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 🙏

Golden sunshine poured through the crowded car, nostalgic summer wind hitting your face through the rolled-down passenger window. You relished in it—the last few moments before the sun fully set, closing your eyes to feel the final rays on your cheeks.

"Five minutes." Matt says, fingers tapping on the steering wheel in anticipation.

The forest became more condensed as you neared your destination, thick trees bordering each side of the street. Restlessness enveloped the backseat—Chris, Nick, and the group's mutual friend Noah stirring. Soon Matt turned onto a cobbled back road, a familiar route that made your stomach swirl with excitement.

For as long as you could remember, the cabin was your sanctuary. Your family and the Sturniolo family were tight-knit, and every year would carve out time to spend at the shared house. This year was especially significant, considering that it was the first time you were going to celebrate the Fourth of July here—and the first time you had the property all to yourselves.

It took convincing, but your parents handed over the keys for the weekend. They trusted that their children, as new adults, would treat the cabin responsibly. They couldn't have been more wrong.

As you came within eyesight of the house, it was clear you guys weren't the first to the party. White plastic tables were planted throughout the lawn, housing bottles of alcohol, cup-pong, and various types of classic American food. People crowded the area—the yard, dock, and wrap-around porch teeming with partyers. You recognized most of them, even from afar—summer kids and locals you were used to seeing during these months. Why they were here though, you had no idea.

"Ah. They're early," Chris mumbled from the backseat.

"Are you fucking serious, Chris? We're supposed to be taking care of the lake house, not destroying it." Matt shot at him, gripping the wheel as he turned to park behind a line of cars.

"It's the Fourth of July and we have an empty house. What did you think we were gonna do?" Chris tried to justify himself.

Matt's face stayed unimpressed, and you sighed from the tension. Being able to mentally prepare yourself for a party was more favourable, but you weren't opposed to having a little fun. You stayed silent, not wanting to take Chris's side.

The five of you filed from your seats, and rounded to the back of the car to grab your belongings. Frustration seeped from Matt as he slammed the trunk, enclosing the now empty vehicle. Chris began trudging down the dirt path towards the music, one hand folded to hold his backpack strap. Nick and Noah followed, talking amongst themselves, while you hung behind with Matt. He began grumbling as soon as the others were out of ear shot.

"It's always what Chris wants."

"It might be fun." You nudged his shoulder with your own as you walked.

"You're taking his side?"

"No. Never. I'm just saying, might as well make the most of it."

Matt shrugged, a smile beginning to creep on his face. "Yeah, you're right."

"Always am."

"You sound like Chris."

Despite your aversion to Chris, the two of you were a lot alike. The style you adorned yourself with, the bands you liked, your favourite movies—you shared them all with him. You cringed when you thought about it—being anything like him. You tried to convince yourself that you were all the good parts of Chris, but it left you confused when you identified that many positive aspects.

When you and Matt reached the log cabin, you were now in the center of the blowout. A girl in a striped tube top giggled at Matt, gesturing for him to join her. He fumbled his backpack into your arms, stuttering something about bringing it to his room for him. The girl pulled him by his bicep, and the two of them camouflaged into the crowd. It was safe to say he was now on board with the party.

Now alone, you stepped up the deck stairs of the familiar lakehouse. American flags were hung from the banister, blowing in the soft summer air. Dusk fell over the lawn, covering the partyers in a deep blue hue. Sparks from a bonfire flew as a guy stoked it, the classic woodsy scent wafting in all directions.

You tore your eyes from the magnetic scene, and made your way to your bedroom for the weekend. It was the first room at the top of the stairs, and had always been assigned to you. Without thinking, you pushed the door ajar. In your immediate line of vision, a scene from your nightmares was at play. A girl was placed on the dresser, her lips locked onto Chris's. Although his face was turned from you, his red backwards cap made it obvious it was him. He was between the girls thighs, her legs straddling around his waist. They were oblivious to you entering, hands exploring one another like the world depended on it. Flooded with embarrassment, you debated silently retreating. A mix of disgust and confidence overtook you though, and you cleared your throat instead.

Chris whipped his head around, eyes meeting yours.

"We're busy," the girl sneered.

"You can go be busy in a different room," you quipped, throwing both backpacks you held onto the bed.

"Or you can go be a stuck-up bitch somewhere else," she responded, wiping her smudged lipstick.

Chris stepped away from her body, hands dragging off her thighs. "Okay, you can get out."

"What?" The girl grasped for his sleeves.

He pushed her hands off of him. "She's like family, okay? Don't fucking talk to her like that."

She scoffed and hopped from the dresser. Profanities whispered from her mouth as she stomped through the doorway.

Why had he defended you like that? Did he really see you as a sister?

"She seems like a real treat!" Sarcasm dripped from your tongue.

"Why do you always gotta ruin shit for me."

"We've been here ten minutes, I'm sure you can find someone else," you started. "And don't hook up in my room."

These kinds of situations were common with Chris. Regard for other's feelings was completely out of his realm of perception. He acted in a way that made everyone accommodate to him—the classic "golden child", as Matt often put it. You, however, never catered to his narcissism. This drove him crazy, and was one of the many reasons the two of you never got along.

"Whatever, I'm gonna go set up the fireworks." As the words left his mouth, a pang of horror washed through you.

"Fireworks?" you questioned, paleness creeping to your cheeks.

"Yeah..?"

"Here?"

He caught wind of your sudden agitation, but his tone didn't become any more compassionate. "Yes. Here. That a problem?"

Without waiting for a response, Chris pushed past you. Rhymic steps descended down the hallway as he left.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, premature panic settling into your skin. Why hadn't you thought about this? You should've known that Chris would bring fireworks, it was Fourth of July after all. Goosebumps traveled up your spine at the thought of the booming noise.

Ever since you were little, yelling had been a part of your life. Whether it was picture frames shaking off the walls, or being forced to "pick a side" of your parents arguments, shouting was constant. It acted as lullabies when you slept, and background noise to every activity. That's part of the reason you loved this cabin so much—no arguing ever happened here. It was a safe place, free from the deafening sounds of your every day existence.

Because of this childhood, you were confined to a life of relative quietude. You knew that something like fireworks would undue all the progress you made in rebuilding yourself. Anxiety fixed into your bones as you closed the door behind you. Fighting the fit of terror creeping on, you curled to the pillows of your bed.

Just wait it out. Wait the fireworks out, and everything would be okay.

Minutes of anticipation ticked by, and you watched as darkness concealed the sky. From the mattress, you could see the dock through the second-story window. Boys were crowded in a circle, kneeled around what you assumed to be the culprits of your fear. Laying on your side, you waited until plugging your ears became a necessity.

Through the solid pane of glass, you heard the hissing begin. Beams of light shot to the sky, cascades of vibrant colours sweeping over the trees. You cup your hands over your ears instantly, but the insulation does nothing to block the thundering blasts. Tears well in your eyes in time with the next reverberating roar. Blistering through the walls, the sound of the fireworks was not letting up. Boom, boom, boom. Inhaling shaky breaths, you curl yourself tighter on the duvet.

Without warning, a hand is placed on the side of your goosebumped arm. You flip your body around, palms slipping down from your ears.

"Chris?" Your voice is shaky, and your tears are revealed instantaneously. "What are you doing here?"

"I left my—it doesn't matter. What's going on?" You had never seen genuine worry in his eyes until this moment.

"I-I can't—" Throat hoarse and mind jumbled, it was impossible to force any words out.

He sat down next to you, hand still firm on your shoulder. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

"I'm okay I just," a blaring blast caused you to flinch. "Fuck."

Sitting up, you brought your knees to your chest. Hugging them, you opened your mouth to make an excuse. But as the noises continued to bellow, more briny sadness wept from your eyes.

Chris instinctively moved next to you, wrapping his arm around your shivering shoulder. "What can I do?"

"Just…just stay with me.” You met his gaze. "Please."

He nodded, brows pulled together in concern. "Of course."

Nuzzling against his chest, your tears stained his t-shirt. Warmth radiated off of him, a blanket of comfort settling over you. He brought his hand to cup one of your ears, while you pressed the other firm to his body. You shook against him each time a firework roared, but his hold on you stayed steady. He anchored you to reality each time he exhaled, warm breath blowing onto the top of your head. The storm inside your mind lulled as his hands muffed the sound.

A concussive thud hammered in your chest, heartbeat erratic. At first you blamed the thrumming on the uproar of the holiday, but as the booms became sporadic, your heart continued to pound. You were too consumed by fear to realize it initially, but Chris wrapped around you made you feel a type of way you didn't want to admit. Butterflies you wished you could slaughter fluttered in your stomach as you breathed in the scent of him. Perfect cologne and the smell of a bonfire clung to his shirt.

"Chris?" you muttered, bringing your face up to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." Your eyes flit to his lips without thinking, and you pulled them away immediately.

He returned the gaze, view lingering on your mouth long enough to make your stomach flip.

You were suddenly all too aware of your proximity—your touching shoulders, your noses inches from one another. Chris seemed conscious of this as well, his breath hitching as you impulsively scanned his face. Hotness seeped into your skin. You held a silent thankfulness for the dark, grateful that he couldn't see the blush flushing your cheeks.

He parted his lips, looking down at your own before speaking. A mental argument seemed to be taking place in his mind. "I'm sorry."

Tilting your head, you questioned, "For what?"

"For getting so close to you, I didn't know what to do."

"It's okay…it's nice," you admitted.

A small smile crept onto his mouth, but concern still filled his eyes. "Do you want me to stay?"

Hesitating, you looked through the window. "Don't you want to get back to your party?"

He shook his head. "This feels more important."

Nervous, you tried to relieve the tension. "All out of girls to hook up with?"

He huffed a laugh. "Now, don't get jealous."

Scowling, you formed a line with your mouth. "I'm not jealous."

Chris pulled you back to his chest, nuzzling his chin to your hair. “Sure.”

Wind wafted softly past your cheeks as you listened to the birds sing. Cupped in your hands steamed a coffee Matt had brewed for you, the sweet aroma aiding the peacefulness of the morning.

"I don't know, that really doesn't seem like Chris," Matt says, sipping from his own mug.

"I'm telling you, he was… sweet."

"That's unsettling."

Listening to the songbirds melodies, you clicked your manicured nails on the ceramic cup. "It was refreshing."

In your mind, you replayed the previous night over again countless times. Chris soothed your panic as effectively as a drug, leaving you addicted to his touch. He held you until you fell asleep against him, his warmth easing you to slumber without delay. When you awoke, an indent laid in the bed next to you, the only evidence of his previous presence. At what point in the night he left, you weren't sure. But when you reached to graze the duvet, it was still heated from his body.

"Don't tell me you're lettin' him snake his way into your brain." He glanced over at you, eyes squinted with suspicion.

You returned his gaze, not responding.

Matt groans, "Jesus. Not you too."

"No. It was just nice seeing him not be a dick for once." You shrug, bringing the coffee to your lips.

"Better not get attached. Don't need another person swooning over Chris."

Later that day, when the sun rose to its peak, a swim in the lake was growing increasingly more desirable. Feet dangling off the edge of the dock, you got your body used to the chill of the water. Radiance beemed down into your near bare body, tanning everywhere that your bikini didn't lay. You were always the type to ease into the water at your own pace.

In your procrastination, the sky darkened. Clouds rolled in gray billows across the horizon, small drips of precipitation ricocheting off the water. Allowing the gentle summer rain to patter off of you, you had no intention of retreating to the house.

Focusing on the croaking frogs, you almost didn't notice the sound of someone nearing you. The soft shake of the wood underneath you stopped as the steps reached the end of the dock.

"You gonna jump off?"

Matt had taken Nick and Noah to a nearby grocery store, so you knew who the voice came from immediately.

"Hey, Chris." You kept your eyes on the rippelling of the lake.

"Going swimming?" his voice asked from the back of you.

"Nope, just got my bathing suit on for fun."

"Funny."

Placing your hand behind your seated body, you turned to look at Chris. "Do you need something?"

"I got the sauna set up," he says proudly, peering down at you.

"Cool." you nod. "Is that, like, an invitation?"

"If you want it to be."

Droplets became heavier against your exposed skin. Chilled, stormy air drifted past you, raising goosebumps along your figure.

"Or you can stay out here in the cold," he scoffed, "your choice."

Raindrops pattered against his shirt as he turned away. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself from the wood and followed.

Humid and steamy, the sauna sat on the forest’s edge. It was logged with cedar—a beautiful home-made construction done by the triplet’s father. When you stepped inside, the tropical temperature seeped comfortably into your body. Like a blanket of relaxation, the heat calmed you.

This peacefulness quickly dissipated when Chris closed the door. His t-shirt was off in an instant, your eyes immediately falling to the chisel of his stomach.

“Since when you do work out?” Your gaze lingered far too long on his biceps.

He laughed. “Since when do you check me out?”

“I’m not—“ you hesitated. “Shut up.”

His eyes flit down to your chest, tracing the curves of your tits.

“My eyes are up here,” you shot, sitting down on the bench.

When he planted himself beside you, the air shifted.

“Hey, about last night—“

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you interrupted.

Moisture beaded at the nape of his neck, the swelter of the sauna affecting him. Adjusting his waist upwards, you saw the imprint of hardness through his shorts. You gulped and began focusing on the strings of your bathing suit bottoms, fiddling aimlessly.

Chris glimpsed at your fingers messing with the string. “You nervous?”

“What?”

“You always start fidgeting when you’re nervous.”

“Hey, did you mean it?” You changed the subject. “Last night.”

He tilted his head in confusion.

“When you were with that girl. You said I was like a sister.”

A smirk curls at his lip. “You wanna know if I think of you like a sister?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I think of you as my brother’s annoying best friend.”

“Okay, good.” Why did you say that?

“Good?” he questioned, adjusting his hips again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly.

Sweat began dewing at your skin. The heat caused your thinking to become a muddled mess, self control slipping by the minute. His glistening abs, his arms that were surely able to manhandle you—your critical thinking skills were crumbling.

"What did you mean, then?"

You stuttered, but couldn't force out an answer.

He smiled—that cocky grin that always made your blood boil. But as you looked at him, that usual rage was replaced with a deep, aching lust. Crossing your legs, you tried to fight the arousal. He noticed this movement, of course, and it seemed he was just as affected. In an attempt at hiding his erection, Chris's hands were placed in the centre of his lap.

It was just a matter of who was going to break first.

You adjusted your bikini top using both straps, causing your boobs to bounce as you released the strings. Chris was watching, and sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers were closed in a fist at the middle of his thighs, veins tracing up his forearm. You were beginning to lose this mental battle.

"What you thinking about?" his voice broke the silence.

You tore your eyes from his hands. "Uh.. nothing really. You?"

"Don't lie to me."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"You bite your bottom lip," he replied, eyes fixed on your mouth.

You released the lip you didn't realize you were biting. "Are you just constantly analyzing me or something?"

"You just have some tells."

"Well, you do too." Your gaze darted to his lap.

"You're not slick, either." He nods his head towards your crossed legs.

Blush attacked your cheeks. Your chest feels heavy—both from the sauna and from the weight of your pounding heart. He unscrewed a bottle of water, adam's apple bobbing as he drank. Mouth feeling irreversibly dry, the sight fuels your thirst.

"You want some?" he asked, bringing the bottle from his mouth.

You nod. He placed it next to him, on the opposite side from you.

You glare.

"You can grab it, it's right there."

Feeding into his games was never the preferable option, but you were too thirsty to refuse. You separate your intertwined legs and reach over him. It's just far enough that you can't reach—definitely not an accident.

Something in you wanted to mess with him back, so you did the first thing that came to mind. Folding to sit on your knees, you pulled your hair into a ponytail. Now on all fours, you reached over his lap to the water. When bringing it back to you, you traced the cold metal at the bottom hem of his shorts. The condensation trickled against his exposed skin. Sitting back on your knees, you accepted victory and drank.

"Come here." Chris spoke, demanding.

"What?" Your stomach flips.

"You know what you're doing. Come here... please."

All sense of pride washes from you. Without thinking twice, you place the bottle down and crawl to his lap. Straddling on either side of his waist, his erection pressed against you immediately. You move slightly against him, the friction of his cock between your legs sending shivers through your body.

"See, that wasn't so hard, huh?" He mocked, snaking his hand to hold the curve of your waist.

"Lot of talk from someone who's bricked just from looking at me."

Moving his face to your neck, he plants a kiss just below your ear. "I can feel how wet you are for me."

His words elicit goosebumps down your skin. You shake your head, denying. But unconsciously, you bit your lip.

A silent duel ensued between the two of you, a fight to keep your composure. As soon as his waist moved upwards, it was a losing battle. His bulge rubbed against your clothed clit, causing a moan to fall from your throat. Placing both hands on your hips, he guided your body against him. Gnawing desire ripped through you, and his measured pace in which he piloted you only made your lust grow. You pressed down on his lap, aching for friction.

Biting back a moan, he held you in place. "Patience."

Your brows pulled together.

"So eager," he taunted, "don't worry, I'll give you what you need."

Sliding your bottoms to the side, his fingers dipped into your folds. Immediately being coated in arousal, he used it to circle your clit with his thumb. You throw your head back, relishing in the pleasure. Hot, congested air covered your body, the smell of cedar and Chris's cologne filling your nose.

"You gonna be a good girl for me?" He slowly sunk two fingers into your pussy.

You tightened around him, your walls gripping him like a vice. "Fuck Chris—"

"God, you sound so fucking sexy moaning my name," he groans, curling his fingers expertly.

You grind down on his hand automatically, submerging him deeper inside of you. Unable to refrain, you began riding the length of his digits. Pulse hammering, you chased the pleasure.

He pulls out of you. "If you're gonna ride anything, it's gonna be my cock."

Giving up on not seeming desperate, you quickly fondle with the strings of his gray shorts. Your breasts are at his face, shaking in time with your untying. Scooting back, you're able to pull down his shorts and boxers. Hard and leaking with pre-cum, his dick slaps to his stomach. He's bigger than you anticipated—and throbbing with a need for you.

Chris watched your awed expression. "You can take it."

A whine escapes your lips, but you don't argue. Instead, you reach to his length, gripping his base. Taking your thumb, you pump the pre-cum down his veins. Pulsating under your hand, his dick moves involuntarily from your touch. He sucks in a breath through bared teeth.

"Patience," you mock.

He bucked into your hand, a clear sense of defiance. He holds back onto your sides, urging for you to get closer. You silently obeyed, moving your bottoms aside and hovering over his cock. His hands are steady on you as you align yourself.

Slowly, you lowered your hips. Your walls sucked in his tip, the two of you moaning in sync. At a painstaking pace, you sunk him deeper. He’s big inside of you, your pussy stretching like elastic around his cock. You gasped as you hit the base, taking his entire length.

Chris’s cheeks were flushed red from the heat, and his chest was slick with moisture. Hair tousled and breath labored, he looked perfect beneath you. You began raising yourself off his dick, emptiness filling you before you sank back down. With Chris’s guided help, you set a pace.

Undoing your bikini strap in a slick movement, your tits fell from the fabric. He kneaded them, using them as handles as you rode him. Your nipples hardened under his touch, and your boobs bounced with the rhythm you had set. Arching your back, they were in full display in front of his face. He took the opportunity, and latched his mouth to your hardened bud. Sucking at the sensative skin, whimpers fall from your lips.

“Holy fuck, Chris,” you breathed, holding his shoulders.

He released your nipple. “Riding me so fucking good.”

His fingers traveled to where your bodies meet. He rubbed your clit in messy circles, and began thrusting with your pace. The added sensation caused an ache to coil low in your stomach.

“You feel so—holy shit.” You can barely force words out, and he knows this.

You ride him relentlessly, using him to fuel your own pleasure. His tip rams your g-spot each time, the angle impeccable. Throwing your head back, you quicken your speed. Sounds escape from his throat, guttural groans that make your chest pound. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fucking yourself dumb on my cock, aren’t you?” you can hear the stupid grin in the voice.

“Chris—“

“Gonna cum around me?”

You nod helplessly.

“Cum around my dick, fucking slut.”

A wave crashed over you, and you leaned your forehead against his. In a mess of shivers, you released around him. He continued to thrust upwards, chasing his own pleasure. You’re unable to move, and your thighs are shaking around his pulsing cock.

As he continues his relentless pace, you realize he has no intention of stopping. Instead, he holds your back, flipping you to lay on the wood.

“Oh my god Chris I can’t—“ you try to finish a sentence, but it’s impossible.

“You feel so good—holy shit,” he groans, speeding up.

His face lowers to yours, and you dig your manicured nails into his back. Lips desperately colliding, your tongues fight for dominance. It’s sloppy, disordered, and perfect. His pumps match the pace of your kiss, and you can tell he’s close. Your nails are sure to draw blood. Your back is pressed to the hot wood, and the weight of him against you is intoxicating. He tastes sweet in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You clenched your pussy around him, feeling your second climax nearing.

“Oh fuck, do that again,” he breathed.

You continue to tighten, feeling his thrusts become disordered. In a messy final stroke, you feel him spilling inside of you. The sensation causes another climax to rip at your core. Moaning into his mouth, the two of you pant together. Scalding heat permeates both of your bodies, sweat slicking between you.

“Just to be clear,” he starts, pulling out of you.

“This never happened,” you finish.

a/n: go check out Summer of Sturniolo!

This is definitely the longest fic I've done! I wrote this before the newest video came out, but it’s funny that their theme was fireworks too 😭