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It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

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He knew that wasn't true. You'd been raving about this party for days now, and he wasn't going to let your insecurities stop you from going. So, he did what he does best; worship you until you feel better.

You're sprawled out onto the bed, dress pulled down your chest and shuffled up your thighs to give him better access to your skin. He's hunched over you, leaving little love bites all over your neck, shoulders and collarbones.

"So pretty, you're so fuckin' pretty baby... 'M never gonna let you talk about yourself like that." He hates when you talk down on yourself, even though he knows you can't help it.

"Steeeeve..." His name comes out in a long whine, thighs squirming as his frame keeps them spread for him, the fabric of his jeans creating the perfect bit of friction for you to get off on.

"I mean it doll, I won't stop until all you can think about is how much I appreciate you..." He comes up to press a soft kiss to your lips. It's gentle, but assertive. He'll make you love yourself, even if it takes him getting you all stupid on his fingers and tongue, he wants those bad thoughts out.

"And you look so pretty in this dress too, fuck... S'a shame I was bound to take it off you sooner or later, hm?" His fingers trail over the lace on the edge of your bra. "Want me to take this off? Give these pretty tits some lovin' too?"

"Please..." You manage to get out, his thigh between your legs almost being enough to send you over the edge entirely. Steve had this way of consuming all your senses when he was with you like this. Even if you tried, you couldn't possibly think of anything else but your boyfriend.

He obliges, big hands sneaking behind your back, unclasping the last piece of cloth coming between your chest and his eager lips. It slides off your body so easily, discarded onto the wooden floor next to your shared bed.

"God..." He takes a moment to take in the sight of you, hand coming up to cup one of your breasts. "You're somethin' else, doll... You're somethin' special." He leans in, pressing a kiss between the valley of your tits, looking up at you with a loving gaze.

You feel a shiver go through your entire body at the sight of him like this. You know he loved looking at you when making you feel good. And you loved seeing him just as much.

He opens his mouth, tongue dragging from the underside of one of your tits, up to your nipple, giving it a kitten lick or two before closing his mouth around your nipple.

Your back arches off the mattress, hand gripping the pillow behind your neck, a soft whimper leaving your lips that only spurs him on further.

"Hm? You like that honey?" He asks, as if he can't tell.

"Yeah, keep... Keep doing that." You shift your hips, continuing to grind over his thigh. He nudges it further into you, making you gasp and clench over him.

"As you wish." He grins, going down to give the same attention to your other nipple.

Yeah, you've long forgotten about that party. Now you have better plans.

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A week ago, you and Carmen were closing up, and you'd jokingly offered him a lollipop from your stash instead of a cigarette.

"Hahah, very funny. Those are gotta be laced with somethin' with how much you love them." He reached for his pack of cigarettes.

"Just the recipe for cavities." You started looking through your bag. "Come on, what's your favorite flavor, I got a ton of 'em."

He sighed, putting the small cardboard box back in his pocket. "Give me the apple one."

"Good choice," you handed him the plastic wrapped candy, and he quickly tugged off the wrapper and put it in his mouth.

"Mm," he hummed, hands clasped as his arms rested over his knees. Sitting on the curb was always more comfortable after doing a closing shift. "Haven't had one of these in ages."

He watched you from the corner of his eye. Plump lips wrapped around hard candy, the hard part of it creating a slightly bulge in your cheek, and when you'd take it out, your lips would always make that satisfying pop. Shit, he'd almost started getting some unholy thoughts about it.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, still coming down from a long day of work.

"You know, smoking is really bad for you." You looked up at the night sky, trying to figure out if you were seeing a shooting star or a plane.

"No shit," he huffed, "so is sugar, dumbass."

You chuckled. "Touché chef, touché."

Tonight had been a night just like the one the week before.

You were already sat out on the curb, lollipop in your mouth, humming a tune to yourself, when Carmen went outside to join you. The weather was nice, and it was welcome after you'd just had the most hellish shift in a long time.

He reached for his cigarettes in his back pocket, brows furrowing when the packet felt surprisingly light. He opened it, groaning upon discovering it was empty. "Christ... I gotta let Richie stop bumming cigarettes from me." He was clearly irritated, foot tapping on the concrete as he looked off to the distance.

"Lollipop?" You asked, already reaching into your bag.

"Please," he sighed out, legs straightening out to stretch them a bit.

You started rummaging around, and just like him before, was met with the clear absence of your favorite snack. Either there was a candy thief around, or you seriously needed to start cutting back on how many of those you had per day.

"Fuck, I'm out, uhm..." You noticed how agitated he seemed, and you weren't about to have him go home in a shit mood after he'd worked so hard. So you figured you might as well try and ask.

"Do you want mine?"

He turned his head slightly, eyebrows raising at what you'd just said. He trusted you, he wasn't a believer of cooties, but taking a lollipop straight from someone else's mouth was a bit more extreme than having a sip from the same cup. But it was you, he knew you, he liked you, so... Fuck it, why not?

"Yeah... Sure." He watched your lips closely as the hard candy dragged across them, spit painting them so beautifully. He almost didn't notice your hand reaching it out to him, and he took it carefully. He looked straight into your eyes when popping it in his mouth, and you felt like there was something strangely erotic about it all.

"Well," you put your hands on your knees and got up, "I gotta go, I have somewhere to be early tomorrow, so..." You smiled, a little awkwardly. "You owe me a lollipop though."

He smiled, and you did too. "For sure. Now go home, I can tell you're tired chef."

"Heard." You grinned, waving a quick goodbye before walking off to the nearest metro station.

Man, he'd really start enjoying lollipops more if they were all covered in the taste of you.

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