My old men have souls as sweet as blood-red jam

Is it considered steal the groom if the groom himself takes the initiative to exchange the bride? lol this is kind of fucked up and I'm going to feel bad for Bianca but I think it's something Mick would definitely have the nerve to do. I honestly think it would be one of Rock's most tragicomic and iconic stories if it had happened.

I hope you see the appeal as I did, but feel free to ignore it if that's not your cup of tea. LOVE <3

'Luna, amore e no'

London, early '71

Tags: Infidelity, Smut, Orgasm, Emotional Conflict, Resolved Sexual Tension

A Saturday night in Chelsea

The boutique was adorned with fabrics that were shades and tones of purple, pink and white. Delicate mannequins were draped in her coquettish designs, and a scent of perfume filled the space.

It was a haven she had beautifully thought up for herself, and the thought had managed to garner her acclaimed and revered attention.

This shop in Chelsea was particularly popular, but now there was a quiet stillness of the Saturday evening, and it was a welcome change from the bustle of London during the daytime.

The clock struck 9 PM when Y/N entered the boutique, her sketchbook clutched in hand.

Her footsteps echoed through the front room and into the retail area before she entered her beloved office.

She shed her coat and placed her sketchbook down. She was about to settle into her desk chair with a few of her textiles in hand when she heard it ring.

 "Oh, Christ."

She threw down her silks and needles onto the nearby couch. The telephone had begun ringing, and she knew it was going to continue incessantly. She also knew it was going to do her head in.

She toyed with the idea of ignoring it, or perhaps letting it ring a little longer. Maybe he'd give up. But it persisted, each chime a reminder of his stupid determination. The reason why she lingered to pick up, was because she knew exactly who was calling, and why he was calling.

Although his want was clear the first time they very briefly spoke on the phone, he wanted more than that, and that loosely intrigued her.

Mick had strategically been ringing every Saturday when he could. It was a way to let her know he wasn't going to let her get away easily, not without having some part of her. She sighed into her seat and focused on her book, flicking through concepts and sketches.

"Fucking hell, it's like clockwork for him."

Her patience had quickly worn thin and she leaned forward, her fingers navigated the rotary dial. The ringing had finally ceased, replaced by a muffled dialogue.

The phone's receiver, cool against her palm, spoke to her. 

"Evening darling."

"Hello."

"Ah, Y/N, always a pleasure to hear your voice."

She was taken aback, yet swiftly regained her composure and brushed off his subtle flirt.

"What is it that you want, Mr Jagger?"

Mick's voice was ribbon and it flowed into one ear and right out of the other.

"Well, I was hoping for a chat with the most sought-after woman in London."

She couldn't suppress a scoff. 

"Yes, yes, yes, of course, but what is it that you want?" She pressed dismissively.

"I want the pleasure of your company."

Y/N's brow quirked, feeling an incredulity.

"Company? Mr Jagger, we haven't even agreed to a meeting."

Mick was unfazed and pushed on.

"Well, Bianca adores your work, you know. She'd be over the moon to have you design for her."

She tutted, "Oh, how touching. I'm sure she would."

"You really should give her the wedding dress she deserves, Y/N. I promise you won't regret it."

Y/N's breath hitched, caught off guard by the sweet audacity of his words. He was, after all, soon to be wedded.

"I'm sure Bianca would be thrilled to hear you're so invested in her gown."

Mick chuckled.

"Well, she deserves nothing but the best, and you, you are the best."

"Do you have a penchant for dresses, Mick?" She teased.

His response was swift and sincere.

"I have a penchant for the woman making the dresses."

She giggled, unable to stifle the sound. His persistence was both exasperating and endearing.

Mick was still adamant.

"You're the perfect designer for this, Y/N. Please, just give me- us a chance."

"Mhm."

Mick had to find more fuel, any excuse or plea to see her. 

"She's genuinely taken with your talent, Y/N. You're the only one she trusts for this."

Her resolve wavered, swayed by his flattery. With a soft sigh, she relented.

"Fine, fine. We'll meet."

He wasted no time in setting a date. "Yes, next Friday evening, preferably when we have the place to ourselves?"

"Ooh, just us, then?" She teased.

"I'd like that." He answered without hesitation.

She raised an eyebrow.

Mick's confidence remained unshaken.

"Regardless, love, I'll be waiting eagerly for our meeting, next Friday.

"Fine, next Friday it is."

She scrawled the date on a notepad, it was a flimsy agreement.

"I can't wait to see you, Y/N."

See he said. Why not meet? This was only business after all. 

"Likewise, Mick, likewise."

"Y/N, you're a gem, you know that?"

"Oh, don't let this get to your head, Jagger. It's just a design."

"Just a design? This is Bianca's dream we're talking about!"

"Well, I wouldn't ever dream of standing in the way of your wedding would I?"

"And I wouldn't dream of keeping you waiting."

He had said that suggestively, although she didn't want to see it that way.

"Good. I have a reputation to uphold, after all, you know."

"And what a reputation it is."

She smiled and decided to cut his unwavering flattery short, "Goodbye, Mick."

"Goodbye, Y/N."

When Mick heard the click of the phone, it was a call back to reality, and that reality was enticing.

    *

The Friday

The door chimed and Y/N was standing poised near the entrance for him. Mick wasn't alone. He had brought a photographer with him by the looks of it, and he seemed eager to capture every moment of this collaboration.

There was an attraction between them as they stood close.

He immediately extended his hand, the gesture was as smooth and as handsome as the man himself.

Mick's eyes traced the contours of her form. He wasn't one for simple impressions and wanted her to know he was intrigued.

"Mick." She greeted simply. 

"Y/N, it's a pleasure."

He pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her knuckles.

She cleared her throat, regaining her composure.

"Likewise. How have you been?"

"Nervous, very nervous, but I have faith in your talents, love."

"As you should." She said snarkily.

"You look even better in person, if that's possible."

"Oh. Thank you."

The unexpected compliment hung in the air, and a charged pause settled between them.

Her eyes flitted to her watch, cautious of time, even though they had lots of it.

"Well, Mick, you know it's bad luck for the groom to get too close to the dress before the wedding. You might have to stay away from me." She joked. 

He smiled, and with that, Y/N turned, beckoning him to follow her to an office.

She couldn't shake the feeling of Mick's eyes being all over her.

When the door closed, the air seemed to shift. They were in a smaller more intimate space.

Mick settled into a plush chair, and his thoughts were consumed by the captivating designer who had finally walked into his life. She'd been in many other lives, whether through a purchase or a fling, but he was glad it was his turn now.

She cast a glance back at him as she ruffled through, "Make yourself comfortable, Mick."

Y/N bent over her desk as she rifled through the drawers. Mick watched her with an almost fascination. To him, she was a marvel, an artist in her element. Each motion seemed to carry a kind of ethereal grace that held him in attention.

With everything she needed gathered in her arms, she approached him and sat on the arm of the chair.

Y/N reached for a glass of wine, preparing for the storm that was going to be this wedding.

"So, what's on your mind, then?" She asked casually, taking a slow sip.

His eyes wandered over the sketches but he didn't seem to be all that interested, he seemed bored.

"This silhouette here." He pointed to a sketch of something puffy, and she thought that it didn't suit Bianca's figure. She also thought it seemed inappropriate to be chatting about the bride's dress with the groom, but whatever. 

"How about this one, here instead?" Y/N flicked to a page of things more form-fitting and flat.

Mick's eyes looked to a particular design on the page, another choice that seemed miles away from Bianca's taste. "This one," he mused, his finger tapping the paper. "It's got a flair, a vibrancy. What do you think?"

She sighed and looked down at him, he had a stupid smile on his face, he'd had it since he had walked in.

"I think you're very distracted, Mick."

He let out a hearty laugh and swiftly took her cup of wine.

"What do you mean, darling?" he quipped, trying to sound innocent, though the cheekiness in his tone betrayed him.

With a sigh, Y/N stood up and carefully arranged everything on her rug.

She slipped off her shoes to get comfortable on the floor and undid the top button of her blouse. 

"Come here, Mick." She gestured for Mick to join her, her voice was warm and inviting to him.

She looked sultry sitting on her rug, and he wondered if she was making an innuendo for them to shag on the floor or something.

Everything was spread out before them. Y/N's patience wore thin and she implored for the final time, "Are you going to be serious this time?"

"Hm..." He said childishly. 

 "No, Mick," she insisted, her voice firm. "Answer the question. Are you going to be serious this time?"

He relented, only because he liked her demand.

"Alright, I'll be serious," he declared, his arm moving to encircle her waist.

She removed his arm and shifted, settling on her knees. 

Mick shifted his position to mirror hers. He sat on his knees, somewhat determined to focus. 

"Thank you, Mick. Now, a pattern, any pattern you can think of." 

"Something floral, understated but not dull, you know?"

She nodded resolutely and wrote notes whilst drawing little concepts beside them. Mick was watching in awe, she couldn't place why, this was the most boring part of it.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since I got engaged. I'm enamoured with your work, you know." He confessed. 

Why did he have to say since he got engaged, it sounded like he was expressing his love for her over Bianca, and she dreaded that thought. 

"What do you mean?" She asked, timid. 

"You're my favourite designer, Y/N. There's no one better."

She tutted and shook her head, "Oh, come now. I'm sure there are better." 

"Nah, I'm convinced you're a creative genius." Mick giggled. 

"And I'm convinced you have a way with words." She deadpanned. 

"Trust me, Y/N. You're my favourite."  

"Right. Well, let's discuss the dress. What colour are you envisioning?" 

She changed the subject, fearing that what she thought Mick was thinking would materialise. 

"How about orange?" 

"Orange?" 

"Yeah, why not?" He said sarcastically. 

"Stop it now." 

"Alright, alright, obviously white."

"Obviously, but what shade of white?"

"Dunno, suppose you'll have to surprise her." 

"Okay." She groaned and rightfully decided she wasn't going to ask Mick for anything, ever. 

She leaned over him to grab something, and his arm once again found its way around her waist, an intimate hold, like he was trying to show affection. It was a move that was becoming all too familiar, and she didn't like that. 

"Come on, Mick," Y/N sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "What are you doing?"

Mick didn't want to beat around the bush, not with her.

"This is getting a bit dull, don't you think, love?" he suggested.

Y/N's brow furrowed in disbelief, struggling to keep up with the sudden turn of events. "What's gotten into you?"

"You haven't caught on yet?" he teased.

She mustered a shaky breath, "I did, but I was hoping you'd spare us both the bloody trouble."

"I haven't even scratched the surface, love."

His arm was still around her waist, so he pulled her closer until they were nose-to-nose. 

He closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a hard kiss.

Y/N moved back abruptly, her disgust palpable. "You've lost your mind, Mick. You're engaged, and I'm designing her dress. This is sick- you are sick."

He shrugged.

"Well, she's not the one, love. Not by a long shot."

"Then who is?" 

Before she could process the weight of her own question, Mick kissed her. He started it soft. There was a gentle brush of lips, a mingling of breath. His arms circled her waist and as the kiss deepened, so did the intensity. Their tongues swirled together, tasting the wine they shared. The world outside seemed to blur, leaving only the spontaneous connection between them.

Y/N's hand remained on Mick's chest, her fingers curling against the fabric, her voice barely above a mumble as she uttered his name. Still, he didn't stop. Instead, he kissed her deeper, his hand moving to grab her bottom.

They both pulled away at the same time, their breaths mingling in the charged air. Mick's eyes held a mixture of desire and uncertainty as he looked at her. 

He cleared his throat, "Should we stay here on the floor, or find a more comfortable spot?" 

Mick was very confident, so confident he didn't bother to use perception, though he didn't need to in this circumstance. 

"A couch sounds nice," she replied, mischief in her eyes. 

They untangled themselves, their movements carried a sensuous grace. Making their way to the nearby couch on the other side of the room, the atmosphere seemed to thicken, the unspoken promise of what awaited them palpable in the air.

He took her by surprise, his hands pushed her forwards over the arm of the couch so she could be bent over for him. 

Mick pulled her closer, his hands moving down her body as he unzipped the back of her skirt and eased it off her hips. He sighed with as the fabric rustled around her ankles. He tugged on the waistband of her tights and dragged them to the floor.

"Do you feel me, hm?"

He pressed himself into her and it was teasing both of them.

She looked back at him, "I feel you.."

The sound of leather on metal clinked in her ears as he pulled the belt from its loops. His trousers were made into a pile around his ankles, leaving him with his boxers.

Mick held her hips and pressed himself against her, she could feel the warmth of his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear.

His hands found her panties, he pulled them to one side and he thrust harder, pushing his erection against her bare cunt.

"Mm, Mick."

He thrust two fingers into her eagerly, enjoying the sensation of her cunt clenching around them. She giggled at the sudden intrusion, and he pushed his fingers in and out of her faster, eager for more. He moved his fingers more vigorously as she became wetter.

He removed his fingers, and pulled off his boxers. His cock bounced free; he couldn't wait any longer to be inside of her. He stroked himself twice, savoring the feeling. The head of his hardness was tapped against her entrance, then slid inside of her, inch by inch. He lightly stretched her open, allowing himself to fully enter. He groaned when he filled her up completely, and only slowly moved in and out. 

He went from the tip of cock to the middle of his cock. She was so wet for him. He went balls deep a few times, light taps filled the room with each time he did so.

Her back arched as his dick slid in and out of her, the fuck was swift.

He drove into her with an intense passion. She looked back at him with wide eyes, a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Mick's thrusts were deep and unyielding, directly hitting her g-spot with every movement. Her walls clenched involuntarily as the sensation grew, seeming to never end.

Mick was getting close so he fucked into her harder. Her body slid back and forth beneath him, her stomach moving against the arm. She moved her hips back, urging him on.

"Fuck." He groaned.

He was getting close so he fucked into her harder. Her body slid back and forth beneath him, her stomach moving before the arm. The sensation of her warm skin made him shudder.

He pulled out just in time, his penis coated in sticky white fluid. She got up promptly to kiss him, excited.

Her lips clasped against his and for a moment it was as if no time had passed between them, but then she broke the seal of her mouth and trailed kisses down his chin and neck to his shoulder blade

They were giddy from their illicit activity, like teenagers sneaking away to do each other right under their parents' noses.

Well, it was under someone's nose.

Mick could love this woman because she was he. [Bianca] looked the same, thought the same, and making it with her was the closest he would possibly get to his ideal: making love to himself.