MoonTails

Marc was not a particularly tall man, the top of his head only an inch or two higher than Joan's. His chestnut hair curled slightly around his ears when it got too long, and his eyes were a clear and sparkling blue.

As they walked into the second to last class of the day, Joan found herself watching the way he moved. It could be mesmerizing, she knew, the way his limber body flowed from one motion to the next, and she knew that if she wasn't careful, he would catch her spellbound by his careless gait yet again.

Joan let her mind wander for a moment, counting back, and realized that she had been with Marc for nearly three months already. She glanced at the date in her watch and was shocked to find that the coming weekend would actually be their three month anniversary. Joan froze in her tracks. Had the past semester really come and gone that quickly?

Still wondering where the past twelve weeks had gone, Joan took her seat near the back of the lecture hall, roughly shoving her bag under her chair. She shook her head. Now is not the time to reminisce, now is the time to concentrate, she told herself sharply as the professor began to pass out the first semester final exam. Joan cleared her mind, something she had been practicing doing since her senior year in high school, and armed with a number two pencil dove into the exam.

One hour and fifteen minutes later, Joan left the lecture hall smiling, her lucky number two pencil tucked behind her ear. The test had been difficult but, thanks to Marc, she had been prepared for it. She walked towards the picnic tables under the old Elm trees, confident that she had not only passed her Sociology final, but had done well. Ten minutes later, she saw Marc exit the building and, after a quick look around, walk towards her.

"How'd you do?" he asked as he cleared the thin layer of snow off the bench and settled himself between her feet.

Joan looked down at her boyfriend. "Passed with flying colors," she told him. "I must have had a really good tutor," she teased leaning forward to kiss him.

Marc raised his arm and tangled his fingers in her long, soft hair, pulling her forward to deepen the kiss. With a smirk, Joan not only obliged, but slid down off the picnic table and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Marc was a good man, Joan thought absently as she took his face in her hands. He didn't give her the 'butterflies in the stomach' feeling that she had once thought were love, but he was kind and gentle, and most of all he made her happy. Could this be love? she wondered as he pulled her tighter against him. But before she could explore that thought any further, Marc began kissing his way up her neck, and when his lips reached her already tingling earlobe, all thoughts were wiped from Joan's mind.

Later that night Joan lay in her bed, on the second floor of her parents' house. As she stared up at the ceiling, her mind flew through millions of possible scenarios. In three days she would have been with Marc for a quarter of a year, three months of her life with one man who had never hurt her, had never doubted her. A man who had dealt with her eccentricities with a grin and had never once asked her for more than she was willing to give, emotionally or physically. Even when things became heated between them, he had never once taken advantage of her weakened resolve. Could he really be the one? Joan asked herself as her eyes followed the lines and cracks of her ceiling. Do I love him enough to give him that much of myself? But before she could come up with an answer she had fallen asleep. And while she slept she dreamt of a different boy, one who she had always thought would be the one, the one who had broken her heart into a million pieces. When she woke the next morning, Joan remembered nothing of the dream, and in her haste to prepare for her final exam of the semester, she failed to notice the small crest shaped indentations on her palms where her own nails had bitten into the skin while she had dreamt.

The morning went by quickly for Joan, and before she knew it her Civics final was over and she was free. Marc's final exam had started an hour later than hers so she was surprised when her cell phone rang only twenty minutes after she has settled herself in the campus library to wait for him.

Glancing at the digital read out Joan smiled and flipped open her phone.

"Is my little genius done with his Calculus exam already?" she teased as she shoved a well worn paperback novel into her bag.

Marc laughed, "That test was a joke. I finished it in forty minutes flat. Are you still on campus?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm at the library, just finishing cleaning out my folders. I still can't believe how much crap can accumulate in just a few months," she told him as she dragged herself to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at your car."

"Cool, I'll see you in a minute," he responded, then disconnected.

As Joan made her way to the main parking lot, she thought about the questions she had asked herself the night before, and she finally had an answer.

"You coming over tonight?" Marc asked before Joan had even settled herself beside him in his secondhand silver Camry.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss your end of semester party for the world," she laughed as she secured her seatbelt. "Do you need me to bring anything?"

"Just that beautiful smile," he told her with a wink as he shifted into gear and motored out of the parking lot.

Two hours later she climbed into her own car, a bag of leftovers from her lunch with Marc in hand. Absently, she buckled her seatbelt, turned the engine over and was halfway home by the time she realized where she was. Three blocks from home she turned into the parking lot of a small store that she had never visited before. Inside she purchased an iced tea, two candy bars and, blushing furiously, a pale gray box of condoms. Once back in her car, Joan buried the small box in the bottom of her purse, cracked open her favorite tea and unwrapped the first candy bar. Three blocks later she pulled into the driveway of the home she still shared with her parents, the candy bars gone, the tea forgotten.

Marc's post semester parties had always been a casual affair, or so Joan had been told, just a few of his friends blowing off steam after a week of fried brains and near neural breakdowns, but this would be the first of his parties that she would attend. She stood in front of her closet, unsure of what to wear. Finally she settled on her favorite pair of fitted jeans and a form-fitting turtleneck in her favorite shade of purple. Joan laid the outfit out across her bed then selected a pair of black heeled boots and a silver belt to go with it. After placing the boots and belt neatly at the foot of her bed, Joan undressed, and, wrapping herself in a towel, made her way to the shower.

The hot water felt good as it rolled off Joan's narrow shoulders and down her back, the comforting heat of it melting away her worry. She reveled in the pressure of the water flowing over her, and as she began to wash, she found herself imagining an entirely different set of hands running over her slick skin. By the time she made her way back to her bedroom, wrapped in her oversized blue towel, her cheeks were pink, the flush having nothing to do with the now steamy bathroom.

She dressed carefully, leaving her hair loose because she knew Marc preferred it that way. Standing in front of the full length mirror hanging on the back of her door, she inspected herself, added her two favorite rings and the silver necklace he had given her for their two month anniversary to her outfit before lightly applying cosmetics and zipping on her boots. Ten minutes later, she made her way downstairs, through the kitchen, calling over her shoulder to her mother that she probably wouldn't be home that night, and out the back door to her ten year old white Acclaim.

The eight block drive to Marc's apartment seemed to pass in mere seconds, and when Joan lifted her purse off the passenger seat, it seemed somehow heavier than before.

She walked into the small apartment without knocking and was not surprised to find several of their friends already there.

"Joan." Marc greeted her with a grin. "I was about to call you and see if you wanted me to come pick you up."

"Nah, I was just running a little behind," she told him, her face turning a pale pink as she recalled the reason for her tardiness.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, closing the door behind them.

"You want a drink?"

She let out a breath, "I would love one, what do you have?"

"I picked up a few wine coolers for you, I know you're not a big fan of beer or the heavy stuff, they're in the fridge. I'll get you one." And with that he disappeared through a small doorway.

Two minutes later, he reappeared with a glass bottle filled with bright red liquid and a plastic cup that appeared to have soda in it. If she had to guess Joan would assume it was rum and coke since that was Marc's preferred drink.

Taking a quick sip of her drink, she settled herself on the arm of the one reclining chair in the tiny living room and couldn't help laughing as she watched her friends from Psychology class, Chad and Angela, battle each other furiously in the latest addition of Mario Cart. Half an hour later Joan found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor, boots abandoned and tossed into a corner, all her concentration on retaining her Pong champion title against another of their friends, Pete.

By ten o'clock the little party was in full swing. Pizza had been ordered, movies had been broken out and the ever looming suggestion of a drinking game had been posed. Usually Joan refrained from drinking games. She had been inebriated a few times during college, but it was a rare thing. She tended to end up playing designated driver, making sure her friends made it home safely at the end of the night, but tonight they were on their own because she had no intention of leaving the apartment or Marc.

The prospect of the night to come made Joan's stomach quiver with nerves and anticipation and she found herself agreeing to play the worst of the movie drinking games, Titanic. The rules were simple. Whenever someone said the name Jack or Rose you took a drink. She'd played it once before, sipping away at her wine cooler while the others had done shots, but her anxiety had her accepting the shot glass filled with clear liquid half way through the movie.

It was nearly one in the morning when the movie finished, and Joan was glad that those who had attended the party that night all lived within walking distance because, as she pulled herself up off the floor, she felt her legs wobble.

Once his guests were gone, Marc turned to see his girlfriend standing in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at him with a goofy grin on her lips.

"Why, Ms Girardi," he teased, imitating a southern accent, "I do believe you are drunk."

Joan giggled. If she was honest with herself, she knew she was well beyond the 'tipsy' she had allowed herself in the past, but she felt brave and confident as she took three steps forward and wrapped her arms around Marc's neck.

"And is that a problem, Mr. Rodriguez?" she teased back as she kissed her way down his neck and across his collar bone.

Marc gently pushed Joan back, holding her at arm's length. Her eyes were a little glassy and her cheeks glowed a rosy pink, but she was far from 'trashed.' She would have a headache in the morning, but that would be the worst of it, he told himself as he pulled her back against him.

"And since your car's out front, should I assume you're staying the night?" he asked, teasing her once again.

She blushed furiously before looking up to met his eyes. "Yes," she said seriously, and in that one word Marc knew everything was about to change forever.

He glanced at the clock on the wall above her head. It was nearly one-thirty, but neither one of them had to be anywhere in the morning. He looked at the woman in his arms, who was doing her best to latch onto his earlobe, and decided they had plenty of time for her to sober up a bit. He wanted to make sure that when Joan Girardi went to his bed, to anyone's bed, for the first time that she had her wits about her. And with that thought he swept her up into his arms and carted her into the kitchen.

Joan blinked owlishly when he flipped on the bright overhead lights.

"Why are we in the kitchen?" she asked, momentarily confused.

"Because I'm hungry," he told her simply, "and I'm sure we could both use some food to soak up some of that alcohol."

She put her head down on the table, he had seen right through her and for the first time he wasn't going to let her do things her way, a way they both knew she would regret later on. Smiling, she straightened up and turned once again to face him.

"So what are you making me?" she asked with a giggle.

Twenty minutes later, Marc poured them both steaming bowls of macaroni and cheese from a box, accompanied by large glasses of water and two Advil each. They sat in the living room as they ate, laughing and poking fun at various infomercials, and by the time Joan's bowl was empty she was feeling like herself once again, and the nerves were back.

I can do this, she told herself as they washed out their bowls, I want to do this. But when he took her hand to lead her down the short hall to the bedroom she felt her body tremble.

When they reached the doorway he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

With that simple statement Joan knew it was time, that Marc was the one she wanted to give that special part of herself to. She took his hand, leading him into his own bedroom and closed the door behind them.

She paused for a moment, once inside the bedroom, staring at the neatly made full-sized bed. It was not the first time she had seen the bed, and this wouldn't be the first time she had slept in it, but for some reason it seemed different, as though the room itself knew what was about to happen. Marc wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

"It's all up to you," he said quietly. "You're in control tonight."

Joan turned her head, kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

"You really are perfect," she told him, turning in the circle of his arms to face him.

"Now don't go inflating my ego," he laughed as he kissed her.

It started out as a simple, harmless kiss, but when she threaded her fingers through his hair he couldn't help diving deeper. Tightening his grip on her waist, he pulled her against him, changing the angle of this kiss as he did. Pressed torso to torso he could feel her breath catch when he ran his hand down her back, dipping his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater. Breaking the kiss, she stepped back a quarter of an inch and raised her arms to allow him to slip the sweater off over her head.

She stood before him, wearing nothing but a plain white bra, and dark blue jeans that fit like a second skin. He felt his breath hitch in his throat and when she stepped forward and pulled his own shirt up over his head, he felt his heart flutter and his knees tremble.

Skin to skin they reconnected, Marc's nimble fingers playing over her soft flesh. When he cupped her breast through her thin bra, Joan barely contained a gasp, and when he circled his thumb around her already hard nipple she couldn't help arching her back. Slowly he reached behind her with his free hand and undid the clasp of her bra. When the material fell away he couldn't help but stare at the two beautiful breasts displayed before him. They were full and firm, the palest white, each one topped with a small pink nipple. Without thinking, he bent down and flicked his tongue over the one not covered by his thumb and she moaned. Slowly, almost painfully slow, he circled her rock hard nipple with his tongue, occasionally sucking it into his mouth. He did the same to the second nipple, gently kneading her other breast with his hand.

She thought she was going to die. The sensation of his lips and tongue on her body was overwhelming, and even as nerves danced in her belly she felt herself go damp. As he caressed and suckled at her, Joan found herself running her hands over his shoulders and down his back till they danced at his waistline. Cautiously, she allowed her hand to slide lower, rubbing him through his soft cotton slacks.

He moaned as her small hand cupped him through the material. He had dreamed of this moment countless times over the past three months, and prayed that he would have the control to make the ecstasy of it last. He hesitantly unbuttoned her jeans and slowly drew them downward. Joan froze. She didn't try to stop him, or even give the slightest hint that she wanted him to, but Marc found himself staring into Joan's eyes as he helped her step out of the jeans that now pooled around her ankles. Without looking down, her hands made their way to his belt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers and when they stood in nothing but underwear, he took her hand and led her to the bed.

She lay beside him, nervous and excited and unbelievably warm. Bangs stuck to her damp forehead, but were soon forgotten as he began to trail his fingers down her stomach. When he reached the top of her pale pink panties he stopped, looking down at her for reassurance that this is what she really wanted. She smiled and gave a slight nod, and his hand continued lower. When he cupped her through her soaked panties, Joan bucked, and when he slipped a finger beneath the cotton, she nearly screamed.

She lay on her back trembling furiously, heat pumping off her as he circled her hard pink clit with his finger. They had fooled around before, but she had always been careful to keep that thin cotton barrier between them. Now his soft fingers caressed her folds gently, making her stomach tighten and her legs shake. When he slipped a single finger inside her, Joan bit back a moan. Breathing heavily, she reached for the waistband of his boxers as he lifted her hips, slipping her now drenched panties off.

Realizing what she wanted, he lifted himself off the bed and helped her free him from his boxers. Lying beside her, Marc's member stood at nearly full attention, and when she gently wrapped her soft hand around him, he thought he would come on the spot. His hand continued to explore her nether regions as she slowly stroked him, her fingers coming up and over the sensitive tip. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Joan rolled onto her side and whispered breathlessly into his ear.

"There are condoms in my purse."

On shaking legs he retrieved her purse from the other side of the room and dug out the small gray box that she had buried in the bottom of it. She watched as he slipped one on before laying back down beside her. With a shaking hand she stroked him through the thin membrane, took a deep breath and nodded.

Kissing her every step of the way, Marc poised himself over Joan.

"This might hurt a little, but I promise the pain won't last long."

She took a steadying breath, and leaned up to kiss him as he pushed into her as gently as he could. Once he was halfway in, Marc lifted one hand, caressing her face, then pushed in the rest of the way. She felt a snap, like being hit with a rubber band, somewhere deep inside her, but by the time the pain even registered it was nearly forgotten replaced by a barrage of new sensations.

Marc moved slowly, excruciatingly slowly, determined not to hurt her any more than was absolutely necessary, but already he could see her eyes fogging as she approached her first orgasm. When the spasm wracked through her, he held on and when she surprised him by suddenly flipping their positions so that she was astride him, he thought he would lose it.

The feeling was like nothing Joan had ever experienced before. The pleasure was only heightened by the slight pain of losing her virginity, and when the orgasm had ripped through her body, she had thought that she would die from the pleasure of it. Now she straddled Marc and rode him slowly, his patient hands rubbing her tender breasts. As she rocked, her mind turned to another, and without realizing it, without meaning to, it was suddenly another man's hands on her breast, another man quivering between her legs. She rocked harder, faster, as the image and scent of another man filled her mind and when she came again she cried out.

"Adam," she moaned.

Marc, who had followed her over that second slippery edge, fought his way through the post-coital bliss, one questioning burning like a wildfire through his mind, bursting out of his mouth.

Behind her silence indicated that her coffee was ready, and standing on her toes she brought down two coffee mugs from the cupboard. Daniel wasn’t up yet, but when he was he would want coffee as well. Thinking of Daniel made her stop and smile for a moment. He worked so hard, and was constantly exhausted, but always managed to make time to make her feel loved, to make her feel wanted. He had made her feel particularly wanted last night and she grinned widely at the memory.

Deciding that he deserved a treat for all his hard work Victoria pulled the making for pancakes out of the pantry, and checking her phone for the time, started mixing together the dry ingredients. Ed Sheeran’s Autumn Leaves played softly in the background as she dug through the fridge pulling out eggs and milk, and she was surprised to find a sleepy eyed Daniel standing directly behind her when she straightened.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up for another twenty minutes or so.” She told him, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

“I rolled over and you were gone.” He replied, a slight pout on his lips.

Victoria laughed.

“I’m usually gone by the time you wake up.” She reminded him as she turned the heat on under the pan and measured the milk.

“I was hoping you would have slept in a bit more today,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “After all, it was well past four by the time we went to bed.”

“You know me, early riser.” Victoria teased as she flipped the first pancake. “But I did sleep in today. It was nearly eleven before I crawled out of bed.”

Daniel pressed himself against her back, his arms circling her waist.

“I was hoping we could have an encore of last night this morning.” He whispered in her ear.

Victoria felt her knees go slightly weak at the thought, but managed to maintain herself and give him a cheeky grin.

“Well, there’s always after breakfast.” She purred back at him.

Daniel laughed and stepped back to drink his coffee while she finished cooking.

Leaning against the counter Daniel watched Victoria cook. She was so neat and meticulous about everything she did, he often had the urge to make a mess just to try and loosen her up, but most times he resisted… most times. He watched as she poured exactly the same amount of batter as the last pancake into the pan, and as she twitched and fidgeted as she waited for the proper number of bubbles to break the surface before she flipped the pancake. And as he watched he began to wonder just what it would take to distract her from her task.

Smiling to himself Daniel gulped down the last of his coffee and put his cup in the sink.

“Did I mention that I really missed you when I woke up?” Dan said quietly, planting small kisses down Victoria’s neck and pulling her against him.

Victoria fought a shiver and forced herself to focus on the pancake cooking in front of her.

“You’re going to make me burn it.” She chided, unable to hide the slight tremble in her voice.

Dan laughed and gently took her earlobe between his teeth.

“Maybe I’m just testing your multitasking skills.” He teased as he switched from nibbling to sucking.

Victoria swallowed hard. This was the last pancake, she reminded herself. In less than two minutes she would be able to slide it from the pan and…

The thought cut off sharply as Dan left her earlobe and began working his way back down her neck leaving little love bites as he went.

Not trusting herself to remove the pancake from the pan with him doing that Victoria twisted to face him.

“Would you mind getting the syrup darling?” She asked, feigning innocence.

With a wide grin Dan stepped back and opened the fridge pulling out the syrup and placing it on the counter beside her.

Victoria slid the pancake from the pan to the waiting plate and reached for the knob to turn the stovetop off.

The moment the burner clicked off her was on her.

Victoria let her head fall back, her dark hair cascading down her back, as Daniel attacked her neck. He kissed and nibbled and sucked until Victoria didn’t think she could take it anymore. Taking a firm grip on her bottom Daniel hoisted her up, her legs automatically wrapping around him, and turning he put her back down on the center island.

Pressed tightly against him Victoria could feel him hardening beneath his cotton shorts and felt herself go damp. Pulling the oversized shirt over her head Dan leaned into her, kissing his way over each breast, rolling the already hardened points between his lips before flicking his tongue over them.

Victoria gasped and leaned back on her elbows, unable to hold herself up any longer. As she panted Daniel worked his way down her stomach, stopping only to slide her pale pink panties off and fling them across the room. When his tongue reached her center Victoria bucked and moaned.

Daniel felt the moan reverberate through her body, and between that and the taste of her he felt his hard on begin to throb, almost painfully, but seeing the look of pure bliss on Victoria’s face made him determined to hold out just a bit longer. Looking up at her through heavily hooded eyelids he continued to destroy her with his tongue, and when she gripped his hair, pulling him in closer he smiled and flicked a tongue expertly over her center. He felt her clench and tremble as she came for the first time and he continued to lap at her until she came down the other side.

Victoria lay splayed out on the counter, trembling and sweating slightly when Daniel straightened up. Lowering his boxers he took himself in his hand and rubbed his tip over her entrance. Victoria moaned and pushed herself to the edge of the counter, inviting him to enter. Swirling the head around her entrance he watched as her face crinkled in mild frustration, and when she lifted her head and met his eyes, Daniel plunged in.

Victoria arched, her body begging to have more of him inside it, and as Daniel’s pace increased Victoria’s pants and moans turned to groans as she begged him for more with ragged breaths.

With his hands firmly planted on the counter for leverage Daniel changed the angle of his approach, and Victoria saw stars as he pounded himself into her, hitting exactly the right spot with every plunge.

Victoria gasped and moaned out his name as she clenched around him for the second time and Daniel felt himself slipping. And when she bucked up, forcing him deeper he pushed himself up, burying his face in her hair, and let himself follow her over the edge.

Ten minutes later Daniel and Victoria sat in the living room with rubbery pancakes and lukewarm coffee, grinning like fools as they shoveled the food into their mouths. When they finished Daniel put their plates on the side table to be dealt with later and pulled Victoria against his side.

“You know what?” he asked as she settled in and flipped the television to yet another rerun of The Great British Bakeoff.

“Hmmm?” she replied putting the remote down and taking his outstretched hand.

“I think we should start every Saturday with pancakes.” Dan whispered, kissing her fingers.

Victoria smiled and snuggled tighter against him.

“Are you alright?” he asks again and you shake your head trying to clear your mind.

“No?” he asks, his voice rising with concern. “What’s wrong? What were you running from?”

It takes you a moment to understand what has happened.

“No, yes… I’m fine.” You stutter, “I was just… startled.” You tell him lamely as you finally force your gaze away from his eyes.

“You looked terrified.” He says with a little laugh. “I was half expecting to see Jack the Ripper running up the road behind you.”

You giggle.

“Honestly, so did I.” you confess. “I was lost and alone, and thought I saw someone. I guess I just let my imagination get the best of me.”

“I’m Phil.” He tells you, taking his hand from your shoulder and offering it to you.

“(Y/N).” You reply, still glancing over your shoulder.

The rain has slowed, and you feel silly standing there trembling in front of a perfect stranger.

“You said you were lost.” He went on, “I’m heading to the tube you if want to walk with me. It’s not too far.”

You look at him again, taking him in, and after a moment you decide to go with your instincts and trust him.

“That would be nice, thanks.” You respond, falling in step beside him.

You quickly find that Phil is an easy going sort of person. The sort who can make you smile just by being there, and even as the dark rainy night surrounds you, you can feel warmth and light simply radiating from him.

***

You open your eyes and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It is just shy of three in the morning and with a small sigh you close your eyes again and snuggle deeper into your blankets. As you adjust your pillow you feel an arm come around you, pulling you back. You snuggle into the man behind you and kiss his hand.

“Did I wake you?” Phil asks as he slides his other arm under your pillow.

“No, I think I was just dreaming.” You murmur sleepily.

“What were you dreaming about?” he whispers in your ear.

“You… us. The night we met.” You mumble, already half way back to sleep.

“Mmmmm.” He breaths in your ear. “That was a good night.”

Even half asleep you feel his arm move under the covers. He pulls you tight against him, running his fingers slowly down your side. When his soft hand reaches your hip, you realize that you are suddenly no longer tired, and you lean back into him.

His lips start at your hair line as he slowly works his way down the back of your neck and over your shoulder, and you let out a quiet moan when he kisses that sensitive spot just below your collar bone.

His other hand has worked its way back up your side, and under your flimsy tank-top, and when he covers your breast with his hand you can’t help but stretch against him. In the small of your back you can feel him through his shorts, hot and hard, and just the thought of it excites you nearly as much as the wonderful things his hands and lips are currently doing to your body.

You roll on to your back, and his lips are on yours in an instant. He kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck, slowly working his way downward as you squirm beneath his clever hands. His stubble tickles as he kisses his way down your stomach, and when he reaches your center you bolt upright.

***

The room is dark. The only light is the dim green glow coming from your alarm clock. You lay there a moment, your breath heavy, your body covered in sweat, and realize that you are alone. Beside you on the bed your laptop hums quietly. You run your finger over the track-pad and the screen lights up. There beside you, in full HD, is the man who just moments before had been making you squirm and squeal in delight.

You let out a sigh.

“One day Phil,” you whisper as you close your laptop. “One day, you’ll be more than just a dream.”

With a resigned sigh Dan left the mirror and continued getting ready for the evening. He and Phil had made plans to meet up with a couple of friends for dinner and drinks, and though he would much rather stay at home and work on editing his most recent video, Dan knew he couldn’t back out of yet another social commitment.

“Dan!” Phil called from downstairs. “We’re gonna be late!”

Brushing his fringe out of his eyes Dan turned off the music that had been playing in the background, closed his laptop and left the room. He hoped for a quick and uneventful evening, but knew that it was unlikely that he would make it back to the sanctuary of his room before midnight.

Phil was standing at the bottom of the stairs when Dan rounded the corner.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” he mumbled as Phil shook his head at him.

“Dan, I swear you’ll be late for your own funeral.” He teased as he grabbed his jacket and threw Dan’s to him.

“Ha ha… hahaha.” Dan laughed sarcastically. “Like I’ve never heard that before.”

Phil laughed. “Come on. Let’s go before we miss the next bus into town.”

Dan shrugged on his jacket and, begrudgingly, followed Phil out the door.

“By the way, nice shirt.” Phil teased as he turned to lock the door.

Dan grumbled something under his breath and walked away to call the lift.

***

It was full dark when Dan and Phil got off the bus in downtown London, and even though they had been living there for nearly a year now, the neon lights of Piccadilly Circus still made them stare like tourist. A few yards away from the bus stop Chris and PJ sat on the edge of a large fountain waiting for them.

“’’Bout time!” Chris called, his thick northern accent sounding out of place this far south.

“Sorry,” Phil said making his way over to them. “I had to wait for Dan to figure out of he was going to wear his shirt or burn it.” He teased.

“Shut it.” Dan said quietly, his cheeks turning bright pink.

“I still don’t understand why you would buy a shirt with something your terrified of on it in the first place.” PJ said, his voice full of sincere curiosity instead of the standard sarcasm.

Dan huffed.

“Are we going to stand here all night discussing my wardrobe or are we going to get a drink?” he asked grumpily as he turned to walk away.

Behind him Dan could hear his friends laughing. He knew that they meant no harm and it was all just good natured teasing, but still he found himself embarrassed. Seriously, what twenty-two year old man was afraid of butterflies? He chided himself as he walked.

By the time they reached the pub Dan’s shirt had been forgotten and the conversation had moved on to videos, work and day to day life, and a few pints later Dan had nearly forgotten the teasing himself.

***

The night passed quickly, as good nights always do, and before Dan realized it, it was nearly time to head home. He laughed as he walked out of the pub with his friends. Chris had raised a few too many pints and was leaning slightly on PJ, who had barely drank at all. Phil’s eyes were bright, but he seemed steady and mostly sober from what Dan could tell. After a quick self-evaluation Dan concluded that he had a decent buzz going, but was far from drunk.

The walk back to the bus station was a pleasant one and Dan found his mind wandering as he walked alongside his friends. Back at the fountain Dan and Phil said goodbye to Chris and PJ, who lived close enough to catch a taxi home, and parted ways.

Once at the station Dan checked his phone. They still had fifteen minutes till the next bus came, and he didn’t feel like sitting.

“I’m going to wander around a bit.” He told Phil turning away from the waiting area.

“I’ll come with you.” Phil said, getting up from the seat he had just taken.

They wandered up and down the sidewalk for a few minutes, staring at the neon lights high above them, when suddenly Dan stopped.

“Phil?” he asked nervously, “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” he asked looking around.

“That buzzing,” Dan told him, sounding slightly panicked. “You don’t hear that loud buzzing?”

Shaking his head Phil turned to face him, and when he did his jaw dropped.

“Dan.” He said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Don’t move. Just face straight ahead and close your eyes.” He directed.

Panic washed through Dan, and even though he wanted to follow Phil’s directions, his head automatically turned to the shoulder Phil was still staring out. And there, on his shoulder, was the largest moth he had ever seen.

Dan let out a scream and began flailing his arms.

“Get. It. Off. Me!” He shouted, his voice breaking.

“It’s not a butterfly Dan, It’s just a moth.” Phil tried to tell him.

But now the moth was buzzing around Dan’s head as he tried to duck and swat at it at the same time.

Tears were running down Dan’s face when the large red bus arrived and without stopping to pull his Oyster card out of his wallet, Dan ran for it.

Phil followed behind him, Oyster card in hand, grin on his face, and didn’t say a word until they were both seated in the back corner of the bus.

Dan wiped his face with his hands as he worked to get his breathing back to normal, and after a few minutes Phil finally spoke.

“Well,” he said quietly, “I guess this proves two things.”

Dan glared at him through red rimmed eyes, but Phil continued anyway.

“One, it’s not just butterflies that terrify you.” He paused to grin, “and two, you’re burning that shirt as soon as we get home aren’t you?” he finished with a laugh.

Dan grumbled and wiped his face once more.

                                              ***

Hurriedly you pull your hair back into a high ponytail and throw on your running shorts and tank top. You know you need to get out of the room before you wake your friend, and as quietly as possible you slide your phone into your pocket, grab a water bottle and your key card and slip out the door.

The hall is silent and empty as you walk quickly towards the elevators, and you find it slightly unnerving as images from The Shining flash through your mind. The ride to the lobby seems to take forever and your find yourself bouncing on the balls of your feet as your watch the glowing red numbers count down. Once in the lobby you have to ask the concierge for directions to the fitness center, and moments later you enter a large airy room filled with gym equipment. The room is empty, the only sound being the large fans at the other end of the room. After a quick stretch you pop your headphones back in, set Pandora to the My Chemical Romance channel that you have programmed in, and climb onto the treadmill closest to the back corner.

You start at a brisk walk, your head bopping in time to the music blaring through your headphones, and it is not long before you’ve worked your way up to a quick jog. You’ve only been running for a few months now, and found that you have become addicted to the peace the repetitive nature of the exercise brings you. You are just hitting your stride half way through your second mile when there is a break in the music and you hear a strange noise somewhere nearby.

At the other end of the room you spot a tall pale boy with dark hair and khaki shorts staring at a treadmill with a confused look on his face. You watch as he circles the machine twice before climbing on and tentatively pressing a few buttons. You hear him give a quick yelp as the belt begins to move, and have to keep yourself from laughing out loud when he quickly jumps of the machine and stares at it in terror.

Even from this distance you know who the boy is. After all you’ve been dreaming about meeting him for months now, and after a brief internal debate you decide it is your duty to rescue him from the demonic machine.

You finish out your second mile and begin the process of cooling down. You know your ponytail is dripping with sweat and your face flushed. This is not the way you wanted to look the first time you met the man you’ve been dreaming about for so long, but another glance over at him strengthens your resolve. He is now standing at the foot of the machine just staring at it. You can nearly hear his internal debate about giving the machine another go or giving up and sneaking back out of the gym.

Before he can decide you finish your run, power down your machine and grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall to mop your face. You heart is racing as you walk towards him, and it has nothing to do with the exercise, but your face remains calm. After all you’ve had a life time of practice keeping your face composed no matter what was going on inside.

He doesn’t notice your approach, and you find yourself taking a deep calming breathe before speaking.

“Hey.” You say quietly, trying not to startle him.

The boy jumps and turns, his expression a mixture of shock and embarrassment, and again you have to try not to laugh.

“Looks like you’re having some trouble with this machine.” You continue before you lose your nerve. “Do you want some help?”

The boy smiles at you, his bright blue eyes sparkling, and nods.

“I’ve only used one of these once before,” he admits sheepishly, “and this one is different. Why does a running machine need so many buttons?” He asks, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as his voice washes over you, and you have to struggle to keep your mind focused on the task at hand. You shake your head and circle around to the other side of the treadmill. The boy’s hair swings back and forth as he nods at your explanations and you catch a whiff of his shampoo. The scent is almost too much to bear and you know you have to escape quickly before you melt into a puddle at his feet.

“There, that should get you started.” You say as casually as you can manage.

“Thank you so much.” He says, and holds out his arms for a hug.

“I… I’m all sweaty.” You stutter, your heart galloping.

“It’s alright.” He laughs and pulls you against him for a quick hug.

Your head nestles perfectly under his chin and it takes everything in your power for you to step back.

You watch for a moment as he gingerly steps onto the machine, and you know you have to escape before you get mesmerized by him, and the situation gets even more awkward than it already is.

“I’ll see you the queue Phil.” You call to him as you turn to walk away.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him stumble as his head whips towards you.

“You know who I am?” he asks as blood rushes to his pale cheeks.

“Of course.” You shoot back with a flirty wink, and then escape out the double doors before you lose your composure.

In the hall, out of view of the fitness center, your knees give out and you find yourself sinking to the floor. You focus on breathing and several minutes tick by before you are able to pull yourself back to your feet.

“(Friend) is never going to believe this.” You laugh quietly to yourself as you slowly make your way back towards your room.

You are still shaking your head and giggling when you step into the shower.

‘It’s going to be a great day.’ A little voice in the back of your mind tells you, and considering how the day started, you can’t help but agree.

********************************************************************

The bluish glow from the television gives the apartment an ethereal feel, which is appropriate since you are currently curled up beside your own personal angel. It is a concept that you still have a hard time wrapping your mind around. The realization that in three short months you were able to go from fan to girlfriend still baffles you. But here you are, lying on the plush sofa with Dan’s arm wrapped securely around you.

Phil is out of town visiting family, so you and Dan have the apartment to yourselves for the first time since you began dating, and you can’t help but wonder….

Behind you you feel the vibration of Dan’s giggle and you force your attention back to the television. On the screen Commander Riker is attempting to explain a complex human emotion to his android comrade, Lieutenant Commander Data. Dan giggles again and pulls you tighter against him. You feel a flutter in your stomach as his hand brushes against a sliver of bare skin between your favorite sweatpants and the hoodie you ‘stole’ from his closet earlier that evening, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Are you cold?” He asks, as he tucks a soft blanket more securely around the two of you.

You shake your head and capture his hand as he tugs the blanket up over your shoulder. Your fingers look tiny as they tangle themselves around his long slender ones, and you can’t help letting out a sigh of contentment.

The Star Trek episode ends without you noticing, until you feel Dan stretch behind you. You turn slightly to face him for a moment before then next episode in the all-day marathon begins, and your heart melts when you see him smiling down at you. He is propped up on one elbow, his hair a disheveled mess. His bright brown eyes seem soft as you watch them refocus from your eyes to your lips, and before you can take it all in, his lips are brushing softly against yours.

Your breath catches in your throat as you reach up to tangle your fingers in his gloriously soft hair, and now it is your turn to pull him closer.

“Phil won’t be home until tomorrow.” He whispers, his lips still brushing lightly against yours.

Your heart skips a beat, and it takes a moment for you to find your voice.