrow." She waited a beat. "He wanted to take me out for my birthday!" Another awkward beat. "And I thought it’d be weird for me not to tell you considering...well you know.”
He didn’t speak for a while.
"I'm sorry if that's weird but I'd feel weirder not telling you." She winced bracing herself as she awaited his response.
He blinked a few times, pulling his phone away from his ear to look at her contact photo. Yeah that was still Syd on the phone.
He felt like he was speaking with a stranger not the girl he loved. The girl who would never purposely hurt him. Her voice was muffled, like she'd been submerged in water.
Now he wanted to be as far away from his phone as possible.
"You still there?" She bit her thumbnail regretting her words.
"I am I" He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I just didn't expect that. That's all.” His voice quieted, just above a whisper now.
"I know. Was it weird that I told you? Are things weird now?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice but it was evident.
"No, not weird." He cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice. But when he spoke again the only thing he could muster was a hint of what his voice could be.
If Syd didn't know any better she'd think she heard heartbreak in his voice. But they were over right? They'd been over. They had to move on from each other.
Lingering wasn't healthy. No matter how romantic The Cranberries made it sound.
Although she felt this way, she couldn't help but feel like she betrayed him. A Delilah stringing her lover along just to chop off his golden curls when he slipped into comfort. Just when he felt like he could let his guard down.
"I am a little busy so-so I have to check on that uh that," he snapped his fingers a few times. "Delivery. The delivery for tomorrow morning."
"Wait, what? I don't understand?"
"I'll touch bases with you this weekend." He didn't wait for her to answer before hanging up.
Syd found herself once again staring at her phone screen. It lit up momentarily reminding her of the unanswered text from Luca. With little reluctance she replied.
Syd: I can't wait! :)
Dinner went off without a hitch and the mayor even complement Sydney personally. By 10:00 P.M. she was on her way home and by 10:30 she sat on her couch, finger hovering over Carmy's name.
"He doesn't care Syd." He hadn't even wished her a happy birthday. "Just get ready for your date." She whispered to herself. "Maybe, I'll just send a text..."
Syd: Not to brag but the mayor said she never had a steak quite like mine
With that done she plugged her phone in the charger and began getting ready for her date. The date she was excited to go on and not at all dreading.
Every 10 minutes she'd check her phone for a response from Carmy. But nothing, he hadn't even seen the message. She huffed turning back to the mirror to pull her braids into a high ponytail.
The doorbell chimed over the radio playing oldies in her living room.
“Fuck he’s here early!” She cursed checking the time before rushing to the door only to find someone she thought she left back in Chicago.
“Carmy?”
“Hey." He strolled inside pulling his luggage behind him. His baby blues drinking her in. “You look nice.”
Keep it polite, he reminded himself. She looked more than nice, skin shiny and sparkling. Perfume pulling him closer and closer.
He cracked his knuckles, stopping himself from reaching out and touching her.
There were moments, fleeting, minuscule, when her voice would radiate from his phone. Resonating, seducing him. It made him want to reach through the receiver and feel her warmth.
He had to settle on touching himself. Then he'd feel like a creep and swear it off. It never stuck.
Now she was here, within reach, looking like that for someone else. He brushed his knuckles against his lips admiring her from a safe distance.
“Got any plans?”
She blinked a few times, hand still on the nob, door ajar. "Uh yeah, Luca is on his way.” She scoffed finally snapping out of it.
With each stride she took toward him, he felt his pulse drum faster.
“I told you that last night?”
She crossed her arms watching as he studied her. As if she were a puzzle or a Monet. He marveled almost. No one ever looked at her quite like he did.
“Right, you two are seeing each other or whatever.” He twisted his mouth instantly wanting the nasty taste of those words out his mouth.
He distracted himself by looking around her living room. His heart lurched when he came across a photo of the two of them on the morning of The Bear's official open. The entire staff took turns taking pictures together, they took several as a group but Sug just couldn’t resist getting a pic of them out front in their matching fits.
It was framed, he noted with reddening cheeks. "You got it framed.” He cooed just under a whisper.
“Of course, it's my proudest accomplishment.” His black t-shirt stretched across his back as he leaned forward to examine the picture more closely. A few strands of his hair were kissing his forehead when he faced her again.
"Proudest huh?" Something was different about him. Whatever it was evaded her. His hair wasn't in it's normal state, busy and tangled, instead his curls neatly sat upon his crown. He never really wore jewelry but now he donned a thin chain that played peak-a-boo with her wandering eyes. "Mine too."
He wasn't as jittery as he usually was. His hands were still, almost too still. This wasn't the Carmy she left in Chicago. He momentarily broke eye contact, a fleeting admission of anxiety that was gone by the time he captured her gaze again.
This was a facade she decided. There was something troubling him. Something huge that she knew he wouldn't be able to keep under wraps for long.
His tongue grazed his bottom lip, she watched it go.
She shook her head, plunging her thoughts into ice cold water.
"That's doesn't- what are you doing here?"
"Ouch" he placed a hand over his chest, leaning back as if she physically hit him. "Is it a crime to visit my friend?"
She cut her eyes at him growing increasingly more frustrated at his casualness. His gum chewing. His stupid hair that was always messy but for some reason was now perfect. And god those stupid eyes, she could excuse everything else if it wasn't for his penetrative stare.
Always calling to her. Burning up her skin, leaving her insides vibrating for minutes until she worked up the courage to will those feelings away.
"Carmen," she took a deep breath. "Please don't play with me right now. I have plans."
"Right, and you're still going?" He questioned like he was asking her for the time. "Because I really need to talk to you."
"What? I'm supposed to overlook you conveniently showing up the night I have a date?" She blew a raspberry, feeling her nerves burn up at his expression. "And stop looking at me like that!"
He maintained eye contact, trying his hardest to keep his smile at bay. He missed this.
"Okay I admit my timing isn't the best..." He trailed off shoving his hands in his pocket. "But I just needed to see you, Sydney. I need to talk to you."
"I actually have this really cool new invention called the cellphone-" she crossed the room grabbing her phone. The device flashed on as she turned around holding it up. "Would you look at that? It works! Did you forget that the phone worked both ways?"
"In person," he sighed finally dropping his facade. Apparently his sad attempt at charm was falling on deaf ears. "Can I please have a second of you time? Then I'm gone." His previous bravado had dissipated, leaving room for him to be himself. "I just need to, need you to hear me."
She shouldn't be talking to him right now. She left him in Chicago. She left all that stress and dysfunction, and this relationship behind. How did it still find her? What possessed him to chase after her?
"Luca will be here any minute, I mean after-"
"Why do you like him so much?" He cut her off, twiddling his thumbs - a pensive expression covering his face. He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, a nervous tick. "Its like all you talk about is him. What is it? Are you fa-falling" he gulped, trying to conjure moisture in his mouth. "How serious are you two?"
"Carmen Berzatto, you took a 4 hour flight because I'm going out on one date with a guy I've known for a few months?" She shook her head. "This can't be healthy."
"I just need to know if you plan on dating this guy." He shrugged, hands palm up and outstretched. "As your friend I feel like I have an obligation. I care about you so much-"
"Cut the shit. You came here because you're jealous."
He felt the tips of his ears warm at her accusation. A very true one at that.
"I've been obsessed with you since before we even spoke to each other and I finally have the guts to have a drink with some other guy and you do this?"
“It's not just that Syd" His voice teetering on a desperate plea. Fuck if it didn't tug at her heart strings.
"Then what is it? What made you get your ass on a plane and show up at my door in the middle of the night."
He ran a hand through his hair effectively messing up the expert styling he'd done in the airport bathroom. "I-I missed you and I wanted to talk to you, and it's your birthday."
She stared at him long and hard before giving up and plopping down on her couch. "Okay. What did you want to talk about?" She checked her phone to find Luca had sent an 'On the way!' text.
"Are you thinking of moving here? Permanently, I mean." He sat on the bar stool adjacent from her, his leg shaking incessantly. "You mentioned Luca being the best cook in the world or something like that and I just wanted to know if you thought he was good enough to stay or maybe you'd want to go cook with him where ever he ends up."
She quirked her eyebrow, taking time to survey his face for any sign of humor but he was stone cold serious. That was when she surprised herself - and Carmy - with laughter.
"You're serious right now?"
"What? Why are you laughing at me?" He stopped shaking his leg. That reaction wasn't right, was it?
"I'm not..." She shook her head as she lifted up a finger. The sweet sound floated around them. Carmy shifted uncomfortably noticing how warm his face was growing. "All of this is because I said I liked his cooking?"
"No." He balked. Even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
She tilted her head to the side letting her laughter subside. She was looking at him how she used to again. With warmth and maybe even love, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.
"He's not going to replace you Carmy."
He felt embarrassed. Like these last few months in therapy were all for nothing. He didn't try any of his exercises and he overreacted. Now he felt like a possessive prick who can't get over his ex-girlfriend - who works for him.
He should probably make Sug head of HR, because their lack thereof was becoming starkly noticeable.
He should just leave. Go before she could officially cut him off. Get out of her hair for good. He didn't remember standing up but she was soon standing before him, placing a gentle hands on his shoulders.
"Stop it." She broke through his thoughts.
"What?"
"I said stop it. God I can hear your thoughts from here." She inched closer to him before running her hand from his shoulders to his clammy hands "Luca is cool and yes we have a date but I think I have something to say to you too."
He stiffened staring at their joined hands.
"Whats that?" He replied thickly. As if tears were threatening there way out of his downcast eyes.
She used two fingers to lift his head until he was looking her in the eyes.
"Carmy, I'm not going anywhere." Flashes of his vulnerable confession just before they hooked up came back to her.
She wanted to say this back then, she wanted to tell him that she didn't want their hookup to be a dead end but she felt weak for feeling that way. Like she had to prove something to herself, to the world, and to Carmy. She wanted to prove that he didn't have the upper hand. She could now see how naive that was.
"I want to be with you. L-like we were before, but healthier." She suppressed a grin but he caught it. "I have this huge, never ending, and frankly inconvenient crush on you. And I don't know man, it's gonna take a lot to get rid of me."
”I love you." It felt like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he'd been baptized in cool water and his vitality had been renewed. "I don’t want you to feel like I’m this brainless prick. I know I don't own you and coming here was probably the last thing you wanted but-" he grabbed both her hands. "It's you Syd. You drive me crazy."
Bright flecks of happiness peaked from within him and shined against Sydney.
"And it's you."
Those grating feelings of uncertainly that dominated his thoughts and body began seeping out, never to be felt again. He was ready to let go of the baggage that came with doubt. He hoped Syd wouldn't pick it back up.
"So, what are you saying? You want me back?" He knocked their hands together, swinging them in a childlike bout of giddiness.
"Only if you'll take me back." She confessed, remaining hopeful that they were still on the same page.
He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle keeping his eyes connected with hers.
"Are you crazy?" And that was all it took really. He let go of her hands and didn't spare a second to pull her against his chest and inhale the fruitiness of her aroma.
She smelled like a freshly cut mango on a summer day. When you'd suck at the seed and the nectar would run down your arms. You couldn't bring yourself to care because it tasted so damn good.
Her lips felt like home. She tasted like she had before. He cradled her head between his hands, devouring her. His hands traveled down to her waist pulling her flush against him.
She gasped at the movement but let him will her body to his control. She missed how he held her. She missed how his hair felt between her fingers. How he kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her. His kiss was something that never changed.
He didn't care to pull away or open his eyes when the doorbell rang. Syd felt his arms pull her impossibly closer when there was a knock.
He'd forgotten all about Luca, who was innocent in all of this, but he was having a hard time rationalizing that.
Syd was the one that pulled back causing a sound of disapproval to leave Carmy's mouth. She remained in his grasp. She wasn't sure if she could get out of it if she tried. His hands clasped her in a firm grip, like she'd slip away if he let go.
"What are you gonna do?" He questioned bracing himself for her answer. She looked from him to the door and back again.
"I'll go talk to Luca." She decided. "I'll let him know I can't come out tonight."
"Okay." He breathed, finally letting her go. He missed her softness, how had he gone so long without this.
She pecked his cheek sweetly, briefly, admiring the scattered freckles littering his neck.
“Be right back." She promised before turning to get the door.
Carmy watched as the door closed behind her. He exhaled and looked up to the ceiling and thanked whatever god was up there that coming here actually worked.
"Woah Syd, in a hurry to go?" Luca jested backing up as Syd stepped outside. He looked down admiring her outfit choice but stopping short at her feet. More specifically her choice in shoes. "No offense but, are these house slippers?"
"Uh," she glanced down. "Yes they are. Look-" She was trying and failing at internally psyching herself up. She loved Carmy, but this still made her feel like shit. "You know Carmy right? Chef Carmen Berzatto?"
He slowly nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I think you may have mentioned him once or twice also I kind of worked with him." He chuckled teasingly. "What about him?"
"Right, you did." She winced. "He actually dropped in and I'd feel bad leaving him inside and I'm so sorry but"
"You're canceling our date." He supplied.
She nodded shamefully. "Sorry, I just - we, I mean Carmy and I- and, and you drove all the way here. I just"
"Hey, hey Sydney it's alright." He laughed, hand shooting up to stop her. "I understand. We aren't reciting vows." He laughed more so to himself this time. "Mind if I say hello?"
She hummed imaging how that could turn out. She considered them being adults and not animals but she also considered how badly she wanted to send him away and climb on top of Carmy and stay there until the sun came up.
"Sure." She welcomed him in.
Carmy paused his nervous pacing, his eyes caught Syd's as she put on her best I'm sorry face and mouthed 'Be nice'.
"Chef Berzatto!" He reached a hand out waiting for Carmy to shake it. Carmy stared at it before Syd coughed breaking him out of it and forcing him to shake Luca's hand.
"Hey man." He cleared his throat shoving his hands in his pocket. A bout of awkward silence passes through the room. "How you been? Marcus said you've made quite the name for yourself in Denmark."
"I could say the same about you." He grinned "It's been great though. But it's different here. I'm actually considering a move out here, check out a few more places. Mind if I borrow Chef Sydney though?"
Carmy didn't answer not knowing exactly how to respond without it coming out snarky or rude. So he simply didn't respond.
"Just jokes, just jokes!" He broke the tension. "Well, I just came in to say hello. See how you were getting on."
"You know how it is, Chef. There's always something." He replied plainly.
Luca nodded sensing that his presence was no longer wanted. The air was slowly being sucked out of the room. The longer he stood between Syd and Carmy the more he realized their building tension.
When he moved she moved, when she breathed he replied with his own pattern of inhale and exhale. After seeing the way Sydney looked at Carmy he wondered how he ever thought she looked at him with any hint of attraction.
"I'm gonna head out." He nodded his head towards the door. "Bye Syd, see you Saturday. Come in early so I can finally teach you how to make Chocolat au Crumble de Fraises." He closed the door behind him.
Carmy kept his eyes on the door. "Have I ever told you how annoying that guys is?"
Syd laughed sauntering over to her cabinet to pour herself a drink.
"Shut up Luca is a cool guy."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He playfully replied following her path and grabbing himself a glass. "Hey, I'm sorry about not telling you about inviting" he cleared his throat, "yeah to-to uh dinner."
"Carmy..."
"Please, just, can I actually offer a real explanation?" He waited for her to give him the go.
After she nodded he continued
"We ran into each other, randomly, she was still a little prickly towards me. I you know, I felt so bad. She's still a friend of the family, right? And I didn't know what to say, so I invited her to dinner. I didn't stay the entire night and left before we even got to the second course." He gulped down his brown liquor. "We haven't spoken since. Promise."
She looked down at her drink. Warmth covering her face. She was thankful of her rich complexion, how it protected her from that kind of vulnerability.
"Thank you." She breathed, looking up from her nearly empty glass. "For that, you, I should've just talked to you. I shouldn't have been so mean."
“Stop it." He refilled her glass. He followed her movements as she sipped the sharp whiskey. Her lips were shiny once she pulled it back.
She shifted under his stare. Attempting to match him by watching him back. It only made the room grow warmer. She was pulsating now. Liquor had always spelled danger for her.
Thankfully he lost their unspoken competition.
"I actually forgot, one sec.” He released a deep breath, bending down to grab something out of his bag. A manila envelope.
She eyed it curiously, intrigued by what he had up his sleeve. He ran a finger over his right brow before extending it towards her.
“Here”
She took the envelope and slowly opened it. It was a contract. A contract for The Bear. Establishing her as a co-owner along with Carmy.
“You okay?” His soft voice broke her from her daze. He ducked his head catching her watery eyes.
She blinked realizing that tears were welling in her eyes. She wiped them quickly in embarrassment.
”Fuck sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
"No, it's not, you don’t have to say anything right now." He assured. "The Bear is as much mine as it is yours. This isn’t me trying to make you stay in Chicago. I’d never do that to you, I know you want to do more than work in that shithole” he mocked. “But it’s, it's ours isn't it? I want you to know you’ll always have a home.”
She kicked herself for letting more tears pass her lids. They were quickly wiped away as well. She shook her head skimming over it and seeing the signature line at the bottom. All she had to do was sign.
“Jesus, Carmy would’ve been easier if you asked me to marry you.” She laughs eyes still on the paper reading the header over and over again. She could own something. Something that wasn't destined to fail.
He hummed thoughtfully, “You’re right, it would be easier if I asked you to marry me.”
They let the thought linger. She gently placed the papers back on the envelop.
"Thanks again, for-for telling me about the uh dinner thing. I know we weren’t together so of really wasn't any of my business-“
"Together or not, don’t want you thinking I don’t care about your feelings.“ His words hit her deeply. How careful he always was especially with her. She pulled him into a hug, relaxing as she held onto him.
His hair smelled freshly washed and he was wearing some fancy cologne. Leaning back she took him in, more carefully this time.
”What’s got you all dressed up?” She raised an eyebrow.
He looked down at himself then back at her, “Didn’t want to ask you to be my business partner in a dingy white-tee.”
"You could’ve.“ She laughed. “But you look really nice. I like your cologne...“
"It’s the one I hate.“ He noted “Nat said I should wear it.”
"She knows you came?”
”She drew up our contract” He explained “She wants no legal obligation to that place by the end of the year.”
"Better me than her I guess." Her reply was absentminded as she trailed Carmy's body. How could someone who ate like a frat boy maintain a body like his.
"What?” He looked down self consciously.
"Have you been working out?” She always knew him to be fit but she swears his biceps were bigger than they were the last time she saw him.
"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard since you left.” He shrugged. “Helps with stress”
”I’m sure it does.” She rips her eyes away from his arms to pour herself a heftier drink. “You look great.” The compliment slipped out of her. "You know what else helps with stress?"
Shut up Syd. SHUT UP.
"No, what is that?"
His arms rested on the counter, outstretched past her. She swayed brushing against it, stumbling back onto the bar stool behind her.
He didn't know if he wanted to look at her drawing eyes or kissable lips. His eyes darted between both as he leaned closer to her, wanting to know the secret she kept.
She should've stopped drinking one glass ago, now her filter was withering away and her sober mind was locked behind a cage guarded by her horny intoxicated mind.
Sydney's alarm made the both of them jump away from each other.
With this distraction, her sense came rushing back. They shouldn't have sex.
Not now.
She had work in the morning and everything was still so fresh. Plus she was feeling like a fucking doofus around him and she didn't know why.
Her reasoning sounded like B.S. in this moment but somewhere in her head it made sense.
"I'm- that's my alarm for bed." She chuckled, as she slid off the bar stool, temporarily swaying a bit too close to him. He followed her as she moved away, so close to kissing her but he decided against it at the last minute. "Just gonna go get ready for bed." With that she left.
Carmy watched her disappear behind her bathroom door and waited until the shower cut on to breath. He pressed his hand against the seam of his jeans, willing his hard on away.
Steam billowed out before her once she left the bathroom and padded over to her bedroom. He was looking over the Polaroids that hung above her dresser. Each memory she cherished.
"Shit sorry." He turned around like he'd been caught red handed. "Didn't mean to intrude."
"No it's, you're fine." She pulled her towel, that she realized was entirely too short, closer. The fluffy white fabric stopped just below the curve of her ass.
He watched as a bead of water trailed over her collarbone and under the towel. She sat on her bed, fingers still tightly holding the towel around her.
"You, uh did you see the pic there at the top?"
Carmy heard her but he didn't have the capacity to respond. He was suddenly so thirsty. He missed how she tasted. He turned back around to find the photo she referred to.
Shifting, her thighs granted her temporary relief. Blood thudded inside of her.
"Holy shit is that?" He squinted his eyes trying to get a closer look at the photo. "It can't be we hadn't even met at that point." The restaurants name etched on a menu beside the dish confirmed his suspicions.
He prepared this dish during a time of devaluation and grief. He was alone and felt like he'd lost touch with his family. When really Mikey was just avoiding him. He was told it was never good enough. He was a fuck up who didn't know the first thing about cooking. He swore he'd never made it again - too many bad memories. Funny how even at the lowest point in his life, she seemed to find some good in him.
"Remember I told you I tried your cooking well before I met you."
"Yeah I remember I just," he glanced back at her, eyes dropping to her enticing thighs before darting back to the photo on the wall. "I-I didn't know you had a picture of it!" He chuckled. "Do you photograph all the food you eat?" He quirked an eyebrow, turning back to her. "Or was I special?"
He just wanted to hear her say it. He'd never ask her for anything else if she just called him special.
With each step forward an inferno blazed within her, it'd be impossible to look away now that he was so close.
She imagined this was how it felt after staring at the sun for too long. Hypnotized by its beauty. Blinded by it's ferocity. Appreciative of its life. She understood now why people worshiped the blazing ball in the sky.
He stood above her, overbearing almost. She looked up at him, trying not to shiver at his attention. She failed.
"You were special." Her voice was small. She feared speaking louder would give her away.
"Thought I was special, did you." He grinned knocking their knees together.
His mind wouldn't stop racing. He resisted his urges long enough, seeing that on her wall like it was art stirred something within him. She was always there seeing him for who he was and not who everybody wanted him to be. The depth of his feelings for her broke new ground, growing treacherous. He'd be terrified if he didn't trust her with his heart, his life.
"I did." She replied, voice still hidden under her embarrassing desire.
"You're special too." He nudged her legs apart, moving closer. Still above her. Still staring down at her as if this were the most casual thing in the world. Beneath his depth he was anything but.
She wondered if he'd still respect her if she got on her knees right now.
If she begged for it. If she came by simply rubbing her body on his.
"You know that right?" The back of his hand grazed her cheeks. He could feel the warmth. She couldn't hide now.
She nodded, hypnotized by him, afraid to speak, fearing a feral moan would rang out.
"Can you say it for me?" He waited a second, hand now gently gripping the dip of her neck. "Say 'I'm special'."
"I-I'm special." She replied breathlessly. His eyes grew darker as he watched her squirm. She was dizzy now with desire. Seconds from dropping her towel and jumping his bones.
His hand that wasn't on her neck met her bottom lip, gently pulling it down. "Can I try something?" He left her mouth open, waiting for her reply.
She closed her mouth, gulping down the saliva that pooled there. She nodded and he smiled.
"Use your words."
She gulped down more saliva before speaking again
"Yes."
He gently tugged on her towel tossing it to the floor. She watched the tips of his ears turn red. Being fully clothed while she was on display like this was mind-boggling.
He opened his mouth to speak but his words were stuck in his throat. His stomach did back flips. He still didn't know how he landed someone so, "Beautiful." It was a whisper but she heard it.
He brought his fingers back up to her mouth but this time he gently shoved two fingers in her mouth. He stroked her tongue, being careful not to trigger her gag reflex.
Moaning drifted past her ears. She met his eyes, realizing it was her making those noises. She didn't know why but his fingers in her mouth pulled her closer and closer to the edge.
"Back up for me." He left his fingers against her tongue as she carefully backed further onto the bed. His knee nestled between her thighs as she settled on her back. "Gonna get you off, okay? Apologize for popping up like this."
She wanted to tell him there was no need to apologize but between her slowly slipping mind and his fingers against her tongue she simply nodded.
In an instant they were gone out of her mouth and circling her bud. She was so wound up, the first touch sent electricity through her. She trembled, frantically trying to control herself.
"Fuck Syd, didn't even need to do that." His fingers slipped easily into her. "You're so wet. So ready for me."
She nodded desperately, moving her hips, chasing an already building orgasm.
"So pretty. So pretty." He worried his bottom lip, watching her. What made her jerk, what made her moan, what made her eyes roll. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants." He huffs. "If you keep looking like that."
She clawed at his top, hands sliding up from under. She moaned his name, how could she be expected to form a clear sentence in that moment.
"Want me undressed too?" His soaked fingers rubbed her, applying just enough pressure. She feverishly nodded.
"Please." She managed to get something other than his name out of her mouth.
His touch was gone - she resisted the urge to throw a tantrum. She wanted him undressed after all.
His chiseled body descended back on her. He immediately latched onto her neck. But he wasn't touching her like she wanted. Not like he was just seconds ago.
He soon noticed her vitriol and the fucker smiled.
"Relax," he continued kissing down her neck all the way down to her perky nipples. "I'll get you there, just missed this so much."
With each kiss he neared the place between her thighs.
Her mouth fell open once he latched onto her. Fingers slipping back into her.
With each come hither movement and each kiss worshiping her clit she moved closer and closer to the edge.
His tongue dancing in a firm circle pulling an orgasm out of her.
The feeling surprised her. This was different than all the other times. Her chest pounded and her thighs trembled. She gripped his curls and was pretty sure it made that fucker moan. She could feel the vibrations.
She loved him.
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoufuckIloveyou
No one knew her like him. No one could do this to her but him. She didn't want anybody else to do this to her. With her.
He gently licked her, tongue slowly cleaning up her mess. He climbed up her body, nuzzling her neck.
"I love you too Syd."
Had she said that out loud?
He watched her come back to Earth, eyes low and hazy. He waited until she looked at him, clearly, to kiss her. She moaned when she tasted herself.
"You taste so good don't you?" He kissed her jaw. "Are you ready?"
She pulled him closer, far too weak and aroused to say anything.
He squeezed the base of his dick. He didn’t want to cum too fast, he wanted to relish in this. Savor it.
He exhaled as he pushed into her. He fit her so well. So easily. That stupid part of his brain preened at that. She was his.
He stilled once he bottomed out.
She was impatient. Feeling his throbbing head against that spot inside of her made her instinctively salivate. She canted her hips up, encouraging some sort of movement.
"Shit, you're" He buried his face in her neck as he began moving. Brutally. Slowly. As deep as he could get.
Her legs wrapped around him keeping him close. Needing him close. With each pound against her button she spiraled further and further into his spell. She felt drunk. In love. Dangerously so.
He groaned at her teeth digging into his shoulder, another orgasm echoed through her.
"Feel so good when you cum on my dick like that." He gripped the sheets, moving faster, more intentional - chasing his release. Her fitted sheets popped off of the corners of her mattress, rolling up under them.
She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it.
He was so close, losing his grip on reality. On sanity. He wanted to cum inside of her. "Wanna get you pregnant." His eyes were closed, he didn't see her reaction but she clenched around him. Her legs and arms pulled him closer like a Venus flytrap devouring its prey.
"Please" she gasped gripping him tighter. "I want it."
A noise he hadn't recognized as his voice left him, muffled against her neck. He pumped inside of her, once, twice, three times so deeply he was sure they'd have a pregnancy scare. He couldn't bring himself to care though.
After cleaning up and fixing the bed he rocked her in his arms.
"We should get a Plan B." He mentioned kissing her forehead. “Or not.”
"I have an IUD." She reminded him.
He tried to hide his disappointment.
"Aw come on ya big sap, give me a kiss."
He happily obliged.
Sydney was back home and she and Carmy's relationship was on the up and up. They were working on it and things seemed to be progressing exponentially.
"Remember when I said it'd be easier for you to just ask me to marry you?"
"I do." He looked up from the document he'd been filling out. Syd long ago tried to bring Carmy into the digital age, but he was stuck in his ways. It was endearing. "What about it?"
"Is that," she hesitates, hovering over uncharted waters. "Is marriage something you ever think about?" She sat on his desk swinging her feet, too nervous to sit still or stand like a normal person. "Not with me I mean with anybody ever."
He sat his pen down, she now had his full attention. "You're the only person I ever thought about marrying." He replied openly, his hand sliding up her thigh. When he reached her belly his fingers twisted in the softness of her shirt causing her to stir and swat his hand away with a smile.
Now he was standing before her, between her legs, caging her in with his arms. Reminiscent of their first kiss. "And maybe even some day," he breathed into her neck, planting a wet kiss there once she leaned into him. "You can take that stupid IUD out and let me put a baby in you."
Her eyes fell closed, thinking about what it'd be like to do that. She pulled back cradling his head between her hands, stars brightening her eyes.
"Let’s focus on raising this baby first before we think about any others. Imagine how fucked up it would be." She tilted her had slightly in an attempt to be snarky or maybe sarcastic, anything to alleviate the seriousness of the moment.
"Who says we can't do both?" He replied half joking half hopeful. There goes his hands again, warming her sensitive belly. "We can try before the meeting starts." He mouthed at her neck and gripped her waist, now determined to make his dreams a reality.
She chuckled "Carmen." She gently nudged him back. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you know my dad would kill you- me- no US if we got pregnant?"
"Sydney, you know you're an adult right?" He shot her a teasing grin. "Also, I'm not saying right now or any time soon. I was joking." He placated. But they both knew he wasn't really joking all that much. "It's nice to know you're open to that sorta thing."
Syd nodded still trying to calm herself down. "I think you'd make a great dad." She replied earnestly.
She admired the pink that spread across his cheeks.
Richie knocked on the door before walking in, not waiting for a response.
"Yo, cousin when you and the wife are done with your meeting the actual team meeting has started out front."
"Shut the fuck up Richie!" He replied, no real heat behind his words. "And who started the meeting?"
"Who else?" He glanced around the room with a scoff "I did, when you two fly off to la la land I pick up the slack."
"What do you teach them? The quickest way to fuck up lunch?" Sydney fired back.
"Hey that was once!" He shouted behind him, already making his way back to the meeting.
Syd followed behind him but Carmy's hand stopped her. She spun around and he pulled her against him, kissing her breathless. He rested his forehead against hers.
"You'd really marry a fuck up like me?" He glanced behind her making sure Richie was gone.
"Carmy." She sighed leaning forward and pecking him once. "What did your therapist say about self-talk?"
"Right" He nodded. "Sorry, I'm still learning."
"Don't apologize." She kissed him again, lingering longer than before. "I wouldn't want to spend my life with anybody else."
"See! I told you they're back here making out" Richie's voice drifted through the kitchen catching their attention. The rest of the staff followed behind laughing amongst themselves.
"Chefs, are you going to show them tonight's specials or do I have to?"
destiel fic library
Hi! I’m abi, and I like to bend canon to suit all my whims and fancies.
I’ve finally done a masterpost of all my fics so far, everything is Castiel/Dean Winchester but as always: check the tags.
I mostly write canonverse, drowning in angst, and preferably explicit.
Always a happy ending.
15k+:
finale fix-it set after 15x19 > conversations with you (M)
dean is cursed by a djinn > this bitter nightcall (E)
castiel is human, but they aren’t on speaking terms; two person love triangle set in s9 > salt & iron (E, written for DCBB ‘22)
AU 15k+:
coffeeshop au; librarian castiel is tasked with fixing up his dad’s bookshop, and barista dean from next door helps > the barista and the bookshop (E, written for Pinefest ‘23)
serial killer au; sam is dead and dean needs a place to rest up, he answers a ‘roommate wanted’ advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop and meets professor castiel > like ivy (E, written for DeanCasHorrorfest ‘23)
one-shots:
cas gives dean a shoulder massage > touch-starved (M)
flirting behaviour > dean and cas play nsfw scrabble (M)
post-confession reunion > kissing is the most fun dean winchester can have without taking his clothes off (but it’s better if he does) (E)
collections/series’:
dean gives cas the mixtape > dean and cas - mixtape collection (G,M,E)
various smut > spoiler alert: they fuck (E)
g: general m: mature e: explicit
someone to be thankful for
DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader
summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.
warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?
PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.
MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.
word count: 11.5k
a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.
You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.
Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.
Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.
Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.
And somehow, someone will still find something.
Something to point out.
Something to comment on.
Something to criticize.
If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.
Because someone always had something to say.
“Should you be eating all of that?”
“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”
“Don’t you want to get married?”
“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”
Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.
Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.
“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”
You groan outwardly.
There’s still plenty left to do?
How’s that even fucking possible?
You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.
“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”
“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”
Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.
You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?
You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”
Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.
You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”
Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”
Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.
“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”
“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”
Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.
You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”
She nods, returning to her board.
“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”
“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”
“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”
Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”
“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”
“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”
“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”
You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”
She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.
“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”
Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.
“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”
You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”
That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.
“Well?”
“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.
“She’s family.”
“She’s a jerk.”
“You crossed a line.”
“She crossed it first.”
Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.
“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”
She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.
You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.
Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.
He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.
The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.
After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”
He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”
“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”
He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”
“That’s really not that long.”
“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”
Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.
You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”
“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”
You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”
“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.
There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.
Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.
But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.
He’s here for your father.
Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”
You force back a small, amused snort.
As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.
It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.
“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.
Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”
Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”
“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”
You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.
Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”
Nodding, your father begins the prayer.
“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”
You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.
Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.
His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.
“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.
You force out the declaration. “Amen.”
“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.
Dinner’s fairly uneventful.
You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.
Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”
He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”
“You became a teacher?”
“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.
“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”
You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.
“Dad.”
Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.
But he does mean it.
His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.
Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”
Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.
You shoot him a small, grateful smile.
The two of you wind up talking to one another.
Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.
“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.
Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”
“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”
“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”
Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”
Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.
You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.
Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”
“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”
“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”
He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—
“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?
They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.
Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”
Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”
Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.
He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.
Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.
For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.
Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”
Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”
Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.
Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”
Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”
“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”
Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”
“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”
You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.
Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.
You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.
“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.
You stare at him in surprise.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.
Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”
His concern is genuine. It’s real.
You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.
“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”
Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”
It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.
You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.
But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.
Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.
“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”
You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.
He feels like stability.
He feels like security.
He feels like safety.
Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.
“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
He repeats his reassurance over and over again.
He wants you to believe it.
And you do believe it.
Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.
“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”
“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”
“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”
He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”
“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”
Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”
“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.
“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”
“But Joel—”
“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”
He isn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.
You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”
“I am. Thank you, Joel.”
“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.
As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.
“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”
Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.
Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”
You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.
“S’it pretty bad?”
“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”
“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.
“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.
He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.
“Lone Star.”
“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”
It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—
“Here you go, darlin’.”
Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.
He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.
Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.
“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”
“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”
It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”
He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.
“You feelin’ alright?”
“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”
Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”
“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.
“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”
“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”
He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”
“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”
Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.
But he does answer, because he does know.
“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”
He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”
He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”
“She’s wrong.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“I don’t have to know what happened.”
“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”
Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”
Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”
“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”
You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”
“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”
You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”
“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.
“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”
You need more than just his kiss, so much more.
You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.
Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”
His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.
“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”
He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”
Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.
Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.
The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.
You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”
He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.
He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.
You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.
Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.
It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.
“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”
The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.
“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”
Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.
He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.
“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”
“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”
Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.
Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.
“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”
He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.
Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.
Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.
“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”
He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”
You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.
Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.
“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”
You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.
“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”
You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”
Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.
Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.
“Joel.”
Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.
He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”
Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.
He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”
Frantically, you nod your head.
“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”
“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”
You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.
Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”
Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”
You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.
He fucking likes being called Daddy.
“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”
You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.
“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”
You nod obediently. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” he prompts.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”
For a split second, you can’t breathe.
This man will surely be the death of you.
Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.
“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.
“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”
“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”
Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”
He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.
He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.
“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”
It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.
Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.
You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.
You’re milliseconds away from release.
“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”
His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.
One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.
“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue
You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.
You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.
Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”
You immediately snatch your hand away from him.
“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.
You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.
He offers reassurance—and an explanation.
“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”
Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”
“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.
You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.
“I’m on birth control.”
Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”
“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”
That’s all he needed to hear.
Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.
He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.
You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”
Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.
“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”
You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”
The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.
Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.
“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”
“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”
Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.
“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”
Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”
The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.
One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.
“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”
“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”
You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.
Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”
The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.
“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”
“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”
Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.
“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.
“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”
“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”
Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.
He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.
“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.
“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.
“Let me get the blanket—”
Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.
“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”
“But baby, you’re cold—”
You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.
“Just hold me. Please.”
And that’s exactly what he does.
Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.
“Joel?”
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.
“Do you, now?”
You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”
Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”
Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.
He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.
You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”
“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”
divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎
PLEASE, ALL OF YOU LITERATI SHIPPER, WATCH THIS!
Every Jess and Rory truther who believed they ended up together in the end after AYITL should know this vid exists. Trust me, you will not regret it. Probably my favorite video on YouTube ever. Leave your thoughts, I would love to discuss this or just cry together :)
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