#ce characters

You beam, hands clasped behind your back in an attempt to contain your giddy pride. “A surprise for your team for their Monday. You said they’ve been running on fumes and caffeine, so I thought maybe…a little sugar rush? Carbs can work wonders for office morale.”

He eyes the basket like you’ve potentially booby-trapped it. “You baked all this?”

You nod, rocking on your heels. “You know I did! There’s lemon bars, the espresso brownies you like, and—” you tap the gingham napkin tucked around a lumpy loaf “—honey oat bread for the gluten-free intern. I made extra, just in case.”

There’s also a braided bread ring in the middle, surrounded by flaky turnovers, a whole loaf of banana bread (you went heavy on the chocolate chips), and two rows of sugar cookies decorated as conversation hearts. The XOXO one is your favorite.

“But I thought you were just living your best baking life for us. I didn’t know I’dd have to share it.”

You lift one of your shoulders in an exaggerated, playful shrug and smile sweetly at him.

Lloyd squints at the selection, then back at you. “So, you want me to show up to work with this basket and hand out cookies like some kind of—” he gestures vaguely “—PTA mom?”

You wrinkle your nose, a little wounded. “You can just set it on the break room table. You don’t have to announce it or anything. But, I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to have people associate you with something other than terror and passive-aggressive motivational emails?”

Lloyd’s mouth purses like he’s bit into a lemon—not one of the lemon bars—and you watch the internal struggle play out as he weighs your efforts against…whatever bones in his body are rebelling against showing any modicum of niceness to his coworkers. He huffs, resigned, and starts hunting for a travel mug. “Fine. I’ll bring your—” he squints at the basket again “—heart-attack sampler to the office.” He pointedly ignores the smiley cookies, but you see him sneak one as soon as he thinks you’re not looking.

You grin into your coffee. “You’re secretly soft, Lloyd. It’ll be good for you to practice more of it before the baby comes.”

“I’m not soft,” he mutters, then glances at you, still full-frowning. “You’re just, like, a relentless kindness blizzard. Nobody can stand up to that.”

You beam.

.:MONDAY EVENING:.

When Lloyd comes home, it’s with the kind of energy of a man who has spent a full day stomping out metaphorical fires, slamming the door like it’s the front door’s fault. You barely have time to register the sound of his keys being tossed into the bowl in the entryway before he’s in the kitchen and on you, lifting you bodily against the fridge and kissing you with the kind of bruising, insistent hunger that says something inside him has snapped, but in a good way.

You barely get out an “Oh—” before he’s got your pants unzipped and pushing down over your hips, his hands already unceremoniously shoving your underwear aside. He’s still in full office drag, minus the tie, sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbows. His collar is open, and under the harsh kitchen light his knuckles are pink and raw-looking, as if he’s had to white-knuckle his way through the entire day.

“You made me a goddamn celebrity,” he growls against your mouth, his voice ragged and reverent, his hands absolutely everywhere. “I had to listen to a dozen people tell me how thoughtful and ‘refreshing’ it was, and the fucking intern almost cried.”

You break into helpless laughter, clutching at his shoulders as he props you harder against the refrigerator door. “You’re welcome,” you manage, between giggles and gasps as his mouth finds the sensitive spot just under your ear. “Did they like the cookies?”

“Of course the liked your fucking cookies! They were delicious,” he huffs, carrying you over to the counter. “All day, it was ‘Is this your wife’s recipe?’, ‘Will she teach us her secret?’, ‘You should marry her again these are so good’. I couldn’t get through one email without someone licking brownie off their fingers and their productivity went through the goddamn roof.”

You bite a giggle into his neck; he groans, the vibration transmitting from his throat straight into your chest. His hands are everywhere, kneading into the meat of your ass. “And all I could think about all day? How fucking proud I was to have the best fucking wife on the planet and how I couldn’t wait to devour your sweet pussy the way they were devouring those treats.”

“I was just trying to help,” you say, breathless as he kisses down your jaw, over the place where your pulse beats wild.

“All. Day. Pumpkin,” he repeats. “I didn’t get one single goddamn moment’s peace, couldn’t send an email, all my meetings derailed because HR turned into your personal fangirl squad, so now I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You don’t have time to bask in the delight of his confession because Lloyd spins you, physically bracing your hands against the counter of the kitchen island. He presses at the small of your back until your lower half is arched provocatively, ass out, just the way he likes. He’s rough, not mean, but so insistent you can’t help but gasp as he yanks your panties all the way down to your knees.

You feel the wet heat of his tongue before his hands dig in and spread you open. The first lap is greedy, almost punishing, as if he’s trying to erase the sugar high with something saltier, dirtier, and entirely his.

He laps at you messily, groaning unselfconsciously. You grip the countertop, knuckles white, hips lifted into the ferocious rhythm of his mouth. He suckles your clit like it’s his own private vendetta and you have no choice but to tremble, to rut back against his slick, talented mouth, and that bonus feature of a mustache.

“You missed a spot,” you joke, voice quavering on the edge of laughter and something more ragged.

Lloyd’s answering snarl is muffled but so fucking pleased. He slaps the inside of one of your thighs, and you yelp. The tip of his nose nudges between your folds. The sloppy noise of spit and arousal is loud and obscene and perfect.

You end up with your forehead pressed to the cool marble, hands scrabbling for the edge as he eats you out with single-minded dedication.

He doesn’t slow—not when you beg, not when you whimper, not even when your thighs begin to shake with the effort of staying upright. You’re trembling so hard your thighs shake, the marble threatening to crack your teeth as you try to bite back the noises you’re making. Lloyd is relentless, alternating between full-tongue swipes and tight, focused circles around your clit, never quite letting you settle into a rhythm before he yanks it away. You choke on a moan, his name splitting into a plaintive mewl.

He pulls off with a wet pop, spit and slick connecting you for a moment. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

You nod, maybe a little violently, vision gone soft around the edges.

“Use your words,” Lloyd demands, licking a shiny stripe up from your entrance then blowing gently, sending goosebumps arcing over your ass and down both legs.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate. “I want it, I need—fuck, Lloyd—”

“Yeah?”

You shove your hips greedily into his face, words dissolving into moans. "Yes, please, I need to come, Lloyd—"

"That's what I want to fucking hear." His tongue is all brute force, no mercy, and your body shudders at the edge before a decisive, hard suck on your clit pushes you over the cliff and pleasure shatters through you.

Lloyd holds you through it, arms tight around your hips, mouth never leaving you, almost as if he plans to keep you in that state forever. When you sag, boneless and trembling, against the countertop, he licks you clean—gentler now, but still greedy—before standing and dragging his mouth up your back, his teeth catching on the ridge of your spine through your rumpled shirt.

He straightens, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, and looms over you. “You’re not going to out-nice me, Pumpkin,” he says, the roughness catching on the softness underneath. “You want to spoil people? This is how I spoil you.”

BAHAHAHAHA I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVE THESE TWO!

Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

Tag list

Steve put his hands up in surrender as he stepped back, taking in the sight before him. There was flour smudged across your forehead and dusted over your forearms, and now on the center of his shirt from where you attempted to shove his brick wall of a body away.

Steve huffed a laugh and opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped by a voice coming from the living room.

“Heard that one before. About a hundred years ago. But it was his mom in the kitchen back then.”

Both of your heads moved to look over at the couch where you could only see the back of Bucky’s head. From the way his body was slouched, you could tell his feet were kicked up on the coffee table as he surfed through the TV channels absentmindedly.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing at your husband’s best friend, still with a smile. Even though you were quiet, you knew he could hear every word as you mumbled to yourself, “Well if somebody could’ve kept him out of the house like they were supposed to, we could’ve avoided this.”

You watched Bucky’s head bob with laughter before he turned over his shoulder to look at you, grinning even brighter when his eyes caught a glimpse of the evidence on Steve’s shirt.

“Doll, you and I both know I’m powerless when he decides he needs to come home to you.”

Steve blushed slightly and shrugged as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s true.”

You just smirked and shook your head, laying down the base sheet of pie dough into the pan. “Such a homebody for a man who travels the world.”

Steve smiled brightly. “Because you’re my home. I hardly wanna be anywhere else.”

Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes before turning back to the television. “Okay, lovebirds. Call me when the birthday pie is ready. And no nasty business in the kitchen while I’m still here. Trust me, I’ll hear it.”

You let out a laugh as you went back to your work, pressing the dough into the pie tin. As you reached for the filling of cubed, seasoned apples to pour in, you dipped a hand in the bowl and held one out for Steve to taste. When he plucked it from your fingertips with his teeth, you watched his eyes light up.

“How-how did you make this? Where did this recipe come from? It tastes just like-“

“Your mom’s?” you interjected, hopeful that you hit it on the mark. Obviously he could smell the goodness before he even walked through the door, but tasting it was something else. It transported him back to being a little boy, his mom specially making this pie with fresh apples every September per his request.

A chuckle of disbelief left Steve after he swallowed. “Yeah. It’s exactly like that. How did you know what it tasted like?”

You felt your cheeks warm with happiness and relief at doing the recipe justice. “Bucky remembered it. He said there’s no way he could forget after that time he dumped it on your head and your mom made him redo it.”

Steve smiled at the memory. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot that one. She made him clean it up, too. But I still smelled like cinnamon for days.”

You laughed as you poured the mixture into the bottom crust and began to roll out a sheet for the top. “A cinnamon roll for all your life, huh?”

Steve pecked your cheek as he stood behind you, placing his hands over yours on the rolling pin.

“I guess so.”

At his gesture, you turned around where his arms were framing you against the counter and looked into his eyes. “Steve Rogers, are you trying to take over in making your own birthday pie?”

“No, I’m trying to help.”

“No, you’re doing.”

He grabbed the paring knife and began to cut strips of the dough, pretending that he was ignoring what you just said. “Sweetheart, I just don’t want you to fuss this much over me.”

You placed a hand on his chest. “Steven. It’s your birthday. At least let me do this one thing for you. You treat me so well on any other day.”

He hummed in thought as he wove the strands of dough together into a lattice behind you, looking over your shoulder. He sighed when he finally acquiesced and you turned around to finish his work. The half of the pie top that he made was already beautiful, and you hadn’t even realized that he had used the paring knife to cut a few little animals out of the scrap dough. Ever the artist, you thought to yourself, with those hands, annoyingly (and pleasurably) skilled and nimble for their massive size.

Just thinking about them was getting you worked up as you finished the lattice, placed it on top, and trimmed the pie’s edges. You did the finishing touches before sliding it into the oven and setting the timer, finally turning and looking at Steve where he now rested against the counter, just watching you work after having backed away again. He was entranced, lips parted in a breath just like yours.

You both took a step towards each other, drawn like magnets, as Steve placed a gentle hand on your cheek and ducked in for a thankful kiss. You really were everything to him. Even though you didn’t think so, you gave him all he ever needed and more, and he tried to match that every day.

Steve dove in deeper, his lips dancing with yours before you felt his tongue request entrance at your lips, which made you stop in your tracks. Bucky was still on the couch.

As he pulled away with a smile, Steve held up a finger. Give me a second.

You watched him jog around to the living room and fish in the drawer of the coffee table for his sound-proof headphones which he snapped on Bucky’s ears before coming back and slinging you over his shoulder, walking down the hallway and towards the bedroom, so he could thank you properly. For being an amazing, caring partner, and treating him on his birthday, even if it was with something so seemingly simple.

Bonus A/N: Back in WWII, there was a saying “As American as Apple Pie.” I like to think in this universe, it was changed to “As American as Captain America and apple pie” and that Bucky constantly ragged on Steve for that.🤭 (Source)

“Wow, you suck off your husband with that mouth?” Lloyd’s voice chimed over the ear piece in response to the very colorful language you’d just used, it sounded much too smooth for how irritating he was being. A problem that seemed to encapsulate him as a person, how disgustingly he acted contrasted with how attracted you were to him despite that fact. The longer you spent in his presence and enjoyed it the more therapy you realized you needed, and while you’d usually be inclined to just settle for some good dick it was the one wanted that was causing the issue so it seemed like a paradox. 

It’d been determined that the only course of action for this problematic urge was to distance from the man, as much as a mercenary for hire often hired by him could at least. Case in point, the fake husband made up early on in the business relationship in hopes of scaring him off, the ring you’d always wore coming in handy for the ruse.  It’s obvious now just how little you knew of Lloyd then, you’d truly underestimated the level of the degeneracy he lived on because it only seemed to embolden his quest to get into your pants. And sometimes your dignity took a hit when you’d recognize how much will power it took not to let him. 

Why you continued with the lie after figuring that out was still up for debate, but you tried to convince yourself it was because the idea of him finding out was more mortifying than telling a fib every now and then. And maybe the taboo of being a ‘married woman’ so openly wanted was a thrilling enough fantasy under the covers come bedtime that a compelling enough argument against that never came.   

“Shut up about my husband when I’m about to blow someone’s brains out, freak.” The name is spit at him with venom you could only hope would be done justice over the transmission. The heavy sniper and power trip demeaning him took you on was used to ground yourself from the spiral his comment had caused, another tally in the therapy column. Though it could be argued that having a crosshair trained on a man’s head about to causally erase him from the face of the earth had already destroyed any other column, maybe that should be the focus rather than fucking your—loosely considered—boss.

Before you could ponder on that thought anymore Lloyd was back, completely unphased, if not slightly turned on, as usual. His voice groaned in your ear. “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me. Gets me so hard I swear I could cut diamond with my dick. Keep going.” No response to the vulgar commentary came despite his request. Partly because you didn’t want to dignify it with one but mostly you just didn’t want to lose sight of the target thanks to a discussion about Lloyd Hansen’s cock. You were already taking feminism back by years from wanting to fuck him alone, letting him derail your ablility to work with talk of sex seemed a step too far.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” His tone made it clear he didn’t appreciate the silence, the irritation was one that’d been following him the whole day and you had to wonder what got up his ass and died. “Bet you wouldn’t have that attitude if someone finally fucked you stupid, since your husband doesn’t seem up for the task. ” Oh okay, the problem was that HE wanted up someone’s ass. Apparently yours, and bad enough that the usual banter wasn’t stimulating enough anymore. Not being sure how to navigate that fact,  you thought it best to just let him get it out of his system while lining up your shot. 

“Might even let your husband watch as a treat, how’s that sound? Pound your sweet little—”

Nevermind.

“One more word and I will complete this mission without you in my ear, Lloyd.”

There was a silence on the other end that had you questioning if you’d have to start going to church again because of the prayers that’d just been answered, but, instead of church bells the only thing that rang through was a voice that reminded you of the soldier Lloyd truly was under the horseplay. “Cut this call and I’ll”— 

Your earpiece was in your pocket in record time, hands only slightly sweaty from the anxiety of interrupting Lloyd two times in such a short period while he was already feeling testy. Maybe it’d turn out to be a regrettable decision but today seemed like an escalation that you were not prepared to handle. Sure, thinking about the dirty things your boss yakked in your ear got you hot and bothered but you weren’t confident you were up to the task of seeing him put his money where his mouth was. 

Lloyd just needed time to cool off, he would find someone to busy himself with and lose the anger you heard him have last. You’d finish the job, then it’d be awhile before there’d be an excuse to see each other and go back to the very delicate dance you two performed. You tried to let that thought comfort you as you finally squeezed the trigger, taking the man’s life somehow easier than dealing with the man who lined your pockets for doing so.  

The interaction clung to your shoulders the rest of the day, the weight of it all replacing what would have been guilt if you were years younger. Thankfully, said emotion was fewer and farther between the longer you practiced your profession; it was something you prided yourself in, if only because it made sleep come easier. All that’s to say, you thought being a mercenary had hardened you to a lot of things for better or worse. So why did Lloyd affect you so? 

Men had flirted, paid for drinks, fucked you in abscene ways, yet somehow none of them had even gotten you as flustered as he could from words alone. It was completely possible that was the cause of your dilemma, Lloyd’s bark was so big that the idea of taking his bite was something you didn’t trust wouldn’t break you completely. Would he utterly destroy you? Fuck a space into your cunt that would never go away, never conceiveably be filled by anyone else?

Did you want to find out though, that was the better question. It’d be easier if Lloyd was a one night stand, a hot asshole met in a bar that would take you back to a dingy hotel you could scurry out of come morning, never having to look him in the eyes again no matter the outcome. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, and knowing him he’d probably go out of his way to make excuses to see you again, make you stare what you’d done in the face. Stare him in the face. 

After all, he had a knack for inserting himself into places he wasn’t needed, if only because he knew it was torture when he did so. Insisting on having comms during a mission you didn’t need his input for, conducting debriefs in person when you know if it was anyone else he’d send an email and be done with it, or showing up uninvited to your home and browsing your fridge like he owned the place. 

Okay well, that last one was new, what the fuck was he doing here? 

You’re certain he was aware of your presence regardless of his refusal to acknowledge it until he finished whatever he was doing, the audacity was a quick reminder of why you couldn’t allow anything to happen. If this is how he acted before he even laid a finger on you, you couldn’t imagine how comfortable he’d be once you finally opened your legs for the nonchalant bastard. IF. If you did so. 

“Guess your husband doesn’t expect you to cook dinner before he gets home, cause there is shit all in here.” The door closes with little noise after he finished taking stock, the causality of his tone a welcomed contrast to the anger you thought he’d be carrying. Though it does bring confusion about his motive for breaking into your house if not to make good on the promise you’d cut him off from finishing. “What a feminist.” 

The comment is made in mockery of a man that does not exist, and you’d find it funny if not for the glimmer in Lloyd’s eyes when they finally meet yours. There’s a hunger that resides in them that you can feel penetrate you as they roam your figure, and curse yourself for fire it starts in your belly. Maybe you should have just let him get his rocks off over the call, would that have saved you or was this inevitable? 

“This is completely unprofessional, what are you doing in my house, Hansen.” It’s an attempt, a useless attempt to remind Lloyd of who he was and who you were in relation to that fact. Honestly if you weren’t attracted to Lloyd you’d be inclined to be afraid that he’d found your home and was currently looking at you like a lion that hadn’t eaten in days. 

He let out a scoff that bled into a chuckle before he replied. “Could have fooled me, Sunshine.” Lloyd advances toward you if only to gesture towards the walls. “I mean, shit! There aren’t even any pictures of you, let alone your darling husband.” He stops by your side, facing your living room as you stay oriented to the kitchen instead, not wanting to engage with his tomfoolery in the slightest.

“If you were mine, there wouldn’t be a single room without that pretty face in it.”  His mouth was right next to your ear before you could blink, and the suddenness of it startled you enough you couldn’t help but step away, the move putting him in front of you once more. The compliment didn’t have Lloyd’s usual brand of crude slapped onto it, if his facial hair on you hadn’t scared you then the shock of that would have. 

“Hansen, you need to leave before my husband gets home. I don’t want to have to explain. . .” You trail off, eyes searching around like you’d find an answer for what the hell he was playing at on the bare walls he’d pointed out. “Whatever this is!” This was your hail mary, or you’d tried to use it as such. The fake husband you’d never even come up with a name for, certainly he would save you. 

Lloyd’s again approaching you, eyes on your front door. You realize with a jump that you’ve run out of room to back away, hitting the arm of your coach with the back of your knees. “Guess we’ll have to make it quick then, unless you want him to find out.” His smirk gives away just how much he likes the thought. “Does that get your panties soaked? The idea of that cuck walking in on his wife getting her brains fucked out by a guy he’s never even met?” You’re lucky they’re hidden beneath your pants because you were pretty sure the sentence alone had gotten you wet, and you couldn’t begin to imagine how smug knowing that would make him. That aside, he had finally came out and said it, Lloyd was tired of waiting, he wanted to fuck you and he was not being shy about it. Which was the usual, you’d just never witnessed it so blatantly in person, in your own home. 

“Does he even know about me?” He’s looking at you now completely, eyebrows raised in question. When you don’t answer, like you hadn’t the entire time, he continues, this time his tone clarified he was expecting one. “Does your husband know that the same man that pays you to slit throats talks to you like a dirty slut while you do?” 

“Lloyd, whatever you think is about to happen, isn’t. Get out of my house before I make you.” Your voice is stern, or as stern as you can will it to be when your conviction is wavering.

“Oh. My. God.” His head went back in sync with his eyes, annoyance quickly replacing what had been suave in his voice. “You know, this ‘will they, won’t they’ thing was hot when I thought it was foreplay but now you’re just busting my balls.” His hands landed on your hips, the gentle rub of his fingers even through the fabric of your shirt made you feel light headed.

He crowded you when he stepped forward. Big enough that the only thing you could see was his shirt clad chest, unless of course, you looked up into his blue eyes, but you were currently trying your best not to jump his bones so you kept your eyes straight. Even as he leaned down to speak into your ear, his voice sinful. “I know you want to fuck me, and I sure as hell want you wrapped around my cock. So let’s just be big kids and do something about it, yeah?”  

You had to admit, he made a compelling argument. You also realized, with way too much arousal, that if it came down to it you wouldn’t be able to stop him. You’d already been reduced to holding his arms for stability, your knees weak beneath you. It was the first time you’d ever touched Lloyd at all, a deliberate effort on your part, and with him under your fingertips you were reminded of the beast he truly was. A six foot wall of muscle, your finger brushed a scar on his bicep as you think of the people much bigger than you he’d taken down with less effort, less talk. 

You were nothing in comparison, and that thought had you squeezing your thighs together. 

 “It’s—” You swallow, tongue heavy in your mouth. “It’s not that simple.” The grip you had on his arms tightened despite the small fight you still put up, like you’re frightened he might actually listen. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? You shouldn’t want this as badly as you do, shouldn’t want him. But you do, so badly you thought you might die if he stopped touching you. 

You found the ring on your finger, twisting it in an attempt to quell your raging mind. Lloyd seemed to read your body language as apprehension over the infidelity you’d be committing, his hand came up to rub at your cheek bone while he spoke. “You shouldn’t feel bad, Sunshine. A woman like you could never be satisfied with just any old smuck,” he held your chin, thumbing at your bottom lip, eyes never leaving your mouth, “you need a real man to ruin you.” 

Lloyd moved slower than you expected him to when he finally closed the gap, he tasted your lips like he needed to savor them, like you’d never let him get the chance again. And he only did so once before he continued, like he’d been waiting for the kiss to solidify what he already knew. “You need me.” 

Those three words finally flipped the switch, you did need him, needed him to kiss you again, needed his hands to memorize every inch of your skin the way his lips seemed to, and you were tired of being shy about it. That was the mindset that had your hands framing his face, pulling him back down against mouth. He seemed more than happy to fulfill your desire, because he kissed you like it was what he was born to do, stealing your breath like he needed the oxygen to survive.

“There we go,” He mumbled against your skin as his mouth trailed down to your neck. “Knew you had it in you to listen like a good girl.” Lloyd’s mustache against your neck as he explored had your shoulders twitching from the tickle, and it was only the fact that your mouth was already busy whimpering that you didn’t giggle because of it. When you touched yourself to this very fantasy you’d never thought about that, but it definitely added to the stimulation of it all. 

Your chest fell up and down from your ragged breaths and with your arms around his shoulders your breast rubbed against Lloyd’s chest with every motion. Having two layers of fabric that stopped them from gaining friction was torture, and the man of the hour was oblivious to your pain as he continued going to town on your throat. He was no doubt leaving hickeys on your neck, and one particularly hard bite finally made your knees buckle, a loud, “Fuck!”, leaving you from the pain. Your ass landed on the arm of the couch before Lloyd had your back completely against the cushions. 

His hand found the side of your neck he wasn’t currently abusing, he used it to tilt your head back so he had better access to the canvas he planned on painting purple and red. “Gonna mark you up so fucking good there’ll be no hiding em.” The comment had your back arching up into him, head twisting on your own accord now as you wanted nothing more than that. Proof of his ownership all over. “You like that? You want your husband to know just how much of a whore you really are when you aren’t playing house?” He growled into your ear, grip tightening on your neck, he wasn’t choking you yet but how easily he could one handed had your pussy clenching around nothing. 

“Answer me when I ask you a fucking question,” His free hand comes up to tap you on the cheek hard enough to knock you out of your trance, it was no slap but it made you realize that you wanted him to slap you. “I’ve barely even touched you, you can still use your words like a big girl, can’t you?” 

Your head went into a nod, copying the one he was using to mock you. Your mouth opens to answer but he beats you to it, the thumb from the hand he used to hit you going into your mouth and using it to puppeteer you into continuing the shake. “Say, ‘Yes sir, I can.” There’s a cruel smile on his face but you’re thankfully for the guidance even if he spoke to you like one would a dog, you follow the order, you just had to first stop sucking his thumb to do so. 

The words are clumsy and muddled with his finger against your tongue but you managed, your hands shot into action immediately afterwards touching any of his exposed skin you could get to. You hoped your obedience had granted you clearance to touch him because he’d had to physically stop you himself if not, you didn’t have the mental fortitude to do it yourself. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” He sounded like that cat who got the cream as he placed a kiss on the edge of your lips, ignoring the way you’d tilted your head to try and capture him in a full one. The betrayal continued when he lifted his body up from over yours, there was an attempt to follow him but the mean shove he gave you back down told you it wasn’t up for discussion. You would have been upset but the way his fingers were moving to unbutton your pants calmed you again. Finally.

“Don’t worry baby, Lloyd’s gonna make everything okay.” He kissed at the skin of the stomach your shirt had ridden up to expose while he worked, you couldn’t tell if he had meant it to be soothing but that was somehow the effect either way. Never in your life had you seen a pair of pants and underwear come off so quickly, but Lloyd needed to taste your pussy before he destroyed it with his cock and he wasn't very patient about it.

With the meat of your thighs he spread your legs and if it had been anyone else so brazenly staring at your cunt you’d be embarrassed but with Lloyd, you couldn't help but give him a better look by going wider. His fingers moved to frame your pussy, opening your folds to grin at the mess he’d made of it. “Fuckkk. . .” Lloyd hissed through his teeth. “Already so wet for me, huh?” Now he could see the way your hole quivered at his words, your body begged him to just fill it with something other than want. The first time he played with your clit you couldn’t help the way your legs slammed shut around his hand even if you loved the pressure it added, your entire body was thrumming with need, a mouse trap that had snapped shut. He was quick to correct you though, a harsh slap to your inner thigh after he’d wrenched them open had tears in your eyes from the sting. The entire ordeal was torture, you just needed to do something, anything, the anticipation of it all kept the tears in your eyes even after your thigh had quit hurting. 

“Lloyd please I—” Your chest hammered as you grabbed his wrist trying fruitlessly to guide him to the epicenter of your want. “I can’t take it, I’ll be so good, make you feel so good, I promise, just— please.” The tears had finally fallen during your begging, you were a wreck, and part of you hoped that would work in your favor, that he’d take pity on your sorry state and fuck you. 

And you couldn’t help but feel small for thinking so when he started laughing. The bastard laughed at you as he forced the hand holding his wrist to rub his bulge through his jeans, to give himself the stimulation you were currently begging him for. “God you look so stupid begging for my cock,” He took a deep breath to steady himself as his eye fell shut and jaw clenched, like it was all he could do to keep from cumming in his pants. A burn came from the way his fingernails clawed into your thigh during it and you took pride in knowing you were affecting him even somewhat. 

“Just a few minutes ago you were all weepy eyed at the idea of betraying your husband and now look at you.” He shook his head like he was disappointed in your resolve, even as he finally moved to be right where you wanted him as a reward for breaking it. “I didn’t even have to try that hard, and your pussy’s singing for me.” 

You don’t even have time to feel ashamed of how easy you were, because his tongue was finally in your folds and the world was right. Your hand went straight for his hair and you gripped as much of it as you could, using it as leverage to buck into his face. A string of thank yous fell your lips in between the moans and it was on instinct that you used your only free appendage to cover them, Lloyd didn’t even have to stop his deed to snap an arm up and capture his wrist in a grip so tight your bone ached.

He finally paused as you cried out from pain instead of pleasure.“The next time I have to stop you from covering your mouth, I’ll snap it.” It was a warning that should have made you afraid, a red flag that for any sane person would have been automatic no, but all you could do was respond, “Yes sir.” 

“Atta girl, and while you’re at it, try to think of your wedding night when I make you cum, yeah?” He was utterly disgusting, that was the only thing you could think even as you nodded mindlessly, at that point willing to agree to anything. “Want you to remember how he’s never made you cum as hard as I’m about to.” You thought he was opening his mouth to continue and it’s out of fear that you shoved his face back into your pussy, tired of hearing his voice. Lloyd had always talked too much, and you were happy to finally have something you could occupy his mouth with. 

The sigh of relief you let out bled into more moans as he went down on you like a man starved, his tongue rotating between circling your clit and licking into your hole. It’s when he added his fingers that you started to truly see stars, back arching up off the couch. Your pussy welcomes the stretch and it’s as he scissors, pushing in and out of you, his tongue focused on your clit, that you feel weightless. Muscles contracting in anticipation as your stomach warmed, you were light headed.  

“Oh god— I’m gonna—Fuck!” It was looking down that finally did you in, Lloyd was staring at you, studying you as your climax built, like seeing the way your body reacted to him was the most fascinating thing in the world to him. With the intimacy of it all you couldn’t help the way the waves that had been washing over you with his every move finally hit once more and the knot in your stomach snapped in sync with it. 

Your body sagged in the aftermath of it, leg twitching from overstimulation as Lloyd licked up your slit one more time before backing off. All you could do was try and catch your breath as he stood above you, taking in his handy work. It did feel unfair though, the way he stood completely covered while you were naked from the waist down, covered in sweat and his spit. Maybe he could read minds though, because Lloyd quickly remedied that when he undressed, going ahead and taking the rest of your clothes off while he was at it. 

His chest heaved with want as his eyes trailed your body, parts of it still shaking from the orgasm. You were a sight to see, but he wanted to feel you. “Fuckkk, my balls are gonna burst if I don’t get inside of you right now.” Maybe you’d lost some brain cells from it all or it was just the conviction in Lloyd’s voice, because you believed him. 

There’s no energy left in your body to protest as he flipped you around, letting your stomach rest on the arm of the couch to angle you just right. You tried to have the forethought to grip the cushions beneath you, but Lloyd’s hand grabbed your left. His chest pressed against your back and you could feel his dick resting against your cunt, it was a smoothing cool against the fire that still raged down there. You thought you could fall asleep right then and there, it’s Lloyd lips alone that kept you awake. You stare as they linger on your ring, pulling back to stare at it in an unreadable expression. You’re reminded of how beautiful you found him in that moment, the sweat glistening on his skin, eyes like the sky. You really aren’t married, but the look Lloyd continues to give the ‘proof’ otherwise makes you think you wouldn’t mind it some day. If they have his eyes, if they fuck you as good as he did. 

The moment your mind had turned much too sweet given the context is interrupted by Lloyd, his brows furrowed, an irritation in his eyes that matched his voice. “I’m going to fuck you so hard he’ll be able to feel the hole I leave.” Then he finally tore his gaze from your hand, smiling like he had won some imaginary competition that he had going on in his head. One against a man you apparently felt was worthy to have you, but not worthy enough to stay loyal to. Maybe that was his victory. 

Your mouth opened faster than your brain can keep up, because you couldn’t tell exactly what was going to come out of it. That you weren’t married? That he already had? Whatever it was, it never came, because he’d decided that was the perfect moment to push his cock into you full force. The stretch burned even with the prep he’d done with his fingers, and your mouth opened again in a silent scream. 

Your body ached with the force of his thrusts, the hand around your throat worked like a collar that pulled you back into him with every single one. When the pain eventually turned to pleasure you let your arm reach back around you to grip at the nape of his neck as you arched into him, the angle had him hitting a spot that made you see white. You were all babbles, senseless noises flowed from your mouth and only his name mixed with pleads made any sense. 

“Pussy’s gripping me so tight—” A whimper, a genuine grade A whimper left Lloyd Hansen's mouth as your walls contracted around him. “Gonna fuck my cum into you, make that fucker taste me when he’s eating you out.” There’s no way he can expect a response, his grip on your neck mixed with the way he’s pounding into your pussy from behind almost had your head hurting, as you felt your second orgasm building up in the back of your head.

Lloyd continued to talk nonetheless in your ear as your free hand found purchase on the one of his that was groping your breast, doubling as support to keep you tilted up. His sweaty skin against yours, the added pressure of the arm rest against your stomach, the spots in your vision. It was all too much, your entire body felt like static before the explosion happened. 

It wasn’t until Lloyd was slipping out of you that you realized it was over, that his cum was leaking from your hole and the evidence of yours was all over his thighs. You tried to will your body to move, do anything other lay there like a dead fish but you just couldn’t, and without any sensory input to tell where Lloyd was your stomach sinks when you think maybe he’d left you there and you’d just have to lay in the shame of that until you gained bodily function again. 

Fortunately that’s not the case because a moment later you’re on the move, your boneless body lifted into his arms as for the first time since meeting him, Lloyd is silent as he works. The softness of the blankets you’re laid on tell you he’s moved you to your bedroom. It was a sweet gesture you weren’t expecting from him, nor did you expect the gentle motions from the damp towel he used to clean you up with. The aftercare painted him with a softness you’d never see him wear, and damn did it look good on him. Or maybe the two earth shattering orgasms was fucking with your head and seeing something other than the bare minimum. 

Once he’d finished and pulled the covers over you, he spoke, his voice hushed like he didn’t want to disturb whatever had been building in the quiet. “I should head out now, huh? Or do you want me to save you the trouble of divorce papers and stay till your husband shows up?” You can’t tell how much of the sentence is a joke, but it’s the threat of him leaving that had a confession out of your mouth that should have come out long ago. “I’m not married, Lloyd.” Your voice was wrecked from the strain the night had taken on your throat, and the laugh you’d let out at the fact he still hadn’t caught on cracked it. You reached for his arm trying to pull him to the bed with you as you finished. “So please, stay.”  

It wasn’t possible for you to count but you’d guesstimate it took Lloyd about twenty seconds to fully process what had come out of your mouth, and while you’re not sure what response you were anticipating, you’re glad his was just pulling the covers back and laying beside you. His finger rubbed circles on your shoulder as he thought of what to say and it’s unclear whether it was for your benefit or his but it was helping you drift to sleep either way.

“Can we still pretend you are the next time we fuck? Because—” Your hand slapped over his mouth even though your eyes stayed closed. 

With a soft smile you tucked the gun back into your boot and snuggled back into the sleeping bag as the flap to your tent opened. Sunlight peeked in for a few seconds before a shadow formed and dispelled the brightness with the soft rasp of a zipper. Sounds of shuffling filled the tent before cool air seeped into your sleeping bag as the intruder wriggled in. You shivered at the chill lingering on his flesh from the short journey from the other tent to yours.

“Forget your glasses again?”

One arm snuck under the pillow your head rested on while the other curled around your waist and tugged you closer into the curve of his body as a soft huff tickled your neck.

“Couldn’t see them.”

Oh the irony.

“I wasn’t gonna waste any time looking.”

Fingers began to glide over your body and left trails of goosebumps in their wake.

“How long?”

“I set my watch for 15 minutes.”

Shivers rolled down your spine first at his hot breath on your ear then at his lips kissing and sucking a trail along your jaw. Without prompt you tilted your head back and almost whimpered at the first soft press of his lips against yours before the kiss became hungrier. The hand that drifted along your body now glided further down and slipped under the band of your underwear.

A quiet gasp escaped him when his fingers met your slick, steadily pooling at his touch. “Already?”

With a contented hum you rubbed your ass against him and grinned when you heard him groan and felt a certain part of him push back.

“It’s been a while.” He nodded at your response as you both began pushing down the clothes that acted as barriers between you. “We need to be quick.”

Once you could free a leg he angled it up slightly so he could slip his cock between your legs and swipe through the heat at the apex of your thighs. With a slight push back he then slipped inside you. For a few short moments you both relished in that first stretch. Your warmth enveloping him. Him filling you so completely. Then came the movement. Small but steady rapid thrusts as your body pressed further into the cocoon he formed as his hand pressed to your abdomen where you could feel him deep inside you.

“Shit. So good. So fuckin’ good.”

His whines grew louder with each movement and he sought your mouth to try and muffle the sounds he couldn’t hold back. Reaching back you felt his short blonde hair and tugged him closer. You were caught between wanting to lose yourself in the bliss he provided you and wanting to avoid being caught in this position. But the former took precedence when your walls began to tremble and you couldn’t help closing your eyes.

“Wakey wakey Sleeping Beauty.”

At the rasp you both froze and your eyes snapped open fearing the worst. The sight of shadows in front of you wasn’t what you expected but it wasn’t much better. Two members of your team were inches away from your frantic coupling with another teammate.

“We’re heading down to the stream.”

A small squeak left you when calloused fingers calculatingly began rubbing over your clit. This little shit. He knew you were close - to finding your release and being discovered.You opened your mouth to answer when he gave a small sharp slap to your core.

“You comin’?”

The only sound you could let out was a garbled groan as your orgasm rolled through you prolonged by deliberate movements. The figures moved away and you could distantly hear Cougar laugh at something Clay said.

“Jensen…”

His body shook with laughter at your growl.

“What? Boss asked if you were comin’.”

His chuckles cut off with a groan when you clamped down on him.

“Well you won’t be if we don’t hurry up.”

Suddenly you were rolled on your belly within the sleeping bag. Jensen never slipped out as he followed and raised your hips slightly before gripping them and starting to thrust into you. At this angle he was rubbing at that spongy spot that had you seeing stars quickly. You felt warmth as he folded over you, reaching to grip your hands and entwine your fingers together.

“Oh- oh God!” His whine had you squeezing him tightly. “Baby I gotta- ”

“IUD” you gasped as you gripped his hands and pulled him closer. “Gimme that Jensen Juice.”

“Shit shit shit!”

Without warning he almost tackled you to the floor with his desperate lunges. As you tipped into your orgasm he bit into the flesh of your shoulder and you groaned into the material beneath you. Panting, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before rolling onto his back.

Before you could do much more another shadow approached your tent and tapped the material in an intended knock. Making sure Jensen was hidden you opened the flap to reveal your face and saw a grumpy looking Pooch. Wordlessly the final member of your squad held out a cup of coffee which you took with a murmured thanks and sipped before a grin cracked his frown.

Ransom stood from across the room, his arms crossed against his chest and a wicked grin plastered across his face as cerulean eyes bore into hers. She freezes for a split second, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. He shouldn't be here. How has no one else noticed him or at least greeted him at the door? A part of her begins to wonder if this is just a figment of her imagination—a product of sheer boredom from having to entertain pointless small talk with the older women at her table.

In what feels like mere seconds, Ransom is beckoning her over to him, index finger curled. Her mind is reeling, her heart hammering in her chest as she realizes that he's sure to make a scene if she refuses. She knows that he doesn't take rejection well. He's never been one to react well to being told no, or to anything getting in the way of him getting his way.

She slowly lowers her tea cup and saucer, her eyes still captivated by his. As she lowers her cup, it falls, pouring warm tea down the front of her dress. She gasps, just managing to catch the china cup before it hits the ground and shatters. When she stands from her seat, all eyes are on her. One of the ladies gives her a sympathetic glance and says, "Oh no. Why don't you get that all cleaned up, dear?"

Despite the discomfort of all the attention, she forces a small smile and makes her way across the room, sliding between the other tables in front of her. She finally makes her way across the room. "What are you doing here?" Y/N whispers to him, a hint of anger in her voice.

"What? No greeting? Not even a simple 'Hey, how are you?' I'm so happy to see you again." Ransom replies in a hushed, sarcastic tone, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"It's not nice to see you," she retorts, raising a brow and crossing her arms.

As he looks at the damp patch on her dress, she narrows her eyes. He gives her an impish look, and she feels the urge to grab him and demand answers. She knows it is not a coincidence that he showed up. But instead of reacting, she takes a deep breath and pushes past him. 

As she hurries into the bathroom, she grabs a few paper towels and dabs at the wet patch on her dress. She mentally curses herself for letting Ransom distract her. Her mother had gifted her the dress for the event. An event that was supposed to be about Harlan. She sighed, shaking her head. Y/N was still processing his death, even though it had been several weeks after his funeral.

Her thoughts quickly shift back to Ransom. How dare he think he could just waltz back into her life after years of not being around. As she fixed her dress, she tried to calm her racing heart and take deep breaths to steady herself. She couldn't let Ransom ruin the entirety of her day. She needed to stay strong and not let him get to her.

As the bathroom door creaks open, Y/N sees Ransom's reflection in the mirror, making her jaw clench in frustration. "So," he starts, walking over to her by the sink, "our connection is still so strong that you can't help but spill tea when you see me, huh?" His voice is teasing, as if he's enjoying watching her squirm. He knows he’s pushing her limits but, he’s missed her and can’t help but tease her about the incident now that they’re away from prying eyes.

Even though she knows she shouldn't give him the satisfaction, she can't help but feel a twinge of anger at his words. She turns to face him, trying not to let her emotions show on her face. It's hard to maintain a cool facade when all she wants to do is scream at him for his arrogance. She takes a deep breath and gathers herself. She won't let him win. She won't give him the satisfaction of seeing her react. She'll stay calm and collected, no matter what he says or does.

"Please don't flatter yourself. It's just a dress, and I'm used to dealing with spills," she snaps, turning back to the mirror. "And better yet, I'm used to dealing with men who don't respect boundaries." She seethes, her voice dripping with contempt. She hated how he could get under her skin so easily. So much for trying to stay calm. 

"Oh? So I'm just a man who doesn't respect your boundaries, eh?" he grins, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. He watches her pat dry her dress, his taunting smile widening. "You know, I remember a time when you loved it when I invaded your space."

She ignores his gaze, now fixing her curls. "Yeah, well that was when I was young and foolish and it was before you broke your promise." Her voice is cold, her anger evident in every word.

She refuses to let Ransom win this argument, no matter how much he tries to provoke her. She's better than that, and she won't let him get the best of her. She tries to steady her breathing and focus on the task at hand, refusing to let him take up any more space in her head.

Ransom chuckles, shaking his head. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know you still have feelings for me. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me, even now.” His words pierce through her defenses, making her feel vulnerable. But she won’t let him control her, and she certainly won’t let him weaken her resolve.

Y/N finishes touching up her appearance. She straightens out her pink floral dress before turning to him. “I’m sure you would like that but, I have a boyfriend. And he’s..perfect. And ten times better than you.” She makes her way toward the door when Ransom grabs her wrist tightly. 

His grip was rough and firm. "Don't even think about comparing our relationship to whatever you have now. You and I had something real, something special," he growls, his voice low and threatening. He forcefully grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer to him as he leans in to whisper in her ear. "Don't you remember?" His breath on her skin sends shivers down her spine.

She can't deny how he's making her feel: confusion, anger, frustration, panic. But she still won't let him weaken her resolve. She's stubborn and would rather die than admit he's right. Her anger boils up again, coursing through her veins. "Ransom, let me go!" She grits through her teeth, her eyes glancing around nervously as she hears footsteps outside the bathroom door.

As soon as they hear the knob to the bathroom door turning, Ransom instinctively grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the bathroom stall. Y/N's heart beats faster at the fact that she's this close to him, his chest an inch away from hers.

She notices his soft, expensive black suit, his hair perfectly pulled back. His cologne, sharp and intense, instantly invades her nostrils like the biting cold of winter wind. He raises an index finger to his lips, cautioning her to stay quiet.

She rolls her eyes and looks away, hoping they won't get caught. She can't afford to be seen by the other ladies, who would surely spread the rumor around town. Holding her breath, she peeks through the crack in the bathroom stall door as the older ladies, dressed in matching pastel silk dresses and sparkling pearl earrings, gather by the sink. The ladies all look so prim and proper, each one talking softly in a hushed tone like they are in church. Y/N feels like she is going to choke on her breath, but she keeps silent.

"That's Mrs. Wellington. If we keep our voices low, she won't even hear us," Ransom whispers, his gaze piercing through her soul. His knuckles trail down her arm, and goosebumps ghost over her skin. "Does that boyfriend know how to touch you? Does he know how to kiss you?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, his tone husky. He’s testing her. He knows she can’t make a scene unless she wants to risk getting caught. He’s got her cornered and he enjoys it immensely. 

His words pierce her heart like a dagger, rekindling the pain and emotions Ransom once caused. At this moment, her resolve wavers, and for a moment, she struggles to maintain the anger she felt only moments before. She turns to face him, her eyes locked on his. Her voice is determined as she speaks, but there's an undercurrent of sadness in her words.

"I'm better off without you."

She knows it's a lie, but she says it with such conviction as if she's trying to convince herself as much as him. But she can’t deny that she's not ready to let him go, despite all the pain he's caused. She still holds out hope that things will work out between them, even though she knows it's a naive wish.

The air in the room feels thick with tension. Ransom leans back, putting his large hand on her shoulder. She thinks for a moment that he believes her. Suddenly, they both hear the clicking of heels as Mrs. Wellington, the head of the group, dressed in a bright teal silk dress, walks by with the other women. Their coiffed hair forms perfect crowns upon their heads as they exit the bathroom. 

She dashes towards the door, but she feels Ransom grab her wrist again. His annoyance is evident in his voice as he questions her. "Do you really think you can lie to me after all these years?" He asks. "I just need to know that you feel the same way about him as you used to feel about me."

Y/N looks at Ransom, searching for sincerity in his eyes, and she finds it. She can't bring herself to lie about loving her boyfriend. Or the fact that she’s hurt him deeply, the pain evident in the way he’s looking at her. She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She's speechless. Tears start to flood her eyes, and she shakes her head, whispering, "I can't... I can't do this."

With that, she pulls herself away from Ransom’s grasp and rushes out of the bathroom, leaving him behind.

One week later,

Linda Drysdale had invited Y/N and her mother to Harlan's old house. They hadn't seen her since she had left for college, and part of her was excited to see them. But another part of her felt nervous. She still hadn't gotten over what had happened between her and Ransom, an event that had been replaying in her mind like a broken record.

Ransom was like a phantom, with him invading her mind even more than before. She knew there was a chance that he'd be there, as it was his family's house. Just the thought of having to deal with him made her stomach churn.

The ride over to Harlan's estate was quick, with Y/N trying her best to act fine. But despite her efforts, she couldn't help but feel her mother's concerned gaze. When her mom touched her shoulder and asked her if she was okay, she forced a smile on her lips and said she was fine. But she was far from it.

When they parked in the driveway and stepped out of the car, Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door with her mother beside her. Linda answered the door and greeted them with a hug, putting her at ease. “Oh, I'm so happy you guys could make it,” she beamed as she pulled them both into her embrace. “And look at you,” she said, taking a good look at Y/N. “You look so grown-up! Come in, dinner is almost ready.” Linda stepped aside and let them walk inside.

As they walked past the foyer, Y/N noticed that the house was just how she remembered it. The living room was expansive, smelling as if Harlan had still been alive there. The aromas of the musty bookshelves, tobacco smoke from his old pipe, and the woodsy scent from the handmade furniture all came together to create a unique and nostalgic fragrance.

For a moment, she felt at ease until Linda called out from the kitchen. "Ransom! Come down here, dinner is ready!" Her heart dropped in her chest as she heard the floorboards creak above her, followed by the sight of Ransom descending the stairs.

He gave her a smug smile, seeing the look of shock on her face."What? You didn't think I'd ditch my own family's dinner party, did you?" he asked, his tone playful but with a hint of triumph.

She was left speechless as Ransom walked into the dining room, her shock almost enough to leave her unable to move. But she recovered quickly and followed him into the room, surprised to see that everyone had already taken their seats. Linda sat with her mother on one side of the table, and Richard was at the head of the table, leaving Y/N to sit between her mother and Ransom.

Feeling her heart pounding, she forced a nervous smile and took her seat next to Ransom, determined not to let her fear show on her face. Throughout the course of the meal, she felt his gaze linger on her every so often. But she kept her true feelings hidden beneath a forced smile.

Moments after dinner ended, Linda began to cry. Richard leaned over the table, holding her hands and asking, "Honey, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about Harlan and how happy he would have been to see us all together. He adored the two of you so much." Linda replied, wiping her tears and nodding at Y/N and Ransom.

Y/N offered Linda a grateful smile, transported back to the times she had spent at Harlan's country estate. As she sat there, wrapped up in memories and emotions, she felt her heart ache.

Eight years ago. 

Y/N and Ransom laughed as they ran down the halls of Harlan’s country estate. She suddenly darted into one of the studies, jumping onto the desk in the middle of the room. Ransom sauntered over to her.

"Bad move," he said as he approached, his eyes full of mirth. She smirked and shrugged, feeling his hands grip her chin. His thumb grazed over the soft skin of her jawline. He was now only an inch away from her. His arms caged her in, with both of his hands resting on the desk on either side of her hips.

"I missed you today," Ransom whispered, looking down at her lips. A playful glint shone in his eyes as he drew her face closer to his own, their lips almost touching. Her heart raced, knowing that he was just waiting for her to make the first move.

"I've caught you now," He said, his voice low and mischievous. "What's my prize?"

Y/N blushed, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tried to catch her breath. "You can have...anything you want," she gazed up at him with her eyes, trying to not make it obvious that she was feeling nervous. Ransom's smirk widened, and he leaned in again, moving his lips close to her ear, a low murmur filled the air. "Anything I want, huh?" he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. Her body tensed up, not sure how she should react to his words.

She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts as she heard the sound of dishes being cleared by the butler. Richard stretched and looked out the window. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, shaking his head as he took in the sight of the heavy rain outside. Linda's eyes widened at the sight of the storm. "Oh no.  We can't let you leave in that kind of weather," Linda said. "You can stay the night. We have plenty of room, you know that."

Her mother stood up from the table. "I appreciate it, Linda, but I don't want to impose. I know you're still grieving."

"Don't be ridiculous! We insist. It wouldn't be right if we left you to brave the storm," She insisted.

Y/N's heart raced at the thought of spending the night with Ransom. As she followed her mother into the living room, she felt a mix of anxiousness and excitement. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the sight of the storm raging outside the windows. She knew it wouldn't be easy to sleep in the same room as Ransom, especially with their history. But the thought of being close to him again, even if it was just for one night, made her stomach flutter with anticipation.

The storm seemed to mirror the tension between her and Ransom, each drop of rain a symbol of the emotions that threatened to overflow and burst, just like the storm. The sound of the rain against the windows created a haunting ambiance in the room, adding to the awkwardness of the conversation.

As Linda and Richard joined them, her dread only intensified. She tried to hide her discomfort but she could feel the tension building like the storm outside. She wished they would leave before things got any worse.

"Your mother can take the guest bedroom," Linda said. "And, Y/N, we don't have another empty room here. You and Ransom will have to share a room. I'm not ready to clean out Harlan's room just yet." Her tone was melancholic as she spoke as if she didn't want to burden Y/N with her request. Y/N's guilt grew with every passing moment, knowing she had no choice but to comply with the request.

Ransom tried to suppress a grin, which only made the situation worse. She felt as though the floor was rising and falling beneath her, the weight of the situation crushing her like a ton of bricks. Her thoughts raced with dread, wondering how she could possibly share a room with her ex and still keep her sanity.

As everyone went to their assigned bedrooms, Y/N stood there, contemplating her options. Sleeping on the couch in the living room wouldn't be a good idea since she would have to explain herself, but sleeping with Ransom was even worse.

She knew she wouldn't get any rest, no matter what she did. "Shall we?" Ransom asked, the smirk on his face growing wider. She let out a heavy sigh and shoved past him up the stairs, his presence behind her like a dark shadow.

The bedroom was lavish, with a black, modern desk filled with papers and pens, a tall wooden bookshelf, a spacious walk-in bathroom, and a king-sized bed with black, modern sheets and a leather ottoman at the end. It was a far cry from her simple bedroom back home, and she felt out of place as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Ransom followed, sitting down next to her, and reached over to tuck a strand of her hair that had fallen in her face. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the warmth that spread through her body as his fingers grazed her skin. They sat there in silence, the intensity between them palpable. Y/N could feel her heart racing, knowing this was not how she wanted her visit back home to go. As she looked around the room, she couldn't help but feel uneasy and uncomfortable in the situation.

Y/N shrugged Ransom's hand away and got up from the bed, crossing her arms against her chest. She took a deep breath before speaking, determined to make her boundaries clear. "Okay, let's get something straight," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto Ransom's. "We are not sleeping in the same bed! Absolutely not!" 

To her surprise, Ransom let out a light chuckle and his arrogant smirk reappeared on his smug face, making her heart race with a mix of irritation and attraction. She tried to ignore it, reminding herself that this situation was temporary and that she can make it through this. "And where would you have me sleep?" Ransom asked, a mocking tone in his voice, making her stomach knot with anger. 

She shook her head with frustration, refusing to let him get under her skin. Despite her desire to see him suffer, she knew it was best to keep her emotions in check. "I don't know, but definitely not in the same bed as me," she replied, feeling the awkwardness in the room mounting with each word.

Ransom's eyebrows raised, and for a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt, knowing she was pushing him away. She took a step back, trying to distance herself from him, and repeated her boundaries with more force. "I don't care," she repeated, her voice getting louder with each word. "I'm not sharing a bed with you." 

His smile faded, and his expression grew serious as he realized Y/N was not going to change her mind. "Fine," he said, his tone low but not unkind. He turned to the couch and sat down, letting out a heavy sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

Another wave of guilt washed over her at the sight of him sitting there, alone on the couch. Maybe she had been a little too harsh. But she reminded herself that she had set her boundaries, and sticking to them was important. She stood up and made her way over to the couch, sitting down next to him, and nervously fumbled with her fingers.

"Look, I'm sorry," she said, keeping her voice low. "I know this is a weird situation, but I need to stick to my boundaries. I'll take the couch, and you can have the bed, okay?"

He chuckled softly and shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Y/N, we're both adults," he said with a small grin, his eyes meeting hers. "What's the big deal with us sharing a bed for one night?"

Despite his light tone, Y/N couldn't help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over her. A part of her wanted to trust Ransom and let down the walls she built up, but another part of her reminded her to keep her guard up. Reluctantly, she shook her head again. "I'm just not comfortable with it," she said softly. "I'll be fine on the couch."

Ransom nodded slowly, acknowledging her decision, but she couldn't help but feel the weight of his disappointment. Without another word, he stood up and grabbed his pajamas before disappearing into the bathroom with a small sigh.

After a few moments, he stepped out of the bathroom, only wearing his gray pajama pants. She fought the urge to lower her gaze, her eyes wanting nothing more than to linger on his well-toned chest for a moment. "Do you want to change?" he asked, holding his clothes in his arms. Y/N hesitated, trying not to let her emotions show on her face. "Nope, I'm fine in these clothes," she lied, looking down at the black midi dress she was wearing.

He threw his clothes on the end of the ottoman, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh come on! Will you stop acting like that?" he said, teasingly. "I swear, you look like I'm about to take away your virtue or something." Y/N couldn't help but laugh, feeling some of the tension leave her body, realizing that she had been holding her breath this whole time.

He was right. She was being childish, refusing to change into more comfortable clothes. They were both adults. They could both sleep in the same room without giving in to their desires. Right? "Sorry Ransom, but I think you stole my virtue away from me a long time ago." She teased, cracking a small smile. "Fine. Do you have anything I could borrow for the night?"

"Of course," Ransom said, seeming to relax a bit. It was the first time in a while that Y/N hadn't looked like she wanted to punch him in the face, and he was pleased that she seemed to be opening up to him more. Deep down, he hoped that maybe they could get back to how things used to be. He walked over to his dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

"Here you go," he said, handing her his clothes. Y/N smiled again, but this time it was genuine, compared to the forced and angry ones he had seen in the past. She whispered a soft, "Thank you" before walking towards the bathroom to get changed.

He felt a certain urgency to follow her into the bathroom and kiss her and wrap his arms around her. To feel her body pressed against his. But he knew it wasn’t the right time. Another sigh escaped his lips as he turned around, beginning to pull the covers down and crawl into bed.

–

A sudden crackling sound woke Y/N and Ransom in the middle of the night. The sound of thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, accompanied by flashes of lightning that lit up the room. The power went out soon after, leaving the room dark except for the moonlight sneaking in through the windows.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, feeling a tinge of fear rising within her. "Ransom?" she asked, her voice a slight shake.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, sounding irritated but not at her. He tried flipping the switch, but it was dead. "I think the storm cut the power out," he said, sounding annoyed but not directing it at her.

Y/N let out a heavy sigh. "Great," she grumbled. She pulled the blanket up closer to her chest, but it did little to add warmth. The cold quickly filled the room, and a chill slowly crept through the entire house. She could make out the shape of Ransom's face despite the darkness, thanks to the moonlight creeping through the window.

Despite the circumstances, Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement as she looked at him. She quickly suppressed the feeling, reminding herself of their current situation. Staying safe and warm was her top priority, not her feelings for Ransom.

There were a few moments of silence, and Y/N started to shiver under the weighted blanket, her teeth chattering as she tried to bury herself deeper under the covers. Ransom broke the silence, his voice low and gentle. "Y/N, the power's out and it's going to be a long night. We might as well keep each other warm," he said.

His words were comforting, but she hesitated for a moment. As much as she craved the warmth of his body, she couldn't bring herself to face him. Her emotions were already running high, and she didn't trust herself to keep them in check.

Finally, she mustered up the courage to stand up from the couch and crawl into bed with him. She shifted, her back facing Ransom's chest. She snuggled up close to him, his body heat a welcome comfort in the otherwise cold room.

As she relaxed into him, she felt a small flutter of excitement in her chest, which she tried to suppress but it was futile. She let out a slow breath, trying to slow her racing heart. Ransom felt her shivering frame press against him as he pulled more of the covers up over the two of them.

He began rubbing her arms up and down, in an attempt to provide her with more warmth. "Does that feel better?" he whispered, his voice low and gentle. His lips curved up in a small smirk at the fact that he got to hold her in his arms again. Something he’d missed for the longest time. Despite not being able to see her face, he knew she was awake by the tense muscles in her body and the heavy breathing he could hear.

"Yeah. It feels nice." Y/N replied, her voice shaking a little from the cold. Ransom leaned closer to her ear, speaking in a low voice. "You know, you would probably get more warmth if you were facing me." There was a moment of hesitation, and then she finally replied. "I’m fine the way I am. Plus, you’re only saying that because you want me closer to you."

"Maybe," he chuckled softly, pulling her hair back from her face. For a moment, he brushed his fingers against her cheek, a gentle touch that she could barely feel through the blankets. "Or maybe I just wanted to see your pretty face." As Ransom's fingers continued to brush against her skin, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

She didn't know how to react to his small gesture of affection and sighed deeply, realizing that he wasn't going to let up. Reluctantly, she shifted onto her right side, looking away from him. "Is this better?" she muttered, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Ransom smiled softly, gently trailing his finger down toward her jaw. He knew that he shouldn't push her too much, but he couldn't help himself. He had a hard time controlling himself around her. Every time he looked at her, it reminded him of when they were together and happy. A part of him hated how they had grown apart.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. "I miss you, Y/N. I miss how close we were before." The words came out in a whisper, barely audible in the quiet room. But they hung in the air, heavy and full of emotion. "I never meant to hurt you that night. I was stupid and I felt like I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I…I didn’t want to hold you back."

Her breath hitched as he said those words. She knew deep down that there was no turning back now. The expression on his face was soft, and there was a tinge of remorse in his eyes. For a moment, he looked just like the boy she remembered all those years ago before they both headed off to college.

"I..." she hesitated, struggling to find the words. Then, with a deep breath, she uttered the words she had been wanting to say for so long. "Ransom, you were never holding me back. I would’ve followed you anywhere. You...you broke my heart..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Before she could say anything further, Ransom pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her waist. Their faces were so close together, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. It was a tempting sensation, one that made her heart race. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her right now, and she knew it.

“Don’t you think I know that? I regret that every damn day. It was the biggest mistake of my life,” Ransom whispered in her ear. His breath was hot on her temple as he spoke, and she could feel the tremors in his voice. It was clear that he was just as torn up about the situation as she was.

"Ransom," she murmured, pressing a hand to his bare chest. She knew where this was going and feared what she might do. Their connection had always seemed otherworldly - a drug that she had never been able to get enough of, even after they'd separated. He'd always been a source of temptation, a pull that she'd never been able to resist. She never loved anyone else quite like she did him.

He leaned his forehead against hers, a spark of desire in his eyes. "Tell me this feels wrong and I'll stop," he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction as he asked.

She sighed softly. She knew it was wrong, but the pull of temptation was too strong to resist. She couldn't force the words out - deep down, she wanted this too. And the way that he was looking at her right now - it made her heart race even faster and her belly twist with delicious uncertainty.

She closed the gap and kissed him passionately. Her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, even closer than before. He was stunned at first and then, without a moment's hesitation, he kissed her back. It was fierce and passionate, with a certain roughness that she had missed for so long. His hand cradled her neck as they kissed, a feeling that she never wanted to end.

A few minutes after they locked lips, she pulled away, leaving them both panting and trying to catch their breath. Even in the dimly lit room, she could still make out the familiar outline of Ransom's mischievous grin. "Just give me another chance to love you," Ransom whispered, his voice laced with sincerity and hope. "Give me another chance to show you the kind of love that you deserve. I promise I won't let you down again."

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she listened to his words. It was something she had been hoping for, for the longest time, and now it was finally becoming a reality. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, she replied, "Ransom, losing you once was painful enough. I don't want to ever go through that again."