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builtbybrokenbells · 5 days

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Poolsides & Pizza Boxes | JTK (2 of 2)

A friendly hangout and an innocent drinking game turns into a troublesome affair.

Read part one here

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 20.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), face-sitting, rough sex, risky sex ig, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, dry humping, dom/sub dynamic, sir kink, degradation, praise, impact play, spit play, brief mentions of free use kink, biting, name calling, hair pulling, slight touch of cum play, multiple orgasm, touch of forced orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, angst (in the beginning), mentions of unrequited love, crying, arguing, feelings of rejection/self-doubt/anger/sadness, fluff, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!

here you go ☺️ I can’t wait to hear what you guys think of part two. thank you for all the sweet comments on pt. 1 🤍 as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

The whole group was silent, all of you trying your best to come to terms with the major play Jake made. Eventually, when the silence became too much, Jake let out a nervous laugh. “What, don’t tell me I have to skinny dip?” He asked, only slightly nervous at the thought. “What is it? I can’t see the board.”

“Son of a bitch.” You muttered to yourself, keeping the words under your breath. “You can’t see the board?” You asked, unable to believed he’d been playing the game that way. “Like, the whole time?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He laughed, unsure why it was such a big deal to you. “What did I get?” You turned to face him, your expression grave and the look in your eyes lethal as you caught his gaze.

“Singles kiss, Jake.” You said, slowly. At first, he laughed at your intensity, then as the words began to sink in, his smile faded.

“O-oh,” he replied, swallowing hard at the realization.

“You heard her, Jake.” Josh grinned, thrilled at the twisted turn of events. He sat back, leaning into his partner with a smug smirk on his face. “Singles kiss.”

“Is there another option? Like kiss or drink?” You asked, desperate to get yourself out of the awkward situation.

“That’s not what the board says, darling.” Josh said, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaited your response.

“What about Danny and Sierra! They’re single, too!” You cried, sitting up and throwing your arm in the direction of the two sat side by side. Josh’s expression became quizzical, urging you to look in their direction with his eyes. You turned your head towards them, finding them already in a handsy embrace, lips locked together. Your shoulders slumped under the weight of your grief and your eyes fell to the ground.

“They know how to play by the rules.” Roman piped up, smiling sweetly at you.

“So what? It’s a game, what does it matter?” You argued.

“Honour, my dearest friend!” Josh boomed. “If I can’t trust you now, how could I ever trust you again?” He fought back, just as intense. “I think a kiss is in order, trouble.” Roman nodded in agreement, placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder. You let out a sigh of defeat, knowing there was no way out of the situation. Instead, you turned your head to look at Jake, who still seemed stunned at the prospect.

“Why not, right?” You asked, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Uh, y-yeah.” He nodded, clearing his throat slightly. His eyes were glassy, telling you all you needed to know about his level of intoxication. Before you had a chance to further your conversation, a chorus of chants filled the air.

“Oh, god.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The repetition of the word ‘kiss’ was growing louder by the second, and everyone seemed to join in.

“We don’t have to, Jake.” You whispered, trying your hardest to drone out the peer pressure. “I swear, it’s fine.”

“No, s’okay.” He took a deep breath, bargaining with himself. “Part of the game, right? Doesn’t mean anything.” You couldn’t help but feel a stab in your chest when he equated it to nothing. You couldn’t tell him, but you wanted it to at least mean something. That’s all you ever wanted, was to just be something more than you already were, but he never seemed to catch on.

“Yeah, exactly. Doesn’t mean a thing.” You forced a smile out, nodding in agreement. You tried to convince yourself to enjoy it, to kiss him despite knowing it was nothing to him and be happy with it. After all, something was better than nothing, and even if it meant nothing, the action was still better than never doing it at all.

“Right.” Jake nodded, taking a deep breath. “‘Cause we’re friends, you know. Nothing more than that. It’s just a game, and friends kiss all the time, right?” You felt sick as he continued to ration with himself, unable to tell him how badly he was hurting you with his drunken rambling.

“Y-yeah, f’course they do.” You agreed, your words strained and your chest aching. What happened to the pool, when he was so eager to be so close and he was disappointed when you broke the contact? What happened to the wandering hands and the excitement that was impossible to hide? Did he really only feel that way about you because he wanted sex, and now that he had time to think, he knew better than that? “We don’t have to do this, Jacob.” You reiterated your point, ensuring he knew you weren’t forcing him to go along with the idea.

“No, it’s okay.” He said again, his words firm. Finally, a flash of the man that held you in the pool began to resurface, and you felt your fears ease for a moment. “Who knows? It might be nice.” He offered, his eyes scanning your face for any discomfort. The chanting in the background still hadn’t ceased, but it became easier to drone it out when you were focused on his face. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and you weren’t sure if it was helping or doing nothing other than making you more nervous.

“Yeah, it might be nice.” Your lips twitched into a small smile, happy at the thought. His hand on your hip tightened, a small reassurance that he was okay and comfortable with the situation.

“Come here, then.” He said, placing the beer bottle in his cup holder and raising his hand to your cheek. His palm cupped your face, the warmth radiating through you and making your heart beat just a little bit faster. You shifted slightly, giving yourself better access to him. “You look very pretty today, trouble.” He smiled, trying to make the whole thing a little more natural for you.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Jacob.” You returned the sentiment, biting down on the inside of your lip as your cheeks dusted red. You thanked the night sky for making your blushing all the less obvious. He leaned forward slightly, taking in a shaky breath as you copied his action.

It felt like the world was in slow motion, and the two of you were frozen together in time. As his nose brushed yours, similar to how it did earlier that day, your entire body flooded with an unfamiliar feeling. You had never felt so strongly about anyone, and now that you had the opportunity to express yourself even in the slightest of ways, you could barely contain your excitement. He brushed the hair from your face, resting his forehead on yours as he continued to move closer. You were almost there, your lips so close to his that you could practically feel them on your own. Your stomach was twisted in a knot and your eyes fluttered closed as you prepared for the final moment.

You leaned forward to bridge the gap, but a sudden and unexpected move on his part threw you off course completely. Just as your lips were about to connect with his own, he turned his head. His forehead slipped off of yours, and your lips landed on his cheek. Your eyes snapped open, your entire body flooded with embarrassment as you realized he had rejected you in the most blunt and painful way possible, in front of all of your friends.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he muttered, his eyes squeezed shut from his own embarrassment. “I can’t.” You recoiled as if he shot you, your entire body ablaze with his rejection and your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“You can’t.” You repeated, allowing the words to sink in. You took in a shaky breath, looking over his apologetic stare one last time. “Right.” You nodded, making quick work at sliding off his lap and standing on your feet. Your whole body was numb from the plethora of pain in your heart, and you stumbled as you took a step backwards trying to get away from him.

“Trouble, wait.” Jake said, making a move to stand and follow you. You shook your head, carefully weaving through the chairs and making your way towards the door. As tears spilled on to your cheeks, you slid inside and closed the door behind you, feeling like your head was going to explode. You made it through the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before you heard yelling from outside through the open windows, and you made it to your bedroom door before the sliding door in your kitchen opened once again.

You closed your bedroom door and locked it before you let the tears really begin to roll. The moment of seclusion allowed for you to feel the rejection a million times more. You couldn’t believe you were naïve enough to think he would ever feel the same way about you, and stupid enough to believe that you even had a chance. Now, you knew better, and so did everyone else in your life. You were disappointed that he did not feel the same, but you were more upset that he showed you in such a blunt manner in front of so many people. You wished he could have just said no, rather than lead you to believe he would and then change his mind at the drop of a dime, moments later.

A knock on your door shook you from the thought momentarily, but not enough to stop the flow of tears. “Come on, trouble. Talk to me, please.” The voice did nothing but strike another wave of sadness within you.

“Go away, Jake.” You argued, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I can hear you crying, beautiful.” He bargained with you. “Let me explain.”

“No need, Jacob. I heard you, loud and clear.” You dismissed him, knowing that there was no explanation that could atone for the hurt he caused. You couldn’t let him see you in such a state, especially when he knew it was over him.

“Okay.” He sighed. “Everyone is pretty drunk, so they’re going to head to bed. Come and find me when you want to talk.” He waited, hoping you would open the door, but he was met with nothing. He stood for a few moments longer, wondering if you would at least say something, even if he didn’t deserve it. When you solidified your stance on the matter, you could hear him begin to retreat downstairs.

You let out a long breath, doing all you could to calm yourself down. You discarded the still damp bikini from your body, walking through the door to your ensuite bathroom. You flipped the faucet on in the bathtub and pulled the stop for the shower head. You let the water heat up before you climbed inside, beginning a slow process of cleaning the chlorine and misery from yourself. You washed your hair before dousing it in conditioner, slowly combing through the knots with your fingers. When it was fully coated, you used a clip to hold it to your head while you washed your body. By the time you rinsed the suds from your skin, the sobs had slowed to an occasional tear, leaving nothing but puffy eyes and a red nose. You rinsed your hair and stepped out, wrapping yourself in the biggest towel you could find.

You washed any remaining makeup from your skin and put on some lotion to sooth the irritation from crying. You towel dried your hair and stepped back into your bedroom to change. At your closet, you brushed past all of the shirts belonging to Jake, finding the clothes too painful to look at. Eventually, you settled on a large t-shirt that you had stolen from your older brother nearly a decade ago. You slipped it on, finding it fall to your mid-thigh. You grabbed a pair of underwear from one of the drawers in your dresser and stepped into them.

By the time you were dressed, most of the sadness had passed, settling into a dull ache as you approached the window of your bedroom. You gazed out into the yard, noticing the patio was empty, and clean. All of the beer bottles had been thrown out, along with the dreaded pizza box. The pool floaties had been pulled out of the water and sat to dry on the cement. A sad smile crossed your lips, knowing it was likely Jake who had done so in an attempt to apologize. You let out a sigh, crawling into bed and under the covers after plugging your phone in to charge. You let your head rest on the pillows, figuring that sleeping away the misery was the best way to go about it. In the morning, you would have a clear head and a better chance at resolving things peacefully.

You were angry and hurt, embarrassed and resentful over the entire situation, but Jake was your best friend. No matter what, you never wanted that to change. In the years of friendship with him, the two of you had never fought over anything substantial, and never over anything like this. It was killing you to be mad at him at all, but you couldn’t help it. You stared up at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick away the minutes as you remained wide awake. For some reason, sleep did not seem to want to come, and it was growing more irritating by the second.

Eventually, you let out a huff of discontent as the material of your comforter became scratchy against your bare legs. You turned over to face your nightstand, reaching for the glass of water that always seemed to be there. When you were met with nothing but your alarm and a half-empty bottle of perfume, you collapsed against the mattress and let out a groan of anger.

You figured that everyone would be asleep by now; the long day of swimming and drinking in the sun would be taking its toll. One couple would take post in your office, sharing the unusually comfortable futon. Someone else would be in the guest room, and one couple on an air mattress in the downstairs living room. Usually, when life was normal and you and Jake weren’t fighting, he would be upstairs with you, already fast asleep without a worry in the world. Knowing him so well, you figured he either drank himself to sleep on the couch or angrily stumbled home, waiting to text you as soon as the sun rose in the sky.

You and Jake worked so well as friends because you knew how each other worked. You knew what he was thinking without him saying it, and he knew how you were feeling just by the look on your face. The two of you knew when to take a step back to avoid a fight, because space was important to both of you and communicating only worked when you weren’t angry. It was a huge comfort knowing someone so well, because it allowed for the two of you to lean on each other when times were tough.

This time, you had no idea where to start.

In the pool, he was keen on the idea of touching you and holding you, and definitely okay with the position you were in. He was sad when you pulled away, disappointed that things got cut short. When he had the opportunity to kiss you, he completely disregarded it and embarrassed you in front of everyone. He chalked it up to two friends locking lips as a joke as if he wasn’t feeling you up an hour before when everyone was gone. You didn’t know what he was thinking, certainly not what he was feeling, and it was killing you.

Then, the worst thought of all struck you.

Did he only want to be with you when nobody else was looking? Was he embarrassed about being attracted to you, or did he really not feel that way about you at all and dreaded the idea of anyone thinking he did?

‘Stop it, Y/N.’ You forced the thoughts out of your head, knowing overthinking wouldn’t do anything but worsen the problem. You would talk to him in the morning when you both cooled down, and you would settle the score. You would go back to being friends, because it’s what you were good at. You weren’t good with romance, and the only time your relationship was complicated was when you started to think of him as something more.

Water.

Water would fix it. You would sneak downstairs past sleeping drunkards and grab a nice glass of water from the fridge. It would clear your head and curb the oncoming hangover, and it would put you to sleep, which you desperately needed.

You climbed from the bed, knowing there was no sense in searching for a pair of pyjama pants when everyone was asleep, anyway. Quietly, you snuck out of your room and down the stairs, hearing snores from your office and the guest bedroom. You walked past the living room, sneaking a peek and Josh and Roman fast asleep on the air mattress on the floor. A small smile crossed your lips, even if you were annoyed with the two for being a catalyst in your current fight with Jake. You turned the corner to the kitchen, carefully maneuvering around the chairs pulled from the table. Before you could reach the refrigerator door, you froze in your tracks.

“What are you doing, Jake?” You sighed, looking to him sitting at the head of the table, leaned back in the chair with his ankles crossed. He was shirtless, clad only in a pair of sweatpants and his hair was slightly damp. As angry and as hurt as you were, you could not refute how attracted you were to him.

“Waiting for you.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes at your quizzical look, giving a sigh of his own before he continued. “I lived with you for almost a year, Y/N. I know you need a glass of water by your bed, or you can’t sleep. I knew you would come down to get it, so I waited for you… and here you are.” He motioned to you, standing only in a t-shirt with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“Go home, Jake.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and opening the fridge. You filled it from the pitcher, placing it back in its spot and kicking the door shut.

“I’m not going home until we talk about it.” He said, his lips turned down into a frown.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I heard you, loud and clear.” You reiterated your point from earlier, trying to hide the distaste in your tone. You turned to walk back into the hallway, almost escaping before he started again.

“There is.” He argued, trying to keep his voice quiet as he begged you to stay. He didn’t want anyone to wake up, to interrupt the moment he’d been waiting all night for. You paused in your tracks, picking up on the urgency in his tone and realizing that maybe you should stay, just to listen at least. Then, as you stood in place, the anger began to return to you.

“What? So we can talk about how bad you don’t want to kiss me? The thought was so terrible that you couldn’t even muster up the strength to do it once? For a game?”

“Y/N, that’s not—“

“No, it is, Jake. I asked you if you wanted to stop, twice! I said we didn’t have to do it, but you said you would, and you made me look like the fucking idiot for thinking that you might actually want to.” You said, pointing a finger at him as tears began to brim your eyes again. “And even if you did, it would mean nothing, right? ‘Cause it was just for the game, and friends kiss all the time. No big deal.” You scoffed, ready to turn on your heel again and leave.

“Christ, Y/N, what is your problem?” He asked, the intensity of the moment growing by the second. He stood from the table, desperate to get to the bottom of your anger. “I get it, that was a terrible thing to say, but I was nervous, and I was put on the spot. I’m sorry I panicked!”

“There’s no ‘but’, Jacob! I mean, what the fuck?” You exclaimed, raising your hand in frustration and letting it fall back to your side. “In the pool, when everyone was gone, you had no problem with it. Clearly, you enjoyed it! So, what is it? You’re only interested in me when nobody’s around to judge you for it?” He physically recoiled at the sound of your words, a look of horror crossing his face as he realized that’s what you thought. He took three long strides towards you, grabbing your arms in his hand as he prepared to confess the truth about the matter.

“You know better than that, trouble.” He said, his words firm but his tone returning to normal. “It’s not like that; you have to believe me.”

“Then what is it, Jake? Because that’s what it feels like, and it’s killing me, and—“

“If you let me talk for a second, I will tell you!” He cut you off, tightening his grip on your arms as he shook you out of the moment of rambling. It was gentle, playful, and exactly what you needed to snap out of it. A laugh fell from your lips, quiet but definitely noticeable. He smiled back, happy to know that despite the confusion and pain, you and him were still the same people.

“Sorry.” You said, sheepishly looking towards the floor. “I get too intense sometimes.”

“Yeah, you think?” He laughed, lifting your chin with his finger so he could take a good look over your face. “It’s okay, trouble. I know you, and it’s okay.” He assured you. “Can I talk now, please? I’ve been sitting here for two hours, looking like an idiot.”

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded, giving a sad smile. You felt bad for accusing him of such things, but your own head was your worst enemy. That in addition to the fact you had never really fought with Jake before made for a deadly combination.

“I wanted to, Y/N, just not like that.” He said, making sure you were actually listening to what he was saying.

“Not like that?” You cocked your head to the side, curious about what he truly meant.

“No, not like that.” He sighed. “Not as a part of a game, when everyone was watching. I didn’t want that for us, trouble.”

“What do you want for us, Jake?” You asked, your voice quiet and your heart aching.

“I…” he trailed off, his expression dropping slightly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You asked, hurt but trying to remain calm.

“I don’t! What do you want, trouble?” You thought about his words, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he put you on the spot.

“I don’t know, either.”

“So stop making me sound like the bad guy! This is weird and confusing, and we’ve never been in this situation before.” He pleaded. You nodded again, sad that you couldn’t seem to stop saying the wrong thing.

“The pool, Jake. What was that?”

“The heat of the moment, I guess?” He said, giving a slight shrug. “You looked so pretty, and you held on to me like that, and it felt good. It felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

“But not now?” You asked, trying to get to the bottom of it. You were so confused, still sad and angry, but relieved that the two of you were at least trying to work it out.

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Y/N. I didn’t say that.” He snapped, his fuse running short.

“You know what, Jake? It’s fine. This is all fine, water under the bridge, forgotten about. We make great friends, we’ve always been good at it, so let’s not fuck it up, now.” You forced the words out, wanting to say anything but that, but it seemed like the only way to make things better. He didn’t know how he was feeling, and if he didn’t know, you certainly couldn’t confess how you felt. “You don’t have to kiss me, and you don’t have to feel bad about not wanting to. It’s okay, and we can wake up tomorrow like it never happened.” You breathed, taking a step away from him.

“That’s it? That’s what you want to do?”

“No, but it seems like you do!” You shot back. “Goodnight, Jake. I’ll see you in the morning.” You turned towards the stairs, trying to hold back your tears until you were alone again, but before you could make it to the hallway, he reached out and grabbed your hand.

When he spun you around, you expected the argument to continue. You expected tears to fall and him to agree with your sentiments in the end, making the fight worth little at all. Instead, once you were facing him, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Before you could process what he was doing, one hand came up to hold the back of your head as he brought his lips to yours. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. His lips were soft, slick with saliva as they moved against your own, and he tasted sweet. His hands on you made your head spin, the strength in which he was holding you could only be equated to his own desperation, and your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest.

As the kiss continued, you feared you would drop the glass of water straight on the floor, but you didn’t care enough to stop him. You were on top of the world, the moment even better than any of the fallacies and daydreams you’d created in your mind. Finally, after so long of pining for him, you had him, and you never wanted to let him go.

Eventually, he pulled away, but did not move very far. His forehead rested on your own, and his shoulders shook with the heavy breaths he was taking. Both of you were at a loss for words, but you felt the need to say something.

“Did you shower? You smell like me.” You asked, nervous and unsure if your question would ruin the whole thing. Thankfully, he let out a laugh, nodding gently against you.

“Yeah, I did. I miss when you lived at my house and I stole your shampoo when mine ran out. It’s always so much better.”

“Right.” You swallowed hard, smiling at him as you tried to feel out the emotion in the room. You didn’t know what he was thinking, and it was bothering you more than you cared to admit. Rarely was there a time when you couldn’t read him, but the entire day had been strange and unusual.

“I wanted to kiss you, trouble. I have for a long time, but I wanted to do it right. I’m sorry I hurt you. I really didn’t want to, but it would have hurt more if you thought it didn’t mean anything to me.” He explained. “And in the pool, I wanted to do that, too. I’ve been thinking about it since I came up with the idea of getting a pool. I know you choose not to see it, and that’s okay, but I’m crazy about you, Y/N, and I have been for a really long time. If they hadn’t come back, I would’ve had my way with you right there in the pool if you would have let me.”

“Jake…” you breathed, unable to process everything all at once. You wanted to jump for joy, to tell him you felt the same way and you were ecstatic to hear him say it, but you were frozen in place. You waited so long to hear it that you had a hard time believing it was real.

“It means something to me, trouble. It means so much to me and I was scared that it wouldn’t mean anything to you. Friends don’t kiss all of the time, and I’m kissing you because as much as I love being your friend, I want more than that. Waking up next to you every day was the best feeling in the whole world, even if it wasn’t the way I wanted to. I want you, Y/N, and I’m not embarrassed about it, or anything like that. I’m scared, and I didn’t want you to see it.”

“It means something to me too, Jake. It means everything to me, and I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way. I want that, too. I want it so bad that it makes my chest hurt and my head spin, and I deny it so much when Josh says it because I was terrified of losing you.” You explained, setting your glass down on the table. “I was heartbroken when I thought you didn’t want to kiss me, because that’s all I want you to do.”

“Then let me do it.” He said, serious but playful. A smile was on his lips, showing how happy he was that everything was out in the air. “Stop trying to run away, or say goodnight, because I don’t want to go to sleep, and I want to kiss you, trouble. Let me make up for it, please.”

“Okay.” You giggled, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Kiss me, then.” With that, he leaned forward, both of his hands dropping to your hips as he brought his lips to yours once again.

This time, it was more comfortable and less urgent. His fingers tightened on you, the fabric of your shirt bunching up in his hands as he pulled you closer. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, the feeling strange but something you were excited to get used to. Everything about the kiss was perfect, exactly what you hoped it would be, but somehow even better than that. It had little to do with the action itself, and everything to do with how right it felt to be in his arms in such a way. After so many years, the both of you knew that it would eventually lead to this, but self-doubt and fear got in the way. It seemed as though everyone else knew long before you did.

When his tongue pushed past your lips, the moment seemed more real than it did before. The taste of him on your tongue sent you spiralling, your body quickly remembering how good it felt to be so close to him. The sexual tension from the pool had left both of you confused and curious, wondering how the situation evolved so quickly. Now that you understood how good it felt to kiss him, you knew the situation did not evolve quickly at all. In fact, it took you years to get there, and one awkward fight over a drinking game.

This was where you were meant to be all along, but both of you were too stubborn to admit it. All of the failed talking stages and flings that amounted to nothing more finally made sense; you were looking for the perfect person in all the wrong places, because he was standing in front of you the whole time, buying kiddie pools and getting ice cream on summer days. He was there, buying plane tickets to see you when your friends hurt your feelings and getting front row seats to every graduation. He was there, calling you every night to see if you were okay, doing everything in his power to keep you happy, and helping you move into his house when you needed him.

Jake was the person you were looking for all along, and you were the same to him; you never needed any romantic fulfillment, because a romantic relationship with someone else paled in comparison to spending every day with Jake, even if it was platonic. He understood you, he cared about you, and he loved you unconditionally, no matter the situation. Talking stages always failed with someone else because you had always been in love with and waiting for him.

The intensity of the kiss did not take long to grow, leaving both of you feeling a little more desperate and a lot more confident. His hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the seam on your underwear on your hip. You couldn’t help but feel like he was wearing too many clothes, and you were thrown right back into the endless pit of emotion you were stuck in as you were wrapped around him in the pool.

His hands flattened against the back of your thighs as he crouched down slightly. He pulled back only for a second as he lifted you off your feet. A gasp left your lips at the sudden movement, and as an instinctual reaction, you locked your legs around his waist. His hands settled on your ass, his grip firm to reassure you that he would never let you fall. The new position was comfortable and exciting, your hips now meeting his in a long overdue reuinion.

“Remember what I said about starting things you couldn’t finish?” He asked, his voice thick with emotion as he looked over your face. His lips were swollen, pink from the constant attention you were giving him, and they were permanently upturned into an irritatatingly beautiful smile.

“Something like that, yeah.” You said, purposefully acting forgetful to get on his nerves. “I think it was you that started it, though.”

“No sweetheart, that was you, walking around in that slutty little bikini all day.” He corrected, taking a step towards the kitchen table. “Sitting on my lap and expecting me not to fuck you?” Your face flushed at his words and you felt the familiar ache between your legs. “Now I have to finish this, and that means we do it my way.” He said, his voice quiet but his tone gruff. He sat you down in the edge of the kitchen table, looking over your face to see any sign of discomfort. “That sound good to you, beautiful?”

“Yes, s-si—“ you cut yourself off, your face burning red as you realized how you were about to address him. He noticed your sudden change of heart, furrowing his brows as he gave you quizzical stare. How were you supposed to address him? Sir seemed like too much for the first time, and you didn’t want to cross any boundaries with him.

‘Daddy?’ You thought to yourself, wondering if maybe he would prefer that. You looked over his face for a moment, feeling stupid for even thinking that. ‘Absolutely not.’ You felt ridiculous for even questioning something like that, and all you wanted to do was shy away from him. It had been so long since you had done anything sexual that all of your game seemed to disappear. That, and the fact that he made you unbelievably nervous. ‘Stop overthinking this. It’s Jake, you know him, and he knows you. It’s fine.’

“What’s wrong, trouble?” He asked, concerned about your sudden withdrawal. You snapped out of your thoughts, your stomach churning with unease and unfortunately, the most intense sexual desire you’d ever felt in your entire life. The entire situation was new, and it was scary. You had known Jake for so long, but never like this, and you were terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing.

“I just… I don’t know how to do this.” You confessed, the words rushing out in a mess of awkward laughter.

“You… you don’t know how to do this?” He raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on his face.

“No, not like that!” You laughed, defending yourself. “I know how to have sex, but I don’t know how to have sex with you.” You clarified. Now, he was laughing with you, and although the awkward moment had passed, you were still embarrassed about slowing the momentum between you.

“I would like to think that it would be the same as having sex with anyone else… except, you know, better, maybe?” You felt like you were going to shrivel up and die at the sound of his words. You had to talk to him, to communicate the things you were feeling, but you couldn’t. It had never been so hard to talk to him before about anything, and you knew it was due to the plethora of feelings coursing through you all at once. You never actually believed the two of you would end up in a situation like this one, and you were terrified of everything.

“I would imagine that it would be the same, Jake.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in attempt to hide yourself from him. “As for better, I don’t know yet, so I can’t really comment any further.” At that, another laugh fell from his lips, making you realize he was more than okay with the pause. He wasn’t judging you, and he didn’t think you were stupid; in fact, the whole thing was probably just as strange for him as it was for you. “I just… this is weird, right? We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t know how we’re supposed to have sex.”

“Okay, then. Let’s talk it out.” He said, giving you a genuine smile to let you know he was more than okay with it. “Usually, I start with taking some clothes off, but if that’s not your thing, we can work around it. Then—“ you cut him off with a smack on the arm, laughing but slightly annoyed with his inability to take you seriously.

“Jake, I mean it.” You laughed, smiling up at him in disbelief.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m just trying to make you feel better.” He chuckled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “I know you, and I know you can’t do anything without talking about it first, so let’s talk. It’s me, trouble, you don’t have to be scared of anything.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but isn’t this just a little weird for you? It’s hot, like really hot, and I really want to do it, but like… what do I call you? Is there things that you don’t like that I shouldn’t do? Or are you into really weird stuff that I’ll have to learn to like?” You asked, your face burning as you squeezed in one last joke. Another laugh shook his shoulders, and you relaxed again. You were overthinking something that was so simple; the dynamic between you two was always so easygoing, and this should be too.

“No weird stuff, I promise.” He laughed, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Well, unless you consider relatively normal things weird, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” You felt yourself start to panic again, but the sound of his laugh soothed your mind.

“Baby, stop freaking yourself out.” He hummed, tilting your head upwards towards him. You felt your heart skip a beat at such a domestic sounding pet name. It felt so good to be called such a thing by him, and even better that it felt like you were his. “It’s just me.” He reiterated the same point.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, Jake.” You sighed, reaching up and placing a hand over his. He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything.” He promised. “Let’s talk about it, I know it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, it will.” You agreed, letting out a small sigh.

“Ask away.” He said, running his thumb over your cheek. The sensation felt so good, so normal for the two of you. You were being crazy, and you knew it.

“What do you prefer to be… called?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’ll answer to whatever you call me… Jake, baby, or any variation of that really… Uhm, lover, but only if you’re really into it.” At that, the both of you shared a childish giggle. His lighthearted response eased all of the work in your mind. “And… sir, too.” He cleared his throat slightly after he said it, averting his gaze as if he was nervous to say it.

“Really? I think I prefer lover.” You grinned, joining in on the joke. He rolled his eyes, playful and relaxed as he did so. “Sir is good.” You said, finally deciding to take him seriously. “I haven’t done this in a really long time, Jake, and I’m scared it’s not going to be… good for you, you know?”

“You could slap me in the face and leave me here all night, and I’m sure I’d still enjoy it, because you’re the one who did it.” He replied, clearly more comfortable when the two of you were joking. “You don’t need to worry about that, angel. I want you, and we’ll figure the rest out, okay?”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He crooned, leaning down and placing a small kiss to your lips. “I’m not going to be too rough with you, but if you need to stop, just tell me. I want you to feel good. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Okay.” You breathed. “You can be a little rough, you know, if you feel like it.” As the words reached his ears, his eyebrows raised and his mouth parted slightly in shock, as if he wasn’t expecting you to say such a thing.

“Okay,” he said, a gleam of excitement in his eye. “Now that that’s settled, I’ll tell you how this is going to work.” He continued, his voice still gentle, but a little more domineering. “I’m in charge, beautiful. Don’t get that twisted.” He leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to your jaw. A shiver of excitement ran down your spine as you felt his lips touch you again.

Slowly, he brought his attention down your neck, exploring the soft skin so he could know you a little better. As his lips landed atop the sensitive spot just below your ear, a breathy moan left your lips, barely noticeable even in the static silence. He let out a hum of satisfaction, happy to have found a sweet spot already. His tongue ran over the area, gentle as he tested his limits. When your hand raised to his bicep, grasping it and pulling him closer, he suctioned his lips to your neck and sucked a mark into the skin.

“If you’ll let me, I’m going to finish what you started, but you have to be good for me, okay?” He said, his lips still ghosting over the love bite he left on your neck.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, much more comfortable with the word now that you talked to him about it.

“That’s it, baby.” You could feel him smile against you. The praise washed over you, settling deep in the pit of your stomach and prompting a rush of emotion straight to your core. A new found confidence washed over you, and you brought your free hand between your bodies and reached down. You wanted to feel him, to know he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. Your hand settled over the bulge in his sweatpants, his cock hard and aching for relief just the same as it was in the pool. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth at the feeling of you touching him, clearly enjoying anything you were willing to give him.

Without thinking too much about it, you began to palm him through his boxers, the pressure just enough for him to feel it through the fabric, and enough to show your enthusiasm now that the awkwardness had melted away.

“Do you get it now? Do you feel how fucking bad I want you?” He hissed, his mouth still hovering over your neck. His warm breath on your skin was exhilarating, and the words he was saying was music to your ears. “Do you know what I would have done to you if they waited to come back, just a little while longer?” You wanted to squeeze your thighs together, just for a touch of relief from the incessant throbbing between your legs, but you didn’t fully thing it through before you did so. As your legs came together, all it did was pull him closer to you, making the sensation so much worse.

“What did you want to do to me, baby?” You asked, playing innocent in hopes that he would continue talking to you. The sound of his voice was overwhelming in the best possible way, the only constant, familiar comfort amidst all of the new sensations.

“I would have bent you over the side of that fucking pool and showed you how much you mean to me.” He said, his gruff tone doing nothing to satiate your need for him. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? Waking up to you every morning, sleeping beside me and having to force myself out of that bed.” He muttered the last part more to himself, still angry that he never found the courage to make a move sooner. “And you thought you were smart, but I knew what you were doing, sweetheart. Every morning, you moved just a little bit closer, and I woke up to that perfect little ass pressed up against me. Did you want me to fuck you, or did you just want to see how far you could take it before you got yourself in trouble?”

With that, he used his hand on your hip to pull you closer to the edge of the table. You retracted your hand from between you, and as he guided you forward, your legs wrapped around him, pulling him further into you. Through clothing, his cock brushed against your core, finally giving you a breath of relief from the growing discomfort.

Then, in a moment of clarity, it all made perfect sense.

Trouble.

He’d been calling you that for so long, you never thought twice about it. The silly nickname carried you through years of your life, calming and comforting as he spoke it through laughs and sometimes tears. Never once did you think that it meant anything more, but now that he spoke the word in a new context, you understood that it meant everything. You had been torturing him for years, just the same as he was doing to you.

“You don’t call me that for no reason, sir.” You breathed, wondering if maybe you thought too much into it, but when he forcefully pulled you forward onto him again and you could feel him smiling against your skin, you knew you hit the nail on the head.

“Took you long enough.” He muttered, his head raising from the crook of your neck to look over your face. “Pretty girl like you causes nothing but trouble.” Your cheeks reddened under his stare once again, but the smile on your face made you forget about it completely.

“You proud of yourself for that one?” You asked, teasing him slightly.

“Got away with it, didn’t I?” Your cheeks hurt from the smile that had stayed constant on them. You were happy, more than you had ever been in your entire life, and you never wanted to let go of the feeling.

“Come here.” You mumbled, hooking your arm around his neck and pulling his face down to meet yours. He wrapped his arms around you, his entire upper body pressed against yours as he kissed you back. His hands found the bottom of your shirt, bunching the fabric in his hands as he began to pull it away from your body. You parted from him just for long enough for him to slide it over your head, and then he was kissing you again.

With the friction he was providing between your legs and your bare chest pressed against his, you couldn’t help but let a moan escape into his mouth. He drank in the sound as if it were necessary for his survival, thriving off it and using it as motivation to continue. Eventually, he moved further down, trailing kisses from your hat to the base of your neck, and then over your collarbone.

“I did want you to fuck me, Jake.” You confessed, finally answering the question he’d asked moments before. “I wanted it so bad. I dreamt about it every night.” You panted, breathless from the overwhelming sensation of his tongue on your skin and your racing heart.

“You should have asked, trouble.” He crooned, slightly disappointed that you never said a word about it. “You know I would have taken care of you. I always do.”

“You do,” you agreed, feeling his head drift even lower. “But that’s not what I was dreaming about, Jake.” You continued, watching him freeze just as he was about to let his tongue trail over your hardened nipple. His eyes flickered upwards, looking over your face as he processed what you were saying. “I know you always take care of me, baby. I wanted to take care of you, to thank you for everything you do for me.” You watched as his pupils engulfed his irises, enticed by your words and crazed with desire for you. You were no different, so far gone that you did not care that you were going to let him fuck you in the kitchen while your friends slept soundly in the other room. You wanted him so bad, and you weren’t sure you could last another minute without him. “Let me do it now, please?” You whispered, sticking your bottom lip out into a slight pout.

“Always so concerned about everyone else, trouble.” He whispered, straightening himself up. He wasn’t stupid enough to deny you of that, so he figured he’d let you have your way first, then he could use the rest of the night to showcase his own desire to please. “You know I’ve always told you to take what’s yours.” He slurred, drunk off lust and already imagining how good your mouth would feel on him. You couldn’t quite grasp the emotion that took over at the sound of his words. Take what’s yours, as if he belonged to you, and you were his.

You slid off of the table, making sure your landing was quiet and secure. You held on to the edge of the table until you were sure you were steady on your feet, and then you took a step towards him. You tried to swallow your nerves, framing yourself as confident as your hands reached out for him. This was something you had unashamedly thought about hundreds of times, but now that the opportunity arose, you were far more anxious than you once thought you would be.

“Hi, beautiful.” He smiled down at you, his eyes soft and his smile warm. In an instant, your fear disappeared, replaced with a blossoming love for him deep in your chest.

“Hi, baby.” You breathed, the word still foreign on your tongue, but feeling better every time you spoke it.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Your fingers drifted over his bare arms, starting there as you worked up the courage to continue. You kept the touch featherlight as it drifted across his stomach and down to the waistband of his sweatpants. You tried not to notice the shiver that ran through him as your fingers dipped below the elastic, doing nothing but teasing him as he awaited your next move. Carefully, you began to crouch down, keeping your movement slow as you pressed kisses to his chest when your mouth passed by.

By the time you were on your knees in front of him, you had little care about embarrassing yourself anymore. The state he was in was your driving force, and you found yourself unable to think of anything other than pleasing him. With one final breath of courage, you pushed past the last boundary that remained between the two of you. You pulled his pants down off of his hips, ensuring that his boxers came down with them. With a hard swallow, you took a moment to digest the situation and its entirety. You were on your knees, eye level with his cock as he watched you, studying every move you were making.

Your gaze flickered up to meet his, innocent and doe-eyed as you gave him a smile. Before your mouth was even on him, his eyes were rolling back in his head. The thought alone was enough to drive him mad, and anything that came after was just one push closer to the edge of insanity. You leaned forward, parting your lips slightly, and you let your tongue rest against your bottom lip. Your mouth landed on the tip of his cock, your tongue gliding over it as the taste of pre-cum filled your senses.

You let out a hum of pleasure, the saltiness causing your mouth to water as your eyes fluttered closed. You moved your head down a little further, taking him into your mouth without ever moving your tongue away from its original position. It felt good. It felt right. You let the saliva build up on your tongue as you flattened it against the underside of his dick, ensuring that it was well lubricated before moving any further.

He was big, definitely much more than you were used to, but you tried not to let it intimidate you as you began to bob your head down on him. At first, you kept it slow, carefully calculating every move you made. Then, a strangled cry left his mouth as his tip hit the back of your throat, and all inhibitions seemed to flee your body. In response, you moaned against him as you moved your head back, the vibration furthering the pleasure he was already getting from your mouth.

“Fuck, angel.” He panted, reaching down and brushing the hair from your face. As a courtesy, he gathered it behind your head and knotted it around his fist, making it a little more comfortable for you. You opened your eyes, needing to catch a glimpse of his face to keep you going. Sometimes, it seemed like it was the only thing that could.

He was looking down at you, his hair falling in front of his face to frame his perfect features. His eyebrows were furrowed together, the wrinkles on his forehead that usually showed his concentration began to pop. His jaw was clenched, the muscles taut as he tried to hold back every sound he was desperate to make. He looked more beautiful than he ever had, and it only made you want to work harder.

The man before you was many things; your best friend, of course, but it always ran a little bit deeper than that. He was one who held great kindness in his heart and love in his eyes no matter where he was or who he was with. He was sweet, soft spoken at times but louder than anyone the next. He was funny, always having a quip lined up or a punchline to spew. More than that, he was yours. Even before your tearful confessions that ensued not even an hour before, he was just that. He would leave anything behind at the drop of a dime if you needed something, and his usual kindness grew tenfold if you were the one in question. He loved to love, but most of all, he loved to love you, in every way he knew how.

Halfway across the world, playing on stages in front of thousands, you were always at the front of his mind. He ran off stage every night to text you, just to tell you how it went and say he wished you were there to share the moment. He opened his home to you without a promise of anything at all, and most importantly, he built you a fucking pool.

Three hours ago, you were near shameful of how strongly you felt for him, but you had no reason to be. He was your best friend, but everyone else knew just as well as you that he was always more than that. There was no shame in falling in love with Jake, because it would be impossible not to. Now that he was truly yours, in every way, you would bend over backwards to make him happy. What you were doing in that moment only felt like a glimpse in time of a lifetime you would spend thanking him for everything he’d already done and would continue to do for you.

As your head sunk down on him again, his hand tightened in your hair. His grip was growing stronger with every bob of your head, and you knew he was doing all he could to hold himself back. As nice as the gesture was, you would have been perfectly fine had he decided to take control.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he hissed through his teeth, his stare intense as he spoke the words. Your cheeks dusted red in the dim light filtering through the window, framing the two of you in the obscene display for the rest of time. You pushed your head down on him again, this time taking him as far as you could. You felt his tip slide down your throat, and you took a long breath of air through your nose to stave off the urge to gag. You held him there for a moment, trying your best to keep yourself calm as you forced yourself to swallow back the salvia pooling in your mouth. Your throat constricted around him as you did so, and in response, he let out the most heavenly sound that had ever graced your ears.

You had never seen Jake in such a state, and although you felt like you should appreciate it, you couldn’t help but feel sad that it had taken you so long to get here. He was desperate, trying and failing to keep his composure, and he was needy. His hips jutted forward every time you bobbed your head down on him, even if he tried to hold himself back. He was lost in the pleasure, and he had never looked so fucking ethereal. Pathetic whines fell from his lips as he tried his hardest to keep quiet, and to be used by him was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever experienced.

You could feel him throbbing in your mouth, desperate for a release as you continued your torment. You were just as worked up, your underwear soaked through with the wetness pooling between your legs, and your were aching for him to touch you. If you weren’t so greedy, you would have let him finish there, just to show him how committed you were to his pleasure.

Just when you thought you were getting him close to the point of no return, his grip tightened in your hair and his body went rigid. Unsure of what was wrong, you tried to continue on as you were seconds before, but his hand holding your head in place made it hard to do so. Before your disappointment really began to sink in, he spoke quietly. So quietly that you almost did not hear him at all.

“Baby, stop.” He pleaded, looking down with wide eyes. Your eyes flickered up to his, questioning his sudden withdrawal as his cock rested on your tongue. “Someone’s coming.” He said, looking over his shoulder at the entrance of the kitchen. At that, a wave of panic filled your chest, hyper aware of the situation you had found yourselves in. He looked at your shirt on the floor, knowing that there wasn’t enough time for you to dress yourself before the two of you were caught. “Get under the table.” You pulled back, taking a long breath as his tip fell from your lips.

Although you felt a little ridiculous hiding in your own home, you figured it would be for the best. Avoiding the awkward situation would be in everyone’s best interest, especially considering the explicit nature of your current state. As you shuffled backwards, hiding yourself under the table, Jake stepped towards your shirt on the ground and kicked it towards you. Then, he rushed to push the chair in, concealing you a little better. He pulled his pants back up over his hips just as the footsteps neared the end of the hallway. Realizing the obvious predicament in his pants, he thought it best to sit back down in the chair at the head of the table, knowing there was no way he could hide it from anyone who walked in, even if the light was turned off.

He pushed the chair in as far as he could, his stomach resting against the edge of the table as he leaned back ever so slightly, ensuring that his lower half was carefully concealed underneath the table. You held your breath, listening carefully as the footsteps rounded the corner and slowed to a stop.

“Oh, hey, Jake.” Roman. The sleep laced in the familiar tone was blatant, and the surprise of seeing Jake sitting, wide awake in the earliest hours of the morning was also quite clear. “What are you still doing up?”

“Oh, you know.” He let out a nervous chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “Just waiting for Y/N to come down so I can talk to her.”

“Right,” he mumbled, taking a few steps towards the refrigerator. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.” Roman asked, opening the fridge to retrieve the water pitcher from inside. The yellow light illuminated the room ever so slightly, making it just a little more obvious that you were stuck under the table, nearly naked and trying your best to stay calm.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Guess I drank a little too much, and I’m trying to figure out how to make up for being an idiot, earlier.” Jake said, clearing his throat slightly as he attempted to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah, that was a shitshow for sure.” Roman chuckled, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. He filled it up with water from the pitcher, thinking carefully about what to say next. “Why don’t you go up there and talk to her? Might be better if you do it sooner rather than later.”

“Already tried that.” Jake chuckled. “She’s as stubborn as I am.” You rolled your eyes at the snide comment, but continued to listen to the conversation between the two. It wasn’t really eavesdropping, considering Jake knew it would be impossible for you not to listen.

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He hummed an agreement, still fighting sleep as he found himself amidst conversation. “You have to tell her, man. It’s just hurting you more the longer you keep it to yourself.”

“Y-yeah, I know.” Jake said, clearly nervous about what Roman would let slip under the impression the two were alone. “Just not as easy as it seems, I guess.”

“Christ, Jake, it’s not like nobody knows. We can see it. You haven’t been on a date in over a year. You spend every day here, man.” He said, pausing for a moment to sip at the water before he continued. You found yourself growing impatient, wondering why Jake wasn’t doing all he could to speed up the interaction. Then, you wondered if he was doing it on purpose to get on your nerves. At that thought, a devious little idea popped up in your mind. You were certain that you would never do something so risky had you not been drinking all day, nor would you have done it if you weren’t so crazed with desire for the man you never thought you would have. “Who knows? She might even feel the same way.” Roman offered, a smile clear in his tone.

Roman was an idiot for suggesting that your love for Jake was something to be questioned. In your entire time on earth, loving Jake was the only thing you’d ever known how to do, which is exactly why you were stuck under the table, hiding from Josh’s boyfriend as you waited for Jake to fuck you. Your love for him was the exact reason you had such convoluted thoughts about your next move, and the exact reason that you couldn’t find any shame as you slowly reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. Well, love, and the overwhelming desire to have him inside you again, in any way you could have him.

As your fingers hooked around the elastic holding the fabric to his hips, he jumped slightly in reaction to the unexpected touch. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, knowing that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Carefully, you pulled his pants away from him, freeing him from them once again. You felt him slouch a little lower in the chair, making it a bit easier for you, and also showing you that he was more than content with your actions.

“Yeah, maybe she does.” Jake breathed, swallowing hard as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, running it slowly up his length. “Wouldn’t that be the dream.”

“I think you might be surprised.” Roman replied, leaning against the counter. “Why didn’t you kiss her, man? I mean, I know, but wouldn’t it have been the easiest way to tell her how you felt?”

“Uhm,” Jake started speaking again, but found it hard to focus on his words as your tongue swirled around his tip. The warm wetness of your mouth was fantastic the first time, but even more so the second. “I just didn’t want to do it like that, you know? She deserves better, and I didn’t want her to think that it was because I had to, rather than because I wanted to.” He answered, his voice higher than usual and his words breathy as they pushed past his lips.

“What are you going to say to her?”

‘God, he talks a lot.’ You thought to yourself, letting a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock. ‘Just like his boyfriend.’ You raised your hand to his dick, using your palm to spread the wetness over him. You heard him take in a sharp breath, trying to keep it concealed as his hips raised in reaction to the touch. You continued to move your hand, stroking him slowly as you lowered your mouth to his tip once again. You could feel him throb in your mouth, pulsating against your tongue as you focused all of your attention on him. He was far more worked up that he was before, and It almost seemed as if the risky act was the cause of his current state.

“I—fuck,” he muttered the curse word under his breath as you bobbed your head down on him. “I don’t know, man. That I’m sorry, and that I love her and everything about her. Maybe that living with her was the happiest I’ve ever been, and that damn house feels like hell without her there to brighten it up. How I wanted to kiss her so bad, and everything she does amazes me, and I’ve only ever wanted her.” He rambled out the list of compliments, the praise indirect but clearly targeted towards you, rather than his conversation with Roman. You felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of his words, more specifically, at the proclamation of love.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good start.” Roman commended Jake for his choice of words. “You sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.” He commented on the strangeness of Jake’s stature and tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jake assured him, nodding his head as he sucked in a sharp breath. “Guess I’m just more upset about the whole thing than I thought.”

“S’okay, man. The two of you will work it out. You always do. I mean, she quit her job and moved to Nashville just to be with you again.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I fucked up, but I’ll fix it.” He said, his hands clenched into such tight fists that his knuckles were white and his fingernails drew blood on his palm. You took him in as far as you could, feeling him hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but you held back a gag, knowing it would do nothing to help your desire to stay hidden. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Roman hummed. “We’re always here for you. You know that.”

“I do, and I appreciate it.” Jake breathed, swallowing hard as he fought a groan.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake. Hopefully you get to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I hope so too. See you guys in the morning.” He said, the words coming out strangled as you suctioned your cheeks around him just a little more. With that, you heard footsteps echoing through the room, fading out the further he walked. After a few seconds, you couldn’t hear anything aside from Jake’s heavy breathing.

He waited a moment, just to ensure that Roman wouldn’t double back into the kitchen and discover the real reason behind his strangeness during their interaction. You continued on as if nothing changed at all, overly excited to please him and uncaring about his thoughts on the matter. When the coast was clear, Jake reached under the table, balling your hair in his fist as he pulled your head away from him. He fell from your lips with a popping sound, and you sucked in a sharp breath, barely realizing how badly you needed the air. He carefully slid the chair backwards, urging you to follow his lead and get out from under the table. When you did, your expression was smug and your eyes were blazing with a fire unfamiliar to him.

“What do you think you’re doing, trouble?” He snapped, his voice hushed so he didn’t catch any more unwanted attention. “You need me so bad you couldn’t even wait for it?” He asked, his tone dangerous and his face painted with a scowl, but you knew him better than to think he was actually angry with you. There was a glimmer of joy in his eyes, playful and light even as his expression directly contradicted his gaze. You gave him a sickly sweet smile, bringing your hand to your chin to wipe away any excess spit still lingering on your skin. “We’re you trying to get yourself caught?”

You weren’t, but you would be lying if you said the idea hadn’t crossed your mind. In the whirlwind of events, you felt like you left your former self upstairs in your bedroom, sleeping soundly under the covers. You were still riding the high of your confession, thrilled that not only did you finally find the courage to admit it, but it was reciprocated. His hands on you felt like heaven on earth, and you finally had the opportunity to live within the dirty fantasy you had created in your mind so long ago. Something about Jake made you want to live on the wild side of things for once, take risks and live without fear of making a mistake or having consequence. You had never felt more alive, and it was all because of him.

“You were?” He came to the conclusion himself, your silence being enough of an answer for him.

“No, sir.” You shook your head, trying to figure out the best way to explain yourself. You weren’t trying to get caught, but the thrill of knowing you could made it all the better.

“Tell me what it is then, sweetheart.” He said, beckoning you towards him. You crawled out from under the table, careful as you rose to your feet and stepped towards him.

“I didn’t want to get caught.” You clarified, smiling down at him as you stood before him.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grinned, holding his arm out for you, hoping you would take the hint and join him. You did as he wanted, carefully placing your legs on either side of him as you straddled him on the chair. His hands landed on your ass, positioning you as you lowered your weight onto him.

“Not lying, sir.” You squeaked the words out, feeling his length press against your clothed core as he used his strength to pull you down on him. As he pressed into you, the slight friction gave you a sense of relief when he brushed against your clit.

“S’okay, trouble. I always knew you were a little whore.” He muttered. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself moving your hips against him, desperate for a bit more than he was giving you at the moment. “Look at you, so desperate to be fucked you don’t care who’s watching.” He growled, his lips close to your ear as you anchored your hand on his shoulder to keep yourself steady. “I can feel how fucking wet you are. Can’t believe all of this was waiting for me the whole time.”

“Are you going to do something about it, or just tell me how bad you want to?” You asked, the burning in the pit of your stomach becoming nearly unbearable.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He snapped, but his hand began to move from your hip, tickling the skin of your back as his fingers trailed upwards. His touch was full of love, assuring you that every word that left his lips was part of an act. Then, the hand that still remained on your hip shifted, and his fingers hooked through the side of your panties. With one sharp tug, the fabric unravelled at the seam.

If you were any less turned on, you might have been angry with him for destroying them, but you wanted him so bad that you did not have a care in the world about it. His other hand did the same to the other side, clearly seeing your enjoyment just from the look on your face. Without any further instructions, you lifted your hips, allowing him to discard the material on the floor with ease. You took it upon yourself to reach between the two of you, grabbing him in your hand and guiding the tip of his cock through the pooling arousal.

“What is it, sweetheart? Do you like the thrill, or are you just desperate to get fucked?” He asked, his voice low. With his mouth by your ear, you heard him loud and clear, and the gravelly sound of his words only made the desire grow stronger. “Be honest with me, baby. I want to know what’s got you so worked up.” He moved your hand away, taking control of the situation as you hovered over him. He guided himself through your folds, slowing his movement as his tip brushed over your clit.

“Both.” You whimpered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his.

“See, Angel? That wasn’t so hard. You have to tell me what you want to get what you want.” He whispered, his lips upturned into a smile. “You like the thrill so much, so I’ll give it to you, but you have to be good for me, okay? Don’t want to actually get caught, because I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.” You felt yourself clench around nothing, the sound of his words prompting a full physical reaction from you. It was a special feeling knowing that he felt some kind of possessive nature when it came to you, that you were his and only he could see you in such a state. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded against him, feeling him line himself up with your entrance.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled. He reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear in a moment of sweetness. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed. He clamped his hand around your mouth, the action rough and unexpected. You didn’t have any time to register it, because at the same time, he used a hand on your hip to pull you down on him.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming almost immediately, and you found yourself grateful for his palm tightly wrapped around your lips, ensuring that not a single sound could escape you. His size was something you were not used to, but it didn’t take long to adjust to the feeling. He was easy on you for a moment, realizing that maybe he was a little to rough for your liking, but when your desperate eyes met his, telling him all he needed to know, his head fell back on his shoulders and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

You took the initiative, beginning a slow roll of your hips against him. You watched as his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed back every sound you were desperate to hear. He felt even better than you imagined he would, filling you up better than anyone else ever could. The position allowed for him to fill you completely, his tip brushing against the sweet spot inside of you with every move you made. It was addicting, and you felt greedy even as you had him so completely, because it still wasn’t enough.

As you rocked your hips against him, he placed his hand on your ass, pushing you further down on him as you moved forward. His hand on your mouth did well at silencing you, but you still found yourself letting muffled moans fill the air.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He growled, taking a long breath to calm himself down. “So fuckin’ tight.” He muttered under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he focused on the feeling of being inside of you. You sped your movements, using his words as motivation to work harder. He let out a low groan, trying to keep it quiet so he did not disturb anyone in the other room. He surpressed it relatively well, until it trailed off into a whine. The sound was beautiful, making your walls clench around him, pulling him even further.

The two of you were a mess, completely infatuated and only able to think of the undying need you had for each other. The thought of stopping what you had started seemed equal to torture, and he wasn’t sure he could stop himself even if someone were to catch the two of you in the act.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asked, the sound of his voice settling deep in your spine and engulfing your stomach into flames. “Wanted it so bad you couldn’t even let me take you upstairs?” He continued, doing the best he could to move his hips in time with yours, making the sensation all the more powerful. You nodded against his hold, almost sad that you couldn’t tell him how good he was making you feel, sad that he couldn’t hear how desperate you were for him to keep fucking you.

His grip was tight on you, his fingers painfully sharp against your skin as he held your ass in his hand. You knew there would be bruises on you by the time the morning came, and the thought only seemed to push you closer to the edge. You wanted to remember, to be reminded of every dirty detail the night held every single time you looked in the mirror. To you, there was nothing better in the world to think about. After fantasizing about finding yourself in the position with him for so long, there was nothing more euphoric than finally having him in such a way.

“Tell me how fucking good it feels.” He hissed, slackening his grip on your mouth. “Want to hear all about it, trouble.” You let out a long breath, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible as you leaned forward towards him. You settled your mouth over his ear, keeping your voice low as you told him the things he so desperately wanted to hear.

“God, you feel so good, sir.” You whined, your lips grazing against his earlobe as you spoke. “Nobody else could ever make me feel this way.”

“That’s right, baby.” He crooned, happy that you’d drawn that conclusion all on your own. “You were always mine, weren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yes.” You gasped, feeling his hand guide your hips down on him particularly hard.

“All those other boys didn’t mean anything, hmm? ‘Cause you were always going to end up in my arms, right?” He continued his tyrant as you felt one of his hands creep up to the back of your neck. His fingers clamped down on your neck, closer to the base of your skull, almost as if he was holding on in fear you would pull away. He needed to hear the words, he needed to know that he hadn’t created a fallacy in his head and gotten the situation misconstrued. He needed to know that he was to you what you were to him.

“I only ever wanted you, Jake.” You confessed, knowing that no matter how hard you denied it, it was the truth. Heartbreaks did not hurt you the way they were described in movies. Dating never interested you as a teen preparing to leave for college, nor as a young adult who had spent the majority of her life single. You didn’t fawn over cute boys or go out to the bar in search of company, because you didn’t care about anyone the way you cared about Jake.

“Say it, trouble. Want to hear the words.” He muttered, holding your head close to his ear so he didn’t miss a single syllable of the phrase.

“I’m yours, Jake. All yours,” You whispered, feeling the pressure in your belly reach a new high. “I always have been, and I always will be.” You finished off the statement by letting your teeth graze over his earlobe. Gently, you pulled it between your teeth, holding him in the position as you allowed him to grasp the full intent of the sentiments.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, easing up on the pressure he was holding your head with as you placed a kiss just below his ear. You pulled away from him slightly, just enough so you could turn your head upwards towards his. When the position allowed for it, you pressed your lips to his, showing him that you meant every word of what you said.

The kiss itself was bordering pornographic, not even close to the sweetness of the ones that came before. It was a mess of tongues and teeth, neither of you caring about the impracticality of the action and only concerned about having each other in every way you could. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, applying slight pressure as he held your hips down on his. You let out a moan into his mouth, your hand on his shoulder slipping to the base of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you keen on breaking the position until he pulled away first. Without moving his lips too far from your own, he began to speak, abundantly clear and concise about what he wanted of you.

“Listen to me, trouble.” He urged, his breath on your skin sending goosebumps rising across your entire body. “I want you to stand up, and grab your clothes off the floor, okay?” He asked, waiting for you to respond before explaining any further. You nodded, showing him you understood all that he was saying. “When you bend over, make sure you do it real slow, because I’ve been waiting to see you like that all fucking night.”

“Okay.” You smiled, waiting patiently for him to finish his instructions.

“Then, you’re going to go upstairs, and I’ll be right behind you, angel, waiting to keep fucking you. I’m done keeping you quiet. Don’t care if the whole fucking house hears you once we get up there.” He spoke with a slight gruffness to his voice that you had never quite heard from him before. Now that you had heard it, you never wanted him to speak to you any other way. “Understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” You breathed, taking one last look over his face as you bargained with the thought of parting from him. As you pulled away from him, he wrapped his arm around you, stopping you from moving any further.

“Wait.” He said, pulling you back into him. He crashed his lips back on to your own, savoring the sweetness for just a minute longer before he let you carry out the task he’d given you. “There. Go, before I change my mind again.” He ordered. You gave him a smile as you stood to your feet, finding the loss of him inside of you nearly devastating. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” He said, reaching forward and lightly smacking your ass as you turned around.

Your face turned red as you leaned down, making sure to give him a show as you collected your shirt from the ground. You heard him let out a shaky breath as he watched you; you could feel his eyes on you, never trailing off course as you straightened back up. You looked back over your shoulder, soaking in the feeling of seeing his expression, lustful and dazed as his eyes traveled from your ass to your face. To top it off, you gave him a wink before you threw your shirt over your head, covering yourself in case you ran into anyone on your way upstairs.

Before you even stepped towards the stairs, he was standing up and grabbing the torn remnants of your underwear off the floor. With two long strides, he was behind you again, adjusting himself in his pants as he pulled them back over his hips. Together, you went upstairs, sneaking past the sleeping boys in the living room and rushing down the hallway. When the door closed behind the two of you, you wasted no time throwing your shirt to the floor. You flopped onto the bed, on your back as you grinned up at him. You watched as he kicked his pants and boxers to the side before his attention landed on you again.

“You remember what I said, sweetheart?” He asked, approaching the end of the bed as he gazed down upon you. You settled yourself amongst the pillows, smiling up at him as you gave a nod of your head. “I want to hear all of it. Don’t care about anything other than that, actually.” You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you at his words, finding it funnier than he meant to be.

“Whatever you want, sir:” You made sure to enunciate the word carefully, ensuring the impact would be made.

“Fuck, you’re hot.” He seemed to break from the facade slightly, amazed that you were actually in front of him, saying all the things he dreamed to hear from you. “How did I get so lucky?” He asked, falling to his knees on the bed before you. The question was rhetorical, not meant to be answered, but he felt the need to express his gratitude for the moment.

He moved towards you, letting his hands dust over your thighs as he settled himself between them. He took his time, letting his hands graze every available inch of you. Then, when he satisfied his need to touch you, he hooked his arms underneath your thighs, using a small amount of force to pull you towards him. You let out a gasp, not expecting the sudden movement. The scratch of the sheets against your legs sent a shiver down your spine as you slid down the mattress towards him, amplifying the sensation in the pit of your stomach that had only been growing more intense as time went on.

He pressed his lips to the inside of your thighs, soft and gentle as he worked his way upwards. As his mouth neared your core, your breathing became more shallow, finding yourself nearly driven to insanity just from the thought of his tongue on you.

“It’s a sin that I got to feel you before I got to taste you.” He spoke quietly, as if he was talking to himself more than he was talking to you. “Didn’t even properly appreciate all that I have.” He continued, his lips moving away from your leg and closer to your cunt. “Please don’t think I’m going to make it a habit, trouble.” Before you could respond, he closed the gap between the two of you. He flattened his tongue against you, savoring the taste of his hard work as he moved from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh, fuck.” You let out a shaky sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation. It had been so long since you had anyone touch you so intimately, and never had you found someone who could do it so well. He circled his tongue around your clit, agonizingly slow as he tried to cement the memory in his brain for eternity.

He let his tongue dip back down to your entrance, pushing it inside of you with little hesitation. The feeling was new, but it was fantastic. He curled it as he pumped it into you, keeping the movements steady and similar every time he did it. Your hands snaked down towards his hair, tangling the soft locks around your fingers as you silently urged him to continue.

His motions began to grow more comfortable as he became more familiar with you. He wanted to know the things you liked, what could make you take your clothes off without a second thought, and what could make you come undone within minutes. He wanted to know everything about you, all of the things you had kept secret before. Now, there were no more barriers or boundaries holding him back, and he wanted to make himself an expert on anything concerning you.

As his tongue pumped inside of you again, he let out a hum of pleasure. The vibration ran through you, seemingly rattling your bones and throwing you completely off course. It knocked the air straight from your lungs and caused your fingers to tighten in his hair. On your own accord, you threw your leg over his shoulder, twisting it around him slightly to pull him closer. He took the action as a plea for more, and when it came to you, he would give you anything you wanted. He picked up his pace, pulling you down a little closer to him. You couldn’t help but grind your hips against his mouth as he worked at you, swallowing down every last drop of arousal you had to offer him.

When the first moan slipped past your lips, he was almost dejected by the thought of not being there to drink it in as you let it go. That thought quickly passed as he realized how badly he wanted to hear it again. He withdrew his tongue, turning his attention to your clit again in hopes that it would help you loosen up, and more importantly, get loud. The whole reason he urged you to come upstairs in the first place was because of the beautiful sounds he knew you would make, and he would have been lying if he said he wasn’t determined to hear every last one of them.

You let out a whine, long and drawn out as he suctioned his lips around your clit. You could feel the sly smile form on his lips as he heard it, breaking the momentum only for a moment until he could focus again. This time, he let a moan out, unable to contain his own enjoyment of the moment. The knowledge that he was getting off over pleasing you was almost too much to take, and you felt yourself begin to grow delirious from the thought alone.

“Taste so sweet, angel, just like I thought you would.” He pulled his mouth away from you for just long enough to spew the praise. You let out a breathy moan, thrown into a whole new wave of pleasure at the sound of his words. You knew that you were close to the edge, with everything he’d done to you so far and what he was doing now, you were long past the point of holding yourself back.

“Jake, m’so close.” You gasped, feeling it become harder and harder to keep yourself quiet. A particularly vulgar moan filled the quiet air, and you noticed as it reached his ears, his hips grinded downward into the mattress. He was aching for relief again, worked up to the point of desperation like he was before you ever touched him at all.

Had the situation been anything close to normal, you might have been embarrassed over your shameless need for him, but you didn’t care in the slightest. Years of sexual tension had finally resulted into one, climactic end. You needed him like you needed water to survive. Now that you had a taste of what he had to offer, you would never be able to live without it. Every daydream you created in your mind didn’t even come close to the reality of the situation.

“Jake, baby, please don’t stop.” You pleaded, finding yourself gripping his hair so tightly that your knuckles began to ache. You were grinding your hips against his tongue, needing more than he could possibly give you as he did his best to bring you to an orgasm. “Oh, god.” You cried, your head falling back against the pillows as a wave of euphoria washed over you.

The orgasm was different than any you had before, and you knew it was because he was the one who gave it to you. Your body felt light, almost as if it would float away if he wasn’t there to hold you to earth. His tongue coaxed you through the process, his movements gentle and full of love. Your entire body was ablaze with pleasure, like every nerve ending was searing with their very own red hot flame. It felt so good that you grieved the end before it ever came, and it was so intense you prayed you would survive it.

When you relaxed against the mattress, he pulled away from you, quick and ready to move on. You barely caught your breath before he began to speak, sending your already busy mind swirling with even more nonsense.

“Get up, trouble.” He ordered, repeating himself for a second time before you processed what he was saying. You stared at him, finding a strange comfort in the sight of his face as you tried to bargain with the unfamiliar feelings coursing through your veins. “Get the fuck up,” he snapped, quickly losing any bit of sweetness he had left in him. “Don’t make me say it again.” He warned.

That time, his words actually struck the right spot in your brain, allowing you to comprehend the situation. You sat up, watching him for a moment as you awaited further instructions. He laid down on the mattress, his cock painfully hard as he reached down and stroked himself. The relief was not the same as what you could provide him, but it would suffice for the moment.

“Come here.” He ordered, holding his arm out to you. You did as he asked, scrambling to your knees and making a move to straddle him again. When your knees landed on either side of him, hovering over his cock, he grabbed your hips before you could move any further. You furrowed your eyebrows, still strung out on your climax as you tried to understand what he wanted from you. “My face, sweetheart.” He explained, his expression serious as he spoke the words. “Sit on my face.” He continued once he realized you still weren’t quite grasping his intent.

“Oh,” you mustered the strength to speak, only slightly embarrassed over your misunderstanding. You did as he asked, slowly shimmying your way up his body until your thighs were grazing his cheeks.

“That’s better, angel.” He softened his tone ever so slightly, worried he might have been too harsh with you. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He asked you as he admired the view from below. He didn’t give you time to answer before he did it for you. “Every fucking morning I’d wake up disappointed that I didn’t have you like this.” He settled comfortably between your legs as if it were natural, like it was home and he’d been suffering from a nasty bout of homesickness. “Don’t make me wait any longer for it, sweetheart. I don’t think I can take it.”

With that, you lowered your hips down so his mouth connected with your cunt once more. The new position made it so the same action felt entirely different. You were hovering just above his mouth, allowing him to lift his head to connect with your core. You were fearful of hurting him, but he was having none of it. His hands clamped down on your hips, pulling you down towards him so your body weight rested on his face. It made the position less awkward for you, and much more enjoyable.

His tongue started at your entrance, repeating the same motions as earlier. He curled his tongue inside of you, fucking you with it in the same way he would do with his hands or his cock. As he did so, you felt the tip of his nose brushing over your clit, adding the extra bit of stimulation needed to make the entire process otherworldly. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure coursing through you, and your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. The only thoughts in your mind were filthy, all pertaining to the man below you as he guided you to rock your hips against his tongue with his hands.

You bit down on your lip, still having some fear of disrupting your friends sleeping in the other room, but it didn’t take long for that worry to dissipate along with every other one you ever had. Your moans were desperate, pornographic, and exactly what he wanted to hear. They drove him to work harder, drawing inspiration from every sound you made so he knew where to improve on his next move. He was a man gone mad; completely and utterly lost in his own need for you. When he needed a breath of air, he moved his head up just enough so his nose wasn’t covered, and he settled his tongue over your clit.

He was working at you with intent. The first orgasm was a slow build, and he ensured that it was memorable. Now, he was desperate to drive you to that state again. He felt like he needed it to survive, to feel your thighs squeeze against his skull as profanities fell from your lips, that every time your hips grinded against him for that extra bit of friction, you were forcing a little more life into his lungs. In the moment, he felt like he only existed to please you, that the only reason for his existence was to make you happy and ensure that you were taken care of.

He was more in love with you than he ever thought possible, and he was determined to prove it to you. All of your self-doubt and second guessing had hurt him in the worst way possible. To know that he loved you so deeply and you thought he didn’t was painstakingly hard for him to digest, and the words you spoke in your moment of high emotion stuck with him. He knew he did wrong, that he hurt you even though he thought he was doing the opposite, and he never wanted to make you feel that way again. The only thing he knew how to do was love you, and he would be damned if you ever thought otherwise.

You were bordering your second orgasm, his unwavering attention on your already sensitive body was overwhelming in the best possible way. You’d grown much more relaxed as the minutes passed, and you were having a hard time keeping yourself upright as he continued his relentless pursuit for your pleasure. Your stomach was engulfed in flames, the knot tightening with every flick of his tongue, and he could tell that he was pushing you closer to the edge. Your thighs tightened around his head, drawing him in and locking him there so you did not lose your momentum.

Your breathing was ragged, heavy as it shook your shoulders and made your chest heave. Curses and utterances of praise fell from your lips, commending him from his hard work, and the moans that followed were the best compliment he could ever receive. He wanted it almost more than you did, and he made it clear that he wouldn’t stop until he had it.

“Jake,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezed shut and your eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. Sweat glistened on your forehead as you felt the familiar sensation begin to pulse under your skin. Your entire body was thrown back into pleasure and you were like an addict searching for a fix. You moved your hips against him in time with his tongue, both of you working together to achieve the common goal. Your abdomen was tense, sore from the tightness of your muscles, and your hips ached from the strength in which he was holding you to him.

“Fuck!” You groaned, the sensation becoming too intense to withstand. With one last flick of his tongue, you were sent spiraling all over again. Your legs tightened around his head, your hips locked in place as your hands began to tremble from the intensity of the feeling. Your lungs burned for a breath of air as your entire body froze in place, but his tongue didn’t slow, and he wasn’t going to back down until he was certain that he utilized every bit of his power to make sure you were satisfied.

Finally, the moment seemed to pass and your body went lax against him. You took in a sharp breath, filling your lungs with the breath they had been begging you to take. Your head was spinning and your eyes were heavy, tired from all of the night’s activities thus far. He used his hands on your hips to lift you from his face, catching his own breath as you took the time to come back to earth.

“Being so good for me, baby. Don’t give up on me now.” He pleaded, noticing your drooping eyelids and the exhaustion written all over your face. “We’re just getting to the good part.” He said, carefully shimmying his way upwards. You lifted yourself up, using your last bit of energy to help him as he settled his hips underneath yours.

Without another word, he guided you down so the tip of his cock met your cunt again, sliding through the wetness and landing on your clit. Your body’s natural reaction was to meet his movement, your hips going in search of something you weren’t sure you could handle. He was watching you, his pupils engulfing his irises as lust began to craze him all over again. He used one hand to line himself up with your entrance, and slowly, he lowered you onto him. The feeling of him filling you again was so good, but almost too much for you to handle in your fucked-out state. You lowered yourself down until he was filling you completely, the tip of his cock resting against your cervix as the two of you sat still for a moment, enjoying the closeness amongst all of the chaos.

“Just for a second, baby. Just wanted to feel you again, and then I promise I’ll do the rest of the work.” He said, inadvertently begging you to look at him, to catch his gaze and say something. Your silence was concerning him, although not completely. He knew he’d just put you through a whirlwind of emotion and excitement all at once, and he was well aware you just needed a moment to process it.

“God, you feel so good.” You muttered, raising one hand to his chest. You placed your palm flat against it, holding yourself upright in fear you might fall as you began to rock your hips against him again. You weren’t sure where the energy was coming from; you were exhausted, beyond any kind of tired you had ever felt before. You were ready to get under the blankets and fall asleep next to him, but your body was telling you otherwise. Your need for him was primal, extending far beyond any rational thought or need for rest. You couldn’t resist it, and you couldn’t stop it.

“You take it so fucking good, trouble.” He groaned, raising his hips off the bed as he held your body to his own. “Do you like being a whore for me? Letting me do whatever I want to you?”

“I do,” you whined, nodding as your eyes stayed closed. “I love it, baby.”

“Fucking right you do.” He muttered, letting his eyes rake over the pretty picture sat atop of him.

He stared at your face, drinking in the detail of your messy hair and your flushed cheeks. He noticed the swell of your lips, pink and perfect as they enticed him to lean in for another taste. His gaze traveled down to your chest, watching as your breasts bounced with every move of your hips. Then, they moved to your stomach, which was tense as the muscles supported your movements. Eventually, his eyes landed on the exact spot where your body met his. He watched closely as you raised yourself off of him, driven mad by the sight of him fucking into you as you lowered yourself back down.

Perfection wasn’t even a close enough word to describe how he thought of you, and he truly believed he was the luckiest man to ever live.

He let you set your own pace for a moment, hoping that the break would allow for you to recover enough for him to take over again. You kept a slow, steady pace, fuelling the fire in your belly even further every time you came down on him. Your whole body was sensitive, still tingling with the ghost of pleasure from your last orgasm. Every sensation was amplified by a million, every touch all the more beautiful and every emotion was felt so much stronger.

“Look so pretty on top of me, trouble.” He rasped, drunk off the feeling of loving you and cursing himself for not saying anything sooner. “Makes me want to keep you like this forever.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” you breathed, smiling down at him. You took a moment to admire him, his hair laying on the mattress below him, framing his perfect face. His cheeks were tinged red, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you continued to roll your hips against him. His lips were parted, shallow breaths escaping him as he let you do as you pleased with him. His biceps were flexed, the muscles visible as he held your hips, aiding your movements. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his breathing ragged as he tried to keep himself from reaching his own climax.

He was the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on, and the most precious thing you ever had the pleasure of touching.

You were working yourself up to another orgasm, the pace slow but impactful. He noticed the expression on your face change, your breathing speed as your movements became more frantic. You wanted to chalk it up to the sensitivity of your body, tired and pushed to its limit, but you knew it wasn’t true. The simple thought of being his forever was enough to send you over the edge; you wanted to love him, and for him to love you, openly and unapologetically instead of quietly and secretly. You wanted to be with him, to wake up next to him again and this time, start your day by telling him how much he meant to you, to show him how much he meant to you.

To know he felt the same was enough to drive you crazy, and that’s exactly what it was doing.

“You going to give me another one, baby?” He asked, removing one hand from your hip. As he awaited a response, he brought his middle finger to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as he pushed it past his lips. He collected some spit on the tip of his finger, retracting the digit from his mouth and reaching between your legs. He settled his attention in your clit, tracing circles around it as you continued to use him to get yourself off. “Come on, Angel. Let go.” He whispered, his tone sweet as he urged you to give in to the feeling.

“Oh, god.” You whimpered, your shoulder locking as you tried your best to hold yourself upright. Your eyes were shut, your entire body trembling as you prepared for the storm to wash over you.

“Look at me.” Jake growled, increasing the pressure of his finger on your clit. The harsh words sent a rush of pleasure through you, your walls tightening around him as you peeked at his face through your eyelashes. “That’s it. There’s my beautiful girl.” He breathed, watching as your head tilted back over your shoulders.

“Fuck,” you hissed, feeling the warmth begin to spread throughout your entire body. You could feel it from your toes to the very tips of your fingers, behind your eyes and deep in your chest. Your legs vibrated as you used all of your strength to keep moving your hips, and your arm threatened to give way under the pressure.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, trouble?” He asked, his words trailing off as his chest rattled with another deep groan. His breathing was ragged, his fingers barely able to keep up with the simple circle he was tracing into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

As your climax hit its peak, your arm slackened and your upper half fell forward towards him. He used the moment to his advantage, removing his hand from your hip and bringing it to the back of your neck. He pulled you all the way down, your chest pressed against his as he leaned towards you for a kiss. With his lips on yours and your hips still moving against his, you were certain there would never be a greater pleasure in your entire life. His lips silenced the moans falling from your own, and he held you close to him until he felt you begin to relax against him.

Once he knew the most powerful part of the moment had been spent, he removed his finger from your clit and wrapped his arm around you. In one swift motion, he broke from the kiss and used his strength to flip the two of you over. You landed with your back against the mattress and he settled between your legs, still inside of you and wasting no time as he began the final stretch of the night.

As he began to drill his hips into yours, relentless and unforgiving despite your already tired body, he took it upon himself to grab a pillow from beside him. When you noticed what he was intending to do, you lifted your head, shaky and delirious from the strength of his thrusts as he slipped it under your neck.

Once you were settled comfortably, he trailed one of his hands down your thigh, landing on your knee as he wrapped his fingers around your leg. With a little help from you, he guided your leg around him, using the anchorage point to pull your hips down further towards him. As he did so, he thrusted his own hips forward, the impact of his movements sending a yelp escaping from your lips. A sadistic smirk formed on his lips at the sound, realizing that this was the exact position he wanted to get the most out of the situation. He moved himself forward, leaning back on his knees as he guided your other leg around him.

The position change meant that his pace would slow, but it would significantly increase the strength in which he could fuck into you. You crossed your ankles behind his back, holding your legs in place as his hands went in search of your hips. With every thrust of his hips, he pulled you down on him. His cock brushed against your cervix, sending a rush of painful pleasure straight to the pit of your stomach. Now, there was no holding back; you were whining, moaning and crying his name as he utilized his new found freedom to torture you in the best way possible.

“Please, Jake, don’t stop.” You panted, barely squeezing the words out amidst the moans he was coaxing out of you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really do take it well.” He commended you as you reached out for his arm, your throat raw as you begged for him to continue. “You want more?” He inquired, ensuring he was hearing you right as he studied the dazed look in your eye.

“Please, baby.” You nodded, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. He let out a low chuckle, leaning his body back slightly and his head forward. Without a second thought, he centered his mouth with your cunt, not even thinking of pulling out of you as he let a trail of spit fall from his lips, rather forcefully at that.

You swallowed hard, your eyes widening as you processed the degrading act. If it were anyone but him, you might have recoiled from the crude behavior, but on him, it looked fucking good. As he continued to fuck you, he reached his fingers between your legs again, using his generously provided lubrication to continue his torment on your clit.

“What?” He snapped, looking down at your surprised eyes. “You said you liked being a whore for me. Don’t be so fucking surprised when I use you like one.” You felt the blood drain from your face at the sound of his vile words, but it didn’t deter the growing pressure in the pit of your stomach. It fueled it further, increasing it ten-fold with the one simple statement. You could not find the strength to verbally respond to his statement, instead feeling your lungs burn as another pitchy whine filled the air. His lips twitched upwards into a smirk, happy that his words had the effect he hoped they would.

He did not have to work very hard to get you to the brink of insanity, another orgasm an imminent threat as he continued his relentless pursuit for your pleasure. He watched you carefully, focused on the way your body moved when his hips connected with yours. He was carefully attentive to the expression on your face, hyper-aware of every shift in your features in case you experienced a single moment of discomfort.

He was filthy, his words vulgar and his movements obscene. The picture the two of you found yourselves in had long past pornographic, something that only existed in the very depths of your minds when you were trying to sleep at night, but not once did he make you feel unloved, or used in any way negative. Despite the act he put on, you could see the care behind his eyes, and you could feel it in every touch and every action.

“You think you can give me one more?” He asked, but his words were barely phrased as a question.

“I don’t know, baby.” You whimpered, already feeling yourself reach the limit. It was not a question of if you could, but rather if you could survive it. Your entire body felt like it would give out, like you would collapse from exhaustion if you continued on the way you were going. You felt the intensity of the climax before it even began, but you feared you might not be able to handle it when it came.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really asking, trouble.” He clarified, adding a little more pressure to his touch on your clit. “You can do it, sweetheart. Been so good for me all night, just a little longer.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, trying to pull yourself together for long enough to give him what he was asking for. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking long breaths as you bargained with the devil. The godless acts you engaged in that night made all of your prayers go unanswered, and you knew there was only one person who was listening, now, and you needed his strength to get through it.

You focused on the feeling of him inside you, how well he filled you, how perfect the two of you fit together. You thought of the pleasure with every withdrawal of his hips and the painful sensation every time he slammed himself into you. The two together made an otherworldly combination, but you feared that even that wasn’t enough to force you over the edge.

Getting irritated with your lack of understanding of his need to give you another orgasm, he slowed himself just enough to adjust his position. The hand still lingering on your hip loosened, and he leaned his upper body forward, just a little closer to you. As his fingers continued to trace your clit, he let his forearm rest over your lower abdomen, underneath your belly button. Then, he applied the slightest bit of pressure there, allowing you to get used to the sensation before taking it any further.

A desperate cry left your lips, the small sensation making the world of difference in the moment. As he leaned forward a little further, careful not to take it too far, the pleasure began to grow into something incomprehensible. He was doing so skillfully, applying pressure atop your bladder, which in turn, applied a whole new pressure to your g-spot as he fucked into you.

“That’s it, angel.” He growled, not caring that he was doing the brunt of the work in the moment, because he knew it would be worth it for him. “That’s my girl.” He continued, coaxing you to give in to the feeling one last time. Your walls fluttered around him, drawing him in further as the pleasure reached its peak.

“Jake,” you tried to warn him, but his name barely left your lips before you felt yourself slipping into the state of euphoria only he could give you. Your mind went blank, your eyes squeezed shut as your limbs locked and your legs trembled. You couldn’t breathe, the sensation so intense that it almost forced you to forget how to do so.

Seeing you in such a state again sent him over the edge, and he knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. As you descended into your orgasm, so did he. You grasped at his arm, holding him close to you as you cried his name. His hips stuttered, losing the momentum as he withdrew a sharp breath. He muttered a long slur of curses, mixed with small praise as he spilled his release into you, dragging out the feeling for as long as possible. By the time you came down, his orgasm was beginning to fade away, too.

Both of you were breathless, trying to settle the mess of racing thoughts in your minds. He eased up on the pressure he was applying above your hipbone, slowly so the loss did not affect you too badly. He removed his hand from your clit, moving it over your thigh as he placed his hand against the warm skin. Gently, sweetly, he rubbed his hand over your limb, the soft touching helping you come back to reality a little faster. He looked down at where your bodies met, enjoying the view of him buried inside of you as he withdrew his hips slightly. He took in a shaky breath as he gently pushed his hips forward again, fucking his release back into you.

A small sigh left your lips, the feeling of his slight movements amplified by a million after your final orgasm of the night. Eventually, he pulled himself out of you completely, keeping his hand on your leg as he did so. You tried to fight the sinking disappointment in your chest as you noticed the emptiness you felt without him inside you.

Neither of you spoke for a short time, wanting to let the energy of the moment exist in the air for a while before you moved on to anything else. He collapsed on the bed beside you, looking over at you before pulling you into his arms. You melted into the touch, exhausted and comforted by the familiar feeling of his arms around you. You laid your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your face as you fought sleep. It would be so easy, so peaceful to spend the night in the same position, not having to worry about anything else, but you knew a conversation was long overdue.

“I, uh…” he trailed off, taking in a deep breath as he thought about what he wanted to say. “We’re good at being friends, trouble, and we always have been, but I’d like to learn how to be good at being in love with you, too. So far, I’ve sucked at it.” He confessed, his voice quiet and his demeanour anxious.

“I haven’t been very good at it either, but I think I’d also like to learn.” You confessed, your stomach filled with warmth and swarming butterflies.

“Be my girlfriend, Y/N. It’s not much different than what we do now, but with a whole lot more fun.” You laughed, finding his way of asking objectively strange but perfectly fitting for him and your relationship with each other. “Don’t laugh at me. That doesn’t make me feel great.” He chuckled, clearly joking but still a bit nervous of rejection.

“Of course I will, Jacob.” You assured him, unable to believe he really thought you might say no.

“Okay, great.” He let out a breath of relief at the sound of your words. “And obviously not right away, or anything like that, but I think I’d like you to move back in with me. Whenever you’re ready, of course. I miss you when you’re not there. Doesn’t feel right without you.”

“What?” You asked, sitting up with an incredulous look on your face. He recoiled slightly, worried that he said something wrong, but you quickly continued your statement to ease his fears. “And get rid of the pool you worked so hard to build for me?”

“Fuck that pool, trouble.” He laughed, catching on to your joke as quickly as you spewed it. “Sell this place and come back to me, and I’ll build you a thousand fucking pools. I’ll give you whatever you want, s’long as I get to call you mine and wake up next to you again.”

“No need for a thousand pools, Jacob.” You grinned, finding his sentiment sweet but completely unnecessary. “No need for anything at all, because being yours is all I want to do.” With that, you leaned down and placed a kiss to his lips, feeling more at home than you had ever felt before.

Tags: @brookekiszkaa

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dingochef · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A girl's night out gets steered in a different direction, much to your disgruntlement. You meet the human version of a Ken doll, who happens to be a Naval Aviator and are not impressed.

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Lieutenant Mansplain

You're on your way back from the bathroom when you see that the table you left your two friends at is now empty. Scanning around the bar you spot Lydia’s unmistakable red hair in a sea of khaki clad bodies around the pool table. This was supposed to be a stereotypical “Girls Night Out” to help soothe Beth’s (the other friend lost to military uniforms and god knows what else) recently broken heart.

You were looking forward to it after the week you had at work. The good news was that the latest Darkstar prototype had made it Mach 10, the bad news was that it vaporized somewhere over the Sierra Nevada mountains. By some divine reason or mostly the life preservation pod that you had worked months on worked exactly as designed and the pilot survived without injury. The pod had worked a lot better than the heat shielding had. Such was life working for Lockheed Martin's legendary Skunk Works. The cutting edge of aircraft design meant big successes and failures.

Instead, Lydia has turned it into a fishing expedition, the girl has a serious military kink and was probably drawn in by some tractor beam to all the uniforms, nametags, and those ribbon thingies you can never remember the correct name for. Sighing deeply, you walk up to the bar and catch Penny’s attention for another gin and tonic, you're going to need it for the long extraction mission that awaits you around the pool table. As you wait, you look over and see the usual pilot stereotypes, (yup, they’re pilots - unmistakable with gold wings on their chest and aviator sunglasses hanging from their collars.) Posted up in the corner on a bar stool messily eating popcorn is the only guy wearing glasses; you peg him as a flyover state guy who probably married his highschool sweetheart. Most likely a WSO, he seems too unassuming to be a pilot. Beth is talking to him more out of boredom than anything other motivation. She's watching Lydia work her magic out of the corner of her eye. Leaned over the pool table is a brunette gal with her hair pulled back into a bun so severe it makes your head ache in sympathy looking at it; she’s got a coy smile on her face as she sinks the last ball to win the pool game. The vibe she gives off is all confidence with a touch of “I’ll be nice and not kick your ass” along with a bit of sweetness.

You'll probably get along well. She is rolling her eyes at Lydia’s attempt to engage a rather tall guy with scrubby hair and an unexplainable mustache out of a porno from the 70s. He had to have lost a bet to have that mustache, right? Whatever Lydia is rolling out, this guy is reeling in. Odds are 3:1 that Lydia will fuck that guy in the back of her Subaru before the night is over. You make a mental note to ask if she brought condoms next time you get near her.

Thankfully your G&T slides across the bar to your waiting hand. Penny leans over and says over the classic rock blaring out of the jukebox, “Lydia’s up to it again, you want to bet on it?” You roll your eyes and laugh darkly,

“Not this time, it’s already a done deal the way they’re looking.”

The pornstacher (as he has been named in your head) has his hands on Lydia’s hips and is leaning down to whisper something in her ear. You shake your head, grab your drink, and take a hefty pull from the only thing that is going to make this next hour of your life bearable. Penny shouts over the noisy bar, “Good luck!”

“Here we go again,” you mutter to yourself as you make your way over to the corner.

Walking over to the pool table to hopefully get your friends back on track for the original mission which was supposedly to include too many girlie shots, trash talking men, and some karaoke if you made it that far before needing to call an Uber. Lost in your thoughts, you collide with another form wearing the ubiquitous khaki. Before you know it, your drink, your liquid sanity is now dripping down the front of your shirt and onto the very broad chest of a very tall blond man with freakishly green eyes.

“God damn it,” you shout. It’s your go to swear of choice. The blond guy steadies you with hand on your upper arm and says with a noticeable twang,

“Well that’s one way to guarantee I buy the prettiest gal in here a drink, let me get you a new one. What’s your poison?”

The way he smiles after what he thinks is his witty retort is straight from a 1950s toothpaste commercial. You can hear the “ding” and almost see the animated sparkle. You roll your eyes, and say,

“I’ll take a replacement, thank you. Just know that’s the only drink you’ll be buying me tonight. Gin and Tonic, tell Penny it’s for Elsa and she’ll know which gin to use.”

He laughs, “Ice queen in name and presence.

"I loathe that movie with an undying passion."

“Well, Icy, I’ll be back in a few and we can get to know each other a little bit better.” He smiles that damn toothpaste commercial smile again and heads over to the bar.

Finally, you reach Lydia and she is just starting to reel in pornstacher with her usual playbook. Laughing too loud at jokes that can't possibly be that funny, her silly little slap to his chest that lingers a bit too long, leaning way too far in to hear what he’s saying. It’s a really well defined plan, she could package it and sell it given her success rate.

“Hey, Lydia!” you shout over the music, some bastard has played Slow Ride for the second time in 20 minutes. She leans out from the bar stool she’s sitting on while the pornstacher's hands still are attached to her waist.

“Elsa! Glad you found us! Here, meet everybody!” she says like she’s greeting you at the door for a dinner party. Lydia definitely had the social talent to get people together wherever she went.

She nods at pornstacher,

“This is Rooster, he’s a pilot.”

You're not sure if Rooster is a better name for him in your head. He nods at you in recognition. She points over to flyover state guy and says,

“That’s Bob, he’s a wizzo-wizard thingy.”

Rooster laughs as she trips over the words partly because she gives zero fucks about what he actually does and her third or fourth cosmo is definitely hitting her.

“At the pool table, that’s Phoenix, next to here is Coyote, then Fanboy, and Payback.”

“Do any of these people have names that aren’t from American Gladiators?”

She giggles way too long and then says in mock exasperation,

“They’re call signs, silly.”

You dryly respond,

“I know what call signs are, Lydia. Remember my dad was a pilot?”

You look upwards for some kind of divine strength to endure whatever this all is. You wonder where your drink is and scan the bar for the human Ken doll that owes you a G&T. The way Lydia is attached to Rooster you know this is going to be a long night and you're glad you live within walking distance of the Hard Deck. On cue a deep voice says,

“Here you go, little lady. Penny knew exactly what you wanted.”

He takes a swig of his beer, and asks,

“So your dad was a pilot? Who’d he fly with?”

You move past your irritation of the phrase, little lady. It’s true you're definitely short at a whole 5’1" without heels. Tonight you've got a pair that at least gets you to a respectable 5’5”, which is still nowhere near tall enough to be eye to eye with this guy.

You breezily say,

“The Navy.”

He nods,

“Well that’s good not sure I could be seen with someone not of the proper lineage.” He starts in with the usual rapid fire “get to know you” questions,

“Where are you from?”

“Michigan,” you offer no other information.

"You?"

"Texas."

“What brings you here tonight?”

“It was supposed to be a girl’s night out to help Beth,” you cock your head to Beth where she and Bob are showing each other pictures of their dogs, you assume.

“She got dumped by some asshole Marine a few days ago."

He mutters,

"Figures."

"However, Lydia has taken us on a different path,” you point to Lydia where she and Rooster are proving that personal space isn’t necessary. you give it 10 minutes before she and Rooster will try to discreetly leave the bar for other activities. “And that leaves me talking to you while I finish my drink and can hopefully go home and call this night over.”

“Ouch, am I really that bad to look at and talk to?”

He puts on a mock frown for a second that he is confident makes him look cute before putting on his toothpaste commercial smile.

“I don’t even know your name and I'm not sure I even need to. I’m at the point of the evening where my feet hurt from these stupid heels and I’m really just ready to go home, take my bra off, put on some comfy pants, and watch some shitty TV before I fall asleep. It's been a week at work."

You finish your rant with a hefty swig of your drink. The mention of your bra coming off distracts him for a split second before he says,

“Well, I can solve one of those problems, the name’s Hangman.”

“Hangman, do you have a name that doesn’t sound like a cartoon character?”

He laughs just hard enough that you can see the beginnings of laugh lines at the edge of his eyes.

"Yes, my real name is Jake, Lieutenant Jake Seresin at your service, maam."

“Okay, Jake. I’ve got a question for you. What’s the deal with pornstache, Rooster, or whatever the fuck his name is? Lydia’s definitely putting out her trap line and he’s hooked on. Good guy, creeper, weirdly close relationship with his mother, kicks puppies, or punches nuns? Anything Lydia should be on the lookout for?”

He laughs again, and says,

“Naw, Rooster is mostly harmless. I’m surprised he’s as bold as he is tonight, must be a bit of liquid courage. That’s how he got his call sign. He can be kind of a chicken shit in the air, and the powers that be wouldn’t let us put “Chicken Shit” as his official call so sign so it had to be amended to be rated G. As for him being horrible,I can attest he leaves cabinet doors open and those awful mustache hairs all over the bathroom as I have the unfortunate luck of being his roommate for this assignment.”

"My condolences. What about Bob, over there?”

“He is either the most bland person ever to exist or a serial killer, I can’t figure it out. From one of those corn states Iowa, Nebraska, or whatever.” You were correct on his point of origin.

This thought makes you laugh as you see Bob and Beth talking a little more animatedly about something that you can't make out from across the pool table. She’s smiling and actually looks like she’s having a good time, so you resolve to stick it out for a while for Beth’s sake.

"He married?" you ask in case you need to intervene before Beth's heart is engaged.

The thought makes him almost spit out his beer.

"Nope. Can you imagine anyone wanting to have sex with him?"

You nod in agreement. Beth is now leaning in closer to Bob and her hand is inching closer towards his on the drink rail.

Damn, you'll actually have to make some conversation while you wait this wing-woman assignment out. You have no worries about Lydia, she’s going to do exactly who or what she wants. Beth worries you a little more, she is so tender hearted and kind that any time she cries you're ready to crack open your chest and give her a piece of your heart, despite it being described as “Colder than the dark side of the planet Pluto,” by an ex boyfriend. Of course you had to remind him that Pluto hasn't been a planet since 2006. The relationship was definitely done, so any bit of mental superiority you could keep was a bonus.

“So, I take it you’re a pilot,” you wave your hand vaguely at the wings on his chest. “What do you fly?”

“Airplanes.” He answers without any further detail. You roll your eyes.

“I gathered that. What kind of plane? You lugging cargo for the Navy, cruising around in a radar rig, or something more exciting?”

“I didn’t think you’d know the difference, most people don’t. I fly a F-18.”

“Nice. Good aircraft. Too bad it's made by Boeing."

The whole sentence flies past Jake's head without any notice. You had hoped that might start a discussion about the plane. You're always interested in hearing from the people who actually end up flying your designs. The moment passes and when Jake's beer has been emptied, he leans out and calls to the group to see if they or anyone else is in need of a refresh. A few raise their hands in agreement. You still have over half of your drink left so you shake your head back and forth when he points to you.

He returns beers in hand and instantly reappears at your side. The second half of G&T Number One is spent discussing the climate differences of Michigan versus California versus Texas. The conversation transitions into other vanilla topics. You find that he shares a love of baseball and football.

You discuss the Padres season in great detail. That brings you to the bottom of your drink. You take a look around to get a status check on your friends. Lydia is now almost sitting on Rooster's lap, Beth is still talking with Bob and sharing a basket of popcorn. She looks content, so you resign yourself to another drink.

G&T Number two finds you discussing books with Jake, not a subject you expected to talk about tonight.

"I read a lot of nonfiction, history, aviation and military history, the natural world. I like learning things."

He responds,

"There's only so much tv I can watch when I'm at sea, so reading a book is a nice break. I prefer a good whodunnit or cheesy mystery novel. The trashier the better."

"So, no life changing literature?"

He nods and finishes off his beer. You're starting to notice that his pace is about twice that of yours. A bit of quick math in your head determines his BAC is definitely in the tipsy territory heading towards sloppy.

He returns with a new beer and a few tequila shots for the group. Jake offers one to you and you respond,

"Hard pass."

He shrugs and takes the shot and moves to the rest of the group.

G&T Number three is spent playing a game of pool with the rest of the group. More shots come out and you see Jake go back to the bar a few times for another beer. Jake uses the opportunity to lean over you to "help improve your technique". You enjoy the smug thought that he will likely be hungover tomorrow.

The pool game finishes and you're in a good mood finally, just the right side of tipsy. There's about an inch of your drink left and you're planning on heading out soon.

Jake is instantly close and looming over you. He is very tall compared to you and he reminds you of a giraffe the way he stretches his neck down to talk to you. His drunkenness adds a slow loll to his presence. You decide to throw out an easy question to round out the night,

"So, tell me about being a fighter pilot."

He hears the question and you can almost see the brain cells connecting and searching his memory bank for something to say.

“It's a great gig. It's always amazing to me that those giant machines get up in the sky somehow," he responds in what feels like a very practiced way.

"You know how planes fly, Elsa?”

“Yes, I actually have a–” you're interrupted by Jake and you suddenly feel an episode of mansplaining with a heavy side of drunk confidence coming on. He grabs your drink from your hand and places it on the rail next to where you're standing. He gently grabs your upper arms and rotates you around so your back is against his chest.

“Here, put out your arms.”

You decide to play along for the eventual reward this conversation is going to bring. Out your arms go. He mirrors your arms with his and starts the most definitely memorized spiel.

“It all works on how the wings are shaped, air goes faster over the top of the wing than the bottom of the wing because of the way it’s shaped, kind of like a teardrop on its side. That creates the lift to get us in the air. Follow me?”

You nod, playing dumb for now. He takes his hands and moves them to your waist and continues,

“That’s not enough though to get flying so we need to add thrust in the form of an engine."

He has moved close enough behind you that you feel the not so subtle surge of his crotch against your ass when he says the word “thrust”. Your eyes begin to roll at how cheesy this whole situation is.

“And then wham-bam-thank-you-maam, we’re up in the air and flying.”

As he says “up in the air”, he picks you up off the floor. At this point, you're done, no matter how many gin and tonics you've had and no matter how good he smells, this is such a silly act you can't take it anymore. You turn your head, and say flatly,

“You can put me down, now.”

He obliges and you can see the mental calculus of him trying to determine how successful this party trick of his has been. The smug shit eating grin on his face makes what you're about to say even better.

During this time, Lydia has stopped weaving her web around Rooster, to lean out and see the look on your face, the eye rolls, and your general impatience with the routine that she is curious what you'll say next.

You turn around to face Jake, and you begin your rebuttal,

“Do you get a lot of women to drop their pants for you with that demonstration? Decent explanation. If we’re going for 4th grade level science, but that might be as far as you got, who knows. You did leave out a few important factors including the effects of drag, aircraft weight, pressure differential over the wing, you know the basics.”

You hold up your hand ticking each item off on your fingers to emphasize your point.

His face freezes with one eyebrow arched up in alarm. This is where Lydia lets out her trademark guffaw cackle, and says,

“You didn’t ask what she does for a living, did you?”

Rooster has turned around and is looking satisfied that Hangman is going to go down in flames right there on the bar floor.

“No, why does that matter?” he croaks out, moderately alarmed.

“I’ve got a Phd in aerospace engineering from Stanford and work for Lockheed Martin, you jackass."

Jake's eyebrows continue to rise and his face pales. You take a breath and continue,

"If you hadn’t interrupted me in the first place or even listened to a god damn thing I've said in the last two hours you might have picked that up. Like who else would know who makes an F-18, or who else would read a lot of aviation history books? You could have saved yourself some embarrassment. I design shit you haven’t even had the chance to fly yet or maybe won’t ever be granted the privilege of flying.”

You emphasize your last point by jabbing your finger into his chest just left of his gold wings.

At this point the whole khaki crowd has stopped and is now listening to this exchange. Snickers start to form around the pool table as Jake flushes with embarrassment.

He stammers, “I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”

You wave off his half ass apology with a dismissive hand flick,

“It’s okay, you keep trying that shtick and see who you can get into the sack with it. Don’t worry your little pretty head about it. It’s been an evening and I think I’m going to head out. Beth - Lydia?”

Beth replies,

“I’m good here for a few more minutes, I’ll text you when I get home.”

Somewhere in this moment Lydia has moved into the final phase of her plan. You can hear her whispering in Rooster’s ear,

“Want to go somewhere a little more quiet?”

He nods enthusiastically like a kindergartner and grabs his beer as Lydia catches his hand and leads him towards the exit. As she passes, you catch her arm for a quick second and lean in to whisper,

“You prepared? I’ve got some condoms in my purse if you need them.”

She winks and pats her own purse,

“All ready to rock and roll,” she whispers back,

"I think this guy is going to need a Magnum, lucky me!”

And with that bit of info Lydia has practically dragged Rooster out the door and is gone before you can even think to close your tab.

You leave Jake gaping like a fish out of water near the pool table and head out to close out your tab. Penny leans in as you sign the credit card receipt, and says,

“That was stone cold, sister, he’s not a bad guy, mostly the ego that comes with pilots, but you might find he’s got more beneath the surface.”

You sigh and reply,

“Yeah, the presentation is good, but man, does the delivery and content need some work. See ya around, Penny.”

You're back at home in a loose hoodie from your undergrad years at Notre Dame, no bra, and comfy pants and with opening credits of Bridgerton rolling within 15 minutes.

Chapter 2

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

#top gun fanfiction #hangman fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun smut

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shes4twnksinatrnchct · 8 days

Text

Divertissement | II

Divertissement | I

Divertissement | III

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x fem!oc

Summary: Three Years after Tabitha Carmichael abandons Frankenmuth and her childhood friends—one of which being her ex-boyfriend—she returns in hopes of mending burnt bridges.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit sexual situations (later chapters), explicit language, mentions of underage drinking/drug use, mentions of child abandonment

Words: 6.7k

***This is fiction (obviously) if you don’t like it, feel free to block and breeze by this.

“…One more!” Sierra pipes, my cheeks beginning to ache as Lee mutters, “Fother Mucker,” through his wide smile, growing just as tired of his wife’s unending desire to get a million pictures of the same pose.

Just before she can capture the moment , the wind is knocking the black tassel of my graduation cap into his face.

“Damnit.” He drops his smile and brushes the tassel away, only causing it to catch on my lipgloss, making me peel it off with an echoed, “Damnit,” of my own.

Another picture is taken that isn’t interrupted by wind or people dodging by, trying not to get in the way but doing so anyway, and when she goes to once more request, “Just one more,” Lee and I both refuse.

“Nope.” I step away from my brother and he does so to me while she rolls her eyes.

“We got at least ninety pictures, Cece.” He states to her, fixing his cap back on his head.

“Our baby only graduates college once, Lee.” She replies, elbowing him as she looks at me with teary eyes.

“Unless she decides to blow more money on a Master’s degree.” He scoffs, glancing around at the crowd of graduates garnered in black gowns and orange sashes.

“I didn’t even blow money on this degree.” I correct him, reminding him of my athletic scholarship.

“I put thousands of dollars into uniforms, competitions, travel fees, and gas over the years for you to practice shaking some pom-poms and doing a flip so good that they offered you a free education. You might not have blown money to get this,” He thumps my diploma, “But I did.”

He said it like he wasn’t helping Josh pin down pieces of my hair, that refused to stay flat, in the tight ponytails required for games and competitions, while I slapped on my makeup…like he wouldn’t help spray me down in glitter or assist when it came to gluing rhinestones on my face—though he’d inevitably fail, I’d almost cry due to lack of time, and Josh would try to fix it somewhat before it was time to go—those, of course, were the times Sierra wouldn’t be able to get off work. He said it like he wasn’t always the loudest one shouting, and cheering me on regardless of it being a prestigious competition, or a general game—knowing it was much more difficult than just “shaking some pom-poms and doing a flip.”

I look at him, unamused, as Sierra holds out her phone to him, a small smile tugging at her lips as she bats her lashes.

“Just a couple.” She says when he takes it and she steps to me.

“Sierra.” I complain, fixing my hair and my cap once more.

“I’m photogenic. We won’t need more than two to get one where I’m looking good.” She assures me while Lee chuckles..

She gets her pictures with me and then I’m free, walking toward my car as Lee suggests, “We’re gonna go back to the room and change, you want us to come pick you up for dinner?”

“I can meet you there.” I assure him, bristled and tense from the thought of them coming to the empty.

“And make you drive all the way back into town?” Sierra questions, black brows twisting at the thought.

“I’m packing so there’s stuff everywhere.” It’s not a lie, only they assume it’s for my brief trip back to Michigan.

When Greta Van Fleet got picked up by The Struts and taken on their tour as openers, they sent Lee and Sierra three tickets for the show in Flint—and Lee guilted me into accepting the third ticket by laying on very thickly that Josh insisted he and Sierra try to get me to come see them, being that I saw their first bout of shows back home in Fischer Hall, and he wanted me to witness them on tour for the first time at least once to count the circle as full.

Reluctantly, I finally agreed, and used the show as an excuse to fully cut ties with my ex-husband and get the hell out of Texas.

“We don’t even have to come inside, T.J. Just wait in the yard.” My brother shrugs.

I can’t risk it, however, because the moment they pull up and don’t see Cass’ truck—despite the fact I said he was at home with a stomach virus—or any signs of him residing there, still, Lee will know something's not quite right.

And although I fully intend to explain everything in the next two days that they’ll be here, I don’t want to hash through it tonight.

“You two find out what you wanna eat, and I will meet you there.” I put an end to our argument, raising my brows. “I love you, I’ll see you in a little bit.” I add, going to find my car while, “Shit,” hisses from my lips under my breath.

I get home, groaning aloud when I see the old Chevrolet truck sitting in the driveway.

Sitting in my car to prepare myself to face the puppy I’ve kicked aside, who’s undoubtedly here to once more plead with me to stay, I take in a breath and atlast get out.

The door’s unlocked, and as I expected, he is standing in the living room, seemingly caught off guard from the few boxes of my things.

A slight sway holds him despite him standing still, his face flushed and slightly puffy from crying…

…Ten months after moving, I had found a poor soul by the name of “Cass” in a bar.

He was too sweet for his own good, taking me on in good, earnest spirit and managing to keep me happy and content long enough for us to get engaged six months later.

Lee despised the fact I got married eight months into a relationship, especially without telling him—without even introducing him to the man first—but he ultimately decided Cass was good for me when he and Sierra visited the Christmas of 2015—only twenty-four days after we went to the courthouse.

Most people pose the same question to divorcees, wishing for nothing but warning signs to look out for in case their own relationship starts showing tell-tales of rot: When did you know the marriage was over?

My answer is, “When I was signing the marriage license.”

“You’re leaving?” He asks as I shut the door and walk past him as if he isn’t even here.

My only acknowledgement is, “You’re drunk?” that leaves me as I step toward my bedroom to change. “Did you drive like that?” I add, opening my closet.

He only repeats his question, more weak this time as it’s a hoarse, “You’re leaving, Tabitha?”

“The divorce was finalized yesterday, Cass. You were there and signed, too, remember?” I remind him in his drunken daze, dropping my bitchy-attitude, deciding I can’t continue to twist the knife when he’s like this.

I feel like I’m bullying the weaker kid.

He doesn’t respond, only staring at me until his brown eyes are clouded, and he’s evidently holding back tears, the unshaven skin framing his mouth

“I’m going back to Michigan.” I say to him, next, plucking my heels off. “I’ve graduated school, we’re not together anymore. There’s nothing left for me here.”

I startle myself the way the last sentence leaches from me so absentmindedly.

A flash of Lee’s own tearfully muddled expression comes to my mind, the same face he held when I spoke the exact words to him and Sierra in my fit of packing my shit and running here to Texas—completely forfeiting the fact that my brother and sister-in-law was everything I had left in Frankenmuth.

“Tabitha, can we please talk about this?” He questions for the billionth time, rapidly yanking at the strings of my heart as it’s choked out, all while I peel my dress off and tug on a pair of jeans.

“Cass, there’s nothing to talk about.” I say the same thing I’ve been saying to him for over a year now. “There’s nothing you can do to fix it because you didn’t mess anything up.” I add in assurance, though I know for a fact he won’t absorb it.

I refuse to look at him as I pull a shirt on, not wanting to cry and ruin my makeup before I go out.

“You can stay here as long as you need and sober up because I do not want you driving like this.” I offer, grabbing my heels once again and stepping back into the living room.

I sit on the couch, quickly sliding my shoes on, breathing out when the sofa cushion dips under me as he falls beside me and wipes his tan face, reaching for my hand.

“Tabitha, I’ll be better—I’ll do better—”

“—Cass, there’s no—”

“—I’ll cut back on how often I have to go out of town on jobs—”

“—That’s not the problem, C—”

“—We can start over, okay? I know I moved too fast and maybe you felt pressured to go through with it because—”

“—Cass,” I grab his hand, hushing him, trying not to join him in his agony as he looks at me through his dark lashes clumped together in salt water. “You are a really, really kind, good guy. And you deserve someone who loves you as much as you love them. It’s not me, and it’s not your fault that it’s not me. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t just say that before I promised you a lifetime together.”

For the first time in months, he seems to grasp what I’m trying to say, perhaps because we’re shrouded with boxes of my belongings, which act as the physical embodiment of what I’ve been trying to do for a year now.

“Is there someone else in Michigan?” He asks me, raising his dark brows.

“My family and my friends are in Michigan. And I want to go home.” I reply honestly.

“…If that’s what you want then we can go to Michi—”

I’m unwinding his hand from mine before he can even finish, and stand up, freeing myself of him as I say, “Cass, I’m going to dinner. I’m leaving Friday. The house is yours, anything I leave in it is yours. I just need out.” I take the opportunity to shift through the boxes and tension in the room to make a break for the door, not bothering to look back.

The conversation of my divorce didn’t come up to my brother in the days to follow—though when I loaded my car and his truck down in my belongings, he knew I was leaving for good, but he nor Sierra asked any questions until we arrived back home…naturally on the most inopportune night.

Lee’s taking a long swig of his beer as he leans against the door frame of my bathroom, watching me wrap my hair around a curling iron, waiting for me to answer his question: “What the hell happened between you and Cass? Did you split or what?

“Can we please do this tomorrow or something, Lee?” I huff out, dread caressing it because I know for a fact my brother truly does not want to hear the deviled details of his precious sister wreaking havoc on an innocent bystander for the sake of mending her own heart. “Tonight’s supposed to be fun.” I add, already feeling the need to vomit at the thought of seeing my old friends, even if Josh invited me or not, he’s not the one I’m dragging my feet to approach.

I wonder if Jake ever told him about that night, or if he’s kept it to himself, burying it deep in the hopes that Josh won’t even suspect something might have happened.

Even if he does find out what happened, it can be chalked up to alcohol and loneliness, can it not? Josh would surely understand.

“Did he hurt you?” Lee doesn’t oblige, asking as I spray more hairspray.

“No, no, he didn’t do anything.” I immediately jump to his defense, honestly, refusing to hear even a small accusation of wrong-doing regarding his treatment of me.

“Well, you’ve only been married for a year and a half…” He trails off, frustrated, waiting for my response, a reasonable explanation, more so.

“The divorce was finalized Monday.” I inform him, ripping the bandaid off.

He looks at me in the mirror, another spritz of hairspray clouding his expression for a second before clearing, and he’s glancing around in utter befuddlement as he rambles, “If he didn’t do anything then why’re you get— you know what? No! If it’s already finalized then when did you two even file?!” He’s not shouting out of anger, it’s purely out of being puzzled, beyond flabbergasted as he tries to piece all of it together.

“Last May.” I wince as I speak, my throat tightening as my voice strains from once more having to admit it aloud.

“...May of last year?” He calmly wishes for clarification.

“Yes.”

“May of 2016?”

“Yes, Lee.”

“That’s only five months, Tabitha.” He states the very thing I’ve been scolding myself with, despite the fact he says it sadly instead of scoldingly.

“Yes.” I repeat, my voice growing shaky as I look up to the ceiling and will my emotions to compose once more to keep from strowing my fresh mascara in streams down my face.

I expect his next statement to be, “The divorce lasted longer than the marriage?” and maybe if he couldn’t tell I was upset, he would throw it in, but he doesn’t.

“He contested it, at first.” I explain, hopefully filling in some of the blanks he’s wanting to know but doesn’t want to pry. “But he let it go when he saw that I just needed out.”

“So, you filed?”

“I just needed out.” Is all I’m willing to offer, and his demeanor alters when I say it, looking at me the same way he did when I stormed out of here a few years ago.

Like I hold the essence of our mother in more than just my looks.

He finishes his beer and throws the bottle into the trashcan by my sink, and I call out, “Lee,” as he turns and leaves me alone without another word.

The nearly forty minute ride to Flint is spent with me closing my eyes, trying to let the angelic vibrato of Emmylou Harris distract me while I wait for them to announce our arrival while my mind lightly buzzes from the desperate shotgunning of a Miller Lite before leaving the house—a last resort being that Lee and Sierra have apparently dropped their days of keeping hard liquor in the house and a simple shot wasn’t available.

No one in the car has spoken a word, Sierra keeping quiet as always when Lee and I are in a rift, the both of us stubbornly refusing to break the silence first.

We don’t speak until we get to the venue and are forced to upon seeing Mrs. Kiszka and Mrs. Wagner who give me a warmer welcome than I anticipated, and Sierra does most of the talking, immediately jumping at the chance to show them my graduation pictures, subtly elbowing Lee to grasp his attention when Karen asks how the forty hour round-trip drive to see me graduate was, to which he replies, “The drive back was worse since I had the truck loaded down with all the shit T.J. couldn’t get in her car since she decided to move back home.”

Pure elation paints the two women’s faces as they look at me.

“She sprung it on us last minute.” Sierra brushes it off as Karen pipes, “That’s great! Do the boys know yet?”

This confuses me.

Does she not know we don’t speak anymore? That I left without even saying, “goodbye” to either of them? That I’m in slight disarray with the fact that Josh even wanted me to come tonight?

“No, it’s a surprise.” I go along, glancing around as more people pile in around us.

“She’s good at those.” Lee comments, causing me to glare at him.

Lee would go through the evening as it progressed continuing to make small digs at me as we both consumed too much alcohol. I did so in an attempt to calm my shot nerves, while Lee did so to once more assist himself in the grieving of yet another honorary member of the family I brought in and kicked out.

He still resented me for not only abandoning him and Sierra, but Josh and Jake, and their family who had been so integral in my upbringing, and leaving Cass the way I did only irritated the same grudge that had festered like a wound throughout the night.

I quickly learned he was not the only one whose wounds from me resulted in well-deserved cheap shots.

Before long, I’m face to face with my singing ex-boyfriend, his brown hair shorter, making it appear fluffier as he grins widely at the audience standing at his feet while he belts out a song I’ve heard a hundred times over either at small performances in town or in their garage.

And, as he’s always managed to do during “Highway Tune,” his eyes find me, his smile reaching ear to ear with the wink of his eye.

“Does one even truly sing a song if one doesn’t look at the muse while one sings it?” His rhetorical question from years ago echoes in my mind, being sprung from a small back and forth we had gotten into upon the debut of the song that had my brother thinking a little too far into its lyrics—which I ended up having to lie and tell him it was based on an experience Jake had, and was most definitely not about me and and my boyfriend forgetting to take a vow of celibacy in the back of a car on the side of a road.

During the breakdown, his hands join in a series of claps over his head, prompting the crowd to follow suit as he nods at me and shouts as loud as he can away from the mic, “Tabs, you look great!” And “Are you sure we should’ve broken up?!” I can tell it’s dripping satire and has me cackling before Sam and Jake send girls everywhere into a tizzy with their slightly provocative style of playing.

I try to ignore Jake as best as I can while they’re moving through their set which is nearly impossible to do as my gaze is fixated on him most of the time despite hoping that he hasn’t seen me, probably not as likely being that he’s more to the right of the stage where I’m facing it.

Small, telling little glances from Josh to his twin brother when he catches me staring at the guitar player multiple times makes me question if he knows, and that same question repeats until the last line of a bridge from a song I’ve had yet to hear, and it’s crystal clear that Jake’s indeed been aware of where I’ve been in the crowd the moment Josh wails out, “I gave you all a man could give and you still walked out on me,” while warm, dark brown hues regard me with a cold stare as it leaves his brother’s mouth before once more joining him for the chorus.

My stomach falls to my feet.

It’s all the confirmation I need regarding whether Josh is in the loop when it comes to the full extent of what exactly occurred before I left.

I didn’t get the hell out of Frankenmuth on account of Josh leaving me, not anymore than that night I kissed Jake was the last time I saw him.

The night before I left, Josh, Ronnie, Sam and their dad went to the lake for the weekend while Jake, me and his mom hung out at their house.

It was Mrs. Kiszka’s attempt to try to keep everyone friends despite—Josh and I splitting and not speaking—finding that it wasn’t worth throwing ten years of friendship out.

In theory, it was a good idea.

It would’ve worked wonderfully if I hadn’t already decided I was leaving and felt I couldn’t do so until Jake knew how I felt.

Once his mom went to bed and it left us to our own devices—sober—it didn’t take long before we were both expressing how we felt about the other with as little words as possible.

I didn’t sleep that night, clothes scattered to the floor as I scrunched up in his twin-size bed with him in the room he shared with Josh and Sam, watching him sleep, and wishing I could stay.

I could have stayed, instead of subjecting myself to pointless heartache that I, in-turn, took out on others—a meaningless war of attrition of my own doing that therapy could’ve de-escalated had I handled it responsibly.

But for whatever reason, I had it in my mind that if I did stay, he would also eventually wake up one day and decide he didn’t love me anymore.

And so the cycle continued, and got dragged to Texas to torture another causality.

After their set, I chirp, “Well, I’m so sorry to the Struts and I’m sure they’re gonna be great, but I’m ready to go home.”

“Same. Your brother is wasted.” Sierra informs me, glancing at Lee who’s just staring off. “Let’s go.” She adds, grabbing at his arm, leading him through the crowd like a child.

Once Sierra manages to safely get us and Lee’s bigass truck back to the house in one piece all while he screams along to Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn, I beat them inside to avoid him possibly saying anything else to me about what’s conspired the last few hours.

After I shower and start slathering on body lotion, there’s a soft knock at the bathroom door.

Sierra smiles at me when I open the door, a blue colored face mask smeared across her skin as her black hair is pulled messily on top of her head, matching me in attire of nothing but a towel.

“Your brother is settled in his chair drinking water and watching In the Heat of the Night.” She assures me, to which I scoff and roll my eyes. “I know he’s being a little bit of an ass but…”

“I’m not a victim in this, Sierra. I know that. I just need him to stop pretending that he had everything figured out by the time he was my age, too.” I say gently, going back to putting moisturizer on.

“He couldn’t have anything figured out, he was raising you—we both were.” She replies, raising her brows. “He was trying to navigate being a brother and a dad to a nine year old without fucking her up more than her mother did, when he was your age.”

“And now he feels like he failed because I’m acting just like her, right?” I ask, looking at her, and she states, “I didn’t say that, and he didn’t either.”

“He doesn’t have to say it. He make—” The ringing doorbell interrupts us, the two of us looking at one another in confusion.

It rings in an all too familiar pattern of a Beatles song that brings back an odd feeling of deja vu.

“Well…let me get clothes on.” Sierra steps out of the bathroom and scurries to her room as I hear Lee shout, “Hey!” as he opens the door, followed by a slurred, “You guys did fucking good tonight!”

“Thank you, thank you, we’re available for b-mitzvahs and weddings, too, folks.” Josh’s voice rings out before snapping out, “Honey, I’m home!”

“One second!” I call back, ducking to my room and pulling an old t-shirt and sleep shorts on, running a brush through my wet hair as I hear Sam explain to Lee, “We’re staying at the house tonight,” while steps padd against the wood floor in the hallway leading to my room.

Josh knocks, for once, and I open the door to be immediately swept up in questions paired with a kiss to the cheek and a tight hug.

“What’d you think? Do we sound better than we did three years ago?” He rattles off, pulling me from his embrace to hold my shoulders. “We certainly fucking look better, speaking of looks, I like this,” He refers to my longer hair that now falls past my boobs, taking the wet strands in his hands to iron them through his fingers.

“I think you guys did really well, Josh.” I say in response, adding, “You do sound better, you look better, and thank you but I’ve been contemplating chopping it.” I look down at my hair in his hands.

“…But I like it.” He retorts, my hands pulling his away from my hair as I reply, “You don’t get a say anymore.”

“Oh, right.” Nodding, as he quietly yells in a whisper under his breath, “Hey, Jake, c’mere!”

He’d be dead if my eyes could kill.

“I kid, I kid,” He assures me, before a small pinch of awkward silence floats between us, surrounding the topic.

He goes to open his mouth but I halt him as I say, “Fight Club.”

“Fight Club” was a term adopted in our youth to immediately bury a conversation or topic, no questions asked—it simply didn’t get talked about.

Jake came up with it after we stole Lee’s copy of the film and watched it when I was in seventh grade.

The irony that it came in handy to avoid Josh and I having a heart to heart about me screwing his brother, didn’t fall on me blindly.

“Tabby, it doesn’t matter now—”

“—Fight Club.” I argue, snapping it as he keeps speaking, “Look, we’re over one another, it was years ago—”

“Fight. Club.” I grit out, growing irritated with him.

“Fight Club, damn.” He finally relents, rolling his eyes as I step into the kitchen to see the boys gathered around the bar, Sierra and Lee talking with them.

“Hey, Tabby.” Danny is the first to speak when he sees me, Sam and Lee carrying on with Jake as Josh asks, “Cece, do we have beverages?”

“Hey, Danny.” I step to him, having to settle for hugging his waist now being that he’s grown two feet in the last three years, adding, “You did good tonight,” my hand smoothing his longer hair.

“Yes, Josh.” Sierra walks to the fridge with him.

“Thanks.” Danny replies to me, Sam reaching his arm out to me absentmindedly.

“Hot-Shot Baby Kiszka over here doesn’t even have to look at the girls he hugs now that he’s a rockstar.” I state to Sierra as Sam looks at me and tugs me to him while Josh plays along, adding, “I told you it was a fucking problem, Sam.”

Like Danny, Sam has sprung up like a weed despite maintaining his baby face, squeezing me to his side as he nods to whatever Lee’s carrying on about.

Jake’s the only one I have yet to acknowledge, but I can’t with the way he’s looking at me, his eyes shifting to me as he carries on with his brother and mine.

His hair’s grown to his shoulders, waving slightly, his own facial features having grown more mature in the last years…

The sound of carbonation being drunk crackles in my ear followed by a crisp, “Ahh,” to which I glance over my shoulder and am almost nose to nose with Josh who’s got a can of beer.

Looking deadpanned into air, he seriously states, “I’m so fucking tired,” holding his gaze into nothingness before looking me in the eyes.

The two of us start chuckling, my hand grabbing his as I say, “I’ve missed you.”

“You’re telling me. I almost stole mom’s car a couple times to go to Texas…then I thought of driving on the interstate for eighteen hours and decided I’d just put my never-ending longing into song.” It’s sarcasm, I think, though after that one song I’m not sure.

“Better than getting married and divorced within five months.”

My eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of my head they widen so largely, my face scalding hit the moment my brother’s words settle in the air

“…Huh?!” Josh sharply questions in confusion.

“Lee.” Sierra says as everyone’s eyes fall on me.

I keep my mouth shut, only because Josh is squeezing my hand silently pleading not to snap back and escalate it on a night we’re supposed to have a good time before they head to their next city.

“I just can’t understand how someone with a minor in Communications and Rhetoric can’t fucking communicate any major life-altering occasions to her own brother until after they happen.” Lee continues.

“…And that’s my cue.” Jake mumbles as I look at him instead of my brother, grabbing the encased guitar he brought, and stepping to the back door as Josh nudges my side and hands me his beer.

With a nod, he gives it away to me to drink, patting my sides and stepping back to give me room to unwind from Sam and retreat to my room while Sierra marches to their room, calling, “Lee, come here!” surely to crawl all over him for saying that in front of them.

I don’t think either of my childhood best friends were genuinely shocked, they both carried an air of “it’s Tabby, of course she did” surrounding the news of my short-lived marriage, as if they almost expected me to have at least one dire hiccup at some point in life.

Whether they assumed such a crisis would come later in my life or not has never been disclosed, but they seemed to be the most nonchalant about it.

The three boys follow me to my room, sprawling out on my bed with me as we all stare at the ceiling, telling me all about touring, how stressful and exhausting it is but how fun and electric is feels to perform.

Josh is shockingly the most quiet, his eyes closed as he lets out a “mmhmm” in agreement to things Danny and Sam inform me of, and I just shut up and listen, absorbing all of it, regretting that it’s taken me so long to come back and home and catch up with them—but thankful that I get to be here with them, now.

After a few minutes, Sierra’s coming in and jumping a little from the pile of people on the full size mattress.

“Um, Tabby, can you come here for a second?”

I go to her, and she stops herself before shutting my door, asking, “Boys, do you want the light off?”

“Please, God.” Josh says, and she switches it off and shuts the door.

“Are you and Jake fighting?” She whispers.

“Not actively. We haven’t talked.” I say back, shrugging.

“Yeah, I noticed earlier.” She agrees, leading me to the second guest bedroom, opening the drawer of the nightstand. “He needs to take these back, anyway, because he left them last time he was here hanging out with Lee, however, I’m sure if you’re the one to deliver them to him it will help smooth whatever’s happening there.”

She hands me a half-drunk bottle of tequila and a sealed mason jar with one remaining joint in.

“But we’re not fighting.” I tell her, shaking my head.

“Only because you’re not talking.” She reminds me of my own words, patting my shoulder and proving her point.

I take in a breath and sigh out, finally saying, “Okay.”

Before too long, the grass of the backyard is squishing somewhat under my boots, evidence of recent rainfall marking the ground as I keep my grip tight on the bottle and the jar, stepping to the enclosed shed behind the house.

It still appears to be nearly hanging on by a thread, the rickety wood boards rotted and the rusted roof not offering very much shelter should one need to take cover from rainfall.

Lee used it for years as his refuge away from me and Sierra when living with two women became too much at times—through throws of fluctuating hormones and my dreadful teenage years.

I came to find out my junior year of high school that Jake would also hide away in it sometimes, truly tucked away from anyone who could possibly bother him, and when he was okay with being bothered, my brother was more than welcome to grab his guitar and join him in the tattered hovel that beared witness to many of their acoustic soirees.

The closer I come, the more apparent the sound of soft strumming grows, filtering out and intertwining with the racket of crickets and the laughter from the house.

He more than likely hears me when I reach the doorway, the single strand of small, battery powered bulbs providing dim light to cascade over him as he continues his quiet song.

It’s when I use the bottle to knock on the wall that he stops, looking over his shoulder at me.

He offers the same distant glare he did when we locked eyes at the show–only this time Josh’s vocals aren’t carrying on in the background–and although the lyrics, paired with Jake’s attention on me, felt pretty personal, I’m nearly tempted to cowardly go back to the house to evade the burn of his silent gaze now.

Looking forward once more, I take the moment to step inside, breaking the silence as I quietly state, “I bring peace offerings,” walking to him.

Not replying, still, I add, “Here’s your, ‘I’m sorry for sleeping with you and falling off the face of the earth,’ tequila,” I reach across him and sit it on the old, slightly off-kilter table that stands as tall as my waist and is home to all the random junk Lee has come across over the years and has decided to keep.

He watches me do so, those rich eyes tracing along my hand, up my bare arm, before he’s prying them away and looking back down at the guitar he’s still holding, absentmindedly strumming again.

“And your, ‘I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward situation with your brother by sleeping with you,’ blunt.” He stops strumming with an abrupt pull of the strings that rattle together upon him doing so as he immediately snaps out, “I participated pretty fucking enthusiastically, Tabby. You didn’t just put me in it,” in my defense.

“And I knew you would.” I raise my brows while I pluck the jar from the crook of my arm, holding it out to him directly. “Just like I knew I was going to leave, anyway. Which makes me extra bitchy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not arguing with that.” He mumbles, keeping his eyes off of me as he accepts the jar, the bracelets adorning his tan wrist offering all the more excuse to let my eyes roam to his hands.

My fingers itch to smooth the ends of his hair through them as he brushes it from his face before opening the jar, pulling the joint out and examining it carefully.

“I did lace it.” I promise, sarcastically.

“Thought you might after you heard the song that was birthed out of your ‘extra bitchiness’.” He retorts in a scoff.

“If it was a shitty song I actually might have.” I assure him, sitting in the chair next to him as he digs in his pocket for a lighter, my eyes glued to the sight of his lips wrapped around the blunt as he lights it, swallowing to try to coat my dry throat as my mind briefly drifts to inappropriate ideas that revolve around me wrapping my lips around something of my own.

It quickly comes to a screeching stop when I remind myself that that’s how he and I got into all this shit to begin with…

For the thousandth time, I picture him waking up, those years ago, the only evidence of our time together being a pitiful text of, “I’m sorry,” from me that had been sent from about six hours south of Frankenmuth.

“I am really sorry about how I handled everything, Jake.” I say it sincerely for the first time. “I strewed out all this shit, and just left you to clean it up.”

“I knew you were hurt, Tabby. I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, shaking his head and billowing smoke from his lips and nose. “...I knew better, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” He says more under his breath, glancing down at his boots.

Another beat passes before I say, “Josh knows.”

“Yeah.” He nods, glancing at me.

“...So…did you two, like, compare notes or…?” I try to make as light of it as I can being that Josh is, already, too.

His lips struggle to hide a smirk as he dryly retorts, “After he got done screaming at me, sure.”

Bitterness spills from me like word vomit as I state, “He kinda lost jurisdiction of what’s between my legs when he left me.”

“Well, after dodging the mic stand he threw at me, I realized that—had he not been going through a season of existential discovery—he would have stayed with you.” He flatly breathes out. “But the main issue was that he felt like it was an asshole thing for me to take advantage of you when you were low.”

My eyes go wide, “You didn’t take advantage of me, Jake. If anything I did it to you.” I argue, shaking my head.

“You try telling my brother that. You hung the stars, moon, and the sun if anyone asks him about the chronicles of creation.” He now reaches for the tequila. “And get that smug look off your face.” He adds, grumbling, stoking me to chuckle as he opens the bottle.

“I figured he would hate me.” I cross my arms while he takes a swig of the liquor and hands it off to me.

“Oh, please, you’re still his ‘Perfect Girl’. He almost pissed himself when mom first called him and said you were coming to the show.” He rolls his eyes.

The next thought that comes to mind is one I’m afraid to voice, worried about squandering this somewhat cordial exchange between the two of us.

“I figured you would hate me, too.” I say, next, staring at him as the joint’s perched between his pointer and middle finger, throwing smoke with each stroke of his thumb across his forehead a few times in a row.

“I did, at first.” He admits. “But that wore me out more than missing you did…I just chalked it up to ‘shit happens’ and decided not to hold it against you…the show must go on and whatnot.” He grabs the bottle without me even taking any from it, too transfixed with him, not even trying to hide it. Clearly noticing it, he gets another taste of tequila and inhales another long drag before looking at me with a sly smile, his eyes raking over me as he arrogantly enriches his perfectly timed humor into the heavy conversation, “Feel free to drop your panties anytime, by the way.”

His final words snap me out of my hypnosis, and I’m shoving his arm and yanking the bottle back before he’s chortling and starting, “So, tell me about this divorcee you’ve left back in Texas.”

“Oh, hell.” I rub my temples, hearing him carefully prop his guitar behind us, freeing his lap before turning to face me slightly, his arm thrown on the back of my chair. “No, when Josh hears the details of that I will no longer be his ‘perfect girl’ who can do no wrong.” I assure him. “That is by far the most aborrhent thing I’ve ever done.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad.” He says, making me raise my brows.

“I met him in a bar.” I begin.

“Naturally.” He replies with a single nod.

“He fell in love with me.” I add, to which he quips, “Always.”

“Got married eight months later. Filed for divorce five months later. Finalized the divorce, and left Texas a year later.” I finish, vaguely. “I just wasn’t in love him.” Is all I can chalk it up to, looking at him once more to see him staring at me this time, a nearly blank expression on his face as if he’s running back his own memory of me leaving him with no explanation, saddened, brown eyes taking mine captive as he now mutters, “Never.”

He might as well rip my heart out and stomp on it.

It’s now him that has to snap out of something, tearing his eyes from me as he huffs out and stands to his feet, stepping around his chair.

He places the bottle on the table, grabbing his guitar case to pick it up and gently places it on the edge of the wood that’s cleared off enough to assist him.

I stand next, grabbing the guitar and handing it to him.

“Thanks.” He says around the blunt resting between his lips as he handles his prized acoustic and secures it away in its case.

“I wouldn’t say, ‘never’, you know.” I inform him, my back resting against the table, nervously fumbling with the ends of my hair.

Laying the case along the two chairs we were sitting in, he turns to face me once more, stepping closer and reaching over my shoulder to grab the tequila, not bothering to pull it back to him as I take in a breath from his close proximity, his other hand freeing his mouth as smoke soaks the air above our heads as he makes sure not to blow it in my face.

“So, what, you’re saying you’re in love me?” He inquires, dark brows pulling together, my eyes not even pretending to look anywhere else but his lips.

I look up at his eyes, finding it harder to breathe the longer he looks at me so thoroughly, as if trying to figure out what I’m thinking.

I attempt to make it easier for him, softly letting out, “Maybe.”

It’s when he leans forward that my heart feels it’s going to burst out of my chest, aching to feel the lips of the one I’ve truly been missing so badly the last three years.

The brush of his lips against mine is enough to make my head spin, resisting the urge to impatiently close the sliver of space between our mouths.

“No, I don’t think that’s right.” He answers his own question, his breath ghosting my skin as he whispers it, his jaw clenching momentarily. “If so, you wouldn’t have left.”

He pulls away altogether, bottle on hand, stomping out his joint before grabbing his guitar taking his opportunity to leave me in return.

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