pixie

"This song is so lame," Chris had groaned the first time he heard the song Matt had written while the three of you were staying in Georgia.

It was the same song that made you fall harder for Matt the first time he'd played it for you on the tourbus. It was almost like Chris subconsciously knew that and was the reason he'd already decided he'd hated it.

And in that moment, the air felt heavy. The tourbus felt suffocatingly smaller than usual, not just because all three of you were crammed into the space, but like there wasn't enough metaphorical room for you, Matt's song, and Chris' ego.

Maybe they were just bickering because they were brothers. Or because the three of you had been living on top of each other for over a month at this point. Or maybe it was because of the unspoken rivalry between the two of them, both of them competing for your attention.

You and Matt had exchanged an irritated glance that day, each rolling your eyes at his hard-to-please brother.

"The drum part isn't even exciting to play," Chris had added, crossing his arms defiantly as he leaned up against the wall like a teenager who wasn't getting his way.

"Suck it up, Chris. Quit bein' a brat. Not everything's about you," Matt had retorted, not giving him any more room to argue. "We're gonna start practicing it before our shows and once we all get it down, I wanna start playing it as our closing song."

Well, tonight was that night, the night you were going to play it on stage for the first time.

Just when the crowd thought the set was over, the lights in the venue went dim except for the bright spotlight on the three of you as Matt started it off with the guitar part. You watched his long fingers as they glided freely across the frets, his silver rings catching and glimmering in the light. His intense gaze met yours as you sang the main vocals for the first line and he, the backup vocals.

Chris scornfully drummed behind the two of you, feeling like a third wheel the way you and Matt were "eye-fucking each other," as he would say, in front of him. All he could think about was that kiss he shared with you on the ferris wheel, hoping that would have tipped your feelings in favor of him over Matt.

However, he knew deep down that you didn't belong to either one of them. You were just like him, afraid of the labels, afraid of being tied down. But that made you two perfect for each other, right?

You peeked over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Chris' clenched jaw and his envious stare. There was a part of you that selfishly reveled in seeing him jealous. Like maybe he'd try harder to win you over if he had a reason to.

The crowd was quiet, listening to the rhythm, hearing the song for the very first time. You tightened your grip on the microphone, chills running down your spine and goosebumps playing across your skin as you and Matt sang the chorus in unison "...give up the ghost, free up the soul just for another night as a note in your symphony, the way you play every inch of me, tempo is slow, waves come and go just like the rising tide as I swim through your sea of skin, got every inch of you trembling..."

The way Matt's stare bore through you combined with the sexy lyrics he'd written made your stomach flutter, arousal blooming in your core. Your gaze continued to flicker from his blue eyes to his full lips to his hands as he handled his guitar, and you couldn't hide it. You were picturing those same hands on you again.

Chris could tell what you were thinking, too. He tried to hold back his look of contempt, just barely concealing it, trying to finish the song without storming off the stage.

Somehow, the three of you managed to get through the three minutes and forty-four seconds of agony, Matt without stuttering from the nervousness of singing his own lyrics live for the first time, you without cumming untouched from Matt staring into your soul, and Chris without chucking his drumsticks at the both of you.

Once the three of you were back at the tourbus after organizing all your gear, Chris was the first to break away from the group. "I need a drink," he mumbled under his breath before disappearing off to god knows where.

He didn't want to leave you alone with Matt, but he also couldn't bare one more second of witnessing the sexual tension burgeoning between the two of you.

Matt raised an eyebrow, already retrieving the joint he had tucked behind his ear as the two of you stood outside under the stars. "You wanna smoke?"

"I'd love to," you replied, leaning up against the side of the tourbus, the sound of the lighter flicking to life sending a thrill racing through you. "You were amazing tonight."

You studied his hands, as he held the flame up to the joint paper, swallowing the tip of it in a fiery glow and illuminating his captivating features in the darkness. A smirk curved on Matt's expression as he took the first drag, heat rushing to his cheeks, clearly feeling a bit flustered by your compliment.

"Thank you. So were you," he said, the smoke curling around his words. He passed you the joint, his fingers brushing against yours, igniting another spark. Your hand trembled as you accepted it, trying to pretend you weren't falling harder for him with every passing moment.

"Can I ask you what the inspiration was?" You wondered aloud. "Like did you write it from experience or..." your voice trailed off as you took a hit of the joint, the cherry crackling against the silence.

Matt chuckled. "What exactly are you askin'?"

You hesitated for a second. What were you asking? You had to think about it, wondering if you actually wanted an answer to satisfy your curiosity even if it would potentially hurt your feelings. "I mean, did you write it about another girl?" You finally spoke up, wrinkling your nose as you flicked the ashes off the end of the joint.

There was a beat of silence. Then Matt took a step closer to you, reducing the space between you. "Y'think I'd write a song about having sex with another girl and then make you sing it?" He asked almost as if he were offended. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, but I'm not that kind."

You felt a wave of relief hit you, a subtle smirk tugging on the corner of your lip. "Good." You handed the joint over, and Matt took it from you, taking a long, slow drag.

"You really seem to like the song. What do you like about it?" Matt asked, a tantalizing edge to his voice.

"What are you really asking me?" You shot back, turning the question back around on him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a cheeky smile.

"I mean, what are you picturing when we sing it together?" He took the joint between his lips again, studying your facial expression now that his vision had adjusted to the low lighting.

Suddenly, a rush of confidence awoke in you. "What if I show you?" You asked, taking his free hand and interlacing your fingers with his.

Before he could answer, you stood on your tippy toes, bridging the gap between you and him. An electric feeling flowed through you as soon as your lips met. He kissed you back. It was passionate yet restrained, his tongue darting out from behind his lips, just barely grazing yours.

You could feel yourself melt into him, all your inhibitions disappearing. Matt gently bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to moan into his mouth.

The kiss went on for so long that you'd lost track of time, forgetting about the joint completely until the cherry had fizzled out.

"We should go inside," you suggested, your whole body buzzing with anticipation and excitement. He nodded, and the two of you wandered into the tourbus, both of your minds reeling with what was about to happen next.

Still riding your wave of confidence or perhaps blind arrogance, you pushed Matt backwards until he collapsed down onto the bench, gazing up at you with both a look of shock and lust. You straddled him, throwing a leg on either side of him as you lowered yourself onto his lap.

You took his hand again, lifting it to your mouth. You watched his blue eyes glaze over with pure desire, his lips parting to let out a soft exhale as you tucked his pointer finger behind your warm, soft, plump lips, the taste of burnt marijuana lingering on your tastebuds. You just gently suckled on the tip at first, your eyes locked onto his.

You could feel him beneath you, his cock twitching to life as you took more of him, slinking your lips down to his knuckle. You instinctively rolled your hips forward against his, the seam of your jean shorts rubbing against your aching clit. Matt let out a breathy sigh, his eyelids growing heavier as you swirled your tongue around his finger while slowly grinding against him.

"Good girl," he quietly rasped, sending a shiver down your spine. You moaned, your lips vibrating around his finger, still holding eye contact.

He looked as dazed as you felt, from pleasure, from the joint you'd smoked earlier, from the sexual tension between the two of you finally snapping and caving in on itself.

"Go on. Don't stop," he whispered.

You took him deeper until you could taste the cool metal of his ring, rocking your hips back and forth a little faster now, a little more desperately, the friction of your body against his creating a mouthwatering sensation. With his free hand, he gripped your thigh through your fishnets, encouraging you to keep riding him.

Suddenly, because every private moment you'd had since being on the road was constantly being interrupted, Chris burst through the tourbus door.

You scrambled to look like you were doing anything else than what you were actually doing, immediately pulling yourself off of Matt's lap and settling down on the bench beside him. Chris made immediate eye contact with you. Then with Matt.

"Jesus, Chris! Ever heard of knocking?" Matt exclaimed, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and covering his lap to hide the erection that had swelled in his jeans.

"Why the hell would I have to knock? I live here, too." Chris' words silenced the two of you instantly. He wasn't wrong. And he didn't know exactly what the two of you were just doing, but based on the way the two of you looked at him like a couple of deer in the headlights and how quickly the energy had shifted the second he walked in, he knew it was something precarious.

You could see the hurt in his blue eyes, and it made your stomach turn with guilt. "Forgot my phone," Chris stated plainly as he reached for it, your breath catching in your throat as you realized you were half sitting on it. It had been on the bench beside you two the entire time.

He pulled it out from underneath your thigh, giving you a wounded look that made your heart sink. The tension hung in the air between all three of you. Chris gave each one of you one more somber stare before he stormed off the tourbus, the door slamming shut behind him.

And in that moment, Matt understood. He wasn't the only one who had feelings for you.

You felt sick. So did Matt.

"I'm gonna shower and get ready for bed," you mumbled as you dragged your feet across the floor to the back of the tourbus. Matt sighed heavily. It had been so long since he'd had sex of any kind, and being blue balled in such an abrupt manner was disappointing to say the least, but neither one of you could continue after that.

Matt kept his gaze straight ahead, despite hearing the sound of you shimmying out of your clothes. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he heard the slow ziiiip of your zipper coming undone and the sound of the denim fabric of your shorts hitting the floor.

He couldn't help himself from imagining how you looked naked. It killed him to think he may never get to see you that way.

You were fleeting like water pooling his hands and no matter how hard he tried to hold onto you, you'd always inevitably slip through his fingers.

You each showered separately, brushed your teeth without so much as glancing over at each other. You didn't dare finish what you'd started, the moment completely shattered.

You two exchanged a dejected and deflated "g'night" before Matt made his way to his bunk, and you made your way back to bench with your blanket and a book, the lamp beside you giving off just enough light for you to make out the text on the page. Your eyelids started to grow heavy...

You jolted awake about an hour and a half later, the room still dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp, your book still open to page 162 draped across your lap. Your blanket had fallen to the floor, and you didn't bother retrieving it.

You'd been dreaming. About Matt. Your subconscious mind had picked up where the two of you had left off, your brain unsatisfied by the lack of resolution.

You felt the wetness that had pooled between your thighs while you were fast asleep, and you reached into your waistband of your pajama shorts just to be sure. You were soaked.

You bit down on your lip to stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Your nipples stiffened, showing through the fabric of your tanktop. In your mind's eye, Matt was on top of you, whispering praises into your ear, and you were dragging your long fingernails down his back tattoo, your legs hooked around his waist as he thrust into you.

You let your fantasy overtake you, your free hand pushing up the fabric of your shirt to reveal your breasts. You gently pinched your sensitive bud on the left side of your chest, rolling it between your fingertips as you worked the fingers of your other hand in tight circles over your clit.

There was still a lingering sense of shame and guilt about Chris and the way he looked at you, but it was overridden by lust. You pinched your nipple tighter, a soft moan falling from your lips as you fervently rubbed your pussy, your slick coating your slippery fingers. You tossed your head back, pleasure etched into your expression. Your mouth parted around Matt's name.

You heard another party in the room, your fantasy being ripped out from under you at the sound of a man clearing his throat. No amount of scrambling could conceal what you were doing this time.

When your eyes shot open, Chris was drunk, standing across from you, his arms crossed over his chest and a snide smirk playing on his lips. "Chris!" You shouted in a whisper, not wanting to wake Matt as well. You jerked your hand back like you'd burnt yourself on a hot stove, pulling your tanktop back down over your breasts. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough. You really didn't hear me come in?"

"No," you replied, your face hot with embarrassment as you squeezed your legs shut, fixing your posture as if that was going to make a difference.

Chris stood above you, his eyes raking over your figure as you tried to hide yourself. "Keep goin'," he said with a hungry look in his eyes.

Your eyelashes fluttered in disbelief. "W-what?"

"You heard me. Keep touchin' yourself. Go on. You ain't gotta stop just because I'm here." His tongue slithered out from behind his lips, wetting them as he devoured you with his fixed stare.

You didn't budge for a few seconds. Were you still dreaming?

"Chris-" you started to say, but he cut you off.

"Take it off. All of it. Let me see." The tone of his voice was seductive and completely serious.

You didn't argue. You raised your hips off of the bench beneath you as you slowly slid your shorts and your underwear down your thighs. Chris watched the fabric pool at your ankles before you kicked it away.

"The shirt, too. Let me see those pretty tits."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat as you reached for the hem of your tank top, pulling it off slowly and tossing it onto the floor with the rest of your clothes. Chris bent forward, picking your panties up off the ground. He pressed the damp material to his nose, taking a deep inhale.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, taking in and savoring your scent before stuffing them into his back pocket. The lewd act made your stomach turn. "Spread those legs for me."

You hesitantly parted your knees, your slick folds glistening in the lamp glow, the cool air ghosting over your wet center and making you shudder.

Chris let out a heavy sigh, his face softening as his gaze dropped to your pussy like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He quickly regained his composure, trying to look unaffected, attempting to maintain control over the situation. "C'mon. Don't act like it's y'first time," Chris slurred. "Go on. Touch yourself just like ya were when I came in."

You nodded. You reached between your legs, your fingers settling on your throbbing clit that pulsed against your touch. You started to rub it in slow, steady circles, the humiliation still welling inside of you in the best way.

"You were thinkin' about my brother, huh?" Chris scoffed, crossing his arms again, looking somewhat amused. "Can't believe he didn't finish the job after I left. Such a fuckin' pussy."

His drunken words left you in shock. You opened your mouth to put him in his place. You almost snapped at him. You almost told him that the two of you stopped because they felt bad for him. Because the two of you weren't fucking sociopaths.

In that moment, you wished you and Matt had fucked just to spite his brother. Matt was sweet. Didn't want to cause any harm. And that was the difference between him and Chris. Chris didn't fucking care. He'd go to any length to get what he wanted.

You wished that realization would have stopped you. But it felt too good. Maybe you were just like Chris after all.

You continued to touch yourself, your other hand instinctively flying up to your breast again, tweaking your nipple between the tips of two fingers. "So pathetic. Look at you. Rubbin' yourself like the desperate little thing you are," Chris chuckled.

You slammed your eyes shut, hoping you'd feel less embarrassed if you could pretend he wasn't there watching, but he wasn't having it.

"Oh, no you don't. Look at me. Now."

Your eyes fluttered open again to see Chris staring directly back at you. His eyes were so blue. So full of desire. "Faster," he ordered you. You bit down on your lip, staring up at him as you worked your clit faster, rolling your fingers over your stiff bundle of nerves. "Atta girl. Bet you're not thinkin' about my brother anymore now, are ya?"

His words sent a current of arousal straight to your clit. Little did he know, you were still imagining both of them.

"Now fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers of yours," he demanded.

His words had you wrapped around his finger. It turned you on even more than the first time he'd used that phrase.

You obediently listened. You slid your ring and middle finger down your folds like they were under a trance and Chris was the spellcaster. You could feel how drenched you were. You pushed your fingers into your entrance, your eyes rolling around in your head as you stretched around them.

You couldn't stop yourself. No matter how mortified you were. It felt sooo good.

"Eyes on me," Chris reiterated.

You steadied your vision, fixing your gaze on him once more, starting to slowly move your fingers back and forth. You were already trembling, the knot in your stomach threatening to come unraveled. The vulgar and wet sounds of your pussy squelching around your fingers filled the tourbus.

Chris mischeviously smiled, watching your body react. He loved feeling like he was in control of you without ever even laying a hand on you.

You continued to piston your fingers into your heat, your other hand still cupping the swell of your breast as you teased your nipple between the pads of your thumb and index finger. Your eyes dropped to the subtle twitch in Chris' jeans.

He was hard. So hard.

And you hated that he had enough self control in this moment to not even palm himself through the denim. His arms were still crossed over his chest. His intense gaze still bore through you.

Suddenly, he leaned forward again. "Let me taste you."

You nodded, withdrawing your fingers without hesitation. Chris wrapped his long digits around your wrist, bringing your hand to his lips. He slipped your two fingers into his mouth, taking them all the way down to the knuckle. He sucked them clean, a soft hum vibrating around your fingertips as he released them.

"You taste like heaven." You could smell the tequila on his breath. That smell alone was beginning to become a turn on because of him. "C'mon. Keep goin'."

You took your fingers that were now covered in his saliva and dipped them back into your heat. You couldn't get the image of him cleaning them off with his tongue out of your head. You fucked yourself faster with them now, your knees bent and thighs splayed open. The muscles in your stomach tightened, the coil threatening to snap at any moment. Goosebumps covered every inch of you. Your breath became ragged and shallow, your chest heaving as you neared the point of no return.

"So fuckin' filthy," Chris commented, burning the image into his memory. "Go on. Cum for me. Cum all over those pretty fingers."

You trembled violently, your pussy rhythmically pulsing around your knuckles. Your climax tore through you, soft whimpers and moans spilling from your lips despite your attempts to keep quiet. You dripped onto the bench beneath you, the wetness pooling in a little puddle that made you feel even more embarrassed. Now there was evidence forever etched into the material.

You fucked yourself through your powerful orgasm, riding your own fingers fervently like you just couldn't get enough.

Chris took one more look at you like he pitied you before chuckling and wandering off down the hallway towards his bunk, your soiled panties still peeking out of his back pocket. Yeah, you weren't getting those back.

You were too embarrassed to say anything. To do anything. You sat there, naked, fingers still inside of you, and you stayed like that until your breath evened out.

The summer heatwave was a perfect excuse to visit Matt at the gas station and enjoy the cool air. As you walk through the front door, the shelter of the gas station gives you slight respite from the sweltering temperature outside. 

Lucky for you, the gas station is empty, so you lock the entrance behind you with a slight click. 

“Told ya not to do that,” Matt calls, wheeling a case of soda into the walk-in area of the refrigerated section. 

“Don’t worry, I flipped the sign over to CLOSED, too,” you joke. 

Sweat beads at your temples and down the center of your chest as you stand in the doorway of the walk-in cooler.  You feel the crisp air emanating from inside it. Matt’s cut off shirt accentuates the lean muscle of his biceps as he unloads the crates. He pretends to pay you no mind while he starts restocking the rows and rows of beverage options. 

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?” he huffs, with a Mexican Coke bottle in each hand. You roll your eyes playfully as he continues to stock the refrigerated section. 

“You and I both know that no one’s coming to the gas station in this heat,” you say, taking a step into the walk in. The door closes behind you and the sudden temperature drop triggers goosebumps to run through your body. 

As Matt empties the first crate, he turns to face you. “You did,” he teases, closing the space between you.

“I just came to get something to help me cool off,” you say innocently, biting your lip. 

“S’that so?” Matt asks, cornering you against the cold refrigerator door. 

As soon as your back is flush against the glass, it takes your breath away. You gasp, but your lips are enveloped in the warmth of Matt’s mouth. His hands wrap around your waist, still frigid from handing the cold glass bottles. 

You suck air through your nose, disoriented by the contrasting temperatures taking over your senses. You kiss Matt back, allowing him to control the pace. His lips wander down your jaw, nipping at your neck in the most delicious way. A soft moan escapes your lips when he sucks on your soft skin. His hands travel upward, tugging at the straps of your tanktop. It falls to rest at your hips, exposing you even more to the frigid air. Matt takes one of your stiff peaks in his mouth, lapping at it just right. 

You grind your crotch against his, desperate for any kind of friction as he suckles your breast. Matt knows just what you need, so he flips you around quickly. Your chest is flush against the cold glass of the refrigerator door as a flushed heat exudes every part of your body. The conflicting temperatures leave you in an almost euphoric state. 

“You cooled off yet, hun?” Matt murmurs against your ear. “‘Cause it feels like you’re actually burning up.”

You can only whimper while he tugs down your shorts. He grinds his clothed cock on your ass as you reach back to run your fingers to his hair, gripping onto the nape of his neck. You wiggle your ass once more, inviting him to continue. 

Matt pulls out his hard length, rubbing it against your slick. 

“Fuck me, Matt,” you practically beg with a breathy voice. His grip holds you firmly against the glass as he plunges into you with one deep thrust. Matt bottoms out, stretching you to your limit. The familiar feeling has you clenching tightly around him, earning you a groan from Matt’s throat.

As he buries himself into you over and over again, he tugs at your hair. It pulls your head back, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Like this? Huh? You want me to fuck you like this?” he asks, trying to coax a response out of you. 

“Oh my g-god, yes,” you gasp, unable to form a coherent sentence as Matt rearranges your guts. 

He lets go of your hair, allowing you to rest your cheek against the cool glass door. Your warm breath leaves the glass foggy and a singular hand print is dragged against the condensation when you try to regain any kind of composure. 

Matt reaches around you, searching for your sensitive bundle of nerves. When his fingers make contact, your legs buckle, struggling to stay standing.

Matt grips onto your waist with one arm to keep you steady, while his other hand still works its magic on your soft flesh. “Stay with me, sweetheart. We’re almost there,” he whispers between breaths. 

You’re close, you feel it; and he knows it too. 

“God I fucking love how you squeeze me,” he coos, nipping at your neck again. 

“Matt…hmph—” you struggle to get the words out. 

“Talk to me baby,” he pants. “Come on, use your words,” The sweetness of his words completely contrasts the way he’s pounding into you. His thrusts become so deep that your feet are practically off the ground; being held up only by his right arm around your waist.

Deep in your core you feel a tightness begin to build. “M-m’gonna cum,” you practically babble. 

The groans and whines that escape his mouth combined with his doubled efforts push you over the edge. Your velvety walls convulse around his thick cock as you feel his warm seed fill you to the brim. You rest your body against the glass, attempting to catch your breath. Matt slowly eases out of you, helping you put your clothes back on. 

He turns you around, pulling you into a sweet embrace. “Y’alright?” he asks, checking in. 

“I’m perfect,” You respond, still a little dazed. You rest your head against his chest for a while before pulling away completely relaxed. 

“That was…not what I was expecting,” you joke, turning to leave the walk in. 

“Don’t act so innocent, Stray. You know what those shorts you’ve got on do to me,” Matt admits, tapping your ass lightly. 

“I just wanted a cold drink, that’s all. Very innocent,” you deny. 

Matt smirks, reaching to grab two chilled Mexican cokes. He uses one to pop the cap off of the other, handing it to you.

“There ya go,” he says. “Now head back to the trailer park. I’m off soon and I’m not done with you.”

You take a sip from the coke bottle and turn, sauntering away with a newfound pep in your step.

Before your fingers could touch the ceramic, the phone rings.

Reaching to it, you groggily answer. “Hello?”

“Hey there, peach.” Elaine’s voice is cheerful from the other end of the line. “You up for a lake day?”

“I’d love to.” You cough. “But maybe another day?”

She hears the wavering of your tone. “You sick?”

“It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh honey, I know just the thing.” With that, Elaine hangs up.

You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it surely wasn’t this.

Chris is standing in the doorway, holding a thermos. His big hands stretch across the container, making it look tiny in his grasp. Your eyes flit from his fingers to the keys hanging at his belt loop.

“Chris… hi!” You try to keep the enthusiasm at a minimum.

“Sorry, Elaine told me to come over with soup. Are you sick?” He raked his gaze over your disheveled appearance.

Your face is completely flush—both from the sickness and from Chris’ sudden arrival. “Yeah, I am. It’s nothing, though.”

He taps his fingers to the metal thermos. “Can I come in?”

“Are you sure you want to? I might be contagious.”

“I don’t get sick,” he assures, in a way that makes you believe him without a second thought.

Moving your shoulder aside, you gesture for him to come in. Heavy stomps from his boots descend past you, adding to the hammering of your chest. Once the door is closed, you walk to where he’s standing in the kitchen. Unable to stand up straight, the island beneath you acts as a physical support.

While he unscrews the container, Chris scans your figure. Not objectifying, not even admiring, just analyzing.

“You should go lay down,” he says. “You look pretty out of it.”

Grumbling, you retreat and lay back to the sofa. Thankfully, you had disposed of all the tissues. Head pounding and body shivering, you nestle into yourself, knees to chest. Having Chris here under these circumstances was not ideal, but it gave you an odd sense of comfort. In these last few months, you had grown accustomed to looking after yourself. You forgot how lovely it felt being cared for.

In your delusive state, time ticks by like a fever dream. You aren’t sure long it takes, but soon Chris is in front of you, holding a bowl.

“You might wanna sit up,” he says, with such authority that it leaves disobeying out of the question.

Once you’re seated upright, he hands you the soup.

“It’s the only thing I know how to cook.” He sits beside you, giving you a spoon. “Mom’s recipe.”

You hold the bowl in both hands, relishing in the warmth. Cozying up to it as if it’s a fire, you smile. “Thank you.”

“Anything for a neighbour.”

‘Neighbour’ isn’t exactly the title you want, but at least it’s a step up from ‘kid’.

“You can put some TV on, if you want,” you suggest, nodding towards the remote.

“Nah, the only things on are tennis and golf.” He makes a face.

You want to say the television is for more than just sports, but decide against it. Instead, you drink a spoonful of the soup. Although your tastebuds are muted, the fact that Chris cooked it made it the best thing you’d ever tasted. He’s watching you, like you’re a child at risk of choking.

After finishing half the soup, your body forces you to lay down. He is still next to you, and you curl your feet to not touch him. You tuck your palms into the sleeves of your hoodie, holding the edge of the fabric with your fingers. Rapidly, the cold shivers turn into hot sweats, and you feel like you’re on fire.

Weight lifts off the sofa as Chris gets up. At first you’re afraid he’s leaving, but you soon hear the sound of running water. When he circles back to you, he’s holding a folded cloth in his hands.

Crouching on his heels in front of you, he slowly brings the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

You mumble in response. It’s impossible to string a full sentence together while he’s touching you.

“Here.” He replaces his hand with the rag.

Cool and wet, the cloth lays on your skin. Relief washes over you. You can’t help but close your eyes under his comforting touch.

The next thing you know, you’re waking up. Eyes still gritty with sleep, you immediately search the room for Chris. You’re met with the dark seeping in through the living room windows. And, of course, Chris sitting at the end of the couch.

“Ah, look who’s up,” he says with a soft smile.

“Oh gosh, how long was I out?” you murmur, brushing the hair from your face.

“A few hours. I didn’t wake ya, figured ya needed a good rest.”

The question gnaws at you enough that you have to ask it. “Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yeah, hope that’s alright. I fixed the window in your bedroom, and that backdoor lock.”

God, were you still dreaming?

“Yeah, you’re perfect—“ Your eyes widen. “I mean—that’s perfect… thank you.”

He huffs a small laugh, and raises from the couch. “You better get to bed.”

You try to push yourself from the cushions, but your weak body betrays you.

“Can i?” He asks, looking down at you.

Whatever it was, you would let him. You nod.

Chris lowers just enough to hook the bend of your knees under his arm. His hand sneaks behind your back, and holds you. Like a feather, you lift to into the air. Stability isn’t needed, but you instinctively bring your hand around his shoulder. After one quick adjustment, he begins walking you down the hallway. Your face is nuzzled to his chest. Deep, woodsy cologne is clinging to his t-shirt. Your pulse throbs rapidly as he nears the bedroom.

Pushing the door open with his back, he brings you into your room. In a swift movement, he places you softly on the bed. The duvet is chilled under your touch, the perfect temperature for your heated body.

He unfolds a blanket at the footboard, and drapes the cozy material over you.

“Thank you…for everything.” You smile, cuddling to the covering.

“You gotta stop thanking me, kid.” He plants on the edge of the bed. He looks like a dad getting prepared to read a bedtime story. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

a/n: ik this is slow burn but I just have to really set the scene guys please get the vibe 🙏