#chi writes

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Everything was going according to plan.

After weeks of hard work and ingratiating yourself to Avery, he didn’t expect a thing from you other than to clean his house, cook his dinner, and look pretty.  Was it a bit of a blow to your pride?  Maybe, but it was a small price to pay in order to stop him from his dastardly, evil plans…  Or something like that.  Honestly, you weren’t sure what exactly Avery and Remy were planning, but knowing the two of them, it probably wasn’t anything good.

The only bump in the road was replacing the wishing bones.  You had the replicas, and you knew where they were stored, but they were protected by a combination safe.  Finding the right code would take days of work for you—you were talented in your skullduggery, but you weren’t a genius.

However, you had a plan for that.

Resisting the urge to fiddle with your collar—an accessory Avery wasn’t fond of but was now aware that it could not be removed—you saw Avery off to work with a fakely bright smile and a wave, promising sweetly that you’d see him later.  You waited until his car was out of sight, giving it a few extra moments lest he turn around because he forgot something (not that he ever did, but you couldn’t risk fucking this up), before heading to the lounge.  Taking a deep breath, you sat down at the piano and played a tune you had memorized, a simple five-note melody.

Moments later, a head was peeking into the lounge, although you weren’t at all startled.  Long brown hair was hidden by a hooded cloak, and a brown fox mask covered the top half of his face.  A part of you wondered why he had come disguised; it’s not like you didn’t know who he was.  Still, one couldn’t be too careful, and you respected his need to stay undercover, which is why you didn’t greet him by name.

“Clever, playing the tune on the piano instead,” was the first thing he said as he came into the lounge from the garden.  You smiled wryly.

“I can’t whistle.  Not well enough to whistle a tune like that, at least.”

He chuckled.  “Fair enough.  You ready to get started, dear?”

Standing up from the piano bench, you gave a quick nod.  The two of you had hours before Avery would be back from work, but you still didn’t want to dally.

With little conversation, the two of you headed towards the study.  It was locked, but the lock was nothing against your picklocking skills, and soon enough you had the door open.  The Brown Fox—what he went by while he was undercover, although you knew him as (your boyfriend? situationship?) Gwylan—was amused.

“Are you sure you needed my help?”

“The safe is the issue,” you sighed, gently closing the door to the study behind you.  Nobody else was in the mansion to hear the noise, but it was a habit you had acquired long before you moved in with Avery.

Knowing exactly where to go, you reached out to the bookshelf and pulled out a thick book.  The pages had been cut out in the middle, so when you opened it up there was a deep pocket hiding a remote in there.  You barely noticed Gwylan’s stare as you clicked a button on the remote, instead focused on the way the bookshelf opened to reveal a set of narrow, stone stairs leading into the depths of Avery’s Mansion.  It was only when he didn’t move to follow you that you looked back and saw he was staring at the book, a contemplative look on his face that you didn’t see often.  You placed a hand on his shoulder—it did the trick, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was caught up in.

Gwylan gave you a short apology before descending down the staircase.  You knew better than to question him on it—as much as you loved him (and really, you truly did love him even if he never said the words back to you), Gwylan was never quite forthcoming.  You wouldn’t get a straight answer from him.

The stairs led to Avery’s dungeon, a place he loved to drag you to when he had a particularly frustrating day or was just pissed at you for no reason.  Instruments lined the wall, from floggers to whips, and there were chains that hung down, as well as a table.  Your gaze darkened, memories of being strapped down and left for hours haunting you.

You fucking hated it down here, but this was also where the safe was kept.

Gwylan’s own gaze was dark, and you followed his line of sight to the whips he was glaring at.

“Welcome to Avery’s little dungeon,” you dryly stated, breaking the silence.  Your back stung just looking at the whips.  Gwylan had seen the bruises during the times you had sex, but hadn’t really ever questioned them.  Now, he could probably fathom a guess as to where they had come from.

Tearing your gaze from the assortment of BDSM equipment that Avery possessed, you walked over to the safe and tapped it once.  “Don’t know the code, though, so I hope you came prepared.”

He did not, starting to fiddle with the keypad and punch in different combinations.  The dull beeps from the safe had you restless.

“If I would have known this was the plan, I would have started whittling down combinations myself,” you sighed, crossing your arms.  “Gwy, you can’t possibly—”

Beep beep.

You paused, staring at the safe incredulously as it swung open.

“. . . Are you fucking kidding me?”  You couldn’t help but blurt out.  Despite your mind reeling at the sheer, insane luck, you were already pulling out the wishing bones.  You really didn’t see a difference as you looked back and forth between the real ones and the fake ones, although there was something about the real ones that was just off-putting.  “There are ten thousand possible combinations, and you got it right in just a few minutes?  How?”

Gwylan gave you a cheeky grin, his green eyes glinting underneath the mask.  “I have my ways.”

Shaking your head, you stepped forward and swapped out the bones, holding the real ones towards Gwylan, but he only shook his head in return.

“They’re yours,” he insisted, closing your fingers gently around them.  His hands were warm.  Comforting.  “You did most of the work.  You hold onto them.”

You weren’t sure how you felt about holding onto them, but you had no will to argue.  After a moment, you gave a small nod and pocketed the real bones before closing the safe.

Hopefully, Avery wouldn’t be able to tell the difference when the time came.  The replicas were impossible to tell apart, but there was still a gnawing anxiety that something could go wrong.  As if sensing this anxiety, Gwylan pet your head softly.

“Good pet.  Let’s go.”

As always, his praise made you feel warm and gooey on the inside.  Eager to leave this hellhole behind, you followed him out of the dungeon and the study, making sure to cover your tracks and lock the doors behind you.

Avery would never know that you were here.

“What now?”  You asked as you followed Gwylan down the hall.

“Now, we wait for the tower to be completed.”  He stopped outside an open door, peering in.  It was Avery’s bedroom—you had tidied it up earlier.  There weren’t many personal touches in the room.  “You can handle yourself until then, right, dear?”

You stepped into the room, humming in agreement.  “I’ve made it this far.  Although I have a request.”  Gwylan followed you into the room as you made your way towards the dresser, opening the bottom drawer and pulling a folder from underneath the neatly folded clothes.  He tilted his head as you held it out to him.

“Would you mind holding onto this?  It’s from the kids at the orphanage.  If Avery finds it…  I’m afraid he’ll throw it away.”

Gwylan’s expression softened as he gingerly took the folder from you.  “Of course, dear.”  He stared at it for a moment.  “How long until he’s back?”

You blinked a couple times.  Why did it matter?  The heist was done.  “Not until late tonight.”

His green eyes seemed to almost glow as he placed the file on top of the dresser, stepping forward until he was right in front of you.  Just staring into his eyes made you feel your cheeks heat up, your body reacting instinctively to him.

“You’ve done such a good job,” he murmured, cupping his hand towards your face.  You immediately rested your chin on it, and he smiled indulgently as he scratched underneath your chin.  “You deserve a reward.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into a kiss.  It was slow, unhurried, but he was completely in control as he held you close, his tongue pushing into your mouth.  The hand that had been near your face moved to the back of your neck, his other hand resting on your waist as he slowly maneuvered you backwards.  You hadn’t even been aware you were moving, so consumed by his lips, until you felt plush bedding against the back of your thighs.  Gwylan pulled back from the kiss, mere millimeters from you.

“Sit.”

Your legs buckled beneath you, the command reverberating through your being as you hastily sat on the bed.  He pet your head again.  “Good girl.”

He seemed to contemplate for a moment, his hand moving to rest on your cheek before he stepped back.  You couldn’t help but whine at the loss of contact, but thankfully it wasn’t for long.  Gwylan’s hands plucked at your shirt, pulling it from your body with ease; you never quite understood how he always managed to undress you like that, but it was really the last thing on your mind right now.

In no time at all you were naked before him.  His gaze raked over you, taking in the sight before he raised his hand to your neck for a quick moment.  When he pulled away his hand, there was a green leash wrapped around his hand, almost like a vine, attached to your collar.

“You haven’t forgotten who your real master is,” he purred, his gaze turning hooded.  “You may serve Avery here, but he’ll never own you.”

“Gwy…”  Your voice came out much needier than you meant it to, almost another whine, but you cared little about it.  All you could think about was getting him inside you.

Sensing your desperation, Gwylan tugged firmly on your leash, leading you further onto the bed.  You followed eagerly, crawling further onto the bed.  Gwylan was close behind you, shedding his clothes with ease until he was in nothing but the fox mask he donned.  You reached up to pull it off him—before your fingers could make contact, Gwylan was using one hand to grab both of yours, pulling your wrists together.

“No.”  The command was simple, but you didn’t fight it, letting your hands fall instead.  He smiled once more, cupping your cheek, calling you a ‘good girl’ once more in a low murmur.  Releasing your wrists, his now freed hand trailed down your body to settle between your legs, running his fingers through your folds leisurely.  You were already dripping wet, soaking his fingers with him barely touching you already.  He let out a hum, and his smile almost seemed condescending as his gaze flitted back up towards your face.

“Do you want my touch?  Do you want me to fuck you on his bed?”  The way his tone was so sweet despite the debauched words had you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to trap his hand there—to no avail.  He only tsked, moving his hand to one of your thighs to keep your leg still, your juices smearing on your skin.  “Beg me.”

At those last words, he tugged meaningfully at your collar.  Your mouth went dry for a moment, a breathy sigh leaving your lips.  “Please,” you murmured.  “I don’t belong to Avery.  I belong to you.”

“Good pet.”  He moved his hand completely away from your thigh.  “Roll over.”  His other hand moved away from your cheek, allowing you the space to immediately roll onto your hands and knees, presenting your ass to him.  His fingers smoothed over your head, petting you a few times before he began to push down until your face was buried into the pillows beneath you.  You had a brief realization you were on Avery’s side of the bed (his pillow being much firmer than yours) before Gwylan was slowly pressing his cock into you.  Then, all thoughts flew out of your mind.

Your moan was muffled as you felt his cock slowly drag through your walls.  He only went halfway at first, shallowly rutting in and out of you.  You tried to push back, but with one hand on the back of your head and the other curling into your hip, he was able to keep you still.  Nails dug gently into your skin, but the pain only added to your arousal.

“Please..!”

It was all you could manage to get out of your mouth, but it was enough.  In one sharp thrust, Gwylan fully sheathed himself inside you, both of you moaning in sync at the feeling.  He stayed like that for a moment, savoring the feeling of just being inside you.  Just as you were getting impatient, squirming beneath him, he began to move his hips.

There was no controlling the moans that left your mouth.  Gwylan’s hand left the back of your head, instead tugging at your leash in a way that had you lifting your head back up so he could hear you better.  Your moans drowned out the wet smacking noises from every thrust into you, although you wouldn’t have been able to focus on that anyways, instead solely focused on the way he seemed to hit your weak spot with every thrust.  It was a miracle you didn’t collapse completely into the bed with the way your limbs felt like jelly.

Despite the volume of your moans, you could hear Gwylan perfectly as he spoke, his words coming out in soft pants as he attempted to remain composure.  His voice echoed through your brain, leaving you nearly entranced.

“He could never make you feel as good as I do, pet.  You’ll never belong to him, will you?  You’ll only ever be mine, right?”

Perhaps there was something worrying about the possessiveness in his tone.  You most certainly did not care, especially when he made you feel so good, when this felt so right.  Gwylan was right.  You’d only ever be his.

You could barely work your lips, but when you didn’t answer, Gwylan’s pace slowed down, tugging at your leash once more.  He repeated his last question.  “You’ll always be mine—right?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, forcing out the word as you pressed back into him in an attempt to get him to continue fucking you again.  The slow pace was tortuous—you needed him to pound you into oblivion, to leave you unable to walk as his cum dripped out of you.  Fuck, you needed him.  “I’m only yours…!”

Satisfied with your answer, he resumed his pace, his movements almost feral.  His nails dug into your hip harder, the pain a mere echo in the back of your mind, and with each thrust he tugged the leash back.  You were completely under his control and at his mercy.  You didn’t mind one bit.

“Such a good girl for me,” Gwylan leaned down to murmur in your ear, his hand finally moving from your hip to reach under you, forefinger pressing down on your clit.  That pressure was all it took for your pussy to tighten around him, orgasming with a high-pitched moan.  You wanted to bury your face into the pillow, but the grip on your leash made it impossible to do, allowing Gwylan to hear you.

He fucked you through your orgasm, picking up pace.  It wasn’t long before it began to feel like too much; his finger rubbing slow circles on your clit, contrasting against the rough way he shoved his cock into your pussy.  With your walls fluttering around him, the sensations only seemed to heighten, another orgasm already building into you, coiling tight into your abdomen.  Pathetic whines left you.  You attempted to move your hips to grant you a moment of relief from the onslaught of sensations, but there was no escaping Gwylan.

“One more time.  You can do that for me, can’t you?”

You didn’t think you could.  Each thrust, each press of his finger, sent lightning through your limbs.  Your oversensitive pussy tingled with each pass of his cock through you, but you weren’t given much choice in the matter.  Your body was no longer yours to control—at his command, you were orgasming again.  Shudders racked your body, your hips twitching at your second orgasm, an almost pained whine leaving you.

Too much.  Much too much.  Gwylan wasn’t stopping, but he had at least moved his fingers away from your clit, granting you little reprieve.  Both hands moved to your hips to keep you still as his pace picked up, chasing his own release as you struggled to keep up.

“Once more.  Cum for me when I do.”

It was a command you were unable to resist, even though you felt spent already.  Nails dug into your hips harder than before, leaving indents in your skin that would result in bruises.  Each snap of his cock into you left you feeling weaker than the last, clawing at the blankets that laid underneath your hands.  With Gwylan no longer tugging on your leash, your head fell back into the pillow, doing little to muffle the loud moans and whines that spilled from your lips.  

He leaned forward, his chest pressing into your back, his cock pressing impossibly deeper into you.  Moments later, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, filling you up.  Gwylan continued to rut into you as he came, sharp teeth biting into the junction of your neck and shoulder, pressing his entire body against you.  One hand rested on the bed beside your head, the other staying on your hip to keep you from squirming too much.

In response to his own release, his command reverberating throughout your mind, you came as well, just as intense as the first two orgasms as your mind went blissfully blank.  Even the bite felt no pain, although it was for sure to leave a mark later that Avery would not be pleased about.  

Like this, with Gwylan draped over you, his cock buried deep inside you, you felt comforted.  As if everything would be alright.

Everything will be alright, a voice not quite your own reassured you, although who else’s would it be?, so long as you stay with Gwylan.

Gwylan waited a moment, making sure you were properly filled, before he finally lifted himself off you and pulled himself free.  Cum dribbled down your legs and onto the bedding in small splotches, and you slowly eased your body out of the position that Gwylan had you stuck in.  Your legs and pelvis felt sore, your movements slow as you tried to sit up.  It was hard; you wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the bed and take a nap.

“You’re always such a good girl for me,” Gwylan told you, petting your head once more before he extricated himself from the bed, standing up.  Despite the mask covering most of his face, you were positive his cheeks were pink.  Sitting, you tried to regain your bearings, your thoughts and sense of reason coming back to you in bits and pieces.

Gwylan began to dress himself, pulling clothes on with ease as you took the moment to reorient yourself.  You were still naked, sitting on the bed when he finished dressing.  His lips quirked upwards in amusement at your dazedness.

“C’mon, pet.”  His touch was gentle as he helped you stand up.  Your legs still felt like jelly, the feeling slowly coming back as you nearly wobbled for a moment.  “Go bathe yourself.  You did a good job today.”  Once you were steady, his hands left you, only for him to reach back and scratch under your chin for a moment.

With the world around you coming back into focus, you languidly picked up your clothes, taking a glance back at the bed that you and Gwylan had made a mess of.  Damn—you’d definitely have to clean that as soon as you were done bathing.  Considering Avery was willing to beat you over making the wrong food for dinner, you did not want to see what would happen if he saw the bed like this, with dried cum on his side of the bed.

You swallowed, your throat feeling dry.  Now lucid once more, you were aware of the skin around your mouth and chin feeling slightly dry—at some point while being fucked by Gwylan, you had begun to drool.  It’d almost be embarrassing, but you were long since past the point of being embarrassed around Gwylan.

“I’ll see you later?” you didn’t mean for it to come out as a question as you looked back at Gwylan.  Not a single hair or piece of cloth looked out of place, as if the two of you hadn’t just had sex.  You were envious at how easily put together he always seemed.  It had to be some kind of magic.

“Of course, dear.  And don’t forget we have our ritual tomorrow, too.”

You nodded.  Even the thought of missing your weekly rituals with Gwylan made guilt overflow through you, not that you would ever think of missing it.

Gwylan’s expression softened.  He cupped your cheek once more, leaning in to place a chaste peck on your lips.  “I meant it,” he murmured when he pulled back.  “You did a good job today.  It won’t be long until I have you out of here and back where you belong.”

With that promise and one more pat to your head, he grabbed the file that he earlier placed on the dresser (you had completely forgotten about it) and walked out of the room.  You followed him into the hallway, intending to head to the bathroom—despite only being a couple steps behind him, when you stepped out into the hallway, he was already completely gone.

Another sigh left you, and you continued your course to the bathroom.

“It won’t be long until I have you out of here and back where you belong.”

You’d just have to bide your time until then.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

It was snowing heavily in the park on Christmas Eve, but Whitney wasn’t there.

It wasn’t rare for you to catch Whitney in the park on a rainy or even particularly snowy day, smoking by himself on the bench.  Despite making it his job to be a little shit to everybody, he was capable of his own angst.

On those days, you didn’t say much.  You’d sit by him, partially shielded by his umbrella, and you wouldn’t say a word but keep him company.  Most of the time, he didn’t mind; on the times that he did mind, you knew well enough the signs to steer clear of him.

Since break had started, you hadn’t seen much of Whitney.  Truthfully, you hadn’t seen much of anybody in school, not even Kylar (thank goodness for that one).  With school on a pause, so were your tutoring sessions; it was where you made most of your income, but thanks to finals (where you had upcharged the prices by a lot), you wouldn’t be feeling too much of a financial stress while you were out of work.

For once, you could actually enjoy your break.  Whitney especially seemed to make your school life absolutely miserable at times; other times, he was the only thing that made school interesting.

You had expected to see him here in the park today.  Despite the two of you being more or less a couple, you rarely had scheduled dates or meet up times with him.  In fact, he had said nothing on the last day of school to you to indicate you’d be meeting up with him over break.  You still didn’t have a phone to text him, either—a cellphone was low on your list of priorities when you were struggling to help with bills that your alcoholic uncle wasn’t helping with.

Without knowing where Whitney lived, your best bet was to hope you’d just catch him here at the park, or at the pub, or somewhere else around town that you knew he’d like to frequent.

It had been all day.  The snow was heavy, freezing you to your bones, and you couldn’t find Whitney anywhere.  Your fingers felt frozen beneath your gloves, and you struggled to keep a good grip on the bag in your left hand.  Earlier, you had bought hot chocolate from your classmate Robin’s hot chocolate stand that she had set up in the park, but the warmth it had brought you was short-lived.

Maybe wanting to see Whitney was foolish.  Sure, the two of you were technically dating, but it’s not like you had a normal relationship with him.  Whitney was anything but normal, and your relationship with him was just as volatile as he was.  It’s not like the two of you had talked about plans for Christmas, or New Year’s.  That last day of school had ended with you and Whitney making out before he shoved you off and stalked off, suddenly in a foul mood for seemingly no reason at all.

. . . It was useless.  It was growing dark fast, and it was clear you weren’t going to find Whitney.  You glanced down at the small bag in your hands.  It was something small, you couldn’t afford anything big, but you had seen it at the shopping centre and wanted to buy it for him.  Now, you felt like tossing it down on the ground.

Time to head home, you suppose.  Spending Christmas Eve with your boyfriend was a bust.

There weren’t a lot of people in the park.  Robin had packed up her stand, and besides the occasional couple strolling through the park, most people were back home spending time with their loved ones.

Coming here was a mistake.  Sure, you and Whitney were dating, but he wasn’t the type of person to want to be all mushy and try to seek you out on Christmas Eve.  If you had been looking for that in a partner, you would have searched somebody else out—sentiment had never been Whitney’s M.O.  

“—fucking ignoring me?”

You hadn’t realized somebody had been talking to you, too lost in your lament, until a rough hand on your shoulder was pulling you back and forcing you to turn.  The iced-over pavement beneath your feet nearly had you lose your footing, and it took all you had in you to not flail your arm off to shake off whoever had grabbed you.

The only thing that stopped you from smacking the hand away was the voice; grating, annoyed, and completely familiar.  Glancing back, you were met with the face of the very person you had been getting angsty over, blond hair covering one of his eyes as usual.  He wasn’t as bundled up as you but he didn’t look too cold—he just looked annoyed, as if your presence here was inconveniencing him.  He withdrew his hand from your shoulder, just to shove it into his coat pocket.

“The fuck are you doing here?  Thought your lame ass would be spending your time home like a recluse.”  As always, Whitney’s way of speaking was brash and rude.  It no longer phased you, nor did you really ever take offense to what he said.

“I…”  You held up the bag in your hand, flexing your fingers.  They were stiff from the cold, almost hard to even bend.  “I was looking for you.”

Whitney’s eyes landed on the bag, his lips turning downwards into a small frown.  The one brown eye that was visible to you narrowed slightly, as if he expected for you to be pranking him. As if you ever would do that for something like this in the first place.

With all the decorum of a toddler, Whitney snatched the bag from you.  “What’s in here?” he asked, taking the tissue paper out of the bag and just littering it on the ground.  Not wanting to litter, you could only huff and squat down to hastily grab it up so you could throw it away later.  Whitney paid no mind as you did so, instead finally pulling out the small gift you had gotten for him.

“The fuck…?”

It was a small goose plushie—you hadn’t known Whitney’s favorite animal, but you felt like the sheer violence a goose could exhibit fit Whitney well, and you knew he collected plushies (if his uncle’s words had been anything to go by, anyways).  It was small, but truthfully you hadn’t been sure of what else to get him, and something about the plushie had called out to you when you saw it.

Whitney regarded the plushie carefully, and you noticed how he seemed to hold it almost loosely.  Brown eyes stared down at the plushie, and the longer he stayed quiet, the more antsy he got.  Whitney was rarely, if ever, quiet.  Only on those days when he would sullenly sit at the park and smoke.  Outside of those days, he always was speaking his mind and had shit to say.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Whitney placed the goose back in the bag.  “My uncle was lying,” he told you, his voice almost stiff.  “I don’t own any of that stupid shit.”

“Do you want me to take it back…?”  You reached out for the bag, but he yanked it back from you, glowering.

“What the fuck?  No.”  He kept the bag away from you, as if he thought you were going to continue to try and snatch the bag away from him.  “I don’t want you whining about it anyways.”

You knew better than to call him out on such a pathetic excuse.  You didn’t feel like ending up face first in the snow, so you just gave Whitney a small smile and a nod, placing your gloved hands into your pockets in hopes it would get some extra warmth in them.  With the sun rapidly setting, the cold felt even more bitter now, nipping at your nose and ears and every other piece of skin that wasn’t covered.

“I didn’t get you anything though, so don’t get your hopes up.”  Whitney began to walk.  He didn’t look behind himself once, but you trailed dutifully behind him.  If you didn’t follow, he’d just come back and drag you along, anyways.  Eventually, the two of you got to the bench he normally sat at, and he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“I don’t need anything,” you responded, sitting next to him and trying to ignore how cold the bench made you feel.  “I just saw that and thought of you.”

Whitney made a face.  “Thought of me?  The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t been expecting a ‘thank you’.  You can’t remember if you ever heard Whitney once thank you, even after you saved him from being carted off to the underground brothel (after he tried selling you into that—you’re genuinely not sure how you managed to develop feelings after that incident).  It didn’t usually bother you, either.  You knew how Whitney was.  It was why you never let yourself get truly upset with his lack of manners, and often went along with his whims when he was dragging you into an empty classroom for a quickie before class.  Because that was just how Whitney was.

But was it so wrong to hope for something different from your boyfriend, for once?  To want some semblance of a romantic relationship?

Mulling over your words carefully—you didn’t need to risk triggering his anger—you spoke.  “I wanted to get you something you might like for Christmas.  I remember your uncle mentioning you had some of those, so I just thought…”  You shrugged, trailing off.  Whitney’s face grew sour at the mention of his uncle again before it morphed into something more contemplative.  He didn’t look over at you, instead staring at the frozen fountain while he smoked.

It was a while before he spoke again.  You were content with the silence, and his cigarette had burned down a bit by now.

“. . . Shouldn’t have,” he muttered, almost too low to hear.

“Hm?”

Whitney huffed.  “Nevermind.  Just go home.”  When you didn’t make a move to get going right away, Whitney finally glanced at you, eyes narrowing.  “Well, what are you waiting for, slut?  Fuck off.”

Patience was something you normally exhibited.  It was a trait that was sorely needed when tutoring the idiots at your school, and it was definitely needed when dealing with Whitney, but it was something you felt you were lacking today.  Teeth gritted, your own eyes narrowed as you met Whitney’s gaze.

“Can I not want to spend Christmas Eve with my boyfriend?”

‘Boyfriend’ wasn’t a term you used often, just as how Whitney didn’t really refer to you as his ‘girlfriend’.  Yeah, the two of you were together, but it just wasn’t really how the two of you worked.  Perhaps that’s why Whitney looked a bit taken aback.  Why else would he seem almost frazzled?  

Granted, you didn’t usually talk back to him, either, but you weren’t in the best mood yourself after having been searching for him all day.

“Why the fuck would you want to do that?”  Whitney looked even more baffled, and his response only left you confused in return.

“What do you mean, why would I want to do that?”  His response had genuinely puzzled you.  Sure, Whitney wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but there was a reason why the two of you were together.  A lot of people may have thought your relationship was forced or one-sided, but you genuinely did like being with Whitney.  Even if he drove you up the wall more often than not.  “I’ve literally spent all day looking for you.”

“You did?”  He looked like he wanted to say more, but somehow refrained himself from speaking.  At the very least, Whitney didn’t try to shoo you off again, instead opting to quietly finish off his cigarette.  When the cigarette had dwindled, he flung it off into the snow, the butt disappearing in the mounds of white.

The silence was somewhat comforting.  Neither of you tried to talk, and you were content with that.  Feeling particularly emboldened by Whitney not trying to continue ushering you off, you leaned over slightly and rested your head lightly on his shoulder.  He immediately tensed, and you partially expected him to immediately shove you off—but he didn’t.

It was… peaceful.  Even though you had been freezing previously, you felt just a little bit lighter and a little bit warmer, being next to Whitney like this.  He was careful to not jostle you as he pulled out another cigarette to smoke, allowing you to rest up against him and watch as the snow fell gently all around the two of you.  You could just close your eyes and…

And…

“It’s late.”  Whitney’s voice snapped you back awake.  You immediately straightened up.  The sky was completely dark, and there was no cigarette anywhere.  He probably finished it a bit ago.  You hadn’t even realized that your eyes had slid shut until he had woken you up.

“Yeah…” You stretched your neck slightly, watching as Whitney stood up.  Following suit, you brushed your coat off of any snow it had accumulated.  Had Whitney really just…  let you rest against him?  Without shoving you off???

Whitney picked up the bag you had given him, before grabbing your forearm.  You knew him well enough by now to know what he was after, and you leaned in to give him a kiss.  You had been expecting something fiery, but immediately his lips were softer against yours.  The kiss was slower, a lot less tongue than he usually showed, as he pulled you closer.

When Whitney finally pulled away, your own face felt aflame.  He pulled away, only to dive in and steal one last kiss from you before he pulled away completely.

“See ya.”

With your bag in hand, he began to walk off.  Ever the romantic, he had said nothing else to you.

“Whit!”

He looked somewhat annoyed as he turned back to face you, impatience written all over his face.

“Merry Christmas.”

“. . . Yeah.  You too.”

With that said, he turned around and continued to walk towards his own home, leaving you to start heading back yourself.