#eury2kchallenge

You teased him for how detail-oriented he was about the project from start to finish. Of course, he was meticulous in his planning. The little things mattered to him. More importantly, he wanted it to be perfect for you. Your opinion was what mattered.

The day it was finished, he refused to let you see it. Not until he set up the romantic meal outside. You even let him blindfold you before he led you out. The look on your face when he removed it made it more than worth the effort. The two of you barely made it through the meal before he had you on the pool's edge, your legs wide and open as he gave your first orgasm of the day. The first of many. 

Swimming became part of your routine. The fact that the pool was heated helped. Some days, you timed how long it would take for him to jump in with you. Others, you timed how long it would take for you to tear your bathing suit off. It was a fun game. And today, you wouldn't have to wait long.

He watched, mesmerized, as you jumped off the small diving board. You made it look effortless as you dove into the water, making him smile to himself as you moved under it. His eyes stayed on your beautiful form, wondering how you'd react if he joined you now. It would put an end to the sweet torture you didn't know you started by simply existing.

You surfaced with a smile and the ache in his heart almost matched the one in his hard cock. The sight of you reminded him not only how stunning you were, but how lucky he was to have you in his life. You swam to the side and reached for the glass of wine he had waiting for you. He wasn't sure what he wanted to taste more in that moment, the rosé on your tongue or the droplets of water that slid down the column of your throat. 

"Are you going to join me or are you content with staring?"

"Just enjoying the view," he winked.

Your soft laughter drifted to his ears as you set the glass down, beckoning him with your finger. "The view is better up close."

"Is it now?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Much better," you replied as you checked him out, no doubt seeing his erection as he stood up from his lounge chair. He had no reason to hide what you did to him. 

"The best view," he agreed as he went to the steps, your eyes on him as he joined in. Walking with a hard-on wasn't exactly easy, but he got used to it. He was constantly "at attention" when you were close by.

"You've been to space. You've seen beauty that some only dream of," you pointed out, turning away from him to take another drink. The tone of your voice was light, but he was determined now to show that you were the real beauty. 

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Ever," he swore as he went behind you. 

You set the glass down again, smiling over your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you. "You never fail to make me feel beautiful," you said, turning your head away to lean back against him. 

His expert hands slid up your stomach to your chest, slowly sliding under your top. "Why do you even bother wearing these?" he breathed against your ear, his fingers toying with your perky nipples. 

You moaned in response as he played with you. As much as you drove him crazy, he knew the feeling was mutual. He was more than aware how quickly he could reduce you to a needy mess. "So you can take them off me."

"The stars are a nice touch," he whispered as you rubbed back against the bulge in his swim trunks.

"Not as nice as your touch," you whispered back. He could hear the smile in your voice before he removed his hands. "Why did you-"

He spun you around, the water splashing a bit, before he pressed you against the side. Your top was disheveled and the sight made him want more. "My touch is nice?"

"You know it is," you answered, moving your hands to his shoulders. 

He looked in your eyes as he moved a hand between your legs. Even with the heat of the water, he felt how much warmer your pussy felt. "Just nice?" he questioned as he rubbed you, not yet ripping away the offending fabric.

"More than nice. It's amazing," you sighed as he shook his head. 

"I need more than that," he teased, making your glare. That fire in your eyes made his cock twitch. It matched his own, his stare hot and blazing.

"I also need more than that," you boldly said. "Fingers. Tongue. Cock. Something."

"Maybe I should leave you like this," he threatened as he leaned in close, touching the tip of his tongue to your lower lip. "Needy and wanting more."

"And neglect yourself?" you smirked, but you relented. "Your touch and tongue make me see stars and your cock makes me see galaxies. Is that what you want to hear?"

He thought about it as he stopped rubbing you, untying your swimsuit bottoms and letting them float away. "No."

"No?" you repeated before his thumb found your clit, rubbing it gently.

"My name. I'd prefer to hear that."

"You smug-" your retort turned into a whine as he slid two fingers inside your wet heat without warning.

"That's not my name," he grinned, setting a leisurely pace as he moved in your tight channel.

"Chris," you panted, getting his fingers nice and wet. Just how he liked them. 

His breath mingled with yours before he leaned in for a deep kiss. He held the back of your head with his other hand, tangling his tongue with yours as you moaned. You told him that he made you see galaxies and you did the same for him. Kissing you was like seeing every color in a different shade. It was a new experience every time. 

"We both know you can moan louder than that. I want to hear it," he rasped as he broke the kiss. 

You clenched around his digits as he slowed his pace, keeping you on your toes...and on the edge. "Chris," you moaned louder, gripping his arms for support as he curled his fingers again.

"How badly do you want to come? Tell me."

You bucked against his hand, not holding back your noises now. There was no need when it was just the two of you. "So badly, Chris. Please."

The expert precision of his fingers made you tremble. He wished he could experience the sensations that you felt as he took you apart, but witnessing it was always a thing of beauty. "One more time, baby, and I'll make you see stars."

"Chris!" you cried, grinding yourself against his hand. 

He stroked that sweet spot within you, his thumb rubbing your clit in time. "Come. Make a mess on my fingers."

Your body tensed, your head nearly falling back as you cried out. His hand kept you firmly in place, not wanting to miss a second of your gorgeous orgasm. He helped you ride it out, his fingers only slowing when you whined. 

Your chest heaved as he removed your fingers, taking in your dazed expression as he licked them clean. He would never get over the taste of you. He used that same hand to grab the glass of wine, making you laugh breathlessly as he downed the rest of it. 

"You...stole...my wine."

He closed the gap, letting you taste the wine and yourself in a passionate kiss. "Fair trade for the orgasm I gave you."

"Fine," you smiled, reaching down to palm him. "I still need to take care of you."

He helped you shove his swimsuit down, the water around him not giving him any relief. He would only feel relief inside you. "And I'm ready to make you see stars again."

You smiled wider as he lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around him. You stopped him just before he entered you. "Do you miss it? The stars?" you asked, your voice smaller than normal.

"No," he answered truthfully and easily, closing the gap for a tender kiss as he sheathed you.

The low soft music greets your ears as you walk in, as does the local chattering from the locals and the occasional hissing from the beer pumps behind the bar. The wood is crackling in the fireplace, taking away the bitter feeling from the cold and replacing it with warm and relaxation. Your eyes scan the room until they eventually land on the bulky muscled man sitting next to the fire with his hand in the air and a smile on his face.

“Over here doll!” He calls out, making you flustered under the stares of the other locals. You excuse yourself as you shimmy past some of the tight spaces and feeling relieved when you reach Bucky, greeting him with a hug.

“I hope this place is okay?” He chuckles nervously, pulling your seat out.

“This place is great! And you picked the best spot.” You grin, rubbing your hands together and hold them close to the fire.

“Yeah well, I had to beat a drunken old man to get here first.” He laughs lightly, “what do you want to drink?”

“I’ll have a whiskey! Let me grab my purse.” You reach into your bag when Bucky stops you.

“I’m buying.” He smiles, standing up and heading towards the bar. You take a moment to marvel at the atmosphere in the bar. It’s relaxing, the locals looked relaxed and you’re sure it’s because the lights are turned right down. The soft glow from the roaring fire and the candles doing the job it’s meant to.

Bucky returns to your table with two whiskeys and some snacks minutes later. From the times you’ve met him, he’s looked tired and a little stressed out. But tonight, he looks just like everyone else: relaxed and comfortable.

“Thank you!” You take the whiskey and slowly sip it, the liquid burning the back of your throat. “So how long are you in town?”

“A couple of weeks, a couple of months. I have no idea at this point.” He chuckles, chugging the drink down in one and your eyes widen. “Oh, the alcohol has no effect on me.” He clarifies, noticing your expression.

“I’m just impressed. If I did that I’d be on the floor.”

“And I’d be here to pick you up.” He winks, opening the bag of something you couldn’t read and sticking his gloved hand inside the packet. He offers you the packet and you do the same. It’s salty and crunchy, something your thirst won’t appreciate later.

“You’re so charming.” You grin, taking in his appearance. You’ve never seen a man look so good in a leather jacket before, until now. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you wanna know?” He asks, crunching the salty snack. “I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh come on, I beg to differ. You caught my interest. I wanna get to know you.”

"But he's never really there

So you want him even more

And you drown inside the eyes...

I could look at him forever"

It was a stupid fight. You said some things you didn’t mean, he said some things he didn’t mean and then he left like he always did. When he came back several hours later you thought everything would be okay. That you would make up, and he would play you that one song you loved, but it didn’t happen like that this time. As the days went by he seemed to spend as little time as he could in the same room as you. The more he isolated himself the more you felt the pull to him, to fix whatever was broken.

“Nick, talk to me. I’m sorry for what I said. I miss you when you’re gone.” You pleased, grabbing his arm as he started walking towards the door.

He shook you off and grabbed his trumpet. “You don’t support me or my music. You haven’t in a while and I can’t listen to you say how much my performances are hurting you again. It’s killing me.”

“I do support you, I just don’t understand why you have to be out at different dive bars every single night. It’s too much, Nick,” you sighed. You could hear yourself starting the fight again.

“I have to go.” Nick looked at you, his eyes glassy from unshed tears. “I can’t have this fight again.”

As the door clicked shut you sank to the floor and started sobbing. You thought Nick was the most talented musician you ever had the pleasure of hearing play. That’s what drew you to him in the first place. You remembered it so clearly. You were coming home from visiting your family, his gentle tunes drifting through Grand Central Station. You followed that soft melody and it led you right to him. As he played his eyes were closed and you could tell he was feeling the music coursing through his body. When he stopped and looked at you with his clear blue eyes, you lost yourself in his gaze. You realized how close you were to him and when he smiled time stood still.

Reveling in the memory you stood up with a new conviction. You fell in love with Nick because he was passionate, romantic, loving, and he put himself into everything he did. His absence in your shared home wasn’t an intentional slight. He was gone so he could build the life he’d always dreamed of having. You ran into your bedroom and slipped on the dress you wore the night you met. Going into the bathroom you fixed up your hair and make-up. After you were satisfied you rushed to hail a cab.

Approaching the bar, you took measured breaths. It had been such a long time since you’d been to see Nick perform. He was right. Somewhere along the way, you stopped supporting his ambitions. You needed to make more of an effort to support him in everything he wanted just like he supported you.

As you pushed open the door you were met with the sweet smell of cocktails and easy flowing jazz music. You slowly made your way to the bar to order a drink before sitting to face the stage. Watching Nick effortlessly play his trumpet with the rest of the band made your heart soar and tears swell in your eyes. You didn’t know how you could even suggest Nick give up something he so clearly loved doing, just to spend a little more time with you.

You took a sip of your cocktail as your eyes locked with Nick’s on stage and you saw a flash of surprise in his eyes as he watched you. Suddenly the music started changing and that familiar tune was playing. The song that Nick was playing when you first met. You slowly made your way to the stage, swaying to the melody with each step as Nick watched you with gentle love in his eyes. 

When the song stopped the band announced they were taking a brief break and Nick approached you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Nick grabbed your hands, placing gentle kisses on each of your palms.

“I’ve been a jerk,” you started, voice trembling as you try to hold back tears. “You have a gift, Nick, and I was being selfish. I love you and I want to support you. If spending more time with you means coming to more of your shows, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re it for me, Nick Vaughan.”

Nick looked at you with kind eyes. He cupped your face with calloused fingers and brought you in for a slow sweet kiss.

“Sweetheart, I just want you to know that the reason I am able to play with any ounce of talent or passion is because I think of you when I’m playing. You are my muse.”

You sighed and placed your hands over his, tracing soft circles on the back of his hands.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, I know it.” You give him a soft smile.

After a few minutes, Nick was called back on stage to finish out his set. You walked back over to the bar and ordered another cocktail, gently swaying to the sound of the music.

“You like this sort of music?” The bartender asked while drying a glass.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty fond of that trumpet player, too.”

After Nick had finished playing, it was nearly midnight and you both decided to walk back to your apartment. Nick’s hand fit comfortably in yours as you rattled off your favorite songs of the evening and retold stories of how the people who were watching reacted to the set. He looked at you with a soft smile, content to watch you animatedly recount your evening. 

When he met you at Grand Central Station he had almost given up his dream of becoming a musician. Your support and understanding had given him the confidence and drive to pursue his passion. When you stopped coming to see him perform and then started looking so upset each time he left he almost quit. Actually, he did quit. Tonight was supposed to be his last show and he was going to put his trumpet away for good. You showing up at the bar tonight was fate. He was meant to be a musician as long as you remained his muse. 

You walked into the apartment and kicked off your shoes. Nick grabbed your hand and spun you into him as he started to sway to the silence.

“Honey, there’s no music. Do you want me to put some on?” You suggested.

He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “No need sweetheart, I have all the music in my head.”

You laughed and placed your head on his chest. Closing your eyes you could hear that song from Grand Central Station playing and you were happy to continue swaying to the music only the two of you could hear.

“I could stay here forever, Nick. As long as I have you I’m happy.”

You sit for twenty more minutes, laughing at the nonsensical crap Joni was pushing as usual, something about jade eggs and where Gwyneth Paltrow decided they should be inserted this week. You hear the front door close and jump up as he finally arrives, running and jumping into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, another fun way to annoy his family, kissing him deeply and moaning as he gripped you. Whispering into his ear “where the fuck have you been? I’ve had to annoy them all on my own today” he smirks and kisses the tip of your nose before putting you back down and walking hand in hand in the room greeting his family.

It was fair to say he was the black sheep of the family, he hadn’t accepted handouts as easily as the rest of them since the two of you got together, deciding instead to try and make it on his own. He moved into your apartment and gave up the house his grandad was paying for, living off his savings ever since. He had been writing his own novel for the last six months and he was getting so close to finishing, he didn’t want to tell the family and have them shit all over his idea, especially Walt who thought he was the literary one now that Harlan had passed.

You grab two glasses of whiskey and sit in Ransom's lap, kissing his cheek and handing him one of the tumblers. Asking him what kept him so long he tells you he thinks he’s finished and wanted to re-read some of it before he told you. Pride flashes over your face at how thrilled he is and you both do a mini squeal at his news. “I can think of the perfect way to celebrate” you whisper in his ear before licking the shell and telling him to come and find you in a few minutes.

You hear him looking for you a few minutes later and pull him into the cloakroom, kissing him urgently and grabbing his ass “you want to have some fun?” you say kissing down his neck and biting his shoulder. He breathes out a ‘yes’ as you get on your knees, pulling his hardening cock out and licking the tip while he leans against the wall behind you.

“We don’t have time for teasing kitten” he says gripping your hair and pushing deep into your mouth, you lightly gag on his length and hollow your cheeks, sucking and licking at what you can. It doesn’t take long for him to spill down your throat, you smile up at him licking your lips and place a gentle kiss on the tip before tucking him away. He gently pushes you against the wall, gripping your hips and whispering what he plans to do to you later when you get home.

You’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the door and someone clearing their throat, straightening yourselves out you open the door and see his father, Richard, staring down at you both. “Can I help you, Dickie” you ask, smirking at the frustrated expression on his face. He tells you there’s 20 minutes until the reading and the family wanted to discuss what they were expecting, you tell Ransom you’re going to see your father out back and blow him a kiss, sneaking away before anyone can moan at you.

You help out in the greenhouse with some of the planters he’s prepping, talking to him about work and the trip you’re planning with Ransom to New York, when you both hear it, screaming and shouting, your father goes to the house with you, always ready to protect you from those vile people.

You walk in together and Linda snarls at you but tries to hide it as a grin, instinctively you stand next to Ransom ready to jump in and defend him, your father next to you throws an arm around you and places his hand on Ransom’s shoulder in support. Ransom smiles at you both and leans down whispering in your ear “down girl” when he sees how tense you are “they aren’t worth it, I promise you” he winks at your father and turns back to them all.

They were arguing about you, apparently you weren’t worthy of a Drysdale, an argument you’ve overheard on more than one occasion, usually he shuts them down but they don’t listen and just wait until you aren’t around before picking at him again. Linda realising that her son isn’t listening decides to take a more tactful approach “look we just want what's best for you darling, we’re obviously about to come into a lot of money today and you don’t want to be tied to her, she only wants what we have”.

Your father clears his throat in warning, he hasn’t ever raised his voice to these people out of respect for Harlan but now that he’s gone and he will most likely be sacked once they inherit the home he sees no reason to stop. Ransom looks to him and pleads with him not to do this right now and your father nods his head in understanding, before pulling you into a hug and whispering in your ear that they are the problem and not Ransom, he's a good man and he always looks after you. You nod your head and turn to face Linda, about ready to give her a little reality check when the family lawyer requests you all join him in the library, your father is about to walk away when he is asked to stay and join the family also.

You take a seat next to your father, Ransom standing behind you both waiting. Both you and Ransom suspected Harlan would look after him, maybe give him some sort of payout on publication of his first novel, he was always so supportive of the idea that he could write a book too. He’d already helped you pay for college, something the rest of the family could never find out about. Harlan was always so kind to his loyal employees and your father had worked for him for more than twenty years. He was offered help with setting up his own business or even help paying his bills but your father refused, instead requesting that your college be paid for. You weren’t allowed to refuse, you were just asked that you find something that you were passionate about.

The lawyer started talking and everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath collectively, he took care of the smaller items first, most of it going to staff and friends. Then came the bigger stuff, half of his fortune was to be divided between his children equally. The family didn’t even let the lawyer finish what he was saying before they were jumping up and demanding to see the paperwork, appalled that they would only be getting half. He sat calmly and asked them to listen until he was finished, next on the list the other half of his fortune would go to you and his home would go to your father.

You stared at each other completely dumbfounded, the shouts and accusations of the family around you buzz like static in your ears. Ransom stood at full height, acting as a blockade between his family and yours as you both absorbed the news. The lawyer handed out copies of the will for their records and asked that you make appointments to see him and have the necessary arrangements tied up properly. He left swiftly after, obviously recognising that this was about to get ugly.

That Ferrari. The only thing that he might possibly love more than you. Bright red, flashy, and sexy, your lips match the paint finish tonight, and the rest of your outfit is black. Dayton’s second favorite color.

He opens the door for you after dinner, helping you into the car, eyeing the top of your stockings peeking through the slit of your dress with lust in his eyes as you sit down.

“Oops.” You throw him a wink before he shuts the door, knowing it’ll fluster him just a little bit. He wasn’t always as put together as he looked. A few strands of his hair are out of place when he gets into the car, and he smooths them back effortlessly, glancing your way as he fires up the engine. The car roars to life, settling into a satisfying purr that makes your lips twitch into a smile, and Dayton has that smug, satisfied look on his face as he looks back to the road.

The car hugs the pavement, gliding smoothly around corners until Dayton opens her up on the highway. You catch him sneaking another glance at you, and you can’t help biting your lower lip as the Ferrari’s power rumbles through you. That smug smile crosses his face again, Dayton knows you love feeling it, he loves it too. You’d felt the car’s vibrations many times before; he’d had you spread out on the hood more than once and there were photos to prove it. 

“Dayton,” you breathed, your body revving up as the car sped down the road, hugging every curve with ease. “We should head home.” His gaze slid to you for a moment, a smirk on his face and eyebrow raised as he teased you. “Don’t you wanna go for a drive baby?”

“Not tonight. I have something I want to show you.”

Dayton rests his hand on your thigh and you place yours on top. He squeezes your leg, then threads his fingers with yours and raises your hand to his lips, his eyes flashing with a spark of desire.

After pulling into the garage at home, Dayton kills the engine and the silence makes you shiver.  He gets out first and opens your door, helping you out of the car now. You lean in and peck a quick kiss against his lips, lightly swiping your tongue over his bottom one before you pull away. His breath catches and his gaze runs over your body, pulling his lip between his teeth. He wants you. He wants you, but you want him too. You have all night.

Stepping past him, you walk around the front of the car, trailing your finger over her curves as you head towards the door. Over to the driver’s side and up the hood, then you pause, smirking, and run your fingers over your own body instead, up your chest and along your collarbone. Dayton watches, following the path of your fingers, until one stops caught between your teeth. His gaze flicks from your bright red lips, curled in a smirk, to your eyes, and he stares into your soul, practically devouring you as he stalks towards you.

“Inside, sweetheart. Now.” The door is hardly closed and he has a grip on your wrist, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You melt into it, a whine escaping your throat as his touch sends fire through your veins. You back him against the wall, pressing your body against his, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him desperately, hungrily. He smirks against your mouth and he pulls you closer, his hands on your hips holding you tightly. 

Feeling for the zipper of your dress, he finds it and drags it down, smoothing his hand over your exposed skin, before pushing it from your shoulders. You shimmy out of it, your black lingerie now on display for him, his eyes roving over your body appreciatively. His eyes are dark, hungry, predatory, and before you can ask him if he likes it, his mouth is on yours again and he's picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the bedroom.

The two of you fall onto the bed, Dayton's lips on your skin now as he worships your body. He makes his way down, your hands gripping his shoulders, until he pauses to rid himself of his shirt. Then he's back, his lips moving over your skin reverently. He trails his tongue along the edges of black lace, and you gasp his name. He smiles, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"So beautiful baby, gorgeous. You're so sexy."

"Dayton. Please baby, I need you." You sound desperate and the words come out in a whine but you can’t help yourself. You’re revved up, craving him. Needing him. With a smirk, Dayton moves further down, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and nudging your core with his nose.

"Mm, you ready for me sugar?" His tongue teases along the edge of your panties and you ache for him, needing his mouth against you. A whine falls from your lips and you beg him, sighing with relief when his finger hooks into the lace, pushing it aside so his tongue can lap at you. Another moan as he licks straight over your core, flicking your bundle of nerves before pushing his tongue inside.

Your hips buck against his face and his hands grab them, holding you down as he pushes harder against you. You're whining already, trying to get more, to get closer to his face, needing him deeper. He fucks you with his tongue, heating you up and pushing you closer, before withdrawing his tongue and licking up over your clit. His lips close around it and he sucks, making your back arch off the bed, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until your cries fill the room and the wave crashes over you.

His tongue laves over you slowly, fire in his eyes as you come down, and then he's crawling over you, kissing you hungrily with your release still on his lips.

“So good sweetheart, so delicious. But I gotta have you.” He kisses along your jaw and down your throat, nipping at your skin, his hard length pressing against your thigh. You’re in a daze from your orgasm but you’re able to shift when he unclasps your bra, allowing him to pull it off and toss it across the room. Your hands wander over his body, toned muscle and smooth skin, until you’re fumbling with his pants, unbuttoning them and trying to shove them off. A whimper escapes you and he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck before moving away to pull them off.

When he’s back you sigh, wrapping your arms around him as he nudges your legs apart again. Hooking one leg over his hip, you can feel him at your entrance, his crown pressing against you making you clench and whimper, needing him inside you more than anything else.

“Please Day, baby please.” You’re mumbling, unable to feel anything else except him, he’s permeating your senses, your infatuation with him only matched by his with you. A broken moan falls from your lips when he pushes in, and you scratch at his back, trying to pull him closer. He hisses, bottoming out inside your tight heat and running a hand over your stocking-clad thigh.

“Fuck sweetheart, you always feel so fuckin’ good.” He buries his face in your neck, nipping at your skin again while he finds a rhythm, moving in and out of you, filling you completely and driving you towards ecstasy. He seems to be able to hit every perfect spot inside of you, but then he angles his hips just so, and oh, it makes you see stars. You cry out, clutching him harder, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer with each thrust, your hips rocking up to meet his.

Dayton shifts, taking your legs from around his waist and pushing them back against your stomach to deepen the angle, and when your eyes fly open, his flash dangerously, a devilish grin on his face.

“Oh yeah baby, just like that. Takin’ me so well, looking so pretty in this little outfit. You know I love it when you dress up for me.” His smooth voice washes over you and you’re drifting away, being pushed closer to bliss with every thrust of him into you. He’s grunting now too, head thrown back while he grips your thighs, sweat beading across his chest, and you want to get your tongue all over him. You whine again, arching your back, rocking your hips against his, and you wrap your hand around his wrist and squeeze as you balance right on the edge.

“Dayton….” You gasp his name, and he fucks into you harder, panting and urging you on under his breath, curses and praises alike showering over you, and then you’re screaming and clenching down around him, flooding over him as white hot bliss explodes within you. Dayton groans, low and rough, fucking you through your orgasm, driving deeper as he chases his own release now. A few more hard, deep thrusts, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, then his whole body is tensing, and he throbs inside you as he comes with a loud groan. He lets your legs go and collapses against you, panting and spent. Rolling to the side, he pulls you against him with a chuckle.

"Damn baby. You in lingerie drives me fuckin wild." You grin, curling against him and running your fingers over his chest as you try to catch your breath. He trails his finger over your hip with a hum, tracing over your curves now, up and around the edge of the garter belt.

“You like it?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Mmm. I’ll have to show you the red set next time.” Dayton’s eyes go wide and he just grins.

“You’re killin’ me sweetheart. But in the best way.” Then he rolls over, pulling you on top of him and you shriek with laughter, rolling your hips against him and making him groan through his smirk.

“I can keep going baby, just tell me what you like.” Dayton pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes darkening again at the sight of you.

The night was going perfect. You and Bucky were celebrating your one year wedding anniversary and the news your offer on your dream house has been accepted and to make it special, he booked a table in an expensive Italian restaurant that wasn't too busy that felt like you might get a migraine from the loud laughter and conversations around you, and it wasn't too quiet where you felt isolated and cut off. It was the perfect balance, and the restaurant was illuminated by candlelight only to offer a cozy and relaxing atmospheric experience.

The bottle of red wine was already half empty, and you were two glasses in that allowed your flirty side to come out, a side of you that Bucky always enjoyed the most.

Your foot rubbed against his leg as his hand kept hovering above the candle flame on your table, your chin was resting in the palm of your hand as you bit your lip and smirked across the table at your husband.

"Doll, you're kinda... doing something to me." He chuckles, looking around you to find nobody was even paying attention.

"Oh yeah? What am I doing?" You replied playfully, your foot crawling higher and higher up his leg. His hand slips under the table to move your foot before it could reach its final destination.

"You know, I love this side of you." He smirks, shifting in his seat and subtly adjusting himself.

"And you know, I love you and this past year has been the best year of my life." You tell him, clearing your throat and taking a sip of the wine. Bucky watches the muscles in your throat bob up and down when you swallow the liquid.

"You're my world, doll. There's nothing in it I wouldn't do for you." It's a promise he's kept since you've been dating. Anything you've ever needed or wanted, Bucky has gone to great lengths to make it happen.

"I can't wait to move into our new home and make beautiful memories." You smile, reaching across the table for his hand.

The tall, silent man across the hall with the haunted eyes. You didn't know where he had come from. He'd been hurt, shying away from your offer of friendship at first like a bruised animal. You persevered, offering little gifts at his door and soft words, cultivating a safe haven. Sitting quietly together and letting him just breathe - and finally he allowed your hand in his, the leather of his glove covering what you knew was cold metal.

You loved him on his terms. Slow and safe.

"Bucky." He answered the question you hadn't had the nerve to ask.

"Stay with me, Bucky."

Danger creeping in, his eyes darting on the street. He evades your questions, reverts to his old ways. You're afraid - scared you will wake up one morning and he will be gone.

You can see it in his eyes even when he avoids your glance. You just hope he tells you first.

You'll have to take the long way down

Through the underground, under cover of night

Laying low, staying out of sight

There ain't no compass, brother, ain't no map

Just a telephone wire and the railroad track

You keep on walking and you don't look back

"I have to leave, it's not safe for you."

"I'll go with you!"

"You're not safe with me."

Wait for me, I'm coming

Wait, I'm coming with you

You bargain, and he agrees but your heart is cold. Rushing to pack a bag, it hammers a steady beat. Don't leave me - I'm coming - trust me.

You're on the lam, you're on the run

Don't give your name, you don't have one

And don't look no one in the eye

Bursting through the door, a sob escapes as you see his room empty. It can't end like this - it repeats in your head. This isn't how the story ends. You can still feel him in the air, and you know it hasn't been long since he left. Slamming the door and rushing down the stairs and out onto the street, you search.

Wait for me, I'm coming too

I'm coming too

"Wait!"

He hears you and turns. Waits. You rush up to him, out of breath, eyes rimmed with tears. "I'm coming too."

He's silent, staring at you. It's hard for him to speak, difficult to explain the storm in his head and you know that. You know he's worried and he doesn't know if he can keep you safe, you see it in his eyes. Taking his gloved hand, you pull on each finger, stripping the glove from the metal and curling your fingers around his.

"This is the only hand I want to hold."

-- -- -- --

You’d started at BLW Publishing as an marketing intern after college and you’d climbed your way to the vice president of that department in the twelve years that had followed.

You loved every single part of your job.

Or at least you had until Mr. “Call Me Ransom” Drysdale had taken over the running of the company.

He had spent his years at the company floating between departments, to learn everything he could. Which meant the two of you had worked together multiple times.

But he seemed to enjoy pushing your buttons. And knew exactly what buttons to push when.

-- -- -- --

"You told me months ago that the marriage clause wasn't legally binding," Ransom fumed. "And now you're telling me it is?!"

His lawyers avoided his gaze.

"Get out!" Ransom shouted and they scurried out.

He had seven days to find a wife and marry her.

If he didn't, he lost the company.

It was just like his grandfather to pull a stunt like this. Even from the grave.

He should just let his prick of an uncle have the company. Just to prove a point.

But he knew he couldn't.

His uncle would ruin everything.

Ransom wouldn't let that happen.

-- -- -- --

"You're not the pizza guy," you said, opening your front door to find Ransom standing on the other side with a bouquet of roses and your pizza.

"Met him in the elevator. Can I come in?"

Stepping aside, you let him in. Only noticing as he passed that his normal confident aura was missing.

"What's wrong?"

He explained everything while the two of you ate pizza.

"Walt would destroy everything," you commiserated.

"Exactly."

Then he pulled out a ring box.

"Will you marry me and help me save the company we both love from ruin?"

How could you say no?

-- -- -- --

"I got married."

Ransom had chosen a public setting to share his news in hopes that his uncle wouldn't make a scene.

The fact that it was day six of his seven day window was pure coincidence.

Glancing at his wife, he found her staring across the table at his uncle, who, Ransom soon saw, was nearly purple with rage.

"This can't be legal!" his uncle shouted over the congratulations from the others. "It should have been mine! All of it!"

Then Walt pushed his chair back and stormed out of the private dining room, his wife and son following.

-- -- -- --

Logically, you knew marrying Ransom would mean moving into his house, but you'd thought you'd have more time.

But with his uncle looking for any reason to question the legitimacy of the marriage, you and Ransom agreed it had to happen now.

The two of you packed up your apartment and then had everything you were keeping moved to his house.

To his credit, Ransom made as much room for your stuff in the common areas of the house as possible, wanting you to feel at home.

But the only place that truly felt that way was your private bedroom.

-- -- -- --

Ransom sat in the hall with Walt as their lawyers met with a judge behind closed doors following another of Walter's attempts to fight the will.

"I’ve heard rumors," Walt said, his tone was nonchalant, but it was laced with venom. "About how your wife became v-"

Ransom had his hand around his uncle's throat before Walt could make another sound.

"That is my wife," he growled. "You will not say one more fucking thing about her or I will sue you for libel. Do you understand me?"

Walt let out a squeak of acknowledgement and Ransom let him go.

-- -- -- --

You'd known Ransom for years.

But after living with him for a few weeks, you realized you hadn't really known him at all.

Work Ransom demanded the respect and attention owed to the boss.

Home Ransom was softer and wore faded blue jeans instead of three piece suits.

He liked spending Saturday mornings at the market and he loved to cook.

And boy could he cook!

The one on one time with him at home had given you a whole new appreciation for your husband.

He opened up to you about things you were sure he'd never told anyone else.

-- -- -- --

Ball buster.

That's how he'd described her the first time he had worked with her on a project.

It was the reason he had recommended her for the vice president role when it had opened up.

Kind. Funny. Caring. Passionate. 

Those were the words that came to mind now when he thought of her.

She was the type of woman who could tell a dirty joke one minute and then have a serious conversation about his upbringing.

He'd been hesitant to include her at first, but their Saturday morning shopping trips were quickly becoming his favorite activity of the week.

-- -- -- --

You loved Ransom.

It hit you like a ton of bricks as you sat in the middle of a meeting at work, a month later.

You were supposed to be paying attention, but your eyes kept going across the table to where Ransom sat.

You couldn't explain how you knew, you just did.

When had it happened? You didn't know that either.

All you knew was that he was handsome and he was all yours.

At least on paper.

The joy faded from you as you remembered the two of you were roommates. Nothing more.

You wished that could change.

-- -- -- --

Ransom didn't know when it happened, but he realized one Saturday morning, a few months in, that he was in love with his wife.

He hadn't planned to fall in love with her. He'd envisioned them being married for a few years, to solidify his role at the publishing company, and then divorcing as quietly as they had married.

Being in love complicated things.

It made him think about her happiness above his own.

Was she happy with him?

If she wasn't, was he prepared to walk away from her and the company to ensure her happiness?

Yes, he decided.

-- -- -- --

"We need to talk," he said, setting a manilla envelope on the kitchen counter.

"What's that?"

"Annulment papers."

"What?!" you asked in complete disbelief.

"I love you," he confessed. "If you're not happy, I'm -"

"I love you, too," you cut him off, joy filling your heart.

Moving around the island, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a long, slow kiss.

"An annulment would have cost you everything," you said.

"Your happiness means more to me," he said. "Even if it meant giving everything to Walt."

"The company is yours," you told him. "Forever."

"Ours."

-- -- -- --

"Are you coming in?"

She stood in the doorway to what had been his bedroom.

After their declaration of love, he'd properly courted her.

Taking her out on dates. Sending her flowers just because.

They'd kissed a lot and had made it to all the bases, as they say, except home.

That was the plan tonight, she'd told him.

They'd gone out for dinner and then she'd asked him to take her home.

Home to their home.

To their bedroom.