writing the sins that come to my mind

“You like ‘em that much, huh?” he teases, flexing just to watch your eyes darken, that little shiver running through you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but you don’t deny it. Can’t. Because you are obsessed. Always have been. It’s in the way you shift whenever he spreads his legs just a little wider, in the way your gaze drops every time he’s wearing those sinful little shorts that barely cover anything. He knows.

So, one day, he just fucking does it. Walks into a shop like it’s any other appointment, picks the inside of his thigh and gets it inked. It’s your spot, the place where he loves to feel you the most. Right where your pretty little pussy is always grinding down, where your hand rests when you’re on your knees for him as he deepthroats you.

And then he waits. He doesn’t tell you. Just sits on the couch all casually one day, a short pair of shorts on, arm draped over the back, legs spread like a fucking invitation, watching you melt the second your eyes drift down.

It takes you a second. But then—oh, then you see it. Right there, stretching across the inside of this thick, tanned thigh.

Your mouth parts, eyes going wide, and Daniel just smirks. Smug, filthy, completely insufferable. Your first instinct is to scoff, to roll your eyes, to pretend like this doesn’t instantly send heat surging between your legs. But the way your breath catches gives you away. The way your fingers twitch at your sides.

And Daniel knows it.

His smirk deepens, full of amusement, full of that filthy self-satisfaction that makes you want to smack him—or sit on his lap and grind until you’re both a panting, moaning mess.

He reaches for you, grip firm on your waist, pulling you in until you’re standing between his legs.

“Do you like it?,” he murmurs, voice a low, teasing drawl. Then his fingers hook into your waistband, tugging at your shorts.

Your pulse spikes.

“Danny—”

But he’s already dragging them down, sliding them over your thighs, letting them drop to the floor with a careless flick of his wrist.

“It’s healed now, sweetheart,” he says, smug and slow, fingers tracing up the back of your thighs, dragging higher, higher—until he’s gripping your ass, pulling you down into his lap.

Your knees land on either side of his thigh, bare except for your panties, your cunt pressed right against the muscle—but not touching the ink.

Not yet.

And fuck, that’s the worst part.

Because he knows you’re desperate for it.

Knows you ache to feel it under you, to coat that fresh ink with the mess he loves to pull from your cunt.

You squirm, but his grip tightens, holding you there, just barely out of reach. Your lips part, breath shaky, but Daniel’s already leaning in, mouth brushing against your ear.

“Time to break it in, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, with command.

Then he flexes.

And fuck.

A gasp rips from your throat as the muscle tenses beneath you, sending a pulse of pleasure straight to your pussy.

His fingers slide between your thighs, tracing your clit, feeling the growing wetness on the flimsy scrap of fabric barely covering you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice low and smug, the pads of his fingers pressing just enough to make your hips twitch. “Soaked already? You really are obsessed with my thighs, huh?”

You make a weak sound in protest, but it’s cut off the second he presses harder, rolling slow, lazy circles over the wet fabric.

“You gonna deny it?” he taunts, lips grazing the curve of your jaw. His other hand tightens on your hip, holding you still when you try to grind against him.

You shake your head because it doesn’t matter if you try to deny it, he already has proof of how much you love it.

Your breath shudders, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence, losing your train of thought instantly when he pulls your panties to the side, fingers hooking into the lace, dragging the sticky fabric away from your cunt.

And then—oh, fuck.

He slides you forward, drags you right onto the tattoo.

Your gasp is sharp, nails clawing at his skin as your slick pussy presses flush against the ink, against the heat of his thigh.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, watching the way your body reacts, the way your thighs tremble at the first roll of his hips.

Your breath stutters as Daniel’s hands tighten on your ass, forcing you to move, grinding your bare cunt against the inked muscle beneath you. The heat of his thigh is scorching, every flex sending sparks of pleasure ricocheting up your spine.

“That’s it,” he mutters, eyes dark, hungry, glued to where you’re dragging yourself over him. “Fuck, baby, look at you. So desperate to make a mess on me.”

And you are. Every slow roll of your hips leaves another slick imprint against his tattoo, marking it in the filthiest way possible. Your arousal coats his skin, a thin, glistening sheen spreading across the ink.

Daniel groans, his cock straining against his shorts as he watches. “You see that, baby?” His fingers trail forward, catching your inner thighs, spreading you wider, exposing the swollen, soaked mess between your legs. “You’re fuckin’ drippin’. Soaking me like you were made to sit right here.”

You whimper, thighs trembling, but he’s not done yet.

With a wicked grin, he presses two fingers to your folds, spreading them apart, forcing your clit to drag directly over the ink.

A strangled cry rips from your throat. “Daniel—fuck—”

“Mmm, that’s better,” he murmurs, watching the way you jerk, the way your hips roll uncontrollably at the added friction. “Right there, huh? Feels good, princess? Fuckin’ knew it would.”

His fingers stay right there, keeping you open, making sure every desperate, frantic drag of your cunt rubs your swollen clit against his thigh. The stimulation is brutal, each slick, messy stroke sending another wave of pleasure rolling through you.

“That’s my girl,” Daniel rasps, completely enthralled by the way you move, by the way you’re coating his tattoo with your arousal. “Look at this pretty fuckin’ pussy, baby. So greedy. Just can’t stop grindin’ all over me, huh?”

You can’t. You won’t. Because it’s too much, too good, too perfect, and you can already feel it building, that desperate, tightening coil ready to snap at any second.

And Daniel knows it too.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he purrs, voice thick with filth and satisfaction. “Mark your fuckin’ seat.”

daniel’s head was tipped back against the couch of your shared hotel room, eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at you between his legs. a low groan escaped his lips as your thumb teased his sensitive tip, spreading the precum that was starting to leak from it. his hips involuntary jerked, silently begging for more of your touch, and it only made you smirk with enjoyment.

surprising him, you leaned in closer and your hot breath fanned over his swollen tip. daniel’s eyes widened momentarily, body tensing before his eyes were screwed shut; letting out a long groan as you kitten licked the slit of his leaking cock.

tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue, you moaned around his tip and looked up at him through your lashes. daniel couldn’t help but let his hips jerk up against your lips once again, a whine escaping him as he became more desperate.

moving your hand to the base of his cock, gripping it and steadying him as you took him in your mouth. your eyes rolled back as you felt your tongue glide over the veins of the underside of him, moaning gently around him as daniel bucked his hips right up into your face, hands gripping the couch as he tried to control himself.

you began to work daniel deeper; hollowing your cheeks, alternating between a slow, languid pace and a faster, harsher one. daniel couldn’t keep his hands to himself for much longer, one of his large hands moving to your hair; tangling his fingers in it as he made a makeshift ponytail for you to keep taking him.

daniel gasped your name, hips rocking forward as he chased the heat of your mouth. gripping your hair tighter, he held your head in place as he started to thrust up into your face, making you take every inch of him down your throat as you choked around his cock.

it didn’t take long for you to get daniel to the edge, and it was made obvious with many signs; his erratic breathing, his hips bucking with a more desperate rhythm, his voice breaking into breathy moans— it was all signs of daniel reaching his limit.

with one last deep suck, you pulled off of him, looking up to him as you allowed your hand to keep working at his shaft, a fast pace in motion to push him over the edge.

the contrast of your cold hand compared to your hot mouth against his wet skin caught him off guard, his body arching beneath you as he let out broken moans, and whiny chants of your name. you squeezed his length once more, whispering a low “come for me”, and that was all it took for daniel to finish.

his whole body tensed, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as his release spilled out, thick and hot, pooling across his toned stomach. you watched with a lazy smile as the spurts of his cum slowed to a drip, his body quivering from the aftershocks. daniel’s chest heaved with every breath, glistening with sweat in the dim light. the sheen of sweat clung to him, emphasising the curves of his muscles, and contrasting with the dark hair that decorated his body.

moving your eyes down, you watched the way his cum glistened against his stomach, trailing down over the dark line of hair that led down to his navel downward— a part of daniel that you had became obsessed with. his happy trail was something you found irresistible, a teasing invitation for your mouth to follow. you leaned down, your warm breath against his skin, and let your tongue trace over the dark, soft line, enjoying the way his muscles twitched beneath you.

starting just below the navel, you licked slowly up, feeling the coarse hair against your tongue, tasting the mix of his salty sweat and release. you took your time, allowing your tongue to explore every ridge and hollow, as if you were mapping him out. your tongue followed the faint line of hair, cleaning up every last drop of him. you savoured the way his happy trail felt against you, a deliciously rough contrast to the slickness of his warm skin.

after you had licked up the warm release from his stomach, you placed a soft kiss against his abs before you leaned back on your knees, looking up at daniel. his hooded eyes were staring down at you, and his hand lazily came out to cup your face; and he stroked the apple of your cheek softly. you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily before you heard daniel let out a lazy sigh.

“my good girl,” he muttered, sounding absolutely spent from the events that had just occurred. you smiled up at him, moving your face to press a kiss against the palm of his large hand before standing yourself up, moving to daniel’s side and cuddling into him, letting him recover as you peppered him with kisses and affection.

it happens to daniel. a lot.

it’s been with him all his life, gets too excited over the smallest things. he remembers a time with his ex, cumming just from the dirty talk she had whispered in his ear, while being sat atop his lap. no grinding, no nothing. just the words were enough to send him over the edge.

and you? he thinks the issue has gotten worse since he first lay eyes on you. the time he watched you through his window like a perv, watching as you innocently fended to your garden? he could’ve came without the palming, but alas he needed to touch himself, trying to ground himself as he thought about the filthiest scenarios with you.

and now that you’re his.. well it happens all too often. the first time it happened though, he was more embarrassed than ever.

the night had started innocently enough. you had come over, opted to make dinner for him and the kids— nothing unusual. it was nice, it felt super domestic when you were all sat at the table, chewing away at the food with some small chatter in between.

it was as soon as the kids were upstairs though, that you were all over him. he hadn’t expected it, that you’d jump onto him. he caught you with ease, both hands holding your ass as he tried to kiss you back with as much energy you had put into it yourself.

he had to ask though, where this all suddenly came from. he tried to pull back, tried asking you about it, but your lips just kept attacking his. “sweetheart,” he tried, before being caught in another kiss. “i need to—” another kiss, “ask what’s going—” another, “on?” he finally finished, and you pulled your head back.

“what do you mean?” “don’t get me wrong, i love the attention.. i love this a lot. but it’s so sudden, what changed from dinner to now?” he asks, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips.

he really doesn’t remember what happened between then and getting to the couch. something about you complimenting him, how hot he looked when he wasn’t trying. he didn’t care though, because things were only getting hotter.

his back was against the couch pillows now, you on top of him as your lips fought for dominance. his large hands were resting on your hips, occasionally squeezing them to try distract you, trying to cheat his way into winning.

your hands were on his shoulders, gripped tightly onto them as you tried to hold your ground against him. it made it easy for to start grinding down onto him, seeing as you had a way to keep yourself stable.

you felt daniel falter, the grip on your hips loosening as his fingers went slack momentarily, along with his mouth. you had won the battle for dominance, tongue slipping into his mouth as your hips continued to grind rhythmically onto his. 

it takes a couple moments for daniel to snap out the daze, but when he comes back to his senses he’s replicating your movements, bucking his hips up to meet your moves. his hands find their way back to the original spot they were rested in before, putting more strength into making sure your clothed cunt was hitting against his erection.

he felt giddy, like he was on cloud nine. your tits bouncing in front of him, your cunt rubbing against his cock, your mouth owning his, and the soft praises that escaped you between breaths— it was all too much, really.

that’s all it took for him to cum right then and there in his boxers. his head tilted right back, eyes squeezing shut as his mouth once again went slack. the moans that escaped him were delightful, ranging from higher, more whine-like moans to deep, breathy groans. his hips continued to buck, though a stutter momentarily made it’s way into the rhythm as he rode out the orgasm completely.

you watched as he came down from his high, chest panting as his eyes couldn’t open fully from being in such a daze. it took him a minute before he realised what had happened, the sticky feeling in his boxers reminding him where he was.

his eyes widened as he tried to sit himself up properly, but with you still on top of him he didn’t make much progress, and his eyes warily looked into your own.

your hand moved up to cup his face, thumb slowly dragging over his cheek before teasing his lips gently. “what’s up, dan?” you asked dragging your thumb off his lip, letting it pop back into place. you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed, a gulp evidently just passing.

“i— come on, sweetheart,” he starts, shaking his head lightly as he sighs. “i fucking came in my boxers like a teen. you’ve got to understand my issue?” he laughs dryly, anticipating the laugh that’ll escape you. whether it’s a teasing laugh or a grossed out laugh, he doesn’t want to know.

that’s why it surprises him when it doesn’t come, and you’re just watching him with a raised brow. “why is that an issue, dan?” you ask him, allowing your free hand to trail down his body. past his shirt, lingering over his crotch before moving to the waistband of his slacks and boxers, and slipping your hand in.

you feel his cock already hardening again, as well as the slight jerk of his hips. still sensitive. “this,” you start, squeezing his cock as he lets out a low groan and tries to squeeze his thighs together, “is fucking hot, daniel. you have no idea” you murmur, moving your face right infront of his again.

“let me show you how much i love it.”

“well i’d hope so,” you start, trying to focus on the task at hand which was your freshly baked cookies. “otherwise it’d mean the cookies were burnt,” you giggle softly, shivering at the way daniel lets out a low chuckle against your neck. 

“not just the cookies though, sweetheart,” he mumbles, burying his nose deeper into your neck as he inhales, letting out a deep sigh against your skin. you smile at daniel’s words, trying not to let him affect you too much. focus on the cookies, you tell yourself.

“what can i do for you, danny?” you ask him, eyes focused on the snowman shaped cookie you were currently frosting. daniel hums against your neck, still nosing against it. you know he’s in here for a reason, but why he’s taking so long to say it confuses you. “need you to help me out,” he starts, moving his head from your neck. his arms slowly wrap around your waist, pulling you both closer together than before. you sigh, tilting your head to the side. “danny, i’m–” you start, but the words get caught in your throat as daniel pushes himself right against you and– oh.

suddenly you can feel daniel’s aching cock pressing right into your ass, as he lets out a low grumble from his throat. he pushes you further into it, clothed erection slipping its way in between your cheeks as you gasp.

“dan, i– i can’t, the cookies–” you stutter, a whine escaping you as daniel rocks into your ass, his head resting against your hair. the small, muffled groans are tempting, and you feel the determination to finish frosting your baked goods slip away.

“come on baby, i need you,” he starts lowly, pushing you right against the counter. your hands grip onto it as you turn your head back, watching as daniel focuses on your ass, continuing to rock his cock right into it. “i know you need me too. be a good girl f’me, hm? let’s have a little fun. the cookies can wait.”

daniel’s words don’t help your fight against him, and you’re close to giving in. daniel move his hands to grip your hips, holding them tightly as his rocks become harder, continuous groaning coming from him as he gets the friction he’s been desiring for god knows how long now.

you don’t mind, you’re actually feeling into it. that is, until one particular rock of his hips is harder than the others, pushing you further into the counter as your clothed chest rests on the cookie you were just frosting. you whine daniel’s name, letting him know what he had done. you turn to see him again, this time being met with a smirk as he pulled back, flipping you round to face him.

“sorry about that sweetheart,” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your lips before his hands move to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off of you. you gasp as your shirt comes off with only a couple tugs, face going bright red at your now exposed chest. you shiver at the cold air hitting your bare torso, nipples hardening at the sudden coldness. 

daniel’s eyes are wide, stuck on your bare chest as he licks his lips. he moves his hands up your body, allowing himself to take your tits into his large palms. “you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he starts lowly, the heat flourishing over your face. “not even wearing a bra? naughty,” he teases, thumbs flicking across your nipples, causing a mewl to escape you.

daniel’s hands squeeze at your breasts, some squeezes are slow, allowing his fingers to drag across your tit, others are faster, more forceful squeezes. no matter what he does though, moans free themselves from your mouth as you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his warm hands.

“so vocal for me baby,” he hums, taking both nipples between his thumb and index fingers to pinch them harshly, revelling in the whine that you let out. “love hearing you fall apart for me, letting me play with you as you just take it like a good girl.”

his filthy words send a shock of pleasure right to your core and fuck, you need more of it, you need more of him. you move your arms to wrap around daniel’s neck, pulling him closer to you again. he moves his hands from your chest, trailing them down to cup your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

the feeling of your sensitive nipples against daniel’s clothed chest is heavenly, and your eyes roll back at the feeling. you don’t stop yourself from moving against him, too embarrassed to care about what he’d think– your brain was in pleasure-driven mode.

daniel doesn’t think negatively of it obviously, and indulges in his own needs. his grip on your ass becomes more firm, fingers digging into the soft skin as he begins to rock you against him. though both of your bottom halves are closed, the pleasure is still immeasurable. daniel’s erection fitting against your clothed pussy was heaven for daniel himself, low rumbles of pleasure coming from his chest.

the friction from daniel’s shirt makes you more desperate, trying to push yourself even closer to continue getting the burning pleasure from your sensitive tits. daniel is a giver more than a receiver, so he’s happy you a hand again. he slips one hand from your ass, sliding it up between your bodies as he starts to play with your tits, switching his hand between them to give them equal treatment. 

“danny please, i need more of you,” you whine, and daniel’s eyes darken as he looks down at you. he smirks, head moving so his lips were ghosting your own, his hot breath almost teasing you.

“yeah sweetheart, you need me? want my cock filling you up? cum decorating you just like you had been doing?” he pants, leaving small, teasing kisses on your lips. the begs and pleas that escape your mouth are almost too much for daniel, combine it with the fact he’s still grinding against you and he would’ve finished just then and there had he not pulled away.

you whine at the loss of touch and friction, but you cut your whine off with a gasp as daniel is turning you again, pushing you against the counter as your bare tits lay across the cold marble. daniel’s hands move to your leggings, grabbing the waistband and tugging them down along with your panties. he frees himself of his own constraints, sweatpants and boxers being pushed down as his erection sprung out, hitting off of his stomach from the impact which caused a throaty groan.

daniel positioned himself so his tip was lightly prodding your hole. you whined, pushing your hips back into him as a sign to hurry up. daniel tutted though, moving his right hand to spank your ass. “enough of that or you won’t get anything,” he warns you, causing you to mumble a small apology.

daniel tries again, allowing his tip to prod at your hole and this time, you stay still. daniel praises you this time, mumbling a “good girl” as he allows himself to start sinking into you. he’s going slow, achingly slow but you know you have to stay still, or else he’ll pull back again. he’s slowly stretching you out with his cock, inch by inch slipping inside you.

as soon as he’s fully inside you he stops, allowing himself to sit inside you for a moment. you whine, but don’t dare move. “danny, please,” you plead, head dropping onto your arms that are across the counter, resting in front of your tits.

“patience baby, that’s all you need,” he teases, moving his other hand to rest on top of your ass, slowly moving up and down it. you gasp when you suddenly feel a finger slip between your cheeks, holding your breath as you anticipate what’s coming.

but it never happens.

you turn your face round, ready to whine at daniel but you can’t, not when he’s suddenly starting to move, causing a gasp to escape you. daniel smirks at your reaction, continuing to move. it’s slow and teasing, but it’s better than nothing so you don’t dare complain to him about it.

daniel continues his slow thrusts for a few minutes, and you’re desperate for him to go faster, even if it’s only a little. your wish is answered suddenly, though not in the way you had expected. daniel’s pace picks up, and it’s relentless. it’s a sudden switch from the slow, teasing thrusts and you can’t even comprehend it.

all that escapes you are desperate pants as you finally get what you had been silently begging for. your tits move against the counter, the impact of daniel’s thrusts are lethal, but you’re loving it. the rough thrusts, the large hand on your ass, the feel of your sensitive tits rocking against the cold counter– it was amazing.

“good girl, taking my cock so well,” daniel begins to praise, making you smile as he continues to fuck you harshly. “so good for letting me take you right here, instead of denying me. but i know you wanted me too sweetheart, right from the start,” he continues, words going from praising to more teasing. “and i knew you’d let me take you, because you’re such a slut for me, aren’t you baby? always desperate for my cock, milking me of my cum. so needy,” he finishes, words now going into degrading territory.

and that was the thing about daniel. he could sweet talk you one minute, and the next he’d be degrading you like you were nothing but a sex toy for him. and you loved it.

daniel moves his other hand to your hair, fisting it to make a make-do ponytail as he yanks you backwards, leaning forward to meet you halfway. “going to finish all over your back baby, decorate you with my cum,” he whispers lowly, a groan escaping him as you whine. “might even let it sit too, until it dries in. let you match with your cookies,” he tells you, thrusting deeper into you as your mouth fell open, no words being able to leave it. “and i’ll let you have your own cookies baby, but best believe i’ll be keeping you for my treat later,” he tells you, before pushing your head away as he began to focus more on his thrusts again.

you couldn’t keep yourself still anymore, rocking your hips back against daniel as he thrusted into you. daniel didn’t punish you for it this time, rather he appreciated you joining in, helping you both get closer to the edge.

and it was coming, daniel could tell. you weren’t able to say anything, the only word that was able to leave you was daniel, coming out in whines, moans or pleas. your legs were shaking too, he had noticed, and he could feel you tightening around his cock.

“come on sweetheart, i know your close,” he whispers as he moves to your ear, leaving a trail of kisses from right under it all the way down to your neck. “finish for me, i know you can,” he mumbles against your skin, grazing his teeth along it before biting down to leave one red blotch on you.

the bite was enough to send you over the edge, tightening right around daniel’s cock as your orgasm came crashing through you. you rode out the orgasm, continuing to rock against daniel at your own pace as you moaned his name loudly, letting out sighs of pleasure at the thread finally snapping in your belly. your juices coated his cock as he continued to thrust inside you, and daniel bit his lip at the sight, watching his cock go in and out of you, watching as it got covered in your slick.

it didn’t take long for daniel to finish either, pulling out from you and stroking himself a few times. you were still laying half across the counter, eyes closed as you tried to regain your breath. you could hear the sounds of daniel getting himself off, the small huffs and the sound of his hand sliding up and down his shaft was enough evidence.

as soon as you heard the higher pitched moan escape daniel, you turned round and watched as his cock began to coat your back with thick streaks of cum. your mouth fell open at the sight, admiring the way his cum painted your back. daniel groaned deeply at the sight, allowing every last drop to make its way onto your back, holding to his filthy promise from during the sex.

“not washing you up sweetheart, i’m keeping it all over your back,” he hummed, causing you to whine at him. as much as the idea sounded amazing as he fucked you, now his sticky cum was all over your back and your orgasm and subsided, you felt a little different. daniel cooed at your noises, moving his hand to your back. “don’t be like that c’mon, i’ll give you a little taste,” he offered, running his fingers along your back as he gathered some of his cum onto his index and middle fingers.

moving his hand from your back, he moved it up to your face and put the two fingers in your mouth, licking his lips as you cleaned up his fingers. it was a little salty of course, but the taste of daniel was enough to convince you to let him do as he pleased.

“good girl, we’ll continue this later once its dried up.”

Your ass stings faintly, the heat from his palm still imprinted on your skin where he slapped you over and over again, each sharp crack followed by the low, gravelly praise that had you arching into him despite the sting.

“Good girl,” he’d murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Look how perfect you take it. Fuck, you love it, don’t you?”

You had. You still do.

The bruises on your thighs ache in a way that makes you press them together, a futile attempt to dull the sensation. His mouth had been relentless, lips and teeth marking you, sucking hard enough to leave you trembling beneath him.

You shudder at the memory, heat pooling low in your stomach as you trace a hand over the faint outline of his bites, each one a claim he didn’t bother to hide.

A noise pulls you from the haze of your thoughts—a small clatter from beyond the bedroom door. For a moment, you freeze, heart skipping a beat. You expected to wake up alone. Hell, you were certain he’d be gone by now, leaving nothing behind but the ache in your body and the marks on your skin.

But he’s still here.

You sit up slowly, the sheets slipping from your bare body, pooling around your waist. Your eyes scan the floor, searching for something to cover yourself with. Your clothes are nowhere to be found, scattered somewhere in the frenzy of last night. Instead, your gaze lands on his shirt, crumpled in a heap near the bed.

With a quiet sigh, you reach for it, pulling the fabric over your head. It smells like him—faintly musky with a hint of sweat and the lingering scent of his cologne. The hem barely skims the curve of your ass but you don’t bother with anything else.

Padding softly across the room, you open the door and step into the hallway. The noise grows louder—a faint clinking of dishes, the low hum of the fridge. You follow the sounds, heart thudding in your chest, unsure of what to expect.

When you reach the kitchen, you stop in the doorway, your breath catching in your throat.

There he is.

Daniel stands with his back to you, only wearing his sweatpants from last night, the broad expanse of his shoulders bathed in the soft morning light streaming through the window. His skin is marked, faint red lines from where your nails had dug into him last night. His curls are tousled, a wild mess that only makes him look better, more effortlessly attractive.

You watch as he moves around the kitchen with an ease that feels almost too familiar—like he’s done this before, like he belongs here. He’s focused on whatever he’s doing, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you just stand there, taking him in.

The muscles in his back shift as he reaches for something on the counter, and you bite your lip, a fresh wave of heat curling low in your stomach. He’s gorgeous, every inch of him, and the sight of him standing there, so domestic and yet so effortlessly him, makes your pulse quicken.

Finally, you step forward, the floor creaking softly beneath your feet. He hears it, glances over his shoulder, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a lazy, knowing smirk.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes flick down to the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—and the smirk deepens. “Looks good on you.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the fabric of the shirt shifting with the movement. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He shrugs, turning back to the stove where something sizzles in a pan. “Thought about it,” he admits. “But then I got hungry. And, well”—he glances over his shoulder again, that infuriating smirk still in place—“had to do something about it.”

You arch a brow, leaning against the doorframe. “So you’re making breakfast?”

“Relax, darling,” he says with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not moving in. Just figured you might want something decent to eat after last night.” His eyes darken slightly, the smirk fading into something softer, something almost intimate. “You earned it.”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies, and you’re not sure if it’s from the way he’s looking at you or the memory of exactly how you earned it. You shift on your feet, the soreness between your thighs a constant reminder.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your voice softer now, unsure how to navigate this unexpected domestic moment with someone like him—someone who usually leaves before the sun comes up, someone who doesn’t stay.

“Need any help?” You ask after a moment, trying to keep your voice light and casual.

He glances over his shoulder again, that smirk tugging at his lips. “Help?” He scoffs, turning back to the pan. “Nah. Sit your pretty ass down. After last night, I’m sure it’s sore enough without you trying to play chef.”

Your breath catches at his words, the heat rising to your cheeks again. He’s not wrong—you are sore. The ache between your thighs and the lingering sting on your skin are proof enough of that. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to spread across your face as you thought of something.

“Alright,” you murmur, walking toward the fridge. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

You pull open the fridge door, the cool air brushing against your bare legs as you pretend to search for something on the bottom shelf. Slowly, deliberately, you bend down, your movements unhurried, knowing full well that the shirt barely covers you. You feel the hem ride up, exposing the curve of your ass—still marked with the faint red handprints he left there hours ago.

You stay there for a moment, reaching for nothing in particular, giving him a full view. The kitchen falls silent, the soft sizzle from the stove the only sound until you hear him mutter your name under his breath—a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

You glance back over your shoulder, feigning innocence, your lips curving into a playful smirk. “Oops,” you say softly, the word dripping with mischief. You straighten up slowly, letting the shirt fall back into place, but not before adding, “I’m so sore, Danny.”

His eyes are darker now, locked on you, the easy smirk on his face gone, replaced by something else—something hungry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you can see the way his fingers grip the handle of the pan just a little tighter.

He lifts his free hand, curling two fingers in a slow, deliberate motion—a silent summons that makes your breath hitch. You don’t hesitate. You move toward him until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating from him and the stove.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. He turns back to the pan, but his movements are less composed now, less sure. “Sit your ass down before I make it even sorer.”

A soft chuckle escapes you, pleased with the effect you have on him, and instead of taking a seat at the table, you hop onto the countertop beside him, the cool surface a sharp contrast to your warm skin. Your thigh brushes against his arm as you settle in, your eyes fixed on him with a teasing glint.

“I’m just following orders,” you say sweetly, resting your chin in your hand as if you have no idea what you’re doing to him. “Besides, you said you were making breakfast. I’m curious to see if you can actually cook.”

Daniel glances at you again, amusement flickering behind the hunger in his eyes. His lips curl into a smirk that’s equal parts cocky and dangerous. “Oh, I can cook,” he says smoothly. “But if you keep pulling tricks like that…” His eyes drag over you, slow and deliberate, “…we might never make it to breakfast.”

You shift slightly on the counter, spreading your thighs naturally which causes the shirt to ride up higher, exposing more of your bare skin. His shirt on you barely covers anything now, and when the fabric slides up further, the faint bruises and marks from his mouth are on full display.

His gaze locks onto them, those red and purple imprints, a reminder of the way he claimed you last night. His breath catches, and when his eyes trail higher his gaze lands on your cunt, the muscle in his jaw tightens. His hand, the one holding the spatula, flexes, knuckles going white for a moment before he sets the utensil down with more force than necessary.

A low groan escapes him, deep and guttural, his eyes burning with something primal. “Fuck…” he mutters, voice thick with desire. He swallows hard, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, his focus slipping entirely from the stove to you. “You’re really testing my patience, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smirk. “Am I?” you ask softly, letting your knees fall open a little more. “I didn’t mean to. I was just getting comfortable.”

Daniel’s eyes darken as he takes one last look at the pan, then makes a decision. He turns off the stove with a flick of his wrist, the sizzle dying down immediately. His gaze shifts around the kitchen, scanning briefly before landing on a bowl of fruit on the counter. His hand reaches for a banana, and the smirk on his face deepens as he steps between your legs, the heat of him pressing into you.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you, his voice low, rough with hunger—but not for food. His body slots perfectly between your thighs, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place. “Eat it.”

You blink, confused for a second, until his smirk twists into something darker, more dangerous. His eyes flick down to the space between your legs and then back up to meet yours, his meaning crystal clear.

“Because my breakfast,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “is right here, spreading her legs like a slut, and I’m fucking starving.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look at him, heat pooling low in your belly. The way he’s watching you, like he’s already devouring you with his eyes, sends a thrill through you. Still, you peel the banana slowly, the tension thick in the air as you bring it to your lips.

Daniel’s gaze never leaves you. His eyes follow every movement, watching intently as you take a bite, your lips wrapping around the fruit. You don’t mean to make it seductive—it just happens, the way your mouth lingers on it, the way your tongue flicks against the edge. His jaw tightens, and he swallows hard, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his hand twitching against the counter like he’s holding himself back by sheer force of will. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

You glance at him through your lashes, feigning innocence as you finish the banana. “Just eating,” you say softly, your voice teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted, sir?”

“Careful,” he warns, taking a step closer, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you against the counter. The heat of him is palpable, his presence overwhelming. “Keep playing, and I’ll forget about being nice.” His eyes flash with something darker, more dangerous. “Is that what you want?”

You lean back slightly, feigning nonchalance, but your pulse quickens under his intense gaze. “I’m just being good,” you reply, your voice a breathy whisper. “Doing what you asked.”

Daniel chuckles, a dark, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing over the faint bruises he left last night, each touch igniting a spark of heat. “Good, huh?” His lips brush against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “I’ll decide if you’re good or not.”

He leans in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s possessive, hungry, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slips past, claiming you all over again. The kiss leaves you breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he pulls away just enough to look at you.

“Let’s see how much of a good girl you can be f’me,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust, before dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him settle between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them wide. His touch is firm, possessive, fingers brushing over the bruises he left last night. He pauses for a moment, admiring his handiwork, before lowering his head and pressing kisses to some of the marks—soft, almost reverent touch that contrasts sharply with the roughness in his voice.

“Look at these,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along the inside of your thigh. “Fucking gorgeous. You wear my marks so well, sweetheart. Like you were made for it.”

You shiver under his touch, every nerve ending sparking to life as his mouth inches closer to your pussy. His breath is hot against your skin, and then—finally—his tongue flicks out, a teasing, feather-light touch against your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he licks a slow, deliberate line up your cunt. He takes his time, savoring every inch of you, his tongue circling, teasing, until you’re trembling beneath him.

He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core. “So fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled by your thighs. “Could live between these legs and never get tired of it.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you open as his mouth works you over, kissing, licking, sucking with a relentless precision that has you writhing, your body arching off the counter. He alternates between soft, teasing flicks of his tongue and deep, hungry sucks that have your legs trembling.

“God, you’re a mess already,” he says, pulling back for a moment to look at you, his lips glistening with your slick. His eyes are dark, filled with something feral, something utterly unrestrained. “You’re dripping all over the counter. Fucking filthy, baby.”

His words make you whimper, the heat in your belly coiling tighter. He chuckles darkly, the sound sending another jolt of arousal through you.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunts, his fingers brushing against your entrance before sliding inside, curling just right. “Being my dirty little girl. Letting me fuck you with my mouth until you can’t even think straight.”

You can’t answer—your brain is a haze of pleasure, every coherent thought drowned out by the way he’s touching you, the way his tongue flicks over your clit again and again, driving you closer to the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Daniel coaxes, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Let go. I want to feel you come on my tongue. Want to taste every fucking drop.”

Daniel’s fingers curl inside you with ruthless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot, his mouth relentless on your clit. The tension in your body coils tighter, each flick of his tongue, each deliberate curl of his fingers driving you closer and closer to the edge until you’re trembling, breathless, teetering on the brink.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he murmurs against you, the vibrations of his voice sending a shudder through your body. “Go on, baby. Let me feel it.”

A desperate whimper escapes your lips, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your body arches off the counter, thighs shaking as the orgasm crashes over you, a wave of blinding heat and ecstasy. He groans against you, savoring every moment as your walls clench around his fingers, as your body melts into his touch.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice rough and reverent. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, overstimulated and gasping for breath. Only then does he pull back, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit, making you jolt from the sensitivity.

Daniel stands, his hands firm and possessive as they slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, your body still trembling in the aftermath. His eyes are dark, hooded with desire as he looks at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“How many more times do you think you can cum for me?” he wonders aloud, his voice low and wicked, as if it’s a genuine challenge.

You let out a soft, breathless whine, your head resting against his shoulder. “I’m gonna be so sore,” you murmur, half-pleading, half-expecting him to take mercy on you.

His smirk widens, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that steals the protest from your mouth. His tongue slides against yours, tasting, claiming, leaving you breathless all over again. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze softening just a fraction.

“I’ll run you a bath after,” he promises, voice still thick with desire. “Maybe I’ll join you too. Take care of you… or make you even sorer.” The wicked glint in his eyes tells you exactly what he means, and it sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

Before you can respond, Daniel’s lips find yours again, his kiss full of promise—one that says this is far from over.

he takes it as a good sign when your hand comes up to his messy curls, threading your fingers through them as you push him further into your neck, guiding him to your sweet spots. he happily gives them attention, nipping against them to leave a mark, as if to leave a trace of where he’s been.

he pulls back after a little while though, licking his soft lips as he stares down at you. you look beautiful, flushed cheeks with a slightly dazed expression, only from kisses to your neck.

“tell me, sweetheart,” he starts quietly, moving his large hand up to your face. he smiles when your face moves into his hand, nuzzling into his palm. “tell me what you like, or even better— show me.”

you flush darker at his words, a little embarrassed. not of daniel or what he asked, but.. it just felt new. no guy you had been with before had asked anything like this, only went straight into what they assumed you liked. that’s the thing with daniel, though. he doesn’t assume.

so, you do as daniel asks. you show him what you like.

you guide his large hands to your chest, moving his thumb to rub across your hardened nipples. you make him squeeze his hands, loving the way it feels when his rough palms and finger-pads wrap around you.

daniel takes it upon himself to lean down, kissing your chest softly. he takes your nipple into his mouth, slowly running his tongue along it before slowly pulling back, stretching the skin slightly before it’s out of his mouth.

the moans that escape you are heavenly to daniel. “so good, sweetheart, doing amazing f’me. where to next? let me make you feel good,” he whispers, moving to place a soft kiss on your lips before he sits back, obediently waiting on your directions.

next, you guide him down to your thighs. you push his head into the inside of them, giving him the hint. and then daniel works his magic.

he’s kissing the soft skin of your thighs over and over, moving to cover all surface area of the thigh. he even rubs his beard against it, testing the waters. he revels in the moan you let out at the feeling of it, and continues on his merry way. he makes sure your thigh is covered with kisses before he moves onto the other, giving it the same treatment.

when he’s done so, he moves his large hands onto either one of your thighs, pushing them together around his head. you sharply gasp at his movements, but the feeling of him between them, the warmth it gives you, you can’t help but squeeze your thighs around him— and that’s exactly what daniel wanted.

he holds them against his face for a few moments, nose bumping against your clothed pussy which sends shocks throughout your body. when he lets your thighs go and pulls out to see you, your cheeks go warm at the sight of him.

now daniel is the one with flushed cheeks, his curls are even messier and he has a massive grin on his face. “good girl. i’m glad you’re being honest and showing me,” he praises softly, leaning in for another kiss on the lips. his hands trail up your body as he does so, lingering on your hips to give them a soft squeeze, before they continue to move up. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart. your body is perfect, i can’t keep myself away.”

you try to hide your face as he speaks, the praise continuing to fluster you. but daniel doesn’t let you, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, making you look at him.

“don’t you hide that pretty face from me,” he mumbles lowly, licking his lips as his eyes scan your face, trailing down and taking in your whole body. “i’m serious. i’d stay here and worship you all night if i could,” he tells you, and you know it’s the truth. daniel isn’t a liar, and the sincere look in his eyes speak volumes.

The slap comes fast, sharp against your cheek. It stings, just enough to make your skin tingle. It’s a line he’s crossed before, one you’ve begged him to cross. You reveled in the sting before, loving the way it made you feel owned and undone all at once. The sharp crack against your cheek left you gasping, but not in the usual way. This time, it didn't hit the same. This time, it felt less like heat and more like humiliation. Instead of the familiar thrill, a wave of something else washed over you—something colder, something that tightens your chest in a way you can’t explain.

Daniel doesn’t notice at first. His hand grips your jaw, thumb brushing over the spot he just marked. “Fuck, I love watching you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. “Always so desperate to cum, like the filthy little thing you are.”

You don’t respond. Not with a moan, not with a plea for more. You freeze, your body tensing beneath his touch, and he feels it. His grip falters, the confidence in his movements slowing.

“Hey,” he says, brow furrowing. His voice is still rough, but there’s a question now, a flicker of confusion. “You okay?”

You don’t answer immediately, eyes lowering as you try to push away the sting—not just on your cheek, but somewhere deeper. His fingers tighten in your hair, just slightly, like he’s unsure if he should let go or hold on tighter.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing louder than the last. His fingers stay in your hair but he doesn’t pull on it, a gentle tension that contrasts with the sharp slap from moments before. You’re still straddling him, still flush against his body, but everything feels off-kilter, like the ground has shifted beneath you.

Daniel tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually dark with lust and confidence, now hold something softer—concern, maybe, or confusion. “Talk to me,” he says, voice steady but quieter now. “Did I go too far?”

You want to answer, want to tell him you don’t know. Because you don’t. It’s not like he hasn’t done this before. But tonight, the lines you’ve drawn together blurred in a way that left you aching in the wrong way. Your lips part, but no words come out.

His thumb lingers on your cheek, the rough pad now tracing the tender spot he’d marked moments ago. The touch, once sharp and commanding, has softened, almost like an apology without words. He leans in, close enough that his forehead brushes against yours, the heat of him grounding you in the moment.

“Hey,” he murmurs again, his voice a little softer, more insistent now. “You know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is, just say it.”

You inhale shakily, the weight of his question pressing down on you. “I… I don’t know,” you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. “It just… felt different.”

Daniel’s jaw tightens, and you see the flicker of guilt pass across his face. He’s silent for a beat, like he’s processing your words, replaying the moment in his head. “Do you want to stop?” he asks, his tone careful now, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. His fingers shift, still holding your face but gentler now, as if he’s ready to let go if that’s what you need.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, your eyes drop to where your hands rest on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steady beneath your palms. The usual fire, the pull that always burned between you, feels distant now—dimmed by something you can’t quite name.

A shrug. It’s all you can manage at first, a half-hearted motion that feels as uncertain as the thoughts racing through your head. Your voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, more a question to yourself than to him. “What am I doing?”

Daniel’s grip tightens slightly—not possessive, not demanding, just enough to remind you he’s still there, still holding on. You swallow hard, the words you don’t want to say already forming. “You don’t want to deal with this,” you murmur, your gaze falling to your lap, to the space where your bodies are still connected. “You didn’t sign up for… this.”

His silence stretches out, and you brace yourself for it—the shift, the retreat. You can already picture him pulling back, standing up, grabbing his jacket and leaving. It would be easier for him, wouldn’t it? No strings, no messy emotions, no blurred lines.

But he doesn’t move.

“Stop that,” Daniel says quietly, his tone steady but firm. His thumb presses gently under your chin, lifting your face until your eyes meet his. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

You blink, surprised by the weight of his gaze. His eyes, usually dark with something primal, now hold something else—something softer, but no less intense. “You think I don’t care?” he continues, his voice low and deliberate.

Your throat tightens, the vulnerability of the moment pressing against you. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want to stay after…” The words catch in your chest, too tangled to come out. How could you explain it?

His answer is immediate, and it cuts through the tension in the air with an unwavering certainty. “I’m not leaving,” he states firmly, the words spoken with the kind of finality that makes your chest feel a little lighter. But then, as if softening, a flicker of something gentler takes over his expression. “Unless you want me to go?”

You shake your head, the motion instinctive, because deep down, you know you don’t want him to leave. You want him here. With you. His hands, large and warm, settle on your waist, firm but not demanding, grounding you as if to remind you that he’s not going anywhere. His fingers press against your skin, and you realize that this simple act of touch is exactly what you need right now. “I’m not gonna leave you like this,” he adds softly, his voice full of promise.

“What do you need?” he asks, his breath warm against your temple. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, the words caught in your throat, fighting with your own sense of pride and hesitation. You want to say it, but you’re afraid of how it might sound, how vulnerable it makes you feel. But before you can stop it, the words come tumbling out, quiet and unsure. “I just… I just want you to hold me.”

There’s a pause. A moment of stillness. You brace yourself, almost expecting the familiar teasing, the smirk that usually comes when you’re with him. You expect him to pull back, to make a joke, to remind you how he doesn’t do that sort of intimacy. But instead, his fingers trail up your spine, slow and deliberate, as if tracing the path to where you need him the most.

The air around you is thick with the weight of everything unspoken. As his hands slide up your back and pull you closer, the space between you is gone—your chest pressed firmly against his, and you feel his heartbeat in sync with yours. There’s no rush now, just the steady, reassuring rhythm of his touch, and the feeling of him holding you like you’re something he needs to protect, not just degrade.

You’re both silent for a long moment, the quiet around you louder than words. The heat of his breath against your skin, the subtle pressure of his arms around you—it’s all you can feel. His hand slides into your hair again, but this time it’s different. It’s tender, soothing, the movement a soft caress as his fingers trace the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry for pushing you too far, sweetheart.” His voice is low, intimate as it breaks through the silence. Daniel’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as though he can feel your vulnerability without words. His lips press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering just enough to make the moment feel more real, more intimate than anything before.

“I should’ve noticed sooner,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin, the weight of his words settling over both of you. There’s a slight tremor in his voice now, just enough to reveal the guilt simmering beneath his usual confidence. “I got caught up, and I didn’t stop to check in with you. That’s on me.”

His fingers trace soothing patterns along your spine, the gentle motion grounding you both. “You were so good for me,” he murmurs, his tone thick with something softer than you’re used to hearing. “So fucking good. And you were right to tell me. That’s my girl.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, the knot of tension loosening just a little. His touch is slow now, soothing, like he’s trying to erase the moments of doubt with every stroke of his fingers against your skin. His lips brush over your hairline, and you feel his warmth, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his tone low and steady, reassuring in a way you never thought you’d hear from him. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Standing here across the room, glass in hand, watching.

He just looks so fucking good.

"Fuck me," you mutter. Some deep, animalistic urge tells you to bite clean through the rim of your wine glass. Chew on the shards until they're sand and swallow them easy as anything. It would probably be less painful than what you're currently doing.

Watching.

The object of your scrutiny straightens almost imperceptibly. A minuscule lengthening of his spine invisible to anyone who isn't examining his every move. For someone who is watched more often than not, you're surprised he feels your eyes on him.

But he does.

Max Verstappen turns away from his conversation partner slightly, a barely there shift of his chin to glance around the room. Blue eyes like the fucking ocean or some other cliche you can't think of right now. His focus face, you've called it. That got him to laugh, once, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes driving your heart into a frenzy.

Evaluating, cataloging. Looking for the racing line and finding -- you.

Leaning back on the wall not ten yards from him, wine glass in hand.

You're going to heat it up with your palm holding it like that, he'd told you once. You have to hold the stem.

They teach you that in Monaco? you'd teased.

Flirtations. One of a hundred, a thousand. Nothing memorable for him, you tell yourself. Each conversation an axis-shifting event for you.

It's embarrassing, actually. To want someone this much. To be one of millions.

But you know. You know how he looks in an empty room, how he mutters to himself when he folds his laundry, how he straightens his shoes against the wall of every hotel room.

You know him.

Maybe that's why this is dangerous. You've got ammo, you've got evidence. You know that Max Verstappen is like the rest of the world. A boy who wanted desperately turned into a man who has everything. And still wants.

Is that what binds us all together? The depth of our longing?

Max finds your gaze and holds it. The girl he's talking to -- pretty, smart. You know her peripherally -- keeps speaking, hand not holding her drink waving in the air, eyes focusing somewhere above his hairline.

Lots of people make this mistake. It's all in his eyes, if you can stand to look at them. Everything he's feeling. A challange that, once met, melts into an open door. He'll show you everything if you just step over the threshold, invited or not. Sometimes all we want is someone to bang on the door when we're already in bed. Make us get up, come downstairs. There you are. I was waiting for you.

The eyes tell you everything. You take a long sip of your wine and he watches, jaw ticking. He didn't shave today. The light stubble makes him look older, though you know his heart. Fluttering like a boy's, yearning like a child's. He wants just like you do. If only you knew what and just how much.

I don't know what comes next, he said. His head in your lap, hair soft and golden between your fingers. What else is there?

So much, you said. You traced the line of his nose with the pad of your thumb. That's the best thing about it.

About what?

Life.

There is a world in which you came to this party together. Distant, fuzzy. You mussed his hair with your hands after begging him to leave the gel on the shelf. He kissed off your lipstick before you made it out the door. The steady beat of his heart under your palm in the doorway, a sure reminder of the dip he makes in the universe. Your center, always orbiting around him.

Reality is louder. More crowded, smells like champagne and burnt pastry. It's a room full of people where you can only look at one. Where he's looking back.

You jerk your chin towards the back hallway, the one the leads to the bathroom only the girls go to in pairs. To debrief, to prepare. A secret from the hostess meant for moments of reprieve. At the very least, you'll need one of those.

It you're lucky, one of those will come to you on two legs and stormy eyes.

Could you be imagining it? Wouldn't be the first time you lived in your head a little too long. But -- fuck. The dreams you've had. The way you've looked at your life and slotted him into it. It's almost too easy, a game with no stakes. But the buy in is steep, nonrefundable. How you got here is irrelevant. You have to pay up.

You wind your way through laughing people, velvet dresses and barely buttoned shirts. Sparkly eye shadow and satin bows, well-wishes and chaste kisses. 'Tis the damn season, indeed. 

The hallway is quiet. No one in the bathroom, the door hanging open, light off. You lean back on the wall, glass loose in your fingers. Eyes closed, wondering if you'll wake up somewhere else. Somewhere you want less, somewhere your blood isn't singing, isn't begging you to get closer to him.

"You look nice," Max says. Your lips curve into a smile, a smirk, a grimace. Are they not all the same around him? Teeth showing, muscles out of control. He bypasses all of your sense, worms his way into your bloodstream with just a word.

"Thanks," you manage. Eyes open, now, and fuck, you feel it. Right in the chest, like a punch that digs beneath your ribs and takes its pound of flesh.

Max looks good. You saw it from across the room but here, in front of you, you can see it more clearly.

There's something about him. A boyishness that remains around the eyes, the mouth. Hopeful mischief, maybe. Eternal youth, promise, faith.

God. This would all be so much easier if you weren't in love with him.

He studies you. Takes his time, gaze tracing the lines of your face. Your brows, your lashes. Nose, lips. Lips. His eyes stop there.

"You were staring," he says. Never one to back down from a challenge. Never one to let you off easy. It's a compliment, the way he drags you to the ring. Keep up with me, he's saying. Make it interesting.

"Yeah," you say, slowly. It drips out of your mouth, lingers in the air between you. "You look good."

His eyes flash. You're meeting his expectations. Always hard to live up to those, when the standard he holds himself to is so damn high. He expects you to climb up that mountain, too. If only to show that you're wiling to. That he's worth it. That you want to.

And he does look good. Max values honesty above most things, but his cheeks flush all the same. It's pretty, not that you'd tell him that. Maybe one more glass of wine and you would. It's not an original thought, far from it, but you reach for him all the same, liquid courage loading the barrel and cocking the gun.

You cup his cheek, thumb pressing to the corner of his mouth. Like a marionette with his strings cut, he sighs. You breath with him, leaning in. Everything else fades away, the world turning around the place where his skin touches yours. Palm on his stubbled cheek, eyes locked like you're moored to each other.

This is why you haven't let him go. Because it's like this. It's insane.

And Max knows it.

"What are we doing?" he whispers. His throat bobs and he looks unsure. Not an expression you've seen on him very often, but maybe that's the punchline.

This matters to him. Maybe as much as it matters to you. He leans into your palm and the fingers of one hand curl around your hips, pressing hard enough to bruise. He carefully tugs your wine glass from your grip and sets it on the thin table in the hall before crowding you agains the wall.

"I don't know," you whisper back. You're close enough that he must feel your breath on this lips. It's inexplicable, this feeling -- you should know. You've tried.

He reorients everything, you've said over and over again. It's like I'm seeing the world for the first time, but with him in it.

His breath is hot on your lips. "I need you," he says. "I --" He swallows. Pupils swelling, mouth set. You half expect him to pull on a racing suit and get in the car.

"Max," you manage. It's not a surprise, not really, but it stings the way that only the things you want can. "I--

"Nothing else is like this," he says, sounding more sure than you've ever heard. "No matter what, or who, it's not like this. I'm always thinking of you."

Something inside you crumples. Your very bones, maybe. Your heart, surely. He can't just say these things.

"Don't say if it you don't mean it," you manage. Your throat is thick, tears resting just behind your eyes. It makes sense to no one else, this love. This passion, this soul tie.

"I mean it," he says, voice steady. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask this of you, but I am. I'm asking."

Love me. Stick by me. Tell me you feel it, too.

You close your eyes again, but what appears behind your lids is no less than what's actually happening to you. This is the stuff of dreams, the deepest part of your heart that beats his name.

"I don't know how to do this," you whisper. His lips drag from your pulse point to your ear.

"Me neither," he replies. "But we have to try."

"I've wanted you for so long," you gasp. His fingers have snuck under the hem of your shirt, nails scratching up and down your back. "Max--"

Your name is a prayer on his tongue, a blessing, a benediction. A plea. You've never felt so safe as when he is at your altar.

"Let's go," he says. "Let's get out of here."

The where doesn't matter. The how, the why, the when. It doesn't matter.

Sometimes, things just happen the way they are supposed to. Lovers unite, reunite, and love. Is that not enough?

"Bet you say that to all the girls."

Your voice is hoarse, ragged. The opposite of his well-honed determination, his tunnel vision. You wanted this, didn't you? But you're stalling. Having and wanting are different.

"No," Max says. "Hey, look at me."

For all your talk, you keep doing anything he asks. It's so easy. You are so safe in his hands, even if they burn.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth and you open your eyes. Despite the drinks you watched him down they're clear. Ablaze with certainty.

"Max," you whisper. His nostrils flare.

"Just you," he says. "You have me. Just you."

He does this thing, when he's away. You bought him a keychain -- a lion, of course -- on a whim. Figured he'd throw it in a drawer somewhere and forget about it. But then he sent you a photo from a country you've never been to, holding up his keys, the lion dangling in the sunlight.

You get photos from all around the world, now.

Maybe...maybe, you can believe him. Maybe you can take. Maybe dreams can bleed into waking.

What else is there to do? His jaw ticks, lips parted as he exhales. You feel it, warm and shaky. That won't do.

The kiss doesn't surprise him. It's inevitable, a corner he's driven in his sleep, the finish line that always waits for him. Max always knows where he is going and maybe he knew you were on the way here, too.

And god, does he know how to kiss you. You're the one who leans in but he takes the wheel quickly, one hand pressing into your lower back under your shirt and the other dragging up your ribs to settle on your jaw. He licks into your mouth like there's a secret to find, like he can peel back your layers and find your heart in his palms, beating in time with his.

Nights in his bed, slow mornings watching him wake. Phone calls just to hear you breathe, texts and gifts and hints that, if you'd just say so, this could be more. This could be it.

But he's waited. You realize he's waited for you.

"You have me," you say, pulling away with a gasp. His lips chase yours, hovering so close that every word makes them brush. Your hands are woven in his hair, noses pressed together. Almost one person. "Max," you breathe. "You have me."

There are a thousand ways this could go wrong. Even if your world orbits around him, even if his heart is magnetized to yours, a star in the sky always pointing north -- reality is not so kind. It will be hard. No one will understand. People will want what you have, what you will hold dear for the rest of your life.

But it doesn't matter. Because Max -- a world champion, a boy who wanted who became a man who had everything -- is holding you. He smiles so wide it spreads to you, two smiles pressed together in the dim light of someone else's party.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay, let's go."

He kisses you once more, sloppy, teeth clacking, and grabs your hand. Out of the hall, through the party, barely a word for anyone else. Everybody wants you, you told him once. Hm, he'd said. I don't know about that.

But he gleams. He shines, flushed cheeks and bright eyes as he looks back to check that you're still there. Squeezing your hand in his, a man on a mission. Following that racing line all the way home, all eyes on him. But he knows where he's going.

Out of the party and onto the quiet street, breath floating up and away in excited puffs. Under the streetlight Max looks ethereal. Beautiful, boyish, in love. He's a dream come to life.

Your dream. Looking back at you like he's thinking the same.

He says your name like he's been looking everywhere and finally found you. Reaching the end of the road, throwing the door open and falling to his knees. An answer. The answer.

He kisses you on the empty street. You fall, and fall, and fall.

Just as you poured the hot cocoa into mugs, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned, grinning, ready to hand Daniel his mug—only to stop in your tracks, staring at the sight before you.

Daniel stands there, an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, wearing a sweater that’s…well, something else. To call it ugly—despite how handsome the man wearing it looked—would be an understatement. Bright red and green, with a massive reindeer face taking up the entire front, complete with a dangling, sparkly red nose and antlers decorated with tiny bells that jingled every time he moved. The sleeves, as if the reindeer wasn’t enough, are covered in glittery snowflakes, making him look like he was caught in a Christmas explosion.

You tried to hold it in, pressing your lips together as you reached for composure, but the sight of Daniel—this tall, confident man wrapped in an outrageous, holiday-coloured spectacle—is too much. A giggle escaped before you could stop it, and you quickly set the mugs on a countertop, just in time to save the kitchen from a cocoa catastrophe.

The grin on his face widened and that only made it harder to keep it together. A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in your chest, filling the room. “Danny… I—oh my god, I can’t,” you managed between fits of laughter, doubling over as he looked at you with mock indignation.

“What? You don’t like my holiday spirit?” he teased, feigning offense, though his smile gave him away. He spread his arms out proudly, and shimmied, causing the bells to jingle absurdly, letting the ridiculousness of the sweater fully sink in. “I found it in the back of the closet and had to bring it out for the season.”

You walked up to him, still laughing, and reached out to flick the reindeer’s shiny, oversized nose. It wobbles, then jingles lightly back into place, setting off another round of laughter from you.

“This thing is…well…ugly. Very, very ugly,” you murmured, trying to catch your breath as your laughter died down to a few chuckles. “Honestly, honey, you’ve been wearing ugly sweaters all week—everyday is a new nightmare, and no, just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you can pull it off.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? So now you have to tell me…which one was your favourite?”

You shook your head, giggling. “Between the one that said “jingle my bells,” the one that just said “horny,” and…whatever this absurdity is, none. Zero out of ten on all of them.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, holding his chest as if wounded. “Come on, not even a little appreciation for my dedication to the season?”

You stepped closer, smirking up at him as you rested your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think “horny” counts as seasonal cheer.”

He grinned, finding your hand and entwining your fingers before pulling you closer. “Horny is seasonal cheer for all seasons—only around you.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, but you’re quick to mask it, giving him a playful shove, though your fingers remain entwined. “Is that so?”

Daniel brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back as he hummed, “always.”

But just as he was about to pull you even closer, he dropped your hand, rubbing his arm with a slight frown. “Bloody hell, this sweater is starting to itch like crazy.”

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle as you watched him fidget, the bells on his sweater jingling with each movement. You ran your palm down the front of his sweater, wincing slightly at the scratchy material beneath your fingers.

“Yeah, this thing feels like it was made from…carpet?” you teased.

“Cheap carpet,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Never wearing this again.”

Your fingers trailed lower, teasing the hem of his sweater as you lifted your gaze to meet his. “You know,” you murmured, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “this sweater is so ugly, I might just have to take it off you.”

Daniel’s eyebrows lifted, a mischievous spark in his eyes as he leaned into your touch. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.” You hooked your fingers around the hem, lifting it slightly to expose a sliver of warm, tanned skin, your fingertips brushing over his taut abdomen. His muscles tensed slightly under your touch, and you couldn’t help but smile as you murmured, “besides, I know what’s underneath is much sexier.”

Slowly, you slid the sweater higher, revealing more of him inch by inch. Each part that emerged—the dip of his waist, the toned line of his torso—made your heart race a little faster. He held his arms up, chuckling softly as you ease the scratchy sweater over his shoulders and finally tug it free. The bells jingled one more time, clinking in protest before you tossed the fabric onto the floor, where it landed with a final satisfying jingle that faded into silence.

Now, with nothing between you, you took a moment to admire him. His skin is warm, golden under the soft glow of the kitchen lights, his chest bare and his gaze intent on you, a playful spark in his eyes. Daniel stepped closer, his hands finding your waist, and he drew you in until your bodies pressed together, his warmth spilling over to you as he leaned down.

“Better?” He asked, his lips lightly brushing against yours. You managed a small nod, feeling your pulse quicken, but before you could respond, he closed the remaining space between you.

His lips captured yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, just a gentle brush that sends a shiver down your spine. Then, his hands slide a little further up your sides, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth moving in sync with yours with a heat that feels both familiar and exhilarating.

Daniel’s hands slid lower, setting at the curve of your waist before he shifted, bending slightly and scooping you up in one smooth motion. You let out a soft laugh, surprised but delighted, as he lifted you effortlessly. His gaze remained locked on yours as he carried you from the kitchen, weaving through the glow of the holiday lights and into the cozy warmth of the living room.

He settled onto the couch, pulling you down with him until you’re straddling his lap, your legs wrapped around him. His hands settle on your hips, fingers grazing over your holiday-themed red and black plaid pants, adding a festive touch that he can’t help but grin at.

“Now that,” he started, his voice a low rumble, “is some proper holiday cheer.”

You smirked, leaning in close, your fingers slipping up to rest on his bare chest, tracing gentle circles over his warm skin. “Someone’s got to make up for your questionable sweater choices,” you murmured, letting your lips brush his with a playful hint.

He laughed softly against your mouth, but the sound faded as your lips captured his again, this time slower, deeper. His fingers tightened at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s nothing but warmth between you, every inch of his bare skin pressed to yours. His mouth moves with a kind of quiet intensity, savoring the taste of you, and your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Daniel’s hands slip underneath the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, his fingers trailing a line of warmth as he peeled it away from your body. His gaze drifted over you, dark with appreciation, before his mouth returned to your skin, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck. Each kiss is unhurried, like he’s savouring the feeling of you, the way your breath hitches under his touch.

His hands slide down, brushing over your waist before settling just beneath the waistband of your pants. A teasing smirk lifts the corner of his mouth as he palms the curve of your ass, guiding you with gentle pressure to rock against him. The heat between you built with each movement, and a low sound escaped him as your hips rolled against his.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the spot just behind his ear, lingering there as you sucked the taut skin gently before soothing it with a flick of your tongue. The low, guttural groan he let out spurred you on, your breath ghosting over your ear as you whispered, “I wanna ride you, Danny, so bad.”

The words hang between you, electrified and dripping with desire. His grip tightened on your hips as his head tilted back against the couch, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded when they met yours. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice rough, barely restrained. “Want my cock so bad, huh? Take it then. You know what to do.”

Your pulse raced as you slid off his lap, your hands trembling with urgency as you tug your pants down and toss them aside. Daniel mirrored your movements, yanking his pants off with the same haste, the tension still crackling like a live wire despite spending years together.

You slide back onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips as his hands immediately find your waist again, steadying you with a firm grip. He holds you steady as you position yourself above him. The head of his cock is hot and heavy against your cunt, the slickness of your arousal coating him as you shift slightly.

Daniel’s breath catches, a low groan slipping past his lips as he murmurs, “fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me here.”

A wicked smile curves your lips as you angle your hips just enough to part your folds using his cock, dragging him against your sensitive clit. The sensation made you shudder, your thighs tightening around him as you repeated the motion, letting your wetness drip down his length.

Each slow, deliberate glide of his cock sends jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, and the sounds escaping him only spur you on.

Daniel moaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to guide you down onto him, but you resisted, keeping him on edge. His teeth gritted as he stared up at you, his eyes dark, simmering with need. “You’re driving me insane, love.”

You tilted your head, letting your lips brush his ear as you whisper, “that’s the point, darling.”

The heat pooling in your belly intensified, and you could feel him twitch against you, his need as unbearable as your own.

“Enough,” Daniel rasped, his voice laced with desperation. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

The command in his tone sent a thrill through you, and finally, you positioned yourself at his tip, your eyes meeting his as you sank down slowly. The stretch is exquisite, the feeling of him filling you inch by inch, stealing a breath from your lungs.

“Fuck, Danny,” you groaned, your eyes fluttering shut. “You feel so good.”

As you finally take him fully, sinking down until there’s no space left between your bodies, Daniel’s head falls forward, resting against your chest. His breath is hot and ragged against your skin, the tension in his body radiating into yours. You clench around him instinctively, a reflex that draws a deep, guttural moan from his throat.

For a moment, he just breathes you in, his lips brushing lightly against your collarbone as he tries to regain control. Then, his eyes lift to meet yours, dark and glazed with need, the weight of his need pulling you under, and you’re acutely aware of every inch of him inside you. The corners of his lips tug upward into a smug, teasing smirk as your body clenches around him again, involuntarily reacting to his presence.

His lips trail over your chest, leaving a searing path of open-mouthed kisses as he moves lower. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he murmured against your skin, the words laced with playful cruelty. “You gonna ride me like you said you wanted? Or are you just gonna sit there looking all pretty and expect me to do all the work?”

Before you can form a retort, he takes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before his teeth graze it just enough to send a shiver cascading down your spine. Your breath catches, and the words on the tip of your tongue dissolve into a soft moan, your fingers tangling in his hair to keep him where you need him most.

As he releases your nipple, a string of spit connects you even as he pulls back. His lips glisten with evidence of his devotion, his tongue flicking out to swipe across his bottom lip before it curled into that maddeningly smug smile.

“What was that?” he drawled, trailing his mouth back up, nipping lightly at your collarbone before pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck, right below your ear. “Had something to say, love? I didn’t quite catch it.” His voice is low and taunting, the vibration of his chuckle against your skin making your hips shift instinctively, drawing a hiss from him.

“You’re such an ass,” you managed to gasp, your nails raking lightly down his back, leaving faint red trails in their wake.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to lock eyes with you, his smirk deepening as he leaned in to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth. “Am I?” he murmured, his tone dripping with mock innocence, though the playful malice lingers in his eyes. “Funny, because from where I’m sitting, you forget everything else the second your pretty little cunt’s full of me.” His voice is low and sinful, every syllable pressing against your already-frazzled nerves.

Your body clenches around him involuntarily at his filthy admission, drawing a deep groan from him that vibrates against your skin. “See that?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your jaw now as his hands guide your hips to roll just slightly. “Can’t even deny it, love. You’re soaking me. Guess I’ve got to do all the work after all, yeah?”

His words are a challenge, and you find yourself snapping back to attention, determination sparking in your gaze. With a deliberate roll of your hips, you make him groan again, his head tipping back slightly. “Not so far gone that I can’t shut you up,” you managed, your voice breathy but steady as you took control, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

His laughter is low and rough, his head falling forward against your chest as you move, taking him deeper with each roll of your hips. His lips find your skin again, open-mouthed and hungry, sucking and biting just enough to leave faint marks behind. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped against you, his fingers gripping you so tightly you’re sure you’ll see the evidence tomorrow. “Show me how bad you want it.”

Every roll of your hips draws a low, guttural sound from him, the tension in his body unraveling under your control.“That’s it, love,” he groaned, his voice thick and strained. “Fuck, just like that—keep going.” His head falls back against the couch, exposing the curve of his throat, and you can’t resist leaning forward to press your lips there, tracing the salt of his skin with your tongue as you continue to ride him.

His cock stretched you with every movement, hitting that spot in your cunt that made your breath hitch and your thighs tremble. The pleasure was maddening, delicious, and each rise and fall of your hips only made the heat between you burn hotter. Daniel’s hand slipped beneath the curve of your ass to guide you, urging you to go faster, harder.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth dropping open. The sight of him—flushed, panting, and completely at your mercy—sent a thrill through you.

“Look at you, taking me so well. So perfect,” he mumbled as his gaze locked with yours. You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth, the praise igniting something reckless inside you.

You lifted yourself slowly, until the tip of his cock remained in your pussy before sinking back down with a sharp roll of your hips. Daniel swore under his breath, his hands flying back to your hips, desperate to keep you from leaving him again. The delicious stretch of him filling you completely again made you shudder, a broken moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “You like that, Danny? Like watching me take every inch of you?”

His response is a strained groan, one of his hands sliding up to cup your boob as he thrusted upwards, meeting your movements. The sudden shift in pace made you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders for balance. “Love watching you,” he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “Watching you fall apart on my cock. You can’t get enough, can you?”

You shake your head, your breath hitching as the pleasure builds to a fever pitch. “No… I can’t,” you admitted, your voice a trembling whisper. “You’re too good… too fucking good.”

His other hand slides in between your legs, his thumb finding your clit, pressing down just enough to send a jolt of pleasure racing through your body. You cry out, your movements faltering for a moment as the combined sensation becomes overwhelming.

“Come on sweetheart,” Daniel urged, “give it to me. I want to feel you cum around my cock.”

The desperation in his voice, the raw need, sends you spiraling closer to the edge. Your hips move frantically now, chasing the release that’s just out of reach. Daniel’s thumb circled your clit faster, tightening his grip on your waist as he thrust up into you, matching your rhythm with brutal precision.

“Daniel—‘m close,” you gasped, your body trembling as the tension coils tighter, ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, his voice a rough plea. “Cum for me, love. Let go, I’ve got you.”

His words, his touch, the way he looks at you—it’s too much. The tension snapped, and pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. Daniel holds you close, his lips pressing soothing kisses to your neck as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

The way you tightened around him pushes him over the edge. He thrusts up into you one last time, his body shuddering as he finds his release, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips. He clings to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he breathes through the aftershocks, his heart pounding in time with yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to simply exist in each other’s arms, skin pressed against skin, hearts beating as one. The scent of pine from the Christmas tree filled the air, blending with the sweet, lingering scent of cinnamon from the candles still burning on the mantel, but the room that was once wrapped in the cozy, comforting embrace of the holiday season is now mixed with the unmistakable scent of sex.

Your fingers slid lazily through Daniel’s damp curls, the mess of them from earlier making you smile. He looks up at you with a lazy grin, his eyes still dark with the remnants of desire but softened with something tender. His thumb traced gentle circles against your hip, grounding you in the moment, and it’s perfect—just you, him, and the warmth of the season cocooning you both.

Your gaze wandered slowly around the room, landing on the kitchen, and then it hit you—

“The hot cocoa!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening as you remembered. “We were supposed to—”

Daniel’s hand grazed your cheek, pulling your focus back to him as his grin widened into something mischievous. His lips brushed against yours in a featherlight kiss. “Reheat it later,” he whispered, his fingers tightening slightly on your hip. “We’re not done yet.”

Your breath catches as his eyes lock with yours, a spark of renewed heat flickering between you. His hands are already slipping between your legs, teasing your clit as his lips find yours again, slow and deep, making you forget about everything else except him.

The cocoa can wait. Winter just got a whole lot warmer.