#jackie writes

10 PM was when Rodrick usually called if the two of you hadn’t already seen each other that day. Or, obviously, if you happened to be with him. So when it was 10:10 and you received a call from the Heffley land line you had to assume it was Rodrick calling you. He hadn’t reached out for the past two days so you assumed he had to have been grounded. And when his parents grounded him they would usually take away his phone too. So in order to call you he would sneak the landline into his room in the attic.

But no, when you picked up the phone it wasn’t him calling you. It was his younger brother Greg.

“Greg? Why are you up so late? Don’t you go to bed at 7:30?” You were just trying to tease him, but he sounded genuinely offended by the suggestion.

“What– no, who told you that?”

“Rodrick.”

“Of course. That asshole. He’s—” He stopped himself, figuring you would probably tell Rodrick if he said anything mean towards his brother. You wouldn’t have, but Greg didn’t know that.

“Greg… why did you call me?”

“Sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. I’m calling because.. You need to come over right now?”

“Why?”

“Well, Rodrick hasn’t come out of room all day. And usually, I mean, I wouldn’t be too concerned. Frankly, I wouldn’t care at all. But, well yesterday, Dad found out about the party we threw, and as punishment he isn’t allowed to play in the talent show with Loded Diper.” That talent show meant the world to him. And ever since he had found out about it, it was all he would talk about. If he hadn’t been allowed to, it would crush him.

“Please don’t tell him it was me who called you. We’re not really on good terms right now. Oh, and before I forget you're probably gonna have to sneak in. He was also grounded.” I would have to sneak out as well. What would my parents think if I randomly left at 10 pm to go see my boyfriend. More likely than not they would assume the worst.

“Ok, I will be there Greg. Thanks for letting me know. Bye.” You hung up and placed your phone back on your desk.

You stood up from your desk and opened up your window as quietly as you could. However it was prone to squeaking from the lightest budge, so opening it as quietly as you could wasn’t very quiet at all.

Before you climbed out you grabbed your beat-up pair of converse and one of the hoodies you’d stolen from Rodrick. Tying your shoes up as you shut the window behind you. 

There was a tree right outside your window that made sneaking out fairly easy. Not that you would do it often, but the few times you did the sturdy tree was a much appreciated bonus. You would lean your bike up against it since starting up your car always made for a lot more noise. And your bike was almost exclusively reserved for the purpose of a quiet exit. 

You didn’t live that far from the Heffley’s. It took you about ten minutes to get there on your bike. The drive felt like almost nothing though. And before you knew you were pulling up to the Heffley family home. Pulling your bike up to the side of the house.

When you were stood underneath Rodrick’s windowsill, you took note of how there were no other lights on. Maybe his parents were asleep and you wouldn’t have to climb all the way up to his attic. You were already tired enough tonight. 

You picked up some pebbles from the ground, throwing them at his window. One after the other. Until his light finally flicked on and he opened up the window.

“Why-?” He sounded exhausted. 

“Are your parents up?”

“No… but,”

“Can you let me in?”

He looked away from you, staring off to the side. An aggressive sigh left his lips. “Fine.” He mumbled it softly and you could barely hear it. Once he left you walked back to the front of the house waiting for him to open the front door.

You understood why he was annoyed, but you didn’t really understand why he was annoyed with you. When he opened the door for you, and you entered the house, neither of you said a word to the other till you were upstairs.

You watched in silence as he sat down on his bed, and shut the window. Before he finally spoke up, “I don’t really feel like doing anything tonight, so I don’t know why you're here.”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me, and haven’t called. And I wanted to check on you, because I was told your parents found out about the party.”

“Because Greg doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up. And he never wiped the camera. I don’t why he was even taking pictures on our Dad’s camera in the first place. But it’s the fact that after that he didn’t even think to wipe it. The kid’s an idiot.” 

You sat down next to him, resting a head on his shoulder, “Oh come on, weren’t you two just bonding the other day.”

“That doesn’t have to do with anything,” he paused for a moment thinking to himself, “Any bonding has been–fuck what’s the word, re-, re-, I don’t know you get what I’m trying to say.”

“Rescinded?”

“Yeah, that.” He looked down at you, moving to rest his arm on your shoulder. And pressing a light kiss to your hair. “Look, I’m sorry for ‘avoiding’ you. It’s not because of you. You didn’t do anything. You’re perfect. I’ve been avoiding everyone.”

“I get it.”

“My parents thought the best way to punish me for throwing the party was to ban me from doing the talent show. That was gonna be my big break. And tomorrow they're making me and Greg go visit our Grandpa’s retirement home for the weekend. And he’s like weird. He doesn’t let us watch anything except the security footage of the place’s lobby. Oh, and I’m grounded so you shouldn’t even really be here.”

“I’m sorry, Rod. There’s not really much I can do there.”

“I know, but you being here is enough.”Just then you left out a soft yawn. You could barely keep your eyes open anymore.

He sighed standing up briefly only so he could move to the floor in front of your legs. He started to untie your shoes as he had noticed that they were still on. “‘m sorry that I’m keeping you up. You can stay the night if you want.”

You leaned back on the palm of your hands as you looked down at him. He was carefully taking his time as he undid your shoes. “I shouldn’t. You’re grounded and my parents would be pissed if they found out I snuck out.”

With your shoes now off, Rodrick sat back down next to you. Brushing some of the stray strands of hair off your face. “Please. I’ll wake you up before anyone else would reasonably be up.” He gave you the kind of puppy-dog look you could never in a million years imagine he would give to anyone besides you. As you gazed into his eyes, you contemplated staying or not. You really wanted to. You wanted nothing more. But if anyone found out–

You interrupted your own thoughts to let out a quiet, “Sure.” Afterwards placing a kiss on his temple. You let another yawn escape from your lips before laying down on his bed.

He shifted so that he was right next. Grasping towards your hand, so that he could run his fingers against your knuckles. “This might sound kind of random, but how did you know my parents found out? You must be psychic or something.” Rodrick realized that you were drifting off and more likely than not you barely registered what he had just said. 

“Greg called me.” It came out a little slurred and groggy. The tiredness was incredibly prominent in your voice as you spoke.

“Huh.” Maybe his little brother was actually good for something. He was going to add something else, but then he noticed how you’d already fallen asleep. Your soft snores like music to his ears. He could listen to them for hours on end. You had been laying down for barely even a minute. It was sweet. That you had come to see him so late even though you were this tired, just to comfort him. And listen to what he had to say. No one had ever made that much effort for him before.

And it was in that moment that he realized just how much he loved you. Even though you had been together for a little over a year now, neither of you had said it yet.

You of course had wanted to, but didn’t know if Rodrick was ready to say it back. However it was clear to anyone with common sense that he felt it deep down. Even if he was just too scared or didn’t truly understand what he was feeling. As he had never felt it before. But seeing you there, laying in his bed all wrapped up in his hoodie, everything just made sense to Rodrick. And so he couldn’t help it when the ‘I love you’ seemingly slipped out. But he meant it. Because he loved you more than he felt he had ever loved anyone before. 

-

The next morning Rodrick heavily overestimated his ability to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. Which all things considered wasn’t all that surprising. As he normally slept through the weekends. Only waking up around 3 pm if he didn’t have plans with you, or his Mom didn’t drag him out of bed. It just so happened that that morning was going to be one of those days. 

So when his Mom came to wake him up, so they could leave for the retirement home, she saw the two of you curled up together under his sheets, both properly clothed which she approved of, she hesitated before beginning to stir Rodrick. She liked you, and thought you were a good influence on Rodrick even if you weren’t the perfect poster child of your school. And she could tell that you had been there to comfort Rodrick. She had started to grow worried about the harshness of his punishment after Rodrick fell back into a slump. And to be honest she had been planning on reaching out to you herself in a hopes to cheer Rodrick up.

When she finally moved to nudge Rodrick’s shoulder, he blinked himself out of a tired daze into consciousness. After noticing it was his Mom standing beside him, waking him up, he tried his best to cover you. Even though it was extremely obvious that you were asleep next to him.

Susan starting speaking in a hushed tone, “I’m not mad. Just make sure she’s gone before we leave. So preferably in the next fifteen-ish minutes. Also I’ve already changed my mind. I'm a little mad. But I understand. Ok?”

He half-nodded, running a lazy hand across his face. Trying to wake himself up further, so he didn’t just immediately drift off after his Mom left the room.

She had hoped for a further response from Rodrick. Maybe even an apology of some sorts, but it didn’t seem like that would be happening today. So she just gave a neutral smile before heading back downstairs. Leaving Rodrick to wake you up and get ready before their family left.

“Hey, come on, you've got to leave now,” He trailed a hand through your hair, trying to stir you, “We’ve gotta go.”

A groan and mumble left you, it was unrecognizable and he could hardly hear you. Let alone understand you. “Please, wake up. C’mon.”

“Rod, what–” You opened your eyes the tiniest bit. Enough to see Rodrick and only Rodrick.

“Sorry, but you’ve got to go. ‘m leaving soon, and my Mom told me to make sure you get home.”

“I’m not surprised we ended up sleeping in,” you said with a laugh, leaning in towards Rodrick’s shoulder. Taking in his comforting scent, to help ground you. Bringing you back to reality after some of the best sleep you had gotten in what felt like forever.

He liked this moment. And he wished it didn’t have to end so soon, “Are you good to ride your bike home? I can maybe convince my Mom to drop you off if not.”

You appreciated how much he cared, but you knew once you got out of bed the drowsy state would wear off and you would be good to get home yourself. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about if my parents are awake and have figured out I’m not home.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” You moved to stand up, even though you really didn’t want to. When you got up and stood over him, you leaned forward for a brief kiss. “Bye Rodrick. Don’t miss me too much while you’re gone.”

“Oh, I won’t.” That made you scoff, as you picked up your shoes from the ground, stepping into them.

When you lifted up the window, and began to climb out you really wished you had the courage to say I love you, to him. It was the perfect moment to say that sort of thing to him.

But you were shocked when he beat you to it, “I love you, babe.’ Your heart felt like it had stopped, and you turned back to look at him with pure awe on your face. You swore you were ten seconds away from crying. 

Rodrick had shocked himself a bit with that one. Sure this wasn’t the first time he had said it out loud. But it was the first time he had said it when you were awake. He didn’t know what your reaction would be. Honestly he thought it would be bad for some stupid reason. So he was even more shocked when you said it back. Just as simple as that.

“Woah.” 

You smiled at him again as you continued backing up out the window. “Call me, Heffley.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.”

He was so glad you had entered into his life. And he still didn’t know how he had managed to make you fall in love with him. But he did know that never wanted this to end. Because he loved you too. And that would never stop.

And now you're lying in front of him. His arms wrapped around your middle and you had felt so safe, that you dozed off. Unlike Caleb. He has been awake the entire time and relished the feeling of you lying in his arms. Pressed against him as tight as humanly possible and his mind couldn't stop going into overdrive. He had realised years ago that he had never seen you as his sister. At first it had scared him, because the thoughts he had had about you were something no brother would ever dare to think of his sister.

When those thoughts first entered his mind, he tried to distance himself from you but as soon as he noticed how much that had hurt you, he stopped, even if it had been torture for himself. Over time he started to justify his thoughts. His cravings. And he realised that he hadn't seen you as his sister, even when he was a young boy. You were like sunlight that had to be protected, and that's what he did. Especially when he realised how many people wanted to hurt you. He was content with killing anyone who dared lay their hands on you or even look in your direction. You were his. His obsession. His sunlight.

For the hundredth time tonight the smell of your coconut shampoo enters Caleb's nose and he can't stop himself from burying his face in your hair again. He hates that he feels like this about you, his mind and his feelings contradicting in every possible way, but as long as you don't know about it, he's content with how things currently are. Until you start talking and moving in your sleep.

At first a chuckle bubbled out of Caleb, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake you up, but your words start to become more clear. An incoherent string of words like "Yes", "Right there" and even quiet moans coming out of your mouth fill the room, and Caleb immediately goes rigid. He can't believe what he's hearing right now, not sure how to deal with this situation, but then you push your hips against his. And you say his name. His name.

Every colour in Caleb's face drains, his mind going a thousand miles an hour, when he notices that familiar feeling of his pants tightening around him. Fuck. His first thought is to pull away from you a little bit, but the second he moves even an inch away from you, he hears you whining in protest and he immediately stops. Caleb's heart is about to burst out of his chest, because that's what he had been imaginging almost every night. Every night he was alone at Skyhaven with his cock fucking into his fist, or even back when he was training to become a pilot.

Only a few seconds later he realises that he has started grinding his hardness against you, needing to feel that friction. Needing to feel you. Does he feel bad about it? Yes. But you're making all these pretty sounds and you're saying his name, so he tries to justify his actions with that. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder, slowly moving one of his hands under your shirt. The need to feel your skin, to feel you, overpowering his rational thoughts.

And that's when you start to wake up. At first you think you're still dreaming and you feel this pang of guilt. You always felt it when you had these dreams about Caleb, but they just wouldn't stop. Too afraid to deal with those feelings, you never really tried to think about what you truly felt for him. And you are so scared of losing Caleb, if he ever found out about this.

The grogginess of sleep slowly lifts from your brain and that's when you feel it. Strangely the feeling of someone grinding against you, touching you, doesn't leave and you're completely confused. Until you hear the shaky breaths of Caleb so close to your ear. Your face instantly feels like it's on fire, considering how good his movements make you feel. And you hate yourself for a second for wanting him to keep touching you. Feeling the need to let him know that you're awake, that you know what he's doing, you finally speak up. "Caleb?".

Caleb hears you but he's already too far gone. His grip on your stomach only tightens and his mind is at war. He should stop, he knows that, but then again, he has been waiting for this for so long. "Please...Please...Just this once, Pipsqueak". The sound of his whiny voice, begging you to let him continue, almost makes you dizzy and now your entire body feels like it's on fire. Caleb is still grinding against you and from that alone you just know he's packing. He just makes you feel good and you honestly don't want him to stop. That's why you gently grab his hand that has been under your shirt for a while now and you guide it up to your chest. That's your answer.

As soon as Caleb realises that you're allowing him to keep going, that you actually want this, he feels like his brain is about to explode. The soft and warm skin under his hand feels so right and he immediately notices the hard nipple, brushing against it. "Fuck, you really want this, huh?". Now his lips are brushing over your shoulder and the slight growl in his voice makes something deep inside you tighten. If he only knew for how long you've been cravingthis.

Caleb's lips feel so soft on your shoulder and you move your head a bit to the side, just to give him more room to play with, which he immediateyl takes advantage of. His lips trail over your shoulder to your neck and he gently starts to suck on that sweet spot, drawing more of those sweet sounds out of you. The sound of rain pattering against your bedroom window disappears, drowned out by your quiet gasps and by Caleb's erratic breathing.

Everything about this situation is overwhelming you, but you need even more. You need to feel him. That's why you grab his hand again, with which he's currently gently flicking his fingers against your hard nipple. "Don't make me stop... I can't...". He sounds even more desperate than before, biting into your shoulder to make you stop, as his hips start to grind against you even harder, but you have other plans. "I won't. I just need you to...". Not being able to finish your sentence, a small part of you still feeling like what you're doing with Caleb is wrong, you wordlessly guide Caleb's hand down to the hem of your shorts.

For a second Caleb stops everything. With a tight grip on the hem of your shorts, he's now just breathing against your neck and you can feel his heart hammering against your back. He won't stop. He knows that, but he also knows that once you two cross that line, it'll never be as it was. Your heart also feels like it's about to jump out of your chest, the mixture of anticipation and need making your own breath speed up. And that's when Caleb slowly pulls down your shorts. His fingers are grabbing your shorts and panties at the same time and suddenly you find yourself lying in your bed with Caleb behind you, completely bare. Never in a million years did you think inviting Caleb to a movie night would end up like this, but you're so glad that you did it.

Moving his hand away from you, you can hear Caleb pulling down his own pants and before you can even feel his cock anywhere near you, that intense feeling in your middle grows stronger. Before you can think about what you two are about to do, Caleb pushes his hard cock in between your thighs and he can only growl, when he feels how wet you are. How your slickness is already covering him and his hand quickly moves to your hip, holding on tight. "Tell me, Pipsqueak. What were you dreaming of?". That question alone makes your face heat up again, but at the same time only whiny sounds leave your lips. He feels so good against you, rubbing his tip against your pussy at such a fast pace, hitting your clit with it every time. How could you tell him that you had been dreaming of that one night a few years ago, when you two kissed. That you wished he would've done more that night?

"How long have you been dreaming of me like that? For how long have you wanted to be mine?". He just won't stop. Caleb had always loved teasing you but now is not the time for this. All you want is for him to take you. To finally still that hunger you've felt for him for years now. You simply start to grind against his hard cock, willing him to accidentally slip inside, but Caleb's hold on your hip just tightens. Holding you in place. Another whine escapes your lips, but Caleb doesn't chuckle. He is just as much of a needy mess as you are right now, but that doesn't stop him from teasing you. His breath feels hot against your ear, making a shiver go down your spine and it's the most infuriating yet delicious feeling you've ever felt.

"Because I've been wanting to do this for years.". Without any other warning, Caleb finally pushes the tip of his cock into you, not entering you completely yet. A loud groan rumbles through Caleb's chest and all you can do is throw your head back a little bit, moaning. He only has his tip in you and yet you already know that he's big. Just like you knew he would be from the beginning. After a few seconds of letting you adjust, Caleb continues pushing into you in the most agonizing, slow way, as his teeth sink into your shoulder again. Rolling back your eyes at that sensation, feeling Caleb inside you to the hilt, you take in a deep breath.

After a few seconds of letting you adjust and kissing your neck again, Caleb starts to move. His thrusts are slow at first and it feels so good. Way better than it has ever been in your dreams. "Imagine how many times I had to fuck myself in the past years because of you.". Caleb knows exactly what he's doing with his words and you know he's saying it now to get a reaction out of you. Despite not wanting to give in so easily, you start to clench around Caleb's cock, earning a haughty chuckle from him. He's filling you out completely, drawing more moans out of you but it's not enough for him. "You really had no idea how much I wanted to fuck you, make you mine, all these years...".

His thrusts become faster after this. In this moment Caleb can't be the sweet boy for you. He need you to know that you're his and only his. That you always have been his, even though you didn't know it. The sound of your skin slapping against his, satisfying something primal in Caleb and he's just pistoning in and out of you. Your moaning and whining gets louder in response to that, since Caleb is also hitting that sweet spot over and over again. You definitely can't think straight anymore. All you know is that this is right. This is where you're supposed to be.

With how fast and rough Caleb is pounding you, you feel that familiar sensation of your impending orgasm, and from how Caleb is groaning and breathing against your ear, you know that he must be close too. "Caleb, please... Finish inside". For a second Caleb has to force himself to keep moving, even though his brain is short circuiting right now. He has been wanting to fill you up with his seed from the beginning, but he never would've thought that you'd allow it or even beg him to do this. Something snaps inside him and somehow he manages to pound into you even harder. His grip on your hip tightens even more, sure to leave marks on you, but you don't mind.

After a few more thrusts, you finally feel that tight knot deep inside you breaking, and you cum like you've never done before. Starting to see white spots in front of your eyes out of pure pleasure, you throw your head back even more, your eyes rolling back. Your entire body is shaking, as you scream out his name and your pussy starts to clench around Caleb's cock. And that's it for him. "Oh fuck, I love you.". Groaning out those words, Caleb spills his seed inside you and he repeats those three words over and over again. You can feel him twitching inside you, as he fills you up and you feel like you could come again, just because of his confession.

Darry first realized he was different at 15 years old. He never participated in the lewd lock room talk the rest of the football team bonded over. he always made sure to keep his eyes down and not let his gaze linger too long on any of his sweaty or freshly showered teammates who milled about the locker room and various stages of undress. he never got distracted during games, ogling at the cheerleaders on the sidelines the way that most of his teammates did. His father always told him that once he got a little older, he’d develop an interest in girls and he’d become a lady’s man, just like his dad used to be. A chip off the old block. 

Darry was 15 when he realized the way he thought about the boys in the locker room was the same way his father always told him he’d think about girls. A sick feeling rushed from his head to his stomach at the realization that he’d never be normal. He vowed then and there to keep this secret tucked so far inside of him that maybe it would go away. 

He threw himself into football and studying. He smiled and shook hands and played nice with his classmates to make sure that they all liked him. He got straight A’s and made football captain and was voted boy of the year. Everyone just assumed that he didn’t have time for girls. He accepted an invite to the Sadie Hawkins dance from a nice girl named Susan from his math class. He picked her up at 6, kissed her on the cheek, and told her she looked pretty. His father had never been more proud. 

Paul Holden was the only other sophomore on the football team. He was all golden hair and twinkling eyes and a mischievous smile that made Darry’s stomach do backflips. 

After each practice, Paul would pat Darry on the back and tell him he did a good job. His hand would always linger and he’d smile as soon as he met Darry’s eyes. 

They started hanging out after practice. “we’re just buddying around,” Darry would tell himself. No matter how much he told himself that Paul was just his best friend

and he didn’t think of him as anything more, that didn’t stop the pang he’d feel in his heart when Paul remembered his milkshake order at the dingo or the butterflies he got when Paul would let his hand linger on Darry’s shoulder a little too long, squeezing and rubbing out the tension in his body.there was absolutely nothing going on between him and Paul when they would wake up in Paul’s bed together after a sleepover, facing away from each other, trying so hard not to accidentally touch. Not even when Paul gifted Darry that purple and gold madras shirt for his 16th birthday. 

He stopped being able to ignore it when he woke up naked and sore in the back of Paul’s car with Paul cuddled up and cramped behind him. 

He knew he couldn’t hide from himself anymore when Paul pushed him against the wall and kissed him so hard he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to be doing this. 

When Paul reached for the button on his pants and pushed Darry back onto his bed, he briefly let all his thoughts slip away. For just a minute, he could forget all about football and grades and taking Susan Thompson to the Sadie Hawkins dance. He could forget all about making his father proud and being a role model for his younger brothers. The only thing that mattered was Paul. Paul touching him and Paul kissing him and running his fingers through his hair. The soft words of encouragement that Paul would whisper in his ear when they were alone and were sure that no one could hear what they were doing. 

Darry couldn’t quite figure out when it all fell apart. It could have been the night that his parents sat him down to tell him that college just wasn’t in the picture, even with his scholarship money. He sobbed in his mother’s arms that night. She held him close and stroked his hair, making him feel like a little kid again. 

It might have been the day that Paul left for school. He stopped by Darry’s house to say goodbye, his car packed up. the back seat where he and Darry first woke up together covered in boxes. 

It could have happened slowly, when daily phone calls turned to weekly and then slowly stopped all together. Darry waited by the phone for hours each night waiting for calls that never came.

It was definitely over by the time summer rolled around and Paul wouldn’t even look in Darry’s direction when they ran into each other at the drive in. 

Your hand trembled over the page as you held the pencil firmly between your pointer finger and your thumb. You just couldn’t find the courage to sign the end of the letter, your lower lip between your teeth and your leg bouncing up and down below you as you sat at your desk, staring at the page filled top to bottom with your neat handwriting. 

That was one of the first things Elvis had brought up when the two of you managed to speak over the phone instead of writing to each other. “Your hand-writing is so neat, doll, mine’s gotta look like chicken scratch to ya. Can you even read it half the time?” he’d said, and you laughed before reassuring the boy that you could read his writing, even if it did take you a few minutes to decipher a couple of the words. The call lasted about five minutes before it got clicked off and you realized you had no money left to call him back. You cried that night, having used all your savings from working at the diner just down the street, a job you picked up for that specific reason — Elvis mentioned in one of his letters that the base he was on had a telephone, one that made transatlantic calls, and you worked day and night for three months straight to be able to afford just a few minutes of hearing his voice. And boy, was it worth it. You never got too sad when Elvis was away, never shed any tears over it up until that point. But hearing his voice, the familiar Southern drawl that you’d only been hearing over his records you played a million times a day — it was all real to you again, and it was like you’d been living in a fantasy the whole time. There he was, talking into your ear like he had been that night you sat on your porch. The way your heart raced when you heard the way his lips mumbled the word darling, as opposed to reading it on a piece of paper. You wished you got more than five minutes with him but unfortunately that wasn’t the case, and you just clutched onto the fact that these last two years would be over in just a few more months, and then he would be back home, and you would be in his arms. 

It was no question that Elvis was in love with you. You didn’t know it, but he talked about you nonstop to the boys in his division. When he’d first met you that night that he showed up to your house, it was all so surreal and you had brushed off the fact that he confessed his love for you. It didn’t seem serious, he had just met you for Christ’s sake and knew nothing about you besides your name — which, mind you, he had to dig up from someone else. You’d never even spoken to each other before that night, so the idea that he was in love with you was absurd. Of course, you wanted nothing more than to believe it, but the more you did, the less everyone had faith around you. You recounted the events of that night to Lucy and she was over the moon, but everyone else you told seemed to think you were exaggerating the details. Girls at school, your coworkers, even a few of your family members insisted that you were lying. The only people that truly, wholeheartedly believed that Elvis Presley was in love with you was Lucy and your mother, who’d read every letter he sent you as you showed her every other week with ecstasy written across your face. But the thing was that the longer time passed with him gone, the more you believed it yourself. Because the more you believed he was in love with you, the more you believed you were in love with him. 

You’d always loved Elvis Presley, ever since you heard his first song on the radio. But you loved him as the singer, not him as the person. Up until spending years writing to the boy, dreaming of him when you slept and fantasizing about him coming home. You thought of him when cleaning tables at your work, and sometimes you even found yourself planning out your next letter to him, excited to race home so you could get out your pen and paper. Elvis had signed every letter he wrote you with Love, your Elvis since the very first one. Yours were usually finished off with a talk to you soon or a miss you entirely. This one, the one you wrote as the last one he would be receiving before coming home, felt different. Nothing had changed, it was still the same old summary of your week, telling him how excited you were for March 2nd, the day he would be coming back. But this time, you couldn’t write the words see you soon. Your first thought was love.

Your pencil stood still in your hand as your eyes raked across the page. You read the hundred word letter over and over again, stalling as you tried to work up the courage to write the simple closing line before folding the note up for the envelope. It took you what felt like hours before you gave in and signed it, I can’t wait to see you… your Y/N and then setting the pencil down. You would send it in the morning on your way to work, completely unhappy with the closing statement but ultimately, you knew you weren’t gonna do anything about it. You wanted your first ‘I love you’ to be in person, to his face, where you could see his raw, honest reaction. Not over a letter, when he would read it two weeks from now and then you wouldn’t be able to read his for two weeks after that. 

So you would wait, until you could see him in person, and then you would tell him you loved him. You planned on doing it immediately, the moment you saw him, but when the day finally came, that wasn’t the case. 

“Y/N, honey, you have a visitor.” It was deja vu, almost, the way your mother poked her head into your room, much like she had done the night you met the boy. But you weren’t in for a surprise this time — you’d been counting down the hours for this moment. 

“He’s here!” You jumped up from your bed, and the speed at which you ran down the hallway was faster than any track star could have dreamed. You made it down the stairs in record time, and when your eyes landed on the boy standing in your foyer, talking with your father, dressed in his army green military suit, holding his cap to his chest respectfully, you lost your breath. 

“There she is,” your father said, and at his words, Elvis turned around to see you for himself. The smile that exploded onto his face was unlike any other, and the boy reached out as you jumped onto him. He lifted you into his arms, spinning you around as you grasped onto him for dear life. It felt better than you were expecting, hugging him, smelling his scent that hadn’t changed a bit since he was gone. 

What had changed, though, was his hair. It was short now, buzzed at the sides and not what you remembered at all. It made sense though, Elvis had mentioned in one of his letters that they had to shave his head when he joined the military. You hated the idea, one of the main focal points of Elvis Presley was his hair. But seeing him in the uniform, all dressed up, returning home from the war — he looked handsome, more beautiful than you could’ve dreamed of, so you didn’t mind the lack of hair. Actually, you quite enjoyed it. 

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much.” Elvis set you down, his arms still wrapped around you as he held you to his chest. You nuzzled into him, hugging him tightly as though he would leave you again should you let go. You heard his chest rumble with laughter as he placed a hand on the back of your head, seemingly talking to your father as he said, “Think she missed me, too?”

“Only a little,” the man responded, and you smiled into the jacket of Elvis’s uniform. It had taken a while for your father to warm up to the idea of you and Elvis Presley — ultimately, it took the proof of him not leaving you when he got shipped off. It was up until a year into you and the boy still talking that your father finally came to terms with your relationship. He’d told your mother that he was afraid Elvis would break his daughter’s heart, since, after all, he’s Elvis Presley. Your father chose to believe the media outlets over situations like these, so he’s never had a fond outlook on the boy, even before you began dating. And if he’s away in the military for two years, your father had said, nothing good would come from that. But, you proved him wrong, and here he was, almost as happy to see the boy as you were. Almost. 

“Come on! I-I wanna show you my dress!” you exclaimed after pulling away from the boy, and you looked to your parents for approval. They nodded, and as quick as you had come down, you were pulling Elvis upstairs to your room. While he was away, Elvis had missed your high school graduation, along with your senior prom. He wrote you saying how much he wished he could be there, and when you responded you’d even sent him a few photographs your mother had taken of you on that evening, a few solo but a couple with the boy who had taken you, as well. You were stuck with the privilege of going with a mister Tommy Baker, a boy you’d known since you were little as your mothers were best friends. Elvis didn’t like the idea of you going with another boy, but you reassured him that as a girl, you had to go with a boy. And if he wasn’t there to take you, Tommy was the next best thing. If you had gone to the senior prom by yourself, it would’ve been humiliating, and it would’ve been even worse had you gone with a friend like Lucy, which is what Elvis suggested when he wrote you back. He got over it quickly though when he saw you in your dress, and he asked if you would show him in person when he came home. Lucky for him, you remembered. 

It was also just an excuse to get him alone in your room. 

“The pictures don’t do it justice — look at how pretty this colour is.” You unzipped the bag that your pretty purple prom dress resided in, and Elvis hummed in approval. “I would show you what it looks like on, but it takes ages to get into and then tie up.”

“That’s alright, baby. Another time.” You felt his arms wrap around your waist as you zipped the bag back up, and you blushed when he rested his chin on your shoulder. “For now, I wanna kiss you.” Elvis pressed his lips to your cheek, and then your jaw, and you giggled as you pushed him away. 

“Let me hang this back up first. And Mama’ll kill me if she sees us kissin’ in my room.”

“That’s why we keep the door closed,” Elvis said slyly, moving across the room to grab the handle on your bedroom door, slowly and carefully closing it. You scolded him in a whisperful way as he twisted the handle, shutting it without a sound despite your protests. 

“Are you crazy? Daddy’s gonna kill you! An’ then he’ll kill me!”

“That’s why we lock it, too.” He clicked it shut and you smacked the boy on the arm. Chuckling, Elvis grabbed your wrist in the process, pulling you over to him expertly as his free hand snuck its way to your lower back, and he dipped you down while he connected your lips. 

The feeling of the kiss was too good for you to worry about the door much longer, and finally you allowed yourself to melt into him. His hand moved to cup your face, fingers twisting into your hair on the back of your head while he held you dangerously close. You felt his tongue slide past your lips and nearly gasped as it met yours, such a vile action that had your stomach dropping in the best way possible. 

“Two years was much too long,” he said when you pulled away to catch your breath, and his words couldn’t help but cause a smile on your lips. His hand tightened its hold on your cheek, thumb brushing over the soft skin as he gazed down at you. His blue eyes were even more beautiful than you remembered, and you fought the urge to lean up and kiss him again. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” you responded, and Elvis smiled small before he read your mind and bent down to connect your lips once more. As you kissed, all you could think about were those three words you’d been denying to write to him. I love you. It was such a simple saying, but for some reason thinking about saying it out loud had you more nervous than you were when you had to slow dance with Tommy Baker at prom. You loved Elvis so goddamn much it made your toes curl and your heart speed up so fast you were certain you’d go into cardiac arrest. And if you didn’t tell him soon, you were beginning to think that might not be an exaggeration. 

“Elvis,” you said, placing a hand on the boy’s chest to signal you wanted to stop. Immediately, he pulled away, blue eyes gazing down at you concerningly, his lips swollen from the prior activity and his chest rising and falling with deep breaths under your hand. You stared up at him, heart pounding and mouth growing dry, despite the sloppy kissing you’d just endured with the boy towering above you. His eyes were sparkling and his lips were so pink and full and he just looked so beautiful— “Kiss me again.”

So he did, and you wanted to curse yourself for chickening out but his lips were too entrancing. Elvis began leading you backwards, his hands sure to keep you steady when your knees hit the edge of your bed and you collapsed onto the mattress, his body falling over you gracefully. Elvis flipped you over, your legs moving to straddle him as he pulled you on top, and it was then that you pulled away, tucking your hair behind your ears as you repositioned yourself awkwardly. Elvis sat up on his elbows, staring at you. “You okay, lil darlin’?”

“Mhm.” You sat back, dropping your hands into your lap before realizing that was his crotch, and then lifting them as quick as you realized. The boy chuckled, smirking up at your flustered expression. “Oh!— Sorry.”

“You’re all good, mama.” 

The nicknames he gave you never failed to erupt a swarm of butterflies in your stomach, on top of the nerves you felt just thinking about what you needed to say to him. It was now or never, you thought, staring back at the boy who lay under you, watching you with a look of love and adoration in his eyes entirely, a lazy smile on his lips and dark hair styled to perfection atop his head. The sight alone was enough to have you blushing. “Elvis, I…”

You couldn’t get the words out before a shout came to cut you off, and suddenly the nerves in your belly weren’t caused by the preparation of admittance. “Y/N Y/L/N! What did I say about boys in your room with the door closed!”

“Sorry, Momma!” you called back, smacking Elvis on the arm as he chuckled lightly. You climbed off him, rushing to open the door before stepping out into the hallway to apologize face to face. When you went back inside, Elvis was sitting upright on your bed, a picture frame in his hands before he glanced up at you. “See, I told you you’d get me in trouble!”

“Hardly,” he said, setting the picture frame back down on your nightstand. Elvis reached out for you, tugging at your skirt to pull you closer to him. You stood between his legs, peering down at him as your hands came to rest on his shoulders. He smirked up at you, resting his hands on your hips while he looked on at you devilishly. “I like it when you’re bad ‘cus o’ me.”

Your mind went fuzzy, stomach dropping at his raspy tone, his words dangerous. 

“Makes you even sexier.”

Your head turned to see if your mother was still out in the hallway, and Elvis’s hands on the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer, had you turning back to him. “Eyes on me, baby.” He brought his hand to your chin, tilting your head down with his fingers. “Could be more fun this way.” He was gesturing to the lack of privacy, with the open door, and how suspenseful it would be, but you couldn’t ignore what would happen if your mother — or worse, your father — walked in at the wrong time. Elvis, on the other hand, couldn’t care less, as he was pulling you back in for another kiss.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered against his lips, and you felt they turn into a smirk as he whispered back, “I know,” before crashing his lips down onto yours for the third time that day. 

You had your hands on his shoulders to keep you steady, but no amount of stability could keep your knees from weakening when you felt his hands slip under your blouse, making contact with the foreign skin as he held you at your sides. He flipped you over then, laying you down on your bed as he knelt over you slightly, keeping watch of the door. His hands were still under your shirt, sneaking their way down, and it was a dangerous touch but the way he was so delicate, fingers whispering across your skin as they slid into the waistband of your skirt, plucking at the fabric of your panties — you were more than certain it was the right thing to do. Everything he did, he did with such certainty that you couldn't help but agree with him. He was ethereal, and you were sure you wouldn’t have let any other man touch you the way he was doing now. Not until marriage, at least. 

But yet, this boy had you under him, no ring on your finger, begging for his touch as his fingers slipped under your panties. 

“Elvis,” you whimpered, and the boy shushed you as he ran a finger up your folds. 

“Gonna have to be quiet for me, darlin’. Ain’t nobody gonna hear a sound, alright?” He began working two fingers over you, a feeling so foreign to you you couldn’t help but shiver, and the way you leaned your head back, teeth biting down on your lip, had Elvis struggling to contain himself, too. “So wet for me, sweetheart. You been waitin’ so long for me to come home to ya, haven’t ya?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, thighs clenching together as he had his hand buried deep between them. He finally entered a finger in you, your jaw falling open at the foreign feeling of penetration inside of you. 

“That feel good, baby?” The suspense of being caught felt almost as good as the quiet, raspiness of his voice caused, and you couldn’t decide if those two things trumped the feeling of his fingers working you over. Every sense of yours was heightened and you could’ve sworn this was what cloud nine felt like. 

He entered a second finger, pumping the two of them in and out before adding his thumb into the mix, rubbing your clit lightly to create a nice, steady pace for you. Your back arched off the bed at the feeling, a few whines escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut, and Elvis shushed you before placing a hand over your mouth when he increased the speed of his fingers. 

They were thrusting in and out of you at a rapid pace, curling inside of you to hit your g-spot while his thumb pressed circles into your clit as well. You were wiggling underneath him much more than you were minutes before, telling him that you were close to release, and Elvis pulled away with no warning, making you whine in distress. Was he just gonna leave you here like this?

He crossed your room to shut the door halfway, leaving it open just a few inches so that at least the bed wasn’t visible to anyone passing through the hallway. Elvis made his way back to the bed, where you sat on the edge with a pout on your lips. He chuckled, moving to stand in front of you as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back so you looked up at him. 

“You liked that?”

You nodded submissively, your pupils shot and eyelids weary from the bliss you didn’t think was possible from the vulgar act you’d just taken part in. Elvis clenched his jaw as he moved to kneel between your legs, his arms wrapping around your calves to pull you forward. At the sudden movement you squealed, falling back onto the bed, feeling him place his hands on your thighs underneath your skirt. He slid your panties off smoothly, discarding them somewhere unknown, before pushing your skirt higher up your stomach. 

“This alright, darlin’?” he asked, and the weak attempt at a hum of approval was enough for him. You felt his lips meet the skin of your inner thighs, dangerously close to where his fingers had just been minutes before, and your breath hitched.

“O… Oh,” you moaned, leaning up some to cast a quick glance down at the boy below you. His fingers gripped into your thighs, lips moving across your skin hastily, and it was when you felt his tongue like a stripe up your core that you fell back onto your back, a loud moan escaping past your lips. 

Elvis pulled away as quick as he could, smacking you on the thigh lightly as he shushed you. “Don’t want us to get caught now, do ya?” he asked, and you shook your head apologetically. He got to his feet, leaning over you as his hand gripped your face much like how he had done at the concert, your first interaction with the boy. Now, two years later, he had you in the same position, still writhing underneath his touch. “Gonna have to contain yourself, baby. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes,” you nodded, and Elvis hummed, half satisfied with your answer, before he kneeled back down between your thighs and went to work. If you thought that first bit felt good, you were in for a treat. Elvis had your heart in your throat, your back arched off the bed with your fingers digging into the bed sheets while his tongue worked you over. 

It was taking all of you not to scream out his name, your moans dying off your tongue before you could project them out. All you wanted to do was lean your head back and cry out in pleasure, his lips sucking at your core like his life depended on it. You’d never experienced a feeling like this, and it had you spiralling. You weren’t sure if you wanted to chase your release or just stay in this moment forever. 

“Fuck,” you heard Elvis mutter as he adjusted, pulling your thighs closer with his fingers pressed into your skin, lips brushing over your heat again. He kissed the delicate area before standing up, placing a hand next to your head as he leaned into your neck and whispered, “You got no clue what you do to me, baby girl.” It was then that he lowered his hips, rolling them onto yours, and you felt a bulge pressing against the fabric of his pants, now pushing against you. It was big, and you couldn’t deny that his size was doing anything but turning you away from the idea of him burying himself inside you. 

“Please,” you whispered, head rolling back as you felt him thrust against you, fully clothed. Your hand gripped his bicep, your other hand coming to push his button up further up on his stomach, fingers making contact with his warm skin. 

“You want this, baby?” Elvis was imitating the acts of intercourse now, his hips moving with yours while you wrapped your legs loosely around his torso. His hand strayed down to your heat, finding your wet core as he began rubbing your clit while he continued his previous actions. “You like it when I touch you?”

“Mhm,” you whined, digging your nails into his arm that held himself above you. 

“How much?”

“A-A lot,” you mumbled, trying to keep quiet as you bucked your hips against his hand, searching for friction and that feeling that you had no clue about, but you knew it was something extraordinary. “Go-Go back.”

“Back where, baby?”

“Down. I—” Before you could finish, Elvis was sinking back down to his knees, pulling you close and burying himself between your thighs again. You were whimpering, sitting up slightly at the shock of his tongue against you. Your fingers were digging deep into the jungle of his hair, teeth clenching down on your lip to stop you from screaming out. 

His tongue licked at you, the speed ferocious as he focused on your bundle of nerves above everything else. He knew exactly where to pleasure you, exactly what felt the best, and Lord were you grateful for it. Within seconds, you had your stomach clenching, your head thrown back and your legs shaking. A feeling of euphoria washed over you as Elvis worked his magic between your trembling thighs, and once you fell back, releasing your hand from his hair, Elvis knew his work was done. He climbed back over you, grinning from ear to ear as he placed a kiss to your cheek. 

“How you doin’, baby?”

“Fantastic,” you breathed, opening your eyes, and the boy chuckled before you pulled him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on him, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

“Woah, slow your roll there, mama. Not much else to do ’cept put a baby in ya.”

“At this point I ain’t even care.”

“Now who’s the crazy one?” he teased, and you smiled up at him as he sat beside you, your head coming to rest in his lap. Elvis reached down to fix your skirt and your blouse, his hand taking home on your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek while he looked down at you.

“Elvis?” you said, staring into his eyes. Now or never, Y/N.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

You gulped. “I love you.” 

The look on his face didn’t change too much for a while, which had you nervous. It wasn’t until you saw a smile peek at the corner of his lips that you let out a breath of relief. “You love me?” he asked, and you nodded, letting out a smile of your own. “Well that’s good, baby. ’Cause I’m crazy about you.”

You blushed, grinning wildly now, unable to contain it from spreading across your face like a wildfire. “You are?”

“I been in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you, baby. You won’t even believe.”

The grin on your lips turned into a mischievous one, and you knew you had Elvis to blame for that. He wasn’t the greatest influence, but you loved it. “Well if I won’t believe, why don’t you make me?”

The look cast across Elvis’s face was more shock than anything, but it quickly transformed into a daunting expression, eyes excited and the smirk on his lips wicked. “You sure are trouble, ain’t you, little one?”

“You’re to blame for that.”

“Oh, am I?” He was sliding off the bed, fingers caressing down the tops of your thighs with him. “I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.”

“You know what?” you said, watching as he sank to his knees again, large hands moving to wrap around the backs of your knees. “Me neither.”