Cornelia

You get up, turn the TV off and open the door with a soft smile on your lips, he is hanging between Appie and Stunje, red to the tip of his ears and so obviously drunk. His eyes are closed, his face is hanging low, he looks like a rag doll as both his friends hold him trying to keep him from falling, you laugh slightly at the sight.

"Thanks for bringing him home." You say voice low to not wake him but as soon as the words leave your mouth he raises like coming back to life at the sweet familiar sound of you.

He opens his eyes quickly, pupils unfocused and hair all tousled on his forehead. He smiles brightly his whole face lighting up and the so beloved dimples appearing.

"Liefde!" He all but screams as he lets go of the shoulders of his friends and throws himself all over you.

He is never mindful of his size even less so when he is drunk, he rests all his weight on you and you do everything to hold him and not fall backwards. You place a hand securely on his back as he rubs his face against your neck, he bends down in an awkward position to sniff at your perfume. You feel yourself blush quickly when he starts placing kisses on the exposed skin still very aware of the presence of his friends who break in laughter when they realize what he is doing.

But he doesn't care, he can't care when you smell so nice and feel so good and soft under his hands.

"I'm so sorry." You say mortified, they just continue laughing before Appie speaks.

"This one kept whining about missing you at the bar then when we got in the taxi he kept trying to call you but couldn't figure out how to unlock his phone so he threw a fit." You can see the image so clear in your mind it is so embarrassing and so adorable all at the same time.

"You are his screensaver you knew that right?" You blush deeply, you didn't know, but it is not surprising Joost is practically bordering on obsessed with you.

Joost is holding you tightly and shamelessly planting kisses on your warm skin completely ignoring the conversation happening right in front of him, then he gets bolder and starts sneaking his hand right under your sleeping camisole. You wince.

"Okay we are leaving." Stunje says saving you any further embarrassment you throw him an apologetic smile and a thank you before everyone says their goodbyes and leaves.

When the door is finally closed you can breath a little easier, you pull hard at Joost's shirt trying to peel him off you.

"You are such a handful." You say, so much love dripping from your tone it comes out with no bite.

"I missed you~" He whines into you stretching the last syllable.

"I can see." You start pulling him towards the bed room, he stays pressed close to you not allowing you to leave his embrace even by an inch.

When you get to the bed he finally releases you a bit but only to push you down onto the mattress, you fall with a soft thud in the middle.

"Hey!" You chide.

"I missed my baby." He says with furrowed eyebrows standing over you, he is so whiny when he is drunk, he is so clingy and so needy.

"Just take your clothes off and come to bed." You say rolling your eyes, you do have work early and whatever he is trying to get at can't happen.

He quickly does as he is told and starts crawling on top of you only on his boxers.

"I have work in the morning." You remind him softly before he gets ahead of himself.

"I know." He mumbles, cute little pout adorning his puffy lips. But knowing doesn't stop him from much and he makes himself a little place between your legs wrapping the muscle around his hips before he lets himself fall right on top of you.

"You can't sleep like that, you are crushing me." You pull lightly at his hair to get him to move but he doesn't and you already know that he won't.

"I really missed you." He says in that airy breathy tone that has you dampening in your panties.

He reaches a hand over your camisole stopping over your breast, his head is pressed right against the crook of your neck. He starts softly massaging at the mound of fat over the fabric and you can't help but sigh at his touch. He is kissing at the sensitive skin over your pulse and licking intently to pull more sounds from you.

"Joost." You whine unsure if you are asking for more or chiding him again, but he just likes the way you say his name so it only spurs him on.

He feels the nipple harden against the soft fabric and wants to touch directly so bad, he pulls his hand away before moving it to the hem of your shirt and pulling it up all over your breasts. At that he finally pulls slightly away from you just so he can admire at your beautiful forms, without even touching him he is already twitching in his boxers and a dark wet spot forms at the fabric of his underwear.

"So pretty." He says before he bends down chasing back after your warmth again.

He goes straight for your nipple wraps his lips around the sensitive skin and starts sucking as much of you into his mouth as he can, his other hand massages at your chest. His hips start moving against yours, he is grinding hard against your pelvis, moaning agains your tit on his mouth and groping hard at the other one with his big warm palm. You involuntarily start grinding back, back slowly rising from the mattress to match his pace.

You feel him so hard against your core, his length pushing right against the fabric of your shorts, he is breathing so heavy against your chest nose buried against your skin moaning as he sucks on you. He keeps rubbing himself on you, harder, faster, he is going to crush you, you really feel his whole weight on you as he wildly uses your smaller frame to get off. You feel him twitching even between the layers of fabric still separating you, you already know his body so well.

He pulls away from your nipple, grabs with both hands at your waist moving you harder against his body, you feel his hips start to stutter, he bends down again and searches for your neck, he is panting and leaving wild kisses and love bites everywhere he can reach, he can't help himself he needs to mark you so bad right now, alcohol high on his bloodstream he forgets any reservation.

"Let me come." He says in a whisper accentuated by a hard thrust.

"Can I come baby?" He asks sweetly as he licks under your ear.

"Please" He whines against the sensitive skin of your neck, you feel his deep voice sending waves directly to your cunt, you are so wet, your clit is so hard and throbbing at his words alone.

"Please touch me." He whimpers right against your hair.

"Please touch my dick." He is begging now, so close, just needs a little help, just needs the smallest touch from his sweet kind girlfriend to get off.

And who are you to deny him?

So you move a hand low between the two of you, reach inside his boxers, you don't even bother pulling them down and just stroke him hard and fast, your hand clenching around him tightly just how he likes it and twisting around the tip. Just within a few movements he is coming, on your hand, on his underwear, on your pajamas. Long white stripes dirtying everything with delicious heat.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." He continues mewling against your throat as he weakly thrust against your palm with the last waves of his climax.

He pulls enough strength to kiss your lips messily before he finally collapses onto you with a deep content sigh.

You still feel yourself throbbing inside your shorts but before you realize it he is already fallen deep asleep holding softly at your tit with a big warm hand. Sleeping so peacefully like an angel, like he didn't just use you to get off. You roll your eyes with so much fondness.

"You really are a handful." You say almost in disbelief kissing at his cheek as his face rests pressed on your neck breathing softly.

You pull your hand away and wipe it on the duvet. He is going to have to wash that tomorrow, and your pajamas and his boxers, it is his fault it all got dirty. And he will probably wake you up with head as an apology for leaving you high and dry and you will most likely not make it to work on time because he won't be happy with making you come just one time, no, for the grieve offense of not making you finish he will want to pull as many orgasms from you as he can before you are begging for him to let go, all overstimulated and pretty on his mouth. But all of those are problems for tomorrow you, so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him closer before his comforting weight over your body on you drags you to sleep.

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A/N: idk where this came from idk lol not proof read etc

Your heart jumped in your chest every time the elevator reached a new floor on its way up to Joost’s penthouse. The numbers on the display in front of you got bigger and bigger as the cogwheel stopped briefly on each floor, taunting you. As a child, getting stuck in an elevator was your worst fear - now it might have just been your saving grace.

Although you’ve been here many times before – under the exact same circumstances every time – it had never felt so cold and foreign before. It couldn’t have been Joost’s warm, drunken smile reflecting off the mirrored walls, or the barely audible yet soothing elevator music in the background. It was rather the realization that these late-night visits had to stop. They were hurting too much. What had started out as a no-strings-attached situation with abundant benefits on both sides had become something way more you had bargained for.

“What’s wrong?” Joost’s husky voice pulled you out of your thoughts. His hair was a tangled, sticky mess after partying in a packed nightclub until the sun came up, but he looked absolutely beautiful to you. And that was exactly the problem.

“Nothing. Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows, embarrassed about getting caught staring.

He smirked, his eyes wandering down to your heels that were nervously tapping against the fitted carpet. “Something’s up with you tonight. What is it?”

“I’m fine. Probably had too much to drink,” you answered, which wasn’t a complete lie. The last glass of champagne had definitely been one glass too many and a headache was starting to creep in.

“Hm,” he answered, and with that the conversation died down, Joost only displaying a sufficient amount of concern that would ensure you didn’t take the elevator back down. But the headache was the least of your concerns. Soon after, you reached the 23rd floor. The big white door had a magnetic pull, maybe inside the timeless capsule that was the elevator you might have mustered the courage to leave, but not with Joost directing you the last couple of steps to his penthouse with his hand skillfully placed on the small of your back, like a guard directing his prisoner to his cell.

Despite Joost’s insistence that he would always remain the same person he had been before his rise to fame, his life had undeniably changed. His once modest apartment had transformed into a showcase of abundant wealth. It was no longer a small, cluttered space but a sleek, stylish penthouse, furnished with designer pieces and decorated with pieces of notable artists. The vintage record player you had once found together at a flea market now felt completely out of place amidst the marble floors and contemporary art. It was hard for you to reconcile the glitz and glamour surrounding Joost with the down-to-earth boy you had met two years ago, and you couldn’t help but wonder if, despite his promises, Joost Klein had become a reflection of his success.

Tossing his jacket and dress shoes in the corner, Joost walked over to the stereo and pressed play before sitting down on the couch. You followed him, placing your clutch down on the golden liquor table right next to it.

“This is gonna sober you up, babe,” he said, reaching into his pant pockets and taking out a small, sealed bag. You couldn’t remember when he started switching to English terms of endearment. In the beginning, he would call you words like schat and liefje. Back when everything was okay. Back when everything felt good. Now everything felt detached, like this was some role Joost was playing and you had to submit to it. No traces left of the man you once knew.

Joost poured the contents of the bag onto the glass coffee table in front of him, then he reached into his wallet which he placed on the table as well. First reaching for his credit card, he used it to spread the white powder into thin lines with meticulous care. You watched him intently, as if beneath these lines lay a hidden message telling you what to do next. You scoffed silently, hoping Joost wouldn’t hear. As if you had a choice. As if the designer dress and the pearl jewelry on your body was just a thoughtful gift.

Completely entranced, you watched him take out a 500-euro bill from his wallet and roll it up. Joost leaned in, the bill positioned above the line, his hot breath tarnishing the glass. With a sudden sharp intake, Joost inhaled the powder, his face tightening momentarily. He inhaled once more before throwing his head back into the pillows, a flush of euphoria crossing his features. His arms drop to the side, the purple bill rolling out of his hand and onto the space between your thighs, leaving white residue on the maroon leather couch.

“Your turn,” he demanded, his voice raspy. Trying to conceal your shaking hands, you take the bill and roll it back up. You mimicked his movements, hovering over the table, right above one of the smaller lines Joost had laid for you. As you placed your nose over the opening of the rolled-up bill, his hands snaked underneath the fabric of your dress, making its way from your thigh up to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze. You inhaled the substance just as quickly, a flush of invincibility entering your neural pathway. You welcomed any sensation that fed into the illusion that this wasn’t actually happening. That you weren’t here right now.

As you threw yourself back, you noticed that Joost had straightened himself up again. He took his hand back so as to not trap it between you and the sofa but saw the look on your face as an invitation to move over you. His lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw and finally to your cleavage, the low neckline allowing access to leave pink and purple marks. To leave his mark on you. Your breath hitched, the sensation heightened by the substance travelling through your bloodstream, which only gave him confirmation to carry on, his hands working his way to the back of your dress to unzip it, leaving you with nothing but a lacy pair of lingerie, another one of his gifts to you. The sensation of his hands on you were almost unbearable in its intensity, his fingers seemed to bury into your skin, feeling the pressure still on you when his hands worked to undo his pants. Time felt distorted; each touch and sound seemed to stretch into eternity as one hand continued to explore your body while the other one massaged the bulge clearly visible in his tight boxers.

“My little slut,” he whispered as he slid one hand between your thighs, feeling the increasing wetness through the thin fabric of your panties. Your body knew something your mind didn’t, or maybe it was the other way around, just adding to the detachment you felt ever since you crawled into that black car with him, or maybe ever since you got to the club.

You shut your eyes closed, his warm hands seeping into every inch of your skin, feeling the way his hands moved your panties to the side to press his thumb onto your clit and finally taking your hand to move it to his bulge. A gasp escaped your mouth, followed by a loud moan as your brain finally caught up to it. His touch became a consuming wave of sensation, overwhelming and beautiful.

“Shall we move this to the bedroom, babe?”

***

It was one of these days where everything pissed you off. You had overslept, subsequently missed your bus and therefore came in late for work, earning you a scolding from your asshole boss. You hadn’t had breakfast, which was starting to weigh on your stomach, and to top it all off, your friends had canceled on you – you were supposed to check out this amazing new Korean Barbecue place that had opened up in your neighborhood. It had been the only thing you’d been looking forward to all week, and now that was taken away from you.

And to make matters even worse, it was a slow day at work. There was no one to humor you besides your Instagram feed you were mindlessly scrolling through. Influencer scandal. War in the middle east. Your ex-boyfriend on vacation with his new girlfriend.

Until your phone chimed. Your empty stomach dropped and the phone almost fell out of your trembling hands.

Joost: I’m lonely, send a pic

And suddenly, you didn’t care that you didn’t hear your alarm or couldn’t try out Korean food with your friend group. All you felt was dirty. Like a cheap sugar baby without the contract.

I’m in a bad mood, you replied. It seemed wild to you that he still hadn’t memorized your work schedule after six months of whatever the fuck this was. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

Joost: Please. I’ll buy you something nice in return.

Joost: I bet you look so fucking sexy right now in your pencil skirt. What would it look like pulled up?

So he did remember. He just didn’t care.

You didn’t want to give in. Certainly not at the prospect of getting clothes you didn’t want and need anyway. But your legs didn’t know that, and before you knew it, you were locked inside the restroom, pulling your skirt up and your tights down, trying to figure out the best angle for the photo. Shoving your panties to the side, pulling them down completely, one finger on your clit, two fingers inside of you. When you were satisfied, you sent the photo to Joost.

You dropped your phone on the edge of the sink as if it would bite you as you fixed your uniform. Immediately regretting it, you reached for it again.

Typing…

Gone.

Typing…

Still nothing.

The thrill inside of you was starting to die down and transform into something else – shame maybe. Guilt. Or maybe even grief. Grieving what could have been between you if you’d never said yes to this god-awful friends with benefits thing.

Then it came. The call. And of course you picked up.

“Damn baby, already wet for me?” His voice was so low and raspy, he was practically growling. “Fuck, your pussy is so pretty.”

You felt as if someone else directed you. Because it surely couldn’t have been you saying, “You like what you see?”

“Mmmm fuck,” Joost whimpered on the other side. You, on the other hand, were rooted to the spot. You’d never been particularly fond of phone sex, let alone at work. This and the fact that Joost was clearly only using you for sex was heavily weighing on you. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl.”

“I’m at work, Joost.”

“I promise I’m quick.”

Of course he was. He always was.

Your reflection in the mirror looked unfamiliar, as if you were seeing someone else’s mistake. You glanced down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the “End Call” button. But you couldn’t bring yourself to press it.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned against the stall door, pressing your forehead to the cool metal. A sigh escaped your lips – one that wasn’t sexy or needy, just tired. Fucking tired.

“I can picture it,” he said, his voice a low hum in your ear. “You pulling those sexy lace panties to the side. That little gasp you make when you hit the right spot. You’re such a good girl for me.”

Your body reacted before your mind could stop it. That reflexive pull of desire, trained like muscle memory. Pavlovian. You hated how easy it was for you to slip into submission when he said all those things to you. To mistake being wanted for being loved.

But it had to stop.

Your voice was barely above a whisper when you asked, “What are we doing here, Joost?”

Silence. Not the sexy kind.

“What do you mean?”

You scoffed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with one hand, wiping away a tear with the other. “This. Whatever the hell this here is.”

Another pause. Then a rustle on his end, like he was sitting up. “What do you think this is, silly?”

“I have to go. Boss is calling,” you lied, fixing your skirt once more, flushing the toilet for no other reason than to create noise. To fill the space. To cover up the attempt at making this mean anything more to Joost than a little bit of fun.

“Maybe a pic for goodbye?” Joost teased.

You just hung up.

***

The floor of your bedroom looked like a small boutique had exploded. Dresses, skirts, boots, tops and two different curling irons lay in a big pile on your bedroom floor as you stood in front of the mirror, holding up a sheer black top up to your chest, wondering how much skin was too much tonight.

“I like this one,” said a voice from behind, muffled by some chips.

“You think? Or does this make me look like a slut?” You reached for a dark red blouse, only then realizing how much of your wardrobe was bought by Joost. “Is this one better?”

“We all know what you’re going to the party for,” Ava retorted, “so go for the top.”

 You sighed. “It’s just a house party.”

“Uh-huh.” She raised her brow, chewing slowly. “Sure, Jan.”

You flopped down on the bed beside her, letting the blouse slide from your fingers onto the floor. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters because I’ve watched you orbit around this man for months, like a moth circling a lightbulb that’s already burned out.” Ava picked a pile of fishnet tights off the bed with her toes. “And I don’t like who you are when you’re with him. You ghost me. You flake on plans. You stop eating unless he tells you to. It’s like he texts and only then do you come alive. Like a fucking sleeper agent.”

You stayed quiet. It’s not like she wasn’t right. You had nothing to say in your defense.

“Joost and I are friends.” You hated how fragile your voice sounded. You couldn’t even convince yourself, so why were you trying to persuade your best friend? The person who knew you best?

“Friends my ass,” Ava said, shoving another handful of chips into her mouth. “You know you deserve better than this, right?”

You wanted to tell her that she didn’t understand. That Joost was complicated, and the modern dating scene was even more complicated. That it was messy but there were good parts, too. That sometimes, when he was quiet and you were lying next to him in the dark and he wasn’t trying to fuck or snort anything off the nightstand, it almost felt like something real.

“He likes me,” you offered lamely, folding your hands in your lap.

“Well, he also likes snorting coke and calling women ‘babe’, so the bar is not exactly high.”

You stood up, haphazardly putting together an outfit to go with the sheer top. A leather skirt, those fishnet tights that were lying next to Ava on the bed and some combat boots. “Is this okay?”

“Honey, if he doesn’t drop to his knees when he sees this, just go ahead and throw the whole man away.”

This earned a small chuckle from you as you started undressing.

“Just promise me one thing, okay?” Ava said.

“Hm?”

“Don’t let him get to your head. I don’t want to see you end up hurt.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. But you nodded. “I promise.”

You were already halfway into your third layer of mascara when your phone lit up. Ava had gone home, leaving you to get ready on your own. For a second, your breath caught in your throat.

Not Joost. Just a Vinted notification. Somebody finally bought that ugly sweater you were dying to get rid of.

You picked up the phone anyway, fingers moving instinctively to open your messages. No new texts. The last one of him still sat there, unread again after you’d reopened it for the fifth time.

Joost: You better wear something I can tear off later.

Your stomach knotted. It wasn’t even the words that hurt anymore. It was the space between you. You tried your best to ignore the message and finished getting ready.

By the time you got to the address Joost had sent you, the party was already in full swing. Colorful light spilled from the windows as you passed them, and the bass thumped in your ears in the same rhythm of your heartbeat. Nerves were running high as you walked up the stairs to the front door. As if on cue, the door opened, revealing a drunk couple stumbling outside for some privacy. You took a step toward the door, peeking your head inside to check if you could make out Joost.

Of course, as always, Joost was the life of the party. Dancing on a coffee table, spraying prosecco into his friends’ mouths, passing the bong along to the other partygoers. He seemed like the center of the universe as you watched him from the doorway, taking in his effervescent presence.

You hesitated in the doorway, one foot in the threshold, the other inching forward like it needed permission. Nobody noticed you yet. The air inside smelled like cheap weed and expensive cologne, a cocktail of sweat, smoke and youth.

Joost hadn’t seen you. He twirled around, his blond hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline and whatever he’d taken. There was a halo of attention around him, like always. People laughed louder when he spoke, moved closer when he danced, floated in his orbit like satellites terrified to drift too far.

You could’ve turned around. It’s not like Joost needed you there. Maybe you even should have turned around. But something kept you there, like a magnet.

Then, as if summoned, his eyes found yours. A flicker – recognition, desire, something else you couldn’t name – passed over his face. It certainly wasn’t the same glint you had in your eyes whenever you saw him. It looked a lot more possessive. The bottle slipped slightly in his hand.

“Y/N!” He yelled, and suddenly, it seemed like the world stopped around you. Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on you.

“Don’t be shy, love. Come on over,” he added, waving his hands towards you. And when Joost told you to do something, you obliged.

He leaned over the coffee table littered with white powder, empty shot glasses and rolled up money bills to give you a side hug. You didn’t need any drugs; Joost’s cologne and his warm body against yours was enough to make you feel lighthearted. But by the time you had adjusted to him against you, he had already pulled away. “Drink?”

“Whaddaya got?”

“Anything your heart desires, m’lady,” Apson, who was on the couch next to Joost, answered with a smug grin on his face.

“Can you make me a pornstar martini?”

“Of course,” Joost smirked, “a woman after my own taste. Am I right, boys?”

His friends laughed, and it stung. But it was already way too late to back out, so you accepted the bantering among the friend group.

As Joost walked to the kitchen, you took his place and plopped down on the ragged leather couch. His friends have never been particularly fond of you or the thing you had going on with Joost. Although you had insisted to both your friends that you and him were just friends, they had caught up to the facts quickly. At least they were nice enough to wrap you into some small talk.

Soon, Joost returned, drink in hand. He handed it to you before sitting down on the armrest, hovering over you so he could whisper into your ear, “I can’t wait to tear up those tights.”

“At least let’s dance first,” you demanded, wanting to sound as easygoing as possible, although your knuckles were turning white from the tight grip you had around the martini glass.

Joost didn’t move. He cocked his head, eyes narrowed like he saw right through your performance. Then, as if boredom had caught up with him, he reached out and took the glass from your hand, downed the rest of the lukewarm martini in one swallow and set it down on the already cluttered coffee table.

“You’ve finished now,” he said. “Come dance with me then.”

Right on cue, the music switched from classic hip-hop to techno. The bass dropped just as your fingers brushed his. You let him take your hand and drag you to the makeshift dance floor.

It wasn’t a dance so much as a silent argument set to music. His body pressed to yours, guiding your hips with slow control, then pushing the tempo—testing boundaries. You matched him, refusing to retreat. Each beat struck like a challenge. A hand on your waist, too low. Your arm slung around his neck, too familiar. The way he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear like he owned the air you breathed.

“Ten minutes, then we’re gonna look for the nearest free bathroom,” he muttered, voice muffled by the heat between you.

And then his hand slid down your back, firm, possessive. People danced around you obliviously. The lights stuttered like camera flashes. You could still walk away—you should—but his mouth was almost on yours now, and it was impossible to breathe, let alone move.

Ten minutes were up.

So was your self-control as you followed him up the stairs.

Even the crammed bathroom at the end of the hallway had that distinctive weed stench that was starting to seep into your pores. But you could hardly think about that, not when Joost was towering over you, looking at you with big hungry eyes.

He kicked the door shut, the clicking of the flimsy lock echoing in the small space. The dim light hummed, casting a sickly glow on the space around you. He didn’t waste a second as his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. There was an urgency in his touch as you met his gaze, a mixture of apprehension and raw desire swirling within you. This was impulsive, reckless and everything your rational mind screamed against. But rationality had left the building a long time ago, replaced by the insistent drumming of your heartbeat and the intoxicating scent of him.

He reached for your top, pulling it upwards, revealing a black bra. “You know, for a minute there, I thought you were going to bolt,” he breathed, his voice thick with anticipation. Your pulse hammered against your ribs as goosebumps littered your skin. Then his hands wandered to your back, where he unclasped your bra in one swift motion.

“What if I had?” You managed to get out.

You thought for a moment that Joost didn’t hear you. That he was too caught up in the moment to catch your words as he connected his lips with your body, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along your neck down to your collarbones. “You wouldn’t,” he muttered against your neck, his voice vibrating against your skin.

And how right he was about that, you thought as you connected your lips with his in a passionate kiss that set fireworks off in your stomach, your hands wandering to his messy mullet while his cupped your breasts, circling your nipples with his thumbs. The tightness of the space made everything feel more intense, the heat from his body enveloping you like a warm blanket. You didn’t care that your heart was racing or that you could hear the faint sounds of the party outside the door. All that mattered was the feel of Joost’s calloused hands on your skin.

He kissed you harder, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that made you ache. Your legs felt wobbly and you leaned against the sink for support, the cold porcelain a stark contrast to the heat between your thighs. He took advantage of your position, his hands sliding down to undo your skirt and slip it off, leaving you in nothing but a black thong.

You felt exposed but also incredibly alive as he knelt before you, his eyes raking over your naked body. He kissed your stomach, his tongue tracing the line of your navel before moving lower, his breath hot against your skin. Your hands went to the hem of his dress shirt as he hooked his thumbs into the band of your thong and pulled it down, leaving you bare before him.

With one swift motion, Joost heaved you up on the counter, his hands tight around your thighs, his bulge pressing against your center. Your hands found his hair again, tugging on it, desperate for more. “Joost, please.”

He took the hint, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he knelt and began to suck and nibble on the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sensation was overwhelming, your body responding to his every touch, every flick of his tongue.

You could feel yourself getting wetter, the sound of his mouth on you echoing in the small room. Instinctively, your hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning his jeans. Your trembling fingers slipped inside his boxers, wrapping around his hot, hard length. He groaned into your skin as you began to stroke him, matching the rhythm of his tongue. The sound of your breath mingling with his was the only music in the room, already having forgotten about the party downstairs.

Joost’s hands slid up your thighs, spreading them wider, giving him better access. He teased you with his thumb, tracing your folds before sliding it inside you, making you gasp. His fingers moved in time with your strokes, filling you up and making you crave even more. “You like that, huh?”

“Please, Joost. I-“ you moaned, overtaken by the pleasure starting to bubble up inside you.

“Not so fast,” Joost smirked, the eyeliner around his eyes smudged from repeatedly squeezing his eyes open and shut. He pulled his pants and boxers down. You nodded eagerly; your eyes locked onto his hardened member. You crawled down from the counter, putting your hands on Joost’s shoulder to support your already trembling legs. Kneeling, you took a deep breath and began kissing the tip, tasting the faint saltiness of his precum. Finally, you took him into your mouth, his gaps filling the room and his hands coming up to cradle your head. You began to bob up and down, taking him deeper with every movement, feeling him throb and pulse in your mouth. “Mmmh you take it so good, baby. Take it deeper.”

You looked up at him, the excitement in his eyes obvious, you so fragile beneath him. You felt completely powerless as he took your head and pushed it down, making you gag on his length. Your eyes watered as you struggled not to pull away, your hands gripping his thighs for balance. “Deeper,” he growled, fistfuls of hair in his hands and pushing you down further.

The anger grew, mixing with the pleasure as your throat constricted around him. You didn’t want to like this, didn’t want to be this submissive to him. But your body was betraying you, responding to his dominance in a way that made you feel ashamed.

You tried to protest, but all that came out was a muffled sound against his shaft. Joost just chuckled, his grip on your hair tightening. “You’re so eager,” he said. “So eager to please.”

Your jaw ached by the time he began thrusting into your mouth, his other hand on the back of your head to keep you in place. Tears were beginning to spill out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, but you had no possibility to wipe them away. Not with Joost’s firm grip on your head and your hands on the back of his knees for support. Each time he pushed in, your gag reflex kicked in, and each time he pushed harder, his hips snapped against your face.

With a sudden jerk, you pulled away, his grip on your hair slipping. You stood up, panting, glaring at him with wet, angry eyes. "You think you can just use me like this?" you spat.

For a moment, Joost looked surprised, his chest heaving with excitement. Then his smirk returned. "Isn’t that what you want?" he taunted, stroking himself. "To be used, to be filled with cum?"

The words were like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline. Your anger flared, and without thinking, you slapped him hard across the face. The sound reverberated in the small bathroom, echoing off the tiles. Joost’s eyes went wide, his hand flying to his cheek. But the shock quickly gave way to a look of pure lust.

"You like it rough, huh?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. Slowly, he stood up, placing a haphazard kiss on your lips before he flipped you over, your stomach pressing into the cold porcelain. “I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you senseless, you little slut,” Joost growled, pushing you into the sink by keeping a firm grip around your neck.

You whimpered with anticipation as Joost positioned himself behind you, your hands grasping the edges of the sink to keep your balance. He didn’t bother with any more foreplay; he was too consumed by his own lust. With one swift motion, he entered you, the force making your knees buckle slightly. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, his eyes fixated on your reflection in the mirror. He watched as he began to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the bathroom. You could feel his cock stretching you to your limits, the roughness of his movements making you wetter with every thrust.

"You're mine," he snarled, his teeth grazing your ear. "You're going to take every inch of me like the good little whore you are." His words sent a thrill down your spine, and you pushed back against him, meeting his every thrust with a desperate moan.

Your breasts bounced with the force of his movements, and your cheeks were flushed with a mix of arousal and pain. He reached around to squeeze one of your nipples, twisting it just enough to make you gasp. You felt his hand slap against your ass, the sting adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice rough. You obeyed, looking into the mirror. Your eyes were wide with lust, and your mouth was slightly parted, the sight of your own desperation turning you on even more. You watched as he claimed you, his hips slapping against your ass, your body shaking with every impact.

The pressure built inside you, and you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly. "I'm going to cum," you whined, your voice high with need.

"Cum for me," Joost demanded, his pace increasing. "Cum on my cock, baby."

With a final, brutal thrust, you did just that. Your body convulsed around him, your pussy tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure crashed through you. And then, the words that you hoped would never see the light of day spilled out of you. Just like that. “I love you.”

"Fuck," he groaned, his own release following closely. He pulled out, his cum spurting onto your ass and back. "Look at the mess you made," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. He let go of you, and you slumped forward, gasping for air.

Joost stepped back, his chest heaving, and admired the scene in the mirror. You were an absolute mess, your body glistening with sweat and cum, your makeup smudged, and your hair wild.

"You're so beautiful when you're used up like that," he murmured, running a gentle finger along your spine.

***

Nobody talked when you got redressed. For what it was worth, your tights had remained mostly unharmed. Not like it mattered, though. Not when tomorrow, your whole body will be sore, littered with bruises, and your throat will hurt. “You’re not gonna say anything?”

“What?” He asked, laughing as one hand tightened his belt and the other held a cigarette. “Not the first time I’ve fucked someone this good they thought they were in love with me.”

You scoffed, but decided not to press on it. But it seemed as if your face told everything. Joost crouched down so you were face to face, his thumb softly stroking your cheek. “You don’t love me, okay? That was never part of the plan. So cut it out, please.”

You let him touch your face.

You let him talk to you like that.

Because what other options did you have, having been humiliated like that?

For a second, you didn’t even flinch. Just stared at him, at his fucked-up tenderness, the cruel petting of someone who liked to see the damage he’d done up close.

It wasn’t just your face that betrayed you. It was your silence. The way you didn’t correct him. The way your chest rose too fast, tears forming in your eyes like a kid who’d just had her favorite toy stolen.

He smiled like he won.

So you stood up. Slipped into your top without bothering to fix your smudged makeup, your crooked tights, the bloom of red beginning to form on your collarbone.

You turned toward the door, hand on the knob, then paused.

“Fuck you, Joost.”

And you didn’t look back when you walked out.

But you wished you had. Just to see if he flinched.

But deep inside you knew the answer was no.

***

You: Wanna come over?

You: Please talk to me.

You: Joost. We need to talk.

You: Are you seriously ignoring me?

You: Fuck you.

You: You’re a fucking asshole, Joost.

You’d had your fair share of bad dating experiences. You’d been stood up more often than you could count. You’d been catfished. You’d been mansplained politics. The list goes on.

But never had a bad dating experience made you spend the entire afternoon on your balcony, getting drunk off cheap wine and chain-smoking whatever cigarettes were left in the pack, cursing yourself for not buying more at the corner store.

It had been a week since you and Joost had last spoken. A week since you stopped living.

You used to cringe at couples who said they couldn’t live with or without each other. So why did it feel so true?

Not like you had ever had some sort of claim of ownership over him. It was perhaps naïve of you to assume that this wouldn’t end the way it did. But you had hoped, until the very last minute, that Joost would come around. After all, what is a sex-drunken confession when stacked against a years-long friendship?

You stubbed your cigarette out on the balcony railing. One of a dozen today. The ashtray looked like a graveyard. You were becoming someone you didn’t recognize – bitter, messy, obsessed with Joost’s digital silence like it was gospel.

Then, so silently that you almost thought you’d imagined it, there was a knock at the door.

You didn’t move. Surely, it was just a delivery guy. But you hadn’t eaten in days. Then came another knock, and you knew you had to do something.

So you answered it. And when you opened the door, Joost stood there like it hadn’t been a week. Like he hadn’t been ghosting you.

“Hey,” he said, as if that were enough.

You stepped aside, not because he deserved it, but because you were curious enough to see what he’d do.

He looked around, his gaze fixed on the empty wine bottles littered on the counter. “Shit, you throwing a party or something?”

“Yeah, for finally getting rid of you,” you snarked. “What the hell do you want now?”

He didn’t laugh. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes refusing to meet yours.

“You know, it’s not my fault you fell in love with me.”

You snorted. “Are you done?”

“You’re the one constantly texting me. It was getting on Bet- my nerves,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Wait, who?”

“I said it was getting on my nerves.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose, in order to stop the tears from streaming down your face. “You’re seeing someone.”

For a moment, the entire apartment was silent. Then, he said, “Yes. Yes I am.”

“Why, Joost?” The sadness had now been replaced by anger. You couldn’t believe he had moved on from you so quickly. “Why her and not me?”

He shifted on his feet like he couldn’t decide whether to run or throw another punch – because that’s what his words had been feeling lately.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said finally. “We weren’t together.”

You let out a laugh. Hollow. Bitter. “Just give me a fucking reason, Joost.”

He stepped forward, but you stepped back instinctively. “Fine? You really wanna know? It’s because you’re a fucking drag, Y/N. I’ve done so much for you and you repay it by being a little bitch about it. Everything’s so much more complicated than it has to with you.”

“Oh, I’m difficult?” You snapped. “You show up here after ignoring me for days, tell me you’re dating someone else and somehow I’m the problem?”

He just shrugged. He fucking shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Unbelievable.”

“You always read into shit too much,” he said, his voice cold. “That’s not on me.”

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “It is on you. You fucked me like you meant it. You held me like I mattered. And the worst part is, I believed it. I believed you.”

Joost looked away, like he couldn’t stand to see you like this. Like seeing you broken was somehow inconveniencing him.

“Betty’s a lot less complicated. You have no one to blame but yourself, Y/N.”

That was it. Your knockout.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. But your entire body felt padded, like somehow this wasn’t happening, because there’s no way the person that was supposed to be your friend was throwing these words at you.

“Get out.”

He hesitated.

“Can we at least still be friends?”

“I said get the fuck out of my apartment, Joost.”

This time, he listened.

***

It’s been months since you’d last talked to Joost. It had been hard – oh, had it been hard. At first, you spent entire days staring at your phone, willing him to text you. You had sent him hundreds of text messages, ranging from threats to pleads, desperate for any kind of reaction from him. But of course he had gone completely radio silent on you.

So here you were, spending your Friday evening at the bar with friends instead of a high-end nightclub with Joost. And maybe you were starting to be okay with that.

And what better soundtrack than Charli XCX when talking shit about your exes with your best friends?

“Oh god, I almost forgot about that guy,” Taya said, kicking her Tabis against the booth table before taking a sip of her espresso martini. “What a total loser.”

“Remember Dave though? The one who made that spreadsheet ranking his exes? Cam jumped in, rolling her eyes. “Men are insane.”

You laughed or at least performed the laugh. It came out brittle, but nobody noticed. The bar was dim, warm with bodies and gin-sweet air.

Ava turned to you. “What about you? Any news about he who cannot be named?”

You shook your head. “Radio silence.”

Ava gave you a knowing nod. You could tell she was happy for you, helping you get through the “break up”. She was happy that you came out alright. But were you?

While the others kept swapping stories about their horror dating stories, you quietly pulled up your text conversation with Joost. Or rather, your monologue. The last message you’d sent to him was a long, raw paragraph about how badly he’d treated you and how you vowed to never let a guy talk to you like this ever again. He’d left you on read, of course, but not without speech bubbles appearing and disappearing again. As pathetic as it sounded, you found some solace in the fact that he at least had a decency to listen when you poured your heart out.

You put your phone away again, half-heartedly nursing your pornstar martini while listening to your friends’ conversation you had disengaged from.

And then your phone suddenly vibrated. You looked at the screen as if it had grown fangs. Joost’s name had appeared.

You didn’t open it. Couldn’t open it. For a second, the noise of the bar dropped out. The music, the clink of glasses, even your friend’s voice became muffled as your brain began to catch up on what happened.

Ava laughed at something Cam said. Taya tapped the rim of her glass like she was counting down seconds.

You stood up.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you said to no one in particular, and slipped away before anyone could ask questions. Before Ava could stop you.

Once inside, you leaned against the sink, examining the dark circles under your eyes. You were puffing as if you’d run a marathon. Your hair stuck to your sweaty forehead. What did he want? Did he suddenly come around? Did you want him to?

You locked the stall behind you, sat down and finally dared to look at the notification.

Joost: Hey

Joost: Can we talk?

That was all. Just that. But your stomach turned over anyway.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an hour, reading and rereading that text in case your mind had decided to play a sick game. But there it was, white on black. Joost wanted to see you.

You hovered your thumb on the keyboard. Then you locked your phone. Unlocked it. Locked it again.

You wanted to tell him to get lost. That he had no right to show up again after ghosting you when you needed him the most.

“Y/N?” A voice suddenly inquired. It was Ava. Of course it was her.

“Be out in a minute,” you answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

When you unlocked the door, Ava stood there, a blank expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I think I gotta go,” you stuttered, not bothering to make up an excuse for suddenly vanishing from the booth.

It was no use anyway, because Ava knew what was going on. “It’s Joost, isn’t it?”

There was an unreadable expression on her face. Something like understanding, or scolding, or just the quiet disappointment of someone who’d seen this story play out before and hated knowing how it would end.

“I’m not gonna tell you not to do it because I know you wouldn’t listen,” she sighed, folding her arms over her chest. “Just be careful, okay?”

You nodded, rooted to the spot. “Thanks for understanding.”

Then, he texted again.

Joost: Can I come over?

And this time, you didn’t overthink it. You just replied: Be there in 5.

You barely remembered saying goodbye to your friends. You barely remembered the walk home, hands in fists inside your leather jacket to stop the trembling. But when you finally got to your apartment and found Joost leaning against the door, you knew he had it worse than you. He gave you a look that was almost sheepish, almost apologetic, but neither of the two in the end.

“You look good,” he said.

“You look like shit,” you replied, fishing the keys out of your bag and opening the door, kicking your shoes off next to it.

He chuckled softly, stepping inside like he belonged there, like he hadn’t vanished off the face of the Earth for months. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and suddenly the room felt smaller. Warmer.

You didn’t ask why he came. You couldn’t bare to hear her name. Besides, you knew what he was here for, didn’t you? Instead, you poured a glass of wine for the both of you.

For a while, you just stood there, sipping your drinks. Joost studied the posters in your living room, pretending like he’d never been to your place before.

“I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms, the ache in your chest getting harder to ignore. “Well that’s a first.”

“Me and Betty broke up. Funnily enough she said the same thing to me that I’d said to you all these months ago.”

“Serves you right.”

He flinched. “I know.”

“Why are you here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go. And I miss you.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You miss how convenient I was. One whistle from you and I was there. Like a fucking lap dog. But you don’t miss me.”

He looked away, like a kid caught doing something it was not supposed to be doing. “Why did you invite me here then?”

You exhaled sharply. “Because no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to quit you. I’m addicted to you as if you were coke.”

And before you could overthink it, you kissed him – slow, like you needed to taste the damage again, just to remind yourself why it hurt so much to begin with.

Joost kissed you back, but not with the same urgency. Like he was waiting to get it over with so he could fuck you. Now he took his time. Like he was making up for lost time.

Joost’s kiss grew deeper, his hands reaching up to cup your face. Your hands explored his body as if you were a sculptor rediscovering your favorite piece of art, before your fingers settled on his shirt, pulling it swiftly over his head. The moment the fabric gave way, your hands roamed over his bare skin, feeling the warmth of his chest. He groaned into the kiss, his tongue dancing with you in a rhythm that was both familiar and exhilarating. He pressed you harder against himself, and you felt the unmistakable hardness of his arousal through your thin dress.

Breaking the kiss, he took a closer look at you. His breath was hot, sending shivers down your spine as his hands traced the curve of your waist. His hands moved up, undoing your blouse button by button, all the while wearing the expression you swore would make you go insane one day. The blouse fell to the floor, Joost attacked your chest with kisses all the while his hands worked to unclasp your bra. He leaned down to kiss your chest, his teeth grazing your skin gently, making you gasp. With your hands around his neck, he continued to litter your skin with little kisses.

You felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as Joost’s hands moved deftly to unbutton your pants. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze only growing stronger with each piece of clothing that fell away. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, his hands ghosting over your hips before hooking his fingers into the delicate lace.

“Joost, wait,” you breathed, a confused look on Joost’s face. “Take me to bed.”

Joost scooped you up, carrying you over to the bedroom and gently placing you down on the bed. Joost hovered over you, hands placed on either side of your head as he began kissing you again, starting from your lips and making his way down to your collarbones. Down to your neck. Lower. Down to your breasts, your stomach and eventually settling on the inside of your thighs. Your panties were off in a swift motion, slick with your lust. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when Joost was worshipping your body like this. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands more insistent as they roamed over your sensitive skin.

Joost’s touch was like fire, burning away any shyness or hesitation you might have had. His hands moved down to your hips, gripping them tightly as he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. You felt his hot breath against your slick folds before his mouth closed over your clit, sucking gently. His teeth grazed against your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. It was like he knew your body better than you.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him in place as he devoured you. Your moans grew louder, more desperate as Joost worked his magic, alternating between licking and blowing on the sensitive area, which drove you crazy. You were close, so close to the edge, and he knew it.

“Come for me, liefje,” he moaned against your clit, the vibration of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through your body. And so you released the pressure bubbling up in your stomach, coming all over Joost’s face. “Good girl.”

With a final lingering kiss for good measure, Joost stood up, his own arousal evident in the bulge straining against his hard cock. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, before positioning himself between your legs. That’s when you gripped his shoulders, attempting to flip him on his back and repaying him with this incomparable feeling. But he just kissed you, his lips slick with your cum. “No, tonight is about you,” he whispered.

He was so focused on you as he moved up to your breasts to kiss them. It made you feel desired. Almost loved.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh as he hovered over you, his eyes full of lust and something else – something deeper that you didn’t dare name. And then he kissed you again, slower this time, like there was no rush in the world. Like he was going to take your sweet time with you.

“Mmmm need you, Joost,” you mumbled against his lips.

“So needy,” he chuckled silently as he positioned himself at your entrance, his lips never disconnecting from yours.

You gasped, feeling yourself stretching to accommodate his size. It had been too long since you’d felt this full, this alive. And he took his time with you alright, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, wanting you to feel all of him. You wrapped your legs around his hips as his thrusts became more quick, more urgent, as he claimed you once again. “God, I’ve missed this.”

You moaned in response, your hips rising to meet his, nails digging into his back. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your gasps and his groans. Joost’s hands wandered over your body, caressing and teasing every inch of you. He found your clit again and began to rub it in slow circles, matching the tempo of his thrusts. You moaned at the overstimulation, almost becoming unbearable.

“Joost, I-“ you groaned.

“I know, liefje. Hold on for me.”

Suddenly, with a wicked grin, Joost reached down and flipped you onto your stomach. He kissed down your spine, leaving a trail of fire behind his lips. He took a moment to appreciate the view of your round ass in the air before spreading your legs wide. He grabbed your hips and slammed into you from behind, the sudden change in position making you cry out. You felt so exposed, so vulnerable, but in the best way possible.

Joost’s hand reached to cup your breasts, playing with your nipples as his tempo grew more quicker, more urgent. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your spine, making you arch your back and push your ass out further for more. He was relentless, his cock pounding into you like he owned you, like he had every right in the world to take what he wanted.

“You’re so tight, baby. So wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His words only spurred you on, making you want to come even more.

You reached back, trying to touch him, to feel him, but he took your wrists and pinned them above your head. “Let me do all the work tonight,” he said, voice low.

You felt his hand move down to your clit again, his fingers circling it, applying just the right amount of pressure. The sensation was almost too much, but you didn’t want it to stop. You needed this, needed him to push you over the edge again.

“Please, Joost, I need to come,” you begged, your voice strained with need.

“Not yet, liefje. I’m not done with you yet.”

The suspense built as Joost’s grip tightened around your wrists, his rhythm becoming more erratic, his breathing more ragged. He was so close, you could feel his whole body tense with the effort of holding back. You bit your lips to stifle your own moans, feeling the tension coil tighter within you.

He leaned down, his hot breath against your neck as he whispered, “You want to come, don’t you? You want to feel me fill you up?”

You nodded frantically, your body begging for release, but he only chuckled darkly and squeezed your breasts harder. “Not yet,” he said again, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

He withdrew almost completely, the head of his cock teasing your entrance before slamming back in, making you gasp. You felt your orgasm building, a pressure so intense it’s almost painful. Your body started to quiver uncontrollably, the beginnings of your climax rushing through you.

Joost’s strokes became shorter, more deliberate, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. You knew he was close too, his breathing erratic and his hips jerking against you. You could feel him swell inside of you, and it took all of your strength to hold on.

“Now, schat, come now,” he commanded, his voice strained with his own need.

You obeyed, your body shattering around him as you came harder than you ever have before. Your muscles clenched around his cock, and he groaned, his own climax following immediately after. He filled you with his warmth, collapsing on top of you as the aftershocks of pleasure continued to pulse through your veins.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room were your panting and his harsh breaths. Neither of you dared to move as you concentrated on your breathing. Then, when your vision came back, you turned around, his head on your stomach. You stroked his hair, him keeping his eyes closed as you hummed contently.

You traced your fingers along the curve of his ear, then down the side of his neck, the way you used to. He didn’t flinch. He just let you touch him like nothing had changed, like the silence and the months and the other girl hadn’t happened. Like he had never stayed gone long enough for you to miss him. But you had missed him, so much.

He opened his eyes slowly, lifting his head to look at you. “God, you’re driving me crazy,” he huffed, almost like he was blaming you for it.

You laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Yeah,” was all you managed to get out as you continued to stroke along the sides of his face, scratching the space as if he were a puppy you’d gotten for Christmas. He closed his eyes again, savoring the feeling of his hands on your skin. “So what now?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, and your face fell. Just like that, the illusion cracked. “Let’s see each other again. See how it goes, okay?”

His voice was quiet. Measured. Like he was offering you a favor instead of pulling you back into the same trap.

You stared at the ceiling. Your chest ached in that dull, familiar way. You were so tired. Tired of being the one who stayed. Tired of being the girl he came back to when the others didn’t work out. Tired of convincing yourself that maybe this time he meant it.

The bass of the song playing is loud around you, but what has your blood pumping faster than ever is his warm hands on your hips, swaying you gently from side to side in time with his own movements. Yours are loose around his shoulders and luckily for him (and you) your shirt has ridden up just enough to allow him to touch your skin directly, but it is exactly what you want. The wrinkles around his eyes as he smiles and then throws his head back laughing at something you said makes you feel like the funniest, smartest person in this club. He laughs like you are the only people here, not caring if he bumps into anyone, stumbling back and trailing you with him, his hands still on you. He folds over you and your laughter matches his. You don't even remember the joke, all that matters is his warmth around you and that beautiful smile on his face.

If someone looked over at the two of you, they might think you've known each other for ages – a couple comfortable around each other, whispering inside jokes gathered over the years into each other's ears. Would they guess you've met a few hours ago outside of this club when he asked you for a cigarette?

You were leaning against a cold wall, your arms folded against your middle, when a voice broke your trail of thought. "Can I have one?" a tall handsome man points at the cigarette you are holding.

You noticed the dent in his pocket, which looked oddly similar to a pack of his own cigarettes, but you decided to engage in whatever the night holds next to him. He has a pretty smile and kind eyes, which you won't forget for a long while. When you tell back this story to your friends, laughing remembering how you met, you tell it's his height that won you over, but it's those damn eyes. Always.

"Sure." you reached for the pack and offered him one.

He lit it with his own lighter, took a drag, letting the smoke disappear into the air above you.

"I'm Joost." he said with a smile, his voice calm and confident. He reached out his hand towards you, you told him your name and shook his hand. His palm warm against yours, he held it longer than necessary, but you didn't want that touch to end either.

He keeps offering you more cigarettes, using it as an excuse to get you outside to have a proper conversation. He can't get enough of it, he wants to know more about you, hear your voice without the loud song blasting in the background.

"No way!" he exclaims after the last story you just told him.

"I promise you." you laugh and hold your hand up to your heart. "I wouldn't lie about something like that."

He sighs in amusement, it feels like he can read your thoughts the way he looks at you, it is nice having his undivided attention. As much as he loves to talk, he really listens to your answers and opinions as well. He looks at you with a calm smile adoring his face, you find it hard to keep eye contact with him for so long. "You are very beautiful." he tells you as you lower your eyes. He is bold and straight to the point you've noticed, but you like that, it makes it easy to believe his compliments. "I don't know if it makes sense, but it feels like I've known you for a very long time." he continues.

"It does make sense." you look up at him again. "I feel the same way. There is something about you," you pause trying not to laugh at the way he cocks his head to the side like a puppy trying to listen to your every word. Like it's something sacred, like you are telling him a secret only he is allowed to know. "that makes it very easy to trust you." you say, he smiles and looks to the side, seemingly getting shy or pleased with what you shared. It makes your stomach flutter that you have this effect on him.

He turns his head back to you and comes to stand closer, he takes your hand gently and places it on his chest. You can feel his wild heartbeat. "When was the last time you did something spontaneous?" he asks, still holding your hand in his own.

"Probably today, dancing all night with a stranger." you smile looking up at him.

"Do you regret it?" he asks, his face lowering towards yours, you can feel his breath only inches away.

"Does it look like I regret it?" your voice barely a whisper as you slide your hand from his chest to his neck. He brushes his nose against yours, teasing, a wide smile on his face, but makes no further move. His hands are holding you tight on your waist, that same warm feeling. You can't stand it anymore and take matters into your hands, making one more spontaneous decision you stand up on your tip toes and kiss him. He accepts it like he was waiting for it. It is not rushed, just light pecks at first, like you are learning about each other, like there is no rush, deep down both of you already know there are many more kisses to come.

His lips feel soft against yours, his perfume and mix of his natural scent enveloping you like a pleasant hug, something that is uniquely him. You deepen the kiss, a quiet moan slipping past your lips, when he presses you tighter against him and you feel a smile against your lips. Your hands are in his hair, surely making a mess of whatever hairstyle he had, meanwhile his hands stay firm on your waist, only moving to your lower back from time to time, he doesn't want to push his luck. You know you are that annoying couple making out outside of the club, but you don't care, not when he licks softly at your bottom lip, begging for more. He starts to slowly walk you back against the wall.

"Oohhhhh!!" someone exclaims walking past you. You separate from the kiss, but Joost stays close.

"Appie, shut up" a girl you saw earlier in the club nudges her elbow into a taller guy's side. "What?" the guy says rubbing his ribs. "Joost is making out with someone and I can't say Oh?"

Joost laughs and hides his face placing his forehead on your shoulder, "Those are my friends." you hear him mumble against you. You smile sheepishly at them, not really knowing how to handle this situation, you start to pet Joost's head, as he is still leaning against you when you'd rather hide too. He looks up at you, your lipstick smudged all over his lips, it makes you laugh. You wipe at his lips and he stands up straight, finally turning towards his friends.

"Hi guys." he tries to act casual, however he does seem very relaxed, you figure they are quite close friends. "How is it going?"

"Oh, you know just trying to get some fresh air and getting beat up instead." one of the friends replies.

"Don't act like you didn't deserve it. Look, you startled them!" the girl points to you and Joost and shoots you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry I didn't expect to see Joost's tongue in someone's mouth out here."

"My tongue wasn't-" Joost starts but gives up on that sentence and instead brings you closer introducing you to them. You shake hands with his friends. Joost watches you talking to them like it's the most natural thing in the world, you are already making jokes with them, making fun of the situation you are in comparing it to something else. He watches you with a smile on his face, you joining his world – is a pleasant thought. You look back at him, he didn't try to hide you or deflect the situation. He introduced you proudly, you are thankful for that, a warm feeling blossoming inside your chest.

"Anyways, we are gonna go back inside. Won't bother you guys anymore." a girl announces loudly, then adds in a quieter tone to you only "He is a good guy." she gives you a warm smile pointing her eyes at Joost, which eases something in you. You nod and smile back thankful for this small interaction.

"Yeah, you can go back to business." Appie wiggles his eyebrows and you laugh. "Oh my god" you hear a groan. You love them already.

It is weirdly quiet now, you turn back to Joost. He shakes his head and laughs "So, those are my friends." he comes to stand closer, brushing his hand against yours, holding it gently. "They seem fun." you reply, moving your thumb against his knuckles. It is nice to be close to him, you've never been so comfortable with someone in mere hours of knowing them. Maybe it is your lucky day, maybe the stars aligned just right on this exact night.

"I don't really feel like going back in." Joost says.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Would you like to go to my place?" he asks, his hand still holding yours, it doesn't feel invasive, just reassuring.

You narrow your eyes at him, "But nothing is gonna happen today. Don't even let any thoughts get into your head." you poke at his chest with a soft laugh. His friend's phrase "He is a good guy" echoes in your mind, you do trust him. It feels easy to agree.

"I wouldn't let anything happen, even if you wanted to." he takes your hand from his chest and places a kiss on your knuckles, holding his lips there, his blue eyes piercing into yours. His answer makes you laugh, a warm lighthearted laugh, which he will seek out in the darkest of days, he can never get enough of it.

You stand on your tiptoes again in an attempt to reach his height and place a kiss on his lips. He leans into you, but as you are about to brush your lips along his, he turns his head to the side and hugs you instead. "Uh-uh" he says into your ear, "Nothing can happen, remember?"

"You are unbelievable." you hug him back.

The ride back to his place is filled with conversation, it seems you both are trying to catch up on all the years you didn't know each other in this one night. You could listen to him talk all day, soak into every bit of information, laugh at the all jokes, it all comes natural. Once in his apartment, you get comfortable on his sofa, while he brings you drinks he offered.

He settles onto the couch next to you, passing you a glass of wine, taking a sip of his own. You fall back into a conversation, you tell him about work, what you do and what makes you happy, he tells you stories from his travels, shows you photos on his phone to give a better picture. Once your glasses are empty, you fall into a comfortable silence, each other's presence being enough. You are sitting close to each other, your legs tucked under you, your knee touching his thigh, your arm resting on the back of the sofa beside his head, playing with loose strands of his hair from time to time, which he clearly enjoys, if he was a cat, he would be purring, just feeling completely content.

"You know" his warm raspy voice grabs your attention again, "I was having a shitty day, everything seemed to be going wrong." he says looking down at his hands. "My friends convinced me to go out, to get out of my head for a while, and I'm really glad I agreed."

You smile at him, "Yeah? Why is that?" you lean into a playful tone.

"I met this girl, who...I was gonna say makes me forgot about my problems, but no. She puts it into perspective, that some things are more important than others, and not worth worrying about." he finishes talking and looks into your eyes.

"I am really glad you met this girl." you take his hand in yours, putting it on your lap, reaching for more physical contact, he is being so vulnerable, you want to show it's okay and you appreciate it. "I'm happy I met you too."

He leans in to put his glass back on the table, and when he comes back his face is closer to you, "You are very pretty." he puts a strand of hair behind your ear. "How strict are you about following rules?" your voice has lowered to a whisper.

"Very strict" he licks his lips, looking at yours. Then back up into your eyes.

"Would you break one with me?" your heart is beating wildly in your chest, you try to calm down your breathing, put your hand on his chest, feeling that his heart matches your own.

"Only if it's with you."

You move to sit on top of his thighs, he scoots to sit up more straight, holding you and moving you with him. "Such a poet." you put your arms around his shoulders, his face now on your level, "I could show you my real poems later." you smile, of course he writes poems.

"Is that your way of getting girls into bed with you?"

"Is it working?"

You roll your eyes and lean in to kiss him. Slowly, just like that first time, his hands are splayed on your back, so warm even through a layer of clothes. The kiss is romantic, unbelievably sweet, but you moan in surprise when he bites your bottom lip, just a tiny bit, you can tell he likes that, when he smiles into the kiss and comes back for more. It is more urgent now, your hand tangled in his hair, pulling on the strands, and now it is his turn to moan into your mouth. You swallow it hungrily. "Fuck.." he groans and leans in further into you, you open your mouth for him, welcoming his tongue, it is not overwhelming, he is a good kisser, uses his tongue just enough to tease. You readjust on top of him, moving your hips closer to his, and earn another moan. You could get drunk on those sounds alone. His breathing is getting heavier, and you start kissing him lower down to his neck, "You drive me insane" he manages to say, his hands moving to your thighs.

"Tell me more." you beg him, you need to hear more of what he feels.

You nose at his jaw and he tilts his head back. "You are making me feel too many things at once." you kiss along his jaw and down his neck, his hands trailing along your thighs, it feels so soft under his palms, he can't help but squeeze it. "You feel so good." he puts his hand on the back of your neck bringing you in for another kiss. It is messy, desperate, the want for each other seeping into your skin. Now it is his turn to trail kisses to your jaw, still holding you by your neck, he kisser right under your ear and it makes your breath hitch, which he evidently enjoys, as his hips buck up into you and you moan even louder. You feel so hot, your breathing uneven, you can feel he is getting hard under you, you did mean it when you said nothing is going to happen tonight, but you can feel your own arousal slick in your panties.

The thoughts keep spilling out of his mouth, like he can't control it. "I am so out of it," he says in between kisses. "I think i'm gonna cum my pants only at the sight of your tits." he bites softly where your neck meets your shoulder, low enough where your top allows it without having to take it off. "Please have mercy on me."

"What about my eyes? Are they not doing it for you?" you manage to say through your heavy breathing.

"You don't even know." he brings his face back up to yours, from his bites and kisses on your neck.

"And what if I would like that?" you say tracing his lips with your finger.

"What? Me cuming my pants?" his breathing hitches at your touch.

"Yeah"

"I am a man of my word, I said I wouldn't let you. Don't tease."

You laugh and press a quick kiss on his lips. You move to sit down back on the couch, as he adjusts his pants. You stretch and yawn. "Let's get to bed?" he asks. "Or I can take the couch, you can sleep in my bed."

"We can sleep in the same bed, Joost. I trust you."

He takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. He walks up to his closet, taking out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, then handing them to you. "I think this will be more comfortable to sleep in."

"Thank you." you take the clothes. Both the t-shirt and boxers say his name. "You are a weird guy, Joost Klein." you say turning around to change.

He chuckles, "Just try it on, it will be the softest clothes you ever put on." he turns back around when he notices you taking off your top. "I will be in the shower."

You changed, filled up water for the both of you in the kitchen and brought it back to put on each nightstand, this will help with a headache from the shots in the club and wine. You sit down on the bed, it's so empty without him. You check the time, it's way past midnight – it's the next day. Without much thinking, you walk towards the bathroom. It is the next day, you kept your promise you tell yourself. The door is slightly ajar, the warm yellow light spilling out, besides the sound of water hitting the shower floor, you hear just the slightest moan. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sure you heard it, and once again a moan, followed by a low groan.

You walk in, your eyes on the floor, not daring to look up fully. "Joost?" your voice only loud enough he would hear it. The water stops, "Hey." you hear his voice from the fogged up shower, he wipes his hand against the glass door of the shower, creating a window for himself to see more clearly. You lock eyes with his, "Can I join you?" you ask as you slowly take off your top, he looks at your movements, his eyes going up and down your body. "Yes." you can tell his breathing is heavy, matching your own. You take off the rest of your clothes, leaving yourself naked in front of the shower, when he slides the shower door open, the steam flowing towards the ceiling.

You step into the shower, his hand holding you steady, so you wouldn't fall, you sigh when he turns the water back on, the hot flow feeling nice on your skin.

"Thought it'd more convenient if we took a shower together. Save you some money on the water bill."

"So thoughtful of you." he keeps maintaining eye contact, you can tell his eyes want to take you all in, but he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable.

You take the first step closer to him, putting your arms around his shoulders, your chest pressed up against his. "Is this okay?" you ask him. "More than okay." he leans his head to kiss you, his arms wrapped around your waist. The kiss is filled with everything you want to say, how attractive you find him, he licks into your mouth and you scratch lightly at his back, which ears you a groan, you can feel it vibrate from where your chest is pressed against his. He gets bolder his hands sliding down your wet body, both hands squeezing your ass. You kiss him deeper, he likes it, his dick heavy now you against your thigh. It kicks weakly. You lean back looking at him, fully taking him in. He looks so vulnerable without his glasses, or is it the fact that you are both naked. You notice his hairy chest, your eyes following the droplets of water going down his body, the trail of hair going down to his soft stomach, all the tattoos which were previously hidden under the clothes. His own eyes are eating you up too. Having skipped the phase where you'd undress each other bit by bit, carefully, one item of clothing at a time, maybe in another universe you have taken your time, but now you are fully naked in front of each other – all this skin, all the moles you want to count, tattoos you want to ask about, all revealed in one moment. It is all too much, but also not enough at the same time. He places a gentle kiss on your cheek, "I'm glad you are here."

"What were you doing before I joined?"

"Thinking about you."

"About me?" your hand trails down his body, from his shoulder, to his pecs, slowly sliding down, his eyes looking down at you getting darker with need. "What was I doing in your imagination?"

"You were right here. I was touching you." his hands move against your sides. He looks into your eyes and you nod, he puts his hand on your chest, cupping your tit, you sigh in pleasure, he fondles your chest, he thumb brushing against your nipple, pulling gently at it, he is hypnotised by the sight. You are glad his other arm is still holding you around your middle to keep you from falling. "What else?" you manage to say.

"I'd imagine fucking you. Turning you around, pressing you against the wall. Imagining my hand is you wrapped around me."

You take his hand and put it down, wrapping around his dick, your fingers on top of his. The muscles of his stomach jump from the contact. "Continue." you move his hand up from the bottom of his shaft, he is the one touching himself, you only guide his hand. "Fuck" he exhales when you twist your hand nearing the tip, beads of precum gliding down his shaft, make your movements smoother. You hand is slow at first, watching his every reaction, what makes him twitch. "What else were you imagining?" you want to hear his voice, it drives you crazy knowing he was jerking off thinking about you, all the day of teasing and clothed touches having him so pent up. His eyes are closed, you know he is trying not to cum too quickly. You drop your hand from where it was, but he is quick to put back where it was, right on top of his. "Please, don't stop" he opens his eyes, looking at you, his hair is wet, drops of water gliding down to his shoulders. You smile and move his hand faster, holding him tighter, making sure to apply just the right amount of pressure to the tip. His mouth is close to yours, he is breathing heavily, and you drink it all in.

"You are so pretty, Joost." you watch his face screw up in pleasure.

"Say it again." his other hand comes up from your waist to the back of your neck, making sure you are right where he wants you, close to him. "Say my name again."

"Joost." you say and continue your movements, alternating between fast and slow, twisting your wrist. You look down, his tip is a pretty shade of red, swollen, delicious droplets keep coming out, you can tell he is close, the way he is twitching in your hand, when your own thumb glides along the pulsing vein.

He tilts your head up and catches you in a heated kiss. It is wet, messy, both of your breathing heavy. He bites your lip, trying to show how much he wants you, how much you are driving him crazy, meanwhile your hand on top of his is not stopping. Gliding along the sticky cum, "Such a good boy for me" you say into his lips, he moans and you kiss his neck, his chest, along his tattoo Thanks for today. You will have to make sure to really thank him for today. When you feel like the kisses are enough, you bring your free hand to his balls. His voice cracks into a whimper, and he leans to put his hand from your neck to the shower wall behind you. You massage his balls, they are heavy in your hand, he is panting into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses, moaning in between.

It is all too much, "I'm close" you hear him say. "Fuck." his stomach is tense, you can feel your own arousal almost dripping from your core, getting off on his sounds and reactions. You move his hand away, now it's just you jerking him off, you feel the soft velvety skin under your palm, his other hand is now on your hip, he is looking down at you, into your eyes, down your body, at your hard nipples, begging for his attention.

Your palm rubs against his tip. "Yes, just like that." his mouth drops open, he bucks his hips into your hand, imagining it's your tight pussy. You move your hand faster and faster ready to make him cum, his hips moving in time with your hand. One last "Ah", his hips stuttering, he crashes his lips into yours and you feel him pulse in your hand – warm, white ribbons of cum covering your hand, your stomach, some falling into the shower drain. You continue pumping him, he moans your name when it gets too much, you give him one last glide, when you feel him soften in your hand, his breathing heavy, head dropped on your shoulder.

"That was..." he whispers. "Insane." he bites your shoulder and looks up at you with a smile. You bring your hand up to your mouth, licking off his cum, looking into his eyes. You let go of your finger with a pop, he takes your same finger and puts it in his mouth, you feel his tongue licking around. "You've been so good for me." he says, his arm wraps around waist firmly, pushing your back against the wall. Still holding your hand, he slowly guides it down. "Let me make you feel good." he brings your hand in between your legs. "Please." you nod.

"Tell me to stop if we cross the line." he tells you, although the line has already been crossed, but you agree with him.

He brings your finger in between your folds, guiding it slowly, he feels your slick arousal on his own fingers too, "So wet." he whispers, as he is leaving open mouthed kisses down to your chest. "Watching you masturbate was pretty hot." you confess with a soft laugh. "Oh, you did more than watch." he moves your two fingers to your clit, making slow circles. You are loud, not ashamed, you have been ready for any sort of touch since the begging of the night. "Now it's my turn to play." he wraps his tongue to your nipple, licking it gently, feeling the pebble on his tongue, it makes you gush around your own fingers, the pleasure building in your lower stomach. He moves your hand along your folds, and he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking it, he teases your finger around hole and pushes in. He is breathing heavy into your chest, nibbling gently, it makes you yelp, it is all so overwhelming, knowing it is your finger, but he is controlling the movements, the speed, which has increased now. "More, Joost. Please." you plead, your head thrown back against the wall. This is definitely not saving his shower bill at this point.

"More? What do you want?" he brings his head back up to yours.

"I want you." your brain is a mess, you can't think straight.

"My dick? My fingers? Hm?" you look at you. "Maybe my mouth?"

"Yes." you reply nodding.

He laughs. "You'll cum on my dick later, I promise, schat. In the meantime.." he moves your hand away, replacing it with his own fingers. His are much bigger than yours, you stretch around his two fingers, a loud moan escaping your lips. "Good, ja?" he asks watching your face. You nod feverishly, "So good."

He moves slow, finding that stop inside you, that will make your knees buckle, your mouth drops open suddenly, eyes screwed shut as you scream his name, he starts curling his fingers around the same spot "There it is" he says quietly to himself. "Yes, cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers." He is now pistoning his fingers in and out, the heel of his palm pressed against your clit. "I can't wait to have you loose yourself on my mouth." his movements never stopping, he says into your ear, he has you caged in between himself and the wall, he feels to be everywhere. You try to keep your volume down, hoping his neighbours can't hear you screaming out his name, but it is impossible when he makes you feel so good just with his fingers and voice in your ear. He feels you clench around his fingers. "And on my dick." he kisses your neck, leaving little bites in his way. "Under me." he kisses down your chest. "On top of me." more kisses. "Whatever you want." he takes your other nipple in his mouth and sucks. His hand must be cramping at this point, but he doesn't care, not when he has you making these delicious sounds. You wrap your arms around him, your legs shutting tighter on his arm, your pussy clenching around his fingers, orgasm rolls through you, your eyes screwed shut, leaning into him. He fingers you through it, only stops when he feels you push away at his arm.

"Good girl" he kisses your temple.

"Okay, now let's actually shower real quick."

You are tucked in into his bed, his arm around you, you feel tired but good. What a day it has been. You feel his steady breathing beside you. He smiles at you, his eyes heavy with sleep, but he can't stop looking at you.

"I thought smoking might ruin me, turns out it was leading me to you." he whispers and brings you even closer to him.

You place a quick kiss on his lips. "Write that down."

"Hm?" he slowly opens blinks his eyes open, his mind already half asleep.

"Write that down. Could be a good lyric." you say and he laughs softly.

"Good night."

"Good night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did you enjoy the show, joost?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“surprised that i smoke too?”

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

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

“what was that?!”

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

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

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

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

“yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you just can’t believe what time it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you okay?”

“are we on the same page about this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey…”

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

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

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

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

“i think you’re beautiful, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“f-fuck, schatje.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you don’t hesitate. 

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

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

“zo lekker…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“joost!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re really gonna kill me, schat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 he knows that he is, too.

“think you can give me one more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“even in all the mess?” 

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

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

————————————

Persistent rays of sunlight illuminated the quiet bedroom through the blinds in a warm, yet annoying way. It should be well past Joost's usual wake up time judging by how bright the room was, and his sleepy eyes insisted on staying closed, trying to avoid the intrusion. How dare the sun interrupt his peaceful sleep on a Sunday morning? The brightness completely ignored his eyelids just like it was ignoring the blinds, and made him reluctantly open them - his sensitive blues being exposed to the light. A huff left his lips as he blindly searched for his office siren glasses on the nightstand. Once he found and put them on, everything became a bit more clear. Especially the sleeping form beside him. He smiled at the sight. His vision was still adapting itself, but he could perfectly see how your soft breaths made your body move ever so slightly. Joost wrapped an arm around your waist, carefully not to press his chest against your back. He planted a chaste kiss on your neck, pulling away to observe the ink on your shoulder blades. The same ink that didn't allow him to hide his sleepy face against you - something that usually helped Joost protect his eyes from the piercing sunlight. He didn't want to risk putting pressure on your new tattoo. Your skin was still very sensitive from the session you'd had the previous day. Still, he couldn't help himself from kissing the area between the two angel wings, right where the fabric of the tank top you were wearing covered your skin. The touch of his lips was so featherlight, almost like a whisper, yet it made you stir. His hand slid to your lower back as soon as he felt you start to turn, stopping you from doing it.

"Hey, baby, careful." Plump lips murmured against your skin, right below your ear. "Your new tat." Another sweet kiss met your neck while his hand returned to its previous spot.

You just mumbled something in response, too lazy to fully wake up. He chuckled, massaging your waist under your shirt for a bit before gently grabbing your chin and making you turn your head for a kiss on the lips.

"Mmm good morning~" You hummed after the shared moment of affection.

"Goedemorgen, schat~" His deep, morning voice purred in your ear, the rough sound pleasantly scratching your brain. "Or should I call you 'my angel'?" He grinned, running a finger between your shoulder blades. "You know... this looks really good on you. Really pretty."

It took you a second to register he was talking about your new tattoo, your mind still clouded with sleepiness. But once you did, you melted at the compliment. His voice sounded just like he was in the presence of a real angel, like your inked wings were real and he was witnessing an ethereal creature wake up right beside him.

"Thank you... I'm glad you like it, because it hurt like hell."

"What?" He asked in a confused tone and you frowned. Had he seriously not paid attention to your complaints while you two were leaving the shop? Did the hand squeeze during the session tell him nothing at all?!

"What do you mean 'what'? You know this wasn't an easy tat."

"You mean to tell me you weren't born with these?" He kept his little act, making you roll your eyes at the same time that you cracked a smile.

"No. Can you believe it?" You decided to play along.

"Can't believe they forgot to send you with wings. An undercover angel, I see." He started giving you a series of kisses on the fabric of your tank top. "Finally making your presence known." A sneaky hand kneaded your waist. "But I've always known your little secret." He giggled at his own words, pulling away to look at your reaction.

"You are very cheesy, you know?"

"You love it."

You smiled. Yes, you did love it.

"How are you going to shower with this?" He asked, already on a different train of thought.

"Uh, the same way you did when you got yours?"

"All alone, baby? You know I can help, right?"

"I could actually use some help... It's kind of a difficult spot to reach..."

"Oh I know, but don't worry, I'm going to run you a nice bath and make sure that tattoo is well taken care of." He gave a sweet peck to your temple, immediately getting up.

"Wait, right now?"

"Yes, my love, don't forget you have to apply the ointment a few times throughout the day. You gotta start now."

You watched as he walked towards the bathroom, but not before adding a quick "I'll be right back".

The sound of the water filling the tub could be heard in the bedroom, almost lulling you back to sleep. Or maybe it was the thought that Joost was going to take care of you that made you relax. He was always so good to you. So gentle and loving. And he showed it especially in the little things. How he was preparing everything for your tattoo aftercare, how he re-entered the room just to kiss you softly and tell you the water was ready, how he carefully picked you up in his arms, carrying your still sleepy body to the bathroom. Legs wrapping around his waist while lazy arms were clinging to his neck. Joost slowly put you down, helping you take off your clothes and taking his in the process. He guided you to the bathtub and sat behind you, kissing your shoulder while avoiding the inked area. His every move was controlled and gentle, always making sure you felt comfortable. You just wanted to rest your back against his chest, like you always did, but you knew you had to be mindful of your tattoo.

"The healing phase sucks." You muttered with a pout.

"It's only been like a day since you got that!" He laughed.

"A very long day."

"Then it's gonna be a huge month." He let out another chuckle at your groan, gently caressing your thighs before turning on the water. He set it to a lukewarm temperature, letting it cascade down your shoulders. "Comfortable?" At your soft hum, he moved his hands to where the tattoo bandage was. "Alright, let's take this off then." Carefully, he pulled it off your skin, watching as some ink dripped down your back. Soon enough, you felt his big hand massaging your shoulder blades and helping clean the sore area. It felt so nice you almost purred.

"Joost," You slurred as he started washing it with the mild soap. "'M gonna fall asleep like this~"

"Ja? Getting sleepy again?" He grinned lazily.

"Mhm, your touch feels really good."

"You feel really good." His mouth found your neck, kissing it tenderly. "My sleepy little angel~"

You felt more water hit the skin of your shoulders in a gentle caress, rinsing the soap and some ink.

"You're just missing the halo now. It's not that you need it. You're already my sweet angel. Mijn lieve engel." He showered you in compliments as he washed the rest of your body with your usual soap. "But this tattoo is really perfect. You're perfect. I can't wait to kiss these beautiful wings."

"I want you to kiss them so badly."

"And I will, baby. Once it's healed, I'll be all over them. I'm gonna kiss them senseless. You'll see."

You chuckled at his 'mark my words' tone. He was adorable when he got like this. Like nothing else existed except you.

"Alright, I believe you." You struggled to say in the midst of your own giggles.

"You better." He whispered the words with a smile and quickly washed himself too, so that you both could get under the water and rinse off.

The water eliminated the remaining soap on your bodies. Joost always being careful not to let the suds get to the ink. And he did a damn good job. Faster than you could have done it yourself, you were out of the shower - a towel immediately being wrapped around you, while he grabbed his.

"Now we wait... half an hour and then I'll help you with the ointment." He patted the tattoo with a paper towel, proceeding to help you dry off the rest of your body.

You hated how long you had to wait for the tattoo to be completely dry before applying the ointment, but you knew it was necessary. Shyly, you turned around to check your angel wings in the mirror. The design really looked amazing, so everything was completely worth it. And having Joost lavishing it with attention was the cherry on top. He watched with a smile as your eyes appreciated the new addition, whispering in an absentminded way:

"Zo mooi..."

He let you observe the ink for a few more minutes before guiding you to the bedroom to get dressed. The both of you put on fresh clothes and headed towards the kitchen so Joost could make you breakfast, like he had insisted. Half an hour quickly went by. Always being pampered by your boyfriend. And you couldn't wait to be even more pampered. You longed to feel his big hands massaging your shoulder blades and telling you how beautiful you looked with your new tattoo. Especially when he kept rambling about how good he was going to take care of you.

Once you got upstairs again, you immediately sat on the bed, baring your back to Joost by lifting the new tank top you had put on. You were going to make sure he could see your new ink even if you were wearing clothes. And tank tops were the perfect way to do just that.

"Just look at you... wow..." He sighed as he sat on his heels behind you, hands instantly caressing your back. “This really suits you.” His mustache tickled your neck as he nuzzled against it, pressing soft kisses to your skin. “You look so sexy. Mwah!” Joost gave you a loud, final kiss before pulling away to reach for the Bepanthen. He squeezed it and allowed a small amount to go to his fingertip, letting out distracted “lalala”s in the process, making you smile. And then, his hands were on you again, on your inked skin, applying the ointment. “So soft~”

You barely caught his murmur from how quiet it sounded, almost like he was talking to himself. Or maybe your brain was too busy turning to mush to understand his words. A soothing sensation washed over you, and honestly? You weren’t so sure it came from the ointment. It was the type of relief you only felt when his hands were on you. They felt like Heaven against the tender area, massaging gently and making you relax. However, it didn’t last long.

“Babyyy!” You complained in a lazy voice.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” His lips pressed against your neck in a loving peck before he carefully pulled your shirt down and put the Bepanthen away.

“More.” Your tone made him laugh.

“What do you mean ‘more’? We can’t torture this pretty skin too much.”

“It wasn’t being torture…”

“To you. Not to your tat.” Another chuckle. “We gotta let it rest. Or else it won’t heal.”

“It was healing, though.”

“You know how that’ll heal?” He suddenly pulled you onto his lap, grabbing your waist. “If you just leave.it.alone.” He nibbled on your shoulder and you squeaked, letting out a giggle. “No touching. I have other ways of making my little angel feel good that don’t involve torturing these sweet wings.” Rough yet loving kisses met your neck, making more giggles come from you.

And a gasp.