JustMai

You leaned against the dark green table, staring glumly at your friend across the room who had ditched you to talk to some guy twenty minutes ago, promising she was “just getting his number.” You watched your friend laugh loudly, placing her hand on his shoulder, her red lipstick bright in the dim bar light. 

Yeah, she wasn’t coming back any time soon.

The cue was smooth and hard between your fingers as you lifted it back into position, and you bent low as you aimed at the cue ball, trying for the same green six. 

Deep breath, two. Pull back, aim. Shoot.

This one was closer. It actually hit the six, but instead of hitting it in—somehow—it knocked it to the side, causing it to spin loosely along the table until it came to a slow stop.

You groaned, leaning heavily on your pool cue as you stared at the evil ball. “How can I be so bad?” You muttered. 

“For starters, your bridge is terrible.”

A voice sounded behind you, and you whirled around to find a man leaning against the railing on the stairs leading down to the pool area, a smirk on his face. He was gorgeous: tan skin, blonde hair, a black button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean forearms and slender fingers that twitched slightly at the ends—as if he was used to fidgeting with something that wasn’t there. His pants were black too, making him look like an elegant shadow beside the brightness of his hair.

You blinked. “My bridge?”

He walked down the steps, his silver necklace brushing against his exposed collarbone. “Your bridge, the way you make a base for the cue with your hand. It’s unsteady; you’ll never shoot straight if you don’t have a firm base.” He grabbed another pool cue from the wall and leaned over the table, placing the hardwood between his thumb and index finger. He moved it slightly, and you watched as the cue moved forward, not even a little wobbly.

“See?” He said. He moved around the table and hit the cue ball toward the orange five on the other side of the table, sinking it into the pocket.

When he did it, it looked like the easiest thing in the world. 

“Now you try.” He nodded at the cue still gripped between your fingers, a strand of his blonde hair falling out of its slicked-back style. 

You sucked in your bottom lip, feeling heat creeping up your neck. You had no interest in embarrassing yourself in front of some hot guy, but he was looking at you intently, clearly determined to help you. There was no backing out.

You picked up your cue and leaned down, aiming for the blue two in front of the side pocket. You tried to copy his hand placement, sliding the smooth wood between your fingers. It felt a bit more stable, but as you shot, the cue wobbled to the side, making the ball spin off course.

“Better,” he said. He moved towards you and motioned for you to get in position, and when you did, you felt him behind you, his body a warm pillar as he leaned over you. He put his arms on either side of you, guiding your hands with his own. His fingers brushed your knuckles as he shifted them against the green turf, and you felt your entire body heating up at the proximity. 

“Like…this.” His hot breath bloomed against your neck. “Move the cue around, feel the difference.”

You pushed the cue as if you were hitting a ball, and your eyes widened at how much better it felt. The pole felt controlled, precise, completely different from the shaky awkwardness of before.

“Wow,” you said, “that’s…a lot better.”

The man hadn’t moved from behind you; he only retracted his arms, letting you position the cue freely. He leaned against the table. “No problem, try it out.”

You picked up the cue ball and placed it in front of your nemesis: the green six. You lowered your head, recreating the same steady bridge with your hand he had shown you. Same ritual: deep breath, two, pull back, shoot. 

The white ball hit the green six squarely in the center with a satisfying clack, sending it flying into the corner pocket. 

You gasped, “I did it!”

The man chuckled. “There you go, see? You’re not bad.”

You smiled, meeting his eyes. “Without you, I am.”

He nodded, smiling slightly, and the expression made your stomach flutter. “Happy to be of service.”

You shifted on your feet, looking around and noticing that the two of you were the only ones in the pool area, quiet, except for the distant bar chatter echoing in the dim greenish glow.

“So…you come here often?” You asked, hating the cheesy line the second you said it.

But he seemed to like it, because he laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table, and you noticed the silver glint of his watch on his wrist. It looked expensive. “Yeah, I’m here pretty often.” 

“You got a name?”

He smiled. “I do, it’s Jay.”

“I’m y/n.”

“Pleasure,” Jay said. “Are you here alone?”

“Oh no, my friend is here.” You gestured at the bar, where your friend was, and you coughed when you noticed she and the guy had started an intense makeout session, not noticing the bartender shooting them dirty looks.

Jay smirked. “Seems like she’s having more fun than you are.”

You scoffed. “I’m used to it; she’s always been more…social. But I’m having a perfectly good time working on my pool game.”

“Oh yeah, it seemed like it was going really well.” His eyes ran down your figure—so fast you almost missed it—but it was enough to make you hyperaware of how your black halter top fit around your neck. Suddenly constrictive as a thin layer of sweat coated your hands. 

You shrugged. “I would have figured it out.”

“Oh, so should I leave? Give you more space to ‘figure it out?’” 

You laughed softly, your cheeks hot. “I guess you’re sort of helpful, besides…there’s space.”

Jay’s eyes darted around the vacant tables. “I guess there is.”

You stared at each other, a tension settling in the air that made your skin prickle.

“You know, if you really want to get better…I could teach you.” Jay said after a moment.

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

He smiled, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Yeah, I’ve been told I have some skills, so if you want to be uh—” he glanced at your friend at the bar, still locking lips with the guy, “—social, you could come by tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.”

“Here?”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, why? Are these tables not to your liking?”

Your heart was beating out of your chest, his tan skin almost glowing in the warm light, and the way he looked at you was making it hard to speak straight. “N-no, they’re really nice; it’s one of the nicest bars I’ve been to actually.”

“Great, does 9 pm work?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at his lips. “Sounds good.”

He noticed, his eyes darkening slightly. “Perfect.”

Just then, your friend came bounding down the stairs, face flushed and hair messy. “Hey, sorry about that, I got distracted.” She glanced at Jay, and one look at his dark clothes and blonde hair and her entire face changed. “Oh, hello, do you two know each other?”

You shook your head. “No, we just met; this is Jay.”

“Jay…” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “Where have you been hiding?”

Jay chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it for the night.” You grabbed your friend's hand and started walking towards the stairs. “It was nice meeting you, Jay.”

He nodded, his unfairly bright smile finding its way back to his lips. “Likewise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Your friend asked, looking between you, “What’s tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you whispered, dragging her away, the smile on your face so wide it almost hurt. 

The next night, you walked into the bar wearing a black sheer top over a jean skirt, your heart beating out of your chest with nerves.

All day you’d been thinking of him: the way his eyes ran down your figure, the way his breath felt on your neck, and how you weren’t quite sure you were going to be able to make it through a whole night with him.

Now, as the familiar lights washed over you and the low sounds of laughter wafted through the room, you felt a new wave of fear rip through you, creating a full-body shiver. What if he stood you up? What if he was a weirdo? What if he turned out to be a serial killer? Or the favorite anxiety thought: What if you hallucinated him?

You walked in and awkwardly shuffled towards the pool tables, glancing over the side of the railing as you searched for a flash of his blonde hair. But you only spotted a couple of college guys and a pair of tough-looking older men wearing leather jackets, bright-colored patches adorning every inch.

You checked your watch. 8:59

Maybe you were too on time? You tended to arrive at places earlier than people expected you, much to many of your friends' annoyance. “10:00 means 10:15 y/n; you just say it earlier because everyone’s always late!”

You were never late.

You fiddled with your purse, glancing between the bar and the pool tables, debating between ordering a drink and warming up with a few ball hits to make yourself look a little less bad in front of Jay. 

Then a hand rested on your back.

You jumped, turning to find Jay looking down at you, dressed in a casual black long-sleeved shirt and jeans, a smile already on his face. “You’re right on time.”

You smiled back, your skin tingling from his hand on your back. “I thought I was early.”

“Nothing wrong with being early, just means more time for our lesson.” He smirked, “Come on, it’s a bit crowded out here; I got a table in the back.”

“The back?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought this was the only room.”

“For most people, but you’re my guest.” He started walking away, motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated, looking over at the public tables that were now full, the place bustling with activity. You knew you shouldn’t go somewhere private with some guy you barely knew, but Jay felt so safe, so steady, and before you could think too hard, you were walking after him. 

He moved through the room seamlessly, and you tilted your head when you saw the bartender nod at him.

Jay led you to a dark wooden door at the back of the room, and your eyes widened when you saw the large white sign on the door adorned with bold black letters: PRIVATE, DO NOT ENTER. 

He opened it and motioned for you to go ahead of him.

You stared at him. “Do you…work here?”

He chuckled, looking between you and the door. “y/n, I’m the owner.”

Your eyes widened like saucers. “What?”

He leaned against the threshold, brushing a hand through his hair, peering into the bar behind you. “Yeah, the whole place is mine. Does that change anything?”

“N-no, I’m just-” You laughed. “-I thought you were a normal guy.”

He smiled, and his eyes dropped to your lips. “I don’t think we’re so different.”

You felt your cheeks erupt with heat, and you looked through the open door, finding a dark set of stairs. “Well, I’m very curious to see the owner’s private table.”

“Lead the way.”

You walked up the stairs, finding a matching wooden door at the top—dark and slightly foreboding. You opened it. “Whoa.”

It was a studio apartment, complete with a small kitchen along one wall, a bed tucked in the corner next to a wide window, and a room off to one side leading to a bathroom. Your eyes scanned over a small collection of guitars propped in one corner, the colors bright and glossy against the dark wood of the floor and walls. A TV sat facing the bed, surrounded by a bookshelf decorated with a collection of pictures and trophies. 

But the crown jewel of the room was the pool table. 

It stood in the center, the felt bright green, the base of the table a wood so dark it was basically black. The pockets were polished silver, the collection of pool cues on the wall pristine and orderly. You had never thought of pool tables as particularly attractive before, but this one was changing your mind. 

Jay walked to the sink. “Drink?”

You tore your eyes away from the table and back to him. “Oh, sure.”

“I’ve got it all: beer, wine, scotch…pick your poison.”

You smiled. “Wine sounds nice.”

He nodded to himself. “I’ve got just the bottle.”

Within a few minutes, you were each holding a wine glass, Jay leaning against the massive table as he arranged the balls in the triangular rack.

You eyed the trophies on the bookshelf, a golden eight ball perched on one of them. “You weren’t lying about having skills.”

“Most of them are from my college days; I bet you’ll be beating me by the end of the night.”

You snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

“I’ve been told I’m a great teacher.”

“No one’s that good.” You said.

His rich laugh rumbled deep in his throat. “Oh, I am.”

You took a sip of your wine. “Alright, I expect to be a pool master by the time I go to sleep tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He set his glass down and grabbed a pool cue, aiming at the cue ball. “Now, lesson one…”

Jay led you through a myriad of tips and tricks, first demonstrating, then watching on the side with his arms crossed as you bent over the table to take your shot. You felt his eyes on you constantly, drifting from your finger bridge all the way down your back. He wasn’t trying to hide it; he was flirty in the most disarming way possible: subtle with words, but explicit with touch.

Every time he walked by you when he was positioning for a better shot, he’d go much closer than necessary, letting his arm brush yours. Sometimes, he’d even gently place his hands on your shoulders, moving you to the side, his fingers tracing down your skin. 

When it was your turn, he stood right next to you, murmuring instructions with his deep voice, his hip almost pressed against yours.

You tried to focus on the game, because you really did want to be a good student, but every time he spoke, you shivered, and every time his eyes met yours, you momentarily stopped breathing. 

You were truly fighting for your life.

But just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. So much worse.

Jay was in the middle of pouring your third glass of wine, and you were desperately trying to focus on aiming your shot instead of staring at the way his fingers caressed the bottle when he spoke—so casual it sent a chill down your spine.

“How about we up the stakes?”

You stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he said, “...that every time one of us pockets a ball, the other one takes off a piece of clothing.”

You stared at him blankly, your brain struggling to decide if you just heard him right.

He handed you your wine glass. “Just a suggestion.”

You took it numbly, inhaling sharply when his fingers brushed yours. 

He smiled.

You blinked and took a breath. “That seems…highly one-sided given your-” you glanced at his trophy case, “-achievements.”

He chuckled, the sound going straight between your legs. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Is this what you meant when you said you were a good teacher?”

“Maybe.”

You watched as Jay arranged the colored balls into the rack, now painfully aware of the way his muscles flexed under his shirt and the way the tendon in his neck shifted beneath his skin. You clenched your thighs together, the tension in the room alone enough to build the pressure in your core. 

He placed the cue ball across from the triangle and broke the cluster in a scattering of colors. One went in: stripes.

“Alright, solids, you’re up.”

You approached the table, running through every piece of advice Jay had ever given you: stable bridge, hit the bottom if you want a stop, the top if you want a follow, be confident, follow through…You aimed at the red seven, ignored the feeling of Jay’s eyes on your face, and shot.

The ball rolled sadly past your target and hit the side of the table with a disappointing thump.

You sighed, half-relieved and half-disappointed. You were fairly certain your accuracy would tank the second Jay’s chest hit cool air. 

Jay didn’t say anything, just moved behind you, his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he walked to the other side of the table. He bent down with the accuracy of a pro, his brows furrowed and one of his eyes partially shut as he aimed.

You held your breath as time seemed to slow.

His arm moved, and you watched as the striped orange ball hit the table and banked into a side pocket: an incredible shot.

“Was that supposed to be ‘going easy?’” You asked, your face red. The room suddenly felt very hot.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “To be fair, that was pretty lucky.”

You fiddled with the edge of your top. “So…do you get to choose the clothing?”

He leaned against the table, looking you up and down slowly, his eyes trailing fire over your skin. “I’ll let you choose.”

You thought for a second, brushing your fingers over the rough fabric of your jean skirt and the thin material of your sheer top. You glanced up and smirked when you saw Jay watching your every movement. You bent down and unzipped the side of your black leather boots before tugging them off your feet. You stood up, both boots clenched between your fingers, and dropped them with a satisfying thud.

Jay let out a short laugh at your triumphant expression, his tongue flicking out over his lips. “You want to play it that way?”

“What? Wouldn’t want to go too fast.”

He sighed. “I was looking forward to seeing you in nothing but boots, though.”

You blushed. “Maybe I’ll put them back on later.”

He walked closer, smiling slightly when he saw you visibly tense. He stopped when your chests were almost touching. “I’ll look forward to it. Your turn.”

The game continued for what felt like hours as the tension grew and the amount of wine in the bottle shrank. Jay was going anything but easy, and you attributed it to the way his eyes darkened every time you revealed another patch of skin, aching for the next reveal. At this point, you were down to nothing but your bra and panties, your feet bare against the cool hardwood floor. Jay’s eyes were everywhere, settling on the curve of your back and the rise of your ass every time you bent over the table. 

You were starting to enjoy the way you were tormenting him and began to do some teasing of your own. You’d prop your elbow on the table during his turn, standing low so your tits were directly in his field of view. You put your chin in your hand and pouted your lip like you were bored, biting your lip whenever he glanced up.

It worked, because he started to miss, groaning softly whenever the ball uselessly hit just next to the pocket. Then he’d look up at you like you were a rock in his shoe and flex his hand like he was restraining himself, his eyes dark.

Meanwhile, you’d somehow managed to pocket two balls, which earned you a devilish smirk that made your knees weak and Jay’s shirt and shoes. 

When he first took off the black fabric, revealing lean muscle and golden skin, you’d missed your next two shots, unable to focus on anything besides how badly you wanted to trace your fingers up his chest. Jay just stood there and smiled, adjusting his pants so they revealed the top of his V-line. 

You downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Then Jay made another shot.

He chuckled.

He made another one.

Jay leaned on his pool cue, gaze darting over you.

Your pussy had been throbbing ever since you took your boots off, and the way he stared at you now was making your brain stall. There was nothing left you could use to draw out the inevitable, nothing to stop you from being left completely bare.

“Does this mean I lose?”

His tongue darted out. “Technically, yes.”

“So what now?”

Slowly, he started walking towards you, watching the way you clenched your thighs the closer he got. You were leaning against the table, and he stopped right in front of you, leaning his pool cue to the side, never once taking his eyes off of you.

He lowered his hand so the tips of his fingers brushed your waist, making your skin shiver. 

“Now, either you take them off…or me.”

Your breath grew shallow as his hand drifted up to tease the edge of your bra, his other hand resting on your hip. He moved closer so his bare stomach was pressed against yours, and the shock it sent up your spine felt so good you had to resist pulling him closer.

“Go ahead.” Your voice wavered on the last syllable, as his hand squeezed your thigh and your pussy clenched around nothing. 

He smirked. “It was a good game; better luck next time.” His hand slid behind you and unclipped your bra with one hand, pulling it off you and tossing it onto the pool table.

You sighed as your breasts hit cool air, his eyes immediately dropping to your hardened nipples. He ran his thumb over one, groaning softly when you exhaled, arching away from him as you pressed your back against the table. 

With his other hand, Jay hooked his finger into your panties and dragged them down, immediately grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table. You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. 

He looked up at you now, his lips parted as short breaths escaped them, roving over your naked body like you were a feast he didn’t know where to begin. You let your hands wander to the back of his neck and up into his hair, the blondish silver locks pooling over your fingers in soft waves.

“Fuck,” he said, “you’re gorgeous. I mean, I knew you would be, but fuck.”

You giggled. “So was this your plan all along?”

He smiled, running another finger over your nipple, making you whimper. “Not in this much detail, but…I wanted you from the moment I saw you holding the pool cue like you were seconds away from splitting it in half.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. “So you’re saying the secret is walking around bars looking clueless?”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “No, only my bar, and only in front of me.”

Then he kissed you—hard—scraping his teeth along your bottom lip as his hand clutched the back of your neck. You groaned into his mouth, parting your lips around his tongue as your hands gripped his hair, holding him against you. 

Jay’s other hand went to your hip, fingers digging into the skin with the same intensity he had gripping the pool cue. He pulled you even closer, and you gasped when you felt his hard length straining against your core from inside his pants. 

He smiled against your lips and purposely moved against you, sending shivers down your back as your clit brushed his bulge. 

“You want it?” He started kissing down your jaw. “Want me to lay you out on this table and fuck you till you can’t think?” His voice was deep and breathy in your ear, heightening the pressure building low and hot between your legs. It was shocking how much your body craved him, the hours of tension creating a primal need that rallied in your body like a disease. Every sound was disarming, every touch debilitating.

“I need you so bad, Jay.” You sighed. You thought of the pool cue drifting over his fingers, how they were long and precise and so insanely torturous the way they teased you. “I want your fingers inside me.”

His lips stopped against your neck. “Say it again.”

“Jay,” you whined, looking down where your core was still pressed against his crotch. “Need to feel those talented hands all over me.” You smiled. “Your customer has a request; wouldn’t want me to leave a bad review now, would you?”

He chuckled darkly, the sound like blood red wine flowing through your veins. “Well, we couldn’t have that.”

He swept his arm behind you, clearing some of the stray balls before pushing you onto your back. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning over until you were completely trapped under him, his blonde hair falling into his face as he looked down. “They say the customer is always right.” He leaned down even further until his lips were brushing your ear. “But you might regret it.”

Your heart was beating in rapid bursts, excitement and desire making your thoughts race in drunken flashes that were only intensified by the wine. “I’m a big girl, Jay.”

Jay kissed the corner of your mouth, suddenly tender as one of his hands traced your waist. “Then remember big girls don’t cry, y/n.”

A finger plunged into you, making you arch against the table at the sudden penetration. A broken moan spilled out of your mouth, and Jay muffled it with his lips, humming in pleasure as your body jerked and bucked against his hand. His tongue tangled with yours in an obscene dance, the wet sound of your mouths and his finger pumping into your pussy creating a cacophony of filthy sounds echoing through the large room. 

His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing hard, slow circles that made your brain short-circuit. You whimpered into his mouth, begging for more through the only part of your body that wasn’t being pressed against the table: your hands. You pulled at his hair and dug your fingers into his scalp, a rush of pleasure going straight to your head when he groaned and trembled under your touch.

Jay added another finger, making you pull away as your head tilted against the table at the stretch, a loud moan slipping from your lips. 

You felt him smile against your skin as he moved lower and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and lapping at the hardened bud as if he was starving. 

“Jay! Holy fuck. It feels so good.” You gasped, biting your lip to stop the collection of moans buffering in your throat, ready to spill out like a song.

A low sound that felt like a purr vibrated deep in his chest, and in one agonizing moment, he stepped back completely, his fingers withdrawing from the warmth of your pussy and leaving behind a sad emptiness.

“Noo,” you whined. You propped yourself up on your elbows, finding Jay staring at you with his usual smirk. His hair was a mess, the bare skin of his chest flushed, his eyes dark and foggy with need—and you thought that the sight of him now would haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t let you cum till I’m inside you.” He undid the button of his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, letting his hard and dripping cock spring free.

Your mouth watered instantly, and your walls grasped uselessly at nothing. You clenched your thighs together, and Jay moved, grabbing your knees and pulling your legs apart. He kissed your kneecap. “Keep them open for me, ok? Wanna see how bad you need me.”

You bit your tongue, watching with glazed eyes as he kissed his way up your thigh, the pressure almost unbearable. 

He met your eyes, and without looking away, licked a stripe through your folds.

“Fuck!” You moaned, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to grind on his tongue. He made a gentle swirl around your clit, and a sound came out of you that you didn’t know you could make. Jay was still looking at you, total devotion on his face as he took in every clench of your jaw and parting of your lips. 

He stopped and stood up, leaning towards your face and kissing your cheeks softly. “You’re crying, baby, and I’m not even inside you yet. Don’t you remember what I said?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Big girls don’t cry.”

He smiled. “That’s right, so show me you can take it.”

You kissed him softly. “Please, Jay, I’ll be good.”

Jay searched your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and smeared mascara, looking at him like he was the earth and you were the moon. He nodded once. He shifted his hips. His hands moved to your waist.

His head pressed against your entrance. 

You inhaled sharply, gripping his shoulders and staring down at the place where your bodies were about to meet. 

He pushed inside, and the stretch had you leaning over his shoulder, holding onto him like a pillar, his hot skin the only thing grounding you as your walls huddled around him. 

You groaned in unison as he went deeper, and he kissed your neck, swirling gentle, rhythmic circles until he bottomed out with a satisfied sigh.

You sat there for a moment, breaths mingling. Your face buried in his neck, and his in your hair, both just basking in the way your bodies meshed together.

Then, he moved.

The friction was exquisite, the ridges of his cock rubbing against your smooth walls in dizzying strokes that had you moaning into his neck. You scraped your nails down Jay’s back, and you heard him curse into your hair, his thrusts speeding up. 

The pool table shook slightly under you, the balls rattling on the surface with every move of Jay’s hips. You pulled back and ran your lips up his jaw until he pulled back and met you in the middle, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss as he started to thrust into you harder and deeper.

He sucked on your bottom lip, smiling when you clutched at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, hands running down his arms as you tried to touch every inch of him. He dragged you even closer by the hips, groaning when his dick started slamming against your cervix, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. 

The pressure in your body was a coil tightened to its limit, making every movement brutal as your body begged for release. You kissed Jay harder, moaning into his mouth and rocking against him as you chased your climax.

Jay’s breaths turned ragged as you moved in time with him, maddeningly turned on by the way you clutched at him as if he were the ground beneath your feet. “y/n,” he groaned between kisses. “Let me cum inside, please.”

You nodded against his mouth, almost too delirious for words. “Yes,” you choked.

He groaned and pulled away from your mouth with a wet pop as he started thrusting into you rapidly, looking down and watching himself disappear inside you.

“God, you’re perfect, you’re mine, you’re all mine.” Jay gasped.

You looked down too, the image combined with the filthy sounds of your meshing bodies sending a jolt of pleasure down your back. You felt your climax building, rising in a crescendo of ecstasy. “Jay, I’m cumming!”

The squelching sounds of your juices around his cock got louder, blending with the high-pitched moan that ripped from your throat when your orgasm hit you.

Your vision blurred, and you braced yourself with one hand on Jay’s chest, grinding in time with the waves of pleasure as your climax ran its course.

Jay followed right after, moaning as your pussy clamped down and milked him dry, his hot seed spilling inside of you in spurts. He slowed his thrusts, his eyes fluttering closed as his own orgasm heightened and subsided. He tilted his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily, occasionally placing kisses along your sweaty collarbone. 

You massaged his scalp, letting his silky hair brush over your fingers, basking in the heavy silence of Jay’s apartment, only broken by your soft pants. 

You sat there for a few moments, processing. Then Jay slowly slipped out of you, drawing soft groans from each of you as you finally came apart. He kissed you softly and whispered against your lips. “You were amazing.”

You smirked. “At pool? Or…?”

He laughed. “Your game could use some work, but lucky for you, I’m always open to more lessons.”

“Well, now that I know your…teaching methods, I’d be happy to come back.”

Jay started kissing down your neck. “Good, next time we can work on your break. His mouth went between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach. “Or…” He stopped below your belly button, a new wave of heat already pooling between your legs. “The way you break under my tongue.”

“Tomorrow?” You asked, breath already uneven.

He smiled before disappearing between your legs. “Right now.”

Taglist: @kristynaaah @heeddungi @every-w @iouven @enhniki1009 @cherryluvssss @abby1009poosay @yunki02 @lac4ygal @rikicoolpuma @k3nza @enhtt

You leaned against the dark green table, staring glumly at your friend across the room who had ditched you to talk to some guy twenty minutes ago, promising she was “just getting his number.” You watched your friend laugh loudly, placing her hand on his shoulder, her red lipstick bright in the dim bar light. 

Yeah, she wasn’t coming back any time soon.

The cue was smooth and hard between your fingers as you lifted it back into position, and you bent low as you aimed at the cue ball, trying for the same green six. 

Deep breath, two. Pull back, aim. Shoot.

This one was closer. It actually hit the six, but instead of hitting it in—somehow—it knocked it to the side, causing it to spin loosely along the table until it came to a slow stop.

You groaned, leaning heavily on your pool cue as you stared at the evil ball. “How can I be so bad?” You muttered. 

“For starters, your bridge is terrible.”

A voice sounded behind you, and you whirled around to find a man leaning against the railing on the stairs leading down to the pool area, a smirk on his face. He was gorgeous: tan skin, blonde hair, a black button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean forearms and slender fingers that twitched slightly at the ends—as if he was used to fidgeting with something that wasn’t there. His pants were black too, making him look like an elegant shadow beside the brightness of his hair.

You blinked. “My bridge?”

He walked down the steps, his silver necklace brushing against his exposed collarbone. “Your bridge, the way you make a base for the cue with your hand. It’s unsteady; you’ll never shoot straight if you don’t have a firm base.” He grabbed another pool cue from the wall and leaned over the table, placing the hardwood between his thumb and index finger. He moved it slightly, and you watched as the cue moved forward, not even a little wobbly.

“See?” He said. He moved around the table and hit the cue ball toward the orange five on the other side of the table, sinking it into the pocket.

When he did it, it looked like the easiest thing in the world. 

“Now you try.” He nodded at the cue still gripped between your fingers, a strand of his blonde hair falling out of its slicked-back style. 

You sucked in your bottom lip, feeling heat creeping up your neck. You had no interest in embarrassing yourself in front of some hot guy, but he was looking at you intently, clearly determined to help you. There was no backing out.

You picked up your cue and leaned down, aiming for the blue two in front of the side pocket. You tried to copy his hand placement, sliding the smooth wood between your fingers. It felt a bit more stable, but as you shot, the cue wobbled to the side, making the ball spin off course.

“Better,” he said. He moved towards you and motioned for you to get in position, and when you did, you felt him behind you, his body a warm pillar as he leaned over you. He put his arms on either side of you, guiding your hands with his own. His fingers brushed your knuckles as he shifted them against the green turf, and you felt your entire body heating up at the proximity. 

“Like…this.” His hot breath bloomed against your neck. “Move the cue around, feel the difference.”

You pushed the cue as if you were hitting a ball, and your eyes widened at how much better it felt. The pole felt controlled, precise, completely different from the shaky awkwardness of before.

“Wow,” you said, “that’s…a lot better.”

The man hadn’t moved from behind you; he only retracted his arms, letting you position the cue freely. He leaned against the table. “No problem, try it out.”

You picked up the cue ball and placed it in front of your nemesis: the green six. You lowered your head, recreating the same steady bridge with your hand he had shown you. Same ritual: deep breath, two, pull back, shoot. 

The white ball hit the green six squarely in the center with a satisfying clack, sending it flying into the corner pocket. 

You gasped, “I did it!”

The man chuckled. “There you go, see? You’re not bad.”

You smiled, meeting his eyes. “Without you, I am.”

He nodded, smiling slightly, and the expression made your stomach flutter. “Happy to be of service.”

You shifted on your feet, looking around and noticing that the two of you were the only ones in the pool area, quiet, except for the distant bar chatter echoing in the dim greenish glow.

“So…you come here often?” You asked, hating the cheesy line the second you said it.

But he seemed to like it, because he laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table, and you noticed the silver glint of his watch on his wrist. It looked expensive. “Yeah, I’m here pretty often.” 

“You got a name?”

He smiled. “I do, it’s Jay.”

“I’m y/n.”

“Pleasure,” Jay said. “Are you here alone?”

“Oh no, my friend is here.” You gestured at the bar, where your friend was, and you coughed when you noticed she and the guy had started an intense makeout session, not noticing the bartender shooting them dirty looks.

Jay smirked. “Seems like she’s having more fun than you are.”

You scoffed. “I’m used to it; she’s always been more…social. But I’m having a perfectly good time working on my pool game.”

“Oh yeah, it seemed like it was going really well.” His eyes ran down your figure—so fast you almost missed it—but it was enough to make you hyperaware of how your black halter top fit around your neck. Suddenly constrictive as a thin layer of sweat coated your hands. 

You shrugged. “I would have figured it out.”

“Oh, so should I leave? Give you more space to ‘figure it out?’” 

You laughed softly, your cheeks hot. “I guess you’re sort of helpful, besides…there’s space.”

Jay’s eyes darted around the vacant tables. “I guess there is.”

You stared at each other, a tension settling in the air that made your skin prickle.

“You know, if you really want to get better…I could teach you.” Jay said after a moment.

Your eyes widened. “Really?”

He smiled, running a hand through his blonde hair. “Yeah, I’ve been told I have some skills, so if you want to be uh—” he glanced at your friend at the bar, still locking lips with the guy, “—social, you could come by tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.”

“Here?”

Jay chuckled. “Yeah, why? Are these tables not to your liking?”

Your heart was beating out of your chest, his tan skin almost glowing in the warm light, and the way he looked at you was making it hard to speak straight. “N-no, they’re really nice; it’s one of the nicest bars I’ve been to actually.”

“Great, does 9 pm work?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at his lips. “Sounds good.”

He noticed, his eyes darkening slightly. “Perfect.”

Just then, your friend came bounding down the stairs, face flushed and hair messy. “Hey, sorry about that, I got distracted.” She glanced at Jay, and one look at his dark clothes and blonde hair and her entire face changed. “Oh, hello, do you two know each other?”

You shook your head. “No, we just met; this is Jay.”

“Jay…” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, smiling sweetly. “Where have you been hiding?”

Jay chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. “Alright, I think it’s time to call it for the night.” You grabbed your friend's hand and started walking towards the stairs. “It was nice meeting you, Jay.”

He nodded, his unfairly bright smile finding its way back to his lips. “Likewise, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Your friend asked, looking between you, “What’s tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you whispered, dragging her away, the smile on your face so wide it almost hurt. 

The next night, you walked into the bar wearing a black sheer top over a jean skirt, your heart beating out of your chest with nerves.

All day you’d been thinking of him: the way his eyes ran down your figure, the way his breath felt on your neck, and how you weren’t quite sure you were going to be able to make it through a whole night with him.

Now, as the familiar lights washed over you and the low sounds of laughter wafted through the room, you felt a new wave of fear rip through you, creating a full-body shiver. What if he stood you up? What if he was a weirdo? What if he turned out to be a serial killer? Or the favorite anxiety thought: What if you hallucinated him?

You walked in and awkwardly shuffled towards the pool tables, glancing over the side of the railing as you searched for a flash of his blonde hair. But you only spotted a couple of college guys and a pair of tough-looking older men wearing leather jackets, bright-colored patches adorning every inch.

You checked your watch. 8:59

Maybe you were too on time? You tended to arrive at places earlier than people expected you, much to many of your friends' annoyance. “10:00 means 10:15 y/n; you just say it earlier because everyone’s always late!”

You were never late.

You fiddled with your purse, glancing between the bar and the pool tables, debating between ordering a drink and warming up with a few ball hits to make yourself look a little less bad in front of Jay. 

Then a hand rested on your back.

You jumped, turning to find Jay looking down at you, dressed in a casual black long-sleeved shirt and jeans, a smile already on his face. “You’re right on time.”

You smiled back, your skin tingling from his hand on your back. “I thought I was early.”

“Nothing wrong with being early, just means more time for our lesson.” He smirked, “Come on, it’s a bit crowded out here; I got a table in the back.”

“The back?” You asked, eyebrows raised. “I thought this was the only room.”

“For most people, but you’re my guest.” He started walking away, motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated, looking over at the public tables that were now full, the place bustling with activity. You knew you shouldn’t go somewhere private with some guy you barely knew, but Jay felt so safe, so steady, and before you could think too hard, you were walking after him. 

He moved through the room seamlessly, and you tilted your head when you saw the bartender nod at him.

Jay led you to a dark wooden door at the back of the room, and your eyes widened when you saw the large white sign on the door adorned with bold black letters: PRIVATE, DO NOT ENTER. 

He opened it and motioned for you to go ahead of him.

You stared at him. “Do you…work here?”

He chuckled, looking between you and the door. “y/n, I’m the owner.”

Your eyes widened like saucers. “What?”

He leaned against the threshold, brushing a hand through his hair, peering into the bar behind you. “Yeah, the whole place is mine. Does that change anything?”

“N-no, I’m just-” You laughed. “-I thought you were a normal guy.”

He smiled, and his eyes dropped to your lips. “I don’t think we’re so different.”

You felt your cheeks erupt with heat, and you looked through the open door, finding a dark set of stairs. “Well, I’m very curious to see the owner’s private table.”

“Lead the way.”

You walked up the stairs, finding a matching wooden door at the top—dark and slightly foreboding. You opened it. “Whoa.”

It was a studio apartment, complete with a small kitchen along one wall, a bed tucked in the corner next to a wide window, and a room off to one side leading to a bathroom. Your eyes scanned over a small collection of guitars propped in one corner, the colors bright and glossy against the dark wood of the floor and walls. A TV sat facing the bed, surrounded by a bookshelf decorated with a collection of pictures and trophies. 

But the crown jewel of the room was the pool table. 

It stood in the center, the felt bright green, the base of the table a wood so dark it was basically black. The pockets were polished silver, the collection of pool cues on the wall pristine and orderly. You had never thought of pool tables as particularly attractive before, but this one was changing your mind. 

Jay walked to the sink. “Drink?”

You tore your eyes away from the table and back to him. “Oh, sure.”

“I’ve got it all: beer, wine, scotch…pick your poison.”

You smiled. “Wine sounds nice.”

He nodded to himself. “I’ve got just the bottle.”

Within a few minutes, you were each holding a wine glass, Jay leaning against the massive table as he arranged the balls in the triangular rack.

You eyed the trophies on the bookshelf, a golden eight ball perched on one of them. “You weren’t lying about having skills.”

“Most of them are from my college days; I bet you’ll be beating me by the end of the night.”

You snorted. “I highly doubt that.”

“I’ve been told I’m a great teacher.”

“No one’s that good.” You said.

His rich laugh rumbled deep in his throat. “Oh, I am.”

You took a sip of your wine. “Alright, I expect to be a pool master by the time I go to sleep tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He set his glass down and grabbed a pool cue, aiming at the cue ball. “Now, lesson one…”

Jay led you through a myriad of tips and tricks, first demonstrating, then watching on the side with his arms crossed as you bent over the table to take your shot. You felt his eyes on you constantly, drifting from your finger bridge all the way down your back. He wasn’t trying to hide it; he was flirty in the most disarming way possible: subtle with words, but explicit with touch.

Every time he walked by you when he was positioning for a better shot, he’d go much closer than necessary, letting his arm brush yours. Sometimes, he’d even gently place his hands on your shoulders, moving you to the side, his fingers tracing down your skin. 

When it was your turn, he stood right next to you, murmuring instructions with his deep voice, his hip almost pressed against yours.

You tried to focus on the game, because you really did want to be a good student, but every time he spoke, you shivered, and every time his eyes met yours, you momentarily stopped breathing. 

You were truly fighting for your life.

But just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. So much worse.

Jay was in the middle of pouring your third glass of wine, and you were desperately trying to focus on aiming your shot instead of staring at the way his fingers caressed the bottle when he spoke—so casual it sent a chill down your spine.

“How about we up the stakes?”

You stopped. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he said, “...that every time one of us pockets a ball, the other one takes off a piece of clothing.”

You stared at him blankly, your brain struggling to decide if you just heard him right.

He handed you your wine glass. “Just a suggestion.”

You took it numbly, inhaling sharply when his fingers brushed yours. 

He smiled.

You blinked and took a breath. “That seems…highly one-sided given your-” you glanced at his trophy case, “-achievements.”

He chuckled, the sound going straight between your legs. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Is this what you meant when you said you were a good teacher?”

“Maybe.”

You watched as Jay arranged the colored balls into the rack, now painfully aware of the way his muscles flexed under his shirt and the way the tendon in his neck shifted beneath his skin. You clenched your thighs together, the tension in the room alone enough to build the pressure in your core. 

He placed the cue ball across from the triangle and broke the cluster in a scattering of colors. One went in: stripes.

“Alright, solids, you’re up.”

You approached the table, running through every piece of advice Jay had ever given you: stable bridge, hit the bottom if you want a stop, the top if you want a follow, be confident, follow through…You aimed at the red seven, ignored the feeling of Jay’s eyes on your face, and shot.

The ball rolled sadly past your target and hit the side of the table with a disappointing thump.

You sighed, half-relieved and half-disappointed. You were fairly certain your accuracy would tank the second Jay’s chest hit cool air. 

Jay didn’t say anything, just moved behind you, his hand ghosting over the small of your back as he walked to the other side of the table. He bent down with the accuracy of a pro, his brows furrowed and one of his eyes partially shut as he aimed.

You held your breath as time seemed to slow.

His arm moved, and you watched as the striped orange ball hit the table and banked into a side pocket: an incredible shot.

“Was that supposed to be ‘going easy?’” You asked, your face red. The room suddenly felt very hot.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “To be fair, that was pretty lucky.”

You fiddled with the edge of your top. “So…do you get to choose the clothing?”

He leaned against the table, looking you up and down slowly, his eyes trailing fire over your skin. “I’ll let you choose.”

You thought for a second, brushing your fingers over the rough fabric of your jean skirt and the thin material of your sheer top. You glanced up and smirked when you saw Jay watching your every movement. You bent down and unzipped the side of your black leather boots before tugging them off your feet. You stood up, both boots clenched between your fingers, and dropped them with a satisfying thud.

Jay let out a short laugh at your triumphant expression, his tongue flicking out over his lips. “You want to play it that way?”

“What? Wouldn’t want to go too fast.”

He sighed. “I was looking forward to seeing you in nothing but boots, though.”

You blushed. “Maybe I’ll put them back on later.”

He walked closer, smiling slightly when he saw you visibly tense. He stopped when your chests were almost touching. “I’ll look forward to it. Your turn.”

The game continued for what felt like hours as the tension grew and the amount of wine in the bottle shrank. Jay was going anything but easy, and you attributed it to the way his eyes darkened every time you revealed another patch of skin, aching for the next reveal. At this point, you were down to nothing but your bra and panties, your feet bare against the cool hardwood floor. Jay’s eyes were everywhere, settling on the curve of your back and the rise of your ass every time you bent over the table. 

You were starting to enjoy the way you were tormenting him and began to do some teasing of your own. You’d prop your elbow on the table during his turn, standing low so your tits were directly in his field of view. You put your chin in your hand and pouted your lip like you were bored, biting your lip whenever he glanced up.

It worked, because he started to miss, groaning softly whenever the ball uselessly hit just next to the pocket. Then he’d look up at you like you were a rock in his shoe and flex his hand like he was restraining himself, his eyes dark.

Meanwhile, you’d somehow managed to pocket two balls, which earned you a devilish smirk that made your knees weak and Jay’s shirt and shoes. 

When he first took off the black fabric, revealing lean muscle and golden skin, you’d missed your next two shots, unable to focus on anything besides how badly you wanted to trace your fingers up his chest. Jay just stood there and smiled, adjusting his pants so they revealed the top of his V-line. 

You downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Then Jay made another shot.

He chuckled.

He made another one.

Jay leaned on his pool cue, gaze darting over you.

Your pussy had been throbbing ever since you took your boots off, and the way he stared at you now was making your brain stall. There was nothing left you could use to draw out the inevitable, nothing to stop you from being left completely bare.

“Does this mean I lose?”

His tongue darted out. “Technically, yes.”

“So what now?”

Slowly, he started walking towards you, watching the way you clenched your thighs the closer he got. You were leaning against the table, and he stopped right in front of you, leaning his pool cue to the side, never once taking his eyes off of you.

He lowered his hand so the tips of his fingers brushed your waist, making your skin shiver. 

“Now, either you take them off…or me.”

Your breath grew shallow as his hand drifted up to tease the edge of your bra, his other hand resting on your hip. He moved closer so his bare stomach was pressed against yours, and the shock it sent up your spine felt so good you had to resist pulling him closer.

“Go ahead.” Your voice wavered on the last syllable, as his hand squeezed your thigh and your pussy clenched around nothing. 

He smirked. “It was a good game; better luck next time.” His hand slid behind you and unclipped your bra with one hand, pulling it off you and tossing it onto the pool table.

You sighed as your breasts hit cool air, his eyes immediately dropping to your hardened nipples. He ran his thumb over one, groaning softly when you exhaled, arching away from him as you pressed your back against the table. 

With his other hand, Jay hooked his finger into your panties and dragged them down, immediately grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table. You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. 

He looked up at you now, his lips parted as short breaths escaped them, roving over your naked body like you were a feast he didn’t know where to begin. You let your hands wander to the back of his neck and up into his hair, the blondish silver locks pooling over your fingers in soft waves.

“Fuck,” he said, “you’re gorgeous. I mean, I knew you would be, but fuck.”

You giggled. “So was this your plan all along?”

He smiled, running another finger over your nipple, making you whimper. “Not in this much detail, but…I wanted you from the moment I saw you holding the pool cue like you were seconds away from splitting it in half.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, tugging him closer. “So you’re saying the secret is walking around bars looking clueless?”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “No, only my bar, and only in front of me.”

Then he kissed you—hard—scraping his teeth along your bottom lip as his hand clutched the back of your neck. You groaned into his mouth, parting your lips around his tongue as your hands gripped his hair, holding him against you. 

Jay’s other hand went to your hip, fingers digging into the skin with the same intensity he had gripping the pool cue. He pulled you even closer, and you gasped when you felt his hard length straining against your core from inside his pants. 

He smiled against your lips and purposely moved against you, sending shivers down your back as your clit brushed his bulge. 

“You want it?” He started kissing down your jaw. “Want me to lay you out on this table and fuck you till you can’t think?” His voice was deep and breathy in your ear, heightening the pressure building low and hot between your legs. It was shocking how much your body craved him, the hours of tension creating a primal need that rallied in your body like a disease. Every sound was disarming, every touch debilitating.

“I need you so bad, Jay.” You sighed. You thought of the pool cue drifting over his fingers, how they were long and precise and so insanely torturous the way they teased you. “I want your fingers inside me.”

His lips stopped against your neck. “Say it again.”

“Jay,” you whined, looking down where your core was still pressed against his crotch. “Need to feel those talented hands all over me.” You smiled. “Your customer has a request; wouldn’t want me to leave a bad review now, would you?”

He chuckled darkly, the sound like blood red wine flowing through your veins. “Well, we couldn’t have that.”

He swept his arm behind you, clearing some of the stray balls before pushing you onto your back. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning over until you were completely trapped under him, his blonde hair falling into his face as he looked down. “They say the customer is always right.” He leaned down even further until his lips were brushing your ear. “But you might regret it.”

Your heart was beating in rapid bursts, excitement and desire making your thoughts race in drunken flashes that were only intensified by the wine. “I’m a big girl, Jay.”

Jay kissed the corner of your mouth, suddenly tender as one of his hands traced your waist. “Then remember big girls don’t cry, y/n.”

A finger plunged into you, making you arch against the table at the sudden penetration. A broken moan spilled out of your mouth, and Jay muffled it with his lips, humming in pleasure as your body jerked and bucked against his hand. His tongue tangled with yours in an obscene dance, the wet sound of your mouths and his finger pumping into your pussy creating a cacophony of filthy sounds echoing through the large room. 

His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing hard, slow circles that made your brain short-circuit. You whimpered into his mouth, begging for more through the only part of your body that wasn’t being pressed against the table: your hands. You pulled at his hair and dug your fingers into his scalp, a rush of pleasure going straight to your head when he groaned and trembled under your touch.

Jay added another finger, making you pull away as your head tilted against the table at the stretch, a loud moan slipping from your lips. 

You felt him smile against your skin as he moved lower and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and lapping at the hardened bud as if he was starving. 

“Jay! Holy fuck. It feels so good.” You gasped, biting your lip to stop the collection of moans buffering in your throat, ready to spill out like a song.

A low sound that felt like a purr vibrated deep in his chest, and in one agonizing moment, he stepped back completely, his fingers withdrawing from the warmth of your pussy and leaving behind a sad emptiness.

“Noo,” you whined. You propped yourself up on your elbows, finding Jay staring at you with his usual smirk. His hair was a mess, the bare skin of his chest flushed, his eyes dark and foggy with need—and you thought that the sight of him now would haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t let you cum till I’m inside you.” He undid the button of his jeans and pulled them down along with his boxers, letting his hard and dripping cock spring free.

Your mouth watered instantly, and your walls grasped uselessly at nothing. You clenched your thighs together, and Jay moved, grabbing your knees and pulling your legs apart. He kissed your kneecap. “Keep them open for me, ok? Wanna see how bad you need me.”

You bit your tongue, watching with glazed eyes as he kissed his way up your thigh, the pressure almost unbearable. 

He met your eyes, and without looking away, licked a stripe through your folds.

“Fuck!” You moaned, gritting your teeth as you resisted the urge to grind on his tongue. He made a gentle swirl around your clit, and a sound came out of you that you didn’t know you could make. Jay was still looking at you, total devotion on his face as he took in every clench of your jaw and parting of your lips. 

He stopped and stood up, leaning towards your face and kissing your cheeks softly. “You’re crying, baby, and I’m not even inside you yet. Don’t you remember what I said?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Big girls don’t cry.”

He smiled. “That’s right, so show me you can take it.”

You kissed him softly. “Please, Jay, I’ll be good.”

Jay searched your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and smeared mascara, looking at him like he was the earth and you were the moon. He nodded once. He shifted his hips. His hands moved to your waist.

His head pressed against your entrance. 

You inhaled sharply, gripping his shoulders and staring down at the place where your bodies were about to meet. 

He pushed inside, and the stretch had you leaning over his shoulder, holding onto him like a pillar, his hot skin the only thing grounding you as your walls huddled around him. 

You groaned in unison as he went deeper, and he kissed your neck, swirling gentle, rhythmic circles until he bottomed out with a satisfied sigh.

You sat there for a moment, breaths mingling. Your face buried in his neck, and his in your hair, both just basking in the way your bodies meshed together.

Then, he moved.

The friction was exquisite, the ridges of his cock rubbing against your smooth walls in dizzying strokes that had you moaning into his neck. You scraped your nails down Jay’s back, and you heard him curse into your hair, his thrusts speeding up. 

The pool table shook slightly under you, the balls rattling on the surface with every move of Jay’s hips. You pulled back and ran your lips up his jaw until he pulled back and met you in the middle, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss as he started to thrust into you harder and deeper.

He sucked on your bottom lip, smiling when you clutched at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, hands running down his arms as you tried to touch every inch of him. He dragged you even closer by the hips, groaning when his dick started slamming against your cervix, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. 

The pressure in your body was a coil tightened to its limit, making every movement brutal as your body begged for release. You kissed Jay harder, moaning into his mouth and rocking against him as you chased your climax.

Jay’s breaths turned ragged as you moved in time with him, maddeningly turned on by the way you clutched at him as if he were the ground beneath your feet. “y/n,” he groaned between kisses. “Let me cum inside, please.”

You nodded against his mouth, almost too delirious for words. “Yes,” you choked.

He groaned and pulled away from your mouth with a wet pop as he started thrusting into you rapidly, looking down and watching himself disappear inside you.

“God, you’re perfect, you’re mine, you’re all mine.” Jay gasped.

You looked down too, the image combined with the filthy sounds of your meshing bodies sending a jolt of pleasure down your back. You felt your climax building, rising in a crescendo of ecstasy. “Jay, I’m cumming!”

The squelching sounds of your juices around his cock got louder, blending with the high-pitched moan that ripped from your throat when your orgasm hit you.

Your vision blurred, and you braced yourself with one hand on Jay’s chest, grinding in time with the waves of pleasure as your climax ran its course.

Jay followed right after, moaning as your pussy clamped down and milked him dry, his hot seed spilling inside of you in spurts. He slowed his thrusts, his eyes fluttering closed as his own orgasm heightened and subsided. He tilted his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily, occasionally placing kisses along your sweaty collarbone. 

You massaged his scalp, letting his silky hair brush over your fingers, basking in the heavy silence of Jay’s apartment, only broken by your soft pants. 

You sat there for a few moments, processing. Then Jay slowly slipped out of you, drawing soft groans from each of you as you finally came apart. He kissed you softly and whispered against your lips. “You were amazing.”

You smirked. “At pool? Or…?”

He laughed. “Your game could use some work, but lucky for you, I’m always open to more lessons.”

“Well, now that I know your…teaching methods, I’d be happy to come back.”

Jay started kissing down your neck. “Good, next time we can work on your break. His mouth went between your breasts, trailing down to your stomach. “Or…” He stopped below your belly button, a new wave of heat already pooling between your legs. “The way you break under my tongue.”

“Tomorrow?” You asked, breath already uneven.

He smiled before disappearing between your legs. “Right now.”

Taglist: @kristynaaah @heeddungi @every-w @iouven @enhniki1009 @cherryluvssss @abby1009poosay @yunki02 @lac4ygal @rikicoolpuma @k3nza

it’s still early when you slip out of your bedroom, shuffling into the lounge to find jay asleep on your fainting couch. his hair is falling in his face, arms still crossed over his chest. he must’ve stayed up all night, just like he’d said. 

you stop dead in your tracks, tiptoeing back to your room and crawling back under the covers. you shut your eyes and pretend to sleep until you finally slip away into another dream. 

it feels like you’ve only just closed your eyes when a soft knock sounds off your doorframe. you stir, sitting up in surprise at the noise, to find jay leaning into your bedroom. 

“sorry to wake you, but i figured we should hit the studio first thing.”

“right,” you reply quietly, pushing the covers off and climbing out of bed. jay ducks out to give you privacy as you get yourself ready to leave. 

no bells and whistles today. you decide on more simple, comfortable clothes, leaving the glitter and lipstick for another time. you figure you should try to look the least-recognizable as possible, though part of you wonders if there’s even any point. it’s not as though the triad couldn’t find you anyway. they’ve proven that much.

jay’s already waiting by the door when you’re done. he eyes you just a second longer than normal before you both head out. 

it’s a restless morning. you can tell by the way jay’s fingers drum against the steering wheel at every red light. the tension has returned. the sleeping boy from this morning slumped over on your couch with his messy hair and smooth face is gone. in his place is the bodyguard, the protector that moves with precision and urgency when he opens your doors and ushers you into the looming expanse of noxstar studios with his arm around you like a shield. 

jay doesn’t wait to be shown in. he marches you right past richie’s startled-looking assistant and up to the frosted glass with the peeling gold star on the office door and walks right in. 

richie almost jumps at the sudden intrusion. he tries to compose himself quickly, but you can tell the stoic and commanding presence of jay before him sets him on edge. 

he smiles that too-thin smile, arms spread like a grand emperor. “mr. park, what can i do for you?” your nails dig into your fists when he doesn’t even spare you a glance. 

jay sees right through the bravado. of course he does. he’s got the sharpest eye you’ve ever seen, and richie’s glamour was always cheap as it stood. 

“they tapped her phone.”

his words hang heavy in the office for a long moment. nobody speaks, and the silence stretches uncomfortably until it’s broken by the squeak of richie’s assistant who rushes in, sees the scene, and quickly turns and runs out.  

“that’s…unfortunate,” is all richie manages, voice tight. 

“they were in her house,” jay reiterates, voice like a sharpened stone. “they know where she lives.”

“well, she’s not dead yet, is she?”

fury rises in jay’s eyes. you can see it even from where you stand half-hidden behind him. 

his voice is low, measured when he speaks. but the anger is clear, weighing his every word. “it’s not safe.”

richie leans back in his chair, the rickety thing squeaking from the movement. “i understand, but what would you like me to do? we’ve got nowhere to put her. if the triad hasn’t made any moves, we might just have to wait it out.”

“wait until what? until severed appendages start showing up at her door? until someone throws a brick or a firecracker through the window? until there are gunmen at every street corner until she ends up on the news instead of the pictures?”

“let’s not get ugly, mr. park,” richie says, holding a hand up. “it might not come to that. all i’m saying is that if nothing’s happened yet, it might be for a reason. listen, the premier is in a few days and it’s too risky to send her anywhere else even if we had the means.”

“‘the means’,” jay scoffs. “of course.”

you want to say something. you want to tell richie off, to scream at him for being so incompetent and unfeeling and selfish. but they’re both talking about you like you’re not standing in the room beside them. and it’s one of the few times the mean, ugly voice inside you tells you that everything they’d all thought of you was right. you didn’t have a voice. you were an object. nothing more than noxstar property. 

“let’s go,” you say quietly, tugging sharply on jay’s coat sleeve just once. you don’t wait for him to follow as you stride quickly out of the office. you can vaguely hear richie calling out protests, but the blood is rushing in your ears from the vile feeling of resentment buried in your chest. 

jay hurries after you, resuming his place at your side as you storm through the front doors. 

the los angeles sun is blinding, but you don’t care. you don’t look back and you don’t wait for jay as you march all the way to the car. some triad thug could’ve gunned you down right then and you wouldn’t have given even half a damn. 

you climb into the passenger seat without waiting for jay to open your door. you don’t look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you as he starts the car. you keep your gaze straight forward. don’t cry. you can’t cry here. you can’t cry at all. 

neither of you speak on the drive out of the hills. you watch the scenery go by, the same vile cycle of thoughts circling your mind as you try in vain to drown it out and focus on whatever big band jazz is playing lowly on the radio. 

when you get to the boulevard, jay turns left. that’s when you finally look at him. 

“you missed the turn.”

he stares straight ahead, concentrated on the road. “we’re not going back there.”

you frown. “what are you talking about?”

“it’s not safe. the triad’s not going to wait around forever, and neither am i. you’re not going back there.”

you stare at him incredulously. he offers no further explanation, and it’s quiet once more until he finally pulls into an unfamiliar street. you’re past downtown, into the quieter part of the city. still urban, tall looming buildings and brick walls and spindly fire escapes, and still busy, long lines at bodegas and bustling corner markets, but nothing like the thriving center of chaos that is the heart of hollywood. 

“where the hell are we?” you demand, following jay out of the car and into the woody foyer of a tall apartment building. he exchanges a solemn nod with the bellman and leads you up several flights of stairs. 

you’re winded and doubly as irritated by the time you get to god knows what floor, huffing for breath and at your limit. you grab jay’s shoulder as he fishes a set of keys out of his coat pocket and stop him before he can unlock the door. 

“jay, where are we? what are you doing?”

he looks down at you quizzically, like you’re the crazy one. the furrow hasn’t left his brow. “i told you. i wasn’t going to take you back to your place. it’s not safe.”

you watch as he carefully pries you off and moves to unlock the door. “so,” he continues, pushing the heavy oak door open to let you in, “i brought you somewhere the triad doesn’t know exists.”

he flicks on the lights once you step inside. warm light fills the room, illuminating the space and setting you just a little bit more at ease. 

it’s a nice place. modestly spaced, like most los angeles apartments, with lots of dark, shiny wood and sturdy furniture. minimalist, mostly, with more practicalities like books for decor than useless trinkets. except for the large, expensive-looking ornamental rug that covers half the living room. you can’t picture jay ever going to a department store and picking that out. the thought almost makes you laugh. 

“make yourself at home,” jay says quietly, going to hang up his coat. he drops the keys into a glass dish by the door before he makes his way into the kitchen and collapses into a sturdy wooden chair at the table, pinching his nose as if warding off a headache. 

you linger in the entryway a moment longer, slowly wandering the place and taking it all in. 

“so this is where you live?” you ask softly, fingers tracing the embellishments carved into the wood of his end tables. 

“this is it,” he confirms, a sigh escaping him unwillingly when he leans back in his chair. the tension is slowly beginning to seep out of his shoulders. 

you glance to the windows, which are obscured by thick, heavy curtains. “it feels like you.”

“does it now?” he muses, watching you look around. 

you nod, resuming your observations. at the end of the living area there is one door, slightly ajar enough to be able to see into a single bedroom. big bed, clean sheets, minimal decor, same as the rest of the place. 

you turn back to jay. “you don’t have a guest room.”

“nobody in los angeles has a guest room,” he replies, now having stood up and is currently rummaging through the fridge, every now and again tossing out a food item. 

“i’m not taking your bed,” you insist stubbornly, crossing your arms and glaring at his back. 

“you don’t really have a choice.”

“and who said chivalry is dead?” you ask sarcastically, to nobody in particular. 

jay straightens, one hand resting on the top of the fridge as he turns to face you. “it’s not just chivalry, if that’s any consolation. i need to be out here where i can hear in case anything happens.”

you hold his gaze awhile longer, staring him down, but he doesn’t give. 

you huff out, shedding your jacket and going to sit on the couch. “fine.”

a smirk tugs at jay’s lips at your petulant tone when you’re not looking, amused as ever at your stubborn attitude. 

“there’s nothing to eat, so i’ll probably run down to the bodega later to get us something,” jay informs your back, where you’re turned to look out the window. he’s got a decent view, at least. yours back home was just the street below and a brick wall. 

“i thought you were mr. prepared.”

“mr. prepared hasn’t lived here in a few weeks,” he reminds you with a knowing lilt to his voice. “i’ve been a little busy, you know?”

you hum, leaning back into the couch and letting the jazz from the radio you’d just turned on fill the room. 

it’s nearing five o’clock, the sun casting long shadows across jay’s living room, when he gets up to head out. 

you’d been dozing off on his couch, half-asleep, when the jingle of keys rouses you. 

you sit up to see jay’s with one arm through his coat as he glances over at you. “i’ll be back soon.” he must see the nervous expression on your face as he reaches for the door, because his tense expression melts just a bit. 

“if i’m not back in thirty minutes, call the studio. and don’t open the door for anybody, you hear? i’ve got the keys, i’ll let myself back in.”

you nod dutifully, trying to suppress your nerves. jay gives you one last concerned look over before he ducks out, the lock clicking behind him. 

you heave out a sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the exhaustion of the last few days begins to settle in. 

you try your best to make time, poking around the apartment, but every minute feels like an hour. 

you browse jay’s records. ten minutes pass. you look through the empty fridge. another five. you browse on the television, but the static makes you anxious every time it comes on. 

it’s been twenty minutes. you know because you’ve spent the last five staring at the clock, with nothing better to do. 

then thirty minutes comes, and you’re beginning to get nervous. you look down at the street below and see no sign of jay. you watch for another minute before it occurs to you that you should probably stay away from the window, which only fuels your nerves. 

thirty-five minutes. then forty. you’re pacing the room now, almost dizzy from tracing the patterns on the rug with your eyes as you go around.

why did he have to leave you alone? your thoughts begin to spiral. your stomach is caving in on itself with hunger. you haven’t eaten properly since yesterday. 

“if i’m not back in thirty minutes, call the studio.”

you eye the telephone on the kitchen counter. what good would that do? no one has been able to keep you from danger. at least, no one like jay. where are you? you plead in your mind. come back. 

you’re practically on the verge of tears when the door finally clicks open and jay steps inside with two paper bags full of food. he’s barely locked the door behind him when you’re running, throwing yourself at him before you can think. 

his body tenses for the briefest second, shoulders high and arms still laden with bags, before he relaxes into your touch just a bit. the oddity of the embrace doesn’t hit you until after you begin to pull away, cheeks hot and embarrassed. 

you clear your throat, quickly taking the bags from him to distract him (and yourself) from the momentary lapse in character. your brows pull down into a delicate scowl. 

“you’re late.”

“there was a line,” jay replies, helping you sort out the groceries. “i’m sorry. did you call?”

you shake your head. “didn’t seem like it’d do any good.”

he sighs. “probably not. anything interesting go on?”

aside from you being seconds away from losing it after he was fifteen minutes late? “no, thankfully.”

“hm. good.”

after that, the two of you lapse into silence as you put away the food, each exchanging quick glances while the other isn’t looking. 

jay makes a simple dinner and you spend the rest of the evening sitting around his living room listening to the radio, just trying to catch a breath after the events of the past few days. 

when it’s finally time to sleep, jay leaves out a clean set of silk pajamas, a spare toothbrush, and soap. 

“if you need anything else, tell me. i’ll be right out here, alright?”

you bid him a quiet thank you and goodnight, but when you go to shut the door this time, you leave it ajar just the slightest. 

jay’s bed is comfortable.

you suppose that with a job like his, it’d have to be. it’s like swimming in a sea of silk sheets, an air of calm swallowing the dark room that’s quite characteristic of jay. it soothes your frayed nerves, your lungs finally able to take in a full breath. 

you fall asleep so quickly you’d think the peace would have lasted. but in a way that you’re frustratingly getting used to, you were wrong. 

“NO!”

you wake with a sudden start, gasping out for air into the now suffocating darkness of the room. your eyes are wide, chest heaving, but even as your strain them to no avail you can’t see a thing. 

the door flies open and you think you might have a heart attack, but the dim lamplight bleeding in from the living area illuminates jay’s broad silhouette. 

“what is it? what’s wrong?”

his revolver is in hand, arms rigid around it, pointed at the ground but ready to be raised in an instant. he scans the room quickly, eyes darting this way and that, looking for any sign of wrongdoing. but there’s nothing. just you, sitting in the middle of his bed with haunted eyes and shaking shoulders.  

jay sucks in a breath, one hand coming up to push his hair back and cover his eyes briefly. his quiet sigh is of relief this time. 

“it was just a nightmare,” you whisper, clutching the sheets up to cover yourself. “i’m sorry i woke you.”

jay puts his weapon down, coming around to check the window. “don’t be. these days, it’s better safe than sorry.”

perhaps it’s the vulnerability of the dream, or the soft privacy of the dark bedroom, but the question leaves your lips before you can really rethink it. 

“jay, can i ask you something?”

he looks up, somewhat surprised, fingers still lingering on the window latch where he’d been checking the locks. “shoot.”

“why do you care so much about what happens to me?”

from the look on his face, he was probably thinking that you were more likely to ask him about aliens than that.

he gives you the same response he always had. “it’s my job to care.”

“but i’m sure this is way beyond your responsibilities. i mean, even if my safety is what gets you paid, you could’ve just stuck me in a storage locker off the grid until this mess is over. but you didn’t…you brought me to your home.”

“i brought you somewhere i knew you’d be safe. it’s not a paycheck to me, do you get that? it’s the right thing to do. the human thing to do.”

the human thing. you mull that part over in your mind. you’re not used to being treated like a human. 

like a celebrity? of course. a thing of beauty? well, emphasis on the ‘thing.’ an object, sure. an idol, an actress, a glorified pet. but a human? when was the last time anyone saw you as that?

jay leans back against the windowsill, gaze lingering on you. 

you duck your head. “but why me? i don’t…i don’t deserve that kind of loyalty. i didn’t earn it.”

jay’s voice softens just a bit, but you notice. “you didn’t deserve for that scumbag to come after you either.”

your skin crawls as you relive that night, same as you had in your dream just now. 

“it’s not about ‘deserve’. i just don’t want anything to happen to you. do i need anymore reason than that?” 

yes, you think. “i suppose not…” you whisper back. 

jay gives a slight nod of finality. “well…good. try to get some rest, alright?”

your heart sinks when he straightens to leave. “wait!”

jay looks up. 

maybe you’ll regret it later, but you just can’t stand to face the darkness alone tonight. “will you…will you stay?”

if you thought your last question had floored him…

jay stares another moment, caught off-guard, before he returns to his senses and nods again. 

he moves to drag the armchair closer when he sees you scoot to the side of the bed. if it weren’t so dark, you’d have been able to see him blush. but it’s jay, so he doesn’t say anything. he just climbs in beside you, every move careful not to disturb or frighten you. 

he lies like a stone next to you, afraid to breathe too deep, acutely aware of your figure beside him and his revolver on the nightstand and the bolted windows and locked front door. 

this time, you don’t dream at all. 

another long one oops! sorry about the wait on it too, hopefully the next one will come to me quicker <33 thanks to everyone keeping up with it!!

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