#gvf twin au

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 8

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 14k

A/N: This took forever. I’m so sorry, guys. I really struggled with repetition in this one so I apologize in advance for that. Hope y’all enjoy! (Also this is pretty filthy so 👀)

As always, I love and appreciate all the support and feedback ❤️

Special shoutout to my lovely girls Nessa and Hannah for carrying my ass through this chapter. I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without them.

Warnings: cursing, drug use (marijuana), smoking, angst, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI! 18+ (oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, edging, dirty talk, breeding kink, public sex, somnophilia - scene has been edited out

Masterpost

“I think we need to have a serious conversation.”

You release your arms from him as if the surface of his skin is scorching hot to the touch. Your vision blurs, making it feel like you have blinders on — tunnel vision. The entire world you’ve been blissfully living in for the past hour shrinks to the size of his bedroom in a matter of seconds. That high, the euphoria, the oxytocin surging through your veins has been sucked away as soon as the words left his mouth. It tightens in your chest like a vice grip, turning your stomach sour with regret. You’re not sure what scares you more, him being upset with you, or your visceral reaction to it. With a flick of his lighter, he takes a heavy hit while you sit on the bed behind him still as a statue. 

Things have been left unresolved since that afternoon at the tattoo shop, and sex clearly didn’t keep it swept under the rug for very long. This issue between the two of you weighs you down, keeping your body fused to the mattress. 

“Okay,” you finally mutter out a meek response as he blows the cloud of smoke above his head. He stays silent for far too long, leaving you to stare at the muscles of his back — each petal of his inked mandala — contracting with each breath he takes.

His head falls from his tense shoulders, and he disrupts the uncomfortable quiet by sending his words to the floor between his feet, “Do you just want to fuck Jake?”

The distant sound of his voice causes the guilt to swell like an overinflated balloon in your chest. You haven’t done your best to convince him of different intentions, and while the question itself seems within reason given the circumstances, it takes you by surprise nonetheless. “What?”

A defeated sigh tumbles out from his chest before he answers you in a tightly wound tone, “If you don’t want to keep fooling around with me anymore, that’s okay.”

“No!” You blurt out, panicked that you’ve torched whatever this is and that all you’ll be left with is extinguished embers. “No. Wait…what?” You dip your knee into the mattress to move closer to him. You shake the thoughts swirling around in your head for a coherent explanation. “Listen, Josh, I’m sorry for how that went down in there. I didn’t think Jake was going to say all of that and—”

The razor-sharp edge to his voice cuts off your desperate rambling, “I didn’t fuck that woman.”

He’s slammed a proverbial door into your face. It causes you to shrink in on yourself, making you accept that you haven’t been fair to him. You haven’t been transparent, even if you don’t exactly know what you’re supposed to be honest about. Your voice weakens just merely above a whisper, “I know… I’m not sure why I said those things. I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he fiddles with the glass bowl of his bong, giving away that he’s just as anxious and uncomfortable. You dare another touch his back, but this time he relaxes to the feeling of your fingers. It’s the subtle reassurance you need for you to add, “I liked the flowers by the way.”

He peers over his shoulder enough to see you in his periphery. “You did?”

Your fingers slip into the fallen curls at the nape of his neck.“Yeah. They’re beautiful. I have them sitting on my table in my apartment.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles, but it fails in comparison to what it normally is. He stands and sets the glass piece on his dresser. There’s tension in his rigid movements like he has something else weighing on his mind. 

You watch his unnatural demeanor, beckoning him to look into your eyes again. He avoids them by casting his own to the floor, making it feel as though you’re an intruder. It’s hard to ignore, like the grating hum of electricity through a poorly wired outlet. You decide to shimmy toward the side of the bed and ask, “Should I go?”

You mentally prepare yourself for his answer the best you can while he brings his gaze back to you. “No. I want you to stay.” The words are not as believable for you as they should be, and from the look on his face alone, he knows they’re not convincing enough either. Before you can make another move, he rushes to crawl back onto the bed to sit before you. “Really.”

He places a hand on your bare knee and that’s when you notice the red marks around his wrist from where the handcuffs rubbed his skin. You gasp, taking his hand to inspect them closer, “Oh my god, Josh! Are you okay?”

He glances down at them like you’re pointing it out to him for the first time. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You rub your thumb over the tender skin apologetically. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put those on you.”

He laughs, giving you a sense of relief now that the tension is starting to finally break, “Don’t be sorry, baby. I liked it, actually.”

You quirk your brow. “You did?”

He watches you massage his wrist and shrugs, answering matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but I probably would have liked it a lot more if it was just the two of us.”

He slips his hand away from you only to lean forward into a kiss. You instinctively fall backward as he moves, laying across the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

“Good. Add it to the list,” he hums, smiling into the kiss as his lips meet yours. His movements are soft and gentle — far more affectionate than the ones you had shared minutes prior. 

Before the kiss has a chance to deepen, he breaks away to say, “Lay with me for a while.” There’s a vulnerability in his request that makes you ache from the need to comfort him. You answer by lifting your dress over your head and reaching out for him. 

He lowers himself with your guiding pull until his head rests against your bare chest. You cradle him in your arms while he wraps his own around your waist. His body fits along yours seamlessly, and within seconds, his tight muscles begin to loosen. You lay in silence, listening to his rhythmic breaths as you draw shapes on his back with calming caresses of your fingertips.

Minutes go by, perhaps even hours without a single word spoken between you. Exhaustion is setting in and it doesn’t take long for the ever-changing patterns traced along the muscles of his shoulder to lull him to sleep. Soft snores flutter across your chest and as you run your fingernails lightly over his scalp, sleep coaxes you in as well. 

The Sandman had been a little heavy-handed last night, keeping your eyes sealed with sleep. You exist within the realms of your dream and reality, lucid enough to be aware of Josh shifting his weight beside you. You don’t react to the dips of the mattress, letting the luxury cotton sheets swim across your naked skin as he settles between your legs. 

You feel his warmth before his lips make contact with the top of your thigh. It’s a careful kiss, testing whether it's enough to wake you. You hum, permitting him to shower your legs with those barely-there kisses, so faint you wonder if you’re imagining them. That’s until he starts to suck his mark on the thin flesh of your inner thigh, dragging you into consciousness once again.  

Your hips writhe as a sleepy groan rumbles in your throat. The tempting heat of his breath tickles you, making you spread yourself for him without a second thought. 

You peek through your stubborn eyelids, mumbling while your eyes struggle to focus on him, “What are you doing?” 

He answers you by licking a stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit into his mouth. The surprise of his pointed tongue and the strong suction jolts you awake. Before your vision has a chance to clear, you react by clamping your eyes shut in response. After hearing your hissed curses, he releases it, giggling against your throbbing skin, “Good morning, baby.”

The sleepy rasp of his voice drowns your self-control. You push out a forceful sigh as you fall back into the down-feather pillow, huffing sarcastically, “That’s one hell of a way to wake up.” 

He chuckles to himself and skims his fingertips along your leg, giving you a few more kisses.“I’m sorry, would you like me to stop?”

The thought of him suddenly stopping is almost enough to cause panic in your lust-addled mind. You want it so bad you’re vibrating with anticipation. “Oh fuck, no. Please keep going.”

That cheekiness you’ve become well acquainted with reappears. He coos, close enough that the words flutter across your clit, “Do you need it, baby?”

The pet name has never sounded so sweet. You want to bask in it, clutch onto the way it bounces from his lips with your clenched fists.  Your hips lift from the mattress in the blind search for his mouth. You find one of his hands resting on your stomach and grasp it with more strength than you intend. “Oh my god, yes. Just please don’t tease me, Josh.”

You claw at the sheets, wrinkling them by your sides to add emphasis to your plea. He smiles and brings himself even closer to you — less than an inch above you. His eyes fall, and as if he were sharing a secret, he whispers softly, “You like it when I spoil your little clit? Should I be nice to her?”

You respond with a whiny moan and reach for his head buried between your thighs. The tufts of his tangled curls act as reigns between your fingers. You pull him forward by their roots, guiding his mouth back to you. You brace yourself, expecting the same intensity as before, but all you feel is the blooming warmth of his mouth. It blankets you as his tongue pets your clit, lapping across the swollen bud with the slightest pressure. He gives just enough for you to notice the cold metal ball of his piercing teasing you with every roll.

He breathes you in, and licks his lips through a low groan, “Fuck, you taste so good.”

You mumble something, but it's incoherent. You’re too lost in the feeling of his lips sealing around your clit to even bother repeating yourself. He just goes on to create the perfect vacuum with his flattened tongue. He holds it there, babying the most sensitive part of you in the safety of his mouth — as if it was made solely to pleasure you. 

It’s decadent — this feeling. Like that extra slice of chocolate cake eaten at some late hour of the night barefoot in your kitchen. It’s rich and heavenly, flooding your brain with oxytocin. He’s unlike any partner you’ve experienced, and it would be borderline insulting to even compare. There’s not a hint of obligation in sight. What he’s giving you is pure adoration. Unabashed, selfless worship. He’s taking his time, not even rushing a single second with you.   

He’s making sure you feel. He’s learning your body more and more with each passing minute, maybe knowing you better than you know yourself. Like magic, the slow-building orgasm churns wildly in the depths of your belly. Only for it to be disrupted by him suddenly lifting his head, breaking the seal. “I want us to do something today.”

Your mouth is bone-dry, causing you to stutter, “W-what?” 

He shifts his weight between your legs, propping himself on an elbow. Before you can complain out of frustration, he asks nonchalantly,  “Where do you want to go?”

Your mind is too busy reeling trying to process the casual tone of his voice to think about an itinerary for the day. He doesn’t seem to mind your pause and waits patiently for an answer with a smile on his face. After a huff and a roll of your eyes, you throw your head back and comb your fingers through your hair. “Fuck. I dunno, Josh. I think I work today.”

His response is mumbled through the kisses to the inside of your leg. “Then call off. You can do that, can’t you?”

The trail of his tongue and the teasing nips of his teeth distract you. Just like that fateful afternoon the day you first met at the shop, he’s able to convince you of anything he desires. “Yeah…yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” His middle finger slips through your folds —  rewarding you. He’s playing, exploring the intricate details of your body to see your reactions in real-time. He watches your hips lift off the bed from the feather-light touch, how your chest rises and falls with each panting breath, to the changing expressions on your face. With his hooded eyes completely transfixed between your legs, he asks, “How about we take some edibles and go to the aquarium today?”

Despite the overwhelming urge to close your eyes, you fight to keep them open. He’s breathtaking, so effortlessly beautiful soaking in the filtered morning sun. You doubt the fact he’s real like he’s a still from a movie that’s been locked away in a memory until now. There’s a fear that if you blink, he might disappear and you’ll wake up from this perfect dream. 

You’re determined to capture the sight of him — a moment so natural it makes your heartache. The dark shadow of stubble growing back where his mustache draws your attention down to his kissable lips. They’re flushed bright pink, glossy with your wetness. 

He swipes his thumb across your clit, watching how your body spasms at the feeling. You hum, finally allowing your eyes to close, “Mmhmm.”

His voice floats across the tides of your conscience, “Are you listening, baby?” 

“Yeah,” you answer back through an airy sigh. In reality, you’re not convinced you even heard him correctly. The words evaporated into the air between you. They don’t matter in the slightest, he could suggest anything to you if it meant that he would make you finish. 

He kisses your inner thigh before dragging the tip of his tongue higher up. “How does that sound?” 

The kitten-licks along the crook of your leg make you choke on a breath, “S-sure.” He giggles at the broken sound, burying his laughter as he searches for your clit. “We can go look at some fish — ah fuck!”

He swirls his tongue, coaxing your orgasm into the refuge that is his mouth. You find his hand gripped across your hip. The contact serves as a substitute for the spoken words that are failing to form, touching praise that tells him you’re right on the cusp of your release. You feel across the dips and contours of his knuckles, tracing along the soft planes of each finger grasped onto the supple flesh of your waist. 

If you were aware of your surroundings, you would notice his hips grinding into the mattress for friction knowing he could’ve easily added his fingers and made you climax minutes ago out of impatience. The whine laced within the ragged breath is the only indicator that he’s just as desperate as you. “Are you close, baby?”

You moan loud enough for the sound to pierce through the thin walls of their house. If Jake was here, there’s no question that he heard you. However, the thought of the confrontation he’ll have with you is fleeting. Josh, still hell-bent on maintaining the resemblance of a conversation, asks you, “What do you want to see the most?”

“Josh,” you groan, swallowing harshly to wet your parched tongue.

“Yeah?”

“Please shut up.” 

He smiles, pressing the sharp edge of his teeth against your clit. As much as he loves to tease you, the urgency in your tone is enough to flip the last switch. The lazy movements are abandoned, replaced with the rapid flicks of his tongue. 

“Holy sh-shit!” You cry out, clawing at his hands that are latched around your legs. Every muscle in your body tightens like an over-spun coil ready to snap any second. You fall past the tipping point as he drenches you in intoxicating bliss like you’ve been submerged in a warm bath. 

He brings you down carefully, licking and kissing until your legs start to shake from overstimulation. Peaceful silence falls between you as your breathing calms and your heart rate returns to normal within a few minutes. You expect him to crawl up your body and slip himself inside you, but he doesn’t.

He lifts himself from the bed, throws the duvet off to the side, and stands to his feet. His nakedness sends your eyes to his obviously-hard cock bouncing against his belly as he moves. He catches you staring, and the confusion painted on your face. 

You’re completely dumbfounded, as Josh doesn’t strike you as the type to pass on the opportunity for sex. The strange behavior might have made you question things normally, but the certain glint in his eyes tells you something is brewing in that brain of his. 

A tiny smirk forms on his face as he makes his way to the dresser, giving you a direct view of his ass. The way jiggles and bounces as he walks is enough to distract you momentarily. You know he’s doing it on purpose, and you hate the way you fall for it. He digs out his clothes from the drawers, tosses them onto the foot of the bed, and starts to get dressed in front of you. 

You wish you had your phone to snap a picture of him, even for your own selfish reasons. The collection of vibrant tattoos flowing with the lean muscles of his body deserves to be admired. The dichotomy of wanting to appreciate his beauty while wanting to ravish his cock that’s twitching with the steady beat of his heart wrecks your brain.

 Realizing that you’re gawking, he looks up and flashes you a full smile. “So I was thinking we could grab a coffee and some breakfast on the way. My treat.” 

Stunned, you watch him pull his boxer briefs up his legs with his cock standing at attention more than ever. Your pussy throbs for him, craving the full feeling he gives you. Unbothered, he grabs himself with a firm hand and tucks it away into the confines of his underwear. The heather-gray fabric does little to conceal it, taunting you with the prominent outline. 

“Uh…about that,” You begin just as he slips on a pair of jeans that does nothing but hug his crotch in all the right places. It takes every ounce of energy for you to look away. “I need to stop by my apartment today. I have to check on my cat and get some clothes.”

He pauses with his t-shirt in hand. “You have a cat?” After seeing you nod, he scoffs in disbelief, “How did I not know that?”

You sit up, snorting a laugh as you scoot to the edge of the bed. “I don’t think we’ve spent our time actually getting to know each other.”

“Hmm,” he hums, making his way toward you. He steps between your legs and leans until he’s just about eye level. “I beg to differ. I think I’m getting to know you very well.”

You peer up, hoping not to fall headfirst into those amber irises. “So well in fact that you didn’t even know I had a cat.”

“Hey,” he scolds playfully while tipping your chin up with a finger and lowering himself even farther so his lips hover above yours. “In my defense, I was a little busy getting to know another kitty of yours.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you huff, but he catches the back of your neck before you can pull away. 

He nips at the spot below your ear, making you suck in a breath.“Utterly moronic.” You whimper at the silken quality of his voice. “Now get dressed, baby.” 

You want to tug him close by the collar of his white t-shirt and kiss him. Lost in the sheets until the sun sets again, but he straightens, breaking the hold you have on him. 

He finishes getting ready while you dress and gather your belongings around him. You take a chance opening the door to his bedroom to see that Jake’s wide open. He’s nowhere to be found, but you spot your overnight bag sitting on top of his bed, reminding you how things were left off with him. 

You walk into his room, taking cautious steps toward the enormous four-post bed. Once you’re a few feet from it, you see a garment wrapped in a plastic covering beside your bag. You recognize it immediately. It’s the dress you wore to your tattoo appointment with Jake, dry-cleaned and laid out neatly for you.  

You’re not sure what to make of the gesture. It’s a level of care and detail that you weren’t expecting from him. It leaves you confused more than anything. There’s no note with your things, and a glance at your phone screen shows no messages from him.  

You hear Josh’s footsteps approach before he knocks against the door frame and calls into the room, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You snatch your bag from the bed and head toward him, leaving the dress behind. 

He ushers you out of the front door of the house, locking it behind you once you step to the side. You follow him down the stairs, along the concrete path, and to the driveway where his beloved Camry sits. 

Up close, and now that you’re paying close attention to it, you can see the evidence left by the years from a type of tough love that would blur the line of abuse. The car has stood up to the test of time, proudly wearing every scratch along the chipped red paint and every dent punched into its exterior.   

As you walk around its battered hood, you note the metallic blue fender piece around the front passenger wheel well. You smile to yourself, as it's not a surprise that he’s the type of person to barely care if there was a fender attached at all.

You imagine each point of damage created by teenage Josh — each mark having its own ridiculous story for him to share with you one day. 

You also know that there’s a strong likelihood that some of these could have been made within the week. The thought of it causes a giggle to break free, “How old is this thing?”

He chuckles, manually unlocking the driver-side door with the key. “It’s an ‘03.”

You wait as he slides into his seat, expecting him to hit the unlock button on the inside of his door. He stretches across the passenger seat and pulls up the locking mechanism. 

You pop the handle, pleasantly surprised that it opens with ease, and peek inside. A pile of old cassette and CD cases litter the floor of the front seat. Layers of stickers that probably span over the years cover nearly every square inch of the plastic beige dash. The worn upholstery seats have been mended by hand and stitched back together in a rainbow of threads. Upon further inspection, you notice the tiny, circular cigarette burns that haven't earned their own patch. “Don’t you think it’s time for a new car?”

While you throw your bag into the backseat, he turns the key in the ignition. The idling engine emphasizes his answer. “Why? This baby runs perfectly fine.”

You scoff a laugh, “Josh. Your side view mirror is held on by duct tape and a prayer.”

“Hey!” He wags a pointed finger with his quirked brow before patting the center of the dash affectionately. “There’s nothing duct tape can’t fix. It hasn’t failed me yet.”

You glance over at him, watching him lift his ass from the seat so he can empty his pockets.“How much shit in this car is held together by duct tape?”

He bites back a smile, tossing his pack of cigarettes onto the dash, and sets his phone in the center console. After putting the car in reverse, he holds your headrest to look behind him, but his gaze lingers on you. “Do you want the real answer to that?”

“It might be better if I don’t know.”

Music plays through the speakers just low enough that the lack of conversation becomes noticeable. You’ve tried to distract yourself, but the plastic army men superglued to his dash can only keep your pestering thoughts from wandering for so long. 

He appears anxious, picking aimlessly at the woven steering wheel cover and bouncing a knee for the last few miles. After stopping at the next red light, he finally reaches for his pack of cigarettes resting on the center of the dash. With his free hand, he flips the top and pulls one out with his lips before tossing it back. Your eyes follow the bent pack of Marlboro Lights sliding into the corner of the windshield. After rolling his window down and using his knees to steer, he lights the cigarette and pulls a heavy drag. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

He glances over at you and takes a steadying breath. “I know I said we should have a serious talk last night, and well, we didn’t do as much talking as we probably should have.”

His anxiety becomes contagious, infecting you in an instant. You stiffen, taking cautious verbal steps, “Okay. What did you want to talk about?” 

Noticing your sudden change, he reaches out and gives your knee a reassuring squeeze. “Relax, baby. Everything is okay. I promise.”

“But something is still bothering you.”

You study his expressions and body language. He’s hesitant, thinking over each word carefully. The sigh he releases and the way he’s rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip makes your chest tighten. “I want you to know that I’m not trying to fuck around.” He quickly clears his throat to clarify his thoughts, “I mean, I’m not really looking to hook up with other people. And…and I think I wanted you to know that I’m just about you right now.”

You don’t answer him right away, letting each word replay in your head over and over. It takes a moment to process, deciphering what he’s truly saying past the surface level. You question if this is a conversation about exclusivity and the implications that go with it. He hasn’t looked back at you yet since he’s spoken, keeping his focus locked on the road.

“Josh?”

Your voice breaks his attention long enough for him to glance over at you. “Yeah?” 

“Are you trying to say that you want me to stop sleeping with Jake?” 

You try not to think about how much the proposition affects you because deep down you know the feeling will act as a stubborn stain on your heart that will never wash out no matter how much you try. You’ve thrown it out into the open and there’s no reeling it back in. It settles between you, more so than the iron weight in the pit of your stomach. You have to acknowledge your hypocrisy when you stood there in their driveway, holding your ground about not wanting to create jealousy between them. 

He winces as he takes another drag, pushing out the question through the blown smoke, “Do you want to stop sleeping with Jake?”

You’re quick to snap back, “Don’t dodge my question.”

“I’m not,” he huffs defensively.  “Look, I’ll be the first person to admit that our situation is…less than conventional. But I like you. I hope that’s obvious.” A smile breaks through the last part, but the expression stays controlled. “All I’m worried about is you being happy and comfortable. Knowing that you’re having fun, but I don’t have any expectations, okay?”

He waits for your nod before continuing to talk. “If having fun for you is hooking up with me, or with the both of us like we’ve been doing, or even if you just want to be with Jake… that’s okay too.”

Before you can open your mouth to reassure him, he adds, “It will be a bummer, but I’ll accept that.”

The pained flick of his thumb across the filter of his cigarette reveals more of his emotions than his chosen words. His exterior is calm and collected — an undeniable contrast to the outburst in the shop office. Out of the corner of your eye, you see how close you’re getting to your apartment building, and the last thing you want is to leave things off on a bad note. “You know I still want to sleep with you, right?”

His shoulders immediately relax and his face lights up as soon as the words leave your lips. That reserved smile blossoms into a full grin. “I might have had a feeling.”

As much as the sight gives you that fuzzy feeling, there’s still a tinge of embarrassment that you’re not handling this as well as you should be, making you confess, “This is new for me.”

Josh’s hand wraps around your thigh once more. “Me too. But we’ll figure it out.” His fingers and thumb begin to knead small circles into the bare skin. The touch is electric, sparking desire like lightning between your legs. “One last thing though. Can you just tell me you’re mad at me next time? I don’t know if I can handle much more of you fucking him to get back at me.”

Despite ending the last sentence with a laugh, it’s not because he finds it humorous. Guilt resurfaces, revealing your immaturity over the last week. You knew that’s how he felt, but to hear him say it acts like salt to the wound. You play it off, throwing in a touch of sarcasm. “So honest and open communication about my feelings?”

He bites at his lip before giving you that smile of his.“Crazy, I know.”

“I’ll try.”

Josh parks behind your apartment building in your designated space. To your relief, your roommate’s car is missing from its spot, giving you the clear to bring him up without having to deal with an awkward introduction. Before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, he snatches your bag from the backseat and slings it over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the car. 

He follows you through the narrow alleyway toward the front door of the building, causing a new, unfamiliar feeling to brew in your chest. In the past, bringing people back to your place has always been a rare thing, especially in broad daylight. You’ve found that you’re more comfortable at their house, coming and going on your terms. Now with him, a half-step behind you, seconds away from your door, is starting to feel like this is developing past the casual hookup phase and you’re not entirely sure where to place that idea in your brain. 

You unlock the heavy door and give it a strong push to break the seal of old paint that keeps it stuck within its frame during warmer months. Since it’s an older building, the musty air sticks to your lungs as you ascend the staircase. 

“How long have you lived here?” Josh sparks small talk from behind you. 

You keep your voice quiet to keep the sound from traveling into the other apartments. “About three years. It’s not quite up to code but the rent is cheap and my landlord is super cool so I can’t complain.”

Josh chuckles, “You know what they say, ‘A little asbestos builds character’.”

You laugh at his joke, stopping on the landing to search for your apartment key on the metal ring. “Can’t be much worse than all the cigarettes you smoke.”

He steps in front of you and blushes, releasing the strained breath he’s been holding in. “Hey, I’m trying to quit.”

You take the next set of stairs while throwing the bratty remark over your shoulder. “Oh? How’s that going by the way?”

Sarcasm seeps into his tone, making him exhale with a dramatic wheeze, “Fantastic. Can’t you tell?”

As soon as you’re standing in front of your door, a sudden wave of anxiety washes over you. This is the first time he’s going to see your place —  a part of you that’s remained a mystery to him until now. Accepting that there’s no turning back, you turn the key in the lock, praying that nothing embarrassing has been left in plain sight. 

“Well, this is it,” you announce into the empty apartment with open arms. 

You drop your keys onto the side table while he walks in and shuts the door behind him. After sliding your bag off his shoulder and resting it on a nearby chair, his eyes scan over the quaint living room. “Wow. It’s quite cozy in here.”

Thankfully, your roommate had kept the place pretty tidy overnight. Crocheted throw pillows are propped up nicely, a folded blanket is draped over the back of the couch, and stacks of books and an unfinished puzzle sit on the vintage oak coffee table. The late morning light casts through the large plate glass windows, giving your family of houseplants their daily dose of sun. 

The commotion wakes your sleeping cat, making him lift his head from his spot on the couch and give you both a welcoming chirp. With a childlike wonder, Josh beams with excitement, calling out in a soft voice, “Hey buddy!”

He slowly drops to a squatting position and holds out his hand. “Pspspsps.” 

You stand back, pleasantly surprised that Josh can gain his trust so easily. The orange tabby does his post-nap stretch before jumping off the couch with a thud, landing on all four paws. He trots over, causing his low belly to swing with his stride, and rubs his face into Josh’s open palm. “What’s your name?”

Not knowing what his reaction will be, you answer sheepishly, “Tater tot.”

Josh throws his head back and lets out a loud cackle, filling the quiet room with his vibrant energy. “Tater tot. I fucking love that.” He scratches under the cat’s chin, earning himself a purr. “You kind of look like a tater tot, don’t you?”

You move through the living room, placing your stuff down as you reminisce over the distant memory. “I found him by the dumpster at work when he was just a tiny kitten. Poor guy was covered in fleas and so hungry that he ate tater tots that I had with my lunch right out of my hand. And the name just stuck ever since.”

He gives your cat’s rotund frame an affectionate pat. “What a cool dude.”

You linger for a few beats of time until you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go get ready. You okay out here with him?”

He makes himself at home on the lounge chair next to your couch and releases a comfortable sigh, “Take your time, baby. Ol’ Tater and I will catch up.”

You rush back to your bathroom and freshen up as quickly as you can. Not long after you left the twins’ house, you texted Katie about covering your shift this afternoon. Thankfully, she was able to without much of a battle, leaving your day wide open to spend with Josh. 

After applying some makeup and doing your hair in a simple style, you repack your overnight bag and look for an outfit to change into. You pick out a simple, linen sundress from your closet that’s going to be comfortable enough for you to walk around in.

Josh doesn’t hear you come back into the living room, and keeps his back turned. In your short absence, he has scooped your cat up into his arms and started rocking him like a newborn baby. He hums a song that’s stuck in his head while pacing around the space, studying the art, little thrifted trinkets, and knick-knacks to the collection of books sitting on the shelf. You watch from the edge of the hallway, noticing how well he seems to fit in here — like he’s meshing seamlessly with your existing life. 

The romantic in you pines for a different reality, because at this moment, seeing the peaceful innocence makes you wish that he had asked you out on a proper date the first day you met. That way, you could have gotten to know him under different circumstances. After weeks of dating, you could’ve introduced him to friends, maybe even brought him to meet your nightmare parents. 

But the way things are with him seems as though it’s far too good to be true — an exciting fling that’s destined to fizzle out as soon as the summer ends. You’ve learned this lesson before. Don’t get too emotionally invested in a guy like him. 

Before getting swept away in the emotions of it like an incoming tide, you interrupt, “I’m shocked he let you pick him up like that. Usually, he hates being held.” Josh is startled by your voice, turning on his heels with the biggest smile on his face. “He must really like you.”

Your beloved cat continues to rub his face across Josh’s defined jaw, purring so loud that you can hear it from across the room. Proud that he’s won his affection, he can’t help but crack a joke, “What can I say…pussies love me.”

You groan with a dramatic roll of your eyes and walk to the door with your bag in hand. Josh laughs from behind you, only to be followed by the sound of Tater Tot’s paws returning to the wood floor. “What? What’d I say?”

You let the smile creep across your lips as you grab your purse and keys. “Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with you at all?”

He hums in thought, standing behind you as he watches you lock the deadbolt. “It could be the big dick and the free weed.”

You scoff and turn to the stairs knowing that he’ll follow. Before you can take the first step, he reaches out and hooks your upper arm in his hand, tugging you close. “Hey.” He abandons the teasing banter, taking on a calm sincerity in his voice. “You look beautiful, baby. Thank you for spending the day with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re right. Those flowers do look great in your apartment.”

With the weight lifted between you, the drive to the aquarium was far more relaxed than the one on the way to your apartment. Like a road trip planned with your best friend, the miles fly by quicker than you thought. The last hour was spent laughing and playing music from the scattered tapes and CDs strewn across the car. 

Josh chooses a parking deck close by, but because of it being in the center of the city, the first three floors are filled. He eventually finds a spot on the last level, kills the engine, and digs around for something in his backseat. He retrieves a small plastic container, pops the lid open, and offers you a red gummy placed in the center of his palm. 

You giggle, plucking it from his open hand, “You’re such a bad influence.”

“The peer pressure must be killing you.” He teases, tossing back three into his mouth. 

Even though you’ve already started chewing yours, you stare at him in disbelief and snatch the container from him. “How strong are these?”

He chuckles around his own gummies, answering before you have a chance to find it on the label. “They’re only twenty.”

Your eyes widen as you swallow down the THC-infused cherry-flavored juice. “Oh, great.”

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and places a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Relax. You’re going to be fine. I got you, baby.”

“I fucking hope so.”

You both make your way through the parking deck and out onto the street. It’s early afternoon, and the summer sun is at its highest point in the sky. Thankfully, the trek to the aquarium is roughly a ten-minute stroll. You follow behind him as he walks up to the ticket counter outside of the building. 

“Hello,” Josh greets the employee behind the glass.  An older woman looks up from her computer and stares blankly at him. He waits a few seconds for her response, but when she doesn’t, he adds, “Can I get two adult tickets, please?”

You catch her glare before she redirects her attention to her computer. “That’ll be $105.89.”

Josh fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, waving you off when you reach into your purse. “I got it, baby.” He pulls out a credit card and slides it across the metal counter through the opening of the glass window. 

The woman's judgemental eyes lock onto his hands pushing the card toward her. You’re confused as to why until you realize that she’s staring at his finger tattoos. A look of disgust contorts her aged features as she reaches for it. You glance over at him, seeing the same friendly expression he’s been wearing despite this woman’s blatant rudeness toward him. 

She inspects the card between her fingers and looks up at him. “I need your ID to verify this card.”

You cut in, showing your frustration, “Are you serious? Is that necessary?”

“It’s okay,” He mumbles softly, placating you while handing the employee his driver’s license. He manages to keep his discomfort contained and hidden beneath the surface. Anger ignites and burns like wildfire within your body, but you stay silent as the interaction plays out. 

The old woman compares the names on the credit card and license in front of her before finalizing the payment. She reluctantly pushes both back to him, along with the receipt and printed tickets.“You know those things are permanent, young man.”

Josh forces out an awkward laugh as he slides both cards back into his wallet, “I would certainly hope so with how much I paid for them.”

Being in this employee’s presence makes your blood boil, and you can’t fathom spending another second in it. You hook your arm around his and usher him toward the entrance until you’re out of earshot. “What the fuck was that about?”

“What?”

You shuffle into the line and turn to him. “The ticket lady? She was so rude to you, Josh.” He doesn’t answer, but shrugs his shoulders, clearly not matching the same feelings you have about the ordeal. “Do people treat you like that a lot?”

“It happens. Sometimes you can’t change people who think like that.” There’s a hint of defeat in those words, a hidden sadness that he’s trying to mask. The experience knocks you down because you’ve only ever seen the art inked into his skin as beautiful. His brows pull together when he sees your frown and the hurt in your eyes. “What matters is that you think they’re cool, right?”

You blush instantly. “The coolest.”

“Fuck yeah. Now let’s go check out some fish.”

Another employee scans your tickets and points you in the direction of the main lobby. You let Josh take the lead, following the trail of painted blue arrows on the concrete floor to the closest exhibits. 

Walking through the open space, the recognizable smell of seawater from the rows of tanks drifts along the air and into your senses. Since it’s the middle of the week, the crowds are smaller — just a few people passing by every couple of minutes. 

You find yourselves before this massive tank that wraps around a circular shaped room. The serene ocean hues drench you in its blue light. As you read over the descriptions of the animals in each enclosure on the plaques, the edible you ate in the car starts to take effect on your body. You’re becoming highly aware of Josh standing beside you, and your focus moves to him. He’s taking it all in, admiring life’s simplest and more intricate details captured behind the wall of glass. 

 The calm silence is making it hard for you to concentrate on the animals. You’re becoming more restless only to feel his fingers brush against yours. It’s a testing touch before they weave tightly between them. It’s not much, but the public display of affection sends your heart racing. 

You’ve been questioning whether or not this is a date, or if it’s simply friends hanging out together. Friends that happen to have the wildest sex you’ve ever experienced. 

He points to a large fish swimming by, but you don’t catch any of the words he’s saying. The only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his warm fingers squeezing around yours from his excitement. 

You stand like this for a while staring at all the sea life, but the way his thumb rubs against your hand keeps distracting you. “Josh?”

“Hmm?” He hums but keeps his gaze on the tank. His hazy eyes sparkle as they dance from fish to fish. 

“Do you come here a lot?”

He snorts a breathy laugh, “No. Can you believe that? But I’m glad we did.”

“How come?”

The question finally causes him to break away and look directly at you. You want to kiss him, snuggle up in the comfort of his hoodie, and stay like that for hours. He smiles wide, bringing out the dimple on his left cheek. “I think we needed to get away from the bullshit for a while.”

“The bullshit?”

He lets go of your hand and steps closer to the glass, now a couple of inches away. “Yeah. It’s healthy to step back from all the chaos and connect with nature when you can. Forget our problems for the moment to remember how delicate and beautiful life is. That we are just one facet in the great cosmos.”

You lean in, whispering so others can’t hear, “How high are you?”

He giggles with a sigh, “Pretty high.” You pull him back by a handful of his sweatshirt, making him bump into you. “I’m serious though.”

Even with the closeness, he keeps his touches appropriate. You stretch on your toes and give him a soft peck on his lips. “I bet, but I wanna check out the sharks.”

You look for the shark exhibit, following the path of blue arrows through several escalators and moving walkways. Everything is going well, but the aquarium is far colder than you anticipated, and now you’re cursing at yourself for not bringing along a sweater like Josh. 

Your violent shivers are too difficult to hide, and he’s quick to notice. He pulls off his hoodie and hands it over, “Here.”

“Thanks.” 

Although the look of it over your sundress isn’t the best fashion statement, it’s the least of your worries. It envelops you like a comforting hug. You nuzzle into it while he looks away, breathing in the fabric that holds his scent —  a calming mix of his cologne, and laundry detergent with the faint smell of cigarettes. 

A few minutes pass as you navigate your way to see the sharks. He’s fidgety, rubbing up and down the length of his bare arms. He then hugs himself as if to hide the tattoos without much success. You’re undoubtedly high, which only makes you hyper-aware of his uneasiness.

Josh has been nothing but confident since the day you met him. He’s never faltered, acting like the tattoos were simply an extension of him. His restlessness — whether it’s weed-induced paranoia or tucked-away self-esteem issues, affects you greatly.  

The behavior is unlike him, and you’re sensitive about it. He holds himself like you’ve stripped him bare and left him completely exposed for judging eyes. You’re not sure what to do other than gently pluck his fingers from his arm that has been pressing into the flesh so hard they’ve created indentations. 

Your touch breaks the spell he’s in, making him swap hands with the one that is closest to you. He squeezes your fingers tightly and gives you a grateful smile as he whispers, “Thank you.”

You study the expression on his face, but his bloodshot eyes zero in on your moving lips. “You okay?” 

He leads you in with his hand, closing the short distance between you. The kiss is deeper, and richer than previous ones today. Even with the tip of his tongue ghosting across your lips, it doesn’t feel sexual. He eventually pulls away, and happily sighs, “Much better.”

After leaving the aquarium, you must have walked around the city for hours. Hand-in-hand, swept away by each other’s presence. By the time you made it back to the deck, the sun had fully set in the sky. Once nearly full to capacity, the deck remains borderline desolate. A few vehicles are scattered amongst the first few floors, but as you climb to the fourth, you spot Josh’s Camry sitting alone. 

Now that the euphoric buzz from your cherry-flavored gummy is starting to settle in your system, the desire to have him is so bad that the hour-long drive seems torturous to think about. Besides the few chaste kisses placed on your cheeks, and the one shared on the escalator, he has yet to kiss you today with the same passion you’re used to. 

You’ve been craving those risky touches, the curious grazes of fingertips under the hemline of your dress. You wished for the lewd, sexual comments whispered against your ear when people were around. Those memories of his mouth roaming across your body have been invading your mind ever since you walked out their front door this morning. His undivided attention, the pin-you-against-the-wall kind of attention is what you’ve been wanting all day. You just never would have thought that him on his best behavior would drive you this mad. 

If he feels the same way, he’s been hiding it better than you. Unbothered from the casual stroll to the car, the goofy grin plastered across his face, to the way he’s belting out random notes into the open space just to hear them echo back. 

After both of you step into the car and get settled, he asks, “Do you wanna go to the bar?”

He pops open the lid of the center console and starts searching for a particular CD to play. As he roots around, you realize that looking at anything other than his lips proves to be a challenge you can’t overcome. 

You forget to answer. He’s still rummaging around the junk crammed in the center console, but your silence makes him laugh, “Or should we head back to the house?”

You shift in your seat toward him, whispering, “Josh.”

“What’s up?” His eyes flick up, meeting yours. 

While you’re not usually the one to make the first move, giving in to a temptation that’s been gnawing relentlessly for hours never felt so rewarding. Your lips crash against his, abrupt and unrestrained. Your kiss is heady, starving for even the faintest taste. Impatience doesn’t even begin to explain what you’re feeling. You take the initiative by licking into his parted mouth, searching and demanding for what’s been so out of reach. 

He meets your tongue with his, greeting you with a matched passion. That subtle sweetness, the crisp bite of mint gum — it cuts out any forethought you might possess in an instant. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, venturing further with him when there’s a possibility that an onlooker can walk right on by. The risk of being caught becomes meaningless, lost in the orange glow of the outside lamps.

The hungry kiss might have been the end of this moment — left with a palmed breast and a few nips of teeth. The whine through a bated breath with the following moan tumbling right into your mouth changes everything. It’s what propels you forward over the console and onto his lap. The crawl to him is less than graceful with your clumsy limbs knocking into everything in your path. 

As you struggle to get settled on his legs, he leans back against the headrest with open arms. He watches with a prideful smirk, confidently basking in the knowledge that you were the first to break. You’ve already braced yourself on his shoulders and started to grind your ass over the rough denim in hopes of catching his hard-on. Amused, he tilts his chin up, keeping his lips barely an inch from yours. “Hi.”

Breathless, you scold, “Shut up and kiss me.”

A deep exhale bellows from his chest while his hands knead the flesh of your thighs beneath the bunched-up fabric of your dress. He ignores your request, biting back the lip you so desperately want for yourself. Frustrated, you roll your hips in an attempt to send his open hands closer to your ass. 

Your sense of control wavers with the whimper, “Josh, please.”

 A curious hum resides in this throat and his fingertips ghost the delicate edge of your thong stretched across your hip. At this point, you would do anything to have him. That gummy from this afternoon fails in comparison to the drug that is him. You bury your face into the warmth of his neck, sucking at the tender skin below his jawline. 

He giggles as if the feeling tickles and sends one hand up the length of your back instead of between your legs like you want.“What’s got you so worked up, baby?”

“You,” you mumble, tightening the hold you have on the nape of his neck as if you could somehow bring yourself closer. The tight space of the driver seat confines you, heightening every movement tenfold. 

“Me?” The cockiness in his voice reminds you of Jake more than you’d like to admit, but the single word spoken into your temple makes you tremble. Driving yourself further into his groin, you end up clenching around nothing but the memory. “I got you so desperate that you can’t even wait until we got home?”

The hints of his erection, knowing that it’s there but hidden from your grasp destroy every facet of your self-control. He’s right. The thought of waiting for him is truly unbearable. You lean back on his legs, giving yourself the space to reach between you and find the button of his jeans. You’re able to pop it open before his hand clasps around your wrist, stopping you. “Baby, I’m shocked. I didn’t take you for the public sex type.”

“Are we going to fuck or not?” It was supposed to leave your lips with power but hit the air between you as a pathetic plea. 

Just like the words acting as the ripcord to his own urges, he tears apart your thong between his hands in a swift pull. After hearing your stunned yelp, he bares his teeth to the vulnerable skin of your throat and lets a laugh flutter across your ear, “Oops.”

He flings your shredded panties somewhere into the backseat and cups the curve of your ass with a firm hand, lifting you enough so he can work himself out of the leg of his jeans. Unlike the teasing banter seconds before, he wastes no time dragging the head of cock through your wetness. 

The way his teeth sink into the thin flesh covering your collarbone gives away how badly he wants this as well. After a less-than-gentle pass and in a single thrust, he pushes his entire length inside you. 

“Oh fuck!” You cry out, the sound low and guttural. He stretches you and crashes into your cervix before you have a chance to adjust to his size. He keeps himself there, allowing the stinging pain to subside within seconds, replacing it with that addicting full feeling. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you welcome that pain — a reminder of how you’ve been acting lately. It should be no surprise how quickly your body remembers him despite how long it’s been since he’s been buried inside you.

He sighs into the hollow point of your neck, muttering the sweet confession, “I’ve missed this.” 

You settle your weight on his lap, only allowing him to rock his hips in the seat. You tighten around him, soaking his cock in your pleasure. “I missed you, too.”

He stops moving to drink you in, kissing and licking a path along your shoulder. “Fuck, I love your pussy so much…best I’ve ever had.”

Your heart skips a beat from the thought alone, but you’re greedy for his praise. You push yourself back with your hands placed on his chest, giving yourself room to see his face. “The best, huh?”

That smug grin reappears while his heavy-lidded eyes drift slowly up to yours. You take in the details of his face, how the shadows accentuate his sharper features. “Yeah…would I lie to you?”

He flusters you, making your line of sight fall from his glazed eyes down to your restless hands. You watch yourself play with the fraying neckline of his t-shirt, asking, “Would you?” 

He tips his chin, keeping his focus solely on your lips before bringing his own close enough to whisper, “Never.”

In a matter of seconds, his hands skim across the fabric of your dress to find the thin straps. Hooking them under his thumbs, he slips them down your arms, taking the front of your dress with them. In a frantic need, he yanks the cropped, black t-shirt you’ve been wearing under your dress up over your chest. 

Now that it’s freed and exposed, he sucks your naked breast into his mouth and licks a broad stripe across your hardening nipple. You force yourself to look up to check if anyone is walking by, only to see that the windows are beginning to fog from the heat of your shared breaths. They’re clinging to every inch of your skin, causing a sheen of sweat to collect across your furrowed brow. And yet, a chill climbs up the length of your spine from his tongue rolling over your bare tits. 

The uncomfortable position is posing a unique challenge for you both. Since both knees are wedged and starting to ache from plastic digging into your flesh, you’re unable to ride him the way you want. Josh, however, doesn’t let the restrictions of the Camry ruin the moment if he can help it. The moans tumbling from your lips act as his cue to wrap his arms around the small of your back, locking you in place.

It should’ve been a warning to you. 

Something animalistic suddenly possesses him, shredding any remaining innocence. He snaps his hips up, thrusting into you with a strength you didn’t realize existed within him. He takes on all the work, holding you above him while you’re left to brace yourself in any way you can. 

Pornographic sounds —  sounds you wouldn’t dare make in the past break free from your chest. He’s thriving off them, knowing that if he was fucking you without these limitations you would be reduced to an even more pathetic, incoherent mess. 

He’s not shy about making his own noises. His rumbled growl vibrates between your breasts. Primal grunts are trapped behind his clenched teeth. It could be because he’s out of breath or that he’s closer than he thought, but he starts to slow his pace, shifting to more of a grinding motion. 

“Oh my god. You feel so fucking good,” You pant. Half-whines, half-barely recognizable curses fall from your open mouth. “Please, please, please.” You’re rambling, blurting out any broken, strung-together thought you can. “Josh…I… I…fuck—don’t stop. ”

His raspy laugh pushes through strained vocal cords, “I’m listening, baby.”

He tries to move and adjust to get a better position, sending the edge of the steering wheel into your lower back. “Ow!” You hiss, rubbing the spot with your fingers. 

“Shit. Sorry, baby.” Although he gives you an apologetic look, you can’t help but giggle at his expense. He returns it, huffing, “Fuck it. Get in the backseat.”

Without more protest than a pained groan, you lift yourself off of his cock and stretch out your weak limbs before clambering over the center console into the backseat. You’re not forced to live with your awkward tumble into the seat for long. He quickly follows, climbing over with far more agility than you.

His twitching, glistening cock pulled out from his unbuttoned jeans, and those sweaty curls sticking to his forehead is a sight you’ll never forget. You watch him as he reaches into the front passenger seat for his sweatshirt. He balls it up and places it under your head as a makeshift pillow. 

“Acting like you’ve done this before,” you tease, clutching the golden sun that hangs from his neck.

He laughs, lowering his head with your guiding hand. “I’ve had to get creative a time or two.” 

“Such a slut.” 

He places a kiss on your lips, mumbling, “Don’t forget…” He breaks away, taking the sloppy kisses along your jaw to your ear, making your stomach flip as if it were an Olympic gymnast. “You were the one that jumped me.” 

He kneels on the seat, kicking your open legs with his knee while pushing your dress to your stomach. Taking his cock in his hand, he lets a trail of spit fall into himself. With a few pumps of his fist, he shudders out a heavy breath, “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to fuck you this morning?”

He lets the head of his lubed cock slide across your clit. You lift your hips, chasing him. “I wanted you so bad.”

He lines himself with your entrance and glides in effortlessly. The gratification it gives you is instant. He finds a rhythm and braces himself with each hand gripped onto your thighs. “I know, baby. Trust me. I’ve been thinking about you all week… I’m so addicted to you.” 

You let him stare, watching how his eyes bounce with your moving tits down to his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. As much as you love it, you need him close. You have to feel his warmth and the weight of his body on top of you, have his scent fill your delirious brain, and have those sounds fan across the shell of your ear. 

You find his wrist and tug him to you, gesturing for him to fall forward. He repositions and hitches your leg around his waist while planting his foot on the floor. 

He slides an arm beneath you with his other hand gripping onto the cushion for balance. The change in angle makes him feel deeper than before. You hug him, silently pleading with him to stay. A satisfied pur echoes in his throat, transferring the sound to your wet lips pressed against his skin. “You want it, baby?” 

You reply with a hushed whimper, hoping that he can hear, “I’m so close.” 

He breathes you in and sends his voice directly into your ear. “I can’t wait to fill you up the way you deserve.” You didn’t understand how spoiled you have become until he deprived you of it. So much so that it had turned you into a creature of pure depravity. You clutch onto his damp t-shirt, wrinkling it in your fists across his back. 

“Please, Josh. I need it,” you choke out in a pitiful sob.

He comforts you with a reassuring shush, brushing the tacky hair from your temple. “Look at you. So perfect. Begging for my cum like a good girl.” 

His cock slips inside your pussy with a taunting drag. He talks to you, peppering the words with a sweep of his lips across your cheek, “You’re gonna be so full of me, swollen and beautiful.” Being vocal with you is nothing new, but tonight he can’t seem to hold himself back.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.” 

You say his name over and over like a mantra. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans through a deliberate roll of his hips that pushes the head of his cock against your g-spot. “If you weren’t on birth control I swear I’d get you pregnant so fucking fast.” 

He says it with such conviction making you think that it’s not something he accidentally blurted out in the moment. It shocks you into silence at first. The incredibly slim possibility has never been brought to your attention before now. It’s a thought that should scare the shit out of you, but somehow it doesn’t. If anything, it nearly sends you crashing over the edge. 

He lifts his head to look into your eyes, searching for your thoughts within them. “You like that idea? Me filling up your pretty pussy and getting you knocked up?”

You nod and smile at him— albeit a fucked out one. Maybe you’re too afraid to say the full confession, so you only respond with a hum, “Mmhmm.”

He kisses you, slipping his tongue over yours like an expertly-timed dance. A teasing flick of it followed by a nip to your bottom lip transforms you into a puddle beneath him. “Just say the words, sweetheart.” 

“I…I…” You start to stammer before eventually stopping yourself. You know that there’s not a chance in hell you’ll be able to come up with anything coherent for him.

He draws the pad of his thumb across your chin while continuing to talk through his languid thrusts, “You’d be breathtaking. Belly round with my baby… those perfect tits of yours filled with milk. Fuck. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” 

The fantasy he paints for you overrides your mind. You have to look away and blink back the tears clouding your vision. For a second, the only thing you can process is the view of the roof of his old Camry. 

“I’m so close to cumming just thinking about it,” he admits, bringing his hand between your legs to find your clit. His lust-drugged fingers slip through your slick in the blind search until you jolt at the feeling. The heat of your building orgasm has been pooling between your legs and now you’re mere seconds away from plummeting right over the cliff. All you can do is accept fate as he circles the bundle of nerves with a gentle pressure. 

He traces your favorite patterns while gracing your conscience with that sinful lilt of his, “One word and I’ll give it all to you.” He pushes you to the tipping point by matching the rhythm of his fingers with the glide of his cock. “If it were up to me, baby? I’d have you full and dripping with my cum every fucking day of the week.” 

“Please.” 

Right as you claw at his flexed shoulder blades and drive him deeper with your locked legs, he gives a final request after speaking your name, “Let me hear you. I deserve that, right?” 

He does, and you’re beyond willing to give it all to him — the embarrassing groans ripping through your chest, the pitched whines and the delicate moans that chase them. Your walls flutter around his cock, tightening around him through your orgasm. 

“You’re so perfect.” Is his final praise into the tacky skin on your neck. It leaves his lips through a faint whimper as you slowly milk him dry. As the warmth spill into you, he continues to gently fuck you through the waves of your release.

After slowing a stop and carefully withdrawing his softening cock, he breaks the hold you have on him by sitting back on his heels. Looking down at your pussy through drowsy lids, he sweeps his middle finger through your slit and brings them to his mouth. You watch in awe as he passes it over his flattened tongue to lick them clean.

“You look so fucking hot,” he mutters with a ragged breath. Even though the words are crass, stripped of anything remotely poetic, they’re honest. He glances up, sending you a wink. “Better keep all of it in until we get back.”

You wish you could lay in his bed with him, letting the shared high come down peacefully. But reality comes crashing in, reminding you that time is not on your side. He takes a minute to collect his breath and collapses against the backseat, running his fingers through his soaked hair as he pushes out a dramatic sigh, “Well that’s new.”

You haven’t dared to move — not even a single inch from the fear of adding another stain to the cushion beneath you. “So…is that a kink for you?”

He blows a raspberry with a shake of his head, blurting out, “I guess…maybe. Yes? I dunno. Did I freak you out?”

You snort a laugh, “Surprisingly, no.”

He takes a long pause, and you can feel his eyes on you while he tries to decipher your reaction. “Interesting.”

“What?”

He buttons his jeans and plucks the pack of cigarettes from inside the cup holder of the center console. “I just— and don’t take this the wrong way — but can you imagine getting pregnant from this?” 

Before you can think about it, quickly adds, “I mean, in my shitty car in a parking deck after we spent the day at an aquarium high off our asses.” You can only stare at him, which does nothing but make him more nervous. Embarrassed, he mumbles around the filter of his cigarette, “Forget I said that,” 

You interrupt by extending your hand. “Lemme have one.”

You catch the surprised rise of his brows before he scrambles to light the one hanging from his lip. He then offers it between his fingers, and he watches you take a slow drag and cough out, “Jake would be so furious.”

You both burst out into a fit of laughter, releasing any tension that might have settled between you. Smoke starts filling the car, pressuring you to finally make the move to sit up. He shuffles around, finding another t-shirt from the floor before climbing to the front of the car. Once in the driver’s seat, he lays it out across the passenger seat for you as you make your way over. 

You settle while he starts the car, pulling in a second drag now that the window is down. It burns, leaving a pungent taste that trickles down your throat. “You would be a terrible dad by the way.”

He looks out and drums his fingers against the top of the steering wheel. “I think I could hold my own? Teach the little tike a few things.” Silence falls as he drives through the levels of the parking deck. His voice softens with the following sentiment, “You would be an incredible mom though.”

“Really?”

He takes a hand off the wheel and reaches over to rub your shoulder. “No doubt in my mind.”

You could get lost in those words. The thoughts and the emotions that accompany them —  they could all bubble up and spill out if you let them. Instead of falling into the depth of that rabbit hole, you choose to add levity like you always do. “Would be one helluva cute kid.”

A wave of attitude is brought to the surface, making him pipe up with a pointed finger. “I’d give you the cutest fucking baby to ever exist.”

You smack his hand down playfully. “Josh, you’re a twin.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m the better looking one anyway,” he blows out the sassy remark through a cloudy exhale. 

“You know you’d have to quit smoking if you ever became a dad.”

“I know, I know. I gotta quit,” he grumbles, flicking the ash off his cigarette out of the window. He looks over at. you, giving you an affectionate, knowing smile. There’s something in those eyes you can’t quite place, making your heart ache too much to try. “You hungry?”

“Fucking starving.” 

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler21 @jakekiszkasbabymama @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @autopsy-im-ill l @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1

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[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 5 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  More life happening without each other.     

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, adulting? Mentions of sexual situations, no smut in this chapter either.

Word Count: approx. 5.1K 

@edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness thank you ladies.  For all of it and everything.  💚

CD&FE, Part 5.1: Her POV

     The metro area of the Twin Cities is home to many beautiful parks and green spaces that meander along the Mississippi River.  I had found myself unpacking boxes in my new kitchen overlooking the river along a stretch in the historic district.  The loft apartment had come open and had caught Frankie’s eye immediately.  It was close to his university and it was close to my office.  Somehow it made sense to move in since we had invaded each other’s spaces so much that it made no sense to keep up with two places.

      “You doing okay up there?”  I yelled out as I was setting up stemware to hang in the cabinet of the whet bar.

      There was no answer.  I turned down the volume on my phone and asked again with a little more volume.  Still, Frank gave no answer.  Finishing up the wine glasses, I set the empty box on the stack to break down before walking through the long living room and up the spiral staircase.  I found him standing at the window, eyes frozen on the river.  I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and stepped close.

      “You okay?”  I asked, pressing my cheek to the back of his shoulder.

      He placed one of his large hands across my wrist and gave a little squeeze.  “Just daydreaming.”

      “Oh yeah?”  I sighed as I melted a bit against him.

      “I know marriage is off the table,”  he said, tone full of warmth, “but what about something else.  Something for just the two of us.”

      “Well, we have this home.  We have us-”

      “Y/n.  I’m talking about a commitment to us.  Something formal.”

      I breathed in deeply.  I loved him.  Our relationship was steady and filled so much of me.  But marriage scared the fuck out of me.  It was not something that I wished for - not even as a little girl.  All the friends would pretend to be beautiful brides with elaborate ceremonies and giggling fits over what happened that night.  Hell, even Patrick would volunteer to be the groom and wear his ugly tux t-shirt and pretend to kiss the girls.  Ick.  I just never needed any of that.  Even when my friends started to get married, it just did nothing for me.  

      “After buying this place,  do you doubt my commitment?”  I asked drifting away from him and feigning interest in the closet.

      “No.  Not at all.  Even if we didn’t buy this place, I would not doubt it,”  he answered, scratching at the beard on his cheek.  “It wouldn’t change anything - not between us if you didn’t want to, but I just have this desire.  Something that is meaningful for us.”

      I frowned at the notion.  I know, I know.  Selfish, but I just didn’t understand the sudden shift.  The night previous, we were fucking in every niche and corner of the apartment to make it all our own.  Puffing out my cheeks I decided that it wouldn’t harm anything to perhaps continue the conversation.

      “What kind of thing are you talking about?”  I asked, sitting down on the corner of the bed.

      “There’s so many different ways to show commitment, love,”  he said, finally turning from the window to look at me.  “Handfasting would be lovely.”

      “Does it mean that we dress up and stand in front of all of our friends, and it costs a ridiculous amount of money to sign a paper?”

      “Boy, someone is jaded,”  he teased.  

      I instantly threw up my defenses.  “Come on, I don’t-”

      “I’m teasing.”  He caught me by my hands and tugged me closer, though I tried to fight a bit.  “It could be as simple as just us - no one else has to be involved.  We just write our words out that we mean to say to the other.  If you want to dress up fancy, you can.  Hell, I’d be more than happy to have you there in those gross sweats and flops.”

      At the sound of his laugh, I relaxed.  I knew he was looking for a more outward show of commitment.  I parted from him with a ‘I’ll think about it’, and it wasn’t lost on me that it was a rather romantic notion.  I spent the better part of an hour trying to unpack books and albums and pieces of memories that would look good on display.  My hands paused on the Deep Purple Gatefold.  It had been ten months since I had seen him during the pre-show meeting.  Billie had recovered and taken back control of the account and everyone went about their merry way.  

      I had avoided anything dealing with the band and even more importantly, Jake.  I threw my whole focus into my relationship with Frank and of course, work.  The job was taking another turn and growing all the more for it.  I had insisted on keeping some contact with editing and creating, but was finding myself more and more in the wining and dining of new clients.  It was fine.  Way more glamorous than I ever was, but new accounts meant more business.  

      I found myself unable to sleep a few nights after the last box was unpacked and discarded.  Frank was deep asleep.  I slipped out of the bed and wandered down to the kitchen for a cup of chamomile tea.  The night was warm and thick with pending storms.  I watched from the sliding doors, not wanting to deal with the security code that I seemed to forget about at least three times a week.  The lights of the bridges across the river rippled gold and silver on the murky water.  It was beautiful.  The constant strum of traffic and the stirrings of life was always welcomed, even beyond the glass I was staring through.  

     I tucked myself at the dining table with my laptop.  Work was not what was calling to me.  Frank's words about handfasting - whatever the hell that was - was prickling in the back of my skull case.  I took a sip of tea and started searching for the ceremony, digging deeper and deeper.  At first I was panicked that it was part of a wider wedding ceremony, but finally landed on the fact that it was just the piece that he was talking about.  It was a lovely concept that could be tailored to just us.  

      “Caught you,”  he said sleepily from behind me.

      I grimaced in surprise.  I was holding fast to my chest as he dropped a kiss to the top of my head.

      “Why are you up?”  I grumbled as I started to reach for the laptop in an attempt to hide what I was looking at.

      “I discovered my love was missing,”  he answered with a smile.  I knew he had seen it.  “I like that you’re looking at that.”

      No point in being coy as he moved into the kitchen for a glass of water.  I shrugged and wrapped my hands around my mug.  “What about it?”

      “Isn’t that what I should be asking you?  Did you like what you found?”  he asked, leaning his lean frame against the counter like a damn model.  

      I couldn’t really hide, so instead decided to be open.  “It was interesting…”

      I watched as his eyebrows raised and lowered with thought.  I wasn’t giving him enough.  I knew I wasn’t.  Clearing my throat, I set my cup aside and found my feet.

      “I liked the idea that we could do this just for us.”

      “Yeah?”

      I nodded.  “I understand that you want this to be more so to show your commitment to us.  I love you for it, too.”

      “But.”

      “But nothing.  I think we should do it.”

      The smile that lit his features made my breath stutter.  My beautiful man was all messy hair and flustered at two in the morning.  His excitement was easy to catch myself in.  He started talking about the cording and creating our own bindings.  We planned it out right then and there - because that’s what we were.  We would then secretly celebrate it calling it a housewarming party.  Perfect.

      True to tradition, we selected the color of our bindings according to the meanings of specific colors.  We decided to create our own cords, based on our commitment to each other, then twist them together.  The first day of May found us on the roof terrace overlooking the river.  Frank had poured us two very expensive glasses of wine while I found a pretty playlist for the afternoon.

      “Where do you want to start?”  I asked simply, my heart pounding clear out of my chest.

      I was fingering my cord as I held it tightly behind my back, hoping like crazy that it would be up to his expectations.  God, it was just the two of us and it still felt like there were a few hundred people watching.  He bent and kissed me, robbing me of my stabbing thoughts.

      “How about we share our bindings?”  he said, taking his out of his back pocket.

      I held mine out with a heavy sigh.

      “What was that?”

      I was finding myself swept over a tide of emotions that I did not expect.  My chest felt like it was full of fire while my throat was coated with concrete.

      “Baby, it’s okay.  Just us here.”  He trailed his fingers across my cheek.  “Do want me to go first?”

      I nodded my head mutely as my eyes totally betrayed me.

     His warm laugh filled me with all the more feelings.  I let out a stupid sob as he wiped at the ridge of my cheek.

      “I picked red for passion.  You have shown me nothing but passion in so many parts of you that are important.  Your work, your life, your thoughts and beliefs are so full of this passion that it’s hard to not think of you without passion being involved.

      “Next was blue for devotion.  You make loving you so easy that it is hard not to imagine myself being devoted to our life together.

      “Gray is for balance.  You showed me that I don’t have to be so serious - all the time.  There is a balance to our life together.

       “Pink to show you that we can have romance.  Silver to let you know that you are treasured.  And finally, purple - this relationship is sacred to me.”

       I cursed softly as I wiped at my face.  He just smiled his perfect smile, holding the three feet of cord before me.  I swallowed hard and held mine up.

       “Black, green, gold, brown and white,”  I struggled through these stupid words.  No way I could be as poetic as him, but he was smiling the whole time.  Those eyes encouraged me to continue.  I let out a groan as I practically danced from foot to foot.  “Strength, health, longevity, grounding, and peace.  Everything that I hope we can share.”

       I sucked in a huge breath like I was about to stumble into a panic attack.  He leaned down and captured my mouth in a kiss.  He whispered his love as he twisted the two cords together and took my hand in his.  I watched full of sniffles and jagged breath as he wrapped our joined cords around our hands.  I have to admit, in hindsight, it was beautiful.  And it was just ours.  

      “Until this love ends,”  he whispered.

      I nodded as he cradled my face.  He snapped a picture of the moment and we carried on, getting ready for our party.  Patrick was the first to arrive with Sidney in tow.  They were lovely as they filled our space with the warmth that all them.  The housewarming was a success.  Pat felt for sure something was up, but he dropped it when I finally just immersed myself in some conversation with Sidney that he found too boring to participate in.  

       In the night’s stillness, we made love until we were both complete messes of each other.  He sacked out so completely that he did not realize that I was once again slipping out of our bed, unable to sleep.  This time, a cup of hot chocolate was my comfort and my laptop was open to the main screen.  There was a scrap of betrayal in my heart that was pulsing.  Grinding at me like a virus that needed to be addressed before it delivered a murdering strike.  

      I pulled up my socials page.  There were notifications from all sorts of friends, and on the professional side, those from contacts around the world.  I ignored them.  I tapped my fingers to the trackpad in debate.  I had awoken because the shadow of him had strayed into my slumber.  The shade of old love lay stoked in a fold of my heart that I was sure had been gone.  But it wasn’t.  I found myself on Jake’s private page, frowning that I was still allowed to be in such a space.  But there he was.  The array of pictures of him and his family and her was astounding.  I felt like I was trespassing.  He was happy.  Every picture was that genuine joy that just radiated out of him like a beacon.  I found myself wondering if he ever married the girl, but there was nothing regarding a wedding.  

       Feeling like a stalker, I closed out and shut everything down.  I missed him.  The absolute polarizing moment that felt like my entire self was being shredded in two - I was so in love with Frank.  He got me.  Held me.  Elevated the idea of us.  I could only imagine the awful hurt that he would feel if he knew I clung to this tiny shred of love that was never to be.  What more, if he would ever find out that that love I held for Jake burned brighter than anything he could ever share with me, I’m sure it would be the end of me.  Fuck.  I felt myself crumble a bit under the weight of my own self hatred.

CD&FE, Part 5.2: Jake’s POV

      “I’ll be right back,”  she said, pointing towards the bathroom.

      The airport was beyond busy.  I sat down with a heavy plunk and the sigh that followed was filled with weariness.  I wanted to be anywhere but heading out to Portland for yet another one of her friends’ gallery openings.  It was great - don’t get me wrong.  It was just literally us getting back from Sydney and jumping right on a plane without getting home to try to shift to changing time zones.  We weren’t in our twenties anymore.  We had just wrapped another tour, this time actually making it all the way around the planet.  It had taken every bit of time for two years, but we did it.  

     Clara had lived through every time change, every plane trip, every bus misadventure - everything with me.  All the while she had accepted the isolation and the absolute chaos that went along with being on tour.  She somehow found the time in those long stretches of me being busy to wander.  Her painting was really beautiful, and seemed to evolve as each month and each destination passed us by.  She never complained.  She never seemed to lag behind or want to return to Nashville and her studio.  In all honesty, I was concerned that we could not flourish under such conditions, but somehow, we were doing just fine.

      Except for at that moment in the Nashville Airport, it was absolutely packed due to weather delays.  My head was throbbing and my patience had been worn beyond thin.  I noticed that she was gone for quite some time when I started to look around to see if perhaps she made her way to a kiosk or was just walking to stretch her legs.  A fan stopped with a look on her face and I was happy to oblige with a quick picture.

      I started to scroll through my phone in hopes that perhaps Clara had found coffee or some form of super caffeine to power through this sludge of jet lag.  I responded to texts from Josh and Mom.  I checked the socials to find that Danny had posted up pictures of his boys playing on dad’s kit.  I grinned at the auburn haired boys in their feral joy.  

      “Hey!”  Clara called out as she was practically running towards me.  “Grab our stuff.  You’ve got to see this!”

      The excitement was just roiling off of her.  Her smile was beaming as she was grabbing at my hand to rush back the way she came.  Her words were pouring out, most of which were lost due to the noise around us, but she was definitely chirping about seeing something while stretching her legs.  She tugged me all the way back to the shops, stopping in the window of one of those stores with all the decor and little trinkets.  There were poster prints framed along the upper walls.  Clara was pointing up towards the top and was practically bouncing.

       “It’s so strange to see something of mine here!”  she said, her frame bounding with excitement.

      Indeed it was one of her pieces she had done a few years prior when we were in Scotland.  It was rough and wild and muted and perfect.  

      “That’s amazing, babe,”  I said as I wrapped my arms around her.  

      It was not the first time we saw her work someplace, but any time we saw it, it solidified that she was truly a professional artist, not just a hobbyist.  We bumbled back to wait for our flight, which finally made it out only four hours later.  Portland came quickly after falling asleep on the plane.  I fought my own self to drag my body off the plane and not be grumpy about it.  At least the hotel was close by.  

      Clara was all full of energy.  I was not.  I might’ve been a bit of a dick about it.  She had already been on the phone with the friends to meet up at a bar.  I knew, however, the moment my feet entered our room, there was no leaving it.  At least not that first night.  She called me old, but you know, I didn’t care.  At least we didn’t argue about it.  She was cleaned up, changed and out the door before I could fully figure out that I really didn’t need to be in public.  

     I wandered down and found a few beers to drag back to the room with what looked like some kind of sandwich.  Perfect.  I chewed my food mindlessly as I scrolled through my feeds.  Somewhere in the course of beer number two, I landed in less familiar territory.  I found myself looking into Y/n’s page.  It had been close to a year since I had last found myself anywhere near her sphere.  It had been nearly five years since the last time I saw her in person.  She looked good.  Beyond good.  She looked happy.  It looked like she was still with the same guy.  Imagine my surprise when she posted up a picture of her hand being held by him with a cord wrapped around it.  I had no clue what it was supposed to mean.  I finally had to look it up only to find that I wanted to vomit.  She was pretty much married to this man - something she had proclaimed to never truly desire.

      I tossed the phone onto the night stand with a curse.  She was happy.  That was all that counted.  I was happy with Clara.  Things were beginning to wear thin on the whole engagement front.  It was really getting old to have the folks question when they could expect us to either show up married or invitations.  Her family was scattered, but the friends were beginning to question if I would ever really commit.  Some voices were louder than others.  But Clara, herself, was beginning to lean towards making it official.  There was a piece of me that just resisted.  I was sure this was the part of me that was still dedicated to the idea that I would finally land in a place where Y/n and I would be together.  It was juvenile hope that drove that desire, but it was there.  Rooted deep in the shadows that Clara just couldn’t reach with all of her sunshine.

      To see Clara in her element was something special.  The night of the gallery opening, we were there, dressed well and champagne in hand as she glided through business partners, friends, and colleagues alike.  She had several commissions that she had been working on that were coming to a close soon.  It was like watching a bird on a branch that was ready to take flight.  She was so talented and unique.  Her nature spilled out into every stroke of her art.  Sometimes, I wondered if she was putting her literal spirit into the paint.  At some point in the show, I found myself off to the side in a darker corner, alone.  There were people around her that I had no idea who they were or what they wanted from her.  And I was fine in my little corner.  I did the partner thing - smiled and waved whenever her gaze turned to mine when she needed reassurance.  Eventually, though, I found myself alone completely.  Her friends were nowhere to be found and Clara was gone.

      I couldn’t help the pang of anger until I dug my phone out to see I had the Do Not Disturb on.  When I turned it off, I was quick to hold my hand over the speaker to dampen down what seemed like a million notifications.  Finally a text had come in that Clara was discussing a show in Chicago with a gallery owner who was quite taken with her collection.  She said to head back to the hotel if I wanted to.  

     Wow.  Dismissed.

     I didn’t like the feeling that washed across me.  I landed in the hotel bar drinking a double bourbon and feeling sorry that I was sitting on that ugly assed stool in that ugly assed bar.  I knew I was being stupid.  This was basically what Clara did all of the tour - waiting.  Waiting for those few hours each day that we could be together uninterrupted.  I could at least extend her the same kindness.  Honestly, though, through the jet lag and the lack of courtesy, I just felt slighted.  

      Up to the room and I once again landed face first into the socials, staring at that picture of Y/n with a short description of what she said was handfasting.  Hurt.  She hurt me each time she would not accept my love for her.  She hurt me with a show of ability to formally love some other man.  Did it squelch the spark that lingered in my soul that was only for her?  No.  God that woman fucked me up in ways no one else could.

  ��    We were in Portland for three more days.  I spent most of the time buried in the bed at the hotel.  Clara was apologetic, but it was work.  Her work.  When we finally reached home in Nashville, it was quiet.  She was in her studio working.  I spent time with the family, and she was working.  I flew up to Michigan to spend some time with the parents, and she was working.  She was really on the precipice of something big and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to step in the way.  I allowed her that space just as she allowed me mine when I was working.

       We were off for eight weeks.  I had eight weeks to write.  With Clara in her own space, I worked with Danny and Sam dusting off a few projects that we had set aside.  I can’t lie, I was feeling a bit of distance between us when it came time to start the festival circuit for the summer.  It was the first time that she stayed behind.  Her opening in Chicago was the last weekend of July.  I promised that I would get a ticket and be there as it happened to be on an off day in between shows.  We were supposed to be in Denver for the start of one festival on a Friday and heading to New Jersey to finish another on Sunday; so really, the events were thankfully lining up right.  No way I would miss that show.  Her big debut.

       I had not been alone on tour in years.  It felt odd.  Sam had brought his whole family since the kids were off for summer vacation.  Danny, too.  Josh and his partner were thick as thieves with their small brood.  And I was alone.  I struggled.  Clara and I tried to connect over video calls and texts.  Late night phone calls did not work as she was either still working or dead asleep from hours of work.  I fought my own selfish need for her to be with me.  To watch my nieces and nephews tear around like we did when we were little made me feel a little removed.  I loved playing with them.  I loved being Uncle Jake.  However, knowing that I had only myself at night while my brothers had the love of their families so close - hurt.

     July had come storming through.  We had criss-crossed all over, soaking up the summer crowds.  I was busy.  Somehow, Denver arrived and I had forgotten to purchase my own ticket to get to Chicago.  I had been saying for weeks that I was going to get a ticket.  Each conversation with Clara, I was literally looking at airlines, and yet, I never purchased said ticket.  The day before the show, I was talking with Josh about the debut.  I was proud, showing off pictures that she had shared with me of what had been selected to be featured in her show.  Mom had called earlier in the week.  Her and Dad were already in Chicago, taking the opportunity to visit family there before showing their support for their almost-daughter-in-law.  I was so caught up in the shows and little things that I simply forgot to get my ticket.

       The night of the Denver show, I was on the phone while waiting for sound check.  One of the assistants took pity on my stupidity and offered to help.  After our check, he returned to me with a few options, all were just impossible.  One option was to fly to LAX first before Chicago.  Another was to fly to Pittsburg then back to Milwaukee with a car rental.  There was a private flight on one of those death traps, but my gut threatened to vomit all over the place just with the thought of being on one of those things.  I could also rent a car - and try to make the fourteen hour drive.  I was fucked.  The best I could do was fly standby.

      “I don’t understand.  I thought you had the ticket purchased,”  Clara said, her voice thin on the phone.

      I was shoving everything into my backpack as fast as I could.  It was seven in the morning and I had a cab waiting for me downstairs.  I was going to sit in that airport and force my way on any flight heading to the Midwest.  I would make it.  I could hear the stress in her tone.  I could hear the disappointment between her unspoken words.  I texted her when I scored a flight to Rapid City.  From there, I’d be on standby, but it was more likely to get me to Chicago before the end of the show.  I would be there.  No matter what.

      I didn’t hear from her.  I knew she was probably beyond pissed off with me.  I had been careless.  I got to Rapid City and found myself stuck.  Storms to the east across Minnesota had stalled my trek.  I could fly back to Denver and hope for the best.  Really?  

      “It was a noble try, Jake,”  Josh said, just before the chaotic mass of Kiszkas and Wagners were boarding the flight to Newark.  “Just get your ass here and you’ll have to sort it out later.  I’m sure Clara will understand.”

      “This was her fucking debut!  I can’t miss this.  She expects me to be there,”  I barked loudly.  

       He was right.  He knew it.  I knew it.  Our obligation was to get our asses to the next show.  It was thirty minutes until her opening when I called.  She didn’t want to hear it.  She knew that I tried but was too busy with her task at hand.  She said she would explain it to my parents before she hung up.  

       Exhausted, I surrendered to a red eye flight to Newark, but had a stop in Minneapolis.  My heart gasped with a deep ache.  It was hard not to feel that it was Fate poking a five pound block of salt in the wound.  Bitch.  

       I didn’t make it to New Jersey until somewhere around five in the morning the day of the show.  Management scolded me, but sent a car around to pick me up.  I slept a few hours before hitting the stage before a crowd of 40,000 people.  I wondered if anyone noticed that I was off that night.  I swear my chest was flayed open for any and all to see how I had fucked up.  

      I tried to call before and then after the set, but Clara didn’t answer.  I called Mom and she gushed how good the show was and how impressive Clara had been.  I knew that she would handle it with grace, but…

      “She’s angry,”  I said, allowing myself to feel my own disappointment.

      “Clara’s got all the right in the world to be angry with you,”  she responded in between talking with Dad.  

       “I can’t fix it, can I, Mom?”

       “I’m not sure, honey,”  she answered truthfully.  “All you can do is show her that you still love her.  That she’s your center, Jacob.  Time will make it up.  Just means you have to try harder at her next showing.”

      I flew home the next day.  Everyone else had a week to spend with the families before a show in Toronto.  I found her in our room with her bags packed and boxes waiting to be filled.  I really had fucked it up beyond repair.

😐  I know.  Just hang in there.  Next posting is messy.  I mean, messier than this one.  

I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you.

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#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #cd&fe #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet AU #jake kiszka AU

[devilat-thedoor]

what happened to what is and what never should be?? i need itttttt

i’m slowly, but surely, getting it finished! i got hit with a god awful cold this past week and i was down for the count. but as of this morning, i’m finally starting to feel better😌 i promise, i’m working on it. but until then, maybe enjoy some of my current favorite/comfort fics🩵

Sémillante - @profitofthedune (literally running to read the newest chapter as soon as i finish this ask. i need it all the time, everyday)

Vigilance - @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon (pretty sure everyone has read this and if you haven’t…..get a grip🤦🏽‍♀️ i’ve never been so sad to see a story end, it’s my number one comfort fic) P.S. Coda outtake. nothing further….

Skin Deep & Boys of Summer - @streamingcolors-gvf (incredible AUs, immaculate smut and just overall insanely beautiful writing)

Cruel Summer - @sacredstarcatcher (i think this is the one that really cemented me in forbidden twin lane😳)

All My Love - @losfacedevil (owwie. only one part right now but fuck….Crystal knows how to bring the pain😢)

Give Me All You Got - @alwaysonthemend (i’ve said it before, i’ll say it a million more times. read this. it’s burned into my brain)

Keep Silent - @stardustvanfleet (you can’t even begin to imagine the extent of the filth liana is capable of…. but it’s a good start)

there’s more, i know there is. i’m gonna have to make an entire fic rec list. but for now, enjoy these talented babes😌

#courts asks #fic recs #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #sammy kiszka #josh kiszka #danny wagner

[readyforthegarden]

Eternal - Part Eleven

A vampire!gvf multi-part dark romance AU (Josh Kiszka x reader, GVF x reader)

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Relationship discussions, talks of sex, angst, mentions of blood, death, vampirism.

A/N: iiiiiiiiitt's baaaaaacckk!!!! thank you to everyone for your patience while i worked through my block for this! i'm not keeping to an update schedule with this one, but the train is back on the tracks so hopefully it won't be months before the next post again! shout out to @joshsindigostreak and @gretavanfleetposts for the unwavering support the entire time and getting me back into it!!

WC: 3593

You kept the dream a secret. It had been so long since you’d had one, it just felt like a fluke. A part of you wanted to tell someone, and you’d almost let it slip to Danny over breakfast the next morning, but you felt as though he would make you do the right, cautious thing and tell Josh about it. So you stuffed it into the recesses of your brain, focusing on helping the tallest human in the house with the chores. 

When you had time to yourself, there was an attempt to find solace in the library, flipping through books and trying to lose yourself in another world of fantasy. Unfortunately there were slim pickings, the brothers, Jake especially, preferring novels of his ‘glory days’ on the seas, recounts of pirate ships and merchant trade routes. The rest were old ledgers, or journals the boys kept about their various travels or more historical non-fiction.

“That’s a good one.” you looked up from your seat in the window, as you read one of the old leather-bound tomes. It rested in your lap, your knees drawn up to keep the pages close in the light of the vintage wall sconce. Jake was standing a few feet away, the moonlight catching the glass of a bottle of liquor and a crystal tumbler. “I particularly like the ruggedly handsome pirate that rescues the small port town from a pillaging.”

“Hm, you mean the one described with long, shaggy brown hair and is…tall?” quirking an eyebrow with a joking smirk, Jake took your jest with a roll of his shoulders.

“When five-four is the average height, five-seven seems incredibly tall.” he chuckled, sitting down on the window seat next to you. He unscrewed the top on the bottle, the amber liquid sloshing around as he maneuvered to pour it into the glass in his other hand.

“No work for you tonight?” Jake shook his head.

“I needed a night off.” he replied, taking a sip from the glass after fastening the cap back on the bottle and setting it next to his feet. “Was thinking about hiding out in here, reliving some old memories.”

“Don’t let me stop you.” snapping the book in your hands shut, you moved to leave, but Jake reached out a hand, resting it on your knee and making you pause.

“I’d be happy for the company,” he smiled softly. “if you don’t mind. You haven’t been around while I’m working in a while.” you sat yourself back again, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Just trying to keep myself busy.” you shrugged. Jake took another sip from his glass, then offered it to you. Wrapping your fingers around the crystal, you brought it to your lips, the smell of scotch infiltrating your nostrils before you took a sip, swallowing down the burn and trying not to wince in front of the vampire. The crinkle in your eyes wasn’t missed by him, but Jake held a reserved smile as he took back the glass.

“Josh has told me you haven’t been sleeping well.” Jake gave you a knowing look, and you crossed your arms over your chest, looking out the window at the grounds. “Have you been having nightmares again?”

“No.” you answered quickly, glancing back at him. The twin raised an eyebrow at your rapid response. “I’m just having trouble staying asleep. I think it’s just being cooped up again. I get restless and then at night I just toss and turn.” Jake watched you, his eyes studying you. Unable to discern if he was looking for the lie in your story or something, else, you looked back out the window, focusing on watching a few sparse, dark clouds float across they starry sky.

“May I try something?” you turned back to Jake, watching him reach out, handing the scotch back to you. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, accepting the glass again. You took a small sip, this one only slightly less scalding, as Jake sat back on the seat more, resting his back against the window glass and tugging one of your legs, resting your foot in his lap. His fingers deftly slipped under the ankle hem of your sock, slipping it off. You opened your mouth to protest, but it turned into a breathy sigh as Jake’s thumbs began working on the bottom of your foot.

“Centuries of life you find that you learn a lot of different things.” Jake hummed softly. “Or, well, you get bored enough that at some point you take up different things to learn. I studied massage therapy for a while in the nineties.”

“You were that bored?”

“Well, opening up a late night spa was a good way to feed for a while.” Jake shrugged. “Lull people into a sense of security and relaxation, it’s almost like hypnotizing them. As an added bonus, they were so relaxed the blood flowed easier, almost warmer.”

“So you’d get them just where you wanted them and then dive in?” the man chuckled.

“I’d always ask,” he responded, his thumb digging into the ball of your foot, making you sigh again. “But late night spas usually got some seedy characters. And if some of the men that came in expected more than what was advertised and bothered one of my workers? Well, they may not have gotten the choice.”

“Ah, you were on your vigilante shit, huh?” you quipped, making Jake laugh again as he turned one hand into a fist, firmly but gently digging his knuckles into the arch of your foot.

“Something like that.” Nodding, Jake continued the foot rub, moving down to your heel. A soft moan slipped from your lips as his thumbs pressed into the skin there. You hadn’t realized how sore and tired your feet were after working around the house so much. Feeling yourself melt back against the wall behind you, you let the book slide off your lap onto the floor. “Feels good?”

“Mhm,” humming your response was the only way to communicate, fearing opening your mouth and letting out another moan. Jake worked on your foot a bit more then gently set it down, taking the other one in his nimble hands and taking the sock off and setting to work again. This time when he pressed his knuckles into the arch of your foot, a gasp tumbled from your lips as a tingle ran through your body. 

You were putty in his hands now, closing your eyes and finally starting to feel the unease creeping out of your body. Jake’s hands were callused from his life before his turning, and he knew how to use them well. It was near instant, the way you felt yourself falling asleep, your head lolling to the side. What roused you out of your potential slumber was the feeling of tepid liquid dribbling down your front. 

             Before you could move to wipe it away, Jake was there, his warm, flat tongue tracing the scotch’s path from the valley between your breasts to the dip between your collarbones. He closed his lips around your skin there, sucking softly. Your heart was thrumming out of your chest at the unexpected touch, and as he pulled back, he smirked, taking in your surprised face.

“Sorry darling, but that’s Glenfiddich.” he winked. “Too expensive to waste.”

“I’m sorry,” you cleared your throat softly, watching Jake’s face move closer. 

“Don’t be.” as he leaned in, his lips looked wet from the taste he’s just had, and a part of you anticipated finding the scotch would taste better, almost sweeter if coming from his lips than crystal. Your heart still beat wildly in your chest, the only other sound in the room the crackling fireplace. In your minds eye, there was a brief vision of Jake taking you on the large area rug in front of it, wild and passionate. 

Just as you felt Jake’s bottom lip brush against yours, a loud thud  echoed in the room. You jumped back with a gasp, yet Jake remained where he was, tongue in cheek. Looking over, you saw Josh standing only a few feet away, a large tome at his feet, settling in the dust it expelled out on impact. 

“Jacob.” his voice was low, his jaw clenched. 

“Hello Josh,” Jake smiled. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it? Would you like some scotch?”

“I would like to know what you were doing just now.”

“Josh, it’s-“ Jake cut you off, grabbing your thigh and giving it a squeeze. 

“I was just helping her relax,” Jake answered innocently. “Gave her a nice foot rub, had a bit of scotch. Licked the scotch she spilled off her body.” 

“And what makes you think you can touch her yet?” Josh quipped, glaring at his younger twin. The word yet stood out in your mind like a sore thumb as they prattled on. 

“Forgive me, but if I have to stare at the claw marks she left in the mahogany on my desk, I should like a few of them to be from me.” Jake snipped back. 

Josh looked from Jake to you and back again a few times before holding out his hand towards you. 

“Come love,” his tone was soft towards you. Removing your legs from underneath Jake, you stood up and took Josh’s hand. “Jacob, get Sam and meet us in the den in half an hour.” he turned then, startling you into motion and to keep up with him. 

When the library doors shut behind you, you opened your mouth to speak, but Josh shook his head. He led you to your bedroom, opening the door and gesturing for you to walk in first. You did so slowly, waiting for Josh to begin scolding and interrogating you, but it didn’t come. Instead he moved to your bathroom, turning on your shower. He was slow, purposeful, in his movements. You followed him into the bathroom and locked eyes with him as he stood in front of you.

“Josh, I’m sorry,” you tried to explain what was happening in the library when he walked in, but he shushed you again. Instead, he grasped the hem of your shirt, lifting it up your torso until you raised your arms for him to pull it off over your head. He kept his eyes on yours as he undressed you, letting the materials fall to the floor at your feet. Taking the hair tie off your wrist, he gathered up your hair, twisting it gently into a bun to keep it off your body.

Opening the glass door to your shower, he watched you walk in before shutting it. “You’re not coming in?”

“We don’t have enough time.” Josh answered, a small hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes finally wandered your body. On their way up, they stopped at your neck, and you saw a flash in his eyes. “Wash up and meet us in the den, please.” Once you nodded, he left, the door latching quietly behind him. You stepped into the hot spray of water, happy to have something to wipe away the sticky feeling the liquor and Jake’s saliva had left behind on your chest. 

Once you were done, you dressed quickly in clean clothes, heading down the large staircase to the den. When you arrived, you were greeted with the three Kiszkas. Jake was leaning against the mantle, his crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid again. Sam was draped over the couch, a lazy, smarmy smile on his face as you walked into the room. Josh halted the pacing he was doing in between Jake and Sam, gesturing you to sit on the end of the couch Sam wasn’t occupying.

“Okay, can someone tell me what’s going on? The last time we were in this room like this, it was to tell me I’m being hunted by an ancient vampire that controls an army of demons…” you looked between the brothers waiting for one to tell you that you’d been found. A brief spike of fear shot through you, wondering if that thought was about to come true. Would you have to run again? Taken somewhere to hide? And how long would the running go on for before the family grew tired of you and just gave you up?

“No, no, we haven’t been alerted to anything.” Josh shook his head. “However, our conversation the other night led us here.”

“What conversation?” you furrowed your brow. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“When you told me you’d like to be shared.” Josh clenched his jaw after answering, watching the heat rise up in your cheeks. Sam sat up straighter on the couch, the move bringing him slightly closer. The ‘yet’ from earlier echoed in your head again, and you were starting to understand. “I brought the idea to them and they agreed.” you stared at Josh before regaining control of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, what?” you blinked. “Josh that was in private.”

“We all heard it, pet.” Sam grinned. “There isn’t much privacy around vampires.” your face grew hotter, which only made his grin wider. 

“And we’re more than willing to grant your wish.” Jake smirked from his place by the fireplace. While there wasn’t one lit, the image from your imagination earlier popped back in briefly. “That is, if you still want it.”

“Still want us.” Sam’s voice was low in your ear. He’d moved flush against you now, pulling your hair back away from your face gently as if drawing a curtain open. You replayed the discussion in your mind, thinking of all the ways you imagined Jake, Danny, and Sam torturing you with pleasure. “You may as well say it, I can hear your heart practically breaking your rib cage.”

“Josh, you’re okay with this?” you looked up at him, taking in his dark eyes. He looked only at you, giving a curt nod. 

“There are boundaries we need to go over.” he moved to stand in front of you.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying your best to ignore Sam as he walked his index and middle fingers up and down your thigh. 

“There will be nobody else in my bed.” Josh stated his first rule. “And I would prefer it if no one else was in yours.”

            “That’s reasonable, go on.” you agreed. 

“You may be bitten, but you are not to be fed on by anyone other than myself.” Josh shot a look at his brothers. “Is this understood?” the brothers confirmed under their breaths, seemingly annoyed this was one of the conditions. “Fangs only, no full bites.”

“I do love a good fang-warming.” Jake chuckled under his breath. “Is that all, Josh?”

“No, that isn’t all.” Josh mocked Jake with a sneer, and you giggled, quickly covering your mouth. The sound of your laugh turned Josh’s head back to you momentarily.

“She can stop this at any time. No matter what the situation is, she is in control.” you liked the feeling those words gave you. Finally, something you could have authority over. While it wasn’t much, with the way your life had flipped upside down, the idea sat well with you. 

“A lot of rules for them, any more for me?” you asked. Josh walked forward, taking your jaw softly in his hand and raising your head up to look up at him directly. His thumb swiped across your cheek as he gazed down.

“Remember that what I said at the end of that conversation is still true.” he murmured. “You will always be my first priority.” moving your head in his hand, you managed to press a soft kiss against the pad of his thumb, a sign that you took his words to heart. Deep from the recesses of your brain, you could hear the dark, harsh voice telling you it was all lies again. Before you could force it back, Sam’s voice caught your attention.

“Now that the rules are all settled, why don’t we start having some fun, hm?” he in turn reached out, taking your face from Josh’s hand into his own, turning you to him. You took your head out of his hand, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. Josh was making no attempt to hide his smile while Sam frowned. Jake just looked curiously on from his place by the mantle, watching the scene unfold.

“Okay, that’s not how that’s going to work.” you scoffed. “If you want to start having ‘fun’, I suggest you put effort in. Seduce me, for christs sake.”

“I would like to point out, I was doing a very good job of that earlier,” Jake interjected, raising a finger from his glass to emphasize his statement. “I was interrupted, unfortunately.” Josh’s smile grew into a satisfied smirk and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to try again.” you shrugged. The chiming of the clock on the mantle counted out six times, and you smirked. “And it looks like that’s it for tonight boys. Sun is almost up.” you turned on your heels, marching out of the den and back towards the staircase to go to your room. 

Part way down the hallway, a question popped up in your mind and you turned quickly again to go back and asked. A sharp gasp pulled from your lungs when you were greeted by Josh, only a few paces behind you. 

“Fuck! What are you doing?”

“Well I’m not about to let you start sleeping with my brothers without making sure I remind you who you belong to fully.” His lips fell upon yours and you felt your arms reach out, grasping his sides as his own hands held you close. Letting him guide you back, it wasn’t long before you felt the end of a bed pressing against the back of your legs. From the lingering smell of your body wash, you put together he had led you where you intended to go alone.

“Mm, wait,” you breathed as you pulled away from Josh’s plush lips. “I had a question.”

“You always do,” Josh hummed with a sigh, kissing across your cheek and down your neck. “Ask, love.”

“Where was Danny?” you asked your question, feeling Josh pause in his affections. “He wasn’t in the meeting.”

“Daniel is not involved in this arrangement.” Maneuvering your body you looked at him curiously, causing him to sigh again. “The question in our conversation was if you’d like to be shared with my brothers.”

“And I said yes.” you replied, feeling Josh’s hands loosen on your waist. “And Danny is a brother.”

“While Samuel may feel as such, I do not.” Josh sniffed. “He is not my brother, therefore he is not involved.”  you looked at Josh for a few moments, and then stepped out of his grasp. 

“I’m tired, I’m going to get some rest.” Josh watched you with pursed lips, gauging your mood. You began turning down your bed. 

“You’re upset.”

“I’m not.” you said simply, beginning to change into pajamas. “I just don’t think it’s fair. You said I was in control.”

“You are,” Josh pressed, stepping closer to you as you finished changing. “But that is a boundary I’m not willing to budge on.” 

“Why?” you set your hands on your hips. “Why should Danny get the short end of the stick? He does everything for you three, and for me. The least you could do is show him some appreciation, let him in on the ‘fun’.” Watching Josh struggle was something you weren’t used to. He looked at a loss for words in front of you as his eyes searched your face for any sign of relenting. When he found none, he rolled his shoulders back. 

“As I said, I am not willing to negotiate that boundary.” he repeated quietly. “You can have the deal as is, or we can end it all here. Your choice.” Biting the tip of your tongue gently, you shook your head. 

“I want an explanation.” 

“I gave you one.” Josh’s eyes were firm now. Butting heads like this would get you nowhere, especially when one of his brothers wasn’t there to stir the pot in your favor. 

“Fine.” Sighing, you stopped pushing back, instead sitting on your bed. “It was a shitty one though.” Josh was by your side on the bed in an instant, leaning over and cupping your face. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, though this time there was no fight behind it.

“Know that I have my reasons, and let that be enough.” he rested his forehead against your temple, a rare show of submissiveness. Your defense crumbled, and you nodded, turning and letting your lips graze his forehead. He pulled back, kissing your lips softly before nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“I like this side of you,” you mused softly, letting him move your body back into the bed, your head resting on your pillow. He let his own come to rest on your chest, flattening out his body against yours. 

“It’s just for you, my love.” Josh breathed against your skin, listening to your heartbeat against his ear. “I’ll drink you dry if you ever tell anyone about it.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” you chuckled under your breath, threading your fingers through his curls. Your body began to relax as you felt him do the same against you, easing you into the most restful sleep you’d had in days, worries of another nightmare far away with Josh so close.

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @radmads-gvf

#josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x reader #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fic #josh kiskza #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #eternal fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

On the third day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A One-Bed fic with whiny sub!Jake, and it's a Neighbor's AU, too!

Christmas Song Pairing: “Christmas Eve" by Justin Bieber

Trope: One Bed

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, F. Dom, M. Sub, pet names, a tiny bit of restraint, a single tear, begging, oral sex (f. receiving)

Words: 4.4k

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind words and generous reblogs, tags, and comments, they mean the world to me! They're also addictive, just so you know ;) Anyways, this one got away from me a bit, so I've decided that each boy will have one longer smut piece and the others will be short and under my self-imposed word limit. Except for Danny. My love gets all the long smut.

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

“Mom, I frew up.”

You almost slammed the door on Jake’s face when he tiredly looked at you with his mournful, moony eyes, but the fact that his own joke only made his lips twitch told you that he actually had a reason to be at your apartment door at 1:45 am. 

The twins were good neighbors. Relatively, at least. You could sometimes hear them arguing through the wall, and other times, you had to send them a text to get them to stop playing their instruments into the wee hours of the morning. Your little duplex townhouse walls weren’t all that thick, but other than the occasional noise complaint that they always dutifully listened to, you were glad to have the happy-go-lucky musicians next door. With how many game nights you’d had and beers you’d shared, you’d even go as far to say that you were friends.

So, you sighed and leaned against the frame, looking at the man expectantly. “What do you need, Jake? This beauty needs her sleep.”

Jake nodded back to his own place, making a face that was both pitiful and disgusted at the same time, which was quickly explained when he said, “Josh brought someone home, and usually some headphones will fix it, but…oh god, please don’t make me describe my trauma.” 

He shivered in the cold December air, and that’s when you realized that he didn’t have shoes on and the only clothes protecting him from the wind were his threadbare sleep shirt and equally frayed plaid pajama pants. All in all, he looked like a little puppy, trembling from the cold and without a place to sleep for the night.

You were no monster; there had been enough nights in your life as a roommate where you wish you didn’t have ears at all that you recognized and acknowledged his pain, but the thing was, you weren’t sure what he wanted you to do about it.

“I won’t. But I..sorry, I’m just not sure what this has to do with me.”

Trying to make it as gentle as possible so that you didn’t put him off, there was really no roundabout way to go about the question. Especially not when its answer would get you both out of the cold.

Jake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Oh. Sorry, I just thought, you know, maybe I could use your guest room? I mean, if you’re comfortable with that,” he said quickly. “We’ve been neighbors for a couple years now, but I don’t want to assume anything. I would rather ask and get rejected though, than try than have to deal with that,” he said venomously, looking back at his place with that same pronounced frown on his face.

You appreciated his attempts to make it your decision but, again, there was just one problem. “I don’t have a guest room,” you explained, grimacing as his face fell. The situation must have been dire if he was that downtrodden after finding out that your second bedroom was an office since…well, since it was just you living there. “But…my couch does double as a futon. It’s not super comfortable, but if you wanted to crash there, I guess, feel free.”

Pure relief spread across his features, and you opened the door wider to allow him in, cursing yourself for not just bringing him in at the beginning and saving you both some body heat. “Anything,” he muttered, quite seriously.  “Literally anything else but what I was dealing with over there. She sounded like a fucking banshee giving birth. And there’s no way my hobbit brother is that good with his dick.”

You snorted, retrieving some sheets from a bin in your hallway closet. “Your hobbit brother… that’s also your twin? That one?” Jake bobbled his head, but didn’t say anything as he began to tug at the back of the couch to free the bed. “Also, it doesn’t have to be his dick,” you pointed out, but Jake shook his head violently at your revelation.

“No. No, no, nope, no thank you I am finished thinking about that twerp in any way, shape, or form for the night.” His words were less convincing when they shook like a dog’s growl as it played tug o’ war. He seemed to be losing the fight with the couch, and you stood there, shamelessly admiring his form in half-amusement and half-serious appreciation.

He had a backside that was better than yours, and after all the years of being ogled at by men as you went about your daily tasks, you figured the universe could look away this one time.

“Oh shit!” he yelped, falling back on that perfect ass as the couch came half-loose with a pop, a grind, and then the tinkle of tiny, flimsy metal screws hitting your floor.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, staring at your mutilated couch that was now propped up on one end and slanted in a way you were certain it wasn’t supposed to slant. And didn’t seem all too eager to go either back down or all the way out, no matter how much you half-heartedly pushed at it.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Jake said defeatedly after a moment. The apology was clear in his voice, and you knew this was bound to happen sooner or later; the couch was, after all, a remnant from your college days. Even then, it had been a curbside find that you and your roommate had tied to the roof of your car with borrowed bungee cords. “I’ll buy you a new couch.”

While you wouldn’t decline the help, it obviously wasn’t his fault entirely, so you shrugged and returned the blankets to their place in the closet. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. Contribute a fourth of the cost to a discount couch from Facebook Marketplace and I’ll let you off the hook, destructo,” you joked, turning around to face him again. Now that the couch option was gone, Jake was clearly unsure of where he stood, staying at your place.

“Your bed doesn’t happen to be a bunk bed, right?” he asked dryly, knowing that it wasn’t from the very few times he’d seen it. It got a small chuckle out of you as you thought about your options, considering a few different solutions when Jake sped the process up. “Well, sorry to bother you, Y/N. Thanks for letting me almost-crash here. I’m gonna…go bash my brains out.”

It was obvious he wasn’t fishing for anything else – he was genuinely expecting to go back to his flat of sin without another thought to finding a different solution, but you quickly took the few steps to get to him before he took off and met his questioning gaze. “Wait, Jake. Just…it’s late. Stay here, we can share the bed.”

Neighbor friends could totally innocently share a bed. Call it the proverbial cup of sugar. 

His eyes grew saucer-wide, and he jerked his head back slightly at the suggestion as if you’d just proposed he buy a leather flogger and build a dungeon. “Are you sure?”

You looked at him, completely deadpanned. The late hour was getting to you, and you just wanted to make it to bed before the sun came up again. “No, I was pulling your chain.” Jake smiled sheepishly as you continued, “Yes, dumbass, I’m sure. I offered, after all. And in the name of complete platonic-ness, either join me in bed or sleep in the street. Up to you.”

He obviously chose to follow you into your bedroom, and since both of you were already in your pjs, you slipped under the blankets as if it was the most natural thing ever. “Thank you again, Y/N,” Jake whispered, once you’d flicked the lamp off. 

“I’d say any time, Jake, but if you wake me up at this god-forbidden hour again because your brother is having sex, I’ll move.”

You heard his huff of laughter at your empty threat and you smiled, too, already starting to drift into that hazy state between sleep and consciousness. The fan and low brown noise you had playing from phone was enough to drown out the strangeness of someone else in the room with you – the extra intakes and exhales of breath, the scratch of blankets, the dip of the mattress – and you would have been totally content to fall asleep then.

If it weren’t for Jake’s incessant moving. 

The first time he shifted, it was fine – didn’t even register. But then he rolled over again. And again. And again.

“Jake,” you groaned, flopping your hand behind you without a care for where it landed. “Stop fucking moving.”

“Sorry,” he responded softly, voice a little higher than normal.

That would have been that, but then it wasn’t rolling over, but he was obviously still moving, and you could feel it. You might have had a Queen-sized mattress, but that didn’t mean you weren’t unconsciously hyper-aware of someone else in your bed when you were used to sleeping alone.

“Oh my god, Jake,” you exclaimed exasperatedly, turning your lamp on and abruptly rolling over to see just what the problem was. “What is wrong? Are you sleeping on a pea or something, princess?”

In the dim light from the wax melter candle plugged into your wall, Jake stiffened, and he didn’t answer.

Thinking your words came out too harshly, you sighed. “Sorry. I’m not mad, I’m just trying to sleep. Seriously, though, what’s wrong? Do you need to cuddle to get to dreamland or something?” you joked lightly in an attempt to clear the air.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Jake’s answer was so soft, you nearly didn’t hear him. But once his words registered, you furrowed your brow, confused and a little offended that he couldn’t even crack a joke back, because now you felt a little embarrassed of your joking suggestion. “Okay. Because one of us is a ticking time bomb or something? I wasn’t being serious, Jake.”

The offense must have shown through your thinly-veiled attempt to hide it, because Jake was silent for a second, and then croaked out, “I wouldn’t want you to hate me.”

Now laying down again, facing away, your confusion outgrew your offense, and once again, you rolled over, seeing that Jake had remained stiff as a board with his back to you. “Why would I hate you?” you asked genuinely, less edge to your voice.

But Jake didn’t answer. Didn’t have to, because when he shifted again, the movement originating from his hips and obviously something Jake was trying to suppress. You finally took in the way he was scrunched up, knees pulled to his chest and arms tucked where you couldn’t see them. You recognized that position, from one past boyfriend that always seemed to get an erection at the worst possible times.

“Are you…” you let the sentence trail off, and Jake sighed out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a creep, I promise,” he said with conviction, if a little shakily. Out of nerves, arousal, or fear, you didn’t know, but you felt bad for him all the same.

Sometimes it happened – you knew that. It was basic anatomy. It was also basic anatomy to understand why the blankets started feeling a little warmer, and why you began to get the same impulse to shift your hips as Jake seemingly had. There was a very attractive man in your bed, hard and a little vulnerable because of it, that you admittedly had experienced fleeting thoughts of desire for.

“Jake,” you said softly, breaking the tense silence. “I don’t think you’re a creep. And I also don’t want you to think I’m a creep.”

Jake peeked over his shoulder at you, straining his neck to catch a glimpse. “What? Why would I? I’m the one who got in your bed and– and fucking immediately got an erection.”

“Mmmhh,” you hummed, acknowledging the truth of his statement. “But I’m the one who’s having filthy thoughts about it.” When you heard his swallow harshly, you delivered the final blow. “And I’m the one about to offer to help you take care of it. If you want, of course,” you assured lowly. “If not, you can use the bathroom and we’ll never speak of it again.”

You waited on bated breath for Jake’s response, and he finally responded, his voice breaking in the middle of the word, “Please.”

Excitement lit up your extremities, and you tingled with a newly-found energy as you rubbed your thighs together, your body’s natural response now magnified tenfold with the promise of action. “Thank you Jesus,” you breathed, waiting for Jake to turn around. “Come on, Jake. Show me what we’ve got.”

He hadn’t so much as touched his shoulder blade to the mattress when you pushed the covers off, licking your lips at the tent in his pants. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” Jake asked, watching you watch him with a predatory gleam in your eye. “Because I’m pretty sure this has happened before, but I woke up with a mess to clean in the end. It wasn’t fun.”

You chuckled and gently put your hand to his cheek. “I dunno. Does this feel real to you?” You planted your hands on his chest and swung your leg over his hip. Once you settled your weight over his cock, a broken noise escaped his lips, and his hands came up to rest shakily on your thighs, flexing up into the friction. “Feels pretty real to me.”

“Pretty damn real,” he repeated, gulping down air and squeezing his eyes shut.

Shifting your hips so as not to torture the poor man, you watched him accept your gifts, and eventually his face relaxed as he let you work. “Good. I have to ask, though: what got you so worked up in the first place?”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to peel your shirt off, not when you wanted an answer. But the unwavering attention that Jake payed the slight sway of your breasts, moving with the little shifts of your body, was a suitable second prize. You upped the stakes again, though, splaying your hands out under his shirt and working it off, as well. The growing wetness between your legs was already beginning to demand more, and you didn’t intend to keep either of you waiting for long.

So instead of insisting on an answer, you got off and relished in the small whine that came from the man who blinked sluggishly at the loss of your weight and heat against him. But when you unceremoniously stripped your pants off and then smacked his hands away from his own drawstrings, you said, “No. My house, my rules, Jake. And the rule here is that I get to unwrap all the gifts you’ve brought me tonight. Such a good guest,” you cooed, dragging his plaid pants down until his cock sprung back up, bobbing with a shiny tip that was begging to be sucked.

Not one to keep yourself from what you wanted, you bent down and thumbed across the skin of his hip at the taste of salty precum, spreading across your tongue as you swiped and swirled it around his head, pulling off with a pop as soon as he gasped and bucked his hips up. “Please don’t stop,” he asked, so polite even worked up as he was.

“But you never answered my question,” you laughed with a shake of your head, mounting him again and spreading your cunt so that you could rub your clit along the length of his cock for your own relief. He moaned quietly and took what you gave him, no attempts to change the pace, the pressure, the movement – nothing. “You’ve been so good for me otherwise, Jakey. Answer me, and then I’ll get you all suited up so that I can fuck you. Get you the good relief you deserve.” He struggled to keep his volume down, but you saw the way his lips trembled. “What got you so worked up?”

He was apparently more desperate than he let on, though, because when he was able to find his voice, it was a weak little whimper that sent another wave of arousal through you; so much that it made your head spin with want. “The sheets,” he whined, fisting them in his palms. “They…they smell like you. And when you— you…” 

With your grinding becoming nearly too slippery to continue, you knew you had to fuck him soon before he came from this alone. “When I what?” you asked, climbing off of him to retrieve a condom.

You wiped him off for safety and then made sure the latex was securely on before you poised him at your entrance, waiting for his final answer.

Jake watched your with hooded, hazy eyes, desperation written out on his features. “I liked it when you called me princess,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled victoriously, sinking down on him until his balls were pressed against your ass in one go, and you felt him twitch inside of you. “That’s so sexy, princess,” you admitted. “Thank you for telling me.” Your eyes closed as you stretched yourself out on his cock, beginning to bounce on him. The resulting audio was almost better than the visual. You wouldn’t have pegged Jake as one to beg in bed, but he had been brushing off all the subconscious labels you’d attached to him since arriving.

“Holy shit,Y/N, oh god, your pussy is–” he cut himself off with a grunt as you slid your hands up his arms to his wrists to pin his hands to bed, watching as he immediately clutched at the pillows above where they lay, immovable with your weight resting on them. “Hold me down,” he cried out. “I– ah-h– please, please, please, fuck me harder,” he whined, shifting his hips up as you came down, the explicit sounds of skin meeting skin slapping out into the silence. 

“Yeah?” you panted, loving the way you had front-row seats to every face his features morphed into as you experimented with him – taking notes of what made him tick. “You like it when you can’t move, princess? When you can only lay there and take it?”

He nodded, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you lurched forward on your thrust down, taking him for the ride of his life. “I’ll take anything you give me, beautiful,” he breathed, straining against your hold as he got closer to finishing. “I don’t mind it a little rough.”

“Good to know.” You leaned down and let your hips slowly grind in circles as you pinched the skin where his neck met his shoulder between your lips, nipping it before saying, “Keep your hands there, and don’t make me tell you twice.”

Jake agreed willingly. “Anything.”

Your nails scraped lightly down the undersides of his arms to his chest, where you dug them in to make little crescent marks and continued your quest to make him cum harder than he ever had before. “Fuck,” you moaned on an exhale, trying to find your own g-spot with Jake’s dick. “You’re so good for me. Who knew that Jake Kiszka, rockstar extraordinaire, was such a whiny little princess in bed?” you chuckled, looking down at his red face, his shiny, open lips, his hooded eyes, looking at you like you hung the moon. Just to drive the point home, you combed your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp until you reached the back, where you tightened your grip to make Jake shout and arch back, exposing his throat to you. “That’s it,” you cooed. “Let go for me. Give it up. Cum inside me.”

He was obviously holding himself back, and he told you why when he panted out, “What about you? I wanna– I– please, please don’t make me cum yet,” he begged, squirming underneath you but still not letting his hands dip below where you’d put them and told him to stay. “I want to feel you cum with me! I don’t want to cum yet, I don’t want to be a bad fuck– I always make them cum,” he claimed, still thrashing, trying to get way from the steady pleasure tightening his balls and making him leak, getting him harder and harder and harder. “I can make you feel so good, Y/N, just let me– let me– shit, FUCK no no no no noooo—” he moaned, long and low and pitiful. 

His pleasure manifested throughout his entire body and he lost control for a second, jerking and spasming as he filled the condom to the brim. His teeth were bared as he drew breaths in to fuel the sobs and grunts that came out, his arms moved listlessly against the sheets in a sacreligious snow angel, and you could feel his legs twisting and bucking as you continued to ride him into oblivion. 

You finally slowed once a single tear fell from his eye. Wiping it away, you sucked the pad of your thumb into your mouth, watching his chest and stomach heave with a deep-seated satisfaction running through your veins. Still buzzing with excitement and arousal, you finally leaned down to kiss him, grinning as he kissed back desperately, vying for your every touch, word, and request and pliable with the desire to please you.

“So needy, Jake – crying because I wouldn’t let you help me cum. But don’t worry, princess,” you murmured, smoothing his hair back away from his fucked-out face. “I still intend to collect my pleasure. And these perfect little Cupid’s bow lips are going to get me there.”

He kissed your fingertips as you skated them across his mouth, whispering, “Thank you,” and then pushed himself up on his forearms, moving to crawl between your thighs. And as incredible as that would be to see, you stopped him with a palm in the center of his chest, pressing him down to the mattress once again. 

You shook your head. “Ah, ah. I quite like seeing you on your back for me,” you said, licking your lips. “You’re so pretty splayed out like this.”

Jake made a strangled noise and didn’t protest even for a second. “Works just fine for me, beautiful. Come here; let me show you how grateful I am for taking such good care of me tonight.”

He tugged at your hip and you went willingly, turning around so that you could see every shift, flex, and squirm of his body as you positioned yourself over him, hovering just above his face. You hummed. “Ready for me?” His response was to pull you down against him, and your clit throbbed as soon as it got friction again, making you sigh. “That’s it, princess, show me what that mouth can do. I want to feel how thankful you are that I let you into my bed,” you said breathlessly, starting to move and ride him again, this time higher up his body, but just as good. “That I was so understanding when you couldn’t control that cock of yours and that I used it so that you could get off.”

Even though you hadn’t established it (and you really should have), you lifted off of him when he tapped you, making sure he could breathe. But he didn’t take that time to take any deep breaths, only to say, “Don’t forget about the couch,” before licking into you again.

You smiled at his reminder, and reached back to grip his hair again. His whine traveled  throughout your pussy and made him sucking on your clit just that more enjoyable afterwards, sensitive from the vibration. He was quickly torn away from you as you bore down with more pressure, feeling your clit brush his bottom lip and then his tongue as he stuck it out for you to use for your pleasure. “You’re right. We can figure out a proper consequence later, though. You were begging to make me cum; I don’t think I should reward you for breaking my shit.”

With him manipulating that particular muscle, you quickly approached the peak you’d caught sight of while riding his dick, and you didn’t stop this time. You did, however, reach down to take his sensitive cock in your hand, roughly pumping it up and down until he cried out into your cunt, just to see him twist in overstimulated pleasure. 

“Come on, Jake, get me there, just a little bit more,” you directed, feeling your orgasm balloon inside of you. “Yes, Jake, yes, yes, yes– there you go-ooo, princess. Just what you wanted,” you keened, keeling over as you lost the strength to stay upright. You let Jake lap at you for a little while longer, shivering as he gently brought you down by avoiding your clit, but laving attention on the rest of your pussy. He cleaned you up like that, gathering all the excess slick on his tongue and swallowing it down. 

You were sure that he’d suck on you until you told him to stop, but eventually, you dismounted him, your stomach clenching as Jake made a small noise of complaint as his oral fixation was taken away. 

“Come here,” you sighed, opening your arms for him. You weren’t about to let him go to sleep without proper aftercare. It only took a small roll for Jake to plaster himself against you, legs tangling with yours, his fingers skirting across your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, and a sigh that puffed out warm against your throat as he relaxed into your embrace.

This time, when your fingers made their way to his long locks, you were gentle in petting him, softly massaging the back of his neck as your other hand rubbed comforting circles on his lower back. “I think I lied,” you said sleepily, and Jake made a questioning noise against your skin. “I think I want you to come here every time your brother has sex from now on. Okay?”

Jake placed a lazy kiss to your neck. “Is it okay if I don’t wait for Josh to sex? Who knows when the next time he gets lucky enough that someone looks down and sees him will be,” he giggled, fully aware that he was only a half-inch taller. 

You smiled, warmth spreading through your limbs. “Mmmm. Yeah, princess. You come over whenever you want to. I’ll keep the bed warm.” With one last kiss to his brow, you closed your eyes. 

Thank goodness for your shitty college couch.

~~~

Tag list:

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#12 days of tropemas 2022 #tropemas 2022 #gvf fics #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #gvf smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut

[starshine-wagner]

I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it. I need a GVF at Hogwarts AU where the twins are rival twins with Fred & George and always trying to out-twin each other.

#pls someone anyone #i can give ideas if u write it out

[welightthefire]

Thank you for tagging me @streamingcolors-gvf 😘

I think it might be fun to look back on what we’ve all achieved this year, let you give yourselves a well deserved pat on the back and also share what you love. When you’re done maybe tag someone else so they can share too?

1. How do you feel 2022 has gone in terms of writing?

Ohh boy. I feel like in the beginning of the year, I hit the ground running. I had a lot of ideas and motivation, passion even, and was putting out my best work. Throughout the summer, mostly near the end, I started to lose steam and imagination and that’s something I’m struggling to navigate through right now. I’m hoping 2023 brings a refreshing bit of inspiration that I can really work with.

2. What pieces are you proudest of this year? It can be a shot/blurb/headcannon, a whole series or even a specific chapter.

Table For Two, without a shadow of a doubt. It was an idea that I came up with last November and sat on for quite awhile. I knew it was going to be a huge project and I wanted to collaborate with someone on it. I’m not the most sociable on here, so I mostly just posted my other writings for awhile and then the most beautiful soul showed up outta nowhere in April and not only did she quickly become one of my absolute best friends, she became the best co-author I could ever ask for to help me bring this idea to fruition.

3. Is there anything you posted that you wish had reached more people? (No such thing as a flop here!) Shout it out, it might catch a new pair of eyes!

Again, Table For Two. I have so much love for the group of readers following along in the adventures of the twins and Syd (and poor Sam), but it’s something that I am so incredibly proud of that I simply want everyone to read it.

4. Can you give us a hint of anything coming before the end of the year? Maybe even a little taster?

You’ll definitely get an update or two from @allieboop and I for TFT, maybe even the end of the series!! I’m also working on a Danny x reader blurb that will be out in the next week or so and a little secret something else, but I can’t say much of anything about it. 🤫

5. Are you setting any writing goals for next year, or just going with the flow? If you are, what are they?

I’m hoping to build my masterlist more. I have some works already in progress which you’ll see on the pinned post on my page, however they won’t be posted until late-winter/spring.

6. Do you have any one shots or finished pieces you're tempted to expand on or revisit next year?

Teach Me Tonight will be getting a part two once TFT is wrapped up and I get some of these other works out. There are some other things floating up in the air, but we’ll just have to see how things turn out first.

7. Is there anything new you're tempted to try out? A new style/trope/AU/another person in the fandom?

I would really love to try my hand at an enemies to lovers trope!! I’m such a sucker for angst when it comes to reading, however, I do find myself struggling to write it sometimes. I have such a fluffy soul lol

8. Now to hype some other writers! What's a piece you read back in the first half of the year that you can shout out?

Amongst The Stars by @samkiszkasfacialhair hands down. It was posted on my birthday this year and to this day, it is the most gut-wrenching piece yet stands as my favorite thing I’ve ever read on this hellsite.

9. And how about something you've read more recently?

Pink Lemonade (WIP) by @garbagevanfleet

Ego (all 3 Parts) by @allieboop

Seven (WIP) by @stardustchordssammy

The Number One Rule by @streamingcolors-gvf and @allieboop

10. A fun one to finish...If you could insert yourself into any fic in the fandom, which would it be and what do you think would happen?

Boys of Summer (WIP) by @streamingcolors-gvf

My girl is in the process of writing a slow burn and confusing the hell out of me and I have NO IDEA what’s going on rn or what to expect, but I can tell you (and she knows this) that I would end up with Jake 😌

Tagging @samkiszkasfacialhair, @stardustbarbarians, and @mintysammykiszka (apologies if you’ve already been tagged)

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : EPILOGUE

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, chapter 12, chapter 13, chapter 14, chapter 15, chapter 16.

Masterlist : Here

Warning : NSFW

AN : Hi everyone, it’s been two years. Ironically enough, this epilogue is set three years later. To be honest I was starting to get bored with this story around chapter 13 or so, and when I finished writing chapter 16, I had already turned over a new leaf in my head so I couldn’t put my mind to writing this epilogue. It took me some time, and I honestly am baffled that some of you still find this fic, read or reread it, fav and share it, etc. Your support had been crazy. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it, and it’s what motivated me to finally finish writing DDAO. I will continue to write GVF fics, but I can’t promise a date, since I’m writing for several fandoms. Also, I’m on Wattpad @SuicidalCatz if you ever feel like dropping by. Talking about this now, you may have noticed the NSFW warning. It was a real challenge to write smut in a language that isn’t my mother tongue. I hope you’ll like this nevertheless. Thank you again for all your support throughtout this series, I’ll be waiting for your feedback and I’ll see you again someday x

                                           EPILOGUE

The sky was devoid of all clouds on this sunny afternoon. The wind was hot, caressing the students’ cheeks like a warm touch while they were all chatting excitedly in the school’s garden. Laying eyes closed on the grass, head against my backpack and joint between my lips, I was hoping the day would never stop and we’d just be stuck in this moment forever.

- I can’t believe we graduated.

Looking like she was at a loss for words, Mandy sighed like it was some kind of fantasy dream coming true. I could practically hear Josh shrug when he stole the joint from me.

- Of course we did, darling, look at us, he said like it made his point.

Knowing where this was going, I was already snickering, and Jake ran a hand through my hair.

- You had to take three re-take exams.

As usual, the twins started bickering, with Josh yelling at Jake that he thinks he’s so smart, and Jake making fun of him for being thick-headed, their fake fight soon covered by our collective laughter, until Sam spoke.

- Yeah, not everybody here wears an ugly ass hat, you know.

Craning my neck backwards to look at him between the green grass and its daisies, I understood he was mentionning the golden graduation hats we all had to wear, along with the robes, while he and Danny sat in the middle, plain shirts and ripped jeans in contrast with our shiny attire. Not really sure what to say, we all went silent out of sympathy, and Mandy gave their hands a gentle squeeze as I rolled over on my belly to see them more clearly.

- The year will fly by in no time, you’ll see, I smiled, trying my best to reassure them.

I often forgot that they were seniors in high school when we first met them, since the academy served both as university and secondary school. To think that they were now starting their last year… time sure flew by.

- Aw Sammy, no need to cry, said Josh teasingly, you know we won’t find another bassist as great as you.

- And as annoying, added Jake unhelpfully.

Nothing had really changed between us. Sure, some fights had broken through, about the band, our friendship, or love. Even Danny at some point had had enough of everyone’s shit and gave the most spectacular tantrum we had ever witnessed. Or some days it was because of Sam, who was feeling bored and therefore acted like a little bitch. Mandy had her fair number of yelling with both him and Josh, when they both went overboard with the playful-turned-sassy banter. As for Jake and I… of course we had ours. Some really ugly, I recalled, but in the end we always got to the other to apologize and reconcile with a hug and a kiss, sometimes more… Those three years went by awfully fast, and it was with a strange sense of nostalgia that my mind filled itself with memories of our time passed together. The concerts, the nights out drinking, or playing board games inside, and others completely depressed and tired because of said nights. That time Danny lifted me under the arms at a rock festival so I could see the stage. And the one we all crashed at their dorm and in Sam’s bed just to piss him off. And that day Josh and Mandy went out in drag just for the heck of it. And Jake… even if I wanted too, I couldn’t think of anything that involved him without adorning a fond smile. He was always there. For every trouble I had, he offered his help. And every laugh, we shared together. The butterflies were long gone, but replaced with something more heartfelt and real, like a connexion. For the first time in my life I was feeling like I was his and he was mine, in a very pure way. I felt whole with him. Not that I could ever tell anyone, let alone the boy himself, it was too embarrassing. The gang had already made me the butt of the joke waaaay more than once, so I’ll pass this time, thank you very much.

- I guess what Sam’s trying to say is that it’ll be lonely without you guys, said Danny.

All heads turned to him, with his big brown puppy eyes and a lopsided, kinda shy grin. It was only a matter of seconds before we all tackled him to the ground and melted into a giant hug.

- We’ll see each other every week end, like we promised, I heard Mandy whispered to Sam.

The couple was still together, after having broke up at least a million times. It was usually after a fight, one of them would go overboard, and the other would slam the door and say goodbye, but somehow they always gave themselves another chance. Their antics had made Jake and I feeling concerned more than once, but even if we proposed the idea to maybe let things at it and move on, they just couldn’t go on without the other. Sam knew from the beginning that Mandy’s big dream was to work in the merciless fashion industry, and it included living in the city after she graduated in order to find a job more easily, and she knew Sam's life was with the band.

Speaking of love affairs, Danny had received a fair amount of love confessions on the school’s facebook page, and from time to time, a girl left a letter in his locker telling him how handsome she thought he looked, which inevitably made him flustered each time, while the other shitheads teased him about it. The drummer dated quite a few girls, but nothing really serious, as he didn’t find the one just yet. As for Josh, nobody could imagine this curly haired troublemaker would be this secretive about his relationships. No one in the gang saw him dating anyone, not even his brothers (even if I suspected Jake to know something about it but keeping silent to honor some kind of twin oath). This had been the main topic of many many discussions, everybody trying and failing miserably to make out some schemes to spy on him, or exposing theories since the boy himself wouldn’t answer to any of our interrogations. Oh, and of course the bastard would wiggle his eyebrows or wink at us every time we had one.

Those three years were crazy, and we went through a lot, and reflecting on it while doing something so simple as drinking booze and chatting in the school’s park seemed kind of silly. It was like the information that all this was over didn’t reach the brain yet. So we just sat here, basking in the sunlight until we noticed it was gone and dusk was settling already. Of course, the students had organized a huge party in the school’s property to celebrate the end of one terribly hard year, but it felt bittersweet to stand in the middle of all those people partying and this loud music knowing that we would never experience all of this again. That it was the last time.

Beginning to feel sentimental, I took Jake’s hand in mine and squeezed it lightly, appreciating the heat radiating through me when he pressed it back. As he turned to take a look at me, a flash of concern crossed his features and I understood he knew what I was thinking. Jake always got me, and I always got him. At first it was hard, because he’s that type of person who doesn’t particularly share deep concerns and prefer to deal with everything himself. But eventually, after our first fight, we both agreed to make some concessions. Communication was… not that great. At least verbal communication. Telling him when I was depressed made me feel silly and awkward, and I guess it was the same to him, but we managed. However, we now knew each other so much that I could tell what every little wrinkle on his face meant. Partyed too hard, Josh annoyed him, forgot something important, was in a melancholic mood, in deep thought about something existential… His body language and facial expressions didn’t have secrets to me anymore. And it was the same for him. It was a bit stupid how it surprised me every time, how well he knew me.

- Come, Jake said over the noise, making no effort to yell because he knew I could probably read the word in his lips.

My boyfriend lead the way through the trees, taking us away from the crowd. By a swift motion of the arm, he told Danny and the others waiting at the beer stand that we’ll be elsewhere for a while, not reacting to their suggestive cheers and cat calls as we disappeared in the dark.

The night was hot and so was Jake, sitting on a tree stump with his shirt unbuttoned to the navel, sweaty chest glistening under the moonlight. He looked ethereal in this setting, like an elf of some sort. Piercing through the trees, the white rays stained the bushy ground with glistening dots, illuminating the grass and highlighting the dust floating peacefully above it, and suddenly the quietness of the setting around us had something enchanting, as if all that noise coming from no more than ten meters away didn’t exist.

- Not having a good evening ?

- It’s weird to think that tomorrow we’ll pack our things and go.

- Yeah…

Silence fell between us. Jake took a sip of his beer, looking elsewhere, suddenly curious about some ruffling leaf noise probably made by some birds or even a rabbit.

We never really talked about it since we agreed it was for the best to go with the flow, but our future as a couple worried me. I knew Josh, Danny, and him were going to go back to Frankenmuth now that they had their diploma, and try to make it in the music industry. And he knew my dream was to become an illustration artist. Until this point in our relationship, we willingly avoided this topic because there was no issue at all. I couldn’t ask him to leave everything behind to stay with me. And I couldn’t just hang out in his parents’ house and wait for him to come home all day, I needed to find a job in what I liked to fulfill my biggest wish.

Now that Jake was sitting in front of me, completely silent and avoiding my eyes, a sense of dread and realization I haven’t experienced for a long time took hold of me. Feeling restless yet powerless, my chest constricted, and it became harder to swallow.

In my head, a small voice I failed to ignore kept repeating « this is it », and the more seconds passed, the more anxious I got that it was right.

Maybe this was the end.

We had fun. It was great. Probably the best three years I’ve ever lived. But all good things always came to an end… right ? After all, it only made sense. School was over, we were all coming home. Visiting  each other on a regular basis was a rather naive idea, and there was a high probability we wouldn’t be able to keep in touch with each other, as it usually happens. So it only seemed logical that Jake wanted to break up with me now.

Maybe he would go back to Mina now that they would be able to hang out and communicate more efficiently. Be happy and forget about me. I wanted to stand up and leave, but the emotion had made my legs weak, so instead I just sat there in silence, trying not to let a single tear fall.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Jake sighed and carefully put down his beer bottle against the tree stump, then looked at me sheepishly, looking like he didn’t know how to phrase it. And when he finally did, he struggled to look me in the eye, and nervously played with his bracelets.

- Listen, I, uh… I wanted to talk to you about something, and I had planned to do it tomorrow, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer, doll, it’s- it’s all I’ve been thinking about for those past weeks.

My head felt light and fuzzy. I couldn’t concentrate at all, the world was spinning, or more like spiralling out of control. I was losing my boyfriend and I couldn’t say a single word to save myself or change his mind. I was in free fall, sitting on a plane about to crash to the ground. The only certainty I had was that there was nothing I could do to make things better, and it was drowning in a sea of questions and voices repeating that it wasn’t fair because I didn’t do anything wrong. My brain kept offering ideas each worse than the next, like sobbing and asking why, or pathetically fall to his knees and ask him to not dump me because I was terrified of losing him and I genuinely didn’t know what life would look like without him by my side, as cheesy and needy as he might have sounded. And everything kept coming round and round in my mind in the mere seconds Jake was talking, making it harder and harder for me not to cry. Focused on his own thoughts, he didn’t seem to notice and kept rambling, but looking somewhat unfazed and disoriented the few times he took a look at me, probably because my whole face must’ve been blank since it couldn’t process everything that was happening at the same time. It always amazed me how things could turn to shit so quickly.

- We had a conversation with the band and they all agreed it was for the best.

That was it. The split images my imagination supplied were the last straw. Unable to hold my tears anymore, they rapidly flooded my eyes and blurred my vision, making me sniffle in the process as my nose went runny.

- So they all agree we should break up ?

I almost didn’t recognize my voice when it came up as fragile and wounded, nothing like the usual blasé or cheery tones I used. As shocked as me, Jake’s head perked up, suddenly taken aback by the tears, like he didn’t expect it at all. The boy looked at a loss for words, and his hands went instinctively towards me, then to his pocket as if checking if he had a hankerchief, then to me again but stopped mid air, unsure as to what to do.

The fact that he had our break up in mind for weeks was horrible, but the band knowing and supporting him was so cruel it made my heart break. Finally regaining some of my senses, I stood up to go back to the dorms but Jake abruptly grabbed my wrist, not wanting this conversation to be over yet.

- What- What’s going on ? That’s not what I meant- I- Shit, wait just let me finish- please, love.

Rubbing my eyes standing there in the middle of this eery fantasy scenery, the night looked now way more different than I had anticipated and I just wanted to go home. In his effort to pull me back to him, Jake had almost fallen from his position and was now halfway sitting with one knee to the ground, staring at me with pleading eyes I couldn’t ignore. His brown pupils showed a deep and sincere sympathy, like he always would everytime I was feeling sick or sad.

- Baby, look at me, he said gently. Why would I ever want to break up with you ? Where did you find this idea ?

Completely taken aback by this sudden revelation, I stuttered some words of explanation.

- But- you said you had something to tell me and you looked-

I motioned to my face in a gesture that I hoped was explanatory enough, and he smiled, nodding.

- I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea. The band had actually a very good news to announce but we were waiting for the right time to say it. After performing regularly at the O’Malley, we started getting more attention, as you may have noticed, and simply put, got spotted by a music producer.

So many mixed feeling were swirling within me I didn’t know how to feel. In a matter of minutes I went from being dumped to not being dumped anymore, to Greta Van Fleet signing to a record label. What the fuck was happening, my brain was about to give out. So that’s exactly what I said.

- What

- Greta Van Fleet is becoming a real band, Jake said more confidently. We signed a record deal.

- Oh my God ? That’s amazing, you guys ! I can’t believe it ! You must be so proud !

I wanted to take him into my arms but my boyfriend smiled a toothy grin and squeezed my hand, taking the other into his, not standing up from his awkward position.

- That’s what I wanted to tell you, he said more seriously and suddenly my anxiety rose up again. We’ll be either locked in the studio for days, or if everything goes really well, on tour for weeks. For us, it’s gonna be fine, because we’ll all be together and the excitation will overcome any fatigue or stress. Well maybe not for Sam and Danny with school and all, but they’ll manage. But the both of us being apart… is another thing.

- So you are breaking up with me.

Dejectedly, I tried to shake his hands off mine but the boy wouldn’t let go, only squeezed harder.

- Doll, please, look at me. It’s very important. We talked about it a lot with the band, and everybody’s cool with it so let me ask you.

His brown eyes met mine with such hope and vunerability that it completely disarmed me. The air around us was still as thick and wet as before, the loud music and people still annoying, we both smelled like sweat and beer and no star was visible in the sky due to light pollution, but somehow he managed to make it romantic just by looking at me in a way no one has ever before.

Without letting go of my slippery hands, Jake leaned more on his knee, and my heart skipped a bit, as if suddenly realizing.

- Will you follow me on this crazy journey ? I know you want to be independant, and I know your dream is to become a full time artist, and I won’t interfere with that. I understand completely if you say no, we’ll manage and I promise I will make up some time for you. But the band and I would love if you’d work for us.

The emotional rollercoaster that was this whole conversation was too much for me to handle, and as Jake wasn’t showing any signs that he would stand up anytime soon, it was me who slumped to the ground in front of him. Firstly because I felt flustered seeing him on one knee like that, and second of all because I didn’t think my legs were going to support me anymore if he kept talking. They had turned to jelly, shaking uncontrollably from both stress and happiness. My whole body was becoming to get filled by a big wave of relief and was now in off mode. It was all too overwhelming for me to handle.

- Are you asking me to be the band’s official illustration artist ?

- We need a cool illustration for our first EP after all. Album covers, posters, flyers, anything, you name it. Love, you’re crazy talented. I wouldn’t be asking you this if I thought overwise. The band would love you to be a part of this adventure. I would love it.

Fighting the urge to scream yes to his face, I took some time to seriously give it some thought. It made sense, to be honest. The band was only making its debut so we weren’t talking about touring already, which made it more simple to begin with. Jake had thought about my desire to work as an artist and provided it to me without making me feel like some sort of sugar baby. He found a creative yet simple way to reunite both our wishes for the future so we could be together and that was honestly the most beautiful gift I could ever receive from him.

Feeling like I would burst into tears again, I nodded vigorously, chewing on my lower lip with a mix of nervousness and excitation.

- Yes ?

Incredulous, Jake repeated the word multiple times as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and took me in his arms in a strong embrace, envelopping me in his warmth and scent. Not in the mood anymore for partying but wanting to spend some alone time together instead, we headed to the dorms and I didn’t wait for him to close the door to kiss him senseless against the kitchen table. Our graduation, our last day, his romantic proposal, the way he had given it a lot of thought and how nervous he looked as he was struggling to find his words, everything had made me like him more, love him more, and by extension, want him more. And judging by how he responded to my kiss, I wasn’t the only one being horny. With one foot, Jake kicked the door shut and put a hand at the back of my head to kiss me deeper, while I was already getting rid of his shirt and throwing it to the tiled floor of the room’s kitchen corner.

Jake’s fingers slided from my neck to the small of my back until his hands gripped my ass, making me moan into his mouth. Losing his patience already, the boy lifted me with enough force to make me hop into his arms and carried me into the next room, having already lost all patience. He stumbled into a couple of discarded clothes and art supplies laying on the ground until his knees bumped into the bed. My back fell to the mattress with Jake’s body following suit, the bouncing motion making our chest and shoulders collide. Our lips found themselves again, hungry and needy, long brown hair getting in the way of our kiss and masking part of our faces, the other being illuminated by city lights coming through the open window like an unwanted guest. The café’s neon signs and street’s trafic lights twinkled on our soon naked bodies, coloring them with dots of flashy red and greens while we both moaned in unision under the noise of the pop music and laughter from outside. Jake’s sweaty silhouette moved to grab a condom from the night table, his figure sensual and seductive in the dusk. Eyes serious and unintentionally provocative when he ripped the package with his teeth, staring at me with want through dark strands of untamed hair. If only he knew how hot he made me, how my whole body ached for him, how he set aflame my loins by his mere presence. My hands went to him again, fingers gently replacing brown locks behind one ear while the other circled around his dick to give it a firm pump, admiring how hard he moaned after this simple motion, head shooting back and mouth agape, beautiful in the painting of shadows and lights dancing on his skin. His fingers were quick to find their way between my thighs, rubbing small circles and making me wetter than I already was while leaving a trail of kisses on my breasts.

- Are you okay baby ?

Panting, the boy was looking at me seriously like he always did, waiting until I nodded, then kissed me once more. With unsuspected strenght, his hands grabbed me by the hips to bring my body closer to his. Mind foggy, he admired the wrist motion stroking his dick through half lidded eyes, arousal written on his face when he was fighting back growls and moans. Quick to respond when I stopped to guide his erection to my pussy, Jake removed his fingers and sighed heavily as he penetrated my deepest parts, planting kisses on my forehead and beginning a slow yet steady rythmn, teasing my entrance with his tip before entering completely, hitting the bottom relentlessly. The bed was cracking underneath us, as if telling us it was in pain, but nothing mattered when Jake was inside me, biting my neck as he murmured my name over and over.

- You’re so beautiful…

- Right back at you, I smiled playfully.

My arms caressed his sticky back, tracing every bump of his spine, until I could take a handful of his ass, giving it an experimental slap that only made him speed his movements.

- Jake, I’m close-, I half moaned, half whined into his hear.

- Yeah ? Come, come for me, his husky voice replied.

The boy bit my ear as I came trembling underneath him, grabbing his shoulders to keep his chest pressed to mine. He was quick to follow, giving a few more deep thrusts into my tightening pussy before finishing inside me, filling the condom and collapsing on my body. In the darkness of the room, our sweaty form was panting heavily, letting out some breathy giggles and resting next to one another after the rubber was in the trash.

- I love you, I said, lost into the warmth of his eyes.

- I love you too. I’m glad you agreed to tag along. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t.

The emotion on his face was visible from Mars, and filled my heart with joy. Softly, I caressed his face, rubbing my thumb on his cheekbone, smiling at him. I loved this, laying in bed staring at each other, exchanging thoughts on nothing in particular. Those moments were easily the best we’ve had together. Jake brought me closer to his heart in his embrace, placing his chin on the top of my head.

- I can’t see myself without you, I whispered. But I don’t even know where I’m gonna live.

- Well, how about you stay at my parents’ house for a while, let’s say until we found ourselves a nice flat.

Suddenly I didn’t know how to react, the word flat resonating in my head. Jake must’ve felt my heartbeat going so wild in my chest that even I felt it, but didn’t say anything, instead he just patiently waited for my answer. That’s when it hit  me that it wasn’t my heartbeat I could feel, but his. He was just as nervous as I was by all of this. In a way a couldn’t explain, it reassured me greatly. We were on the same boat, both anxious yet excited by the forthcoming events.

- You want to live together… ?, I asked, just to be sure.

The boy took some time to search his words before speaking, hoarse voice trying its best to sound confident while in reality he was probably scared I would change my mind about all of this and say no to his offer.

- We’ve been together everyday for three years, and I stay at your dorm at least three days a week. I think it’s safe to say we’re ready for the next step, don’t you agree ?

Yeah. I agreed.

- I’ll be in your care, then.

Despite all of the anxiety and uncertainty it may bring, the future looked promising, and I couldn’t wait to step into this new adventure with Jake by my side.

                                                The End

#greta van fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #dog days are over #GVF #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #gvf fic #gvf x reader #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic

[imacrowcawcaw]

MY MASTERLIST

Sweetness hot meets sweetness cold, light and airy swirls around dark and heavy for the perfect blend.OTHER LINKS: WATTPAD & ROCK FIC

@insannywestan - Sanny shipping blog

@theladylovingcrow - my writing/art blog. If you wanna skip all the other posts on my main and get straight to the good stuff, go here (or use this masterlist!)

*** CONTAINS SMUT

* CONTAINS SEXUAL THEMES/EXTENSIVE KISSING

Greta Van Fleet

SANNY (Sam Kiska x Danny Wagner)

*** The Most Beautiful Distraction - tumblr - AO3

"Wanna ride you," Sam sighed, admission joining the swirl of colors in the air around them; burgundy kisses, blue touches, bright electric flashes of pain subdued by delicate green affection and care. Danny ached for him - the fiery burn in his stomach overcoming the duller waves from his burned hands.

*** Fuck The Movie, I Wanna Fuck You - tumblr - AO3

They were taking a break from touring, just chilling back in Frankenmuth. Danny had come over to his second home, and was snuggled up on the couch with his best friend, watching a movie. Everyone else was doing their thing - cooking, playing, talking on the phone - all perfectly normal for a nice, happy family. But FUCK Sam was feeling horny, naughty, and curious as to how Danny would react if he moved his hand just a bit higher....

*** Skin on Skin, Hearts Laid Bare - tumblr p1, p2, p3  - AO3

They started off cuddling as a necessity in chilly tents and cramped car rides, but it eventually became something much, much more. Sam finds that there isn't a safer place in the world, no where else he'd rather be, than when he's wrapped up in his best friend's strong, caring arms. And Danny, he just can't get enough of the feeling of Sam's silky smooth skin spread out underneath his hands. A chronicle of Samuel Kiszka and Daniel Wagner's budding love.

*** Silk and Satin, Leather and Lace - tumblr - AO3 

Sam has a surprise for Danny. A lacy, kinky one

*** No, Sam! - tumblr - AO3

Sam and Danny keep getting interrupted.

*** Keys To My Heart - tumblr - AO3

Danny just wants to try out Sam's new car, but the evil genius has some stipulations (like a handjob)

*** Blood Brothers - tumblr - AO3

"He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward."

*** These Dreams - tumblr - AO3

"You're telling me that we've known each other, been near inseparable, since seventh grade, and you've never once thought about it? At all? You've had to have thought about giving guys a try at least once, everyone questions their sexuality."

Sammy gave him a shit eating grin. He scooted even closer to Danny, so that their knees touched and their noses weren't more than half a foot apart. Danny stopped laughing.

* The Sweetness of Love’s Bliss - tumblr - AO3 

Sweetness hot meets sweetness cold, light and airy swirls around dark and heavy for the perfect blend.

Don’t Go Away Mad (Please Actually Talk To Me About the Issue) - tumblr - AO3

They'd slept together so many times - but this was different. It would have been different starting last night, if a misunderstanding hadn't made Danny kick himself to the couch... but that didn't matter now.

* New Places, Friendly Faces - tumblr p1, p2, p3 - AO3

Danny was nervous; he had been building up the courage for weeks to arrange a date, and now.... He wasn't quite sure what to think of the situation he found himself in. The night certainly wasn't going as he had expected it to - and his emotions had never ridden a roller coaster this fast. Hell, the beautiful angel holding his hand wasn't even the one he had arranged to meet 2 hours ago.

*** High Sex is the Best (Just Don’t Fall Asleep) - linked under twins

Sam figures out that he's attracted to his best friend after catching Danny jerking off in the shower. Then they get high. (BTW this story focuses on Danny and Sam, though Jake and Josh are definitely in there)

*** The Lady and Her Knights  - p1 - p2 - AO3

You are seriously the luckiest girl in the world: Daniel Wagner is your boyfriend! And, yet, you can't push away the fantasy of having more. Specifically, Sam - you want his best friend, too. (THREESOME SMUT WITH HEAVY SAM/DANNY)

*** Black Panties and An Angel’s Face (continuation of ‘Silk and Satin...’) - tumblr - AO3

Sam had said that he would wear whatever Danny bought him.... would he, really? Fuck, if not them this was about to he a sucky Christmas for the both of them.

*** Grindr - AO3 

Sam gaped at him dumbly; mouth open wide, eyebrows raised, hands clinging tightly to his shoulders. Danny grinned, predatory and full of satisfaction, and thrust harder.

TWINS

* Freezeframe (teasing, talking mythology, and kissing while on a quiet evening hike) - tumblr - AO3 

Then I Recognized Me (comparing appearances, short and fluffy, could be gen or slash) - tumblr - AO3

* High Sex is the Best (Just Don’t Fall Asleep) (Sanny is the main pairing but the twins are shacking up in the background)  - tumblr - AO3

*** These Dreams (hinted at the very end) - linked under Sanny 

DRABBLES

* GVF Halloween Drabbles (6 random Halloween themed drabbles, some slashy) - tumblr - AO3

WHOLE BAND

Four Cute Little Piggies In a Blanket (foursome smut ~ yes in that way) - AO3

Metallica

Eyes of Juniper (Lars pisses off an ancient goddess and gets himself and Kirk turned into girls, eventuallly Jlars; on hiatus) - AO3

Guns N’ Roses

STEVEN ADLER X DUFF MCKAGAN

A New Addition To The Family (Stevie and Duff go adopt a dog, super fluffy and humorous) - AO3

DUZZY (Duff Mckagan x Izzy Stradlin)

*** Black Dog (Izzy blows Duff in the studio) - AO3

Baby, Let’s Get Wet (friends with benefits, Duff wants to fuck in the shower; half completed so sorry) - AO3

Young Love In The Woods (middle school AU, Izzy and Duff reminisce on how they met) - AO3

Lazy Days (a short and fluffy lazy morning in bed) - AO3

*** Curiosity Killed The Cat, But Satisfaction Brought It Back (humorous smut, Izzy comes up with a plan to seduce Duff; on hiatus in the middle of the smut woops) - AO3  

SLAXL (Slash x  Axl Rose) 

*** Curiosity Killed The Cat, But Satisfaction Brought It Back (background pairing) - AO3

Led Zeppelin

My Love, My Darling (ultra fluffy winter-themed fluff) - tumblr - AO3

The Magicians (TV)

Treasure (slow burn, binding spell gone wrong) - AO3

Other Fandoms I Could Write For

Merlin (BBC)

Queen 

Elementary (tv show)

Percy Jackson Series (the first 12 books)

How To Train Your Dragon 

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Catch-22 (book) 

Hey Folks! A few reminders I would love for y'all to read 

• I WILL write straight romance/sex or reader inserts, you just have to ask for it! I know that my library is almost all gay slash, that's just because that's all that has been asked of me 

• I love feedback! Give my stories an out of ten rating, constructive criticism, a video of you screaming, I don't care - But any reactions to my work are greatly cherished and much encouraged. It helps me gauge what y'all are into and improve writing 

• My disclaimer, as copy-pasted from Rockfic:  I don't own any of these people, places, or ideas (except the ones that I do). Any coincidences are just that. If you have a problem with my subject matter (other than a factual correction - you can comment that and I'll fix it) message me privately and I may or may not respond.

A/N: If any of these links aren’t working, please let me know so I can fix them! Thank you.

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 10.1

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka x f!reader x male OC

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: This chapter is going to be broken into three separate parts for the sake of keeping it from being too long and to have consistent updates.

**While this part doesn’t have explicit queer sex scenes, it does set up for it for following parts. If this is something that does not interest you, this is your warning for the entirely of chapter 10. **

I’m quite anxious about this one you guys. I love this OC so much and I’m stoked to share and introduce him to this universe. It’s not perfectly edited so be gentle for that.

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback yall give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, LGBTQ dynamic between characters/themes

Masterpost, Part 9 2/2

It’s late evening — way past the regular business hours, so you have to use the spare key the boys made for you and enter through the back door of the shop. You clumsily shuffle through the hallway due to your hands being full from the bags of carry-out you picked up on the way over. 

Sam must’ve already cleaned up and headed out based on the strong odor of glass cleaner assaulting your nose as soon as you walk through the curtains. Music is playing upstairs, which is something you’ve come to expect whenever there’s a human presence in this place. What takes you by surprise is the amount of boisterous laughter cutting through it.  

You wrestle, adjust your loot, and begin making your ascent on the staircase. Jake is in his usual spot when he’s not with a client, hunched over at his desk working on a design, leaving Josh and the man he is tattooing as the culprits for all the noise. Normally, you wouldn’t bat an eye at whoever happens to be in the chair after the last incident, but something about him seems different.

What you can pick up on during the short walk from the stairs toward Jake’s desk is Josh’s comfort with him.  He’s not putting on the customer service mask, laughing at bad jokes, and pretending to be interested in dull stories. He’s engaging in everything the man has to say, maybe borderline flirtatious from what you can already see. 

You step behind Jake, but he doesn’t hear you approach. You lean over and spot the white wireless earbuds he’s wearing and gently tap him on the shoulder, making him jolt a little. He stops drawing to pluck the left one from his ear and turns to face you.

“Hey,” he mumbles softly with a detectable exhaustion weighing on his voice. 

“Hey,” you greet back, hoping that your upbeat tone will help spark some energy in him. After setting the heavy bags of carry-out on the empty space on his desk to free your hands, you begin to massage his shoulders. He doesn’t put up a fight, and instantly drops his pen on the table to lean back into your touch.

“Fuck that feels good,” he groans and rolls his head as you knead the tight knots tangled within his sore muscles. 

“Long day?”

He releases a heavy sigh as you work out the tension in his upper back. “Yeah, and of course my last appointment was a fucking nightmare.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of pain as your thumbs roll over him. He’s stiff from his bad posture, but you don’t mean to cause him more discomfort. You relax your pressure and start rubbing the nape of his neck while you ask, “What happened?”

“Just the typical asshole that wants to micromanage the entire thing gets pissy about the price claiming he can get it cheaper somewhere else, and then whines and cries during the entire thing.”

You slip your hands down his chest as you lower yourself into an embrace and bring your lips to his cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. Sounds like you could use a drink and a hot shower.”

He huffs a dry laugh but leans into you while rubbing his fingers along your forearm. “I’m okay.” He gestures to Josh and his client as he continues, “Been trying to unwind for the past hour but with these fucking dickheads it’s almost impossible.”

“Who is that by the way?”

“Oh, that’s Kai, one of Josh’s friends with ben—“ He quickly catches himself and clears his throat,  “Uhh… I mean he’s a good friend of Josh.”

You try to not take anything he says seriously given the source, but what he’s blurted out takes you by surprise. Your mind isn’t playing tricks because you know you heard him correctly, but you ask anyway, “A friend with what?”

He breaks from your hold and pushes away from the desk while turning to face you in his chair. You’ve caught him and now all he can do is deflect. He shakes his head and waves a hand at you. “No, no, no. Just because you bring me food doesn’t mean you get to pull gossip from me.” Your smile and crossed arms threaten him but he stands his ground. “Go find shit out for yourself. Go on. Shoo!”

You scoff, “Are you fucking serious?”

He takes his food from the bag and starts to set up a spot to open it. “Yes. Now leave me to eat in peace, woman.”

You give him a heavy roll of your eyes even though he’s no longer looking at you and take Josh’s food with you on your short walk over to his area of the shop. He immediately senses your presence and finishes the line before lifting his head in your direction. 

“Hey, baby.” He breaks away from his conversation and looks at you with an infectious smile, and without control, you can’t help but smile back. 

As you step closer, you’re able to get a better look at his friend stretched out along the table. When you first walked in, you could see from a distance that he was covered in tattoos, but now you’re even more surprised that Josh was able to find a free space for another one.

“She gets to be called baby and I don’t?” The suspected Kai scoffs as he combs his inked fingers through his loose, raven-black curls that sit right at the nape of his neck. The calm cadence paired with the crackle of his raspy voice puts off an energy you can’t place. 

Josh giggles as he pulls another line across Kai’s stomach. “Well, for one, when you do the things she does with me, you earn being called baby.” 

He chuckles as if completely unphased by the needle penetrating his skin. “Where can I sign up for that?”

So they are flirting. 

You set Josh’s food down on a table and look over his shoulder to see the piece he’s working on. It’s a hand-sized pair of traditional-style, black, and gray scorpions on each side of Kai’s lower stomach between his hips. With the left side finished and wiped down, the right side is nearly complete. You note the bald spot on Kai’s stomach and imagine the process of Josh having to shave him with a careful hand. 

“How much does something like this cost? With all the detail and everything?” 

Josh answers without a second thought, “For him? No charge.”

“Really?” You hum. 

You flick your eyes up from Josh’s moving hand to catch Kai staring directly at you. His are unwavering, holding a rare intensity from the striking shade of green of his irises —  like polished stones of jade framed by dark lashes. They draw you in, locking you away in their gaze. A part of you feels compelled to break away, as if suddenly too embarrassed to look at him. You don’t, however. You allow your eyes to wander across the many body modifications of his face; the little tattoo on his right cheek, the silver septum ring beneath his nose, the pair of dimple piercings, and the two rings through each side of his bottom lip. 

As he studies you, his lips begin to slowly curl up over his teeth, revealing a perfectly devious smile that does nothing but make you weak and flustered. It’s emphasized but the barbells in his cheeks. Charming in the same way as Josh’s, although, with a certain feral quality that causes your thoughts to wander. With eyes staying focused on you, he directs his words to Josh, “How many times do I have to keep telling you that I don’t need free work? Let me pay you this time.”

It gives you enough of a chance to break your focus from him to finally look away. Josh mutters under his breath as he stretches to dip the needle into the ink, “No chance.”

“I’m Kai, by the way,” he introduces himself with an outstretched hand, ignoring Josh’s remark completely. You stumble forward to take it, feeling his soft, yet chilled fingers wrap around yours. You give your name, making his smile grow even larger.  “How do you know Josh?”

You try to convince yourself that he’s simply making light conversation and being polite. That the burning look in his eyes, the tight hold he has on your hand, even down to the drawl of his voice doesn’t mean that there are deeper intentions behind his interest in you. 

You’re the one to make the first move in pulling a hand away, breaking free from his grasp. You shift, straightening to stand with heat prickling the back of your neck and forehead. “Oh…well, I met Josh when I came here to get my thigh piece done by Jake.”

Kai pries his eyes away from you to shoot Josh a judgemental stare. Josh returns the glare and huffs with a defensive raise of his hands, “What?!”

He chuckles as he slips his hand beneath his head to prop himself up on the table.“So that’s why I haven’t heard from you.” He teases with a lilt in his voice and winks at you before adding, “Josh, you sly dog.”

Josh responds by smacking Kai across the arm and you have to hold back the laugh that tries to escape your mouth. 

“Ouch! What did I say?!” He cries out while rubbing his arm dramatically despite the cheeky smile plastered across his face. 

You jump in intending to change the subject, even if your curiosity serves as the driving force to your question. “So how do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, Josh and I go way back,” Kai answers with an exaggerated sigh. “I ‘ve been getting work done for years now…just can’t stay away from all the great prices and wonderful customer service.”

As they stare at each other for a few beats of time, you watch the blush pinken Josh’s cheeks before he forces himself to refocus on his work. “He just keeps coming back no matter how many times we kick him out.”

Kai quips back, “I’m a stray. I’ll hang around if you keep feeding me.” Josh laughs as he works, wiping away the excess ink from his skin after each skillfully placed line. It’s starting to feel like you're interrupting their moment at this point, so you turn to leave until he stops you. “So what’s your Twitter handle?”

Before you have a chance to respond, Josh cuts in with an aggressive shake of his head, “Oh no, she doesn’t do that, Kai.”

Confusion twists the features of his face, matching the expression you’re wearing. “Do what?” 

While a mischievous glimmer flashes in Kai’s eyes, Josh slowly lifts his head to you, showing a look of worry.

Kai adjusts as if he’s preparing to tell you the biggest piece of gossip, answering in a demeanor that borders on too relaxed, “Create content.”

While the words process in your brain, Josh’s face drops in disappointment. If his hands weren’t gloved, he would’ve smacked his hand to his face for added effect. 

Josh’s reaction causes everything to click into place, making you understand the implication. He means adult content. Your face prickles with heat from your mind running with the thought of it. “Oh...oh.”

Josh braces for your discomfort while Kai continues the small talk as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

The question is innocent enough, but the look behind it says otherwise. You laugh nervously, glancing down at Josh to save you.“Nothing that interesting I’m afraid. I’m a barista down at the coffee shop.”

“Good money there?”

“Kai…” Josh scolds softly. “Don’t listen to him, baby.”

He glances up, giving you an expression as if to communicate with you telepathically. Despite the warning, you decide to answer anyway, “Enough to pay my bills I guess. Why?”

Kai flashes another smile and shrugs. “Just curious.”

Before the conversation has a chance of taking another turn,  Josh butts in, “Oh would you look at that! You’re all done.”

Disappointment flashes across his face before he looks down at the new additions on his stomach. “Already?” 

Taking the cue, you grab your food and get comfortable on the couch while Josh starts the cleanup process and takes pictures of his work. You do your best to mind your business, keeping your focus on the takeout container balanced on your lap, but you see Kai carefully stand to his feet and walk past you in your periphery. He stops in front of the full-length mirror where you have stood many times before. He’s kept his shirt lifted away from the fresh tattoo with his pants riding so low you can faintly see the patch of his pubic hair peeking above the band of pants. You’re gawking now, staring at how he twists his body and flexes his toned stomach in the mirror. You’re quick to note how his build is similar to Josh’s. He’s lean but with a bit more muscle and a few inches added to his height. 

“These look fucking sick, Josh,” Kai calls over his shoulder as he admires the finished pair of scorpions. “Good choice on the placement.”

Josh chuckles, tearing the cling wrap away from the table. “I’m glad you like it.”

You check on Jake to see that he’s still at his desk, munching away on his food with his earpods nestled inside his ears. He glances up and shoots Kai an annoyed look, followed by a heavy roll of his eyes before taking another bite of his food. 

Josh pulls your attention away with a dramatic huff, “Are you done staring at yourself or can I bandage you up already?”

Kai turns, revealing an exceptionally cocky grin, “Why? Do you wanna stare instead?” 

“No, you idiot. I’m fucking starving and my food is getting cold.”

Amused, he takes his time making his way back to Josh, but you forget to look away, letting him catch you red-handed. He smiles, biting into his bottom lip with a wink sent only to you. You’d normally be irritated by a man with an ego too big for this room. But this one feels different. With a level of confidence that borders on arrogance, you believe it suits him — sex appeal radiating from every part of him. And with a single look, you find your heart racing. 

Standing behind Josh while he preps the bandages, Kai ruffles his hair, teasing him, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”    

“Cut it out,” Josh grumbles, but you can see the smile spreading as he half-spins in his chair, reaching back for him. “Get over here.”

Kai steps around to face him, placing a leg between Josh’s open ones. A position where if he were to sit, he would be balanced right on his thigh. He looks down, watching as Josh peels the backing of the Saniderm and carefully places it on his skin. You recognize the gentle touch he’s using — the same one he’s used on you. His focus on Kai’s lower stomach is locked, brows furrowed in concentration while being mindful of his soreness as he presses the clear bandage down, even having to pull Kai’s waistband slightly to get the bottom edge to stick properly. Their proximity makes you blush — a closeness blurring the line of professionalism.

Kai extends a hand to slip his fingers through Josh’s curls again, but it’s far from taunting. He rests it there on the crown of his head, tugging his attention upward by the roots of his hair. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before — you know that look. You just can’t be sure who you’re more envious of, him or Kai. But seeing Josh cast under the same spell excites you, and makes that aching feeling throb between your legs. 

You see the harsh swallow in Josh’s throat before Kai lets his hand fall to his side. Josh's eyes quickly dart away and find yours. Realizing you caught the moment, guilt twists his features until you give him a raised wiggle of your brows. 

He tries his best to bite back the bashful smile, but you can see that he’s visibly flustered. After clearing his throat, he rushes to clean up the leftover trash from the bandages to keep busy. The tension between them is palpable, thicker than the humid mid-summer air outside. Satisfied with himself, Kai drops his shirt and pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Josh rambles about the aftercare, telling him when he can remove his bandages and how to properly wash as if this was the man’s first tattoo. Kai nods along anyway, walking in your direction toward the center of the room. Josh stands from his chair to follow but quickly pulls at his pants to readjust himself. At first, you think your eyes are deceiving you, but there’s no mistaking the significant bulge he’s desperately trying to hide. 

 “Oh shit!” Josh calls out, tossing the gloves that he’s peeled off his hands into the trash can. “Before I forget again, would you guys like to come out and see us next weekend?”

Kai answers immediately, “Absolutely.”

However, you don’t answer with nearly the same amount of certainty, asking a question of your own, “Both of us?” 

You can feel Kai’s eyes on you in an instant. He’s observant of you —  you’ll give him that. It makes you highly aware of yourself, mindful to not give away too much. It’s not that you don’t want to see Josh, it’s the thought of seeing Kai again. The dynamic between them has been a massive curveball, and you’re scrambling to catch up on processing it all. 

“Yeah of course!” Josh doesn’t seem to catch it, sliding onto the arm of the leather couch. He’s distracted, beaming with excitement while trying to act casual. “We finally booked another gig. You’ll come, right?”

There’s that smile of his that you sell you on anything. He’s put you right on the spot. He could’ve just asked you directly if you wanted to come, or even waited until the day knowing full well that you’d show up that evening regardless. “Yeah, I can make it.”

Kai walks around the other side of the couch and picks up a tote you didn’t realize was sitting there. “Same place?”

Josh’s smile grows even bigger. “Hell yeah.”

“Perfect. Just text me the details. Unfortunately, I gotta run. I’m already late for a meeting.” You sense him step behind you to get to Josh and reach in for a hug. As he wraps his arms around him, he kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for the awesome tat. Always a pleasure.”

“Of course, anytime,” Josh sighs from the praise, holding onto the embrace until Kai pulls away. 

The weight of his hand on your shoulder surprises you, making you jump slightly. He squeezes you through your shirt as he leans down over the back of the couch. Your consciousness dives, swimming in his cologne that must be placed perfectly on his pulse points. It’s crisp, cool to the nose with its fresh floral notes that finish off with a comforting woodsy scent — like the summer rainstorms you’ve been romanticizing lately. 

He keeps his voice low, so close to your ear that you swear you can feel his lips move against it, “It was definitely a pleasure meeting you.” His chilled touch sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers slide up the soft curve of your neck. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

Your body reacts before your mind can, making your breath feel heavy in your chest. The distant sound of a throat clearing disrupts him, making you both look up to see Jake staring directly at you. 

Kai gives you a final squeeze before pushing away from you. “Jake! How could I forget you?”

The ghost of his fingers on your neck haunts you as he crosses the room. You replay the touch, and the words spoken in your ear while your eyes follow him and the unbothered swagger of his stride. Jake is just finishing the last of his meal, keeping his head down like a dog guarding a prized bone. “Leaving so soon?”

Josh, still sitting beside you on the arm of the couch, gives you a worried look, but you both watch as the interaction unfolds together. Kai continues his stroll behind him, daring to walk right into the cage of the beast. Metaphorically poking as if the blatant sarcasm was fuel to his antics. “Aww. You don’t have to put on such a brave face. It’s okay to miss me.”

Jake grumbles, letting his distaste coat the words between his teeth as he gives him a second warning, “The day I never see you again can’t come soon enough.”

Kai stops behind him and sticks out a dramatic bottom lip while slapping his hands to his heart. With Jake’s back to him, it’s a theatrical display meant for Josh and you to see. “Such sweet words coming from you.” The fake pout forms into a mischievous grin as he wraps his arms around Jake’s rigid shoulders. “Bring it in, big guy.”

You watch him take in a heavy breath through flared nostrils to calm himself. “Kai…I swear to god, if you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

Kai takes the threat as a challenge, nestling his cheek against Jake’s even tighter in an effort to taunt him. “Now you’re getting me excited.” Without a word, Jake’s lip hooks into a snarl just as he tries to grab him, making him jump back out of reach. “I’m going! I’m going!”

Kai, successful at annoying him, skips back with his hands raised in defense, filling the room with a ringing cackle. Once he reaches the top of the stairs, he spins, giving a final goodbye wave before leaving. “It was lovely seeing you again.”

You both give him a nod and wave in return, listening as the echoes of footsteps fade out down the steps, leaving you to sit in the hushed silence between the three of you. Jake’s foul mood becomes more evident than ever as he angrily shoves his earbuds back in without saying a word to either of you. 

“Alright, I gotta finish cleaning up and then we can head out of here,” Josh groans as he slides off the couch, paying no mind to his twin. His back must be aching from being hunched over for hours but you swear you can see the lively skip in his step as he makes his way back to his station. 

If that fluttery, “butterflies in your stomach” feeling was written in the dictionary, Josh’s picture would be right next to it. He can barely control the smile on his face wanting to break free or the blush pinkening the apples of his cheeks. Wanting to feel the energy up close, you lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, interrupting his cleaning. He welcomes it, holding you close with his hands on your arms while he melts into the embrace. You kiss him, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin against your lips. “I can see why you like him.”

Like a hormonal teenager confessing who they’ve been secretly pining over, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I do not. He’s just a friend,” he defends weakly before the words break apart into laughter.

“Oh please!” you huff, letting your own smile show. You break away, allowing him to spin on his chair so he can face you. “That’s the biggest crush I’ve ever seen with my own eyeballs, Josh.”

Your eyes finally meet as you sit on the cleared-off tattoo table. There’s a glimmer in them as they search the thoughts behind yours. You can’t deny that this is new for both of you, but he’s still cautious about how to approach it. He scooches toward you, bringing himself between your bent knees. He rubs his thumb across your kneecap and starts to trace patterns across the denim.“Yeah…well, a crush that doesn’t really mean anything.”

You don’t need to ask to know what his apprehension is about. He doesn’t want to spark the same jealousy in you again after what happened that one day with the blonde. As much as you can admittedly say it wasn’t your proudest moment, there’s more security in whatever this is between you now than there was at that time. The attraction between them seems genuine, and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel it with Kai yourself. 

He settles in closer, sliding your ass to the edge so he can fold his arms around your waist. It’s the reassurance you both need. He buries his face into your chest, giving you the attention you’ve been craving all day. If you didn’t have the audience, you’d fall off the table onto his lap and fuck him senseless. 

That was another thing. 

Jake. 

Regardless of the fact he never explicitly had a conversation about being exclusive with only you in a non-hypothetical sense, he is far from approachable about it now. You haven’t been completely oblivious the past few weeks. Women’s names have come across his phone screen and interactions on his social media would hint that he had other situations going on. You didn’t dig, and for good reason. 

With your fingers weaved into Josh’s curls, you tip his head back for a kiss. It feels good, sweet, and vulnerable with the bite of his mint hitting your tongue. As soon as you pull away, he lets out a dreamy sigh, “Besides, I’m perfectly happy with you.’

“Is that so?” You hum. His response only comes out as a groan from you lightly scratching his scalp, causing him to practically purr in your hands. “I dunno…He is pretty cute.”

His eyes flutter open from your words, and he bites into the flesh of his bottom lip. “Sounds like you’re the one with a crush, baby.” 

The Twisted Cherry is everything one could expect from a local dive bar. Tucked away at a corner on the east side of downtown, the popular spot is unrecognizable in the daylight hours. Hidden in plain sight until the sun starts to set and its neon lights buzz to life. Tonight, it’s bustling with activity — humming with drunken chatter and young adults pouring in and weaving their way through the tiny entrance. After paying a small cover fee to the doorman, you meander your way through the small crowd that’s starting to form. A combination of sweat, a hundred different perfumes, and the mustiness of the historic building hangs in the dense air. 

It’s difficult to see clearly in the dark with the hazy red bulbs acting as the only lighting throughout the place, but you’re able to find the bar easily. The music playing over the speakers is a relief knowing that the live show hasn’t started yet. You glance at your phone to check the time and slide it back into your purse while you wait for a bartender to notice you. With a secured hand on the waxed, wooden surface grounding you, you scan over the heads and spot the small stage near the back. You keep an eye out for Josh but quickly recognize Danny checking the equipment on stage.

You feel a set of fingers brush against the back of your arm, and before you can scold the stranger grabbing you from behind, a voice greets you, “Hey there. It’s nice to see you again.”

Kai steps into your view and stands before you. It’s not that you’re surprised that he’s here because he was also invited, it’s that you’re not sure how to feel about him being here. You’re attracted to him, thinking about him more than you ever should. An attraction that had you searching for his content on the internet one lonely night this past week. 

That smile of his — a perfectly white set of teeth with a pair of canines just a bit sharper than the average person. You imagine how it would feel to have them sink into your skin before a sloppy kiss. That fluttery feeling of excitement and throbbing need for more comes with a wash of guilt.  You’re here for Josh, not him. 

“Oh, hi,” you respond in a much softer voice than you intend, and it gets drowned out by the music so much you wonder if he heard you at all. Your movements are stiff and awkward while that nagging bead of sweat drips lower down your back. 

You feel his looming eyes on you as he leans an elbow into the bar and takes a sip of his drink. He’s reading you, studying every little mannerism and nervous glance of your eyes trying to look at anything else but him. 

From what you noticed so far, he looks good. He’s swapped the t-shirt he wore the last time you saw him for a solid black, long-sleeve button-down that’s rolled just below the elbows. It’s oversized, with linen-like fabric draping loosely from his slender frame that’s tucked into his dark-wash baggy jeans. Since you can’t hold eye contact to save your life, your gaze has drifted down to the massive rips in the denim on both of his knees. 

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out cold, dry, and sharp. It’s accusatory, and you’re not exactly why it came out that way. 

He forces out a dry laugh, and stands a step closer into your personal space, pulling your line of sight that has been fused to black leather boots up to the layered necklaces wrapped around his throat. One has a thin silver chain with a small heart-shaped locket. The other is a thicker chain of the same metal with prongs to resemble barbs on a wire fence. He pulls in a breath and releases a deep sigh, “Well, I’m here to see Josh. But what about you? Why are you here?”

He knows why. He’s playing — dangling that little toy mouse in front of you until you finally decide to snatch it. He’s done a wonderful job at leaving that trail of breadcrumbs to see if you’re curious enough about his intentions to follow them. Deep down you know if you were to take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, he’d be more than happy to fuck your brains out in one of the filthy stalls. 

If not— if he was truly here for Josh only — he’s the biggest tease you’ve ever met. You’re smart enough to know that if he wanted Josh for himself, he wouldn’t have bothered approaching you at all.

You still shift on your feet to balance the uneasiness as the conflicting feelings stir inside you. It’s like he’s ripped the wires out of your brain and crossed them. “Yeah, me too.”

He reaches out and pops the bubble you’ve tried to form around yourself by touching your arm once more — another gentle graze of his cool fingers. “You okay? You’re kind of making me anxious.”

The touch is innocent enough, meant purely as a physical check-in, but it doesn’t fail to send a shock of electricity through you. You try to hold back your body’s physical reaction, but there’s no doubt he caught it. It’s enough to make you look up and meet his gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

Even in the crowded, dark bar, his smile reaches his light eyes, stealing every bit of your attention. “Don’t be. Want a drink?”

“Sure, but I can get—” He interrupts you with a raise of his hand to the bartender, gesturing that he’d like two more of the same drink that’s currently in his hand. 

“You didn’t have to…” you trail off. 

He lifts his dark brow at you. “Would you like someone else to buy you drinks tonight? Josh seems a little busy.”

You stare at him, shooting him a stubborn glare. “…No.”

He huffs a laugh, stirring the ice melting away in the bottom of his glass. “Okay, then don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

A smirk plays on his lips before he says, “A people pleaser.”

“I am not,” you scoff, offended by his attempt to psychoanalyze you. You could lay into him, give him an ear-full, and storm your way out of here — maybe even throw what’s left of his drink in his face for dramatic effect. But you both know that’s not what you want. 

He props an elbow back on the bar again and tongues the silver rings pierced through each side of his bottom lip — a similar oral fixation to Josh’s tongue piercing. “You’re too worried about what I think.”

“What if I didn’t want you to assume anything?” You’re quick to fire back, but your confidence is shaky at best, and he can see right through your stubbornness. 

Those intense green eyes scan down the length of you while the chewed cocktail straw dances across his bottom lip. If you really were a dove — a helpless bird with fluttering wings upon the ground — he was the black cat lurking in the brush ready to pounce. 

The bartender comes up from behind him and slides two cocktails across the bar between you. He takes one and offers it to you. “So you’re accusing me of being presumptuous?”

You take the drink from his hand, watching as he grabs the lone cherry half-buried in the ice from his glass and pops it into his mouth before taking the new drink waiting for him. 

You let his question hang in the air by taking a sip of your drink. Based on the distinct, nutty almond flavor and tartness of lemon, you guess it’s the bar’s spin on an amaretto sour. A thought crosses your mind, making you laugh, “Why do I feel like you’re the type that can tie a knot in a cherry stem?”

He chuckles, amused by your sudden change of subject, “Isn’t that a bit cliche?”

“If you can’t do it, just say that,” you challenge, sucking down another large sip of your drink. 

He plays along, taking the bright maraschino cherry sitting pretty next to the orange slice garnish on the rim. He plucks the syrup-marinated fruit, savoring the saccharine juice before laying the bare stem across his outstretched tongue. For a moment, you forget the fact you’re not alone, while also realizing that he’s showing off now. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, he rolls it around in his closed mouth for about thirty seconds until the end of the stem pops out from his lips. They spread into that same cocky grin you’ve seen from him before. With it wedged between his teeth, he reaches up and tightens the loose knot with a pull of his inked fingers. 

Checkmate. 

You’re stunned into silence — no other moves left in your arsenal. He seals your fate, kicking your queen off the board with the gift of the perfect knot as he leans in close. Drunk off the victory, he croons softly against your ear, “Any more tests for me?”

If you had more alcohol in your system, you might’ve thrown yourself at him, but he steps away from you, disappearing into the crowd centered around the tiny stage. The preset music that’s been fades out, signaling the round of cheers and clapping from everyone around you. You look around to find the reason for the commotion and see Josh, Jake, and Sam step out onto the platform. 

You shuffle through to get closer, eventually spotting Kai standing by himself. He gives you a smile when you approach, but Josh’s muffled voice coming through the microphone cuts in before either of you has the chance to say anything.

“Hello, hello,” he mumbles, tapping the top of the microphone as he paces the front of the stage. You’re not sure what you expected from him, but the last thing on your mind was the pair of black leather pants he’s wearing, riding so low on his hips that you can see the tip of the leaf of his tattooed cherries poking above the waistband. They’re incredibly tight to his body in all the right places — leaving nothing to the collective imagination. The black, short-sleeved blouse is not any more conservative, left completely unbuttoned to reveal the collection of tattoos covering his torso. You can’t lie that seeing him up there, being the focus of everyone’s attention feels surreal.  

He downs the rest of his drink to shake off the remaining nerves and places it somewhere out of sight. “Hope everyone is having a lovely night.”

It earns a few shouts and whistles, but your gaze follows Jake, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. He’s busy fiddling with the guitar hanging from his shoulders. You’ve noticed the cherry-finish SG propped up in the corner of his room but had yet to see him with it until now. He plays a few notes, doing any last-minute tuning while the rest of the guys get into position.  

While Danny gets ready behind the drum kit, Josh continues, whipping the microphone cord in his hand as goes, “Make sure to get your necessary refreshments. You all know the drill by now. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em…and uh…get ready for some rock n’ roll.”

Josh’s face lights up the second he spots you standing next to Kai, smiling so wide it stretches from ear to ear. You wave at him, getting a wink in return. Jake on the other hand, only gives you a single nod before dropping his line of sight back to the guitar in his hands. Sam, with a bass hanging from the thick strap around his back, has been busy chatting with a few girls in the front row. Danny sets the count, and within seconds, the cramped space erupts on his mark. 

Josh’s vocals rip through the dense air of the dive bar. You know your mouth has dropped open and your eyes have widened in shock. It takes far longer than you’d like to admit, but you’re able to recognize the cover as “White Room” by Cream. 

In the white room with black curtains near the station

Black roof country, no gold pavements, tired sterlings

His voice is gritty, raw and powerful. There’s a certain whine to it that lives in your chest with every breath you take — so loud it rings in your ears and makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. He possesses the modest stage with a charisma that’s completely new to you. He’s far more confident than you’ll ever be, existing through the music and letting it course through his body with the sways of his head to the rhythmic bounce of his foot. Within minutes, his body starts to glisten with a sheen of sweat, causing your eye to catch the exposed golden bar pierced through his navel. 

For a moment, you forget that you’re sleeping with him, that every part of his gyrating body has been explored by you — by your tongue. He seems like an entirely new man, dripping with unadulterated eroticism and ego. 

Never wanting his brother to take all the attention, Jake steps in to deliver his solo. His nimble fingers move across the frets with lightning speed, showcasing another level of talent and dexterity that you didn’t know he had. Josh is more than happy to let him take the limelight, moving aside to gladly accept a shot of clear liquor being offered to him by someone in the crowd. 

When you pictured what this might be in your head, you imagined something akin to a local karaoke night. You hadn’t expected them to actually be this good.

 As the first song fades out, they roll into the next one without stopping. Some songs you can pick out, some you don’t. You’re simply captivated by the performance, absorbing all of their forty-five-minute set without moving from your spot once. 

One thing you couldn’t help but notice was Jake actively trying to ignore you. Other than a few fleeting glances in your direction, his attention stayed on his guitar or the women shouting at him in the first row. Instead of giving you those smiles, he gave them away, even stripping from his drenched t-shirt to show off the tattoos on his chest and back. If you were here alone, his behavior might’ve bothered you more than it does. Kai’s presence smothers it, even if it might be the reason it sparked it in the first place. 

After the guys finish up their last song, Kai nudges you with an elbow and leads the way, clearing a path through the crowd back to the bar with you in tow. The short walk feels like a blur like you’re the one running on adrenaline. Your body buzzes with so much excitement that you hardly notice the fact he’s already ordered another round. 

“Wow,” you breathe.

He reaches out and holds your wrist, grounding you to him as he leans back against the bar. “First time seeing them play?”

“Yeah.” You nod, setting your empty glass on the polished bar top. 

He’s looking past you, right at Josh still talking to a few people near the stage. “It’s definitely an experience.”

You note the way he looks at him, studying all the same things you did minutes ago. Since it's been eating away at you for almost two weeks, you feel compelled to ask yourself, “So are you and Josh friends with benefits?”

He shakes his head and smirks in response to the question, making you feel as though it was a stupid one to ask. “Who told you that?”

“Jake,” you confess. 

“Hmm…and do you always take Jake’s word on everything?” His striking eyes pierce right through you. Now inches away, you’re able to see all the details up close. The tattoo on his right cheek that says “lover”, the faint freckles that paint his nose, and the little scar that goes through his left brow. 

“Do I have a reason not to?”

His stare softens and shifts to Josh before flicking his eyes back over to you. “I guess that’s for you to find out. But no, Josh and I aren’t friends with benefits.”

You wonder how Jake would get the idea because you don’t think of him as the type to lie about something like that. “You haven’t done anything at all?”

His fingers skate across your forearms resting on the edge of the bar. “You’re a curious one,” he laughs, meeting your gaze, searching both of your eyes until he drops his own to your lips, letting them linger there. You’re hypnotized by his eyes, caught up in the lustful thoughts that have invaded your mind. “Aside from a few drunken makeouts that I’m sure he doesn’t even remember now, no.”

You try to bring his words to life in your head, imagining what that might have looked like — what it would be like to kiss him yourself. “Oh…okay.”

“Look.” He squeezes your hand before letting go to grab the drinks sitting on the bar. “I hope you know that you have him so tightly wrapped around your finger, and from what I see, he’d do anything to make you happy.” He lifts a shot you didn’t order, gesturing for you to take it. “You’re the one calling the shots here, so start acting like it.”

Before you can even think about what he said, he clinks his shot glass against yours, pressuring you to throw back the clear liquor into your mouth. You can tell its vodka right away by how it burns all the way down your throat. 

You cough through that pain, “What, are you trying to get drunk?” 

He laughs at your expense, chasing his shot with another sip of his new drink. Your judgment is becoming clouded, all inhibitions dissolving away by the second in his presence. You look over to Josh to see him slowly making his way over to you with each conversation he’s getting pulled into.  

“What are you so worried about, kitten?” The added feline quality of his voice rasps against your ear, making you tremble in his loose hold. “How badly you want to fuck me or is it how much he wants to?”

You’re fully pressed against him now, smelling the scent of his aftershave and feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt.  He’s good at leaving you speechless, as a suitable answer for him evades you. The temptation to touch him, to kiss him becomes unbearable — your self-control reduced to a mere thread. Something makes his body tense up for the first time, and he pulls away enough to look down at you. “Is there a reason why Jake is looking at me like he wants to murder me?”

You turn, breaking away from him to look behind you. You search the groups, spotting Jake standing next to Danny and Sam as he nurses a glass of amber liquid, presumably whiskey. The set brows and jaw clench are visible even at this distance. He’s avoiding eye-contact with you, giving away that he’s angry with you. “Oh…uhm,” you stammer over yourself, struggling to find a place to start. “Well…”

Kai’s brows shoot up but his shoulders fall in disbelief now that the pieces start to fit together. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he breathes, taking another sip of his drink. Something shifts as the gears turn in his head, and a devilish grin reveals itself over the lip of his glass. What would scare away more people only seems to make him double down, as if he thrives off the pure chaos. “Let’s get messy then.”

“Fucking finally.” You hear Josh heavy groan beside you. “I never thought I would escape.” He takes a second to collect himself now that he’s made it to the bar. “Fuck, I’m so glad you both could come.” 

“You didn’t tell me you could sing like that,” you gush, giving him a playful shove to his shoulder, which only makes him propel himself closer to you.

“Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise.” He kisses you — heavy, hot and brimming with lust. He’s impatient, beyond pent up, licking into your mouth while he ruts his hardening length against your hip. “Being on that stage gets me so fucking horny, baby. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you later.” His sinful confessions being mumbled into your skin is enough to drive you feral. 

If the state of your underwear was any indication of how you’re feeling — you need him more than anything you’ve needed before. 

He shows enough restraint to acknowledge Kai standing beside you. “Looks like you’re making a new friend though.” 

You glance up at him to see that he’s more than content sipping away at his cocktail while the two of you go at it, giving you a side-eye peek. A heat radiates in your chest and blooms up to your face thinking about the things he had said to you minutes ago, making you admit, “We’ve gotten to know each other a little.” 

Josh’s curious eyes bounce between you before landing on Kai. “You’re not making me a stranger, are you?”

Kai sets his glass down and signals for another round. Those siren eyes of his find Josh’s while he lures him in with a silken voice, “I don’t think it would take much to get reacquainted.”

The sexual tension between them reaches its threshold, breaking apart from a single look. Acting on a surge of bravery, Josh takes the leap of faith you’ve yet to make. He leans forward and crashes his lips into Kai’s before he’s given the chance to react. It takes him a second to catch up with Josh’s unrestricted fervor, but quickly regains his footing. After bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, Kai successfully suppresses that hunger enough to slow him down to be present. You watch as their lips part, seeing the glint of Josh’s piercing as his tongue slips into Kai’s mouth. 

His ringed fingers dive into Josh’s sweaty hair, tugging him by the roots to make him whimper. To witness him being turned into a moaning mess makes you ache terribly. He’s teasing Josh with a taste to remember, and is now pulling away to keep him chasing for it. 

Josh licks at his swelling bottom lip to savor what was left there. He suddenly plummets back to Earth, remembering where he is and that you’re still standing here beside him. “Oh shit… I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t be,” you giggle, interrupting his frantic apology. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke to add levity to the moment. But the next thing you feel is Kai’s hand wrapping around your neck. “Let’s make it even, then.” 

You have thought about this very moment over and over again after that night at the shop. The way his lips would feel, how they would taste, how he would touch you. It’s a forbidden desire, more so than Jake has ever felt. You’re not supposed to have another man make you feel like this. 

His lips connect with a controlled grace, the pad of his thumb grazing along your jawline to ease you in. You relinquish control, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt while you memorize the cold sensation of the silver rings slipping across your lip as the kiss deepens. He baits you with a teasing flick of his tongue, making you chase it back into the sweetness of his mouth. 

Before you know it, it’s all over. 

“Oh my fucking god, that was so hot,” Josh groans. His restlessness breaks the moment for you to see him tossing back one of the shots that was ordered. 

You’ve been blushing so hard that your face has started  to break out in a sweat, but Kai is still holding you by the chin, peering down at you through obsidian lashes. He bites down on his bottom lip, creating little impressions in the wet flesh. “What do you think? Should we get outta here, kitten?”

All three of you stumble out of the bar onto the sidewalk after paying the tap, realizing you’ve had a bit more to drink than you expected to. Your chest feels tight, but in that way when you know something is about to happen. Josh, on the other hand, is vibrating with nervous energy so much his hands have started to shake as he pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

“Uber will be here in 5 minutes,” Kai announces, noticing Josh drunkenly struggle to light the end of his cigarette. You try to find another lighter from the depths of your purse, but Kai digs his own from his pocket to help him. It’s sensual — the way he watches him pull in a slow drag so he can pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers. 

Before Josh can exhale, Kai captures his lips in a smokey kiss. He nips at his bottom lip, thriving on the way he’s left Josh breathless and confused as he takes in a drag of his own. He then looks at you with a raised brow, silently asking you if you want one as well. You nod, eagerly closing the distance, stepping into his arms so he can hold your chin steady. You open your lips for him, allowing him to blow a gentle stream of smoke past them before sealing it with a kiss. 

You hear Josh giggle in the background, humming with energy he can no longer contain, “You two are trying to fucking kill me.”

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Skin Deep - Part 7

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: 14.6k

A/N: I’m so happy to be able to get this posted for you guys. You have been so supportive and patient with me the past few weeks and I appreciate that more than you know. (Also I want to say this isn’t perfectly edited. I’m beyond ready to get this out and posted. So I apologize in advance.)

As always, I appreciate all the love, support, and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Special shoutout to my lovely girls Nessa and Hannah for carrying my ass through this chapter. I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without them.

Warnings: cursing, angst, jealousy, smoking/drug use (marijuana), sexually explicit content - 18+/MINORS DNI!!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, oral f!recieving, fingering, hair pulling, biting, restraints, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial/edging, dom/sub stuff, spit kink, y’all know me by now)

Part 6, Masterpost

“I had a feeling you were going to be a good listener.”

He has the sharp bridge of his nose pressed into the side of your cheek, while every strained exhale of his clings to your face. The only sound filling the cramped office is your shared heavy breathing. A layer of sweat coats nearly every inch of your skin, and your stiff, aching muscles tremble around his waist as he stands between your legs. 

After what feels like an eternity, Jake finally peels away from you and stuffs himself back into his pants. Just as he’s about to pull up the zipper, the metallic sound of a key being inserted into the lock on the door disrupts the otherwise silent moment. It clicks over and before you have a chance to react, the office door swings open suddenly. 

A tsunami-sized wave of panic surges through you in a second, making it feel as though your heart jumped into your throat. You haven’t had time to dress yourself, so you’re left exposed to whoever is walking through that door. All you can do is snap your bare legs together as you sit naked on the desk.

Thankfully, it’s Josh. He whips the door open so fast it nearly crashes into the wall behind it as he steps through the threshold. He’s pissed. That much you do know. 

“What the fuck?!” He scolds the two of you in a harsh whisper that’s borderline louder than his normal speaking voice, all while throwing his open hands up in the air. To your benefit, his attention is centered on Jake and not you. He waits for his twin to respond, and when he doesn’t, he continues but at a much louder volume than before, “What the fuck were you thinking, Jake?! We’re open!” 

You shift your eyes over to Jake, watching how he finger-combs his damp hair back and tucks it behind his ears. His indifference only fuels Josh’s anger that much more. Josh throws his hands up, completely exasperated by the scene before him. “We have a fucking business to run and you’re in here getting your fucking dick wet.”

His words break the dam, allowing the embarrassment of what just happened to flood your conscience. You’ve become aware of your surroundings within seconds — the cheap laminate of the desk sticking to your bare skin, the sounds of the busy shop echoing through the hallway, to Jake slowly moving in front of you.

Jake just scoffs under his breath, the following words acting as a warning, “Like that’s stopped you before.”

Josh shuffles back as his face contorts into a look of confusion like his brother had just spoken to him in a foreign language. He throws his hands down on the tops of his legs, causing a smacking sound to crack through the air. “There are customers out there!”

Josh’s sudden raise in his voice startles you, causing Jake to take another step in front of you. “Maybe close the fucking door, dickhead.”

 The calmness in Jake’s voice with the subtle move ignites Josh’s anger, but he chooses to bite back his words. His eyes are narrow as he watches Jake dip down and pluck your clothes off the ground. 

He holds out your crumpled clothing while offering you a fleeting look of apology before throwing the verbal jab at his brother. “And that little stunt you pulled with the blonde upstairs?”

The harsh line between Josh’s brows reappears as he racks his brain for answers. “What the fuck are you talking about? What stunt?”

Jake huffs out a dry, lifeless laugh before spitting out the snide remark, “Did you get an actual payment this time? Or was one of your little arrangements made?”

You can’t be sure whether it’s true or not. And to be honest, you’d rather not know if it was, but his emphasis on the word makes you instantly feel uneasy.  You can’t begin to understand the intricacies of their relationship as twin brothers, and you don’t doubt that it’s filled with unconditional love, but with that being said, you had also just witnessed that with that love, Jake knows where to cut Josh the deepest. 

Josh instantly recoils from the blow and spits through his teeth, “You’re a fucking prick, you know that?”

Jake simply ignores his brother’s glaring eyes, but you can see the anger in his stiff movements as he turns back to face you. At this very moment, you’ve never felt more uncomfortable in your life. The tension weighing between the three of you is nothing like you’ve ever experienced. You strongly consider bolting out the door, but Josh is standing between you and the exit. 

You wait in silence thinking that this would be enough of a cue for Josh to leave after he’s made his point, but he doesn’t. You sit until it becomes unbearable, and start to slide off the desk while trying to preserve the sliver of modesty you probably no longer have. You slip your foot through the pant leg of your jeans and just when you think they are done going at each other’s throats, Josh cuts in, “I can’t believe you fucking took her out on the bike.”

Jake pushes out a pitched laugh before taking a deep inhale, “Well I wasn’t gonna leave her to get ignored while I went to lunch. Figured one of us should take care of her since the other was too busy eye-fucking a client to even notice that she walked in.”

Jake’s calmness with each venomous strike makes you shrink in on yourself. You hate knowing that you’ve created this much of a mess between them, but you feel like there’s no remedy imaginable for the damage — at least at the moment. 

“Is that what this is really about?” Josh’s voice cracks near the end. He then looks at you, expecting an answer. 

“I’m gonna leave it up to you to figure it out since you’ve been completely fucking clueless thus far.” Jake pulls his phone from his back pocket to check the time. You watch his expression fall before he faces you. “I have a client coming in a few minutes. Are you alright to get yourself home?”

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath as if every molecule of confidence evaporated from your body. Jake’s pained smile offers little comfort, but he leans in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Josh opens the door and leans his back against it. The defined muscles of his jaw wind even tighter while his arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, so you’re gonna leave just like that?”

Jake snaps back, “We have a business to run, remember?”

Josh shakes his head, looking like he’s ready to throw a fist in his brother’s direction. “Seriously…what the fuck is going on with you?”

Jake walks the few steps until he’s face-to-face with Josh — so close that their noses are touching. If there’s one thing you could give Jake credit for, it’s that he knows how to be intimidating. “Looks like you’re gonna have to work a little harder if you want to keep her, Josh.” 

Josh scowls with untamed anger but remains silent otherwise. Jake huffs in disgust and turns to leave, making sure to clip his twin’s shoulder on his way out. 

With Jake gone, there’s no buffer between you and Josh — no one to step in to speak on your behalf. It feels like hours, but in reality, it’s seconds of deafening silence falling over you until he finally breaks it. He clears his throat first, keeping his voice low and cautious, “You have to know that there was nothing happening there, you’ve got to know that I wasn’t going to…”

“I must know that you weren’t going to what, Josh?” Your voice is clipped — harsh. It matches the icy glare you’re giving him. You collect your things and follow the same path as Jake, stepping inches in front of him. There’s no hiding your anger with the following words leaving you in the form of a snarl, “Fuck her?! How would I know that you weren’t going to?”

You almost want him to argue, whether to prove you wrong or to defend himself with the same aggression that he had with Jake. It might have been that he expects it from his brother —  prepared for it in a way that he’s not with you. Hurt glazes his eyes as he searches yours for an explanation. “Cause she’s just a client.”

Your shoulders fall. You want to believe him until reality seeps into your conscience. “Can’t say you haven’t fucked a client before, Josh. Why would she be any different?”

It’s your final punch, the last word. Admittedly, it was a low blow, and within minutes you know you’ll regret letting it leave your mouth. You can’t bear to witness it, so you take your step toward the door. He reaches out for your arm, calling you by name to stop you from walking out. You rip it from his grasp, making him flinch back. 

 “Bye, Josh.”

Opening the coffee shop has always been a struggle, and this morning proved to be no different. 

Things have been weighing heavily on your mind. Your thoughts have gone from feeling like you completely overreacted, to thinking Josh was in the wrong, to everything in between. You still haven’t brought yourself to answer the few text messages he had sent since that afternoon. 

Thankfully, management schedules two openers for the cafe to balance the workload. You reach for the handle of the back door, realizing that it has already been unlocked by your coworker, Katie. You walk in and find that she has already started tackling the checklist of duties based on the smell of drip-brewed coffee filling the small cafe.   

The next few hours of your morning shift progress as normal with the steady flow of regulars keeping you busy and your mind off the thoughts that have been nagging you for a few days. 

Katie calls out your name, breaking your concentration from the caramel latte you’re making. You turn your head toward the direction of her voice, and once she knows that she has your full attention, she points over to one of the front tables and says, “There’s a delivery for you.”

You give her a look of confusion, making her point her finger with added emphasis to redirect your eyes. The large espresso machines block your view so you step around the counter to see a large floral arrangement sitting on one of the high-top tables by the front window.

The bouquet is placed in a glass vase with a sheer ribbon wrapped around the base, giving away that it’s high-quality — and probably cost a pretty penny. As you approach the table, you’re able to get a better look at the flowers themselves. What pulls your eyes first are the large, white hydrangeas. You spin the heavy vase on the table to admire the assortment of peonies that are starting to open, ranging in colors from creamy white to soft, blushed pink. Between the peonies are smaller peach-colored carnations, gardenias, and pink roses. Even Lily of the Valley sticks out from the other blooms, each stem showcasing the tiny, bell-shaped flowers. The last things you note are the green leaves from the flowers with eucalyptus springs balancing everything out perfectly. You run your fingertips gently over the velvety, delicate petals, taking in all the intricate details you can. 

You notice the folded card nestled amongst the flowers and pluck it from its holder. The front is embossed in gold detailing with your inked name on the front. You open it to read the note written inside. 

You imagine him saying each word, and blush from seeing his handwriting for the first time. Your thumbs trace each line and indentation made into the thick cardstock from where he must’ve pressed too hard with the pen. A pang of guilt hits your heart knowing that he’s stressed over you like this. You can sense it in the note —  in the gesture of sending you ridiculously expensive flowers. 

“Secret admirer?” Katie asks over your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin.

You instinctively close the card and tuck it into your palm. “Huh?”

You hope that she doesn’t mention how on edge you seem to be. She walks around you and goes on to inspect the bouquet for herself, but based on her facial expressions, she seems impressed. “The flowers. Who are they from?”

“Uh…” You swallow thickly as you decide on whether or not to tell her the truth. “Josh.”

“Josh?” You watch as the gears turn in her head working to place the name to a face. Her eyes light up once it clicks, and she gasps,  “Tattoo shop Josh?!” While you bite your lip as the once bubbly blush turns feverishly hot in your cheeks, she looks around the cafe to check whether any customers are within earshot. “‘Super hot, looking like a fucking snack every time he comes in here’ Josh?!”

You laugh nervously, “Yeah…”

Her eyes widen just as her hand flies over her mouth. “Oh my god! You have to tell me everything.”

You panic at the thought, not knowing what you can share about what has happened between Josh and you. But before she can ask any more questions to pry you for details, a group of people walk into the cafe, cutting your conversation short. 

She groans silently and starts to walk away, but not without turning to give you a stern look with a finger pointed at you. “Hold that thought. You better fill me in.”

You chuckle at her hunger for new gossip as you pick up the bouquet and move it back behind the counter to get it out of the way as much as possible. Thankfully, the wave of new orders distracts you enough, but every time you catch the sight of the flowers, those conflicting feelings show face. 

When it’s finally early afternoon and business has started to slow considerably, you occupy yourself with restocking and cleaning. You hear the door chime, but with Katie working the register, you don’t bother looking to see who walks in. Instead, you continue working by wiping down a shelf of sticky syrups. 

“Hello!” Katie greets a customer in her usual upbeat customer service voice. “What can I get started for you today?”

There’s a short moment of silence aside from footsteps approaching the counter. “Let’s see…” 

It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. You’ve come to know that voice very well. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your coworker, but you can’t see the man she’s talking to. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. “Everything looks so good here.” You hear the clicking of his tongue as if he’s looking over the menu. “What would you recommend, Katie?”

Katie giggles — maybe a little too loudly for your liking. Standing perfectly still to stay out of his line of sight, you watch as she becomes increasingly more flustered with each passing second. “Um…what do you normally drink?”

“How’s the cold brew here?”

“R-really g-good.” She stumbles over herself which makes you smile. So it’s not just you. She pauses to collect herself by letting out a deep sigh before describing the drink, “It’s nitro-brewed and very smooth. It’s one of the most popular drinks actually.” 

“That sounds perfect.” His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. “I’ll take the largest size, please.” 

She goes on to place his order and cash him out before grabbing one of the plastic cups from the stack by the register. Even though you’re sure she knows the answer, she acts out of habit by asking, “Name?”

You, however, already know before he says it. 

“Jake.”

“That will be ready in just a minute. You can pick it up right at the end of the counter over there.”

She writes the order along with his name in a black Sharpie on the bottom line of the cup and walks it over to you. By the expression on her face, you can tell she’s screaming internally while fighting to stay as professional as possible. She gestures over to him with an animated look in her eyes when you take the plastic cup. 

She mimes fanning herself as if she’s swooning in his mere presence before returning to her position at the cash register. 

“Hello, dove.”

You flinch from the proximity, realizing that there is no hiding from him now that he’s seen you.  

You pivot slowly on your heels until you’re fully facing him. “Hello, Jake.”

Katie wasn’t overreacting. Your breath catches in your throat now that you’re able to look at him and not just imagine him in your mind. He’s dressed well, but in an outfit that appears to venture from his typical style. He’s wearing high-waisted, gray-pinstriped linen pants. Loosely tucked into the pants is a t-shirt with the shop’s logo on the left breast hidden by the dark, green bomber jacket. With his hair pulled back into a messy, low bun, the fallen pieces frame his face. He’s smiling at you, but you can’t gauge the look in his eyes due to his dark sunglasses covering them. 

You try to hide your reaction by disappearing into the cooler under the counter until you remember that the cold brew he ordered comes from the tap.

 “So this is the place, hmm?” You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice. 

“Shut up,” you huff out as you stand to your knees, letting the smile on your mouth do the talking for you. He laughs at your expense while you read the cup and notice the lack of details about his order. “Do you want any sweetener or milk?”

He shakes his head as he leans across the counter to watch you. “I will admit that seeing you in that little apron was definitely worth breaking out of the shop to come down here.”

As if you suddenly developed a sixth sense, you feel your coworker’s gawking stare from behind. You try your best to ignore it knowing that you will receive a barrage of questions as soon as he walks out the door. “The apron really does it for you guys, huh?”

He bites at his lip instead of answering you. “I got you something.”

You reveal your curiosity through the raise in your brows as you slide his drink over to him. “You did?” 

He sets a grease-stained white paper bag on the counter and pushes it toward you. He watches as you open the bag to inspect its contents. “Of course. I rode out to the taco truck for a bite to eat and thought you might be hungry.”

As soon as you open it, you’re greeted with the delicious aromas of authentic tacos that make your mouth water. “Thank you.”

Katie suddenly chimes into your conversation as she walks behind you, “Well, you’re getting spoiled today. Had flowers delivered and now lunch?”

You shoot her a warning glare over your shoulder, but Jake’s ears have already perked up with the slip of information. “Flower delivery?”

Since you don’t have an acceptable reason to lie, you answer honestly, “Yeah. Josh had them delivered.”

He hums to himself. Although, it appears that he’s more curious than upset, and looks around until he spots them set aside on the floor behind you. “Those are nice.”

This is uncharted territory. You weren’t given the manual of what the right move is in a situation such as this. You can’t even decipher his tone or the words he’s chosen. You can only look away and hum awkwardly in hopes that this doesn’t become a bigger issue. “Mmhmm.”

Jake clears his throat, hoping it does the same for the developing tension hanging between you. He looks down at the cup sitting on the counter, spinning it around in his hands before flicking his eyes back up to yours. “He’s been asking about you, ya know?”

You’re not surprised, but hearing Jake admit it invokes a certain feeling for you. “He has?”

“Are you gonna talk to him?” He can see the rigidity in your movements — or lack thereof. You’re too overwhelmed with Josh’s gesture and Jake’s unexpected visit to know what to say. Your weak excuse of focus falls to your hands while you work to keep them busy with a task.  

While you think of something to say, he lifts his sunglasses away from his eyes and slides them up onto the top of his head and into his hair. There’s something new and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to find it. The silver barbell through the arch of his left brow steals every bit of your attention. “Is that a new piercing?”

His lips curl up at the corners, flashing you that enchanting smile of his as he leans his elbows across the counter. “It is. What do you think?”

You stand back slightly to take it all in. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t take you for a face-piercing guy.”

He shrugs his shoulders.“I was needing a change.” He can tell you don’t buy the answer based on the expression you’re giving him. He hides behind the coffee cup while he takes a sip and adds, “Maybe his impulsiveness is starting to rub off on me.”

“That scares me,” you giggle, giving in to the temptation to reach forward and brush the fallen hair from his face. You tuck it behind his ear, feeling the metal jewelry pierced in it. “I think it suits you.”

It’s only when you look into his eyes that you realize how intimate the moment was. You blush and snap your hand back to your side. He stares at you, studying the details of your face with the purest look of admiration on his. “As much as I want to keep looking at you, I gotta get going, dove. I have an appointment in half an hour.”

“Okay. I’ll see you around.” You try to keep your tone casual, but you know the frown on your face slipped through.

He grasps your wrist just when you start to walk away. “Wait a second. You forgot something.”

“What?”

“C’mere.” He reels you in with that addicting charm so effortlestly that you don’t even realize that he’s pulling you in close by the arm. His lips lock with yours, but only for a second before his tongue slips into your mouth. The warm rush of cinnamon and tobacco coats your senses so much that you forget where you are until your coworker clears her throat from behind you. 

He nips at your bottom lip and reluctantly releases you. “Don’t get in too much trouble, dove.”

He straightens to a standing position, takes out a large bill from his wallet, and places it in the tip jar before heading toward the exit. He shoots a playful wink to Katie before blowing a teasing kiss to you. Just like that, he’s out the door.

In an act so dominant, yet romantic, your head is left spinning with more questions than answers. 

You’re bored. You know it. It’s your day off and you spent your morning and most of the afternoon catching up on chores around the house. It’s a weekday so your friends are occupied and even Jake and Josh are working in the shop. 

You’re not even mad about what happened between the three of you. The obnoxiously large bouquet Josh had delivered to you is currently sitting on your kitchen table. 

You should’ve texted him by now, and to be honest, you’re not sure why you haven’t yet. His last text has gone unanswered for a few days. Maybe you’re afraid of what happens next if you were to respond. And while Josh hangs around in the periphery, Jake remains your main focus. You can’t stop thinking about him. 

The new lingerie set you bought sits on the foot of your bed, waiting for you to try it on for the tenth time since it came home with you. It’s calling to you, beckoning you to put it on one more time. 

It’s a bit more daring than the other one you own. It’s a vibrant, eye-catching red. The cups of the bra have intricate, heart-shaped cut-outs in the fabric, revealing more of your skin. The front of the panties has the same detailing — a heart cut out right in the center of the fabric. 

It accentuates your body, lifting your breasts to show off the soft contours of your cleavage. Having it on gives you that boost of confidence, and you can’t help but turn and twirl in front of the mirror. 

You feel sexy. 

You want him to see you. 

Jake has sent you a few flirty messages since the afternoon he stopped by at the coffee shop, but nothing consistent. The answer itself is quite obvious, but you wonder if sending him pictures would be the best decision. Your nervousness feels silly given how you’ve crossed more extreme boundaries than that, but the hesitation remains. 

You decide to gamble on it by picking up your phone and opening the camera app. The afternoon sun is starting to fall lower in the sky, casting your bedroom in a warm glow. You use it to your advantage and begin taking pictures, playing with the most flattering angles and positions, and even the self-timer until you find ones you’re completely happy with.

One that you settle on is the one where you’re on your hands and knees with your back arched, staring directly into the lens. It’s the right amount of coy, flirty, and teasing. The other picture you decide on is where you’re on your upright on your knees with your arms crossed behind your back, giving him the full view of the set. 

You send them without giving yourself the chance to overthink and back out, adding the message:

Missing you ;)

You watch as the pictures and message change to “delivered”, and then eventually to “read” after a few minutes. You chew at your lip as you anxiously wait for his reply. It feels like an eternity seeing the message bubbles dance across your screen, and then disappear until his response finally comes through.

What the fuck is that?

Your heart instantly drops so fast you feel sick to your stomach. You read his message over and over, trying to figure out what he means until it smacks you right in the face. The tattoo. You had been so distracted, too swept up in the moment and emotions to even think about mentioning it or showing it to him. Thinking back on it, the picture you had sent to him during your phone call didn’t reveal it — as it had been hidden under the material of your bra— and your shirt had been on the entire time while you were in the office. 

I hope for your sake those aren’t the only pictures.

Scratch that. Meet me at the house in an hour wearing ONLY that.

You better hurry, dove. 

He’s taken you off guard. This is not how you anticipated this conversation would go, so here you sit as your brain scrambles for a decent, believable reply. 

Okay

Another text comes through before you can type anything else.

The spare key is under the mat. I want you on my bed ready for me when I get home. 

You sit on the edge of your bed in silence, reading over his texts and maybe a part of you is waiting for another message. After collecting yourself, you accept that there isn’t going to be one. The clock is ticking, and you have less than an hour to get to their house. Within fifteen minutes, you throw on a dress over the lingerie set, pack a quick overnight bag, and feed your cat before finally heading out the door. 

That jittery feeling radiating from your core is enough to make you nauseous. The short drive is almost tortuous from your mind playing out the possibilities. He’s given enough to let on that he isn’t truly upset with you, but there’s no way in hell you can shake the nervousness that you’re experiencing. 

You don’t know why it surprises you to find the spare key is hidden right where he said. It slides right into the lock, and feeling the deadbolt click over brings the trust he has in you to your attention. The house is calm and undisturbed, left exactly how you remembered from the last time you were here. 

 You quickly find your way into Jake’s bedroom and shrug off your bag onto the floor by his closet. Being here without him is surreal and even feels a bit forbidden with everything in here encapsulating his energy and personality. You scan over the items in his room now that you don’t have the distraction, and feel tempted to snoop around a little.

Walking over to his dresser, you look at the stack of hardback books, magazines, an ornate, wooden jewelry box, and even a collection of cologne bottles covering the surface. A small, black bottle piques your interest enough for you to pick it up and read the label. 

Tom Ford. 

It makes you chuckle to yourself because that’s exactly what you would expect from a guy like him — especially him. You place it back into its spot carefully to not knock any of the other bottles on his dresser. As much as you would love to keep looking around, you’re quickly running out of time. He could show up at any second, so you rush pull your dress off and toss it onto the floor, and crawl onto his bed to find the perfect spot. Your concentration is then broken by the loud rumbling of a car pulling into the driveway. 

There’s a minute of dreaded silence after the engine cuts off, but the opening and closing of the front door leaves no doubt that it’s him. You scramble to your knees at the foot of the bed and make sure to check your reflection in the mirror. 

The anticipation is eating away at you, bubbling its way from the pit of your stomach. He hasn’t said anything to greet you, so the house remains quiet aside from the clanging metal of his keys hitting the ceramic dish on their counter. He’s feeding into it by taking his time moving through the living space despite the both of you knowing about each other’s presence. When he finally makes his way to you, his slow, calculated footsteps can be heard echoing down the hallway. 

You stare at the open doorway, realizing that you’ve forgotten to close it behind you. You’re so nervous you worry you might faint given how you haven’t taken a single full breath since he’s been here. 

He finally walks into your line of sight but stops right at the threshold instead of stepping into the bedroom. Your eyes lock with his, and within a flash of a second, you instantly know that you’re in for it. 

He doesn’t rush a single thing, not the movements of his body nor the expressions on his face. He only breaks eye contact to take in the view of you perched up on his throne of a bed. He’s here to worship you, but quickly remind you that it will be on his terms. And in a gesture that seems casual, he sticks his hand in the front pocket of his jeans and leans his shoulder into the doorframe. “Look at you,” he croons to you softly, making sure to draw out the last word as long as possible.  

The blush that’s been living in your cheeks, spreads to the rest of your body, making you look like you had spent a few too many hours basking in the afternoon sun. He saunters toward you, stopping right at the foot of the bed to stand directly in front of you. He reaches his hand out to trace the delicate red lace of your bra, just barely touching the warm skin. “Doing exactly as you’re told.”

He drags those same fingertips gently up the center of your chest, making the air feel heavy in your lungs. Even with your bated breath, you stay perfectly still for him. He gifts you a necklace by slowly wrapping them around your throat, using just enough pressure to tilt your chin up as he leans in. He hums, his voice low and feline, “Dressed up like the prettiest little whore for me.” A rush of heat burns between your legs with his crass words. You hate to admit how it makes you feel, but he can see its effect on you regardless. You can swallow against his palm as he holds you, and watch as his eyes fall to your mouth while his other hand starts to play with the strap of your bra. “This all for me, dove?”

“Yes,” you whimper as you feel the warmth of his fingers tickle across your practically bare shoulder. It’s pathetic how quickly you succumb to his demands. His questions. You don’t care. You’d give him anything he wanted if it meant that he would continue to touch you like this. You’re drunk off it, causing your sense of balance to falter even though you’re planted firmly on your knees. You reach out and grab for him desperately in search of something to hold onto. 

While your fingers tightly wrap around his wrist, his hand snakes up to your chin. He holds it and guides you into a kiss, but instead of spilling his tongue into your mouth and devouring you as you anticipate, he keeps it controlled. You part your lips hungrily to taste him, making him smile against them. “All I have to do is say the word and you come running.” He draws the edge of his nose teasingly across your flushed cheek. “Here you are. Sitting on my bed, just begging helplessly for my cock.”  

The heat of his breath makes every inch of your skin tingle and your arousal build between your thighs. You breathe in his rich scent as you pull him close to you and claw at the t-shirt covering his back. He brings his lips to the shell of your ear and rasps ever so deliciously, “Sounds to me like you’re addicted, dove.”

A low, almost-embarrassing groan pushes past your lips before you can stifle it. You’re growing more impatient by the second, the need to have him consuming you. You search blindly for his lips, brushing your own across his smooth jawline until you find them. As they connect, his hand dives into the tresses of your hair while his tongue slips past your bottom lip. 

He gives in the second he tastes you, pushing you back with deliberate guidance. He falls carefully with you, crawling over your body as you lay across the bed until he’s slotted comfortably between your legs. He’s becoming familiar to you, the sweetness of his mouth, the softness of his skin, the way his tongue explores you. 

Cinnamon and smoke. They bless your tastebuds with each swirling caress of his tongue. He kisses you earnestly with no other motive than to taste and have you to himself at this very moment. No jealousy, no ill-intent — just savoring every single second of you beneath him. You pull him into you and hitch your leg over his waist. The rough material of his jeans brushes against your bare skin, heightening your sense of vulnerability. 

You moan into his mouth, causing him to rock his hips against your core. The feeling of his hard cock straining against the denim, something you’ve been craving since that day in the office, rubbing between your legs drives you to the brink of insanity. 

He nips at your bottom lip, hard enough to leave a sharp sting in the swollen flesh. He pulls away and you already miss the feeling of kissing him, but before you can complain, he props himself on his elbow to create space between you. Maybe it’s to tease you, but you believe it’s for him to catch his breath given how heavily he’s panting. His gaze drifts from your lips and down to your newest tattoo between your breasts. “So when were you planning on telling me about this, dove?”

There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips, making it hard for you to gauge where his head is really at with it. His texts to you said one thing, but the way he’s looking at you now paints an entirely different picture. “Are you mad that I got it?” 

Now, you know deep down that regardless of his opinion on the matter, it’s your body and your decision. However, you would be lying if you said you aren’t curious about what he thinks about it. 

That hint of a smile grows into a smirk as he caresses the inked skin and adjusts the bra enough to peek around the fabric. He lets out a deep sigh while his fingers continue to create pathways across the planes of your body. “While I can’t say I love the fact you hid it from me…” He trails off as if distracted by the sight before him. “I will admit that it looks incredible on you.”

The compliment mixed with the feeling of guilt threatens to pull you back into your thoughts. You can see he’s inspecting Josh’s work carefully, but whether he doubts his brother’s skill is entirely unknown to you. He traces over the line work with the faintest touch and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding beneath the surface of your skin. You know the answer to the question based on the subtle expressions on his face, but that doesn’t stop you from asking, “You like it, huh?”

His eyes flick back up to meet yours. The growing desire blooms within the darkening pupils — reminding you that you’re playing recklessly with an open flame. “You better be careful. I hate seeing my work go unfinished.”

A giggle bubbles in your chest despite the seriousness in his husky voice. “Is that a threat?”

The sound of your laughter breaks him enough to smile wide and chuckle. It settles into a hushed silence, and you witness his expression shift as he stares into your eyes. “You’re fucking exquisite. You know that?” 

It’s fleeting, but you swear he’s looking at you with more than lust in his thoughts. It scares you — well, terrifies you. You can only stare back with your mouth hanging open in disbelief.

 “I’m serious, dove. You are the art.”

You’re not sure if he’s expecting an answer, but you take the moment to appreciate his beauty. The flawless skin that’s starting to tan with the change in season. His perfectly pouted lips are a sinful shade of cherry from kissing you. You even notice the slightest bit of stubble starting to grow above them. He opens his mouth, stalling on the breath before whispering out the words, “You take my breath away often.”

You’re not falling for him. Right?

You would convince yourself later that it’s your horniness that makes you desperate to break this tension and not your fear of intimacy. He’s showing you behind the veil again and it overloads your brain too much to even begin to process it. You act on an impulse and reach down between your bodies, taunting him as you do so in the sultriest voice you can conjure up, “You’re not getting soft on me, are you, Jake?”

You grab a handful of his cock through his jeans, squeezing him roughly to emphasize your point. It’s past the point of daring, but the reward of seeing his eyes roll back behind sleepy lids and hearing that primal groan erupt from his throat makes the consequences worth it. 

Before you can blink or mutter a single sound, he snatches your throat in his hand. You mewl from the sudden pressure and the sting of his fingers. He hovers just barely an inch from your lips, causing the warmth of his breath to fan across them. “I thought I told you to be careful, dove.” Satisfied that you understand that he’s the one in control, he releases his grip around your neck and snakes it down your chest. He cocks the pierced brow and says matter-of-factly, “Because I should really throw you over my knee for this.”

Embarrassingly, your thighs clench at the thought. He notices how restless you are and that stupid fucking smirk forms on his face. “Is that what you want, baby?” When you don’t answer right away, he pinches your covered nipple between his fingers. Hard. Enough for you to cry out from both the pain and the desperation for more. 

“Jake!” 

He chuckles, but the sound is muffled into your skin as he makes his way down to your breasts. The heat of his mouth can be felt through the lace of your bra with every pass of his lips over your nipple. It hardens beneath the fabric almost instantly. He surprises you by sinking his teeth around it to deliver a sharp bite, causing another cry to break through your chest. “Ow, you fuck!”

You also react by pulling at his hair, which causes a low growl to rumble in the depths of his throat. His tongue rushes to soothe the shock, lapping over the throbbing bud with languid strokes. The wet, warmth soaking into the material is intoxicating, causing your arousal to pool between your legs. “Fuck that feels good,” you mumble, and arch your back to drive it farther into his mouth. 

While his mouth is busy abusing your tits with a delightful combination of pleasure and pain, his fingers travel lower and lower until they find the lace edge of your panties. He tugs at the waistband, brushing his knuckles across your supple skin between your hips until he lets go, making it snap against you. You can only huff in frustration,  “You’re a fucking tease.”

“Yeah?” He lifts his head and finally responds. You hum your answer, but you’re too distracted with what he’s doing to elaborate. His hand dips between your thighs, and he explores your covered core with the faintest touch of his fingertips. You want nothing more than for him to rip these expensive ass panties down your legs and fuck you so hard you forget your name. He knows it too. You’re bucking into his hand as if your life depends on it, but he's already decided that he won’t give you the satisfaction of it. He slips his middle finger under the fabric, and groans as he coats himself in your slick, “And you’re fucking soaked, baby girl.”

“That beautiful clit,” he sighs as he circles over it. “I bet I can make you cum without even touching her.”

You’re trembling beneath him, feeling as though you might spontaneously combust right here. You’ve grabbed a hold of anything to keep yourself grounded, his arms, his hair, the silken sheets that probably cost more than half of one of your paychecks. You just know deep down that the more you beg for release, the longer he’ll tease you for it. 

The universe is playing the cruelest joke on you. He retreats his hand, and when your eyes snap open, he says, “Let’s smoke.”

He’s already hovering above you, balancing on both hands and showcasing that perfectly white smile. You shuffle up onto the pillows and scoff, “Are you fucking serious?”

He kisses you on the lips to placate your frustration and sits up to start sliding off the bed, “I would never joke about such a thing.”

You stare at him in utter disbelief, watching as he settles into the chair at his desk and pulls out a wooden rolling tray. You can’t believe he stopped and is now deciding to roll a fucking blunt. You were probably seconds away from coming on his hand and he’s spinning his grinder as if nothing happened. Throwing your head into the pillow, you grumble, “You’re such an asshole.”

He barks a laugh and leans into the back of his chair. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

“Huh?”

“Play with your pretty pussy for me, dove.” The look he’s giving you paired with the tone tells you he’s completely serious. His eyes shift back down to his rolling tray, and he continues his task. “Then maybe I’ll think about rewarding you.”

You suddenly feel shy. Doing this on the phone felt entirely different than it does in person — laying in full view of him. There’s nothing to hide behind now, but you can’t say that you want to. You keep your eyes focused on him and slide your hand down the front of your body to where he was moments ago. Mimicking him, you feel the damp fabric between your thighs. 

Your legs fall open, but you hold off on removing your panties. He won’t admit it, but he’s having a difficult time staying focused. He pauses, his gaze lingering on you as you stroke your fingers over yourself. 

The front door to the house opens and slams shut. 

Josh is home. He wastes no time storming into the hallway toward the bedrooms. 

 “Goddamnit, Jake! You can’t just fucking leave the shop whenever you fucking please. Do us all a favor and at least answer your fucking phone. Sam and I just spent the last twenty minutes rescheduling your fucking appointments for the day, you fuckhea—“ Josh’s voice booms through the hall. He stumbles into Jake’s bedroom and it’s like someone pulled the plug on his brain the second he lays eyes on you.

You haven’t moved an inch since the door swung open. Your fingers stay frozen between your parted thighs while Jake continues to prep the wrap for rolling. It feels as though all the air has been sucked out of the room at once. You glance over at him, but his facial expression is hard to decipher. It’s somewhere between annoyed and amused at Josh’s flustered state. 

You had somehow pushed how attractive Josh is out of your mind this past week. His hair is the same as the last time you saw him, but stubble is starting to come in on his once clean-shaven face. He’s cropped a vintage David Bowie tee just at his navel, revealing the gold bar recently pierced in it. Your eyes fall even lower, taking note of the distinct contour of his bare hips - the fucking v-line that’s interrupted by the Calvin Klein band of his boxers. It’s a statement of its own, sticking out above his light-wash Levi’s in plain view. He looks so good you could cry. 

He doesn’t know what to do and you can tell he’s got so much to say or wants to say, but he can’t find the right words. 

After he’s accepted that you’re laying on Jake’s bed and not a figment of his imagination, he straightens, staring at you in complete awe. “Hey, baby.”

“Can I help you?” Jake interrupts. “We’re kind of in the middle of something.” 

Josh’s head whips around so fast in Jake’s direction you worry he might have pulled a muscle. His tight jaw muscles clench as a deep breath pushes from his flared nostrils. You hate how seeing him angry turns you on. “And so am I. I’m trying to fix things here.”

Jake scoffs but doesn’t lower the blunt he’s working on rolling. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than just standing there gawking at her.” It’s like you’re not even in the room. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m about to smoke and…” He pauses, letting the grin pull at his lips, and looks up at Josh. “Fuck her until she begs for mercy.”

The cherry on top is Jake locking eyes with you while he licks across the open edge of the blunt wrap. 

Bastard.

The look they exchange worries you like they might throw fists at any second. “Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”

Jake huffs a humorless laugh, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

As much as you enjoy watching them bicker over you, you need to change the energy in the room. Fast.  “Josh…”

You effectively pull his attention, and his body releases some tension at the sound of your voice. “Yeah?”

“Come here,” you beckon him, keeping your voice inviting and soft while maintaining a sense of authority — even if it’s false. There’s a serious conversation to be had between you, but the both of you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You resume touching yourself just as before. While his amber eyes stay fixed on yours, you spot the erection growing under the denim. Josh stumbles, rushing forward like his brain is no longer in control of the movements. “Slowly,” you demand, making him stop a few feet from the foot of the bed. “Take off your pants.”

He yanks his shirt over his head and  scrambles to pop open the button of his jeans without protest, hooking both the band of his pants and underwear with his thumbs until you tell him, “Just your pants.” He doesn’t break eye contact as he kicks them down his legs and onto the floor.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jake’s mouth open to say something, but before he can spit out an insult or complaint, you shoot him a warning glare. 

As Josh starts to crawl onto the bed, the floodgates open with apologies, “I’m so sorry, baby. I was being an asshole and I didn’t mean—“

“Show me.”

He blinks and looks at you with confusion distorting his boyish features. “What?”

“Show me how sorry you are,” you repeat yourself, but with much more volition backing up your seductive tone.

Something flickers within those honeyed pupils. He lowers his head down and places a careful kiss on the top of your foot as if you were a timid animal that might spook and kick him. When he realizes that you won’t, he kisses you again, but a few inches higher on your ankle. “I’ve missed you, baby.”

You’ve missed him too. 

You don’t say it though. Instead, you act on your desires and dip your fingers around the lace, collecting your arousal as you glide across your clit. He peers up through his lashes as his hands slip under the massive duvet beneath your legs, sending waves of silk across you. His lips skate up the inside of your calf as he crawls onto his stomach between your legs. A sea of goosebumps rise across the surface while a low moan passes through your lips. Every point of contact from his lips sends a shock wave of electricity through your body. 

While you touch yourself lazily, he showers your leg with sloppy kisses until he reaches your inner thigh. You touch him for the first time by combing through his fallen curls with your free hand, giving him silent approval. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he mumbles the confession into the flesh. You can barely contain yourself with the anticipation ravaging every square inch of your body. You clench your fingers to satisfy the need, but it does little to suppress it. He’s so close that you’re almost touching him with your hand that’s moving under the lace. The heat of his breath fanning across your skin is like the first hit of a drug to your brain. 

Maybe Jake is right. You are addicted. 

He’s being extremely cautious with you, taking note of every one of your body’s responses to his touch. But when your breath finally shudders, he presses his lips to the back of your hand, stilling it almost instantly. It’s the only thing between him and where he should be. It’s been far too long since he’s been in this position and it seems to be driving him just as crazy as it does you. 

The self-control is undeniable with how his focus is fixed solely on your fingers. It’s only when you whisper his name that he glances up through his dark lashes. 

With his eyes locked on yours, he reaches between your legs and takes hold of your wrist, turning it ever so slightly to place another kiss at your pulse point. You wonder to yourself if he feels your blood pounding within your veins. His tongue breaks its way into the kiss, earning a pleased hum from you. He pushes farther and licks down the center of your palm, following a direct path along your first two fingers. 

“The way you taste,” he groans, holding your fingertips to the edge of his mouth. His eyes flutter closed as he slides them past his open lips, only to savor the taste of you. It doesn’t take long for his impulses to catch up to him. He rolls his tongue over your fingers, sending the metal ball of his piercing across the skin. 

You nearly break at this moment.  

You pull them from his mouth and cradle his face before letting out a shaky breath. “Do you think you deserve it, baby?” You ask, the sound of your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Please,” he buries his plea into your inner thigh while he wraps his hands around your thighs. He’s struggling to keep his composure, and it does nothing but turn you on that much more. 

“Help me take these off.” 

Josh’s eyes round with excitement just as his breath catches in his throat. You don’t need to tell him twice. He’s more than eager, hooking the band of your panties and sliding them down your legs within seconds. Once they are tossed, he settles between your parted legs to appreciate your naked beauty before him. 

Jake clears his throat from across the room, ripping the seams of your attention away from Josh. You expect him to be angry with Josh’s face centimeters from your aching pussy, but he’s not. He’s gotten up from his chair and is walking over to you, taking confident strides with his ego vibrating into the wooden floors where he steps. There’s a pair of handcuffs in his hand, but these aren’t those gimmicky fuzzy cuffs that are found in every sex shop across the country. They look real. 

With the metal cuff swinging from his finger and the devilish smirk playing on his lips, he approaches you with purpose even if the thoughts are muddled behind his dark eyes. 

A wave of anxiety washes over you until you remember the safe words he taught you. Josh, however, doesn’t seem to notice Jake’s looming presence as he approaches. He’s too distracted, and drives his hips into the mattress with a pathetic whine cracking from his throat, “Can I make you feel good, baby?”  

He’s groveling. All the power is stripped from his voice, and it sounds so fucking sweet. 

You are on the brink of giving in when Jake sinks a knee into the mattress and leans down to you.  He takes your hand and places the handcuffs in your open palm. “You need to make him work for it, dove.”

Oh. 

The metal feels cold to the touch, weighing far heavier than you expected. The look smoldering in Jake’s eyes tells you everything while simultaneously giving you the nudge of confidence you might not otherwise possess. 

“Please, baby. Let me make you feel good,” Josh repeats himself with more desperation laden in the words with a squeeze around your thighs.  

Jake is the one to break eye contact first. He sits on the edge of the bed, half-turned with his back to you as he goes on to light the end of the blunt. He tosses the lighter onto the nightstand, handing off the power to leave what happens next entirely up to you. You clutch that confidence tightly and look down between your legs. You brush the curls from his forehead affectionately, and in your most saccharine-sweet voice, you murmur,  “You really wanna make me feel good, Josh?”

At first, Josh looks utterly confused but stays silent. His weary eyes dart between yours, the handcuffs in your hand, and at Jake, until it clicks. The soft smile on your lips reassures him and he nods, granting you permission to continue. 

He gives his trust, offering you his hands by resting them across the softness of your belly, and watches you lock the first handcuff around his left wrist and then the right. You’re mindful not to pinch his skin as the grooved ends click into place, making sure they stay as comfortable as possible. 

He tests the feel of them by moving his hands, only to find he’s not given much freedom with the three-link chain connecting them. Remembering the anxiety you felt with Jake, and thinking he might panic, you ask, “Color?”

Without skipping a beat, he answers, “Green.”

 Jake makes sure to add another level of reassurance by wiggling the handcuff keys — a set of two hooked on a simple ring — and sets them on the nightstand in plain sight. If you weren’t overwhelmed enough already, Jake settles onto the bed next to you and starts to kiss your neck. 

It floods your conscience with memories from the first night you had fucked them in the tattoo shop. 

You watch Josh place kisses on your pubic bone, each one deeper than the last as he makes his way down your center. The warmth of his breath blankets you, causing your legs to tremble around his face. “This is what I dream about,” he mutters.

You believe he intended to take his time and tease you, but the second he has your pussy in his mouth, his primal urges take over. He licks across your clit and groans, sending vibrations into your skin. 

“Oh my god,” you moan, snapping your legs around his face. The tongue piercing rolling across you acts like a shockwave no matter how many times you experience it. 

Jake pulls in a long, steady drag from the blunt before offering it over to you. Thankfully, you’re in a clear enough state of mind to pluck it from his fingers and bring it to your lips. While you take the tiniest hit in fear that you might lose the fight of the fiery urge to cough, he holds his in his lungs as he starts to leave a trail of sloppy kisses up the column of your neck. 

Jake yanks the sheer cups of your bra down far enough to expose your breasts to him. He brings his mouth to the left one, and flicks his pointed tongue across your nipple, making it harden within seconds. To add another layer to your torment, he blows the stream of smoke he’s been keeping in his chest across them. It tickles across your wet flesh, hanging around your body like a thick fog that clouds your mind.

Josh must’ve breathed in the pungent smoke because he suddenly breaks contact and looks up. He gestures with his eyes to Jake’s hand. To your surprise, Jake responds with a silent nod and ashes it into the glass bowl on the table before placing the burning blunt between Josh’s fingers. He struggles to shift forward without pushing down on you but can bring it to his mouth. 

He takes in a slow drag, bringing the red-hot cherry to life. He barely reacts to the harshness, but you still see his face contort from the burn prickling his throat. Jake wastes no time taking it back, ensuring that the ash doesn’t fall on your bare skin. He doesn’t mind, he’s more focused on you than the blunt taken from his fingers. With a smile that melts your heart like chocolate in the warm sun, he shoots you a playful wink. And just when you think he’d push the smoke into the air above him, he lowers his head to blow it between your legs.

You writhe against the bed from the tickling heat creeping up your body. Just like the tobacco wrap of the blunt, you wish to burn that image into your mind forever. “Trying to get my pussy high too?”

“I promised I would make you feel good, didn’t I?” He giggles, reminding you of his charm as he seals his lips around your clit. 

Your answer takes the form of a ragged breath. He’s not holding back or easing you into a gentle orgasm. The desperation hasn’t disappeared with his spoken pleas. It thrives in his tongue with every secret drawn onto your pussy. He’s a starved man, deprived of sustenance for days and you’re his first drink of water.

The noises coming from between your legs are obscene, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You don’t even care how it makes Jake feel. Josh works on you with one goal in mind, making you come. The breath locks in your chest and your eyes clamp shut as the feeling within your core burns hotter. He suckles the bundle of nerves with unprecedented energy, lapping and rolling his tongue in a changing pattern of shapes across you. 

Jake’s lips brush the shell of your ear while his fingertips graze across your hardened nipples. The fry of his voice itching that spot hidden in your mind. “See how generous I can be?”

The weed is starting to take effect on your body, making your eyelids feel far too heavy to keep open. You let them close and fall back into the hidden corners of your mind while your body buzzes wildly like a pissed-off beehive from the combined high. Jake only adds to the bliss when his tongue massages deep into your skin before he leaves a teasing nip. 

“You’re not even looking at him, dove,” he sighs into the sweet spot tucked behind your ear. “I give you a little taste of power and you don’t even know what to do with it.”

You blink through the haze to see Josh straining. The restriction of the cuffs dividing his focus that would normally be set on only you. He’s working against the position, making sure to balance the weight of his arms across you. At one point he rests his head on the top of your thigh to collect himself. 

You’re not sure what compels you to weave your fingers through the sweat-dampened hair at the crown of his head. He hums at first, thinking it was an action of praise. That’s until you pull at his roots hard enough to make him groan from the sting. “Was it worth it?”

When you don’t loosen your fist, he lifts his head from you, leaving that aching feeling where his mouth was. Now that you have his attention, you hiss, “Did she fuck you better than me?”

If you were sober, the thought that’s been steeping in your mind might not have formed on your tongue. It might have even been embarrassing for you to mention it. But now that he’s between your legs, staring at you with those blown-out, frighteningly submissive doe-eyes, you just can’t help yourself. You feel Jake’s smile against your throat while those golden eyes burn coal black before you in a matter of seconds. He mumbles something under his breath as he buries himself between your thighs once again.

You tighten your grip and pull for a second time, causing a growl to push through Josh’s teeth. In a moment of clarity through your brain fog, you cock your brow and huff with an undeniable amount of attitude, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Josh is taken aback by your words, and even Jake’s lips pause against your flesh. He collects himself with a steadying breath through his fatigued pants. “I said, ‘I didn’t fuck her’.” 

You stare at each other for a few beats of time, testing who will be the first one to break the silence. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he moves unexpectedly into a sitting position, causing your legs to slip from his shoulders. He scrambles to catch you but loses his grasp due to his hands being cuffed the way they are. 

You jolt upright, fueled purely out of sexual frustration, only for Jake to wrap his hand and the nape of your neck and pull you back. He sighs, softly rasping against your ear,  “My turn.”

“Ja—“

“On your knees,” he barks with authority with a gentle hand guiding you into a kneeling position. 

Josh raises his hands. “Are you gonna take these off now?”

“I dunno.” Jake scoffs with his usual flair of cockiness, fully aware that Josh could easily slide off the bed and unlock his cuffs within a minute if he wanted to. He knows he’s playing the game, and decides to make his move. “What do you think, dove?”

You hum, grabbing Josh’s hands to hold them within your own. You run your thumbs over the metal cuffs and down his soft fingers, feeling his rings and the smooth gel polish covering his nails. “I think they should stay on. They look good on you, baby.”

Your answer makes Josh’s hands tighten around yours, but Jake’s hasn’t released his from your neck. He squeezes them into the flesh, causing the shiver to run down the length of your spine. He adds to the feeling with his demand infiltrating your mind, “Get the hooks from under the bed.” You don’t move at first, hesitating for far longer than you should. “I’m not fucking asking.”

He smacks his hand across your asscheek, making you yelp from the harsh sting. You crawl to the side of the bed and feel for the restraints he had used for you before, secured against the bed frame. You unlatch it, and do the same for the other side. 

Josh watches you retrieve them, but the look in his eyes tells you he doesn’t know what to expect. “What are those for?” He asks with anxiety rising in his voice. He waits for an answer but your eyes staying on his cuffed hands connect the dots for him. “Are you serious?”

Jake loses enough patience to snap, “Do you want to stay or not?”

You act quickly to diffuse the potential fight by pulling Josh into a kiss. It catches him off guard, but he melts to the feeling within seconds. You break away enough to whisper,  “Do you trust me?” 

He smiles against your lips, answering in a bashful sigh, “Yeah.”

You capture him into another kiss, reminding yourself how much you’ve missed this — the taste of you lingering on his tongue as it sweeps across yours. He’s a lazy Sunday morning tangled in the pile of sheets, wrapping you in that sweet familiar comfort. You crave it more than you realize and find that you’re not willing to let that go.

 While he loses himself exploring your mouth, you take the opportunity to connect the hooks of the bed restraints to his handcuffs.  “Color?”

“Fucking green, baby.”

You sit back on your heels to admire the sight of him before you. He’s kneeling, now with the perfect amount of tension keeping his hands suspended no higher than navel height. Nothing is hiding what’s happening in his underwear. 

Jake has stripped out of his shirt and pants and returned to his place behind you. He presses his bare chest against your back while his hands roam across the tops of your thighs, paying special attention to his tattoo on the right one. 

Josh is already struggling to stay still from you being inches out of reach, his wrists fidgeting against the metal cuffs. Your breath hitches when Jake’s hand slides between your legs, his fingers parting your lips through a teasing drag. “So wet and ready for me.” His middle finger slides into your pussy with alarming ease, eliciting a muffled grunt into your hair, “Fuck, you’re so close, aren’t you, dove?”

You let go of the whimper and rock your hips to chase it, causing him to squeeze the hand resting on your hip and add another finger, stretching you out. Pleased with how you fall apart to his touch, he slowly starts to curl them inside you. You grind against his palm, writhing from the pleasure as you all listen to the slick sounds of his fingers inside you. If your eyes were open, you would have noticed him staring at Josh when he says, “You could come on my fingers right now if you wanted to.”

You could. There’s no denying it. You just want to hold onto the high for as long as you can, and he can feel you working against him. He draws both fingers out, leaving you with that dreaded empty feeling, “You don’t do you? You want to wait for me to fuck you, little dove?”

You claw at the back of his hand, digging your nails into the flesh with a pitiful moan cracking from your throat. He growls into your ear while driving his covered erection into the swell of your ass. You need it so bad, but he can’t resist teasing you by circling his fingertips around your entrance. “You want to come on my cock instead?” 

You curse his name, but the sounds that follow it are unintelligible. He chuckles, the breath of his laughter fluttering across your tacky skin. “Fucking music to my ears. Just say those magic words, pretty girl.” 

“Please, please, please,” you whine, hoping that the pitchy pleas will be enough for him to give you what you want. 

“Good girl.” His hand leaves your hip so he can pull himself free from his boxers. The shift of balance sends you forward into Josh. You hear the metal clink against itself as he strains to touch you. Just before he can, Jake wraps his hand around your upper arm, snatching you upright once more. There’s not an inch of space left between you, and the only thing your fuzzy mind can process is the velvety-soft skin of his cock brush pressing against your ass. “Aht! Your pussy is mine to play with tonight.”

Josh scoffs, “What?!”

Jake throws the verbal jab over your shoulder, “Do you need the ball gag too?” Josh’s mouth opens like he’s ready to argue back, but decides to close his mouth instead. 

You almost scold Jake, but his hand gently sweeping your hair from your shoulder shuts down the thought completely. His fingers dance down the length of your back, tracing the ridge of your spine — just to see you shudder. 

He then unhooks the clasps of your bra, releasing the lingerie from your body. You wiggle it down your arms, giving Josh a full view of your naked breasts. You watch his eyes widen and his mouth falls again.

“Fuck,” Josh breathes in shameless awe.

Jake wastes no more time, and dips his cock between your legs, lining himself up to nudge the tip at your entrance. Even if he chooses not to admit it, he wants this just as bad as you. He rocks his hips forward to slowly push into you, and as you’re stretched out little by little, he exhales through a breathy laugh, “Your pussy wants to swallow me up.” At the halfway point, he slides out enough to where only the head of his cock remains before bottoming out to the hilt in a single thrust. 

You both gasp in unison at the feeling of him filling you up, but the words fail to form on your tongue. He stills while buried deep, allowing you to adjust to his size, but you’re already fluttering around his length with how close you are. He keeps you upright on your knees with his left arm holding you below your breasts and his right hand finding its place between your legs. “You’re so fucking tight around me.” 

“Feeling good, baby?” Josh’s voice cuts through the fog enough for you to look up. Despite the internal battle within his mind, his expression stays soft for you. You keep your eyes on his and nod against Jake’s shoulder. “Just think about when I finally get you to myself again.”

Jake grunts, “Taking me so well.” His hips begin to roll, gliding in and out of you at the slowest pace possible. “Fuck, this pussy is so perfect. Like it was fucking made for me.”

You would tell him how good he feels if you could, but the only sounds are broken curses in the form of moans. You’re too preoccupied with bracing yourself on the very edge of your peak. You’re drunk off his cock and every thrust is another drink. Your inhibitions are long gone and the only thing consuming you is the need to have more of him. 

“I can feel how close you are,” Jake mumbles into your neck, kissing his way down to your shoulder. He matches the rhythm of his thrusts with the strokes of his fingers circling over your clit. 

You’re within seconds of crumbling apart in his arms. 

“Please, Jake. Don’t stop. Please, oh my god.”

“You sound so pretty begging for it. My beautiful whore.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Josh spits out, causing your eyes to snap open and see his shocked expression. 

But Jake isn’t bothered by his brother’s reaction, if anything, it only adds to his depravity. His fingers glide lazily over your clit as he coos softly into your cheek, “Tell him how much you love it, dove.” You’re more than distracted by the orgasm ready to unleash within you, but he doesn’t care. “Go on. Tell him how much your pussy cries for me when I call you my whore.”

He stops moving inside you and lifts his fingers away from your aching clit, making you cry out in frustration, “Are you fucking serious, Jake?”

“Tell him, and I’ll let you cum,” he demands with his cheek pressed against yours. 

He’s reduced you down into a whimpering mess, nearly bringing you to tears of desperation for release. There’s no holding back the confession that comes pouring out. “I love it when he calls me a whore.” 

“That’s right, dove,” he hums, skimming his lips along your flushed face as he rewards you with his movements again. He sinks his teeth into your cheek while giving your nipple a taunting pinch. “I had a feeling you would be a good listener.”

Your strangled moan fills the room, “Please, Jake. I’m so fucking close.” 

“I fucking love it when you say my name.” He spoils your clit along the grinding motion of his hips. You got one foot hanging off the ledge and he’s ready to give you that final shove.  “Give it to me.”

“Let go, baby,” Josh reassures you in a calming voice.  

Your body acts out of your control, succumbing to the tidal wave of your release. Your vision blurs through tear-glazed eyes, and the sounds around become nothing but static. The world might as well be crashing around you and heavenly bliss never felt so sinful. You spasm around his cock, locking him deep inside you. While he has to work to fuck through it, his fingers continue to rub across your over-stimulated clit. 

He shows his mercy by slowing himself down to a stop, pausing only for you to collect yourself. He’s nowhere near done with you, but Josh’s patience is thinning by the second. His cock is throbbing beneath the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and his wrists are beginning to turn red where the metal rubs against the skin. 

Jake’s ragged breathing gives away how close he might have been. He swallows it back and lets out a laugh, “You better touch him before he explodes in his boxers.”

“Fuck you, you prick.”

You lean forward to place a kiss on his neck, skimming your fingertips down his covered torso as your lips connect. You flick your tongue across his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat. His hands are restless, his knuckles brushing across your stomach. “Color?”

Josh stutters, “Gr-green. Baby, please.” His Adam’s apple bounces beneath your lips. “Let me—“ 

“Aht!” You nip at the thin skin of his throat, making him flinch. “You only speak when I ask you a question.” You rub your hand over his chest, feeling his racing heart beneath your palms. “Can you be a good boy and do that for me, Josh?” 

“Yes.” His voice cracks through the word due to your fingertips tickling across the lean muscles of his stomach. 

 You trace the flowers tattooed on his hips before drawing your path down his thigh. “You been this hard the whole time, baby?” He nods enthusiastically, pushing his hips forward in search of friction. Your fingers ghost his erection, and the way you’re teasing him might be considered cruel. “You’ve been such a good boy.” 

His cock twitches to the praise — another thing you��re going to become addicted to.  “You were so patient while you made me feel good.” 

Jake has barely moved until now, but he is not one to accept the idea of being forgotten. He reminds you that he is very much still inside you with a single powerful thrust. You fight the temptation and stifle back the moan threatening to break free. 

You kiss along his jawline and slip your hand under the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling across the warm, silky-smooth skin, a wet spot of fabric clings to the back of your hand as you find that the head of his cock is slick with precum. “You’ve made quite the mess, baby.” 

You brush your fingertips up and down the length of him, causing a violent shiver to roll through his body with a clipped moan breaking free from his lips. You hold him against the palm of your hand, cradling what can fit. “Oh my, you are sensitive.”

Jake’s hips start to pick up enough momentum to distract you. You might have Josh on his knees in front of you, but Jake is the one in control. He takes advantage of your pause by placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Has my little bird finally gotten used to her wings?”

You peek over your shoulder, seeing him for the first time since he’s been behind you like this. It’s too much to bear — his tanned skin glowing in the setting sun, the tattoos on his chest and arms, the tiny wisps of sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. It’s fruitless, but you force yourself to feign disgust despite his words causing your heart to flutter wildly in your chest. “Be careful or I might fly away.”

A crooked smile hooks the corner of his mouth, showing you his teeth before they sink into his bottom lip. That with the certain glimmer in his eyes that you’ve come to know quite well provides enough of a warning to you.

You pull Josh’s cock from his boxers, wrap your fist loosely around the base and start stroking him. “Are you gonna be good for me? Treat me how I’m supposed to be treated?”

He bucks his hips involuntarily, driving himself into your hand. You watch his eyes roll behind heavy lids as he answers you in a breathless whisper, “Yes, baby.”

You kiss the smooth plane of skin from his chin to his ear, leaving a trail with your tongue as you go. “You promise?”

You suck teasingly on his earlobe, feeling the cool golden hoop over your lips and tongue. He hisses, and just based on that sound alone, you know he would rip from the metal cuffs and fuck you mercilessly into the mattress if he could. “Fuck… fuck. Yeah, I promise.” 

His cock is so painfully hard in your hand that you almost feel guilty. “You wanna cum so badly, don’t you?”

Josh whimpers, the submissiveness of his cry making your pussy tighten around Jake. He notices and laughs with an air of cockiness that stains your mind, “See what you put him through? and he’s still on his knees begging for it.”

You shift your body, and thankfully Jake adjusts with you so you can lower yourself. Josh leans back as much as the cuffs allow and watches your every move. You know what he’s hoping for — for you to take him into your mouth and lick every spot of him.  You’re in control, which is rather contradictory given how Jake is pounding into you from behind. He’s just going to have to settle for the alternative. 

You look into his eyes while holding the weight of him in your palm. Your lips part enough for a long dribble of spit to fall directly onto his cock. He fights to keep his eyes open, but his brows are tipped up and sewn tightly together. You glaze him with a twist of your wrist, causing his entire body to shake beneath you. “Are you sorry?”

He huffs out a pained breath, “Yes! Yes… fuck, baby.” The muscles and tendons of his forearms flex against the restriction of his handcuffs —  each stroke of your spit-lubed hand pushing him closer to the edge. “Please. I’m so fucking close.”

You drop even lower, biting and sucking the sensitive skin of his stomach to leave a collection of splotchy love marks as you work him. Your mouth would be on his navel if the piercing was healed enough, but you settle on licking down the trail of hair to his cock instead. “Go ahead, baby. Come for me.”

“I’m gonna…” He trails off and his legs begin to tremble. His abs strain and spasm against your lips while the pulse within his cock becomes heavy in your grasp. You suddenly stop the movement of your wrists, but it’s too late for him to hold back. A frustrated gasp leaves his chest while ropes his warm cum paint yours. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before you release your hold on him, hoping to avoid adding to his overstimulation. Jake has been patient with you up until this point but ends it by weaving his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and bringing you back up on your knees. 

“You ready to be filled like the whore you are?” His voice is seductive and sweet despite the crude words and stinging tension he’s putting on your scalp. “Covered and dripping in cum?”

You nod the best you can with his firm hold on your hair while squeaking out, “Yes.” Satisfied, he lets go to place a hand around your hip and an open palm to the small of your back.  

Josh does the unexpected and lowers his head to your chest to lick a stripe across your nipple. He peers through his lashes to see your shocked expression, offering you a smile before his tongue laps over your breasts. You place your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself as he works to clean himself off of you in rolling patterns of his tongue. He takes his time with no rush in sight as he makes his way up your neck, humming into your skin as he goes. 

His lips meet yours, delivering a hungry kiss and the taste of him to you. His orgasm offered little reprieve with how his tongue is dancing across yours. It’s broken by Jake’s hand around your throat, causing Josh to settle back on his heels to regain his composure. Jake then whispers directly in your ear, loud enough for only you to hear, “There will be a day where another man’s touch, his cock, the way he makes you cum… will never compare to me. Even him.”

You freeze in stunned silence, but Jake is unraveling quicker than the both of you realize, his collected pace faltering within a matter of seconds. His grunted curses are soon followed by a few staggered thrusts. With a final powerful pump of his cock directly into your cervix, he empties himself deep inside of you. 

You’re all left in a similar state —hearts pounding erratically while your lungs yearn for air. With the wave of euphoria dissipating at a rapid pace, Josh’s mood shifts instantly. A wave of clarity flashes before him, pulling the trigger to his anger that has been otherwise suppressed. He snaps with a dramatic thrash of his hands, “Can you get these fucking things off me?”

Flustered and taken off guard, you crawl across the bed, pulling Jake out of you as you do so. Jake hisses and curses under his breath but chooses to stay in place. You reach for the keys and unlock the cuffs, but Josh rips them off his wrists and tosses them across the room before you have a chance to remove them yourself. You recoil at the harsh sound of metal skittering against the hardwood. “What the hell?!”

Josh doesn’t answer you. He jumps off the bed without bothering to collect his clothes as he storms toward the door.  “Josh! Wait a min—“ You call out after him, only to be cut off by his bedroom door being slammed so hard that the walls of the house shake. 

You turn to Jake for answers — looking for anything to fix whatever just happened — to see that doesn’t seem bothered at all by Josh’s outburst. He’s laying across the pillows with an arm tucked under his head. He has taken the extinguished blunt that has been sitting in the glass ashtray and placed it between his lips. He notices your glaring stare and looks up at you, mumbling around it, “What?”

“You shouldn’t have said all of that.”

He relights the blunt and pulls in a calming drag. “It’s not my fault that he wants to pout like a child.” You scoff at his arrogant indifference and carefully slide off the bed. You find your underwear before anything begins to leak down your leg. You then grab your sundress and pull it on. He blows a cloud of smoke above him, “Where are you going?” 

“I’m gonna go check on him to make sure he’s okay, Jake.”

Now that he realizes how serious you are, he props himself up on an elbow. “He’s fine, dove. He’s being a baby because he knows I’m fucking right.”

You don’t bother debating with him over Josh’s mental state. You saw the hurt and anger in those caramel eyes. 

You need to mend whatever is going on. 

You walk out of Jake’s bedroom, but hesitant in front of Josh’s door, contemplating on whether it’s the best idea to try to talk to him right now. After mustering up whatever bravery you have left, you softly knock on the wood with your knuckles. 

You take the chance and open the door to find Josh sitting on the edge of his bed with his favorite bong in hand. Your heart sinks when he doesn’t look at you even after your back pushes the door closed. 

While he packs the bowl with a fresh pinch of green, you pad across the floor and slide onto the bed behind him. The muscles of his back tense to your touch when you wrap your arms around his midsection. 

Which fucking scares you. 

You kiss the top of his bare shoulder, causing the pained sigh to push out from his chest. Just before he brings his lighter to the bowl and his lips to the mouthpiece of the glass for the first hit, he says, “I think we need to have a serious conversation.” 

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[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 9 1/2

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 6.3K

A/N: If you missed my post, I’m breaking this chapter up into 2 parts instead of waiting to do one long chapter because it’s been taking me so long to update. I am planning on posting the other half at the end of this week. (Also I apologize for any editing mistakes)

I’m feeding my Jake girls with this one!

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, tobacco use, sexually explicit content- 18+ MINORS DNI! (Unprotected penetrative sex)

Masterpost, Chapter 8

You’re awoken by the rumbling of distant thunder and the patter of heavy raindrops hitting his bedroom window. You stretch an arm over the soft ripples of his cotton sheets expecting to feel Josh lying beside you. There’s emptiness where he should be —  only the residual warmth from his body left beneath your searching fingers. 

Thinking he might be in the bathroom, you blindly take a pillow to hug close to your chest and fall back into your slumber. When you realize he hasn’t returned in some time, you finally decide to open your sleepy eyes. You rub them until your vision clears, seeing the gloomy blue haze casting the bedroom in darkness. 

It could be early morning or close to noon with how the weather is making it difficult to tell what time it is. Looking around for your phone, you note that his is missing from the bedside table. You also notice the cracked window behind his dresser that’s allowing the sounds and smells of the morning storm to trickle in.

You find your phone tucked beneath your pillow, instantly squinting from the brightness assaulting your sensitive eyeballs. There is a message notification from Josh across your Home Screen from 4:29 am, and you quickly swipe to read and respond to it.

Your heart sinks, and disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach. The spot next to you feels colder now knowing he won’t be back. You were looking forward to waking up and spending time with him this morning. Accepting his shift in priorities, you put on a brave face and type another message back. 

There’s a grin plastered across your face so wide it stretches from ear to ear while that bubbly, giddy feeling flutters wildly in your chest. But it’s barely past 5 a.m., and you need your rest.  

Although falling back asleep is not as easy as you anticipated. You cocoon yourself in the pillowy duvet, only to toss and turn around in the large bed despite the peaceful lull of rain. To your dismay, it does little to calm your racing thoughts. 

Your restlessness wins over your determination, so you decide to make the trip into the kitchen for a glass of water. It’s still early morning, and with the overcast, the hallway outside of their bedroom remains dark. Expecting silence, you’re shocked to hear the muffled sounds of the television coming from the living room. 

You tiptoe quietly across the hardwood floors hoping to sneak by undetected. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Jake and you’re unsure how to approach him, especially with how things were left on questionable terms. Once you reach the threshold, you peer around the corner of the wall to see him stretched along on the couch. Your stomach flips and twists until you realize that he’s asleep curled up with a quilted throw while a cooking show drones on in the background. 

He’s positioned on his side and nestled into a large pillow that you can only assume was taken from his bed. You pause, questioning to yourself how he ended up here, fast asleep on the couch instead of in the comfort of his massive bed. Everything from the day you met him has felt controlled and restricted — showing you only what he wanted you to see. 

Yet, at this very moment, he seems so fragile. You take in the sight of him, that innocence that’s rarely revealed. His long hair is swept back from his face, revealing a pierced ear that’s usually hidden by the dark tresses. With the blanket tucked beneath his chin, soft snores leave his parted mouth. 

Taking the chance, you pad over to their kitchen and pull a clean glass from one of the cabinets. After filling it and making it halfway through the living room, you do a final check on Jake before walking back to Josh’s room. 

You’re met with open eyes staring back at you. 

You freeze in place with bare feet glued to the floor as if you’ve been caught red-handed. Guilt washes over and you brace for his anger, the surge of hostility that Josh once showed to you in his weakest moment. You wait for those harsh words thinking that he might not have as much patience for you, but there are none. The look he’s giving you is not a glare of resentment. It’s not even one of distaste or apathy. It’s vulnerable, perhaps one of defeat. Sadness tips his dark brows and pulls them together as his eyes take in your presence.  You stand like this, imagining the thoughts behind those sullen irises, locked in his gaze with only the sounds of the television filling the space between you. 

Without a single word spoken, he raises his arm to open the blanket. It’s a simple gesture, one to beckon you over to him. It’s like he’s hooked you with an invisible tether, drawing you in step by cautious step. You fall victim to him, placing your glass of water on the coffee table while he shimmies against the back of the couch to give you more room. You carefully crawl onto the cushion and slide in with your back against him. The second your bodies meet, the heaviness weighing between you dissipates. 

When you finally settle into place, he drapes his arm across your stomach and pulls you in close, cocooning you in the heat from his body trapped beneath the quilt. He breathes in your scent and molds himself to you by slotting his leg between yours. The softness doesn’t end there. The comfortable jersey knit of his ratty t-shirt brushes against your skin as he hugs you. 

These touches are different somehow. They’re affectionate as if he’s holding you this tight for desperate reassurance. You lay silent and perfectly still under his arm, feeling the tiny puffs of breath leaving his lips with the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. 

Thoughts race faster than they should, processing the fact you’re now cuddling with him. You have a million things you want to say, but none of them make the journey to your tongue. 

“What are you watching?” You ask softly, your voice just barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of rain.  

He hums with his face completely buried in your hair, “I dunno.” Sleep crackles in his low voice, “Jacques Pepin I think. He was making a lamb roast last time I checked.”

You focus on the famous French chef, admiring the nostalgic quality of the aged recordings. “Looks like chicken to me.”

Instead of responding, he shifts his body to change the position, moving you to your back so he can rest his head against your chest. He nestles into the crook of your neck and relaxes instantly, letting any anxiety he might have felt dissolve into your embrace.

 “Why were you sleeping on the couch?” 

He doesn’t even bother to lift his head. “Hmm?”

You clear your throat to repeat yourself, “Why are you out here and not in your bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles, muffling the words into your shirt. “You know… I’ll never get tired of seeing you in my shirts.”

“Funny. I got this out of Josh’s dresser.”

“This is a high school soccer shirt. Only one of us played soccer, Dove.”

What other secrets do you have? You wonder, imagining a younger version of him — one without the tattoos running around on a field wearing this shirt. 

Your fingers develop a mind of their own and start to explore the planes of his covered back. At first, he reacts to your curious touches as they become more deliberate. The faint brushes of your fingertips transform into light scratches of your nails. You draw changing patterns over valleys and ridges of his back until you make your way to his neck. 

The cooking show becomes nothing more than background noise, voices lost in the calming sprays of heavy rain washing the back patio. You fall into that peaceful corner of your mind as you play with his hair, twirling those delicate strands of his chestnut locks. It’s when you lightly scratch his scalp that you hear those faint snores again. 

You smile to yourself before taking the opportunity to feel across the underappreciated details. He doesn’t stir as you trace along the bridge of his nose, over his cheekbone to the shell of his ear, or even when you tuck the fallen hair behind it. After confirming that he’s fully asleep, you let them wander along his jawline and down the expanse of his neck. 

Minutes go by, possibly an hour, interlocked like this until he makes another noise. Nearly drifting away yourself, you barely catch it. It’s not coherent, making you think he might be talking in his sleep. He hums again, but the gravelly sound stays trapped inside his throat. 

You then feel the heavy throb of his cock against your thigh. It’s slow, but steady, growing with the sluggish pace of his resting heartbeat. You’ve been more than content ditching anything sexual with him this morning, but it’s becoming obvious how much you both needed each other like this. 

You try your best to ignore it, but as it becomes harder with each passing minute, it drives away any innocent thoughts farther from your mind. And with that presence, a familiar ache begins to build in your core, causing you to squirm against him. 

He responds by clutching you tighter around the waist. You pause thinking he’s now awake, but the rumbling of his snoring continues. “Jake,” you whisper with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. The only answer you get in return is a drowsy groan that vibrates against your skin beneath his chest. He remains quite stubborn even with his erection beckoning him from his dream state. 

Before you can repeat his name, he rocks his hips into you. The lazy movement doesn’t follow a set rhythm, only serving the purpose of finding friction. You question whether he realizes that he’s driving his covered cock against your inner thigh. “Jake.” 

The thin fabric of your cotton briefs and his sweatpants doesn’t provide much of a barrier between you. His breathing starts to change, sleepy sighs evolve into steamy pants. Their heat is tacky on your chest, making your t-shirt cling to your skin beneath his mouth. 

The feeling of his hard cock pressing against you saturates your senses — persuading you. In an act of shameless need, you rake your nails across his back and grind yourself against him, whining loud enough for him to hear, “Jake!”

“Shh,” he shushes as he slides his hand from under your back and brings it to your hip. His thumb massages the path of skin above the band of your panties before his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt. You writhe from the contrast of the cool air and the warmth of his fingertips dancing up your body. 

They circle your breast, ghosting over your already hardening nipple. Even in his current state, he can’t resist teasing you. You wish that you could reach between his legs and return the favor, but the couch does nothing but restrict you, causing your impatience to take over. “Let’s go to your room.”

He shakes his head, dragging the tip of his nose across your chest with the rasp of his voice following, “No.” 

While his answer surprises you, he doesn’t deny you. A familiar path is taken from your breasts up along your neck by his mouth, feeling as though he’s everywhere, yet nowhere. You give yourself to him as the heat of his weighted breaths wrap around your flesh once he passes the collar of your shirt. The prickle of his stubble grazes your throat with every sweep of his lips. You swallow harshly, anticipating those playful nips of his, only to be gifted with teasing flicks of his tongue.

Needing that hungry kiss on your lips, you search for his mouth that’s been busy spoiling your jawline. You hold his face, cheeks grasped firmly between your palms to tug him close. The contact is as electric as the flashes of lightning of the summer storm, causing desire to rumble in your chest like the distant thunder as his tongue slips effortlessly past your bottom lip. What was once a fading memory over the passing week, consumes your conscience within seconds. You can’t escape how forbidden he still feels — a temptation you thought you had become strong enough to abstain from. 

You’re tossing your sobriety out the window, to be lost and beaten underneath the heavy shower of raindrops. There’s something new this time — a neediness within the warmth. It’s almost as if he’s relinquished all control to you. There’s a tortured romanticism as you breathe in his scent, catching the lingering musk of his cologne in his sleep-tousled hair from the night before, the hints of the last cigarette he smoked, to the strong aroma of coffee that he must’ve sipped on hours ago. 

He moves to be fully on top of you, allowing you to hitch both of your legs around his slender waist. It drives his covered cock harder against your core, making him groan into your parted mouth, “I need to have you now.”  

With his weight balanced on his other arm, his hand leaves your breast and rushes down your side. You can’t see the clumsy movements, but you can feel him dive into his sweatpants without bothering to remove them. After finally freeing himself through a few deliberate strokes, he brushes over the soaked fabric covering your pussy to feel you shudder beneath him before hooking his fingers around your underwear and pulling it to the side. 

“Jake,” you whine, thinking he might use this perfect opportunity to taunt you. But he’s as impatient as you and brings the head of his cock to your entrance. You’re already aching with need, and can’t help but lift your hips to guide him in. 

In a barely controlled roll of his hips, he slips inside with ease. The sudden stretch of him makes you gasp in unison while his head falls into the crook of your neck. Breathy curses skitter across your flesh as he nudges himself against your cervix. 

He’s only been inside you for mere seconds, but you wonder if you might lose yourself right here and now. You’re already writhing on top of the cushions, feeling and grabbing for any free part of him you can find. 

A primal moan erupts in your throat while you crane your neck against the arm of the couch. He hears this, and lifts his head to bring his calloused fingertips to hold your chin as he instructs in a silken tone, “Look at me.” 

Your attention snaps back enough to focus on his face hovering inches above you until your eyes meet those burnt-umber irises. The lust-blown pupils cast behind heavy lids admire you, floating down your features to linger on your lips before making their way back. The intensity of his gaze feels so intimate you’re pressured to look away. He licks his lips, asking, “Feel good?”

You nod, giving him a whimper as your only answer. A playful smirk forms on his face as time passes in silence while still buried deep inside you. “Good.” 

The eye contact he has with you is unwavering, making you realize that this is the first time you’ve experienced this with him. There’s no smoke and mirrors this time — no makeup or fancy clothes or even late-night drunken implications to mask whatever this is. Even in the throes of your desires, that recurring guilt tries to resurface from the memory of those text messages with Josh exchanged barely an hour ago. Before your mind has the chance to pollute those thoughts, he sweeps his thumb across your bottom lip, tugging at it gently before continuing, “Listen to me, dove.” He pauses, flicking his eyes back and forth between yours. “I want you to think about me and only me right now. Can you do that for me, baby girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine as your brows furrow and your mouth drops. He’s barely moved aside from the slight rocking of his hips with just enough leverage to push your limit, causing you to flutter around him. 

“I was beginning to worry that I would never feel you again,” he coos affectionately, sweeping the hair from your cheek to tuck behind your ear. 

The small confession is disguised so well that you almost don’t catch it. You want to ask him what he meant by it, even to reassure him in some way, but the words fail to form. 

He finally starts to move with purpose, finding a steady pace of deep and shallow strokes. Unlike before, there’s little power behind his thrusts. He’s not fucking you so hard you can’t think or remember your own name. Right now he wants you to think — predict his languid, gliding movements that are meant for you to feel. Feel how much you’ve soaked his cock within minutes, feel him brush against that not-so-hidden spot, feel how full he makes you. As tightly as you clutch onto him, you can’t bother to hold back the pitchy mewls and staggered breaths that break free.

He hums through his own sounds as he creates a trail of kisses toward your ear, whispering in a saccharine-sweet voice, “You love it when my cock worships you, don’t you?”  

“Yes,” You admit in your cry, turning your cheek to him hoping to meet his lips. He stills with the heat of your shared breath providing a stark contrast to the crisp, chill air floating through the screen of the open sliding glass door.

“Did you miss me?” He mumbles against your lips as he withdraws himself to the very tip before sliding himself back in. You gasp, holding him close by the back of the neck.

He licks into your mouth with faint flicks of his tongue — soft and sweet. You kiss him back and squeeze your legs around his back, forcing him to stay deep inside. He responds by taking your hand, lifting it to rest against your head, and slotting his fingers between yours. “You know I want to spoil you, right?”

While your mind reels, he doesn’t wait for your answer before squeezing his fingers around yours. “I’m going to keep my promise,” he whispers, his mouth abandoning your lips in the search for the shell of your ear. “No one else will compare to me.” 

It’s no surprise how he’s making you feel. He’s done it before, getting you drunk off his cock. He knows it given that little smirk pressing against your cheek. You lay here panting yearning for that divine release. It’s powerful enough to make you squirm and pull your hand away from his. He releases it without protest, watching as you bring your fingertips to your lips. 

After glazing them with a coating of your own spit, you drop them between your legs. His eyes fall with your hand, mesmerized as you circle your swollen clit. “That’s it. Touch yourself for me, dove.”

He repositions and quickly finds a rhythm that matches yours. Even though your underwear hinders your movements a bit, you’re so close it doesn’t matter. As you near the cliff’s edge, your focus blurs. You try to watch him anyway, determined to study the changing expressions on his face, how he’s lifting his shirt enough for you to see the patch of hair leading to his navel or the way his sweatpants rest on his tattooed thighs. 

He’s having a hard time choosing where to look, ultimately settling on your fingers and himself as he fucks you. Now that it’s threatening to pull you under, you’re desperate to savor the feeling of him. It’s something you won’t be able to replicate on your own no matter how many expensive toys you purchase. It’s him. The intoxicating warmth of his body, and luxury-velvet touch of his cock, the heavy pulse of his heartbeat, the grasp of his calloused fingers around the back of your legs. It doesn’t take him long to notice that you’ve slowed and lifted your fingers. He tells you in a shuddered breath, “Go ahead. Make yourself cum around my cock.” 

Hearing him say the words is all it takes to convince you. Looking directly at him, you touch your clit again, making yourself jolt at the feeling. He smiles, praising you, “You’re doing so good for me.” 

The roll of his hips slows, giving you full control of your orgasm for the first time. He wants you to be the one to take the plunge into your release. “I’m s-so close,” you whimper.

“I know, baby. I can feel you,” he rushes out, giving away that he’s there alongside you. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Facing him, staring right into the depths of his eyes is an entirely different experience. A closeness, an intensity to an unmatched level. It scares you but excites you in the best way. Another facet of pushing you out of your comfort zone without you even realizing it. 

You come undone within seconds, clenching around his cock so tight he stops moving altogether. A violent cry leaves your strained lungs, making you thankful the rain drowns out your sound. He falls forward, keeping your legs hooked around his hips. 

“You make me lose my fucking mind,” he whispers into your hair, so faint you question if you were supposed to hear it at all. His thrusts become weak and shaky as if he’s edging his own release. 

You slip your fingers into his tangled mane, holding the back of his neck. “Please. I need it.”

“Say it again.”

“Jake, baby. Please,” you plea against his exposed ear, voice scratchy with unabashed desperation. It sounds innocent, so delicate, like the fluttering wings of a songbird.  

You swear you hear him whimper, but you doubt yourself and think you imagined it. He quickly nips at your skin before sinking his cock to the hilt inside you. Incoherent curses leave his mouth, showering your skin like tender kisses. You hold him tight as his cum fills you with every spasm. 

He doesn’t move for several minutes, but you don’t argue. You keep him close, letting him soften while his release starts to drip from you. It’s comforting to have him lay with you, like a weighted blanket. You want him to say something, but a part of you believes he needs the silence. You feel across his back, realizing how sweaty he’s become now that his shirt clings to his skin. 

He eventually with you, causing your underwear to slide back into place. He’s careful moving around your legs as he sits and settles against the back of the couch. Annoyed with it, he pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor. For a second, you feel tempted to trace the cloaked figure covering his back.

Without saying a word, he reaches forward, pulling up the band of his sweatpants over his ass as he snags the blue pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. You watch as he flips the top with his thumb and pulls one out between his lips before tossing the pack back onto the table. He shuffles over to the sliding glass door and pushes open the screen enough to step out. 

Standing against the doorframe to avoid getting rained on, he digs a lighter out from the deep pocket of his sweats. He lights the end of his cigarette and pulls a long drag — an action that’s so fluid it's become second nature. With so much unsaid, everything feels as though it's moving in slow motion. Each passing second is an eternity, a daily routine that neither one of you would have batted an eye out. 

But this silence isn’t deafening. Tension isn’t living in his shoulders. Looking at him, you can tell that his posture is relaxed as he blows out each smoky exhale into the outside world — and he’s never looked more attractive to you than he does right now. 

Josh is a bright summer day, memories filled with youthful promises and laughter that makes your side hurt. Jake is your impending storm, frightening and hauntingly beautiful. You should look away, and run while you can, but you find yourself caught in the center of it. You’ve experienced enough to see there’s torment behind his eyes, pain sewn within his soul. It makes you ache, questioning why it exists when his other half beams with light. But with the wrath of any storm, there’s a moment of serenity that follows. 

You look at him leaning up against the doorframe, lost in the thoughts that he’ll never share with you. You’re never going to be one to complain about seeing the collection of his tattoos. Inside your mind, you gush about how the gloomy lighting looks on his inked skin, the way those worn sweatpants hang low on hip bones, how his knotted hair still manages to look beautiful tucked behind his ears —  an image you make sure to paint into memory. 

You suddenly stand to your feet and stretch out the stiff muscles while wrapping the quilted throw around yourself to keep warm from the incoming draft. He glances at you, espresso-dark eyes rich with intrigue. You would normally fight it back, but you reveal the smirk trying to show through as you make your way over. His eyes narrow and a brow lifts, but a smile forms the closer you get. You stand before him, holding that smitten gaze up at him for far longer than you planned. 

You reach your hand out from an opening in the blanket, silently asking for a drag to which he shakes his head and clicks his tongue at you, “Smoking is very bad for you, dove.” You immediately pout, making him flash a cheeky smile and put on the corniest British accent, “A foul, retched habit, really.”

Defeated, you cast your eyes to the soaked wood of the deck and mutter under your breath, “Josh lets me.”

He just chuckles, luring your attention back to him. You can see the gears turn in his head as he licks across his bottom lip and flicks the filter aggressively with his thumb before taking another drag just to rub it in. He responds to you through the blown smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, well, he’s soft for you.”

You would question what he meant by that, but you know better than to pry. Doubting he would even answer you, you hug yourself, pulling the blanket tighter around your body, and huff, “And you’re what? An impenetrable fortress of mystery?”

A devilish smile flashes in an instant. He peers down at you as he brings the filter to his lips once more instead of firing back at your quippy remark with one of his own. You decide to risk the consequences, plucking the half-burned cigarette from his loose fingers. 

Thinking the bratty move would ignite that darkness in him, you’re surprised to see his expression staying soft. The glimmer in his eyes distracts you so much that you almost forget about the stolen cigarette. 

You couldn’t care less about the nauseous rush of nicotine, or the harsh taste of smoke now filling your lungs. You’re only doing it to feel close to him again, knowing that his perfect lips wrapped around the same paper seconds before you. His eyes never leave you, making you blush and close the last inches of distance. You finally give the cigarette back by placing it back inside his mouth. He gladly accepts, melting into your touch with a rumbling groan as you wrap your arms around his bare waist.  

You nuzzle into the warmth of his chest and listen to the rain, wishing that you could stay in this moment forever. On the surface, you try to convince yourself that this is just the rush of endorphins flooding your brain. It’s the contact post-sex that’s making you feel this way. Deep down, however, you’re just not ready to admit to yourself that this could be something more with Jake. That you’ll yearn for the way his fingers are rubbing circles on the small of your back for days to come. After a few minutes of peace, he ends the silence with a cough to clear his throat. “We should finish that leg piece today. You never scheduled your follow-up, by the way.”

“Today? I thought the shop was closed on Sundays.”

“It is. That’s why I think it will be a perfect day for it.” He stretches, breaking the embrace to toss the butt of his cigarette into the old planter sitting outside the door. “Just you and I.” Once he notices your hesitation, he drops his smile. “Do you have work?”

“No, but I really wasn’t expecting to get tattooed today.”

His eyes drop as he taps the center of your chest even though you’re still wearing his t-shirt. “This one wasn’t planned.” Just when you open your mouth to explain, he interrupts the thought by dragging his fingers up your throat before wrapping them around it. He holds you and leans in, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I just don’t think I can go another day seeing mine unfinished.”

“I dunno...” you trail off, tickled by the warmth of his breath.

His lips brush against your skin with every word. “I’ll take care of you, okay? I’ll pick you up a nice meal — your choice. Get you nice and hydrated. I think I have some numbing cream from my last convention you can use.”

You giggle at the thought, fitting right into the perfect space between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in like he’s fresh laundry right out of the dryer. “Numbing cream? Isn’t that cheating?”

He hums to the feeling of you kissing his throat. “If it meant that you would proudly wear my work, then I’ll buy you all the numbing cream you want, my dove.”

Your heart flutters from his words — the generosity. “You really want to spend the day with me? Aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“I think that’s the silliest thing you’ve asked me yet. Of course, I want to spend the day with you.”

As you start to break away, he hooks your arm to pull you back. “Hey.” He hesitates for a second like the thought has been weighing on him for a while. “Why did you leave your dress here the other day?”

“Oh… I guess I didn’t want to shove it in the backseat of Josh’s car.” You make a face that is akin to a grimace, one that he catches onto instantly, causing him to laugh and shake his head. 

“Okay, that’s fair,” he admits with a throaty laugh, following you as you walk into the hall and back to the bedrooms. You stop in front of his room, letting him enter first. He calls over his shoulder and points to his closet, “Did you want to wear it today?”

“I think comfier clothes might be my first choice.”

He nods, redirecting to his dresser to pull out a pair of black sweatpants and a new t-shirt for you. “Here.”

“I’m gonna have to bring back a basket of laundry from all the clothes you guys give me,” you joke, taking the clothing from his outstretched hand. If it was anyone else but him, you would be determined to think that these were the actions of a loving boyfriend. 

“That’s because they look better on you than they do on us.”

You change easily, slipping on the stretchy, loose-fitting outfit in preparation for what’s waiting for you. It gives you the chance to watch him get dressed while perched comfortably on his bed. His choice is a white tee that has a distressed collar that shows his tattooed arms and a pair of blue jeans that have been mended by several hand-sewn patches. 

He takes a hairbrush through his tangles and gives himself a few sprays of cologne from one of the fancy bottles sitting on his dresser. When he leaves the room to brush his teeth and use the bathroom, you hop off his bed to find your phone in Josh’s room to send him a quick message that you’ll be spending the day with Jake.

You hear the bathroom door open, alerting you that it’s open for you to quickly refresh. After ditching your underwear and cleaning yourself up, doing the usual morning routine of brushing your teeth and fixing your hair, you’re met with Jake waiting for you in the living room.

“Ready?” He asks, gesturing to the side door of the house. You nod, following him through the kitchen.

Sitting in the garage is Jake’s car — a vintage one. A prized possession protected from the outside elements:  It’s a make and model you don’t recognize, but you can appreciate its value nonetheless. 

Its sleek black paint is obviously treasured, polished, and waxed to perfection. Sitting next to it is his motorcycle, hidden beneath its black cover. 

“Wow,” you breathe in awe as if you’re scared to approach the thing. 

“She’s pretty, right?” He coos with pride as he steps toward the driver’s side door. 

Dumbfounded, you ask a question that might embarrass yourself. “What is it?”

He chuckles, popping open the metal door handle. “‘67 Camaro.”

He tosses his stuff into the backseat as he slides into his own behind the large steering wheel. You open your door and pause once you see what the interior looks like. It’s pristine, restored to its former glory days from decades ago. “I’m afraid to get in this thing, Jake. What if I ruin something?” 

He tips his head, lifts a brow at you, and asks in a low pointed voice, “Do I need to make you?” The dominance in the question makes you clench your thighs together. He then pats the seat, ushering you to get in. 

You carefully lower yourself, mindful not to scratch or ding anything in the process. Your nose is hit with the scent of aged leather of the black upholstery, the product he used to condition it, and the faint line of the air freshener. 

It’s so unequivocally him. 

“Is anything about you practical?” You scoff, settling into the seat as you buckle yourself in. 

He reaches up and clicks a button on a plastic device clipped to his visor, making the garage door open. Looking at you with his most charming smile, he grips the ball of the shifter and gives it a little wiggle, “Would you expect anything to be?” 

“No. No, I guess not.”

Thankful that the rain has finally subsided to a misty drizzle, you scurry behind Jake as he unlocks the shop’s back door. After you both shrug off damp jackets and hang them in the lockers, he makes his way into the hallway.

The old building is dark and eerily quiet until he starts flipping on lights leading up the stairwell. You feel comfortable letting him lead the way despite the fact you’re becoming well acquainted with the place. 

You set your bag of food and stuff on the coffee table and make yourself comfortable on the studded leather couch that already holds many memories for you. Instead of going directly to his station, he walks over to the turntable and record collection that you assumed was more for decoration than anything. He flips through the plastic milk crate for a minute until he pulls out a black sleeve you recognize as The Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. 

You sit quietly, watching how he carefully slides the old vinyl out and places it down. The hushed scratch of the needle fills the room before the song “Breathe” begins to play. He turns to face you and extends an open hand, telling you, “C’mere.”

Your feet carry you over to him before your brain catches up to what’s happening. He takes your hand in his and wraps his other around the small of your back, bringing you in close against his body. Waiting seconds, the slow, sleepy tempo of the drums, and the sultry whine of the guitar echo throughout the studio. You rest your cheek on his shoulder and start to sway with him in the middle of the floor.

Breathe, breathe in the air. 

Don’t be afraid to care

Leave, but don’t leave me

Look around and choose your own ground

You listen to the dystopian vocals with him, appreciating the raw, unfiltered beauty of this moment. It’s clear that the dance isn’t about the coordination of your steps, it’s to hold you close to him. It makes you wish things weren’t as complicated as they are. He’s finally opening that book, giving you a glimpse of a page and all you can do is bury your face into him. 

The first time you came here, bright-eyed and anxious as hell, you would’ve never believed that you would be standing on the second floor of this tattoo shop with him. You don’t want to forget this. The soothing heat of his body, the woodsy scent of his cologne on his clothing, the strength of his grasp as he holds your hand. His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your knuckles and his hand holding your waist tightens. 

The song ends and starts playing into the next, making him stop. “Ready to finish your tattoo?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Remember I am posted the second half of this later this week!

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@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @jakekiszkasbabymama @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @autopsy-im-ill l @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama a @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1

#gvf fic #gvf josh smut #gvf Jake smut #gvf smut fic #gvf twin fic #gvf twin series #gvf twin au #skin deep fic #jake kiszka x you #jake kiszka au #Josh Kiszka au #gvf au fic #gvf au fanfic #gvf au smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #josh kiszka x reader #skin deep #gvf smut #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #gvf tattoo!au #gvf tattoo fic

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - A Birthday Treat

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 5.4k

A/N: This is mostly kind of unedited, so be kind and don’t judge me too harshly. I wanted to get this out yesterday, but life just sort of got in the way. Hope y’all enjoy!

Appreciate all the love, support and feedback!

Shout out to Nessa @asparrowofthedawn for helping me work through this “blurb” idea ❤️

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI! (Oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, dirty talk, ice play, spit kink, degradation kink)

Masterpost

Skin Deep Playlist

You adjust the fit of your new lingerie, a set you had picked out specifically for this day, shimmying it beneath your matching sundress as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror. The guys had thankfully kept themselves occupied by playing one of their video games in the living room, giving you plenty of time to fix your hair to your liking, a half-up twisted knot. You had even gone as far as to pack your curling iron from your apartment to style the ends so they sit nicely against your bare shoulders. Leaning in so you’re a few inches from the mirror, you give a final swipe of the carefully selected lipstick across your bottom lip.

You look good. Really good.

It’s not that you never wore makeup or dressed up like this, but being around them gives you a sense of comfort like this was your second home. A place where you can be yourself and feel confident knowing that they’ll appreciate your natural beauty. Josh makes a point of it, telling you over and over that he finds you the most irresistible when you’re wearing nothing but a pair of cotton panties and one of his favorite t-shirts. 

But today was special, and you’re more than determined to prove that to them. There’s no doubt you’re turned on by how quickly you’ve soaked through the panties you just put on minutes ago. You can’t help it, the thought of having both of them within your reach is nearly too much to bear.

You iron out the wrinkles of your dress with a pass of your palms while giving yourself one last internal pep talk. The little plan you’ve schemed is coming together, and now all you have to do is execute it. 

The t.v can be heard echoing throughout the hallway as you make your way into the living room with each confident stride. Josh’s boisterous laugh cuts through the sounds of the game, making you smile before you even get into their line of vision. 

Just like you predicted, Josh is the one to notice your presence first, breaking his focus away from the screen in a fleeting glance, only to follow it with a double take. As they lock on to you, his gaze lingers, making his eyes instantly light up as he takes you in, absorbing every single detail into memory. His smile, one that you think can’t get any bigger — the one that you adore so much — shows across his face until he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. He tosses the controller onto the coffee table with a loud thud and stretches back into the seat cushion.

Jake has only been paying attention to the game since you’ve been standing here and throws his hands up in frustration as he snaps at his twin, “Dude, what the fuck—“ But his thought is cut off once he sees you like his brain suddenly blanked out. “—Oh.” 

He pauses the game and tosses his controller to the side to eliminate any distraction, an action you’re convinced is unnecessary based on how he’s staring at you right now. His eyes are wide in shock, giving you that cliche deer-in-the-headlights look — an expression you rarely ever see from him. 

Normally you would fight the shy, bashful feeling that’s bubbling in your stomach from that reaction, but instead, you use it to your advantage. You let the rising blush show on your face while you play with the curled ends of your hair, dropping your eyes away from them to look down at the pattern of the hardwood floor.

You allow the tension of the moment to linger for a few seconds, giving them the time to study all the details you had put so much effort into.  Pulling your eyes back up to Josh, you see him leaning back against the cushion, smiling at you like he always does. The glint in his eyes is telling you he’s onto whatever this is and is welcoming it with unbridled enthusiasm. 

He decides to break the silence, with the tone of his voice saying more than the actual words, “Hey baby, we don’t have to be ready to go for a couple more hours.”

You feel Jake’s eyes following your every move as you close the short distance between you until you’re standing inches away from their legs. While making sure to give them both your attention, you say softly, “I know…but I wanted to give you both a present first.”

You follow through with your next move by sliding onto Josh’s lap with your hands braced on his shoulders, which makes your sundress ride up your legs as you sink onto him. You can feel the excitement radiating through him as you adjust, rolling your hips ever-so-slightly so you feel the rough fabric of his jeans grazing the back of your thighs. 

You can feel everything through the delicate, sheer fabric of your panties, the friction of rubbing across the denim alone driving you right to the edge. His thigh muscles flex beneath you as he rolls his hips up, driving his already-hard erection into your core.

It’s no surprise to you that he’s amped up already. You had been teasing him with the idea all day since the two of you woke up this morning, even if it made you feel slightly guilty for making him wait as long as you have. 

“But it’s my birthday, baby,” he whines against your ear with that certain rasp of sleep, a sound he knows is sure to make your thighs clench in need. 

“I know…” You want to give in, to worship his cock for hours with no end in sight, to hear him plead from overstimulation, but you have other plans in mind. You gather whatever is left of your self-control through a shaky sigh, “…but you have to wait until later.”

His parted lips brush against the nape of your neck, tickling the tiny hairs with every languid sweep of his mouth. You have to give it to him for trying because you can’t help but grind your ass against him because of it. “You are a cruel, cruel woman. I think making me wait for birthday sex is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

You giggle, imagining the pout on his face while separating him from your back with a nudge of your elbow. “For some reason, I think you’ll survive.” He retaliates with a nip at your skin with a squeeze of your breast through your tank top. “And stop trying to make me horny, Joshua Michael.”

“Oh, did you just full name me?” He scoffs as he props himself on an elbow to look over you. You bury your face into the pillow to muffle your laughter just as he leans in to place a kiss below your ear through a smile.“I’ll wait, but I will make no promises on that.”

His soft hands slide along the top of your thighs, slipping below your cotton dress to find the divots of your waist, pulling you even closer. While his thumbs trace along the thin band of your thong, he tips his chin up, breathing in the floral scent of the perfume that you’ve sprayed to the pulse points of your neck. “Giving me my present late, baby?”

You glance over to his left to see Jake acting restless as if he’s been contemplating whether to stay or go, most like a response from thinking this is a private moment between you and his brother. You hum in thought, redirecting your focus while taking Josh’s chin between your fingers and thumb. “I think you might have to share this one, Joshy.”

While you predict that there might be a spark of jealousy from your implication, you’re only met with Josh exchanging a certain look with his twin. One that’s mischievous and knowing given the grin that’s curling on the corners of his lips, causing Jake’s unsure expression to transform in seconds. Usually, silent communication is something you choose to usually ignore, accepting that it’s the product of this dynamic you share. This time, however, is one of those times you wish you could hear all of their inner thoughts.

You guide his attention back to you by bringing him in for a kiss, releasing your hold on his face, and letting your fingers roam over the path of buzzed hair to wrap around the nape of his neck. He’s impatient and greedy, licking across your lips to taste you without a care in the world that they are coated in a velvety-pink hue. He tastes like the tequila and soda he’s been sipping on throughout the afternoon, giving you a teaser of how your evening will pan out. His thumbs hook around the band of your panties while his fingers massage into the supple flesh of your hips. 

Before you run the risk of venturing too far and losing yourself, you break away from him and lean into Jake. He’s startled at first by the brazenness of the action, but melts into the kiss nonetheless, deepening it with every reconnection of your lips. He’s more reserved than Josh today, staying cautious and calculated with the gentle passes of his tongue along yours. He holds your face with his hand as you’re hit with the strong tartness of lime as he had recently sucked on the wedge now floating in his glass only moments prior. You take a needed breath, and because you’ve caught him before he’s gotten ready for the evening and had the chance to put on his favorite cologne, the only things you smell are the detergent off his t-shirt and his natural scent. 

The kiss is continued along his jawline, and he quickly offers you the expanse of his throat with the upward tilt of his head. You spoil his warm, soft skin with lasting kisses, following the delicious path to his ear, and whisper in your sultriest voice, “You can unbutton your pants now, birthday boy.”

While Jake scrambles to pop open his belt, you slowly sit back on Josh’s lap to admire your work of art before you — both your boys covered in a collection of your lipstick marks. Josh is grinning at you, basking in the afternoon sun with smears of pink across both of his lips. Jake is in a similar state, peering down at you through heavy lids as he palms himself over his boxer briefs. 

“So this present…” Josh massages his fingers into your waist as he grinds himself against you. “Can I unwrap it?”

You bite at your bottom lip as you give him the go-ahead with an enthusiastic nod. He needs no other signal and grabs fistfuls of the dress that’s bunched up around the top of your legs, and before he can pull it off you, Jake interrupts with an extended hand,  “Careful!” While Josh freezes his movements, he pauses to look at you before adding, “That’s a new dress, isn’t it, dove?”

You blush at the thought of Jake paying enough attention to you to know what’s new in your wardrobe. “It is. Do you like it?”

“I love it.” There’s something about the drawl of his gravelly voice that holds a deeper intrigue.

“Sorry, baby.” Josh watches his fingertips trace over the tiny roses on the pattern of your dress, traveling up the curves of your body until they stop at your neckline. They dance along the supple skin on the tops of your breasts until he decides to tug on the hanging strings that you’ve tied into a bow as he whispers, “I love it too. It’s beautiful on you.”

With Jake’s instruction, Josh makes a point to be more careful with removing the dress from you. He peels it up your body with your help of lifting your arms as he pulls it over your head. You arch your back to give them the best view of the lingerie set you’ve picked out, hoping they notice that your dress matches perfectly with its sheer white fabric that’s adorned with tiny embroidered pink roses. 

You had chosen it for its soft and feminine details, so sensual in its delicate floral elements that carry a certain grace of spring — something that seems so fitting for this day. From what you can tell, it’s clearly stirring something in Jake for him to see you like this when he’s only ever witnessed you in black or red garments. Josh, however, would probably fuck you if you wearing nothing but one of those cheap Halloween banana costumes. To him, all lingerie you wear is a treat, even if it will most likely end up on the floor minutes later. 

They both stare for several seconds, looking you up and down and in unison, mutter under their breath, “Fuck…”

Jake dares to reach his hand out, presenting the image of the skull inked across the top to the touch to the band of your panties resting on your hip before trailing his fingers toward the embroidered roses decorating the front. Josh is busy focusing solely on your chest, fixating on the same pink flowers on the cups and straps of your bra.

Josh lowers his mouth to your covered breast to graze his lips across your hardening nipple through the lace. The heat of his breath clings to your skin, adding to the sensation of his wet tongue licking across the fabric. You feel the metal of his piercing, which causes a whine to leave your mouth without warning. While he commits to showering your chest with attention, his open hands begin to roam up the length of your back.

Once Josh’s nimble fingers find the metal clasps, Jake interrupts for a second time, but with a noticeable desperation in his voice, “No, wait! Leave them on her.”

He abandons the hooks to play with the straps instead, mumbling into the hollow point of your throat, “Looks like these are a favorite, baby.”

Your preparation has paid off and you can’t hold back the smile forming as you kiss him again. He’s not as rushed this time by letting you take the lead, and while you stay for only a moment, you eventually leave his lips to make your way down his throat as you slide down his body. You take your time placing each perfectly pink imprint of your lips onto his golden-tanned skin until you’re stopped by the collar of his crewneck.

He throws his hands back behind his head as his throaty laugh fills the room. “I fucking love birthdays.”

You sink to the floor between his legs, thankful for the living room rug that’s padding your bare knees. Adjusting to the new position, you run your hands over his legs to massage the tops of his thighs, inching closer with each roll of your fingers over his tight-fitting jeans. He responds by shifting forward on the cushion, extending his back in such a way that gives you easier access to the button of his pants. 

You can see he’s struggling to stay patient with how hard he is — his cock throbbing wildly within his right pant leg without reprieve.  You add to the torment by ghosting over the very obvious erection and dipping your fingers underneath the hem of his shirt, pushing up the soft material up his torso to expose the sensitive skin of his belly. You linger around the metal button of his pants, playing up the act you’re putting on before popping it open with a flick of your wrist. 

Jake disrupts the moment by speaking up, revealing some annoyance in his tone as he asks, “Why does he always get to go first?”

Before you have a chance to respond, Josh huffs out a harsh laugh, “Because I’m older, dipshit.”

His go-to remark makes you think back to the memory of that first night you had spent together in the tattoo shop, causing a smile and blush to appear. As much as you enjoy every intimate moment with each of them, the times like these always stirred something special in you. 

“By five fucking minutes!”

Josh only taunts back, “And you’ll never live it down.”

To avoid ruining the moment, Jake concedes with an aggravated grumble,  “Asshole.”

While they’re preoccupied with their immature bickering, you start pulling the zipper of Josh’s jeans at a painstakingly slow pace, taking his attention away from Jake and back to your hands. You peel the fabric away to the sides, revealing his white boxer briefs as you squeeze his covered cock through the denim.

Despite the fact you’re concentrating solely on Josh, Jake is the one to scold you, “Stop teasing.”

“I will when you stop playing with your boxers and decide to finally pull your cock out,” you quip back, giving him more attitude than you ever have before. You cast your eyes away as you can’t look at him directly in fear of what his next words will be. If it wasn’t for Josh acting as your buffer to save you from punishment, you probably wouldn’t have risked it.

The following seconds are thick with tension from Jake staring down at you and Josh’s stunned expression frozen on his face as he fights back the laugh that wants to escape him. 

Jake eventually releases a heavy sigh, muttering under his breath, “Smart ass.”

A giggle escapes you and Josh quickly joins in, earning himself a painful smack to his arm from the back of Jake’s hand. “Ouch!”

Jake finally takes your cue and pulls himself out of the snug-fitting black cotton. You watch him while slipping your hand beneath Josh’s, causing a loud, visceral groan to push past his lips the second you touch him. He’s warm in your hand, the suede-soft feel of skin brushing against your palm as you wrap your fingers around his length. Feeling the heavy pulse of his heartbeat, you retrieve his cock from the restrictions of his pants and boxers, bringing him out into the open air.

You look up to see Josh peeking through his lust-draped lids, his mouth hanging open in anticipation with panting breaths puffing past his lips. He prepares himself for what’s about to happen by reaching for his drink that’s been sitting on the end table, and taking a large sip of the liquid courage. You extend your free hand, silently asking for a sip as well. 

The tequila soda is watered down considerably at this point, but you’re not worried about the alcohol or taste. What you’re after is the cube of ice that you’ve now dropped into your mouth, stashing it safely against your tongue before handing the glass back to him. Without wasting another second, you place a chilled kiss on the head of his cock, causing a violent shiver to roll through his spine. 

The muscles in his body go rigid as he sucks in a sharp breath when you slide him across your cold tongue. After a few seconds of keeping the ice pressed against the side of his cock, he begins to relax as it starts melting in the heat of your mouth. An unexpected grunt leaves him through this, and he follows the sound with a string of curses as the dual mixture of temperatures overloads his brain. 

Josh wets his lips, mumbling out into the open, “Oh my god, that feels so good.”

The shocking surge of cold, soothed with the intoxicating heat of your mouth is sending him closer to the edge than both of you expect. You swirl your warming tongue around his cock while keeping the base of him wrapped with a loose fist. You know everything that Josh enjoys, the feather-light flicks of your tongue beneath the head of his cock, the twisting strokes of your fingers, the gentle sucking with your lips sealed around him — a sensation that keeps his brain buzzing. 

Your reward is the pitchy whimpers echoing in the base of his throat as his adam’s apple bobs with each harsh swallow, the clawing of his own fingers across his chest and legs, the way he throws his head back and clamps his eyes shut.

With one hand still wrapped around him, you feel across Jake’s right thigh with the other, taking his cock from his loose grasp and finding that he’s just as hard to the touch. You stare at him through your lashes as you start to stroke him at a lazy pace, watching his expression shift with every one of your movements. While holding your gaze, he tips his head slightly forward and parts his mouth, and allows a long, dripping trail of spit to fall from his bottom lip, down to the head of his cock. 

It hits your hand as well, causing your now-wet fingers to glide over his length with ease. The lewd image takes your breath away, causing you to stall on Josh as he stays right below your lips, just as Jake intended. Satisfied, a cocky smirk hooks the corner of his mouth as he leans back against the cushion. 

You twist your hand up and down the length of  Jake’s cock, admiring every detail that makes him unique. He’s hot to the touch, throbbing against your fingers each time you slow

Josh doesn’t seem to notice the display and writhes against your arms in need of release. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

The praise sparks your need aching between your thighs, and you push his cock into your mouth, sinking onto him in a single motion, nudging the tip of his cock as far as it can go. You relax the muscles in steady, deep breaths, opening your throat to push him that much farther. It’s another thing that takes him by surprise, causing his fingers to fly to your hair as he breathes, “Holy shit.”

You hear Jake’s raspy chuckle above you, “I taught her that little trick.”

The new technique combined with the dancing rolls of your tongue to the underside of him sends him over in seconds. His body simply acts out of his control now, causing his hips to buck, the grasp around your hair to tighten, and for him to whine with brimming urgency, “I-I’m gonna cum, baby. Baby—“

He pants your name like a mantra, erupting into the back of your throat through a shaky thrust, emptying on your tongue as you swallow his release down. You lick him up, not wanting to leave a single drop of him until the overstimulation starts to set in. You eventually come to a stopping point, and withdraw him from your mouth to place an open kiss on the cherry tattoo before biting at the soft flesh of his stomach just to feel him squirm. 

While his chest heaves with every ragged breath as he collects himself, you slide away from his lap and slow yourself between Jake’s legs. He sweeps the fallen lock of hair from your cheek and tucks it behind your ear, giving you that recognizable devilish grin he always seems to have with you. 

You continue stroking Jake as he tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, showing your bottom row of teeth while cooing in a silken voice, “That’s a pretty shade on you, dove. What’s this one called?”

Before you answer him, you wrap your painted lips around his thumb, sucking it into your mouth to leave the faint pink ring around the base, pulling away enough to whisper in a heavy breath, “Love Trap.”

He moans at the feeling of your tongue licking across his skin, humming in approval, “Well, that’s fitting.” 

You kiss the shaft of his cock as your fingers work around him, taking the opportunity to tease him before he ultimately takes control. Josh begins to move in his seat and reaches down to guide you up off the floor, repositioning you so that your knee sinks into the cushion with your other foot planted on the floor. You sense him dropping down to his knees behind you, feeling his hands explore the curves of your hips and ass. 

You whine from the proposition and look over your shoulder. “Josh…the present was supposed to be about you.”

He giggles, watching your eyes as he buries his face between your legs so you feel the hot air clinging to your body with each drawn-out exhale. He kisses the fabric covering your core, making you instantly clench around him, before answering in a pleased sigh, “Oh baby, this is the present.”

You guide Jake past your lips just as Josh’s fingers feel the bands of your thong that rest on either side of your hip, pulling at them slightly to release with a teasing snap against your skin. He curls his fingers around them and slowly tugs them down, carefully maneuvering your legs to remove them from your body. 

“Happy Birthday,” he calls out to Jake, slingshotting the lingerie over you for him to catch. You watch from below as he feels the delicate material between his thumbs as if entranced in his world by the garment alone. He then does something you don’t expect by holding them up to his face — burying his nose in the white fabric woven between his fingers — to breathe in your scent. As it fills his head and lungs, his fingers pull at your hair while his eyes flutter closed with a low groan rumbling deep in his chest.

Josh sucks at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs hard enough to bruise the flesh between his teeth, leaving little pink marks of his own while his fingers slip between your folds. You jolt at the feeling of him rubbing with firm pressure against your clit, and moan around Jake as he glides across your flattened tongue.

With one hand bracing your hip, the tip of Josh’s tongue glides through you in a single pass, the taste of you causing him to groan in satisfaction as he hears your muffled whimpers. He always loves to take his time and edge you, but you’re too impatient for that today and back into him, begging him for more.

There’s no denying that focusing on Jake is difficult, but you’re adamant to take the challenge. You use every trick you know, every learned detail that drives him insane. Whereas Josh prefers the drawn-out tease, Jake wants the full show. He wants to see the trails of drool leaking past your swollen lips and the black tears streaming down your face. You give it to him, playing off the sounds he makes in return, gauging how hard his fingers pull at your hair.

Meanwhile, Josh devours you like you’re his last meal on Earth, knowing that he doesn’t have much time with how close Jake seems to be, and abandons his usual method of teasing you for as long as you can stand it. The determined rolls and laps of his tongue across your swollen clit make gag around Jake through a groan, causing a growl to rip through his teeth, “Yeah, dove. Fucking choke on it.”

His hand snakes to the back of your head to push you farther down his cock, the pressure threatening to make your throat spasm around him again. You know Josh heard it from how he suddenly pauses every movement of his tongue, stalling inches from you before pulling away from you. “Jake…”

Jake doesn’t seem to register Josh’s concern, as this is a normal thing between the two of you. He’s falling into his role, emphasizing his point with a tug of your hair as you continue working your mouth around him, “Spit on her. She likes feeling it run down her pussy and thighs.”

You can sense Josh’s apprehension by the way his fingers press into your hips and the whispered curse slipping past his lips. He takes a second to think about it until he eventually obliges by spitting directly onto you, causing you a shudder to roll through you and your toes to curl as his saliva drips down your pussy and thighs — just as Jake had described. 

Josh runs his fingers through the added wetness, mesmerized by your reaction, causing Jake’s ego to run at a high as he croons, “See? I fucking told you, didn’t I?”

You’ve been so turned on throughout the day, that it doesn’t take much for him to take you to the edge of your tipping point. You chase only it by forcing Jake as deep as he can go, impressing him with the skills he’s so clearly proud of you for. He’s fighting it through every drag of his nails across the dark wash denim of his jeans as he curls his fingers over his lap. His chest is tight with every strained breath his lungs push out as he tries to hold out for as long as he can, but there’s no secret he’s closer than you are. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the point where you’re no longer concentrating on Jake, but rather on the work of Josh’s tongue licking and tasting you, gagging around his cock again. You pull him from your mouth to catch your breath and compensate with your hand, revealing how desperate you’re becoming when you cry out, “Josh… please don’t stop. I’m so fucking close.” 

Your words must have affected him because seconds after your pathetic plea hits Jake’s ears, he unravels before you without the same warning Josh had managed to give you. The first shot hits your face as a cursed apology leaves his lips, making you flinch before you have the chance to wrap your mouth around him again. You can’t be bothered to care, taking your reward, swallowing him down just as you had done so with Josh.

Josh’s fingers dig into your hips with his determination to make you cum, filling the room with the obscene sounds of his mouth on you. With the final circle drawn over your clit with his pointed tongue, your orgasm comes crashing down, sending you into the unforgiving waves of your pleasure. He rides it out through listless passes from your entrance to your overstimulated clit until your legs begin to shake around him. 

He finishes with a kiss and presses his sweat-covered forehead against your ass as he calms his breathing before sitting fully on the floor to rest the back of his head on the armrest. After taking the time to come down, you stretch out your limbs and stand on your feet, seeing Jake completely spent. You note the beads of sweat that also cover his forehead and brow, how his eyes are staying closed as he licks across his lips, the way his t-shirt is wrinkled beyond belief as his softening cock is between his stomach and the band of his boxers. 

As per usual, Josh is the one to finally break the silence, “I think it’s safe to say that beats getting socks.” Jake even chuckles at the dumb joke, joining in the collective laughter between all three of you. 

Suddenly aware of your disheveled state, you look down at Josh sitting cross-legged at your feet, and ask, “Is my makeup messed up?”

His gaze climbs your mostly naked form before it reaches your face to study the damage. He puts up a weak attempt to hide the smile while brushing his fingers across your outer thigh, admitting with that special glimmer in his eye, “Uh…I think we might have to freshen you up, baby.”

You giggle, wiping your finger beneath your eye to gather the wet mascara that had started to run.“That bad?”

He slowly stands to his feet, pulling you into a close embrace with hands locked around your lower back, and mumbles into your cheek, “Nothing a shower can’t fix.”

Realizing that Jake has no intentions of moving anytime soon, you follow Josh’s lead as he takes you by the hand toward the bathroom. Once you’re in the hallway, he pulls you in closer now that he’s out of earshot from his twin with concern laden in his voice, “Is that how he speaks to you? Do you like that?” You try to think of a well-thought-out response, but expression tells him everything he needs to know, making him shake his head. “I think I learn something new about you every day.”

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @shesawomaninadream @dannyandthekiszkas @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @mamalikes-gvf @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler21 @jakekiszkasbabymama @fallonfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @sammyfuckingkiszka @why-ami-on-here @autopsy-im-ill @objectsinspvce @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @joshkiszkasbigtoe e @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @gvfjess @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444

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Skin Deep - Part 6

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 15.4K

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long with this update. I hope this hits the spot after my long break! This is a Jake chapter so be ready!

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback y’all give me ❤️

Major shout out to Hannah @capturethechaos for helping me pull the last bits of this chapter together for you guys. Without her, I’d be struggling.

Also props to my lovely Nessa @asparrowofthedawn for keeping me grounded when I doubt myself on here and giving me all the ideas.

Warnings: cursing, smoking/tobacco use, jealousy, sexually explicit content - 18+/MINORS DNI!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, some dom stuff, idk.. y’all know me by now)

Part 5, Masterpost

You slide between the covers of your bed, swearing to yourself that the feeling of the sheets gliding against your freshly-shaved legs is something you’ll never be able to replicate. It’s what you’ve been craving since you stepped into that bar earlier tonight when you were dragged out to see your friends for a few rounds of drinks. 

Seeing and catching up with them was something you desperately needed, but what they didn’t know was that you had been torturing yourself the entire time with Josh and Jake on your mind. It’s been like that for days. Just your brain replays every single moment you’ve had with them on a continuous loop while you overanalyze it all to death.

After the night Josh had given you his tattoo, the both of you have been wrapped up in the monotony of your busy, everyday lives. Sure, you’ve exchanged some flirty messages and even a few pictures over the last few days, but it failed in comparison to what you had with him. Jake, on the other hand, hadn’t spoken to you since that morning in their kitchen, which has left things pretty unknown between the two of you. 

You do know that with these types of arrangements, everything can end as soon as it started, and it would be easy for you to sabotage it all with your overthinking. It’s just proving more difficult than you initially expected.

You like to think of Josh as an open book. You can flip through all the pages, but half of it happens to be written in invisible ink. Jake in comparison is sealed shut, and just to throw in another curveball, it's as if he is reading random lines throughout the story to you without an ounce of context.  

While your cat sleeps between your legs as you scroll through your phone, the device begins to vibrate in your hand with the banner for an incoming phone call appearing on the top of your screen. You don’t recognize the number since it’s not one of your saved contacts. Normally you would decline the random call, but there is something about it that makes you reconsider swiping it away. 

You tap the screen to accept and bring your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

A few seconds pass before a raspy voice from the other side of the line responds, “Dove.”

There’s no question as to who it is, but you ask anyway, “Jake?”

A breathy drawn-out chuckle crackles in your ear, taunting you, “You’re good at this.”

The sound makes your chest feel heavy, while somehow causing that fluttery feeling to blossom in your stomach. Men have never intimidated you before, especially to this degree, but he makes you nervous, and you haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly why. You know he can’t see your smile starting to form, but you’re sure he can hear it through the line. You do your best to bite it back, and throw in a frustrated groan for good measure, “What do you want? Better yet, tell me how you got my number first.”

He scoffs loudly into the receiver, “Oh, I can fuck your brains out but I can’t call you? You have some interesting boundaries, baby.”

You can hear the alcohol in his system from the lazy cadence of his voice alone. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

You scold him with a defeated sigh, “…Jake.”

A couple of seconds pass before he pushes a sleepy hum through the line, “Mmmm, yes?”

You pull your phone away to check the time before bringing it back to your ear with a heavy roll of your eyes. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.” As jaded as you are, there’s a genuine softness to the admission that sends warmth to your heart even though you’re certain there’s a different intention behind the late call. 

You listen closely, but you don’t hear any background noise through the end of the line that would indicate he’s out tonight. “Where are you?”

“You like to ask a lot of questions. But if you must know, I’m at home in my bed with my dick in my hand.”

You huff at the thought, convincing yourself that he’s only saying it to get you flustered. What you try to do instead, is picture how his night must’ve played out for him to call you this late. “So you couldn’t get laid tonight and I’m your last option?”

He laughs, filling your ears with the nasal cackle. It’s a fleeting moment of what it truly sounds like before he takes a calming inhale through his teeth. “Feisty tonight. And no. I never said that. If I wanted a woman in my bed tonight, there would be. And the only reason there isn’t is because you’re not here.”    

You blush at the thought and the witty remark you had loaded vanishes off your tongue. He does that — making your brain go all fuzzy when usually you’d be so sure of yourself. 

The line is left open for longer than you intend as you chew on your bottom lip in a desperate search for something clever to say, making him ask, “What are you doing? Can I come over?”

Your mind is racing with possibilities, but you ultimately sigh in defeat, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jake.”

“Why?” He huffs in disbelief, giving away the fact that rejection is not something he’s used to. 

“Because it’s obvious you’ve been drinking and I’m in my pajamas and bed already snuggling with my cat. That’s why.”

He hums before clicking his tongue in thought, “I dunno…those sound like reasons why I should come over.”

Before he has the chance to convince you, which you know he can, you cut in abruptly, “I’m hanging up now. Goodnight, Romeo.”

“Wait!” The rise in volume makes you jump and pull the phone from your ear. “Hold on a second. I just wanna talk to you for a few minutes.”

You know it’s risky to entertain him, but your curiosity keeps you tethered to the conversation.“Go ahead, start talking.”

“Oh no, she’s starting to be a brat.” The sarcasm laden in his voice makes your brain tingle more than you’d like to admit.

You smile like an idiot as you adjust your position on the bed to get as comfortable, but your movement disturbs your cat's slumber enough for him to give you an annoyed chirp before hopping onto the floor. 

Just mentioning his brother’s name would be like dousing a fire with a gallon of gasoline, but you do it anyway. “Where’s Josh?”

He doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation when he scoffs, “I don’t fucking know. But he’s not here on this phone call with us, is he?” 

“No, he’s not.”

Realizing that he might have overreacted, he relaxes, taking on a more comforting, silken tone, “Then let’s keep this between us, dove. No need to worry about him tonight.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Dove?” He pauses as if he’s falling back into his thoughts. “I think it’s because you’re so soft and delicate. Especially when I can feel you tremble…how your heart races when you’re in my hands —like a beautiful little dove.”

You didn’t anticipate him having a real answer, because truthfully, you never put much thought as to why he called you the pet name before now. 

As if the silence between you becomes too unbearable for him, he blurts out, “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Based on what you know about him so far, admitting something like this seems very unlike him, so you follow up, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathes heavily into the phone, but you imagine that breath fanning across the vulnerable skin of your neck instead. “Is it bad that I can’t stop thinking about your pussy wrapped around my cock?”

You’re not sure what you should have expected, but the turn in conversation to dirty talk makes your face flush with heat and your chest constricts from the thought alone. “No… I don’t think so.”

“No?” The changing inflection of his voice reveals that he senses the shyness coming through in your meek response. “You like knowing that the thought of filling you up again has been on my mind all fucking week?”

You can picture it so vividly. His words spark the memory of his cock deep inside you, the way he fills you up, and how he eventually runs down your inner thighs. You involuntarily squeeze them together, but only to clench around absolutely nothing.

 He chuckles softly through the drunken confessions, the bitterness of liquor coating every word that passes from his lips. “You got me hooked. You know, I was at the bar tonight and all I wanted was to hear those sweet little cries of yours when you beg for me…when you say my name.” 

“Jake…” You whisper into the line. What he’s saying to you is taking you by surprise, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a way that freezes the mechanisms of your mind from working properly. In a way that makes you feel anxious because you might say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself — ultimately ruining this moment. 

In the typical phone sex fashion, he asks, “What are you wearing, dove?”

An airy laugh flutters from your throat as you pull at the loose clothing draped across your body, “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jake, but I’m wearing a ratty t-shirt and pajama pants.” You stifle the groan of self-loathing while pinching the bridge of your nose knowing that you could’ve just lied and made up anything that your heart desires. 

“Sexy.” The way he drunkenly drags out the word helps you visualize a smile on his face. He then adds without skipping a beat, “Do you like lingerie?”

Feeling like this is your chance to have the upper hand, you tease back, “I do. So, Jacob, are you telling me you’re a lingerie guy?”

He snorts a laugh, adding levity to what has been a tense interaction otherwise.“What man isn’t?”

You pick at the threads of your duvet while you reflect on past partners through the years. “I dunno. I feel like some men would rather get it off as soon as possible.”

You hear a judgemental hum before he answers, “Well, it seems like you’ve been wasting your time with the wrong men.”

Your tone is teasing, yet flirty, “And you’re the right man?”

“I never said that.” He pushes out a deep sigh, “Honestly, I have a feeling that I might be the worst thing for you, baby.”

He’s probably right about that, but you’re stubborn enough to want to find that out for yourself. You could question what he means by it, but you choose to mentally flip through your wardrobe trying to remember what you might have until something pops into your brain. “I have this pretty black set that I bought a few months ago. I think you might like that one.”

You hear a soft, muffled groan come through the line, “Would you try it on for me?” 

Something has changed in his voice. It’s not the usual demand or teasing remark you usually get from him. He wouldn’t admit this, but you hear the desperation in the request. The barely-there whine blessing your ears — the way it seems like he’s groveling at your feet for it. 

“Give me one moment,” You huff out as you nearly fly out of your bed, tumbling onto the floor on your way to your closet. You tap the speaker icon and place the phone down on your dresser and walk over to your closet to search for the lingerie set somewhere in the heaps of clothes.  

A pleased chuckle comes from the speaker, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Flipping through the collection of hangers, you spot the recognizable material sticking out amongst the rest of your clothing and pull out the strappy, black corset bra with its matching lace panties. You’re partial to the modest, simple set. It’s not flashy or complicated compared to a lot of lingerie that you’ve seen in some specialty boutiques, but it’s without a doubt the nicest item you’ve bought for yourself in a long time — something that would probably look flattering on anyone. 

You hold it out in front of you, reliving the fond memory of buying it and how much you love the way you look in it until you hear Jake’s voice echoing throughout your small bedroom, “Are you still there?” 

“You’re so impatient.” You step out of your closet, scolding him half-heartedly now that you’re experiencing another wave of confidence. You rush to yank the t-shirt that has its fair share of holes over your head and onto your bedroom floor. Next to join the pile at your feet are the arguably not-as-sexy cotton briefs you’ve worn to bed.

“Where the fuck did you go? Narnia?”

“I think you underestimate the vastness of a woman’s clos—“ Your snarky response is suddenly cut off when your foot snags the leg hole of the panties, sending you toppling over head first. Thankfully, you catch yourself on the edge of the dresser before you fall over completely. You do your best to stifle back the groan of pain, hoping he didn’t hear your embarrassing moment of clumsiness.

Which proves to be a failure when he asks, “What was that? Are you okay?”

You straighten and finish pulling the panties up the rest of the way while you answer, “Yeah, yeah…just tripped a little. I’m fine.”

He responds with a little drunken giggle,  “Aww, weak in the knees for me already, baby?”

The bad joke paired with the pet name he’s let slip a few times instantly redirects your thoughts to his twin. “I wasn’t aware that I was talking to Josh on the phone.”

You wince and brace yourself for the repercussions of mentioning his brother. Silence hangs in the air while you clasp the bra, and adjust the straps and material on your body.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice is tight, like an overstretched rubber band ready to snap. 

“Relax, Jake.” Now that you have the set on, you sit on the lounge chair that's beside your bed and face the full-length mirror in your room. You do your best to diffuse his annoyance by adding a velvety richness to your voice. “Just that you two are more similar than I think you realize.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

You’re too busy watching your reflection to find the best position for the photo. You drape a leg over the arm of the chair, spreading yourself as you lean back into the cushion and begin feeling across the black lace. 

“You act like it’s a bad thing,” You giggle, tapping the camera button, to capture the image. 

You hear the text alert from his phone, and all you can do is wait for him to open the message. “Am I gonna see you or wha—oh fuck.”

If you could see him look at the photo, you would see him staring blankly at your mostly naked body in complete awe. You would see how his eyes take in all the details of your top, how he can see your nipples through the sheer black fabric. You would watch them follow the curves of your body down to your hand that’s placed between your open legs. 

All you can do is listen closely, just patiently wait for his reaction. You hear it in real-time, his realization that the picture you’ve sent is a Live Photo. “Oh, my god. You’re fucking perfect.”

You imagine him holding his thumb to the photo to watch that short video of you sliding your fingers underneath the fabric before you pull it to the side to show him what’s hidden behind it. 

He pushes out a sharp hiss, following the sound with a hushed grunt. “Tell me how it feels on your skin.”

You explore the sheer, thin fabric with your fingers, feeling your hardened nipples through the delicate material. “It’s soft and lacy. I think you would like it.”

“Are you playing with yourself yet, dove?” Once he hears your faint hum, he takes in a staggered breath, “Imagine my fingers taking care of that sweet little clit of yours. Is she hard yet?”

You do just that. You pretend it’s his fingers instead of yours rubbing across the lace covering your clit in teasing, languid patterns. You imagine how his touch is slightly rougher but still mindful of how sensitive you are.  “Yeah.”

His labored breathing adds to the strain in his voice, “Good girl. What do you want me to do?”

A thin sheen of sweat has started to collect across your brow, and you swallow back the dryness on your tongue. “Your fingers.”

“Where do you want them?” When you don’t answer him right away, he makes sure to reassure you, “Don’t be shy with me, baby.” 

“Inside me.”

“I want you to say it.” His silken voice coaxes you in with each word, every heavy, weighted breath.

Heat blooms in your chest as your heart races within it, but you force yourself to push past that last bit of self-preservation you’ve been holding onto. “I want your fingers inside my pussy.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and for a moment you think you can hear the distinct wet sounds of lube. “I love hearing you say such filthy words, dove.” He pauses for a few seconds to catch his breath before continuing, “I wish I was there right now making you cum on my fingers, stretching that pretty cunt out for my cock.” He grunts another curse, “I’m so hard thinking about it.”

It could be that you just want to hear him say it, or maybe you’re doing it to stroke your ego since he’s already admitted to it moments ago, but you can’t help but ask, “Did you think about me tonight?’

“Of course, dove. I’m not sure if I ever stop.” He sighs, sending static of his muffled breath into the phone before he starts to ramble, “The way you taste. I don’t think I’ll be able to get how you look sucking my cock out of my head. I’m serious when I say I was hard most of the night thinking about you wrapped under my arm, wearing your sluttiest dress. Fuck! I wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

You’ve been touching, feeling, and pleasuring yourself with his gravelly voice acting as your guide. Those words, the graphic details mixing in with his labored, broken breaths cause your imagination to run away from you. “What are you doing?”

He chuckles, “You like thinking about me jerking off to you, baby?”

You laugh with him, because there’s no chance in hell you can admit the amount of time that you’ve already spent thinking about it. “Maybe.”

He keeps his voice low with the taunt, “I know you’re a dirty, little voyeur.” 

You shoot up to a sitting position snapping out of your daze enough to blurt out into the receiver, “He fucking told you?!”

He adds to your anxiety with the deliberate pause he takes. “No, but now he doesn’t need to.”

You can’t believe he blindsided you, catching you in the confession. “You fucking bastard.”

He only laughs, filling your head with the intoxicating sound, “So you wanna see the way I play with myself?”

You stay quiet for a few beats too long, imagining the way he’s probably laid out across the silken sheets of his bed like he was the last time you slept with him. You know he has that cocky smirk on his face knowing that you’re going to say yes. 

“Come on, dove. I know you want to. Just gotta ask me nicely.”

 “Please, Jake,” your voice is a pitiful whisper, lacking all the confidence that would make you sound so sure of yourself. In reality, it’s embarrassing just how quickly you fold and give in to him. 

“That’s my girl.”

 Your phone begins to vibrate due to the incoming video chat call coming from him. The proposition of seeing him in real-time, while he can also see you, makes you nervous. “Oh, I don’t know about a FaceTime—“

“It’s just me, okay? I want to see you and you want to see me, right?” His voice is beyond enticing — so dangerously silken entering your brain. Just like his twin, he can convince you of anything, and it helps that you were already there, to begin with. 

You chew on your lip for a few seconds before hitting the accept button, switching the normal phone call into a video one. Your screen opens up to his rear-facing camera that’s pointed at his ceiling. 

More importantly, it’s pointed directly at the mirror on the bedroom ceiling. 

And just like how you pictured in your mind, he’s laying flat on his back across his massive bed. His black button-up he probably wore for the night out is completely open, exposing his tattooed chest and stomach. He kicked off his pants, leaving his boxer briefs on — only pulling them down his legs far enough to free his cock.

You can see the reflection of his face past his phone while he slowly plays with himself., noting that your prediction about that smile of his was right. His eyes bounce back and forth between his phone and looking directly into the mirror.  “I wish it was your hand stroking me instead. I fucking love the way you touch me. It’s so gentle, almost like you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me.” The way he’s touching himself seems so teasing, following no true pattern or rhythm, as if he was truly pretending it was your hand instead of his own. You watch him pet the underside of his cock with a feather-light touch of his fingertips and how it twitches from the contact. “God, your lips…how your tongue feels on my cock.”

Your brain is going a mile a minute with everything you want to say back to him, but the only coherent thing that forms on your tongue is, “How close are you?”

He groans through an even bigger smile, stretching his neck out while he smacks his dick against his belly, “Close. I’ve been edging myself for a fucking hour thinking about you.” You’ve been too shy to show your stunned expression, so the only view you’ve given him is of the blank white ceiling of your bedroom. “I wanna see that pretty pussy wrapped up like a present for me. Can you show me, dove?” 

“Oh, you want to see me?”

“Now look at you being the tease.”

You tilt the camera down, starting your little show by revealing your legs and slowly working your way down until he can see the black lace thong. You then bring your hand into the frame, teasing him with the sight of your fingers brushing across your covered pussy. “What would you do if you were here?”

You break your concentration to watch his hand stall on his cock, like his thoughts have become scrambled inside his head for the very first time,  “If I was there with you right now?” He allows his eyes to close while he tries to think of his answer. “Where do I even start?”

He decides to change up your view by dropping the camera down in the same way you have yours — blessing you with his point-of-view of his cock. Now that it’s closer, you can see that it’s shining in the low lighting of his bedroom, completely slick with lube. He glides a tight fist up the length, causing the muscles of his stomach to spasm through the upward stroke. “I want to kiss you, feel how soft your skin is… see how you look in that lingerie. I know the picture doesn’t do you justice.”

You’re committed, picking right where you left off by pleasuring yourself. As you roll your fingers over your clit and slip them inside yourself, you realize that you’re even closer now that he’s eliminated the need for your imagination. He’s showing you in real-time how he jerks himself off thinking about you. 

You hear the faint gasp before he continues, “I’d play with your perfect tits, feel your nipples harden against my tongue while I rub over your sensitive clit.” His voice is breathier than it’s ever been from him trying to hold back his moans, “Pull those panties to the side and use my fingers to make you feel so good.” His efforts to keep himself composed have proved fruitless with the amount of liquor in his system. He falls victim to it by what sounds like a whine into the receiver, “I really wish I was there to show you.” 

You’re right there with him, giving yourself away with every ragged breath. “I wish you were here too.”

He sighs, “I can hear you getting close, dove.” Based on how he’s starting to pick up the pace of his strokes, it doesn’t seem like he has long either. “Can you come for me?”

Hearing him ask for it is the final push you need, and all you can focus on is the hushed whimpers and moans he lets slip out as he brings himself to the very edge. You’re seconds behind him, watching as holds his cock perfectly still as the first spurt dribbles down the side and over his knuckles. He sucks in a sharp breath before pushing out a string of grunted curses as the rest of his orgasm hits him with an unexpected force. He shoots across his stomach, painting his abdomen with ropes of his cum. 

The graphic image overrides your brain, acting as the last mental shove into your climax. You burn it into memory as the rush of pleasure pools between your legs and drowns your senses. As you start to come to, you can’t be sure what you said, or what sounds you might have made, but you do know that you’re a breathless mess strewn across your bed. Your mouth is beyond desert dry and the only thing in your head is the pounding of your heartbeat. “Wow.”

He laughs, but it's obvious from how it sounds that the exhaustion is starting to set in. And since he’s in a worse state than you, he is stuck in the same position with the mess he made across his body. “Yeah…that was fun.”

You laugh, keeping the tone of your voice light even though you’re bummed about the thought of hanging up, “Go ahead and clean up.”

He stretches his legs but keeps his hand in the same place on his cock. His response is groggy, revealing that you wouldn't have that much more time with him anyway, “Yeah, I probably should. Goodnight, dove.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

Since your boss allowed you to leave work early today, you decided to walk down to the tattoo shop and visit Josh for a few minutes before heading home. And to your benefit, it’s a warm spring day, making the half-mile walk from the coffee shop a pleasant one. 

With his favorite coffee in one hand, you make the turn around the familiar corner and spot the bold, painted lettering on the shop’s large plate-glass windows. You’re experiencing high school giddiness from knowing you’ll see him within minutes, and it makes your stomach churn wildly with anticipation. 

When you walk in, the expected ding from the doorbell chimes through the shop, alerting the staff of your arrival. There are more people in the lobby than you expect, but Sam is the first one to acknowledge as he discusses jewelry options with a potential client over the glass display case. Glancing over to his right, you don’t recognize the other man behind the counter a few feet away from him, but his features are striking enough to pull your attention for only being a stranger. You can see around the person he’s talking to, spotting his shoulder-length, jet-black curly hair framing his angular face and the black t-shirt that reveals his toned, tattoo-covered arms. 

As you make your way to the staircase, Sam gives you an approving nod before returning to his current conversation. Unlike the other times you’ve been here, the music is booming through the speakers, mixing with the chatter of multiple people as you start to ascend the stairs. 

Once you clear the landing, your eyes bounce around all the activity happening on the second floor, but when you look over to his corner of the room, you see him seated at his station, working away on a tattoo. His client, a young woman around your age if you were to guess, is currently getting a rib piece done from what you can tell at this distance.  She’s stretching out across the same flat table you were on days ago, with her flowing bleached locks billowing beneath her, one arm tucked behind her head with most of her sculpted torso exposed from her tiny, cropped tank being pushed up to right below her breasts. 

She’s beautiful, blonde, perky, and enthusiastic. 

Josh looks good, but there wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that he would. He’s dressed in his usual casual outfit, wearing one of the standard shop-issued t-shirts and a pair of khakis cuffed at the ankles. His loose curls are swept across his head effortlessly, showing off the fresh touch up to the buzzed sides. It should be you complimenting him. It should be you making him blush and giggle.  

You’re far enough that you can't hear the intimate conversation between them, but you can see Josh throwing back his head from the booming laughter leaving him. He’s comfortable with her, inching just a little closer than the minute before. Her other hand is all over him, those manicured fingers touching across his bare arms as she giggles and bats her lash extensions — like a predator honing in on their next prey. 

He’s too preoccupied to see you in the center of the room, watching him venture into the trap willingly as he tells her his dumb little jokes and collection of his favorite anecdotes. You can only stand frozen in your spot, staring as she whines in a high-pitched voice that’s best described as ‘grating’ to your ears, “Oh my god, Josh. You’re so funny!”

Your stomach turns sour from the sight alone.

You consider turning around and fleeing down the staircase to save face, to hide the embarrassment festering within you because there’s no way you can stroll over there with his stupid coffee in your hand now.

You suddenly feel lost and out of place here. You’re not welcome. You might as well be just another customer strolling through the shop seeking out their next tattoo. Your flight response is what activates, propelling you back into the direction from whence you came, but before you make it to the stairs, Jake working alone at his desk, hyper-focused on drawing one of his designs stops you right in your tracks. It’s enough to make you fight back your initial urge to just leave and decide to take the chance on walking over to him. 

He’s changed things up from his normal long-sleeved button-down, displaying the collection of tattoos that cover his arms by dressing in a faded red t-shirt. With the neckline so loose that it’s stretched out beyond belief, the shirt somehow drapes and fits across him perfectly. 

You step beside him, but choose not to say anything at first for fear of interrupting him.  You silently watch as he swipes his hand across the paper with confidence, leaving bold strokes of black ink in its path.  

If he has any awareness of his surroundings, he would already be in tune with your presence, but you already know him better than that, so his acting like he doesn’t notice you, is blatantly intentional. He’s baited and set the line —effectively making you work for it to see how badly you want his attention — now all he has to do is wait patiently for you to take the first bite. 

His pretending you don’t exist allows you to take in how beautiful he looks today. It’s a graceful, delicate beauty that has otherwise gotten overlooked until now. His long, chestnut hair is tucked behind his left ear, exposing the additional silver hoop through his cartilage and the tiny upside-down black and gray dagger tattooed behind it. You’ve nearly chewed a hole through your bottom lip from anxiety, but you take another daring step closer to him.

 “Oh, hello, dove,” he coos loud enough for you to hear over the music before peeling away from his paper to look into your eyes. The way his satisfying drawl of voice delivers the greeting nearly makes your knees buckle, especially now that you know the real reason behind the pet name. 

“Hi,” you mutter softly while setting the coffee down on his desk. You can’t help but wonder why you’re suddenly shy, bashful even, when you interact with him. 

With an air of casual cockiness, he shifts back in his chair to cross a leg over the other and begins drumming his fingers along the top of his knee. It brings your line of vision to the bands of silver wrapped around them as they catch the light, making you note that this is the first time he’s ever worn rings. You know it’s not based on their aged patina finish and how natural they fit on his fingers like his body has remembered their weight over the years. 

You give in to the temptation and let your eyes drift down his body to his lap now that he’s facing you. He’s wearing a different style of pants than what you’ve seen so far on him, a black, tight-fitting pair of Dickies. He’s cuffed the bottoms today just like his brother, revealing the laces of his leather Doc Marten boots. The dark pants hug his thighs in the best way possible, leaving very little to the imagination.

 He notices the iced coffee you brought right away, but his focus on it doesn’t linger long and he brings his attention to you standing before him. He stares at your fidgeting hands and makes his way up to your eyes and holds on to them, searching for the thoughts until a crooked smile breaks on his face, “What brings you in today?”

You’re showing your cards to him as the indifferent expression on your face begins to falter. There’s an unmistakable amount of tension brewing between you from the last time you had spoken to him. “Just visiting.”

He nods slowly, leaning forward to snatch the coffee off the table, and settles back against the chair. The seconds go by at an excruciatingly slow pace as he spins it in his hand to read the name off the bottom line on the plastic cup. You swallow the lump in your throat as you wait for his inevitable reaction. First, he looks up at you before glancing over to his twin. “I see… and how’s that going so far?”

You dance your fingers along the edge of the desk, studying the clutter of the art supplies across its surface. “I dunno. You tell me. You’re the first one I’ve visited.”

He hums in thought as he takes the first sip from the coffee, effectively claiming it as his own before placing it by his side. He surprises you by reaching out and taking your wrist into his hand, guiding you that much closer to him with a gentle pull. He stares up at you while he begins to massage your palm and down each of your fingers.

For a second your eyes flutter closed and your breath catches in your throat, stopping the chance for a coherent thought to leave your lips. The pressure of his fingers on your skin is sensual, yet deliberate with every touch. He begins to work his way up your arm, but a high-pitched squeal cuts through the bustling noise of the shop, interrupting the moment of tension.

“Oh my god, Josh! You’re so talented! You’re so gonna be my tattoo artist now!”

It’s her. She’s fawning over him, feeding his ego more and more with every praise and empty piece of flattery she throws at him. It’s ridiculous that you’re letting it affect you like this, especially while you flirt away with his twin brother. You’re being a hypocrite, but damn it does it make you feel a certain way to see her touching all over him when you should be the one to do it. 

You can’t hold back the heavy roll of your eyes with the scowl pulling at your features, and how you instantly pull your hand from Jake’s grasp out of discomfort. He takes note of the sudden change in your body language and looks over to the source of the sound. Now that they have his attention, his face contorts into a judging stare — true, ill-concealed disgust. 

He shakes his head in disapproval, “Don’t worry about her, babe.”

“Worry about what?” You huff to hide the fact that you’re bothered and brimming with jealousy, but he sees right through the facade and decides to distract you by running his open hands up the front of your legs. 

He glides his tongue along the sharp edge of his top teeth, teasing you with the sight while he hooks his index fingers through your front belt loops and rubs the pads of his thumbs across the exposed skin, just above the waistband of your jeans. He tugs you forward by the denim loops, making you fall onto his lap. As you tumble onto him, giggles of your own break free, and if you were paying any attention, you would have seen Josh pick his head up and glance over in your direction.  

Holding you by the hips, Jake balances you on top of his legs with the help of your hands resting on his shoulders. You’re close. So close that you can feel the warmth of his skin and breath with every soft exhale. It doesn’t help that the phone call has been corrupting your mind the last few days, and now that you can actually touch him, those thoughts start to get away from you. You breathe him in and notice that he smells exquisite, and expensive from the high-end cologne placed directly on his pulse points.

He soaks in the sight of you through heavy lids while rocking you forward, just enough to give your imagination a taste. “Wanna get outta here?”

The question throws you off given that it’s the middle of the day and the shop is at its busiest. So the casual offer with the tone of his voice that’s playful enough, makes you question his real intentions behind it. “Don’t you have appointments?”

“I have a bit of a break today.” He shrugs, responding matter-of-factly with an absent-minded lick of his lips.

He can’t help but smile waiting for your answer while you think over your decision. If you weren’t so distracted, you might be able to, but their genetic similarities between them are screaming at you. Those dark, full prominent brows that express the slightest change in their moods, the corners of their lips that curl up with the faintest of smiles, the same defined nose, even down to the dimple marking their left cheeks. 

He’s made you go from feeling shy and nervous to wishing you had him in private all to yourself within seconds. You desperately want to kiss him, but you just know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you crossed the threshold. Once you got that taste of him on your tongue, you’d shamelessly rock yourself on his lap without a care in the world that anyone could be watching. 

You clear your throat, pulling yourself from your daydream to entertain the idea of leaving with him, “Where would we go?”

Now that he’s hooked you, that fun smile on his face darkens — turning almost mischievous. “Ahh…see, that’s for you to find out, dove.” 

“Of course it is,” You grumble sarcastically while giving into his mysterious ways before you ease yourself off of his legs to stand on your feet.  Jake follows suit, wincing through a groan of pain as he pushes himself off the chair. He stops to work out the stiffness of his muscles with a long stretch of his arms over his head, giving you a quick view of his stomach from his lifted shirt. 

You stand patiently while he takes a few large sips of the coffee and gathers his phone and keys from the desk. He ushers you toward the stairs, guiding you with a hand placed on the small of your back. The small gesture speaks volumes given the circumstances that have developed over the last few minutes, and though you’ve been trying to ignore them, you chance a look over to Josh’s station.

 Josh is staring right at you, just watching you leave without even offering him a simple hello. It’s the first time you’ve seen that cold, unnerving look being shot across the room at his twin. He’s upset, and you would almost feel guilty if it wasn’t for that girl yanking his attention back to her. 

Jake doesn’t pay him any mind, which you can’t say surprises you. He’s been given the opportunity to stoke the embers of Josh’s jealousy, and that’s not something he’s willing to pass up.

You get to the bottom of the stairs and just when you think he’s gonna walk to the front door of the shop, he takes you by the hand and brings you behind the front counter. Sam’s still in his designated spot, unpacking boxes of jewelry to display in the expansive glass case. He looks up from his task once he notices you and gives another passing nod, but whips his head back for a double take when he sees that you’re with Jake instead of Josh. 

Before Sam can utter a single syllable, Jake calls over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in an hour.” Jake doesn’t give him a chance to respond, and he continues to pull you through the privacy curtain to the hallway.

It feels like you’re crossing into a forbidden area not meant for you, but you try to absorb all the details the best you can anyway. The first room on your left appears to be the room Sam uses for piercing based on the equipment and setup inside. Directly across the hall from it is a bathroom, followed by a small office and a storage closet. The same man from when you first walked into the shop scoots past the both of you, sends a wink, and slaps Jake’s shoulder. “Have fun, you two.”

You follow Jake through the hallway until you come to the back room area. He walks up to a row of old, spray-painted lockers that are mounted to the side of the wall next to the door. “Who was that?”

“Danny.” He answers with his back turned to you and pulls a leather jacket from one of the hooks holding a variety of clothes. He peers over his shoulder to gauge your demeanor. “Don’t tell me you got eyes on him, too.”

You cross your arms and laugh, “I wouldn’t want to humble that ego of yours.” He shakes his head and grabs not one, but two helmets, one glossy white and the other matte black, from a different set of mounted hooks. “What are those for?”

“I’ll show you.”

He takes the lead out the back door, past the dumpster, and out to a small parking lot behind the building — big enough to hold three spaces. You spot and instantly recognize the red, older Camry that was in their driveway when you were at their house last. And next to Josh’s beater, is a motorcycle. 

The last thing you would call yourself is an expert on the topic, but it looks like a classic, vintage style of bike. It’s not big and bulky like what you’ve seen with massive Harley motorcycles, but it’s also not a sleek, modern sport bike either. You would guess that it fits somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. 

You take a few steps closer to it, shaking your head with a grin spreading across your face.“Why am I not surprised?”

He sets the helmets down on the hood of Josh’s car, but it’s obvious he’s been waiting for your reaction from how his ears perk up. “You ride?”

“No, I mean, I’m not surprised that you have a bike,” you explain. While you’re learning new things about the man every day, this is something that just seems fitting. You continue to stare at it, admiring a beauty that you don’t fully understand yet. “It makes sense.”

With the bike between you, you watch as he pulls his hair back into a low bun and secures it with an elastic from his wrist.“It does? How so?”

You shrug, but his eyes are locked onto you, making you bite at your lip. “I don’t know…you seem like the adrenaline junkie type. Always pushing the limit. That kind of thing.”

He’s amused by your words and shows a soft smile on his lips before pulling the white helmet off the car and walking toward you. “Interesting.”

You know he’ll eventually win, but you can’t make the game too easy for him. With the steps he takes around the bike, you take one back and motion to his hand. “You even got the spare helmet and everything. How often do you offer these kinds of rides?”

He stops in his tracks and scoffs, “Hey, I’m not the one with some random woman fucking me with her eyes right now. No need to get territorial with me, love.” 

It was an expertly placed jab that throws you right back into reality. Josh had been pushed to the sidelines and now he exists in the forefront of your mind thanks to Jake’s little quippy remark. He’s right though. You’ve experienced enough jealousy for the day, and it doesn’t do you any good to carry it over to him. 

He tries handing you the helmet, but you cross your arms and turn your head away from him.  You’re testing him with your attitude, making him push out a frustrated sigh as he takes another step. He’s close enough now that the helmet is pressing up against your stomach. “I am not about to risk having your head crack open on the pavement like an egg because you wanna be a smartass. So either put it on and listen, or go back inside and mope. Your choice.”

“Someone’s bossy today.” You reach for the helmet, but he jerks it away before you can grab it.

“There are a few rules.” His voice is stern with a new serious tone. While looking directly into your eyes and holding out his index finger to emphasize the point, he instructs, “First, you always hold onto me. No exceptions. And I don’t mean those soft little hugs and holding on to only my shirt. I mean you fucking hold onto me when we’re moving.” He takes the helmet and places it at the crown of your head and with a bit of effort, he’s able to slide it on comfortably. It’s a snug fit around your face, and the outside sounds are instantly muffled. He flips the interior and exterior visor up by pressing a button on the side of the helmet. “Hey. Try to be aware of your surroundings, but make sure to keep your weight steady with me, especially when you turn your head to look around.”

He takes the leather jacket and gestures to your arms so he can put it on you. “The bike will almost turn on its own.” His jacket hugs your curves better than both of you anticipated, making him smile. He zips it up and then fastens the chin strap of your helmet as he continues, “So keeping that balance with me is important. It’s really all about the hips, so I need you to squeeze your legs tight and lean forward into my back.”

You nod slowly as you take in the bits of information, feeling a little clumsy and disoriented due to the additional weight on your head. After he tugs at the jacket in different spots on your body to inspect the fit, he taps the top of your helmet. “Comfortable?”

“I think so,” you laugh nervously as you adjust to his leather wrapped around your skin. It’s soft, made of rich, genuine leather that’s held the shape of his body and kept his scent within its worn material. Despite the warm, sunny day, you forgo questioning the need for it, because in all honesty, just having the feeling of something that belongs to him on your skin is enough of a reason. 

“Ready to take a ride with me, dove?” He asks and finds the answer from the smile in your eyes since the bottom half of your face is covered by the interior of the helmet. He holds that gaze and shoots you a wink while simultaneously blowing a teasing kiss. He seals the flirty moment with a snap of his gum between his teeth and flips your visor down with the flick of his fingers. 

Now satisfied that you’re set in the protective gear, he wiggles his helmet onto his head, face disappearing into the matte-black protective shell. You watch as he transforms into this separate world, taking on another level of confidence and you’re quick to note all the intricate details from this side of him. After he secures his chin strap, he retrieves two pairs of gloves from the hidden seat compartment and hands you the extras. 

He mounts the bike and motions to you to get on. The nerves are starting to set in, causing your legs to start taking on the qualities of Jello. You brace yourself on his shoulders and swing a leg over the back to slide into place. He patiently waits for you to get into position on the seat and find the spokes to put your feet on. You think you have it, but you’re startled when he reaches back and hooks his hands behind both of your knees, and pulls you closer. 

He goes through the process of putting on his gloves, doing those final adjustments to his helmet, and finally starts the motorcycle. Its engine roars to life and mellows out to a vibrational purr between your legs. 

“You good?” He shouts back at you, but most of the volume of his voice is muffled through the helmet. You answer by wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze. He rubs your knee in response and gives it a comforting pat before driving out of the parking lot. 

You’re scared. You won’t deny it. Nothing is holding you on except for the strength of your arms and legs. As much as you’re trying to hide it from him, he knows that you’re working through the fear, and stays at a reasonable speed, taking the turns of his route carefully until you get accustomed to the feel of the bike. This level of exposure is nothing like what you’ve experienced before. These same streets you drive daily feel new, and with every shift of a new gear, a wave of adrenaline surges through your veins.

It’s like a rollercoaster, just more dangerous. 

You look around at the buildings to guess where he might be taking you until you hear that familiar Bluetooth pairing chime inside your helmet. At first, you think you might’ve imagined it, but the sound is immediately followed by Jake’s smooth voice cracking through the headpiece, “You better hold me a bit tighter, love.” You startle from the unexpected sound, making him chuckle, “I promise I won’t bite that hard.”

He stops at a red light, giving you the chance to relax enough and mutter a curse. “You’re a dick.”

That laugh of his — so delicately woven within the static of the microphone as it fills your head. “Oh come on! You’re having fun. Don’t lie to me.”

You hope he doesn’t have a camera inside the helmet to catch your dramatic eye roll. You’re sulking, maybe due to the fact you’re a little embarrassed he had one up on you this entire time. “You could’ve told me about the helmet.”

While balancing the combined weight of the bike and both of your bodies on his foot, he reaches back and rubs your outer thigh. “And risk not being able to hear all those little whimpers you’re making? Not a chance.”

That flusters you, making the grip loosen around his midsection. He takes your hands, gives a reassuring squeeze and he places them back in their spot before taking off when the light finally changes. 

The position you’re holding is a bit awkward at first due to the urge to slide in as close as possible, but after a few minutes of riding, it becomes natural. You eventually take in the scene, watching the cars pass by as he rides between the lanes of traffic. 

“So where are you taking me?”

He chuckles before sending the song of his sigh into your earpiece, “You like tacos?” 

The randomness of the question makes you giggle. “Yeah, I like tacos.”

“Good. I know the perfect spot.”

He pulls the bike into a mostly-empty parking lot of what looks like an abandoned strip mall. Looking around, you spot the taco truck set up at the far end and a few picnic tables scattered in a grassy area off to the side. 

He kills the engine, pulls off his gloves, and helps dismount the bike. “This is the hot spot?”

“I can feel your judgment already. Don’t knock a food truck until you try it, okay?”

After placing your order, you follow him out to the picnic tables while you wait for your food. He sets his helmet down and climbs onto the wooden table with his feet resting on the bench. You watch him dig out a fresh pack of cigarettes and tap the box against his palm. He peels the plastic wrapper off, flips the top open, and grasps the filter of one between his lips. 

“The gum wasn’t cutting it?” You tease as you approach him and set your helmet beside his. 

He freezes with the open Zippo in hand and the paper of the cigarette sticking to his bottom lip, and looks up at you just as he’s about to light it. A different emotion flashes before you, that guilty look of being caught red-handed. It transforms into a nearly undetectable smirk while he flicks the lighter, brings the flame to the end of the cigarette, and pulls in a satisfying drag that hollows out his cheeks, “Studying my bad habits?”

“That, or maybe you’re just more predictable than you think, Jacob.”

His eyes narrow with the use of his full name. “Predictable? That’s a new one.”

A random surge of confidence compels you to pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers and bring it up to your lips. You’ve been to enough parties and social situations throughout the years to be familiar with it enough to not act clueless. Even so, the way he’s looking at you causes your hands to shake and for you to cast your eyes elsewhere.

“Yeah.” You pause to gesture with the cigarette in your hand with a sassy click of your tongue. “This whole dark and mysterious bad-boy thing is nothing but a front.”

He leans forward with his elbows propped on his knees to watch you pull in a drag of your own, and his expression seems amused to say the least. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself, doll.”

It’s full-bodied and harsh on your tongue from holding it in your mouth. To impress him and not make an ass out of yourself, you let your bottom lip fall open so you can push the smoke with your tongue to inhale through your nose. You fight the itching urge to cough as you blow what’s left out of your lungs into the air. While exuding the same energy of a best friend’s cooler, older brother, he sees right through the little trick you’ve learned years ago. 

Biting back that cocky grin that’s twisting his lips, he takes your wrist and guides your hand slowly up to his mouth. You feel his lips brush ever-so-carefully across your palm before he wraps them around the filter stuck between your fingers. 

He mimics the same smoke trick you had done but with the natural ease of being an actual smoker. You try to stay calm and collected while you swallow back the swell of nausea and light-headedness from the rush of nicotine into your system.

“You good?” He asks, blowing the smoky exhale out from the corner of his mouth.

You nod, grunting through the burning sensation eating away deep within your throat. Thankfully, your order being called out from the window of the truck saves you at the moment. You bolt to the window, leaving him at his spot on the table.  

Everything is piping hot and made fresh to order with the most authentic ingredients you’ve ever seen. Jake is quick to pour the plastic ramekin of hot sauce across his order of tacos and starts to devour one of them before you can even finish unwrapping your food from the foil. 

He’s truly lost in the experience with eyes rolling back while a stream of bright-orange juices from his taco drip down his chin before he has the chance to wipe it clean. “These always hit the spot.”

“How did you find this place?”

He wipes a napkin across his mouth before answering, “Years ago I did a tattoo for one of the owners during a convention and he bought us some of his food the next day for lunch. The guys and I have been stopping by here ever since.”

It’s hard not to be distracted by his bare arms, the way the sleeves of his tattoos move with every flex of his muscles. It would take you hours to examine each piece of inked artwork, but he’s already catching on to you staring at him. You break your eyes away to look off into the distance, making a mental note of the place for the future. “I’ll have to come by here again.”

He shoves the rest of his taco into his mouth, mumbling around it, “Are we gonna talk about it, or just have small talk about the food?”

You drop your eyes to your styrofoam tray of food in front of you. “Talk about what?”

He wipes his mouth and fingers clean with another paper napkin. “Ya’ know, about what happened back at the shop.”

It was naive to hope that Jake wouldn’t eventually bring it up and think it was something that could have been easily forgotten. “Nothing happened.”

He scoffs a harsh laugh, “Right. And that’s why you sulked and almost took off without saying anything?” You stay silent and take another bite while still avoiding eye contact. “Are you gonna talk to him?”

He’s putting you on the spot and you haven’t even had the chance to process your feelings about it, let alone give him any sort of thought-out answer. “About what exactly?”

“That what he did bothers you,” he says flatly before taking a bite of his second taco. 

You push the helping of rice around on the tray. “How can I? Go up to him and say ‘Hey, Josh, I don’t want you to sleep with anyone else even though I’m also fucking your brother’?  You do know that sounds absolutely insane, Jake?”

He agrees with an empathetic lift of his brows and shrugs his shoulders while he finishes the second taco. “Maybe.”

“And why do you care anyway?” You hiss at him with far more attitude than you realize, making him the target of your frustration. “Doesn’t that go against your own…motives?”

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth from the heat of the hot sauce before letting out an amused chuckle, “You act like I have this grand evil plan, dove. I don’t really care what’s happening between you and Josh. Now granted, I can’t say I thoroughly enjoy sharing you with him, but I do think you might be a little hard on yourself with this one.” 

You finally look up, prompting him to meet your weak gaze. You study him, searching for what his true intentions in this conversation are. “I think it would just make things worse.”

Something washes over his stoic expression, making him shift his weight on the seat of the picnic table to straighten out his posture. He starts to fidget with the silver skull ring on his left ring finger, spinning it around as if he’s suddenly feeling apprehensive. “Would you be this upset if it was me instead of him?”

Was that jealousy? You watch him closely, noting the stiff, slightly-annoyed movements of hands picking up his last taco before he takes a bite. “What do you mean?”

He looks directly at you, causing the afternoon sunlight to catch his deep-brown eyes, turning them into a rich-golden toffee.“What if I was the one sleeping around with someone else?”

The question leaves your mouth before you have a chance to think it through, “Are you?!”

Just like that, you reveal a little more than you intend to. Your reaction was panicked and insecure when it should have been casual and collected. Now that he knows more about where you stand, that little smirk of his slowly forms on his lips. You can kiss the thought of getting an answer from him goodbye because unlike the phone call the other night, he’s sober at this moment. Your chance of pulling out any information that’s being locked away in that brain of his is nonexistent. 

As you both finish up eating your lunch, he can’t ward off the reality that it’s time for him to take you back to the shop. However, you’re relieved to find that the second time mounting the bike is a bit more graceful than the first, and most of the nervousness you felt, in the beginning, is quickly dissipating the more time you spend with him. He must sense your comfort level because he’s now splitting between lanes of traffic and becoming a little more daring with his speed than he did initially. 

From what you can remember, the ride back to the shop isn’t a long one, and regardless of whatever tension lives between the two of you, you feel safe with him. It doesn’t take long for you to sway effortlessly along with him and get a true sense of how the bike moves on the road. You fall back into your thoughts, wishing that you can feel the soft fabric of his t-shirt against your cheek instead of the helmet getting in your way or the thick material of the gloves covering your fingers. Despite your senses being restricted by the protective gear, it doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his midsection. 

That secure hold on him becomes exploratory as you feel up and down his stomach, over his slender hips, and eventually lower onto his lap. When he stops at the next red light, you feel bold enough to feel across the tops of his thighs. You squeeze your legs around him even tighter than before, molding yourself against his body, and he can’t hide the change in his breathing as it’s picked up through the microphone of the intercom. You look over his shoulder to see him tapping his fingers impatiently on the clutch while your hands continue to roam over his legs. You become mesmerized by that alone, watching the tendons and muscles of his forearm move with each flex of his fingers on the clutch lever.

Through the gloves and the material of his pants, you feel something hard when you graze your hand back up his leg, which makes him groan and squirm against the seat. You bite into your smile and decide to do it again, but this time grabbing him with more purpose than before. 

There’s no mistaking his erection when a low growl crackles through your earpiece. He grabs your wrist, stopping the movements of your hand on his lap while giving you the stern warning, “You better behave yourself.”

You fight against the hold he has on you, hooking your fingers around his inner thigh. Making sure to keep your voice innocent, yet bratty, you ask, “And if I don’t?” 

He cocks his head to the side as if to look back at you, and you can feel his leg bouncing while you continue to rub him through his pants. You swear he’s leaning backward into your embrace, but before he can scold you or utter a single word, a car’s horn honks from behind you, startling you both. 

The bike acts like it’s suddenly gained consciousness and bucks forward a few inches before the engine cuts itself off. It takes you a second to understand what’s happened until you come to realize that he’s stalled it.

 “Fuck!” He curses harshly while rushing to restart the bike with the looming pressure building from the line of cars behind him. He manages to bring his motorcycle back to life easily, and the relief of finally passing through the clear intersection washes over him. “That was fucking embarrassing,” he mumbles under his breath. 

Your hands find their way back to his stomach, and you give him a reassuring squeeze even if your tone is slightly patronizing. “It’s okay. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

He accepts your gesture with a giggle as he pats your hand that’s resting just above his navel. “If you do, I might have to kill you.”

Unfortunately, for the remainder of the ride, Jake proves to not be much of a conversationalist and fills the time by playing music through the helmets instead of chatting with you. You try not to let it bother you, but then you’re thrown when he pulls the bike into an open parking space in front of the shop, instead of his designated spot in the back. 

You step into the shop for the second time today but with Jake by your side. You’re greeted by the same faces, but now with the addition of Josh and the woman he was tattooing when you left. She’s standing at the counter, leaning over so much that her ass sticks out, touching his arm while he works on closing out her payment. 

“We should really get a drink sometime,” she offers, shamelessly making her move without caring that it’s in front of an audience. 

Josh smiles, and you can see the blush pink ending the apples of his cheeks. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’re not exactly sure where this feeling is coming from. You wouldn’t consider yourself an overly jealous or confrontational type of person. But just to hear her voice, to see her reach out and touch him the way she is —  it’s making you act irrationally. What you should do is remain calm, say your goodbyes to the guys, and head home for the rest of the day. 

But you don’t.

That impulse that’s been simmering within yourself like an unattended pot finally boils over, causing you to take Jake’s hand in yours. There’s a powerful determination in your strides as you drag him over to the front counter. You’re the one taking the lead, using the same path he had used with you when you left the shop. It feels as though time is slowing down like you were trapped in that cliche scene of a movie. As you push past Josh and his client, you pretend he’s simply a stranger, that the chemistry and moments shared between you are figments of his imagination.

She simply scoffs and scoots out of your way while Josh freezes in place, stuck staring at you with this incredulous look of shock. His expression instantly sours with anger when Jake steps with you, but you don’t bother with an explanation as you make your way to the back hallway. You want your actions to make a point for you. 

Despite his brother’s sudden change in mood, Jake doesn’t resist in the slightest as you yank him down the hall. You step into the small office with him in tow, spin dramatically on your heels, and with your hands placed firmly on his chest, you shove him against the back of the door hard enough for it to slam shut with a thud. 

You’re inches away from his face, breathing heavily while your heart pounds wildly within your chest. You’ve pulled that trigger, now all that’s left is to follow through with your plan. You know it will end poorly, but his divine scent, the warmth of his body through his t-shirt, and the throaty sound of his laugh divert your attention from that fact while simultaneously causing the walls of your confidence to crumble. 

“Doesn’t bother you, huh?” He asks through an airy giggle while he wraps his fingers around your wrist and looks down at you through sleepy lids with that smug, feline smile appearing on his mouth. 

“Shut up.” You swallow thickly, fixating solely on his lips that he’s wetting with the tip of his tongue. You don’t give yourself the chance to overthink what’s happening before your mouth comes crashing down on him. The kiss you give him is not gentle, graceful, or even teasing. It’s walking along the lines of desperate, demanding at best as you shove your tongue into his mouth in the need to taste him. 

He welcomes you with a low groan, and his hand finds your cheek to pull you in closer. Whatever this is, it’s impulsive and rushed —  far from the scene he painted on that phone call. You’re both sweaty and uncomfortable from being crammed in this tiny office, but you don’t care, and neither does he, given how his tongue is sliding across yours. As he cradles your cheek, you struggle to keep your hands in one spot for longer than a second. They leave the nape of his neck to massage across his chest until they grasp onto the fabric on his t-shirt in clenched fists. 

While he takes his time savoring the kiss, you’re in a frantic need, borderline clawing at the button and zipper of his jeans. You impatiently huff, “Would you just fuck me already?”

Without warning, he grabs both of your wrists, flips both of you around, and knocks you up against the door. Before you can react and utter a single word, he snatches your throat in the blink of an eye, claiming the air from your lungs. The hold he has on you is controlled, but gentle. He keeps you still, taking precious seconds to examine all the intricate details while he breathes you in. You try to watch him through your lashes, but you’re too distracted by the silver bands of his rings pressing into the soft flesh of your neck with the calculated squeeze of his fingers. 

“If you want to use me to make him jealous, you better be ready for it, dove,” He croons just above a whisper, the breath of his voice fanning across your parted lips — the sound of it having the richness of freshly-pulled espresso, dark and intense.

If you’re the vixen, he’s the wolf — giving you that false sense of security while you’ve been prancing around thinking you’ve had control, that he’s softened up to you. But in reality, you’ve been distracted this entire time while he prowls that clearing, waiting for the perfect moment to change everything for you.  

That addicting, devilish smile flashes before you. “Are you?”

His eyes seem to darken, pupils blown with desire as they drift down to your lips. You nod, whispering a faint, “Yes.”

If you were paying attention, you would have heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, but you didn’t. The feeling of the doorknob turning and the door being pushed open is what pulls you out of your trance. 

Jake throws an open hand to the door and shoves it closed with a harsher thud than you did moments ago. He flips the lock before the other person has the chance to push it open again. When they realize this with a second attempt, they proceed to bang their fist on the other side of the door. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” A muffled, angry voice calls out while giving one final push to the door.

It’s Josh.

Jake doesn’t seem bothered by the jarring interruption in the slightest, so little in fact that he starts to place kisses on your neck.

You push against his chest enough to break the contact of his lips to your skin. “He sounds mad, Jake”

He presents a cocky smile to you, but his eyes are focusing on your lips while his thumb sweeps across them. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You can’t say you were expecting Josh’s confrontation, but it makes you question your motives, and with that, guilt and worry jump on the chance to weasel their way into your mind, causing a shift in your disposition. “Yeah…but—“

He takes your chin in his hand and carefully tilts your head up so you’re looking at him directly. He looks down at you, peering through heavy lids in admiration. Now that he has your full attention, he coos with a certain assurance, “Hey, don’t get in your head about it. He’ll be pissy for a bit, but he’ll get over it.”

You scoff dramatically, breaking free from his loose grasp. He dips his head back to its place in the crook of your neck, letting out a deep sigh, “He can’t hold a grudge to save his life.” While your fingers weave into his hair, he peppers your shoulder with kisses, mumbling through each one, “Especially with you.” 

You’ve been holding a breath in your chest despite the aching feeling it gives you, but you push it out the second he sinks his teeth into the flesh which sends a chill down the length of your spine. He squeezes a handful of your ass, giving himself the ability to grind himself against your hip. You groan at the feeling of his erection pressing into you, making him smile against your skin before he teases, “Besides, I believe that you’ll find ways to make it up to him.”

You lean against the door while you try to collect your thoughts. Even though you’re swimming in feelings and emotions, you’re still clear-headed enough to be irritable toward Josh. “Yeah, well, he should be finding ways to make it up to me.”

Your response makes him laugh and retreat from your neck, but only to hover his lips over yours, “There’s my girl.”

He seems pleased and releases his hand from around your throat and balances his weight on his other arm against the door. He’s hovering above you, boxing you in with his arms against the door. The touch of his lips is a blessing and a curse as he presses them into the delicate skin, that tender spot right below your ear. You’re at his mercy, and you both know it.  

He pops open the button of your jeans with ease and slips his hand under the denim and the fabric of your panties. You try to spread your legs for him in the standing position, but he’d already nestled in the heat between your thighs. To your surprise, he doesn’t make you beg this time, and slips his middle finger through your folds, coating himself in the building wetness of your arousal. 

“Fuck,” you moan louder than expected as you buck into the palm of his hand, grasping onto his wrist that’s half-buried in the front of your pants. You instinctively clench your legs around him, but his fingers glide over you despite the restrictions. 

“Little worked up?” He pants, the heat of his breath clinging to your neck. You react by digging your nails into the flesh of his arm, but he’s already busy circling your clit with the calloused pad of his finger. 

“Fuck you,” you say in a breathy sigh, but the insult is as empty as your mind is right now. The only thought existing in the brain fog is your need to satiate the craving for him, and you’ve decided you’re not leaving until you do. 

He repositions slightly, pinning you firmly against the door as he braces himself. He hums and gives a nip to your jaw “Oh don’t worry, dove. You’ll get to.”

He adds his index finger, flicking the bundle of nerves with the lightest of touches.

You whine out, and your legs start to shake in fatigue from holding yourself against the door. He rolls his hips against you in search of friction, giving away that he’s been wanting this just as badly. “You been thinking about me, dove? Playing with this pretty little cunt pretending it’s me doing it?”

You whimper an incoherent answer. He slips his middle finger through your slick until it's right at your entrance. Even he’s surprised with how easily his finger glides inside you. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet. Did the bike feel good, sweetheart?” He curls it inside while his thumb works your clit, working off the reactions of your body beneath him. “He can’t do that for you, can he?”

He could be speaking an entirely different language to you and it wouldn’t matter at this moment. Every word from his mouth sounds more distorted than the last as that heat builds between your trembling legs. With how close you are, you can only writhe and claw at his arm, responding to him with pathetic whimpers and moans. 

He adds a second finger, stretching you out that much more, and starts to pump them inside you with however much your jeans allow. “You know he’s out there right now. Wishing he could fuck you…feel you like this.”

You cry out his name and you put no effort in keeping your voice low and quiet. You’ve been holding onto him this entire time, and now you have most of his t\shirt balled in your fists to ground yourself to him. He’s intertwined with you, rocking his waist with yours as you climb to the tipping point of your release. He’s so close that the bridge of his nose is digging into the side of your cheek, but you can’t be bothered to care about the sting the pressure causes. You want it, you need him to lose himself with you. 

You’re rapidly approaching your peak, and there’s no question that he can feel you tighten and flutter around him. He pushes a growl from his throat against the shell of your ear, “There you go, give it all to me. I know you’re close, dove.” He drags his swollen lips down the column of your neck while his fingers sweep that special spot inside you. “She needs me so badly.” 

As if he’s yanked the threads of your composure with the simple demand, you unravel completely. He holds you tightly, riding the waves of your orgasm as you shake uncontrollably against his hand.

After giving you a minute to come down from your high, he pulls his hand from your jeans and rests it on your hip while he catches his breath. You release your hold on the back of his shirt and let your fingers wander down the length of his body until you find what you’re searching for. You’re pleased to know that he’s still just as hard as he was, throbbing away against your palm.

You take the initiative by grabbing his hips and sliding down with your back to the door until you’re balanced on your knees. Your confidence always falters when you see him, but you can’t resist the temptation to look up. 

The image of him above you takes your breath away. You watch his chest heave with every breath pushing past his parted lips while he braces his weight against the door on an extended arm. His long hair has come loose from his bun and is now falling around his face, some of it even clinging to the sweat that has collected on his cheeks and forehead. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, but his surprise shows on his raised brows when he sees your hands meet at the button of his pants. 

You watch him process what’s about to happen and the absentminded lick across his lips before they spread wide into a full grin. He brings his other hand to rest on the crown of your head before his fingers slip through your hair. 

The way his dull nails scratch across your scalp is almost enough to distract you, but you’re determined. You make quick work of his button and zipper, opening the front of his pants enough so you can pull his cock free. The noise he makes the second you have him in your hand is a sound you wish you could replay forever. He’s heavy and thick in your grasp — his skin is hot to the touch, tacky against your fingers as you slowly stroke him. 

He suddenly tugs at your hair by the roots, yanking your attention back up to him. “Just know you’re not fooling me, sweetheart.” The stinging sensation with the authority in his voice makes you ache for him even more. He relaxes his grip on your hair for a more affectionate touch, one that one might use for a pet. “Acting all innocent…but here you are hungry for my cock like the pretty little whore you are.”

You squeeze your fingers around the base, making him hum from your choice of answer.  You wish you had all the time in the world to tease him, to edge him slowly until he is the one begging. You don’t. Since you’re on borrowed time as it is, you bring him to your lips and lick around the head of his cock before gliding him over your flattened tongue. He shudders at the warm, wet feeling, and his fingers curl involuntarily against your scalp. 

You quickly find your rhythm, bobbing on him while you use your hand for what your lips can’t reach. The saltiness of his sweat lingers on your tongue and the natural scent of his body floods your mind — adding to the impulsiveness of your decisions. His splayed fingers slide to the back of your head so he can push himself even deeper. You take him without complaint, letting his cock hit the back of your throat. 

You gag around him almost instantly, so forcefully that you have to pull away with just a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock. The tears welling in your eyes have clouded your vision, but you hear him hum in approval, “That’s it, baby girl.”

Acting on his praise, you wrap your lips around him once again. Your movements and techniques are sloppy and uncoordinated, but you find that only seems to turn him on even more. The messier you are with his cock in your mouth and the more depraved you look on your knees, the closer he gets. 

Through your wet lashes, you see that his eyes are clamped shut in what looks like a grimace of pain, but you know that it’s far from it. You also note how his mouth hangs open while tiny moans and whispered curses escape freely. He’s somewhere else in his mind, fighting the temptation to let go completely into the back of your throat. He’s been allowing you to take the lead as long as he can, but he’s losing the battle of self-control and gives in by pressing the heel of his palm to your forehead and guiding your head to the back of the door. 

He finally takes that control, and with each thrust into your mouth, he pushes the back of your head into the wood just a bit more. The act isn’t painful, but it’s far from comfortable. You’re greedy for the praise, for the lewd sounds he makes, for the reactions of his body from how good you feel. You want to keep going but the muscles of your legs are starting to strain with fatigue and your jaw is starting to ache past the point of being bearable.

You reach up to tap his hand and he instantly releases his grip on your hair and withdraws himself from your mouth. If you were him, you would see your makeup has smeared down your cheeks, your red, swollen lips and chin glistening with your drool, and that glazed, already fucked-out look in your eyes.

“Jake,” you try to speak, but his name barely comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He just stares at you with a blank expression on his face, and for a second you worry that he didn’t hear you until he eventually mumbles out, “Huh?”

“I need you.”

He nods and reaches down to hook his hands under your arms, helping you up off the floor. You don’t have to balance your weight for long because he spins you both again and guides you to the desk behind you. In one fluid motion, he tugs your jeans and underwear down your legs and lifts you onto the top of the desk.

He hooks his hands around the backs of your knees and pulls you forward to the very edge before wrapping your legs around his waist. Everything is happening faster than you can process, but what you can do is bring his lips to yours for a kiss.

With his cock in hand, he glides himself through your folds to coat himself in your arousal. He holds himself at your entrance, waiting for your permission and the anticipation nearly kills you, but all he wants is to hear how badly you need it. 

“Jake…please.” Your desperate plea tumbles into his mouth through your kiss. 

He smiles against your lips as he rolls his hips forward, nudging the head of his cock into your waiting cunt. He pulls himself out, only to push all the way to the hilt in a single thrust. However, he’s not done dragging this out, because now that he’s fully inside you, right where you want him to be, he slowly withdraws — so slowly that it’s borderline torture. 

While you groan in protest, he’s looking down, watching you tense and tighten around his cock in hopes of keeping him close. “Fuck, you take me so well,” He grunts before snapping his hips forward, and because you’ve adjusted to his size, he glides back into you with ease. 

As much as you love the idea of him watching himself fuck you, you need him close. You bring him flush against you with your legs locked around him in a vice-grip hold. He stalls his movements, but he makes up for it by sweeping the hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear so he can whisper, “You look prettier with me inside you.”

The thought of arguing with him on that fact crosses your mind, but this is where his sweet affection ends. He’s done with the sensual teasing and decides to set a very different pace for himself. You make the note to consider yourself lucky up until this point, because now you’re struggling to keep your sounds discreet. 

A forceful thrust of his cock against your cervix causes a yelp to break free and his hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries. He chuckles with a shake of his head, but it's lazy and breathy while he continues to fuck you, “You gotta be quiet. There are still people here.” 

His hands have been everywhere on you — around the nape of your neck, on your hips, across your back, and almost every inch of your legs. He settles on your throat once more, but this time making the point to squeeze his fingers into the flesh. “Whose pussy is this? Hmm? Tell me.”

You’re becoming more light-headed by the second, but you’re eager to give him the answer he desires, “Yours.”

While he’s been just shy of being rough with you, his rhythm slows enough so he can ask, “Who? I don’t think I heard a name, dove.”

“Yours, Jake! Yours!”

Satisfied with your answer, he lets go of your neck to brush his knuckles along your jaw. “That’s right. Good girl.” Hearing him calling you ‘good girl’ will never cease to make you melt, so there’s nothing that can stop you from letting your head fall against his. “Don’t forget that she’s mine.”

The slip of his possessiveness only fuels your desire. It should have you running the other direction, but here you are wanting him to claim you — to take what he deems rightfully his.

His thrusts give him away before his words do. His panting breath fans across your cheek with every exhale, “I’m so close. How bad do you want it?”

You know exactly what he means, and you don’t hesitate to beg him for it, “Bad. Pl-please, Jake. Come inside me, please.”

The sweet, pitchy sound of your request causes him to falter. “Oh fuck, baby. You want me to fill you up?” The words are broken up between thrusts and the sharp inhale of breath through clenched teeth. “Mark her as mine?”

While he’s been holding out as long as he could, the final few pumps buried deep inside you force him to succumb to his release. He gives you what you’re so desperate for —  the addicting warmth of his cum filling you with every heavy pulse and twitch of his cock. 

He stays perfectly still wrapped in your embrace to soak up the moment and take in the feeling of your pussy spasming around his softening cock. You’re not sure how much time passes until he slides out of you and tucks himself back into his pants while admiring the mess he’s left between your legs.“What a beautiful sight.”

Just when you think it’s all over, his fingers dance along your inner thigh. “How’s it feel? Me dripping out of you like this?”

You’re not sure what to say. If you were coherent in any capacity, you still might not have anything to say. 

He gladly accepts your listless state and the silence as the best answer. He rolls his thumb over your swollen, over-stimulated clit that’s covered in his cum, making you squirm from the touch. He clicks his tongue, but doesn’t pull his hand away, “She can’t even hold it all in, poor thing.” 

You say his name again as a warning, but in reality, it’s a weak lie. If it was up to you, he would never stop touching you if you could help it. You just can’t say you expected him to shove his fingers inside you again. 

It’s only for a brief moment and then they are gone, leaving you empty. You stare at him in pure disbelief as he brings those same, wet fingers to his mouth and wipes them across his tongue. He leans forward to kiss you, making sure to share whatever he licked off. “Taste that? That’s us and don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

You’re left speechless, and when he realizes you won’t answer him, he asks a follow-up question with more deliberation, “Do you understand me?”

You nod despite your sweaty face sticking to the side of his. “Yes, Jake.”

He hums to himself, “I had a feeling you were going to be a good listener.”

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[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 5

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka

Word count: 11.5k

A/N: I’ve been really excited about this chapter, but I’m not sure how good I really feel about it. I hope y’all enjoy this update! ❤️

Also, before anyone comes at me for ethics about this smut scene with Josh, it’s fantasy. I am fully aware (and hope y’all are too) that no tattoo artist should ever do this.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of marijuana, graphic sexual content - 18+ MINORS DNI!! (unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, nipple play, a bit of a glove kink)

Part 4, Masterpost, Playlist

You crack open Josh’s bedroom door a few inches so you can peer out into the hallway to see if Jake is awake until Josh pushes it completely open. He slips by you while still completely naked, walking down the hall into the bathroom. You feel a little lightheaded, your head buzzing from the massive hit you took, making you feel like you're simultaneously glued to the floor while fearing you might float away, yet your feet carry you to the bathroom even if your mind drifts elsewhere. 

Following him with weightless steps into the bathroom, you pull the t-shirt Jake had given you the night before off your body and toss it to the ground. The boxers are the second thing to go, but before you could slip them off your legs, Josh gasps loudly, “Holy shit!”

You startle, turning to face him in search of the reason for his sudden outburst. “What?!”

His eyes widen with shock, locking onto your body as he steps forward with an extended hand, and brushes his fingertips over the small of your back with a cautious touch. “Did you guys fuck or were you attacked by a rabid animal?”

You glance down to inspect your lower body, finding that your waist and legs are marked with faint scratches and small finger-sized bruises. They’re little reminders, causing the memories of your night spent with Jake to flash before your eyes. As a blush creeps up, your immediate reaction is to laugh, causing the nervous sound to echo throughout the bathroom as you step inside the shower.

Josh doesn’t join in on the laughter, but instead approaches you with concern laden in his strained voice as he studies the rest of your skin for evidence, “Are you okay?”

He follows you in, closing the glass door behind him as you tilt your head under the stream of water.“Yeah, I’m okay.” Your eyes are closed with the water rolling down your face, but you can feel his presence as he steps closer. He doesn’t say anything, only letting the sounds of the shower patter through the bathroom. You peek through your eyelids to see him staring at you. “I promise!”

As he closes the last bit of distance between you, his stance softens with each step. He guides you in by the hips so your body connects with his, a position very reminiscent of the first shower you took together. 

You peer up at him as the hot water cascades over the both of you. He meets your eyes through wet lashes, smiling as he teases, “So you like being tied up, huh?”

You haven’t had the chance to process last night, so you shrug non-committedly, reaching around him for the bottle of shampoo. “I think so.”

He rests his arms on your shoulder as he kisses you, but only for a quick peck on the lips. “Kinky girl. And you say I’m the one to surprise you.”

After getting dressed, you gather whatever things you brought from around his room and step out into the hallway once again. You make your way out into the living room with Josh not far behind. You try to stay quiet by walking softly over the hardwood, assuming that Jake is sound asleep, but once you’re within earshot of the kitchen, you’re able to hear the sounds of him moving around. 

You see him standing at the island, facing you as he makes himself a simple breakfast. He’s shirtless this morning, giving you the full view of his tanned skin —  an image that you’ve gladly seen a few times now. But there’s something different about seeing his collection of tattoos in the daylight like you have a newfound appreciation for the artistry and talent within each one. You watch closely, simply enamored by the way they move and stretch with each breath he takes, every minuscule movement of his body. It might be because you’re still high, but there’s no doubt you could stand here and gawk at him for hours. 

 The only item of clothing he’s wearing is his worn gray sweatpants, a pair that he’s probably had since high school, sitting low on his waist, right below his hip joints. The bottom side of his bagel is already wedged in his mouth with his teeth sinking into the thick smear of cream cheese as he swipes the butter knife across the toasted top half. 

As you carefully venture closer, he breaks his focus away from his task to look up at you, and bites fully through the bagel so he can mumble around his chewing, “Was wondering what happened to you.”

You’re standing at the opposite side of the kitchen island, losing yourself in his tired, toffee-colored eyes, noticing the small, dark bags formed beneath them from lack of sleep. He looks over your outfit through the silence, and a small smile forms as he chews. Before you can explain your absence from his bed this morning, he sets his bagel down, dusts off the crumbs from his fingers, and turns away to reach for the coffee pot sitting in the machine behind him. 

The moment feels vulnerable like you’re pulling back the curtain to see that there’s no mask, no role that he’s put on, no cocky persona that he’s been more than comfortable adopting in a place like his tattoo shop. That this right here is simply a mundane task of him filling up his favorite mug with piping hot coffee wearing only his most-beloved pair of sweatpants. 

Nothing about his tone or body language gives any indication that he’s upset with you, but you still feel on edge nonetheless. You clear your throat from the nervousness prickling in the back of your mind, but still squeak out your response in a sheepish voice, “Sorry about that.”

He holds his mug up, looking at you with an intensity you haven’t seen yet as the steam plumes around his face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, dove.” The calm, sleepy rasp of his voice feels like a perfect scratch to a place you’ve been dying to itch.

 Your thought is interrupted by Josh’s dramatic entrance of him sliding across the bare floor on his socks, knocking into you with a gentle bump of his hip into yours. You can tell it’s all to make you laugh and lighten the mood, so you push out the strained sound as he stands behind you. His hands start at your shoulders and work their way down your arms until they are planted on the countertop on either side of you, boxing you in. 

He places a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder, breathing in the shower you took together off your skin, and runs the tip of his nose across the shell of your ear. A shiver rolls through the column of your spine when he whispers, albeit loud enough to ensure his brother can hear every word, “This morning was fucking incredible, baby.”

Josh’s tight embrace causes the woodsy scent of his cologne to wrap around you like a cozy blanket, with its vanilla sweetness and rich almond notes making you crave just a little bit more. You catch the heavy roll of Jake’s eyes as his face drops from a smile into a scowl as he takes another sip from his mug. 

Josh doesn’t seem to notice, or at least care, and plants a kiss on your cheek before detangling himself from you. He circles the island and walks behind Jake to choose a coffee mug for himself from the cabinet. 

But something snags his attention before he can, causing his face to contort into confusion. He spins on his heels and leans in closer to inspect Jake’s neck, seeing that it’s littered with a spattering of Fuschia-colored marks that trail from his jawline to his collar-bones, across his bare chest, and down to his stomach. Your mouth falls open in shock, and you can’t tell if you’re more embarrassed that you’ve done that to him or amazed that you didn’t see it until now. 

Josh grins through a taunting chuckle while looking directly at you, and smacks an open hand across Jake’s shoulder before giving it an aggressive shake that’s strong enough to make coffee spill from the mug. “Looks like you might have to button up your shirt for once, Jakey boy.”

Jake cuts a menacing glare over his shoulder, following it with a heavy roll of his eyes until they meet yours again. You wince in an attempt at a silent apology, one to which he only reciprocates with a wink before taking a large sip of his coffee. 

It’s becoming obvious that there’s going to be a learning curve navigating this dynamic between the three of you. You wish you could say something, anything that would reflect an ounce of confidence that you do not possess right now. The weed in your system surely doesn’t help, but you can’t help imagining him going through his workday with an assortment of very noticeable hickies that you’ve personally created. 

You see the workings of a smile on Jake’s mouth as the gears turn in his head before he mutters, “It seems like a fair price to know she had a good time with me last night.” He half turns to face Josh, leaning against the edge of the counter as he throws another verbal jab. “What is this now? The second morning she left your room unsatisfied?”

“Asshole.”

The weight of the unsaid hangs in the air, creating an uncomfortable awkwardness within you. Not knowing what to say or do, you divert your eyes away from them and spot your bag sitting on the barstool. While Josh is busy filling up his travel mug, you reach for it, blurting out, “Well, I guess I better get going.”

Josh sets the coffee pot back and offers over his shoulder, “Let me walk you out.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Jake’s voice cuts in before you can get out a word, “Oh, I think I might have a break between clients today.” He sets his mug down and grips the counter’s edge with both hands to lean forward. “I’ve been thinking about coming down to your shop to try one of your coffees—”

“Actually, I think we have to go through the books today,” Josh interrupts and walks into Jake’s view to shoot him a glare. There’s some sort of telepathic communication between the two of them, a conversation you’re not a part of. There’s an edge to the tone, a tightness in his voice that seems very unlike him. “He’ll be very busy. Such a shame though.”

With his coffee in hand, phone in the other with his key ring hanging off his pinky, and backpack slung loosely off his shoulder, he ushers you toward the door with the tip of his chin. After taking a few steps, Jake calls out your name, making you turn to the sound of his voice. “It was nice seeing you again.”

You feel compelled to stay, hook your bag on the back of the barstool, and slide across the seat. You imagine what the late morning would bring, the anecdotes he might share, the touches of your hand, the natural scent of his skin when he pulled you in close. Instead of experiencing any of that, he gives you a casual wave with a soft smile. You return it with your own, noting the hint of disappointment in his expression. 

You walk to your car in a stressed hurry, not sure how you’re supposed to feel in a situation like this. Josh is quick to pick up on it as he bounds down the porch stairs after you. “Are you okay?”

You’re flustered, clicking the key fob in your hands at your car in the driveway. The past few minutes have shown you that this could all end as quickly as it began, and this type of conversation isn’t one you feel comfortable having with them yet. You pop your door open and toss your backpack into the passenger seat before asking in an irritated tone, “What was that about?”

He drops his bag, slides his phone in his pocket to rest a hand on the frame of the door, holding it open while his brows create that little crease in the skin between them.“What do you mean?”

Your eyes drop to your hands fidgeting with your keychain while you release a shaky sigh, “Josh…if there is going to be weird jealousy between you and him, I don’t know if this is the best thing.”

He recoils, instantly getting defensive, and huffs out to correct you, “It’s not jealousy.” But after the look you give him, he takes the moment to reflect for a second and admits, “I mean…okay, maybe it is a little bit.” His expression softens with worry painting over his features when he recognizes tension in your body and tries to shake it with laughter, “Jake and I can be a bit competitive sometimes.”

The last thing you want is to come between them as brothers, as coworkers, especially as roommates. Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper.“I don’t want you two competing over me.”

He shakes his head as if to mentally kick himself for choosing the wrong words. He sighs, and anxiously scratches the back of his neck.“I know, you’re right. I’m sorry for that.”

The apology seems genuine, and a part of you feels bad for making an issue out of what could be nothing. You giggle through your nose as you tap his fingers wrapped around the top of your door. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He steps around the door to stand in front of you, tipping your chin up with his index finger, and tracing it along your jawline to brush the hair from your face. “I promise I won’t make it weird anymore, okay? I’ll even talk to him about it myself.”

“You sure?”

He looks at you through heavy lids, and smiles through a calming exhale, “Yeah.”

The spring morning air is crisp in your lungs, filling you with serenity as you look out at the dew drops coating every surface in sight. Standing out here with him by your car while couples send their significant other off on their work days feels more domestic than you realize. You push away that certain feeling that could ache in your heart knowing that nothing with him or Jake is guaranteed. Hell, you don’t even know if you’ll see them again after you leave here today. There’s an uncertainty to it all — the elephant in the room that no one dares to acknowledge. You fight that intrusive thought wanting to ruin the moment, and as much as you want to spend more time with him, you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth and mumble into the skin, “I should really get going.”

Just as you start to pull away, he guides you back into the kiss with his hand placed around the nape of your neck. It’s an act of reassurance. His thumb rubs along your cheek as his hand cradles your face, dissolving any stress of your responsibilities with the soft brush of his lips across yours.

He licks across your soft lips, and you quickly grant him access to your tongue without a second thought. You’re greeted with a hint of his toothpaste lingering with the sip of coffee he had just taken, a unique taste that only makes your heart flutter. Everything with him is new, the both of you breathlessly exploring each other’s little quirks despite feeling like you’ve known him for years. Weirdly enough, he’s the one to break away, leaving you a heaving mess in his cocky fashion. You just giggle and stumble back into the driver’s seat until you collect the motivation to finally turn the ignition. 

He waits for you to roll the window down and closes your car door with a careful push until it latches in place. He lowers himself to where he’s at eye level, propping his arms on the open frame. “Hey, so do you have plans tonight?”

The way he’s looking at you melts away any doubts you’re feeling, and it’s the first time since your shower that you’re able to study the little details of his face. His damp curls are starting to dry in the morning air, springing back against his forehead in loose tendrils. He’s smiling at you while he waits for your answer, showing the apples of his cheeks that are still rosy from the hot water and revealing the tiny gap between his front teeth. 

You curse at yourself internally that you’re already considering the idea of seeing him again later today, but the excitement shows in your voice anyway, “I don’t think so, why?”

The cheeky grin on his face gives away that he’s got something planned. He chuckles, and reaches into the car to gently tap your shoulder, “You should come by the shop tonight after your shift. I have a surprise for you.”

Although you have an idea what it could be, you raise a brow trying to hold on to your weak bluff. “A surprise?”

He dips his head and places a chaste kiss on your lips.“Yeah, but be sure to wear something loose and comfortable.”

Turning the corner on the street, the neon signs for “The Edge of Darkness Tattoo” come into view about a block away. The work day had dragged on, and the apartment felt drab and boring without the liveliness you’d been experiencing lately. You fought through the lack of motivation to catch up on chores, which consisted of feeding your cat, cleaning out the sink of dishes, and watering your plants. After you had gotten off work, you ran home for a quick shower and change of comfortable clothes. As you approach the shop, you can see some of the shop lights still on through the window and glass door. There’s the movement of someone inside, but it’s not who you’re expecting. 

He’s a taller-than-average man of slender build, with long chestnut brown hair secured in a low, messy bun at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing a faded light-wash chambray shirt with the first few buttons opened to reveal the necklace hanging from his neck, dark, some tight-fitting jeans with a very stained pair of white Converse shoes.

He’s looking down, head-bobbing along and distracted as he wipes down the glass display cases on the front counter. You assume that he can’t hear you due to the earbuds he’s wearing. Taking a few steps closer, you notice that he has significantly more facial piercings than the twins combined. You study his downturned, clean-shaven face, spotting one through the sharp arch of his left brow, a bar through the bridge of his nose, a septum, a hoop through the right nostril, and a stud in the center of his bottom lip. His pulled-back hair also reveals the collection of hoops and studs he has in both ears. From what you can see, the exposed skin of his forearms and chest have multiple patchwork-style tattoos, giving the feeling that he offers the space as a human sketchbook rather than having a real plan for them. 

After tossing the used paper towels into the trash, he begins the process of pulling up the plastic drawstrings of the bag. You decide it’s time to interrupt from how long you’ve stood here and wave your hand to get his attention. 

He startles from your presence, jumping up and holding a hand over his heart. He laughs as he calms himself, and plucks one of the earbuds from his ear. “Oh, hello.”

You return the greeting, laughing along with him, “Hey.”

Once he regains his composure, he looks over at you, making it obvious that he’s checking you out with the way he starts with your eyes and drops his gaze down your body and back up. He instantly straightens his posture and adjusts his clothing. “I hate to say this, but we’re actually closed for the night.” He pauses and glances at the clock and then at the staircase before meeting your eyes again. “But if you already know what you want…I think I can make an exception for such a pretty girl tonight.”

If the genetic similarity didn’t serve as a clue, his new posture of leaning with folded arms over the glass case of jewelry did. You think back to last week, remembering Jake telling you about his younger brother. You’re flattered at his attempt, and can only giggle at the shameless flirt, “So you must Sam.”

Confusion paints across his angled features as he figures out how you know him by name, as if he’s flipping through the catalog of faces he’s met trying to see if yours is one he recognizes. 

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m here to see Josh,” you explain with an added point of your finger to the second floor. 

“Oh! Oh…”  His expression drops the second he realizes why you’re really here, causing his posture to stiffen back into a standing position with a push of his hands against the glass. He dusts off the imaginary dust from his clothes as he shuffles around. He attempts to hide his cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment by picking back up on the task he was working on when you walked in. He casts his eyes to the counter as he clears his throat and throws a thumb in the direction of the staircase,  “He’s upstairs.”

You feel bad from the sudden shift in his disposition and consider mumbling an apology, but decide against it for fear that would make things worse. “Okay! It was nice meeting you, Sam.”

“Good luck!” He calls halfway up the stairs, but also you hear him grumble under his breath, “Every. Fucking. Time.”

It’s strange, being here in this building under completely different pretenses than when you were here only a little over a week ago. It feels like a case of mental whiplash. The smells of different cleaners, burning incense, and hardwood, the framed art on the walls, the oddities in every nook n cranny — everything is the same as it was. The excitement only builds for what Josh has waiting for you, the anticipation carrying you up the remainder of the stairs.

It’s mostly quiet on the second floor aside from music playing on the same Bluetooth speaker as last time. You look around, and while remembering the layout, you note that Jake’s nowhere to be found, his station clean and tidy with his lights flipped off. Josh is on the opposite side of the room with his back to you, working away at his desk. He’s wearing the same outfit from this morning, a simple black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans, but with the addition of a backward-facing baseball cap on his head. He looks up and turns once he hears the creaky sounds of your footsteps approaching, and greets you with a friendly smile. 

“Hey, baby,” He sings as pushes away from the edge of the desk with the heels of his palms, spinning in your direction and leaning back in the rolling office chair. 

Normally the pet name for you being used this soon and often by a guy would have driven you nuts and made you run the other direction, but the way the word crackles from his throat and bounces off his lips makes you melt every time you hear it. 

You send a smile back and say, “Hey.” There’s an attempt at being casual when you set your bag on the floor by his desk, but you can’t help but break into giggles anyway, “So I met your brother downstairs.”

He’s curious given how his ears seem to perk up, revealing his oral fixation by tapping the end of his Apple Pencil on his bottom lip as he spins in his chair, “Oh yeah? And how did that go?”

“It wasn’t the worst interaction I’ve ever had, but I think it could have gone substantially better.” You step between his open legs, standing over him as a surge of self-confidence flows through you. “I think he tried to flirt with me.”

He chuckles, biting at the end of the pencil, “Sammy boy? I mean…I can’t say I blame him.“ He then tosses the white pencil on his desk and sits up straight to stand on his feet, pulling you against him as he brings himself to your level. “Ya, know…with you being such a hottie and all.”

You involuntarily grasp his hips, wrapping your fingers around his waist to tug his body close to you. “A hottie, huh?” 

He sucks in a sharp breath of pain and jumps away from you with his hand flying to his midsection, “Ah!” You step back as well, looking over his body to try to find what caused the reaction. Before you can ask, his eyes suddenly light up and he takes in another breath, but this time out of excitement. “That reminds me! ” 

Your initial concern shifts to confusion, but you give him space as he lifts the front of his shirt and holds the cotton fabric in his hands. Your eyes find the thing he wants to show you, but your first instinct is to bring your hand to your mouth in shock as you stare at the golden barbell pierced through his navel. You ask in a hushed whisper through your fingers, “Is that real?”

“Yeah!” There’s a giddiness in his voice as he looks down at himself. He flexes his muscles and stretches out the tan skin of his stomach to show off the new addition to his body modifications. The area around the piercing is flushed pink and a tad swollen, giving away that it was done only hours ago. 

It’s like a precious jewel displayed amongst the bed of tattooed flowers on his stomach. Mesmerized by the sight, you huff an incredulous laugh, “Did you really get an impulsive belly button piercing today?”

He looks up and meets your eyes with that cheesy grin of his. “Yeah, why not?”

At first, you would think to question it, but based on what you’ve seen from him so far,  it can’t seem more like him to do something like this. It doesn’t take long for you to succumb to the temptation to touch him and reach out to brush your fingertips across his upper stomach so you can hold his shirt. “Is this  my surprise?”

His eyes follow the path of your other hand as you trace across his abdomen with a barely-there pressure. “No, but do you like it?”

He’s so warm and soft to the touch that you nearly forget to answer until you breathe your admittance, “Yeah.” He gives away that he’s ticklish when he twitches at the contact as you get a little closer to the piercing sight. “Does it hurt?”

All you want to do is feel the new barbell, run over the cool metal with a pass of your fingers, or even kiss down his stomach and lick across the golden bar. You drop his shirt carefully so it doesn’t snag or rub against the jewelry. “A little but it’s fresh.”

You giggle at the mental image that pops into your head, “Did Sam do it?”

“Fuck no!” He laughs through the curse, dragging out the word through the throaty sound. “I was running some errands this afternoon and stopped by my friend’s shop today. We were talking and found out that her new piercer just got some new shit in today.” He breaks the contact from you and starts to shuffle the items on his desk, taking you through the story with the waving of his hands as he does so. “One thing led to another and somehow I ended up on a table with a fourteen gauge needle through my belly button.”

You don’t mean for it to happen, but a feeling of jealousy shoots through you as he tells you about his day. “A friend?”

His head whips around to study your reaction and new body language after hearing the change in the tone of your voice. You’re embarrassed as you shouldn’t feel this strong of emotion yet. You barely even know him right now, and even if you did know him longer than a week, it would be hypocritical of you given the fact you called him out for the same thing earlier in the day. 

A friend. That’s what you’ll choose to believe. 

But he already senses it despite your efforts to hide and bury the feeling. He wraps his hand around your wrist, yanking you free from the stiff position to bring you in closer. The proximity muddles your brain, especially when you can still smell the notes of vanilla coming from him when he coos against your flushed cheek, “Is my girl jealous?”

You push him away with a weak shove against his chest despite his firm hold around your waist, and scoff with a heavy roll of your eyes, “Your girl? Or one of your girls?”

You let your attitude and insecurity slip more than you intended and now all you can do is wait and see if it ruins the moment. Thankfully it doesn’t, because he chooses to play along, licking his bottom lip before biting it through a taunting pull. He lowers his voice so it fans across your lips with how close he is, “You better be careful talking to me like that, baby girl. Might have to do something about it.”

There’s something about the teasing rasp of those words that feels more like Jake to you, a shared element to their personalities that Josh rarely explores — at least that you know of. It flusters you, rendering you speechless as you scan over your favorite parts of his face. One detail, in particular, catches your eye — the titanium hoop on the left side of his nose is now gold.  

You then check his ears and see that the jewelry on his lobes and industrial bar through his cartilage is all gold as well. “Did you change your other ones?”

He gives you a playful smile as he focuses on your lips, sticking his tongue out enough to run the gold ball of his piercing across the top row of his perfect teeth. “I did.”

You rub one of the hoops in his ear between your thumb and fingers and notice that they don’t have that brassy yellow appearance that some cheaper alternatives can have. “Are those real gold?”

He leans into the touch, humming his answer as he watches your eyes, “Mmhmm…twenty-four karat.”

Your heart almost stops from doing the mental math of the cost for every new piece. “How much money did you spend on all these?”

He chuckles at your scolding before clicking his tongue, “Don't you know it’s in poor taste to talk about money? Besides, I think it was about time to treat myself anyway.”

His indirect answer tells you that the shopping spree he had taken this afternoon wasn’t a cheap one, but you decide not to press the topic further. You admire them instead, wrapping your arms around his neck to guide him into a kiss as you mumble against his lips. “How indulgent….they do look good. I think gold suits you.”

He soaks up the praise, kissing you before letting out a pleased sigh of relief, “Thank you, baby. Do you wanna see your real surprise?”

You nod, causing him to break away and flip through the contents of his desk until he pulls out a stencil. He hands it to you to hold and takes a step back to give you space to look at it for as long as you need. 

The focal point in a sun with spiraling rays as the center, a few inches above it is a rotated crescent moon that’s turned on its side. Below the sun is a curved, half-circle, mandala-like pattern of thin lines and small flowers made of different-sized dots. Unlike most of the work you’ve seen from him in his portfolio, it’s a minimalist design with delicate and feminine linework. “This is for me?”

“It is.” He clears his throat and shifts awkwardly on his feet to stand closer as if he is waiting for your approval. “I was thinking the placement could be here.” He shows you the spot he has in mind by gesturing to the center of his chest in a generally circular motion with his index finger.

There’s no doubt it’s beautiful, and you’d be more than grateful to get a tattoo from him after finding out he’s booked for at least two months, but your fear of commitment takes over. “Oh…I don’t know if I’m ready for a chest tattoo tonight.”

He gives a reassuring laugh with a gentle tap to your upper arm, “You don’t have to. I just drew this up for you and thought you might like it.” His tone softens when he adds, “ Do you still want to place the stencil to see how it looks before we get out of here?”

You blush at the thought of him taking the time to do something like this for you. So letting him see his work on you, even if it’s only temporary, is the least you could do. You bite a smile forming on your lips while handing over the stencil. “Sure.”

He pumps his fist in celebration, cheering in excitement, “Fuck yeah! Let me go get everything ready.” He walks off to his station, sits in his rolling chair, and starts collecting all the supplies he needs out of this cart that resembles a metal toolbox. 

You follow him to the table and sit on the edge to watch him gather everything and put on a pair of black gloves. As you find a decent spot on the stiff surface, you ask while his back is turned to you, “Do you need me to take off my shirt?”

You shrug off your flannel before you even finish the question, thankful that you wore a cropped t-shirt today. You pull it over your head along with your bralette, leaving yourself completely topless. He hums away in thought and begins to spin around in his chair. “Uhhh…it would probably be easier, but we can make it work with—” His words are cut off the second he sees you sitting half-naked on the table. “—Oh.”

With a clear bottle of green soap in one hand and a stack of paper towels in the other, he sits frozen in place a few feet away from you. Your face flushes with heat when his eyes lock onto your chest for several seconds until they eventually find their way back up to your face, and then back down again. You catch the harsh swallow and the not-so-subtle jaw clench as he regains whatever sliver of his professionalism he still has. With a slight tilt of his head and a raise of his brows, he finally says, “But I guess you’re already good to go.”

“Sorry,” you laugh nervously as he wheels in close by walking his feet along the floor until he is right at your knees. You feel silly for the new wave anxiety since he’s seen your bare chest plenty within the short time frame you’ve known him, but this right now, in this setting feels completely different. 

“Never, ever apologize for that, baby,” he assures you with a calming lilt in his voice as he looks up at you. Your brain goes fuzzy with the image of him below you, and he knows it too. It’s the boyish charm hanging onto his handsome features —  the little curls at the nape of his neck that are starting to grow out past his ears, the dimple pressed into his chin now that his facial hair is gone, and the large, doe eyes that are always melting away your resolve. 

 He begins the process once he has the permission of your smile, his focus set solely on your naked chest that’s at his eye level. The green soap solution from the squeeze bottle in his hand is cold when it hits your exposed skin, causing a sea of goosebumps to rise across your body. He rushes with a paper towel to wipe it clean before the liquid soap has the chance to run down your stomach and onto the rest of your clothes. 

You tease, “Is the cleaner and gloves necessary just for a stencil?” The question is to distract him from the fact that you’re already on the edge and the way you’re staring at how his hands are vacuum sealed in the thin, black rubber. 

He giggles as he continues to wipe you down, “I just wanna give you the full experience.”

He’s more than tender in the movements, making sure not to be too rough with the paper towel on your sensitive skin. Every touch of his nitrile-covered fingers brushing against your breasts, every faint sound he makes while he’s deep in concentration, each point of contact of his body to yours feels heightened beyond belief.

Your breathing becomes shallow as your nipples harden now that they are exposed to the cool air of the shop. There’s no doubt he notices, but he goes on to the next step of applying the stencil solution, making sure to cover the area between your breasts in small circular motions. He then carefully lays the stencil against your sternum once it's centered where he likes, smoothing out the wrinkles of the wet paper to your skin. 

“Moment of truth,” he sighs, taking the top edge of the stencil between his fingers and slowly peeling it away, leaving its dark purple outline behind. You try your best to look at it upside down while he tosses the transfer paper in the trash, making him ask, “Wanna take a look?”

You nod as he stands to his feet to help you off the table, and escorts you over to the mirror — a spot that already holds memories for you, causing the image of Jake kneeling before you when he applied the stencil to flash in your mind. As strange as it feels to walk over with no shirt on, he’s right behind you, guiding you with a comforting hand to the small of your back until you’re standing before the mirror. 

“Oh wow…” You breathe in awe once you see yourself, bringing your hands to cover your breasts as you take another step forward. You take the chance to study it in silence while Josh stands behind you. The thinner lines and simpler, feminine details you noticed on the drawing are only amplified on your body, as if the design was made for you. You can’t explain the feeling or even the reason behind the thought, but the artwork radiates his aura somehow.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder and secures a hold around your waist, pressing his gloved fingers into the flesh. Your eyes meet in the glass before they drop down to watch his hands roam across your stomach and chest. He takes over and soothes your moment of insecurity by replacing your hands with his. With each breast held in his palms, he gives them both a firm squeeze just as he nips the vulnerable skin of your neck, draping you in the heat of his breath. “What do you think?”

Surely, you’d be a fool to pass this up with him, and he can even see your mind working overtime as you contemplate the decision over and over. You know you’re already sold on the idea, you just have to come to terms with accepting it. “I love it.”

He traces over the design, with a touch so faint it'd be nearly undetectable if you weren’t watching, as he speaks, “I drew it just for you, ya know.” Once you meet his gaze in the reflection, he continues, “I think it’s starting to affect me…” As his voice trails off, he reaches down to lift the right side of your cotton shorts to reveal your healing tattoo, and clicks his tongue in disapproval, “Seeing only Jake’s work on your body and not mine.” You watch him in the mirror while he brings his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, “Do you wanna change that, baby?”

Your heart is racing from the thought, but you lean into him, groaning at the feeling of his soft lips grazing your jaw as that familiar sensation stirs between your legs,  “Let’s do it.”

He presses his cheek into yours and stares at your reflection. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you want to think about it—“

You shake your head and turn to face him. “No. I wanna do it right now.”

He giggles with his hands raised in the air, “Whoa, baby. Watch what you say to me. You’re gonna get me all worked up.”

Just as you go to swat his arm for the dumb joke, a loud voice booms through the stairwell, causing you to jump. “I’m heading out!”

Josh shouts back over your shoulder, “Alright, Sam! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You both hear a door opening and shutting, letting you know that Sam had left. Once your heart rate calms down, you laugh, “I totally forgot that he was here.”

“Most do,” he chuckles as he breaks away from you. He walks over to grab your flannel and hands it to you before gesturing to the couch. “Go ahead and get comfortable while I get everything ready real quick. It shouldn’t take me long.”

You sit on the leather sofa while Josh begins the process of setting his station up for your tattoo. He starts with a fresh set of gloves, then goes on to spray down the table with a special cleaner. After it’s wiped down, he covers it with a paper cloth and secures it with clear plastic wrap. He then proceeds to clean his side table tray, covering it in the same wrap as well. It’s becoming evident that you barely paid attention to Jake during your tattoo, because seeing all the steps laid out before you is new. 

Seeing Josh so serious and professional is also new for you, making you realize that this is in fact, his profession. He assembles his machine, feeding the needle and adjusting it to his liking. You realize it's a wireless handheld one, a completely different type than the one Jake had used on you. He’s meticulous and thorough while maintaining a sense of efficiency, making sure everything is exactly how he prefers it. It’s a window into this side of him you otherwise might not see, and you know he can feel your eyes on him with the little side glances he gives back to you.  

The lack of conversation between you isn’t awkward, or necessarily uncomfortable, but rather thick with tension. Once he’s done stacking his paper towels and filling the tiny caps with ink, he calls your name along with a gesture of his hand. 

Before you make the short journey over to his corner, you shrug off your flannel and toss it onto the back of the couch. He leans back in the chair, giving you plenty of room to ease onto the table. As you shimmy backward, the cling wrap and paper stick to your skin while you find a somewhat comfortable position flat on your back. Thankfully, Josh has distracted you up until now, but the nerves are returning full force with the reality of a chest tattoo settling in.

You’re nervous, and it shows because you can’t seem to find a good place to put your hands, so you end up picking at the top layer of cling film by your side. Your eyes wander around the room, but staring at the ceiling doesn’t seem to calm you either. They eventually close until Josh turns on the machine and scoots into position, filling the room with its mechanical buzzing sound. The noise makes you jump and look down at him getting ready. “How bad will this one hurt?”

“Well…” A grimace shows on his face as he sucks in a long breath through his teeth with a nervous tap of his leg, as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully, “I’m not gonna sugarcoat it and lie to you. It’s painful as fuck.” But once he sees the fear in your eyes, he jumps in to add with a reassuring squeeze of your leg, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. I promise. Plus this one won’t take me long, about thirty minutes tops.”

“Thirty minutes, huh?” The worry hangs in your words, but you wiggle your shoulders against the table and shift your body around for one last adjustment to get as comfortable as you can. 

Once you’re ready, he leans to his side to dip the needle into the tiny cap of black ink and reaches both arms over you. The warm contact of his bare forearms against your naked chest and the familiar scent of his cologne calm you. “Do you doubt me?”

You chuckle, “I’m gonna try not to.”

“Atta girl,” he croons with a peaceful lull in his voice, gifting you with a large enough smile that brings out the dimple on his left cheek. With his left hand, he stretches the skin on your sternum and hovers the needle about an inch over you. After a deep inhale, he asks,  “Are you ready?”

You do the same deep breath, preparing your body for the pain you’re about to endure. “As I’ll ever be.”

The small needle makes contact with the skin in the center of your sternum, making you grunt out a harsh curse from the pain. The first line is undoubtedly brutal, sending a surge of panic through you that you’ve made the wrong choice. He pulls the machine away and taps your arm with the other hand. “You gotta breathe, sweetheart. Remember the first few minutes are the worst, okay?” 

You nod, releasing that shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in since he started. Once he feels confident enough to continue, he brings the needle back to your chest for another line. You do your best to concentrate, placing the pain somewhere else in the back of your mind while wrapping a hand around his arm to ground yourself. Your hold on his forearm is loose and gentle so he can move freely as he works, but the feeling of his skin alone is calming enough to distract you. As he finds a steady pace and gets comfortable, you start to notice that the pressure of his hand is lighter than Jake’s.

After a few minutes with just the humming sound of the machine between you, he sparks a new conversation. “So how long have you been working at the coffee shop?”

You glance at him, seeing that his focus is still on your chest. “A few months, why?”

He shrugs between his lines and breaks away to dip his needle, groaning as he stretches. “Just curious. I go there all the time and I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you there before.”

You mutter with a hint of disdain in your voice, “Maybe I have a forgettable face.”

The puzzled look he gives you has a bit of sadness to it when he pouts his bottom lip. “Ah stop it. I think you were just trying to hide it from me all this time.” In reality, you’ve questioned why you haven’t met until now yourself, and have concluded that you must've been missing each other all this time. “Do you live around here?”

Maybe it’s the discomfort you’re in, but the sudden change in a topic throws you, making you scoff, “Are we really doing small talk right now?”

He responds to the question defensively, huffing out a dry laugh as he straightens in his chair with his hands raised in the air. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to get to know you?” It’s obvious that he’s messing with you with the sarcasm in his tone, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from settling in. He then adds with an air of nonchalance, “We can go back to just fucking if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, “No, that’s not what I meant.” He lets the silence linger for a few seconds, causing you to fumble your confidence and blurt out your answer, “Yeah, I do live around here. I have an apartment in town…I even have a roommate.”

His eyes are locked onto his work, but a small smile breaks through while he chuckles to himself, “She even has a roommate.”

It would be frustrating how flustered he makes you if it wasn’t for how much you loved it. He’d been staying mostly professional with you during this, but there’s a feeling of vulnerability laying here beneath him with your bare tits out on full display. Your intrusive thoughts start to wander, leading you to ask the question, “So how many tattoos like this do you do daily? Since this is your job and everything.”

He finishes the line he’s on and looks up, showing his dark brows pulling together in confusion. “Why?”

The same jealousy you were experiencing a few minutes ago is showing its face again, but you shrug your shoulders to hide it behind casual indifference. “Just curious.”

The confusion transforms before you once he picks up on what you’re asking and takes the chance to participate in the game you’re in. “Are you trying to ask me if I tattoo half-naked women like this?”

His bluntness causes your mouth to fall open, but he only responds to your stunned silence with a playful wink. If you were to know any better you would drop it, but your curiosity is getting the better of you so you ask in a meek voice, “Do you?”

You can sense the apprehension making him pause as he raises a brow. “Do you want me to answer that?” 

Despite his warning, you prod for the answer anyway. “Josh, you can tell me.”

He’s hiding a knowing smirk, and pushes out a deep exhale, “It depends. I do tattoos like this one all the time.” He stops to laugh and motions to you, making you cover the blush rising on your cheeks. “Not all of them just strip down completely like this. But I won’t lie and say I haven’t seen a fair share of titties in my career.”

“Must be quite the perk.”

He peeks up through his lashes, shooting you an indiscernible look before he defends himself. “Let me make it clear that I didn’t get into this profession to see naked women. But I will say it’s pretty cool when a client is comfortable enough with me in that way.”

He finishes the explanation with another wink, earning him a light-hearted eye roll from you. “I’m sure being cute helps.”

The compliment fills the apples of his cheeks when he smiles while his eyes search for anything else but yours.“You think I’m cute, huh? Is that why you ripped your shirt off as soon as you could?”

“Shut up.”

He cackles, cutting through the hum of the machine, and clamps his eyes shut as if he’s reliving a funny memory. “If you want to hear some crazy stories though, you should hear the one when Jake had to tattoo this girl’s… asshole.”

You can’t help but snort because there’s no way you heard him right. “Bullshit. You’re making that up.”

He wheezes with a giggle while bouncing his knees up and down in excitement. “God, he would fucking kill me. We might have to save that one for a better day.”

You drop your head back down to the table, grumbling under your breath, “You’re such a tease.”

He hears you and nudges you with his elbow. “Oh, come on. You know it would be so much better coming from him. And honestly, asking who sees more interesting stuff around here would be a better question for Sam.”

“Really?”

He shakes his head in amusement, huffing a laugh through his nose, “I’m pretty sure he has at least one nipple-piercing client a day.”

A new curiosity enters your brain. “Nipple piercings, huh?”

He gives you a quick side glance before admiring you with his undivided attention on your breasts. “Yeah... and they would look fucking amazing on you by the way…if you were ever considering it.”

You aren’t about to divulge that to him, but you make sure to tuck the thought away for another day. “Noted.”

He goes back to working on the tattoo, bringing the needle through your skin through clean, steady pulls before wiping the excess ink from your chest. His motions are fluid, yet cautious as he gauges your pain level and body’s reactions. 

Despite the dull scratching pain vibrating through you, he coaxes you in, grasping your attention even though you’re making a conscious effort not to stare at him. You dare to feel across his arm, exploring the lean muscles beneath the tattooed skin as they flex against your fingers. You rub along his shoulder until meeting the edge of his t-shirt collar, watching the tiny changes in his face that are now inches away, so close you can feel his breath fanning across you. 

While the pain is bearable at best, the desire to have him is becoming more tortuous minute by minute. The thoughts of what he could do start infiltrating your innocent ones, and the aching feeling between your thighs starts to rapidly build. Temptation takes over, and soon your eyes fixate on how the tip of his tongue peeks over his lips while he’s concentrating — just teasing you with its existence. It’s all about what he hasn’t done yet, what he hasn’t touched on your body tonight. Your nipples are practically screaming for anything, even an accidental brush of the back of his hand might set you over the edge. 

You know he’s nearing the end of the tattoo from the low position of his needle beneath your breasts. You decide to push past the barrier of his collar and slide your fingers up the length of his neck and plunge into the curls hidden beneath the bill of his hat. Your nails drag across his scalp, making his eyes flutter at the touch.

He purses his lips into a tiny “o” and blows a cool stream of air over your nipples to watch them harden within seconds. A muffled moan escapes as a shiver rolls through you so you’re squirming on top of the table in desperation. He giggles with a satisfied sigh, “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

You choose to respond to his teasing by tugging the roots of his hair that’s been woven between your fingers. He groans through a violent shudder of his own and retaliates with a single tantalizing lick of his tongue across one of your nipples. 

He pulls away and goes back to his work as if nothing happened, leaving you in the anguish that he’s created. Now that it’s wet and tingling from the cool air hitting it, you can’t help but feel like you’re driven into madness. “That was evil.”

He doesn’t respond to your words but goes back to work on your tattoo. You choose to stare up at the ceiling, imagining the grin he has knowing that he has you acting like this. It doesn’t help that you can feel the heat of the breaths he takes as it taunts you with every exhale. With every break of the needle from your flesh, he brushes his parted lips across the sensitive bundles, nipping at the supple flesh of your breasts. 

It’s a cruel game of what he can get away with, what can drive you to the absolute breaking point. There’s no hiding how much he affects you, especially by the way the pressure of his forearm increases to keep you in place against the table. 

Before you know it, it’s all over. He was right, the tattoo couldn’t have taken longer than half an hour. He groans through a long stretch, turning the machine off and setting it down on the table. “Alright. I think you’re all finished. Let’s get you cleaned up and wrapped.”

Sure, there’s relief from the pain, but you also feel a sense of disappointment knowing that this experience has come to an end. You watch as he starts to clean up his station and prepare for the process of bandaging you up, 

He washes your chest, giving it a final wipe before applying the same clear film Jake had used on your leg. He’s meticulous throughout the entire process from peeling the backing to pressing it against your skin. Once your tattoo is safely sealed behind the Saniderm, he pulls off his gloves and goes to stand. You reach out and stop him before he can. “Wait…” And before you allow yourself to become embarrassed by the idea, you throw the request out into the air, “Can you put new ones on?”

“Gloves?” His tone is lighthearted, probably from thinking he misheard you.

While he scoots backward on the chair to toss the used gloves into the trash bin, you give him a pathetically horny, pleading look with a bite of your bottom lip. “Mmhmm.”

It takes a moment for your question to fully click inside his head, but once it does, that cheeky smirk he wears instantly reappears. He maintains eye contact with you, plucks a fresh pair from the box, and slowly puts them on as he walks himself back over to you. He traces his fingers over your body, following the curves of your tummy and over the contour of your breasts. 

He dips his head down to your chest and licks your left nipple, swirling the tip of his tongue around in languid, slow movements before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth. Even though you should expect it by now, the smooth metal of his piercing rolling over with every pass of his tongue shocks you. As good as it feels, and as much as you want him to continue, he only does it for a few seconds before latching onto the right. With his soft, full lips sealed around one, his gloved thumb rolls across the other, sending a wave of pleasure directly to your clit as it throbs away against the material of your clothes. You writhe under his hold, gripping at his arms while your back arches away from the table. 

“Oh, fuck!” You moan, pulling a fistful of t-shirt from his back in a pitiful attempt to ground yourself. He’s ditching the idea of holding back, licking and sucking at your nipple in a frenzied hunger, even grazing his teeth across you between his heavy, panting breaths. You hold his head between your hands, rubbing across the shell of his ear as you praise, “Oh my god, that feels so good.”

 You end up knocking off his hat onto the floor when your fingers dive into his hair, causing him to release from you. He doesn’t seem to care as his lust-glazed eyes find yours before he drops them down the features of your face. His lips are swollen and flushed pink, glistening with a glaze of his spit. 

As you stare at each other, his fingers leave your nipple to travel down the center of your stomach until they meet your shorts. He hooks them around the waistband, hinting for you to lift your ass from the table so he can yank the remainder of clothing from your body. 

You’re completely exposed, but without a second of hesitation, you allow your legs to fall to the sides so you’re spread open for him. He watches as you do this, sitting up just enough to look down at your naked body. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He tickles across the sensual area between your hips before dipping his covered finger between your folds, gliding effortlessly across your soaked clit. The latex feel causes it to slide down your core without friction to your entrance.  He holds his breath as he watches himself touch you, seeing that the black glove is coated in your arousal. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Don’t stop,” you whine while clawing at his arm, catching the high off the slippery feeling of his fingers. It’s him, the same pattern of movements, but not with the slick surface of those fingers sliding over your cunt. 

“You like that, baby?” His voice is sultry and thick in his throat. The feeling is unique with the thin rubber acting as a barrier between his fingertips and your swollen clit. It’s the ultimate tease, giving you just enough while keeping you wanting just a little more. 

You can’t wait for another second, pulling him by the hair to your chest in a silent demand for his mouth to return to your body. He obeys your need, smiling against your skin as he showers you with open-mouth kisses until his lips find your nipple once again. Your mind is so clouded you can’t think straight —  already so close with Josh overriding every one of your senses. The sweet, addicting combination of his velvet tongue flicking across it with his middle finger drawing tiny circles over your clit almost have you bucking right off the table altogether. 

He slowly slides a finger into you, groaning loudly as soon as you tighten around him — the only feeling he can get from you aside from your warmth. As he curls it inside you, it finally dawns on you that this is truly about you, as the gloves he’s wearing remove the feeling of how soft, how wet, and ready you are for him. He doesn’t complain but rather commits without question as your song of pitched moans breaks through the air. 

“Are you close?” He mumbles around your nipple while rocking his hand against your pussy, stretching you out when he pushes the second finger into you. 

“Josh, please,” You whimper, cradling his head in your arms. He suckles at your breast as he holds it in his other hand, circling your nipple in similar patterns to what his thumb is doing to your clit. 

You’re there. You’re right fucking there, watching the waves of your orgasm ripple from your mind and throughout your body, down to your core. No matter how far you lift your hips off the table chasing it, he keeps you in that purgatory, prolonging the inevitable for as long as he possibly can. 

He releases the suction of his lips from your nipple, and growls into tender skin covering your collarbones, “Should have told me about the gloves earlier, baby.” He bites and kisses his way up your neck, panting in your ear with a familiar cockiness, “Jake is gonna lose it when he finds out he wasn’t first.”

He kisses you sloppily, giving away the fact he wants this just as much as you do. As he licks desperately into your mouth, his slick fingers scissor across your clit before diving back into your pussy. 

“Josh! Please, please, please!” you cry out in near agony, hoping that he’ll finally give you what you crave. 

He purrs against your cheek, pressing the bridge of his nose into your skin while he rolls the pads of his fingers against that hidden spot, “That’s it. Show me who’s your favorite and cum around my fingers, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy of yours.”

His tongue spoiling your chest with those sinful words soaking into your conscience are the last push you need. You’re pulled into the depths of your release, like he’s taken your existence and dragged you into a hot bath.

It’s vastly different from Jake. Where his brother throws you head-on into the wall of your orgasm, Josh guides you along at his own pace with a certain tenderness. The result is a blooming feeling of warmth, radiating from the center of your body to the tips of your fingers. It’s a drug to your brain like every one of your synapses was dipped in a pool of honey. 

Seconds after you come, Josh rushes to his feet and while he’s preoccupied ripping the gloves from his hands, you frantically undo the button of his jeans. He’s just as impatient, taking over by ripping his jeans open and maneuvering the both of you into the new position. He grabs your hips with both hands and drags you to the edge of the table with hidden strength. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch as he dives into the pant leg of his jeans and pulls his cock free. 

He’s standing between your open legs, seeing his tattoo on your body and practically whining as he holds himself in his hand, “I’m so fucking hard right now.”

There isn’t much you can focus on in your fucked-out state, but you can see his eyes clamp shut and brows furrow as if he was experiencing pain. It’s far from that. He’s blinded by his primal need, barely taking enough time to line himself up before plunging into you to the hilt. The sound that pushes out of your lungs is animalistic, and if you were in a clearer frame of mind, you might be thankful that there isn’t anyone else here in the building. 

He breathes out a string of incoherent curses, stopping long enough to feel you adjust and clench around him now that he’s fully inside you. It’s only been a day since you last felt him like this, but the desire to have him buried deep is something that’s quickly becoming insatiable. You’re both somewhere else in your mind, yet connected through this. His gaze seems drunk in the way it bounces around, perhaps off of the lust he has for you as his eyes float down the length of your body. He holds the front of his t-shirt up as he snaps his hips into you, creating a lewd slapping sound every time his body connects with the back of your legs. 

This is the hardest he’s fucked you yet. 

Between each unrelenting slam of his cock against your cervix, you wonder if this is all to prove a point from what he saw the night before with you and Jake. If you had any air in your lungs to form a word beyond a broken curse, you might even ask. 

He wedges the bottom of his shirt in his teeth to hold the back of your leg up with a hand-hooked behind your knee with the other placed on your mound between your legs. He knows you’re overstimulated with how swollen it is, but rolls the pad of his thumb over your clit anyway. 

If it isn’t to get you to climax again, it’s to feel you shake and flutter around his cock. You don’t resist him, because the truth is, you crave it. You watch his eyes roll behind his lids as his head falls back, giving you the image of his extended neck. It’s coated in a sheen of sweat from the exertion, reflecting in the light as he swallowed thickly. Just the sounds he makes alone reveal that he’s on the verge of falling apart within minutes. 

He grunts through the wad of fabric between his clenched teeth, “Let it out. Let me hear you.”

You’d obey the demand if you aren’t already screaming and gripping the table to brace yourself with every forceful snap of his hips. You’re going to be sore from this, but you don’t care. There’s nothing that would make you trade the feeling of his cock stretching your pussy out with each powerful thrust of his hips or being able to watch the muscles of his abdomen flex with each one. 

His t-shirt falls from his mouth, wrinkled and wet from the imprints of his teeth. “Give it to me,” he groans as both of his hands leave their spot to wrap around your waist — those once gentle fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

That sweet, charming face twists into a violent grimace as the rhythm of his thrusts begins to falter. You cry out his name and lock your legs around his waist, driving him that much deeper. He instantly loses all control, and after a final, shaky pump, he stalls deep inside of you, nestled between your weakened legs. A ragged whine leaves his chest as he shudders through his release, the heat of his cum filling you with every heavy pulse of his cock.

As you lay flat along the table, lifeless despite the heaving of your chest, he starts to soften inside you as he collects his breath. After taking a minute to come down, he withdraws himself and picks up your shorts and underwear from the floor.

He braces himself on your knees with your clothing in hand and pushes out a hoarse laugh, “I think I just broke every rule that exists.”

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[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part Three

Moodboard created by @jakekiszkasleftnutsack

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader, Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 10.2k

A/N: Sorry this took longer than expected! I’m really enjoying this series so far and hope y’all like this update. I’m excited to hear feedback as always. All the support and love is appreciated ❤️

Thank you Ness and Hannah for helping out with ideas on this chapter 🖤

Warnings: swearing, tobacco use, brief mentions of marijuana, sexually explicit content - MINORS DNI!! (Unprotected penetrative sex, oral f!receiving, fingering, some dom!Jake, overstimulation and edging, dirty talk, praise kink, subby!Josh, choking if you squint really hard, spit kink, shit i should be locked up for, let me know if I missed anything!)

Masterpost, Part 2

Jake’s tongue roams across the water dripping down your neck, licking its way over your collarbones and between your breasts, giving them both a squeeze in his hands. He sinks to his knees in front of you, resembling the way he did last night when he applied the stencil. 

“May I?” He asks, pointing to your tattoo that’s still covered by the bandage. You nod, granting him permission to take care of you. 

With careful fingers, he starts to peel away the cling-wrap-like bandage from your leg. The clear film being pulled stings a little, but thankfully the warm water massages the pain and rinses away the ink from your leg. He takes a different soap than the one Josh used before off the shower ledge and starts to slowly massage it into a rich lather across your skin. He’s gentle in his movements, making sure not to press too hard on the sensitive area. 

If it weren’t for the two of you being naked in the shower together, you could almost consider the gesture to be professional, one that he takes great pride in. Then you spot the crooked grin hooking at the corner of his lip when his fingers start to slip between your thighs, veering higher and higher with each pass. 

You’re still a bit overstimulated from Josh using his fingers only minutes ago, so each teasing massage of Jake’s makes you jolt the closer he gets. A final stroke of his hand between your legs, one where his fingers graze against you, causes you to suck in a sharp breath.

You squirm away, huffing at his attempt to fluster you, “Hey!”

He looks up at you but doesn’t say anything at first. He leans forward instead, placing a kiss on the soft mound above your core. You reach out to grab his wet hair, groaning at the feeling of his teeth nipping across your belly as he stands to his feet. He chuckles when he hears the sound. “Am I doing something wrong?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I’m not going to be able to walk after I leave here.”

He smiles, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squirting some into the palm of his hand. Amused with your answer, he hums to himself as he rubs the product between his hands. You expect him to coat his hair, but he reaches around your shoulders to run his slicked fingers through yours.“Isn’t that the point?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help yourself from leaning back into his hands as he works the conditioner into your hair. Once he’s satisfied, he does the same to his hair, finger-combing through the tangled ends. The next few minutes are the most relaxing out of the morning so far, being mostly calm and quiet as you both rinse your hair in silence while exchanging a few gentle kisses and touches. 

Just before the water starts to get cold, Jake turns it off and quickly offers you a plush bath towel. He wraps another one around his waist and pads out of the bathroom before you can even step out of the shower.

He returns a minute later with clothes in hand and directs in a soft, yet authoritative voice. “Come here.”

Walking out of the bathroom, you follow him into his bedroom, refreshing your foggy memory of the interior. The walls are painted a rich, crimson color that encapsulates you in the gothic essence of his room. Sheer black curtains shield out most of the sunlight, casting the space in a hazy glow that allows your eyes to catch the tiny dust motes dancing through the air. The antique furniture is wooden and ornate, matching the Victorian-style vintage lamps on his nightstands. A massive four-post bed steals most of the attention in the room with its dark wood details and silken eggplant-colored sheets draped across the mattress. You stand in awe of its brooding romanticism, concluding that there wouldn’t be a more perfect place for Jake to reside in. 

“Sit for me.”

You don’t question the order, and try to dry off as much as you can before sitting on the edge of the mattress. He acts as though he has no audience, tugging off the towel that’s been wrapped around his waist and drying off his hair before hanging it over his door. Now completely naked, he struts over to his dresser and plucks a tube of Aquaphor from the basket sitting on the wooden surface. 

Even though you’ve seen him nude, and touched him, for nearly an hour at this point, having him act so comfortable around you like this makes you bashful in an embarrassingly giddy kind of way. With Josh, it just seemed so in character for him to stroll around naked without a care in the world, but with Jake, it feels more like a brazen act of confidence. Droplets of water fall from his hair and drip over his bare body, glistening in the little daylight that’s filtering into the room. Now that his back is turned to you for a few seconds, you’re able to peek at the large tattoo covering most of it. Even though you’re seeing it at a distance, you can still make out the details of a cloaked skeleton figure holding a lantern.

He moves through the room with a certain grace and you’re sure it’s painfully obvious to him that you’re staring, so you avert your eyes to your hands that are picking at the black fibers of the towel. He makes his way over to you to step between your legs, waiting patiently for your attention to fall back on him. “Are you getting shy on me, dove?”

You mumble through a poorly-concealed smile, “No.”

His fingers dance across the edge of the terrycloth, brushing against the supple skin of your thigh. Your eyes flit up to him to see a laugh fluttering from his lips as he smiles back at you, “You sure?”

You feel like now is as good of a time as any to ask, “So…what’s going on here?”

He huffs a short laugh, slipping his hand beneath the towel. “What do you mean?”

You squirm from the cool touch of his fingers sliding across your thigh toward your hip. Suddenly you feel nervous to clarify your question, but you push through the squeakiness of your voice  from the tightening of your throat. “Like with you and Josh...with me?”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, a devilish smirk appears before your eyes. He leans forward with a knee dipping into the bed, guiding you back on the mattress to where you’re balancing most of your weight on your elbows. His hand goes to work rubbing over the flesh of your hip while his parted lips brush the shell of your ear. “Ya’know, we were always told to share our toys when we were younger.” You shiver from the rasp of his voice tickling your brain as it blankets your damp skin. He pauses to let the thought sink in, nipping at your earlobe before releasing the intoxicating warmth of his panting breath over your neck. “I just think the toys have changed.”

You swallow through the dryness on your tongue, letting a curse slip out under your breath. The surge of endorphins is still buzzing throughout your body from your last orgasm, but you give into the touch, abandoning any sense of control or dignity you might’ve had left. You’re a ball of putty in his hands, melting into the plush throw that’s laid across the bed beneath you. 

You slip your hand between your bodies, reaching between his legs until he stops you with a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist and brings your fingers to the nape of his neck. Keeping his voice light and affectionate, he murmurs into your cheek, “Don’t you worry about me. I’m taking care of you this time.”

The other hand that’s been gripping onto your hip snakes up your belly, breaking the hold of the towel so it falls to your sides, leaving you completely exposed to him. He smiles at the sight, biting at his lip as he takes you in for as long as he needs to. Just before you’re given the chance to complain, he dips his head down, causing a pitched cry to break from you when the wet ends of his hair tickle across your bare chest. He bites at the soft contour of your breast, leaving a sting with it just as his fingers run over your hardening nipple. 

He lets out a pleased sigh, pressing his hardening cock against you as if lost in the moment, “I could spend all fucking day with you.”

Any response is stolen from you the second his warm tongue touches your skin, creating a path down the centerline of your body. Before your brain has the chance to catch up and process what’s happening, he’s slotted his head between your legs and hooked your left knee over his shoulder. 

He kisses your inner thigh that’s resting by his cheek as he adjusts himself into a better position, nipping at the sensitive skin before soothing it with a teasing tongue. He looks at you in the dim lighting through heavy lids, admiring your beauty with barely-there brushes of his thumb over your bundle of nerves. You jolt up into the bed from the contact, but he keeps you planted where he wants you with his arm hooked around your belly. 

Letting a hint of jealousy slip through the sultry tone of his voice, he asks, “He left you a bit sensitive, didn’t he?”

You hum your answer with a listless nod, trusting him enough for him to open your legs for a second time. You watch through blurred focus as he licks his thumb, wetting it with his saliva before bringing it back to your swollen clit again. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You whine his name, bucking your hips at the feeling of his finger rubbing over you. He stops the movement knowing you’re creeping near the edge of overstimulation. “Would it be better if I use my mouth instead?”

“Please,” you whimper the hushed plea as you throw your head back into the blankets. 

The next thing you feel is the warmth of his breath clinging to you with every exhale. “I didn’t hear you, dove.”

It’s too much, yet not nearly enough, and it feels as though you might explode with anticipation. You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s enjoying how much he’s taunting you with the promise of it — the tiny puffs of air from his laughter, the feather-light touch of his wet lips slipping over you, the way his fingers press into the soft flesh. When you do open your eyes, you’re surprised to see your reflection staring back at you in the mirror fixed to the ceiling above the bed. 

The new angle gives you a view of his profile, allowing you to see his long hair swept across his shoulders, and how it covers some of the tattoos inked into the skin on his upper back. You’re focusing on how he looks tucked between your legs —  how his hands hold onto your naked body. After a minute of silence, he notices you staring at the image of him, and turns his head up to meet your gaze in the mirror, “Pretty neat, huh?”

You push out a breathless laugh and Jake finally dips his tongue into you, licking a languid stripe from your entrance and over your spoiled clit. A moan passes over your lips just as your eyes clamp shut, the sensation of his mouth feeling like you’ve stepped into the still water of a hot spring. It doesn’t take long for him to decide he’s done easing you into this now that he’s tasted you like this for the first time, and he abandons the teasing altogether. The dull edge of his fingernails digs into your leg, adding to the canvas of pink and purple bruises as he breathes you in through every roll of his tongue. 

While he sucks on your clit with merciless precision, his fingertips circle the entrance of your pussy. Despite the fact you’re plenty wet and ready enough for them, you can feel the warm drip of his spit running slowly down your core. Slick from the both of you, he slips a finger inside, feeling your walls tighten around him, which causes a low groan to rumble deep within his chest. 

Through your song of moans, you can hear the slight creaking sound of the wooden bedframe as he grinds himself against the mattress. You pry open your lids to see him roll his hips into the bed as he eats into you, but only for a second when another finger pushes into you with ease, stretching you out just as Josh had done earlier. Your hands fly to his still-damp hair, weaving through the wet, tangled tresses in desperation. 

He begins to curl his longest fingers against your hidden spot with the rapid flicks of a pointed tongue in changing patterns over your clit. Your unrestricted screams fill the room as you writhe further up his bed, pulling at his hair in the process from the overwhelming wall of pleasure overloading your senses. You’re being pushed past your limits, and although you trust that he would stop the second you utter the word, you don’t want him to.

He reacts to the pain with a sharp hiss through gritted teeth, growling deep into you, “Harder!”

Another expertly placed sweep of his fingers and roll of his tongue is all you need to obey the command, making you yank his hair from his scalp in tight fists. With an unexpected strength, he lifts your hips from the mattress and drives his face into you, securing your shaking body to the bed under his weight. 

An embarrassingly loud groan rips from your chest, “Jake! Oh, fuck!”

“Give it to me.” The rough demand vibrates across the delicate skin in an intoxicating wave of heat, adding to the building orgasm. The wet, lewd sounds of his tongue lapping over you while his fingers work inside you thicken the air hanging in his bedroom. 

He’s determined to make you come in his mouth, fighting through the thrashing of your fatigued limbs. You’re unprepared for the orgasm he throws you into because it comes crashing down upon you with unbridled force, making you scream his name and tighten around his curling fingers. The next thing you feel is his sensual laugh thrumming across your overstimulated cunt, causing your legs to violently shake around his face. 

He gives you both the time needed to calm your breathing and return to a normal state, placing delicate kisses on your body and massaging the flesh of your hips until he offers the pile of clothes he’s collected for you before he starts to get dressed. You take them as you slide off the bed, slipping into the comfortable pair of gray sweatpants and the faded t-shirt as he jokes that he’s stolen them from Josh’s dresser. 

You’re tamping the espresso grounds into the stainless steel portafilter, preparing it for the next order of lattes waiting. The bustling sounds of the tiny coffee shop soothe your senses as you work your morning shift. The hushed chatter of customers, the indie music playing softly over the speakers, the bubbling of steam in the milk-filled metal cups, and even the harsh grinding of imported coffee beans have become a staple of your day-to-day existence. 

It’s been a little over a week since you left Jake and Josh’s house. After dropping you off at your car with a simple goodbye and a chaste kiss on your cheek, Jake had left things more than open-ended and unsurprisingly, on your terms. You processed the experience over a few hours, recovering alone in the comfort of your bed. The conclusion you had pulled together through the scrambling thoughts of your mind was that it was a one-time thing with no strings attached. The night would simply live in your mind as a wild experience that you could share with your friends over a few too many drinks.

It had to be. How would you go about seeing both men? It was a fluke — just the stars of this very strange universe aligning for something like that to happen to you. With Jake’s indifference, you half-expected Josh to forget about you within hours of leaving the house that morning. 

So it was a surprise when you saw a text message from him later that evening…

Hey, it's Josh. I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from work like a fucking creeper since I never asked you for it. I’m really sorry for dipping out on you this morning like that. I feel shitty for doing that and I want to make it up to you ;)

You had read the message over and over again, grinning to yourself like an idiot staring at the phone screen. You’re not sure why you ultimately chose to ignore it, thinking that maybe the lack of response on your end was a selfish act of self-preservation. Josh is the type of guy you saw yourself falling for, but also one that could hurt you deeply if things were vastly different than you hoped for. Soon enough, the message eventually became buried in a few days while you worked to push the thoughts about him aside. 

Just as you’re brushing the loose grounds off the rim, your coworker startles you with their presence, making you jump from their sudden proximity. 

She leans in to whisper, albeit rather loudly to compensate for the whirring and grinding of machinery around you, “Hot guy alert.”

“Huh?” You ask through a huff of laughter, turning your body until she stops you with a hand on your forearm. 

She scolds quietly through her teeth, “Don’t look!”

You’ve learned rather quickly that she always keeps you guessing and on your toes with the newest gossip, but you dare to ask anyway, “Katie, what are you talking about?”

She rambles on, taking the portafilter from your hand to slot it into the machine, talking without looking at you to not raise suspicion as she pulls the shot of espresso, “One of the tattoo artist guys from the shop in town just walked in. Shit! I forgot his name… uh. He comes in here all the time, too. Jason? Justin? No, that’s not it. I’m pretty sure it starts with a J though. 

“He has a twin brother who comes in sometimes.” She groans, letting her eyes roll back into her head, “They’re both so fucking fine. You need to take a peek when you get a second. But be cool.”

You freeze, feeling like every ounce of blood drained from your head and pooled to your feet in a split second. She doesn’t notice your stunned reaction, continuing with the task of slotting the steam wand into the pitcher full of milk. You convince yourself she’s wrong,  collecting yourself by straightening your apron in a last-ditch effort to salvage whatever dignity you have left.

You’re the wrong one. 

There he is. 

Josh. 

He’s standing in line, about three or four people away from the register. Right away, you have to admit that he looks disastrously good in his outfit of choice for the day — a pair of light-wash jeans cuffed at the ankles and a well-loved black band t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his arms. Staying true to himself, the simple ensemble is finished with a pair of white high-top vans that are scuffed to hell and back. Thankfully he hasn’t noticed you yet, as his eyes are focusing on his phone that’s in his hand, fingers tapping away like he’s finishing the last part of a text. 

He slips his phone into his pocket, and his eyes flick up to the chalkboard mounted above your head, scanning over the menu for a few seconds until they fall to you. He startles for a second, blinking away the disbelief that he’s seeing you behind the counter. You’re also caught off guard, staring back at him with the cliche deer-in-the-headlights expression plastered across your face. You second-guess yourself that it’s him, questioning if he actually took your advice and shaved off the facial hair he was so prideful of the last time you saw him. 

He seems softer somehow. 

While time stands still in this awkward limbo, the short line clears from the other register, and he steps forward to your side of the counter. Anxiety settles in your chest, so you try to mask your embarrassment that he’s now seen you at work with professional indifference, blurting out the repetitive phrase, “Good morning, what can I get started for you today?”

It takes all your strength to maintain eye contact with him as he bites back a smile on his face. Now that he’s closer, you can see the defined still-damp curls, giving away that he had showered this morning before leaving the house. The memory of the morning spent together flashes in your mind, causing your heart to race wildly within the walls of your chest. He plays along with you in this game pretending to be strangers, humming to himself as he stares up at the menu board while tapping his fingers on the polished wooden edge of the counter. “‘That depends.”

You’re not sure what to expect with his presence but can’t control the confusion painted on your face with his answer. “On?”

His right brow flicks up in amusement, yet his voice remains smooth and flirtatious, passing over his pinkened, full lips, “Whether or not you’re the one making it for me.”

Your face is starting to prickle with heat, and it doesn’t help that you can see Katie’s eyes locked on you out of your periphery. You swallow back your discomfort and turn with a gesture of your thumb to your coworkers. “Oh, I can get-“

He dismisses the miscommunication with a wave of his hand and an airy laugh, “No, no.” He brings his hand to his mouth, stroking the soft, hairless skin as if he’s still getting used to the feeling himself. “I just know whatever you’ll make me will be the best.” The playful glimmer in his eyes with the warm smile on his youthful face is another chip to your resolve. “I’ll have a vanilla latte. Medium, please.”

The familiar scent of his cologne teases you from across the counter, floating around you like a seductive cloud. Before you get lost in it, you clear your throat, watching him as he fiddles with the themed coffee cups on display, rotating the ceramic mugs in his tattooed hands before setting them gently on the counter. You tap the screen to start his order, and ask, “Okay, would you like it hot or iced?”

He scratches his ink-sleeved arm as he peers out the large paned-glass window of the shop, clicking his tongue as he decides, “Since it’s so warm out, I’ll go for iced today.” He looks back at you with a certain sweetness swimming in his honeyed eyes — something you wish to capture forever. “Do you have oat milk in?” 

You give him the silent response of a nod, which makes him beam with excitement. “Perfect! I’ll do that.”

This casual interaction you find yourself in is throwing you off, to say the least. You half-expect him to call you out or be less-than-friendly that you ignored his message and essentially ghosted him this past week, but his demeanor showed none of those things. 

You allow a smirk to slip through when you reach over and pluck a plastic cup from the stack beside you with a sharpie in hand. You’re sure he notices, but you keep up with the facade when you ask in a teasing tone, “Name?”

He chuckles, bouncing the sound around in his throat before holding his hand over his chest in offense, scoffing, “Ouch. I didn’t realize I was that forgettable, baby.”

Katie’s stare might as well be two red-hot laser beams with how they’re burning massive holes into the sides of your body. You lose to the impulse, and regretfully chance a look over your shoulder in her direction, only to be met with her face contorting in shock and confusion. 

You can only offer her a weird smirk in response before turning back to Josh because it’s effortless in how he captures every ounce of your attention. Of course, you fold instantly, giving in to him but sending a less-than-innocent look in your eyes through your shameless blushing. You write his name in permanent ink on the bottom line of the cup with the addition of a tiny heart for good measure.  

After ringing his total up, he quickly pays with a card but tries to secretly slip a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar just as you begin the process of making his drink. He presses his finger to his pursed lips to shush your chance at protesting when you catch him in the act. Not letting the moment linger, he drums his fingers along the red-oak surface, inching his way down to the pick-up end of the counter. 

Up until this moment, you would’ve told anyone that you felt confident in your job as a barista for only working here a few months, but the way Josh is staring at you makes it feel like it’s the first day all over again. You fight the trembling in your hands that’s making you so uncoordinated that you almost forget the steps to make a simple iced latte.

Somehow you manage with  Josh absorbing every one of your movements into his memory. You pop the plastic lid on and slide the drink across the counter and before you have the chance to say a single word, he grabs the cup from your hands while tossing a knowing look at your co-worker. His focus is directed at you when he shoots a wink and says, “See ya around.”

He strolls out of the small coffee shop, holding the door open for the next customer. You watch in silence as he struts down the sidewalk, passing the large window with a charming glance back at you. He gestures with the tip of his chin, signaling to you that he wants you to meet him outside. 

Katie tugs your arm, breaking you from your trance like she hit the play button on reality. The bustling sounds of the coffee shop consume you as her harsh voice cuts through the noise, “Uhm, excuse me? What the hell was that?! Do you know him?”

You stumble over an explanation, blurting out, “Uhhh…yeah. That was Josh.”

Meeting her more-than-shocked expression, you blush beet-red when she asks, “Are you seeing him?”

There’s no way you’ll be able to slip out of the answer knowing how much she’ll badger you for details later, but you end up stuttering through the next best thing you can say, “C-could you cover me while I take five?”

She huffs an incredulous laugh, shaking her head and nudging you toward the door, “If it’s to go talk to him, then fuck yeah.”

With her help, you successfully sneak out for a break, almost skipping down the sidewalk in search of him around the city street. As you approach the corner of the building, you chance a look down the alley and see him waiting for you. He’s leaning up against the brick wall, iced coffee in one hand as he’s taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

He hasn’t spotted you yet, looking away while blowing a cloud of smoke from the corner of his mouth. It doesn’t take long before he hears your footsteps hitting the pavement, and turns his head to see you walking toward him. You approach him with an air of hesitance, but his expression only softens as he takes in your presence.

You take another step closer, crossing your arms over your chest. “You almost got me in trouble, ya’know?”

He laughs before taking on a snarky, sarcastic tone that’s entirely new to you, “Is that so? Because to me, it looked like I was just ordering a coffee just like everyone else.”

You lean back, digging your weight into your heels, scoffing loudly, “Right. So what was up with the ridiculous tip, then?”

He crouches down to set his coffee cup on the ground, saying matter-of-factly, “I’m a generous tipper. Why? Is that something you yell at loyal customers for?”

You meet his fiery gaze when he stretches back to a standing position against the wall, and the intense look in his amber eyes is dancing the line between admiration and raw desire. “You do know that we pool tips here, right?”

“Fantastic.” The word is clipped out through perfect teeth that are beginning to show with the ‘Cheshire Cat’-like grin forming on his face.

Accepting the fact that you’re losing this round, you decide to shift the topic with a tip of your chin in his direction. “I see that you shaved.”

You watch as he pulls in his bottom lip between his teeth like he’s been waiting an eternity for you to finally bring it up, and looks out towards the street as he releases a heavy sigh, “Yeah…this really hot woman said I would look better without it.”

You bite back the smile that’s starting to form on your lips. “She’s got good taste.” 

Your comment pulls his attention back to you, and with the cigarette nestled between his first two fingers, he sweeps across the new bare skin above his lip with the third. “Like it?”

You huff out a genuine laugh with a shake of your head while you dust off the coffee grinds and remnants of sugar from your apron,“Honestly? I think you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

He’s clearly unbothered, taking another excuriantly slow drag from his cigarette before ashing it with a deliberate flick of his thumb. You drop your shoulders in annoyance, grumbling in disapproval at the awful habit, “That shit is so bad for you. You should really try to quit soon.” 

You would hate to admit how unbelievably frustrating it is that he looks good doing it. He probably knows it, staring at you for a few seconds, scanning you over as he chews on his bottom lip. A cheeky smile forms on his face when he mutters in a teasingly soft voice, “Yes, mommy.”

The new name takes you by surprise with a flash of heat smacking your face, making you instantly scoff in disgust, “Ew, Josh! Please, for the love of god, don’t call me that.” He brays a harsh laugh at the reaction, and you make the point to leave, “I gotta go back inside.”

Josh pushes off the wall and grasps your wrist before you can take another step, pulling you into his arms in a fluid motion with a gentle, yet controlled hold. Your yelp is cut off by the sudden feeling of the warmth and softness of his skin, wrapping you in an embrace you’ve already started to crave. Every sense of unease you’ve been feeling evaporates the second you touch him, especially when his soft lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “I love when you scold me.”

A faint moan escapes you as his warm breath hits your skin, tingling across your body and you’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you’re melting into him. Placing a hand to his chest, you try to push him in a weak effort to create space between you. “You’re gross.”

One of his hands travels across your lower back while the other roams over your upper arm. It’s like he’s falling into step with this dance with you, easing right into the natural rhythm from where the two of you left off a week ago. 

He tips his head so that his lips brush, ever-so-gently, across the bare skin below your ear, humming at the way you shudder from the teasing touch. “Do you really think that?” His taunting voice vibrates against you in a satisfying purr, and the hand that was on your back grips your ass through your pants, kneading the flesh through the denim as the other hand wraps around the nape of your neck. He presses his thumb against the pulse point before he nips at the tender spot, taunting you, “Because the way your heart is beating tells a very different story.” 

You blush at the implication and swallow back the whimper that tries to escape, clearing your throat to maintain some sincerity, “What do you want?”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval and pulls away to look down at your lips. “I thought my intentions were obvious. I missed you.”

You’re positive that he didn’t mean it, but hearing the words made your heart skip, even so, you make sure to hide it through a snort, “It’s only been a week, Josh.”

You feel his smile against your ear, and it’s tantalizing the way he sends his breath across your skin, “And? You’ve got me addicted, baby. What can I say? Can’t get that sweet taste of your pretty pussy out of my head.” 

You’re not only stunned into silence, but you also clench your thighs in need as the words blanket the inside of your brain. He’s so warm and addicting that you would abandon every responsibility you had just to chase the feeling. 

Thankfully, he breaks away enough for you to ground yourself back to reality and to realize that you’re still standing outside in an alleyway. You can tell he’s proud of how flustered he’s made you, grinning like an idiot with his cigarette hanging from the corner of his lip. 

It’s when he clasps the filter with his fingers that you catch the letters on his knuckles. Before he’s able to flick the ash, you take his wrist in hand and ask, “What does that say?”

He switches his cigarette to the other hand so you can inspect the tattoo across his knuckles with his splayed fingers in your hold. From the night spent together, you were able to read ‘LOVE’ on one hand, but you never focused on what was on the other. You bend his soft fingers around, eyeing the intricate scroll and artistry enough that you can finally read the letters ‘F U C K’.” You know that your eyes widen with shock, but you try to keep your expression neutral for the sake of banking your curiosity and questions for another time. 

Instead, you roll your eyes and release a sharp, dry laugh that makes him wiggle his fingers from you. “Josh, you never cease to fucking amaze me. My mother would absolutely love you.”

He giggles to himself as he tugs on the loop of your apron tie to loosen it, mumbling around the filter with a smug grin painted across his face, “Well, if she’s anything like you, I know she will.”

You swat his hand away before he has the chance to lure you into more trouble. “You’re an idiot.”

He only shrugs his shoulders with a playful raise of his brows in response. Looking around and realizing he has nowhere to toss the cigarette butt, he flicks out the cherry with his fingers and stores it behind his ear for the time being. “Keep going. I love when you call me names.”

While laughter bubbles up from your chest, he pulls you in close enough that you’re only inches away. “Now give me some sugar.”

He chases you playfully with pursed lips, making you giggle and jokingly push him away with your fingers pressing into his mouth. “No! You taste like a cigarette.”

“Oh? Well, if that’s the case…” he trails off while digging around his back pocket for something. You wait patiently as he pops a mint into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue while he peppers your jawline with soft kisses. The smooth feel of his bare lips tickle across your skin, making you squirm in his arms. The cool, minty puffs of air flutter across your parted lips for a few seconds before he finally meets them with his own. 

He licks into your eager mouth, and for the moment you forget everything. You forget that you’re standing in your sticky, old work uniform making out with a man you barely met more than a week ago. He’s not giving you the opportunity for you to reflect on that because the feel, taste, and sounds of him are the only thoughts pinballing their way around the walls of your mind. With your mind scattered, your heart races to keep up with your tongue moving across his in this pitiful act of desperation to have him as much as you can for the few minutes you’re given. 

He’s the one to pull away, smiling and breathing against your flushed wet lips as he mumbles into them, “I think you might be out of time on your break, baby.”

You release an anxious laugh, brushing your hair back and ironing out the wrinkles in your clothes to look presentable — like you haven’t been violently kissing him for the past few minutes. You’re fighting back the lightheadedness, responding in a shaky, weak voice, “Yeah, I should probably head back in before they come out here looking for me.”

There’s a blanket of awkwardness that falls over you, forcing you to shift on your feet and cast your eyes to the pavement. Picking up on the sudden change in your body language, he nudges your shoe with the scuffed toe of his white vans. 

“Hey,” he says in an upbeat tone that’s successful in bringing your focus back to that same award-winning smile that’s sure to steal your heart every time you see it. “Come by the house later. I want to see you.”

There’s no question that you’re officially folding your hand, so you accept the invitation with a genuine smile, sighing, “Okay.”

He’s relieved with your answer and leans in to kiss you on the cheek, whispering, “This is a lot easier if you just text me back, ya’know?”

You can’t help the embarrassment that you ghosted him, replying sheepishly, “I know.”

Josh laughs as he picks up his coffee from the ground, and the sound is soothing to your ears, wrapping you like a cashmere sweater on a brisk, fall morning. It’s reassuring in a way that lets you know he holds no ill-feelings from the week of no responses from you. He gives you a chaste, yet tender kiss one last time on the lips before strolling away down the alley toward the sidewalk. Just before he’s out of your sight, he peers over his shoulder, sending a wink over to you with the playful taunt, “Hope you enjoy the rest of your shift.”

Just like that, he’s out of your view. Left with only the thoughts of him, you’re now standing alone, confused and reeling from what the hell just happened within the last fifteen minutes. You try to shake yourself back into a state of normalcy and put on what shred of professionalism you can muster up, but soon realize that you’re the one left with the mint. 

Just as he probably predicted, you’ve been on edge for the rest of your work day, distracted, thinking about only him. You did your best, trudging through the hours until you could finally clock out, rushing home to shower and change out of your work clothes. Dressed in a simple black sundress with a hemline that rests mid-thigh, you now find yourself standing outside the front door of the twin’s house. 

You’re embarrassed to admit it to yourself, but you’re trembling with anticipation. It isn’t from the thoughts of the unknown, as you’ve already crossed over that boundary a week ago. You know what to expect. You know what he tastes like, how he feels when he’s deep inside you,  you even know the very sounds he makes when he succumbs to his own pleasure. You know what’s waiting on the other side of that door because he sure as hell didn’t invite you over tonight to catch up on the latest Netflix series.

After a minute of collecting yourself to build enough courage to gently rap your knuckles against the door, you step back while you wait for him. He should be expecting you any minute due to the fact you had to ask him for the address before you left your place. Yet, you can’t help but jump when it opens quickly and you’re presented with the sight of Josh standing in the doorway. 

He’s traded his black band t-shirt for a cozier, gray-blue one that hangs from his body in a way that teases the eye of his slender frame. He’s still wearing the faded light-wash jeans, but sports socks now that he’s kicked off his vans in the comfort of his home. He ushers you in with a friendly smile and steps back, greeting you in a raspy, almost-sleepy sounding voice, “Hey, baby.”

You meet his smile with your own as you step in, muttering a casual, “Hey.” He closes the door, giving you room to kick off your shoes next to the pile of others in the foyer. 

“How was work?” he asks, his voice groggy and slow, like it’s still lagging a few seconds behind the thought. The small talk takes you by surprise, adding to the thick layer of tension between you. 

You swallow back your nerves to respond,“Uh, it was okay for a weekday, so I can’t complain. You?”

He nods and starts walking into the rest of the house, talking over his shoulder, “I had a few appointments today, but they were simple enough that I didn’t have to hang out long.” He waves a hand into the open space, making you blush at his attempt at a house tour. “So, this is the living room. Back here is the kitchen.” 

“I know, Josh. I was here a week ago,” you quip back through an amused laugh, trailing behind him as he leads you into the kitchen. 

“Oh…right,” he chuckles, shaking his head as if scolding himself. Reaching into the cabinet to pull out two glasses, he makes eye contact with you for the first time. “I’m sorry, I’m kind of high right now.”

You bite back the smile creeping on your lips when you notice his hazy, slightly-bloodshot eyes. “That’s okay.”

He tips his hand to offer the empty glass, “Would you like something to drink?” 

You reply with a quick nod, and he turns to the fridge that’s littered with take-out menus, adding, “You hungry? What do you want?”

You let out a nervous laugh, but insist, “Water is fine.”

“Okay, well when you are we can order something.” He fills both glasses and hands you one before walking out into the living room, making his way over to the record player sitting in the corner of the room. You follow, watching him shuffle through the large collection of vinyl until he eventually chooses one. 

Everything is rather silent aside from the sounds of him pulling the record from the sleeve and placing it on the turntable. Your anxiousness shows its face with your fidgeting as you tap your fingers on the glass until the music begins to play. You stay standing as he moves to sit on the couch, sinking into the cushion. He scratches across the denim over his knees, revealing his own nervousness as he compliments you, “You look amazing by the way.”

You flick your eyes down to ice clinking in your glass, letting your smile slip through, “Oh, thank you.”

He clears his throat, shuffling his weight to the edge of the couch with his hands locked between his legs. “I’m really happy you came over. Honestly, I didn’t think…I wasn’t sure after…yeah.”

There it is. 

You mutter under your breath, looking around the room at anything that isn’t him, “I’m sorry about that.”

He’s quick to respond to your apology, “Don’t be.” But when the words start to hang in the air for far too long, his eyes drop to his feet and he adds with a sense of apprehension as he shifts anxiously on the couch. “Is it something I did?”

“No!” you insist through involuntary panic, closing the distance between you and set the glass of water on the coffee table. Somewhere along the way, his usual beaming confidence waned, allowing you to see the unease settling in his body. “No, not at all.” 

You start to understand that this situation may be on your terms more than you initially thought, and feeling a little more bold than you did when you first arrived, you sink onto his lap with ease, letting the rough denim of his jeans graze against the back of your thighs as you slide into the position. 

Any questionable feelings he was having melt away at this moment. He leans into the back cushion, welcoming you with that charismatic smile returning to his face while he guides you closer with his hands secured around your hips. “What was it then?”

You search for a suitable and believable answer to offer him, but you can’t seem to find one that doesn’t sound idiotic. It doesn’t help that the scent of his cologne is mixing with the distinct smell of weed, floating into your head and clouding your thoughts. You shake yourself free from his clutches, choosing to ignore his question to ask one of your own, “What is this?”

A hint of cockiness reemerges for the moment through a crooked smile as his fingers slip underneath the thin fabric of your dress, “What do you want it to be?” His gaze drops down through the rebuttal, following the neckline of your dress to your cleavage. His hands venture further up your legs until his thumbs hook under the band of your panties. “Because I know that I like you and that I want to keep seeing you.”

You shudder a pitchy sigh, blushing at the confession before pushing yourself back with your hand to his chest, giving you enough space in order to look at his face. “What about Jake?”

You grimace, cursing at yourself silently and wishing that you expressed the same feelings of interest to him even if the thought of admitting that scared you. Curiosity hooks his brow, but his voice seems tighter than before, “What about him? Did he say something to you?”

The truth was that Jake really didn’t say much about the dynamic of this situation between the three of you, so you’re being honest when you say, “Not really.”

He giggles with a lazy shrug of his shoulders, kissing the softness of your jaw while his hands knead your ass beneath your dress, “Hmm…well, I think it’s pretty clear he has interest in you.”

Even if that’s true, you’re too distracted from him to worry about Jake right now. He seems to follow suit, because his breathing starts to quicken with the friction building from each roll of your hips against him, allowing him to pull you in closer. “So, it’s more than a one time thing?”

His breathy giggle vibrates into the hollow point of your throat. “Is that what you want?”

As his hands roam up your back, yours travel across his shoulders to his neck, feeling the warmth of his soft skin beneath your palms. Massaging the area with strokes of your thumb, you hum your answer with a purposeful grind of your core against the denim. 

He rolls his head at the feeling of your hands around his throat, purring in satisfaction, “Then yes. I would love to fuck you as many times as you ask. Just say the words, baby. You never have to worry about me wanting you.”

Holding his face in your hands, you graze your thumbs across his ears before running your fingers over buzzed hair on the sides of his head that are starting to grow out. He’s staring up at you, but you keep your eyes focused on his pinkened lips as you whisper in a seductive voice, “Oh really? You’ll be good and fuck me exactly how I want?”

He groans through his teeth, driving his covered erection into your thigh with forceful lift of his hips, “And how do you wanna be fucked, baby?”

He licks his lips as he slides his hand from your asscheek down between your legs. His fingertips brush over your clit through the damp fabric before dancing across the lace seam. They tease near your entrance, and you lean in to whisper in his ear, “Deep and slow. I wanna feel every inch of your cock inside me. You think you can do that?”

He’s surprised to hear such filthy words coming from you, shuddering a heavy breath, “Oh fuck.”

You kiss along his sharp jawline, nipping at the thin skin while reaching between your bodies and popping open the metal button to his jeans. He rushes to turn his head, eager to kiss you for the second time today. He gently bites at your lips, licking into your mouth with his tiny whimpers tumbling over your tongue. The sounds echoing in your mouth with the fact he’s not wearing anything but jeans drives you into a frenzy. His fingers rub across your cheek just as you feel the velvet-soft skin of his cock in your hand, throbbing wildly against your palm to the point that you know it’s borderline painful for him to keep it confined in the restriction of his tight jeans. 

You lift yourself up, giving him the room to move his pants enough for you to pull him out, and a soft grunt forms in his throat as he throws his head into the back of the couch. He’s silken and so addictingly warm in your grasp —  just how you remember it. You watch as his eyes flutter closed when you begin to pump your hand around him. He’s drifting away, letting his nails rake across your thighs, leaving a pleasing sting to the bare flesh. 

His own hips begin to move with the strokes of your hand, and you start to remember what he likes, flicking your wrist around his length and gliding the precum across the head of his cock with each upward pump of your hand. You feel powerful, taking the sounds of his whimpering moans as your reward. 

As you work him, you run your other hand up his heaving chest, touching the gold chains of his necklaces with your fingers. His head bobs forward from the contact, but his eyes remain closed with dark brows stitched tightly together. You wrap your hand around his throat just above the gold choker, pressing into the pulsepoint until you feel his adam’s apple bob against your palm. “Look at me.”

He brings himself together enough to peek through lust-heavy lids, smiling at you before looking down to watch your hand twisting around the head of his cock. The smile fades quickly with his heavy panting fluttering over his parted, full lips. 

Feeling impatient and giving into the need to touch yourself, you release your hand around his neck to bring your fingers to your mouth. Somehow he pulls himself out of his delirious state to stop you before they reach your lips and guides your hand to his instead, placing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You watch him with laser-focus as he licks a teasingly slow stripe from your thumb to the tip of your index finger. He draws across his wet lips with the first two fingers before slipping them into his mouth. He makes sure to look into the depths of your eyes, smiling around the digits before sucking them in a way that reminds you of the exact moment his face was buried between your legs a week ago. You moan at the feeling of his warm tongue swirling around them —  the way the tiny metal ball of his piercing glides effortlessly over your skin. 

After torturing to his liking, he finally pulls them from his mouth, successfully coating them enough to glisten in the late afternoon sun. You then realize that you’ve stopped moving your hand on his cock, holding him in a loose grasp. He doesn’t complain that you’ve been distracted, but rather helps you by tugging your panties to the side with his fingers so you can line him up with your entrance. 

Slick with his spit, you glaze your needy clit and pussy with a pass of your soaked fingers enough to help him. You adjust your hips as his hands grip around your waist, bracing yourself on his shoulder while you start to nudge him into you. Forgetting that he’s on the bigger side, you wince when the head of his cock begins stretching you out. 

He can sense the tension locking the muscles in your body, breathing against your sweat-dampened cheek with a certain calmness laden in his voice, “Relax, baby. Take your time.”

You huff a breathy laugh that he joins in on, giggling into the spot hidden behind your ear as he wraps his arm around the small of your back. Taking his advice, you slowly sink down onto his cock, lifting yourself up slightly before easing him in deeper. 

He groans into your hair when he bottoms out, “You feel so fucking amazing.” You melt into his body, feeling his shaky exhale fan across your skin as you start to rock your hips, “Feel good?”

You nod with your cheek still stuck to his, letting out a pitchy moan into his ear, “You fill me up so good.”

He’s fueled by your sweet praises, fucking himself into you while you find your rhythm riding him, but controls himself enough to let you take the lead in the sinful dance. The music he chose continues to softly play on the turntable as you lose yourselves in each other. You even dare to run the tip of your finger down the strong bridge of his nose, watching how his eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the feeling of you. Driving him to your limit and squeezing yourself around him, his perfect lips part and whimper your name in the most delightfully pitiful way. 

You coo against the shell of his ear, filling his head with the song of your voice, “You’re being such a good boy for me, Josh.”

He buries his face into your neck, growling into the sensitive skin before flipping you onto your back along the cushions of the couch. Propping himself on his knee, he sits upright to rip his t-shirt from his body while sliding your panties down your legs. You take in the sight, admiring how his golden-tanned skin glows in the light, how his tattoos move with each ragged breath of his lungs, how the sun pendant of his necklace sits in the center of his chest — between the two inked sparrows nestled in the bed of vivid-red poppies. 

Since he’s accidentally slipped out from the change in position, he drives himself back into you, making the sun necklace that’s hanging freely from his neck sway from the thrust of his hips. He’s desperate to yank your dress down to free your breasts, and the second they’re freed with a forceful pull of his hand, his lips wrap around one of your bare nipples. The wet, warmth of his mouth in contrast with the cool air of the room sends a shock wave of pleasure right to your core, making you clench in need around his cock. He licks across the hardened bud with the tip of his nose pressed into the softness of your breast, rolling it around his tongue with the heat of his breath tickling the skin with each exhale. 

The sensation of him spoiling your chest with his mouth and his fingers rolling a similar pattern of shapes over your clit slingshots you right to the tipping point of your climax. He keeps you there, edging you as long as he can while brushing the head of his cock against your sweet spot at a deliberately slow pace. 

You drag your nails across his back, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him in that much deeper.“That feels so fucking…” You trail off to where you’re just whimpering his name to the point where its incoherent. He’s so warm, so big. “You’re so good. Please don’t stop.”

As a string of foul curses escape your mouth, it’s clear that he’s fighting his own urges with how slow he’s going, gliding into your soaked cunt with as much restraint as he can handle. He whines pathetically into your naked chest, revealing to you just how close he truly is to completely falling apart, “Gonna cum for me?” 

In your foggy state of mind, you weave your fingers through his now-tangled curls at the nape of his neck, begging him. “I’m so close. Please. Cum inside me, Josh.”

In your dreamlike state, the moment in time feels picturesque— as if trapped in a scene from a movie rather than your waking reality. Fleeting images of him flip through your mind like a shuffled deck of cards, flashing behind closed lids with nothing clear enough for you to focus on any one thing.  Your voice acts separately from your mind as the orgasm racks your body with overwhelming euphoria, and you somehow manage to say,  “Be a good boy for me.”

The seams of his composure tear open, and you hear him cry out as he shakes through the faltering thrusts of his hips from spilling himself into you. As he unravels in your embrace, the warm feeling of his cum filling you up imprints onto your brain, burning into your memory for the foreseeable future. He eventually slows himself to a stop, littering your marked chest with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

Just when you think he might trail up to meet your lips so you can come down together, he doesn’t. He rushes to sink to his knees onto the floor instead, pulling your shaking legs over his shoulders as he goes. His fingertips pressing into the thickness of your thighs keeps you from squirming, and your weak, half-hearted protest doesn’t stop him from bringing his mouth right to your pussy. 

The objection only dissolves into a moan the second he licks his flattened tongue across your swollen clit. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive button, he suckles it lovingly into the safe warmth of his mouth. You respond to the jolt of pleasure by squeezing his head between your thighs as you tug at his hair in a clenched fist. He laps you up greedily, devouring you in a frenzied state you haven’t yet witnessed from him until now. Riding off the rippling waves of your first orgasm, he’s able to pull you into the second one easily as he licks the mess between your legs clean. You welcome it, petting through his frizzy curls as he finishes, embracing the hot sensation of his breath fanning over you.

He crawls back onto the couch, slotting himself between your open legs just like before as he comes into your blurred line of vision. You admire his fucked-out state as he smiles back at you, cherishing the thin sheen of sweat that has collected on his face, the way the apples of his cheeks are flushed a rosy hue and how his swollen, bright-pink lips shine in the dimming light. 

He doesn’t give you nearly enough time for you to stare at him before capturing your lips in his, mumbling across your mouth in a whimpered moan, “We taste so fucking good together, baby.”

Licking passionately into your parting mouth, he gives you the chance to find out for yourself, blessing you with the muskiness of your shared release. You both groan in unison, and you latch your hands into his hair in an effort to keep him glued to you for as long as possible.

After taking the minute to explore this new territory with you, he pulls away just enough onto to press his forehead against yours, grunting as he ruts his cock into you, “Fuck. I’m already so hard.”

You huff in shock, reaching between your legs to feel him for yourself, “Again?!”

He seems to share the same level of surprise, sending his strained laughter over your stunned expression, “Yeah.” 

Without wasting the moment, Josh takes himself in his hand and pushes into you again, fucking you for a second round. He’s determined to make up for the lost time, appreciating your body in a multitude of ways and positions. By the time he finishes, you’re both beyond spent, heaving in exhaustion, laying across the couch tangled in each other’s arms. 

 You feel his heart race against your ear as you lay across his chest, hearing his voice vibrate in his lungs when he asks, “Wanna order some food?”

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