#luckydime

emmy's third orgasm had floyd almost spent, jaw aching and completely covered in the mess that they were both making. a little grin was given as they pulled back, wiping the arousal off of their chin with the back of their hand. "we need a reset," they muttered, glancing at the clock and seeing it'd been an hour since they started fucking. floyd wasn't done, but she definitely needed to take a breather. getting out of bed, they moved to take two fiji bottles out of the small fridge and tossed one at the blonde. "i think it's time for you to ride me because i've been doing all of the work tonight," she teased, breathless, chugging water right after.

"hmm... are they giving you a hard time again?" gustave doesn't expect her to delve too deep into details; hell, she'll likely not divulge anything at all given how close he is with her parents to begin with but as someone who is in charge of her paycheck, he believes part of her wellbeing also fits under the umbrella. "i'll take it. i try to remain reasonable," as stressful as releasing things can get sometimes. he's certainly never opted to raise his voice at her but there's still a great deal of guilt that comes with keeping her late like this. her words are taken with great consideration and as eyes scan over the pages marked with red ink, all gustave can really do in the moment is chuckle softly. "you definitely didn't go easy on me. i can see whole sentences crossed out...."

Jamie: How's your day been so far today? Hopefully you're not missing me too much. // @luckydime

　　　the guilt from their unexpected encounter-turned-tryst could be managed when it was numbed by routine and reason. at least, that was what the man told himself. as karma would have it, the remorse stemming from their kiss eventually took on a life of its own, haunting each and every move he made. he replayed the moment over and over again in his mind: the wisp of her breath against his skin, the quiver of her lips before meeting his. it would've been the simplest thing to label it a mistake, and file it away with all the other things a married man should've never done — but it wasn't simple. on the contrary, the act had been a confession steeped in touch, a truth he was terrified to name. every morning since, he had woken with the taste of her still lingering . . . sweet, ruinous. and every night, he laid next to his wife feeling further from the man she believed him to be. 　　　what he hadn't planned on was seeing eleanor again, and definitely not so soon, when the memory of what they'd done still lived so vividly in his head. but, when their paths crossed at the mailbox that afternoon, his resolve turned to dust with one look at her. the smile that drifted across her features, small and cautious, had him feeling the same magnetic pull to her again. it was maddening. "i wasn't sure i'd see you again . . ." his voice trailed off, practicing similar caution, afraid one misspoken word would have her running in the other direction. "i didn't know if you'd want to."

it was so stupid. risking her tenure, everything she'd worked so hard for just because her boyfriend couldn't keep it in his pants and she wanted to make him pay. still, asking them to stay late, finding an excuse about a dissertation that needed reviewing, or whatever it was she had stuttered about was crazy and alex could feel the nerves climbing in her throat as she paced around her office. and yet, the idea of getting her revenge, seeing the look in her boyfriend's eyes when he'd realized - that set her body alive, almost eager to make him pay for it. as they crossed the threshold, lights dim in the empty building, she smiled, something professional - for now. "thank you so much for agreeing to help me out. i was afraid i'd spend the entire night locked in here if you didn't say yes." closing the distance between them in a few steps, her hand found their arm, squeezing briefly. "ready?"

"you can keep fuckin' talking, but i don't want to TALK ABOUT IT. it's not your fuckin' business." they know they're wrong, that they owe her some kind of explanation, but they're already overwhelmed by their own emotions. they're not about to tear these wounds open again, when they only finished sobbing and pouring their heart out a mere thirty minutes ago. that's why they didn't answer her texts, it's why they've been gone all day, and yet if they tried to explain the words would die on their tongue, lost amongst the million things they won't say.

the world was a spinning, nauseating tilt a whirl, and the only anchor was his frame against her car the second it pulled up. the interior of it was too clean, too quiet, such a contrast to the chaos he carried with him everywhere he went. he slumped into the passenger seat, smell of her perfume punching him in the face. "so —" he slurred, not looking at her yet, bloodshot baby blues glued to the window at the passing streetlights. "go on, then. let me have it. i'm a disaster, i'm a burden, i'm ruining your life, i know the script." finally he turned his head, his expression a complex mix of defiance and self loathing. "but you still came. you always come. so what does that say about you?"

"oh, ah..." it wasn't that he was ashamed of his career: it was incredibly lucrative, and he enjoyed knowing that his work made people happy. but something about them knowing had ezra's cheeks flushing. "it's not as steamy as it sounds. i mean, i do my recordings in a box in my closet so it's a pretty technical affair."