#allieacts

tucker found allie tucked into the corner of the couch, looking far too comfortable for someone who’d stolen his blanket. not that he was planning on asking for it back. with a quiet shake of his head, he dropped down beside her, stretching an arm across the back of the couch.

allie hayes officially had john logan down on his knees. both figuratively and quite literally. chest rising and falling heavily, hair messy and unkempt, his position knelt on the floor right in front of her gave him the perfect view of her scantily clad body. his hands found their way to her hips, gripping the bare skin just above the thin strip of lace that barely covered her, the heat radiating from her making his pulse hammer harder. her hand sliding into his disheveled hair only caused john's fingers to flex against her hips, thumbs stroking the soft curve of her waist as he stared up at the swell of her breasts barely contained by the flimsy fabric. his head tilting back just enough to catch her gaze as she tugged on his longer locks. a sharp groan falling from his lips as her words echoed across her bedroom, the words slicing straight through him. his ever - so - obvious hard - on strained painfully against his pants, every second of her dominance making it worse. he swallowed, throat tight, the taste of her skin still on his tongue from where he'd kissed her stomach moments before. “ please, ” he rasped, voice rough with need. “ please, allie. ” john's breath came faster, lips parting as he fought the urge to lean in and press his mouth right there. “ please let me taste you, ” he begged, the words spilling out raw and desperate. his hands slid lower, palms cupping the firm globes of her ass, pulling her even closer to his waiting mouth. “ I need it. I need you. I need to taste you on my tongue. ”

logan was still trying to catch his breath when allie threw that line at him, the corner of her mouth curved in a way that told him she knew exactly how much trouble she was causing. the repair shop was quiet now ( thankfully ), the last of the afternoon sunlight slanting through the high windows and catching the dust in the air, and for a second he could only stare at her in disbelief. you’re the one who told me to let off some steam. a laugh escaped him as he scrubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. “ that is a ridiculous interpretation of what I meant, ” he said, though the grin tugging at his lips ruined any attempt at sounding serious. he was leaning back against the workbench, grease still smudged on one hand, and all he could think was how this had gotten completely out of control. clothes scattered all over the shop, moans echoing throughout the acoustics of the building without a single ounce of hesitation. what was supposed to be a quick stop at the shop had turned into an hour disappearing from the rest of the world. two bodies becoming one. completely ignoring the risk that anyone could’ve entered at any second. his gaze settled on her, softer now, but that heat was still in his eyes. “ for the record, hayes, I think at some point this stopped being stress relief. ” the words slipped out before he could stop them. a beat later, he pointed at her accusingly. “ and don’t even try blaming this on me. you’re at least fifty percent responsible for every bad decision that’s happened in this garage. ” so much for keeping their hands off of one another. instead of reaching for his trousers, hands reached out for her once more, closing the space that she had put between them. lifting her with ease to seat her on the workbench, positioning himself perfectly between her legs, slowly and teasingly beginning to trail his lips down the deliciousness that was her beautiful body : starting at her lips, to her collarbone, straight down to her beautiful breasts like a man possessed. “ are you satisfied that you’ve blown off all of the necessary steam, baby? ”

there's no fun in that, though, is there? her little stories aren't hurting anyone. they keep her company. they make her days more bearable. they've given her a lens through which to understand the world. most importantly, maybe, the stories keep her from getting jealous of people like allie, who actually had another life to grieve: people who have suffered infinitely more than she has.

(who worries about things like that? lana, apparently.)

"@allieacts, your mom seems cool." she means it, which surprises her, actually. on paper, allie's mother is the type of woman who would remind her of nell, but she never has ⸺ so she feels confident enough in her judgment. "if it made you happy, doing that commercial, she wouldn't have traded it for anything. i know that's not..." lana gestures vaguely: helping? enough? what matters to you? god, she shouldn't drink. she hates feeling out of control of herself. "i hate that she's not here."

this is the part where a normal person would say i know she's watching over you. she is not, to her occasional dismay, a normal person ⸺ but at least she doesn't start waxing poetic about the law of conservation of mass.

"she'd be so proud of all you've done, all you're doing. i'm proud of you. you go after what you want, and you don't give up. not a lot of people can say that. but ⸺ she was your mom, you know? you didn't have to earn it. she never needed to be convinced."