my luv 4 u was bulletproof but u're the one who shot me ✃𓄧

"You have nothing to worry about, the promotion is yours."

What should be assuring words from your boyfriend, do little in dismissing the ongoing doubt burrowed in your chest. 

Objectively speaking, he's right. You, a corporate slave, who for the most part shuts up and does their work, should be a shoe-in for the latest high-up position in your glassed office. You're friendly enough for colleague early morning smiles, firm enough to stick up for sheepish juniors, who thank you with pastries from your city's finest. You're dilligent and a force to be reckoned with, perfectly capable and deserving of the stepping stone in your endless ambition.

But the promotion isn't just offered to you. Instead it's proposed as 'healthy competition' between you and the worst human alive.

Some self-entitled, rich prick who if he couldn't have any more wrong with him, is a raging misogynist. With a knack for charading and flaunting generational wealth, Hajoon easily bypasses barriers the rest of your colleagues were sanctioned to through hardwork and ungodly overtime hours. Everyone is beneath him, especially you as every win he earns (buys) is directed at you, through piano key veeners and his 'improved' hairline. 

He also loves to ass-kiss, disgused as niceness as he invites your boss to the life he dreams of: exclusive golf tours, high-end dinner reservations ─ all for the sake of discussing 'business.' It's a flimsy excuse, seen when your boss at least has the decency to be embarrased about. Yet, it doesn't stop him for pitting you together in a race that's already set.

"Let's hope Hajoon doesn't take him to the masters," you scroll through your song library, swiping indiscriminately. "There's only so much prestige I can offer."

"Your work speaks for itself, pretty," Jake chances a glance at you, comfort moulded in his lips. "You mopped the floor with him in that last presentation. It's yours," 

"Besides," he starts, country road stretching past the dust-speckled windshield. "If your boss is so horribly mistaken to choose him, I'd personally bake them a shit pie for their troubles."

You smile despite yourself, a snicker from him triggering yours as their shared volume overrides the murmured engine roar. 

"You're right. About the shit-eating too but," you chuckle, phone dropped into your lap to peer through the window, watching the rustic landscape pass you by. "Things have been so hectic and I think I've placed a lot importance on this than what's good for me." 

"It's good to be driven, love. It's one of your many best traits," just briefly, your eyes catch, the tenderness in his enough to turn your head away. "But this is what this weekend is about. A step back to center yourself, because regardless of what happens, you deserve to put yourself first."

He changes gears, movement second-nature beforer his hand overlaps your thigh, broadly splayed over your jeans with rosy-knuckles and firm grip. Stable, like you've always known him to be. 

Your hand folds over his, a squeeze given to extend your gratitude where words fail. But he knows, knows you in all the pieces given through the six months you've known each other. 

He says this trip to the mountains is a celebration of the milestone, but you know better. You're well aware he's seen you at your most exhausted, still showing up for him and others because contrary to cynic's beliefs, your loved ones come first. He's seen the frustation sear the white of your knuckles, jaw clinched at Hajoon's insults, a loser you don't dignify with a response, letting your work speak for itself. And through it all, he shows up for you. Constantly, but especially now. 

The soft smile on your face doesn't waver as the car eats away at miles travelled, nearing halfway through your journey as Jake pulls into a rest-stop. Humble in size, the establishment offers a string of fast-food restaurants, petrol pumps and an old jungle gym with 'Unsafe. Do Not Enter' sign hanging off it. Before you're able to browse the convenience store to line your stomach, peaked neon lights capture your attention.

Tucked away on the outskirts of the property stands a store half the size of all others, a neon sign of the evil eye lending out a helping hand glowing in hues of violet and rouge. The windows line themselves in the same violet colour, drapes as the backdrop for meticulously placed crystals, tarot cards, singing bowls and the like. Your focus then falls to a poster plastered to the front door, adorned in gold stars over the graphic red curtain background.

Readings available. Learn your destiny here!

Something tugs at you, halts you in step to stare the store down, the lull of car passengers' dulling to nothing. You aren't a stranger to the occult, the centre of many readings your university friends' enticed you into, taking frequent trips with them to your town's crystal shop whilst running errands, only to leave with a set of your own. And when things got dark, you carried a blunt rose quartz in your bra in the hopes your dining hall crush would miraculously notice you. He did, but he wasn't your person for a whole host of reasons, reasons you never lowered your standards for ever again. 

In any case, you are receptive. Open to any messages you feel aligned to and with the ticking seconds hinging on suspense, you give in. 

"I'm gonna go check that store out," your thumb hikes over your shoulder, hand shielding the glare of afternoon sun. "I'll be back."

Jake's head lifts from the fuel filler neck, finding the store then your figure. He doesn't say anything, familar with your bedroom's shelf of collected crystals, incense and tarot cards, flashing you a small smile as he replies, "Take your time. I'll get us snacks."

You thank him in a wink, one sent. back to the affect of a spring in your step, wind blowing in your hair as you tug at the end of your sleeves, jitters alive and well.

The door chimes with your entrance, tranquill sounds of running water filling your ears as curiosity soaks up the shop's interior. Glass shelves lined with their bigger crystal collection: pendulums, palm stones and moldavite necklaces barricaded away. In the singular aisle waist-high is a long, dusted table with woven baskets, an assortment of smaller crystals grouped by purposes, labelled as such. Tiny string lights lace racks, an entanglement of feathered-dream catchers and veined greenery. The opposite wall, identical in decor, holds various tarot and oracle decks, all breath-taking alongside scrying tools taken straight from the Gothic age, marvelled at in quiet astonishment.

The high of getting away swindles your intentions of only getting a reading done, the mould of a rose-quartz cat, curled peacefully in sleep is craddled in your hand, never let go until you're at the till, clearing your throat for the clerk.

In their late teens, the midnight-haired clerk manages the entire interaction without a single look your way, sighing heavily when interrupted through her Kerrang! magazine flip-through. When everything's said and done, a similar feeing to pulling teeth gnaws as you ask for where the readings are done.

"Through the beads," she drawls, smacking her cherry bubblegum. She nodes behind her at the open doorway, behind the plexiglass countertop. 

Fortunately, the counterspace doesn't dominate the entire space, leaving leeway for you to amble past. Her figure remains unmoved, only triggered as her chipped nail polished-fingers drag across a picture of Kellin Quinn, a sigh full of dreams echoed.

Nostalgia shapes your expression, hands separating an opening through the assortment of crystals stringed from the doorway's top frame, cuts of aquamarine, angel aura quartz and rhondonite welcoming you into the space. Notes of lavender breeze past as you step further into the sacred four walls, incense wafting in the sunlight peeking through high windows. Lush rugs and blankets fold over a nearby couch and display shelves, occult trinkets sprinkled around in a personal touch immediately relaxing you. What looks like serves as a breakroom, positions itself for readings with a lone table in its middle, short candles lit with decks spread across the constellation tablecloth.

The reader, mid-shuffle, deserts her cards at your presence, piled onto the edge of her table as she stands, tugging her turquoise shawol over her shoulders.

"Good, another traveler ─ welcome, welcome," the lady in her early fourties gestures to the vacant seat opposite her, clearing her table of dust as her infinite rings clinck together. She wears wisdom on her face, the warmth of her smile luring you in as your legs settle despite inital nerves, "Make yourself at home."

Complying, you seat quietly in the space too cosy to be disturbed, briefly scanning the room before her bracelets sound again. 

"What kind of reading you looking for? I've lived long enough to give you options," she beams, rubbing her hands together. "Tarot spreads, astrology-based readings, face readings ─ whatever you're called to."

So, you pick. Called to the option you've never explored. "A face reading, please."

"You strike me more as the tarot type," she smirks, nifty hands shuffling her cat-themed deck like second nature. Which you suppose is embedded in her, her eyes never leaving yours as no card spills from the speedy movement, neatly packed away with a knock to the table. "Am I wrong?'

"Wait, let me guess ─" her eyes brim in elation, only cast aside inbrief ponder before a wrinkled index finger points your way. "Three of cups, that's your favourite card, right?"

The tattoo inked into your back heats at the chilling remark, an abrupt flush crawling up your neck as your figure seizes in fridigness. You're well aware to carry a healthy amount of suspicion going into this. Not giving away what the readers knows what you want to hear but with irrelevant your covered tattoo to the area of the reading, you can't help but blink. Wide-eyed and slowly, attempting a too-late cover-up when all the colour returns to your face.

"No need to be embarrassed. I've developed a talent for these things," she muses, pointed nails drumming into the table. "Certainly wouldn't make a living otherwise."

She chuckles, in a way that's reminscient of quiet Saturday afternoons on your aunty's back garden, swaying wherever the hammock took you as you sketched to the melodies of birds. She'd religiously keep her avain population feed through bulk-buys of the finest bird food, cracking piastachio nuts with her legs crossed as her eyes observed them, seeing the same freedom in their wings as she had, the only difference being when their bellies were full, they flocked away together while she remained alone. It's something you try not show on your face. 

"You have a lot of moles," she observes, her expression void of sentiment. "Very telling for the kind of life you live,"

"It seems a bit lonely, your familal life," she notes, a blink all you muster to her truth. "Things were almost never stable financially, which you took upon yourself to manage along with everything else you did alone,"

A vacant house, parents working to make ends meet with the throat-stifle to make better of your home amounts to this, your youth saving pennies not for Barbie dolls but contributions to a microwave that warmed food twice as long. Summer and part-time jobs spent wistfully looking out windows at people your age, tanned and smiling from their boat days while the only Sun you ever see is on your breaks. A social life forgone with your head buried in books, affording yourself scholarship-funded education that when it comes time to toss your cap, you give your gown and sash to your parents for photos, their teary-eyes coupled with your wobbled smile. 

"You're a smart and capable lady, destined to gain respect and nobility for those who see you for who you are. A lot of satisfaction awaits you," the reader's voice breaches your lazy mirage, watchful eyes grazing over your features. A knit sews her caramel eyebrows loosely, lines of her forehed speaking of the countless times she'd made the expression. "It's long overdue. A life spent living for others. You second guess your displays of affection because you think they don't suffice, but I see you. There's enough care given to loved ones that there's almost never the chance for them to think of paying the favour back,"

Aversion demands your eyes to direct elsewhere in the store ─ her Chinese lucky cat, arm waving to spread wealth and propserity, her snoozing black cat affectionately named Jiji on their back snoring to high heavens ─ anywhere to offload the impending feel of being seen. Plucked back through your onion-layers to the core where you lay.

"Some people depise that of you. Being so permanently in your lane and headstrong," you could roll your eyes, already pinpointing the association to Hajoon. "They may obstruct your path, but there's nothing that can come between destiny," 

Finally, a smile breaks out onto her face, chin in her palm. "There are others who adore you for those same traits and more. Have spent many moons counting their blessings your heart remains set on them."

A memory surfaces. A few, some flashes of late nights holding cherished friend's hands in yours as they recount their gratitude for your presence in their life, teary-eyed because you keep choosing them. Warmth blossoms in your chest, felt in the tips of your fingers interlocked in your lap. A memory lingers longer than the rest, three months exactly into seeing Jake where he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, slopes of his angular face bathed in moonlight while he looks at you like the stars above are in your eyes, saying:

"I want to continue choosing you," he speaks just above a whisper, not bothering with how bare he sounded. "If you'll let me."'

You gulp, hands running against the grain of your jeans. 

"It's not going anywhere soon, the high on your horizon," she relays, drumming gel nails against her clear quartz palm stone. "Blessings will come in, fast and plentiful ─ think Ace of Cups and Eight of Wands,"

"In all aspects of your life," you don't miss the emphasis in her voice. How could you with the wink she does? "This is very inspiring. And a rightful change. I'm happy for you."

And she genuinely means it, smile mirroring that of a long-time friend, melting the ice freezing your rigid shoulders. 

"Thank you. I really appreciate─" 

Your words evaporate with the chimes of crystals together, head turning to see Jake's polite, beaming face. Brightness gleams in his eyes, fondness curving the edge of his smile at you before it falls behind you, teeth bared in a hint of awkwardness.

"Hi, sorry for interrupting. The clerk said I could come in," his eyes track back to yours. "Should I come back later?"

"No, we actually just finished," softness blends in your limbs at his presence, an outstretched hand instantly in his as he squeezes yours before you get the chance. He has the gall to wink your way like you don't have an audience, playfulness rolling your eyes right to your audience. "Thanks again for the reading. It was really insightful."

For the first time since you'd come through those same crystals, the reader lacks words. Her expression washes over in a quiet stint of merriment, lips parting with a gaze very much directed over your shoulder. At Jake who's a good sport about being oogled, closed mouth grin present while his thumb ghosts over your knuckles. The rise of your eyebrow cues her back to reality, a flush engulfing the timid bunch of her cheeks, abruptly standing to gesture your way out despite it being the same one you walked through.

"Yes, yes, of course. Come again if you ever happen upon our town," the words rush out of her a mile a minute, courteous chuckles huffing out yours and Jake's mouths. "I'm sure you've got all you're looking for though."

The rushed comment isn't missed either, lip bitten to only spill in the confinements of the car. The same sentiment's shared by Jake who casts you a quick glance, catching his laughter in a fist.

"I'll just make my payment at the front, if that's okay."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Jake interjects, pushing the bend of his lips down. "I already paid." 

"Jake,"

"Give me an earful in the car," he jokes. "Better head out before it gets dark."

Well into the afternoon with the cabin still miles away, you lapse into agreement, brimming gratitude at the reader before you're following in Jake's footsteps out the doorway.

A call for your name turns your head, quiet enough for Jake's ears not to catch on as the crystal curtains close behind his figure, leaving you in the quiet hum of the reader's room, vibrational music nothing but a faint buzz. 

She scurries over to you with alert eyes, stealing a look through her crystal curtains before her gaze centers back.

"I don't usually feel compelled to say these things. Especially since I can acknowledge such matters have the chance of making patrons…uncomfortable,"

You're bracing yourself to whatever may come from her mouth, something to be taken or pushed aside, curiousity getting the better of you as you lean into her hushed words. 

"He was what I was talking about ─ satisfaction," she stresses, fingers pinched together. "He will make you very happy, as I'm sure you already know,"

"But," her eyes avert again, like you imagine yours did during the reading. She fiddles with the rings on her weathered fingers, metal circled around loose skin in an attempt to self-soothe. "There are other areas he will satisfy you," 

"He─his appetite," she says like she can't believe the words on her tongue. "Knows no end. His greed will take you places your mind cannot begin to conceptualize."

Your stance goes rigid, a silent part of suprise in your lips. 

"I'm sorry, what?" you squint your eyes as if it'll help you hear better. "Are you…are you talking about─"

"Yes," she admits, colour rushing to her cheeks. "There are many things a face can encapsulate; we are mere pages in the book of our past, present and future. Values, destiny and personality ─ we wear our life's story on our face."

Your hands come up to drag against your cheeks, trying a grasp at comprehension.

"And his is a high sex drive…?" you utter the words slowly, unsure where the heartfelt sentiment's gone.

"He is insatible. Plays his part as doting, sweet boyfriend because those are qualities he truly posses," her throat bobs, eyes cut to the front door in a wild flare. "But he brings other qualities when called to, when the timing is right. Things that will bring forth the kind of chemistry equal to a house on fire." 

Her hands brace against your tensed shoulders, bracelets jangling with the seriousness she laser-beams into your eyes. "Please darling, load up on electrolytes," her blinks come hard and fast, replicated in the rhythm of her breath. "Stretch and just pray you'll make it out alive." 

Ill-manners aren't part of your social palette, real expressions hidden by the jaded niceness society peers at you through. But in the feverish and apparently delirious rant the reader has forced onto your shoulders, they tremble with the building laughter buzzing through your chest, muffled by pressed lips not really doing their part. Evident in the surprise unfolding her scrunched expression, hand coming over your mouth to wish the laughter away as you get out a quick, "Noted. Thank you again." 

It doesn't come from a bad place, but when you're back outside, trekking back to the car some guilt exists with the tremble in your chest, putting a plug in it by drumming a palm to your torso. 

"Everything good?" Jake asks once you're back in the car, strapping himself in. "Reading went okay?"

Where do you even begin? It did go great until he showed up and apparently rocked the reader's world, who then expressed how much he would rock your world. Agreed, Jake does a good job in the bedroom but the concept of him being an insatible beast when called upon? While plausible, the circumstances surrounding its revelation push snickers out your nose.

"Yeah, a lot of fortune's on its way. Finally," you strap yourself in too, cracking your knuckles to mask your giggles. "Lots of uhm, satisfaction too."

It's a loaded end to your answer, one you communicate in a bitten back smile Jake goes on to replicate, letting out the bit of amusement he tucked away back in the store. 

"Happy to hear that, baby," he laughs, fist over his lips, licking them over when his hands extend to the steering wheel. "You deserve good fortune coming your way," 

He kisses your cheek over the console, the press sweet and delicate. A reality where it's bruising and lust-driven flashes briefly. 

Hovering close to you, his voice dips in volume, eyes peered up at yours with a teasing glint. "Could've told you that for free though."

"I thought it was gonna be insighful!" you shove his shoulders, mellow laughter filling the vehicle. "It was but─" 

"Just joking, pretty. I'm sure you got what you needed from the reading," sincerity shines in his eyes, accented by the peppered kisses he does against your cheek, the last one on your temple. "Let's get going, yeah?"

Your agreement blends in with you turning on the car radio, reconnecting to the aux where Geese's '3D Country' thumps through its bass intro, engine roaring to life as you get back on the road, leaving the minute rest-stop and tarot shop in the dust. You're meant to carry what resonates through her reading and that you do, the miserable grey anxiety cloud in your chest clearing knowing your hardwork at work will be rewarded. Knowing that the love you put into the universe will find itself back to you. Not because in the end, you wished to serve yourself, but because you always hoped the goodness you met others with could pour into others' lives too. 

But something else lingers. The grip she had on your shoulders, the astonishment on her face when Jake joined you two, her remark about electrolytes. Priding yourself on being an open person, you welcome her perception of Jake through an impartial lens ─ there's only so much sex to have since you two started dating, a precaution exercised courtesy of your therapist. Exhausted by empty hookups and abrupt endings lacking promise, she challenged you to find human connection elsewhere. Be as vulnerable you could because dating was somehow more horrifying than being naked in front of a stranger. At least then, you spoon-fed them bits of yourself ─ all in self-interest ─ and when they ultimately left, because they got what they wanted, they didn't take your heart with them. You'd never given it to them in the first place. Dating, however, if you were after what your heart desired, entailed an honesty you had to sit with. A partner who you could really be yourself with ─ all the neat and messy bits you've perfected hiding behind a pretty bow ─ and through trials and tribulations, tug of wars due to your attachment style, you found your Jake. Someone you could be yourself with, and someone who you know reflected that back to you. No charades, no secrets, just sincerity that's maybe charmed you into rose-tinted lenses. 

Then again, she did say it was a matter of calling it 'upon him.' 

Time would tell, eventually.

That time comes sooner than expected. 

Tucked away in the mountains breathing crisp air, is the luxury cabin Jake so kindly splurged on for your weekend getaway. Upon seeing your scandalised face, the cedar and oak structure built with love and wealth in the addition of a hot tub, he ducks his head, sheepish in his grin as he says, "Guess I caught that deal on a good day." 

Like the gentleman he is, he deals with all your luggage as you climb the steep-rocked driveway, head on a swivel as the mountains stretch on for miles. With spring creeping in, the moutain peaks have lost their snow blanket, sprinkled in scarce flakes that still have your breath visible before you. You inhale, letting the clear air fill your lungs then exhale, the city left behind a distant memory as Jake opens the cabin's front doors.

It's every bit of lush as its' exterior, hanging warm lights and wooden halls seemingly going on forever. It earns Jake a sidelong glance, a guilt-free shrug his answer before he catches you in his arm, pulling you close in a kiss on top of your head. 

"It's ours for the weekend," he whispers, hazelnut and oak notes wafting in his presence. "Let's play house."

So, you do. Once all luggage's been put in the bedroom, suitcase left open for easy access, you tread through the halls with heated floors, into the kitchen where Jake makes a start on the store-bought tortellini. Side by side, you make the sauce, joking bumps of the hip dished between each other as your blended playlist hums in the background, serenading the sweet plate Jake's face lights up at once he's tasted the food. He commends your skills even when you have none, yet you smile. Because there's always a genuineness about him, a happiness built on something stable you allow yourself to fall back into, only proven by your suggestion to crack open a bottle of wine in the hot tub. 

"Is that a new swimsuit?"

Lowering into the buzzing water, you chance a glance at Jake, a blank canvas if not for the evident bob his Adam's apple does, his spread fingers threading through the current.

"A new bikini, yes," you settle opposite him, reaching for and sipping on white wine without a break in eye-contact. "Like it?"

He's the first to break, giving you his sharp side-profile with a smile that's all knowing. The chestnut waves of his hair frame his face perfectly, falling like curtains around his eyes as they gravitate back to yours.

"Yeah, I do. A lot." 

Your time is spent like this, toeing the line of flirtation and dare, enough physical space spared if not for the stifling conversation, nothingness spoken of to the build-up of whatever festers underneath the surface.

The thought had crossed your mind over dinner ─ when Jake's none the wiser, happily humming with pasta sauce dipped into his lip corner ─ the reader's words and her conviction. However cagey you may have been, Jake's always been respectful of your boundaries, never pushing when he knows the walls will fall when ready, a pattern of forthcomingness observed in the little time you've had. Yet, with a work schedule meant to kick your ass and social obligations shifting him to second priority, not much time is spared. Not enough to talk, not enough to explore…whatever things Jake supposedly brings to the table.

With the nagging prickle in mind, the night's event unfold into destiny. When your fingers have pruned, three glasses of wine polished off, you dry off to slip into one of his shirts and a pair of underwear plenty purposeful. An agenda noticed in Jake's expression as he enters back into the bedroom, patting down his face.

He doesn't make any comment, only laughs to himself before he resumes his bedtime ritual, coming back to you eventually as a starfish on the bed, your Kindle long forgotten.

His chin perches onto the arms folded onto your stomach, peering through his brows. "Feel relaxed?" 

Automatically, your fingers find their way into his hair, teasing the soft strands with your fingertips. "Yeah. The wine helped."

He smiles, a brief hide of his face to conceal his mirth. "I don't know how you drink that stuff."

"You had just as much as I did!" 

"I only started to enjoy it like, halfway through the second glass," he concedes, feigned exasperation coming out you in a sigh. "Definitely needed that energy drink as a palette cleanser." 

Ah, yes. The one with electrolytes, one he'd bought for you too. The irony is not lost on you. 

"We'll get more in town tomorrow," your eyes drift to the alarm clock on the bedside table, time incorrect but the late hour evident. "What you got planned?"

He tosses his head to simulate careful pondering, bottom lip jutted under his finger. "Lots of pampering and shopping ─ only the best for my girl,"

The bunch of your cheeks turns your head sideways, body restless beneath his to a point of his body moving off yours. It doesn't take a second of contemplation, positions switching to your thighs straddling his hips, his hand fanned across your lower back as you stare down at him, watching him become more pupils than eyes. 

"Anything else?"

The invitation hangs in the air, gulped down by Jake who scoffs softly, putting a hand behind his head with veins lining his arm. The loss of your gaze when circled back to him makes his lip corner lift, horribly smug. 

"I've got a few ideas," he husks, his hips shifting beneath you, something other than bone brushed against your ass. 

"Budge up," he coaxes, you immediately complying. "More,"

You laugh, hands braced at your sides. "Jake, I'm halfway up your chest. Not sure that's an optimal for kissing."

"Who said anything about kissing?" 

He says it easily, like it doesn't make every fragment of your spine click into place. Besides the brief stiffen of your muscles, your brain starts working again to brace hands against his chest, wandering. 

"You're trouble."

"Yeah? That what you think I am?" his hands, veined and cold relief against your thigh, graze in what's meant to be absent nature. You can't help but suspect purpsefulness on his own end when he kneads the flesh the closer they inch to your ass. "Did she tell you that?"

A missed heartbeat marks the blaring silence permeating his statement, splayed hands hinged on his shoulders wrestling with the material of his shirt as you rack your brain. Thinking if you should mention it. 

"You could be her disciple," the joke doesn't really land like you want it, tasting more bitter on your tongue. "Yes, she did."

His hand cease agaisnt your thighs, kickstarting contemplation of whether you've spoken too much. 

"So that's what that was about," he smirks, hand over his eyes like he's been caught. The stretch of his lips does little to dissipate your 'healthy skepticism.' "It's like the energy shifted when I came in."

"It kind of did," laughter puffs out, a bit breathless on your end. His hands fall back to your hips, feeling yours shift for comfort. "She got a good look at you and I walked out with a 2-for-1 deal,"

His head cocks to the side, curious. "What'd she say?"

Amusement breaks out onto your face, bitten back. 

"She made some hints at you holding yourself ─ poor choices of words," you backpedal, sorting through your vocab of empathy. "She said something along the lines of, if maybe I breached the topic with you, things could be different…"

"In terms of?" he prompts, asking for clarity.

But there's a curve to his lip, a shit-eating grin held back. You're starting to have more faith in all the reader's words.

"Sex," you couldn't say the word any softer, comfortable being sexually open amongst friends but in the quiet of the mountains, with nothing but Jake beneath you, you cower into your skin. "She said you could be different."

"Hungry?"

"Insatible is the word she used, but I'm pretty sure she said hungry too," a form of reluctance pushes air out your chest, hand raised to scratch the flush building on your neck. "I, of course with every reading I get, took that with a pinch of salt because I mean, it all happened so fast and sometimes readings can be influenced by other factors like─"

"She's not wrong."

A pin could drop. It could hit the heated-hardwood floors and sound like a crashing boulder, an avalanche descending from the mountain's peak with no end in sight. 

Perhaps you shouldn't be so taken aback. It's not like Jake knows everything about you six months into knowing you ─ he may know about how you like your eggs cooked and how you failed your driver's test three times before getting your license. He didn't know about the complications weaving your parental relationship and he certainly didn't know you had a spit kink. Could've guessed it, but it was never an admission on your part. Not everyone in your life - even those close to you - needed to know every part of your soul and in a relationship, things would reveal themselves in time. He didn't need to know everything to love bomb or use against you. He would never, but the cynism of your heart is hard to beat. 

You don't speak. Your mouth refuses to croak out, "What do you mean?" 

So, you simply watch him with a smile that's more anticipatory-curiousity with ears waiting on his next words.

"I mean, it's normal to not show all your cards at once, no?" What's meant to be a remark laced with slivered awkwardness, apparent in the gnaw he embeds into his bottom lip, also comes with the permanent fixture of a smirk. He can't hold his enjoyment back, that much is apparent to you.

"I'm sure you haven't told me everything you're into," his fingertip traces against your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "What makes you shake."

His eyes flutter up to yours, the mirth-advantage of the situation gone with the wind whistling past the bedroom french doors. He only has you in his sights, the heat rising from him edging you into dizziness. 

"It never was a matter of secrecy," he makes known, possessive with his grip on your hip. You buck into his touch. "Gauging what you're comfortable with and knowing what you can take has always been a priority to me."

Tingles run like critters all over you, a twitch of the hand given before your grip solidifies against his shoulder, finger slid beneath the collar of his shirt. Your skin sizzles pressed against his. 

"But if you wanna push and try something new, who am I to get in the way?"

There's something undeniably sexy about how he commands the situation, gentle with the patience of a saint, tenderness in his guidance towards what you realise you've been too scared to voice. 

"Do you want to?" he asks, head ducked to meet your hung head. "See how far you can go?"

Apprenhension will always be there, bubbling in the pits of your stomach with the accompanying voice at the back of head posing more questions than answers. But you know, you've known for a long time there wasn't anything scary if Jake was beside you. The sail to your boat, the roots to your tree, your branches free to grow how ever sky high you desired.

You only had one answer, smiles to your faces as your fingers thread together, a squeeze against yours for good measure. 

"Now budge up," his cheeks take on a rosy tint, satisfaction in his grin. "It's time to put my mouth to better use." 

Your body runs like a motorboat's engine, feather-light brushes tickling your chest as your legs operate on auto-pilot, wild eyes peering down on Jake's. Cinnamon brown are their hue, decked in a sweetness sharp enough to gulp down the cotton ball lodged your throat, breath wethered as his hands hover hollowly on your hips, making sure you're in place. 

It's only then, when your clammy hands grapple onto the elegant carve of the wooden headboard, that you remember. 

"My underwear," 

You go to take them off, only for your hand to be eclipsed by Jake's, a hot brand against your skin.

"Don't," he gruffs out, eyes lingering on your core for longer than what's polite, a slow drawl to your eyes, his pupils fully blown. "Keep them on." 

The lacy lilac crotchless thong, 'not' purposely packed for this trip, remains on, pushed further apart with his finger and the bite of your lip, eyes fluttering closed as you wish for yourself not to buckle. Despite his wishes, the idea of perching all your weight on him remains a legalty you'd rather not take chances with, knees embedded into the mattress all the support you give yourself for a polite hover.

His lips press against your inner thigh, possessive and hefty, contact slowly unwinding the tension-hike your shoulders have done to your earlobes, muffled moans in your mouth as he takes his sweet time with niceities. Small and measured kisses against skin you wished he'd gloss over, the press of his lips along your pelvis bone shuddering a broken breath out of you, desperate hands anchoring for the stability you're quickly losing. Cognition starts to haze over the lazy clouds populating your brain, thoughts only sharp enough to register the anticipation racing through you, the high-strung bundle of knots in your stomach dangling above a bottomless pit. 

"Baby," he calls, voice thick and strained. "You're so fucking wet, I don't know what to do with myself."

Your personality is hard-wired enough for a retort. "Then eat me out then." 

He huffs, singular and devastating to the strength you've been summoning in the warmth of your bedroom, warm air puffing against your core to make you groan. His own one follows right after as his arms abruptly bring your hips forward, a yelp short-lived as his lips brush against your glistening folds, a whimper verberating through your own lips clamped together for the sake of your dignity. 

"That's the last I hear out of you besides my name." he promises, stern before he dives in. 

He steals your breath with you, air pushed out your weak lungs as he tastes every crevice of you, from your slicked entrance begging for an inch of him to the top of your clit, suckling on the bundle of nerves. Nails are introduced to the headboards' craftmanship, scratched at in long draw marks that should spell out alarm, if not for the sheer bliss conjured between your legs. Jake is purposeful with every thing he does, groaning into you like it pains him for you to taste so sweet, licking up all the facet-run slick pouring from you, further echoed by your thighs until it's all you hear. Your moans and his mouth, working with gradual abandonment, hands pressing into your skin to make you melt.

"Always taste so good for me, pretty," he murmurs against you, a moment not on you a moment wasted. "Can't get enough of how you shake,"

His moan vibrates against your folds, your knee slipping beneath you to lower further onto him, ass grazing the stubble you've been actively avoiding with the cross of your legs, a high keen out your throat as he sucks on your clit. 

"Jake," you whine, your head swarming with enough lust to weighh heavy on your shoulders. "Fuck, don't stop."

"Baby, I'll be here for hours," he resplies back, prying your mouth open with a soundless gasp. "Nothing's getting between me and this pretty pussy right here."

Your body curls in on itself, willing the building pleasure in your stomach to cease, senses running wild to a point where all your mind can pinpoint is the man between your thighs, eating you out like it's his last meal. Esctacy is no stranger to the time spent on your back, Jake plucking all the right chords to have you seeing stars but this feels different. He has his mouth on you like a man long deprived, securing his arms around your thighs with non-existent space, holding you down as if his last tether to Earth. It shatters you from the inside-out, blowing any far-gone perception of pleasure out the window, attaching yourself to here and now as he moans around your clit, sloppy with his tongue drags as you drip down his chin. 

"You dripping all over me, baby," he has the gull to chuckle into you, tracing his tongue around your entrance in the aftermath of the warmth breath blown against you, your sanity dwindling in alarming amounts. "Tell me how good you feel. Tell me who gets you wetter than this."

"So good," you can't help but mewl, one hand slithering down to him, fingers carding through his hair for a tug. "It's only you, only you." 

"Sound so good when you're desperate for me," he sucks hard on your clit just to hear you break, walls squeezed impossibly tight. "Go on, grind on me. Take what you can get." 

It should make you feel small, stringed to his words like a puppet but if they align with your buried wants, who are you to say no? So, you comply, staple both hands against the headboard and grind, tentatively at first when he's allowed your thighs more space. Then, he sets the tone, pushing you a force that has your clit knocking into his nose, lace fabric dragged along to make you putty in his hands.

"There you go," Jake grins against you, a hopleess moan escaping you as he gives you a few more helpful nudges, your voice crying out at more pleasure. "Didn't you say you loved my nose? Put it to good use then."

You could cry, you're willing yourself not to, teeth so far into your bottom lip the marks may never leave. You're melting like ice-cream on the hot plain of Jake's skin, your hips sheepish but gaining momentum, humping yourself against his face as he smothers himself between your thighs. 

Breaths cycle through you, deep and slow then short and fast, voice edged to the end of the Earth where you feel yourself inching dangerously close to, the sole mission of getting yourself off diminshing any decorum you so stupidly clung to. Hips moving back and forth, the structure of estasy so expansive in you, your body feels like it'll collapse with it. 

In the haze of your motions, you chance a look down at Jake, finding his eyes rolling back with the look of eroticism mapped all over his flushed face, eyebrows knitting together as he laps up all the slick you can't seem to stop. The image, forever imprinted in your mind, brings you impossibly close, croaking a tortored whine high up to the sky, hips moving with enough force to make the bed creak while you chase your release. 

"You're close," he pants, sparing himself a breath before tasting you on his tongue. "That's it, baby. Let go for me. Let go for Jake."

A scream unknown to you unleashes, ripped right out your chest and vibrating off the walls soaked in your moans, your body collasping in a series of long, stationary shivers. All your weight is now on Jake as your mouth dries, forehead banged against the headboard. You're too lightheaded to feel its impact, body overtaken by the sensations raving your body from the depths of its core, shaken with no way out but through.

An unknown amount of time passes, the furtherest thing from what's meant to be your mind, rattled beyond rational thought. The only thing grounding you is the the eventual slow of your breath, decelerating to normalcy as you start to feel human again. Jake is…still persistent, gradual this time but making sure he has every drop of you, your taste embedded to his tongue before you summon enough energy to lift your leg over him, body falling limp into a fetal position before you tip over onto your back. 

"Was it good, sweet girl?" Despite your muffled hearing, you can hear the smugness drenched in his tone, a secondary observation of the bed shifting under his moving weight. "Got what you were hoping for?"

To completely rewrite the concept of a good orgasm was not what you were hoping for, but Jake knows that win belongs to him, chuckling to himself in a dark hum licking want up your spine. You think your body is yet to recover, but signs point out an otherwise. 

Breathing is what you dedicate your attentin to, body horribly feverish as your brain attempt to grapple with the overcast of your thoughts, fog dense from that. Somewhere in your daze, your body moves free of your own doing, handled with great care as Jake displays you for his viewing pleasure, an abrupt hold in your plea for oxygen as something hot slides against your cunt.

A feathered hiss shoots through bared teeth, haze blinked back through thick lashes as your view centers back to Jake. His briefs are pulled down enough for him to free his cock, tip large and flushed as it beads precome against your underwear. Yours and his clothing isn't even all the way off, the crop of his t-shirt revealing the definition of his v-line, pelvis marked by veins and a trimmed trail to what he grinds against you, underwear slick-stuck to you as he lets out a starved grunt. 

"Fuck," he falls forward, arms bracketing your body as his eyes flicker down to where you meet, filthy and desperate. "This what you wanted? Me so gone for you, I'll take you anyway I can?" 

"Jake," you moan, shiver wracked up your spine as his tip nudges against your clit, brief friction scrambling words in your brain. "Off. Take them off."

"What's the point when I can get you needy like this?" his chuckle comes out breathy, eyes finding yours. "You're so wrecked. I haven't even put it in yet."

"Put it in then," you strain, frustation bucking your body, a notch to the clit bowing your body off the mattress. "Please,"

"Feels good, hm baby?" His smirk is full of triumph, not an ounce of sympathy for the poor body beneath him, clawing at any inch of him. "You could come from this, I could too. Paint your pretty thong before I fill you up,"

Your walls cave in, clenching around nothing but slick as it pushes back onto Jake's cock that has a better glide, a keen at the height of your throat while arms overlap your eyes, condemned to darkness. 

"Did you just get wetter?" incredulous are how his words come, a harder grind into you coming with the echo of your entrance, undeniably lined in slick. "Pretty, if you wanted me to come in you, all you had to do is ask."

Timidty flames your cheeks, claws of desires scraping at your chest to be released. "I─fuck, I want─"

"Say the word and they're off." are his last words, the decision yours to make. 

One that doesn't take much contemplation. 

"Please," the request comes, sounding just as desperate as your ears hate to hear. "Take them off. Come in me…please."

"I'll do right by you, pretty," he reminds you, fingers already hooked underneath their band. "Won't have to worry your head about anything. Just lay back and look pretty like you always do," 

"And when I'm done with you, you'll have everything you ever wanted." 

He pushes in. Anticipated to a point where your entrance closes in on his tip immediately, a whine let out to push back against the rush at bay before you open up for him again, the glide smooth and uninterrupted as he buries himself to the hilt. Full doesn't begin to scratch the surface of how you feel, lungs pushed up to your struggling throat as your nails sink into the duvet, scratching into fabric as his tip rests against the spongy spot that has you squirming, body shying away from the sensery overload only for a smack to bounce off the cabin walls. 

Your body jolts with it, a dull tingle searing through your clit marked by the palm of his hand, a croak coming out your throat, dying with a whine that shows you for what you are. 

"You liked it," he has to say, more surprised than smug. "You clenched around me─fuck, you're so tight."

His teeth bury into his bottom lip, in no way deterred as his hand stables itself on your knee, spreading your legs wider. 

"Look at how much I'm learning about you," his voice carries air backed by a condescending nature, his ego only affirmed as you moan to his building thrusts. "At the end of this, I might know your body better than you do," 

You keen again, sinking deeper into the molasses of pleasure he engulfs you, practiced precision of what you like most as he dedicates every thrust to that one spot, eyebrows scrunched to the building pit of your stomach. 

"Just tell me what you like, pretty," he sings like a siren in your ear, hand cupped over your cheek to graze a thumb over a stray tear, licking his thumbpad clean before his hand falls back to your knee. "And I'll make it worth your while." 

"Fuck me," comes out rough in your pressed voice, hand directing his to your clit. "Harder."

Seemingly impressed, he only grins with a dipped head, his last words being, "Yes, Ma'am."

It's all moans and wet squelches from then onwards, gratitude set aside for no nearby neighbours as Jake puts you through the mattress, hitting the deepest parts of you that have you singing his praisies, the only competiting sounds being the ongoing flood of slick where you meet and the creaks of the bed. The auditory input spins your head around, whines endless out of your mouth as harsh smacks of skin drum against your ears, the bundle of pleasure in your belly constantly hit with the wrath of Jake's pistons. He's taken it upon himself to comb over everything you've loved in bed, sparing every heightened sob and moan special attention as he deals you his hand, rubbing lazy circles on your clit before the smacks come. They build in intensity, low-level hip-buckles extending to full-body convulsions, letting the tears flow as the pain marries so sweet with the low-pain.

"Seems like my pillow princess likes a bit of pain," he observes, devastatingly handsome when he's cocky. He pushes hair out his face as his fingers run over the dulled simmer of your clit, your lips in a pout. "Does its' job considering how much you're clenching around me," 

"What? Can't speak?" he questions, purposely leaning in to get himself deeper, a shift amounting to the wobbly sobs you hum. "Fucked too good? Want me deeper, sweetheart?"

You're mindllessly nodding, moisture grouping your lashes together as you can only accept the fate of going after your orgasm, using all means to bring it into reality. 

"You're cute when you can't speak," he muses, hiking your legs onto his shoulder one after the other. "Gotta keep your mouth filled, know how much you love that."

His degradation does something to your brain chemistry, his cock inching into places you have no words for, slick splashing back onto his cock as he pistons further, lodging himself further into you as he leans forward with his weight. Now reaching parts of you untouched, you're at a loss for your mind and what to do, arms enveloping the muscles of his back as your nails drag against the expanse. 

"Might have a thing for pain too," he chuckles, biting down on his lip, a wild look in his red-rimmed eyes as his world boils to only you. "Love when you mark my back, love. Lets me know how good I've got you,"

Thighs braced against you, he hits deeper than you can keep up with, mouth ajar as it serves as a vessel for missed breaths. Your tongue runs dry, lips smacked in a half-hearted attempt but it doesn't land right. You need more. You know you need more but the mere thought scrunches your face, esctasy blooming behind closed eyes.

"What you need, bunny?" Jake's voice is jaw-droppingly sweet, a kiss pressed above the corner of your lip. "My mouth?"

"Spit," it comes out with a whimper, eyes squinting as you will your wish into existence. "In my mouth. Now."

His thrusts only misses a beat, a shaky breath echoing after your words before he plunges deeper, taking your voice with you. 

"You're dirty, you know that?" he muses, brows knitted like it kills him to experience such gratification. "My come isn't enough for you? Want every bit of me, huh?"

Your brain is elsewhere, a distant theory for whatever's melted between your ears, a nod coming from within you. "Want it, want it bad, Jake." 

"Where's your manners, sweetheart?" he coos, laughing when you're flailing against him, thrashing around like the spoiled princess you are. "You're usually so polite for me. What happened?"

"Jake," your hand finds his jaw, finding the strength to wire him to you. "Spit. Now,"

"No." he laughs. "I'm not doing it until you beg."

An attempt is made to pry his jaw open, but to no avail, his playful headshakes meant to haunt you long after this is over.

Whenever that is.

"Jake, I need it─I," shame floods your being, not stopping the request. "Please. Just once, I only need it once, pretty please?"

His hips topple over their rhythm, stuttered against the flesh of your thighs as restraint crumples his face, a pleading breath sent to the ceiling before he locks eyes with you again. 

"Do you know how pretty you sound begging for me? Shit," he curses, swatting your hand away to mirror the same gesture on yours, jaw dropped with your tongue laid out. "Here you go, since your filth comes with manners," 

The spit lands square on your tongue, a mewl so dirty from you there's no coming back, your walls closing around Jake's cock like a vice as you taste him ─ spearmint with a hint of that energy drink ─ and swallow, humming all the way down. 

"Holy shit," his voice tremours with wonder, swiping the hair out your face so you have a good look at him when he says, "Get on your knees. Right now."

The euphoric mist clouding over from his spit still remains, crumpling your expression with confusion, quickly switching to surprise as Jake hauls himself off you. He pulls you along for the ride as he manhandles you into position, your body now facing the french doors of your bedroom, the wilderness all your hazy eyes see. Horror creeps up on you, your bodies in plain view in the bedroom lowlights, watching your mouth fall ajar as Jake pushes in from behind, your toes curling as he fills you.

He thrusts like he never stopped, the fast tempo making skin slaps ring in your ears, your arms moving in a slow buckle as you struggle to hold yourself upright.

It takes a miracle to movenur your arm behind you, tapping Jake's arm. "Jake,"

Your head motions to the french doors, which leave nothing to the imagination ─ your lewd actions on full display for anyone's viewing pleasure. 

"The curtains," aren't drawn, you want to say, but can't choking on a moan when Jake hits deepest in you. "P-people will see," 

"They've been open this whole time. Let them," he gruffs, firming his grip on your hips. "Don't want them to know how dirty you are? How good you are at taking at cock?"

In the reflection, you lay witness to him lower down to your back, thrusting into you with no end in sight as he whispers in your ear. "It's too late, baby. We both know your dirty secret. Just be good and take it." 

Your arms give in, hopeless against constructs you're trying to hold yourself to when Jake's given nothing but freedom to be you. In all the ways you've shyed away from, collasping under the brute force of everything coming at you ─ the shame, the pleasure, the hopeleness, the satisfaction ─ it all hits you at once, releasing the cry deeply buried of his name as you come. 

All the cells in your body simultaneously shatter and become whole again, drifting into another realm you don't bother acknowledging, centered on the full-blown euphoria blown past your eyes, raving you whole. You cry into your arms, voice having no limits with your nonsensical babble while you try coming down from your orgasm, Jake having enough sympathy to fuck you slow until you're back together again, hunched over in a near hysterical state. 

Since when were things like this? Since when did the man who brought you bliss bring you this close to deconstruction?

It'd have to be an afterthought as Jake's palm soothes down your bent spine, heel pressing in to exaggerate your arch before he kneads the flesh of your ass, getting off on the constant whines at the mere hover of his fingers.

"You with me, baby?" tongue in cheek, he questions, still sliding in and out of it, slick dribbling down to the duvet cover. "You did so good coming for me. Ready for another?"

Your head snaps to his, mildly offended. "Another one?"

He giggles, sporting a boyish grin. "Insatible, right?" your eyes roll on on their own, head burying into your arms. "I'm just owning up to it now," 

"Besides," he starts, his hips jumpstarting to as he makes deliberate knocks into you, deep and forceful, moving you up on the bed. "Weren't you the one begging to be filled?" 

"Let me grant your wish, baby," he coos, addiction laced in his voice, his hand smoothing over the curve of your ass and hip. "Let me fill you."

You agree, because there's no end to your need too.

He gets back to it. Thrusting without abandonment, fingertips indenting into your hips as he fucks the cries out of you, expression so bliss-blown in the reflection, the building pressure in your stomach starting again.

You've got enough energy in you to prop yourself up again, helped by Jake who moments before, held your hands behind your back to pound into you. The stretch pulls your searing cheeks as your teeth bare, plucked apart by your low-hanging jaw. He coos, with all the condescending nature he's masked, making his way into your ear. 

"Pity I can't fill your mouth like this," he muses, his hand over the column of your throat, applying pressure that translates to the squeeze of your walls. "I'm only one man ─ I can't keep all your holes occupied," 

You groan against his hand, high keens your trademark as he plows into you without interruption. Then, you witness brillance spark across his face, the hand he had on your hip vacating to pull you closer, his tip blunting against your sweet spot to the release of your sobs. In the time you arch for a loud-mouthed cry, it's abruptly cut-off by lace material filling your mouth.

Disbelief floods you, your reflection evident as what projects to you is something you couldn't bring yourself to wrap your head around. 

Your excuse of a thong stuffed square in your mouth, all the while Jake pounds into you, the picture of amusement.

"There you go," he smiles like he's struck gold, giving the courtesy of departing from your throat to have two hands on your hips. "All full now." 

Disgrace tries to involve itself in the humid air starting to fog against the doors, no room to go when you're moaning into the material, the taste of him and you on your tongue, twisting your insides in the shape of a tangled web. How you don't buckle escapes you, so fixated on watching Jake behind you, enamoured by the deep bow of your spine that your eyes simply cannot pry. 

Incessant attention eventually pulls him away from his view, making eye-contact with a commitment for not breaking it. His hands anchor down your hips as he drills further into you, pounding with a force engulfing all your sobs and moans into your thong, expression permnanently creased.

"Have no idea how beautiful you look, baby," he groans, met with a whimper. "God, I'm gonna fucking come if you keep─"

You clench around, feeling that familar pressure tick to single digits, holding onto the duvet cover for dear life while you can do is brace for impact.

"I'm close too, pretty," Jake sympathisizes, face expression pulled, eyes never leaving yours. "You gonna come like a good girl? Gonna watch us come?" 

The response is caught in your cotton-mouth, eyes forced shut as your body takes over, deliriously nodding along as you fall back onto folded arms, willing your orgasm to swallow you whole.

"Come on, princess. Eyes on us."

Motivated by nothing but his voice, your head manages the lift to a vision permanely burned into your corneas. Jake pistioning into you, curls messy and untamaed, glowing in soft bedroom light bouncing off the deep arch of your back, senses pushed into overload as the image sends you off the edge.

White streaks across your vision, a lapse in everything known to you as you cry out, loud and long, claws sunk into the duvet for salvation. The dam breaks, the yell for mercy wreched out your throat ending with pressed gasps, mouth run dry as you coat Jake's cock, force splashing back against his abdomen and your thighs, shivering as his voice breaks through the echo chamber. 

"Oh baby, you're made for me," he drawls, on his last legs as his thrusts turn erratic, high on you and your release. "So perfect, I'm gonna give you what you want. I'm gonna─hmph!"

In one last meet, you hinge desperately onto the edge of the bed, hoarse voice on its last legs as you twine into your limbs, feeling the rush of Jake fill you with an inch of your life. Your walls flutter to keep him there as his hips glue to you, figure toppling overs yours as his arms bracket your quivering torso, vision black with eyes closed to focus back on your breath, ragged and spent.

Sweat and sex lingers in the air, a sense you only access when you've gathered a small percentage of working brain cells, blinking back to reality. Your whimper bleeds into the thong as Jake gradually starts to pull out, cunt closing behind him as he leaves, a slow dribble trailed out your entrance, down to the duvet and along your cunt.

After a few moments, your body manages to lift its head, your stuffed mouth and stray hair all you see. Salvaging the last of your dignity, you pull the thong out, drenched in saliva tossed aside to smooth your hair back, slumping back in a dramatic flop.

Chuckles sound behind you, casting your eyes sideways. 

"Come sit, baby," he purrs, a tender smack bruised against your ass. You buck, groaning as your body starts to prop itself up, come trailing steadfast to your entrance. "On my lap."

Your hand hovers it, a illogical attempt to keep him there.

"It's gonna leak." you croak. 

"Better keep you plugged then," you turn your head, your boyfriend leaned back with his palms against the bed, expression offering you some sympathy. "Come here." 

An exhale prompts your steady pace as you inch your way to Jake, shaking your head with an open smile as his half-hard cock glares in between his crossed legs. His lax posture gravitates to you, hands secured around your waist as assistance while you throw your thigh over his, one hand on his shoulder while the other splays over his length, molten stirring in you at his groan. Hovering over his tip beading precome, the come between your legs starts to halo around him, eyes locked where you feed his cock into yourself. 

"Nice and easy, that's it baby," he praises, watching with dark eyes. "There you go."

A wistful sigh breezes past your lips as he fills you again, legs circling his back when he's all in, the stretch knocking on overstimulation's door. It's dampened by your endless need to consume him, obssessed with the fullness of him as you dissolve into a sack of hungry bones, chin hooked over his shoulder, holding him close.

"You're crazy." you murmur.

His chesty chuckle vibrates into you, airy. "Only about you," 

Hands on your back, one moves to soothe across the expanse of your spine, a chaste kiss pressed into your shoulder. "You good? Comfy?"

You try find the words, your nails scraping into his skin. "Feels─hmph,"

"Good?" he supplies, an edge of teasing to his tone. "Feel full?"

"Yeah," you agree anyways, accepting your fate with the burial of your mouth into your arms, ease blown through your nose.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You can grind on me," the comment draws your attention, perking at the slow grind your hips have unknowingly started. "Just want you close. C'mere."

He captures you in a slow, passionate kiss, savoured by the slow motions of your lips gliding without hurry, simply enjoying the press of each other. Skin to skin, your arms looped around his shoulders with his hands braced against your ribcage as you grind. The friction to your clit pours moans into his mouth, his grip going tighter as he kneads into your skin, drunk off every inch of you as you lose yourself in his embrace, rocking to the sounds of you together. 

You stay like this for what bleeds into forever, intimacy and friction simmering from a spark to a raging fire, the pit in your stomach accompained by the helpless pry of your lips, his teeth pulling your bottom lip to make you shudder. 

Your hips build in a volatile nature, grinding with a hitch amplifying the mess between your legs of legs. The fill and presence of Jake radiates esctacy right down to your fingertips, harsh tugs of his hair rewarded with drawn out moans, his lips glossed as his lips follow yours with endless need. 

The burn in your thighs starts to dial back your pace, wounded whimper bypassing your lips. It's solved by an assured circle around your back, Jake's other hand wedging between your plastered bodies to find your clit, circling it in motions bringing you closer. 

"M' gonna come," he whimpers, lips brushing against yours. "Gonna come, baby?"

You yelp against him, the feeling too much. 

"Squeeze good around me and I'll give you another load," he coaxes, ruining you to microscopic pieces. "Come on, sweet girl. Make me proud."

Instead of an earth-shattering crash, comes a flood of relief. Bacing your hands woven into Jake's locks, you expel a pitched keen in your throat, blending into a deep exhale, body slumping with your come down. Still, your body demands to be closer. Closer to him until space ceases to exist, pressing yourself so firmly into Jake's that when your embrace threatens to tip you over, you're secured. Anchored in Jake's arms as he kisses you one last time, tasting the moan of your name on his tongue as he comes, spilling over with excess dipping down onto the soaked duvet, the material tomorrow's damage. 

"You're a bit of an airhead when you're like this," Jake comments later when you blink back the lazy film coating your eyes, your face pulled back to his view. He's enamored with a dazzling smile, thumb running over the moles around your lips. "Have I fucked all the sense out your pretty head?"

"Want a break?" he muses, cooing when you nod into his palm cupping your cheek. "Okay, princess. I'll help you." 

And he does, carrying your singing body back to the plush cloud of the mattress, muscles unwinding into its comfort. Your arm casts over your line of sight, a brief break from stimulation before you're restless enough to peek above the flesh, your boyfriend's sihoulette moving slowly, a lone pillow propped up beneath your feet.

Affection starts in your chest, flourishes in those silent moments where you co-exist in something so simple, your mind spared from all the games and noise coming with life. It prompts the outreach of your hand, the gentle call of his name bringing him to you at lightning speed, lips and bodies together again. 

You don't know how long time ticks on, but you know you spend it with him, every inch of your skin kissed by his lips, filled by him over and over again. Your brain doesn't bother keeping up with how many times you pour over the edge, your only source of attention the man before you, giving himself to you, choosing you each and every time. In the mix, tears spill from your eyes and he kisses them away, easing the heft in your chest before that telltale feeling washes over you, drowning you in endless bliss. 

Birds start to chirp when the dust settles, you starfished on the bed with a rising chest you force cycled-breaths through, exhaustion seeping deep into your bones, synched with the euphorica grin you only manage to pull with the last of your strength.

"Beautiful," you hear him say, distant on the edge of the bed. "You're so beautiful, love."

Then he comes into eyeline, crawling his way to you.

"You looked so fucking good coming all over my cock," he says, hair a mess ─ stuck to his forehead with a chest laboured enough to warrant rest. Yet, he continues, inching himself to straddle your chest with his half-hard cock nestling between your breasts, nudged to shake his body in a tremour. "Want you covered in my come. In you isn't enough."

He's a madman. You're a dating a madman because in what world is the end for him? Time is a mere concept to you, but you're sure you've been at this for hours. He's stretched you every way but loose, pumping an amount of come into you you're not sure birth control can intervene with, moaning his name over and over again. 

And he's hard. Again?

That reader was so fucking right about him. So right it hurts.

"You don't have to do anything," he assures you, cock coated with yours and his come sticking to the valley of your breasts, the snug fit providing him the relief he needs. "Just let me use you."

You're exhausted. Had your fill and then some, so there should be no reason why you're like this, feeling the familar flames of arousal warm you. Nothing but greed is writing the code to your actions as you push your breasts together with your hands, fingers running over your nipples with a pained moan. 

Some sick person you must be, so drunk on lust you're ruled by it, letting gluttony get the best of you as Jake collapses in praises of your name and yesyesyes', cock gliding back and forth, unhurried in a slow tempo where he can savour the feel of your flesh. Eyes weigh heavy but your selfishness keeps them open, watching Jake above you. Like this, the man who pulled everything out of you is drastically different, ruined beyond measure that he can't keep himself together. He's a mess in the best possible way, quivering body bathed in soft orange, wearing sweat on his skin with his brows scrunched. His jaw hangs, gasping for air as the sweetest whines pour out of him, so sensitive but still chasing release, a version of himself you wrestle yourself over.

It doesn't take him long to come, spent in a way he can't make his hips to buck any faster, hands gripping the duvet covers eitherside of you with the last of his strength, moved to tears as his glossy eyes find yours. So wrecked. 

"Let me hear it one more time," he pleads, every bit of desperate you've been. "Pleasepleaseplease, bunny. Fuck, just need to hear you one more time."

"Jake," your voice, the last curtain call. "Come for me."

And he does. Hitting a wall hard and fast, body beautifully wound before he falls apart, head falling back with a cry to the moon as drips of come scatter against your skin, all over your chest and under your chin too. His body falls forward, so fast you're scared he'll forget you're even beneath him, only for his strength to be supported by the headboard, muscles flexing with dark shadows as he whines himself back to equilibrium. Sympathy blankets over you, your hand reassuring against his shaking thigh as your thumb caressses him to tranquility, Jake finding his breath and sense of self again in the early hours of what's been a long night.

With his head hung, he unlatches them to a view of you, exhaustion in your smile but still looking at him with every bit of love your heart's been harbouring for him. The same fondness reflects back in him, a foolish giggle half coming out of him before he moves. 

Clean-up in mind, you anticipate him making his way over to the bathroom as he always does, a warm rag used to clean debris but his methods stray. Only move him inches up your torso until he's afforded enough space, lowering himself so his tongue can trace around your come-covered nipples. You whine, watching silently as he makes slow work of clean up his mess, using the excuse of giving your boobs attention with slow swirls and teasing tugs, your chest eventually covered in his saliva instead.

The last of it smears against his two fingers, fingertips on your lips parted open to taste him, tongue gliding over every crevice to lick him clean.

Only then does he collapse onto you, a huff pushing out of you with the loopy chuckles you exchange.

"I need to tip that reader on our way back," you croak, voice hoarse. 

Jake's head moves with your laughter, lifting to get you in his sights. "Hey, I put in all the work here!"

"I know, I know," you respond, smitten regardless as your fingers weave into his loose curls, calm hums vibrating into your skin. "You signed up for it when you met me though."

"I'm getting the sloppiest road-head on our way back," he mumbles, yawning. "Compensation for a job well done."

"Is that what you wanted? For me to pet you and tell you did good?" It's entirely rhetorical, your question, but the light blooming into Jake's features unearths an amused snicker, enthusiastic nods sent your way. "Okay, okay. You did good, you did well, Jake. My good boy,"

Again, the last part is said as a joke. But it's received as anything but when you feel something twitch amidst the joking scratches you do under his chin, his smile too blissful to be innocent. 

"Jake!" you yell, not believing this man. This myth of a man you've somehow shacked up with. "I don't know if you need a time-out or an exorcism. That's enough! Use your fucking hand."

"Doesn't feel good as you though," he pouts, trying to shuffle his way up too, denied by your outstretched hands. "You know being called that gets an reaction out of me."

You shuffle up for comfort against the pillows, Jake's body following soon after. "I did not know that, actually."

Surprise raises his brows, lip corners downturned before he shrugs, beaming a closed mouth beam at you that's hard to not fawn over. "Well, now you know,"

"More information for next round," he winks, then promptly receives a pillow to the face.

Laughter bleeds into the early hours of morning, your break in the mountains providing every bit of satisfaction, a destiny incapable of change.

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