✮.˳⁺. 𝔧𝔞𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔰 .⁎˚✭

To say that the last month had been draining would be putting it politely — but life moved on. The military had created a regulatory schedule including a strict curfew for Hawkins. From sun up to sun down, civilians were free to roam the town, excluding the MAC-Z in the center of downtown. School had even reopened, trying to provide the remaining children of Hawkins with an education and hope that normalcy would return. The people of Hawkins slowly returned to their regular jobs or chose to volunteer for the humanitarian organizations that brought in rations from the outside world. You wondered whether the eyes of the nation were focused on the insanity that had racked your once-small town, or if they had found a new tragedy to focus on. 

The knock of the doorway caught your attention, derailing your thoughts. You lifted your gaze from the manual you had been reading to where Steve stood in the entryway of the WSQK green room. He held a soda in both hands and flashed you an easy smile, approaching your side. 

This was your new normal. After Robin discovered that her favorite radio DJ had skipped town, leaving the station abandoned, the town committee needed new employees to manage the public airwaves. Steve and Robin were fresh out of a job with Family Video, choosing to shut down the Hawkins store. Plus, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and you would all be graduating high school and still be stuck in Hawkins until the gate was closed. 

So it was decided that your ragtag group would run the station and utilize it as a base of operations to locate Vecna. Dustin, your younger brother, led the charge in establishing a comms system, but that meant you needed to learn what every part of that tower did. 

“Studying up?” Steve asked as he offered you the cold soda. 

“Trying too. You never know what could happen, and at least one of us should know how all this works in case Dustin’s busy,” You rambled off with an explanation. 

Steve chuckled, his eyes flicking over your face in admiration, “Well, why don’t you take a break? The manual will still be here later, and you can fry your brain trying to become an engineer then. But I just found another box of records to sort through. New releases that arrived at the station before everything went to shit.”

You smiled as you took a half step closer. Steve took the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, tugging you against his side.

“Fine, fine. I’ll help you with the music library,” Your tone full of playful mirth, though you were content to spend some time together. It had been hard to just have some quality time as a couple before all the craziness took over. 

Both of you stood at the table, sorting through a cardboard box to alphabetize the new singles. Prince, Bowie, Tiffany – new additions to the extensive catalog. Steve picked out one of the records at random, pulling George Michael’s Faith. 

“Oh, is that your new fave?” You asked, with a warm smile, at his pleased expression. 

His smile morphed into confusion. “Um, no? You love George Michael.”

“No, I love Wham!” You corrected him, moving your attention to the actual task. 

While you thumbed through the records, Steve set the single aside. One large hand settled on his hip, perplexed and brow pinched, “Same thing. You like George Michael.”

“Totally not the same thing,” You scoffed at his lack of discernment between the two, “George Michael is great, and I love that single, but I still prefer Wham! I think George is finding his sound outside of what the band was.”

“Jesus, you sound like Eddie when he corrects me on Black Zeppelin,” Steve sighed, dragging a hand over his face in exasperation. 

“I think you’re trying to say Black Sabbath,” you cringed a little at his lack of musical knowledge, but at least your boyfriend would agree to listen to anything once. Your eyes danced over his confused expression, “Why do you think George Michael is my favorite artist?”

“Um… Dustin mentioned you and your mom listening to it to cheer up, and you’ve asked Robin to queue it a few times. So I made note that this was your favorite song,” Steve explained, attempting not to sound like the worried boyfriend he was, “Y’know, just in case.”

Neither of you needed to elaborate — you both knew what ‘just in case’ meant. Steve beat himself up every day about Max, and he was determined to keep you and everyone else in the party from the same fate. 

You gave him a sympathetic smile, stepping closer to his side, “That’s really sweet, y’know.”

Steve bashfully shook his head, moving his hand to rub soothing circles against your upper back, “Figured you’d do the same for me.”

“Oh, of course. I don’t think your Tears for Fears cassette has seen the light of day since you first put it in your car,” You affectionately teased him, not wanting to burst his bubble just yet. 

“Haha, yeah, you’ve got me figured out,” He hummed, taking a moment to simply admire you in the moment. Steve tucked your hair behind your ear. “So what is your favorite song?”

Your eyes drifted back over the singles, knowing that you wouldn’t find it there. Because your favorite song wasn’t the latest hit from this summer or even last. Music had a way of sticking with you, even if the rest of the world changed. Your eyes trailed back up to meet Steve’s, giving him a gentle smile before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you, but if that’s an avoidant tactic, it’s not gonna work,” Steve hummed, tugging you half an inch closer by your belt loop, “Tell me. I won’t laugh – promise. Mike likes The Butthole Surfers, so I don’t think it gets much worse than that.”

After mulling it over a moment longer, you admitted with an exasperated sigh, “Well… my favorite song is Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper.”

Steve blinked, not completely shocked but a little stunned at the information, “That cheesy ballad we danced to at Prom?”

“Cyndi Lauper is not cheesy,” You swiftly corrected him with a glare, “And… yes, it is.”

His signature smirk stretched across his lips, “You are such a sap. I can’t even believe it. Time After Time? Really?”

“Really,” you nodded, exasperated by his need for explanation, “It was just… We had just started kind of dating, and you were there. Not just my rom date, but my boyfriend who went dress shopping with me and bought a matching tie and sneaking a flask of your dad’s liquor — it was the perfect night. And then you won Prom King and refused to dance with Tammy Thompson, even though she rightfully won Prom Queen.”

“Because why dance with Tammy Thompson when I’ve got you,” Steve chuckled, reaching to intertwine your fingers, “I stopped caring about winning Prom King after the demodogs. Was shocked I was still nominated.”

“You’re still Steve Harrington, need I remind you?” You teased him, recalling a version of Steve you hadn’t known in a long time now.

“Sure, sure. I’m Steve Harrington to Hawkins,” His brown eyes held intense focus on your own, “But I’m happy here just being your Steve. Which makes us both saps, I guess.”

“You’ve always been a sap,” Your lips twisted into a loving smile before pressing a kiss to his cheek, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

"I never noticed you wore a ring."

Travis shrugged, taking his wallet out of his pocket and opening it. Inside was a picture of you, and he handed it to her. "That's my girl, Y/N. Ain't she beautiful?" Travis beamed, proud to show you off.

Naomi took the picture. It was a candid photo, and you were smiling. You wore a beautiful, flowy sundress, your hair blowing behind you. "She's pretty."

"Careful with my picture." He chuckled, taking it back and staring at it for a second. He never could take his eyes off of you. "Damn it, now I miss her. She's asleep right now, stupid night shift." He mumbled, putting it back into his wallet.

"Y/N..." Naomi repeated, wondering where she'd heard that name before. As Travis twisted to reach his pocket, she saw it. That was who the name on his tattoo behind his ear belonged to. "You got her name tattooed?"

Travis smiled sheepishly, reaching up to feel it. "Yeah, before i'd even met her in real life, actually. No regrets here, don't get me wrong."

"What?" Naomi asked, shocked. "How'd you guys meet?"

𓆩♡𓆪

You stared at your computer, looking at the volunteering requirements for your college course. You sighed, clicking through your options. You had too much coursework and papers to be writing rather than waste your time with this, but unfortunately you wouldn't graduate without it.

'Write an inmate program: spend 10 weeks conversing back and forth with an inmate at the Ellsworth Correctional Facility, KS.'

You contemplated that one for a moment, it seemed the simplest. You could write letters in between work, easy enough.

You scrolled their website, looking at the potential inmates you could write to. They all looked scary to you. Your eyes landed on one in particular, Travis Meacham. He had big, beautiful brown eyes, bleached blonde hair, and a rather handsome face.

His bio read: Travis Meacham, incarcerated for accomplice to robbery. Looking for pen pal across the United States.

He seemed good enough for what you were looking for, and his charges didn't seem dangerous to you, so you sent an email to the attached address.

Dear Travis,

I saw your picture on the write an inmate website, and you intrigued me! I have to do some volunteering for my course at college, and this was one of the options.

Please let me know if you're willing to talk!

From Y/N

You sent the email, and quickly forgot about it, instead burying your head in textbooks and attempting to make a dent in your assignments.

Around a week later, you were flicking through your mail when you saw a letter from the Ellsworth Correctional Facility. Then, you suddenly remembered about your volunteering and the email you had sent to Travis.

You sat back on your bed and opening the letter. Inside was a handwritten letter on a piece of paper. It read:

to y/n,

i appreciated your email, i can for sure help with whatever volunteering you need, sounds interesting. BTW you have to send letters to the return address on the envelope, and beware they get checked before they reach me, so don't be writing anything naughty ;)

anyway, like i said i'm interested in your volunteering thing, what are we doing? just conversing is cool, it gets lonely in here and you'd seem cool to talk to.

travis meacham

You found yourself smiling at the letter, and little did you know, this was going to go on for more than the required ten weeks.

At first, your conversations were polite, brushing on the weather, what was going on in the world. Travis told you his favourite sports teams and musicians, and you found yourself spending more time researching those so that you could update him on what they were up to than you did focussing on your work.

Eventually, your conversations turned flirty. You never wrote anything explicit, too scared to get him or yourself in trouble, or that the letter won't reach him at all, so it was innocent.

You send pictures of yourself back and forth, just selfies, and Travis gushed over them every single time, telling you how beautiful you were.

Once specific letter really caught you off guard, as it included a picture of him with your name freshly tattooed down the back of his ear. Written on the back of the picture read 'Forgive me'. You forgave him of course, it was so hot.

𓆩♡𓆪

"Wait, so you got her name tattooed after only seeing a few pictures of her?" Naomi asked, bewildered.

Travis nodded. "Yeah, I still got those pictures, wow. I mean, I knew I wanted to marry her, she's the sweetest and the best thing I had in jail."

Naomi thought of a moment. It was nice in a twisted, slightly obsessive way. "I suppose that's... sweet of you."

"She ain't seem to care, she said it was hot. I take what I can get from her, plus, I needed her to know I was commited. Like, when I got outta there, I'm going straight to wherever she is."

Naomi had to swallow a few words down, it was weird as hell, but Travis didn't seem to have any ulterior motives, his only reasoning being that he was hopelessly down bad for you.

"So, when you got out... She picked you up."

Travis nodded again. "Yup, flew from her fancy school in New York to come meet me." He paused for a second, before furrowing his brow. "I ain't at that part of the story yet, hold your horses."

𓆩♡𓆪

Graduation day came, and you sent pictures of you in your cap and gown, holding your diploma to Travis, and thanked him for helping with your volunteering.

to y/n,

you look so pretty in those pictures, i'll defian definitely stick those over my bunk so i can be reminded of how smart my girl is

but hold on now, this isn't over between us? i'm proud of you for graduating baby, but please tell me this wasn't just you volunteering, i tattooed your damn name on me

i need your response asap pretty girl, please please please tell me good news

from travis

Your heart broke slightly when you read his letter, of course it wasn't over. You could understand how your words maybe could have been interpreted by him to suggest so, and you felt bad for giving that impression.

You wrote back to set the record straight, but you continued to count down the days until you could meet him for real. The prison didn't allow visitors for anybody who wasn't a solicitor or a direct family member, so that wasn't an option. Travis had offered to marry you in prison, then you'd get to visit, but you shut that down quickly.

Not that you didn't want to marry him, you definitely did, but you wanted a ceremony, and you hadn't even met him for god sakes!

Time ticked by slowly, each day crossed off of the calendar with a red X. Slowly... slowly... until it was realistic to book a flight... then the flight was next week... before you knew it, you were on the plane... then you were in the parking lot of the prison, waiting to see him.

Your stomach churned with nerves, your eyes flickering to the prisoner exit every couple of seconds. This was it. You had flown all the way to Kansas to be here right now, as he didn't really have anybody else to pick him up. Also, you were desperate to kiss him, to run away and get married.

You saw his blonde hair, and your entire body drowned in chills. You hopped out of the car, and ran over to him, diving into his arms.

"Travis!" You grinned, and he held you firmly, his beefy arms wrapping tightly around you.

You kissed him passionately, right in the middle of the parking lot, probably in front of cameras, but you didn't care.

"I love you." He said, the first thing he ever said to you in real life. You just nodded, before kissing him again, your fingers running all over him, through his hair, over his tattoo, down his broad shoulders and soft stomach...

𓆩♡𓆪

"Happy ever after." Travis concluded.

"That's cute." Naomi smiled, staring at his wedding band.

"Yup. Got married a year later in a small ceremony... I didn't care, man, I just wanted to be with her forever."

"So it all worked out?" She asked.

He nodded. "Oh, yes. Like I said, I kept all those pictures, the letters, too. I reread them sometimes, when she goes home to see her family or whatever. When my parole is up i'll go with her."

Naomi's eyes travelled down his body until they landed on the outline of the ankle monitor underneath his trousers. "Oh, sure."

"Man, best damn decision I ever made answering that email."

Steve Harrington may not have been the sharpest tool in the shed but when it came to his girlfriend? Well he was incredibly perceptive.

And for the past two weeks, he’s been picking up on the way you’ve been staring at his hands.

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing – if his hands are visible, you’re fixed on them. At first he thought he was imagining it but you proved him wrong.

When he’s counting down the registers at work, mindlessly swiping his tongue over his fingers for a better grip on the cash, you’re staring.

When he came over last week and built you a new vanity, screwdriver between his teeth, and his hands hammering in every screw, you’re staring.

After work when he surprised you with a glass of wine and plan for a homemade meal, chopping up vegetables – you’re staring.

And tonight he was going to prove it.

He whisked you away for a casual date night – spending the night at a new dive bar he found and used every possible excuse to showcase his hands.

He showed up in a white button down, the top three buttons left open to show just enough of his chest hair to tease, and made sure to keep his sleeves rolled up to his elbows – displaying the veins in his hands and forearms.

He kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the expanse of your thigh, gently kneading the skin every few minutes. And when he was pulling into the parking spot? That same hand came to land on your headrest, muscles twitching as he maneuvers the car – inches away from your face, and your mouth.

It worsened once he roped you into a game of pool. His body bent over the table, the thin wood looked minuscule between his long fingers. The veins in his hands shifting as he lines the stick up.

It was all so consuming that it was hard to carry out a full conversation with him.

And of course, Steve noticed.

By the end of the night, he could see the way you were a buzzing mess of nerves – practically drooling over the sight of his hands and the way he used them tonight.

It was no surprised when you all but pounced on him the minute you stepped inside. Your mouth was on his seconds after the door was shut, hands clawing at any inch of skin you could reach. He smirked into the kiss, awfully aware of how he triggered your reaction.

But he let you have your fun, because by the time you got upstairs, a trail of clothes left behind leading up the stairs, he knew what he wanted.

And that was getting you to admit what he already knew.

You’re laying flat on his bed, legs spread wide for him to settle between. Steve hovers over you, his warm mouth gliding against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth. Your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging every time his teeth bites into your lip.  

It’s messy and desperate and still not enough.

Steve pulls away suddenly and watches the way you raise your head off the pillow, chasing after his lips. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, all the while he stares down at you – a barely there, teasing smile on his face.

Slowly, he grinds his still covered cock against your pussy. You don’t hold back the moan he pulls from you and your hands raise to grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

His smile widens at your reaction. “That feel good, baby?”

You’re nodding instantly. “Mhm.. so good, Steve,”

He hums an agreement, still slowly rocking his hips. He knows it’s not enough for you, but you’re sweet enough not to rush him.

“You want more though,” He says softly, lowering his head to hover his mouth over yours – not quite a kiss yet. “Don’t you?”

Your breath hitches, just barely, but enough for him to notice. You swallow hard and nod timidly.

“Use your words.”

His hips are still lazily moving into yours but it’s still enough to turn your brain into mush.

“Y-Yes, Steve. I want – I want more, please.” You beg him and raise your head, pushing your lips against his. He doesn’t fight you and kisses you back just as hard.

His hips move faster now, a new harsh and fast rhythm. You can physically feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of the boxers he still wears, but neither of you care. The room fills with the sound of your lips smacking against each other and you’re mewling for more under him.

Slowly, he slides his hand up your thigh, over your hip, up your ribs, all the way until he reaches your face. His palm cups your cheek and he brushes his thumb over the skin there.

It’s a gentle touch and it’s a dizzying difference compared to the way he’s slamming his hips into you.

He pulls back then and waits for you to open your eyes. You’re breathless when you do, staring up at him. Your mouth is swollen red, lips bitten raw. The skin of your face is flush, a faint blush covering the apples of your cheeks.

So fucking beautiful.

His fingers slide down your face, carefully tracing your lips and taps his thumb against them.

“Open.” His voice is low, soft and gentle, and there’s no room to question him.

You blink up at him but he doesn’t repeat himself.

Your lips part and he lets his thumb slip inside. Instinctively, your lips wrap around his finger – and you don’t just hold him there. Your cheeks hollow out, tongue swirling around him. Your eyes flutter shut, a content hum surrounding his finger, like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

Steve groans quietly above you and he presses his thumb down on your tongue. Your whimper is muffled around him.  

“This what you’ve been wanting, baby?” He murmurs, carefully sliding his thumb in and out of your mouth.

With your mouth full, you still nod. Your eyes are hooded, swirling with unfiltered need and desire – it’s almost enough to make him cum right there.

“Yeah I know it is,” He breathes. “Been watching my hands, my fingers. Just needed them in your mouth – something for you to suck on, huh?”

Your face burns – from embarrassment, shame, hunger, you have no idea really. All you know is you want him to keep going.

He watches your reaction before he pulls his thumb out with a pop!

You whine at the loss and he smirks down at you. He doesn’t let you suffer for long before he reaches down and pushes his boxers off.

Your stomach twists in anticipation while you watch him. He kicks them off the bed, and grips his cock in his hand, sliding it through your wet folds.

“Please – don’t tease me,” You whine. Steve ignores you and pushes the head of his cock against your clit, moving in small circles over the sensitive bud.

You watch the way his hand tightens around his cock – veins protruding and twitching beneath his skin.

He guides himself down to your entrance, your wetness giving him easy access but before he pushes in, he looks back up at you. He plants a gentle kiss on your lips and slides home.

Your shared moan is instant. The stretch he brings is intense and the feeling of being completely full overwhelms you in the best way. It’s almost like you can feel him all the way in your throat.

He starts his brutal pace – hips slamming into yours and his cock hits that sweet spot inside you almost immediately.

“Mhmm.. fuck,” You cry out, mouth hanging open and Steve takes the opportunity.

His hand rises to your face again and his pointer and ring finger flat against your tongue. You suck him in, encouraging him further.

“So good baby, so fuckin’ good,” He moans. Your mouth soak his fingers, all the while your pussy soaks his cock. “Just stuffed full, aren’t you? This pussy full from my cock and this pretty mouth stuff with my fingers,”

His words are so fucking vulgar and should make you disgusted with yourself but you’re not – it just makes you want it even more.

You nod feverishly, whining around his fingers. Drool slips past your lips and onto the pillow beneath you. His hips haven’t stopped slamming into you for a second and already, you can feel the coil pulling tighter and tighter in your tummy.

Steve can feel it and it’s pushing him closer to the edge behind you.

“Come on then baby. Cum for me,” He rasps. His cock drills into your harder, deeper. “Cum around my cock while I fuck your mouth with my fingers.”

Your orgasm washes over you the second the words leave his mouth, giving you barely any warning. Stars burst behind your eyes, your skin burns from the feeling of him and his words.

Steve watches the way your thighs convulse around him, your pussy tightening and clenching around him, your juices gushing the base of his cock.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Steve whines. His hips stutter, losing rhythm, and he pulls his fingers from your mouth – giving you only a second to breathe before slams his mouth against yours. You swallow down his whines as his cock jerks inside you, hot ropes of cum spilling inside you.

He steadies himself over you after a moment, his lips gently pecking at yours as you both try to catch your breath. When he pulls his face away from yours, he smiles down at you.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

“Nothin’.” He responds. You narrow your eyes at him. “Just thinking of all the other ways I can use my hands to get you like this now,”

“Steve!” You gasp out a laugh. He laughs back, burying his face in your shoulder.

Just as Steve deepens the kiss—his large hands on either side of your neck gently titling your head back to coax your lips apart with his tongue—the sound of someone gasping in surprise rips the two of you apart.

Please don’t let it be Dustin. Please don’t let it be Dustin.

But as you pull away from Steve, your face burning and Steve looking a little dazed, you quickly realise that it wasn’t Dustin who had caught you—it was Lucas.

“Um, hi Sinclair,” Steve says by way of greeting, trying to act casual and as though you hadn’t been making out merely seconds ago.

Lucas’ eyes dart from Steve, to you and back again.

“Oh, Dustin is gonna flip—”

“—you can’t tell Henderson!” Steve insists, eyes widening in slight panic. “He’ll kill me—”

“—maybe you should have thought about it before you started making out with his sister—”

“—it was just a kiss—”

“—that’s a bunch of bull—”

“—Lucas, please don’t tell Dustin,” you plead with Lucas, cutting him off mid sentence so you didn’t have to hear him and Steve bicker back and forth a moment longer.

“Why not?” Lucas asks. “He deserves to know, this isn’t fair on him, you know? Besides, the party doesn’t keep secrets from each other. I have to tell him.”

The guilt stirs in your gut because you knew Lucas was right. You knew not being honest with Dustin wasn’t fair on him but you were trying to be sensitive around your brother’s current state.

Steve glances at you, seeing the torn expression on your face and his hand twitches, as though he was desperate to reach for yours.

“Just give us a few days, yeah?” Steve asks Lucas. “We’ll tell him. We just need to figure out how to do it gently.”

Lucas looks unconvinced and you decide to plead with him instead.

“Please Lucas?” You press him gently before he could open his mouth to tell you no. “Th—this isn’t a bit of fun for us and we want to tell Dustin properly.”

Your eyes are on Lucas but you could feel Steve looking at you at your words. You try not to think too much about it.

“Wait—you guys are like…serious?” Lucas asks.

You feel your face warming and you force yourself not to look at Steve at that moment.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his hand finding yours, thumb gently rubbing over your skin and making it hard for you to hold back a smile. “We are.”

Lucas looks at Steve for a long moment before finally, he nods. “Okay,” he says, somewhat reluctantly. “Okay, okay. I won’t tell him. But you two should probably stop making out in the basement if you don’t want him to catch you.”

You learned a day later that Lucas Sinclair could not keep a secret.

You were back in the basement of the radio station, planning the next crawl. The basement was full with the entirety of the party present as well as the older kids, Joyce and Hooper. You stand beside Steve, trying to keep a straight face as you listen to Nancy but it was proving difficult when Steve kept nudging his foot against yours.

You hear your name being said and you look up to see Nancy looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You ask, your mind half on the conversation and half on Steve’s arm that was brushing against yours. “Sorry. What did you say, Nance?”

Nancy looks at you, slightly suspicious of the distracted look on your face before she glances back down at the map. “I asked if you and Steve were okay to take the van tonight? We need Dustin to stay here to cover—”

Lucas snorts with laughter and you don’t even have time to send him a warning look before he bursts out, “Oh, they’ll be just fine. They’re just gonna make out the whole time.”

His words were met with complete and utter silence.

Your face was burning and Steve was almost completely lost for words. Lucas seems to realise two seconds too late what he had just let slip and attempts to laugh it off.

“I was kidding! It was just a—”

But nothing gets past Dustin Henderson.

“What are you talking about?” Dustin asks, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks from you to Steve and back again. “Is there something I don’t know about going here or?”

“I um,” Steve begins, looking at you while Robin—who was the only person who knew about you and Steve—struggles to keep a straight face. “I mean he was probably jo—”

“—no, don’t try and bullshit me man, what is Lucas talking about?”

You look up your brother then and you almost see the way he’s putting two and two together. At the way Steve’s body was turned towards yours, how he was looking at you with a soft look of concern on his face. 

“Dustin, I swear we were going to tell you—” You begin but Dustin is quick to cut you off.

“—we?” Dustin asks, nostrils flaring as he looks at Steve. “There’s a we?”

“Can we please focus?” Hopper’s gruff voice cuts in before you or Steve could respond. “There’s more important things that we need to—”

“—you can’t be serious,” Dustin interrupts, clearly no longer caring about the crawl as he glares at both you and Steve. “You and Steve? Seriously?”

“Dustin, could you just—”

But Dustin is already shaking his head, curls bouncing as he walks away from the table without another word to either you or Steve.

Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath as Dustin practically stomps up the basement stairs while you and Steve look at each other. You vaguely register Lucas profusely apologising for running his mouth but you weren’t listening.

“I’ll go after him,” you say to Steve. “I can talk to him and—”

“—no, I’ll go,” Steve insists with a shake of his head. You open your mouth to protest but Steve is already leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek before he follows Dustin up the basement stairs.

“So you and Steve, huh?” Robin asks, trying and failing to seem surprised. “I had no idea! That’s such a surprise!”

Both Nancy and Jonathan laugh in a disbelieving sort of way and even you manage to crack a smile, despite the way your heart was pounding in your chest as you can’t help but imagine the conversation that Steve and your brother were having.

“Alright! Can we focus up now, please?” Hopper calls out, trying to wrangle everyone’s attention back to the mission at hand. “Alright—Wheeler—no Mike, not you—I need you and Buckley to—”

“—I’m just gonna go and check Steve and Dustin are okay,” you interrupt Hopper, ignoring the audible groan of frustration from him as you slip past the group and race up the basement stairs.

You follow the sound of Steve and Dustin’s voices, all the way up the basement stairs and out of the maintenance room where the entrance to the basement was hidden. You’re about to round the corner to head into the kitchen when the sound of Steve’s voices stops you.

“—I promise you man, I’m not just fooling around with her. I wouldn’t do that, especially not to her.”

“Then why would you not tell me? If you were that serious about her—”

“—I was scared, okay? I was—I was scared you wouldn’t handle it well and honestly? I was scared because I hadn’t felt this way about anyone before.”

Your breath hitches and even Dustin is taken aback by Steve’s words.

“Not even Nancy?”

A beat and then—

“Yeah. Not even Nance. With Nance it was—it was constantly worrying if I was doing the right thing, if I was enough. But with your sister—” Steve begins and though you can’t see him, you can hear the smile in his voice. “—she’s the real deal. She’s my favourite person and I was scared that telling everyone about our relationship would burst that bubble or something.”

You bit back a smile as you lean against the wall, your heart feeling fuller at Steve’s admission.

“She’s your favourite person?” Dustin repeats, his voice a little softer now.

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “She is.”

You almost step out and into the kitchen but what Dustin asks Steve next keeps you rooted to the spot.

“Do you love her?”

You swallow because three months together meant that you hadn’t yet breached the L word yet with Steve. You knew you loved him—you had known since the very first kiss if you were honest with yourself. But you had never told him that and you couldn’t be sure that Steve was actually in love with you too.

You almost leave, so that you don’t have to hear Steve’s response. In fact, you started to do just that—stepping back towards the stairs that lead back down to the basement when—

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “I do. I love her.”

Your heart was doing funny things in your chest, things that surely defied science and all because Steve Harrington admitted that he loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

“Wow,” you hear Dustin say a few seconds later, after he had digested Steve’s words. “Love. That’s um, that’s big, Steve.”

“It’s kind of hard not to fall in love with her.”

The smile that was beginning to tug on your lips almost hurt at Steve’s words. You had to fight the urge to run toward your boyfriend and kiss him stupid.

“You know if you break her heart that I’ll get Jonathan to beat you up again—”

“—oh c’mon, that was one time, I could totally take Byers again if I—”

“—so as long as you don’t do anything too stupid then—then I guess…I guess I forgive you for keeping it from me.”

“I promise you I won’t,” Steve reassures Dustin. “I’m gonna keep her for as long as she’ll have me. You never know, I might be your brother in law one day—”

“—nevermind, take everything I said back—”

“—too late, I can already see it now. A spring wedding, you can be the ring bearer and—”

You don’t see it but you hear a thumping sound which could only mean Dustin had smacked your boyfriend’s arm to shut him up. And you can’t help yourself, you let out a laugh.

There was silence from the kitchen and your heart thumps as you realise that both Steve and Dustin had heard you. 

Dustin calls out your name and asks, “is that you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, silently cursing yourself before you respond. “Yeah. It’s me.”

You step out then, heading towards the kitchen where Dustin and Steve were watching you step over the threshold. Dustin looked incredibly amused while Steve had a look of apprehension on his face, likely worried about just how much you had overheard.

“You’re so like mom, you know that? She’s always eavesdropping on my conversations—”

Your face burns at that and you glance quickly at Steve before looking away, “—I wasn’t eavesdropping, Dustin—”

“—you totally were. But whatever, I’m glad you two are happy. Just don’t make out in front of me. I don’t want anymore reasons to go to therapy at my age.”

You let out a choked out sound while the tips of Steve’s ears turn red. Dustin pays no mind to it, slipping past you as he heads towards the basement door with a slight spring in his step.

You don’t speak and neither does Steve. You begin to fiddle with a button on your cardigan while Steve seems suddenly interested in looking out of the kitchen window. 

“So, do you wanna head back down before Hoppers kills us or—”

“—how much did you hear?”

You flex your fingers, the button slipping from your hand as you look over at Steve. He has a carefully measured expression on his face, as though he was bracing himself for the worst.

For a moment, you debate whether or not to lie to him. Whether you should tell him you hadn’t heard much at all but one look in those big, hazel eyes that you loved so much and you couldn’t find it in yourself to lie to him.

“You said I’m your favourite person,” you say finally with a faint smile. “That was sweet.”

Steve swallows nervously, a pink flush creeping up his neck as he looks back at you. “It’s true, you are.” He takes a tentative step closer, his eyes not leaving yours as he asks, “what else did you hear?”

You pretend to think, finding it near impossible to not smile as Steve stands right in front of you, his hands planting themselves on your waist and squeezing affectionately.

“I heard you say that you love me,” you say softly, your eyes flickering over his face.

“Yeah?” Steve murmurs, leaning in until his lips ghosted over your cheek, his breath hot against your skin. “And what did you think about that, baby?”

You exhale a shuddering breath, Steve’s lips placing a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead, then your nose and finally the very corner of your mouth. The contact makes your entire body shudder.

“I think,” you breathe out, head tilting back instinctively so as to look back at him. “I think it’s a good thing that I love you too.”

You feel Steve’s breathing slow, his hands grip you that little bit tighter and there was a look in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, barely able to contain the smile on his face, “I love you. I love you so much. I can’t believe—”

He doesn’t even finish his own sentence, his lips sealing over yours in a kiss that leaves you breathless. Your hands find their way into his hair and his pull you flush against him, your mouths moving against each other as though you had all the time in the world.

It was you who had the sense to pull away first—Steve chasing your lips and pressing kiss after kiss there until you were laughing against him.

“Later,” you promise him, placing a finger to his lips to stop him. “We’ve got a crawl to plan.”

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as if he was able to hear your thoughts, waking up from the sound of them, gator shifted behind you, his voice—still rough with sleep—tickling you in just the right places.

“mornin’ darlin’,” he whispered, teeth grazing the shell of your ear, drawing a little giggle from you. “morning, gates,” you whispered, turning around, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look down at his beautiful face.

his dark hair—usually gelled back so it was out of his brown eyes—fell messily into his forehead, making him look absolutely divine.

those hazel eyes shimmered in the morning light, waking up the butterflies in your stomach and making them swirl around.

“how did ya sleep?” he asked, voice still scratchy, reaching up and tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

you leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut briefly, then met his gaze again. “mhhh, slept pretty good. but… if i remember correctly, there was something pressed up against my ass in the middle of the night,” you teased, causing him to laugh. and god, if that wasn’t the most beautiful sound on earth.

“yeah? i have no fuckin’ idea what yer talkin’ about,” he replied, sitting up, his hand sliding to the back of your neck so he could pull you down into a soft kiss, all sweet and sloppy.

after a few seconds, he pulled away again, his thumb brushing along your lower lip, smearing away the wet trace of saliva he left behind.

“gotta leave for work,” he murmured, eyes focusing on your lips as he followed the movement of his finger with his gaze.

“can’t wait to see ya later.” gator kissed you once more before slipping out of the cozy warmth of the bed, leaving you behind. the sheets stayed tangled around your legs but he took all of his warmth away with him.

the sun was about to set when gator opened the front door of the small house you lived in together. almost immediately, he was greeted by the smell of grilled chicken and it felt like something close to heaven after this awfully long day of being separated from you.

“darlin’, i’m home!” he called out right after the door fell shut behind him, but there was no answer.

maybe you wore your headphones—as always when you cooked. but when he looked for you in the kitchen, you were nowhere to be found. only the light in the oven gave away that he was right in his guess and that you were already preparing dinner.

“i’m upstairs!”

your angelic voice felt like music to his ears, and he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. desperate to feel you in his arms, he walked up the stairs—taking two at once—before reaching the first floor.

the faint smell of vanilla hung in the air, telling him that you just took a shower and he moved over to the bedroom. but much to his disappointment, he couldn’t find you in there as well.

right when he thought about calling out for you again, his sweet and soft girl, there was a quiet clearing of a throat behind him. and when he finally turned around, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

there you were, standing in the doorway, looking like pure sin. you wore that old lingerie set—one of his favourites, covered by black lace roses and those tiny little bows in the front, nipples flashing at him through the thin material. the one he’d thought you’d thrown away after he’d asked you multiple times if you could wear it again—only to be ignored instead of blessed with an answer.

a smug smile was on your face, the metal handcuffs he usually kept in the drawer of his nightstand, dangling from your index finger. “look who came home,” you purred, tilting your head, those beautiful locks falling over your shoulders like a silent invitation.

“shit, baby,” gator whispered, his pupils dilating as he took a step closer.

“ah-ah,” you raised your voice, making him stop dead in his tracks, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“did i give you permission to move?” you tilted your head to the side and the realization of what you were doing went straight to his cock.

“loose the vest, baby.”

the command was soft but explicit, signaling him who was in charge this time. and god, that was exactly what he needed right now. so he didn’t hesitate, the deputy vest coming off in one single motion, hanging it over the chair that stood by your vanity.

“good boy,” you praised, watching how his shoulders tensed, clearly having trouble to control himself. and you haven’t even started yet.

“now, the jacket.”

it fell to the floor with a soft thud, leaving him in that tight black shirt and his camo pants which were doing nothing to hide the affect all of this had on him.

“on the bed. arms over your head,” you instructed, watching every single movement of him until he was splayed out on the bed on his back, obediently placing his strong arms over his head.

only then you did move as well, your smaller frame climbing on top of him, straddling his waist, avoiding contact with the visible bulge that pressed intently against his pants.

you still held the cuffs between your fingers as they slipped under the edge of his shirt, pushing it up slowly. gator groaned when he felt the cool metal brushing against his skin, his hands twitching but he kept them over his head—right where you wanted them to stay.

“just like that…” you muttered, pulling the fabric over his head, throwing it to the side. “such a good boy…”

you leaned over him, your breasts—covered by that fucking seductive lace—hanging right into his face as you cuffed his hands onto the metal headboard of the bed.

he breathed in your scent deeply, those soft and sweet notes of vanilla along with the familiar hint of whiskey. it made him chuckle, already knowing exactly why he got that absolutely perfect treatment.

“christ, baby. if that’s what i’m receivin’, you should get drunk more often,” he hummed, the soft click of the last cuff snapping echoed through the room.

it was your turn to chuckle then, your hands braced on his chest, feeling the soft curls of the dark hair underneath your palms. “good for you, i planned this long before i got drunk,” you murmured, grinding your hips against his groin, eliciting a hiss from his mouth and his hips bucked up against you involuntarily.

you grinned, satisfied with the reaction, the next roll of your hips having his body shaking underneath you as his hands strained against the cuffs.

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he growled, his chest rising and falling slowly with every heavy breath he took. “you’re evil, baby. fuckin’ evil,” he muttered while you slipped down his body, fingers fiddling with the straps of his thigh holster—the one he always wore when he was out on patrol.

“i know…” one strap came loose, the other followed shortly after. “that’s why you love me.”

the holster along with his gun landed on the floor beside the bed, and you finally had enough space to get rid of the remaining clothes.

it took you seconds to open his pants and pulling them down, his boxers following after, leaving him completely naked in front of you. and sweet lord, it was a sight you’d never get tired of.

his legs long and muscular, leading up to his veiny and thick cock, resting heavily against his stomach. he was hard as a rock, small beads of precum pooling right under his navel, little twitches smearing it on the skin there, leaving a glistening mess.

“fuck, darlin’. you wanna spend the rest of the evening looking at me like that?” he asked, ripping you out of your thoughts and you moved slowly, leaning back over him.

“and even if that was the case… you wouldn’t be able to change something about it as long as you’re cuffed to the bed.” you reached over to the other side of the bed—your side—pulling up the bottle of whiskey you’d placed there, hidden from his gaze.

the second he saw it, his eyes widened. “baby, what are you-“ you didn’t let him come any further. you opened the bottle, tilting it and spilled the expensive liquid all over his chest and stomach. it dropped down his sides, soaking the sheets underneath him but you couldn’t care less.

“oops.”

he tensed at the sensation, a deep groan rumbling through his chest when you put the bottle away and lowered your head to breathe in the scent.

the strong whiskey, mixed with the musky smell of your husband, was the perfect combination. so you didn’t wait any longer and dragged your tongue over his skin, slurping the drops of whiskey off him.

gator let out a strangled moan, his hips bucking up, desperately searching for friction while his cock twitched helplessly against his lower stomach.

“oh, f-fuck…” his voice sounded broken, almost desperate, and you couldn’t help but smile, your mouth still catching the value alcohol.

the journey continued until you reached his lips, hovering right over them with the last remaining liquid in your mouth.

you didn’t have to ask, he understood. his mouth opened, ready to take whatever you were about to give to him.

and right now, you let the whiskey—mixed together with your spit—drop into his mouth, forcing him to swallow.

you lowered your lips onto his, kissing him messily, your tongue pushing against his, both of you moaning into each other.

a string of saliva connected your lips when you pulled away, finally starting to rub your lace-covered pussy against his bare cock.

“tell me what you want, baby,” you murmured, slipping down his body, nails digging into the flesh of his muscular thighs. “you…” he pressed out, his cock twitching again, right in front of your face. “i only want you… ain’t ever wanted anythin’ more.”

and then, finally, you touched him properly. your fingers traced the vein on the underside, right from bottom to top before wrapping your hand around his length. your thumb brushed over the head, smearing the precum around, coating him in it, sending a shudder through his body.

“oh shiiit, baby,” he moaned, thrusting his hips into your grip. he realized what mistake it was as you pulled away, eyebrows raised.

“no moving, or you want me to fix your slutty hips on the bed as well?” you warned, and gator groaned.

“‘m sorry, darlin’. no moving,” he murmured, voice cracking on the words and watched how you lowered your head, pressing a kiss on the tip, the salty taste of his arousal dancing on your lips.

you heard the soft clinking of the handcuffs as he strained against them, trying desperately to get his hands on you.

“speak to me, pretty boy. tell me what you need. wanna hear it.” your hot breath fanned over his wet tip, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“need your mouth. fuck baby, need you to suck me off… need it so bad. please, baby, please…” the words babbled over his lips, and who were you to deny that to him after he begged so beautifully?

your lips closed around the head then, suckling softly before taking him deeper until he hit the back of your throat.

“fucking hell,” gator hissed, his hips instinctively snapping up into the wet heat of your mouth, almost making you choke on him.

your grip on his waist tightened as you pushed his hips down, punishing him with pulling away once more, making him groan in disapproval. he lifted his head to look down on you, pupils dilated and lips swollen from biting down on them.

“baby… what yer doin’?” he panted, his cock completely coated in your spit and another small bead of precum appeared on the slit.

instead of answering, your fingernails dug into his thighs, squeezing the flesh, then pressed soft, wet kisses along his shaft. “stay still, honey.”

the sound he made was absolutely wrecked, broken even, his whole body shuddering underneath you but he nodded, signaling you that he understood.

“good boy,” you praised, leaning down again, taking him between your lips. you continued to suck on the tip, tongue flicking over it teasingly. then you sank further down, even deeper than before, his thickness stretching your throat, forcing you to breathe through your nose.

the constant clinking sound of the handcuffs against the metal headboard filled the air along with the little sounds he made and your heavy breathing.

you stayed like that for a few seconds without moving, feeling him twitch and throb against your tongue. then, you finally swallowed around him.

a deep, guttural sound tore from his lungs, his thighs trembling under your firm grip and you knew he was close already. “don’t cum…” you murmured, your tongue flicking out against his balls. “unless i say so. understand?”

he whimpered, flexing his arms as if he wanted to reach out for you only to be stopped by those goddamn handcuffs.

“gator…” you urged him, lips closing around one sack, suckling softly on it. “answer me.”

“i… i won’t cum. only if you say so,” he echoed your words, followed by a growl like it caused him physical pain.

“such…” suck. “a…” suck. “good boy.” you pulled away with a wet pop, your hand closing around his shaft once more, stroking him rhythmically.

it wasn’t long until you replaced your hand with your mouth, taking him deep just like before, bobbing your head up and down, keeping that steady rhythm.

“baby…” gator moaned, his hips twitching underneath you. “s-stop. i’m gonna cum if you keep goin’ like this.” he sounded completely breathless, his north dakota accent stronger than you’ve ever heard before.

but of course, you didn’t stop. you only went harder, forcing him so deep that you were choking on him, drool dripping down your chin and onto his balls. he began to twitch, his breathing becoming faster and you knew he was on the very edge.

but before he could fall over, you withdrew, pulling away completely, leaving him throbbing and shaking on the mattress.

his arms practically ripped on the cuffs, thighs shaking so hard you swore the mattress was moving underneath you.

“the fuck?” he cried out, lifting his head so he could look at you, poor cock glistening wet and throbbing where it rested against his stomach.

“i told you not to cum, gates,” you pointed out, pouting your lips but still staying out of reach as he shifted his hips, making his cock bob slightly.

“‘m sorry…ain’t gonna happen again. jus’ please, c’me back here,” he begged and you tilted your head to the side, watching him through narrowed eyes.

after a few more seconds of letting him wait, you bowed your head again, swallowing him whole in one movement. and when he was about to cum again, you repeated the same action as before, pulling away, reminding him about your rule.

you edged him like that—triggering is orgasm and pulling away right before it hit—until you decided it was enough, getting rid of the lingerie, stripping naked right in front of his eyes.

his hands stayed cuffed but you could see clearly how bad he wanted to touch you. the hazel brown of his eyes swallowed completely by pure and primal need, mouth slightly hanging open as he watched you with heavy breaths.

“you fuckin’ diabolical bitch,” he cursed, hips pushing up as you crawled back on top of him, alining his cock with your tight hole.

you huffed out a laugh at his words, punishing him by not sinking down on him immediately. you dragged the tip through your folds, coating him in your arousal while the poor man tried to free his hands from where they were still cuffed to the headboard. but the keys were far away, out of his and also your reach, lying on the bedside table.

“loose the cuffs,” he growled, voice deep and primal but all you could do was laugh. without waiting any longer, you sank down on him, your pussy swallowing inch by inch until he was fully seated inside of you.

you leaned forward then, lips brushing against his but not nearly kissing him. “only if you beg for it.” it was a breath, tickling over his still swollen lips and he made a completely new sound, something you never heard before.

he whined.

gator fucking tillman whined because of you. and it made you feel like the most powerful woman on earth.

his hips snapped upwards, the head of his cock hitting your cervix, tearing a moan from your own throat. “loose. the. cuffs,” he repeated, pulling on them a little stronger, the painful screech of the headboard echoing off the walls.

but you didn’t even think about it. you only placed your hands on his soft tummy, fingers brushing through the trail of hair growing there before you sat up, throwing your head back and arching your back, giving him a full view of your tits.

“baby, i swear to fuckin’ god if you—“ he got cut off by the first move of your hips, moaning out loudly as he felt your walls tighten around him.

only seconds later you set a pace that had his head spinning. you moved up and down his cock, circling your hips in between, practically tearing him apart. all that with your fucking perfect tits bouncing in front of his eyes, still too far out of reach.

“baby, please“ he whined, hands straining against the cuffs again. “please, just… loose the fuckin’ cuffs. lemme touch ya.” it was pathetic how he begged but it was exactly how you wanted it. so completely wrecked and drunk on you that you decided it was enough.

you leaned over, grabbing the key before leaning over his head, breasts falling right into his face. the quiet clicks sounded and the first cuff came loose, then the second. the moment he was free, it all happened very fast.

his hands found your hips, turning you around, trapping you underneath him. your breath left your lungs from the sudden movement while his big hands slipped to the back of your knees, pushing your legs up and over his shoulders, folding your smaller form in half, all while he was still buried in you.

the first move had you arching your back off the mattress, changing the angle, causing him to slide even deeper. “fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, then his payback began.

his pace was relentless, thrusting into you before pulling all the way out before slamming all the way back in, pressing the air out of your lungs in a breathless scream.

he pounded into you over and over again, driven by that raw need, not stopping until he had you right where he wanted you, crying and begging just like him only a few minutes before.

his thumb found your clit, rubbing over it in tight circles, adding just the right pressure. “gator… oh, f-fuck… i’m gonna cum…” you moaned, feeling how the pressure in your stomach built, almost becoming too much.

“funny thing, baby. because you were the one telling me not to cum until ya say so,” he rasped against your lips, and just before the coil snapped, his finger was gone, hips stilling completely.

that fucking asshole did the same thing as you did to him, denying you to reach your peak, a desperate cry tearing from your lips.

“you can cum, gator. just please, please let me—”

he cut you off with a kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth, finally picking up his pace again.

when he pulled away, he lowered his head to look down at where your bodies connected, watching him slipping in and out of you. “fuckin’ hell. like ya were made for me, babygirl,” he praised, his thumb finding your clit again.

“cum with me, would ya? can ya do that f’me?” he asked and you nodded, maybe a little too hard even. but it only spurred him on, hips crashing down against yours, making your tits bounce. and that was enough for both of you.

your orgasm crashed over you, so hard you could swear you passed out. your walls clenching around him, milking him dry, was gator’s undoing and he buried himself deep into your pussy with one last thrust, thick ropes of hot cum spurting out, coating your delicate walls.

you didn’t know how long it took until you stopped shaking. all you could feel was his body collapsing on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows next to your head so he wouldn’t crush you. “have i already mentioned that yer fuckin’ evil,” he breathed out, making you giggle underneath him, your hands coming up to cover your face.

“hey, don’t hide from me now, mrs. tillman,” he murmured, peppering kisses on the back of your hands, pushing them away with his nose. you finally moved them aside, eyes meeting his, the room illuminated by the sunset making them sparkle like liquid amber.

“couldn’t stop myself. and maybe… you can really blame the whiskey,” you smiled softly, your fingers tracing over his strong biceps.

he was about to say something when the beeping noise of the oven echoed through the house, telling you that dinner was ready.

“i have to go,” you whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, pushing him off so he rolled over to the free side of the bed. you slipped away, completely ignoring the feeling of his cum and your juices leaking out from between your legs.

you bowed down, grabbed his shirt and pulled it over your head—not even bothering to put panties on—before you disappeared through the door.

gator’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he took deep, steady breaths, still processing what the hell just happened. a few minutes later, he followed you down, finding you in the kitchen, placing the delicious smelling food on the plates.

he took two beers out of the fridge, bringing them to the dining table, waiting for you to join him and sat down with you.

he was only a few minutes into eating when he stopped, feeling your gaze on him. he lifted his head, eyes meeting yours, finding you biting your bottom lip.

you stretched out your leg, your foot touching his bare thigh, tracing its path down right between his legs, brushing against his cock, securely tucked away in his boxers.

gator grinned, flashing his teeth at you while he placed his fork back on the table. he reached over, fingers curling under your chair, yanking you closer on it. “you greedy little slut,” he growled, pushing his own chair back as he fell to his knees in front of you—the grilled chicken completely forgotten on his plate as he focused on his actual meal right in front of him.

2026 whispersoflost

when gator is jealous? oh boy—he makes it known. if he's with you, he'll tell whatever guy is trying to flirt with you to fuck off and he'll slap a hand on your ass for good measure. he'll make it abundantly clear in any way he can that you're his and his alone. you didn’t mind it, honestly. and if he isn't there and you come home and tell him about some guy who had tried to get your number on a girls' night? he'll bend you right over the kitchen countertop and make you forget all about mr. no name at the bar as his thick cock pounds into you from behind. you’ll be moaning out obscenely, the sound of skin slapping and the schlick-schlick-schlick sounds from gator pounding into your soaked pussy filling the kitchen.

teacake is very comfortable in your relationship and doesn’t tend to get jealous. he trusts you implicitly and so, he doesn’t see any reason to be jealous when he knew you were his completely. instead if a guy ever tried to flirt with you in front of him, he’ll just throw an arm around you and have the biggest grin on his face as he says to the guy: "sorry man, she's taken." the closest teacake gets to feeling jealous is when you’re saying how hot a certain celebrity is and he’ll pout and ask, “but i’m hotter, right babe?”

keys doesn't quite know what to do when he feels jealous. he knows you love him and that you only have eyes for him, but sometimes it gets to him. on those nights, he needs to reassurance. he’s usually the big spoon but he’ll ask you to hold him which you do of course while gently running your fingers through his hair. he’ll always be honest with you in those moments—he’ll ask you if he’s working too much, if you’re happy. and you’ll press a kiss to his forehead and tell him you’d never been happier. keys would then smile a little before lifting his head to kiss you properly. you wouldn’t leave the bed for hours after that.

kurt does not handle jealousy well at all. honestly, that man is terrified at the thought of you leaving, of you finding someone better than him. and maybe there was a part of him that believes he really doesn’t deserve someone like you. and so, when kurt get jealous, he gets upset. he’ll hold onto you real tight and beg you not to leave him. sometimes he’ll cry. he’ll tell you how much he loves you, how he doesn’t know what he’d do without you. and you’d always smile at him sweetly and kiss him just to shut him up. he usually takes the hint then.

dividers by @anitalenia

In a reality where you fought inter-dimensional monsters and befriended a young girl with telekinesis, you would think there’s nothing worse than dealing with that.

But it’s pretty easy to say going through a breakup with Steve Harrington is infinitely worse.

You’re standing behind the counter of Family Video, eyes fixated on a small piece of fuzz swirling around the air. You’re trying really hard to ignore the customer flirting with your ex boyfriend ten feet away from you.

You’re grateful he doesn’t seem to be reciprocating her advances, but its probably because you’re nearby. Steve really grew out of being an asshole and flirting with her in front of you would put him right back at the top of the official asshole list.

It’s been a month since your breakup and just know whenever someone says it gets easier with time, they’re lying. The first week was spent on Nancy’s couch, surrounded by tissues and a family sized tub of ice cream. You called in sick from work the whole week and cried enough tears to fill an entire ocean.

The second week, she forced you to socialize more. She was considerate enough to start small – an invitation to have breakfast with her and Jonathan. The opportunity to take Mike and El to the new skating rink. Max spent some time with you too but she didn’t push you to talk about it, she just sat with you through four different movies. All horror, there was absolutely no room for romance or comedy.

By the third week, you really had to pull it together. There was no word from Steve and it was probably better that way. Eddie, Mike and Lucas did all the work to get your things from Steve’s house and pack it up to bring to Nancy’s. You really didn’t want to move into her apartment but it was a stepping stone after leaving Steve’s.

Looking back on it now, the breakup was .. well, it was stupid. It was a cumulation of arguing and stress and lack of space all in one. Petty arguments over chores and snide remarks about each others habits. It was something that should’ve been solved with one conversation but you were both equally stubborn and when you angrily shouted maybe you needed space, he didn’t argue.

Still, you missed him. You really fucking missed him.

And the worst part is he seemed to be doing perfectly fine.

Dustin swore he wasn’t taking sides but you haven’t seen much of him these past couple weeks. Whenever the kids hung around you, he and Robin were both missing and Mike let it slip they were at Steve’s. It’s not like you blamed them, you were all friends but Steve was their best friend.

Now, it’s day 34 without him and you’re wishing the ground will swallow you whole and save you from hearing this girl drape herself all over him.

“It’s just so good to see you, Steve,” She says. She wears a wide smile on her face, one palm resting on his bicep. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, he just fiddles with the tape in his hand and smiles back.

“Yeah, you too, Stacey,” He responds.

Stacey.

He never mentioned a Stacey when you two were together and now suddenly they’re a pair of good friends who wish they kept up with each other over the years.

You try not to stare but then she grabs his forearm and snags the pen he had clipped to his vest. Your stomach twists when she begins to write on the skin of his arm. Steve watches her, his brows pulled together and when she finishes, she raises his arm to her mouth – she presses her red lipstick covered lips against his skin, flicking her eyes back up to his and leaves a kiss mark.

You physically feel sick.

She removes her mouth, a quiet pop sound fills the store. You can see now she’s written her phone number on him, the kiss mark a cute little signature. Her thumb brushes over the lipstick stain and smiles up at him again.

“Call me tonight,” Her voice is low and sultry. Steve glances at you and when he sees you already looking, he swallows hard.

You can feel your eyes prick with tears and tear your gaze away from him. Your throat feels tight, you clench your jaw to keep yourself from crying.

Thankfully, a different customer approaches the counter with their own tapes to check out. You clear your throat and take a deep breath, then plaster on the best customer service smile you can muster.

“Find everything okay, Mrs. Langston?” You ask, typing in her information as you complete her sale. The older woman is easy to talk to and maybe for a few seconds, you’re able to forget all about Steve and Stacey.

You’re unsure how the conversation ends but when you hand the receipt to her, Stacey’s gone and Steve is carefully approaching the counter opposite of you.

You bid your goodbyes to Mrs. Langston and busy yourself with cleaning up the papers near the register. There’s nobody left in the store except you and him. Tension fills the air quickly and you can feel him looking at you.

You hope he doesn’t try to make conversation about Stacey. Aside from things related to work, you haven’t spoken since the night you broke up. If he tries now, you’re almost certain you’d burst into tears.

If he’s moving on – even though it’s only been 34 days – you won’t stop him, and you definitely won’t beg him not to.

“Hey, uh listen,” Steve’s voice breaks the awkward silence. “About Stacey, I just want you to know -,”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” You cut him off quickly. Your back is still turned to him and you’ve re-piled  the same stack of papers four times now to look busy.

“I know, but I want to.”

You freeze then. Steve notices and you hear the sound of his footsteps coming closer. He approaches you carefully, like he knows you’re seconds away from running away, and stops a few steps behind you. He’s close enough you can feel the warmth from his body.

He says your name softly but you still don’t turn. “I’m sorry you saw that,”

Sorry you saw that.

He’s apologizing it for happening in front of you, not that it happened in the first place. Because he’s not sorry. Clearly, the breakup and space has been good for him and while you’ve been a walking zombie, he’s been moving on.

You swallow hard and bite your lip. “It’s fine, Steve.”

He moves again. This time to stand beside you and his head bends to try and catch your eyes. You keep your eyes trained on the stack of papers and pray he’ll drop it.

Before he has a chance to say anything, the bell at the top of the door sings and the door swings up. You’re more than thankful for the distraction and you look up to greet the customer but you’re met with Eddie, Max and El.

Max and El are talking amongst themselves but Eddie’s eyes are stuck on you. You don’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks between you and Steve.

“Look at my two favorite Family Video employees,” He sings and approaches the counter. Max and El follow.

“Hey guys,” Steve greets them, but you can feel his eyes still on you. Eddie clearly notices as well and smirks at you.

“We’re here to pick up the tapes Robin put on hold yesterday. Y’know, movie night and all,”

“Right, I’ll go get those,” You say quickly, taking any opportunity to get as far away from Steve as possible. You miss the way his eyes sadden but he doesn’t stop you.

As you scurry to the break room, Max and El trail behind you.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Max asks suspiciously. You send her a sideways glance as you fish around the room for where Robin hid the tapes.

You already know your answer – no, you will not be going because movie night is always held at Steve’s house and you can’t bear the thought of being there again so soon. But you haven’t told anybody you weren’t going. Honestly, you planned to just skip out on the whole thing without a word. Clearly, Max knows you well enough to know that’s exactly what you intended.

“I don’t think so, Max. I’m not feeling great today,”

She sees right through you. “Bullshit.”

You scowl at her. “Language, Mayfield.”

“You feel fine, you just don’t want to be around Steve,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You wave her off, and kneel to the ground in front of a crate of old tapes.

“Why don’t you two get back together?” El asks. You look up from where you’re shuffling through tapes. “Max and Lucas break up and get back together all the time. Even me and Mike have done it before. He still likes you,”

Her oblivious nature is cute and you can feel yourself soften. “Steve and I are a little different from you guys, El. And I don’t think he wants to get back together.”

“That’s bullshit again!” Max exclaims.

“Max!” You groan and finally find the tapes Robin hid. Rising to your feet, you head back up to the front. “It’s just movie night, it’s not a big deal, alright?”

You push through the beaded curtain, the girls following suit and nobody misses Max’s sour face.

“It is a big deal! Eddie, will you tell her it’s a big deal?”

Eddie pulls himself away from the conversation with Steve and looks at you three. “What’s a big deal?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“She doesn’t wanna come tonight,” Max says at the same time.

Eddie makes a face. “Why not? It’s the third time you’ve bailed on movie night.”

Max gasps, realization dawning on her. “It is the third time!” 

You glare at him. Damn him for keeping count.

“Can you two relax? I just feel sick today,” You grumble, punching in Robin’s phone number into the computer.

“Bull.Shit.”

“Maxine Mayfield, I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap!” You threaten, a finger pointed in her direction. She rolls her eyes but before she can respond, Steve speaks up.

“What’s wrong? Is it your head?” He asks. You look up at him and immediately regret it. He’s looking down at you with those chocolate brown eyes and they’re swirling with concern. “Have you been sleeping okay?”

You still for a moment because no, you haven’t been sleeping okay. Actually, you haven’t been sleeping at all.

“I’m fine,” You say quickly. “Can all of you relax? It’s just movie night,”

Steve ignores you. “But you said you were sick. What’s bothering you?”

“See?” El speaks up. “I told you he still liked -,”

“Okay, I’ll go!” You cut her off. She was one word away from completely embarrassing you. “Can everybody lay off now?”

Max and El look pleased enough, Eddie as well but Steve’s look of concern doesn’t disappear. Still, he doesn’t press you on it and you’re grateful.

The rest of your shift is spent carefully avoiding Steve and taking every opportunity to help a customer or stock shelves. You’re painfully aware of how he keeps an eye on you the whole time but he seems to respect your wishes to not talk.

By the time 8PM rolls around, the store is cleaned and ready to be locked up. Steve waits behind you as you lock the door before you both make your way through the parking lot. Three steps into the same direction, you realize he parked right next to you.

Thick tension surrounds you, and you’re silently wishing the birds chirping will be loud enough to make him not talk.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Steve’s voice is low and hesitant. Your heart pinches at that soft tone he carries – it’s something you got so used to but have been deprived of for the last month.

You nod without looking up at him, and pull the strap of your bag closer to your chest. “Everything’s fine,”

He looks torn between asking again or being quiet completely, and he chooses to be quiet.

This is the most you’ve spoken to him since the breakup and it’s even harder than you thought it would be. It’s taking every ounce of self control not to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to hold you. To come back to you and make everything better.

Your ego wins the battle. He didn’t fight for you to stay and hasn’t fought to bring you back either. If anything, he’s proving he prefers being apart from you.

You’ll get there, with time. Hopefully.

You make it to your car and surprising to you, Steve jogs ahead of you to open your car door. You finally look up at him and see him already looking down at you – he has one hand clutched around the handle and the other resting atop the door.

It’s hard looking at him, especially doing something to gentle like opening your door for no reason. Based on the look in his eyes, you’re sure he can see the pain in your eyes.

“Thanks.” You mumble softly and slide into the seat. He doesn’t shut it right away, so you glance up at him.

He takes a deep breath and moves to stand between the car and the open door. Carefully, he bends down to kneel so he’s eye level with you.

Gently, he says your name. “I don’t want you to miss out on things because of me,” He says and your heart sinks.

“I’m not,” You say instinctively. It was a lie and he sees right through you.

“If you’re uncomfortable being around me, I’ll skip out on tonight,”

You sit up, ready to argue that it’s his house and they’re his friends – he shouldn’t have to worry about your feelings. It’s not his responsibility anymore.

But he continues before you have a chance.

“I can find something else to do, it’s really not a problem.”

You frown at his words and your mind immediately goes back to Stacey.

He didn’t say he’d try to be around you, or that he won’t let it get weird – he was offering to leave completely. Maybe this was his way of finding an excuse to go out with her.

Your eyes flick to his arm and you see the faint trace of her phone number still on his skin. He follows your gaze and drops his arm from where it rests on your door.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He says quickly, almost defensively.

Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he did.

Truthfully, there was no way for you to know. And it wasn’t like you had the right to know either. He wasn’t yours anymore.

When you look back up at him, your face is blank, eyes void.

“You can do whatever you’d like, I won’t make it awkward.” You say simply and Steve’s eyes sadden.

He can tell exactly what you’re doing – steeling yourself off from him and he hates it.

Before he gets the chance, you turn away from him. After sliding the key into the ignition, your hands curl around the steering wheel and you look straight ahead. “I already promised Max and El. I don’t want to let them down,”

He looks at you while you avoid looking at him again. From beside you, you see him nod before standing upright and shutting your door softly.

You don’t waste a second before you’re peeling out of the lot and making your way home, all without even glancing at him again.

Whatever he chooses to do will be on him and has nothing to do with you.

You want to cry – you can feel it about to happen – but you’re so tired of it. Crying and wallowing hasn’t helped you these past few weeks and it’s not about to start now.

Even then, you’re debating just breaking your promise to the girls and staying home. At least then you wouldn’t know if Steve decides to stay home or go do whatever he has planned with whoever.

But you miss your friends, and you’re tired of sitting on Nancy’s couch alone all night and tormenting yourself with your own thoughts.

When you make it home – Nancy’s home – you drag yourself into her apartment and avoid all her questions about how your day was, how it was seeing Steve, if you’re okay.

You give short and simple answers, making sure to skip over the Stacey incident, and tell her you’re going to shower before you leave. She’s happy you’re at least going tonight.

By the time you finish, you showered and changed into more comfortable clothes. You managed to talk yourself off the metaphorical cliff – you’ll stay for one movie and drive separately so you can make an early escape.

You haven’t figured out a way to feel normal once you step back inside his house and when you park on the curb, that feeling of dread consumes you.

You turn the car off but stay sitting for a few seconds as you stare at the house. A month ago, it was your house – your home. Now you’re knocking for someone to let you in. It’s a saddening difference and it just makes you regret coming even more.

You’re five seconds from starting the car and leaving before Nancy knocks on your window, Jonathan next to her. She urges you to get out and you can see the look on her face – the one that’s reading into your every move and it’s obvious she’s worried.

So you gather your things and pull yourself together.

Robin is the one to let you guys in and you glance behind you to see if Steve’s car was in the driveway.

Relief sits heavy in your chest when you see the maroon car.

You follow behind Nancy wordlessly but when you see El peak her head around the corner, Mike lingering next to her, it’s hard to fight your smile – because you really did miss them.

She rushes to you, practically dragging you further into the house and to where she claimed her spot on the floor.

Max and Lucas have their own setup next to El and Mike’s and they’re completely engrossed in their own conversation. Dustin has taken over the recliner on the other side of the room, and Eddie takes the end of the couch closest to him.

Nancy and Jonathan settle into the longer couch, and Robin sits on the obnoxiously big beanbag chair she begged Steve to buy her for Christmas last year.

You still haven’t seen Steve, and you wonder if he did choose to skip out and hide in his room.

You take the chance to look further around the living room. It almost looks like nothing has changed. The furniture is still set up the same way, the color palette is still warm and full.

The posed family pictures he once had with his parents are still replaced with pictures of the group across the room. But when you continue looking around, your heart sinks.

Because all the pictures he had of just you and him are still there.

A picture of you and him at the beach sits on the coffee table. One of you two hugging at graduation hangs on the wall beside the TV. Another one of just you, smiling up at the camera at your birthday two years ago is sitting front and center on the fireplace.

Your throat burns and you feel it begin to tighten. You never really let yourself think of the possibility that he hasn’t moved on either. Leaving of group photos was one thing, but the ones of you both? The one of only you?

It’s all too much and it’s slowly breaking your resolve. It’s only proving the fact that the breakup was all for nothing and if you weren’t so damn prideful, you could’ve fixed it.

Suddenly, Steve emerges from the kitchen with his hands full. He’s holding three different bowls of popcorn and bags of chips and candy tucked into his arms.

Your eyes meet and for just a second, he halts. He looks surprised you actually showed and you don’t blame him. Still, he gives you a half smile and you try your best to mirror it.

Dustin jumps from his spot on the seat and makes grabby hands at the snacks Steve holds. Eddie leans up and helps pass them out and you watch Steve swat Dustin’s hands away as he tries to steal everything.

Beside you, El talks your ear off and you’re eager to welcome the distraction. Otherwise, you would’ve spent the whole night staring at Steve.

Before long, Robin starts the movie and Mike begins to argue with Dustin about being quiet. There’s bickering, and laughing, and food being thrown but it feels nice. Happy even.

Steve ends up settling almost directly behind you on the couch. His elbow sits on the arm rest to his left and your back is directly against the foot of the couch. His legs are almost touching your shoulder. Neither of you say anything.

But even though you’re having a good time and aren’t completely regretting coming, you’re painfully aware of how close Steve is. You can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, the smell of his cologne is almost all you can focus on. Your hand twitches in your lap – begging you to hold onto his ankle and lean your head onto his thigh.

And as you watch the movie, your eyes keep finding the picture of you two at graduation. Steve has you pulled back into his chest, his arms iron clad around you. He’s resting his chin on your shoulder and you’re holding both your diplomas up at the camera. Your shared smiles gleam back at you and it’s enough to make you smile in real time.

It’s also enough to make you sad all over again.

Because it’s not your reality anymore, and you’re not sure it ever will be.

Somehow you end up staying through three movies. By the time credits roll on the last one, everyone is asleep. Mike’s leaning against the wall, his neck bent in a way that’ll leave him with a cramp in the morning, and El’s head resting in his lap.

Max and Lucas are sprawled along the floor across from them, one of his arms tucked under her head. Dustin has his face smushed into a pillow, one arm and one leg hanging off the side of the chair. Eddie is slumped beside him, drool pooling at his mouth.

Robin is curled into a ball on her beanbag chair, quietly snoring. Nancy and Jonathan are curled into each other on their side of the couch. You’re too scared to turn and look at Steve, but he hasn’t moved a muscle in an hour so you’re sure he’s asleep too.

It’s the perfect time to slip out undetected.

Carefully, you push yourself off the floor. It’s a mess around the room and even in a rush, you feel bad just leaving things the way they are. So you grab the bowls and snacks from the coffee table and move towards the kitchen.

“Let me help,”

Steve’s voice startles you so much that you drop the bags of candy to the floor, your palm covering your mouth to minimize the scream ready to slip out.

His eyes widen and he smiles. “Sorry, sorry,”

You exhale and it’s hard not to smile back.

He doesn’t look like he’d been asleep at all, which means he probably just sat there thinking the same thing you were. His hair is a little messy, a few pieces covering his forehead and you’re itching to fix it.

He leans down to pick up the bags and you go back to picking up the cups and bowls. You’re both careful not to wake anyone else as you carry everything to the kitchen.

It’s domestic – the way you fall back into rhythm of cleaning. Steve takes care of the dirty dishes and you begin putting the snacks back into the pantry.

When everything is cleaned, you’re unsure what to do next. At first, you figured you’d clean and leave without having to talk to anyone but now, you’re left alone with only him and he’s looking at you like that again and it’s hard to think properly.

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, facing each other. He has one hand resting on the counter, tapping his finger on the granite. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth.

“I, uh, I should go,” You finally say.

“You don’t have to,” He replies easily. “It’s late, you shouldn’t be driving right now,”

You glance at the clock on the stove and it reads back 2:19AM.

He was sweet for offering but it wasn’t far and the last thing you wanted was to prolong the inevitable awkwardness that would come in the morning.

Steve notices your apprehension easily. “You can take the guest room and leave first thing in the morning,”

Your head is screaming at you to say no thank you. To bid him a farewell and get home as quickly as possible. Your heart, however, is begging you to accept and take the chance to be close to him – even just for one night.

And you’re sick of sleeping on Nancy’s couch.

“Okay,” You nod.

His face lights up, a smile covering his mouth. “Okay.” He repeats.

Quietly, he shuts off the lights and TV before setting off upstairs. You follow behind him and when you make it down the hall, you both stop in front of his bedroom door. He turns around to face you.

“Uh, guest rooms right there,” He points at the door across the hall. “Bathroom is just down the hall. Second door on the -,”

“I know,” You cut him off and he nods quickly.

“Right, yeah. Of course,”

It’s awkward to say the least, but it’s not unkind. It’s nice to hear him talk again, even if it’s just telling you where things were.

You stare at each other for a moment. The clock in the hall ticks loudly and you wonder if he can hear how loud your heart is beating.

You break first. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

You enter the room and seconds later, hear his bedroom door click shut.

The guest bedroom is dull. There’s no pictures along the wall, only a painting of a red Cadillac from the 70s. There’s beige curtains covering the window and a matching beige bedspread on the mattress. There’s a small lamp on the bedside table and a desk on the opposite wall.

It’s a drastic contrast from Steve’s bedroom – especially after you helped get rid of his matching striped curtains and wallpaper.

It feels cold and lonely.

But you climb into bed anyway and do your best to stop thinking about how much better you’d sleep with him next to you.

On the other side of the wall, Steve lays on his own bed and feels the same way. His room hasn’t felt like his room since the day you left and now that he knows you’re so close, he’s using all his strength not to climb into bed with you.

He’s spent the last month trying to convince himself if he let you have some space, things would get better and you’d come back to him. To him, it was never a breakup – just a stupid stepping stone in your relationship.

But as the days passed, you pulled further away from him, and next thing he knew, the boys were coming over and packing up your things. He wanted to fight them on it, actually he tried – but then Mike said it was your idea and suddenly everything felt too real.

Maybe he fucked up so bad you were fed up. He thought about showing up to Nancy’s, thought about begging you to come home, but he didn’t want you to feel cornered. So he backed off.

But then he saw the way you reacted when you saw him with Stacey.

It’s not like it meant anything – it took her writing her number on him to realize she was flirting with him, all because he couldn’t stop staring at you. After he tried to talk to you about it, he spent ten minutes in the bathroom trying to scrub it off his skin. And you saw the remnants stained onto his arm later that night.

He didn’t want you to feel jealous or upset over it, he didn’t plan on ever calling her, but a small part inside of him felt relieved you did feel like that. At least you still felt something for him.

And he knew what you were thinking all night as he watched your eyes filter back to the pictures of you two. He didn’t leave them up to prove something, he just couldn’t stand the thought of taking them down. You would always be his, no matter what.

Still, the argument escalated so quickly because of him and he had to make sure if – when – you came back to him, it was on your terms. He wouldn’t rush you.

So he offered the guest room and hoped that would be the first step into forgiveness.

It’s maybe an hour after he’s climbed into bed when he hears the faint sound of .. crying?  

His ears perk up and he leans up on his elbows, turning his head towards the door. He listens for a moment but all he hears is the ticking of the clock.

He thinks he must have imagined it until he hears it again.

It’s still quiet, and easy to miss if he wasn’t already awake, but he can hear it – and it’s familiar.

It’s you.

It’s a cry he’s heard a hundred times over the years. It’s soft, and not the same one that comes from you during a sad movie - it’s fear.

He knows what’s causing it – your nightmares used to be overwhelming but ever since you moved in with him two years ago, they’ve become less frequent. Having him next to you was enough to tether you to reality and comfort you.

But now he hasn’t been there. Have you been dealing with them ever since you left? All the while he’s been making you feel like you should be gone.

His feet are moving before he even has a chance to think – like his body was made with a built in magnetic connected to you. He pulls his door open and pads directly across the hall to your door.

He presses his ear to the door and can hear your crying more clearly. They’re still quiet but they sound more intense now. His hand curls around the handle but then he hesitates.

Should he be the one to comfort you? Should he get Nancy to instead? Would you want him?

When he hears you cry out again, this time louder, he pushes the door open. The light from the hall shines through the doorway and he finds her curled in on yourself, sheets skewed across the bed. He can see you shivering, your brows pulled tight, creasing the beautiful skin of your forehead. He sees your skin is flushed red and your cheeks are stained with tears.

Guilt sits in his chest and without thinking, he’s climbing into bed with you. The mattress dips below his weight and he slides one arm under your head and pulls you from your fetal position so you’re facing him instead. He pulls you into his chest, an arm curled around your shoulders and the other cupping your cheek.

His warmth transfers to you, and as if you were searching for him the entire time, your body instantly relaxes in his hold. Your shaking stops, a soft sigh escapes past your lips, and your hand raises to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt.

You watches the way you bury your face into his chest, the crease between your brows disappears, and he hears the soft melody of your voice.

“Steve..” You don’t say his name as a question – he’s pretty sure you’re still not even awake. It’s relief. Even unconscious, you were given comfort again and you knew with absolute certainty, that comfort was him.

He feels his heart contract in his chest and he tightens his hold on you. “It’s me, baby,” He says softly, lips touching your hairline. “You’re safe, I got you.”

As he holds you in his arms, he knows without an ounce of doubt, he’s never letting go again. Nothing is completely fixed and won’t be overnight but when morning comes, he’s going to tell you exactly this.

He won’t ever let you forget how much he loves you.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re practically shackled to the bed by Steve’s arms. They’re wrapped tightly around your waist and his cheek is resting against the top of your head.

Confusion takes hold of you immediately, but you don’t pull away from his hold. If anything, you burrow yourself deeper into his head but it’s enough to make him stir and groan quietly.

Internally, you’re cursing at yourself for moving even an inch but then his hold tightens around you – if that was even possible. You can feel his head lift from where it rested atop of yours and you hold your breath.

“Hey, you awake?” His morning voice is gruff and it makes your stomach swirl. You hesitate for a second before giving him a timid nod.

“Mhm..”

He pulls his arms apart but only enough to spread his palms over your arms, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your skin.

Silence settles over the room, only the sound of your  breathing and the sound of his heart beating in your ear. It feels normal again.

“You were having a nightmare,” Steve says suddenly and your stomach drops. “Last night. That’s why I came in,”

You sigh softly, eyes squeezing shut from embarrassment.

“I’m-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,”

Steve shakes his head quickly. “No, don’t apologize. Seriously.” His tone leaves no room for arguing.

You’re both blanketed in silence again but for the first time in weeks, it’s not uncomfortable. The feeling of his arms around you again, your body tucked perfectly against his – it feels warm and safe and grounding.

“Thank you,” You say quietly, fingers tracing shapes over his shirt covered chest.

“You don’t need to thank me either, baby,”

The pet name slips out so casually and your heart splits in two, but you grip his shirt even tighter. Steve picks up on your reaction and gently cups your face, encouraging you to look up at him.

You’re more than sure you look disgusting – bags under your eyes, and they’re probably puffy from crying in your sleep, cheeks flushed pink, hair a tousled mess – but he doesn’t look at you like you do, even for a second.

Steve looks down at you like you hung the fucking moon and stars. It’s intense enough to have you nearly shying away but he holds you firmly in place.

“I’m sorry about everything,” He says and you blink up at him. “This past month without you has been fucking hell. And seeing you last night, I don’t ever want you to deal with that alone.”

Tears well in your eyes almost immediately and when one slips down your cheek, he swipes it away gently.

“I love you so much and I don’t want to spend even another  second without –.” Steve makes a surprise sound when you cut him off by pressing your lips to his.

He recovers quickly, arms pulling you tighter into his chest and kissing you back just as hard. Every ounce of emotion you’ve kept bottled up are poured into this kiss and as he keeps kissing you, he’s gently wiping away the tears falling from your eyes.

When you finally pull away for air, you don’t go far – you rest your forehead against his and smile.

“I don’t want to be without you either.” You whisper softly.

Steve’s smile is bright and he quickly tosses you onto your back before he hovers over you, sweetly attacking your face with more kisses.

He only knew that upon arriving to this party, he saw you, dancing happily with some of your friends, and his heart sank.

Technically, it's been a year since he last saw you, but memories of that faithful night were so vivid in his mind, it was hard to believe that much time had passed.

Although, the passage of time was meaningless in his situation. No matter how long ago it was and how much more it would've been, he just wasn't able to forget you.

Not that he wanted to, because Steve never really intended on letting you go in the first place.

He remembered how your shoulders shook when you cried, your quivering lips, the way you looked at him—like you didn't want to do this, devastated to utter those words.

"I just can't do this anymore, Steve. You lie to me all the time, we barely even see each other these days."

He could only nod, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

If he decided to tell you the truth about all the things that lurked in the dark, all the times he almost died trying to save the world...that would be too much for you, that would put you in danger. Steve wasn't selfish enough to make that transaction. Not having you at all was better than the possibility of losing you to death.

But as time went on, he realized how fucking stupid he was that day. You deserved the truth, and whatever you chose to do after that was entirely your choice.

Deep down, he knew you would've stayed, and he hated himself for taking that decision away from you. Hurting both.

Nonetheless, the break up happened, and it was entirely his fault—he was mature enough to admit that, yet forgiving himself for it was an entirely different story.

So, thirty minutes into the party, he found himself sitting on the couch with an unopened beer in his hand. He was looking at you, making sure that the bodies of people dancing around him were enough to conceal his position. To be honest, he felt like a fucking creep.

He could just approach you, say the politest "hello" that he could muster, act normally, like he didn't want to kiss you breathless and take all for himself.

It would be hard, but he could try. Worst case scenario, you'd laugh at him, maybe scream a little, slap him or punch in the face. Surely nothing more. 

But, if you did any of that, he'd just go home and try not to cry himself to sleep. No big deal, no biggie at all.

Right?

He could also wait until you were leaving, catch you outside, propose that you meet up tomorrow and talk about the past. He'd prepare the best apology in the world, and make you love him all over again.

Yeah, he could totally do that.

But just before Steve could spiral into his process of creating more (insane) ideas to win you back, he noticed that you vanished from his line of sight. 

He scanned the room too quickly, his head almost snapping out of place at the speed, but still, he wasn't able to locate you.

"God dammit." he muttered to himself, feeling a wave of regret crashing onto him. 

Why did he waste so much time? Planning stupid shit at that?

The loud sounds around him combined with the feeling of losing you again made him nauseous. He stood up from the couch and started searching for a way out of the house, while a bunch of sweaty bodies bumped into him in their drunken state.

Finding the back door, he opened it with force and breathed the fresh air into his lungs, relief washing over him.

"Leaving already?" 

A quiet voice, one that Steve recognized immediately, came from the corner of the back porch.

His gaze landed on you, and he swore that his whole body trembled just from seeing you standing there.

God, you were so beautiful. 

"You're not going to answer? Staring is rude, Harrington." your voice was quiet, soft, but he could hear the amusement behind it.

"I'm..." he hesitated, the nerves of finally being in front of you catching up to him, his whole plan to win you back suddenly feeling stupid, pointless.

"Yeah, I'm leaving."

You faked a pout, futile indication that his absence would change something. For a second, he basked in the possibility that it would, that you'd actually care about him being gone, about never meeting again.

But he knew better than that, especially when he was the one who hurt you in the first place. 

"Shame. Thought I'd get to dance with you tonight." 

You moved to the door, a silent sign that the conversation was over, but Steve caught your wrist just as you were passing him, making you stop abruptly.

"What do you mean?" he whispered, looking into your eyes with desperation, not even trying to hide how much he needed you to stay.

You were standing so close, way too close for people who ended their history with a heartbreak.

The tension was so high, almost suffocating, even with the chilly air of the night around you.

"I saw you staring, dumbass." you said humorously. "You'd make a disastrous spy, Harrington."

His face changed, sadness slowly turning into amusement. He laughed softly, both at the absurdity of your words and the whole situation. You shouldn't be here, letting him touch you, letting him be so close.

But despite that, his gaze shifted to your lips—a quick glance, innocent enough, one you could easily miss. 

You didn't.

Instead, you lowered your eyes to his mouth and kept them there. Didn't move, didn't try to cover it up. 

"You'd be surprised." he answered, breathless from noticing what you were doing.

Fuck, you were bold. Even after all he did, you still were standing here, composed, confident, not afraid to play this little game. It almost felt like he didn't shatter your heart that night, didn't make you hate him.

"So, what about that dance, hm?" you asked, gaze slowly returning to his eyes, making him exhale deeply.

"Stop teasing. You're probably drunk, I know you don't want me here." 

Freeing your wrist from his grip, you stepped closer, standing face to face now, and suddenly Steve felt dizzy. He didn't know what was the cause—the rich aroma of your perfume, or the sheer feeling of having you so impossibly near.

“Are you sure I don't? I didn't even drink anything tonight…” you taunted him, bringing your hand to his chest and gently laying it against the soft material of his shirt. "Just…seeing you sitting on that couch, looking incredibly handsome, made me so fucking we–"

"Don't." he interrupted. "Don't say things like that if you don't mean them."

Steve sounded mad, but in reality? He was scared. 

Just hearing you say those things made him hopeful. Made him believe that it wasn't all gone, that he could fix it. 

And that scared him, because he knew that it couldn't be true. 

He was scared of getting his heart broken again, like a coward, after all the pain he put you through.

"God, I'm supposed to be the one resisting!" you exclaimed, getting annoyed. "I'm not fucking lying, Steve."

He searched your face for any signs of doubt. Scanned your perfect features, like he could read from them that you were, in fact, telling the truth. 

"You're really not fucking with me right now?" he asked softly, losing himself in your eyes again.

You exhaled, bringing your lips to his jaw and gently kissing his skin. "I wish I was."

Instantly, it was like a switch flipped. Steve's hand found your waist, bringing you even closer to his body, the other cupping your face and gently making you look at him.

"You have no idea how much I want you." he breathed against your lips. "I never stopped wanting you."

A quiet whimper escaped you, unable to control the way his words made you feel. 

"Those sounds...I missed them so much, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Steve." 

"Fuck." he murmured, tears welling in his eyes. "Can I kiss you? Please let me."

One nod, one quick moment, and he connected your lips to his. It was needy, but still so incredibly sweet, filled with all the emotions and unspoken feelings between you. 

It started slow, but escalated with every passing moment. Steve got desperate, wanted more. He parted your lips and you let him, your tongues swirling against each other, making him moan quietly.

"You're so cute when you're needy." you said between kisses, slightly smirking at his state.

He stared to kiss down your neck, inhaling your scent like a madman. "I'm more than needy, sweetheart. I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"Then don't. Don't hold back."

The groan he let out was so loud, you worried people inside the house could hear it. You didn't have time to scold him, because his lips were back on yours, kissing you with so much force that your head started to spin.

He guided you against the wall, sliding his veiny hand under your shirt. You moaned as Steve added pressure to the cup of your bra, the material grazing your hard nipple, making you arch into him.

"You like that, baby?" he panted against your mouth, slipping both hands under your bra. You could only nod, lost in the moment.

"Tell me. I want to hear it." he insisted, kneading your hot skin.

"Yeah, Stevie. So much." you moaned softly, your hips bucking forward into his. 

Even that small friction made both of you gasp in need. His hardness got more evident with every shameless grind of your hips, eager to ease that pressure building inside you.

His hand travelled down to your thigh, touching and squeezing it delicately before inching upward, getting closer to where you needed him most.

But just as he was about to feel you, the porch door opened with a loud squeak. A few drunk people stumbled out of the house, laughing to themselves about some dumb shit.

Startled, you jumped and Steve followed. You put distance between your bodies, making sure that nobody could figure out what you were doing just seconds ago.

"I don't think they care." Steve smiled, sparing a quick glance at the group. "Or even know what's going on around them."

So you smiled too, realizing that he was right. You were safe, of course you were, especially with Steve.

So you came up to kiss his cheek.

"My car's parked nearby." you whispered against his hot skin. "Want to check it out?"

"Let's talk first?" he questioned, eyes filled with hope.

"Or...let's talk after." 

God, he really missed you so much.

being a nurse at stark county hospital meant that you were inevitably going to run into gator tillman. he was always hanging about the hospital to collect witness statements, to arrest suspects after they had been treated, to waste avoid doing paperwork. you finally met him only five minutes into your shift one wednesday morning as you were walking to room 10 to check on your first patient of the day. you had been looking down at the patients notes on a clipboard when you walked straight into what you initially thought was a wall but turned out to be a man. and not just any man—but one gator tillman. “gotta watch where you’re goin’ mama,” gator tells you in a drawl that makes your stomach tighten, makes the hands gripping the clipboard feel clammy. one of his large hands hold you arm, steadying you with slight smirk pulling at his lips. “wouldn’t want that pretty face gettin’ hurt now.” you blink, taken aback by his words, by the pet name, the compliment and just how handsome this man was. but before you could even think of a response, gator is already walking away from you. and though you don’t see it as you pull together and continue walking towards room 10—he allows himself one quick, glance back at you.

you met teacake at your local coffee shop. you had been a regular there for years and you got to know the other regulars there pretty well. it almost meant you tended to notice when someone new came into the shop. especially when it was an incredibly handsome stranger. you were sat at your usual table—tucked away in the corner—when he had walked in. the man had caught your eye instantly and you nearly spilled your tea over the tablecloth because he was unfairly good looking. and just your luck, after being handed his cup of coffee, he sat at the table right next to yours. you tried to be cool it, tried not to glance his way but you couldn't help yourself. you looked and—found he was already looking at you with a smile that made him somehow even more attractive. "hi," he says simply. "i'm teacake." and the rest, as they say, was history.

you met keys one rainy afternoon in your favourite bookstore. you went there every saturday afternoon without fail to peruse the new releases and that day was no different. you had reached for a copy of the book tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow that you had just released at the same time another hand reached out to grab the exact same book. your fingers brushed against the skin of the man's hand and he's quick to pull away. "sorry!" he exclaims and you quickly look at him only to find your stomach flips at the sight of the man now blushing in front of you. "no worries. here you go, there's plenty more." you say kindly, smiling as you take a copy from the top of the pile and hold it out for him to take. the man smiles a little shyly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he takes the book from you. he returns to the bookstore every saturday afternoon after that day—working up the courage to ask for your number.

your job at the video game store was pretty boring, until kurt kunkle walked in. he had come in to purchase another playstation controller since he had smashed the last one to pieces after losing five games of fifa in a row. he would usually go to the store closer to his house but it closed early on sundays. but the moment kurt walked in and saw you behind the counter? all intelligent thought left his brain. a pretty girl like you working in a video game store? surely he was dreaming. part of him wanted to leave before he could inevitably make a fool of himself but then you had smiled at him and asked if he needed any help and kurt couldn't leave. he simply lets out a strangled 'no, thank you' before rushing over to where the console controllers were located. kurt went back to the particular video game store a lot after that.

gif dividers by @anitalenia

His vision vignettes as he pours another sugar into his styrofoam cup of coffee. He only likes two, but now he’s lost count, opening packet after packet just to give himself an excuse to stay here.

Morning light pours in through the open windows on the east side of the office building, bathing you in gold. You’re so bright and beautiful, Keys can hardly even look at you. 

Briana’s voice filters through his thoughts, tuning him back into the conversation. “I like him and everything, but the sex is just—I don’t know—”

“Bland?” you offer. 

Briana pauses, giving you a weighted look before correcting. “Silent.”

You make a sympathetic sound, oblivious to your eavesdropper, whose cheeks are turning a charming shade of pink. 

“There’s nothing worse than a silent man in bed,” you say, stirring your coffee. “I mean, we want to hear what we’re doing to them, you know? Like, moaning a little won’t kill them. And add in a little dirty talk? God, that shit never fails to get me off.”

Another sugar packet rips in his fingers and he pours without really thinking. Good lord, this coffee is going to be undrinkable.

But the cup of joe is the literal least of his worries, since he’s shoving his hips up against the edge of the table just to keep from getting a hard at hearing you talk like that. You’re his co-worker. You sit across from him every day.

He can’t be getting hard at work. And especially, not right next to you. 

“Exactly!” Briana groans, enthusiastically. “So, I don’t know what to do about it.”

Keys’ head turns towards the open office floor, but his feet feel like they’ve grown roots, planting him right there in the dingy carpet, forcing him to listen. 

You hum, a familiar sound that means you’re thinking. “Well, if he’s into it, maybe listen to some spicy audios together? There are some really talented creators out there that can give you both some inspiration.”

He glances up just in time to watch Briana’s dark eyes cut over to you mischievously as she takes a sip. 

“Good idea,” she says, “I’m going to…” 

Somehow, Keys finally uproots himself and slips away with his cup of sugary bean water. 

He barely registers the rows of cubicles and windows swirling around him in colors of gray, blue, white, and black, too busy replaying your words over and over in his head.

…nothing worse than a silent man in bed.

…add in a little dirty talk?

…never fails to get me off.

His office chair squeaks under his weight and his glasses land on his desk with a clatter. Planting his elbows on his armrests, he breathes a deep sigh and scrubs his hands over his face. 

Focus, Keys. 

He replaces his glasses, and shifts forward in his chair, forcing his eyes back to his waiting code. The predictability of numbers—those never changing zeros and ones—usually settles him. But, not today. 

He tries hard to force all thoughts of you from his head but—oh, it’s useless. 

There you are, spread out on his navy sheets, writhing underneath him. His mouth trails soft kisses down your throat, over your shoulder, and lower…

You let out a needy whine, hands twisting up in his hair, legs parting for him on instinct. And in his imagination, he opens his mouth to say something hot—anything—but no words come. He wouldn’t know what to say. 

He has a few trademark moves in bed. I mean, who doesn’t? And the girls he’s been with always leave happy. 

But…is he silent? He doesn’t really know, actually. Never recorded himself…or anything…maybe he should—

“You good?” 

The world whips back into focus, and Keys jumps in his chair. Suddenly, the overhead light’s too bright, and the AC feels like an icy blast, and you’re there, standing over your desk, staring at him with concern. 

“What?” he squeaks, then clears his throat. “Y-yeah. Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, and take your seat across from him. “I don’t know, you just look…tired, I guess.”

He just grunts and returns his gaze to his computer screen. “Just…work stuff.”

You hum in agreement and turn back to your screen as well. 

As much as he bitches about being shoved up in the corner of the floor, the only space with a huge window immediately to his left, the spot really does have its perks. 

It’s annoying because it’s so bright he has to squint to see his screen most of the time. But the way the sun shines through the blinds, painting you in thin lines of shadow, lighting up your eyes and lashes?

He wouldn’t trade this spot for anything. 

Shit. Now he’s staring. 

Irritated, he forces his gaze away and pushes his glasses up higher on his nose. 

His hand finds his mouse and he navigates to his work, but for one fleeting second, his curser hovers over the new tab button. 

Now, Keys is a complete and total nerd, so, of course he’s no stranger to the internet. Especially the deep, dark parts of it. He’s fallen victim to those late night deep dives on reddit pages more times than he can count. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembers coming across those ‘spicy audios’ you gushed about earlier. 

What did you call them? Talented creators? Which ones were you talking about? What things did they say? What did you like about it?

All it would take is a few clicks on his keyboard, and he’d get all those answers to his questions. But he quickly shakes his head to clear it and pulls up his code with a guilty look over his shoulder.

The white wall stares at him, disapproving. 

What the fuck has gotten into him? He cannot be looking this shit up at work! 

He really has it bad.

When he’s back home, in the comfort of his own gaming desk, only then will he let himself investigate this newfound scrap of information on you. 

Later, he promises himself. Later. 

Well, it’s later. 

And Keys hasn’t got a single fucking line of code done yet. 

Which is why he’s stuck at work late, miserably trying to catch up on his project after everyone else has left for the day.

Everyone, that is, except for you.

Apparently, you also got behind, and you can’t afford to. Not with the new launch coming up.

Vinny came by to collect the trash a while back, and he didn’t see you in the back corner, so he turned off the lights, plunging you both into darkness. Neither of you have gotten up to turn them back on, choosing instead to work by the dim lights of your computer monitors. And even though the two of you keep saying you’re going to leave “any minute,” those minutes turn to hours, and you’re both still here. 

Alone.

The printer hums in the corner, and that blinking blue light on the side is driving Keys crazy. It keeps catching in the edge of his glasses, and the clicking of your mouse fills his ears. 

It’s constant. Unlike his. Which means you’re actually getting work done. Unlike him. 

Finally, your voice breaks the silence. 

“The street’s kinda loud tonight, isn’t it?”

Keys makes a noncommittal sound in this throat and doesn’t look up. 

Honestly, he hasn’t noticed the traffic humming far below the window, and he’s trying so hard not to look at you, not to think about you, that he doesn’t notice when you reach across over and grab his headphones by accident. 

It’s easy to get them confused. They look exactly the same, tangled up together at the edge of where your desks meet. Black. Standard issue. Company logo on the side. 

When Keys glances up and sees you with the headphones on, he sighs quietly in relief. 

It’s ridiculous, but up until this moment, he was hyper-aware of everything he was doing. Was he breathing too loudly? Could you hear his heartbeat? Was he readjusting himself too much when every thought of you in his bed gave him a hard-on? 

He tries to focus, he really does, but the numbers blur together on his screen. 

Music. 

That’s what he needs. 

He grabs the other pair of headphones, and when he settles them over his head, all he can hear is his own heartbeat slamming in his ears, reminding him of what a fucking loser he is. 

He should just ask you out. Like a normal person. But no. 

The foam cuffs press into the ear piece of his glasses, reminding him why he usually prefers the wired earbuds. But he’s lost them somewhere, and he can’t afford to go looking at the moment. 

The click of his mouse is silenced as he maneuvers it to pull up his music library. But, his cursor gets distracted on the way, hovering over that damn new tab icon in the corner.

He risks another peek at you. 

Your brows furrow and you readjust your headphones, eyes still on your screen.

Resisting the urge to scrub a hand over his face in frustration, he turns his gaze back to his computer. If he’s honest with himself, he won’t be able to get any substantial work done until he satisfies his curiosity.

It’s risky, doing this at work. But there’s no way you can hear anything, and Keys is getting desperate. 

After a few hasty searches, he’s navigating the depths of…erotic audios. 

His eyes widen as he scrolls past the sprawling inventory of tropes and storylines. There are so many different kinds of fantasies, how would he know what you’re into? He leans in closer, scrolling carefully down the list until he hesitates on one in particular. 

Talk Nerdy To Me. 

The small blurb underneath catches his eye. 

Your tutor tries a new tactic to get you to study for your big test. Just how sexual can his acronyms get before you decide to study anatomy a different way?

His cursor hovers over the LISTEN NOW button. 

This is harmless enough, right? There’s even a little story. Like an audio book. Just way shorter. And way more explicit. And…yeah, this is so wrong, on so many levels. 

Beneath his conscience, however, sits a burning curiosity. Keys is analytic at heart. If there’s a question, he wants to find the answer. And, if listening to this will help him figure out what to say in bed…

Fuck it. 

The silenced click of his mouse through his headphones is as loud as a gunshot.

He waits, breath caught in his chest, heel tapping restlessly on the carpet as the little blue progress bar starts to move. 

But he doesn’t hear anything. 

He frowns and readjusts his headphones. 

Nothing. 

On impulse, he skips to the middle. Just in case there was a silent lull there at the beginning. 

Still nothing. 

He leans towards the screen nervously, and as he shifts, he glimpses you from behind your computer screen—and freezes. 

You’re staring at him, cheeks flush in the dim lighting, chest fluttering with every breath. And small smirk begins at the corner of your mouth. It’s rueful and sinful, and… 

His stomach drops. 

Oh no. It’s in your headphones, isn’t it?

Oh, no, no, no, no—

His heart leaps in his chest as his hand flies to his mouse, scrambling to turn it off. 

Oh, God, where’s the stop button? 

There. That’s pause. Oh—he accidentally presses it twice. Now it’s playing again. 

HOW DO YOU CLOSE THIS FUCKING THING?

You chuckle breathlessly, watching your genius coworker—who can code literally anything, by the way— flail around like a fish out of water when all he has to do is simply push the little red X on the top right of his screen. 

The mouse starts to slip around in his sweaty palm and Keys gives up, slamming the power button on his computer, and enveloping the both of you in silence. 

You stare at each other over your desks for a long second. 

Then, Keys rips his headphones off and rakes a hand through his hair. 

See? This is what he gets for being fucking curious. It gets him in trouble. He just needs to stick with what he knows—

He opens his mouth to apologize, to explain, to—beg for his dignity back? But you just slip the headphones down to hang around your throat and level his gaze with a soft smile. 

“Was that Bennett Brooks?” 

“W-what?” Keys croaks, shoving his glasses further onto his burning face. 

“I recognize the voice actor. Haven't heard his stuff in forever, though. He’s good—voice is a little raspy for my taste,” you shrug prettily. “But good.”

He swallows. “Oh.” 

The silent office presses in around you, so quiet he can almost hear your lashes click together when you blink at him. Suddenly, you whip his headphones off your neck and thrust them onto his desk. 

They land with a clatter. 

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to take yours. By all means, don’t stop on my account.”

Keys lets out a choked sound, caught somewhere between a laugh and a cough. This is definitely making it into the top three most embarrassing moments of his life. 

“I’m n-not...” he stammers, “Not into that. Like…that.”

You shoot him a knowing look. “No?”

“No! Listen, I just—” he scrambles for an explanation as you just fucking sit there watching him. Smiling at him. “It was just research. Okay? Not a big deal—” 

The words barely escape his lips before he realizes his mistake. 

“Research?“ Your eyes light up and you lean forward in your seat. His eyes drop to the white V-neck button down you’re wearing—that third button you leave unfastened haunts him every single day. “Research is my specialty, Keys.”

Yes, he knows that. You’re a data analyst for the company. One of the best in the region, actually, wasting your time at the desk next to his. He should apologize again, or confess he overheard your conversation at the coffee bar. 

But the embarrassment burns hot, so instead, he clears his throat and hooks a finger in his shirt collar that’s currently suffocating him.

“It’s stupid, really,” Keys says at long last, and he hates how it comes out crackly. He clears his throat again, like that will help dislodge the panic in his chest. 

It doesn’t. 

You shrug, tilting your head in that cute way you do. “Didn’t sound stupid to me.”

You’re being so nice about it. Why are you always so nice?  “You know, I could help.” Your eyes linger on him and the air seems to grow ten degrees hotter. Then softer, you add, “…if you want.”

And just like that, all thoughts of project and deadlines glitch and vanish from his mind like a crashed browser. 

He’s nodding before he’s even really given it much thought.  

You smile and sit up in your chair. God, you’re radiant. “Okay. Let’s start with what exactly you want to research. Is it audios, specifically? Or—”

“No, no, it’s just…I think I…” Keys’ bottom lip catches between his teeth before he heaves out a heavy breath. “I want to get better. I guess.”

“Better at what? Sex?”

This time, Keys doesn’t hesitate. “Dirty talk.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flick to his lips for a split second before meeting his again. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

Keys adjusts in his chair, his dick is already twitching in his pants. “Yeah? So, you like this sort of thing? Guys’ voices dirty talking you and stuff. That…” He swallows hard. “Gets you off?”

You shrug again casually, like you’re talking about the weather. “It’s one way, yeah.”

Keys nods again. Too fast. Way too fucking fast. 

“So, do you have anyone in mind?” You ask. 

His pulse leaps. “What?”

“Well, you’ve got to be researching this for a reason, right? I mean, curiosity is a valid enough, don’t get me wrong. But is there someone…?” you trail off, unsure of how to finish. 

A silent moment stretches out between you as Keys decides how to answer. The digital clock on the wall, the rise and fade of the passing lights, all seem to look between you—waiting for something. 

Finally, Keys sighs. “Well, there is this girl.”

“Aha!” You lean your elbows on your desk, eyes brightening with interest. “Tell me.”

“It’s new. Like—” he chuckles, averting his gaze. “Really new. So.”

“It’s okay, Keys. We’re friends! We can talk about this kind of stuff.”

“I know!” he says defensively, although he’s not really sure why. “She’s just…into this sort of thing. Dirty talk. I think.”

“You think.”

“Yeah.”

You nod slowly, encouraging, if not a little teasing. “Okay…so, give me the rundown here. When’s your next date?”

“Uh. First one, actually. And…it’s…Thursday,” Keys stammers. 

“Thursday? Okay.” You look out the window. A passing car’s headlights shine across your face for a second before the computer light consumes you again. “Lucky girl. Where are you taking her? I mean—before the inevitable trip back to your place.”

 You swallow hard and busy yourself with re-organizing your pen cup as he scrambles for an answer. 

Chinese. 

You love that. 

He knows because the one time he picked you up for work when your car was in the shop, he caught a glimpse of your apartment through your front door. Your coffee table was littered with little takeout boxes, and he filed that away like a crow picking up a shiny screw and calling it a treasure. 

Yeah, he has it bad. 

“Uh. I was thinking that Chinese joint on the corner of Cross and Elm."

Your jaw drops. “I love that place!”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know.”

When you look up at him again, there’s a hint of a smile on your lips.

“Okay, so, we have three days to prepare you. What questions do you have?”

Leave it to you to make this sound like a standardized research paper. Well, now’s a good a chance as ever. He might never get this chance again.

Keys straightens in his chair, heel tapping the carpet so fast his leg is bouncing. 

“What do you—do girls,” he quickly corrects himself, “—want guys to say?” 

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Heat rushes to his face. “I mean, like, do they tell you how to…touch yourself? I don’t—I can’t even—”

“You’re overthinking it. There’s no magical combination of words to use." You gesture to his computer. "Here, let’s listen to the audio, it’ll help me explain—”

“Oh, no! We don’t have to do that!” Keys squeaks. 

You shoot him a look. “You said this is for research, right?”

“Yeah! Obviously. Totally.”

“Then you can’t half-ass it. If you really want to learn how to dirty talk for this girl, you gotta commit.”

He hesitates. 

“C’mon, Keys.” Your teeth close over the end of your pen and you gesture to his computer with your eyes, smirking as you settle into your chair. “Press play.”

Fuck. 

Your coworker, Keys, has been acting weird as fuck all day, and now you finally know why. 

He totally overheard your conversation with Briana at the coffee bar, earlier. 

Maybe it had something to do with the way you raised your voice on purpose, hoping to get through that head of hair and those brown eyes that seem to see everything except all the signals you’ve been dropping his way since you first started here. 

From behind your desk, you watch him eye the power switch on his computer like it’s some gigantic red button that says ‘don’t touch’ or else it will somehow World War III. 

Come to think of it, you might start World War III if it means getting your oblivious-as-he-is-cute-coworker to finally make a real move. 

Still, though, there’s a part of you that feels for the guy. He’s so nice, and good, and sweet, and fuck if you don’t want him to corrupt him a little.

Only in the ways he wants to be corrupted, of course. Which, apparently, involves digging into ancient audio porn on reddit after work hours. 

Oh, you are so into it. 

“Why are you so embarrassed, Keys?” you say gently. “Look, this is normal, okay? Being curious. And you want to make this girl feel good, right?”

The girl has to be you.

After all those coffees he’s brought you from that fancy place that he insists only adds three minutes to his commute, but in reality, probably adds, like, twenty? And the way his hand accidentally finds ways to brush yours, and then he acts as if he’s not jumping out of his skin at the contact?

If this girl is not you, then this crush you have on your nerdy, hot co-worker is about to be devastating. 

Keys blows out a breath. “Okay, fine.” 

His computer powers up with a familiar hum, and blue light cascades over his features again. 

God, he looks nervous. Why is that such a turn-on?

He looks so alone over there behind his desk as one lock of brown hair falls over his eyes, brushing the rim of his glasses, and suddenly, you get an idea. 

“Wait, actually, no—” you mutter, standing up from your chair. 

Keys jumps like you’ve shot him. “Yeah,” he says, scrambling to turn distract himself with something else on his computer. “Yeah! No, we don’t—this is—”

“—I’m coming over there.”

“What?” Keys’ gaze snaps to yours. Then, he gestures to the space beside him in his workspace. “Here?” 

But you’re already rolling your chair over the carpet and behind his desk. It’s a tight fit, with these ergonomic chairs. Their wide armrests knock together as you slide in beside him. 

Keys’ cubicle is different. 

Technically, it’s the exact same as yours. The dimensions are the same, as well as your surroundings, but it smells like his cologne, and there’s that stack of board games he keeps hidden under his desk. 

“Okay,” you sigh, settling back in your chair. “If we’re going to do this, we do it right. Which means, starting from the top. Clearly, you know nothing of the subject—”

“I—” he starts, but you shoot him a look that has his jaw snapping shut. 

“Now, dirty talk is a broad subject, so, what kinds of things are you into?”

Keys shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess, it depends on what she’s into. I mean…” He threads his fingers behind his head and leans back in his computer chair in an obvious attempt at casualness. “What are you into?”

Smooth. Real smooth. 

You decide to go along with it. 

“I like a little of everything. Praise, instruction, degradation, fantasizing…but not every girl is the same—”

“Okay, let’s just do that, then,” he cuts you off, nodding once like it’s been decided. 

You have to bite your lip to keep from smiling. “Okay, I’ll press play.” 

You shift lean forward and your palm closes over his mouse. It’s slightly damp, like Keys’ fingers were clammy when he last touched it. 

“Wait!” His hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. “Like…out loud?”

You gesture to the darkness beyond. “Keys, no one is here.”

“No, I know, but…” his eyes sweep the empty floor, shoulder hunched to his ears. “Okay fine, just do it.”

You nod and turn back to the monitor. “We’ll just pick up where you left off, okay?”

“Oh. I didn’t—”

Bennet Brook’s voice cuts him off, filtering through Keys’ computer speakers with that deep, raspy voice of his. 

“—was pretty good. Okay, now let’s do the carpal bones. I have a mnemonic for this, actually, you want to hear it? Okay. Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can’t Handle. Yeah, it’s a little…suggestive? It just—it helps people remember okay? Yes! The sluttier the better. Look, it goes from thumb to pinky proximally, then pinky to thumb distally. Here, I’ll show you…”

You risk a glance over at Keys. He sits perfectly still, breath bated as Bennett leads the listener through the scene. 

“Now you’re getting distracted,” Bennet laughs breathlessly. “What positions do I—I’m trying to help you study. Oh my god, you’re so annoying. Look. If I answer, will you study? Yeah? Okay, fine. My favorite is—”

You reach forward and press pause. The silence in the office rushes in to fill the empty space, and your stomach swoops as you turn to Keys. 

“What’s your favorite sex position?” you ask abruptly. 

He looks at you, eyes wide. You don’t miss the way his knuckles whiten around his arm rest, clearly doing that thing where he resists the urge to push his glasses up again out of habit.

“What does this have to do with—”

You sigh. “Just trust me, and answer the question.”

“Uh…missionary?”

“God, okay.” You roll your eyes and reach over to hit resume again. “That’s such a lie, but whatever.”

Keys stops you with that hand on your wrist again. “Wha—lie?”

“Yes. Lie.”

He finally turns to face you, incredulous. “Oh, and you’re suddenly an expert on what I like in bed?”

Heat shoots down your spine at his words, but you just scoff. “You play as a fucking stripper cop in Free City. Now, tell me the real answer.”

After a moment Keys groans, then looks away. “I don’t know the word for it. Like, the name, or whatever.”

“Oh! That’s not a problem.” 

You reach for his keyboard, and before he knows what’s happening, you’re opening a new tab, and then, right in front of him, is a list of sex positions. 

With pictures. 

“Jesus!” He hisses, looking over his shoulder as if the wall behind you is somehow going to open up and reveal your boss or something. “I’m going to have to scrub my search history clean after this.”

“Relax,” you say, settling back in your chair. “Now, point.”

Keys lets out a heavy, resigned sigh and sits forward, squinting at the screen. Ten seconds later, he shakes his head. 

“It’s not there.”

When he looks over at you, he immediately rolls his eyes, because the look on your face is the clearest I-told-you-so look he’s ever received. 

“God, with how freaky you are, Keys, it’s a wonder you’re silent in bed—”

“Hey!” He interjects, glaring over at you. “I never said—woah, okay, why are you standing up? What are you doing?”

You plant hands on your hips, looking down at him. “Look, just maneuver me into whatever position it is, and I’ll find the name of it for you.”

“This is ridiculous.”

You huff. “This is a part of the research. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine, we—”

Without looking, he reaches out and grabs your waist. The warmth of his skin bleeds through your thin work shirt and a surprised squeak escapes you as he tugs you down.

You land in his lap with an undignified plop, facing him. Your stomach plummets as his knee presses against your core, but he makes a disgruntled sound, and grabs your thigh, pulling one leg up and over until you’re straddling him. 

Your pulse hammers in your ears as you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders and peer down at him. 

The dim blue glow of the computer reflects in his glasses and as his gaze meets yours, his expression makes your chest ache. There’s something so sweet there. Soft. Like flower petals against your skin. Fragile, too. 

“This is it?” you whisper.

A small smirk crosses his lips. 

“Okay, so, this is just straddling…” you say, but your voice trails off as his hands spread over your waist. They’re so big. How have you never noticed how big his hands were before?

You swallow hard. “Or, I think, it’s technically called seated cowgirl.”

“Really?” he asks, squinting up at you with a hint of cockiness you could get drunk on.

In your next breath, Keys’s fingers dig into your hips, and he spins you around on his lap. His chest is warm against your back, and his computer desk digs into your belly. You wiggle your hips back slightly to get away from the sharp edge, but still when his hard length presses into your clothed core. 

“What’s this one called?” His voice is deeper now, threaded with heat, and it makes your hands clench against the cool metal of his desk. 

“Reverse seated cowgirl,” you say, fighting to keep your tone even. “So, this is your favorite? Tell me why.”

His breath stalls in his chest, you can feel the way he hesitates against your spine.

The printer hums in the far corner of the office, and a car horn blares distantly from the street below. 

After a long moment, he exhales, and his breath ghosts over your ear, making your lashes flutter. 

“I like the view,” he admits softly. “Painted in blue-light, all needy—” Then, he lets out a quiet, “Fuck.”

Heat pools deep in your belly. He sounds…wrecked. Already. And you’re just sitting in his lap fully clothed. 

God, you could make this man beg. 

You tilt forward and look over your shoulder. His eyes lift to yours, then drag down to your mouth, your hips, and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth.

“What else?” you whisper.  

He doesn’t hesitate this time. “I like the control of it, you know? Like—” he huffs out a quiet laugh, like he can’t believe he’s saying these things. “Like maybe I’m just playing a video game, and making you keep my cock warm. And you just… just have to sit there and take it.”

His words—so filthy and shy—stir hot embers of arousal between your hips. 

“Shit, Keys,” you say with a breathless laugh. “That was so good!”

His eyes meet yours again. “Really?”

“Yeah! Okay, I’m pushing play again. I’ll skip forward a little, too, just so we get to the good stuff.”

He clears his throat. “You’re going to stay right here?” He taps your leg and his fingers linger on your skin. 

You pretend to jolt in his hold. “Oh! Sorry, I can move if you—”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “It’s fine.” 

‘It’s fine’, he says, as if he’s not raging hard underneath you, holding onto your leg like he might die if you slid off him right now. 

He’s too easy. 

You press play. 

Immediately, sounds of kissing and rustling fill the room. Keys inhales sharply, his erection growing against your ass, and you barely resist the urge to grind down on him. 

“That’s it,” Bennet croons. “You take it so good for me, baby. Fuck, you’re incredible.”

The wet sound of hips meeting has Keys’ mouth dropping open. His eyes dart off the screen, like watching the loading bar is somehow equivalent to seeing these imaginary people fuck. 

“That’s praise,” you whisper over your shoulder. “Obviously.”

Keys looks at you, then. Really looks at you. You can feel the way he takes in the slight shift of your hips as you try to find some friction to release the building ache. 

He’s reading you. Analyzing the data. Recalculating.

Classic Keys. 

The sight pulls at something in your chest. Truthfully, that’s the reason you like him so damn much, the reason you’re pulled to him like a ship to a lighthouse. 

Because with Keys, you would be fully, and utterly known. 

“…always so needy?” Bennet groans. “Just wanna be bent over a desk and fucked, huh, baby? This what you need? So dirty, I swear to God.”

“Degradation,” you murmur, turning back to the computer. 

Bennett keeps going. “Oh yeah, just like that? C’mon, baby. Tell me what you want. Use your words.”

 “Instruction,” Keys says, beating you to the punch. 

You’re grateful your back is to him so he can’t see your self-indulgent smile. 

“…thought about this a lot,” Bennet groans, the sound effects growing faster and louder. “Like in the library on campus? When we’re trying to study but you’re sitting across from me, and I can’t focus…”

Your breath catches at the exact same second Keys goes still beneath you. 

“…I see it, you know. The way your hand brushes mine when you hand me a pencil. You think I don’t notice? Fuck—of course I’ve thought about you. Are you kidding? Every time I jerk my cock I think about you. How you’d sound when I’m fucking up into you like this. Oh, you like that, huh? Get you so cock drunk— oh, baby, that’s it—”

You swallow hard, mouth suddenly gone dry. 

That’s fantasizing.

But for some reason, you can’t even bring yourself to repeat it. To solidify it. To make it any realer than it already is. 

Can Keys tell how much you relate to Bennett's words? That every time you’re in bed at night, thoughts of him keep you up late, you’re rubbing your aching cunt, whining his name into the empty ceiling?

You’re soaking through your underwear now, but mostly from listening to Keys’ uneven breathing behind you. His fingers flex over and over against your work skirt, like he can’t quite get up the courage to slip them under the hem that’s riding up your bare thighs. 

In an effort to relieve his aching erection, Keys shifts in his chair. It’s a small enough movement, but it’s just enough to send his elbow into a cup on his desk. It falls with a dull thud, the water inside instantly soaking into the carpet.

You smack the space bar on his keyboard, cutting Bennet off mid-moan, and leap to your feet. 

Keys cringes and moves to stand, but you disappear behind your desk before he can blink, and reappear a second later with a roll of paper towels. 

“Here,” you say gently as you kneel in front of him. “Let me.”

Keys reaches down at the same time you raise up on your knees, and when you lift your chin, you find your faces only an inch apart. 

He doesn’t jerk back like you expect. Instead, he just finds the paper towel on the ground and gently pries your fingers off it, resuming the blotting himself. 

Your hands find purchase on his knees for balance, and they spread wider under your touch, almost subconsciously. 

Almost. 

You swallow. “Keys?” 

His shoulder muscles flex under his T-shirt as he works. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to keep listening to the audio…or…do you want to practice?”

“Practice?” He doesn’t look up, but his voice cracks. 

“Only if you want.”

Keys sits back into his chair, tossing the wet paper towel into the nearby waste basket. Then his eyes settle on you for what feels like the first time all night. 

Through his work khakis’, his erection presses an angry imprint. God, it looks so hard it probably hurts, confined like that. The air between you shimmers with that unsaid tension, the kind that releases butterflies in your stomach and in the chambers of your heart. 

But while exciting, it’s equally terrifying, putting yourself on display like this. You feel strangely vulnerable, even though you were just teasing him a few seconds earlier. 

“What are you thinking about right now?” you ask, voice soft. 

Keys looks away, jaw clenching. 

Suddenly, you wonder if you’ve misread this. Have you made him uncomfortable? What if there actually is a girl, and it’s not you, and you’ve just—

“Your mouth,” Keys says, cutting off your thoughts. 

Hope renewed, your gaze snaps to his. 

“Where?” 

He rakes a hand through his hair, and his glasses slant adorably on his nose with the motion. His chest rises and falls once, twice, and then he whispers, “My cock.”

God, just hearing him say that makes your panties slick. 

“Good,” you breathe. “Now, put it together.”

He huffs, a surprised laugh slipping from him before the heat returns to his gaze.  “I’m thinking about your mouth on my cock.”

The damp carpet fibers dig into your knees as you watch his Adam’s apple bob on a swallow.

“Do you want me to do that?” you ask carefully. 

There’s a certain irreversible tension sitting between you right now. It feels a little like waiting behind an ancient door, not sure if it will creak open and invite you in or vanish into a cloud of dust. 

After a long moment, Keys nods.

A triumphant thrill zips through you, but you keep yourself together and hold his gaze. “You have to say it—”

“Fuck, I want it.” The words rush out of him in a gasp, like they’ve been sitting behind his teeth, waiting their turn the whole night. “I want my cock in your mouth. Please.”

He’s barely got the words out before your fingers fly to his zipper. 

“Forgot about begging,” you mutter more to yourself, but he hears you anyway. 

How could you have forgotten that very important category of dirty talk? It’s one of your favorites, and it flew from his lips unprompted. 

He’s perfect. 

“W-what about the—cameras,” he protests weakly, even as his hips lift from the chair to help you slide his pants down his thighs. 

“The cameras don’t reach back here,” you assure him.

Hooking a finger in the band his underwear, you pull them down and reveal his cock. It sits hard and heavy against the happy trail on his lower stomach.

He sputters. “W-what? Wait—really? How do you know that?”

It’s only natural, digging into dark spots in the security systems at a new job. Especially when you have a coworker as hot as Walter McKeys.

Instead of answering, though, you shuffle forward and take him in your hands. His head tips back on a ragged groan and you relish the hot, velvety feel of him. It’s long and hard, and somehow, you always knew Keys would have a big dick. 

It’s always the nerds. 

Your pussy throbs, fluttering around nothing as you imagine him easing his length inside your slick core, whispering in your ear, telling you how well you’re doing, how much he’s wanted this. 

Keys sits ramrod straight, breathing sharply through his nose as you let your hands explore him. You stroke him from base to tip, fondle his balls, then reach down and palm his thighs. His stomach flexes beneath his shirt, and on impulse, you reach up and lift it until the fabric bunches just below his ribs. 

Soft tummy with muscles flexing underneath. A dark happy trail leading down. A glimpse of thicker hair littered across his chest. 

God, he’s delicious. 

What you wouldn’t give to have this man naked in your bed right now. Saliva builds in your mouth at the thought.

Can you die by horniness? Better research that later. 

You stroke him firmly a few times, and when you lean down, he groans softly.  

Glancing up, you search for any sign to stop, but his eyes aren’t on yours anymore.  They’re glued to your chest. 

You tilt your chin down to see what he’s looking at. 

The three unfastened buttons of your work shirt give him a clear view of your cleavage, and the glow of the computer monitor illuminates the dips and valleys prettily.

A relieved gasp escapes him as your hands start undoing the rest of the buttons. He nods as if you read his mind when your shirt falls open, revealing your black bra. 

Thank God it’s your cute one. Not lingerie by any means, but your nipples harden under his gaze, poking against the fabric. 

You keep your shirt hanging loosely over your shoulders, just in case someone were to walk in. Although very unlikely, the thought of getting caught with Keys still shoots a wicked jolt of pleasure through you. 

Wordlessly, you run your hands up his legs again until your fingers find his cock and resume your attention. 

Keys says something—more like whines it—but it’s too quiet for you to hear. The carpet presses into your knees as you lean in. His thick thighs bracket your shoulders, and when your breath ghosts across the head of his cock, they go hard as rocks. He makes a muffled sound in the back of his throat, then clears it roughly. 

You lean back to catch his eye. 

“Whatever your voice, or breath, wants to do…just let it happen,” you say. “Don’t worry about being loud, there’s no one here.”

He nods, drunk on the sight of you, desperate for your mouth. 

Those big hands reach down and gather your hair, and you scoot even closer, close enough to tap his dick against your lips with a soft smack. When you blink up at him, Keys curses under his breath, then stops himself. 

“Stop swallowing it down,” you chide. “Let me hear.”

Before he can say—or do—anything, you lick a broad, wet stripe up his length. His hips jerk in your hold, a ragged moan tumbling from his lips, unabashed. Your eyes shine with pride when you look up at him. And fuck, he’ll do anything to see that look again. 

You stroke him lazily. Like you have all the the time in the world here in the office after hours. Like you’ve been thinking about it for a long, long, time. 

Drool pools in your mouth as you coat him with your tongue. Then, your lips wrap around him and you slowly work your way down, inch by inch, listening to his whimpers, feeling the way his body vibrates underneath you. 

He’s still holding himself back, so you draw back up and suck gently on his tip before popping off him.

“Sorry,” he gasps. “Fu-forgot I was supposed to talk.”

You nod. “That’s okay. How do you like it?”

He starts to respond, but you envelop him in your warm, wet mouth again, and all words die on his lips. 

“Feels so good, I can’t—can’t—mmmph,” he groans as you relax your jaw and take him deeper, then whimpers pitifully when you come off him again. “My brain’s fried. Like, actually short circuited. I can’t think—”

You press your tits together and tilt your head. “It feels good, right?”

He chuckles, a ragged soft sound. “Fuck—yeah.”

“Just talk to me, then,” you murmur, fluttering your tongue along the ridge of his cock as it twitches in your hold. 

Something seems to click in his mind at those words, and his eyes harden as he stares down at you.

“You want to know why I’m always so tired?” he says, chest heaving. “I stay up all night, trying to get the work done I should be doing when I’m sitting at my desk. But I can’t. Because I’m—fucking hard—all the time. Because of you!”

You decide to reward him for that little speech—a great example of fantasizing and degradation—and relax your jaw again, sliding him deep into your throat. Deeper than before. Keys throws his head back on a groan. The stretch brings tears to your eyes, but you blink them back so you can look at him properly. 

His hair looks so pretty illuminated in soft streaks of blue from the computer, and gold from the street far below. Like a painting. 

Arousal floods your core, coating your underwear, and you can feel your clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat. 

You slide up and off of him to let your lungs expand and he inhales with you, like that took his breath away as much as it did yours. 

“Can’t stop thinking about what you’d feel like under me,” Keys pants. He watches you with heated eyes as you suck on his tip, stroking the rest of him steadily with both hands. “Or—or on top of me. What you’d t-taste like.”

Without thinking, you shove two fingers past your waistband, and straight through your soaked folds. The contact has you moaning around his cock, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure down his spine. 

Then, you slowly withdraw them. They glisten in the glow of the monitor as you raise them up to his face, and Keys wastes no time leaning forward and capturing them in his mouth. His tongue strokes up to your knuckles eagerly, and as the first taste of you floods his mouth, it seems to unlock something in him. Some rusty, spider-web filled, creaking lock shoves open. 

“Aghhh yeah,” he moans when you withdraw your fingers and suck him deep again. “That’s how I like it. However you do it, that’s how I like it, baby. Holy fuck.” 

Your eyes actually roll back at that, and your hand flies down to circle your clit without thinking. 

His eyes track the movement and he chuckles darkly. “Oh, you like that? You like hearing how well you’re doing?”

You whimper. Fuck, yeah, you do.

He bucks underneath you, like your mouth is just the best thing he’s ever felt in his life. “Just—fucking—on your knees for me? Shit."

Your eyes slide shut, lost in the salty taste of him as his precum mixes with your spit. His hand leaves your head and reaches down to tap your chin. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open in surprise.

You swallow around him in response and his jaw drops. He grips your hair again on instinct and you moan in encouragement as he starts to push you gently up and down his shaft. 

“Is t-this okay?” he asks, breath ragged. 

You nod, lashes fluttering as he hits that soft spot at the back of your throat. 

Truth is, you love this. 

Taking your rigid, calculating co-worker and turning him into something needy and honest. He’s wild, but with an edge of control. And somehow, you just know Keys could take you to the brink and keep you there like no other. 

You hollow your cheeks as he grinds in and out of your wet mouth, pulsing against your tongue and spitting out the filthiest words you’ve ever heard him say in your months of working across from him. 

You rub your throbbing clit faster, and he blinks down, watching you touch yourself to the feel of him in your mouth for all of three seconds before he’s yanking up on your hair. 

Your scalp tingles as you disobey his silent order, determined to have him come in your mouth. His base is slick against your puffy lips, and he damn near chokes on his tongue when your nose hits his stomach. 

“Holy—I’m gonna come,” he grunts, hips bucking. “Shit—baby, you’ve gotta—do you—”

He breaks off with a ragged moan as you grip his thighs and swallow around him—and then he’s spilling down your throat. 

His abs tense and release over and over in your view, and the view is so intoxicating, you’re only a few seconds away from your own release when he finally slips from your drooling mouth.

You don’t know what you expected him to do when he finished. Maybe probably crawl back into that shy, nice-guy, missionary shell of his. Instead, when his chin falls to his chest, his soft brown eyes have gone molten. He reaches down and pulls his pants back up, tucking himself back into his briefs, but he doesn’t bother with the zipper. 

“C’mere,” he demands, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you up. Your legs wobble, but he catches you easily and pulls you down into his lap. “Ride my thigh.”

Your mouth drops open. “Ride your—”

“You heard me.”

In one smooth motion, he plunges a hand under your skirt and yanks your panties down your legs. His knuckles brush your wet folds and you gasp against him, grinding down instinctively against his knee. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. “Taking instructions. Soaking through my pants like that? Fuck yeah.”

Your breasts heave as you try to catch your breath, but now, you start to wonder if maybe you’ll just be in an oxygen debt forever at this point. Because with the way he’s looking up at you right now, there’s no way you can breathe. 

Your hips roll smooth and fast, and when he shifts his leg up slightly, meeting your movements, sparks shoot up your spine. Your head drops back, eyes slipping shut, but Keys is quick to pull your gaze back to his with a hand around the nape of your neck. 

He clicks his tongue. “No, I want to watch you. Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

“God, Keys,” you pant, “you’re a quick learner, I’ll give you that—”

He cuts you off by pinching your nipple through your bra, and when he grabs a handful of your bare ass under your skirt, your lungs officially forget how to expand. 

“Please,” you beg. “Keys—”

His hands fly to your hips, helping you rock back and forth on him. “What is it? What do you need? Need me to touch you?”

You whimper. “Yes.”

“Tell me where.”

You grab his hand and guide it under your skirt, but he pulls back at the last second. 

“That’s not telling me.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you laugh, breathless and irritated. 

He smiles, then. And it’s positively radiant, white teeth winking in the dim light. 

“C’mon, use your words, or else I’ll have to stop,” he warns. 

But you’re not listening, because at that moment, he dips his head and captures your aching breast in his mouth, pulling a deep moan from your throat and putting an arch in your back. 

Your thighs burn, hips slowing to devastatingly desperate swivel in order to keep his mouth on you. The threads of his pants are warm and completely soaked through underneath you, and he’s licking and sucking your breasts through your bra like he’s trying to find a way to imprint his smell, his taste, onto your body.

The duel stimulation feeds that sprawling drive for more. Tremors start to run through your hands, making them claw restlessly at his shoulders and dive into his hair as your orgasm grows closer. 

Suddenly, Keys pulls back. He ignores your whine of protest and blinks up at you from behind his glasses. Your tongue darts over your bottom lip as your eyes drop to his mouth. 

His perfect…perfect fucking mouth. Soft lips, parted just slightly as he breathes heavily beneath you. The timber of his voice reverberates against your stomach as he talks. God, it’d be so easy just to lean in and press your mouth against his, feel that gentle glide of his tongue against yours…

Wait, is he saying something? You can’t fucking think—

“…not going to tell me, I have to stop.”

It’s only when his hands leave your body that the world slows to a stop. 

Cold air rushes in where his hands just were. Now you’re just needy and wet, grinding down on his pants leg in the middle of a dark office. 

“W-what?” you ask dumbly.

He shrugs. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t use your words.”

Your brain feels foggy, like your thoughts are traveling through a cloud, all the blooding your body pooled in your clit instead. 

“But I...” you whimper, “But, what—”

He rolls his eyes. 

“But I—but Keys—I just—” he mocks you, voice going higher on his register, and your mouth drops open in shock. 

He smirks at the look on your face and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “What? you thought I wasn’t serious? You made me do all this—and don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. I watched you getting off on the power trip of it all, and now it’s my turn. So, go ahead. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Where the fuck did your nerdy, shy coworker go? And who have you turned him into? Your breasts heave in his face as you blink down at him, but he doesn’t so much as glance at them. 

“I’m right here,” he urges. “Go ahead. Ask for it. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

After a moment, you finally find your voice. 

“I-I want you to touch me.”

His hands instantly resume their place on your hips and your breath shutters in relief. 

Then he leans in, lips ghosting over your jaw. “That wasn’t so hard, huh? Where do you want to come? On my fingers?”

“Yes!” The word leaves your mouth broken and desperate. 

He hums. “Put it together.”

You exhale sharply, panting towards the ceiling in frustration. “Walter, I want you to finger fuck me until I come.”

He smiles against your throat. “Good girl.”

His hand finds your clit immediately and he rubs tight, hot circles that have your back arching.  

“Oh, God, don’t stop!” you beg. 

Your shirt slips from your shoulder and then his mouth is there, kissing the soft skin like he’s trying to memorize the shape of it. 

The muscles deep in your core flex with your impending pleasure and you writhe against him desperately. Through it all, his hands stay steady, never wavering. Constant, and grounding. 

You raise up on shaky legs as his two middle fingers circle your entrance and your pelvis tilts, eagerly seeking that internal friction. 

He presses in, just a little, and your body welcomes him greedily. The sound of his fingers disappearing inside you making him groan out a slurred curse. 

“Shit, baby—both at once? So wet for me, oh my God.” 

When his fingertips brush that spongey spot that makes you see stars, your chest vibrates with your moan. The pressure on your clit is too much, and not enough, and everything all at once—it’s overwhelming. It's perfect. 

Your hips snap into his palm, driving his fingers deeper and he lets out a choked sound as you whine, needy and breathless. 

“There you go. That’s it,” he murmurs into your neck. His glasses knock into your throat as you tip your head back to give him better access. “Take what you need.”

That white-hot band of pleasure finally snaps as you clench around his fingers, and your orgasm rushes through you in a torrential wave of bliss. Keys slowly withdraws his fingers and helps bring you back to each with soft kisses to your chest, thumbs tracing circles into your thighs as you collapse on top of him. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp, running a hand through your hair, gazing down at him through heavy lids. “That was…”

“Good?” he asks eagerly. 

You smile. “Perfect.”

And you mean it. You really do. 

His fingers brush over your bare shoulder and your breath catches again as your eyes connect with his. The stoplight on the street below turns green, reflecting in his glasses, and because you can’t help it, you smirk down at him. 

“So, about this girl...” he murmurs. 

Your stomach flips. “Yeah?”

“This date—”

“Yeah?” you say again, eagerly, cutting him off. 

As you stare at each other, chests heaving, faces flush, a laugh builds behind your ribs. 

He clears his throat. “I was kinda hoping…you’re free Thursday? I was thinking about that place on Elm and Cross—”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” you murmur, and the rest of his words die against your mouth as you lean down and kiss him. 

a/n: Oh, hi. So, the way I feel about this fictional man, is actually pretty close to the actual definition of feral. Also, I just want to say, there are many more kinds of dirty talk out there, but these categories just fit the plot lol

Also everyone blame Jules (@tellcherhesgone) for putting this idea in my head, because she posted one thing about Keys definitely knowing what GoneWildAudio is, and that shit stuck with me lol

keys taglist: @emotionallyaslut , @subtlesposts, @oliviaharrington, @drifting-daydream, @dracomalfoypilled , @mysticfluffyness

It felt real to you, and that’s what pulled you back to him every single time. Your friends knew that you knew better than to let yourself fill Steve’s needs for a while, but every time he tells you that he needs you, you’re already sprinting out of your front door, making a twenty minute walk a ten minute one instead.

You knew what you were to Steve, you were too aware of it. A temporary placeholder for him to clear his head, a craving for physical closeness. The physical closeness was nothing compared to the distance emotionally. Once he rolled to his side of the bed, all the sweet words were taken back, and they suddenly meant nothing.

What lingered in your mind was how aware you were that you were actively being compared to his ex, Nancy. He never said anything about her, but he didn’t have to for you to know. Sometimes he would whisper her name to you, completely unaware, and you’d lay there staring at the ceiling, wishing that it was your name that he was mumbling.

Between the gentle brush of his lips against yours and the quiet grunts, you pushed all the regret to the back of your mind, because the best you could do was pretend. It was all an act, the sweet talk and the quiet ‘I love you’ that would accidentally slip from his lips when he was getting close.

You weren’t sure what hurt more, the whole performance he put on for you, or how you weren’t ever really his, and that wasn’t a thought in his mind, it was always Nancy. To make it worse if that was possible, Nancy is one of the sweetest girls, and you can see exactly why he’s so stuck on her.

The only sound filling the bedroom is your heavy breaths combined, and you glance over at him, watching as he tilts his head back against the pillows, his hands rested on his bare chest. Every time it gets to this part of the night, you can’t help but want more from him so that you don’t have to face the distance and the change in his behaviour, and so that you can feel something somewhat close to love, closeness.

“Pretty good.” He mumbles, the two familiar words that you have gotten used to hearing from him. He’s already slipping his shirt back on, pulling his jeans back up.

You hum, glancing around the room as he gets changed. For some reason, you can’t get yourself to look at him when he’s changing, as if he wasn’t just bare and on top of you moments before.

“Yeah, pretty good.” You repeat quietly, turning to slip your clothes back on, staring at the wall blankly.

The rustling beside you pauses, and it’s followed by his voice after a minute. “You’re quiet tonight.”

A breathless laugh falls from you, not an amused one, mostly to fill the silence. “Just exhausted today, that’s all. Long day.” You lie.

“Work?” He asks.

“Yeah, customers pestering me and whatever. Just the usual.” You whisper, turning your head to face him.

He nods, and silence follows, uncomfortably. To fill the silence, you let words flow from your mouth without putting too much thought into them.

“Is it going to stay this way?” You ask.

“Stay what way?” He asks, completely oblivious.

You sigh. “Me coming here for a while and then leaving straight after.”

“This isn’t anything to me or to you. Don’t get too comfortable.” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Right, yeah.” You nod.

You slip out of his bed, sliding your jacket on before making your way out of his bedroom. The walk out of his bedroom was always the worst part, because you knew that you would be back to do it all over again. It wasn’t because you had to, and you knew you were putting yourself through it all, but you were just like him, you craved the closeness too.

You’ve barely let the night before process before you’re back in his bed again, underneath him as he pants against your shoulder. Your hands slide up and down his back, trying to memorise every part of him as if it’s not going to hurt you even more doing so.

His voice breaks, softer, like you’ve never heard before. “I love you.”

Hearing those words should make you feel something, and you shouldn’t even have to think that much into them, but you do. He doesn’t mean it, he never does. Those words are carelessly thrown around like he doesn’t really know what love feels like.

“I love you.” You whisper, but it’s genuine, something that he could never be. Your hands slip through his damp hair from the sweat.

His hands grip your hips, keeping you close to himself as he stills inside of you, shuddering. He collapses on top of you, brushing his lips against your neck before he slowly pulls back, rolling to lay beside you, breathless. The regret washes over you immediately, and the emptiness spreads inside of you.

“Steve?” His name comes out sweet.

“Hm?” He raises his eyebrows, resting his head on his hand.

Your eyes flick over his face. “Do you mean it?” You ask.

“Mean what?” He asks, putting on that clueless act again.

“Don’t do this.” You sigh.

“Do what?” He asks.

You huff, pushing yourself to sit up. “You’re doing it again. You know exactly what you’re doing.” You pause before speaking again. “You keep telling me that you love me.”

“Do I? I haven’t noticed that I do.” He shrugs.

“Every single time.” You sigh, shifting to tuck your legs under yourself.

“It doesn’t mean anything. Just some words, y’know.” He says carelessly, grabbing his shirt and slipping it on.

You blink at him, shocked at how careless he is. “Just some words?” You repeat.

“Yeah, words. Heard of them before?” He asks.

A surprised laugh leaves your lips, and you shake your head. “You throw them around like this means something to you.”

“Well, it doesn’t. Stop getting yourself wrapped up in all of this. You’re digging too much into this.” He mutters.

“Why do you do this, Steve? You’re really sweet to me when you’re on top of me, and as soon as we’re done, you’re a completely different person.” You admit, glaring at him as tears prick at your eyes.

He simply shrugs at you, and you stare at him, slowly shaking your head.

“Is she still engraved into your mind? You’re so far gone for her.” You say in disbelief.

He scoffs. “Do not bring her up like this.”

“No, because this is what this is.” You laugh breathlessly.

“It’s not.” He glares.

“Keep telling yourself that, Steve.” You mumble, turning your back to him, slipping your clothes back on and walking out of his bedroom without another word, leaving him alone to think about what you told him.

It was a little relieving finally managing the words out to him, not that he showed much care for it anyway. You got your answer, just not the one you wanted.

No argument could stop you from running back to him, because you were too far gone in the process to let it hold you back. You kept going back to his house, every night, like you were proving a point to him that he couldn’t accept. He continued to whisper sweet words into your ear, but it felt more forced, like he was trying to bring the reaction out of you.

It turned into something that was built up from anger instead of craving closeness, and it only boosted the two of you more. Either the room was filled with tense silence, or you would be arguing straight after, bringing Nancy up even though he claimed that her name was forbidden in his room.

The more that he tried to deny you, the more you were trying to fuel his anger. It had turned into a competition that only you and Steve were aware about.

“Am I doing good for you, Steve?” You ask from underneath him with a sweet smile. “Do I bring you as much relief as she did?”

He rolls his eyes, pressing his lips to yours to quieten you down, your words making him quicken his pace. “Stop talking.”

That only made you grin, knowing that you were getting to him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re ruining the moment.” He grunts, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Oops.” You grin, quietening down, dragging your nails through his hair, tilting your head back.

Your questions were relentless, and you constantly brought it up, not letting his mind live free for one moment. He was okay with the distance, so you added to it more, creating an even bigger gap between the two of you. You started to leave straight after, not even bothering to make small talk with him like he usually does.

He starts to catch onto the distance, and you notice immediately. Not that he says anything, but you watch as his face drops every time you get up to leave. You started to act like the careless one and the distant one instead, because that was better than feeling everything all at once.

It was freeing not feeling regret every time you walked out of his bedroom, and you started to shut him out instead. The only way to stop it was to stop caring. He started to pull you closer. His hands rested on your lower back like he didn’t want you to leave him alone, like he really did want you. He started to slow his pace, dragging out your time together as much as he could.

One night he had enough, and as soon as you tried to stand up to get back into your clothes, he gently grabbed your wrist, tugging you back towards himself. You blinked at him slowly, trying to process what he’s doing.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“What do you mean?” You ask cluelessly.

He squints at you. “Why are you leaving?” He asks.

An amused laugh leaves your lips. “Such a pathetic question. I leave every time, Steve. That’s what you want, so I’m respecting that.”

“Says who?” He asks.

“You, Steve.” You roll your eyes.

He blinks at you a few times. “What?”

“Don’t worry, I used to be just as shocked as you when you told me to leave.” You laugh breathlessly, trying to shift away, but he doesn’t let go. “Why, do you want me to stay?” You ask.

“I never said that.” He mumbles.

“Oh, so you’re okay if I leave now then?” You ask.

“No.” He says quickly.

You roll your eyes. “You’re too confusing.”

His mood shifts, and he almost has a desperate look in his eyes, something unfamiliar. “Stay.” He whispers.

“Why?” You ask.

“You’re suddenly shoving me away.” He sighs.

“Okay? Why does this matter all of a sudden? I can recall you doing the exact same thing to me.” You hum.

He huffs, brushing his thumb over your wrist. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Clearly.” You mumble, earning a roll of his eyes from him.

“I wasn’t looking for this to be anything at that point.” He whispers, slipping his hand onto your side, resting there. “I mean, you were right.”

“About what, exactly?” You say, more just so that he can admit it to you.

“I needed an escape from her.” He says with a guilty look. “But it hasn’t felt like that in a while. A very long time.”

“How do I know that you’re being honest when all you’ve done is throw words around?” Your voice cracks, and you finally let down the act that you’ve been trying to hard to keep up.

His face shifts into something softer. “I know that I was careless with what I would say to you, but I really mean what I say now. I want you to stay instead of leaving. I hate watching you leave this room.”

You shake your head, averting your gaze away from him. “I don’t know.”

“Please.” He whispers, sliding his hand through your hair. “This isn’t all I want from you at all.”

“How am I supposed to know if you’re still stuck on her or not?” You ask.

“I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you if I was stuck on her.” He says, tangling his hands into your hair. “Look, I know I’ve been a dick about this for a while, but I can’t pretend that I love seeing you leaving me every night.”

“Yeah, you have been a dick about this.” You repeat back.

He nods quickly. “I know.”

“What do you suggest we do then?” You ask.

“We can do something that doesn’t consist of you coming into my bedroom. I want to take you out somewhere special. I want to get to know who you really are. Not who you are when you’re in my bed, but who you are outside of this.” He says, sighing and resting his forehead against yours.

You let silence follow for a moment. “Okay.”

“Thank you.” He says, sounding more relieved than he’s ever been. “I’ll make this all up to you. You’re more than just a girl that gets in my bed, you’re so much more than that. You’re a really special girl to me.”

“You’re more than just a boy’s bed that I get into.” You laugh, letting your head drop to his shoulder, and he carefully pulls you down beside himself.

“I’m glad.” He whispers.

The arm tightened its hold on you to pull you in closer so that small kisses could be worked against your shoulder. A sleepy, "Morning," was mumbled into your skin. You smiled, leaning into the gesture as you returned the sentiment.

"Good morning, Walter."

The coder shuddered, a pleased tingle shooting up his spine. It was always "Keys" this, "Keys" that with him, had been ever since high school, but you? You were the only one who used his real name. He wasn't sure how to describe it, but it added something special, intimate, even, to your relationship.

You sighed as your boyfriend moved his large hand up your body to your chest, gently cupping your boobs through your loose tank top. Shifting a bit into a comfier position, your ass brushed against a familiar (and very much welcomed) hardness developing under his sweatpants. Biting your lip, you purposefully started to grind against it.

Keys groaned, leaning his head back into his pillow.

"Oh my God."

His hand briefly squeezed before letting go, using two deft fingers to work circles into a nipple. You moaned, looking over your shoulder at him. You brought a hand up to his jaw, silently pleading as you searched over his face. Swallowing, Keys glanced down at your lips before leaning in for a passionate kiss.

The merry chirps of birds carried into the room over the soft smacks of your mouths meeting and parting repeatedly. There was no rush; Just content sighs, the slow roll of your ass back against him, and his nimble touch against your chest.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, your boyfriend looked over you with lust-blown pupils.

"God, I missed you," he lowly muttered. "And this."

"Me too," you said, smiling gingerly as you pushed your chest further into his hand. "My hands, mm, they're just not as good when I touch myself. It's not the same without you. "

"Oh, my poor baby. That's awful," Keys ribbed, pulling your tank top up over your tits. "I'm sorry for being such a bad boyfriend."

Even though you knew he was joking, you thought that statement couldn't have been any further from the truth. Still, you gave him a cheeky smile as you trailed your hand down his body. His hazel eyes snapped onto the movement, eager to see where it'd end. His own hand idly took one of your pebbled nipples between two fingers to pinch. You slotted your arm between your warm bodies (somewhat awkwardly, you had to begrudgingly admit), settling your smaller hand on the hard bulge jutting out from his sweatpants.

As Keys brought your lips back onto his, you cupped your hand and slowly jerked off his (impressively) big dick up and down. You almost wanted to laugh out loud, suddenly remembering those early sexual experiences with your adorkable boyfriend when he was still insecure about his size. The poor guy had been apologizing over it, calling it “excessive” and treating his gift like it was somehow a turn off. He couldn’t have been more wrong, of course, and it was through your worship of his cock with your words and body that he squashed those needlessly negative views of himself for good.

You pulled away just enough so that your lips were brushing against Keys’, your eyelashes fluttering as you met his half lidded eyes. Taking a small breath in, you whispered,

“This all for me?”

His hips bucked into your touch, a low whine escaping him.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah, all for you.”

You smiled. Keys rarely swore, but when he did, it tended to be during sex. It was a proud accomplishment for you when you’d draw out that first curse word, like a “checkmate” in chess, or getting down to your last card in Uno. Sometimes you wondered if you had your own unique quirks in bed that he’d keep mental tabs on.

“I know it is,” you teased, nipping his lower lip. Keys gasped. “I just like hearing you say it.”

Keys took his hand off your chest and brought it up to your face. Oh, you knew exactly what he wanted. Keeping eye contact, you turned your head slightly to accept his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue lathed all around his slightly salty skin, caressing the pads of the same digits he’d use to type out lines of code for hours on end, day in and day out. You didn’t flinch when he pushed them further into your mouth for you to suck the same way you’d treat his cock.

Humming, you gave him a wink and moved your hand lower on his sweats to massage his balls.

“H-holy shit,” Keys sputtered, pulling his fingers out of your mouth to squeeze one of your tits like a stress relief ball. You moaned, clenching your thighs together in an effort to relieve the lustful ache that was building between them. Your boyfriend groaned against your cheek as his other hand came up to your hip, toying with the waistband of your cotton panties.

“Jesus, babe, you’re playing pretty dirty here,” he mumbled as you moved you hand back up to pet his dick.

“Mmm, no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, smiling in faux innocence. Huffing, Keys flicked his wet fingers rapidly against one of your sensitive nipples. You cried out, arching your back further into him.

“Oh fuck. Walter, that’s—”

“Not fair?” He cooed. “I know, I know. But you started it.”

The hand on your hip gently pushed against you to get you to move further onto your side away from Keys. You felt Keys brush your hand away from his bulge as he got ready to pull his sweatpants off. Your breath hitched, and you busied yourself with pulling your panties down your legs and kicking them off. The nose that you loved so much nuzzled against the back of your neck as Keys once again took hold of your hip for purchase, moving so that the front of his body was pressed flush against your backside.

You moaned the second you felt that hard, velvety, incredibly warm thickness lay against the crack of your ass.

Keys chuckled incredulously. It still blew his mind sometimes that, after all those years of being passed over by his crushes for guys who weren’t lovers in any sense of the word, he’d actually be here on a lazy Saturday morning with someone who reacted so excitedly when he didn’t even really do anything. He kissed the side of your neck in gentle appreciation as you whimpered, leaning into his touch. The coder started to work his hips against yours slowly, measured, wanting to enjoy this foreplay a little while longer before jumping into the main event and filling you with his throbbing hard cock.

You, on the other hand, whined in mild frustration. Your boyfriend often found creative ways to edge you, and this was definitely him dragging things out just because he could. To test your theory, you started to move your hand down between your legs to ease some of the pent up tension in your desperate little clit.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Keys asked, gently reaching over to stop you in your tracks by the wrist.

“Ugh, Walter, c’mon,” you groaned, rubbing your thighs together. “Fucking give it to me already.”

“Well that’s not very polite,” he said matter-of-factly, continuing to glide himself against your butt at that same frustratingly slow pace. “Nice girls get what they want when they behave and...”

Keys nipped at the junction between your neck in shoulder, making you gasp.

“…When they say please. Think you could do that, babe?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groaned, trying to wrestle your wrist out of his hold. He tutted, lifting it up to your chest and pinning it in place.

“I’ll fuck you when you ask for it properly. C’mon, I know you’ve got it in you.”

The movements against your ass stayed at that same slow pace, although now your boyfriend was putting more of his weight into it so that the drags were heavier. You moaned, turning your head to look at him needily. Keys just looked back with an amused smirk, motioning with a purse of his lips for you to turn back around. Huffing, you complied.

“Well?”

“Walter,” you stiffly started, shifting in place. “Please fuck me.”

“Mm, you can do better than that. Try again.”

“Oh, come on!” You whined.

You pressed your lower half further against his hips, successfully drawing a groan out of him. Precum was starting to leak out of his flushed tip onto your lower back. He almost gave up his act, wanting to pull you on top of him and fuck up into you as you threw your head back against his shoulder, screaming his praises, but he couldn’t let you “win” that easily. Not when he had your pleasure under his control with some basic dry humping.

“You come on,” Keys countered, trying to steady his voice as he let go of you to hold your hip in place. “Say, ‘Walter, can you please fuck me’?”

“You’re mean.”

“No, that’s not right. ‘Walter, can you please fuck me with your big fat cock’?”

You cried out, his words stroking your core in a way his dick currently wasn’t.

“What? I didn't quite catch that,” Keys drawled, inching the fingers on your hip more inwards towards your abdomen.

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered, suddenly becoming aware of the precum pressing against your back. “Walter, I…”

“Mhm, that’s it. ‘Walter, can you please fuck my greedy little pussy with your big fucking cock because I want you so goddamn bad.’”

You gasped, eyes widening. Where did that come from? You didn’t know that your boyfriend was even capable of those words. With a morning hoarseness lining your voice, you shakily asked,

“Walter, ah, c-can you please fuck…”

“My…?” Keys said, trailing off with a curious lilt as his fingers crept right above your mons pubis through your panties. You swallowed.

“My…please fuck my greedy little pussy.”

“With what? My fingers? My nose?”

You groaned, turning your head back to him with a sexually frustrated pout.

“Please fuck my greedy little pussy with your big fucking cock because I want you so goddamn bad,” you hurriedly recited, your eyes searching his hazel ones in a pointed dare for him to deny you. Smiling, Keys pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“Sure thing, babe.”

You sighed, turning back over and comfortably adjusting into the mattress as he let go of you to grab a bottle of lube from his nightstand drawer. No matter how wet you were, not even if you were so wet that you could fill a bucket, your boyfriend always had to slick himself up with the viscous liquid to fuck you properly. As you faced the other side of the room, you heard the click of the bottle cap opening, your pussy clenching in response. The lewd sound of Keys dribbling the lube onto his bobbing cock and wetly sliding it up and down seemed to drown out the sound of the singing birds and bustling city outside. The bottle was set back down on the nightstand, and he laid on his side once again behind you. You nearly jumped when you felt his warm breath against the corner of your jaw, right under your ear.

“Lift your leg up for me,” Keys instructed, pressing a lazy kiss against you when you complied. “Good girl.”

Your foot partially rested against his thigh as he gripped his cock and guided it towards your eagerly awaiting lips. He slid the slick head once, twice against your dripping hole, letting himself catch against the rim. Keys let go of his dick to hold up your thigh, then eased his hips forward to push into you.

“Oh my God,” you moaned, brows knitting together as, finally, your wonderful boyfriend was giving you what you’d been craving all morning. Keys groaned as he easily slid in to fill out your tight little cunt, relishing in the dirty ‘squelch’ he heard when you took him all the way to the hilt. He stayed still for a moment in case you needed to adjust to his larger-than-average size. You didn’t (thankfully), but you appreciated the thought nonetheless.

It was when you shifted your hips against his that Keys started to move. His pace, much like it’d been before he was inside of you, was relaxed. There was no sense of urgency to be found with him as he thrusted in and out at a measured pace. You found yourself not minding all that much, despite how ready you were a minute ago to hop out of bed and lock yourself in the bathroom to take care of yourself it he didn’t stop teasing you. You closed your eyes, content, focusing on the rhythmic stretch and drag along your walls.

“Now this, God, I really missed this,” Keys mumbled, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw. You smiled, leaning into the sweet gesture.

“Could have this all the time if you wanted.”

“Oh, I want. Believe me.”

You refrained from saying, “You should take some more time off of work, then,” which your boyfriend secretly appreciated. He’d beat himself up more than you could ever know about his second relationship with his job, grateful that you were still willing to stick by him supportively, dotingly (within reason), allowing him to enjoy you like this. Honestly, you could have another, more available guy at your beck and call if you wanted. But you didn’t want another guy, you just wanted him, and so he was going to take every opportunity that he could to show you just how much he didn’t take you for granted.

Keys’ unoccupied hand trailed up and down your upper torso, occasionally stopping to play with one of your boobs. You mewled, pushing yourself into his touch. Your boyfriend chuckled breathlessly. His other hand kneaded its long fingers against the soft fat of your thigh. The next glide of his cock into you had you reaching behind you to paw at his arm.

“W-Walter, please, I need it.”

His breath hitched.

“Y-yeah? You need me?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, I need you!”

The coder nodded, thickly swallowing to alleviate his throat that seemingly dried at your earnest statement. Who was he to deny you when you when you sounded so syrupy sweet like that? His hips worked on their own, diving in and out of you stronger now. You cried out, turning your head to try and find his lips. He met you halfway, groaning as he firmly pressed his hand flat against your stomach. The more heated your make out grew, the faster his thrusts became. His balls were starting to stickily clap against your plump lower lips, sending a lusty shiver through both of you.

“Like this, right?” Keys asked into your kiss. “You needed me like—this—yeah?”

You let out a loud moan as he punctuated his question with a particularly hard thrust.

“Y-yeah, yeah, fuck, just like that, baby.”

“Oh yeah? You like it when I get a little rough with you?”

“Mhm!”

“Fuck, c’mere,” Keys grunted, moving to tuck the leg he was holding up around his legs so that your lower half was laying on top of him.

With his hand now free, he pressed his middle finger against your clit and started to rub circles into the neglected button. Your hips jerked into his hand as you let out another loud (and pornographic) noise. Your pussy was clenching and throbbing against your boyfriend’s cock, spurring him on to fuck you harder. He let out his own loud groan.

If you got another noise complaint from management after this, then fuck, it was more than worth it.

Sweat beaded along your forehead and clung to crevices and contours of your body. Your breasts were bouncing along with your boyfriend’s movements, which his hazel eyes immediately snapped onto. The large hand on your stomach slid up to rest right underneath them and feel the soft weight collide into it. Keys added more pressure to his pinpointed circles against your clit. You panted, pressing the back of a hand against your mouth and bringing the other up to card through his luscious brown hair.

“Ah, you’re gonna make me cum,” you admitted, lightheaded with your eyelashes fluttering.

“Mm, that’s kind of the point,” Keys cheekily replied, grinning against your cheek. You groaned, tightening your grasp into his locks and pulling. His hips stuttered in response.

“Don’t be a smart ass,” you huffed.

“Alright, ah, point taken,” he said, apologetically pecking you.

Whatever sarcastic response you had for him died out on your lips as Keys suddenly started to fuck you harder than he had in a long time, his heavy balls slapping against you as he started to give into the primal side of his brain that reminded him that he was entitled to an orgasm too. Choked whines and cries left your dry mouth as you tossed your head back, holding on for dear life onto your boyfriend’s hair as his big fucking dick absolutely wrecked your tight walls. His index finger joined the middle one to help bully your poor clit, driving you faster and faster towards that climatic edge where you knew you’d be absolutely screaming once you fell off of it.

Keys groaned and panted, hugging you closer against his lanky body.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna, yeah,” he babbled, his eyes starting to roll back. “Gonna come too, shit.”

You bit your lip, moving your free hand away from your face and down to your pelvis. Keys just barely caught the movement.

“Wha, what are you—oh, fuck!”

Your hand was positioned in a way that his balls were forced to brush against it as he fucked you. Oh, it was a dirty move. Super un-fucking-fair. But he loved it. He loved you. His aching cock started to twitch in you.

“Fuck, fuck, babe, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Yeah, yeah, cum in me!” You begged, tears lining your eyes as your boyfriend shoved his lips onto yours for you to swallow up his filthy moans.

His hips clapped one last time against your ass as his cum shot into you, your body sobbing along with your vocal chords as you felt a sudden heat flood your slick wet cunt. The hand that wasn’t tending to your stiff nub moved to roughly pinch and roll one of your peaked nipples. Without much of a warning other than a strained moan, Keys shallowly started thrusting into you to ride out his climax. Your head swam as you felt your hips tense up and your pussy start to pulsate.

“Oh God, I can feel it, I feel it, yeah,” he pathetically whined against you. "Come for me babe, come for me."

Between his shallow post-nut fucking, the fingers relentlessly rubbing your clit, and his cute little noises pressing into your flushed face, you couldn’t take it anymore. You threw your head back as you came, your hips sloppily jerking into his hand while your back arched far off of him and the thoroughly damp bedsheets. Your boyfriend watched the whole thing with wide eyes, dazzled.

God, you couldn't be any more perfect.

You rode out your orgasm against his thick cock, aimlessly feeling around for a sense of stability. Keys understood perfectly, repositioning his arms to cradle you gently as your body tried to come down from its high. A nice breeze blew through the cracked window, cooling the two of you down somewhat, but not nearly enough. You dry swallowed, shaking your head like the physical movement would give your racing mind some much needed clarity.

“Good girl, you did good,” Keys weakly remarked, kissing your sweaty face in reverence. “You always do good, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” was all you could manage to say as your breathing started to even out.

Your fingers tingled. Your toes tingled. You were acutely aware of your hair sticking to your face. You slowly blinked and turned to face your amazing boyfriend, your eyes combing over his long wispy eyelashes and all the pretty moles dotting his handsome face like stars.

You leaned forward to softly kiss him, sighing as he carefully pulled his spent cock out of you. The combination of lube and cum that immediately flowed out of your hole had you mildly overstimulated, whining as you realized just how disgusting the bed was now. Well, it was a good thing that you two happened to do this on laundry day.

“I’m sorry we don’t get to do this more often,” a quiet voice spoke up against your lips. You pulled away, watching as Keys nervously looked down at your ass like it was the most interesting thing in the world (well, to be fair it kind of was to him). You hummed, turning your body in his arms to fully face him. His hazel eyes slowly dragged back up to meet your own.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you reassured him. “I get it.”

“I know you do, and that’s a quality I really like about you, but still. I just…overthink sometimes, I guess.”

“Well I mean, as long as most of those thoughts are about me, I think we’ll be okay, Walter.”

Keys quirked his lips in good humor, amazed at your uncanny ability to stop his seeds of self-flagellation dead in its tracks before it blossomed into full on self-sabotage. Sighing, he sat up and stretched out, taking in the sight of the messed up bedsheets. Looking next at your sweat lined body, he figured he probably looked no different.

“We should probably shower before we do anything today,” he said, scratching at the side of his face.

“You think?” You snorted, resting your head on a fist as you peered up at him with a smirk. Keys rolled his eyes, playfully ruffling your hair (and enjoying your shriek) before hopping out of bed to get to the bathroom and get a cold shower going. You watched him go, eyes glued to his bare ass till it turned the corner and out of view, at which point you flopped back onto the bed with a content sigh and full smile.

The humidity was too high? He was annoyed. The Colts didn’t win a game? He was sulking. The universe didn’t align to his every whim and need? He was pissed and he was going to make it everyone else’s problem.

And tonight, this was your issue, because you were scheduled to work the closing shift with Steve.

Great.

Robin says something to him that you don’t hear before slipping out of the booth, scurrying over to where you’re hanging your belongings up on the coatrack and hurriedly whispers, “He was up all night trying to find Dustin again, got no sleep. Rare form today.”

“I don’t understand how you’re friends with him,” you whisper back, letting your purse fall to the ground. “He’s an asshole, Rob.”

She makes a face, tilting her hand back and forth in the air as if to say, well…

“Steve’s a good guy when you get to know him,” she settles on saying. “Anyway, I have to run or I’ll miss my date. Have fun, be nice, and don’t kill each other, alright?”

“No promises,” you mutter, and Robin laughs as she skips out the door.

Steve is, if possible, even more irate when you slip into the booth, avoiding eye contact and gunning for the chair, hoping to keep conversation to the minimum for the next six hours.

He, on the other hand, has no such desire.

“Do you not know how to show up to work on time?” he huffs out. “Seriously, a couple of minutes is one thing, but half an hour—”

“And spend more time with your sparkling personality than I have to?” you snap without looking at him. “I think not. Besides, it’s not as though I suddenly have control over what the hell the military is doing.”

“It’s called planning,” he snarks.

You breathe in, once, sharply, and bite your tongue.

But Steve isn’t content to simply drop it, the way he’s never been content to drop it. And honestly, you don’t pretend to understand the intricacies of his life; You understand that he looks out for a bunch of kids, that one of them is in a coma, that another one is going off the deep end and taking all of his grief out on Steve. And at one point in time, that would’ve been more than enough for you to give him your deepest sympathies, to extend a level of grace only given to the most extreme of cases.

Except—

Then you’d met Steve, and he’d taken one look at you, wrinkled his nose, and asked Robin, “Did we really need to hire someone else?”

Your relationship hadn’t been anything better than adversarial ever since.

“—could take your job a little more seriously,” he continues to rant. “It’s not exactly like we’re flush with cash around here, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of people looking for jobs—”

The chair you’re sitting in scrapes against the floor as you stand abruptly, whirling around to find Steve standing entirely too close.

You see red, demanding, “God, what will it take for you to just shut up?”

Steve grins. “You could suck my dick.”

There’s a moment where the two of you are left standing there, chest to chest, nose to nose, and you can see the dare in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. The fact that he doesn’t actually mean it, but he wants to push your buttons, to get you to react more than you ever have before.

He doesn’t have any intentions on you calling his bluff, and you’re determined to not lose this game.

“Fine,” you say sweetly. You move past him, snagging his wrist as you do. “But not in here. I don’t think Robin would be too happy if she found out.”

For the first time tonight, Steve doesn’t have a response. He doesn’t even fight you as you drag him along to a nearby closet, yanking the door open, shoving him in, and slamming it shut behind you. The room is plunged into darkness and you feel your way over to him, your fingers grazing the soft material of his sweatshirt. 

His hands find your waist, skimming up your sides until his palms are pressed into your cheeks, his breath hot on your lips, but before he can get any bright ideas, you say, “I said I’d suck your dick, not make out with you.”

You can practically feel his frown as he shifts his hands back, tangling them with your hair. 

“Fine,” he says shortly. “Then do it.”

That’s all the warning you get before you’re pushed to your knees.

You don’t waste any time reaching for his belt, undoing it with shaky hands as he continues to run his fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots the smallest amount when you pull his jeans and boxers down just enough to take him in hand.

A gasp gets caught in your throat when, even half hard, your thumb and pointer finger barely meet.

He lets out a throaty laugh. “Find something you like?”

“Fuck you.”

His fingers tighten in your hair. “Do you ever shut up? God.”

And as his thumb traces a path down your jaw, stopping just as it reaches your lips, you spit out, “Make me.”

His grip on your chin tightens as his thumb dips between your teeth, pressing down on your tongue and drawing your mouth open. Spit pools as you give him a few rough pumps, the tip of his cock jutting against your chin. He drops his other hand, then, placing it over yours as he taps the tip against your lips.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, pulling his thumb back and guiding himself in.

The heady taste of precome spreads across your tastebuds as he sinks into your mouth, his cock sliding over your tongue as you take him deeper. He lets out a low grunt, and for a moment, you wish that you’d had the foresight to turn the light on so you could see the face he’s making as he hits the back of your throat.

You gag and he lets out a quiet whimper as you pull back, instinctively looking up and wishing that he could see you as well. But even just hearing the sounds he’s making — you can imagine the wrecked look on his face, the flush spreading across his cheeks, and it’s enough to have arousal coursing through your own body.

(Because even though he acts like he has the power in this situation, you both know well enough that you’re the one wielding the proverbial blade.)

He guides you back down, muttering a curse when you take him just a little bit deeper, swallowing down your gag reflex as your hand twists around the base of his cock. 

And for all of the hell you gave him over everything, you find that you don’t quite mind letting him set the pace. There’s something intoxicating about the precome spilling onto your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, smiling when he moans, and all at once, he grips you by the roots of your hair and thrusts in.

“You can take it,” he grunts. “Fucking know you can. Always mouthing off, always getting in my business — well you’re all quiet now, yeah?”

Despite yourself, you nod, your hands sliding down to hold his thighs as he fucks your face, tears welling int he corners of your eyes. It should be humiliating to let yourself be used like this, to let your asshole coworker treat your body like an object for his own pleasure, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when all of this is turning you on as well.

One tear slips down your cheek, and then two, and in a move that’ll no doubt have you reeling for weeks, his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness gathered there, even as he continues to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

“Just like that,” he says, voice dropping. “You like this, don’t you?”

You hum around his cock, wrapping your arm around his leg to pull him in even closer, to take him even deeper. He swears loudly when the tip of your nose brushes against his bush, and you only manage to hold him there for a few seconds before you’re forced to release, dizzy as you gasp for air.

You sit there, panting, and before Steve can even move, you pull him back closer, desperate to take him even deeper — to take him all the way — to have the exhilarating feeling of choking on his cock pull you further into the depravity you’ve found yourself in. He makes a noise of surprise when you repeat the motion, your nose pressing into his pelvis as he mutters fuck fuck fuck, and you whine when he pulls you off.

“You wanna choke on it that bad, huh?” he asks, condescending and sweet at the same time. “Wanna cry some more for me?”

“Fuck you,” you say, already reaching for his cock again.

But he doesn’t let you.

One hand grips your hair even tighter as he tilts your head back while the other slaps the tip of his cock against your lips, saying, “Open up for me. Gonna see what that bratty mouth of yours can do, yeah? Gonna make me feel good?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, though, before he bullies his way in, setting a brutal pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. More tears spill down your cheeks at the pressure, but there’s no part of you that can deny how good it feels either. To be used without care, to have someone’s aggression taken out on you. Your clit throbs at the thought of doing something more, of seeing what else he can do when he’s as pent up as he has been for months.

He laughs when you gag. “Who knew that all I had to do to get you to be a little nicer to me was use your mouth?”

You pinch his thigh in retaliation — you’ve been perfectly nice, thank you very much — and in response, he presses even further down your throat.

“Gonna let me come in your mouth?” His voice comes out a little more ragged, a little more choppy as his hips stutter.

You nod (as much as you can, anyway, with his thick length prying your jaw apart) and he makes a contented sound, smoothing your hair away from your face in a way that’s entirely at odds with how roughly he’s using your mouth.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Thought so.”

His hand curls into your hair as he presses his front against your face, your nose grinding into it. You squeeze your eyes closed as the head of his cock nears the back of your throat, and then you feel it — the way he fills your mouth and throat, his come flooding it as he finishes deep within you. He pulls back and the last few spurts land on your tongue, mix with the rest already dripping down your throat, and your tongue presses against the underside of his length as you swallow.

You sit there for a moment, the only sound being made is that of your panting, before he pulls you up suddenly, fingers digging into your forearms, his lips crashing into yours. A startled noise escapes you as he presses you back into the wall, hands scrabbling for stability, and in the next moment, he finds the pull chain and the small closet is finally filled with light as he pulls back, his eyes dancing across your face.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, as though he has a reason to be out of breath. “Fuck.”

You open your mouth to retort, to say something, but he only pulls you back in for another kiss, his nose crushing painfully into your cheek and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip.

You let him in.

Steve, it seems, has no issue in tasting his own come in your mouth, eager and willing to explore every corner as you sink further into his hold, your own arms coming around to wrap around his neck. You feel him smile against you, and you can’t stop your own giggles from spilling out when he runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth.

And finally, finally, you pull away, chest heaving as you search his face, his brown eyes gazing at you with something more than thinly veiled annoyance for the first time, and a decision is made before you can think it through.

“If you need some stress relief again,” you say, grinning. “Let me know. Might be able to help.”

He huffs out a laugh, dropping his head against your shoulder.

“And next time I’m having a bad day…” You pry his arms from you and slip past him, cracking open the door just the tiniest amount. You glance over your shoulder to find him staring at you in open surprise. “I know who to call.”