#drew.

You met Drew through mutual friends at a wrap party—one of those chaotic Hollywood nights where you didn’t know half the people and didn’t care to. He was standing near the back patio, cigarette in hand, hoodie up, a little detached from the crowd, like he wasn’t built for the scene but tolerated it when necessary.

He caught your eye because he didn’t look at you like everyone else did. No lingering up-and-down glances, no creepy smiles. Just one look—steady, curious—and then he tipped his head in acknowledgment like you were in on the same secret.

You ended up outside with him half an hour later, sharing a cigarette you didn’t even want, listening to him talk about a role he was prepping for. You barely said anything, just watched him talk, his voice low and steady, hands moving with soft, easy gestures. He was older, calm in ways you weren’t, but that only made the whole thing more magnetic.

He got your number before the night ended.

₊˚ʚ 🎀 ₊˚✧ﾟ.

Months passed. You became friends—well, friends on the edge of something heavier. Constant texting. Calls that lasted until 3 a.m. Watching movies at his place, too close on the couch, never acknowledging the weight in the air.

You knew you wanted him, and you knew he felt it too. But there was this unspoken line. The age thing. The career gap. The fact that everything with him felt so much more intense than any of the casual crap you were used to.

But tonight, that line finally vanished.

₊˚ʚ 🎀 ₊˚✧ﾟ.

You were sitting on his bed, knees curled under you, wearing one of his shirts—oversized and soft, smelling like his cologne and the kind of comfort you didn’t want to analyze. You were talking about something stupid, laughing too hard, and he was just watching you.

His eyes were darker than usual, jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable. And then, quietly, he said:

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Your laughter died instantly. “What?”

He leaned in, voice low and firm. “I’ve been trying to be good. I’ve been trying to wait. But you’re killing me.”

You swallowed, heart hammering against your ribs. “Then stop waiting.”

That was it. One second, you were staring at each other—and the next, his mouth was on yours, hands cupping your jaw like he needed to ground himself in your skin. The kiss was slow at first, exploring, learning every curve of your lips like he’d imagined it a hundred times and wanted to make it count.

But it didn’t stay slow for long.

₊˚ʚ 🎀 ₊˚✧ﾟ.

Drew guided you back against the bed, climbing over you with careful, almost reverent control. His hands slipped under your shirt, dragging it up and over your head, eyes dragging over your bare chest like he was memorizing you.

“God,” he muttered, fingers grazing over your breasts, making you arch into him. “You’re perfect. So goddamn perfect.”

Your hips lifted automatically as he pulled your shorts down, exposing soft skin and the soaked fabric of your underwear. He paused, eyes locking with yours.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, voice ragged.

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

That was all it took. He kissed down your body slowly, lips trailing fire across your stomach, hands gripping your thighs as he settled between them. And when his mouth finally found you, tongue licking through your wetness, you almost cried out.

He licked slow and deep at first, teasing your clit with gentle flicks of his tongue, then sucking just enough to make your back arch. His hands held your thighs open as he devoured you, murmuring praise against your skin.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he breathed. “So damn good for me, baby.”

Your hands found his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned in response, the vibration sending shocks through you. You were already close, your legs shaking, and when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right, it was over. You came hard, gasping his name, thighs clamping around his head as you trembled.

He kissed back up your body, not giving you a second to recover. “I need to be inside you,” he growled. “Now.”

You barely managed a nod before he was stripping out of his own clothes—ripped shirt, jeans, briefs—all of it gone in seconds. His body was lean and strong, muscles carved and golden under the soft light. You reached out to touch him, but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head as he settled between your thighs.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, kissing your neck. “You ready for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. I need it.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, until he filled you completely—stretching you, pressing deep, making your entire body go taut. He stayed there for a second, kissing your temple, your jaw, your throat.

“You feel so good,” he whispered. “So tight. So warm. Fuck, I could stay inside you forever.”

Then he started moving.

His thrusts were hard and deliberate, hitting deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. One hand held your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip, guiding your body to meet every drive of his.

“You take me so well,” he murmured, voice wrecked with pleasure. “Such a good girl for me.”

You were moaning, crying out with every snap of his hips, and he didn’t stop—just kept pounding into you with brutal, perfect rhythm, praising you through it all.

“Look at you. So beautiful. So desperate for me.”

“You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Your second orgasm built fast, overwhelming, and when you clenched around him, he groaned your name like it was the only word he remembered.

He fucked you through it, thrusts getting rougher, sloppier, and finally, he buried himself deep with a sharp gasp, coming hard inside you, his body shaking with the force of it.

₊˚ʚ 🎀 ₊˚✧ﾟ.

For a long moment, the room was quiet. Just heavy breathing. Sweat-slicked skin. The soft rustle of sheets as he collapsed beside you and pulled you into his chest.

“Hey,” he murmured after a few beats, brushing damp hair from your forehead. “You okay?”

You nodded, pressing your face into his chest. “Better than okay.”

He laughed, soft and low, and kissed the top of your head. “Didn’t mean for that to happen tonight. But I’m not sorry.”

“Me neither,” you whispered.

He tilted your face up, looked at you with something that felt dangerously close to love.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said, voice raw.