Alice

you don’t mind the quiet so much anymore.

it used to leave your head spinning; bits and pieces, different fragments, old,  faint bad memories all seeping in through the cracks because there were no more distractions left behind to stop them. sometimes even the thought of it, being left alone to rot in silence so loud that you’d hear nothing but the ringing in your ears, it used to make your skin crawl. made it easier to chase after the noise that you so deeply craved for years upon years of your life, actually. 

that’s what made it all so easy with joost. with him it was always just go go go — never stopping, never slowing down, hardly even sleeping half of the time. and for months at the start, he’d been so kind about it, reminding you almost daily that if it ever got too much for you, if you ever needed a break from it all or even just from him, then he’d understand. a different country every other day, always scheming over something, it would be a lot for anyone.

just not for you, though. you love the chaos of his everyday life, don't you? seeing the world, the creation of his art and how it breathes; simply just being a part of it even if it’s only ever from the sidelines. you live for it almost as much as you live for him, because it’s always about him, for you, isn't it?

not even a full month in, you knew that you were in love with him — that you would follow joost anywhere, at any time if he asked you to. how lucky was it for you that he actually did, because really, he’s always loved you just as much as you’ve loved him — maybe even a little more, somehow. to this day, he still tries to brag about being the first one of you to say it, the three dreaded little words that you’re never supposed to confess after such little time, just because it still annoys you that he got there first.

all those friends of his that had adopted you as one of their own, they call you his ‘partner in crime’, don’t they? and those of them that hadn’t believed in soulmates before definitely believed in them now, because of you. even after so many years together, glued to your laptops and working from inside countless different hotel rooms, or passed out and squished in the bunks of a tour bus, you’re both still so helplessly obsessed with each other.

and that was what made the quiet all themore tolerable for you now.

because as you sit here, curled up on such an uncomfortable plastic garden chair, on a hotel balcony somewhere in spain, you know that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. the warm, early evening air gently blows past you, making you grip onto the pages of your paperback book all that much harder. it pulls the odd strand of your hair loose from the bun that sits on the very top of your head; the sun-bleached strands still a little damp from your swim together an hour or two earlier. surprisingly, despite how humid it actually was, it makes you shiver. 

“cold?”  joost murmurs from an old, horrible, squeaking chair of his own; his soft eyes already dancing over the goosebumps that pricks at your skin.

“i’ll warm up in a minute.”

you just don’t want to move, do you? you don’t want him to suggest moving inside, or to disappear inside himself just to grab you a hoodie — you don’t want anything to change at all, not even for a moment. because this is unbridled bliss, no matter how cold you suddenly are. you want to stay out here with this book of yours in your hands, the sound of calm, ocean waves still within earshot, and the smell of joost’s cigarette heavy inside your nose.

as you have been quietly reading, he’s been smoking yet another one of his duty-frees and doodling on his ipad. the only real noise was your phone rotating through your liked songs on spotify, as it lays almost forgotten about on the equally, and partially stained table. 

and i love her — kurt cobain.

“no you won’t; come here.”

but much to your dismay, joost still starts to shift. he kicks his legs up and off the balcony railing, and swivels carefully in his seat, putting down his ipad as he does so. with wide, spread legs and a now empty lap, he pats his thighs and beckons you over as though this is the only possible solution to your problem. when you don’t move at first, still with the idea in your head that he was about to get up and walk away, joost pouts and makes grabby hands at you until he can’t contain his laughter anymore.

“cmon, you’re making me look needy now. come sit on me.”

you snort quietly underneath your breath as you stand, leaving your book to lie forgotten about too, next to your phone. “what? out here?”

“shut up, not like that.”

he hadn’t needed to ask you a third time. just as you had in your chair, you quickly get comfortable and curl up in his arms, feeling the steady beating of his heart beside your ear as you rest your head against his chest. those long, inked arms of his wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, tucking you up neatly underneath his chin.

he takes a minute just to breathe you in, and nestles his cheek against your hair; he shifts again just to kiss the top of your head. “better?”

“much better.”

“hungry yet?”

“no.”  — a little white lie.

your own stomach betrays you and rumbles, because neither of you have eaten since lunch. the small sound of it makes him laugh and you wiggle yourself even deeper into his hold, somehow, desperately trying to weigh him down. you know that it’s pointless because he could still pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, move you as though you weigh nothing to him. you’re just trying to make a point.

“move and i’ll cry.”

you really do love the quiet now. you treasure it, actually. you have to, considering how fleeting it always is. 

“okay, okay, we’ll stay here. it’s okay.”  you feel him sigh against you, and miss the sight of his eyes fluttering shut just as yours already have. “think i might fall asleep if we do, though.”

he really loves this quiet, too.

“five more minutes?”

the words come out all slurred in a way that you just can’t help, sleepy — you’re not really asking for five more minutes, are you? and you know that he knows that.

————————————

A gentle breeze hit your face as you walked through the city. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was definitely surprising to feel in the beginning of July. You had hoped for a summer day, the kind that makes your clothes stick to your body with sweat and your eyes squint from the sunlight. But instead, the temperature was just... nice. The sun was up in the sky, but the wind kept you from feeling your skin melt. You just had to avoid the shadows of the big buildings, or else you'd freeze with no natural warmth to balance with the slight breeze. Especially when your hands were already turning into two big ice cubes. The cans of Monster you were holding were quickly transmitting their coldness onto your fingers, while your digits did the opposite, making the energy drink not so refreshing. Still, you hoped your boyfriend would appreciate it. You knew he would. He always appreciated your love gestures. It was so easy to put a smile on that man's face. A simple drink from the small grocery shop located a few minutes away from the hotel and he was all yours. In fact, just the thought of you going downstairs to get him a Monster had been enough to make him grin like an excited little kid. Of course he told you that you didn't have to; that if the hotel mini fridge didn't have Monster, he could just drink a different thing. But you wanted to. You wanted to treat him like a princess. A princess who waits in her castle as her knight in shining armor absents himself to go get her any thing she desires. And that was exactly what her knight was doing. Leaving the comfort of their hotel room only to fulfill the beautiful princess' wishes. A princess who was probably drinking beer in bed at that exact moment.

You finally got to the hotel, entering the building and leaving the Finnish wind gently blowing outside. The warmth of the lobby immediately hugged you, involving you in a tighter embrace as you made your way to where the rooms were. The faint sound of music could be heard, becoming a bit louder - but never losing its softness - as you walked down the corridor. It sounded muffled, what lead you to believe it wasn't the hotel's new addition to the atmosphere. It seemed rather like it came from behind one of the doors. Each step made you closer to the mysterious source of the music, finally allowing you to make out which song was playing. You could recognize one of your boyfriend's dearest bands anywhere. The melody of 'Super Trouper' by ABBA became unmistakable once you stood by a certain door. Of course the music came from your room. You smiled to yourself and inserted the hotel card into the door reader, pressing on the handle and gently opening it.

As soon as you caught a glimpse of the interior, you saw Joost moving to the slow beat, quietly singing along while his arms and hips swayed in a delicate way.

"Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue

Like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you"

You watched him with a dopey smile, eventually putting down the cans you were holding so you could cross your arms and lean against the doorframe while enjoying the private performance. His movements had always mesmerized you, how he balanced that duality of soft and chaotic so well... In moments like this, he didn't even seem like the same guy who humped speakers during concerts. His sweet voice a huge contrast to the loud screams he usually lets out when he's excited. You couldn't help but melt as you saw him dance towards the bed - completely distracted and unaware of your presence - to grab his rosary necklace and add it to his gorgeous outfit. He was wearing black pants with a plain white t-shirt that hugged his body in all the right places, showing his belly, and the nipples through the fabric. It accentuated his curvy waist in a Venus-like way, almost distracting you from the fact that he had just jumped slightly as he finally saw you through the mirror. Dance moves stopping at the same time that he stuttered the words he was singing.

"Jesus, baby, you scared me!" Joost chuckled, turning to face you.

"Sorry..." You let out a little laugh yourself at the way his chest was heaving and his hand was resting over his heart. "Don't stop just because of me, though." A lazy smile appeared on your lips as you teasingly stayed in the same place, waiting to see him resume his movements. "I was enjoying the show."

"Don't put that kind of pressure on me!" He giggled and averted his gaze from your face, turning down the music instead.

You pushed off from the doorframe with a grin and walked up to him, immediately wrapping both arms around his waist and planting a lingering kiss to his mouth.

"So shy all of a sudden..." You mumbled the words against his lips as your smile widened, hands finding his hips to knead at the soft skin. He was so squishy. "I brought you Monster." You said once you pulled away.

"My hero!"

He surprised you with a hug, and suddenly you found yourself smothered by his big chest. Sometimes Joost could be a bit forgetful of his own strength and size, especially when he was all giddy and excited. You would never dare to complain, though.

"No, but seriously, you didn't have to, you know?" He pulled away, beaming like the ray of sunshine he is.

"I know. But I wanted to." You smiled back and moved your hands to his waist, caressing it over the wrinkles of his shirt. It was way too tight on him, but damn if it didn't look good. Delicious.

Your thumbs rubbed the fabric, almost absentmindedly, although your brain was well aware of how much you craved him. Even the smallest touch was enough to ground you, at the same time that it made you experience a floating sensation... and at the same time that it always left you wanting more. Admiring eyes shifted to where you were holding, then a little lower, taking in his tummy. The shirt didn't reveal all of it, but it was enough to drive you crazy. He looked even more beautiful to the sound of ABBA quietly playing in the background. But you couldn't help but wonder what was the occasion for that particular outfit.

"Mmm, and what is my baby wearing?" You hummed appreciatively.

"You weren't supposed to see this yet... It's for tonight's show."

"I wasn't supposed to see it yet?"

"No, it was a surprise."

"Kinda like a 'can't see the bride before the wedding' type of thing?" You teased, poking his waist and watching him squirm before continuing to explain.

"No... that's to avoid bad luck. In this case, it was just so you'd drool all over me once you saw me on stage in these clothes." He smirked. “But you were too quick to get back from the store…”

"And who said I won't still drool? Hm?" You squeezed his waist. "It doesn't matter if I've seen the outfit, you know I'll always be crazy about it."

"Good, because-"

Suddenly, he interrupted himself with an excited gasp. You had no idea what had just happened to make him that happy... not even as he pointed to the right, apparently showing you the reason of his behavior. You couldn't see anything out of the ordinary in the room. But then, you understood. A simple turning up of the music was all that you needed to understand what this was about.

"I love this song! Now there's nothing at aaall, that can keeep us apaaart~" He started singing in a mock-serious tone, eyebrows furrowed and puckered lips in exaggerated expressions. "Touch my liiips..." He brought your hand to his lips and you playfully rolled your eyes, letting him give a quick peck to your fingertips. He continued his singing, letting go of your wrist to point at you. "And you knooow I'm crazy 'bout youuuuu~"

Just when you thought he was going to serenade you with some romantic slow song, the beat changed to an upbeat one, scaring you a little, but filling him with energy.

"Kisses of fire!" Joost lifted his arms in a theatrical manner. "Burning, burning!" He then lowered and opened them in the same way, swaying his hips as he danced with a grin on his face. You were close to telling him the music could be heard by the whole hotel, but you didn't have the guts when he looked that happy, so you just smiled.

He kept on dancing and singing, never stopping the movements of his arms and hips, making you look at him with a dopey expression.

"I've had my share of love affairs, but they were nothing compared to thiiis~" He shook his shoulders, getting closer to you. You didn't budge from your spot, so he took the chance to grab your waist as he pouted at you. "Dance with me, babyyy~"

He guided you to the beat while you tried to stifle your giggles. It was clumsy and uncoordinated, but neither of you wanted it to be perfect. At least, not according to the definition of most people. In your eyes, this moment was definitely what appeared in front of the word perfect in the dictionary.

He took your hand, dramatically making you spin and pushing you down onto the bed. You fell on your elbows, laughing as he swayed his hips provocatively in front of you. Still, in the midst of his silly motions, you found him incredibly attractive. You always did. His bubbly personality and pretty looks were an irresistible combination and you weren't strong in the slightest when it came to it. You eyed him up and down, in what you thought was a discrete way of taking him in. Joost noticed your appreciative look, but didn't say anything, instead crawling on top of your body and kissing you while the music kept playing. After a few seconds, he pulled away, revealing your smile.

"You're heavy. Did you know that?"

His grin widened at your teasing words and, in one swift motion, he rolled over to the side, shirt riding up in the process, revealing all of his tummy. You let a hand wander to the fuzzy yet soft skin, petting it. When you glanced up, you noticed that he had turned his head to look at you - half-lidded eyes and lazy smirk.

"So, what did you think of the 'show'?" Joost asked.

"10/10, would recommend. Way different from that 'Super Trouper' bit you were performing when I got here, but equally as incredible."

"That's a Joost Klein show for ya." He chuckled. "A little preview of tonight."

"Interesting..." You slowly got on top of him, straddling his thighs while your hands rested on his stomach. "I also have a little preview of tonight for you."

His eyes widened slightly as you began talking in a sultry tone, but the heavy eyelids quickly returned once you started massaging his tummy. You smirked, moving your hands to his waist - and taking the opportunity to pull up his shirt even further - so you could plant soft kisses on his belly pouch.

"My little born dancer~" You murmured against him. Your hands slid down a bit lower as your mouth replaced them on their previous spot. They held his hips now, thumbs tenderly rubbing the skin. It was always a battle in your brain to decide whether to use your hands or your mouth on a particular part of his body, ending up with you choosing to desperately alternate between the two. "... With his little born dancer hips~" You gave him a series of gentle pecks on his waist, listening to his giggles. "You really were blessed with the most beautiful body... Look at these curves... Jesus..."

"Blessed?" More adorable little chuckles left his lips as you nosed at his side.

"Mhm..." You pulled away to look him the eyes. "You know those sculptures from Ancient Times? Women with curvy bodies and little belly pouches in skin-tight clothing? You look like one of those sculptures." Your mouth moved to worship his tummy again, distributing kisses like he was something sacred.

"You're so biased." He scoffed with a smitten expression.

"I'm not! It's the truth." The words barely made your lips leave his skin, but you could sense the fond shaking of his head. "It was viewed as a sign of wealth back then, you know?" You said after a beat of silence, going back to that topic. He furrowed his brows with a smile as he waited for you to continue, and once again, you turned to face him, gentle hands massaging his soft figure. "Having a plump body, I mean. They associated it with high status because those were the people who could afford to eat well and didn't have to do manual work."

"Well, aren't you a little nerd?" He flashed you a grin, teasingly messing up your hair. "Tell me more."

"The Greeks actually had a word for that: 'Eusarkos'. It was used to refer to that desirable state of wellness, meaning something like 'fleshy'. It was a weird time in many things, but showing non-skinny bodies some love is definitely something we should do nowadays." You returned to kissing his tummy, making sure to accompany it with loud 'mwah' noises.

"Can't believe you're using your Ancient History knowledge to worship my body." He laughed.

"Those were just fun facts. My hands and mouth are doing all the worshipping." You smirked and let your hands squeeze his waist while your mouth sucked some hickies onto his tummy. "You're way more beautiful than those sculptures, anyway." You sighed against his pale skin, mumbling praises. "So much more beautiful..." In a slow, deliberate movement you started pulling down his black jeans - not yet with the accessories he would wear to the concert.

"You're the beautif-"

"Shhh, this isn't about me, baby, it's about you." You interrupted him, taking his pants off completely and leaving him in just his dark boxers - the ones with his name all around the waistband. He looked perfect with that tight shirt pulled up to his chest and bare legs on display.

More kisses were planted on his tummy while you began kneading at his waist, making him impatient now that he was in his underwear. But you weren't cruel, so you let your pecks trail to the bulge at the front of his boxers, getting closer to what you two wanted. One of Joost's hands buried in your hair, scratching as if unconsciously telling you to take him into your mouth. But you didn't need to be told twice. Faster than when it came to his pants, you pulled down his boxers, exposing his beautiful cock. It was half-hard already from all the kissing and desperately waiting for your lips to wrap around it.

"So needy, liefje~" He giggled as you stared hungrily at his dick.

"Look who's talking..." Your hand wrapped around his length, giving it a couple of strokes and watching it twitch. "You're the one getting hard from tummy kisses." A smirk appeared on your face as you made him blush.

"You weren't just kissing it, okay? Besides, I like being worshipped. Feels nice."

"And I'm the needy one? Riiight." You leaned down to give the head a little lick, enjoying the immediate furrow of his eyebrows in pleasure. "Let me help with that neediness, pretty."

Your hand slid to the base, giving it some attention, as the tip of his cock disappeared between your lips, allowing you to finally feel his warmth inside your mouth. A hum escaped you as you made a few up and down motions before slowly taking him deeper, forcing yourself to reach where your fingers were. Realizing you didn't need your hand there anymore, you interrupted the stroking and moved both of them to his hips, wandering up and down in an exploration of those gorgeous curves. You bobbed your head, carefully trying not to choke on his thick length, while his moans encouraged you to keep going. And if they weren't the perfect sign of how good you were doing, the feeling of his dick growing fully hard against your tongue definitely was. It praised you in an indescribable way, only making you more focused on pleasing him. The tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, making you let out wet, struggling sounds while your hands squeezed his hips tighter. You still wanted more, though. You wanted to bury your nose in his pubes and feel him as deep as you could, already picturing the delicious sounds that would come out of the man underneath you. Suddenly, you felt a gentle hand in your hair; tattooed fingers burying between the strands in a warm caress, almost like he understood what you were trying to do.

"Baby~ You don't need to take all of it, you know?"

You furrowed your brows even further and made a stubborn noise of disagreement. Like most things, you knew you didn't need to, but you wanted to. Besides, it wasn't your first time sucking Joost's dick. You knew you could make it fit all the way in. You were just too impatient today, wanting to feel more of him right that second, without taking it slow. Alright, maybe he was right. Maybe you were needy.

You took a deep breath through your nose, slowing your movements so you could sink your mouth onto his cock in a controlled manner; watery, half-lidded eyes looking up at him for approval. He tried to keep watching, but your lips meeting the base of his dick made him throw his head back against the mattress with a broken moan.

"Fuck, babe, always so good for me~" His fingers twitched in your hair, trying not to force you down, but desperately needing you to move.

You nuzzled your face against his pelvis, closing your eyes as you tried to ease all of his length into your mouth. The feeling of your nose rubbing his pubes overwhelmed you in the best way possible and you could tell it also drove him wild.

After managing to move up and down again with less struggle, you glanced up, involuntarily moaning at the sight. Joost was back to watching you and he had the most pathetic, needy look on his face. Brows furrowed in pleasure while heavy eyes threatened to roll back, his plump lips parted and letting out tired whines between those shaky breaths.

"I'm close~" Joost sighed the words, completely in bliss.

You weren't cruel, but right now you had other plans for your poor boyfriend that didn't include letting him come down your throat. No matter how good he looked with that begging expression. Slowly, you pulled away, running your tongue across the underside in the process and watching the string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock break in what was a downright filthy sight. His half-lidded eyes quickly widened at your interruption, pretty mouth opening and closing without knowing what to say. You didn't need his words, though. You could read his thoughts perfectly in that moment.

"I know..." You took his dick in your hand, stroking it with a firm grip. "But you're not coming in my mouth this time."

Joost stared at you with his best puppy dog eyes, but you ignored it and pointed his hard length slightly up to his face while you kept jerking it off. It took his mushy brain a few seconds to understand what you were planning to do, but once he figured it out, he complained in a lazy voice.

"Careful not to get any cum on my shirt. I'm wearing it to the concert tonight, liefjeee!"

"It won't get on your shirt, don't worry."

"Babe. Then I'll have to change my whole outfit if it does."

You shook your head with a smile and lifted the fabric with your free hand, revealing his hairy chest.

"Better?"

"Mhm~" He hummed weakly, so close to his orgasm. "Y-You're gonna make me come on my tummy?"

"Yes, but don't you worry. I'll clean the mess, okay, angel?"

"Okay~" He parroted dumbly.

"You just worry about letting go all over yourself."

"Yes~" Another sweet, mindless answer. "Please?" He asked simply, but you knew exactly what he was referring to.

"Yes, you can come, baby."

His hips twitched involuntarily as you gave him permission, and in a matter of seconds, white ropes shot out of his cock, painting his tummy and a bit of his chest. Maybe it had been a good idea to get the shirt out of the way. His moans of pleasure filled the room, stealing your attention from the mess on his stomach and directing it to his pretty face. Blue eyes slowly opening while he recovered from the aftershocks, and disappearing once again as he gave you a tender smile. You retributed it with one of your own, leaning down to kiss his pink, inviting lips and calming his labored breathing with your mouth.

“Perfect…” You whispered after pulling away, admiring his features for a moment. Then, you switched to trailing kisses down his jaw until they reached his chest. “You’re literally the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” Your tongue darted out to lick the drops of release that had missed his tummy. “The most beautiful person.” More kisses met his skin as you finally got to his belly, licking a long stripe there. After releasing your grip on his shirt - which stayed glued to his chest - you held his waist again, kneading it as you cleaned the mess on his stomach. “Can’t wait to see you on stage tonight. You’re gonna crush it, like you always do.”

“Thanks, babe.” He tried to suppress his giggles as your tongue tickled his skin. “I’m gonna make sure to move my hips just for you.”

“Mmm, in this outfit? Oh my, I’m drooling already.” You purposely let a string of saliva dribble from your mouth onto his sticky stomach. He laughed as you immediately lapped at it, amused by your silly antics.

“How are you even gonna hold it together during the show?”

“I won’t. That’s why I need my fix now.” You showered his belly with kisses. “… and after.” You alternated the gentle pecks with slow licks, giving it all the attention you could and moaning softly at the taste of his cum.

“You sound like an addict.” Joost chuckled.

“That’s because I am one. I’m completely addicted to you.” After a good cleaning of the sticky fluid, you moved to kiss the curve of his waist. “I still think your body is a blessing. Just look at you… Perfect from head to toe.” You mouthed at his skin before pulling away. “And all mine.”

it started with hushed voices; some distant, lighthearted giggling down a couple stories below on the street, just outside the living room window. heels scraping across cement, the jingling of keys as marleen held you up and lennie rifled through your bag, desperately trying to find your phone. joost could only hear it all because you’d actually already called him a while ago, just to then immediately forget that you did before he’d even picked up. with such an easy grin on his face, he listened to you ramble about something or other, your words too slurred to make out anything other than his name before another voice suddenly drowned you out.

“babe, it was in your fucking bra the whole time! i can’t-wait…joost? what?…hello?”

“hey lennie; you okay?”  

the penny finally dropped. you’d called him from outside the club, just wanting to tell him that you were safe and finally making your way back home when the uber had pulled up, and you’d tucked your phone into your bra for ‘safe keeping’.  you hadn’t even realised that it was still there until alanis eventually saw it peaking out the corner of your dress after several, rather long minutes of rummaging through everybody else’s bags instead.

“how are you…? you’re already there…uh, yeah, we’re just…we’re outside and we can’t-she needs carrying up, i think, and we…”

she wasn’t that far away from being just as drunk as you were, was she? joost could hear it in her voice; he had to bite back a small laugh.

“i’m on my way down.”

everything tilted on its axis as you pushed yourself away from marleen to stand on your own two feet then, making her wobble slightly because she wasn’t exactly that sober, either. 

you didn’t want joost to see you like this, this close to being absolutely fucking blackout. back when you’d first mentioned the idea of a ‘no boyfriends allowed’ night out with the girls, you’d even tried to promise that you wouldn’t, teasing him that you could handle your drink a lot better than him and his little red nose ever could. and for whatever reason, you can’t even remember anymore, it somehow became such a silly little competition between you that without a doubt, you were really fucking losing. you just didn’t think that he needed to know that just yet. 

you also really wanted him to touch you, and it was greedy of you to want that as painfully as you did. you’d spent most of the morning wrapped around him, biting down onto his shoulder, eagerly nodding your head yes every time that he asked you if he was making you feel good; if you were already close to cumming again. but god you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? even four years down the line, you’re both still so insatiably obsessed with each other. 

maybe if alanis had been lying before, and you weren’t in fact too drunk to even make it up a couple flights of stairs on your own, you would have gotten away with it. if you weren’t swaying on the spot with such tired eyes, your eyelids drooping as your bag threatened to slip off your shoulder and into the puddle beneath your feet. if you weren’t standing with your back to the door of your building, unaware that joost was now behind you still grinning, because you were too caught up trying to focus on your own breathing to have heard him chuckle at the sorry sight of all three of you, plastered.

“hey guys.”  

a shrill, drunken chorus of ‘hey joost!’’s only worsened the slight pounding behind your eyes as you jumped, rocking on your heels until you fell into his chest. large, warm palms gripped your hips; 1982 and 1983 on either side, giving you a squeeze and holding you steady. 

“ppft, they really weren’t kidding, huh?” 

there was nothing but a dazed, blank look in your eyes as you tilted your head up to gaze back at him, holding onto his arms for balance, but a sweet, sweet smile still pulling at your lips. you had no idea what he was talking about, you weren’t really listening; you were too distracted by the faint, honey-blond stubble that lightly dusted his jaw. you forgot that he still had that; it wasn’t helping the ache you felt between your legs. 

“hey baby.”

joost only chuckled again and held onto you a little tighter.  “hey liefje, you feeling okay?”

“mmhm, yeah, good, good…like i’m ready to go to bed now.”

you hoped that by leaning even further into him, fluttering your eyelashes and wrapping your arms around his neck, that he’d take the hint. that he’d throw you over his shoulder, take you to bed, and have you caged beneath him crying as he ruins you several times over. it was all that you had thought about back in the cab and so now that you were actually here with him — fuck, you didn’t care anymore if the girls could see just how desperate you really were for him. 

“let’s get you upstairs then, yeah?”

except even if joost had caught on, which he definitely hadn’t, he’d never want to touch you like this, would he? whilst you’re so far gone that the slurring of your words made you almost incomprehensible; the teetering on your louboutins so severe that you couldn’t help but rest your entire body weight against him. the only thing that he was planning on doing to you tonight was helping you to get into some pyjamas and under the fresh cotton of your duvet.

as you nodded your head, your eyes falling closed again and a too-large, too-soft yawn tearing through you, he cast his eyes back up for a moment. “what’re you guys doing? wanna come up as well?”

there was already a sofa, several blankets, and a couple old big t-shirts with their names on it if they did. and for the sake of his peace of mind, joost actually found himself hoping that they would, that he’d find himself with three drunk girls to take care of instead of just the one. because neither lennie or marleen seemed that much sober than you, both of them stumbling, almost tripping over their own feet as they squinted down at their phones and giggled between themselves. he’d rather deal with all the noise and mess of it then have to wait to find out if they ever made it back home safe.

“oh! no, we’re…uh, we’re fine, we’re waiting for appie to come get us. he’s uh…like two minutes away? i don’t know, i can’t really see right now.”  

joost shook his head, smiling —  giggling when lennie almost dropped her phone and fell into marleen trying to catch it. “alright, but if he’s not here in five, you come straight up, yeah? and text me when you’re home!”

he didn’t dare move until they both promised, waving their pinkie fingers in the air and singing their goodbyes as appie’s car finally appeared from around the corner. only then did he crouch down a little, curling an arm under both of your knees to scoop you up, making you shriek and grip onto his hoodie that much harder.

it was almost definitely a symptom of all the alcohol, but you really couldn’t remember him ever being this stupidly tall. suddenly being so high up off the ground as he only just about managed to kick the heavy doors to your building back open, slipping the both of you inside and taking each stair back up to your floor one at a time; you hated how it made your stomach turn. how your mouth slowly started to fill with a saliva that you just couldn’t swallow down. 

“you okay?”  joost had felt your breathing change; every fast exhale through your nose tickling the side of his neck.

“i’m really trying not to throw up right now.”

the silence that followed was only brief, broken by him muttering a quiet, only slightly-panicked “fuck.” underneath his breath as he then started to take the steps up two at a time. “going as fast as i can, liefje. if you could keep trying not to throw up on me, i’d really love you for that.”

“aren’t you supposed to love me anyway?”

trust you to still be so stubborn whilst this fucking hammered. 

“i will never ever not love you, moppie. i would just really prefer it if you didn’t throw up on me, okay?”

there was another short beat of silence. your breaths deepened; the steady rise and fall of your chest starting to slow as you really did try to push through the nausea that sat right in the back of your throat. the feeling of his hands squeezing, almost kneading the soft flesh of your thighs, the heat that you felt beneath his skin, the cold air that nipped at the very tip of your nose; you needed it all to be enough. a big enough, good enough distraction to keep your mind busy and away from the need that you felt to suddenly start gagging. 

“would you hate me if i did?”  you couldn’t help the way that your words still slurred all together. “like…would you…would you get really angry? like… ‘want to break up with me’ angry?” 

“what?”  and his light, almost out-of-breath laugh was more confused than anything. “when have i ever been that angry with you?”

“no but…i don’t know…it just sounds like you’d be really upset if i did.”

you just wanted him to be ready, prepared for the worst possible case scenario, because you were actually starting to sweat a little now, weren’t you? no amount of deep breathing or ‘mindfulness’ was shaking the feeling of the inevitable, and the last thing that you’d be able to handle right now is joost being angry at you too. he was right, he never really had been like that with you before, and you weren’t exactly eager to change that.

the few tears that ran down your cheeks were just mere consequences of you thinking about it more than you should have been. imagining the disgust on his face and in his voice as he’d drop you on the spot, wiping the vomit from his sleeves and yelling at you to go away and never come back. the sharp, harsh way that you sniffed and wiped your running nose on the back of your hand, it was just silly; you’d never be drunk enough to believe that he’d actually ever be like that. you just weren’t sober enough to not still cry over such a made-up hypothetical. 

you felt him kiss the roots of your hair, saw him start to shake his head from the corner of your eye. “could never hate you.” 

and he meant it. 

there was no life for him without you in it — vomit or not. 

“so you wouldn’t break up with me even if i was sick on you?”

“i’d honestly let you be sick on me everyday if it really made you that happy.”

it almost knocked the air out of your lungs, didn’t it? made your eyes widen and your bottom lip wobble just as your knees did, as joost carefully set you back down on your feet just outside your front door. and to his credit, you weren’t really thinking about gagging anymore, because how could you be? you were too busy thinking about the hands that still lingered on your waist, just in case. the sudden, terrified look in his eyes when you then burst into tears, sobbing into his chest.

“that’s so disgusting! i can’t believe you’d do that for me. i love you so much.” 

if joost didn’t just laugh, he’d probably start crying too. “i love you too.”

surprisingly, it wasn’t too hard to eventually waddle you inside. even though the temperature had dropped enough to make you shiver, a late night breeze bringing a layer of goosebumps to the surface of your cold skin, you showed no indication of letting go any time soon. with your face still smushed against him and your arms wrapped around his middle, joost had to guide you back, rocking you from side to side by the hold that he still had on you. for once, it was actually a good thing that he’d forgotten to lock the front door behind him on his way out earlier.

the warmth of your flat engulfed you, the tips of your fingers tingling as you hummed, nestling yourself further into his chest. the aching of your feet still clad in your favourite pair of heels wasn’t enough to stop you from yawning again, convinced that you honestly could fall asleep right here, standing in the middle of your hallway. 

he slung one of your arms around his shoulders — his way of keeping you balanced as he bent down to slip the red-bottom’s off your feet. 

“still need to be sick?”

you shook your head, unaware that he couldn’t quite see it. “i’ll be fine. just tired.”

joost still made the mental note to find you a bowl to keep by your side of the bed, just for the night. “go lay down for me, i’ll be there in a sec.”

it was putting an awful lot of faith in your ability to still walk, asking you to go off on your own whilst he disappeared inside of the bathroom. the walls swayed with every step, leaning in to listen to each one of your small squeals every time that you almost lost your balance and fell, coming far too close to knocking some of daan’s framed canvases from off their hooks. you managed to avoid it, somehow, though not without bumping into a couple doorframes instead.

and of course he could hear all the commotion from down the landing; the muffled bangs and crashes — the loud giggles every time that you managed to still trip over your own feet. it made him rush to get back to you, shaking his head, throwing your makeup wipes and hairbrush into the old mixing bowl underneath his arm before turning on his heel. there might’ve been no cracked picture-frames or fallen keepsakes on the floor like he thought there might be, but joost still found himself picking up random items of your clothing along his way, didn’t he? 

because you might’ve misunderstood him a little when he asked you to ‘go lay down for him’.  it didn’t matter how tired you were, you still wanted it, still tried to strip yourself down to nothing because you wanted to save him the time and trouble of doing it himself. you just couldn’t have anticipated just how soft your mattress felt beneath you as you finally collapsed down onto it face first. how it beckoned your eyelids to droop again even though your bra was still on and your skirt was all twisted up around your knees.

only another minute or two passed before you heard his footsteps; the quiet shuffling of joost moving around the room, too hesitant to make any noise just in case you really had succumbed to sleep already. he tossed your stockings and little corset top into the washing basket, left your face wipes and hairbrush on your bedside table and the sick bowl on the floor, closest to your head. he didn’t notice the cheeky, lopsided smile pulling at the corners of your lips at the touch of his fingers curling around the waistband of your skirt, gently tugging it down, over, and past your ankles. 

“been waiting for this all night.”  

he only hesitated for a moment. at first, he hadn’t quite heard what you’d said; your voice low and breathy, muffled by the blankets that you’d smothered yourself with. and then it clicked once he’d deciphered that you weren’t talking about the comfort of your bed, and he smiled, rolling his eyes in a way that wasn’t mocking. 

it was like trying to move dead weight as joost helped you to sit up, the palms of his hands then finding the warmth of your cheeks after brushing all the loose hair away from your eyes. even now, as you sat with slumped shoulders and smudged makeup on the edge of your bed, the bra strap of your matching set falling down your arm and your underwear somehow all tangled up, leaving nothing to the imagination — you were still so gorgeous to him. 

“tomorrow.”

you couldn’t hold back your groan; how you threw your head back and frowned. “but that’s ages away…why can’t we fuck now?”

“because you’re hammered, baby.”  still with a hand holding you up, he spoke in a laugh as he leaned over to grab your makeup wipes from off your bedside table. “tomorrow we can do it twice, okay? to make up for it.”

joost brought a wipe up to your face, whispering for you to close your eyes and giggling as you pouted. “promise?”

you really were such a marvel, weren’t you? a force to truly be reckoned with.

as sweat had started to cling to his skin, turning the palms of his hands clammy, and as the ends of his hair stuck themselves to the nape of his neck, joost had found himself stuck. not even the end of the world could have moved him from his spot amongst the crowd. in a single breath, almost, you had him hooked, didn't you? obsessed with you.

though honestly, it shouldn't have taken them so long to realise. the clues had all been there, right underneath their noses – stuntje, bram, teun, lyon. how they’d each had to queue to get in and then pay in cash on the door, despite it only, at least seeming to be a regular, old run-of-the-mill bar on the city outskirts. how it was wall-to-wall heaving with people all clad in heavy, dark leather and silver chains, leaving them with hardly enough room to stand on their own.

but the countless shots of tequila from the last three bars had still coursed heavily through their veins, clouding their judgements and skewing their eyesights. none of them had taken any notice of all the posters stuck up around the room, but even if they had, they wouldn't have thought to google translate them. priority one had been figuring out who’s round it was then, and priority two was trying to spot a bottle of don julio behind the bar. 

it took the sudden, deafening strum of an electric guitar to make them all jump enough to spill a few drops of their drinks. as lyon had glanced up from his phone, already in search of the next bar to crawl to, joost was turning on his heel to follow the sound across the room, around a corner, leaving the rest of them to all trail behind him. seeing the make-shift stage set up right against the far back wall; all the mic stands, guitar peddles, and miscellaneous cables that drowned it — the penny had finally dropped. 

aimlessly, they had wandered into your show without even realising it. an exclusive, ‘one night only’  intimate show in one of the last few countries in europe that your band hadn’t played in yet. and bram had been the first one to say it – a little in awe but also ever so slightly, harmlessly mocking the situation, asking if they’d all somehow stumbled into a ‘my chemical romance concert circa 2006’. it was only because of that, that joost had taken another sip of his double-tequila, eager to settle the disappoint in his chest as he readied himself to leave after only the first song or two. the whole ‘goth’ thing wasn't exactly to everyone’s tastes; joost had already accepted that he was bound to be outnumbered in wanting to stay.

except then, you had sauntered on stage, hadn’t you? with your band-mates all following in tow. you, in all of your delicate, black lace; your sweet, saccharine smile, and a voice so heavenly that he could only stand there and watch you sing with parted lips, hypnotised. by the third song in he was already looking you up on every platform that he could think of. on instagram, some part of him stopped working properly when he’d seen that ‘follow back’ button staring right back at him.

it had flustered him terribly. had him clicking on it and following you back without any hesitation or regard of the potential ramifications. as stuntje had begun to tease, yelling something about ‘goth mommies’ right into his ear, he’d only shaken his head and tried to swat him away, unable to hide the soft rosiness of his cheeks. 

so the end of your show had come as quite a relief, actually. it gave him the chance to eventually step outside for a moment, to shake all the sweat from his hair with the tips of his fingers and take a heavy, big deep breath in. as the others all lost themselves in the debate of ‘bar number five vs mcdonald’s’, joost was busy chain-smoking through his pack of cigarettes and trying to brainstorm different ways he could possibly collaborate with you somehow.

maybe he could teach you how to rap or something; maybe you could be the one to finally teach him how to sing.

because he just couldn’t get you out of his head. over the sound of a dozen other conversations all happening around him, he could still hear the sound of your voice in his ears, see the sight of you glowing on stage every time that he so much as blinked. 

“oh shit, wait, isn’t that…?”  he ignored the slight nudge to his ribs, his head still down, gaze still fixed on his shoes. “fuck, okay, she’s coming right for you, man. wake up.”

and you were, weren’t you? making a straight fucking beeline for him, with the brightest fucking grin tugging at your lips. 

the dark blouse and long, awkward skirt that you’d been wearing on stage still cling to your skin, blowing in the wind that would have sent a chill straight down your spine if it wasn’t for the heavy coat that you now wear. your shoulders carry most of the weight of the denim that almost swallows you whole, threatening to fall down past your hands and hanging around your ankles. though somehow in spite of the weather, you still radiate warmth.

and it throws joost right off his axis. not at your lips or around your eyes, there’s not a single smudge of anything anywhere. there’s no pinkness to your face, or droplets of sweat settling along your hairline. it’s all too good to be true — you’re standing right in front of him now, close enough for him to see the faint smile lines that frame your mouth, and it’s just perfect. 

“of all people i thought i’d see here, you really weren’t one of them.”  he only manages a nervous, half-smile before you’re continuing with an inked hand splayed out across your heart. “i have to admit that it’s been a while, but i used to watch you on youtube all the time; do you still go by unicorn-joost?” 

his friends all cough simultaneously, their shoulders jolting, each and every one of them failing at trying to hide their sudden cackles. they’re a little too amused by the simple, almost innocent translation of his old social media name, laughing in a way that has no malice behind it at all, but holds just enough of something that joost refuses to entertain it. he can tell that you’re trying — hear how there’s a rich softness to your accent that’s indicative of some place else. english isn’t your first language either; to join in would feel almost cruel to him.

he only smiles at you sweetly as he shakes his head, endeared by just how equally giddy you seem to be. “just joost now… i’ve grown up.”

and your voice wavers just enough for him to hear it when you finally return the favour and introduce yourself, speaking your name and giggling when he tries to repeat it back to you in your accent.

“did you enjoy the show, joost?”  

you really don’t expect him to say ‘yes!’ as feverishly as he does. 

maybe it’s not fair of you to judge him or any of his friends as so, but it feels too safe to have assumed that none of them were exactly your intended demographic. they stick out like sore thumbs amongst the rest of your fans; the only ones adorning any sort of colour in their outfits, one of which in a minecraft t-shirt, and a severe lack of any type of leather. you can see it on their faces, feel it in their body language, that they’re just not used to being around so many people that all look like you. it’s cute.

but it means that you’re left speechless when joost veers away from the script that you’d had ready in your head. you were prepared for a cordial ‘yeah, it wasn’t bad!’ and nothing more; something a little obvious in its lack of sincerity. you’re not quite sure what to do with it when he just starts rambling instead, apologising for not having heard of you before, but promising that it was one of the best performances that he’s ever seen. how his friends are all nodding behind him whilst he’s waving his hands around, taking drags of his cigarette in between breaths, calling you captivating and ‘unlike anything that he’s ever seen’. 

a blush of your own starts to creep it’s way up the back of your neck as you finally find the right words to say, clutching onto your own hands just to stop them from shaking. “thank you, you don’t…you have no idea how much that means to me, wow.”

“how do you do that, by the way?”  he waggles a finger in front of his eyes, head tilting to the side. “i wear the eyeliner for my own shows sometimes, but it never stays right.”

you try to answer without stumbling over any syllables, gazing into the blue of his eyes and already trying to picture how they’d look with a thick streak of black along their waterlines. but then you stop, flinching, taking a step or two closer to him at the sound of yelling from behind you. it’s only a group of guys taking turns downing their drinks and competing to see who can do it the fastest, but they’re loud enough for you to lose all train of thought. 

it’s instinctive the way that joost then brings his arm up high around your shoulders, keeping his hand balled up into a loose fist as he guides you to stand even further into his side. 

“yeah, i’m not a big fan of loud noises either.”  he pauses only to curl his spine, bending down until he’s level with your ear. “do you want to move somewhere quieter? would that be better?”

when you nod, he readjusts, the warmth of his palm finding your lower back as he starts to lead the way. 

at the very far end of the smoking area, hidden ever so slightly around another corner, is a picnic bench that you’re surprised to see no one else has found yet. it’s old wood is a little green, a little rotted, but it’s dry enough for you to sit down without the damp soaking through your clothes. you’re lighting up a cigarette of your own as soon as you’re settled, cocking an eyebrow at the look on joost’s face as he sits down across from you.

“surprised that i smoke too?”

he grins at you again, shrugging. “with a voice like that, a little. you’re not so…’rahrahrah’ with it.”

immediately you choke on that first heavy inhale of smoke, your head hanging, coughing hard enough for your throat to burn as you laugh. it’s through watery eyes that you watch him start to crack too, giggling as he squints behind the thick, dark frames of his glasses. he’s only laughing because you are, and you’re only still laughing because he is.

“what was that?!”

“i was trying to do the smokers voice thing!”

“you sounded like that skeleton with the…the, fuck, i don’t know what the  word for it is in english.”

except joost already knows exactly what you’re trying to say because then his eyes are lighting up, and he’s nodding at you again as he starts to act it out, almost, hitting an imaginary bin-lid with an invisible bat of some kind. 

“ja ja ja ja, the one with the stick!” 

“yes!”

a subtle aching starts to seep into your cheeks, pulling uncomfortably at your lips — it’s just becoming so easy with him, isn’t it? you’re smiling so much that it’s starting to hurt now, and it means that you don’t even think to check your phone that’s slowly buzzing itself to death inside your pocket. in no more than an hour somehow, joost already has you wrapped irrevocably around his finger, hanging off his every word.

your elbows resting on the table, hands cupped underneath and propping up your chin, but still clutching onto the cigarette that’s long since burnt itself out all the way down to the filter. you’re watching him throw his hands around again because he’s lost himself inside a story about one of his nephews dressing up as a skeleton for halloween one year. you’re smiling so much that it hurts. 

it does nothing but feed right into his ego. it’s rare that he’s so extroverted with someone like this, someone like you, someone that could easily make his knees buckle with a single glance. he’s the type to quickly blush at mere eye-contact, unable to do much other than simply nod politely when spoken to. you’re bringing out something new in him, aren’t you? a confidence that he’s just not used to yet.

it means that neither of you realise it when the time starts to slip away right through your fingers. it’s just too hard of a thing to help — the way that the conversation flows from one topic to the next as though you’re more old friends catching up than anything else. 

suddenly joost knows each of your bandmates by name, mannerism, and most embarrassing moment of the tour so far. you learn of his friends beyond their art and online personas, from each of the little vlogs and tiktoks that he has saved of them on his phone. you tell him a little too much about your new ‘resident evil’ obsession; he returns the favour by admitting his recent mexican wrestling one. 

the only thing that you both dare to leave unsaid is any mention of your families. it’s only because you remember enough from watching him back on youtube that you know better than to ask; you’re not exactly in a rush to explain your own situation, either. 

and it’s not until you’re half way through trying to list each of your favourite films without laughing, because somehow you have just a few too many in common with him to wrap your head around, that you’re interrupted. someone in a t-shirt bearing the bar’s logo stands beside you with an almost blank expression, speaking a language neither of you can understand. after a moment of awkward silence, she finally clears her throat and sighs, rolling her eyes slightly.

“we close in thirty minutes so we’re asking for last drinks. can i get you anything?” 

joost answers hesitantly on your behalf, shaking his head ‘no’ with a hint of a smile on his face as he reassures whoever it is that you’ll be leaving in just a minute. when you don’t dispute it, disappointment starts to lower itself onto his chest, the weight of it crushing, but it’s subtle enough that it only brings a slight furrow to his eyebrows. 

you just can’t believe what time it is.

for seemingly the first time all night, it occurs to you to finally dig your phone out of your coat pocket and dismiss the low battery warning. the time that you’re confronted with, ‘00:53am’ sends a small shock to your system, only because it means that you’ve been out here with him for almost three hours now. several texts from your bandmates clutter your lockscreen, and they all read relatively the same.

‘we got the hint ;) and went to go get food. we’ll probs be back at the hotel by the time ur done. plz be safe we have no room for a baby on the bus. see u tomo’ 

a slow heat rises to your cheeks, staining them a soft pink despite the cooler breeze that still whips around you every now and then. you don’t look up until joost starts to stand, a blush that matches your own creeping its way up the sides of his neck. and then you don’t stop to ask why he seems to be almost just as flustered as you know that you are, as you copy his movements, rising to your feet with a shy reluctance.

you’re still trying to grasp the certain implications of what your friends had said. it makes you a little dizzy actually, imagining it, and realising just how much you want it.

“my uh, my hotel’s not that far…would you want to come back with me?”  

and the offer almost knocks joost right off his feet, doesn’t it? he finds himself needing to lean back against the bench just to try and stay upright.

the way that you’re smiling up at him with those big doe eyes of yours, tucking strands of fallen hair behind your ears and blushing more out of nervousness than anything else. it’s the first time that he’s truly seeing the effect that he has on you, and it’s killing him. 

he nods softly, grinning without his teeth as he pulls the hood of his jacket up and over his head. “yeah! i’d really like that.” 

he curves an arm around your shoulders again, and you assume that it’s only to keep you close whilst you make your way out, but once you’re out onto the street he doesn’t move, and neither do you. it’s like that, that you both walk the ten minutes back to your hotel, with you tucked gently into his side and listening quietly as he rambles about how beautiful this city is. you ask him about where else he’s been, on tour or otherwise, and he tells you sparing little to no detail. 

but it’s really not too long before you start to lose track of it all, of the finer, almost intimate details of his stories, because it’s the mere sound of joost’s voice that you find yourself so stuck on. the sheer softness of it. how it’s so much deeper than you remember, with just enough gravel to it to make your head spin. 

it feels a little…wrong, despite all things considered, but you just can’t help it. the old leather of your boots hit a puddle, you hear muffled live music spilling out from a lounge as you pass it by, but all you can focus on is the heat pooling beneath you. you think of his voice in your ear, deeper, breathier, groaning. you can’t appreciate where you are, all of the light, and art, and life that surrounds you, because you’re just too caught up in the thought of whatever this is leading to.

you don’t slip out from underneath his hold until you’re faced with the heavy glass doors of your hotel, and you can’t hide the way that your hands shake when you unlock them with your keycard. it’s dawning on you now that you haven’t exactly clarified what you’ve invited him back with you for, and you’re still waiting for him to ask. you want to hope that it’s obvious when you both step into the lift to head up to your floor, and you immediately take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together. 

but you’ve just never done this before, have you? and joost, you know enough about him by now to gather that he’s something of a gentleman, maybe even a little unassuming. you can’t imagine him ever putting an expectation like that on you; if all you wanted was someone to talk to until you fell asleep, you’re almost certain that he really wouldn’t mind that. 

it doesn’t phase you that neither of you have spoken in a while until you’re wandering down a corridor and he’s asking you which room is yours, and you realise that you’re just about to miss it. 

you pull him to a sudden stop alongside you, the momentum of it swinging him around, and now you’re not quite sure what to say with him gazing down at you like this. 

“you okay?”

“are we on the same page about this?”

you meet his eyes and see the ease in them; how his slight frown melts into something so much sweeter as he shrugs. “we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to; trust me, i’m on board no matter what.”

for just a moment you let the words sit, hanging in the air that thickens around you, before you nod, a faint smile tugging at your lips. and it says exactly what you need it to, because then joost is reaching forward to cradle your jaw; your blush deepens at the feeling of his thumbs smoothing along the skin of your cheeks.

“in my country, we would say ‘zo mooi’.” at the tilting of your head, he continues in something akin to a whisper, leaning into you a little closer. “so beautiful.”

you just about manage to breathe out his name in a sigh before he’s kissing you, clutching your face in the palms of his hands so delicately as your noses bump. the subtle taste of tobacco and sugary soda hit your tongue; the coarser hairs of his moustache tickle the very corners of your mouth. when you hook your fingers through the holes of his belt loops, pulling him flush against you, it’s only to anchor yourself down, really. suddenly your knees feel all funny.

and it’s absolutely ruining you, isn’t it? how perfect it all feels. how you just can’t seem to hold back the way that you whine into his mouth when he moves to step back, leaving you to wobble on uneven feet. not even a full second passes before you’re mourning the loss of him sucking on your bottom lip, but it’s enough to remind you of where you still are, standing on the wrong side of your hotel room’s door. 

with your keycard still balanced between your fingers, you unlock it with a single beep. 

“i’m…gonna go freshen up. wait up for me?”

he nods, leaning down to peck your lips again. “i’ll be here.”

the bathroom door clicks shut behind you, the sound of the shower turning on quickly following. now that he’s on his own for a minute, joost can’t contain his excitement anymore. he’s pumping his fist in the air, doing a little shuffle-dance, and taking fit-pics in the mirror before stopping to fix his hair. 

it almost doesn’t feel real. he doesn’t do this. he can count on one hand the amount of one night stands he’s ever had — if that’s all that this is going to be in the end. something not too dissimilar to disappointment starts to settle beneath his skin as he slips off his jacket and shoes, and perches patiently on the edge of your bed. maybe he already likes you a little bit more than he probably should. 

he sends another selfie to his groupchat; the friends of his that are still awake each reply with a combination of emojis that make his stomach twist as he laughs.

“hey…”

joost glances up at the soft sound of your voice, locking his phone and leaving it somewhere on the bedside table. 

you’re standing at the foot of the bed dressed in nothing but a ‘sisters of mercy’ t-shirt that’s several sizes too big for you. the ends of your hair that poke out from the bun sitting on top of your head hang heavy with drops of water, your face fresh and bare of any makeup. it’s looking like this, so disarmed and almost shy, that he really starts to swoon for you, isn’t it?

a hot breath catches in his throat, his voice threatening to crack. “hi.”

you don’t think too much about it as you cross the room, only stopping once you’re in between his spread-apart legs, with your hands smoothing along the short stubble of his cheeks. you feel him melt into the touch, see how the sharp cerulean of his eyes sparkle in the warm lights around him. the subtle curve of his cupids bow, and the beauty mark that sits just above his chin. it’s only now that you’re noticing the ombré of his eyebrows, too. 

“i think you’re beautiful, too.”

and then before he can blush, you’re kissing him again, and it’s his own hands finding the backs of your thighs and squeezing that keeps you steady this time. you also find yourself becoming pliable in his palms, because when he tugs you in closer, you move without any resistance. when he slips his tongue into your mouth and lets his grip wander up onto your hips, you let him, you encourage it. 

in fact, you only stay like for another moment or two before you’re climbing onto his lap, aren’t you? knees falling either side of his own two hips, fingertips dropping from his face down to the hem of his t-shirt to pull on the dark cotton of it until he finally takes the hint, and throws it off and over his head.

he just can’t help but to giggle when you mutter out a string of what he can only guess are swear-words in your first language, your eyes carefully drifting along his pale, bare chest. “good things i hope?”

with your hands resting on his tummy, you nod with parted lips. “very good.”

he’s about to make a joke when you then start to shift, crawling back off him and onto the floor at his feet. you make a strong reach for his belt-buckle as you do so, fighting with the silver heart and feeling how his muscles jump underneath the touch. you only stop because suddenly his hand comes down to clutch yours, making you glance up with a pout.

“hey — only if you want to, okay? i don’t want you thinking that you have to; you don’t.”  despite the way that his cock strains against his jeans at the mere thought, he really does mean it. 

“no, i want to.”  you gulp down the thick saliva that fills your mouth, eyes flickering between his face and his bulge. “please, but i can’t….get this fucking…”

it’s not mocking how joost laughs at you again, almost painfully endeared by just how desperate you are to get to him. a jagged crease cuts right through your eyebrows, a thicker pout pulling on your full, wet lips, and it’s all because you’re still struggling with his buckle, your patience starting to wear a little thin. 

he doesn’t say anything as he takes over, lifting his hips up off the bed as he guides the cracked, black leather back through the old clasp. he just makes it look so easy, doesn’t he? because you blink and suddenly he’s holding it free in his hands, dropping the belt to the floor and letting his jeans sit loose around his thighs.

it gives you such a perfect view of him, of the boxers printed with his own name — how the cotton stretches around his erection, and he just can’t seem to stop twitching underneath your gaze. gently, you curl your fingers beneath the waistband and pull down, your mouth watering again as your hands start to shake. you’re not even sure what you were expecting, but he’s still somehow bigger. 

“keep looking at me like that, and this might be over before we’ve even started.” 

you only grin before you reach forward and hold him throbbing in your hands, hearing how he sucks in a sharp breath at the soft touch. you don’t grant him a moment to catch his breath either, before you’re licking a smooth stripe up from the base to the pink of his tip, swirling your tongue and sucking, watching how his pretty eyes screw shut. 

and it’s all the encouragement you need to keep going, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the very back of your throat. you’re not even halfway.

“f-fuck, schatje.” 

you’re not sure what it means, but you love the way that it falls from his lips.

joost digs his nails into the mattress behind him, needing to lean back and brace himself on his hands just to feel as though he’s still in control of himself. short, strangled huffs fly from his noise, his tummy all tense and cramping, as small beads of sweat start to gather along his hairline. 

maybe there’s a joke to be made about a singer being so good with their mouth, but he doesn’t know, he can’t seem to think with your lips wrapped around him like this. maybe you’re too good at this, bobbing your head as you try to take as much of his as you possibly can, gagging, and using your hands to reach what you can’t fit. 

he reaches forward to cup your face, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek, wiping away some of the spit from your chin before carefully pulling your hair free from the bun that it’s in. he wouldn’t even know where to begin if you were to have asked him why, so he’s glad that you don’t. he just needs to hold you in any way that he can. 

you feel him lace his fingers through your hair, scratching at your scalp and tugging on your roots every time that you try to push yourself a little further down onto him. it’s really not too hard to tell that he’s holding himself back every time that he does, because his hands are trembling, and as soon as he’s caught his breath, he’s smoothing the messed-up strands back down. 

his head tips forward as his spine slowly curls in; he’s almost hugging your head to him as he whimpers out your name as though it’s some kind of  prayer. 

“fuck, wait wait wait, schat, wait.”  

you let him go with a little ‘pop!’. there’s just a few too many tears welled up behind your waterlines to fully see the fucked-out look on his face, and your throat’s too spent to then speak without your voice cracking. “everything okay?”

joost can only laugh, can’t he? as he pulls you up into another kiss by the hold that he still has on your face. “yeah…i just…i was getting really close.” and then his hands move up to catch the last of the tears in your eyes. “are you?” 

you merely shrug, trying to stifle a small cough. “my throat hurts a little.”

and it’s only because of that, that he finally pulls back, turning around and stretching to reach the bottle of water that he remembers seeing laying on a pillow behind him. it’s open but hardly touched, and something that he insists on holding for you as you take a few sips. 

“better?”  he doesn’t put it down until you nod, and then he’s taking your hands in his to help you stand. a small part of his heart starts to sink at the sight of the sore, red scuff marks on each of your knees. “swap with me, it’s your turn.”

you don’t hesitate. 

as joost moves in turn with you, rising to his feet just to give you the room that you need to take his seat, you lay yourself down across the bed, propping yourself up and resting on your elbows. you watch him stumble trying to kick off his boxers and jeans before settling in between your legs, and you don’t mean to hold your breath for as long as you do when he gently pushes your t-shirt up. you hadn’t bothered to put on any underwear; there’s already a faint coating of your slick stuck to the very inside of your thighs.

it’s the accumulation of the effect that he’s had on you all night, and it renders him fucking speechless. because even as he’s taking you in his grasp and hooking each of your legs over his shoulders, he’s silent, simply staring, losing all of the colour in his eyes to just how wide his pupils dilate. as he flattens his tongue against you and licks a solid stripe up your centre, you hear him take a big deep breath in, taking in your scent. 

“zo lekker…” 

and you don’t get to ask him what it means before you’re suddenly squirming as he grins into you. his hands move to press down against your stomach when your hips buck up from off the bed, forcing you to still despite how he’s sucking on your clit as though it’s some sort of lifeline, and he’ll die if he doesn’t. between that and how he keeps pulling away every few minutes only to blow his cold breath along you, through your folds and laughing at how it makes you shiver, you really don’t stand a chance, do you?

fresh tears spring to your eyes again. with every sharp breath, your tummy caves in on itself a little more. you almost wish that he’d stop moaning at the sheer, sweet taste of you on his tongue, bumping his nose against you as he delves in a little deeper and laps you up, because it’s too much. every vibration sends another jolt up the length of your spine, and your thighs press together around his head. 

“jesus….fuck, joost.”  the words come out all strained and fragmented. you’re very quickly forgetting how to breathe. 

“fuck, i like that.”  he lifts his head up to wipe the wetness from his chin and see for himself the utter state that he’d gotten you in. how your chest is heaving, your face all wrinkly and screwed up with your cheeks just a tad tear-stained. “you should say my name again.”

you all but scream it when his lips wrap around your clit again and refuses to let go. 

clammy hands knot themselves in his hair and pull, and unlike him, you wouldn’t have been able to hold yourself back even if you wanted to. every muscle that lies underneath your skin starts to lock up, cramping, almost turning to stone as you writhe against his mouth. his hands on you aren’t enough to keep you steady anymore; your back is arching up off the bed as he moves his grip down to hold your hips instead. 

you try to push off the mattress — feet digging into the fabric. joost is relentless as he eats you alive, and it’s only by instinct that you’re trying to crawl away. there’s a feeling bubbling up that you just don’t know what to do with, one that’s making you clench around his tongue as you watch him through wet lashes, all starrey-eyed.

“j-joost, fuck, i don’t….i, i fucking, i can’t. oh my god.”

his hold you grows a little stiffer, and he yanks you back down onto his mouth when you manage to wiggle away just a bit. 

“i got you, baby. it’s okay. gonna make you feel so good.”

“joost!”

its when he sucks on your clit again that you cum for the first time, isn’t it? something inside of you snaps, your whole body contorting as you shake, and it well and truly wrecks you beyond all recognition. because as joost sits back on his knees and you drip from his nose all the way down to his chest, you’re curling in on yourself as you struggle to gasp for air. 

piece by piece it feels as though you’re dissolving right into the mattress beneath you, your eyelids heavy and starting to droop. it means that it hardly registers when joost crawls his way up to you and sits just beside your head, brushing the sweat-soaked strands of your hair away and out of your face.

“still with me, schatje?”  his voice isn’t much higher than a whisper.

“mmhm.”  you hum as you slowly roll over onto your back, gazing up at him half-lidded and leaning into the soft touch of his hand still stroking through your hair. “just a little…gone. that was…wow.”

if you could see the look in his eyes, you’d surely blush under the weight of it. “we don’t have to keep going. if you’re too tired, we can sleep. it’s okay.”

“no, no i’m fine i just…can i get some more water please?”

its only after helping you to sit up with him that he holds the bottle to your lips again, with a large, warm palm still cradling your face. and when a dribble of it starts to fall from your bottom lip, he wipes it away on the tip of his thumb, before taking a small gulp himself.  

“then let’s go a little slower, ok? and to be honest, i really don’t think i’m gonna last that long, anyway.”

you simply nod, smiling at him just enough for it to reach your tired eyes. “yeah, that sounds nice. i don’t even…”  and then you lay back down amongst the pillows, beckoning him over with just a small wave of your hand. “i don’t want anything crazy, i just…i want to feel you for a while.”

as soon as joost’s on you, your legs are wrapping around his waist and pulling him down, fingers stretching into the white-blond of his hair as you latch onto him by the nape of his neck. his inked arms are holding himself up by his hands pinned on either side of your head. they start to shake as soon as you start to grind against his cock, whining into his mouth. you can still taste yourself on his tongue — feel that he’s still twitching. 

“you’re really gonna kill me, schat.”

joost shifts slightly; he reaches down and lines himself up, collapsing a little into the curve of your neck as he hisses. because you’re just so warm, aren’t you? and moulding to his shape with every inch that he eases in, fluttering around his length and squeezing.

it’s just that you can feel him everywhere. every time you think that he’s finally bottomed out, he keeps on pushing until he settles into a gentle rocking of his hips. beside you, his knuckles turn a faint shade of white, and you can hear the low baritone of his breathy little groans inside your ear. it doesn’t even compare to what you were imagining earlier. 

the feeling of him on top of you, weighing you down as he pecks, kissing along the dip of your shoulder. the way that he’s being so ridiculously gentle as he fucks you exactly how you asked him to, his strokes slow yet still deep enough to leave you reeling. at first it has you gasping, mewling, as your nails carve neat lines down the pale skin of his back, but then your jaw goes all slack and you can only babble out soft prayers in your own language. 

“how do you feel, baby? you feeling good?”  he lifts his head to look at you, beaming at the teary, cock-drunk look in your eyes. 

you really are just so pretty like this, aren’t you? hair sprawled out across the pillows, nose all scrunched, and your shirt bunched up around your midriff high enough to expose the bulging of your tummy with each one of his slow thrusts. maybe you weren’t just a marvel, maybe you’re actually a lot more than that to him now — maybe you’re greatest thing that he’s ever fucking seen.

“so, so good, joost….fuck.”  the praise came out as more of a cry than anything else, catching in your throat. 

and it feels a little different than before when you feel that knot inside of you start to twist again. it’s tender, quieter, still enough to have you quivering beneath him because you’re still just so sensitive from the last one. goosebumps prick up along the skin of your arms as your sight turns a little blurry around the edges; the only thing strong enough to keep you anchored to the room is the hand on your hip, kneading the soft flesh. 

he knows that you’re close, doesn’t he?

 he knows that he is, too.

“think you can give me one more?”

you can’t even nod before it happens, stealing your voice, turning you limp as your eyes roll far back inside your head. it’s delirium. your whole body convulses for a moment; your nails dig crescent shapes into the muscle of his biceps as your ears ring too loud for you to really hear his own whimpering of your name. 

he tips his head forward as he cums, resting his forehead against yours, taking in and memorising every soft little detail of your face. there’s a faint voice in the back of his head telling him that he might not ever see it again, at least not like this. it really scares him, doesn’t it?

and it’s only because he knows that he has to, that joost then finds the strength to pull out once you’ve had a minute or two to ground yourself. you both can’t help but hiss at the feeling of it, even such a brief touch now far too much for either of you to bear anymore. 

you’re scooped up into his arms before he rolls, tugging you up to lay flat across his chest as he settles to rest on his back. with your cheek pressed firmly against him, you can hear his heartbeat, a little elevated but steady, threatening to lull you to sleep as his palms caress up and down your spine. it’s all too warm, too safe; you lose the fight of trying to keep your eyes open for another moment longer. 

“you don’t have to stay, you know. it’s okay.”

the way that joost frowns at that is immediate, and he brings a hand up to gently tuck a few strands of fallen hair back behind your ear. “why wouldn’t i want to stay?”

you just shrug against him, nuzzling yourself further into his chest. “i don’t know, they normally don’t.” 

he’s quick to rebuttal. “well what if i wanted to?”

and it's almost lazy how you then drag your head up to face him, resting your chin on his sternum. for as sweet as his smile is, you can see that it doesn’t really reach his eyes fully — there’s something a little sad in the way that he gazes at you, hugging you to him a little tighter as he does.

“even in all the mess?” 

there’s a puddle of something, of one of you or maybe a mixture of the two seeping into the sheets beside him. you’re both still painfully sticky, still covered in a thick layer of sweat that the stuffy air around you is only exacerbating, and laying on top of the covers instead of underneath them. 

the thought of his clean, untouched bed back at his own hotel doesn’t even cross his mind. only a quick, cold shower with you does, if either of you can find the willpower for that.