tell me abt it

every year the bellinghams always outdid themselves with christmas, from a gingerbread contest to a sledding fiesta you wondered what they might’ve done this year. jude told you to “expect the unexpected” which was quite reasonable considering how sneaky his parents were.

now, standing on the doorstep with your beloved glazed-ham which jobe always raved about, the scent of chimney smoke lingered in the cold december air. warm lights glowed behind frosted windows, and muffled laughter seeped through the front door. you balanced the heavy plate in one hand while the other pressed the doorbell,

as soon as the bell rung jude scrambled all over the place, nagging jobe to watch the mac & cheese in the oven.

the door flung open.

he looked as though he’d sprinted the entire length of the house just to be the one to greet you. a pastel pink apron was tied somewhat crookedly around his waist, flour dusted across one sleeve of his jumper, and a wooden spoon was still clutched loosely in one hand. his hair was slightly messier than usual, as if someone had run their fingers through them one too many times while cooking.

for a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

his cheeks coloured slowly the same shade as the apron. “don’t laugh.” he muttered, already smiling despite himself.

a laugh slipped free as your eyes wandered ridiculously over the sight of your boyfriend in front of you. “mac & cheese requires a lot of work i see.”

jude groaned, the embarrassing grin only widening. “you’ll love my recipe, it’s one of a kind!”

without another word, he stepped aside, one hand holding the door open while the other instinctively reached for yours the second you crossed the threshold.

warmth wrapped around you instantly.

the house smelled like cinnamon, roasted vegetables and fresh bread, with christmas music humming softly somewhere in the background. fairy lights curled around the staircase banister, stockings hung neatly above the fireplace, and a decorated tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments catching every flicker of light.

“you made it!” his mum smiled warmly from the kitchen before pulling you into a hug that somehow erased half your nerves.

his dad greeted you with an easy smile, already insisting you make yourself comfortable, while jobe wandered over moments later wearing an amused expression.

the entire afternoon drifted by effortlessly. helping carry bowls to the table. laughing whenever jude accidentally burnt another batch of yorkshire puddings despite insisting he had everything under control. watching his mum tease him every single time he hovered a little too close to you.

every so often, your eyes would meet across the kitchen.

he’d smile. you’d smile back.

by the time dinner was served, every seat around the table had been filled. his mum sat at one end, proudly carving the roast while his dad reached for the gravy. jobe was midway through another story that had everyone laughing, except jude.

he wasn’t really listening.

because he was looking at you.

you sat opposite him, illuminated by the warm glow of candles and the twinkling lights from the tree just beyond the dining room doorway.

every now and then he’d glance away whenever someone caught him staring.

it never lasted long.

underneath the table, hidden by the tablecloth and entirely unnoticed by everyone else, you slipped your foot out of your heel, gently grazing it across jude’s leg. jude’s eyes shot up at you while you purposely busied yourself by cutting a potato on your plate.

yet the corners of your mouth still betrayed you.

your foot continued to move upwards all the way to his crotch, by then he was rock hard. jude adjusted in his seat, clearing his throat as he stared at you warningly. you ignored his glare and kept rubbing your foot against the bulge in his pants, your pace roughened and accelerated just enough for jude to drop his head back. he played off the sudden gesture by stretching his arms out, groaning exaggeratedly.

with every manoeuvre it drew another low groan from the boy, and every abrupt halt earned a relieved sigh.

once, when his dad asked him a question, he answered entirely the wrong thing because he’d been too distracted by your foot resting against his clothed boner.

“earth to jude?” jobe laughed

“hm?”

“dad asked how madrid is goin”

jude flapped his lips, rubbing the back of his neck at the sudden spotlight. “same old y’know, uhm—“ he cleared his throat, signalling you to get your foot off him, instead it only urged you to grind yourself faster.

“you okay, jude?” his mum asked, suspicious of his relentless shuffling.

“your mac & cheese giving you the jitters?” you teased, knowing that you were the reason why he was becoming so stutter-y.

“i’m fine. i’m— just happy that y/n is here!” the families gaze shifted to you, where you just smiled softly. “thank you guys for having me again.” you thanked shyly, hoping they would avert the conversation so they don’t notice how shakey your were too.

by the time the last plates had been cleared and the conversation had dissolved into the familiar post-dinner haze, the house seemed to settle into a quieter rhythm. his mum disappeared into the kitchen, refusing all offers of help. his dad switched the television on in the living room, already half-asleep before the opening credits of some christmas film had finished rolling.

jobe stretched dramatically from the sofa. “i’m raiding the dessert.”

“save some for everyone else” his mum called from the kitchen.

“no promises.”

jude caught your eye from across the room. with the smallest tilt of his head towards the staircase, he silently demanded you to go upstairs.

you smiled before quietly following him. the sounds of laughter downstairs softened with every step until they became nothing more than a comforting murmur beneath the floorboards.

his bedroom door clicked shut behind you.

it was exactly as you’d imagined—tidy enough to suggest someone had cleaned it in a hurry that morning. football boots sat neatly beneath a chair, medals hung from a hook beside the wardrobe, and fairy lights had been lazily draped along the headboard, casting a warm amber glow over the room.

jude leaned back against the closed door, jaw tight as he faced you.

“what was that?”

you frowned. “what?”

his brows pulled together, “you know exactly what i’m talking about.” he let out a frustrated breath, taking your wrists and pulling you close to his chest.

“get on your knees”

you didn’t hesitate, you dropped to your knees so fast it was almost comical. the sight of you like that—waiting and obedient—only made jude’s cock twitch in anticipation. jude scrambled, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, and pulling his dick out. you stared wide-eyed, pussy already aching for him but he couldn’t resist teasing you for a bit.

“you want it?” jude asked, stroking his dick letting you observe the way his thumb smeared the pre all over his tip.

you nodded, “please jude”

“please what?” jude asked, already knowing the answer.

“let me suck it.”

jude groaned, fisting his cock and stepping closer till the tip brushed your bottom lip. “open up”

you did, and the second your mouth wrapped around his dick, he groaned, his hips jerking forward without thinking. you took jude deep, your throat relaxing around the head, and he tangled his fingers in your hair, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth. you gagged a little, tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, your tongue swirling around the underside of jude’s cock.

“fuck. . just like that” jude panted, grip tightening in your hair. “take it all like a good fuckin’ girl.”

you did. every inch. until your nose pressed against his groin and your throat worked around him, swallowing around the tip. jude couldn’t hold back any longer—he pulled out with a wet pop and yanked you up by your arms, spinning you around so your hands flattened against the door.

“bend over,” he commanded, voice rough with need. “ass out.”

jude shoved you against the wall. his hand slid under the hem of that shirt, fingers brushing your bare hip before gripping your ass. you arched your back, your tits pressing against the wood as you stuck your ass out for him. he didn’t waste time. he kicked your legs wider, lined himself up, and in one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside you.

you cried out, your fingers curling into fists against the door. “jude—fuck—”

he didn’t let you finish. jude pulled back and slammed into you again, harder this time, balls slapping against your clit with every stroke. you were so wet, so tight, and the way your pussy clenched around him made his vision blur.

“you like that?” jude grunted, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “like it when i fuck you hard?”

you moaned, pushing back into him, trying to take him deeper. “yes fuck!”

jude reached around, his fingers finding your clit, and he rubbed tight, rough circles as he pounded into you. the door rattled with every thrust, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. you were close—he could feel it in the way your muscles tensed, in the way your breath came in ragged gasps.

“cum for me,” he demanded, voice a growl. “cum on my cock.”that was all it took. jude brought a palm to your mouth, muffling your orgasmic screams as your back arched, your orgasm ripping through you, your pussy clenching around him so tight he couldn’t hold back. with a groan, he buried myself to the hilt and came, filling you up with thick, hot bursts until he was spent.

he collapsed against your back, chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside you. “fuck,” he muttered against your shoulder, nipping at your skin. “you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

he chuckled, pulling out slowly and spinning you around to kiss you, tasting himself on your lips. “let’s get you cleaned up” he murmured against your mouth. you nod, taking the folded gym cloth on his bed into your grip. you wiped his cum trickling down your thigh before slipping into your velvet dress.

jude watched with intent, “your so beautiful” he peppered kisses all over your collar bone before jude opened the bedroom door, waiting a second before stepping into the hallway. you followed a pace behind him, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you made your way downstairs.

the smell of melted chocolate and cinnamon drifted up from the kitchen. voices followed shortly after.

his mum stood by the kitchen island, dish towel slung over one shoulder. jobe, halfway through stealing another mince pie, slowly lowered it back onto the plate with the grin of someone who’d just been handed ammunition.

“there they are.” jobe laughed

jude sighed.

“jude. honey. you need to remember that these walls are like paper.” you and jude stood frozen at the words of his mum.

your mind drifts back to that night.

a blaze seared through you as you drew your nails down the length of his back. he growled low in his throat, and the slow glide of his mouth roughened.

michael stepped closer, pressing his hard-on against your lower stomach.

when his lips moved to your throat, your head fell against the door with a moan. his hands remained braced on the frame above you. hot and wet, he kissed a path down your neck that set off sparks deep in your core. your vision turned hazy, a heavy heartbeat pounding between your legs. you were a combustible ball of fire burning hotter every second.

he dragged his lips past your collarbone and nipped the soft flesh above your bodice. your nipples tightened at the closeness and warmth of his mouth.

you were losing your mind in this hallway; would suddenly do anything for him to tug your dress down, bare your breasts, and put his mouth on them.

your hands were all over him: his face, his hair, now sliding up beneath his suit to feel his stomach, which was as tight as it looked.

“touch me,” you begged.

his hands didn’t move from above your head, but as if he knew what you needed, he pressed his thigh between yours. right against your clit. you panted, a wave of pleasure sliding down your spine when you rocked against it, already feeling the budding pressure of release.

you were nothing but need, flushed and wet and wanting.

michael pulled back, his eyes narrowed but full of heat as he watched where you grinded on him. watched the bare length of thigh that showed through the slit in your dress. tension lit the line of his shoulders, tightened the muscles in his arms, and the idea he might be trying to stop only made you more desperate for this to continue.

you gripped his neck to pull his mouth back to yours. he refused. you tugged harder. he made a rough noise in his chest, then his eyes lifted to yours, alight with a challenge. he brushed your lips, but when you moved in to deepen the kiss, he pulled back just out of reach. to tease you, or to make sure you knew who was running the show.

when you waited impatiently, he gave you what you wanted, nipping your bottom lip, hard, and then licking it.

you moaned into his mouth and rocked against his leg, needing more friction. the empty pressure between your thighs built and built, and you kissed him without finesse, humming desperately into his mouth.

“fuck,” he rasped against your lips. “are you going to come on me?” his accented voice grated abrasively as sand.

you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to.

michael pressed his leg harder against you. you put your face into his neck, biting down when the orgasm whipped through you—a sweltering inferno that knocked the breath from your lungs.

in its aftermath, you shivered against him.

he finally touched you, fisting your hair and pulling your head back to look at you.

eyes half-lidded, your head fell to rest against the door. maybe you should be embarrassed by how easily and ridiculously fast he brought you to release. instead, you felt nothing but his body heat, how incredibly hard he was against you, and an overwhelming tingling in your veins.

he stared at you for what felt like a long time. and then you watched something violent sweep away the lust in his eyes. stepping back, his shoulders tense, he left you cold while you struggled to catch your breath.

you watched him for a moment and then acquiesced without a word.

once the door shut behind you, you slid down it, trembling, while the hot burn of his lips still smoldered on your skin.

the memory of you grinding on his leg sparked and hissed like electricity between the two of you, burning the oxygen in the room like fuel.

gaze glimmering between heat and something entirely unamused, michael rested his elbows on his knees.

he may as well have just called you easy. resentment stirred inside, but you tamped it down. for whatever reason, he was trying to make you angry. you knew he felt this connection too, and you didn’t want to play games—not with him, not right now.

a restless buzz saturated the air, and you held onto the edge of the dresser. “you can deny it all you want, but we both know there’s something here.”

his gaze narrowed. “there’s nothing here. trust me, if there are happily-for-nows, i’ll never be yours.”

he said your name like you were young, stupid, like you were too immature to recognize something as simple as attraction. if he was aiming for a nerve, he hit it. bitterness singed your lungs until it escaped in one harsh accusation.

“i may be naive, but i know a liar when i see one.”

his pause was the only tell of his surprise, shortly replaced by a slow smile. “so there’s some fire in you after all.”

there was so much fire in you, he had no idea. for years, it had festered inside like a volcano, rumbling and pressing at the seams of tight clothes and expectations. it was so close to erupting a cold sweat spread.

“careful.”

his warning was the last straw. he wanted to see fire?

so be it.

“if the only reason you came here was to warn me away from you, then get out.” your words lashed at the air in the room, the release vibrating beneath your skin with cool adrenaline.

his eyes hardened, the shadows inside them rising to the surface. “nobody talks to me like that.”

he’d blown the top off the bottle you’d pent everything up in for years.

there was no stopping the backlash now. not even the imposing and threatening presence on your couch.

“maybe that’s your biggest problem.”

“so worried about my problems when you have no idea what kind of shit you’ve stepped into.” michael mocked, darkly amused.

you didn’t know what he meant, but you did know you didn’t appreciate him turning this around on you. he was the liar in the room. and your next words became a battle of wills to make him admit the truth.

“you feel this too,” you insisted.

“i don’t.”

your frustrated heart sent a burst of energy through you. you walked past him, with every intention of leaving. you were tired.

but you didn’t make it that far, michael was already on his feet.

“you want to play?” his voice was a growl. “fine, we’ll play.”

he gripped the back of your neck, spun you around, and slammed his lips against yours. anger still brimmed inside you, and you pushed against his hard chest, but you might as well be trying to move a wall.

“don’t fight me,” he said roughly against your lips. “you won’t win.”

you opened your mouth with a retort in mind, but he used the opening to slide his tongue inside. and then you were lost to the wetness and heat, the overwhelming fever writhing and pulsing in your veins. you rose to your toes to give him full access; to fit your body against his. you panted, fisting handfuls of his jacket to pull him closer.

michael groaned and slid his hands around the backs of your thighs. you made a noise of protest against his mouth when you realized his intention.

it was incredibly sexy how easily he lifted you.

wrapping your legs around him, you reveled in how well your bodies pieced together. he squeezed the bare flesh of your thighs possessively, making an angry sound in his throat like he’d been thinking about them too much and was furious with you for it. a palm slid beneath your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass as he walked you to the couch and sat.

you straddled his thighs, your mouths drifting apart so he could pull the dress over your head. the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor slowed the urgency of your movements.

your skin prickled with goose bumps where he looked at you. the lacy hem of your thigh-high socks, the thin straps of your white thong, the shallow dip of your navel, and the way your breasts pressed against the edges of your matching bra with every breath.

“perfect,” he said roughly.

he gripped the flare of your hips, palms sliding up. a soft sigh escaped you as the pressure of his touch ached between your legs. he ran a thumb on you waist, eyes flickering with darkness.

his gentle caress wrapped around your heart and tugged it toward him.

“you feel this too,” you breathed into his mouth.

he bit your bottom lip and responded, “shut up,” but there wasn’t any heat in it.

he caressed the bare curves of your ass, the skin on skin liquefying every nerve within you. his lips traveled down your throat to the tops of your breasts, and he nipped the skin before sliding a rough hand beneath your bra to squeeze the flesh.

pleasure rushed to your core, and you hummed against his neck.

he unclipped your bra and pulled it off. your breasts felt heavy as cool air brushed them, and momentary shyness reared its ugly head. you didn’t know what you were doing with this man—if you’d get out of here in one piece, or if you even wanted to. the idea you might be in over your head sent a rush of nerves to prickle your skin, but the hazy, almost reverent look in his eyes as he ran a thumb across your nipple charged you with newfound confidence.

he leaned in and sucked a nipple into his mouth. you groaned, dropped your head back, and ran a hand into his locks. the wet heat of his mouth tugged between your legs as he moved to the other, and flames curled low in your stomach.

he pressed the soft flesh together so he could bite, lick, and suck from one to the other. you were flushed with a wave so hot, so unstable, you didn’t know if you should push him away or beg him to never stop.

a quick wick burned from the warmth of his mouth to the damp material between your legs that grew wetter and more sensitive each second.

“michael, more,” you begged.

he released a nipple with a graze of teeth and dragged his mouth up your neck. “what do you want?”

anything.

everything.

you merely grinded against his erection with a desperate noise.

and then his hand was where you needed it, palming your pussy through the fabric and running a thumb across your clit.

“this?”

your skin caught fire, burning everywhere, from your ears to the tips of your toes.

his thumb slipped under the strap of your thong, tugging it down a little.

“take it off for me.”

a tremble started in your hands as you pushed your thong down your thighs, adjusting on his lap to slip it all the way off. he released a breath, gaze black as he took in the most private part of you. desire inflated in your throat when he ran his hands down your thighs, dragging your socks with them.

you pressed your lips to his, though he only complied for a moment so he could look at your body again. you were completely naked, and he hadn’t even removed his shirt. it felt like such a dirty act in a hotel room in broad daylight.

“do you come on all your first dates?” he asked, eyes narrowed but full of heat on your body.

you’ve been honest with him so far—you may as well take it all the way.

“nobody else has made me come.”

a momentary pause was your only warning before he gripped your hair, and a gasp escaped you when he pulled your head back by your ponytail. you panted, unresisting the ruthless hold that kept your neck angled toward the ceiling.

“don’t lie to me.”

you fought the aggressive hold with words. “you’re the liar, not me.”

after a second, he loosened the grip on your hair, but as his lips traveled down your neck, you knew he didn’t believe you. his palm pressed against your clit, applying the smallest amount of friction. his hand was rough, and you didn’t need much. you bit your lip to hold in a groan.

michael watched his hand between your legs and roughly said, “i could set a timer and get you off in less than thirty seconds.”

“do you want a trophy?”

he gripped your chin and pulled your eyes to his. “i want you to tell me the truth.”

by his voice and the tightening of his fingers on your cheeks, he expected you to appease his jaded soul in the next two seconds. he withheld the truth but demanded it from you. how ironic. and annoying. his palm moved at a tortuous grind against your clit, and frustration bubbled within. he was playing with you, and you’d lost your patience.

“fine. you want the truth?” you snapped. “if you don’t get me off in the next thirty seconds, i’ll find someone else to do it.”

his hand stilled, and after a second that stretched like taffy, a low chuckle escaped him. the leak of darkness that tainted any humor in it raised the hair on your arms. “so sweet, and then all fire...”

your breath caught at the nip he placed on your jawline, and when his eyes lifted to yours, they were filled with such intensity it stole the warmth from you. you shivered as he dragged a thumb across your lips.

“count down,” he ordered.

what?” you breathed.

“count. down.”

he slipped two fingers through your wetness and pushed them inside of you. you arched your back, dug your nails into his shoulders, and groaned in pleasure and a little pain. this was rougher than anything you were used to, but it only seemed to spark a fuse inside you.

“fuck,” he muttered. “count.”

“thirty…” you breathed. “twenty-nine…”

ecstasy unfurled in your veins like the hit of a drug—a mind-numbing, breathtaking drug—as he slid his thick fingers in and out. he rubbed a spot deep inside of you, hot pressure expanded, and your eyes rolled back.

michael smacked your ass, reminding you to count. the unexpected slap stung your flesh, but it also sent a vibration to your clit that stole your ability to do anything else but moan against his neck. judging by the rumble that vibrated in his chest, he liked your reaction, though the noise ended on a cynical note.

“use your words.”

you didn’t know any words at the moment, so you shook your head.

the next spank wasn’t as pleasurable. it was a lance of fire that brought a yelp up your throat and a tepid glare to your eyes. you thought he wanted to smile, but he didn’t; he only continued to slowly fuck you with his fingers until the annoyance in your gaze faded to half-lidded lust.

when you managed to say, “twenty-five,” he soothed the burn on your ass with a palm, liquefying every muscle in your body, and then he swallowed the sigh from your lips. the kiss lacked finesse while you grinded against his hand, panting numbers into his mouth. the impending release curled down your spine, and you weren’t even at twenty.

a cold sweat started beneath your skin, and your nails dug into his biceps as you tried to hold off for as long as you could.

he nipped your neck. “little liar.”

“twenty…”

you trembled, the flush beneath the surface threatening to erupt. he wasn’t even putting much effort into this, like he knew he didn’t need to in order to win. you were the one riding his fingers. it was against your endgame, but you’d passed the ability to care. you were so wet, there wasn’t any resistance. it was dripping down his hand and your leg.

“you’re making a mess,” the words were bitten between clenched teeth.

“sorr—” a gasp cut off the rest of your apology when his fingers thrust hard, curling against a spot that made you see stars.

“fifteen,” he reminded me coarsely.

you shook your head, unable to say anything.

his thumb pressed on your clit, and another finger eased inside. the extra pressure sent you over the cliff. prickles of flashing heat exploded, your vision dimmed, and your heart pounded to keep up with the scorching blood pumping through you.

his fingers moved slowly, in and out of you, while you caught your breath and the ringing in your ears faded. he didn’t pull his hand away until he wrung the last pulse from you. languid warmth spread through your body, sating you in a way you’d never experienced before.

fifteen breathless seconds.

he won, and you didn’t even care.

you kissed up his neck, making a soft noise of appreciation. he smelled so good, the heady scent hit you like a shot of dopamine.

“and now she’s sweet.” his voice was soft but leashed. he angled his neck away from you like he wanted you to stop kissing him. you were too high on the heat of him and post-orgasmic bliss to stop.

you ran your fingers over his erection, relishing the thick, hard feel of him.

your hand moved of its own volition to feel every inch while your lips and teeth teased a line down his neck. soon, he hissed out a breath and gripped your wrist to stop you.

“i can’t do much more of this unless we’re going to fuck.”

oh.

hesitation flickered to life.

were you ready for that? it would take little effort. you could unzip his pants and have him inside you in seconds—it would be so easy. but something held you back. the fact he wouldn’t admit he felt this connection too.

your pride wouldn’t allow him to have everything of you without giving a piece of himself in return.

your eyes met his, and you knew he saw the resistance behind them. letting out a breath of amusement and frustration, he kissed you on the lips and then moved you off him and stood. naked and cold, with your ass cheek still stinging, you watched him walk to the door.