Continuing from Fiction #1 -
Fiction #2 Warning: not intended for the inexperienced eyes of youth. Consensual fucking. Coitus-related emoting. A proper number of erections. Unmitigated FICTION.
My lawyering life has continued in much the same vein as before the writhingly sexy few hours of lust at the Georgian Terrace, but I have to smile every time I drive past the place. I forgot most details about the escapade, including the actor; I just couldn’t forget the way he made me feel exactly. Some mornings I would still wake up with a smile at that residual sense of having been well-fucked.
As I had assumed, he made no moves toward communication; at least until I had thoroughly written him off. Two long, hot months of sweet Atlanta summer had transpired when I got a text from the guy. “It’s my birthday. Miss you.” It took me a while to recognize the number and place who was the birthday boy. It dawned on me that it was the “Ego Skarsgård” creep with the nice dick.
I was at the office in the middle of reviewing depositions and ignored it. Hell, I began to feel that residual feeling, and I flew back, “Irritatingly, like you miss your air flight? Congrats on still living.” I couldn’t deny that fucker had some balls. Immediately my phone rang. It was he. I wasn’t having it. I sent him to voice mail hell and bent back to the task at hand.
Ol’ Alex texted me a few more times in the remaining month before the movie was scheduled to being shooting, i.e., the time for the talent to descend upon the peons. He called a few times too. I never answered his calls and rarely texted back unless he left me an opening in which to be a bit rude, in a genteel southern way, of course. I didn’t think too much about it.
Big Dug had kept me in the loop on how the production was coming. Pre-production had begun soon after his garden cocktail party. He had a new hobby and talked about it often, usually beginning with, “Hey girl, heard from your Hollywood fuck lately?” or “How’s your absent lap-piece, still invisible?” He just wanted to tease me to get me to cuss him a little. He knew we’d had a fine time and that I took it simply for what it was – pleasurable recreation. Big Dug lamented my lack of a love interest, but he had none as well. We tricked about with others and occupied our minds as we liked with work, responsibilities or, in Big Dug’s case, producing a movie. He had executive producer credit and he’d been instrumental in sourcing and procuring necessary financing. I sincerely hoped it did not become executive blame.
One Friday in October, Big Dug asked me to come to the movie set on location just over the way in Virginia-Highland, just a neighborhood over from Ansley Park. There were a number of projects filming in and around Atlanta, so much so that the L.A. transplants called it not “Hotlanta” but “Y’allywood”. Big Dug said he had to meet with the director about cost overruns and lured me in with, “I know you aren’t in court and if you’ll give me your time, I’ll take you to dinner. You choose the place.” Big Dug would let me have my way if it didn’t hurt him too much. I accepted with relief in my voice. I needed a change of scenery. The last two Saturdays I’d spent working and the Sundays watching movies curled up in the chair. I knew I could use a relaxing break.
I slept late on Friday, but I was fed and watered by late morning for Big Dug to pick me up. He said that the director wanted to meet when the crew broke for lunch. “Oh,” I yawned, “we’re having Kraft Services for lunch, big spender.”
Big Dug cajoled, “Now, now, littlest, I’m planning on taking you to dinner at Atkins Park or Mai Ling for Thai food if you don’t act out. I really thought you might enjoy looking at something you don’t know much about. Yes, I know that’s a small grouping of your unknowns. If you whine, I’ll hold you on my lap until you cry like a girl. Really, I just wanted your company.”
I was feeling particularly feisty. I leaned over and licked Big Dug’s cheek, eliciting a “ewww shoo, fuck,” as Big Dug swiped his palm over the spit.
We parked in the driveway at a friend’s house on Virginia Ave. and walked along the shaded sidewalk the block or so to where the film crew was working. The parking lot for Highland Hardware was full of RVs and other movie-making equipment. Big Dug and I were ushered past security like the royalty that Big Dug’s wallet made us.
The All-Powerful Director was expecting us, but after a brief “hello” asked us to be quiet for a moment, he wanted just one more take before lunch. So, we watched, a little wide-eyed, the actors being prepared. We couldn’t hear what was said, but the scene looked to be a buildup to a fight outside of Atkins Park Bar and Grill. And there, in the midst of the scurry, stood Ol’ Alex, looking debonair and unruffled and, I must admit, quite sexy in that self-possessed, handsome man way. Shit fire, maybe he wouldn’t see me. And if he did see me, maybe he wouldn’t react at all, saving it all for the camera.
The director called “cut” and the lunch break, then turned to give instructions to some workers integral to the moviemaking, I know not just how or why. I watched Alex shed his suit coat and saunter toward some parked RV possibly. Someone ran up to him with a clipboard from my direction. Alex turned toward the commotion and looked right at me. Inscrutable courtroom face, hurry! My brain said it, but I don’t know if my expression complied. Alex smiled, waved, motioned me over as he spoke to the clipboard woman. Well, hell, it was only polite to go over there, I suppose. Big Dug felt my absence and looked to see what I was doing.
Big Dug watched (he said later that he even shushed the director) as Alex strode to meet me. I started to speak, but Alex grabbed me and kissed me like we were reunited lovers heretofore separated by family, famine, and feud. Well, that kiss was as good as I remembered and I gave it right back, making people stop in their tracks and murmur the who and why questions to themselves.
As we separated, Alex whispered to me, “No matter what you think, I remember your name.” But he said loudly, “I’ve missed you, Duchess.” He pulled me in for another thorough tongue exploration. As the public display of affection ended, I realized I was squeezing my thighs together against my arousal. Oh, fuck me, I would have it again. I wouldn’t deny myself ethereal orgasms no matter what name he might call me by. “You know where I live. Want to come by when you’re done? Oh, you probably don’t remember. I’ll text you the address.”
I turned and walked as nonchalantly as I could back to Big Dug, who exclaimed like a kid at the circus, “Oh, yes, I knew it! I knew it!” He gave me a hug before he reined in his enthusiasm. The puzzled director commanded us to go somewhere to meet privately, blah, blah. I wasn’t listening. I was watching Alex wave goodbye while mouthing “later”.
The director had someone bring us whatever we wanted to eat or drink. I asked for a spiced rum and still water. Big Dug winked at me. I drank through their meeting and daydreamed. I couldn’t tell you now anymore about the “movie bidness” than I could four months ago, except that they make a nice drink and that I’ve experienced nothing to change my opinion of actors.
It was early afternoon when we left the imaginary glitz of the hurry up and wait movie set. As we walked to the car, I told Big Dug that he could skate on the promised dinner, that Alex had said he would come by after he finished for the day. Too late I realized I shouldn’t have said it.
Big Dug teased me all the way home, “You’re dating a celebrity, fangirl! Whatever will you wear? Have you shaved your legs? Do you think you’ll get any? Oooh, what’s he like? Does he have a friend for me who can act like he likes me? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
That last remark encompassed nothing less than a felony that Big Dug wouldn’t do or hadn’t done.
OK, I did shave my legs. I called to have Thai food delivered. I could passably cook, but I lived alone, and I didn’t cook. Tonight I certainly wouldn’t cook. I got everything from fresh basil rolls to shrimp green curry. It would reheat well whatever time he appeared and if he stood me up, I’d have food I liked to eat and smooth legs.
I busied myself around the rambling Victorian I’d inherited. A few years ago I’d had the house remodeled to suit me and I had a cleaning man come in once a week. I was fairly neat and picked up after myself, so I wandered around wondering if I had made a grievous faux pas. I realized I was looking forward to the Skarsgård. I went into the bedroom and smiled at my cats, Roas’in’ear (roasting ear as in corn) and Ormolu (decorative brass), napping languidly in the sunshine. The kitties were just ordinary cats, if any feline can be called ordinary, and they always met me with a purr whenever I got home. The love of a cat must be earned and mine almost had me trained. I wondered if Alex was allergic. Always the problem solver, I supposed that we weren’t too old to fuck in the car or maybe on the car if he couldn’t fold up those long legs appropriately. The cats woke to my laughing, stretched as if six feet long, and demanded food as usual. I live to serve. I considered how my limited experience of Ol’ Alex likened him to a domestic cat.
I reclined and flipped on some old Perry Mason. I love Raymond Burr’s courtroom finesse. Perry’s defense always bests District Attorney Hamilton “Ham” Berger’s bravado with his unimaginative prosecution. I find the formulaic show restful, and I fell asleep on the davenport, as my so southern speaking “mothah” used to call the couch.
The doorbell rang. The cats ran to me meowing “something’s up!” Perry was flirting with Della half-heartedly. I jerked awake, looking so put together like I’d stepped out of Vogue. No, not so much put together as half-asleep. As I smoothed my hair in the mirror, I thought that I had been so fucking physically intimate with Alex already, it was far too late to “make an impression”. I poured a bourbon and swirled it around my mouth for my breath, just in case, and hoofed it to the door like the gentlewoman I am.
In the waning daylight, Alex stood like a knight in a leather jacket just dismounted from his trusty steed and holding his lance disguised as a bouquet of flowers. I blinked. Twice. I needed to get a grip here – so I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. He came willingly, melting into me like butter on a hot biscuit.
Shared lust is a powerful impetus. After the first hungry kiss, he took in his surroundings – the large entryway (“front room”) with hall trees flanking the front door and further furnished with only a round walnut table with a chandelier above it. His lips found mine again as he mumbled, “flowers” as they dropped from his hand. I gave him a grateful groan in return, likely not for the flowers. He eased me toward the table while taking off his jacket, tossing it aside, tugging my shirt over my head and then his with barely an interruption in the desperate tongue dancing. Neither of us having had liberal libation, we were steady on our feet, until Alex unzipped my jeans, pulled them down and lifted me onto the table. There would be a nice butt print for the cleaner to polish Monday.
Wordlessly, Alex stepped back and pulled my jeans off my legs in one motion. I was naked perched on the table like dinner was served. Alex shed his shoes and his own pants as an afterthought while devouring me with his eyes.
Still not speaking, Alex advanced toward me, stroking his weapon and glaring at my arousal pooling on the polished wood. Maybe not such a purring house cat, he was a tiger salivating over his cowering prey. Oh my. Oh, the fuck, my.
He clapped his palms down on either side of my hips, forced his tongue deep into my mouth and, bearing his weapon before him, ground his shaft on my hot groin as if he would tear me apart. (Just a brief aside here – I was enjoying all this thoroughly and enthusiastically playing my meek, little part. Hell, he was acting.)
He kissed me breathless. I couldn’t bring myself to fearfully submit beneath him, so I grabbed his shoulders and sunk my nails into his flesh (not deeply, just enough for him to feel the crescent moon indentations). He growled and thrust his cock into me with a motion as if he were stabbing my entrails. I gasped my approval.
Then the oddest thing happened. The mood of the entire episode turned on a dime. Alex’s body and demeanor went a little soft and with his eyes closed, he made a low, achingly vulnerable moan of desire, like he was just where he wanted to be or needed to be. He repeated it with the next few firm but gentle thrusts. I felt his sound was mine, only mine; that he was suddenly real. Fuck me, no actor is that good. He opened his eyes then and looked at me, really at me, not at the effect of him on me. I spoke his name as a question as he began to kiss my neck, reverently caress my breasts, all the while thrusting into me with the rhythm of our heartbeats.
He put his arms around me and held me securely just the right way to make me come right then. It blindsided me. I was an abstract painting of emotions applied liberally to the canvass by a blind artist. The surprise orgasm didn’t break the spell as usual by bringing me down to begin the rise to climax again, but instead left me as excited as I was before its waves of pleasure. Alex peered at me felicitously and kept going. My body was responding to his in ways I had not experienced – perhaps not ever, and I have had fabulous sex in my time and on my terms.
Alex quickened the pace. He was going to come. I was going to come. We soared off the cliff together, each looking into the other’s eyes, waves cresting together succinctly, leisurely, lovely. Alex made small noises that made me want to comfort him. Bloody hell, I started to cry. I reached around Alex and pulled myself to his chest so I could hide the silent tears.
Alex stood straight at the edge of the table and held me. He whispered into my hair my first name that my proud papa gave me and that I hadn’t used since I went to college, the name I hadn’t ever told him, “Jamesy.” My emotions were truly fucked and running amok.
He was polite enough to not mention my tears as I tried to make them cease and desist. I reined them all in except those few that escaped down my cheek onto his chest. Once controlled, I looked up at him. He smiled, “I remembered, and I asked after you. I sincerely apologize for how I treated you in June. You aren’t now and weren’t then like the endless parade of young no-names. What can I say? I’m an ass.”
Hell, I was completely confused, discombobulated and bumfuzzled now. “You’re just an actor.” I pleaded to regain my footing. Hell, I’m not that easy.
“Maybe so.” Alex kissed me and lifted me off the table. “I’m not on tomorrow’s call sheet. Could we go on a date and get better acquainted?”
Post-apocalypse fictional info:
Jamesy Fischer Beauchamp (pronounced “bee-chum” if you’re not from here), is my given name. My dad was James “Jimmy” Beauchamp. My mama was Elizabeth Ann Fischer. The name I use as an adult and professionally is Fischer Beauchamp. I have found the androgenous nature of it helpful to keep my surprising femininity out of courtroom concern. My daddy had called me his “Jamesy Girl” right up until he shook off this mortal coil. Big Dug had told Alex my first name because Alex asked him. He told me that Alex had walked up to him and asked a favor. Big Dug thought he wanted some accoutrement to accentuate his celebrity on set, but Alex only wanted answers to a few not too personal questions about me. Big Dug said that my first name was the most personal thing he told Alex and that he loved me enough to answer the queries just to see how it might turn out for me.
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Alright, you’ve reeled me in with the yesterday’s “don’t break my heart, slugger” angst. What about Alex & Addi having “the fight”? You know every relationship has that one, explosive heart wrenching moment that almost brings it to its knees? One of those. How would that go? How would they fix it?
Dead. I'm dead. I have a couple fics similar to this and I may just default to those right now. It hurts my heart to have to write these things because I'm soff and just want to root for them (most of the time).
Here's a fight where Alex loses his cool.
And one where Addi loses hers.
Hope these sorta tide you over pending another fight fic 🥲
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Did Alex and Addi ever come close to ending their relationship or thought about ending it because of their crazy schedules? Of course they're both very considerate of each other's job, but there always comes a point when you feel like you don't have anything more to give. The angst is giving me chills 😫
Oh Non. Just go ahead and slap me in the face next time... that'll hurt less. But we're gonna do this because we all need a little dose of angst here and there. And here it goes...
I don't think it's the sort of thing that comes out of a huge argument. Arguments and fights are bad, but the thing that I think is worse is when you just don't care enough to fight anymore. When you don't want to try and work things out; when there's nothing more to say. That's the worst. And sometimes things like that come from distance. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But distance also makes the heart grow colder. And resilient. And independent.
And in a situation like Alex and Addi's, their work has them off in random countries at the drop of a hat. Even if they manage to be in the same city for an extended period of time, works hours are long and enduring. The first thing to always go, whether they're in proximity or not, is the intimacy. It's the precursor to tragedy. From there, the communication drops off, and if it drops off to the point that they don't even want to have the conversation about why it's gone, then they're really doomed.
Alex saw the intimacy fizzle out. He figured she was just getting burnt out with phone sex. It happens. Sometimes words fail you when it's all you've had for a couple months. But then he saw the communication start to fail. It started by their phone calls getting shorter and shorter. Until eventually she didn't pick up one night. She blamed it on working late and he accepted that excuse. He'd be home in a couple days anyway.
But those couple days turned out to be a little more detrimental. It gave both of them time to think and overthink. So by the time Alex walked through the door that night and saw Addi sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her, totally zoned out, they both knew what was coming.
He dropped his bag by the door and came up behind her to place a kiss to the top of her head. "Hey, sweetheart,"
She lifted her head back and forced a grin. A small, little thing that wasn't convincing at all. "Hi,"
"You're still working?"
She shook her head and focused back on her coffee. He came around and sat across from her, with a cup for himself. She could feel his eyes on her as he lifted the French Press for some coffee for himself. For the life of him, he didn't know what to say. She offered him no information to clue him in as to how she was feeling. He only saw the symptoms.
She placed her head in her hand and sighed, "I don't know how much more of this I can do."
"How much more of what?"
"This," she let her hand flop down on the table. "Jet-setting all over creation. Communicating through a telephone. Not being in the same place for months at a time. Us," she peeked up at Alex and only found him nodding his head absently.
He took a deep breath and followed it up with a long sip of coffee. And all the while, kept his gaze on the table while he tried to figure out what to say. "You want to call it quits?"
She scrubbed her hand over her face and finally gained the nerve to look Alex in the eye, "I don't want to lose my best friend because we held on to something broken for too long."
He raised his eyebrows and met her gaze, "I hate to break it to you, kid, but I don't think I'll be able to be friends with you if we break up." Noting her expression of mild surprise, he placed his hand on top of hers and squeezed her fingers gently. "You're all the good parts of my life. Every single one. And I'm afraid I'm not as strong as you... to be friends if this were to end. See kid," he released her hand and got a good grip on one of the legs of her chair. Like he had done so many times before, he dragged her chair a little closer to his, "I love you a lot. And I know this hasn't been all rainbows and unicorns, and you've had to put up with a lot for me. But I want to make this work. And I want to do whatever I have to, to make it work. I don't want to give up on us, kid. And I don't want you to give up on us either,"
"It's not that easy, Alex."
"Do you love me?"
She shot him a glance. "You know I do, but--"
"Then it is that easy."
She exhaled deeply to rid herself of as much tension as possible. And somehow, the only thing that actually dissolved her uneasiness was to look at Alex in those gentle blue eyes of his... that disarming, charming smile. As her face softened, he lifted his hand to her cheek and brushed his thumb against her skin. With a calculated risk, he leaned in and pecked her lips, and felt reassured by the choice when she reciprocated.
He pressed his forehead against hers with his hand still cradling her head, "don't break my heart, slugger."
She cocked her head to the side, "Alex,"
"No breaking hearts in this house. Deal?" He tried to smile as wide as possible hoping it'd help put on a smile on her face. When it didn't, he sagged his shoulders a little bit. "Unless of course it becomes completely unhealthy for us to stay together and we're absolutely miserable." To that she nodded and although that made his heart break a little, he ducked his head to make more solid eye contact with her. "Is this completely unhealthy? Are you miserable?"
She shook her head and leaned into him until her face was nestled in the crook of his neck. After a moment of contemplation on her end, she pursed her lips and pressed them to his skin, lingering there as she took a few deep breaths.
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Warning: not intended for faint of heart, dreamy-eyed youth; contains consensual, recreational sex in adult situations free from angst and heartbreak.
I have used a two-dimensional Alexander Skarsgård, inventing a partial third dimensional him, and giving him far more stamina than he would have in the true scheme of things. I have written in first person (as my “I” is easily the reader’s “I”) and content is merely fantasy fodder for those who have lived long enough to appreciate same, or those who have used their own imaginations until they are sore and out of sorts. I put this out in the world for you to shred as you wish. Be aware that I shan’t take much to heart unless your criticism is couched in common usage language. Even then, I likely just won’t care.
If anyone reads past the intro supra, you’ll get what you deserve.
It happened just as a fluke, an unexpected opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. If my “best laid” plans came to fruition, the episode would be brief and so hot that flames would lap at our naked flesh. If naught was standing proud, c’est la vie. I always had plenty else to do.
By this time, in my early 40s, I was used to concentrating my energies in two areas of my life as I had made it: my profession and my friends. My father had been a senator from Georgia and his name and reputation made it possible for me to get a good start with my own law firm after graduation from Emory Law School. I intended to practice family law to assist the down-trodden, possibly change the system from within. Now with two staff attorneys in my employ and high-profile clients, I do some pro bono work for legal aid to remember exactly why I get up in the mornings. My own reputation as an intelligent, hard-working attorney who happens to be a barracuda in the courtroom had eclipsed that of my father’s as a friendly, benevolent, smartass, good ol’ boy who’d help anyone who needed it.
I had been without family since my days in law school, and by necessity developed a close group of friends who have remained my chosen family. The demands of our respective vocations hadn’t frayed the bonds between us. We continue to look out for each other.
This sunny, summertime afternoon, I had walked from my father’s-now-my house in Ansley Park to my friend Douglas’ house just along the way. Big Dug, as I called him, was a financial wizard who’d made a few killings in high finance, all perfectly legal and above-board. He had enough dough to keep all of metro-Atlanta in doughnuts for years. He was a generous soul and did his share for one charity and another, but his wizardry thrived on making a monetary stake into a large redwood. Big Dug had invested in the “movie bidness” by funding the production of a screenplay he was particularly keen on. His demeanor and southern charm had garnered much talent for the project, and production was set to begin in the fall on location in Atlanta. Big Dug’s show biz persona was part Louis B. Mayer and part Norma Shearer. He was the perfect host for the movie crowd at his out-door cocktail party that was intended as a meet and greet for those making the picture and those acquaintances of Big Dug’s with deep pockets who were impressed with “Hollywood”. I came to the gathering to buck up Big Dug should he need it and drink mint juleps in the sunshine.
Cars were parked along our winding residential street cheek-to-jowl in both directions from Big Dug’s house, such that it seemed like a train from Peachtree all the way through to Piedmont. It would be a huge soiree. As I started up the drive to the garden gate in my sling-back sandals, I slipped on a pebble and was caught and righted by a muscled, shirtless gym-boy hired for just that purpose. He was very polite eye candy and directed me through the gate to another topless attendant holding a tray of drinks. I grinned in delight, thanking the universe for bestowing small graces, and threaded my way through the throng to find a familiar face.
I spied Big Dug waving to me, surrounded by a group of immaculately, casually dressed businessmen – just as Big Dug preferred. He was in his element. As introductions were made, a colleague in entertainment law made a comment that I had become popular with the press by divorcing society mavens from their ne’-er-do-well but wealthy husbands, some of whom were in attendance, and went on jovially to look for snipers. He got a big laugh out of it. I shrugged and said that the truth is just that, I reckon. As the conversation went back to the previous topic, I sipped my julep and happened to notice a tall, blond man eyeing me. He had a pleasant look on his face, so I assumed I had not wrested his favorite million from him in courtroom battle. I must have stared too long trying to place his face, because he sauntered over to me.
“Hi, I’m Alex,” he allowed, “I’m part of the talent for this project.” The words slithered from between his perfect rosy lips like snakes from under a rock. But then, I like snakes. Hell, he was an actor. My limited experience with that ilk as parties I had raked over the marital coals had led me to think them all vapid, narcissistic fools to whom rules of civility simply don’t apply. Still, this one was a looker – a European, bedecked just so, with the height to compliment his imperfect features perfectly put together.
I openly assessed him. He was used to being looked at, perhaps a little too much. “I’m a divorce lawyer, friend of the host,” I said.
“I’m not married, so I don’t need you there,” Alex continued, “Perhaps I can be of service to you?” He winked lasciviously and grinned, as we say here, like a ‘possum.
I’d seen some of his work. He was used to playing a scene. He was good; I was got. I allowed a twinge of desire that I knew would show on my face.
“You’ll come back to the Georgian Terrace with me. We’ll do things. You’ll like it, I promise,” he purred. He knew I knew I would.
“You must go press the flesh. I imagine you’re working here. Just find me when you’re ready.” I spoke in my most professional voice as I lightly traced the back of his hand with my fingertips and walked away. Yummy. I rarely allowed myself such zipless fucks as they’d like as not come back to bite me. Would this one come to pass? If this Skarsgård guy could get it up, I could have a fine time just looking at his face and doing all the work.
A little buzz could only help, I thought, as I got another drink from another firm-pec’ed man with a tray. I wandered through the guests, surreptitiously glancing at the Skarsgård occasionally to see how he comported himself. No worries there; he was an actor. I found Big Dug to do a little research on the guy to try to get a feel for him before I felt of him, so to speak.
Big Dug had spoken to Alex at length when Alex had expressed interest in working with others who had committed to the project. The screenplay was Big Dug’s baby and he had retained input on casting. He told me that Alex was friendly, seemed intelligent enough, lost interest quickly in that not about him. He further said that he thought it would be safe enough for me to fuck Alex since he’d have a few months to recover before shooting began. Big Dug is barely bi-sexual and we’d had a raucous fling years ago. They don’t call him Big Dug for nothing. Well, I don’t at any rate. Nevertheless, I patted his cheek and reminded him that he had no lasting scars, at least no visible ones.
Time crawled. I blathered the usual niceties, catching up with acquaintances who were also a little buzzed. I was chatting to Judge Stevens when I felt a firm hand around my waist. I looked up at Alex, who blithely said, “Pardon me, I need to borrow this woman, she’s wanted elsewhere.”
I was just tipsy enough to snort at Alex’s polite declaration, which garnered a wink at me from the Judge as he said, “Of course. See you in court, counselor.”
Alex led me firmly by the elbow as we made our way through the throng. I knew I wouldn’t be missed. Alex bade goodbye all those who asked if he was leaving, “sincerely” citing one innocuous lame excuse after another. He was an actor.
Alex had apparently called for his car a while before he fetched me. It was waiting outside the garden gate, double parked and effectively blocking the road. Once quickly ensconced inside, Alex turned to me, “C’mere, beautiful. I’ve been waiting too long for this.” He put his hand to my cheek and pulled me to him. He kissed me well, thoroughly, and at length, our tongues melding insistently.
As he broke the kiss to breathe, he whispered, “So nice. You like the kissing?” I answered by leaning in for another. We arrived at the Georgian Terrace far too quickly, but not before I had learned with a glance that his dick did work. So far, so good. I straightened my sundress; he adjusted himself; we exited the car – to camera flashes. What the fuck? I admit, my mind had been elsewhere, and I never imagined this detritus stalking celebrity would rear its ugly head here, at some hotel (albeit a beautiful historic one), in the late afternoon (albeit a slight breezy one), for this Skarsgård (albeit a most handsome one). The press got me for comment outside the courthouse, and it was expected after a trial of public interest. This was smothering and intrusive and a little scary. I flinched inadvertently, but Alex smiled graciously, put a protective arm around my back and maneuvered us through the flashes and clicks and obnoxious shouts of “hey, Alex, who’s your friend?, anybody know her?, what are you doing in Atlanta?, will you sign this?, look over here!, etc.”
I heard someone shout my name and I closed my eyes, not wanting to instinctively turn toward the direction of the shout and so confirm my identity. Alex muscled us on and whispered, “sorry.” Likely, my name would be linked with his in the speculative press anyway. The doorman kept out most of the paparazzi. As we entered the quiet, cool lobby, Alex turned to me to calm me, “I should have warned you. It’s like that too much these days. Just forget those fucks. We’ll be upstairs in a minute, beautiful.” I put on my courtroom demeanor and smiled slightly as at a private joke. I used the smile I gave to the jury when opposing counsel was arguing inanely.
As the elevator doors opened and we stepped on, Alex turned to me and said, “No worries. Just look at me.” He kissed me as the elevator doors closed and we both felt rather than saw the camera flash. Alex hadn’t seen the local press that had waited in ambush in the hotel lobby.
The mood broken, just for a few moments, I turned to Alex and shrugged my shoulders, “Fuck ‘em, they ain’t nothin’ to me.” Alex laughed enough to fill the otherwise empty elevator and nodded his head in agreement. He must have had a soft spot for such a delicate southern belle who cussed like a sailor.
We nearly ran for the room. As Alex was fumbling to unlock the door, I leaned against him to take off my shoes. He sighed at the weight of me against him and flung out an arm to pull me closer, all the while holding the door open. We edged in the doorway. Alex bent to kiss me, still holding me against him, and with the other hand took my shoes from me and flung them into the suite of rooms. We managed to stagger sideways well into the room as the door closed itself, tripped over one of my shoes, and collapsed in a heap onto the rug. Obviously, he was one of those actors who did his own stunts. The fall broke the kiss and elicited a “Fuck!” from Alex. I was laughing like a loon and replied, “Well, yes, but must we do it here?”
Alex raised an eyebrow, grinned and said, “You have way too many clothes on.” He picked us up off the floor, apologizing for the somewhat muddled entrance and unzipping my dress at the same time. Perhaps he did have talent. He lifted the dress over my head, interrupting my careful but anxious unbuttoning of his shirt. I stood before him barefoot, wearing only bra and panties (that happened to match, fortunately, for those of us who have never had a wardrobe mistress). He took a step back and declared as fact, “You are absolutely beautiful.” Quickly, he closed the gap between us and kissed me hungrily. His hands lingered at my waist, then cupped my ample bum, lifting me a bit off the floor and toward his crotch. Yes, he was an actor.
I gently pushed him back with one hand on his chest, “Let me see what I’ve gotten myself into.” Alex chuckled as he took off his shirt and unfastened his pants, “I hope you find me adequate, m’lady.”
When I had copped a glance in the car, I had seen that he sported a nice package and would likely have firm cooperation. The sight of him naked was no disappointment. His cock was upright and winking at me with droplets of precum, a good nine inches of steel (measured in U.S. Standard; I can’t visualize metric; and if I’d used Dick Inches, he’d have at least eighteen. We use Dick Inches to measure snowfall in the south.) I likely licked my lips as I cajoled, “This is not a screen test. You can do more than fake fucking on film, can’t you, precious? Make sure I get the part.”
If Alex didn’t like the teasing, he acted like he did. He flexed his biceps, scooped me up with a gruff “c’mere, woman”, carried me to the bed and threw me thereon like spoils of war. My giggles turned swiftly to little moans of encouragement as he hovered over me, kissing my neck, caressing my hardening nipples. He unhooked my bra and lifted it from my breasts, the sight causing him to groan with desire. He slathered kisses on them and then sent his breath across my nipples, causing them to stand up for his lips to lightly suckle. I was excitedly enjoying this performance. I wanted him inside me, all of him, right now. He knew it, so he took his time and kissed his way down the scar on my abdomen to tease me with his tongue at the band of my pushed-down-but-not-far-enough panties. Taking so much time, he eventually hooked his thumbs through the leg holes and pulled my panties down and agonizingly slowly off my feet. My hips were moving of their own volition; I was making involuntary chirpy noises; but goddamn it, I would not beg. I knew my arousal was making a puddle on the bedclothes. His dick was almost drooling and jerking uncontrollably like a cat’s tail as it falls asleep.
He must have figured that if I could form words, I wasn’t going to. He looked down and asked, “Condom?” I croaked out, “Unnecessary.” He smiled and immediately inserted two of his burly fingers into me and proceeded to rub my clit with his thumb. I believe I bleated like a lamb at the slaughter. OK, he was an actor, but if this is how he would play a love scene, I would have to have at least a few retakes if I played opposite him. I would need repetition of the practiced, capable manhandling, and yet I might never reach a faux orgasm for film. But then, I’m not an actor, not even a method one.
I was moaning softly, relishing the climb to absolute release. I hadn’t felt like this in dogs’ years as my longstanding romantic date was me. I could press all the right buttons at just the right time, but damn it, so could he. He groaned with a sort of sing-song Swedish lilt, “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” He withdrew his fingers and giving me a questioning look to which I breathed, “god, yes.”, he stroked his cock once and buried it balls deed into my clasping, grasping walls, aching for his dick.
I had found a whispered repetitive mantra of “oh, fuck; oh, fuck.” He must have felt me nearing climax with every thrust. He would withdraw and then thrust in, grinding the base of his dick on my clit, while intoning, “Come for me, babe. Come for me.” His chiseled features were even more beautiful with his eyes screwed in concentration, his muscles flexing strongly, his whole being engrossed in the joining, in our consummate pleasure. Then it happened. I opened my eyes wide at the first wave of my orgasm, as did he. I was coming hard. The spasms were strong and seemed to keep coming. Alex growled his own release as he pumped into me roughly. He had been unable to control his orgasm as the insistence of mine had perhaps literally pulled it out of him. He collapsed on his elbows, leaving me breathing room that I desperately needed. As his breathing slowed, I held him close, loving the moment in the feeling of being impaled on his weapon of choice for the duel.
Alex slowly withdrew and lay beside me. He reached some bedside tissues and handed me some for the overflow. He looked at me with all seriousness, “Well, sweetheart, do you think you got the part?”
I raised onto my elbows to view my indelicately placed tissues, “Maybe. I’ll need a rehearsal in twenty to thirty minutes, just to make sure I can take proper direction.” I got up to go to the bathroom to take care of the jiz, et al. exodus, and flung over my shoulder, “I think that part was made for me. Don’t you think I’m perfect for it?” I closed the bathroom door on his laughter. Dear god, he was an actor.
To be continued – the night is young.
I decided to take a quick shower and opened the bathroom door a crack in case Alex needed the facilities. As I turned off the tap, I reached for a towel to the strains of Abba’s Dancing Queen. Wearing the generous soft towel, I stepped toward the music to see comfortably naked Alex dancing with himself, flinging his lanky limbs in every direction, oblivious to my entrance. Entrancing as it was, I had to giggle. He pivoted toward me and rushed to take me in formal dance position, ripping the towel from my immodest breasts and grandly tangoing us toward the still sunlit balcony. He playfully nipped my right earlobe and whispered, “I’ve ordered champagne, Duchess, bend me to your will.” I like a well-executed tango, nude or otherwise, and almost at any time, but we were only four floors up and I feared we would be seen cavorting on the balcony. Well, what the hell. Out we went, naked butts to the wind. He was a fucking actor and a big goof. I was having a damn good time.
We hadn’t heard the room service knock over Abba knowing me, knowing you, ahhhaaahh, but saw the waiter during a particularly adamant head flick. Alex turned me so little if any of my nudity could be seen and yelled, “Leave it; I can open it.” He turned back to me, assuming the wide-eyed waiter would quickly comply, and mumbled into my hair, “Let’s pop the cork, Duchess, I want another good come.”
Parting from the embrace, Alex took my hand, kissed it, and turned toward the room service cart inside to genteelly lead me to further riparian delights beside the flowing champagne. We came face to face with the obviously aroused waiter, who must have just lucked into his visual fantasy, and who screeched hopefully, “Will there be anything else?” as he quickly put his hands over the tent in his trousers. The look on Alex’s face was one of indecision. The waiter was an attractive enough young man over 21 (or he wouldn’t have been able to legally serve liquor). Alex pushed me behind him to minimize any embarrassment I didn’t feel, and said forcefully but sweetly, “Not now; get the fuck out.” The waiter ran for the door, but he’d be back to collect the trolley, hoping for a nice physical tip (and maybe the entire shaft as well). Hell, Alex may have winked at him. I begrudge no one a willing partner, able to consent, of any ilk. Life’s too short to refuse joy when offered or to judge those harshly who accept all the fun.
While Alex opened the champagne correctly, the cork emitting a sound like the gentle sigh of a lady – with no pop, I explained that although I enjoy my 40-year-old body, kept tolerably well, I prefer to take sustenance with some measure of covering. Alex handed me a flute of the bubbly and, clinking our glasses, toasted, “To 40-year-old nudity!”
“Yeah, I figure if I can look at this every day in the mirror, it won’t hurt you to see it. You’re fit as fuck, obviously,” I toasted back.
Alex snorted in his champagne, sending some of it up his nose. He sputtered, “Get one of my shirts or something and bring me one. We’ll dress for dinner, Duchess.”
I did as he commanded, since it didn’t hurt me a bit. It seemed that the nickname for me had stuck. Either he had forgotten my name or Duchess was the name of his first dog, I figured, and so came easily to mind. Perhaps he lit upon it as a reflective appellation and thought himself royalty. I enjoy the finer things I’ve worked for, but I don’t think I have an uppity dismissive air about me. Yet, I would take the “Duchess” in good stead. He was an actor. I just wanted to call him “Fucker”, but my mama taught me to be nice – especially since I was enjoying the bones he was throwing my way.
I donned my panties and the first t-shirt I found and snatched up my phone. I took him some underwear and a t-shirt. The room service trolley had been covered with silver warming dishes. I wondered what delicacies Alex had procured. I was suddenly ravenous. A bit of food would do well before we addressed the other appetite[s].
Alex had spread out the many choices of tastebud tickling tidbits that included strawberries, melon squares, celery and protein in the form of crab cakes with remoulade and flounder in lemon/caper sauce. He was bent over putting what looked like chocolate mousse in the bar fridge when I walked in. He had the ass of Adonis. Goddamn, I needed to get my head back in the game since I intended to give him some head before this one night of bliss was over. He was an actor, alright, but I was surely having it.
He smiled at me, and I threw him his clothes, “I love Abba, but would you like some dinner/making out music?” I was looking on my phone for a more soothing sound with which to relish the taste of it – all of it. He nodded and I set my phone on the speaker. The room filled with the soft melodies of John Coltrane’s Ballads album. Alex beamed, “No one I know even knows who Coltrane was, babe. I love it. Damn, you look good in my shirt. I can’t wait for you to be out of it again. C’mere.”
I went to his waiting embrace. He kissed me with the longing that sounded in the lazy sadness of Coltrane’s sax. Wait a minute. Was that something real? No matter, no time to fret about two ships passing in the night.
“Let’s eat,” he said, as he carelessly ran his fingers between my legs over my panties. “I hope you can find something you like,” referring to the food.
“I know what’d I like for dessert,” I teased, groping his cock through his underwear.
“I’m sure we can manage that,” he chuckled as he put a perfectly ripened piece of honeydew in my mouth.
There was little conversation during our consuming of almost every morsel. I used the time to chew and contemplate the Norse god sitting beside me feeling up my leg. Sated, Alex pulled my chair closer to his and patted his thighs for me to recline there. No need to ask twice. The champagne had long been drunk. Alex had poured a little Grand Marnier for us, an after-dinner aperitif. He took a sip and kissed me, sharing a bit of the liquid with me. I’d never had any liqueur taste that good. His cock was hardening beneath me. I slipped off his lap to my knees and placed my hands on the waist band of his briefs with the question in my eyes.
“Oh, fuck, yes.” He moaned as he lifted his sweet ass and pulled the briefs down and off. I’d had good instruction in the fellating arts from my gay/bi friends and I’d never had complaints. But never before did any dick look so perfectly edible that I doubted my ability to please as I did just now. As I cradled his balls with one hand and began to stroke the shaft of the uncut wonder, I ran my tongue around the head and gently under the edge of the foreskin, easing it back with my hand on the shaft. I must have let slip a little groan that was a question because Alex put his hands lightly in my hair and gave me encouragement, “Fuck, like that, it’s good, fuuuuck, keep doing that.” I worked my lips down the shaft, taking in all I could until he touched the back of my throat. I held him there, using my tongue along the shaft, until I had to take a deep breath. Then I repeated it.
When I came up for air, Alex had his eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep his hips still. I worked steadily, keeping a good pace, eating up his ardent cock and drinking in the irrepressible mews of the supplicant. His balls were drawing up toward his shaft. He would come soon. I took one thumb and pressed his taint (perineum), giving a bit of pressure on the prostate. He moaned and bucked in my mouth, making me gag. I came up so that I just had the head in my mouth, tonguing it like crazy and I popped him one on the butt. I jacked his shaft, winked and said, "Watch it, naughty boys don’t get to come.”
Alex was too far gone to even snicker. I went back to work, taking him deep three times and keeping the pressure on. The fourth time, I felt the tremor. I ripped his cock out of my mouth and jacked him as he groaned and shot three, four, five times on his t-shirt. I kissed his softening cock, tasting just a bit of his jiz. I swear it tasted like honeydew. Still, no one comes in my mouth.
Alex took his shirt off over his head, pulled me up and back into his lap and murmured, “Fuck, baby, so fucking good, goddamn, baby, so good.” Really, I think any head is good head to every guy. Nice compliment, though, from the actor.
My shirt came off as we cuddled kissing, touching, caressing, until I realized that his legs must be asleep by now. “Wanna watch a movie,” I whispered in his ear, “so later we can go over my part in the climactic scene?” I helped him stagger to the couch trying to wake his legs, fetched a coverlet for us and turned off my phone. I noticed that Alex had already turned off his.
I believe it was Sunset Boulevard that Alex turned on, commenting that it was one of his favorites. He said he knew he could play Joe Gillis maybe as well as William Holden had done. Cuddled up as we were, on our sides, I between his legs with my back hugged up to his chest, I couldn’t see his face when he asked nonchalantly if I’d seen anything he’d done. I allowed as I had. Not willing to wax rhapsodic on his lovely nudity in True Blood, I told him the truth that I’d seen a few things he’d been in and my favorite by far was Diary of a Teenage Girl.
Alex seemed shocked at my opinion. Maybe he was used to his tricks or whatever exclaiming what a beautiful hunk he was with the most attractive Apollo’s Belt in the business with no comment on his work. I told him that the movie was empowering and that he was a gifted actor regardless of his “great part”. I told him I appreciated his subtlety with his characters. I had turned to speak to his face as I told him the truth of my opinion and he looked stunned. For the life of me I don’t know why. I was sure treating him like a very pretty piece of meat in every other aspect of our friendly fuck.
He got quiet then, feigning watching the movie. I turned over so we were chest to chest, “I’m sorry, Alex, if I pissed you off. I guess I don’t know how much worship you require. I’ll go. It’s been fun. You’re a sweet guy, for an actor.”
Alex held me in a bear hug. “Don’t go. I’m not used to anybody talking to me that way, saying something I might not want to hear, like we’d just met at a cocktail party – as we have. Stay with me.” He kissed me then and began inching down my panties.
Before I took note, I was on my back, heels on his shoulders, and he was inside me slowly moving, kissing every part of me he could reach and whispering what must have been love-talk in Swedish. Was he making love to me? Doubtful, as he was an actor. If he was, I think it was all about him. Nevertheless, I would enjoy it to the utmost. I had two lofty orgasms before he let himself come, bellowing his pleasure to the heavens. We fell asleep on the couch, wrapped up in each other, too tired to move, still connected. I’m glad I don’t have to clean that.
We were shaken awake before dawn by the telephone in the room. Neither of us had thought to turn our respective phones back on. Alex snatched it up as I stretched under the coverlet. Oh yes, I remembered, it was Sunday. No work today. Alex cussed something into the phone and hung it up. He said sadly, “I gotta plane to catch damnit. Shower, babe?” I think definitely he’d forgotten my name.
In the large shower, we soaped each other’s crevices and laughed at our fine as frog hair one night happenstance. Alex said he’d better check that we got everything off us and proceeded to orally give me one of the best orgasms I’d ever had. I told him he had a gift for sex, and he should let people know he was so multi-faceted in his talent. “Fuck you,” he deadpanned.
As we got our shit together for departure, Alex said he would call me when shooting started and have me as his dialect or “tongue” coach as he said he preferred. He told me I was certainly qualified with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
I’d had enough actors’ charm, faux or otherwise (how could you tell which?). I stood in front of the dude and said, “Look, we’re both tied to our professions. You flit around the globe. I have trouble just leaving the city for “Gwinnettia” (pronounced ‘Gwen-ee-sha’, or Gwinnett County as it is geographically). You’ll forget me in a heartbeat – at least after you’ve slept well or with the next one, you won’t give me a thought. That’s the way it should be, precious. You are an actor, for a’ that and a’ that, to misquote Robbie Burns.”
He dropped me home on his way to the airport. He gave me a thrilling goodbye kiss and said, “I will call you. I’ll be back in about three months.” I closed the car door, the tinted windows blocking my final view of his handsome self and his view of me rolling my eyes.
Hell, I won’t hold my breath. He’d asked no questions of me other than what I thought of him. He was just an actor, with not so much unscripted wonder inside.
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Alexander Skarsgård for GQ Style Germany
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400x400 Alexander Skarsgård Icons for twitter or tumblr.
like or reblog if you use or just liked it! ♥
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High Hopes - Masterlist
Author’s note: This is my contribution to @flowers-in-your-hayr‘s 650 followers challenge - this beautiful moodboard was created by her and you can find the original post here. Congratulations, Gabi! Sorry this has taken so long, you’re probably closer to 1,000 by now! This is based on Alexander Skarsgård as Tarzan. For the story I’ll be using the aforementioned’s likeness, but in a modern setting - imagine him in outdoor gear with a manbun. My other half is an outdoor activity/high ropes/bushcraft instructor, so I have picked his brains extensively, for complete accuracy. I couldn’t do this story justice as a one shot, so it will be in five parts!
Synopsis: When in nature one must take only pictures and leave only footprints, the state you leave your heart and mind in though are another matter...
Warnings: Angst, (eventual) smut, fluff (I promise!). 18+
Chapters: One (dropping tomorrow!) Two Three Four Five
Skarsgirls tag team: @hausofobsession @flowers-in-your-hayr @gustafsnightangel @castiellawolfkissed @punkrocknpearls @grandpa-sweaters @loliwrites @halfway-happyyy @ill-skillsgard @scxrsgxrd @skarsgard-daydreams @scuba-seamus @weirdly-familiar @mrscarpathianskarsgard @billskarsgard91 (if you want on or off just let me know!)
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I had a thought. Alex and Addi (maybe in Swden or somewhere else cold) in the middle of winter, under the covers with a fire going, sharing body heat to stay warm. Alex is just so big and I bet he's like a furnace🐝. Thank you for all your hard work as always.
Bumblebebe🐝 Alex is the ultimate furnace. He's big and warm and cozy and the perfect antidote to chilliness.
Y'know, our girl Addi's a southern California girl born and raised so her extent of chilly weather is when Santa Monica pier dips into the mid 60s. The average person is maybe in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Addi's beneath layers more likely seen at a ski chalet. Hell, she hadn't ever seen snow fall until Alex took her to Sweden during the winter. She could hardly believe beauty like that existed outside of film sets where the snow is soap bubbles or shredded paper.
But as such, her body isn't built for inclement weather. It's not built for insulating body heat and preserving calories. It's built for bare feet and sun-kissed skin. Sunny and 75º. Just when she thought New York winters were harsh, she got thrown into a Swedish winter. Alex's Stockholm apartment was no match for the the flurry outside. The furnace couldn't keep up with the dropping temperature. Addi bundled up in layers upon layers until she could hardly feel a touch of the hand, and yet she still shivered. Her teeth chattered. She endured sporadic jolts of chills that sent her whole body into a fit of spasms.
At first Alex laughed. It was funny to see her so ill-adapted to the weather he'd grown up with and was practically unphased by. But around hour four of constant shivers despite the down parkas and ski pants she had pulled on, he was no longer laughing. It was actually quite pitiful to see this poor, little thing in a constant state of discomfort and distress.
However, the moment Addi realized she had the perfect solution right in front of her eyes, it became impossible for Alex to create any sort of pace between them. She knew Alex was built different -- his body seemed to constantly permeate warmth. It had also been the reason why during LA summers she shrugged away from him in her sleep. Now, she regretted every moment she ever did that.
It didn't matter where they were or what time of day it was. Just as much as she would be glued to his side while they slept; completely tucked and enveloped by his body, she was equally glued to him during breakfast... often times sat directly in his lap while they both picked at their own plates. During any lounging times, she was curled up into him, or in the process of dragging him closer to her to share the warmth.
And the times where he could convince her to leave the apartment and brave the weather with him, she'd forego their stance on minimal PDA and practically be inside his peacoat with him.
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It is 8:15. Ann Druyan, Chris Evans, Malcolm McDowell, Stellan Skarsgard, and William Butler Yeats were all born on this day.
Ann Druyan is a writer who worked on the Voyager Golden Records and was the third wife of Carl Sagan. She is the creator and producer of the television show Cosmos.
Chris Evans is an actor most famous for portraying Captain America in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.
Malcolm McDowell is an actor who didn’t portray Captain America, but he did play the lead character, Alex DeLarge, in Stanley Kubrick’s film, A Clockwork Orange.
Stellan Skarsgard is an actor who didn’t portray either Captain America or Alex DeLarge, but he did play a whole damn lot of other characters.
William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet who operated mainly in the late 19th century and early 20th century. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923, and I will be transcribing his poems throughout the day.
To Ann, Chris, Malcolm, Stellan, and William: Happy Birthday!
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I'm having a really hard time believing that Alex and Addi didn't at least have a make out session before they started dating 😂 their chemistry was on another level even when they were just friends. It seems like their "friendship" is very playfully romantic so maybe one night they've had a bit to drink and they have at it and then Addi is all weird because... she's Addi, but Alex is all sweet and gentle and wants to talk about it with her. I'd love to know if that's something that you also think would happen between them xx 😘
(We've been hitting' pre-relationship hard lately, haven't we friends? ☺️)
Oh man Non. Got me thinkin'.
I know it seems totally implausible that nothing would've happened because of how affectionate they are in their platonic relationship, but like... it does happen 😂 I have honest proof of it. I have a friend like that and I shit you not, he was a saving grace during the pandemic. You know the point where you just need another living human body to cuddle with that's not family? Good cuddles for movie nights (especially the back to back National Treasure viewing where we took a sip of beer every time Nic Cage was sexist towards Abigail Chase 🥲). And still just only friends. No wandering hands, glances, or lip placements.
But I could see how given a group of friends and some free-flowing alcohol, how that line might get a little blurred. Because sometimes a group of close friends can get some pretty weird ideas when left alone to their own devices... and gin. Sometimes a group of adults can devolve into younger versions of themselves, and games they would've played in middle school or high school resurface with newfound enthusiasm.
Like Spin the Bottle. Or Seven Minutes in Heaven. Maybe as fate would have it, they got lucky during Spin the Bottle. Amid the various couplings that emerged, Alex and Addi didn't get pinned for it. In fact, maybe they kissed a handful of other people and the turn of the bottle didn't transpire for them. Shit, maybe they don't even think it'd be a big thing or weird for them to kiss during the spin the bottle. They weren't actively hoping they wouldn't have to kiss. It just didn't become a thing. Until --
That beautiful and slightly traumatizing little game -- Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know the one. The one where two people go into a closet and have seven minutes to do... I dunno, whatever they're gonna do (author's note: to be honest, I was too much of a nerd to be invited to parties where this game was being played). So Addi gets chosen first and she makes her way into the closet with a blindfold. Secretly she's hoping one of their mutual friends gets chosen to go in with her. They've been vibing all night and even shared a pretty hot kiss during Spin the Bottle. So yeah, she's looking forward to someone.
The closet door creaks open and she chews on her bottom lip in anticipation. Her body perks up a little bit when she hears the door shut, waiting to be swept up in another kiss. What she doesn't know is that the person standing in front of her is Alex. And for the life of him, he's trying to sort out a game plan here because his best friend is sitting cross-legged on the floor and he has to admit she looks pretty adorable. But again... this is the girl he calls his best friend. He wants to do the right thing.
"It's me, kid," he drops to his knees and contorts himself to be cross-legged in front of her. As soon as he's comfortable, he notices Addi's already taken off the blindfold.
She twists the fabric between her fingers shrugs, "I guess that's for the best." Her shoulders deflate a little bit. The alcohol coursing through her system was giving her enough courage to throw caution to the wind with their mutual friend. Now she likely wouldn't get the chance to. She darts her eyes to Alex with a playful and disarming smirk, "it's not like we're gonna kiss, old man."
"Why not?" He flashes a quick smile at her, "that's breaking the rules of Seven Minutes in Heaven." Scooting forward a little bit, he's shocked but not displeased that she doesn't retreat, "one kiss so we don't have to lie to our friends when we get out of here. You're a terrible liar,"
"Am not. I'm a great liar," her gaze upon him alters slightly to adjust for the fact that he's advancing a bit closer to her.
"Fine, I'm a terrible liar."
"You're an actor for a living. All you do is lie,"
He lets out a quiet huff. "It's just a kiss, slugger. It means nothing. I just kissed like three dudes out there during Spin the Bottle."
As he nears, Addi feels her heart rate pick up. Her cheeks go hot. Everything is bubbling up inside her, woefully excited by the possibility of whatever this is. But that's just it. What is it? As her body shivers involuntarily, she leans away from him. "Alex, no."
He pauses, bites his bottom lip, all the while not breaking eye contact. "Is that a real no or a nervous no?"
"Does it matter?"
There's a second where he says nothing at all just to allow the anticipation fade from his veins. "No, it doesn't,"
She exhales. "I know we kiss on the cheek and head... the lips is just different,"
He nods but he knows what he can say to get this backtracking. "So when you kissed Lindsey out there, that was different for you?"
Addi cocks her head to the side with her lips pursed. Oh, leave it to him to make this difficult, "Alexander. You're you. And a kiss on the lips between us is different. You know that,"
He nods again. They've been toeing this line for awhile now. This line that they both knew was more flirtatious than any other friendship they had with the opposite sex. The line that had been the reason for late-night cuddles in Germany and random naps in LA. The line that had also been toed when they divulged intimate details about their lives and what shaped them into being. A kiss between them was different than between anyone else in the room because no one else in the room knew them as well as they knew each other.
Alex backs up a tiny bit to give her some room. Not too much so she feels like he's retreating from her, but enough to give her confidence that he's not going to sprint past the thinly drawn line. "You know you're my best friend, right kid?"
She nods affirmatively and averts her gaze to her lap. They've only got a few minutes left before the timer outside goes off and one of their friends will come knocking on the door. And she figures a few minutes more isn't too long to hold out on this. But as the seconds tick by and they sit in silence, Addi starts to think. Having too much time in her own head is never a particularly great thing for her, but on this particular night, it's got her making a list of the reasons why a kiss really means nothing. She's kissed four girls and three boys tonight. One of those boys slipped his tongue into her mouth. And surely Alex wouldn't do that. Surely their kiss wouldn't be much more than a peck --
A sturdy knocking on the closet door yanks her from her thoughts. Alex stands and holds his hand out to her so she can use it to help her stand up as well. No sooner than she's on her feet and Alex is reaching for the doorknob, she whispers, "hey old man..."
He turns back toward her as she's leaping up on tip toes to reach him. And catching her by the waist, he leans in as if on cue to meet her halfway. The kiss is just as each of them expected -- only a touch longer than a peck. And by the time they part and exit the closet, none of their friends are wiser. In fact, they all steadfastly believe the two shared a rather uneventful seven minutes in a dark utility closet. But they know the truth (regardless of how minor that truth was), and Addi knows that after the kiss, Alex was a little more hands-on with her all night. Again, their friends couldn't have discerned the difference. It was so slight. A quick touch here, a gentle brush of an arm there. At one point as they all huddled on the back porch for night caps and cigarettes, Alex kept his free hand on her mid-back. Undoubtedly given confidence by the cover of darkness.
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I was board & download Voila.
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Hi, friend! Thinking about Alex inviting Addi to a premiere of a project he shot a while before Addi's movie. They are not official yet, of course, perhaps not even with each other, but she shows to support him and he's quite nervous about it lol. He sits next to her during the screening, and tries to catch glimpses of her reactions with the corner of his eyes.
OHKAY I see you Non. You’re tapping into my pre-relationship kink 😂 Dammit I have problems.
This is so something that happens pre-relationship (because my brain thinks that’s cute), where Addi is actually really shocked when he asked her to go along with him. It sort of seems like that was out of left field. She hadn’t worked on the movie being shown, plus Alex had attended numerous premieres and events alone or with his fellow cast members. She doesn’t really understand why he's insisting she attend as his plus one, but nonetheless, she gussies up and agrees because as a friend, he's asking her to. And for whatever reason, she's going to be there to support him.
The car ride to the venue is even a little quiet. Alex is fidgeting with his cuff links, not saying much. He seems a little preoccupied and she's content to let him be. There's not much she's going to be able to do, or even say, to ease his anxiety.
He eventually breaks the silence as they both know they're approaching the Chinese Theater, and thus, the main event. "I'm gonna get out in front but the driver's going to take you around to the back VIP entrance so you can get into the theater." It's said matter-of-factly, and Addi can't help but notice that it is all very businesslike. "I think someone's going to show you to our seats,"
"Hey," she calls as the car rolls to a slow halt. "Don't worry about it. It's all good. You razzle-dazzle the red carpet and I'll see you inside,"
That at least makes him break into a small smile. "Did you just say razzle-dazzle?"
She rolls her eyes and flicks her hand in his direction, "get going, Skarsgård."
Within a matter of seconds, he opens the car door and slides out. A flurry of screams and shrieks erupt at his presence and from the window, she can see that he's schmoozing the crowd and press like the professional he is. And sure, maybe a little part of her feels awkward with the situation, and even a little more confused as to why she's here. She doesn't have to walk the red carpet with him; she's not offended by that. But as the car circles the building and turns down some old, decrepit Hollywood alley, she doesn't understand why Alex couldn't do this by himself. He's going to do his duties on the carpet, he's going to get into the theater after the lights are already down and sit next to her, and not talk because who talks through a movie, and it's all going to be over without her contributing anything that seems remotely helpful. And if all he was searching for was physical moral support, then she can be the warm body for that.
Outside of the fact that she doesn't really know what she's doing there, the situation she's in proves to be a powerful networking tool. That back VIP entrance? It was the entrance for all the celebrities and high-echelon people attending who didn't want to walk the red carpet. So now she's in a mostly empty theater with these pretty powerful people, and it gives her a chance to introduce herself and get friendly and talk about what she's doing to help spur things on for the next project to jump onto.
It's probably a good while later (she can't really tell because her dress doesn't have pockets and her phone's locked away in her clutch), but the lights flash on and off, and pretty soon the theater is full of fans and press. And through a door that says "EXIT", Alex comes in, ducking low, and makes his way in the darkness to the open seat beside her.
"Hey slugger," he leans over and whispers.
"How was it?"
"Good. Thanks." Then as if on autopilot, he presses a kiss to the side of her head.
And that's a little weird. They're pretty close and affectionate friends, but he's never done that before. Sure there're kisses on the cheek in greeting and goodbye, but she sure as shit doesn't know what that head kiss just was. Especially not in a public place, no matter how dim the lights were.
The opening credits begin to roll. The first action scene is underway. But Addi's hard pressed to even remember what movie she's sitting down for. Their friendship was easy; forwards and backwards. It was never difficult, never pressed, everything happened just as it should. They weren't confusing. They couldn't be confusing. This was the easiest relationship of any sort in her life.
It was almost like she blinked and the movie was over. Then a whole new set of anxiety set in over fear that Alex would ask about some detail of the film and she wouldn't be able to answer because she paid attention to zero percent of it. Where she thought there would be some chatter and small talk afterwards, Alex nods his head to the side and they manage to escape shortly after the end credits finish. Even more to her astonishment, their car and driver is just outside the back entrance, waiting for them.
He opens up the car door for her and slides in after, quickly shutting the door. "Hey Sam, we can head back to that address from earlier tonight,"
The driver looks in the backseat through the rear view mirror, "yes, Mr. Skarsgard."
Alex blushes and glances at Addi, "I hate when he calls me that."
She reaches across the backseat and sets her hand over his, "you did good tonight,"
He looks down at their hands, not making any notion of moving. Yet his gaze must've frightened her because not too much later, she pulled her hand away and replaced it in her lap. "Thanks. I was a little nervous about this one." He glanced out the window momentarily, "what'd you think about it?"
She swore she felt her face drop and figured he saw it too. There wasn't a part of her that wanted him to internalize her expression as a sign of something more. "It was good. You were wonderful,"
"That bad, huh?"
"I didn't say that,"
He chuckles and looks out the window. They don't have very far to go. And Addi's thankful for that. She doesn't know how much she has in her to act like she's not freaking out on the inside. Maybe she shouldn't have been reading so much into it. It was just a kiss on the side of the head between friends. That's it. But did friends kiss each other like that? She wasn't so sure. Maybe Alex picks up on it as well because he didn't ask too many questions. A couple here and there that were so incredibly surface level, she could answer them without even being in the right frame of mind.
Her apartment building was a godsend and she thought escaped too much more awkwardness. That is... until he gets out with her and makes the motion to walk her up to her apartment. She shouldn't have been surprised, he did that all the time. But this was one night she hoped he wouldn't.
They stand next to each other in the elevator, shoulder to shoulder, almost in complete silence. He doesn't make any notion of feeling awkward or put off, and Addi all but leaps out of it once they arrive at her floor. Even as she slides her key into the lock, Alex is right behind her, and he presses his hands to her hips when she opens her front front and turns back to face him.
"It was great tonight, Alex. Thanks for bringing me along,"
No, thank you," he leans in for a hug, slightly pleased that she doesn't absolutely recoil from him. But as they part, he can still find trepidation on her face. "What's going on, slugger?"
"Nothing. What do you mean?"
He laughs and scratches the back of his head. "You're being weird. Everything was fine before the screening so either you hated the movie that much, or something else is up,"
Addi squints her eyes, trying to figure out how she can wiggle her way out of this one. But the more she wracks her brain, the less she can find a way out. She relents and folds her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorjamb.
"I'm not being weird,"
"Oh you're not?" He waits and frowns a little bit as she shakes her head no. In that moment he knows that whatever's going on isn't going to be sorted tonight. "Okay, then. Thanks again for joining me tonight. I guess I'll just see you at work tomorrow,"
They say their goodnights and Addi's a little slow to shut the door, even after Alex has turned away from her and is making his way down the stairs. She's upset at herself. That's the only person she can be upset with. Alex gave her the opportunity for honesty and that was a big part of their friendship.
So as she goes to sleep that night, she has to come to terms that that was the first time she lied to him.
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Hi Loli! Haven’t dropped in for a while but I’m still here! I was wondering if I could get a lil bit of angst? I’m not feeling great today tbh! Basically, I have a really small friendship group, like 3 people, and one is my best friend and has been all my life. We made plans a couple weeks ago for next week and I asked if she was still on and she said she’d forgotten and made plans with her boyfriend instead and she couldn’t make it and it got me thinking that everyone I know seems to have someone else in their lives that they would always choose over me and I don’t have anyone. I’m always second choice and it just put me in a downward spiral and I wonder how Alex would help Addi if this happened to her? I’m currently sat in a blanket burrow, knitting and crying with a baileys on the rocks and a box of chocolates 😞 - 🐬
Anonymous said: Hi loli! It was my birthday today and I was planning a small get together bbq and I invited 5 of my friends and only 1 turned up and 2 of the 4 who didn’t come couldn’t even be bothered to wish me a happy birthday and it’s driven me into a downward spiral and I just feel so lonely and like no one cares about me. How would Alex help Addi if she got into this mindset and started talking bad about herself and how it’s her fault her friends didn’t come etc, while they were getting ready for bed that night? - 🐬
Hi Dolph-non 🐬 Happy belated birthday, friend!! 😌 Good to hear from you again, albeit not for happy reasons. I so totally know how you’re feeling. I have a couple friends who do similar things. Once they get a boyfriend/girlfriend they fall off the face of the earth for everyone except that person. It’s beyond frustrating and the only way I’ve been able to come to terms with it is that I know what I can and can't rely on that friend for and I lean on other friends (one such person is someone I consider a best friend). But I have a couple “best” friends and know now that I have to lean on that one a little less when she’s in a relationship, and it honestly makes my other friendships stronger.
Maybe it's that sort of situation for Addi -- a friend she's really close to. And they canceled last minute on her to attend to other plans with their boyfriend. On a normal day, that wouldn't rattle her too hard, but maybe this week, she's on her period, and she hasn't seen anyone or had any decompression time from work, so she was really looking forward to a whiskey and chocolate night with her friend. Feeling herself on the verge of a breakdown, she ignored her friend's text and called up the only person she thought could salvage this night from complete disaster.
Alex doesn't really know what's going on. All he's sure of is that she sounded a little broken on the phone and a little more emotional than he'd ever heard her before. As if that in itself wasn't startling, the disheartened plea that was half-sob, was. If he was being honest, he felt it strange to be rushing over to her apartment like on a mission from God. Who was he? Except for a co-worker of sorts, a creative outlet, and admittedly an increasingly good friend. What was going on and what did this mean?
By the time that train of thought is done, he's knocking on her door and being told to "come in," from the occupant. That's how he finds her on her couch, taking a swig straight out of a Jack Daniels bottle like it's nothing more than water. "You have to lock your door, kid,"
She shoots her eyes in his direction knowing they're red but also knowing she hasn't allowed herself to cry. And now, riding that slight buzz on the way to full-on drunk, maybe she'll be able to have a better handle on things.
"I'm boring!" She wails and lifts the bottle of Jack for another sip.
By the time he manages to take a seat next to her, she's already taken another sip. He finagles the bottle out of her hands and sets it on the furthest spot on the coffee table from her. "You're not boring,"
"Then why did I get stood up by my best friend for her boyfriend?!"
And just like that, he knows what this is all about. Why he was the call out of the blue. With that realization, he can't help but smile a little bit. But Addi grows tired of waiting for his answer, and her rebuttal is in the form of reaching across him to get her hands on the bottle of liquor again -- which Alex skillfully slides entirely out of her reach and sets it on the floor beside the couch.
He leans back against the cushions and hooks his arm over the back of her couch, conveniently around her shoulders enough to give her the opportunity to lean in to him should she want it. Like clockwork, that's just what she does. All nestled up in the side of his body, Addi stares at picks at a hangnail on her thumb concentrating on anything but the fact that her friend ditched her and she called Alex to make it better.
"This stuff happens sometimes, kid." He looks down at her and pauses until the silence is enough for her to look back up at him questioningly. He allows his hand to fall from the back of the couch to around her shoulders, and gives her a little squeeze, "people get partners and sometimes it's hard for them to balance all the aspects of life. And in the effort for love, sometimes people get wrongfully ignored to try and make that other relationship thrive."
"It's so dumb," she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. She knows she's being a tad childish here, but goddammit, she's pissed. "When this doesn't work out, she'll be running back to the person she bailed on,"
"What if this one works out though?"
Now she completely averts her eyes from him. It's a valid point but it's not the one she wants to hear right now. Yes, she wants her friend to find a stable and loving partnership with another human. But she doesn't want to get kicked to the curb while it's happening.
Alex leans forward and grabs the half eaten chocolate bar from the coffee table. He peels back the wrapper and offers it to Addi, who can't help herself, and snaps off a piece. "If she's worth the friendship, you'll just have to know this is a side of her, and one day down the road maybe she'll grow out of this and be able to manage it better. And if she's not worth the friendship, then she's no reason to get upset over."
Addi pushes the last bit of chocolate into her mouth and thunks her head back on his shoulder. "She's worth the friendship,"
Alex nods, almost to himself, and squeezes her shoulder a little tighter, reassuringly. Maybe that's all he'll have to say on the subject and they can spend the rest of the night figuring out how to make it a little bit better... Like with a fiery battle of an episode of Jeopardy. Until the time for bed rolls around. It's late and Alex managed to make her feel better by letting her win Jeopardy and work her off her buzz. But now that she's returning to a sober mind, she also returns to a less than happy mindset. Her face droops a little more and her mood a little more despondent. With a final yawn, Alex suggests she try to get some sleep and she woefully agrees, heading off to her room.
She peels back the blankets and crawls into bed while Alex stands at the threshold, waiting for her to get comfortable before he makes his exit. But tonight, unlike other nights, he can't make a clean getaway before she's calling out for him before he can even fully turn for the door.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" Her eyes widen like a puppy and she purses her lips. "I don't want to be alone,"
Looking like that, it takes a stronger man than he to deny her. "Sure, kid. I'll grab the blanket from the hall closet,"
And again, just as he turns to do just that and set up the couch for himself, her voice stops him dead in his tracks. "You can sleep here,"
For a moment all he can do is stare at her as his brain and body catches up with the reality. Head spinning and blood rushing to different parts of his body, he clears his throat and scratches his head absently. "I don't know if that's a good idea,"
She nods and mumbles out an okay. Whatever she's feeling isn't worth pushing the subject so she simply gathers her duvet in her fists and pulls it up a little further on her body. Reclined in bed, she turns over on her side and tucks her hands in close to her body, beneath her chin.
It only takes a second. The flip of a switch in his brain and the motion to approach her. A moment of weakness; the first one he's seen from her, and instead of retreating and thus showing her that opening up in that way is unacceptable, he goes to her. Whether that's against his better judgment or not. She's turned away from him when he pulls back the blankets to slip in bed with her. The jostling of the mattress is the only thing that gets her to turn over. And in that moment, her eyes flit over his massive frame in her exceedingly average-sized bed. They smile at each other, both thinking the same thing: how utterly ridiculous he looks contorted and curled up in this bed of hers.
"Thank you," she whispers, barely audible.
"Get some sleep, kid." Alex reaches for her and tucks his hand around her neck, easing her closer until she's nestled against his chest. He sets his chin on top of it and takes a deep breath while he scritches the back of her head in a slow rhythm. Sure enough, like clockwork, he hears her breathing deepen, encompassed by sleep. And only then does he allow himself to drift off, too.
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Vikingek (2013-2020), 6. évad
Vikingek (2013-2020), 6. évad
Oh, magasságos északi istenek, hát mégis ki volt az, aki ezt az évadot így ebben a formában berendelte, jóváhagyta, megcsinálta, és egy pillanatra sem gondolt abba bele, hogy ez mindennek a megcsúfolása, ami valaha ez a sorozat volt vagy elért?
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I was reading an interview about how Alex has always questioned if girls were interested in him because of his celebrity, or because they thought he was funny or charming in his own right. It made me think that he probably has hidden insecurities, and I wonder how Addi would react when she found out?
skarsgard-daydreams said: This is from the interview:
The Golden Globe winner also spoke candidly about growing up in the spotlight. He began acting at the age of 13, and is actor Stellan Skarsgård's eldest son. "To have people talk about you and say, 'Well this is who Alex is…" when I had no idea myself, it just f--ked with my self-confidence," Alexander explained.
"Because if a girl looked at me or seemed interested," he added, "I thought she was only interested because she had seen me in the movie. It made me feel worthless. I wanted girls in school to like me because I was funny or cute or interesting—that's what you want isn't it? When you're 13? And I guess when you're 40 as well…"
I’ve read/heard him talk about this sort of thing too... Which makes me believe it’s not a hidden insecurity at all. It’s very present, at the forefront of who he is and how he sees and interprets relationships (platonic and otherwise). I think this is absolutely one of the crosses he has to bear -- and one he gets caught up on more than he’d like.
To a degree, I think Addi already has this idea or inkling that this might be something he battles with. She’s seen and been around enough actors to know that they’re actually really fragile and delicate people. They spend their entire careers being someone else. How could that not fuck you up? But I also think she believes she's eliminated from that way of thinking for him because they honest-to-goodness started off as just friends and work colleagues. So in her eyes her "dues have been paid" in a sense with him. She thinks they've already gotten past the hardships that come with that insecurity. Maybe even in a sound, rational mind, Alex thinks they've gotten past that too.
But insecurities are funny little beasts, aren't they? They sneak up on you just when you think you've kicked them to the curb. You're feeling great, in a great state of mind, and then BAM! the insecurity bitch comes at you throwing elbows and you're knocked down a few pegs... Hell maybe you get kicked all the way back to the ground.
And this is exactly the sort of thing that could/would happen pretty early on in the official relationship... like, in the still hiding it from the public phase. This doubt and second guessing. Shit, this is the sort of thing that probably happens the morning after an amazing night together. The lust, and passion, and pure desire for each other had them feeling positively love-drunk through rounds one, two, and three. It was the sort of night where they both knew that the other was pouring every bit of themselves into the act; of wanting -- nay, needing -- to give everything they had. Addi was soft and small and in turn, Alex was the gentle provider. The sort of night that by the end of it, they had solidified exactly how they felt for each other.
But Alex woke up in a cold sweat that night and had to peel Addi off of him. And the anxiety he knew and thought he had long abandoned, crept back and nestled inside him. When he looked at her in the dead of night, watching the way her chest rose and fell in a perfect, unconcerned rhythm, all the anxiety let him see were all the flaws of their relationship and himself.
Our girl Addi is one smart cookie. But even if she weren't, it wouldn't've taken a rocket scientist to know something was wrong when she came up behind Alex in the kitchen and pressed a delicate kiss to the center of his bare back, only to have him shrink away from her. She eyed him as she poured herself a cup of coffee, but he avoided eye contact, and instead, flipped open a newspaper she didn't even know she had.
"Are you okay?" She asked and cringed at the first bitter sting of black coffee going down her throat.
Alex flipped the newspaper over and started scanning over the business section. "Yeah, fine,"
She frowned and took another sip of coffee, "you don't seem fine."
"How do I seem?"
"Surely not like someone who went multiple rounds of passionate sex with their girlfriend only..." she leaned over to get a glance of the microwave clock, "eight hours ago."
His face seemed to blush at the admission and just when she thought she could lean in and give him a kiss, he dodged her again in the most un-obvious of ways.
"What's the problem, Skarsgård?"
"Nothing's the problem," he defended and reached for his coffee cup.
But Addi wanted to have this chat even if he didn't. She slid his coffee cup away from him, out of reach. "It's Saturday morning. I've got all day to play this game. And I don't lose, so save us the trouble and time and spill it."
He stared at her for a second, reluctant to say anything. But she was there, sitting without movement like she was a renaissance statue carved from marble. And he knew that he wasn't bound to get out of the kitchen without having a conversation about what was milling about in his brain.
"Why do you like me?"
Addi rolled her eyes, "oh, we're going here this early in the morning?" Then seeing that he'd traded in his anxiety-ridden expression for something more stoic, she quieted down and grew more serious.
He tilted his head to the side, absently, "we don't make a ton of sense, so what was it? Was it power? Was it fanaticism or fantasy? Was it who I had worked with and that you'd be closer in proximity to them?"
"Strangely enough," she folded her arms over her chest, somewhat annoyed that he was putting this on her; projecting a fear or an agenda. "Aside from you being hands-down the most attractive man I've ever seen, I like you because you're kind. I like you because you treat everyone with gentleness and respect. I like you because you're charming and hilarious. I like you because you treat me better than I've ever been treated by anyone. But mostly, I like you because you're terrible at Jeopardy and I always win," she tried to hide a grin but ultimately felt that fail.
He reached for his coffee cup and this time, Addi let him have it. She stared at him as he took a sip, not saying anything in return. In fact, it seemed as though his brain was reeling more now than ever.
"We were friends first, Alex, don't forget that. You were special to me long before you started fucking me,"
He half-laughed into his coffee and flicked his eyes to her. Setting down his cup, he dragged a fingertip over the ceramic. He took a breath to give himself time to figure out what he wanted to say next. "I know, I just... panicked, I guess. I have -- or had, a tendency to pick people who didn't make me feel great about myself."
She leaned in a little closer, feeling like Alex wouldn't shy away from her as he had done before, and placed her hand on his thigh. As she inched it up towards his crotch, she caught that he focused on it, and she whispered, "I don't make you feel good?"
He swallowed, cheeks flushed, and looked back up into her eyes, "you do, kid. But feeling this good in a relationship made me get into my head."
Addi nodded and pressed her palm gently against his crotch. She leaned in a little closer, gaze switching focus between his eyes and lips. "We don't make sense?"
"Not really," he cupped his hands on either side of her neck, "but for once I don't want to logical about it."
She grinned and made the last little effort to kiss him. The relief that washed over her when he reciprocated the kiss was insurmountable. She breathed in deeply through her nose, curling her fingers over the outline of his member, and let out a semi-audible gasp when he pulled away and his hold on her neck got just a tad rougher.
"And I'm not terrible at Jeopardy,"
"Oh," she winked and giggled softly, "okay."
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Hey lovely:) I wanted to ask if I please could get a continuation of the Adrian and Mickey roommate imagine? If not I totally understand. Have a lovely day 💗
Hello, love! I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to get to this. I have the worst attention span, and I didn't want to write something for you that was lacklustre. But I've had a pang of inspiration, and I missed these two boys a lot. With that said, I give you the continuation you requested <3 The previous imagine is here [x]
You looked around the apartment...If one could call it such. It was more of a hallway, with a sliver of a kitchen that certainly would never suit the type of meals you liked to cook. You imagined one of the guys barreling through, knocking over a pot of sauce or bumping you with their broad shoulders, sending a sheet of cookies flying to their crumbly death.
"Okay... I know I said I'd be happy in a broom closet, but how are we supposed to cook Thanksgiving dinner here? The stove might as well be an Easy Bake Oven; it's so small. And I've seen coolers bigger than that fridge."
"It's fine," said Mickey.
"I think she has a point," Adrian replied.
The cupboards were apartments for mice, and when you walked down the tiled hall toward the bedrooms, the checkered floor rose and fell, creating an optical illusion of a giant woman in a tiny passage. Mickey and Adrian tried to stifle their giggles.
"Mickey, you try walking through without smashing your head on the ceiling."
It was true—Mickey couldn't make it through the corridor without ducking. But it wasn't the most inconvenient feature of the place. When you reached the first bedroom on the left side, all three of you went in and had a thorough glance around, determining it wasn't so bad until Adrian opened the closet and let out a sigh.
"So... There's a door inside the closet."
"What do you mean 'a door'?"
"Like, there's a tiny door right there in the back of the closet. Right there!"
You and Mickey crowded in to see the small door Adrian spoke of. Mickey nudged Adrian with his elbow. "Open it, Adrian."
"No! What if there's a body in there?"
"Honestly, that'd be the least surprising thing," you muttered as Adrian ventured further into the bare board closet. He twisted the rusty knob and pulled open the door. You watched him hunch down and inch through the space, his shuffles growing distant. "Guys, you're never gonna believe this!"
"What! Is it treasure?" Mickey called out.
"Check it out!" Adrian's voice sounded from behind, startling shrieks from you and Mickey. The taller man clung to you like a frightened child.
"How did you get there?" You asked.
"The door leads to the other room!"
"That's...Deeply unsettling," Mickey said.
"Let's check out the other bedroom," you huffed, leaving the interconnected rooms.
The third bedroom was that broom closet you had assured would be acceptable living quarters. However, the more time you spent inside the narrow square bedroom, the more you convinced yourself tortured spirits of people long-dead whispered in the corners. The cobwebs hung down like Christmas garlands, and the light fixture was a bizarre handicraft of deer antlers with a pull-string hanging down in the center of the room.
Mickey came in behind you and patted you on the shoulder. "Seems like murders happened in here."
Adrian soon followed his friend in, and suddenly, the space was entirely too cramped. "Uh, yeah. This whole place definitely belonged to a serial killer."
Next came the bathroom, which all of you piled into at once just to get the inspection over with. You couldn't tell if the toilet was purchased that way or if years of neglect had stained it a troubling shade of brown. Hunks of porcelain were missing from the sink and counter as if somebody had gone on a baseball bat rampage. The shower was a pipe with a transparent curtain surrounding it. You pulled the stiff plastic back and saw a black spider spinning a web on the faucet—a faucet located near the bottom that had no business being there, for there was no tub of which to speak.
"So, do we have any other options, or are we all set on Buffalo Bill's first apartment?" You asked.
"I dunno," said Mickey. "The rent is cheap, and it's close to downtown."
"It's also close to one of the circles of Hell," you said as you backed out of the room. "Not exactly a selling feature, if you ask me."
"She's right, Mick. This place is shit."
"Oh, come on... We can fix it up!"
"Says the guy who's never fixed a thing in his life," Adrian grumbled. "Said you'd fix the bike you broke, and that was five years ago."
"Aw, you guys have been married for five years?" You cooed before they chased you back down the hall to the living room.
Peculiar stains blotted every corner of the carpets, and the windows had seen better days. One of them had been nailed shut, the posts rusty and screaming with Tetanus. The layer of dust alone set Adrian off on a sneezing fit as Mickey flounced onto a couch seemingly made of animal dander and cigarette smoke-laced tweed.
"Think they'd throw in this couch? It's pretty comfy even with the spring stickin' in my ass."
"I'd pay them to take the thing," you waved the dust motes from your face.
Once Adrian recovered from his theatrical chain of sneezes, he marched into the center of the room, eyes dark and drawn to the floor. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket and kicked at a spot of dirt embedded in the rug, or it could have been a patch of singed fibres.
"No," he said.
Mickey perked. "No, what?"
"No... Just no. We deserve better than this! This place is a dump. I'd rather make a fort in a dumpster than live here."
Mickey went contemplative. "We should make a fort."
"Mick... Come on. Look at this piece of shit. You think she wants to live here? It's awful!"
"I know," Mickey sighed. "It's the worst... What do you think, roomie?"
You stood next to Adrian and squeezed his arm. "I think Adrian's right. We should definitely check out some other options. We're better than this."
"Are we, though?" Mickey's voice squeaked.
"YES!" You and Adrian yelled. Mickey sealed his lips and clasped his hands between his knees.
"Well, okay. Let's look for something else. But you're never gonna beat seven hundred dollars a month."
"And a lifelong curse."
"And a disease from that nasty-ass toilet."
"And probably ghosts!"
"All right, all right, picky-nickies! Let's get out of here then."
You left as a dejected unit of sour faces. When Mickey reached the sidewalk just outside of the dilapidated apartment building, he turned around and jangled the change in his pocket. "I'm hungry! Let's get Taco Bell."
"We have to save our pennies, Mick," Adrian said.
Mickey looked down at the ground and booted a pebble, frowning. You chuckled at them both. Their moods were dampened, but you knew you could rekindle their spirits just as quickly.
"Come on, guys. Let's go get some shitty burritos. It's on me."
Mickey gasped, and Adrian grimaced. "You know...if you want to ditch us and forget this whole deal... We'd totally understand."
"I'm not going anywhere, Adrian. We just hit a bad patch. We'll find something better. Let's get a paper and go look over some ads with some Baja Blast, yeah?"
"I like yooou!" Mickey sang. "Let's keep her, Adrian."
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Gustaf Skarsgård and Alex Høgh Andersen are both pro-Palestine. I knew they wouldn’t let me down 😌
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AN: ahoy friends! writing has felt distant to me lately which is unfortunate, but i was able to dream this up thanks to this ask . short and sweet, and nothing but fluff ahead. enjoy!
Seated across from one another at a crew dinner in West London, you marvel freely at the precise way his glassy blue gaze glitters merrily under exceptional conversation and even better wine. The navy silk tie knotted at the base of his throat looks great where it is, but you reckon it looked even better tied to the wrought-iron railing of your hotel bedframe a couple nights ago. An eight-AM flight bound for LaGuardia airport the next morning looms above you like a heavy raincloud; a stark reminder that your time in England is almost up. He knows it to; you can feel it in the way he glances at you every so often. Like he’s trying desperately to remember how you look in the waning light from the candles scattered around you. He catches your gaze once more before people begin saying their goodbyes for the evening, and he offers you a look that says nothing at all but also everything, in equal measure.
Secrets between lovers never remain that way for long.
There is no visible sign of rain on the horizon but you can smell traces of it in the air as you exit the restaurant into the late-May evening. Funny how four weeks ago you had only ever heard mentions of his name in passing, and now you wait with bated breath for the all too-familiar feeling of his impossibly warm hand at the small of your back. “What do you say we get away from here for a little while, hm?” The ghost of a Swedish lilt in his voice, and his lips against the delicate shell of your ear cause you to shiver against him and you nod your head wordlessly. If the last three and a half weeks have proven anything to you, it's that your will to tell him no to anything is inexplicably non-existent.
“Show me the way, Alex.”
The car ride is silent save for the static of the radio on in the background and you assume you're en-route to his hotel. Yours was last night's venue of choice and you can still picture the discarded pieces of his clothing littering the marble flooring like physical manifestations of your blissful recklessness. Closing your eyes, you can still feel the weight of him between your legs; the miniscule violet bruises from desperate fingertips or teeth that decorate the velvet inside of your thighs, and the delicious ache from being stretched a little too fully.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Alexander simpers.
You swallow hard, turning to gaze out at the passing scenery. “Last night was nice,” You offer, mildly.
Alexander chuckles softly at that, his laughter eventually fading into thoughtful silence. “Every night with you this last little while has been nothing short of mesmerizing.”
“I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”
His gaze flits from the road for a second to yours, his expression unreadable. “Just you, kid.” And god, this is where it starts to sting. There isn’t enough liquor in the world that could drown out the feeling of leaving something behind indefinitely- be it a person or a place.
Nothing lasts forever.
Eventually the steady flow of the vehicle lulls you into a shallow sleep, and when Alexander’s kiss rouses you from that state a little while later, it is to the notion that you are not in fact at his hotel, but rather a beautiful white-washed cottage. Stretching your arms as high as the car will allow, you yawn before turning to him. “How long were we driving for?”
He glances at the time on the dash and shrugs. “Forty-five minutes, give or take.” Lifting the back of your hand to his lips to kiss it softly, he cocks his head to the side and asks, “Shall we go and settle into our home for the evening?”
You nod, smiling sleepily. Show me the way, Alex.
Forest green ivy winds its way up the white stone walls of the front entrance, and you're entirely smitten with the place before you've even stepped foot inside. Walking into the front hallway, you notice a stone fireplace against the far wall. Ornate wooden furniture- seemingly from a long forgotten time, adds endless charm to the already beautiful home, and the glaring notion that you have less than twelve hours here is not lost on you. Glancing back at Alexander, you offer him a small smile which he willingly returns. You wander over to the expansive bay window in the corner of the room, which offers a breathtaking view of the rolling valley hills splayed out like a rich tapestry before you. Letting your eyes fall shut, you play through an invisible highlight reel of the last four whirlwind weeks of your life.
Your first legitimate gig.
Alexander for the first time.
London, and so much laughter.
His lips on yours.
He clears his throat behind you and you turn to view him in the fiery light from the fading sun. He's still leant against the wooden front hall doorframe, and though his eyes still glimmer just as brightly as they did earlier this evening, something else lingers there that makes a lump swell in the hollow of your throat.
“You're staring at me,” Your tone is soft, quizzical.
A small smile blooms across Alexander's face as he nods his head in confirmation. “I want to remember this exact version of you for the rest of my days. You, in that beautiful dress, the sunset behind you…” His inflection is painfully wistful; it drips with a longing you aren't familiar with yet. Maybe you never will be.
When you awaken in the morning's hush it is to the delicate sound of birdsong from the open window. The dawn breeze rolling in chills you through, and you instinctively curl back into the sleeping Swede behind you. How much you'll miss this when you're parted; how much you'll miss him. He stirs behind you, and his strong arms circle your waist, pulling you ever closer.
“To have one more night tangled up with you…” His voice bares the brunt of slumber, the dry, raspy drawl of it makes your knees weak. His fingertips trace unrecognizable patterns through the dips and valleys of your hips and ribs, and the urge to miss a flight has never been more pressing. “It’s possible we could keep this going…” His silence gives way to a subdued optimism; he’s flipping through a mental rolodex of his next jobs: Morocco, Toronto, California, and eventually... home to New York. It just isn't in the cards for either of you.
“In every single universe apart from this one, we keep going Alex.”
And when this ends, I hope you remember me well.
"God, I'll miss you." A heavy sigh emanates from his parted lips as he bends his head to press a gentle kiss to the apple of your cheek. "Give ‘em hell, kid."
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IMAGINE - This love
I love so much writing imagines including Alex and here's an other one ! ❤️ A really fluffy wedding moment that I absolutely loved to write. Thanks anon for asking this! I’m really sorry for the delay but I just lost my motivation and inspiration a little bit, I hope this is completely back now. Thanks a lot for all the readings, comments and sharing, this means a lot! Have fun ❤️
Summary : Newly weds, you and Alex have a morning deep and open-heart conversion, telling your love for each other…
Pairing : Alexander Skarsgård x reader
Warnings : none only fluffy and romantic moment !
Tag list : @katerka88 ; @bonnieelizabethparker ; @ateliefloresdaprimavera ; @anangelwhodidntfall ; @fawnbrrry
"You are my life...you are my everything..."
The words of this well-known song reach your ears while you are still lying on your side, head on the pillow, in a state of sleep. A discreet smile appears on your lips while in your mind, the lyrics remind you of this scene that is engraved there forever. A magnificent hall of Stockholm, decorated with white and pink flowers, a dance floor and a space with beautiful tables for all your family members and closed friends. And then yourself, in the arms of the man of your life, waltzing to the rhythm of this song, under the admiring eyes of your loved ones.
Then, a soft and discreet caress on your skin surprises you. With your eyes still closed, you concentrate on the path of this finger that goes up and down your arm, then comes back to your shoulder making small circles before going back down. That finger reaches the curves of your hips, causing a shiver within your body and giggle at the same time. The finger reaches the edge of your pajama shorts. It goes back up and caresses this time the contours of your face before settling permanently on your mouth. With the tip of your lips, you place a soft kiss on this finger, finally opening your eyes.
"Good morning" Alexander says, facing you, lying down in the same position. His head is resting on the palm of his left hand to be more comfortable. He smiles tenderly at you as the tip of his index finger leaves your mouth and makes way for his thumb to coax your cheek.
"Good morning" you answer, with a soft voice before blinking several times to get used to the light of the room. The curtains were still drawn but the sun's rays were strong enough to give the room a nice morning light.
"Isn't that the best way to be awaken?" you add, slowly stretching your still somewhat numb legs under the covers, your feet slowly caressing Alexander’s legs. "Cuddled, in the arms of my beloved husband?".
Alexander lets out a small laugh as he leans closer to place a soft kiss on your lips. It wasn't the first time he'd woken you up like this, but since your marriage he'd become even more attentive. It must be said that he always enjoys this as he often travel for his work. Waking up had become a precious moment that he didn't want to miss for anything in the world.
"Do you know what day it is Mrs Skarsgård?". A smile appears on your face. You love hearing him calling you like that and you’ll have to get used to it but you are proud to bear his name. But speaking of date...how to forgot ? This date is forever inscribed in your memory. But the sweet awake, the music was a good way to put you on the track.
"Um hum...," you reply with a small air of defiance before you approach in turn, leaning on your forearms to kiss your husband. "Happy wedding anniversary my love."
His hands sliding on your hips while making you rock on your back. Alexander is now standing over you, his left arm placed near your head on the pillow while the other one is posed on your left hips.
“Happy anniversary my beautiful wife”. He bends his face and you rub your noses together. A tender gesture that you have ritualized since the beginning of your relationship. A gesture that is sometimes more meaningful and intimate than a simple kiss. You both giggles, happy.
You cuddles for a moment, in each other’s arms, until Alexander pulls back and caresses your face again with his fingertips. Like if he wanted to stop time for a moment, just to admire you.Your hand rises and caresses his chin, his budding beard and his soft lips. All this while looking at him lovingly.
“I remember well that day, six months ago...”, he starts with a low voice, like if he didn’t want to ruin this perfect moment you two were sharing. “You had the same gaze when we were in the church, facing each other. You were looking absolutely perfect in your wedding dress. And I remember, I said to myself that...I wanted to see this beautiful face everyday for the rest of my life”. You listen to his words, smiling, and touched.
“You knew my opinion about marriage and the doubts I had...and yet, I’ve never been so sure in my entire life you know...I knew I was making the right decision. I already was when I decided to ask me to marry me actually. I was sure you were the only one”. Completely overwhelmed by his touching words, a few tears of joy welled up in the corner of your eyes and rolled down your cheeks.
“Hey...don’t cry baby”, he hurries to say as his thumbs quickly washes them away.
"Everything is fine...it's just that...I realize once again how lucky I am to have you by my side”, you confess, washing the tears away too. “You know how life had been hard with me and how I suffered in the past...and...”.
Alexander cuts you off by leaning to kiss you tenderly but not a simple kiss like those you exchange everyday. A very sincere, long and deep kiss like the one you share in front of you entire family and friends after the priest said you were officially husband and wife. A kiss that shows all the love he has for you. A kiss that always comfort you.
“And now it’s a new beginning for both of us. I’ll protect you, take care of you and I’ll love you until my last breath. I promise you once and I promise it to you one more time sweetheart”.
Now it’s your turn to kiss him deeply before going into his arms, leaning your head near his neck. The only place where you feel safe. Alex holds you tight, holding you like his most precious thing in the world, knowing that he’ll have to leave in two weeks for an other shooting.
“You are my angel and I’m sure that our meeting is not due to chance, I already told you and I’m convinced of it”.
“Nothing appears by chance baby...Remember that”, Alex says, still holding you, his hand rubbing slowly your back.
You stay in this position for a while, until the music stops and another one starts. A smile spreads across your lips as you realize that this is the playlist for your wedding night. Alexander was truly one of the most caring men you've ever met.
You remember those early moments when you doubted your relationship, mostly because staying with him meant living alone at times. But today, all that didn't matter anymore. You were safe with him and you had made the right choice to stay.
You were like two soul mates. In two years of relationship and despite the distance, you had never argued, always finding a compromise. Alexander always made sure that you didn't lack anything, that you were as happy as possible. You accepted his career and understood how important it was to him, and you vowed never to ask him to choose.
So many compromises that had established your trust, strengthened your relationship and explained your symbiosis. Things that made you think that you were made for each other.
Finally Alexander pulls back and places a sweet kiss on your forehead.
“Now time’s to get up. We have many things to do today to celebrate this anniversary”, he says as rolling on his side to get up from the bed. You turn on your side too and look at him, coking your eyebrow.
“Oh...Like what ?”. You knew Alex was preparing something special because he was acting a bit strangely the past few days, making some phone calls outside to be sure that you won’t hear anything or making some innuendos. But it was nothing compares to your surprise...A smile appears on your face when you just think about the little box hides in your closet.
“You’ll see...”, he leans to kiss you before reaching out to you, inviting you to join him out of bed. You take his hand and stands in front of him. Alexander wraps you in his arms. “One thing at a time. But first, let’s get downstairs. I made a delicious breakfast for you”, he explains before kissing you again on your nose this time.
“Mmmh...My mouth is watering already”, you say as you imagine all the good things that are on the kitchen table.
“Then let’s go Mrs Skarsgård...”, he replies as suddenly taking you like a bride. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck to not fall. “It’s time to celebrate...”.
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Sooo it seems like Alex always puts Addi's satisfaction first. What would his reaction to her faking an orgasm be? Would he take it personally? 🤔 Now there's a thought... 😂
Oh ho ho Non. Thank you SO MUCH for bringing this little situation up. Let’s explore, shall we?
So, our girl Addi hasn’t really had the best of luck with romantic, intimate relationships. Past boyfriends didn't really focus on her pleasure as part of the process... or even the point of the process. If y'all remember, the first time she and Alex do it, he says to her that this is supposed to feel good for her and she's allowed to enjoy it. And she's a little shell-shocked at that because it's as if she didn't know she was allowed to. Maybe faking an orgasm was something she picked up in past relationships because she just never got there. And at that point, she thought it was her fault. She thought the guy was earnestly trying to get her there and her body was just being stubborn. So faking it became a sort of apology, and it just so happened that none of those boys could tell the difference (probably because they'd never actually gotten a girl off).
Now, Alex wasn't aware faking orgasms was in her repertoire of skills. That wasn't a conversation that had ever come up. She mentioned here and there that sex wasn't something she ever really enjoyed (and felt guilty about that). And when he reasoned that might've been because she'd never had good sex, she just shrugged. It wasn't until they actually consummated the relationship that she realized Alex had been right. Up until him, she hadn't been pleasured. She hadn't been the focus in sexual escapades and it showed.
Through practice and trial, they learned what the other liked and needed to get there, and the need for faking it drifted off to a distant memory... until the night it wasn't.
She had spent the day overthinking everything because she had made an error at work and thought that was it -- that someone would cut her loose and word would get around town that she was terrible at her job and no one would hire her again. When it actuality, no one was thinking of her mistake ten minutes after it happened. But her mind was a lemming that had jumped off the cliff and into the ocean tide. And after running herself ragged at work, she just wanted to curl up on the couch and throw on an episode of MASH, or Frasier, or Jeopardy, and chill out. Only... Alex had spent his day of work vibing and feeling on top of the world. And when he came home, he wanted to feel himself on top of his little slugger.
And look -- I hc that Addi has a bit of trouble with physical intimacy, especially early on in their relationship. Like there's an aspect of her that fights with the idea of remaining her own person but also feels like sex is something that comes with relationships, and sometimes she's just gonna have to do it when she's not exactly feeling it (author's note: you never have to do it if you're not feeling it. Shut that shit down, and if your partner responds poorly, get yourself a new partner). The idea of saying no to Alex when he wanted sex wasn't really even a thought in her head to that point. So. She. Let. Him. Have. At. It.
She went through the motions and cooperated when he went down on her. She even made a half-assed attempt to look like she was going to go down on him, knowing he was so riled up that he'd stop her. And as they had sex, she gave him moans and noises to convince him of what she wanted. At the end of the day, even if she wasn't so jazzed about having sex at the moment, she wanted him to be able to get a release. She wanted to help him with that. And unlike with boyfriends in the past, the act wasn't causing her physical pain.
Oooooh and our girl knows the man she's with. Knows that he's a stickler for not climaxing until she does. Knows that he puts her pleasure on the forefront always. And so she also knows that the only way she'll get him to get his release is to have an orgasm for herself. Or in this case: to fake it.
That's exactly what she did. Clawed at his back and shoulders, squeezed her legs tighter around his hips, threw her head forward against his chest and let out a deep, throaty moan. Shit, if she didn't almost buy the act herself. She even mumbled something against his chest; something along the lines of telling him to come for her. She said it on autopilot. She always said something along those lines after she came. But tonight, Alex paused. His hips stilled, his elbows pressed deeper into the mattress to part himself from her, and he looked down at her now exposed face.
"Did you...?" He squinted his eyes because right now, he could hardly believe what he just felt (which was nothing). "Did you just fake that?"
She felt the blood rising to her cheeks, knowing she had to do something... anything to de-escalate this and get him the release he was chasing. Deny everything at all costs. "What? No,"
"Why'd you fake an orgasm?" It didn't sound accusatory at all. In fact, he sounded more hurt.
"I didn't fake it,"
But she knew she was losing control of this speeding train because Alex backed his hips up until he slipped out of her, "I know what it feels like when you come and that wasn't it." And then her worse fear... he got off of her and left. Now -- it's really only into the bathroom so he can dispose of his condom, but in the moment, him leaving the situation drove her into a near panic. Even when he returned, her breathing had picked up to rhythm incommensurate with their activity. "Why did you fake it?"
"I didn't--" she protested but instantly cut herself off when he crawled back onto the bed and sat in front of her, resting his hand on her thigh. "You wanted it. And you're my boyfriend, so..." This time she quieted down because the expression on Alex's face heightened her concern to the next level.
"I don't get free access to your body just because we're dating; you know that, right?"
She closed her eyes, "we're together so you can just--"
"No," he cut her off with a squeeze to her leg, "you get that, right? You don't owe me sex because we're in a relationship. You can, and should, say no when you don't want sex. End of story. I don't get special treatment with that just because I'm your boyfriend." He ducked his head to try and catch her gaze. Once he succeeded in that, he offered a warm grin, "believe it or not, it's not a ton of fun for me to have sex with my girlfriend when she doesn't want it. It actually makes me feel kind of scummy,"
Her eyes welled up with tears and she reached out, making grabby-hands at him until he crawled up and settled next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest, and tugged one of her legs over his so she was half resting in his lap.
"Don't be angry at me," she pleaded and glanced up at him. "I'm sorry,"
"Sweetheart, I'm not angry at you," he kissed her forehead. "It's okay for you to say no to sex, no questions asked. I'm an adult man, I can handle that. You don't need to put yourself through anything you don't want for my pleasure." He swiped his thumb over her cheek, "and let's not fake orgasms. If we're not gonna get there, we're not gonna get there, but let's not fake them. Capeesh?"
She nodded and nestled her head against his chest, "capeesh."
Addi fell asleep like that; hunkered down against his side, head resting on his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair with gentle precision. Come morning, she'd still feel a little guilty about the whole thing. For feeling like she had to lie to Alex about the extent of her pleasure in that moment. She thought she'd get up early and fix him some breakfast in bed. But no sooner than she tried to wriggle away, Alex wrapped a strong arm over her waist and pulled her back toward his body. He mumbled something about not letting her run away that easily and hushed her when she started to get fidgety. Soon realizing that he was adamant about not letting her escape from him, she settled and allowed herself to fall back asleep for a little while longer.
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