emmie

"You're always dreaming about me," you teased, but your breath hitched as his thumb brushed over your nipple, already hard.

"Can you blame me?" His voice was rough, still heavy with sleep, but there was a heat there that made your stomach flip. "Look at you. All soft and warm. Right where I want you."

He rolled you onto your back, caging you in with his arms, his body a solid weight above you. The morning light caught the blue of his eyes, soft and adoring, and you reached up to cup his face.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hi, baby." He leaned down, kissing you slow and deep, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your toes curl. "You're so beautiful in the morning. All sleepy and messy."

You laughed against his mouth. "I feel gross."

"You're perfect." He kissed down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. "My perfect girl. My sweet girl."

Your heart fluttered at the words, the way he said them like a prayer. You'd never get used to the way he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in his world.

His hands found the hem of your shirt, pushing it up slowly, exposing your stomach, your ribs, your breasts. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze dark and hungry.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his thumb tracing the curve of your breast. "So fucking gorgeous. You have no idea what you do to me."

You felt a familiar heat pool low in your belly, your thighs pressing together instinctually. "Show me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, that slow, cocky grin that made your knees weak. "Yeah? You want me to?"

"Carmy," you whined, and he laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Patience, baby. Let me take care of you."

He took his time, kissing down your body with maddening slowness. Every brush of his lips left a trail of fire, and by the time he reached your hips, you were squirming beneath him.

"Stay still," he murmured, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them apart. "Let me taste ya."

You bit your lip, your head falling back against the pillow as his mouth found your center. His tongue was slow at first, teasing, exploring, already knowing what made you gasp and what made you moan. He groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Your hand found his hair, fingers threading through the soft curls as you held him close, and he hummed in approval, his tongue flicking against your clit with practiced precision.

He continued to eat you out greedily. Sloppily lapping and sucking at your puffy clit like his favorite meal. Only stopping to alternate and thrust his tongue into your throbbing hole.

"Carmy, please," you gasped, your hips rolling against his face.

"Please what?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and hungry. "Tell me what you need, honey."

"You," you breathed. "I need you."

He didn't make you wait. He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. His hand reached down, guiding himself to your entrance, and he paused, his forehead pressed to yours.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice soft despite the urgency in his eyes.

"Always," you said, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I'm always sure with you.”

Carmy pushed in slowly, agonizingly slowly, and you both let out a shaky breath as he filled you completely. 

The stretch was perfect, familiar, even if it still took some time getting used to. Carmy was bigger than anyone you'd ever been with—thick and heavy, with a slight upward curve that hit places inside you that made your vision blur. He stretched your walls in the most delicious way, and every inch he sank deeper felt like it was rewriting your entire nervous system.

"God, you're so fucking tight," he gritted out, his jaw tight with restraint. "Every single time, I forget how fucking perfect you feel around me."

"Fuck," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. He was so deep you could feel him in your throat, could feel the pressure building already, the way your body was trying to adjust to his size.

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours. "You okay, honey?"

"Yes," you breathed, your legs tightening around his waist. "Please move. Fuck me, Carmy. Please."

He pulled out almost all the way, the head of his cock catching at your entrance, and then he thrust back in with a deep stroke that made you cry out. His pace was slow at first, teasing, each roll of his hips hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.

"Like that?" he murmured against your ear, his voice ragged. "That what you need, baby?"

"Yes," you keened, your legs tightening around him. "Yes, right there, don't stop."

He didn't. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and his low, guttural groans.

His thumb found your clit, pressing down in tight circles as he fucked into you. The dual sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself climbing toward the edge faster than you expected.

You always knew Carmy could multitask, but this is truly where it paid off.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and there was something possessive in them that made your stomach flip.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, his hips slamming into yours. "You're so beautiful like this. All mine. Taking my cock so fucking well."

The words pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body arching off the bed as you sobbed his name. Your walls clenched around him, milking him, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering.

"Fuck, honey, you're squeezing me so tight—" He buried his face in your neck, his hips stuttering, and you felt him spill inside you, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. His body shuddered above you, and he let out a low, broken moan that sent shivers down your spine.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight warm and comforting, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. 

"Fuck," he finally said, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. His face was flushed, his curls plastered to his forehead, and he looked utterly wrecked. "I love you. So much. You know that?"

You smiled, reaching up to push the sweaty hair from his forehead. "I know. I love you too."

He kissed you softly, tenderly, a relief to the frantic passion of moments before. Then he rolled off you, pulling you against his side, his hand splayed across your stomach.

You could feel his spend leaking out of you, warm and wet, and you shifted slightly. Carmy noticed immediately, his eyes tracking the movement, and he let out a low sound of approval.

"Tsk, so messy for me," he murmured, his hand sliding down to cup you. He pressed his fingers against your entrance, collecting the mixture of your arousal and his come, and you shivered at the feeling. "Look at that. Fucking perfect."

You squirmed in his arms at his playing in your overstimulated cunt. He chuckled as he withdrew, and together you lay there in comfortable silence, the morning light growing brighter as the sun rose higher. But Carmy's hand was already wandering again, trailing down your stomach, dipping between your thighs.

"Carmy," you said, a warning in your voice.

"What?" He kissed your shoulder, all innocence. "Can't I just touch my girl?"

"You just had your girl," you laughed, but your legs were already falling open for him.

"Had?" He smirked against your skin, his fingers finding your still-sensitive center. "Honey, I'm never done with you. Don't think I'll ever be done with you."

He slid two fingers inside you without warning, slow and deep, and you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. He was already half-hard again against your thigh, and the realization made your mouth go dry. You twisted, reaching down to wrap your hand around him again, finding him already thick and ready.

"You're insatiable," you breathed, stroking him slowly.

"Only for you." He pushed his fingers deeper, curling them just right, and you moaned loud, your grip tightening around his length while he continued to fuck you with his hand. "Only ever for you, honey."

He pulled his fingers out, slick and glistening, and brought them to his lips, tasting you with a low groan. "Fuck, I could live on that taste."

You tugged him toward you, guiding him back between your legs. He was already so hard, his cock bobbing against your stomach, leaking precum.

You could feel every vein, every ridge as you worked your hand up and down, spreading the slickness. You needed him inside you again, needed to feel that stretch, that burn.

He positioned himself, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, gathering your slickness. He was so thick, so heavy, and you watched as he ran himself through your mess.

"Ready for me again, baby?" His voice was a low growl, his eyes locked on yours. "Ready to take all of me?"

"Yes," you begged, your hips lifting off the bed. "Carmy, please. Fill me up again."

He thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp, decisive movement. You cried out, your back arching, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Every part of you felt hypersensitive and sore from the first round, making you feel every single inch of him, the way he stretched you even farther apart.

"That's it," he groaned, pulling back and slamming in again, his tip kissing your cervix. "Take it, honey. Take all of me."

His pace was brutal from the start, each thrust hitting so deep you could feel him in your throat. He was losing control, his usual restraint crumbling as he fucked into you with abandon this time.

"Fuck, look at you," he gritted out, his hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head so you could see where your bodies met. "Look at me splitting you open, baby. See how well you take me?"

You couldn't look away. You watched his cock disappear inside you, slick and glistening, stretching you so wide you could barely breathe. The sight was obscene, perfect, and it sent another wave of heat crashing through you.

You sobbed, your hands clawing at his back, clenching around him harder. He dropped his forehead to yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. "Yeah? Ya like seeing me stretch you out? You gonna come for me again, honey? Gonna soak my cock?"

"Yes," you keened, your body trembling. "Yes, Carmy—"

"Come on," he demanded, his hips slamming into yours with renewed force. "Come for me, baby. Squeeze me. I know you can do it again for me."

That was all it took. Your orgasm ripped through you, your walls clenching and unclenching around him in that rhythm he knew and loved so much. You cried out his name, your body bucking beneath him as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you.

"That's it," he breathed, his voice breaking as his own release surged. "That's my girl. Fuck, honey—"

He buried himself to the hilt, his hips grinding against yours as he spilled inside you again. You felt each pulse, each hot, thick spurt, filling you so full you could feel it dripping out around him.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you into the mattress, both of you panting and slick with sweat. 

"Okay," he finally mumbled against your neck. "Now I think I'm actually done."

You laughed weakly, your fingers carding through his sweaty hair. "That's a good way to go."

He lifted his head, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Yeah? You'd let me die between your legs?"

"Wouldn't be the worst way to go," you teased, and he laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He pulled out slowly, and you both winced at the loss. You felt his come leaking out of you, warm and wet against your thighs, and he watched with dark, hooded eyes.

"So fucking pretty," he murmured, his thumb tracing your swollen entrance. "Look at that. All messy for me."

"Carmy," you whined knowing you would not be able to handle another round, but you were smiling, your cheeks flushed.

"What?" He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. "I'm just appreciating my work this time."

You swatted at his shoulder, and he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"I love you," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. "I know I say it a lot. But I want you to know I mean it. Every time."

"I love you too," you said, your voice just as soft, your fingers tangling with his.

He smiled, that slow, tender smile that made your heart ache, and pressed another kiss to your palm before letting go. Then he shifted, pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

You melted into him, your head tucked under his chin, your legs tangling together beneath the sheets. The morning light was warmer now, spilling golden across the bed, and you could hear the distant sound of birds outside the window.

Carmy's hand found your hair, his fingers threading through the strands in slow, soothing strokes. You felt his chest rise and fall beneath you, his heartbeat steady and calm.

"You tired?" he murmured against your hair.

"Mmm, a little," you admitted, your eyes already growing heavy. "Someone wore me out."

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when its time for you to get up."

You smiled, your eyes drifting closed, and let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace. The morning stretched out before you, lazy and golden, and you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Right here. With him. Forever.

━━━━━━━

author’s note: #needthat 

also know for a fact they both accidentally fell asleep and slept through their alarms and had to call off.

So for sure later that afternoon, Carmy's phone buzzed on the coffee table. He glanced at it, then sighed.

"It's Richie," he said, his tone already weary.

"Don't answer it," you said, snuggling closer. "He can wait."

"He'll just keep calling." But he reached for it anyway, pressing the phone to his ear. "Yeah, Richie. What?"

You couldn't hear Richie's response, but you could imagine the grin in his voice.

"No, I'm not coming in today," Carmy said flatly, sparing a look at you. "The restaurant can survive one day without me."

Another pause, and then Carmy's ears went pink.

"It's not a—" He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "I'm not telling you that. No. I'm hanging up now."

He ended the call and tossed the phone aside, pulling you back against him.

"Everything okay?" you asked, hiding your smile.

"Richie wants to know if we're having a 'sex day.'" He made air quotes, his face still flushed. "Told him to mind his own business."

You laughed, burying your face in his chest. "He's not wrong."

"Still." Carmy kissed the top of your head. "Doesn't mean he gets to know."

You looked up at him, your smile soft. "So. Sex day?"

His expression shifted, his eyes darkening. "You trying to start something, honey?"

"Maybe." You shifted, straddling his lap. "What are you gonna do about it?"

His hands found your hips, gripping tight. "I can think of a few things."

he says hi, you say hi back, only because you were raised to be polite. but you know that even getting through small talk with lip gallagher, the guy you let step all over you for an embarrassingly long time in exchange for (admittedly amazing) sex, is a test to your willpower.

"i work at the bike store just across the road," he remarks, casually pointing it out with his thumb before he turns back to you. he squints as he tries to recall anything about your life, your plans. "uh, how is— how was college? you just graduated, right?"

those baby blue eyes look you up and down, and you feel your brain turn to mush.

"you look nice," he says, in that soft, seemingly earnest tone of his. the one he knows always works on girls, especially when they're already looking at him like he's sculpted from marble. and that's precisely when you know all that hard work you put into cutting him out of your life was for nothing.

"we always thought he was kinda batshit," the voice of one of your friends reverberates in your head. you remember it clearly, how she waved around her cocktail glass as she comforted you. you'd called her up for a gossip sesh just after you had boldly declared you were finally through with lip for real. "and a total sleazebag. the dick couldn't have been that good, right?"

wrong. dead wrong. there isn't a single time that you've touched yourself in the past year that you didn't find yourself thinking about how much better it had felt with lip holding you down. the nostalgia was so strong that you'd been coming to the memory of his lips skating across your neck. no one else, no shitty college bar hookup, no mediocre hinge date, compared to him.

that's why you end up pressed up against the wall of the cafe's bathroom, skirt hitched up effortlessly around your waist as lip holds your thigh tight around his.

"fuck, remember when we played pill roulette from frank's collection and i ate you out from sunset to sunrise?" he mouths against your neck while fumbling with his belt. "must've been an addy or something—"

"lip." you whine as your eyes roll back. partly because it feels so good to grind on him, partly from irritation. god, you fantasise about that night often, but you need him to shut up and fuck you.

"shit, sorry. it's just— still think about it. a lot."

"missed you," he mumbles against your lips as he pushes his clothed cock against your panties. "ah, fuck," he curses under his breath. he's about to pull the oldest trick in the book, because he knows you're needy enough to fall for it.

it's probably fine morally, right? it's not like you're snuggling with lip afterwards. it's purely physical.

okay, maybe you have snuggled with him once or twice, but that's only because carmy's never the one you call after a night out.

carmy doesn't drink, apart from the sip of blessed wine he takes at communion, and even that sometimes has him acting weird. he swears he'll never touch the stuff. your boyfriend trusted you enough to tell you about his mom and his brother and how alcohol tore his family apart, and how he goes to Al Anon meetings at the church too, so the least you can do is call someone else to pick you up from the bar when you're too wasted to drive home.

it just so happens that the only other guy you know who would be willing to pick you up from a seedy bar in chicago in the dead of night is lip gallagher.

that's the line of reasoning you repeat in your head every time lip rolls up to the curb in his shitty car, a cigarette hanging from between his lips as he gets out to help you in. the two of you were being responsible! to his credit, lip never fucks you when you're drunk. he's not that much of a dickhead.

besides, whatever you have with lip would never lead you anywhere good. he'll never be loyal to you, and you'll never trust him. and carmy's so kind to you, and he whines into your mouth when you make out, and you're sure he'll make sweet sweet love to you when the stars finally align for him.