it's all waiting there for you

Especially during the summer. Kids, teenagers and adults alike all bustling around Family Video in search for something specific. He’d deal with it all. The sweet elderly women that stood talking to him for too long because he was just too lovely, the group of kids who’d linger for way too long and completely ignore his shooing them away. 

And after work would almost always entail driving straight from work to wherever he was needed. Sometimes it would just be picking up Dustin and Lucas, dropping them home safely from Will’s house. Or Robin’s house for movie night, bringing along whatever tape he’d swiped that afternoon.

It was something that was very frowned upon, but all the employees did. Sneak the odd tape or two in their bag, watch it that night and return it on their next shift like it had never been missing in the first place. 

Well, all the employees except for you. You wouldn’t say that you were Family Video’s star employee, but if somebody else said that – you wouldn’t deny it. 

You were always early to every shift, your uniform always perfectly tidy and straightened. You never took too long on your break, you’d even sometimes head back onto the shop floor a few minutes earlier if you could hear the herds of people from the breakroom. You’d always pick up any extra shifts, or cover anybody if they needed to. 

And you never, ever swiped any tapes. And everybody knew that. 

On this surprisingly quiet Thursday evening, Steve was finally clocking out to take his break. He’d packed himself a peanut butter sandwich this morning, along with a bag of chips that had gotten slightly crushed from his trip from his car this morning. 

“I’m gonna take my thirty now, will you be alright out here on your own?” You heard Steve ask from behind you. You stood at the front counter, restocking the rows of candy that was kept at the front of the store. 

Your hands paused on a bar of Snickers, you turned to glance over your shoulder to see Steve leaning against the counter behind you with his arms crossed, twirling his little brown paper bag between his fingers. 

A small laugh escaping your lips as you looked across the shop floor, eyes focusing on two young girls browsing in one of the aisles. “I think I can handle it. Go put your feet up, enjoy your break.” 

Steve huffed a laugh, nodding at you before tightening his grip on his sacked lunch. He turned on his feet and made his way to the back of the store, pushing the door open with his elbow as he sauntered through. 

The break room was on the smaller side. A table in the middle of the room with a few mismatched chairs, a countertop lining the side of the room where the employees would keep their bags despite the hooks hanging just above it. 

There was a small pile of magazines that laid on the counter, different genres that people would bring to work and then discard for others to read after. As Steve passed them, he grabbed the one on the top to keep his mind occupied whilst he ate. 

Spin. Hm, not his first choice, but it’ll do. One hand held his flattened sandwich to his mouth whilst the other flicked through the pages, his eyes reading over an article about Prince. 

His eyes flickered to the clock that sat above the door, reading seven thirty. He huffed out a sigh, flicking the magazine that he’d read back to front closed and pushed himself from his chair. He shoved his empty packet of chips into the brown paper bag, and tossed it into the trashcan underneath the counter. 

As Steve was mentally preparing himself to return to work for the next two and a half hours, he dropped the magazine onto the stack with the others as he passed it, but something caught his eye. 

Right next to the pile, was a brown leather handbag that was slightly scuffed with wear, a red ribbon tied around one of the handles. He knew that it was yours, he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. But something that he hadn’t seen before was the tape that was poking out of it. 

He took a step closer, his eyes squinting as he leant down, not wanting to touch your bag but couldn’t ignore his interest. His fingers wrapped around the corner of the tape, slowly pulling it out to reveal Pretty Peaches 2, an orange cover with a woman clad in black lingerie. 

“What the–” He mumbled to himself, his eyebrows knitting together as he turned the tape over to read the back. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, clearing it as he carefully slipped the tape back into place where he’d found it. 

Steve wiped the corner of the tape as if to wash away his fingerprints, and quickly scurried out of the breakroom. He adjusted his vest as he looked over the rest of the store, the two girls who’d been in earlier had now left, just leaving you at the front of the store still organising the candy.  

He felt his mouth go dry once his eyes landed on you, his tongue slipping past his lips to swipe across his lower lip as he attempted to steady himself. He didn’t know what was more puzzling, the fact that you were keeping porn in your bag or the fact that you’d actually swiped a tape. 

You glanced up as you felt Steve making his way over to you, flashing him a wide smile as you placed a packet of Reece’s Pieces on the stand. “Nice break?” 

The softness of your voice hit his ears like honey, he flashed you a tight smile as he leant against the counter in front of you. His arms slipped across his chest, as if a shield of armour to protect himself from this secret he was now hiding. “Yeah, was great.” 

You’d known Steve for a while now, from working together here. You’d been a friend of Robin’s in high school, of course you knew of Steve but he was never somebody whose circle you ran in. Robin had got you a job here shortly after the two of them started working here, and you slotted perfectly right into their little group. 

When you weren’t at work, you were hanging out with your boyfriend, Trevor. But after your break up two months ago, you were now spending your time with Robin and Steve. You’d gotten to know Steve quite well, he was a charismatic and caring friend who carried himself with a lot of confidence. He was really funny, always making you laugh even when you were feeling down about your breakup. You’d also, obviously, noticed that he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. 

He watched as your eyes glanced over him, taking in his quietened demeanor. He’d usually jump at the opportunity of a quiet store to spiel about a stupid story that you’d heard a million times but always made you laugh anyway, just to hear it. 

“You alright?” You pressed gently, grabbing the empty box that was holding all of the new candy and rounded to the other side of the counter to push it beneath it, making a mental note to take it out the back with you when you leave. 

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He practically laughed out with disbelief, one of his hands coming up to scratch at the nape of his neck before lowering it back to cross his chest. 

Your eyebrows furrowed gently, but ultimately decided not to press it any further. You just got on with your closing tasks for the day, the clock ticking and ticking on until it finally hit ten o’clock. 

“Do you want a ride home?” Steve asked, leaping forward to grab the empty box from you as you made your way to the break room to grab your stuff. 

“Oh, that’d be great. Thanks, Steve,” You flashed him a smile as you let him take the box from you, tilting your head toward the breakroom before stepping toward it. “Let me grab my stuff, I’ll be just a minute.”

He nodded gently as he watched you disappear through the door, exhaling the breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in. It seemed like forever that he was hearing you shuffling about in there, he even thought he heard you talking to yourself until you finally swung the door open and stepped out. 

“Ready to go?” He spoke as he adjusted the box under his arm, twisting his car keys around his finger before closing them in his palm. 

“Ready.” You gave him a small nod, crossing the store to flick off the lightswitch before walking the two of you to the back door. Steve thanked you as you held it open for him, jogging over to the large recycling bin to chuck the box into. 

You locked up the back door, making your way over to Steve’s car. He was quick to catch up to you, making sure to open the passenger door for you like always. You thanked him as you slipped inside, pulling your seatbelt on as he rounded the car. 

Steve’s door shut behind him as he settled into his seat, twisting the key in the car as he glanced over at you. Your bag sat close to you on your lap, your fingers holding it as if someone was going to pry the door open and swipe it from your hands. 

“So, you got any plans for tonight?” Steve asked softly, turning over his shoulder to check his mirrors as he pulled out of the empty car park, his attention turning to you as his hand put the car into gear. 

“Uh,” You took your lower lip between your teeth as you thought, trying to think of an excuse. You obviously weren’t going to tell Steve about the tape in your bag, and what you were actually going to do tonight. “Probably just watch a movie or something.”

Steve nodded at your words, his eyes focused on the dark night ahead of him. “Any movie in particular?” He glanced over at you, without thinking his eyes dropped to your bag beneath your tight grip. 

When his eyes met yours again, your lips parted slightly and your expression turned into something like a deer caught in headlights. Steve cleared his throat, turning his attention back in front of him as you shuffled in your seat. 

“You saw it?” Your voice left as a whisper, you could feel the heat rising to your skin. Your chest tightening as you kept your eyes on Steve, your grip loosening on your bag as you let out a small sigh. 

“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t looking through your stuff or anything, God– I’m not a creep,” He laughed awkwardly, clearing his throat before continuing. “I was just putting one of the magazines back and your bag was open, I swear I–” When he finally looked over at you, your hand was covering your face. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just– I was surprised, didn’t peg you for the porn type.” His voice mumbled the last few words, catching your glare as your hands dropped to the bag on your lap. 

“It’s fine, Steve,” You finally said with a shrug of your shoulder, your fingers pulling the zipper open and wrapping around the tape. “I’m not the porn type, to be honest.”

“No? Well, I’d say the tape that you smuggled from work would beg to differ.” He snickered, a small smirk fighting his features as he glanced over at you now he knew you weren’t angry at him for finding it. 

You scoffed, your hand reaching over to swat against his arm before looking down at the tape. “I didn’t take it to like, get off to or anything.” Your voice spoke softly, your eyes avoiding his as you looked down at the woman on the cover. 

Steve swallowed thickly, battling down any thoughts of you alone in your room watching that tape that were now at the forefront of his mind. He cricked his neck slightly, hands tightening on the wheel as he spoke. “No? Why’d you take it then? Appreciate the camera work?”

A laugh huffed past your lips at his words, shaking your head gently as you stuffed the tape back into your bag and zipped it back up. “It’s kinda.. Embarrassing.” You whispered softly, twirling your finger around the ribbon that laid across your lap. 

“Embarrassing?” Steve questioned, turning the car down onto your street. You felt him glance over at you, and when you met his gaze he was looking at you with a look you hadn’t seen from him before. Maybe, concern? “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” 

You took in a long breath, exhaling it as your gaze turned to watch your house inch closer and closer. “It’s just– Me and Trevor obviously broke up like, two months ago. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

Steve pulled up his car outside of your house, flicking off the engine and turning his body to you to give you his full attention, his voice soft as he spoke. “That’s not embarrassing.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I’m not embarrassed about that,” You said quickly, debating on whether you should continue or just duck and roll out of the car and into the dark of your bedroom. “I was with Trevor for a long time, like five years, we were each other's first everything. But, he was never really into sex. I could probably count on one hand how many times we fucked in the last like, year of our relationship.”

Steve’s lips pursed shut slightly, his eyes wandering your features that were highlighted from the streetlamps that sat outside his car. “That’s also not embarrassing.”

You scoffed a small laugh, your head leaning back into the headrest before turning it to look at him. “I have a date on Saturday night, and I don’t know how it’s gonna go or if anything will even happen. But, I wanna be prepared. Hence, my homework.” You lifted up your bag with that, the tape rustling in your bag. 

“Oh– Oh, right,” Steve caught on to your idea, shifting slightly in his seat as he cleared his throat. “So, you’re gonna watch porn and study?”

A laugh fell past your lips, nodding your head as your hand ducked to unclip your seatbelt. “Pretty much. My parents are away for the weekend, so I’m gonna make some popcorn and write some notes.”

Steve laughed with you, nodding his head as he watched you hook your bag over your shoulder and open the car door. “Well, have a good time, I guess.” His eyebrow twitched at his words, unsure how to wish somebody luck with studying porn. 

“Thanks, Harrington. And thanks for the ride.” You smiled over at him as you shut the door, offering him a wave before fishing in your bag for your key as you walked up the pathway to your front door. 

Steve’s mind was whirling at a million miles a minute. Thinking of you sitting there all alone watching porn, thinking of what you’d look like with your hand inevitably slipping between your legs under your skirt. 

If Steve was completely, utterly, totally honest with himself, he did always have some resemblance of undiscovered feelings for you. He couldn’t name exactly when it started, he’d thought you were pretty cute when Robin introduced the two of you. But you had a boyfriend and Steve was a gentleman. 

But when you’d broken up with Trevor, things for Steve changed. 

His breath hitched in his throat, and before he could stop himself he was unclicking his own seatbelt and slamming his door shut behind him. 

“Hey!” He called out your name, jogging slightly to catch up with you as you’d stepped into your house. Your eyebrows furrowed as he walked up to your door, his hands slipping into his pocket as he toed up to your porch. “Uh, you– you can totally say no. But, if you’re just gonna sit there and study, I have nothing to do tonight. I can hold the popcorn bowl, answer any questions that you might have.”

Your eyebrows furrowed gently at his proposition, your tongue jutting over your lower lip as you glanced over your shoulder into your empty house. You’d always found Steve attractive, it was never a surprise to you that he did well with girls, but he was your friend. Watching porn with him would be stupid, right? You couldn’t do that. Not when the sounds of moans or slapping skin is filling up the room, or when you could just reach over–

“Sure,” You choked, completely ignoring every voice in your brain screaming no. You stepped further into your entry, holding the door open for him. “Come on in.” 

The house somehow felt even quieter and emptier once Steve had shut the door behind him. Your finger flicked the big light on, your eyes squinting slightly as the warm bulb lit up the room you and Steve were both now standing in. 

“The TV in here isn’t working,” You said with your back turned to Steve as you pushed your shoes off, toeing them to line up by the back door before peering over to him. “Is it weird if we watch it in my room?”

Steve laughed gently as he shrugged a shoulder, copying your actions by pushing off his own shoes. “Not necessarily, nothin’ weird about two friends researching porn together.” His hands slipped into his pockets, straightening his posture as he smiled down at you. 

You nodded gently, taking your bag off your shoulder and swinging it by your side as you glanced around you slightly. “I guess you’re right. Follow me, then.” You began walking backwards, beckoning him with your hand as you made your way up the staircase toward your bedroom. 

It soon dawned on you that Steve had never been inside your house before, let alone your bedroom. God, did you even make your bed this morning? What about that pile of laundry you took upstairs last night? 

When you pushed your door open, you exhaled a short breath at the sight of your made bed and tidy room. You held it open for Steve, waiting until he’d passed you to click it shut. 

“Nice room.” Steve observed as he perched himself on the edge of your bed, his fingers reaching out to grab a photo of you and Robin that you kept on your nightstand. You watched him smile gently at it, before catching your gaze and placing it back where it lived. 

“Thank you very much,” You smiled, sitting your bag next to him as you shrugged off your uniformed vest. You crossed your room, hanging it over the back of your chair, clearing your throat as you looked over at Steve. “You can make yourself comfortable, you know.”

“Oh– Yeah, right.” He mumbled, fingers battling his own vest off as you grabbed an old sweatshirt from your wardrobe, along with a pair of your sleep shorts. You pulled the sweater over your head, manoeuvring your arms out of your t-shirt beneath it and pulled it out of the neck of your sweater. 

You rounded to the other side of your bed so you were behind Steve, quickly glancing to make sure he was facing away from you as you stepped into your shorts. You were swift to pull them up before shimmying out of your skirt, taking your discarded clothes in your hands and dropping them into your laundry basket. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” You joked as you made your way back to Steve’s side of the bed, glancing down at him as your fingers hovered over the zip of your bag. 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed gently as he nodded up at you, his expression reading that he’d do anything to help out a friend, that’s just the kind of guy he was. “Of course, if you’re sure then I’m happy to help.” 

Your own eyebrows raised slightly as you squinted down at him, ultimately deciding if this was going to be a good idea. No, it wasn’t. But you’d already grabbed the tape and made your way over to your DVR to slip the tape in. 

“Alright then,” You announced as you spun around and climbed onto your bed, crawling up it to sit against your headboard. Steve turned over his shoulder to you at your words, a small smile creeping on his lips as you patted the mattress next to yourself. “Let’s watch some porn, I guess.”

A small sound you couldn’t name escaped Steve’s throat, nodding as he swung his own legs onto your bed to crawl up to sit beside you. He sat a fair bit away from you, bringing his knees up and resting his elbows up on them. “Let’s watch some porn.” 

You snorted a laugh gently as you looked up at him, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you lifted your remote to point it at the TV. Your room suddenly filling with the sound of the cheesiest attempt of sexy instrumental music, a woman in black lingerie taking over the screen that sat at the end of your bed. 

The woman was gorgeous, slender and blonde with a body that you’d see on the cover of a magazine. Your eyes dialed in as you watched her straddle the man that had just come onto the screen, the close ups of their mouths and tongues moving in unison was a lot more erotic than you’d ever seen, ever even experienced.

The screen showed the man’s hands trailing up and down her body, over her breasts and settling on her back. You glanced over at Steve, who was also completely clocked in on the screen before him. He must’ve felt you staring, because his eyes met yours out of the corner of his, his attention turning to you. 

“You alright over there?” He swallowed slightly, his hand rubbing over his wrist before turning back to the TV. Your eyes followed suit, watching the man’s lips wrapped around the woman’s nipple, the sound of her moans causing you to push your thighs together without realising. 

“Y–Yeah, totally alright,” You huffed an awkward laugh, your arms crossing over your chest as your legs shifted beneath you. “Are you?”

He nodded over at you, his eyes wandering over your features as you intently watched the scene play out ahead of you. He lowered his knees, leaning further into the headboard as he crossed one of his legs over the other. 

Your eyebrows furrowed gently, watching the man ravish the woman’s breast. Her back arching in pleasure as he messily, sloppily made out with her chest. “I didn’t know guys liked doing that.” Your voice mumbled.

“Liked what?” Steve hummed gently, his attention fixed on the sounds the woman was emitting before his head tilted down at you just as you looked up to catch his eye.

Your lips parted slightly, realising you’d said that out loud. You cleared your throat gently, your head turning back to the TV as you shrugged gently. “Y’know, he just seems to really enjoy.. Doing what he’s doing.” 

“Well, he’s probably enjoying it so much ‘cause she’s loving it,” Steve explained gently, his own head tilting as he watched the man press kisses down the woman’s sternum. “Well, for some people, their nipples are super sensitive, some people really enjoy having them– Y’know, played with.” 

“Hm.” You observed, thinking back to the few sexual experiences you’d had with Trevor and how he’d never paid any attention to your chest. Your arms adjusted over your chest, breath slightly hitching in your throat as you realised your own nipples were hard, a slight shiver breezing down your spine at the feeling of them brushing against your sweater.

You and Steve sat in silence as you watched the man’s head dip between the woman’s thighs. The loud, wet sounds of his tongue lapping at her core mixing with her cries and moans were beginning to feel far too much for you. All you could think about whilst watching the woman grind against her partner's face, was how badly you needed that right now. 

“Did– Uh,” Steve started, his hand coming up to his face to rub across his chin as he glanced over at you, watching you transfixed on the screen. “Did Trevor ever do that to you?”

You could only scoff a laugh, shaking your head gently. “No, Trevor was very much an in and out, one and done kind of guy,” Your teeth sank into your lower lip gently, your hand lifting to push your hair behind your ear as you continued. “Maybe once, he did. But it didn't last very long, said it wasn’t his thing.”

Steve laughed down at you in disbelief, causing your neck to twist quickly to look up at him with your eyebrows gently furrowed together. “Sorry, sorry. Just find that hard to believe.” He admitted with a small shrug as he looked back at the TV, you watched his throat bob at the close up of the man’s tongue swirling around her clit. 

“Do you like it?” You whispered gently, not realising the hitch in your breath that had started at the thought of Steve eating pussy. Wondering how his luscious locks of hair would feel against your thighs, his thick hands holding onto you as his tongue ravished you. 

“Do I?” He broke his eyes from the screen, taking a moment to look over your expression before giving a small nod. His palm splayed against his thigh, rubbing it gently as he spoke. “Yeah, I mean, I like making whoever I’m with feel good, that gets me off. But, it is pretty hot.” 

You flashed him a small smile, watching as he turned his attention back to the screen. Your hands dropped to your sides, pushing yourself to sit further up as you turned your own attention back to the screen. Watching closely as she rode out her orgasm on his fingers and his tongue, glancing back over to Steve out of the corner of your eye.

“What’s it like?” You whispered hoarsely, turning your full attention to him as he glanced over at you. “Like, being with someone like that. I mean, me and Trevor never had this kind of passion. I don’t think I’ve ever– Orgasmed from someone’s fingers before.”

Steve’s lips parted gently, his eyes darting between your own and the screen before slightly turning his body to you. “Well, it’s all about knowing what your partner wants. What gets them going, what they like, what they don’t like. When you’re with someone who knows what you want and you can really let go with, it’s sorta the best thing.” 

Your lips pursed together slightly, nodding as you ran the palm of your hand across your collarbone, trying to attempt to cool down the sudden burn of your skin as your eyes wandered his face. “How d’you know what you like?”

You watched Steve’s tongue dart past his lips to trail across his lower lip, wetting it before taking in a short breath. His eyes glanced over your face, slowly trailing down your body before finding your eyes again. “Do you want to find out?” His voice was low and hearty as he spoke, causing shivers to roll down your spine.

“H–How will I find out?” You pressed quietly, lowering your hand from your shoulder to rest on your lap. Your body shifted slightly under his gaze, turning your body to his further.

Steve inhaled a short breath, his hand lowering from his thigh to press into the mattress to angle himself closer to you. You felt all of your inhibitions get sucked from your mind as he lifted his other hand to brush a fallen strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes ducking to your lips before looking back into yours. “Let me help you out, we can find out what you like together.”

It felt as if Steve had sucked the air from your lungs, your eyes fell to his lips as you nodded softly. “Yeah, okay.” You whispered gently as you inched yourself closer to him.

His hand that pushed the hair into place found your jaw, cupping it gently as he dragged his thumb against your lower lip softly. “Can I kiss you?” He asked tenderly, a complete stark difference to the lewd sound of skin slapping pouring out of the TV.

You were quick to nod, your eyes transfixed on the plush of his lips. And before you knew it, they were on yours. Tenderly taking your upper lip between his as your lashes fluttered shut, your hand finding his thigh to ground yourself as his slipped from your jaw to curl through your hair, holding you steady against him. 

Just as you parted your lips to further the kiss, he’d pulled his own away. They were quick to press to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, every inch of your skin until they found the curve of your jaw. His fingers slipping to hold the back of your neck as he sucked gently on the soft skin of your neck, grazing his teeth gently against it before soothing the touch with his tongue. 

Your head lulled back into his hand, giving him easier access to any part of you that he wanted to touch. Your hand squeezed his thigh, edging him on as the other slipped up from the mattress to hold onto his shoulder. 

“Is this okay?” His voice murmured against your skin, earning a quick nod from you along with a soft sigh of pleasure. He hummed gently in approval, dragging his wet lips to your collarbone. 

Steve’s spare hand found your lower back, pulling you closer to him as his lips practically devoured any inch of your skin that was peeking out from the neck of your sweater. You let out another pleasured sigh, your eyes opening to meet his as you felt him lift his head. 

His thumb traced back and forth at the nape of your neck, watching you closely as your eyes trailed from his back down to his lips. Your hand that was glued to his thigh raised to his shoulder, and before you could second guess your actions, you were pushing yourself up onto your knees and lifting your leg over his lap. 

You hesitantly settled yourself down on him, feeling very aware that you were now straddling him whilst the tape continued to play behind you. Both of his hands found refuge at your waist, you could feel the weight of his hands through the thin fabric. 

“Is this okay?” You whispered softly, lifting a hand from his shoulder to push through the few strands of his hair that had fallen over his forehead. He nodded softly, huffing a small laugh through his nose which earned a small smile from you. 

“Of course it’s okay,” His own voice whispered back, his hand slipping up your back slowly. Landing between your shoulder blades, leaning you closer until your chest pressed against his. Your eyes dropped to his lips, sitting only a few inches from yours. “You can do anything you want to me.”

The corner of your mouth curved into a smirk, a disbelieving laugh passing your lips gently as the gravity of the situation weighed on your shoulders. Your hand slipped up to hold his jaw, nodding gently before you lifted your chin to press your lips against his. 

He let you take the lead, a content sigh falling from his against your lips. You could feel yourself melting against him, his grip tightening on your waist as your tongue parted his lips. You moaned gently into his mouth as your tongue fought against his, his hand slipping down your back to slip them both under the hem of your sweater to hold your waist. 

His warm hands felt electric against your bare skin, the fabric pooling at his wrists as your hips shifted on his lap. Your breath hitched into his mouth as your core rocked against the bulge suddenly apparent to you through Steve’s denim. 

Your hips began rocking back and forth slowly, a tight moan croaking in your throat with each grind, the seam of the fabric hitting your clit at the perfect angle. Steve’s hands slipped down to your hips, guiding your movements as he pulled his lips back from yours. 

“Does that feel good, honey?” His lips whispered against yours hoarsely, his forehead leaning against yours as you nodded up at him. Your lips parted, your mind scrambling to find the words to say as you felt yourself clenching around nothing. 

One of Steve’s hands tightened on your waist, the other slowly pushing up your side again and pulling up your sweater with it. His hand paused beneath your breast, his thumb gently rubbing against the skin as he let out a tight breath. 

“You can take it off, Steve.” You whispered back softly, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your hips came to a pause. It wasn’t lost on you that you were currently making out with your friend, about to bare yourself to him completely, but nothing about it felt weird. Somehow, it felt like this was always going to happen. 

He nodded gently, pressing his lips to yours softly as his hands continued their journey of pulling your sweater up and over your head. You pulled your lips back from his reluctantly to rid the garment, lifting your arms up from his shoulders as he pulled it away from you. 

But when you came out the other side, Steve’s gaze was straight back to your eyes. Offering you a warm smile as his hands placed one at your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades as he pulled you back down to him. 

His lips brushed against yours softly, not kissing you yet but more just exploring the feeling of your lips against his. You sighed against his mouth at the feeling of the pique cotton of Steve’s shirt rubbing against your nipples as he held you against him. 

Slowly, his grip on you tightened as his legs shifted beneath him. He sucked your upper lip between his as your arms snaked around his neck, one of his hands slipping down your body to hold your thigh as he lifted you slightly to lower you onto your back against your mattress. 

Once he’d placed you down and he’d settled between your thighs, he pulled his lips from yours slowly to finally glance down at your chest. One of his hands braced beside you to hold himself up, whilst the other splayed against your waist gently rubbing his thumb against your skin. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth, trailing along your jaw and your neck before fluttering down toward your chest. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mumbled against your skin, your fingers slipping through his hair as you looked down at him. His eyes flickered up to yours as he lifted his head up slightly, the corner of his lips turning upward. “Seriously. I think you’re beautiful.”

Just as you went to reply, he lowered his lips to your skin again. His tongue passed his lips to circle around your hardened nipple, a low sigh of pleasure rumbling from your chest. His mouth wrapped around it, latching onto the hardened peak as his hand slipped from your waist to cup your breast he was neglecting. 

His thumb rubbed the soft skin on the underside of your breast, trailing up to rub back and forth against the peak as he began twisting it with his forefinger. His mouth left your breast with a pop, quick to soothe the other as your grip tightened on the strands of his hair. 

“God, Steve,” You huffed as you watched him, your hips rocking up desperate to find him again. His eyes fluttered up to yours as he sucked on your nipple, releasing it with a pop before moving back to the other. “Feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” He mumbled against you, earning you to quickly nod down at him. He pulled his lips from you with a small smirk, pressing into the mattress as he lifted himself to find your lips again. “We’re only getting started.”

You huffed a sigh against his lips at his words, your hands tangling in his hair as he sucked your lower lip between his, his teeth gently sinking into it before pulling back. He pressed a trail of sloppy kisses along your jaw, dipping to your collarbone, down across your chest and between your breasts. 

His hands followed his movements, slipping down your body as his lips continued down your sternum until they reached your navel. His eyes flickered up to yours as he shifted backward, his hands trailing down your thighs until they reached your knees. 

“Just relax, okay?” Steve spoke gently as he sat before you, your knees sat pressed together but his gentle touch was igniting a fire within you that you knew needed to be put out. “If at any time it gets too much, or you don’t like it. We can stop, yeah?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your breath hitched in your throat, gently nodding as your knees fell apart for him. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.” You smirked softly through a small laugh, watching as his fingers wrapped around your sleep shorts. You lifted your hips up, angling your legs for him so he could discard them. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath as he took in the sight of you before him. Laid in a pair of light coloured panties, his hands slowly inched down your thighs, rubbing the soft skin as his eyes glued to your core. “You’re so wet, already.”

He proved his observations as his palm pressed against your mound, his thumb softly circling the wet patch of your underwear that stuck to you as his eyes flickered up to yours. He watched as your head lulled back into the mattress, quick to lift to find his gaze again. 

“So, I guess you can write this down for your homework,” He started as he lowered himself between your legs, pressing his lips to your knee as his thumb continued to manoeuvre against your slit. 

“You like your breasts played with, you like me suckin’ on them, touching them,” You watched intently as his lips gradually pressed closer and closer to where you needed him the most. His fingers slipped to wrap around the band of your underwear, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “You like your neck being kissed, grinding yourself on me. That really got you going, hm?”

A loud, pleasured sigh left your lips as you nodded, lifting yourself up on your elbows to watch as he slowly peeled your underwear off of you. Your hips lifted again, legs following to assist him removing them from you. 

“Holy shit.” Steve mumbled as he tossed your underwear somewhere beside him, his hands splaying at your inner thighs as he spread you further open for him. He pressed his lips to your mound, a gentle kiss against the hair that laid there. 

He pulled back slightly, watching as he slipped his index finger slowly along your slit. Your breath hitched at the touch, his middle finger joining to spread you open for him as he hummed gently to himself. “Such a pretty pussy, too. You’re so wet, baby.” 

His head leant against your thigh gently, his eyes transfixed on the way your pussy fluttered for him as he used his fingers to explore you. His eyes darting up to gauge your reaction as his middle finger found your clit.

“Fuck, Steve.” You whined in pleasure, your hips involuntarily rutting upward to find his touch. His spare hand was wrapped around the back of your thigh, a small hum passing his lips as he slipped it to rub gently against your hipbone. 

“You like it when I touch your clit, add that to your list.” He spoke almost to himself, dragging his fingers to circle your entrance as his eyes left the soaked sight before him to look back up into yours. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact with him, especially when his head lifted from your thigh and settled between your legs. His tongue reaching out to circle around your throbbing clit as his middle finger shallowly pressed at your entrance.

You watched with intent, your jaw slack as he wrapped his lips around your clit, lewdly sucking on the swollen nerve as his middle finger slowly pressed inside of you. 

“Oh my god.” You whined with pleasure, your elbows shaking slightly beneath you as you held yourself up to watch Steve. You felt him hum against you, letting yourself fall back against the mattress as his fingers finally started fucking you.  

Steve pulled his lips off you, letting out a groan as he pulled his finger out to push his ring finger back inside you with the other. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He murmured as his fingers resumed their actions, eyes flickering up to watch you writhe in pleasure as his fingers curled against the spongy spot inside you. “And you taste so good, holy shit.” 

His mouth was back on you before you could blink, his tongue delving through your folds and licking up every drop of your arousal that was spilling out of you. He was quick to find your clit again, taking it between his lips with fever. 

Both of your hands flew to his hair, tugging gently on his soft strands as your hips rocked slightly against him. Desperate to feel more of him against you, inside of you. 

Steve’s hand that was holding your hip grabbed ahold of you, dragging his grip along your arm until his hand found yours tangled in his hair. He pulled your fingers out of it, his own fingers slipping through yours the second they became free. Your entwined hands fell against your stomach as his fingers picked up their pace, your moans leaving your lips now louder than the forgotten tape still playing on your TV. 

“Fuck, Steve,” Your shaky voice cried out, Steve’s hand squeezing yours in encouragement as his fingers picked up their pace, continuously hitting the perfect spot inside of you. “I’m so close, fuck.”

“Come for me, baby,” He spoke against your clit, his fingers fucking into your cunt speeding up as you feel the heat building in your stomach. His eyes watch as your head rolls back into the mattress with pleasure, your hips rocking against his face. “Such a good girl for me. Let go for me, honey, come on.”

His encouragement was quick to push you over the edge, your thighs trembling around him as your grip on his hair tightened. With each curl of his fingers hitting perfectly inside of you, you were quick to finally release around him. 

Steve groaned in satisfaction against you as his fingers worked you through your high, his tongue toying against your clit until your hand pulled from his hair. Your hand dropped against your stomach, your hips still rocking with his movements slightly as he slowly coaxed his fingers out of you. 

“Taste so fucking good.” He pulled his lips from your clit, quick to dip his fingers between his lips to suck your arousal from his digits. He pulled them out with a small pop, steadying it at your thigh as his head dipped back between your thighs to trail his tongue through your folds, seemingly eager to collect every last drop he’d coaxed from you. 

“Steve, shit.” You whined gently, lifting your head to watch him. His fingers splayed across the meat of your thigh, his tongue dipping into your entrance caused his nose to brush against your clit earning a loud cry to fall past your lips. 

“Mm,” He mumbled against you, eyes opening to look up at you as he finally pulled his mouth off of you. A small smirk grew against your lips at the sight of the lower of his face glistening with your come, watching his tongue dart across his lips as his hand left your thigh to press against the mattress to lift himself back up to you. “Hi.”

You squeezed his hand that was still holding yours, your hand that was resting on your stomach coming up to hold his cheek as you let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “Hi.” 

He matched your gentle laugh, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand as he lowered his forehead down to your shoulder before turning his head to press his lips to your neck. “Safe to say, you enjoy getting your pussy eaten.” 

“W– Steve!” You huffed at his crude words, causing his head to lift from your neck to look down at you. His eyebrows furrowed gently, but you could tell it was in a teasing manner. 

“What? You did,” His lip curved into a smirk, he inched closer to you as his nose brushed against yours gently. “You loved it, hm? Getting your pretty little pussy fucked by my fingers, coming all over my face. Think you can add it to your list.” 

Your teeth sank into your lower lip as your fingertips pushed through the curls on the side of his head, your eyes studying his face until they settled on his glistening lips. “Well, maybe you’re right.” 

His hot breath hit your parted lips as he huffed a small laugh, his lips brushing your upper gently as he whispered against you. “You’re perfect, you know. It’s like you were made for me, so tight, just fit so perfectly inside of you,” You sighed against his mouth at his words, “And you taste so good, wish I could taste you all day.”

“Steve–” You sighed against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut at his words but you were quick to open them as you couldn’t bear not to be looking at him for a second longer. 

“Do you want to taste yourself?” His hoarse voice and filthy words were probably enough to make you come all over again, your lips parted to let out a low sigh as you nodded gently. 

His hand slowly pulled away from yours, the other pressing further against your mattress to settle himself on his side next to you. His arm stretched out behind your head whilst the other rested against your stomach, lowering his lips slowly down to yours. 

You sighed against his lips as they finally sank into your own, his lips taking your upper hostage before releasing them, his tongue entering your mouth to coax your tongue with his. His hand slipped down your body slowly, his fingertips gently grazing your mound as your thigh fell open for him again. 

He sighed into your mouth, his upper body settling closer into you as your fingers wrapped around the collar of his polo shirt. Your breath hitched against him as you felt his fingers dipping between your folds again, pushing through every curve to collect as much of your spend on his fingers before pulling his hand back up your body. 

A small huff left your lips as he pulled his lips back from you, your thighs clamping together again as your tongue darted across your lower lip, tasting the remnants of you from his mouth. 

“Open up, pretty girl.” He whispered softly, his eyes bearing into yours as two of his wet fingertips tapped at your lower lip gently. Your lips parted for him, tongue following as his eyes dropped to your mouth. 

He dragged his fingers across your upper lip before slipping them into your mouth, a choked sound passing his throat as he watched your mouth close around his fingers. Your hand dragged from his collar to wrap around his wrist, slowly dragging your lips up and down his fingers as you sucked your arousal from them. 

“Holy fuck, such a good girl,” He praised as you pulled your lips off his fingers with a pop, his hand was quick to find your waist as he pulled you closer against him. His lips brushing against yours as he spoke, “Another thing to add to your list, hm?”

“Steve,” You whispered against his lips before he could kiss you again, he pulled himself back to look down at you properly, his hand that was resting above your head lowered to brush some of your hair off your forehead. 

“Yeah, baby?” He whispered back, his eyes trailing across your features before landing on your own. 

You swallowed your words down gently, watching your hand as it splayed at his shoulder. “When I was with Trevor, he’d never want me to go down on him,” You watched his breath hitch in his throat, you couldn’t help sinking your lower lip into your teeth before continuing. “So, I guess I don’t really know how. I mean, I know how, but– Can you teach me? Properly?” 

His lips were parted in disbelief, his hand paused on your waist at your words. You watched his mouth moving slightly but no words coming out, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips – as if he needed you to say it again. 

“Can I suck your cock, please?” You whispered, leaning forward to brush your lips against his as you rolled your body into his. “Wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel.” 

“Fuck, yes,” Steve managed, nodding quickly as his hand slipped up to hold the back of your head steady as he pressed his lips against yours. You felt his hips shuffling beside you, a small smirk growing against your lips. “I can teach you, baby. I said, you can do anything you want to me.” 

A content sigh escaped you as your lips captured his, nodding against him as your fingers moved to wrap around the collar of his shirt to tug on it gently. He pulled his lips from yours and sat himself up slightly, pulling his shirt over his head. 

He went to lean down to kiss you again, but your hand against his chest stopped him in his tracks. “God, Steve,” You mumbled gently as your eyes took in the sight before you. 

Everything that you’d see of Steve everyday was beautiful. His face, his hair, his arms and his hands were all perfect. Covered in moles that kissed his skin beautifully, the curve of his jaw perfectly angled and the shape of his nose you so eagerly wanted to bite. 

But seeing the rest of Steve that you didn’t see everyday, was even more beautiful. His moles and freckles danced across every inch of his chest, shoulders, arms and his stomach. His stomach that curved over the belt of his jeans ever so slightly, covered with a trail of hair that led right down to exactly where you wanted to be. 

Your hand reached out to his broad shoulder, tenderly dragging your nails down to his bicep that you’d only ever seen stretched out beneath one of his t-shirts. You trailed your fingers across his chest, through the thatch of hair that covered him so perfectly. 

“You’re so beautiful, Steve.” Your voice left a whisper as your eyes attempted to look at every new part of him at once, when you finally looked up to meet his eyes again he was looking at you with a look you’d never seen before. 

“What?” You asked gently, pulling your hand back hesitantly from his chest but he was quick to shake his head. 

He reached his hand up to find yours, pushing his fingers through your own and bringing the back of your hand to his mouth as he pressed a small kiss to the soft skin. “No, nothing. Just don’t think anyone’s ever called me beautiful before.” 

“Well, then everyone else is simply blind.” Your words earned a huffed laugh from him, but you only smiled up at him as you lifted yourself up to his face. Your spare hand holding the side of his neck as your lips tenderly brushed against his, whispering softly against them. “D’you wanna maybe, sit up at the headboard? Might be easier.” 

He nodded softly, pulling his hand from yours to hold the back of your head as he pressed a kiss against you. Then another, and another. “Yeah, baby. Whatever you want.”

You pulled away from him, shuffling backward to let him manoeuvre himself to pull some of the pillows you’d both been leaning on earlier to make room for himself. He settled against the headboard, his legs spread slightly as his hand reached out for you. “C’mere.”

As soon as your hand found his, he was quick to pull you into him, his hand settling at your waist. Your body pressed against his side as his lips pressed beneath your ear, sucking gently at the sensitive skin as your other hand pressed to his chest, eyes trailing down his body to the bulge in his jeans. 

“You sure you wanna do this, honey?” He spoke against your skin, but instead of using your words you reached down slightly to press your palm against the strain of his jeans. His breath hitched against your skin, pulling his lips away to watch. 

Your hand cupped his confined cock, slowly rubbing your hand backward and forward as you watched his stomach tensing. “Is this okay?” You whispered gently, your eyes watching your hand before looking down at him. 

He nodded gently, his breath hitching in his throat as his spare hand came up to start unbuckling his belt. You watched his attempt, his shaky fingers struggling to release himself with one hand. 

“Let me.” You whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away from his side. You shuffled down his body, straightening yourself to sit between his thighs. You sat up on your knees as your hands met to unbuckle his belt, unbutton the denim and pull the zipper down. 

You lowered your head, nose nuzzling against the hair against his navel as your lips pressed wet kisses against his skin. Your eyes fluttered up to his as his breath hitched, your fingers wrapping around the waist of his jeans and slowly shimmying them down. 

He lifted his hips up for you, intently watching as your eyes stayed glued to his hardened cock that laid in his boxers. You pulled the denim down, crawling backwards to assist him in pulling them off completely. 

Once they were dropped to the floor, your hand found the meat of his thighs. Softly rubbing your thumb back and forth against his skin, your other hand returned to palm against him. Your eyes flickered up to watch his reaction as your hand rubbed back and forth slowly through the fabric, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as your fingers wrapped around the waist of his underwear and pulled it down his thighs. 

Steve’s cock was thick, it looked heavy as it sprung out of its confinement. It laid flat on his stomach, and you watched with your interest piqued as his tip glistened. Your hand reached out to wrap around his base, fingers tightening as you guided it toward you to inspect him more. 

“You’re so big, baby.” Your voice whispered gently, your eyes still revelling in the feeling of how his throbbing cock felt in your hand. Your hand slowly dragged up his length, your thumb reaching out to smear the pre-cum that he’d leaked over him as your eyes met his. 

“F–Fuck,” His voice croaked, his hand quick to push through your hair as his teeth left bite marks in his swollen lower lip. “You’re doing well, honey. Just take what you can, okay? Shit.” He cursed under his breath, silently thinking to himself how he won’t last long at all with this sight before him. 

You nodded gently, your hand slipping down his length and shallowly pumping at his base. You lowered your head, running your tongue slowly up his cock until it circled at his tip, collecting his spend on your tongue, quick to swallow it down. 

His fingers collected some strands of your hair that had fallen over your face as your lips wrapped around his tip, your hand still pumping his cock slowly. Your brows furrowed gently as your jaw stretched, your mouth not used to taking anything near the size of Steve.

“That’s it, such a good girl,” He hummed, his fingertips tracing back and forth on your scalp as he watched you. “Y–You can spit on it, if you want. Make it easier.” 

You pulled yourself off of him, a small sigh passing your lips as you did. Your wrist twisted as you pumped his length, lowering your head to his tip as you pooled saliva in your mouth and let it fall from between your lips to his tip. You take him back in your mouth, humming a small moan against him as your tongue explores the feeling of him between your lips. 

His head snapped back against the headboard as you sank further onto his cock, your hand squeezing his thigh as you picked up your pace. His moans hit your ear like honey as you felt him taking up more space in your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you huffed your breath through your nose. 

“Look at you, honey. Taking my cock so well, fuck.” His words only spurred you on, your hand squeezing his length as it pumped the inches of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. 

He watched in disbelief, the sight of your spit and his pre-come pooling at the corners of your mouth. His hips rocked up slightly, earning your grip on his thigh to tighten as your lips inched down his length. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last long– You look so fucking– Shit.” Steve whined slightly as his grip on your head tightened, guiding your movements as you found your groove and picked up the pace. 

You pulled yourself off him, opening your eyes to look up at him as your fist bobbed up and down his cock. Another trail of your saliva passed your lips, landing on his tip as your thumb swiped it across his tip. Your hand pulled his cock to the side as your lips lowered to his balls, your wet lips sucking on them slightly before they found the base of his cock, dragging up his length as your tongue twirled around his sensitive tip. 

Steve’s lips parted in astonishment, his stomach tightening as his moans broke past his lips in a small plea. “Fuck, you’re doing so good– I’m so close, baby.”

“I want you to come for me, Steve,” You spoke gently against his tip, your lips sucking the tender skin as your hand picked up his pace. “Come in my mouth, I don't care. I wanna taste you.” 

With that, you sank yourself back down on him, taking as much of his length as you could manage. Breathing through your nose, you inched down further, your head bobbing at a steady pace.

Your nose hit your hand that was circled around the base of his cock, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. You felt your eyes watering as they looked up at him, slowly pulling your hand down to hold his thigh as his hips jerked upward slightly, fucking into your mouth. 

“Fuck– I’m gonna come, holy fuck–” Steve’s head hit the headboard again, but was quick to pull his gaze back to you. “Such a good girl for me, baby.” His thumb rubbed against your temple as you pulled your lips back his cock slightly, your head bobbing to match the thrust of his hips. 

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and the spurt of his warm, thick come depositing into your mouth. You moaned against him at the feeling, your spare hand holding onto his hip as the other kept its pace, letting him fuck your hand and your mouth as you swallowed down everything he was offering you. 

“Fuck,” He spoke through heavy breaths, his hand guiding your head off of him slowly. You pulled your lips off of him with a small pop of your mouth, watching as your hand followed suit. You brought it up to your mouth, wiping the corner of it on the back of your hand. 

“Was that okay?” You asked gently as you sat between his thighs, your eyes flickering between his flagging cock and the fucked out look on his face. 

He could only manage a small laugh, his arm reaching out for you which you were quick to accept. You crawled up his body, nestling yourself under his shoulder and resting your leg over his as his arm engulfed you. 

“Okay? That was incredible, didn’t even need my help.” His words were gentle as his palm rubbed at your waist, his other hand coming to brush strands of your hair away that had stuck to your forehead. 

Your hand settled at his chest, pushing yourself up and inching closer to his face. You paused, not knowing whether to kiss him now that your deal was over, Steve was your friend. Sure, he’d just given you the best orgasm of your life but you’d have to see him at work tomorrow. 

But you were broken from your thoughts as his hand slipped to your jaw, holding you steady as his lips brushed yours tenderly. His tongue passing between your lips despite the fact he’d just come in your mouth. His grip on you tightened, squeezing you gently before pulling back slightly. 

“Do you have a pen? And paper?” He whispered against your lips gently, causing you to let out a small laugh. You nodded gently, pressing your hand to his chest to lift yourself up and lean over to your bedside table, opening the drawer for your notebook and pen.

The two of you sat up as you settled back next to him, his arm wrapping comfortably around your waist as he pulled you into him. His lips pressed gentle kisses against your shoulder as he sat behind you, watching as you flicked the notebook onto a new page. 

“Alright, what am I writing then?” You spoke gently, leaning into his touch as you tilted your head aside to let his lips touch wherever he wanted to. 

He huffed a small laugh from behind you, fingers splaying at your waist as he mumbled against your skin. “Thought you could start writing your notes whilst they’re fresh in your brain. Now, what did you like?”

You shook your head gently, chin tucking into your chest as you giggled gently at his words. He laughed along with you, lips brushing your skin as he spoke against you. “You like it when I kiss your neck, you like it when you fuck yourself on my face,” You feel your skin burning at his words, unable to help the smirk that’s growing against your lips even though he can’t see it. “I think you liked sucking my cock, too. You were a natural.” 

You played along with his words, writing down everything he was listing and the things he’d mentioned before. Once you reached the end of the list you leant forward slightly, turning to look at him as you spoke gently. “Anything else?” 

“Oh, we’ll cover that next time, baby. Don’t worry about that.” He grinned at you, an eyebrow quirking as his hand tangled in your hair to pull your lips against his. You huffed a laugh against him, before mumbling against his lips. 

“Next time?” You pulled back gently, not before pressing a kiss to his lips. You watched him nod down at you as his hand slipped from your hair to settle back down at your waist. 

When you arrive at the house, he's already out of his work uniform and in a pair of sweats he's had for years. There's a tear in the fabric at his wrist from when you'd gotten a little too excited trying to pull it from his body last winter, but he won't let you fix it. He's hovering between the edge of the living room and the hallway leading to the front door, a beer sweating in his hand and his eyes on the TV. His body is turned towards you, which counts as a greeting during game season. 

"Hey, kid," he calls out as you drop your bag on the table with your keys, then shouts, "FOUL!" at the game blasting from the entertainment system.  

Basketball season, maybe. Or football. It doesn't even matter because half the time it's not even his team playing. 

He tries to kiss you as you walk past, his free hand finding your hip and dragging you close, but his lips barely brush over yours before his attention is pulled away and he starts yelling at the TV again. You roll your eyes, squeeze his bicep, and keep moving towards the kitchen. There's a fresh bottle of red on the counter, the cork already popped and a single glass next to it, waiting for you.  

The pour is probably a little too heavy-handed, as the liquid sloshes over the rim when you kick your shoes off, your heels flying somewhere underneath the dining table, but you'll clean it up later. In the bedroom, the sheets are rumpled, most likely from Gator's nap earlier—the one he swears he never takes—and his work clothes are thrown somewhat near the hamper, but never quite make it inside.  

You've barely unbuttoned your blouse when two hands grab your face, making you squeak. Gator crushes his mouth against yours and tastes like Coors and spicy jerky. He pulls back just long enough to steal another kiss from your mouth before dropping one against your neck, pushing your hair over your shoulder.  

"Hi," he whispers, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.  

"You're missing the game," you smile.  

"Halftime," he grins, all teeth and roguish charm.  

"Stupid," you mutter, shoving him back lightly.  

Gator drops himself at the end of the bed, leaning back on his elbows and appreciating the view in front of him as you drag off your work clothes. They're not particularly sexy—a long wool skirt because the office is always freezing and a white button-up that gives you little to no shape—but you could be wearing a garbage bag, and he'd still stare openly at you like this. His eyes drag across every new inch of skin exposed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and his breath hitching quietly when the straps of your bra fall down your arms.  

He looks like a predator. Like he can't decide between eating you alive or keeping you forever.  

When you're totally bare in front of him, you take another long sip from your glass and let him make the choice.  

~ ~ ~ 

Gator barely catches the last few minutes of play by the time you leave the bedroom. He grabs another beer from the fridge and the bottle of wine from the counter, pouring you another glass. He twists the cap off his bottle, tossing it towards the garbage can in the kitchen without looking.  

"Go, baby, go!" he shouts, pacing behind the couch shirtless because you're wearing his sweater now, torn cuff and all.  

He lets out a loud "Fuck!" when the final whistle blows, and you figure the team he's picked for the night has lost. He leaps over the back of the couch, dropping beside you and throwing an arm over your lap, squeezing at your thigh that's still warm from the shower. You've looked forward to this moment all day, being next to him and letting the day fade away as you fade into him instead. 

He watches you for a second, his thumb moving absently across your skin. 

"How was work?" He gulps back another mouthful, wiping at the beer that escaped his lips and is headed towards his chin.  

"Oh?" You mock gasp. "You're paying attention to me now?"  

"I think I paid you plenty of attention back there." He jerks his head towards the bedroom with that stupid grin of his—the one that can get you to do anything and always lands you in trouble. 

He keeps looking though at you, waiting for an answer. 

A heavy sigh slips out of you. 

"Work was..." It takes too long to gather the right words.  

"I should've bought you a second bottle," he snorts.  

"This is the only one?" You frown, looking at the side table and eyeballing what must be maybe half a glass left inside it. His head falls back against the couch cushion as he barks out a loud laugh.  

"Don't worry, there's a case in the back of the truck." He pointedly ignores your excited expression. "Couldn't be fucked luggin' it in."  

You throw your arms around his shoulders and press a few smacking kisses against his cheek. He shoves the remote into your lap.  

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the best, I know." He's being sarcastic, but he isn't leaning away from you either. "Pick a damn movie while I get us some dinner." 

~ ~ ~ 

The heels of your feet bounce off the cabinets as you sit on the counter and tell him about your day. He's stirring pasta in the pot on the stove, and there's a jar of home-brand sauce open beside you, waiting to be added.  

He nods at the right moments and laughs as you recall how one of the new temps jammed the copier, even though the story isn't actually funny. 

"I just like the way you tell it." He shrugs. "And I like the ugly little vein that pops out on your forehead when you think someone is stupid and you're trying to be nice about it."  

Your jaw drops open, and your heels stop bouncing. Bursting out laughing, he doubles over so hard that it makes you smile too. 

"Gator!" You pout. "It's not ugly." 

"Aw." He mocks, slipping between your knees and pressing his lips against yours before you can stop him. "It's a little ugly, but it's okay."  

"You're ugly." You kiss him again.  

"Ooft." He slaps a hand against his chest, stepping away from you to stir the pasta again. "You got me, kid."  

You smack him with the tea towel, and he flicks a wet noodle back in return. 

~ ~ ~ 

Some shitty horror movie plays on the television, but you're not really paying attention. You're tired now, the clock pushing past midnight, stomach full and the second bottle of red wine making everything hazy. There's an old scratchy blanket thrown over your tangled legs, and you're practically melting into Gator, your head against his collarbone and arms wrapped around his waist. His fingers have been tangled in the back of your hair since the film started, and it's lulling you to sleep.  

"She ran up the stairs instead of out the front door. Point to me," he mutters against your temple, his lips brushing your skin softly.  

You have this game that you play together. You try to predict what's going to happen in every single one of these B-grade movies.  

A point for when the character goes down into whatever creepy-ass basement they very obviously shouldn't be going down into. A point for guessing which two characters will have sex and inevitably die. A point for guessing the murderer.  

And yes, a point for when the characters run up the stairs instead of out the front door.  

Gator claims he's the reigning champion, but you never keep track of the score anyway. You still let him have the win.  

The October chill has started to creep its way inside the house. Snow hasn't hit the ground yet, but it feels like it's only days away now. The rain has been heavy, pouring consistently over the plains and drenching everything in its path. There's a mop bucket in the hallway catching drops of water from the leak in the roof that Gator can't seem to find.  

"I thought you were getting a guy to come out and fix that?"  

He turns his head to look down the hallway for a moment, watching the drops fall before turning back to you.  

"Forgot about it. I'll call someone tomorrow."  

"Uh huh."  

"I will."  

A scream erupts from the sound system as the characters on the screen meet their untimely demise, and you both jump.  

"I picked the virgins. Two points to me," you mumble.  

"Only one of them was a virgin. One point."  

You huff, and he pulls gently on your hair to tilt your head back, slanting his lips over yours.  

"Wanna go to bed?"  

"No. Wanna stay here with you."  

"Okay."  

He presses his lips against yours again, and you close your eyes. 

~ ~ ~ 

Saturday morning light breaks through the threadbare curtains in the bedroom as you wake up alone. Gator’s side of the bed is cool, but the laundry thrown around the room from the night before is gone, along with the hamper that sat in the corner. Your work heels are placed neatly beside his boots by the wardrobe, and there’s Tylenol and a glass of water on the bedside table for you. 

His sleep is always a bit screwed up on the weeks he works nights. He gets exhausted but struggles to keep his eyes closed, too restless to settle, too anxious to do anything except think. He doesn’t often talk about what happens during his shifts—sometimes a story about drunk arrests or spoiled brats speeding around in daddy’s Mercedes. 

But then there are the weeks when asking about work shuts him down immediately. Not subtly. He goes still in a way that feels wrong, like a caged animal, feral and sharp. So, you stop asking and start reading the signs instead. 

When it's been harder than usual, he keeps himself busy. You hadn't noticed it last night, too wine drunk and too Gator drunk to realize, but assessing the house now, you can see it. He cooked dinner, did all the dishes, and didn't let you lift a finger. You thought it was romantic how he wanted to take care of you after your shitty day. 

Something heavy settles in your stomach. 

Your bare feet hit the floorboards, and his sweater drops to the middle of your thighs as you stand. There's coffee in the pot on the kitchen counter, and the TV is muted with sports highlights rolling across the screen. The case of wine he promised sits on the dining table, but Gator isn't anywhere to be found. 

The backdoor is slightly open; a frigid breeze rolls through the house and curls its way around your bare ankles. He sits on the old picnic bench on the porch—the one that’s been there longer than they’ve probably been alive—vape in one hand, phone in the other. His empty coffee mug sits on the railing, and the door clicks behind you as you step out. 

He turns toward you, already halfway into whatever version of himself he uses when nothing is wrong. His face changes—subtle, practiced, wrong in a way you can always tell now. 

"Don't." 

You don't exactly know what it is that you're telling him to stop doing, but he seems to understand anyway because his face drops, and he looks over the plains again. It's raining in the fields a few miles away. Theres a shimmer in the air and the white noise of the rumbling water hitting the ground. It'll probably be pouring over them within the hour, creeping its way across the land until it swallows them whole. 

You still drop next to Gator anyway, pulling your knees up to your chest and curling into his side. You take his hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before holding onto it with both of yours. Neither of you move until the rain washes you inside. 

~ ~ ~ 

You indulge him and get in the shower together when he asks. The cubicle is too small for two people, and the taps dig into your back, and Gator never has the water hot enough, but seeing you naked in front of him makes him act like a teenager again. So, you can ignore the quiet, unnecessary fear that he might drop you mid-thrust if it means you can make him forget about everything for a while. 

(And really, sex with Gator has never been a chore.) 

He steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist and you can finally turn the cold tap off and hot tap up. Steam billows through the bathroom enough that Gator mumbles about it "being hotter than Satan's asshole in here" before disappearing into the bedroom. 

You make grilled cheese for lunch using the good cheddar that he claims he can't taste the difference between but always reaches for at the supermarket now. After pouring yourself a cup, you also tip what's in the coffee pot down the sink and replace it with the decaf blend that you keep hidden in the back of the pantry. 

Gator's on the couch, staring at nothing with one arm folded behind his head and the other thrown over his stomach, fingers digging into the scar that sits above his hip. It's still pink, new, and you're not sure how he got it, but you know it's tender sometimes, especially when it's cold. 

You balance his coffee mug on his plate and do the same for yours, walking slowly across the living room to not spill anything. He sits up as you step closer, reaching up and grabbing both plates from your hands so you can sit down next to him. 

"Thanks, kid," he offers quietly, as he passes your plate back. 

He takes a sip from his mug and a wrinkle forms between his eyes as the bitter taste hits his tongue. 

"Fucking decaf," he grumbles, not looking at you and placing it on the side table. 

He complains, but he’ll be asleep on the couch before his plate is empty. You’ll put on some stupid reality show he pretends to hate, and he won’t move. Not to the bedroom. Not anywhere. His hand will stay on your thigh, and he’ll snore into the cushions like he hasn’t slept all week. He probably hasn’t. 

~ ~ ~ 

You open another bottle of red wine while you make dinner. The TV is finally off and the radio hums in the corner. Gator still has bedhead; the strands flattened on one side and puffy on the other, but he doesn't care. He's too busy laughing at you singing a terrible version of a Britney Spears classic with a southern accent. 

“She’s from Louisiana!” you laugh. “She’d sound like that!” 

He fiddles with the dial and changes the station to something more country. Old school. 

"Now, this is music!" He boasts as something that's older than either of you plays softly. 

You point the wooden spoon in your hand at him. "What happened to the guy who used to drive me around, blasting Limp Bizkit?!" 

He huffs a laugh at the memory of being sixteen, just getting his license, thinking he owned the world in his first car. 

"We grew up, kid." 

"OK, old timer." 

You dip the spoon back into the pot, stirring the stew quietly, when Gator's arms wrap around your middle. His lips press against your neck, once, twice, a third time, before his teeth nip at your jaw. 

"Dance with me." 

He's not asking. 

You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, fingers scratching through the short hairs there. He sways you back and forth to the John Denver track playing before he lifts one of your hands and spins you around. It's hard to wipe the smile off your face when the same one is reflected in his. The song comes to an end, and he dips you back low. 

"Don't you dare drop me!" You warn through your grin. 

"What? Like this?" 

He pretends to let go, dropping you even further towards the kitchen floor and laughter spills out of you. 

~ ~ ~ 

The lights are off, and the television throws shifting shadows across the walls. 

Your clothes, and Gator's, are gone, thrown around the room in your shared haste to have nothing between you. Your hands press against the back of the couch as your hips do all the work, rolling against him and pulling tiny moans from the back of his throat as you work him over. Two fingers swirl around one nipple while his teeth bite and suck sweetly on the other. You run a hand over the sweat curling at his hairline, and he snaps his hips to meet yours, making the air leave your lungs. 

"Like that?" he gasps, doing it again. 

Your eyes roll back into your head, and you move one of your hands between your legs. He bats it away before you can get there, though, pressing his thumb onto the bundle of nerves. The cry that rips out of you is loud, and the proud smirk that covers his face makes you want to smack him, but then he pushes his hips up again and you swear you'll never think again because he's fucking you stupid. 

"So perfect for me," he breathes, his eyes blown so dark that you can barely see the color in them anymore. 

He pulls out suddenly, and your back hits the sofa. Gator pushes your thighs apart, hitches one leg over his arm, and thrusts back inside you. There's no time for adjustment. You grab his shoulders, and your back arches, your jaw dropping in a silent scream as he moves his hips fast and hard against you. The pace is relentless, and everything outside of him starts to disappear. His tongue is in your mouth, his fingers are working over your clit, his cock is hitting every spot that makes you see stars, and he's everywhere. 

You're not even sure what you're saying anymore, but you can't stop. 

"Gator! Need you! Don't stop! Right there—God!" 

A high-pitched whine sneaks its way out of your throat, and everything crescendos. You're feverish and electrified, your skin ablaze. Hot white pleasure strikes the deepest parts of you, and he grunts as you impossibly tighten around him. Gator follows quickly after, thrusting until his own release takes over, spilling inside you with a groan. 

He collapses on top of your body, his cock still lingering inside you, and you close your eyes as you both try to catch your breath. You can feel his cum leaking out of you and the sweat that's pooled at the bottom of his back, but you don't mind. 

The movie is still playing. The ragtag crew on the screen makes it out of the forest alive. 

Except one. 

"I picked the murderer. One point to me," you breathe out. 

Gator laughs exhaustedly into your neck. 

~ ~ ~ 

Sunday morning rolls in slowly, like fog. There's a heavy arm around your waist, a stubbly jaw against the back of your shoulder, and warmth around your body that makes sleep hard to break out of. His discarded T-shirt is hanging off the footboard, and there's an ache between your legs and a soreness in your stomach from how much laughter you've shared since the weekend began. 

Gator's still asleep when you turn over, looking younger than he is with no worry lines carved into his face. You brush the hair that's fallen across his face away and trace your fingers over his features: his nose, the arches of his brows, the sharpness of his jaw. When your thumb traces over his bottom lip, his mouth parts, and even with his eyes closed, he tries to bite it. 

"God, I love waking up to you." His voice is hoarse, and his hand travels up your torso, brushing over your nipples and squeezing gently. He sighs like all he's ever needed in life is a handful of tit and he could die happy. 

"What time is it?" 

"Early, I think?" You lean back to grab your phone from the charger, and he groans as you move away. 

He squints one eye open, and you show him the time. 

"You got a lotta messages," he mumbles, pulling you back to his side tightly. 

"Nothing important," you promise, pressing your lips against the bottom of his jaw. 

He settles back against the pillow, eyes already drifting shut again. You feel a twitch underneath your thigh and grin. 

"That all it takes?" 

"Don't start nothin' you ain't gonna finish," he warns softly, his eyes still closed. 

"You're practically asleep still!" 

"Wake me up then." 

~ ~ ~ 

Sundays always feel off. The wind-down from the weekend, the preparations to go back to work. Gator puts the wine you didn't drink into the rack in the corner of the kitchen and tosses the empties into the garbage can outside. All the dishes from the last few days have been loaded into the dishwasher, and the bathroom gets deep-cleaned. The bed sheets are in the washer, and all the windows are open, ridding the furniture of the smell of sex and leftover beef stew. 

You sit on the porch bench with the last of the coffee still warm in your hands and Gator's head in your lap. 

"Are you on lates or earlies this week?" you ask quietly, your fingers dragging through the two clean lines shaved into the side of his head by his temples. He must have had it cut again in the last few days. 

"Lates," he mumbles, and you sigh, trying hard not to be annoyed. 

Overnight shifts mean you'll barely hear from him, or if you do, you'll already be asleep. Conversations will be dragged out across days. He'll be exhausted, and you'll miss him more than you already do when he's not around. 

Water drips into the bucket in the hallway, and before you can even say anything about it, Gator beats you to it. 

"I'm gonna call the guy," he insists. His hand reaches up to yours, still twisting through his hair, and pulls it to his mouth. "Stop worrying. Just be here with me." 

"I am here with you," you frown. 

He hums, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "You're thinking too much." 

"You don't think enough," you huff. 

"I think I love you." 

Crimson blooms in your chest, crawling up your neck towards your face. It feels like the first time, every time he says it. 

"I love you too." 

There's a TV show the guys at the station keep talking about that he wants to start. You mention a movie you've been seeing clips of all week. 

A shopping list goes onto the fridge. Leftovers go into the freezer. 

The sheets are finally dry, and Gator helps you fold them back into neat squares, kissing you every time the corners meet. The mattress is bare, and the bedroom is freezing, but you both still pull your clothes off anyway, delaying the inevitable and pushing your time together as far as you can. 

Because once you're dressed and your bags are packed, thrown into the trunks of your cars, you only have a few moments left to kiss each other goodbye properly. His tongue slips over yours, and your hands tuck under his shirt, feeling the muscles of his stomach contract and the ridges of the scar by his hip. It's indulgent because this part never gets easier. 

"Drive safe," he whispers, ignoring the tears welling at the bottom of your lashes. "I'll see you soon, okay?" 

You nod silently, your forehead pressed against him, because he will. One weekend a month, for the last however many years. But until then, you'll go home to your husband, and he'll go back to his wife.

end notes: there might be more to this. there might not be. i didn't originally plan to end it here, but it does feel right. if I decide to continue, you'll be the first to know about it.

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this story, please reblog, like, or leave a comment!

Buy me a coffee? 🍵

Steve had never imagined himself having to live with a roommate, especially a woman that wasn’t his significant other, but coaching and teaching sex-ed to a bunch of middle schoolers didn’t pay shit, and he couldn’t stand living with his parents anymore. So when one of the few people besides him out of the rag-tag group of people he called friends that had stayed in Hawkins mentions something about getting a place together he figures– why not? 

He’d known you for years, had experienced too many near death experiences with you, and he also knew you were looking for any excuse to get out of the damn near slum of an apartment you were living in then. So, on a bright sunny Saturday morning in April the two of you sign the lease for what has now been your home for a little over a year. 

Living with each other was a lot easier than either of you thought it was going to be. Shared chore lists, weekly movie nights, eating dinner together, learning each other’s little quirks– it was all very domestic.

So domestic that sometimes your lines of reality and fantasy blurred and sometimes you’d have to remind yourself that Steve was not your boyfriend and just your best friend. Which usually happened a couple times a month when he’d casually mention that he had a date and so you’d be the good roommate you are and let him have his alone time and then the following week you’d just so happen to have a date also. 

Which is how you’ve ended up with Eric breathing heavily into your ear as he pounds into you with such a hurry that you think maybe he wants this to be over with faster than you do. Your bedframe repeatedly hits the wall as you count the ceiling tiles above you and it’s not until you hear him groan something along the lines of i’m cumming that you let out a fake gasp and then he’s rolling off of you without as much as a second glance. 

He says he’ll call you tomorrow. 

You know he more than likely won’t and that’s more than fine with you. 

Steve strolls through the door near midnight, figuring thats plenty enough time for you two to do whatever, and for the guy to leave without there being any awkward introductions. Thankfully he’s right and he’s greeted with you sitting on the couch, freshly showered and in your pajamas, with what he can only assume is your leftovers from dinner in your lap. 

He plops down onto the couch beside you with a sigh and you immediately shove the styrofoam container of lasagna towards him. “Want some? It’s from Enzo’s.” 

“Enzo’s?” Steve questions, eyebrows raised in surprise. “He must have really wanted to impress you,” he states, grabbing the fork and shoving a piece in his mouth without a second thought. “Did it work?” 

“No,” you reply, taking the fork back from him and splitting what’s left down the middle for the two of you to share. “Should have ended the date after dinner was over.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he knows what you’re alluding to, and he just nods understandingly at you as he takes his turn with the fork. The two of you didn’t necessarily talk about your sex lives, it was implied when either of you had mentioned going on a date and that you needed the apartment to yourself, but neither of you sat here and talked in detail about the latest orgasm you’d had, but if Steve had any inkling, he was pretty sure the guys you brought home weren’t giving you any. 

The thing about your unspoken agreement with Steve about dates and bringing people home was that it wasn’t fool proof. Sometimes the two of you would go out without any expectations of bringing someone home. Then one thing leads to another and suddenly there’s someone trailing in behind either of you and the sound of a bedroom door slamming. It didn’t happen often enough to where it would be an issue, but it happened enough that Steve, while he wasn’t trying to be a creep, was being observant and had seemed to notice the lack of noise from you. 

He’d quickly put on music when he’d hear the sound of your drunken giggles echoing down the hall and then a much deeper voice accompanying yours, but the times when you come home long after he’d gone to bed and you end up waking him up with your loud footsteps and hushes to the mystery man– those times he shamelessly listens.

It seems to be the same variation of sounds and actions every time– the guy trying to be all suave with you, your headboard hitting the wall in rapid succession for a short amount of time, some curses from the guy, and then the sound of the front door slamming shut. Not a single peep out of you the whole time and at first Steve thinks you’re just being considerate, that you’d made the decision to bring someone home while he was here so you’re just being extra quiet, but he also knows that sometimes no matter how hard you try, staying quiet during sex is sometimes impossible.

He figures you’re bound to slip up after a while and he’ll hear a moan or a little dirty talk bleed through the walls, but it never does, except for that one guy you brought home that would not stop with the dirty talk and kept asking you who’s pussy this was. Needless to say Steve ended up putting on music that night. 

And not to toot his own horn, but he knew what it sounded like when a woman was experiencing pleasure, and from what he could tell those guys weren’t getting you off. While he can’t account for the times he isn’t in the apartment, he can tell from your demeanor when he comes home that those times aren’t particularly stellar either. 

Your less than blissed out state as you sit next to him on the couch, sharing your leftover lasagna with him, it proves his point. 

But Steve doesn’t say anything about your lack of post sex glow and how these guys should make it their priority to make you feel good. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to cross any lines and potentially make things weird between the two of you, even if he’s a little more concerned with how other guys are treating you in bed than he should be. 

Instead he takes the last bite of his portion of the lasagna and extends an olive branch, an out if you ever needed it, because again he cares about you more than he should. 

“You know if you’re on a date and he’s weird or making you uncomfortable or even if you just want to come home– you can call me. No questions asked, I'll come get you. I’m almost always at Eddie’s or at Slinky’s having a beer.” 

You give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the way his words make your heart do a traitorous thing, like the idea of him being willing to drive across town to come and take you home doesn’t make whatever you feel towards him that much more complicated. 

“Thanks Steve,” you reply, eyes focused on the little bit of lasagna left instead of him. 

“Of course,” he responds, slowly standing up from the couch. “Think I’m gonna go to bed,” his eyes traipse over you, waiting for you to look up at him, and when you finally do he smiles in that endearing way that makes your chest ache. “Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

You hear his bedroom door close and you’re left sitting on the couch with the now empty takeout container in your lap wondering how much longer you can go on with this act. How much longer can you continue to bring home these guys that don’t know your clit from your nipple and act like the man you actually want isn’t thirty feet away. 

You always get in your head like this afterwards, especially when Steve comes home and you’re absolutely buzzing on the inside with want, but the one thing you want– you can’t have. 

The couch creaks under you as you get up and make the decision to leave the takeout container on the coffee table, claiming you’ll take care of it in the morning. As you pad down the hall and past Steve’s room you hear his muffled voice behind his door and you’re not meaning to eavesdrop, but the sickeningly sweet tone that bleeds out under the door has you frozen in place. 

“Yeah, yeah– I know it’s late and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t get you out of my mind.” 

“Your number was burning a hole in my pocket from the moment you gave it to me tonight. I couldn't wait to hear your voice again.” 

“I had a really good time tonight and I’d like to see you again if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah? Great. How about dinner next Friday?” 

“Can’t wait. I’ll call you later with the details.” 

That all too familiar sinking sensation settles deep in your gut and before Steve can figure out you were listening you dart across the hall and into your room. The door slams shut behind you with no regard for the pictures on your wall and before you know it you’re burying your face into your pillow. He’d met someone while he was out tonight and you know you have absolutely no room to talk, no leg to stand on when it came to however you were feeling, you’d been on a date tonight, brought a guy home and had sex, if you could call it that. 

Steve was allowed to do whatever he wanted to, and you knew that, it’s just that you don’t think you can handle another failed date on your end to fill that ache in your heart. 

The next morning you take the initiative to call Eric before he doesn’t and the second date is set for Saturday. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A couple weeks later you manage to score a day off during the week, which meant you had the apartment to yourself.

Steve had thought it was weird how eager you were to send him off to work this morning, in fact majority of the time when you manage to get a day off during the week you’re begging him to play hooky and spend the day with you, but this morning you were nearly pushing him out the door.

He tried not to think too much of it, maybe you just wanted some alone time, or maybe you were inviting Eric over. He had spent the night the last time you went out, which Steve thought was strange, considering you never let guys sleep over, but the mid breakfast meeting between the two men had been interesting to say the least. 

As you walked into the kitchen that morning you found Steve sitting at the little table eating his food with your plate across from him– eggs made just how you like, orange juice in your favorite cup, and toast still hot to the touch. It wasn’t an unusual sight by any means, but what was unusual was you having company in the morning. So he doesn’t even think to make sure you’re alone when he hears you enter the kitchen, eyes not even looking up from his plate, before he blurts out – was he any better this time?

Eric awkwardly clears his throat from behind you and Steve looks up wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed. Before Steve can even begin to spit out an apology Eric mumbles I should get going and it’s an awkward thirty seconds as he gathers his jacket from your room and walks out the front door, because you don’t even try to get him to stay and Steve continues eating his eggs, now content with the departure of the man from your shared apartment. 

Steve figured after that debacle there was no way Eric would be back around, but if he knew Steve wasn’t going to be there today, well there was a chance, and it bothers Steve more than he’d like to admit. Either way though, Steve was going to find out what was going on back at home, because by the time second period rolled around he realized he’d forgotten his change of clothes for baseball practice tonight. There was no way he was going to be out there on that field in slacks and tie, especially when in true Indiana fashion, summer had arrived early and it was sweltering already in May. He’d just run home on his lunch break and grab some clothes and be right back– no big deal. 

He’d even called you before he left to give you a heads up that he was coming home soon, but there was no answer, and so he thinks that maybe his little spiral over Eric potentially being there was for nothing and you probably were out shopping. 

When his pickup truck pulls into his unofficially assigned parking spot at home and your black sedan is in its usual spot next to his– his mind conjures up a million different reasons as to why you hadn’t answered the phone earlier. None of them are good and frankly majority of them involve Eric and he chooses to ignore the alarms going off in his head about how he shouldn’t care this much about you fucking another guy. 

His eyes do a quick sweep of the parking lot, he doesn’t know what Eric drives, so he really doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, but Steve feels like he has crazy intuition and he’s expecting the vehicle to glow like a fucking beacon the second his eyes land on it. 

The search is of course futile. 

His wristwatch lets him know he only has twenty minutes left until he needs to be back at the school and with the hope of not walking through the front door to find Eric balls deep in you– Steve reluctantly gets out of the truck and walks towards apartment 4B. 

For the first time ever in his life– Steve knocks on his own front door. Not because he’s forgotten his key, but because he’s afraid of what might be going down on the other side of this couple inches of wood.. He gives it a minute and when there’s no response or the sound of two people scrambling to get dressed, he shoves his key in the lock and slowly opens the door. 

The living room comes into view as the door fully swings open and to Steve’s surprise it’s exactly as he remembers it when he left this morning– your favorite blanket draped over the back of the couch, his glasses that he claims he doesn’t need on the coffee table, and some of the various VHS tapes that Steve had nabbed back from his Family Video days in a pile on the side table. 

The apartment is eerily quiet save for the hum of the refrigerator and Steve comes to the conclusion that one of your friends has come and picked you up, because when you’re home it’s obvious. There’s always music playing or the TV is loudly playing some show you aren’t even watching– your presence is always known and right now all that lingers is reminders of you. 

He doesn’t think much more of it as he wanders down the hall and towards his room, but the sound that bounces off your four walls and through your door has Steve stunned and his feet cemented to the floor. 

“Oh my god!” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

From the moment you woke up this morning you’d been buzzing with anticipation, finally having the apartment to yourself in god knows how long, the new toy you’d picked up the other day burning a hole in your bedside drawer, and the fact that you haven’t had a good orgasm in ages– it had you wound tighter than a drum. 

It didn’t help that you’d slightly been edging yourself all morning, refusing to touch yourself, but constantly thinking about how good it was going to feel once you did. You could have jumped right into your bed and shoved your hand down your pants as soon as Steve left this morning, but this was more fun, and you knew the payoff for waiting would be worth it. 

It’s not until you find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you fold laundry that you finally cave. 

You grab your new vibrator from the drawer and get comfy on your bed as your heart nearly beats out of your chest from how worked up you are without even touching yourself yet. You’re still in your pajamas, a big t-shirt and shorts, but you keep them on to tease yourself just a little longer. The feeling of your fingertips tracing antagonizingly slow circles around your nipples through your thin t-shirt has a steady warmth spreading through your body and the ache between your plush thighs that much stronger. 

While your left hand still gives your nipples the attention they so desperately crave, your right travels down past your navel and in between your thighs. Your sleep shorts are thin and perhaps you hadn’t put any underwear on last night when you went to bed and maybe the ragged seam had been rubbing up against your clit all morning and maybe you did it on purpose so that when you finally caved just the slightest touch to yourself would have you gasping. 

Which is exactly what happens when your index and middle finger press down against your clothed core and the seam of your shorts rubs against that sensitive bundle of nerves. It feels so good and god you want nothing more than to just go crazy and bring yourself over the edge, but you’ve been so patient, and you’ve got all day to play with yourself. 

So why ruin the fun so prematurely? 

You start slow, the pads of your fingers rubbing small circles over the fabric while your other hand, that is now slipped under your shirt, pinches and gently tugs at your nipples, the both of them working in tandem. The warmth that radiates through you is intoxicating and it doesn’t shock you to feel the cotton of your shorts dampening in record time. You’d been working yourself up all morning and when your hand finally trails under the waistband of your shorts it’s a little obscene just how wet you are. 

Your shorts quickly get discarded, haphazardly thrown onto your floor, and then your shirt gets bunched up just enough to expose your tits to the cool air. The anticipation is burning through you like a wildfire and the only way to smother it is to make yourself come. 

Which is something you planned on doing– multiple times. 

Soft moans slip past your lips as your fingers rub tight little circles on your clit and as your eyes flutter closed your mind wanders to the one thing that you know will only amplify your pleasure.

Steve. 

You’d imagined one too many times, what it would be like to be the girl moaning underneath him, how it would feel to have his big warm hands caressing your body, to have him showering you in compliments and praises. 

Your fingers trail through your folds and down to your sopping wet cunt, circling the sensitive skin around your entrance with such a slow tortuous pace that it tears a whimper from you, hips bucking forward for something more. You know your fingers aren’t going to give you what you need, but you sink your index and middle finger in anyways, searching for that pleasure that you’ve never been able to give yourself. 

If only you had Steve’s long and thick fingers inside you right now, he’d surely have you grabbing at the sheets as he curled them just right, reaching that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. It wasn’t like you had much experience when it came to getting pleasure from your g-spot, considering the only person to ever find it was the girl you hooked up with last October, but you had confidence that Steve would have no issue. 

Just the idea of Steve pumping his fingers inside your tight cunt, stretching you out as he adds a third, it has you mewling. The squelching sounds of your own fingers pistoning into you fills the room and you could only imagine the dirty comment Steve would make about it. You knew he had a way with his words in the bedroom, you’d shamelessly listen through the walls on those nights when he’d bring home a girl on a whim, and you’d stored away those words for times like these. 

God, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you pretty girl?

You’re soaking my cock baby. 

Gonna make a mess all over my sheets aren’t you? 

But even with Steve’s dirty talk echoing around in your head, your fingers of course aren’t enough to bring you over the edge, and you’re hurriedly reaching for your vibrator, slick fingers fumbling with the button before it comes to life in your palm. 

The second you press it to your swollen clit it seems as if electricity shoots through you, pleasure coursing through every vein in your body, and you’ve never been more thankful to be home alone as you lose all composure. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your eyes are screwed shut, head thrown back against your pillow, and the prettiest sounds continue to slip past your lips as you increase the intensity level on the toy. 

It doesn’t take long at all for that all too familiar feeling to creep up on you, for the warmth that’s started low in your belly to spread throughout your body. When you take your vibrator off your clit and slowly trail it up your body all the way to your nipples and circle each of them with it you swear you lose all ability to breath for a second. 

Your chest heaves as you trail it back down your body and back to the sensitive pearl between your spread legs, increasing the intensity once again, which makes your chest heave even more. You’re teetering on the edge, the coil in your tummy on the verge of snapping, and all you can think about is Steve. 

How it sounded when he’d brought home Amanda a couple weeks ago– which is what had caused Eric to happen– how she’d moaned out his name laced with such pleasure that it made you squeeze your thighs together while you laid in bed. How she’d told him don’t stop and how she unapologetically let everyone know how good she was feeling. There was clearly no need for her to fake it. 

God you wanted to know what it was like to be pleased like that, to be taken care of in such a way by someone else that it had you practically incoherent. 

The bad thing was, you wanted that someone to be Steve, who was unfortunately your roommate and best friend. So, having unholy thoughts about him while you masturbated was just going to have to suffice. 

You click the intensity button once again and that is what finally brings you over the edge and turns you into a babbling mess, legs trembling, free hand clutching so tightly onto the sheets that your fingers cramp. 

“Oh my fucking god. Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you holler, pressing the toy harder against your clit as you ride out your orgasm, wishing it was Steve giving you it instead of this vibrator. “Please don’t stop, please, please.” 

Something mixed with greed and insanity takes over you and you press the intensity button again causing your leg to twitch and your hips to buck upwards, all while the vibrator is still glued to your clit. Your second orgasm crashes in fast, riding on the coattails of your first one, and it hits hard. 

“Oh fuck. Oh my god. Please Ste-”

You bite down on your fist, eyes rolling to the back of your head, all while muffled sobs fill your room. The vibrator gets tossed somewhere, on your bed or floor you aren’t sure, but your legs collapse out from under you and you lay flat on your bed, ears ringing with aftershocks coursing through you. 

On the other side of the door Steve is beside himself, his cheeks are flushed, and the semi he’s sporting is damn near a full erection at this point. He knew he should have swiftly turned around and left the second he realized what was happening, but he couldn’t, not when he’s imagined what you sounded like for some time now. What it sounded like when you were experiencing pleasure, what it sounded like when you came, and what it sounded like when you said his name. 

Alright so maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but Steve swears it sounded like you were about ready to moan his name, and you very well may have been getting ready to stay stop again, but he shamelessly hopes it was his name, because then he wouldn’t feel as dirty knowing you think about him when you touch yourself just like he does with you. 

God, you sounded so pretty though, and Steve can’t believe that those sounds came out of you. The girl who he wouldn’t even know was having sex unless he heard your headboard and the sound of the guy or you in a nonchalant way mentioning that the sex with whoever was shit. 

His heart is nearly beating out of his chest and his dick is achingly hard as he hears you coming down from what he could tell was two back to back orgasms. The way he can still hear little whimpers coming from you as you probably lay there spent, your inner thighs slick with your arousal, nipples still so sensitive and sore from you tugging on them. 

There were a million dirty thoughts swirling around in his head and he should feel ashamed, should feel like a creep for what he’s thinking, what he listened in on, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t for a long time when it came to you and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to feel about that either. 

Steve’s startled out of his horny moral dilemma by the sound of your bed creaking and before he can get caught he’s swiftly darting into his room, grabbing what might be a dirty cut off t-shirt and shorts, and tip-toeing back down the hall and out the door. 

As soon as the driver’s side door of Steve’s truck slams shut (which is the only way to guarantee it’s actually shut after Dustin fucked around with it by swinging on it like he was five and now it’s never been the same since) he let’s out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in as his hands grip the steering wheel with such vigor that his knuckles are stark white. 

He quickly adjusts himself in his slacks, tucking his erection into the waistband of his boxers, and tries to think of anything other than the sound of your pretty little whimpers. His head smacks against the headrest as his cheeks puff up, blowing out yet another deep breath combined with an explicit of some sort. 

Steve takes one last look at the apartment, shoves the key in the ignition, and backs out of his parking space like his whole world hasn’t just flipped upside down. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s nearing seven-thirty by the time Steve trudges in through the front door in his cut off tee and shorts, sweaty and hot, and still thinking about what took place in this said apartment hours earlier. The remainder of the school day had been a slow type of torture he’d not wish upon his worst enemy and then he had to go coach baseball in the sweltering sun like his whole body wasn’t already on fire. 

You had occupied every square inch on his brain since he left the apartment earlier and at times it wasn’t even anything inherently sexual– it was just you. How he loved coming home everyday to you, how you knew what was wrong with him before he did sometimes, how you deserved to be with someone that could take care of you in a multitude of ways. 

And the sight that greets him as he enters your shared home does nothing to eradicate the overwhelming infiltration of you in his mind. You’re standing at the stove, comfy clothes already on, humming along to whatever Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the radio, and the unmistakable smell of his favorite meal wafts towards him. 

You turn around and the sight of Steve standing there startles you, causing you to jump slightly, then let out the prettiest laugh he thinks he’s ever heard, and it makes Steve’s heart do a traitorous thing.

He figured he’d make it all awkward seeing you for the first time after hearing and listening to what you were doing earlier, but it wasn’t the least bit awkward. It was like any other evening, except you were glowing more than usual, smiling at him like he’d personally given you those orgasms earlier and god as unhinged as it sounded he could only imagine what you looked like directly after sex. 

Which now has his dick doing a traitorous thing instead of his heart. 

“Hard practice?” you ask, eyeing how his biceps glisten with sweat and how he’s got his baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. 

“Yeah, hot as hell out there today,” Steve replies, trying not to notice how you don’t have a bra on, how the window AC unit that you insist on running on full blast has your nipples poking through the thin cotton. 

“Well,” you start, before turning back to the stove to stir the boiling spaghetti noodles. “You’re in luck because dinner is almost ready and I’ve made your favorite. Should be done in a few, the chicken is broiling in the oven. I’m trying to get the cheese a little crispy just how you like.” 

“I’m gonna go take a shower real quick then.” 

You nod, not bothering to turn back to face him as you stir the sauce. “Alright, I’ll holler when it’s done.” 

Steve hurries down the hall towards the bathroom and quickly strips out of his sweaty practice clothes, making sure to put them in the hamper because he’s not a slob, and then gets in the shower before he loses his mind.

The cold water does nothing to smother the fire that’s ignited low in his gut and he can’t believe you making him god damn chicken parmesan has got his dick hard again. 

He really is a simple guy and the domesticality of it all does more for him than he’d like to admit. 

Steve knows he’s got to do something about his not so little problem and so he lets his mind focus solely on you as he wraps his hand around his aching cock. His fingers gently squeeze around his shaft and on the first upstroke his hips embarrassingly buck into his fist with no control as his head tips back against the shower wall. 

He fucks his fist with no abandon and when his thumb glides over his throbbing tip a broken moan slips out of him, bouncing off the tile and hopefully not out to the kitchen. His head is swarming with you and all he can think about is how pretty you sounded earlier, how he’d never expected you to be so loud, and it only makes him want to see how much louder you can get. 

He thinks about how he’d love nothing more than to thank you for making him his favorite dinner later by going down on you. To thank you for taking such good care of him, because you do without even realizing it, and as much as Steve is a provider, the kind of person that takes care of others because it’s who he is. Sometimes he needs to be taken care of too, and you do it so well that Steve doesn’t even realize he’s being taken care of, and to him that deserves a mind blowing orgasm or two. 

His chest heaves and he has to brace himself against the wall with his other hand as he continues to stroke himself, imagining it was your soft hands wrapped around him right now, and not his callused ones. 

You consume him entirely and he finds himself having to bite down on the bicep of his extended arm to muffle the moans and whimpers that want to come alive and live within the four walls of this tiny bathroom. 

He’s close, he can feel that sweet release sneaking up on him fast, and with one last stroke Steve comes so hard that he nearly draws blood from how hard he’s biting down on his arm, your name and profanities muffled against the tanned muscle. He paints the shower wall with his cum, stroking himself to damn near overstimulation, until he finally slumps against the wall behind him.

Exhaustion creeps in fast and he’s still trying to catch his breath when he hears a knock on the door. 

“Steve! Hurry up! Dinner is getting cold.” 

He swallows hard, heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the idea of you listening in on him like he had you, but he can’t let his mind go any further than that, can’t let you wait any longer. So, he rinses his cum off the tile wall and quickly finishes his shower. 

When he joins you a few minutes later at the tiny table in the kitchen, his hair still dripping wet onto the old Hawkins High Phys Ed shirt he threw on, and you immediately tease him about having to reheat his own food, but then grab the plate anyways and toss it into the microwave for thirty seconds.