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house-of-lovin · 11 months

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legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

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Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight.

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately.

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face.

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.”

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head.

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.”

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly.

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?”

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year.

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking. “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face.

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely.

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations.

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed.

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed.

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern.

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you.

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna.

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?”

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.”

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment.

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat.

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back.

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one.

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back.

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart.

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here.

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?”

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala.

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?”

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.”

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes.

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically.

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head. Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle.

You roll your eyes at her dramatics.

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell.

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time.

“What are you doing here?” You squint, walking closer.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around.

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door.

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors.

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering.

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that.

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket.

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement.

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open.

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart.

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent. “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else.

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant.

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile.

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest.

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

“I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing.

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.”

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over.

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you.

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship.

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so.

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress.

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad – I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.”

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips.

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.”

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand.

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

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#legally binded #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #wednesday netflix

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slightlymore · 1 year

Text

the neighbour

bangchan x fem reader

genre: neighbours!au, slow burn, smut!!!!, romance, tiny angst, some fluff moments, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, dual perspective

content/warnings: +18, solo m, solo f, accidental auditory voyeurism (auralism), toys solo f, lots of dirty thoughts, lots of dirty talks, raw, oral f, oral m + deepthroating + swallowing/facial, manhandling, multiple orgasms both, body worshipping, praise kink, light degradation, edging both, begging both, thigh riding, finger sucking, hand necklace, hair pulling both, biting both, spanking, mirrors, fingering, titty and nipple play, cum play, creampie, spit, overstimulation both, aftercare + they’re both lowkey perverts sksk

words: 14k

___

When he heard the first noise, Chris sighed deeply, puffing his cheeks before releasing the air. He considered himself lucky to not have had a neighbour for the longest time - not because he was worried of them being annoying - he just liked the freedom of being the only one on that building floor.

And when he heard the second noise and the buzz of many people talking, he knew he had to go outside and check on who was in the middle of moving in.

Not because he was nosy (he was) but because he wanted to understand the kind of person (or worse, family with children? god) was moving in. Also maybe they needed help (he wasn’t actually going to help, he was just a Libra and a people pleaser).

“Hey-ya” he nodded once at some uniformed men, carrying boxes upon boxes into the next door apartment. The men tipped their little hats as a greeting and Chris leaned on the door frame with arms crossed on his chest. He was a good diplomat. He was a great diplomat even. No. A spy. And he was sure he’d get all the information he wanted out of them.

He opened his mouth to start with the first of the questions when a voice blocked the words in his throat.

“Be extra careful with that one box, please. It’s fragile.”

Chris had to start from the bottom.

No, his eyes did a quick look at everything but then he thought he must start again from the bottom.

And slowly.

He stared at your shoes. Heels. Not too tall, not too short. Pointy and black. Classic. Then your ankles. God, he loved ankles. No hosiery although it was pretty cold. Did you care too much about fashion? Or not enough? God, he loved legs too. Pencil skirt. A bit outdated but it worked. Shirt and blazer? Office worker. 9-5 person. Fuck, he definitely had to stop blasting his music at night. Unbuttoned shirt. Daring. God, he loved necks. Wait, wait. Hands? Hand. Left hand. No rings. No partners or children? Maybe. Single mom? Could be. Career woman? Perhaps even worse - full or rules.

“Are you going to keep staring or will you finally turn around, go inside, and mind your own business?”

The voice returned and Chris had to finally analyze the lips. God, he loved li-

“I’m being serious,” you added.

Chris cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi. I noticed you’re moving in.”

You let your eyes drape over his body, from his nude toes (you made some kind of face and Chris felt really self conscious about his toes for a moment there), then his thighs (he shivered), and when you lifted one eyebrow he felt completely naked.

“Alright, I get it. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at,” he fought the urge to cover his crotch in the damn grey sweats he chose for the day.

“Yes, I am moving in. Congratulations, you have eyes,” you made a little smile. Those types of smiles you do when you hate someone and you kinda want them to notice but not too much.

Chris let out a dry chuckle in the form of air from the nose. “Thanks. Do you need any help?”

You were going to say no. You were definitely going to say no. Not only you had a whole minions squad to move in for you, but you also looked like the type of person to refuse help altogether.

“Actually,” you leaned towards the wall and Chris followed your movement as you grabbed a square soft-looking bag-box thing with both arms and handed it to him.

“Could you please take Nyx in for a few hours? She’s scared of all the noise.”

Chris silently took the bag-box and looked inside.

“It’s a cat,” he said, one beat before realizing again he was sounding a bit stupid.

“Do you always say at loud everything that goes on in your-”

“Don’t finish that,” he interrupted you.

You closed your mouth with a little smile.

Chris looked at the cat again. It was black with gorgeous green eyes.

“Hello?” he tried.

The kitty hissed and Chris impercetibly jolted in place, blinking a few times.

“It means she likes you,” you explained.

“Oh, really? Like owner like cat, I guess,” he gave you another glance.

Your eyelids dropped at the comparison as if a bit annoyed but not surprised. The glint of amusement didn’t disappear from your eyes though, so Chris was glad to understand he didn’t particularly cross any boundary. Besides staring at your legs.

“She doesn’t bite by the way. No worries.”

“I don’t mind a little kitty scratch,” Chris replied.

You stared him down for the second time, as if that information renewed your curiosity about him. Or maybe you were just making sure if he actually looked like able to survive a cat attack or not. Or handle your scratches.

“Can I pet her? Your kitty,” he asked.

Your gaze went back to his face. The little innuendo banter didn’t go unnoticed to you. He wondered if that was going to be the boundary that would make you snap.

“Too early. She needs time to warm up to you,” you simply said.

Chris nodded. “Of course.”

He went inside and placed the kitty near the living room window to have both sun and shade. Not that cats were plants by any means, but he never owned one.

Then he realized he didn’t even ask your name or get any kind of information as he planned.

Maybe he wasn’t that good of a diplomat as he thought.

___

You sat down on the plastic covered couch as the last man exited the apartment and you stared at the myriad of boxes in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, one hand to rub at your temples. You wished you could still have the keys to your old place for the night. You weren’t in the mood to make your bed. Maybe you were going to sleep on the couch, still dressed and makeup on and stuff.

Then you remembered Nyx.

The neighbour opened the door after a few seconds.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Figured it was you.”

“Hey,” you said back, a bit awkwardly crossing your arms on your chest. “Thank you for taking care of Nyx,” you added.

The man took a step back as to invite you in. “It was honestly a pleasure. I realized I really enjoy cats.”

You thought for a second if you should actually get in or just ask him to go grab her and leave. But then you saw Nyx sprawled on his couch, paws in the air and all, and a smile bloomed on your face.

“You should not have let her out. She probably left so much hair around,” you took of your heels and walked towards her. His living room rug felt very soft under your toes and you made a mental note to ask him where he got it so you could plagiarize the choice.

The man closed the door behind you and walked the same route, sitting on the couch arm and staring at Nyx with a genuinely fond smile.

“I do not mind hair at all.”

You knew he didn’t mean it in a dirty innuendo way that time.

Nyx purred happily against your hand as you pet her. “Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered.

“Wait, stay. I am in the middle of making dinner. I’m sure you got nothing to eat today,” the man got back on his feet and indicated towards the kitchen.

You got up from the crouching position. “Thank you. But I was thinking I could order something. It’s fine.”

He bit his lower lip as if wondering if your refusal was politeness or if you hated him and wanted to just go home. You realized he was lowkey cute conflicted that way and you chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, the smile already blooming on his face as well.

“What are you making?” you ignored him. “Chicken breast and rice?”

The man smiled again with a hum. “Oh, so you think I look fit although that comment feels a bit insulting.”

You chuckled again shaking your head in disbelief.

“Well, it’s not chicken breast tonight but if you want that come over any meal of the day besides Friday night and I’ll probably serve you that,” he continued.

“Okay, noted. We’ll see each other only on Friday nights.”

“It’s noodle soup,” he finally answered. “And I think it’s ready.”

You watched his large shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen to check on it.

___

Your silence told Chris that you considered noodle soup a decent meal and he hoped it was decent. He wasn’t a great cook but his food was alright enough to not make him die and for the longest time he thought that was a decent level of skill. Now, seeing the spoon inching towards your mouth he really wanted the food to actually taste good.

“You don’t have to stare at me like that. I won’t die,” you lifted your gaze on him.

Chris exhaled at the tension. “I’m just worried.”

You smiled. “I can see that. I’m sure it’s more than okay.”

The reassurance didn’t help ease his nervousness.

He lifted one eyebrow, teeth gritting as he stared at the way you gently slurped on the soup then had a mouthful of noodles right after.

Your cheeks puffed a little as you chewed and the view made him smile for a moment before he remembered you were about to communicate your review. He got nervous again.

You swallowed and nodded. “Good.”

Chris blinked. “Good?”

You hummed.

“That’s it?”

You scoffed incredulous.

“I’m joking I’m joking,” he chuckled and grabbed his own chopsticks.

It went quiet for the next moments but Chris didn’t feel awkward. Nyx was rubbing herself on both of your calves and the way your eyes would soften looking down at her, with that little eyebrow lift and the sweet voice made Chris feel some type of way.

“Thank you for the meal and taking care of her,” you said and Chris waved his hand as his mouth was full.

“No need to thank me,” he replied after gulping.

“What’s your favourite food?” you asked after some more silence. Small talk huh?

Chris looked towards an imaginary point, thinking. “I like pretty much anything.”

“Okay, then next Friday you’ll eat whatever I’ll give you.”

He locked eyes with you as you reached for the glass of water and had a sip. The silence engulfed you again.

God, he felt like leaning on the table and biting your lower lip with his teeth and he didn’t even know your name.

___

The following days passed quickly as you worked full time and came home to a disastrous apartment still filled with boxes. You could swear you’d get rid of 10 and 20 appeared in their place.

You were sighing, absentmindedly rubbing your lower back while the other arm was trying to carry a few flat packed boxes you managed to empty that evening.

You weren’t sure of the time but the young woman walking towards your neighbour’s door in what seemed like a night booty call told you it was probably pretty late. She was gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look away and close your mouth as she gave you a small smiling nod, passing you by and engulfing you in a dizzying perfume. You walked quickly towards the elevator in your indoors duck slippers, not in the mood to make eye contact with the man who took care of your kitty (actual cat) and fed you last week as he’d open the door to let the woman in.

It was Thursday and you realized with a certain degree of embarassment that you have been looking forward the Firday night dinner since the moment you left his apartment after that noodle soup date.

You couldn’t understand why the sight of that woman could make you feel that uneasy and you hated yourself for the speed of your brain trying to make up excuses as to why suddenly you wouldn’t be free anymore the following day.

When you came back up the woman was presumably inside already, probably sipping some fancy wine from a fancy glass with toes in the fancy carpet the man had - that apartment complex was for wealthy people, you weren’t stupid to guess the neighbour man was pretty well off as well - or perhaps already bent over the same table you sat at the previous week.

The quiet of your apartment got disrupted by a single thud, like something falling on the ground, or well, a bed frame hitting the wall as someone throws themselves on it - or gets thrown.

Suddenly you felt like wearing your coat and shoes, and after giving Nyx a little head kiss, you exited the apartment again for a weird urge to buy a night snack from the corner shop.

___

“Working this late?”

A deep voice made you snap your head upwards, your fingers stopped in front of the door pad as you were about to type your password.

The neighbour was bringing out dirty laundry, you realized, and you wondered if he intended to wash the bedding right after the woman left. The thought was a bit ridiculous and it put you in a bit of a better mood.

“No. I went out for a corner shop trip,” you explained and the man blinked as if finally realizing you were wearing pajama pants under your coat and your hair didn’t look work appropriate. The plastic bag in your hand was also still full of the snacks you didn’t have any appetite to eat while counting minutes sitting at the white and cheap tables outside the shop wondering how come time goes by fast when you have sex but it’s so slow when others have sex.

“Got any good snacks?” he asked just to fill in the silence, you figured.

You hummed as a reply. “Laundry this late?” you asked in return.

The man looked down at the basket in his arms as if he forgot he was was carrying it. “Oh. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get productive instead.”

Good excuse, you gave him that.

“Well, have fun, then,” you pushed the front door in, waving a hand. The man gave you a little square smile, making his dimples pop. “Good snacking.”

You closed the door then for some reason turned around, staring at him through the peephole as he walked towards the elevator.

___

Chris loaded the washing machine with an empty head. He didn’t think much about the one night stand. It has been a normal, not the best, but satisfactory one night stand. Just the usual. He’d normally work a bit or go to sleep after the person would leave - this time he was doing laundry. All standard stuff.

But then he saw you and he felt a weird lump in his throat, as if he got caught red handed.

Maybe it was because his date left minutes prior and he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe it was your nighttime look, the youthful but tired expression on your face with no make-up on, or maybe the sleepy eyes you had.

Or maybe it was the impression that you left your house on purpose.

He couldn’t recall if he made the woman loud enough for you to hear anything and his bed technically should not creak, but he wasn’t fully sure because he was too - well, busy - to analyse that in the moment.

He scratched his head, staring at the way the washing machine slowly started to hum.

___

You wanted to pretend like you somehow forgot about the dinner.

Of course, you didn’t. And honestly it would have been rude to.

Somehow you were hoping that he forgot about it.

It was a random invitation anyway, a joke. You didn’t give him a specific time frame. He didn’t even confirm that he’d come.

Somehow you were hoping that he didn’t forget about it.

And if he did, should you just go and knock on his door to say hey so are you coming over or what?

You shook your head, stirring the pasta sauce with a shiver down your spine. That would be- it would be- you couldn’t even think of a proper word for that feeling. Somewhat along the lines of humiliating.

Or would that be cool? Just knock knock hey, I have dinner.

You sighed, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan before placing it down on a plate.

Why were you getting so worked up over a damn dinner with some random neighbour?

What if he had plans Friday night, anyway? He looked like he could be a busy and sociable man.

You sighed again, looking around the apartment which you deep cleaned. Then you stared at the abundant portion of pasta boiling gently.

God, you didn’t even know his name.

___

Chris looked in the mirror hung near the entrance door for the last time. He felt stupid. And his hair wasn’t cooperating.

He wondered if you’d think he only wears the same black shirt all the time so he wore a black shirt with a different logo to convey the message that he changes clothes like a normal human being. Not that it mattered.

He was ashamed to admit that he has been lowkey pacing the apartment for a bit that day, brainstorming solutions for the weird up in the air dinner invitation. He should have asked for confirmation last night.

What if it was a mere joke? A random polite made up phrase in the let’s go out for coffee sometime category?

But what if you were waiting for him? He needed a back up plan in case he showed up and you’d blankly stare at him with no dinner prepared.

He felt very stupid.

And he was glad you couldn’t see the way he jumped in place and felt his heart fall down to his ass when he heard the doorbell.

“Hey,” he opened.

“Hello,” you lifted your gaze.

Were you a bit- nervous?

“I came by just in case you forgot- well, not that you’d forget, but just in case I wasn’t clear enough about the dinner invitation, but, of course, if you made other plans in the meantime and you’re not free anymore or if you’ve already eaten then-”

“I was on my way to come over,” he gently interrupted your rambling. You unclasped your hands and put them behind your back at that information. You relaxed.

“Oh,” you smiled, “well, then. I made pasta. Hope it’s okay.”

___

“Hello, baby,” the neighbour giggled entering your apartment. He placed the wine bottle he prepared - sign he really didn’t forget, you were relieved to notice - on the floor and knelt down as Nyx lazily strutted towards him and rubbed her head then back on his hand. “I really missed you.”

You walked towards the kitchen to grab the food.

“You can come over and see her whenever you want to. I somehow feel like she missed you too.”

The man got up and walked the distance towards the arranged table, placing the bottle on it. “Did she?”

His tone was low and you wondered if he talked like that to his last night date. Or maybe he could do worse? More? How deep could his voice go?

“Yeah. I guess you have good vibes,” you complimented him.

He eyed the pasta you were carrying and he whistled impressed.

“Definitely better than my noodle soup.”

“Well, let’s see about that,” you gave him a look.

“You don’t seem like you’re bad at something,” he watched you serve him while sitting down.

“Perhaps this is the only thing I’m bad at,” you murmured back.

For some reason, maybe the ambient lights, or the closeness of your plates, maybe the way the shadows on his face looked accentuating his jaw, or maybe his gaze, compelled you to talk softly.

The neighbour liked your reply and gave you a smile, those languid smiles with one corner lifted more than the other.

You served yourself and sat down.

Your gazes met again and that was his cue to taste and review. You could understand why he was nervous last week.

“Hmmm,” he simply replied after a long long chewing moment.

You lifted one eyebrow. “Hmmm?”

He chuckled. “You must be so curious to know. I want to keep you waiting some more. It’s fun.”

You scoffed amused, taking a sip of water. “Well, I won’t beg for any comment, if that’s your plan.”

Did he do this with his date too? Edging her as she looked eager for a single touch? Or did he edge her when she was about to orgasm in his arms? Did she beg? Was he capable of making a woman beg?

Well, you were close to say please is this good or not I’m going to go insane, any moment now so probably he was more than capable of doing that.

“It’s very good,” he finally said with a proud expression, seeing your shaking and annoyed leg under the table. “I really like it.”

“Hmmm,” you weren’t fully pleased, but you tasted the pasta too and you let the smile bloomed on your lips warm up the space between you.

___

It was a bit too spicy for him, Chris realized after eating half the plate. But he wasn’t just going to back away. Maybe that was a test. Do you only entertain men who can handle the spice? Well, he was going to finish the plate and ask for more.

“Your apartment is coming up nicely,” he commented after a moment of silence. The bottle was almost empty and he really liked the light in your eyes because of the glass you were sipping from.

You looked around as if staring at it from his perspective. “Still a long way to go but I am pleased with it so far.”

“It’s curious. We have specular apartments.”

Chris made a mental note to remember that you were probably sleeping head to head. Maybe he was too loud last night. Did you mind? Was the noise bothersome? Did you even hear? Somehow he wished you did.

“I met with your girlfriend last night in the corridor,” you casually thew it out there as if reading his mind.

So you met.

He knew that you knew she wasn’t his girlfriend. You just wanted confirmation, didn’t you?

It made his fingers tingle. He had a sip of his wine.

“Did you talk?” he simply asked.

He felt a bit cruel seeing the faint shadow of something in your eyes. And he felt even more cruel because he loved it.

“No, just said hi.” You had a sip of your wine.

Should he drag it some more?

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chris finally said.

___

The relief that washed over you made you cringe. You pretended to be a bit surprised. Not too much. A bit disinterested. Neutral.

“Oh,” you just said, unsure of how people replied to something like that. Questions roamed your head? Why not? Do you have another person you’re interested in? Are you too busy for a committed relationship? Was she not your type? Are you still not over your ex? Are you some kind of fuckboy?

But none felt appropriate.

“Do you have a partner?”

He took you by surprise. “No,” you replied. “I am too busy I guess.”

The neighbour leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily making the glass leg roll.

“Can I ask what you do?”

You rested your face in your palm. “You can ask me whatever you want.”

The man smiled.

“I’m an Executive Director,” you continued.

He smiled more widely. “Of course you are.”

“What does that mean?” you leaned in with a giggle.

The man shrugged. “You said you wouldn’t beg. Also you look like someone who doesn’t take orders, you give them.”

You relaxed in your chair as well, arms thoughtfully crossed on your chest, taking in the information. You were sure you didn’t look like that but you accepted the compliment.

“Also, you live in this luxury apartment complex,” he added as if that could make his reasoning more rational and less rooted in his will to compliment you.

You nodded with an amused expression. “Well, and what do you do? Since you also live in this apartment complex?”

The man stretched his arms and back. “I’m self employed.”

You tilted your head to the side waiting for more information.

“I’m just a music producer.”

Somehow it wasn’t surprising. You nodded. “Why ‘just’? That’s very impressive.”

“Well, it’s not more impressive than your job,” he replied.

“Knowing the C major scale is already very impressive, what are you talking about?”

The neighbour blinked a few times then gently threw his head back in a bright laugh. You stared at his closed eyes. Then his perfect teeth. Then his dimples and the earrings shaking a bit in his ears. His neck was extended and it just exposed further the chicken and rice body he was farming. Gorgeous, although it made you a little sad and you hoped he was eating well. Not that you cared for a stranger. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care-

He opened his eyes again and your gazes met.

You didn’t care?

___

Chris was confused. He discovered everything he initially needed for his nosy spirit. But somehow it wasn’t enough and with every question he asked, a new question came to mind. Your family? Siblings? How old is Nyx? Did you have other pets before? Why did you move? What did you study?

You were polite and answered each and every one of them, exchanging the favour of asking him the same back. How long has he been producing? Was it hard? Are his songs popular? Oh, you probably heard some of them around? No way, you made that song??

Chris was very confused, especially since it was very late and he was exhausted, yet he didn’t want to move his ass from the damn chair and go home.

But then you hid a little yawn and he realized he should probably just go. He thanked you again for the dinner. Should he ask you out for the next Friday?

But you perhaps just wanted to repay him the favour. Booking you for three Fridays in a row would have been too much, he figured. You looked like a busy and sociable woman.

He was outside your door and you smiled at him seeing him out although he only had to take a few steps towards his own apartment.

“Well, goodnight-” he kept that phrase suspended.

You blinked at him.

“Y/N,” you finally said with a little smile.

He repeated your name.

“Goodnight-” you replied.

“Chris,” he added.

“Goodnight Chris.”

___

Chris felt like a pervert. No, worse. He felt like a stalker. Was it weird that he memorized the time you’d go to work and the time you came back? He didn’t try to, for real. It just happened. He’d hear your morning alarm at 7am and the way your shower ran ten minutes afterwards. Then a pause, he figured you prepared breakfast and got dressed. Then the sound of your hairdryer or whatever you did to your hair, he wasn’t fully sure. Then another pause. He liked to imagine you were putting on some makeup. His 7am brain has been busy imagining you putting on bright red lipstick, gently bent over your sink to see yourself better in the mirror, although he fully knew you would never wear that kind of lipstick to work.

Then the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud bang, you were considerate, but Chris had good hearing.

He’d sleep late in the mornings usually. But your routine influenced him. So his routine became waking up at 7am with you, listen to your movements, then after you’d be gone, he’d also get up and go about his day.

Was this normal neighbour behaviour? He wasn’t sure. He’s never had one before you.

During the day he wouldn’t think of you at all. Maybe once in a while.

And then he’d hear the sound of your door opening and closing. Nyx’s meow as she’d welcome you and your muffled far away baby talk, probably calling her my love and other nicknames Chris low-key wanted to hear directed at himself.

He wouldn’t listen to you after that, he was a busy man afterwards, and he didn’t want to be a full-on creep.

But he knew you’d get in bed at around 10pm so he started to go as well. Not to sleep, he could hear the sound of the Tik Toks you were watching or the movie you’d put on. Sometimes it would be silent and he was dying of curiousity to know what were you doing. Reading? Puzzles? Listening to music over earphones?

One night it was particularly quiet, maybe you fell asleep, and Chris was about to grab his laptop and do some work when he heard a low buzz.

It was so faint that the wondered if he was just imagining it. Maybe his dirty mind was just trying to fill in his brain with images of what he’d secretly desire you to be doing. But no, it was there. He fought the urge to place his ear on the wall like a total loser and ignored it for the night, blasting music in his ears instead.

But then it happened again the following night and Chris sighed, heat travelling down his abdomen. He scratched his ear then nape. Then he huffed, closing the laptop and putting it on the side. He didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t push himself to not listen either. He was just curious, he told himself. Also, it wasn’t his fault you were masturbating in the head to head bedrooms you guys had and it wasn’t his fault that the walls weren’t particularly thick for a luxury apartment complex.

But he wasn’t curious only about the buzz.

Well, yes. He wondered what kind of toy could that be. Was it small? Was it internal or external? Was it a vibrating dildo or a clit sucking device?

But no, not really. He was more curious about the sounds you’d make. Were you a noisy person? Would you be loud or muffle your voice into the pillow? What position were you in?

God, he felt like a pervert. It wasn’t his fault you were masturbating but it was his fault for listening like that and imagining.

He reached for the headphones when the first noise arrived. He froze, fingers in mid air.

The noises increased in number and volume. Whimpers and moans.

He let his hand fall on the bed and he dug the nails into the covers ever so slightly.

He blinked, eyes towards the ceiling, your eyes probably rolled back in your head. Was that good? You were probably swallowing that toy so well, all wet and warm. He exhaled.

Like a reply, you kept moaning. He shivered, a single shiver coming from his toes up his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened again.

It was no surprise that he was hard. He wasn’t particularly dressed either so he couldn’t even lie to himself and say that he didn’t notice.

“Shit,” he mumbled out loud, passing one hand in his dark curls, then on his face. It stopped on his chest, where it buzzed with self restraintful force.

No, he wasn’t going to rub one out to the sound of his neighbour. He was not going to do that.

But you sounded so good although muffled, and the universe gifted him with too much imagination for his own good. His hand moved on its own on his flinching stomach going over the short trimmed hair and he exhaled as if he has not been breathing for the past minutes.

Oh, it felt better than usual. He was way past teenage years but with the way the precum leaked on his fingers, the thumb collecting it, he felt like a virgin masturbating for the first time. His adam apple traveled up and down his throat and he closed his eyes, pushing the head into the pillow, trying to pace the movement of his hand with the rhythm of your moans. He’s never felt dirtier and it went so quick to his head that he didn’t need much. With a groan then a higher pitched whimper he came messily on his stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Your moans increased in the same moment and Chris thought he was going to go insane, imagining you sprawled and shaking because of your own orgasm.

If he came so quickly like that, what was he going to do if you were in his arms?

___

It has been a few horny days, you realized as your hand automatically reached for he drawer on your right. Then you stopped. You felt a bit tired of your toys and that month’s ovulation felt too intense for you to keep using them.

Somehow, well, somehow you wanted the real deal. Should you go out? Go back on Tinder?

You sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, eyebrows furrowed staring at the ceiling.

Fuck it, you got up, throwing the duvet on one side.

It has been too long since you went outside or dressed up. Hell, it has been too long since you actually fucked someone, and although you mastered your own shit down to a notch, you really missed human contact. Perhaps you were very lonely and not even that horny.

The dress was on, heels were worn, hair done and your girlfriends complimented your makeup. The night seemed promising.

The man you eyed a few hours into the night wasn’t that bad either. Decent height, good breath, normal man cologne, and the alcohol in your system did the rest. You didn’t even need to hear him talk or anything. You brought him home and got down to business.

You tried, really.

And the poor dude probably also tried a lot.

But nothing could beat the way you felt on your own, thinking about your neighbour Chris with a toy buried deep inside of you pretending it was him.

___

Chris decided he wasn’t going to be creepy that night. He wondered what was going on in your life to make you masturbate that much every night. It was completely normal but he usually masturbated mostly because of stress so he couldn’t help but ask himself if you were also very stressed or if the job was talking a toll on you.

Maybe he could go over and check, maybe with the excuse to see Nyx. The evil part inside of him wanted to go over the moment you started to touch yourself, just so he could interrupt and force you to come to the door, maybe all heated up, maybe a bit pissed at him. He wanted to see your annoyed expression at the fact you couldn’t finish. He wanted you to be so pissed and horny to just slam him into the damn door and find relief through his body. Chris didn’t want anything back. He could have just watched the way you sit on his thigh and ride it, head thrown back and your nails digging into his shoulders. He could be completely content just to stare at the way your breasts moved gently, not as hard as if you were to ride his cock, but almost. He really wanted to see your frustratred expression as rocking on his thigh would not be enough for you so you’d stare at him frantically, begging with your eyes for more, because you’d never beg with your words. Chris would pretend he doesn’t understand just to see you even more impatient. Even more eager. Perhaps he could drive you to the point of pushing him down the couch and sitting on his face.

The slam against the wall made him open his eyes. That wasn’t a familiar sound. The second thud made his lift one eyebrow. Were you renovating the bedroom?

But then a male grunt made his boiling blood chill in one second.

You had guests.

You had guests who were probably slamming into you given the sheer intensity of your sudden moans.

___

“Busy and enjoyable night?”

You looked to your right where a man was loading his own washing mashine. He wasn’t looking at you but no one was around so you knew he was talking to you. You took a moment to stare at his profile, the perfect flinching jaw muscle the only detail showing his emotions, whatever they were, on his otherwise calm face.

“I guess you can say so,” you answered, a bit embarassed. “Was I too noisy?”

“I wasn’t sleeping so I didn’t mind the noise,” Chris finally looked at you. He was very casual about it.

“The fact you were awake,” you threw some other clothes in the washing machine, “makes it all somehow worse. I am sorry you had to hear all that.” You hoped he didn’t see the bed sheets you were washing but if he heard you the whole night it was probably useless to hide it.

You gave him a small smile and he imitated you. You looked as if exchanging opinions on the weather instead of commenting on your one night stand.

“I was working, so big loud earphones on. Didn’t hear much.”

Although he made sure to say that, you couldn’t fully trust him. The way he even started that conversation in the first place instead of pretending to not have heard anything, as it would have been polite to, was as if he wanted you to know he heard.

But instead of feeling shame, the situation just made your blood run faster. He heard you. He heard your moans. Was he even a bit turned on? Or maybe just pissed because you ruined his night?

“To answer your full question, busy yes, enjoyable?” you trailed off, closing the washing mashine and staring at the way the clothes started to lazily twirl around.

“not much,” you finished.

Chris was also done and he was grabbing the hamper. His eyes looked like two cuts under his curly fringe. You wondered if his hair was soft as it looked. The dude’s hair wasn’t that soft and when he went down on you and you grabbed it, your mind couldn’t help but imagine Chris’ curls instead.

He was waiting for more information.

“Didn’t make me cum once,” you shrugged and didn’t give him any time to comment on it, leaving for the stairs instead.

___

Chris turned his head to watch your back disappear behind the corner. His gaze trailed down on your ass then legs.

He exhaled through his nose.

Why was he annoyed?

Because you fucked someone? Or because you didn’t get fucked well enough the way you deserved?

Your perfume was lingering in the air as he made his way up on the stairs as well and he waited the same elevator you took. The image of you getting railed into the mattress didn’t leave his mind for a minute since last night. But he knew that no fantasy of his could get close to reality, seeing you in your skimmy pajamas that morning. Your hair, the exposed delicate skin, the curve of your neck, your lazy amused voice.

Chris gulped once as he entered the elevator. He pictured taking you against that wall. Or maybe, against the damn mirror, so you could see your expression as your knees would give up from the sheer intensity of the orgasm he’d give you.

But he couldn’t fully blame the guy. Chris wasn’t that confident either and he was sure no man could prevent cumming in his pants in seconds if you were sprawled on the bed underneath him.

What the guy had to be blamed for is that he had the opportunity to pleasure the most incredible woman Chris knew, and he failed completely.

He was sure you won’t see him again, but if the dude came around the second time Chris thought he could break his fingers, that way maybe he could remind him they exist and can be used.

He exhaled through his nose again when the elevator communicated with a ding that it arrived on the right floor.

You were waiting for him and Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, before walking up to you.

His gaze fell on the plate your were holding.

“Made some pie,” you smiled. Your eyes were shining a bit. If that was your expression when embarrassed then he really wanted to find ways to make you shy again.

“Take it as a token of my sorry I made you listen to me moan at 2am,” you added.

“You really don’t have to feel sorry about it,” Chris smiled back but he really wanted the plate, the hamper down at his feet already to free his hands.

“Well, you clearly wanted something from me by mentioning it,” your eyes shone again. Yes, that was your embarrassed expression, but there was something more to you, he realized. Malice.

Chris didn’t confirm nor denied. “I will enjoy it, thank you,” he simply replied, your fingers touching as he grabbed the pie. Your hands were a bit cold and a shiver went down his spine, imagining those fingers trailing down his body until they would warm up on his skin.

“I hope you do,” you said then turned around, disappearing behind your apartment door.

Chris put down the pie on his kitchen table then looked down at his hand which was still faintly burning from your cold touch.

He hummed and closed his eyes, sliding it under his waistband. He fucked his fist harder and rougher than usual.

___

You realized finding human contact wasn’t that satisfactory after all, so you huffed that night and after a short tik tok trip you reached for your drawer.

Then you changed your mind. Could you just do with manual that night? It would take more time but you somehow were in the mood to be a bit frustrated physically so that the emotional frustration could be drowned instead.

You relaxed into your pillow and the realization that Chris was probably on his bed in the same position made you bit your lower lip. Your delusions made you think he was a bit upset that morning because he was jealous but then again, if he wanted to he would, right? So he probably didn’t want to.

That thought took you out of the horniness you were slipping into and brought a little of sadness instead.

Hell, he’s never even asked for your phone number. Not even as a neighbour. Weren’t you at least supposed to talk about hot water and the trash bins?

No, you weren’t horny anymore. You were pissed.

But you didn’t need Chris to masturbate.

You could just do it as usual. You didn’t need to imagine his palms on you. Nor his veiny forearms. Definitely not his pillowy and pink lips, dragging down your skin.

Your first whimper took even you by surprise but you couldn’t stop. Not when the image of Chris’ face between your thighs was burning inside your closed eyelids. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? The only thing you were sure of was the way his velvety and wet tongue would feel like. Would he grunt while eating you out? Would he moan, desperately trying to find relief in the friction with the mattress?

Oh that was a good image.

That was such a good image that your toes curled and your fingers picked up the pace. Was he a head pusher? Or was he a good boy waiting for you to please him with your mouth the way you wanted to?

You moaned louder.

You were so close. So so so fucking close.

And then the knock on the door made your legs shake in frustration. You opened your eyes, fingers still deep inside of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. If the person didn’t leave in the next second you’d lose that goddam orgasm.

The person knocked again.

Fuck.

Brain hazy with murderous intent and anger you didn’t even consider that the only person to be able to get inside the building and knock instead of ringing the outside bell was your neighbour.

“Hey ya,” Chris smiled, lifting one plastic bag. It clinked and you figured it was beer.

___

Chris ruffled his hair at the whimpers.

He couldn’t go on like that anymore. The evil plan to well, edge? no, cockblock you and your toy? yeah, sounded too evil for him. But after you careless display of noise with the dude the previous night he though you deserved it.

At the second louder whimper he was already outside, all of the beer he accumulated in his fridge in a bag and the poor excuse of hey im bored and I wanted to see Nyx, well, I wanted to see you as well.

“...I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he repeated the phrase and completed it after you opened the door.

You were a mess, a complete mess. Your eyes were shining and he could tell you were boiling hot from the effort of fucking yourself and probably from the anger of being interrupted.

He loved it.

“No, I was- uh,” you took some steps backwards and sideways to welcome him inside. “Working out,” you finished.

Nyx came meowing towards him and he knelt down, taking her in his arms. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing didn’t leave anything to the imagination and you wondered if he also has been working out - actually working out - prior coming to have those huge and pumped biceps.

“Hello, hello,” he nuzzled his nose into Nyx’s and you smiled a little, taking the beer bag and putting it down on the low coffee table you added to the decor some days ago.

“Working out?” you heard him ask after a cuddling moment with your kitty (the real cat).

“Yeah,” you turned around, one hand on your lower back, one to scratch your forehead. “You know,” you shrugged, “Youtube pilates and such.”

Chris nodded, joining you near the couch and letting Nyx down.

“That’s great. I’ve never tried Pilates before.”

“Are you flexible?”

He thought about it. “A decent amount. Not too much I guess, though? Are you?”

You gulped at the question, your brain still hazy witht he images your dirty mind created for you some minutes ago.

“Yes? I think so,” you sat down.

He hummed as if your frantic state amused him. Well, you were probably very amusing to look at. A whole mess. And you wondered why he didn’t give you his number? Yeah.

He looked around and you thought it was because he wanted to comment on the new decor. “Do you not use any mat?”

You were starstruck. “A mat?”

Chris looked at you. “Mat.”

“Oh, it’s uh, in my bedroom.”

He nodded.

“Do you just go to the gym?” you really wanted to move the subject away from you.

He leaned forward to grab the bag and take out two beers.

“Yup. I do mostly weights.”

“Of course,” you commented.

Chris opened the bottles of beer on each other - which you actually found sexy - and handed you one. You jolted in place when you felt the cold glass on the back of your hand.

“You seem very jumpy? Is everything okay?” he murmured.

You took the bottle and chugged. “Yes.”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was talking, something interesting even, but you couldn’t concentrate. You didn’t know if it was the fact you’ve been masturbating to the thought of him ten minutes ago, or if he somehow was more fine than usual that night, or if you just were getting heated up because of the beer you kept downing like water, but you really wanted to just jump on him.

He kept moving on the couch, backwards, forwards, side, adjusting his hair, his shorts. He was pissing you off because your eyes were forced to glue on either his arms, or his rib muscles, or his hands, or his lips, or his eyes, or his jaw, or his-

“Right?” he asked again.

“Huh?” you woke up.

Chris chuckled. “Where are you?”

“I am here,” you replied, hand moving the bottle to your mouth in an already repetitive movement.

Chris stopped the bottle by placing his hand on top of yours.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He opened his mouth.

Chris smiled. “It’s empty.”

You looked down and you realized it was indeed missing any beer. But you couldn’t let go because his hand was still holding yours.

You looked at him. “Can I have another one?”

His eyes analyzed your features as if to understand if you were drunk or not. Perhaps he decided that you weren’t. “Yes,” he replied.

You waited.

He didn’t move his hand.

“Then let go?” you tried.

Chris let his fingers slide down the back of your hand then forearm before leaning in and grabbing the full bottle on the table in front of you.

The swif of his cologne made you swallow dryly. He was so close. He was too close. He was too close for your tipsy and horny brain.

His touch, the second time, gave you goosebumps and, fuck, he noticed. His gazed trailed your nude arms as he exchanged the bottles in your hand and your gaze was on his face. So you noticed the languid look on it, as he slowly traced your skin with the fingertip of his ring finger, from elbow to shoulder.

You shivered and the goosebumps got more severe.

“You’re very sensitive,” he murmured.

___

He was having fun.

He was having so much fucking fun.

You eyes looked wide, staring down his finger touching your skin like that. Your quivering eyes, your trembling lower lip, your quick breath. Was he being too evil?

He touched your beer with his and took a sip.

The sound woke you from your trance and you imitated him, licking the opening of the bottle with your tongue for a moment before pressing your lips into it to drink.

Was that a habit of yours or were you also set on making him go crazy that night?

“What were you talking about before?” you resumed the conversation.

Chris chuckled. “So you weren’t listening.”

You lifted your legs on the couch to sit on them. Your knees was touching his thigh and he leaned into it instead of moving away. He was as close as to rest his arm on your legs. Perhaps he should do that.

“I got lost, sorry,” you smiled back.

Chris took another sip and indeed rested his arm on your legs. You didn’t flinch.

But when his hand naturally cupped one of your knees, the nude thigh in your pajama shorts got covered in goosebumps again.

His chuckle was bright as he laughed at you. “You’re very very sensitive.”

You rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “It’s normal. Everyone is like this.”

“I am not,” he challenged you.

Would you fall in the trap?

Your eyes tightened in a knowing smile taking another sip. Perhaps you were drinking too much too quickly but he wasn’t going to be the boss of you.

“I believe you,” you simply said.

Chris let his tongue poke his cheek in a visible display of disappointment and he loved the way you giggled.

And when you suddenly dragged your nails on his bicep he was ashamed to realize he probably needed a pillow to cover his crotch.

Of course you picked on that. Of course you had to.

“Is this all it takes?” you voice got suddenly low and sensual, confident as you haven’t been that night. You were having fun now.

Chris didn’t let himself lose. Not even when you reached his nape and you slowly played with the short hairs of his undercut.

His gaze never broke the connection with yours. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been bricked up since I heared your whimpers on the other side of the wall.”

Your hand stopped and your face fell. It wasn’t anger or annoyance. It wasn’t even shame as he thought. It was arousal and shock. Maybe even relief.

Chris openes his mouth to add something else. Were you going to hit him?

And when you suddenly leaned in he was almost sure you were going to give him a good slap but he found the air knocked out of his lungs instead thanks to your lips of his.

One second he was looking at you and the other he was grabbing your ass as your straddled his thighs. You hummed into the kiss and he imitated you, one palm to lift your shorts up and the other to rub at your back until reaching the back of your neck.

You were soft and warm. So soft and warm and he wanted you closer to him so he pulled towards himself until he felt your body flush on his. His fingers frantically came in the front, to feel better what he was feeling with his chest, your braless breast, first on top of your shirt then, slowly, underneath it.

___

You shivered and your broke the kiss to moan against his lips. His hands were warm and your breasts too tender. Your blood was buzzing like electricity under your skin and you desperately wanted Chris to touch every inch of it with whatever he wanted to - his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue.

Chris, the neighbour.

The neighbour that attached that damned plump lips to your neck now making you flutter your eyelashes. He wasn’t even doing that much. He wasn’t basically doing anything. Then why were you already moaning? Why were you feeling on the verge of shaking in his arms? Fuck, those arms that were wrapped around your waist, so huge and too strong for your own good. Would he throw you on the couch soon with those? You let your head fall back as he traveled down your throat, one hand to keep you in place, the other groping at the soft flesh of your ass. Then his mouth, his open wet and hot mouth, felt your cleavage and you couldn’t see anymore.

You whispered his name, or you moaned it, you weren't sure, and you felt his hard cock flinch underneath you. You hummed, hands grabbing at his hair, pushing his fringe back to see his eyes. They were sharp looking up at you from the swell of your breasts. Just undress me already, you wanted to yell, but you knew he enjoyed taking his time with you.

___

Chris needed all of his self control to not reach down and feel if you were as plump and wet as he imagined. He could tell you were on the verge to beg. You were almost there. He really really really wanted to hear your pretty voice use your polite words. Just a single please would be enough for him. So he waited. He let his tongue tease your hard nipples on top of the shirt, elliciting the sweetest moans from you and the way you rolled your eyes back made him wonder if that guy you fucked was completely clueless or if Chris was just too skilled.

But Chris could also tell he wouldn’t break you that easily the moment you let your hips down even more and rocked them once from the base of his cock to the tip.

His throat growled without him wanting too and the sound made you pull his hair a bit to make him look at you. Your eyes were presenting a challenge and he smiled teasingly on top of your chest.

Okay, he thought, and in a single movement your shirt was off of you and on the floor somewhere across the room.

He thought having you half naked sitting on him would add to your mental fuckery but he didn’t take into consideration what the view would do to him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, cupping your breasts as if seeing a pair for the first time. He gulped and looked back up right when you leaned in to kiss him deeply, arms around his neck and tongue inside his mouth.

He lost it. He completely lost it, feeling your nude back with his knuckles, and you scent, god, it inebriated him so much that he was the one on the verge to beg you for something, anything, just fucking anything.

___

You felt like mush. You felt like putty in his arms, like nothing. And when you broke off the kiss to breathe and he went back to torture your nipples, this time no fabric to rub on it but just his delicious and wet tongue on them, you felt like cumming. You actually felt like cumming. You felt like hiding your face and scream. It was already too much. It was already too much and you weren’t sure if you were thinking it or saying it out loud but Chris increased his pace, kitty licking your buds in ways that made you dig your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t even wince, he didn’t even care, teeth gently biting on the hard but tender skin and stretching it, before popping in as much as he could fit and suck until his dimples showed.

Oh, it was sinful, the movement, the sound, your noises, his heavy breath, his cock so fucking hard right underneath you. You wanted more. You needed more, the begging word lingering on the tip of your tongue.

“Shit,” you said instead, a high pitched and messy moan escaping your chest. Chris hummed deeply against your chest and his arms tightened around your body as you leaned forwards and felt your body spasm uncontrollably.

You heard his chuckle from a haze as you slowly calmed down your breath.

“Adding making woman cum just from nipple stimulation to my CV now,” he giggled, his pretty eyes right above your cleavage. You smiled, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was giggling after doing all that to you.

“Stupid. It’s just my body being sensitive, as you said.”

“And yet, that motherfucker didn’t make you cum even by accident,” his tone changed completely.

His jealousy gave you butterflies - you were kinda ashamed to admit - and all you could do was leaning down to give him a smiley kiss, and it somehow tasted sweet and gentle. His cock didn’t feel sweet though and when he slowly pushed his hips upwards his tip bumped into your sensitive clit making you jolt. Then again, and again, until you had to let his plumped lips go and breathe on them instead.

“Chris-”

“Yeah?” he murmured back.

You whined, foreheads pressing together.

___

Chris thought he was going to just cream his pants. He thought that was it, that was the moment. Because besides creaming one’s pants, he didn’t think what other appropriate reaction one could have seeing you slide down from his legs onto your knees on the floor and rest your hands on his thighs with that needy expression of yours.

“Oh, fuck,” he swallowed, one hand to messy his hair even more.

The corner of your lips lifted in a confident and amused smile. “You think I can add making man cum just from rubbing his thighs in my CV?”

“Oh, I fucking think so,” Chris replied with somewhat of a choked and amused voice. Your warm palms were doing just as you said, touching him on top of his thin shorts, until reaching underneath them for a moment and feelin his boiling skin. The print of his cock was so obvious that you wondered if it was painful so you leaned down and just touched alongside of it with your nose, making his muscles twitch, then with your open mouth, warming him through the fabric.

Chris let his head fall back for a moment, unable to keep his eyes open, then he looked back down, not wanting to lose a single movement of yours.

You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you smiled, almost purring, letting your tongue wet his shorts ever so slightly.

“I know what you want,” he smiled with a heavy breath.

Your head tilted to the side in a silent oh really?

He hummed. “But I don’t have issues with begging. So, please,” he added in a whisper, “please please I need to feel your mouth on me.”

___

You felt a new wave of wetness pool inside your panties.

How could a man look so hot begging for it? He drove you crazy. You thought you were breaking him but he broke you instead.

He was pissing you off. He was pissing you off so badly.

“Shirt off,” you lifted yourself and he chuckled, obeying you. The way he reached back and took it off by the collar made your knees weak and they weren’t strong in the first place.

“Better?” he leaned back again.

You felt your head spin. You felt like about to choke on your breath or spit or just air. One couldn’t just look like that.

So all you could do was just to lean in, tasting that immaculate skin with your lips on his neck, feeling his collarbones, then open mouth on his chest, then finally you bit the tender but firm skin right above his waistband, close to the few veins disappearing into his underwear.

He exhaled deeply, then he inhaled sharply, and finally he whimpered, a single sound, sweet but husky. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear all of it. And when you felt satisfied with the mark you left on his pristine stomach, you grabbed his waistband and pulled.

“Lift your hips for me, princess,” you smiled and Chris let out an incredulous offended giggle.

Yet he did as you ordered, letting you take a moment to try and understand in which hole you could fit all of that.

___

“I’m sure you could make me cum only by looking at it, but I would appreciate a little help too,” Chris let his hands caress your jaw and then he slowly dug them into your hair.

You looked up at him then back down. “Shit,” you murmured, rubbing your thighs together.

The movement didn’t go unnoticed to him and it just made his cock jump. You looked gorgeous. He thought you looked like a wet dream but none of his wet dreams looked that good.

He exhaled with a groan as you finally let your tongue travel from the base up his tip, feeling the most prominent vein, until tasting the pre-cum. Then you grabbed it, lazily pumping as much as you could, tongue teasing his slit before swallowing half of it in one go and making him choke on air.

“That’s- this is-” he mumbled, eyes fluttering and hands imperceptibly shaking.

You hummed a question but just sucked not even letting him process anything else besides the feeling of your perfectly wet and warm mouth around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pulling on your hair a bit the moment you started to bob your head even lower until almost touching the base with your nose. The gag sounds made him dizzy and he relaxed the grip as you let his cock out with a gasp, some saliva strings attached to the tip. You broke them with your tongue and started to eagerly sucking on his tip again, lungs trying to take in as much air as you could before diving in again.

Chris was a sinner but if that was what heaven felt like he thought he might start repenting soon.

“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured with a husky voice. He was losing it completely just like the life you were sucking out of him. “So so so fucking good,” he let his head fall back again as you hummed pleased around his cock, the short eye contact making him close his eyes, feeling the pleasure pooling too quickly inside of him. You gagged again, this time for longer and your jaw relaxed, taking him deep inside your throat again and again and again until he pulled away, his thighs shaking and his breath completely irregular.

You looked at him disappointed and a bit mad. “-m cumming, are you sure-” Chris explained with a broken voice and you huffed, taking him back inside your mouth and making him groan as if he was almost in pain.

“Shit shit shit,” he repeated like a mantra, relasing so fast and so intensely that he almost missed the way your throat moved as you swallowed almost to the last drop, letting the last sprut land on your extended tongue instead and cheek.

Chris exhaled as if he just finished running a marathon and relaxed his muscles. His fingers collected the drops of cum from your face and you smiled, grabbing his wrist with your hands and directed it towards your face.

“God,” he gulped dryly, watching you suck on his fingers and coating them with your spit. The view was almost more erotic than the one he just witnesses and he wondered if he should add a third one inside your mouth to get them all ready for what he wanted to do next.

___

One moment you were between his thick thighs, and the other you were staring at the ceiling, your back flush on the couch.

You couldn’t make sense of when or how he grabbed you and pushed you into it, the only thing you could concentrate on being the feeling of his kisses on your stomach.

And not only. The way his neck chain felt rubbing on your skin with every inch he touched with his mouth. And when you felt it, cold, sliding between your legs, you inhaled deeply, hands trying to reach and grab anything to anchor you to reality. But Chris grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to your sides. Then he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs with a harsh pull.

“No princess for me?” you joked, trying to fight the sudden feeling of being completely naked and very much open-legged in front of him.

Chris leaned down until almost lying on you and you welcomed his naked body between your thighs, feeling how deliciously he started to get hard again only by pleasuring you.

“Princess? But you want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you?” he teased your lower lip with his teeth and you whimpered at the sweet tone but dirty words.

“Yeah?” he asked again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reaching for your ear and languidly tracing its shape with his tongue.

You exhaled, caressing his wide back, feeling his muscles flex as he came back towards your mouth.

“Words, princess,” his voice was husky and deep and you felt it in your chest going down to your core.

“Yes, yeah,” you breathed out. Chris smiled pleased and the glint in his eyes got darker as he disappeared from your sight and pulled you by the hips towards his mouth.

You felt like melting. You felt like melting and disappearing into his touch.

Yeah, no, it was even better than you’ve imagined. You thought you knew how his velvety tongue would feel like but no, you didn’t. You had no fucking idea, not a single clue. And in that momen you realized you were so glad for not having a third neighbour because the way Chris got you moaning and swearing was probably unbearable. He just flicked your clit, and sucked on it, then kitty licked, then let his tongue flat on you, going down to collect all drops. Again and again. It was so dirty, it was so wet and sinful, it made you unable to keep your eyes open. He fucked you with his tongue, sliding it in with a groan, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his finger making space for itself. You gasped and stared down, catching a glimpse of Chris’ almost black eyes under his fringe, and the white of his teeth, like about to devour his prey. He pumped his finger in and out, tongue back to torture you, and when he added the second one and curved them towards the sweetest spots, your spine curved as well, and you frantically grabbed at whatever you could reach. Chris kept you down with the other arm, snaking it around your thigh and pressing his palm on your lower stomach. The pressure made you choke, heighteing the pleasure until something broke inside of you and you lost control of your own body and mind, shaking so violently that you couldn’t see anymore. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers rhythmically after another gasp of air, and you realized he was shushing you, lazily kissing your thigh, and whispering quiet praises.

Then he came forwards, his bicep full and his forearm flexed keeping his body weight, the other hand still buried inside of you.

You reached up and wiped his chin and lower lip and he smiled, catching it with his mouth and slowly sucking on it.

The mewl that escaped your throat at the view made him chuckle so we wanted more, finally sliding his fingers out and shoving them inside your mouth.

The kiss that came afterwards was slow and deep, your tastes mixing together in it, his body resting on top of yours, caging you down with his weight.

___

Chris hasn’t felt that aroused in a very long time. Although your whole body was doing the conversation, your touch, your eyes, the way you’d pull him into the kiss, your legs around his waist, he really really wanted to hear you beg him for it, beg him for more, beg him to not stop.

You didn’t stop kissing him and he was grateful for your almost identical apartments because eyes closed and hands busy groping at your ass as he carried you in his arms he had to only rely on his instincts to find the bedroom and drop you on the bed. The view of you sprawled on it the way he has imagined many times in the intimacy of his dark room made him exhale with his mouth and when you lifted one foot, gently rubbing it on his abdomen he lifted one amused eyebrow, desperately wanting to bite on you. So he did just that, trying to suck on the tender skin on your hip to get you a matching spot to the one you gave him. Your gentle but amused whimpers made his cock throb almost painfully and he lied fully on his stomach, his thumb lazily pressing into your clit in circular motions. Your body kept jolting ever so slightly as he peppered kisses all over your abdomen, still sensitive, and your hands in his hair made his spine shiver deliciously.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you.

Slowly and deeply, just like the kiss he gave you, caging you under his body.

He wanted to see your expression as he reached down and lined himself up to you. He wasn’t disappointed, the gasp you let out, feeling him slide inside of you mirroring his.

Chris needed to close his eyes for a moment, lips rubbing on yours, and his nostrils filled with your perfume.

And when he opened them, your blowned out pupils, your open wet lips, your eyebrows curved in a way that communicated lust and desire made him push himself in until a single choked sound escaped from your tender throat. He did it again, and again, slowly, making you feel every bit of him, stretching you out in ways that made you wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze with broken breath.

___

It was overwhelming. So much and so full. But you needed more. You wanted him deeper. You wanted him everywhere.

“Faster,” you whimpered, arms abandoned on the pillow you pushed your head into as he obeyed, snapping his hips into you. The louder moans filled the room and you extended your throat. Chris leaned down to bite on it, the sounds of his groans reverberating inside your chest. His hands reached yours, pulling them near the headboard and pinning them down, making you bite your lips at how you let yourself be fully to his mercy. He pushed his hand on your wrists more, the other sliding back down to your hips to keep you in place.

The bed started to creak and the sheets wrinkled underneath your bodies. A thin layer of sweat shone on his silky skin and you desperately wanted to feel him. You tugged at his hand but he smirked, pressing you down again.

A single disappointed mmh made space between your whimpers.

He clicked his tongue. “You want to touch me?”

The breathy yes visibly amused him too much.

“Ask nicely,” he whispered on your lips, his hips never stopping to turn your brain into a mush.

Your reply was a dry chuckle and he caught it with his mouth transforming it into a growl.

“I see you’re not fucked up enough,” he said in a second your wrists were free, but so was your body as he got up on his knees, sliding out of you.

Your whimper of protest at the sudden emptiness made him exhale satisfied.

“Come on,” you eyed him and his beautifully arrogant face.

“What?” he turned his head to the side in that little play. His cock was heavy resting on you as he slowly slid it on top of your clit, not enough to give you any relief but enough to keep you on that edge he desperately wanted you to be on.

You extended your arms, almost touching his chest, but he grabbed your wrists again keeping them together as he kept playing with you.

“Say it,” he purred. Your hips twitched at that delicious torture. “Say what you want.”

“I want you inside of me,” you opened your eyes. “I want you to make me cum,” you tried. Maybe you’d break him. Maybe you’d make him lose control.

But he just smirked. “Yeah?”

You hummed back, your fingers shaking in the air.

“What else?”

Your bit your lower lip. “Fuck, Chris-” you skin shivered.

“Just say it, come on, and I’ll fuck you the way you want me to,” his tip teased your sensitive clit deliciously as a little taste of what he would be able to do to you.

“Say it, baby,” he added and the petname threw you off completely, making you grit your teeth.

“Please,” you voice was faint.

Chris’ cock twitched and his grip on your wrist tightened.

“Louder,” he ordered and you whined as a reply.

“Please,” you repeated. “Please please plea-”

Your words got choked as he slammed into you, so deeply to cut your airflow completely. And when he slid out and thrust into you again you tried to breathe but it felt impossible. Your pants got louder and louder matching the intensity of the skin slapping and wet sounds. Chris pulled you even closer by your hips, reaching your throat and resting his warm palm on it to keep you in place.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,” he murmured.

“I want- to see,” you admitted and Chris stopped, just the insinuated offer making him close to finish.

He grunted and slipped out, grabbing your sides and turning you on your stomach with a single movement. You exhaled at his manhandling and when he grabbed your arms, pulling you up on your knees to face the mirror on the right, he felt your body shiver at the view, your eyes drinking in your own body then his figure right behind it.

"You want to know how you look in my arms?” he whispered in your ear, snaking his hands on your body. “You want this pretty hole stretched and filled with cum?”

Your back curved and he could see in the mirror the way your eyes almost rolled back when he slid back inside of you.

“Yes,” you whimpered back.

“That’s why you’ve been so loud, weren’t you?” He thrusted slowly and deeply.

“Yes,” you added, with a choked sound.

The realization made Chris completely dizzy. “You knew I’ve been listening?”

“I was hoping you were.”

“And what were you thinking of while burying your toys inside your cunt?”

You rolled your eyes back, his movement inside of you making it hard to speak. “About this,” you whined, one palm tentatively reaching back to touch his abdomen but you had no more force.

You fell forwards on your hands, letting him grab your waist and fuck into you faster. Between your lashes you could see his body, tall on his knees, and his gritted teeth behind those gorgeous full lips. It was too much. His touch, his strokes, his scent all around you, his voice - deep and breathy - made you dig your nails into the sheets, twirling them as hard as he thrusted inside of you.

“-m close, Chris, I am-” you tried to speak, voice muffled by the sheets you were burying your face into. The man leaned down to grab your chin and lift your head up. You exhaled, staring at your teary eyes and fucked up gaze. “Cum for me,” he grunted in your ear and you didn’t see anymore.

Your body seized up and the sounds got drowned as you screamed. Chris’ hands trembled in your peripheral vision and the feeling of his cum filling up your pulsating cunt made you moan again dragging it until you could hear again. His breath was heavy and his voice hoarse as he whispered your name laced with swears.

Your lifted your gaze in the mirror, drinking in the way he licked his lips, eyes trained on your ass as he slid his cock out. He looked at you under his eyelashed and grinned, his palm bouncing on one cheek as he gave it a good spank.

You inhaled then gasped as he knocked your thighs together and slid back in slowly.

“Chris, I’m too sensitive-” you choked and he exhaled.

“Me too,” he grunted. “You can give me another one, right, baby?”

His voice made your skin shiver with goosebumps as he leaned down to pepper wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. “Or I can just stop,” he added, stilling his hips.

You whined. “Don’t stop-please-”

Chris hummed and moved slowly, fucking his cum back in. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You let your face back down and moaned, jolts of electricity running down your veins at the overstimulation.

“Look at me,” he ordered. “If you stop looking at me I’ll stop.”

His name excaped your throat like a sob. You didn’t want him to stop but you had no force to keep your head up.

Chris’s glistening body leaned down again as much as to reach our head. His fingers were delicate but firm when he grabbed your hair and pulled up, his hips picking up the pace.

You moaned, keeping your neck extended in his hold, the swears coming out of your mouth matching his. The heat in your abdomen felt like an explosion about to happen and when he felt your walls clench he grabbed your elbows again, pulling you up on your knees to wrap his arms all around you. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his hands kept groping at everything until his knuckles would get white. They rested on your breasts, the other to hold your waist, and you grabbed his veiny forearms, open mouth in an initial silent scream.

“That’s right, that’s it, cum baby-” he grunted, his voice caressing your shivering skin.

Your body spasmed and if it weren’t for his hold you would have heavily fallen on the bed. Chris stilled for one moment, groaning as you clenched on him, but then he thrusted again, fucking you through your orgasm until you heard the choke on his breath against your ear, releasing into your for the second time.

You didn’t know for how long you remained both still, catching your shaky breaths, gazes talking to each other because you had no more words. But the moment he pulled out you watched, his cum sliding down your thigh and pooling on the sheets underneath you.

___

Chris’ chest felt the perfect amount of hard and soft. You nuzzled into it even more and your hair tickled him. He giggled, wrapping your body even tighter.

“I’ll get you new sheets,” he murmured.

“I can get the stain out,” you murmured back. Your eyelids felt heavy after his sweet praises and the delicate touch of his hands cleaning you with a soft warm towel. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were until he brought a glass of water and he laughed watching you down it. Then he got you another one. Then he gave you a kiss. And another one. And he giggled again when you pulled him down on top of you, making out slowly like you had all the time in the world.

And being like that in his arms you did feel like you had all the time in the world.

“I’ll just get you new sheets,” he argued.

“If you need to get me sheets everytime you fuck me you’ll go bankrupt.”

Chris remained silent so you lifted your head to look at him in the face. He was grinning.

“Is that-” he started.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s an invitation to do this again.”

Chris cupped your face with his palm. “I love how you look when you’re embarrassed.”

You chuckled dryly. “I am not embarrassed!”

Chris nodded. “Hm-mh.”

You puffed and sat up, then turned on the other side. Chris only giggled and wrapped your body again, pulling your back towards his chest. The little smile you had on your face was visible to him in the mirror in front of you and he kissed your neck once before falling asleep with you.

___

In the morning you both used a single washing machine.

“Busy and enjoyable night, neighbour?” he leaned on the door suddenly as you finished loading it. The kisses he kept giving you in the elevator made your breath heavy.

You rolled your eyes amused at his little theatrical act. “Yes.”

He hummed getting closer and you clicked the Power button.

Chris grabbed your hips loosely and pushed you towards it until your ass hit the low vibrating machine.

“He made me cum many times,” you whispered against his lips. They were curved in a smile. His eyebrows shot up as if surprised.

“Oh, really?”

“Hm-hm,” you replied then gasped as he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you on the washing machine. His body naturally slid between your thighs and the way his fingertips trailed on them made you almost mewl.

“Chris-” you tried to stop him as his mouth fell on your tender neck.

“Yeah?”

“Not here,” you murmured.

The washing machine started to rumble underneath you and you exhaled.

His eyes shone with mischief. “Why, you’re afraid some neighbour is going to hear you? Shouldn’t that turn you on?”

“I only wanted you to hear me.”

“Well, if I gag you no one will hear a thing,” he whispered.

You gulped and your thighs impercetibly tightened around his waist. The vibrations of the washing machine kept sending jolts of pleasure up your bust.

“What if someone comes in suddenly?”

“We’ll be quick,” he peppered kissed on your neck. “But I can also stop.”

His gaze was dark and twinkly with lust. Your eyelids were getting heavy.

“No, don’t stop. Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

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