#ttwy

“Say it…” He growls, his hips rocking forward.

Deep, deeper, deepest.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.

“Tell me what I wanna’ hear.”

You have one hand fisted in his damp hair and the other leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his shoulder. You pant, your face buried in the crook of his neck, soft whines leaving your raw, kiss-flushed lips with every snap of his hips.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of you had been there. Mere minutes? Hours? Days? He’d stopped counting, stopped questioning— had he ever questioned this? He couldn’t remember. If he had, all of those queries had long sank into euphoric oblivion. All that was left was you.

Leaning down he cages your head between his arms and demands once more, “Tell me, Baby. Tell me what I’ve always known.”

“M’yours,” You mumble, hand tugging softly at his hair, back arching up, your soft body meeting to contours of his hard one.

He moans in your ear and the sound rocks through your body. You shiver, another soft whimper leaving your parted lips between pants.

“Mine,” Stephen says, the single syllable coming from somewhere deep inside his soul, his body trying to match his timbre as he sinks impossibly deeper into your heat, “You’re mine, Augustine.”

Deep, deeper, deepest.

It still wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He needed to live inside you. He needed to feel your warmth wrapped around him for life. Longer than that.

Maybe religion wasn’t such a bad idea… if it meant he’d be able to spend eternity wrapped up in you.

Pulling back just a bit, Stephen looks down at you. Your face coated in a thin sheen of sweat, blonde lashes fluttering as your eyes open and close. Beautiful eyes. Magnificent eyes. He’d never considered himself a poet or a romantic, but he could see worlds inside your irises. Layers of greens and browns and gold unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Your hand runs down the plane of his back, gentle fingers sliding over his obliques, a soft smile on your lips. White hair falls over your shoulders and pillows.

“Beautiful,” He whispers, “So beautiful.”

Your smile grows, your hands settling on the small of his back as you reply, “You should see yourself.”

But he could see himself.

Why could he see himself?

“Tell me what you told me earlier,” You request, rolling your hips upward, “That’s what I want to hear.”

And he hadn’t said it earlier. Not that he remembered. But somehow he knew exactly what you wanted him to say.

“I love you.”

You flutter around him at the declaration, lips parting as you let out a soft moan, your eyes rolling back.

“I love you,” He repeats once more, reaching up to take your face in one hand, “I’ll love you forever.”

In a flash of no specific movement, you’re sat atop him, large, plush thighs straddling his waist, bare chest on display. You balance yourself using his thighs and throw your head back. You look glorious. You feel incredible… indescribable.

Your hips roll like waves, using his body to chase your own pleasure, and that was pleasure enough for him. His hands find your hips, kneading at the soft flesh, his eyes devouring you.

Perfect.

Perfect.

“Perfect,” You moan, “Feels so good, Stephen,” Your legs quiver, “S’too good.”

He reaches down and strums over your clit, though his eyes don’t stray from your face. You looked radiant. Literal light seemed to emanate from your person. Blinding and hot and—

Stephen’s eyes shoot open. Directly in front of him, the San Diego skyline. Yellow sunlight beams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He rolls over, groans as if in agony— which he felt he was— and slams his fist into the pillow at his side.

Her mother’s words, spoken in a tone that Vivian rarely heard, caught the girl’s attention as she had begun to make her way up the winding staircase. Something didn’t feel right. Something felt heavy inside Vivian at the worry, and almost disbelief, she heard in her mother’s voice. It made the back of her throat tighten and her mouth go dry.

“I did what I had to do, Helen.”

With her feet coming to a stop on the stair and her fingers squeezing around the smooth surface of the wooden banister upon hearing her father, Vivian whipped her head around, her wide green eyes fixated on the dim light of the study that was spilling out onto the marble floor of the foyer. She knew she had to find out exactly what they were talking about.

Tiptoeing her way back down, Vivian’s heart was pounding so fast, it almost hurt and nearly stifled her breaths, but the young woman remained as quiet as a mouse as she stood outside the cracked doorway. Her back was pressed to the wall, just out of view of her parents.

“She’s your daughter, Thomas, our only daughter, how could you do something like this?”

“I’m doing this to protect her. She doesn’t know what’s right, or what’s good for her. She’s not old enough to know these things!”

Vivian dropped her head, her brows furrowed in perplexity as she fought to settle the uneasiness that was knotting up in her chest. Her fists curled into the cotton material of her skirt at her sides and there was a belligerent nauseousness forming quickly in her stomach. “She loves the boy, Thomas, she will never forgive you for this.”

A shallow gasp spilled past her lips and she pushed her hand to her mouth, struggling to keep herself quiet. Her mind began to clamber; vivid thoughts of Niall crashing over her and she swallowed hard, straining to calm herself enough to continue listening.

“She doesn’t have to forgive me,” her father said, Vivian easing her eyes closed as she rested her head back against the wall. “Now she’ll have no choice, she’ll have to move on with her life. Without him.”

The young woman was shaking, fire-red anger mixed with fright encompassing every part of her as she fought to dissect what she was hearing. ‘Without him’ – what did that mean? “I don’t condone this, Thomas,” she heard her mother whisper, a slight break in her voice. Vivian wrinkled her brow and turned her face towards the doorway. “The man that I love, the man that I married would never do something like this! I just don’t understand!”

“You don’t have to understand!” her father yelled back, his menacing tone booming off the bookcases that lined the walls of his study. It made a chill ripple down Vivian’s spine. “I did this! I did this for our daughter! End of discussion!”

A silence filled the drafty space after the echoing ring of his voice had dissipated and Vivian struggled to stay calm. Her green eyes, wide and watery, darted across the specks of light that brightened the dark wood plane of the door as she heard her mother gently clear her throat. “And what if I go to the police with this?” she said to Vivian’s father.

Her father let out a disconcerting chuckle and Vivian’s face fell. “Who are they gonna believe, Helen?” he questioned before Vivian heard the familiar sound of the floor creak as he took a step closer towards her mother. “Do you really think they’ll believe, hell, that they’ll even care, that the Thomas Prescott had a group of upstanding young men beat that lowly drifter to death?”

Vivian gasped and felt her heart sink to the bottom of her chest and it was all she could do but swallow back the sick that was rising up her throat. Shaking her head, the young woman clamped her hand over her mouth to contain her outburst, her eyes pinching shut as the hot tears started to stream down her cheeks. “They’ll chalk it up to a delinquent fight gone too far!” her father finished.

Not being able to take anymore, Vivian spun around and barged into the room, a worked-up cry breaking past her lips. “Vivian!” her mother gasped.

“Please tell me all of this isn’t real?” she pleaded with a trembling chin, her red-rimmed eyes downturned and dragging over her father’s face. “Daddy, please...please tell me you didn’t hurt him!”

He lightly shook his head. “Vivian…”

“Daddy! Tell me you didn’t hurt him!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, stomping her foot and pounding her curled fists at her side. Her chest was heaving, her tears dripping from the line of her jaw and she stood there, head held high with a glare in her eye and a tight scowl over her pressed lips.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” he said, taking a step towards her.

Vivian quickly stepped back. “Stay away from me,” she mumbled under her shaky breath.

“He’s not the one for you, Vivian, he never was.”

Her heart was thumping out of her ribcage, the fright, the resentment, the pure rage she was feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced before in her life. “Niall is all that I have! He is everythin’ that I have ever wanted, everythin’ that I have ever loved,” she fought back, planting her hands on her hips. “He is ten times the man and husband and father that you could ever be! How could ya ever think to do somethin’ like this?”

She could hear her mother sobbing next to her, but her focus was on one person. The person standing in front of her with a stone cold expression on his face and a deadness in his eyes. “I did this for you! He is not good for you, Vivian! He is not for you!”

“That is not your choice to make, not anymore!”

“It is my choice if you live in this house, under my roof!”

Vivian choked back her cries. “Then I won’t live in this house anymore.”

Her father furrowed his brow and swung his pointed finger around as his loud voice boomed right through Vivian’s chest like a calibrated missile. “Like hell you won’t! I am the most powerful man in this town and you are my daughter, you will do as I say!”

The room fell quiet once again. Vivian’s green eyes, dark with anger and blurry through tears pulsed over her father’s for a split second before she took a single step towards him. “I will never do as you say,” she began, her voice fragile but holding steady as she spoke, “You are a selfish, horrible person and I never want to speak to you again. From this moment forward, I am no longer your daughter. I don’t know you, I don’t want to know you.”

Vivian swallowed hard as she watched her father struck with silence and his jaw fall slack and the young woman, with her racing heart and her worried thoughts, spun around to leave.

“Vivian…” her mother whispered.

Twisting her chin to look over her shoulder at her father one last time, Vivian fought back the need to burst out into another fit of sobs and instead she just narrowed her eyes. “Now how powerful do you feel?”

Her mother’s inconsolable cries of her name were the last thing she heard as she ran from that house and scrambled back into her car.

*****

The sweat was dripping from her palms as she squeezed them tighter around the steering wheel, a glooming heaviness bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Thoughts raced through her mind; worried and sickening thoughts, intensely horrible thoughts about Niall. She wasn’t sure if she would even be able to make it to him in time and that single thought haunted her and made a crippling ache settle in her heart. She had no idea what her father had conjured up, of what his true plans were except that he was determined to get rid of Niall. All Vivian could do was slam her foot harder to the gas pedal and get back to him as fast as her car could take her.

Tears were streaming hot down her face, her throat burning and constricting from how hard she was choking back her sobs as her car squealed into the lot of the mechanic shop. Vivian’s green eyes glazed over as she came to a stop, her mouth falling slack at the scene happening before her. Niall, bloodied and battered, being held on his knees by two guys in front of Cliff who was bent over and holding a knife to his throat. It was as if in that instant, Vivian’s world went blank. She froze. Her heart nearly clenching into a ball of hopelessness and her body tensing up so hard, her bones felt as if they would crack under the erratic pulse of her skin. She didn’t know what to do or what she could do and her instinctual fear kicked in, Vivian bursting out a blood-curdling scream of his name.

Startled by the sound, Cliff turned around just as Vivian had forced herself out of her car and had begun to run over towards them. With his brows crinkled with confusion as to why she was there, Cliff had stood up and taken a step back and Vivian took the opportunity to scramble herself in front of Niall. She held her arms out, her face stained with the wetness of her cries as she shook her head and began to desperately plead with Cliff. “P-please,” she choked out between her choppy breaths, “don’t do this.”

Cliff clamped his fist around the handle of the knife as he held it by his side, a foul grimace on his face. “Viv, you need to get outta here!” he bellowed.

“Not ‘til you do,” she told him, flicking her eyes over her shoulder to peek back at Niall. She gasped, Niall barely rocking his head up to look at her, his face covered in blood and almost unrecognizable from the beating he had endured. Her chin trembled as she saw the very faint line of blue within his swollen and bruised eyes, and Niall swallowed hard but did not utter a word. Vivian knew she had to do everything she could to stop this and she glanced back over at Cliff.

“I’m just doin’ what I’ve been told to do,” he growled to her, “and I ain’t leavin’ ‘til its done.”

With a tear slipping down her cheek, Vivian kept her stare on Cliff and lifted her chin. “Fine then, if you wanna kill him, then you’re gonna have to kill me too.”

Cliff took a step towards Vivian, the young woman holding her head high as he brought the knife up between them and pressed the sharp point right at the side of her throat. Cliff tipped his head to the side, his eyes, black as night, darting with hers. “And what makes ya think I won’t?”

She swallowed hard at his words and she could hear Niall groaning as he struggled behind her to get loose from the crippling grip of the other two guys. “Because,” she said, her voice strong but low, “then you’d kill the baby that’s inside me too.”

“You’re knocked up?” Cliff shot back, his eyes gone wide.

Niall, barely conscious, stopped his struggling and slowly lifted his head. There was a debilitating ringing in his ears, but he had heard what Vivian had said loud and clear, and he couldn’t believe it. “Vivian...” he breathed out.

Hearing the sound of his voice, she turned her head to peer at him, tears spilling down her face as she gave him the softest smile she could muster. “Please Cliff,” she whispered as she looked back over at the man holding the knife, “I know what my father told ya to do, but I also know that ya cared about me once, so I’m beggin’ ya, for me...for this baby, please just let him go.”

“I-I can’t...you’re father he–”

“Cliff...you’re better than this. I know it...I know in my heart you’re better than this. Please,” her red-brimmed eyes flicked over his, pleading, “I need him. I love him.”

Watching as the expression on Cliff’s face started to change as her words echoed through the quiet empty lot, he slowly lowered the knife, his anger fading. His stare stayed glued to Vivian, sweeping over her face and it was in that second that a wave of unfamiliar softness flashed through his eyes. Cliff stepped back, rubbing his open hand over his sweat covered face as he dropped his head down. “Let him go,” he instructed.  

“But Cliff–”

“I said let him go!” he screamed, glancing at Vivian. Her heart jumped in her chest and she pushed out a gasp of relief. The men behind her let go of Niall and he tumbled to the ground, Vivian quickly bending over and grabbing his face in her hands. She was shaking as she cupped his cheeks, gently pressing her forehead to his. “Get him the fuck outta here,” Cliff barked out at her, Vivian flicking her attention back up to him. “Hurry! Go! Before I change my mind!”

Not wasting another second, Vivian stood up and grabbed Niall around his upper arm, helping him to his feet. He was beaten badly, every part of his body marked by bruises and cuts and he wrapped his arm around Viv, using her as a crutch as they both slowly hobbled back to her car. Hugging her arms around his torso, Vivian held onto him and let out a small sigh as she felt the slight press of Niall’s lips to her temple. It was all she needed.

Niall slid himself into the back seat with a painful groan and Vivian glanced over at Cliff one last time, thankful for his mercy before she hopped into the driver’s seat. Viv took off down Main Street without another thought, her one true love spread out in the backseat, beaten and in pain, and her hands gripping tight to the steering wheel. Peeking over her shoulder at him, their watery eyes locked and she saw the corner of his lips tug up slightly. Her heart felt just a bit more at ease in that moment before she turned her focus back to the pitch black night roads. She didn’t know where she was going, or where they would end up, but she had Niall and Niall had her and that was all that mattered as they kept driving, leaving the town of Bluemont forever.

*****

“Was it true, Great Grandma, were you really pregnant?”

Vivian, with her alabaster skin overly wrinkled and worn and her brown hair thin and turned an icy grey, had settled herself in her matriarchal seat in the living room of her home. It was her favorite chair. One that she had picked out from a catalog years back when catalog ordering was still a thing. It was old, the seams of the flowered material tattered around the wooden legs and the springs in the seat lumpy in spots, but it was still her favorite chair. The woman, who was once young and full of life, had grown old and was surrounded by her family; her grandchildren and great grandchildren camped on their behinds on the carpet at her feet and her grown children and their spouses standing along the heavily picture-framed walls.

She softly chuckled. “I was,” she said, a gentle smile pulling at her painted lips. “Though I actually didn’t know it at the time. I had just said whatever I could to save him. We found out a little bit later that I actually was carryin’ his child. We both cried.”

“It was Uncle James?” one of the little ones asked. Vivian nodded at him.

“But where did you go, when you left?” another of her great grandchildren spoke up. “Was Great Grandpa Niall okay?

“He was okay,” Vivian answered, giving the small girl a half grin. “He was very shaken up over the whole ordeal, we both were, frankly. He had two very black eyes and a broken jaw, but he was alright. His spirit wasn’t broken at least, it never was.”

“So, you guys just ran away?”

Vivian peeked over at one of her older grandchildren that had asked the question. “We did what we had to do, my child. For our love, for each other. To be together. It was a different time back then, you see.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee, her hand trembling as she eased the mug back to the small table that rested beside her chair. “We took off west, takin’ turns drivin’ and we didn’t stop ‘til we hit the coast. We figured there wasn’t much further we could go, so that’s where we decided to stay.”

A tender, reminiscing smile tugged at her mouth as the older woman tipped her head down in thought. “We got married at the first chapel we could find, a humble little place but it was just beautiful. There was nobody else there but me and Niall, as it was meant to be,I suppose,” she went on, peering back up into the faces of the ones she loved. “It was hard at first, gettin’ on our feet and all, but we managed. Our first little baby boy, James, was born nearly seven months after we left Bluemont. Luckily by that time, Niall had found a good job as a mechanic at a local shop and we had made ourselves a home. And oh my, baby James was a vivacious little thing! Niall and I were scared out of our wits, we had no idea what we were doin’!”

Everyone let out a laugh, and Vivian chuckled under her breath. “I remember one time, just a few weeks after he was born, we were both so tired, Niall and I workin’ so hard, we had fell asleep in the livin’ room and left him on the front porch! He was only out there for an hour or so, but after that, I never let him outta my sight. It was pretty frightenin’ knowin’ what could’ve happened.”

“So that’s what’s wrong with you, Dad!” one of the grandkids yelled out.

James laughed. “Hey, now!”

“We were happy,” Vivian continued, everyone once again falling to a hush to listen. “More than happy, we were blissful, blessed. We had the perfect little family. Eventually Niall opened up his own shop, Horan Motors, and over the course of the followin’ years, we had three more gorgeous children: Amelia, William and Samuel.” Pausing to take a breath, she looked up at her four children that lined the back wall of her living room, and her heart felt full, as full as she could expect it to be. “It was...it was everythin’ I had ever wanted. Everythin’ I had ever dreamed of. We didn’t have a lot of money or luxuries, of course, but we were rich in so many other ways. I had a husband who I loved dearly and who loved me back the same. I had four beautiful, smart children. Had a home that was warm and invitin’, filled with happiness and laughter and love. I even took some night classes when the kids got a bit older. I had the life I had always wanted. It wasn’t always perfect, no, we struggled here and there, times did get tough, but it was my heaven.”

“What about your parents?” a little one curiously inquired, “Your dad? Did you ever talk to them again?”

Vivian took a moment a have another sip of her warm coffee, and she softly cleared her throat as she set the cup down. “I had talked to my mother a few times over the years, but no, the night I left Bluemont in 1958 was the last time I had spoken to my father.”

“Wow.”

“How come you never told us kids any of this over the years, Mom?” her only daughter, Amelia, asked.

The old woman pulled in a deep breath, folding her fragile hands into her lap. “I guess, I just thought that the past was never worth tellin’, especially when our future was so beautiful and bright. But today...today I felt it was time to tell everyone our story, the story of how we fell in love and how hard we fought to be together. Today, I am reminded of our struggles and our triumphs and how much love we had between us. Today, I remember him, I remember us. It’s been two years and I miss him more each day that he’s not here with me.”

Samuel nodded his head. “We miss him too, Mom.”

Bowing her head, Vivian could feel the warmth of her tears begin to fill her eyes at the memories of Niall, and she brought her hand to her up to her face, trying with everything in her to settle the emotions soaring through her. “He was my one true love,” she quietly choked out in a shaken voice, “my heart and soul. He showed me all that love and respect and honor could be. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn't tell me how much he loved me and that I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. From the moment we met, to the day he–”

The room fell silent and Vivian squeezed her eyes closed, her fingers trembling as she wiped the tears away from her cheeks. By the time she had looked back up at her large family, everyone was stricken with their own emotion, a sea of watery, empathetic eyes stared back at her. “He was a good man,” she went on, straining to find a well-tethered tone, “And a good husband, and an even better father. I am proud to have been his wife and to have been by his side for the last fifty six years. And he would be so happy to see us all here together today, celebratin’ this momentous occasion.”

Holding up his bottle of beer, James smiled at his aging mother. “This is to you, Mom,” he announced to the room and everyone who had a drink in their hands, held them up high in honor. “And to Dad. We miss him, but we know he’s always here. Happy Anniversary!”

A cheer lit up the room and Vivian was struck with another bout of fullness in her heart. Her tears were gone, replaced with loving smiles and generous hugs from her grandchildren, before everyone slowly began to disperse and fall into their own conversations.

She watched them all from her favorite chair for a while longer, wishing that Niall was still there by her side to see it all, before she quietly eased herself up. Slowly, she shuffled across the carpeted floor to the other side of the living room to where a collage of framed pictures adorned the entire wall. Most were of the her own kids and grandchildren, some professional family portraits that had been taken over the years, but there was one in the middle, a small black and white photo encased in a thin golden metal frame, and that was one she often found herself stopping to stare at every time she walked by. It was of her and Niall. It was taken the summer they met, the only photo Vivian had of that time and it was by far her favorite. It was how she liked to remember him, young and handsome, and it reminded her of his smile and his laugh, and, of course, one of the best summer’s of her life.

Taking in a shallow breath, Vivian’s eyes, never once in the long years having lost their vivid green, dragged over the old photo, soaking in the every detail she could. It was almost like she could still see the bright blue of his eyes, hear the husky sound of his voice in her ear, smell the intoxicating scent of his skin and feel the familiar warmth of his touch. In all the years, it never faded away, not once. She reached up, the smooth silver clasp bracelet he had given her on her 18th birthday still encircling her wrist, and tenderly slid the tip of her wrinkled finger down the soft line of his face. Her chin faintly trembled. 

“I’m not… if you don’t want to—”

“I do…” You whisper, turning to face him

“So I can take care of you?”

“Yes, Stephen.” You smile as he presses his lips to his neck, “I’d like that.”

And with that permission, he led you into a long, slow, soft kiss. No teeth, no tongue. Just lips against lips and arms wrapped around one another. He brought his hands up to your face, cradling you softly. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones delicately. You turned and your hands found residence against his back where your fingers dug gently into the fabric. You leaned farther into him, getting as close as possible. 

You both stood there and lost yourselves in each other in a way you never had before. You thought you could feel every part of him despite all the layers between you, and Stephen thought he could feel every cell responsible for your composition. He moved one hand to the back of your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss, and you gave a little whimper, moving impossibly closer to him. He tried to pull you closer as well, tried to satiate his need for you. Something deep and unexplainable, but inexplicable.

He reached down and hauled you upward, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist, his lips not leaving yours for a second. He carried you into the penthouse and set you down gently on the couch, falling to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving your own. You leaned forward and smiled into another kiss, and Stephen found himself smiling into it right along with you. He let himself smile into it, let himself enjoy the foreign action.

He tilted your head back and slowly trailed kisses down your chin to your jaw and your neck. He moved slowly and touched you gently, savoring every part of you he could. He trailed his hands from your shins up to your thighs and pulled your legs apart to get himself closer to you before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your sweater. His fingers brushed across the bare skin of your abdomen making you inhale sharply. Stephen was in no rush. He would make this last all night if he could. He wanted to memorize you, every curve and dimple and line that adorned your body. 

He pulled at the waistband of your leggings and you lifted your hips to let him slide them off, and he chuckled when you brought your hands to his face to ensure he didn’t break away. You giggled and brought your kisses down along his cheek and jawline, nipping gently at his neck and soothing over the sting with your tongue. Stephen wasted no time on teasing you, immediately moving to slide your panties off as well. He didn’t even pause to see what they looked like— he didn’t care about the show tonight.

He brought his thumb to your slit and relished the way you gasped from the small touch alone. Your legs fell open further allowing him access to the absolute treasure between them. He circled your clit lightly, his lips never leaving your own until you fell back into the couch, your eyes fluttering closed as you reveled in the feeling of Stephen’s skilled fingers working over you. You swallowed hard and gripped at the couch cushion. Stephen pulled you forward gently and spread you wider to slot his head between your legs.

You felt his breath against your heat and murmured, “Stephen, please.”

“You don’t have to beg tonight, Doll. I’m gonna take good care of you. You just sit back and enjoy it for me, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

He kissed at your thighs gently and smiled, “Mm, still so well-mannered. Such a sweet girl for me, huh?”

“Mhm.” Was all you were able to hum out as Stephen stuck his tongue out and gently licked a stripe through your slit

He kept his hands resting on your thighs, fully aware of your propensity to try and shut them as you got closer and closer to climax. He licked at you gently, running his tongue flat against you. Your hips shifted forward and you let out one of those sweet little moans. He smiled to himself and closed his lips over your clit, sucking gently before licking roughly and sucking again. Stephen watched as your back arched slowly off the couch. He snaked one arm up under the fabric of your sweater and groped at your chest, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger. You moaned and shifted, wanting desperately to be closer to him. Needing to be closer to him.

Stephen took both hands and spread you open for him, humming happily at the sight of your arousal glistening, “You’re so beautiful, Baby. I love watching you react to me like this.”

You whimpered at the praise, always truly happy when Stephen used his mouth for something other than bossing others around or boasting about himself. He stuck his tongue inside you and you keened, delighted at the intrusion. Stephen fucked you with his tongue nice and slow, more than happy to spend as much time between your legs as possible. He loved it. He loved eating you out. He loved the way you gushed and coated his tongue. He would spend all night worshiping you like this if you’d let him.

“Fuck, Stephen.” You whined, “Feels so good, so fucking good. Oh… God.”

He pulled away and licked another stripe up your sex, placing a kiss against your clit, “Yeah, Honey? You like having my head between your legs?”

“So much.” You agreed

“I like it too.” He said bringing his hand up and gently pushing one finger into you, making you sigh happily, “I could do this all night. I would spend my whole night between your legs like this. Making you cum over and over again.” He slipped a second finger inside you and you moaned obscenities under your breath, “What do you think? You want my mouth again?”

“Yes, please. Yes. I love it when y— you use your mouth on me. You do it so good, Stephen. I— I can’t think straight… Jesus.” Stephen brought his mouth down over your clit and traced circles over the bud with rougher pressure and you gasped, “Yes! Right there… right there. Don’t stop, please.”

He didn’t. He told you, he was taking care of you tonight. He wouldn’t tease you, wouldn’t drag out your release a second longer than necessary. He loved watching you come undone for him. He felt one hand find its way into his hair where you pulled gently. He moaned at the sensation making you jump a bit and gasp from the vibrations. He smiled when he glanced up to find you staring down at him, your lips parted and your chest heaving as your body tried to decide between necessary function and surrendering to pleasure. He curled his fingers inside you and you moaned out your pleasure. He did it again and again, sliding his fingers out of you slowly just to slide them back in at the same pace, always curling them to reach for that special spot inside of you.

“Oh, Stephen. Fuck, I’m gonna…” You gasped, “Yes, yes, yes… please.”

Stephen watched as you came undone, pulling back only to watch the way you gushed your release before leaning down to lap it up. God, he loved the taste of you, the scent of you, the feeling of you. He kept working at you until your legs were shaking and your hand fell from his hair. He sat up and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around your back and bringing his lips to your own once again. You threw your arms around his neck and smiled at the feeling of his hand against the small of your back, his fingers curling lightly as if a plea for you to get closer. This time he licked at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You opened your mouth gladly and let the taste of both you and him flood your senses. 

“You’re just as pretty from down here as you are anywhere else.” He said earnestly, pulling away to catch his breath. You felt yourself flush at the compliment and tried to turn away, only to have your chin gently grabbed and your eyes forced to meet his once more, “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you…” You whispered back, and he knew it was a lie

He quirked a little half smile and kissed your lips gently, “How should I make you cum next, Pretty Girl? Let me spend all night between your legs, however you want it. Let me prove how beautiful you are. Let me keep taking care of you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your lips twitched into a smile. You knew he didn’t mean the words he was saying because it was Stephen Strange saying them. You knew he didn’t care whether you asked him to continue from here or not. You knew they were just pretty words spoken to make your head spin, your knees weak, your heart flutter. 

You knew.

But you decided to let yourself believe them for now.

“Make love to me, Stephen. Just tonight.” You plead softly, repeating those two words from earlier, a reminder to both of you how this would end

“Just tonight?” Stephen asked, a wistful tone to his voice

“Just tonight.”

“One condition.” He posed, “You stay when we’re done. Don’t run off and leave the other side of my bed cold.”

You nod and agree, “I’ll stay.”

“That’s my Good Girl.” He praised, standing and lifting you off the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist

He carried you into the bedroom, his lips between your neck and lips the whole way. He set you gently on the bed and stripped off his shirt as you worked on the tie of his sweats. He was already hard, fully and completely, merely from having been between your legs. His dick was not broken. Listening to your little moans and whimpers as you came in his mouth was all he needed when it was you. You pulled his sweats and briefs down and he kicked them and his shoes off before reaching down and ridding you of your shirt and bra.

He crawled on the bed and shifted you toward the head to the mass of pillows. He kissed your lips short and sweet before trailing down to your now-exposed breasts. He loved your chest just as much as your ass— he wasn’t in the mood to choose which was his favorite, nor had he ever been. Palming one breast he ran his mouth over the other, nipping gently at your nipple and hearing the moan it drew from you. He took his time, lavishing attention to each, running his hands down the curves of your body and back up. He studied the way you arched into his touch, every squirm, every twitch.

You reached down and found his cock, grasping it lightly and toying with his head. Stephen groaned and his head fell forward into your sternum, relishing in your touch. You pumped your hand up and down his shaft slowly, watching as his back heaved with efforts of composure. He picked his head up and crushed his lips against your own. He opened his mouth and you dove into him, making your grip around him just a bit tighter as you worked your fist over his length. You drew back from the kiss to stare up at him. Your free hand came to cup his jaw and you watched as he surrendered to the touch, letting his head fall into your hand without restraint. 

“You’re so pretty.” You murmured, studying the angles and plains of his face in the light of the sun just peaking through his bedroom curtains

You felt his face grow warm beneath your touch and smiled when you saw his cheeks go red— not just pink, but really and truly red. His cock twitched in your hand and you smiled, knowing your words had at least meant something. His lips parted as if he was going to say something, but nothing left them and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and gave a bit of a sigh, resting his forehead against your own.

“I mean— you always have been. I’ve always thought so. But you really are just… beautiful, Stephen.” You run a thumb over his cheekbone, noticing for the first time he has a light smattering of freckles there

Stephen was so dumbfounded by the admission that he was left totally speechless. No return, no ‘thank you,’ no smart-ass comment… nothing. His heart felt like it was swelling in his chest. Was he having a heart attack? Given the loss of words the only thing he found himself capable of doing was kissing you again. A small gesture of gratitude in comparison for what he’d really felt for the words, but it was something. You returned the kiss eagerly, taking it as the ‘thanks’ he had intended. You knew it was likely he was tired of women telling him how good-looking he was, but you needed him to know you saw it too. You needed him to know you’d seen him the same way he’d seen you. 

Stephen wrapped one arm around you and as if you read his mind you began guiding his cock to your entrance. He thrust into you slowly and you and he both moaned happily. He’d never entered anyone this leisurely and he decided he’d do it with you every time— if there ever was another time. You loved feeling him stretch you slow like this, loved how it felt he fit just right. Stephen could feel every bit of you, every stretch, every pulse, every flutter of your walls. He was throbbing already, every part of him so thoroughly absorbed in your being. You made the prettiest face when he finally bottomed out in you. Your mouth twitching into a satisfied smile, a breath of relief pushing past those pretty kiss-flushed lips. Your eyes rolled back just a bit as he pushed at that boundary somewhere deep inside you— somewhere he wanted to be the only man to ever feel.

“Just like that, Doll.” He cooed, “You feel so good stretched out around me, always do. My beautiful girl.” 

He leaned down and pressed his chest against your own, desperately wanting to feel as much of you on him as possible. You wrapped your arms around him in return, rolling your hips up toward him gently. He let out one of those rare and beautiful moans, his head falling forward to watch where the two of you were connected. He withdrew slowly before pushing back in the same. You both found a perfectly lazy pace, grinding into one another. His pelvis pressed into your clit when he rolled his hips against yours, creating wonderful friction right where it needed to. Stephen kept his arm around your back and held you as close to him as possible.

This was new. 

This was not how he normally treated his women, and he could feel the difference. Even he wasn’t emotionally dense enough to ignore that. He was doing exactly what you’d asked of him— he was making love to you. He wasn’t fucking you or having you or even just having sex. There was something different, some perfect and indescribable feeling attached to it. It made the swelling in his heart continue and his breathing labored despite the fact it wasn’t half the normal energy he put into it. And he knew it was dangerous, whatever the feeling was. But he didn’t care. Not now.

Not tonight.

Stephen rest his forehead against your own and demanded, “Look at me, Augustine.”

You did so immediately. Your eyes weren’t hazy and far away like normal. You weren’t lost in it, you were right there with him, feeling the same exact thing. Those calculating, mesmerizing, stunning, green and gold eyes were right there staring up at him. He could see every fiber of your iris, every thought in that pretty little head if he looked hard enough. Your face was flushed pink and there was a light sheen to your skin, your hair cascading over his pillows in a white waterfall. You looked absolutely angelic.

“God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered

Your heart and stomach both twist and you moved your hands from his back up into his hair, pulling him into another kiss. It was lazy the same as his thrust and the roll of your hips. So undone and unconcerned with whatever the hell was happening with the rest of the world behind those four walls. When he broke the kiss his eyes were right there, boring into your own again. His nose nudged against yours as he kissed you softly once more.

“Stephen.” You breathed out, cradling his face in your hands

“You alright, Doll?” He checked, placing a kiss against your forehead as he sheathed himself in you once more

“So much better than alright.” You confirmed, “So g-good. Taking such good care of me, Sweetheart.”

Stephen found himself groaning at the praise, his cock twitching. Since when was that something he was into? He felt your walls flutter around him and moved his hand to the small of your back, angling you upward ever so slightly. But he knew the adjustment made all the difference when you gasped and wrapped your arms around him tight again, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes, yes. Stephen…”

“Right there? Just like that, Beautiful?”

“Yes. Please. Oh my God. Oh, you feel so good.” Even as you said it he could feel your walls fluttering, squeezing him tighter, “You fill me up so right, so right, every time. I’d spend forever with you buried inside me. Forever.” You muttered, your head falling back to the mattress, your chest rising and falling quickly, “Just want you.”

Stephen groaned at the admission, “I’m here, Doll. You have me.” He reassured, brushing the baby hairs off your forehead

“Stephen.” You moan for him once more, quiet and sweet, right into his ear causing his whole body to break out into chill bumps. “Don’t stop, please.” You beg, “Stephen, don’t…” Your nails dig into his hair, pulling gently, listening to his breathing and… you don’t know if it’s your heartbeat you hear or his own, but you didn’t mind either way

“C’mon, Beautiful.“ He coaxes, “Cum for me.”

It all felt so right.

“I’m right here. You can let go.” He reassured, staring down into your eyes, your brow tensed in pleasure, lips parted slightly as you panted

Stephen tightened his grip on your back and made sure to angle you just right, brushing against your g-spot and grinding against your clit. With a few more thrusts he watched as your mouth fell agape and you came with a silent scream. You mumbled his name over and over again in a quiet plea. He brushed his lips across your own gently, a small smile on his face as he watched your orgasm work through you. He pulled back and felt as you trailed one of your hands to his chest, your eyes locked on his own. He brought one of his own hands up to yours and pressed it firmly to his heart. He nuzzled his head into your chest and you thread the fingers of your free hand through his hair once again, pulling softly as you came off the high of your own orgasm.

But Stephen couldn’t make himself let go. He wouldn’t let go. Because he knew this was the last time. This was it. This was the first and last time he’d have you this way. And he couldn’t fathom letting you go.

God, he didn’t wanna let go.

You listened to Stephen’s labored breathing. Felt the way he was pulsing inside of you. You ran your hands down his back, feeling the way the muscles tensed under your touch. He was holding out, holding back.

“Cum, Stephen.” You whispered, hooking your legs around his back and resuming your own grinding against him, “Cum for me.” You plead again, running your hand through his damp hair

He moved gently to bury his face in your neck and left gentle kisses over the skin. He was so wrapped up in everything you were in that moment. The rest of the world could have been falling apart and he wouldn’t have batted an eye. As long as he was there with you it wouldn’t have mattered what else was happening. He slotted his mouth against your own once more, kissing you tenderly. With a few more slow and deep thrusts he felt himself come undone. His head got light and he swore he’d never felt anything better than this in his life. 

Not his release… just you.

“Oh— Augustine, Doll.” He murmured against your lips, “You— you’re so good to me.”

You kissed him, little whimpers falling through your lips as he rocked in and out of you a few more times. He kissed across your collarbones and buried his face in your chest, leaving little kisses there as well. You reached out and pushed the hair back falling over his forehead, smiling when it fell right back into place.

You whispered, “Don’t move. Stay in me.” 

You kept your legs wrapped around him tight and Stephen looked up to find your eyes clouded with tears. For a moment he panicked, thought you were hurt, thought something had gone wrong. But you just brought your hand up to his face and rest your forehead against his own. He nodded and relaxed into you, resting his weight carefully against your body. You untangled your legs from around his waist and made room so he could lay on you comfortably. You liked his weight resting over top of you. It felt safe. 

You wrapped your arms around his back and he nuzzled once more into the crook of your neck where it smelled of his shampoo. Had you been using his stuff at your house? He kissed right below your ear and heard you give a sweet little hum. He rest his chin on your chest and looked up at you. You wore a soft smile, so sweet and content-looking. Your eyes were closed as he lay there, still inside you as you’d asked. He felt his head rise and fall with your deep breaths and stopped to memorize your breathing pattern. In for four seconds, a pause for two, out for three. Your bodies relaxed into one another so naturally, so perfectly, that the idea that you hadn’t been molded just for one another seemed the most ludicrous idea to him in that moment. 

You looked down to him and gave a nod, so he carefully pulled out of you.                                                                                      

“Stay right here, Doll. I’m ganna’ get something to clean up.” He said

You gave a little pout but nodded in agreement and Stephen rolled out of the bed and wandered into the bathroom. He wet a washcloth with warm water and brought a separate one to dry you off after. He found you in the same position he left you, sprawled out in his bed looking perfectly undone. He crawled back onto the bed and wiped over your face first, your nose scrunching and making him chuckle. He continued down your neck and to your chest and stomach— you didn’t tense when he touched you there and it made him smile. He spread your legs and gently cleaned between them, trying not to overstimulate you. You gave a little whimper, but that was all. He pat you down dry with the towel and went back into the bathroom to clean himself up.

When he returned he reached in his drawer and found that oversized band tee of Victor’s that you preferred and you immediately sat and let him pull it over your head. After that, he pulled on a pair of boxers and turned off the bedroom light. He lifted the covers and you complied, crawling beneath them. He slid into the bed and was pleasantly surprised when you immediately rolled over and curled up next to him. You buried your face in his chest and placed a gentle kiss over his heart. His hand found yours and he entwined your fingers, resting your hands on his hip.

“That was amazing, Augustine.” He murmurs, tearing down his barrier for you, “You’re amazing.”

He felt you smile against his skin and you returned, “It was perfect, Stephen.”

He couldn’t help but take your chin in his hand and tilt your face upward to him. He kissed you, so slowly, so deeply, so thoroughly that it took all the air straight from your lungs. You lay there for a long time trading deep kisses and air. It felt unreal. This wasn’t part of the sex, he wasn’t looking to go again— you’d know if he were. Stephen was kissing you simply because he wanted to. He was kissing you to kiss you. Like it was totally natural, like you were his. 

And with the deep ache in your chest you realized how badly you wished you were.

Stephen’s free hand cradled your cheek and with a start he realized you were crying.

He broke the kiss immediately and asked, “What’s wrong, Doll?”

You gave a sort of weak laugh and shook your head, “I don’t wanna tell you.”

“Why shouldn’t you? You’re crying while I kiss you.” He stated with an ache in his heart knowing something was hurting you, brushing away a tear with the back of his hand

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong, Stephen.” You sniff and squeeze his hand gently, “Because if I tell you, it has to stop.”

He nodded with some vague sense of understanding, “Then don’t say.” He kisses your forehead, “Tell me some other time.”

Because whatever you two felt seemed to him like a problem for tomorrow. Whatever you needed to say could wait until the sun came up again. He just wanted you here and now. Wanted to pretend this wasn’t the arrangement. This was just you two. You would allow yourself to get lost in him until you woke up tomorrow. And he would lose himself to you happily.

Just tonight.

When Stephen turned over in the bed he was immediately aware of the absence of your body. He bolted upright and looked to the bathroom door, and seeing it wide open knew you weren’t there. He looked to the floor and realized your clothes were nowhere to be found. He quickly rolled out of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. He walked into the living room much quicker than appropriate. You stood at the island, speaking on the phone quietly, your back turned to him.

“Yes, I know I forgot to call you. I got… distracted.” You smile to yourself

“You did go home with him.” Bryce teases, “I fucking knew it.”

“Yes, but to be fair there was an emergency.”

“Was the emergency you needed someone else’s dick?”

“No, Bryce. There was an assault victim.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“That isn’t what you said last night.” You remind him in a teasing tone

Stephen’s stomach gave an awful twist. The reality of the situation set in on him. He’d been too eager to think it through last night, but it all fell into place now that the sun was well and truly up. You had been with another man hours before you’d been with him. Another man held you, touched you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You’d been in another man’s bed, sleeping when he called you. He’d wrapped you in his arms and buried his head in your shoulder. Maybe you played with his hair as he fell asleep. And then you’d turned around and done the same with him.

And you didn’t say so. 

And that felt so goddamn bad.

“I was in a haze from my sleep.” Bryce tries to defend

“So you don’t want to see me again then?”

“Woah, now. I didn’t say that. You agreed to be friends and you’re stuck with me now.” He paused before saying, “I work tonight. Come keep me company.”

“How long do you expect my company, sir?”

“As long as you can stand it for. I’ll save a seat for you at the bar.”

“What time?”

“Nine.”

You fake groan, “There better be a glass of bourbon in it for me.”

“I can’t just give you product.”

“Actually, you can give me whatever I want since I’m being so obliging to spend my night with you, Mr. Hamilton.”

Stephen felt sick. You were flirting with another man. You were bargaining for who knows what, though it was clear from the teasing tone he knew all too well that you didn’t actually mind the outcome of the barter either way. You were practically giddy, grinning ear to ear as you spoke with the man on the other side of the line. 

Bryce snorts, “Are you always this catty?”

“I just woke up, cut me some slack.”

“I’ll see you tonight.” Bryce says with a smile

“Nine. I’ll be there.” You agree, “Bye-bye.”

You were serious about this guy. This wasn’t the distraction Christine and Nic had thought it was. You were excited to see him and easily compliant with his wishes to see you. He could see the small smile on your face long after you’d hung up from where he stood leaning against the door frame. This guy was no distraction… you liked him. 

You were— you really, truly liked him. You liked him in the way Stephen craved for you to like him. He wanted to be the reason you were smiling like an idiot right now. He wanted to be making plans to see you for a date. He could pour you a glass of bourbon just as well as the next guy…

It should be him.

You bring your hands up to your head and rub your palms over your eyes. Last night had been a mistake. God, it had been a huge mistake. Not only should you not have gone home with Stephen, but you should have never been intimate in that way. That was not just sex. He had done exactly what you’d asked him to. He made love to you, and that was something that would have been better left to dreams. You should have never stayed, should have never let him hold you, should have never let him kiss you…

You wanted him.

“Three rounds in twenty-four hours with two different guys… classy.” Stephen’s baritone invaded the space, his voice echoing off the walls of the large living space

Had you just heard that right?

“Excuse me?” You ask, eyes blown wide as you spin on your heel to face Stephen, “What was that?”

“No boyfriend, huh? But you’re calling to let him know you made it ‘home’” Stephen scoffs looking around his apartment, “safe from a call-in? Setting up another date so soon? Let me ask— who was better? You must know given it was just one right after the other last night.”

“Are you accusing me of cheating on someone right now?” You scoff, “Are you serious? When I told you just this morning that I don’t have a boyfriend? And if I did… you think I would risk it on a one-night stand so soon?”

“A one-night stand? That what you call me?” Stephen’s temper started burning bright very quickly as he felt that now all too familiar God-awful ache starting in his chest

“Where is this coming from?” You ask, “I just woke up—“

“Right, to call your boyfriend and let him know you made it home safe. Of course, you conveniently left out the part where it’s not your house you made it to. But, understandable, can’t give him the impression you’re fucking around with other men.”

And Stephen said it so seriously, he made the accusation with such certainty in his voice… it just irked you like nothing else. He wasn’t fucking listening. You weren’t even sure he was listening to himself speak he sounded that ridiculous. But the accusation made was hurtful. And that made you defensive— because you were not a cheater.

You tilt your head at him and give a sort of maniacal smile, “What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Stephen pushes himself off the doorframe and comes to stand right in front of you, “For someone who once lectured me on respecting the women I sleep with you have a lot of goddamn nerve to sleep with two men— one of which you’re dating— and not tell either of them about it. Do I need to go get tested? Did he stick it in you raw t—“

“You’re a prick!” You exclaim, “Are you serious right now, you don’t even know—“

“Gonna make up some bullshit about only hearing one side of the call? Seems pretty hard to misconstrue, Augustine.” He shrugs, “Anyways, it’s like Gray said, you came from a date. You rolled out of his bed, went to work, and rolled straight into mine.”

“Leave my patient out of this!” You practically spit out, “And yeah, I did. At your request!”

“Yeah! I didn’t realize another man had used you hours before!”

“Oh, and you’re so above that yourself? Like you weren’t nailing a new nurse over Christine’s desk every hour on the hour!”

“But they fucking knew—” Stephen yells, getting in your face, practically snarling

“So when it’s you sticking your dick into anything with a pulse it’s all good—”

“what the deal— I like to think my standards are a bit higher than that!”

“but I couldn’t sleep with one man last night and you this morning?” 

“I never hid the fact that I was a piece of shit—“

“That’s not something to be proud of!”

“At least I can admit it!” 

Without another thought, you shove Stephen. Hard. 

Both hands to his chest, shove him back, and scream, “Get the fuck out of my face!” Stephen stumbled back and nearly fell on his ass, completely caught off guard and shocked by the action, “Get the fuck out of my face, and stay the fuck out of my face! You walk in here and start accusing me of shit that isn’t even true, slut shaming me, and have the audacity to call me a shitty person? Are you fucking serious, Stephen?” He moves forward as if to approach you but you hold up your hand, “Don’t! Don’t you come a single step closer right now. Don’t you fucking touch me!” You snatch your bag off the kitchen counter and make a beeline for the door

“Augustine! Come back here!” Stephen bellows, racing after you, “Don’t you walk out that goddamn door!”

“Or what!” You yell back, spinning on your heel, “Or what?” You repeat, “What the fuck are you gonna do or say that you haven’t already?” You challenge, “I have shit going on in my life, Stephen. And if there’s finally a guy, finally a man—“

“So there is a man?” He tried speaking over you, but you pressed on

“…that I think can treat me right, who the hell are you to try and play mind games to make me second guess myself? Because that’s all this is. That’s all anyone has ever been to you! Nearly eight billion people in this goddamn world and you truly believe you are the only one with any real say. We are all just fucking toys for you to play with! We are pieces on the chess board, randomly generated characters, supporting— no you don’t even give us that much credit— fucking background actors in your life! And you can’t stand the idea that outside of your permanence, the rest of us have separate lives! You are so fucking selfish!”

Stephen studies you for a moment. He swore he could see fire in your eyes. They were burning red. Your face was pink and your hands were shaking as you raised your finger to point at him. Stephen stopped short, not coming any closer for fear you’d actually act in self-defense if he did. He rakes his hands through his hair before settling them on his hips and looking at the ground.

He takes in a deep breath and threatens, “If you walk out that door, don’t you dare come looking for me ever again.”

You feel tears spring to your eyes, but hold steady. You give Stephen a once over, before looking him dead in the eye and twisting the door handle. Your turn and without another look back slam the door shut. The whole building seemed to shake as the door slammed, and the fact nothing cracked or broke was a miracle in and of itself. Stephen stood there, looking at the door, his lips parted as if to say something… as if there was anyone else left to say it to.

“Fuck.” He cursed aloud to himself, panic immediately settling in, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He beat his fist against one of the support beams with far more force than appropriate

What the hell had he just done?

“Billy?” You ask, your voice coming out cracked

“Hey, Auggie. What’s up? Did you talk to Steph—“

“I need you to come over.” You cut him off, “Now, please.”

“Just me, or—“

“Christine is coming too. I need to talk to both of you. Please, come over.”

Billy furrowed his brow and held a finger up to Gavin who whispered asking what was wrong, “Augustine, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just need to talk to you and Christine. So please—“

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Billy agreed, hanging up the phone

You slammed the Jeep door shut and stormed up into your apartment. You threw your go-bag on the floor and stalked over to the bookcase, beginning to pull albums out one at a time, stacking them in the order they’d need to look. You went over to the linen closet and pulled down a shoebox containing more recent photos in frames and a few odds and ends that served as proof.

Five minutes later you heard a knock at the door and rushed over, pulling it open to reveal Christine, dressed in scrubs, straight from work. You immediately fell into her arms, a sob finally bubbling up from your throat. Christine sighed and kicked the door to, wrapping her arms around you and swaying back and forth gently. 

“Oh, Sweetie…” Christine coos, “It’s alright. I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“Billy is on his way… I’ll explain when h-he gets here.” You explain through sobs

“Alright, okay. Can you at least let me know you’re not physically hurt?”

“M’not.” You sniffle, shaking your head against her shoulder, “I hurt him. I shoved him real hard. He almost fell. I can— can’t b-believe I would do that to him.” You sob out, overcome with guilt

“Shove who, Sweetie?”

“Stephen.” You say, “He got in my face… he was saying such mean things—“ You cough and bury your head deeper into Christine’s shoulder, “I said awful things too…”

“That seems to be the theme the last two days.” Christine mutters, “Did he tell you what happened with Nic and I?”

“Yeah.” You say, “I wish you two hadn’t spoken to him like that.” 

“I know, I know. It wasn’t our place.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You agree, “And I know you were trying to protect me—“ 

“But you don’t need anyone to protect you.” Christine murmurs, “I know. I know that, we all do. We just— I just… it’s what I would have wanted someone to tell him. But you aren’t me.” Christine pulls back and looks at your face stained pink from trails of tears and sighs, “What happened, Sweetie?”

“I can’t believe I pushed him, Christine. That’s… it was so mean. I said so many mean things.”

“Auggie, he knows you didn’t mean—“

“I did.” Your voice cracks, “That’s what makes it so awful. I meant every word I said.”

There was another knock on the door and Christine opened it to find Billy standing there red in the face, out of breath, leaning on the door frame.

“Here.” He says

“Did you run here?” You ask with a small half-choked, half-bemused laugh

“The— the elevator was taking too long… ran up ten flights of s-stairs. Christ, I gotta start working out again.” He huffs out

You pull him into the apartment and lead him and Christine over the bar, encouraging them both to sit. Christine eyes the photo albums set on the countertop suspiciously. You hand Billy a glass of water and offer one to Christine as well, who accepts with a smile. You stand in front of them across the bar, arms hugged tight around your chest as you start fidgeting with your sleeves. You think about where to begin. You hadn’t gotten this far. You didn’t know where to start.

So you tell them, “I have a story for you two.” Billy and Christine look at you expectantly and you continue, “And I’m s-sorry that it’s taken me this long to be honest with you two. And I hope you can understand— it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you. Time just got away from me and… and when things started with Stephen I thought it was best I kept it to myself. I didn’t want to freak any of you out…” You trail off as your eyes start to cloud with tears and look to the ceiling

“What is it Augustine?” Christine asks, “You’re not sick or—“

“No! No.” You shake your head vehemently, “Nothing like that. Not half that bad. Not really bad at all.” You shrug, “Just hard to talk about…”

Billy clears his throat and sits up straighter in his chair, “Is this why you called things off with Stephen? Whatever you’re about to tell us?”

“Yes…” You admit, “And I don’t want to… I don’t want him to know right now. Not after the yelling match we just had at his place—“

“You were at his place?” Billy repeats, “Doing what?”

“What do you think?” You sigh, leaning your elbows on the counter and resting your face in your hands, “I am... pathetic, I know. Barely two weeks and I couldn’t—“

“You’re not the first.” Christine says and you peek out between your fingers to see her smiling at you, “It doesn’t make you pathetic to want good sex.”

“It cannot be that good.” Billy mumbles

“I wish it weren’t.” You murmur back, “That— anyway, that’s not the point. The point is: what I’m about to tell you two, I don’t want you to tell Stephen yet. But I… I have to get it off my chest. I need you two to see why I made the decision to end it… and I think you’ll agree that I made the right call.”

Billy knew exactly what you were about to tell them. He sat there with bated breath waiting, watching you try to defend yourself as if they’d hate you for it.

But they weren’t gonna hate you for this. Never.

And neither would Stephen… if you’d just tell him.

“Fucking bitch…” He laughs and mutters under his breath

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, “You just found out one of the women you were fucking—“

“Yeah, okay, I get it. Could be worse.”

“Could definitely be worse.” You agree, “I gave you three rules and you broke two of them. Care to tell me which two it was?”

“No speaking unless spoken to. And no cumming unless you say so. Though, to be fair, I told you I was gonna cum.”

“I didn’t ask you to tell me when you were gonna cum, you do that anyways.” You roll your eyes, “I told you you wouldn’t cum without my permission. Are you hearing the difference or…”

“Fine.” He huffs, looking you over as you take a long sip from your glass, “You just gonna stand there and drink your whiskey?”

“If you keep up the attitude I just might.” You say, “But no, figured it’d be easier for you to get me out of this while you could see it.” You walk over and turn your back to him, pulling your hair over your shoulder, “You wanted it off.”

Stephen huffed and pushed himself off the back of the bed, scooting forward to the edge and ignoring his painfully hard cock and the mess running down the side of it, resisting the urge to take himself in hand and finish what you’d oh so cruelly started.

“Can I touch you?” Stephen asks monotonously

He watches your shoulders shake with a little laugh as you agree, “Go ahead, Sweetheart.”

Stephen brought his hands to the ties of the corset and realized it was admittedly much more complicated than he’d realized.

“How the hell’d you get into this thing alone?”

“Practice.” You shrug

Stephen knit his brows together, “When else have you worn it?”

“It’s in some of those photos I took for you.” You say

“That it?”

“Stephen…” You sigh

“It’s a fair question.”

“Just in the photos for you.” You reassure, taking in a deep breath as the strings on the corset loosen and exhaling heavily

Stephen smiles and places a kiss on your shoulder, “Feels better, Doll?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.” He places another kiss on your opposite shoulder

“You realize I have slept with other people before, don’t you?”

“I’d rather not think about it.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.” You scoff

“Why is that ridiculous?”

“Because it’s part of life. You realize if you do decide to ever settle down with someone, statistically speaking, it’s likely they’ve had previous partners too. What’ll you do when you have to come to terms with that?”

“Well...” He sighs before you continue

“And what does it really matter anyways? You’ve had your fair share of women— more than most men, I’m willing to wager. It isn’t fair of you to get jealous like that. Especially when it comes to something casual like what we have going on.”

“I know that.” He sighs, “It’s just the ego. It gets in the way of a lot… that’s what Dr. Ward says, at least.”

“Sounds smart.”

Stephen works on the laces slowly, taking time to steady himself after the last half-hour of torture, not so sure he wants it to start again, but knowing he wants you. You would occasionally roll your shoulders back and flex every once in a while to help loosen the strings just a bit quicker and Stephen took note that your deltoids were nice. There was strong muscle between all the soft skin and curves. He couldn’t help but wonder how many people had taken note of it before.

“Out of curiosity. There was Kelley…” He mumbles, “And who else?”

“Mm. Not many. Kelley was my first, we’ve gone on and off forever since then. He was the last guy I slept with before you. Right before I left home.” You admit, “There were a few frat boys at Harvard, a guy from my chem class, one more guy at home… that’s been it.”

“Hm.”

“How about you?”

“Um…” Stephen swallows hard, “Not as many as everyone seems to think. I mean, yeah. Plenty of the nurses… maybe around fifteen or so at this point? A woman here and there from bars. But before that… two girls at college, both in my final year. One of them was my first time—“

“You didn’t lose your virginity until that late?”

“No.” He shrugs, “Never fit into the schedule, and I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular—”

“Oh how the turn-tables.”

He snorts, “You’re stupid.”

“You like me.” You argue, finally having enough room to shrug out of the corset, turning to face Stephen, baring all for him to see

You take note his eyes are on your face as he says, “I do.” His thumbs trace soft circles against your hips, his cock throbbing knowing just how close he was to having you back on him, “Can I still touch you?”

You nodded and Stephen immediately leaned forward, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. You sighed and thread your fingers through his hair, leaning into him and letting your head lull back. He ran his hands over the curve of your hips and waist, letting his fingers sink into the soft skin. His thumb brushed over your covered tattoo and you smile to yourself. He reached one hand up and toyed with your neglected nipple and your lips parted as you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I speak to tell you how beautiful you are?” Stephen speaks against your skin, making your skin prickle

You smile down at him, “Yes, Sweetheart. Thank you for asking.”

“Am I really not allowed to call you baby anymore?” He nips gently at your opposite nipple, “I didn’t mean to make you mad, Doll.”

“I know, Steph. You were just drunk.”

“I was lonely without you.” He whispers, his heart pulling as he admits, “Lonely. Not just alone.”

You cradle his face in your hands and bend down to say, “You don’t have to be lonely anymore. I’m here.” Stephen’s eyes flutter shut as you press a kiss to his lips, “And I’m done being awful for the day. It’s about you again.” You consider and correct, “Well… mostly. I do want to edge you a few more times. Is that okay?”

“Whatever you want.” He agreed

“Good boy.” You smile against his lips, and Stephen’s eyes go sort of wide. You giggle, “Looks like I’m not the only one who likes to be praised. Then again, I guess we already knew that. S’why you like to hear me scream your name, right? You like hearing how good you make me feel, just not the same way I like to hear it.” You brush your lips over his, “And you always make me feel so good, Pretty Boy.”

“Thank you.” He whispers

“Go lay at the head of the bed for me, Sweetheart.”

Stephen scooted back and laid his head in the pillows, watching as you gathered each part of the outfit you’d been wearing and threw them in the corner of the room with his dirty laundry. You walked back over to the foot of the bed and crawled onto it, immediately dropping down and laying on your stomach in front of him. You took him in hand and ran your hand up and down his length slowly and Stephen gave a sigh of relief. 

“How’s the cock ring?”

“The aftermath of this is going to be a mess.” He replies

You laugh, “I’ll take it off soon, it isn’t supposed to stay on for too long. But, until then…”

You press the button on the remote control and it buzzed to life. Stephen inhales sharply and grips at his own thighs. You lean forward and lick the trail of slick left in the wake of his ruined orgasm and he hisses. You start sucking on his head gently, your hand working over him as you stare up at him. You always loved giving him head because he kept his eyes on you the best he could— like seeing you was part of the pleasure, not just the stimulation you provided. And if he did happen to look away, throw his head back in a moment of pleasure, he made the most beautiful noises.

Stephen was already on a hair-pin trigger, and between your mouth and the vibrations, he knew he wouldn’t be lasting long. He watched as you raised your ass in the air and sat farther forward, taking him down your throat. You gave a little gag and pulled off of him, your nose scrunched as if you’d tasted something bad and Stephen couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s that look for?”

You grabbed the remote control and powered the vibe off explaining, “Hated the way that felt.”

Stephen chuckled, “Sorry, Doll. If it’s any consolation, your mouth feels perfect without it.”

You smile, kissing his cock head, “That what you think about when you touch yourself? Your cock down my throat?”

“It’d be easier to list what I don’t think of when it comes to you.”

You take him down your throat in one deep stroke once more, sending him a glare as he tries to thrust up. Stephen gives a frustrated growl and settles his hips back to the mattress. You bob your head up and down his length quickly, moving back down to his base and sucking hard as you pull off of him. Stephen groans, his hands clutching to the pillows at either side of his head.

“Maybe you are a flatterer after all?” You muse, ducking down and sucking on his balls gently

“Sh— shit.”

“You’re so sensitive down here.” You tease feeling as his cock twitches in your hand

“August— ganna cum.”

You immediately retract your hands and mouth from Stephen and smile up at him, “Good boy letting me know.” Stephen sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the embarrassment of feeling precum dribble down his shaft, “Always cum so quick when I play with your balls.” You tease, moaning as you lick the precum from his shaft, “Can we try a new position?”

“What’s that?”

“Sixty-nine.”

Stephen’s eyes roll back in his head and he groans out a, “Fuck yes.”

You giggle, “I would just sit on your face, but I don’t want to—“

“Do it.” Stephen demands before adding a, “Please? You won’t hurt me, August. Fuck— please sit on my face.”

You quirk a shy smile, “Seems like something you’ve thought about before…”

“Too often.” He admits

“Why?”

“Because eating you out turns me on?”

“But why?” You ask again, lifting yourself and crawling up his body

Stephen thought about it before answering very honestly, “Used to be I liked eating pussy because it’s fun to watch a woman fall apart like that.” He swallows hard as you straddle over his chest, “I do still love the way you fall apart for me. But you… you taste like fucking heaven to me. I love the way you taste, the way you smell, the way you love it. Augustine, I could spend all day with my face between your legs.”

“Real sweet.” You smirk down at him, “You love it so much? Beg for it.” You move forward to straddle his face and Stephen wraps his arms around your waist. You gently swat at his arms and he removes them with a scowl, but you just shrug and reiterate, “I said beg.”

“Let me taste you, Baby. Wanna make you cum so bad.” Stephen groaned, “Fuck, let me taste you, Doll. You know I love being between your legs. Let me have it, please.”

“One more time, Pretty Boy.”

He groans, “C’mon, let me rub my face in that pretty pussy. Y’know you want it just as bad as I do. Let me taste you. Been so long.”

You giggle, “It’s been a week.”

“That’s too long.” He stares up at you all wide-eyed and hopeful, “Too long when I wanted to spend every goddamn second away from you with my hands on your body. Please, Baby. Let me have it.”

“No using your hands on my clit. Only your mouth.”

“Yes…” He breathes out

You straddle his face and allow him to wrap his arms through your legs, his large hands groping at the fat of your ass. As soon as you’re comfortable he sticks his tongue out and drags it through your folds, groaning. Just as wonderful as he remembered. 

Now here was the problem.

There were times when Stephen had gotten himself damn near close to cumming from eating you out without any prior stimulation. Now? When he was already on the precipice? When he was so attuned to every moan and plea leaving your lips? When you took that fucking remote control in your hand again and turned it on. He groaned into your cunt as the vibrations started once again, his nails digging into the fat of your ass, pulling you more insistently on top of him. You did your best to support your weight, clinging to the headboard, but Stephen was making it a real challenge with the way he kept pulling down on your hips. He had clearly lost all concern for his safety, pussy drunk and craving more.

“S-Steph, Sweetheart. Can’t keep pulling me down like that. I- I’ll crush you—“

He detached himself from your clit long enough to lament, “You told me how you want to go last night. Well, this is how I want to go.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous notion, but the laugh quickly evolved into a moan as Stephen started guiding your hips back and forth, rocking you against his tongue. You were grateful for his arms as support, because you really might have crushed him with the way your knees went weak.

“Holy fuck…” You moaned, “Fuck, Baby Boy. Feels so good. Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

Stephen’s eyes rolled back in his head when you called him that, his cock throbbing an unfortunate amount, his balls getting tight. He did his best to focus on you and you alone— the way you were leaking on his tongue, the way your tits bounced as he rocked you back and forth, the hope that if he gripped your ass hard enough he’d leave behind bruises for everyone to see when you showed off your new tatt—

Ah, shit.

“August, I’m gonna—“

You grabbed his hair and shoved his face back in your cunt with a growl, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare. I’m right there… finish your job.”

To your credit, you did at least turn off the vibe. But the damage was already done and Stephen was finding it very hard to concentrate on you when his cock head was weeping. He thought he was going to combust. 

He drew his last card— a dirty move, he’d admit— and gave your ass a firm slap demanding, “Cum for me, Baby Girl.”

And as per usual, your body obeyed his voice like it was law. His voice so deeply ingrained into your brain as a trigger for your pleasure, the phrase leading your body to do exactly what he needed it to. You threw your head back and cried out, grabbing your tits as you did so painting a very erotic picture that was not at all helping Stephen’s case at the moment. As soon as you came off your high you fell backward as gently as possible onto Stephen’s chest and reached back to grab his cock around the base hard, aiding in the pressure of the cock ring, discouraging him from his own release. He gave a sharp hiss, dragging his nails down your hips to your thighs, angry red lines forming against the pale skin.

You carefully removed yourself from his upper half and gently released him, watching as cum dribbled down the side of his cock. You gave him an unimpressed stare and he scoffed in response.

“You’re kidding, right? Have you ever— do you even know what it feels like to hold an orgasm.”

Your unimpressed stare became even more thoroughly unimpressed as you reminded him, “Yes… I do. And you’re the one that did it to me.”

“No. This is not the same. I only halted your progress, I didn’t decimate an orgasm already in progress. And I did it once.”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

He scoffs, “Bite me.”

You raise a brow at him, “You know… that actually sounds like the perfect idea while we wait for you to cool down.”

“What?”

You carefully slid the little vibrating bullet from its hold in the cock ring to make it easier for the toy to stretch as you took it off of Stephen. He gave a sigh of relief and you just smiled to yourself, throwing it, the bullet, and the remote control in the corner with your lingerie to be cleaned. Stephen watched suspiciously as you crawled over next to him and was very confused when you simply laid down next to him. You shoved one of your arms beneath the pillow his head was laying on and placed your other hand gently on his chest. You felt the unsteady rise and fall as he tried to calm himself down. You moved your arm up and behind his neck, lightly scratching the hair at the nape of his neck and he gave a contented little sigh at the action.

“You okay, Steph?”

“I will be much better when I get to cum.” He grouches

You lean over and place a kiss on his neck, smiling against the skin, “Don’t be so grumpy, Birthday Boy.”

“For the record— I’ve decided I’m not a fan of this edging thing.”

You giggle, “You are such a baby. I’ve done it twice.”

“Three times.”

“And you’re still alive.”

“Hanging on by a thread.”

“Oh stop it…” You huff, trailing your lips across his neck, down to his collarbone, trying to map out the perfect spot to…

Stephen’s eyes shot open as he felt your teeth sink into the skin of his neck. He let out a whimper, and immediately was very embarrassed by the sound. He— a grown-ass man— whimpered. And this was not one of your usual sweet little love bites. He realized very quickly exactly what you were trying to do.

“Uh— hey!” He objected, “I have to be upright, upstanding, and professional looking in scrubs tomorrow.”

“Well, I doubt it’s the first time someone will catch you with evidence of unsavory activities from the night before on your body.” You mutter, ignoring his warning and reattaching your lips to his skin

Stephen brought his hand up to your face and pulled you off of his neck, “Yes. It would be. Because I don’t let anyone put marks anywhere on my body.”

You gave him a challenging look, grabbing his hand and removing it from your face, “First of all: No. Touching. Do I need to cuff you again?”

He sneered at you but answered, “No.”

“No?”

“Ugh… no ma’am.”

“Second of all…” You ran your hand down his chest and across his abdomen, snaking it across to his hip bone and thumbing gently over the tattoo, “sort of seems like you let someone mark you.” Stephen flushed at that realization and you just smiled at him all soft and sweet, which was a direct contrast to the filth of the sentence, “Be a good boy for me… let me leave one more.” 

“Augustine, Doll…” He sighed, his resolve already weak… always was with you

You drew your hand back up to his cheek and kissed his lips gently, not missing the way he tried to chase you down when you pulled away, “Let me mark you, Stephen. I want people to see and wonder who. I want her to see and know she could never do something like this to you. I want them all to see. And I want our friends to know exactly who put it there and that you let me. I want to pass you in the halls tomorrow and see it knowing I put it there.” 

You nibble on his bottom lip, pulling it back and letting it snap into place, some emotion on his face you can’t quite identify, “I want you to see it every time you look in the mirror for the next week and remember who put it there. Who you let mark you like that.” You scratch at his scalp gently and pout all innocent, “Don’t you want to think about me? I’ll even ride you while I suck the bruise onto your neck. Then you can think about the way you make me whimper and moan when your cock is buried inside me every time you see it.” You heard him swallow hard and used your piece de resistance— foul play, you knew— but how could he resist when you asked, “Just this time, Daddy?”

His heart thundered in his chest, his face flushing, cock twitching as he agreed, “Of course, Baby Girl. Anything you want…”

Like he said…

Weak.

You absolutely beamed at him before leaning in and taking his lips in yours once more. You moved to straddle his waist and Stephen couldn’t believe you were actually making good on your promise. You were still, unfortunately, a cock tease. Sitting on his cock and rubbing it through your slicked folds, humming happily every time you managed to catch your clit just right. 

You postured up tall and sat up, guiding him to your entrance. You sank down with a hum of satisfaction while Stephen moaned wantonly into the empty room. You wasted no time in leaning forward, nudging his head to the side with your nose, and setting back in on his neck. Stephen probably should have felt a bit more of the sting of your teeth against the soft skin, but when your pussy was working over him like that, it was very, very hard to think of anything else. You’d struck a rhythm quickly and all he could hear was the slap of your skin against his as you worked yourself over him again and again.

“Let me hold you, Baby. Please?”

You pulled away to nibble on his earlobe and agree, “You can hold me.”

He immediately wrapped one arm around your back, pulling you closer, his chest pressed to your own. He thread the fingers of his free hand through your hair and tilted his head farther back, giving you as much room as you could possibly want. You hummed happily and with a smile clamped your pelvic muscles around him as you sank down over his length.

“Oh— God. What the fuck?” Stephen hisses, “Please… keep doing that. F-feels so good. Oh… Augustine, Doll. You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You pulled away from his neck and smiled to yourself seeing the deep red mark already appearing, leaning in his ear to whisper, “You feel good too, Pretty Boy. This dick always does. Missed it so much.” He gave another little whimper at the praise, “Sweet Boy, done so good for me. S-so proud of you, Sweetheart. Make me feel so good. Love your cock so much, Stephen. F-fuck.”

“Augustine…” He whimpers below you

“What is it, Baby Boy?” You ask, lifting your head and resting your forehead against his own to find his eyes squeezed shut

“I-I need to cum. Please let me cum. W-wanna cum so bad. Pussy’s so tight and warm. Want to fill her up.”

“Mm… need to cum, Stephy?” You pout at him, brushing the hair back off his forehead

“Yes. Oh— God, A-August. It hurts. Need to cum so bad. Please… it aches. Please let me cum. Tell me I can cum for you.”

“One last condition.” You challenge

“A-anything, Baby. Anything.” He pants out, his grip around your back much tighter, afraid you’ll pull away from him once more

“Pull out.”

You smiled to yourself. You knew you’d just poked the bear. You were fully anticipating it when he finally snapped. Stephen literally growled and used what little strength he had remaining to flip you over onto the mattress. He was panting, cursing you out under his breath as he brought both of your wrists above your head and held them down. He started pounding away, your cries vague and far away from all the adrenaline crashing his system.

“I-I’m sorry. Can’t do it, Baby. Been so good this whole time— shit— was so fuckin’ good, on my best behavior, and now you t-tell me I can’t even cum in you?” He was rutting into you like a fucking animal, drawing his hips back and snapping them against you as hard as possible. He released your wrists only to grab under your thighs and push your legs back to your chest, “N-no. Gonna cum and gonna cum inside you. You get to mark me? I get to mark you. I-if I could make everyone see it I would. Make ‘em watch it drip down your l—egs. Greedy little hole f-fluttering and fucking begging for more.” 

His hair was a wild mess, sticking up in the back, his fringe falling into his eyes, his hands slipping against your legs, too sweaty and covered in God knows what other fluids. He watched you scream out for him, your hands grabbing at and clawing down his arms. This— he couldn’t deny— this is what did it for him.

“Say it, Baby Girl. You know what I wanna hear. Fucking say it!” He barked at you

“F-fuck!” You sobbed out, “Stephen! Cum! C-cum inside me. D-daddy please!”

Stephen gave a guttural groan, releasing your legs but still rutting in and out of you roughly as he reached his peak. You felt as he started to cum— hard. You squealed when he leaned down and took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on the bud roughly, one of his hands toying with your clit. Not even to make you feel good, but just because he fucking could now. You felt like it was ages that he sat there, thrusting in and out of you, toying with your body, his release seemingly never-ending. You pawed at his chest and pulled on his hair making him moan out to you.

“S-Steph… too much.” You whined

“I’m sorry, Doll. Can’t— can’t help it. Pussy’s still so nice and tight for me. C-can’t stop cumming for you, Baby Girl. S’much. Can’t help it. Gotta fill you up. S’already fucking dripping out of you, you feel it?” Stephen reached down and swiped underneath his shaft, holding his fingers up in front of your face and demanding, “Open up.”

You, somehow in your lusty, overstimulated haze, managed to comprehend the instructions and stuck out your tongue. He grabbed your cheeks and ran his fingers over your tongue, but before you could swallow he leaned down over you. He stuck his own tongue out and proceeded to lead you into the filthiest, grossest, most intense kiss you’d ever had. He put his hand around your throat as he kissed you, squeezing gently, feeling the pulse in your neck, tasting the proof of his satisfaction and your own mixed together.

“I think we taste perfect.” He purred against your lips, giving a few much gentler thrusts into your weeping cunt, “What do you think, Baby Girl?”

“S’real— really good.” You gasped out as he relinquished his grip on your throat, “Thank you, Sir.”

Stephen gave two last slow, deep thrusts before pulling out of you. He watched as his seed spilled out of you and dripped down your ass onto the bedsheets below. Your hole fluttered pushing more of it out before contracting and trying to take more of it in. He absolutely beamed at the filthy scene. He pats your hip and collapses on the bed next to you, breathing so hard he thought he’d pass out. He gave a sort of relieved-sounding laugh and you looked at him with a small smile and a brow raised.

“Happy fucking birthday to me.”

It wasn’t quite eighteen times that Stephen fucked you stupid that night, but you’d lost count after round six, so who could really say? Now you were both in the shower on the bench, him holding you close, running his hands through your hair, telling you how good you’d been for him all day. You were… to say overstimulated would have been an understatement. Exhausted was much closer to the correct analysis. You’d been grateful when he promised it was the last time for the day. He’d used you everywhere— the bed, the couch, the kitchen counters, the coffee table, the washing machine, the literal fucking floor. But he took such good care of you each time, double and triple checking that you were okay. 

He knew he’d finally had you spent when you picked your head up off his shoulder and murmured, “Done.”

He gave a little laugh and agreed, “Yeah, Doll. We can be done.”

“M’kay.” You paused and asked, “You want dinner?”

“I want to get you clean, in bed, and warm.”

“But it’s your birthday…”

“And that’s why you have to do what I say.”

You nodded and gave him a sleepy smile, “Whatever ya’ say, Steph.”

He helped you wash your hair and body, moving carefully, pressing kisses to your new bruises. You asked him if you could wash his hair and he didn’t hesitate to comply. He sat on the bench and stared up at you softly as you rubbed your fingers against his temples and scratched at his scalp, his thumbs tracing circles on your back. It was only about seven now, but both of you were clouded in a perfectly welcome haze of tiredness. You forced him to take the time to care for the new tattoo, careful to disinfect it with a soft-soap given the unholy activities that had taken place in the prior hours. Both of you stumbled out of the shower and into his bed, neither of you bothering with clothes for the moment. You curled up on the naked mattress— both of you too lazy to put fresh sheets on it— a blanket shared between the two of you for warmth. Stephen ran his hand over the top of your head and placed a kiss on your forehead. You preened at the touch and gave him a soft smile.

“Are you okay, Doll?”

You nodded, “I’m good. Don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, but…”

Stephen chuckles, “I’m sorry.”

“M’not.” You say, “It’s been a very good day.”

“Yes… it has.” He smiled to himself

“I’ve decided something.”

“Oh?”

“I much prefer you in the position of power during the sex thing.”

He laughs, “I think I agree with you there.” He then corrects, “Not that I didn’t enjoy it… just don’t think it’s my thing. And being edged is… literal hell.”

“It was fun. Worth a shot.” You agree, “Admit it… you kinda liked the cock ring.” He sighs and rolls his eyes, “C’mon…” You tickle his ribs and he grunts, “Just admit it.”

He heaves a sigh and admits, “I kinda’ liked the cock ring.”

You give a little gremlin giggle and kiss his chest, “I know.”

“You’re such a little shithead.” He chuckles

“Awe.” You bat your eyelashes at him, “So sweet.”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, pulling your head to his chest, his hand resting on your back

“Happy birthday.” You whisper

He tilts his head down and kisses the top of your head, “Thanks, Auggie.”

You and Stephen lay there in blissful silence for a while, only the hum of the AC turning on and off and the quiet sounds of the wind blowing against the windows accompanying the two of you. 

“Tell me something about yourself.” Stephen whispered after a while

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“Anything.” He replied, “Like I said last night.” He paused, “I mean, I know your full name is Augustine Elaine May… your middle name is your mom’s first. Your best friend’s name is Kelley Kavanaugh. You grew up on a farm in north Georgia— Talking Rock. That’s where you grew up and your family lives. No siblings, a troublemaker in your youth. Avid shoe and sticker collector, attracted to tall, dark-haired men with gorgeous blue eyes—“ You laugh and he looks down at you with a smile, “What else?”

You think for a moment and say, “We had two cattle dogs when I was little. Blue heelers. Jack and Brandy.” You watch his lips quirk to the side to hold back a laugh, “I’ve always been a dog person, but I don’t mind cats. Got lots of barn cats to keep rodents out the feed.”

“What else?” He reaches up and brushes the damp hair off your forehead and your heart flutters at such a small gesture and the intimacy of the moment

You swallow hard, “I uh— I really like shooting skeet. Like shooting for fun a lot, but I don’t believe in hunting for sport.”

“Why not? Kinda’ a big thing down south, isn’t it?”

You nod, “Yeah but… I don’t think it’s right to kill a living thing just to put its’ head on the wall. Now if they use as much of the rest of the animal as possible— food, pelts, all that good stuff— I don’t mind. But to just take something’s life for your own satisfaction feels… cruel.”

Stephen informs you, “I used to hunt. Don and I both did… she still does, actually.”

“Why’d you stop?”

He smiles to himself, “The same reason, actually.”

“Now tell me something else about you.” You encourage, turning over to lay on your stomach, resting your arms against his chest and your chin on your arms

He thinks for a minute, “I um… my favorite color is blue. Navy blue. Is that a cop-out?”

“A little, but I’ll allow it. You’re warming up.” You tease, “I want to go back to school and get a degree in writing and pub.”

“Oo, nice one. You should.”

You shrug, “Maybe when I get a bit older… settled. After— after I know what’s gonna happen with Mama and the farm. See what Abby and Jason wanna do.”

He nods and to distract you from that train of thought says, “I played hockey when I was young. Really young— until high school.”

“Why’d you stop?”

He shrugs, “No reason to keep going. It was fun, but… it was mostly just an excuse to be out of the house. And it would’ve just taken time away from school and studying which I also needed to do in order to get out of the house.”

“Never had big dreams of going pro?” You giggle

He snorts, “I’m not built for that. Need a few extra pounds for it.”

“Wanna borrow some?”

“Only if none of it leaves your ass.”

“You’re so stupid.” You roll your eyes and smile against your arms while thinking before saying, “I’ve always wanted to dye my hair. Brunette. Just to see what it’d look like.”

Stephen wrinkled his nose at this, “I wish you wouldn’t. I like your hair blonde. It’s so pretty and soft— dye would ruin it.”

“Are you a certified cosmologist?”

“Only a man with opinions.”

“Lots of opinions.” You chide, reaching up and running over the little patches of gray at his temples, “When did this start?”

“Twenty-one… probably twenty if I’m being completely honest, but I’d like to believe twenty-one.”

“I like it.” You say softly, “It’s pretty silver. Maybe one day you’ll have a head full of white hair to match mine, since you seem to like it so much.”

He nods, “It’ll be silver. Dad’s is.”

“Was your dad always…”

He gives a sort of shrug, “Not really… not until Victor. I was about ten or eleven when it got bad… or maybe I just got old enough to start to see more of the bad in him, you know?” You nod and he asks, “What was your dad like?”

You give a little giggle, “He was… funny. Really, he could make anyone smile, just one of those people. And he wasn’t even trying most of the time— that’s what I loved about it. He wasn’t book smart by any means… not unless we include the Bible, which you can imagine he had a penchant for as a preacher.” Your lip quirks to the side, “He just… really loved life though. He loved the life he was given. He loved my Mama with everything he had and loved me just as much. I got real lucky with him.” You think for a moment and try not to acknowledge your eyes getting misty as you add, “He called me Puddin’. ‘Nilla Puddin’ because vanilla pudding was his favorite sweet.” Stephen chuckles and smiles at you, “He was so proud of me… always.”

“I’m sure he was, Doll.”

You give a little sniffle and force back your tears to ask, “What about your mom?”

“She… I remember a lot more good about her than I do Dad.” He admits, “She tried to be there for us. I know she wanted to be a good mother, I do. And I know given our circumstances she was doing the best she could. Her name was Beverly, which is Donna’s middle name. She was really… soft, from what I remember. Timid the way I guess she had to be— guess all of us were at home. But she had a really sweet sort of laugh— just airy and light. I tried to make her laugh all the time when I was little. Victor always did better at that. I’m not exactly Mr. Chuckles.” You snort and he smiles at you, “I remember her doing her best. And I know she was resilient. She had to be. Must be where Don got it from.” You open your mouth as if to say something and then snap it closed, looking away from him, “What’s it Auggie? Go ahead and ask.”

You hesitate before complying, “Will you tell me about Victor?”

You feel him take a deep breath in, his chest rising and making your head move with it. He debates with himself for a while, his eyes searching the ceiling. 

He looks down at you and breathes, “I can’t… I’m sorry.”

You just smile at him softly, “That’s okay, Steph. I understand.” You swallow hard and murmur, “Some things are just harder to bring up than others.”

He nods, “Yeah… been talking about it at therapy though. Been helping a little.”

“What’d you talk about last week?” he gives you a look that says ‘really?’ and you giggle, “Okay, okay. My bad.”

Stephen huffs and looks over to your phone ringing on his bedside table. He picks it up despite not recognizing the caller ID and answers…

“Hello?”

“Oh, um…” A man’s voice comes through the speaker, “Hey. I’ve got a delivery for Augustine May to the 30th floor.”

Stephen’s brows knit together and he looks down at you. You giggle and nod excitedly, burying your face in his chest.

“Yeah, right. Tell Mr. Carroway you’re good to come up— Stephen Strange sanctioned. First door on the left side of the hall.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Stephen reluctantly let you drag him out of bed and throw some sweats at him. You pulled on your favorite shirt of his— Victor’s shirt— and a pair of his socks which were much too large for your feet and ran down the hallway, pulling a risky business move as you tried to stop and turn to the front door. Stephen chuckled and watched as you skipped over to the door, looking through the peephole. Poor guy didn’t even have time to knock— you just threw the door open and gestured him in. Stephen watched wide-eyed as a literal cart of food was rolled into the penthouse, the most amazing smells immediately overtaking his nostrils. You helped the delivery boy unload all of the food onto the island, and the kid excused himself quietly. You locked the door behind him, turning to Stephen beaming ear to ear.

“What the hell is all this?” He asked with a laugh

“Your favorite! According to Chrissy, at least. Your favorite the last time she checked. Philippe Chow!”

Stephen’s mouth popped open in surprise, his eyes lighting up in excitement before the realization hit him, “Augustine! This has to be like... the entire menu.”

You considered and agreed shyly, “Well, yeah… wanted to make sure I got something you’d like.” 

Stephen sighs and moves forward, cupping your face in his hands, “Too much. Way too expensive, Doll.”

“But it’s your birthday.” You pout up at him all sweet, “And… and I’ve never had Asian food like this. S-so I got a bit carried away. And Chrissy said the portions were small and I figured if I ordered too much we’d at least be well-fed at work for a while…” You wring your hands together, “Is it too much, really? I wasn’t trying to—“

“No, no, Augustine.” Stephen kisses your forehead, “It’s great, I— I love it, thank you. I just wish… you’ve already spent so much on me today.”

“But this is for both of us.” You insist, “And like I said— I’ve never had it, but I can be kind of picky. And this way I get to try it in a nice, comfortable environment without having to put on a dress… so I can eat so much!” You exclaim with a giggle, making Stephen chuckle at you, “And we can just be comfy and… talk. Just us.” You tack onto the end shyly

Stephen’s heart melted and he couldn’t find the words to say what he was feeling, so he just smiled and nodded. You grabbed his hands and pulled him over to the counter where all the boxes were neatly stacked and labeled…

“Now… I didn’t get any soup, because I felt like soup would suck ass delivered. So I made up for that by getting beef and shrimp satays… didn’t even know what the hell that was, had to look it up.” Stephen laughs and stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you continue, “I got all the little appetizer-type things— the calamari, spare ribs, and prawns. The prawns sounded gross to me, but Christine says you like them, so I’ll try it for you. Then, we got lobster fried rice and one serving of lobster noodles because lobster does not sound like it belongs in noodles, but I like both separately, so it can’t really be that bad.”

“Mhm.” He hums quietly, just pleased to be listening to you go on and on

“Seaweed just because I was curious, scallion pancakes because I don’t know what the fuck that is…” You feel him exhale hard against the top of your head in an attempt to hold back a laugh, “Bok choy— heard of, never had. It’s a vegetable, it can’t be much worse than broccoli. Speaking of— Chrissy said you like their broccoli so I got you that. Peking duck spring rolls because duck is delicious. Every available noodle on the menu. Wok fried pork dumplings… again, Chrissy says those are your favorite?” You look up at him for confirmation and he nods, “Good… ‘cause I got two orders. Also got duck and cilantro dumplings, again with the duck.” You pause and take a deep breath in, “Now, I will level with you… I avoided the seafood nearly altogether even though it’s one of my favorites. Admittedly, I did almost get something called ‘Drunken Bass’ because that name is funny as hell, but I don’t think fish to-go sounds very appetizing. However, I could not resist the offer of King Crab.”

“Mmm… good choice, good choice.” Stephen compliments, still incapable of wiping the stupid smile off of his face

“Tried to start dialing it back at this point, but so much of the meat sounded good.” You say sheepishly, making him chuckle, “Beijing, Kung Pao, and sweet and sour chicken. Spicy pepper mignon and lastly, good ole’ vegetable fried rice.”

“Perf—“

“Oh wait!” You backtrack, “Dessert! Chocolate trilogy, peanut butter explosion, and red velvet cake.” You look back up at him, “Done now.”

Stephen didn’t know how one person could make him so absurdly happy. The fact that anyone would go through all this trouble for him was beyond belief— the fact that you had done it was beyond all comprehension.

“You’re—“

“Ridiculous? I know.”

Perfect. He was going to say perfect.

“I don’t mind. It’s very sweet, Auggie.” Stephen reassures, pressing his lips to your temple, “I don’t know how the hell we’ll ever manage to eat it all, but it’s still very sweet.”

“Like I said… leftovers for work. Could even take some for the other three if you’re feeling particularly nice.”

Stephen ponders before saying, “I think Billy likes noodles…”

“We’ll try and leave some for him.” You agree, “Now, where do you wanna start?”

“Oo, do I get to pick?”

“Of course you do, Birthday Boy.”

“Hmm…” Stephen rocks you back and forth gently while deliberating, “Can we start with dessert?”

“Only if you promise to just take a few bites. We have too much to get to for you to fill up on sweets.”

“Promise.” He agrees, letting you pull away from his grasp and over to the drawers to fish out silverware, “Never had the trilogy… sounds good.”

“It’s three different types of chocolate stacked on each other.” You inform him with a smile, “Do you see why I insisted we wipe everything down before we showered now?”

“Mhm, you were plotting.” Stephen agrees as you pop open the container of chocolatey goodness, “Ahh…” He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue at you

You roll your eyes and take a swipe of the dessert on a spoon, placing it in his mouth and watching his eyes roll back in his head for the umpteenth time tonight. 

“Good?”

“S’good.” He agrees happily, “Cake and then peanut butter… prawns after that.”

“Alright.”

“N’ then…” Stephen speaks through the second bite of the trilogy you shove in his mouth, “‘Fanks. Dumplin’s next n’ then calamari.”

You smile up at him softly, “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

Stephen only tapped out after having a bite of everything. You tapped out much sooner, laughing at the fact he simply couldn’t restrain himself when it came to his favorite food. You were proud of yourself— you definitely owed Christine big for this one— a fantastic idea. And the four of you would for sure be well fed into the week— Billy simply requested some of the leftover dumplings to take home to Gavin, which Stephen was too full to argue with. He would never eat again after tonight.

“I’m ganna be fat.” He groaned as he rolled into bed

“Then we’ll be fat together.” You say with a laugh, flipping off the bedroom lights, “S’not all bad. You’re good for cuddles and really good for making other people feel better about themselves… which I realize would be quite the change of pace for you—“

“Awe, shut it.” He whines, “I think I’m ganna die. I’m ganna explode in my sleep.”

You grimace, “I’d really rather you didn’t. I prefer to keep blood, guts, and feces off of me when I’m not in the ER.”

“Then you shouldn’t have fed me like that.”

“You could have stopped at any point.”

“But… it was so good.” He pouts at you as you roll onto the opposite side of the bed

“Well, I’m glad.” You smile at him

Stephen holds out his arms with a little pout and you giggle, holding your arms out in return, “Still before midnight. Birthday boy gets cuddled.” His eyes light up and he clumsily rolls himself into your arms. He nuzzles his face between your breasts and you giggle, “You better not be—“

“No, no, no. Just comfy.” He says, “N’ warm.”

You notice he’s angled the majority of his body away from you and offer, “You can lay on top of me, you know?”

He picks his head up and says, “I don’t wanna hurt you. I’ll crush you.”

You shake your head, “You ain’t gonna crush me, Stephen.” You force yourself closer to the center of the bed, “C’mon. I know you wanna…” You tease

Stephen hesitated before crawling farther up your body, nuzzling his face into your neck and forcing his arms beneath the pillow behind your head. His legs fell between yours and he did his best not to rest his full weight on you. You gave a little huff and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, your legs around his back, and pulled him against you as much as you could. He gave a little groan as he settled atop you fully and only then did you release him from your death grip. You kept your arms around his shoulders, tracing gentle patterns against his skin. You noticed he had a few little moles here and there and smiled at the observation. You kissed the top of his head and smoothed back the wild locks— you hadn’t let him blow dry it before you two had crawled into bed the first time— and to your absolute delight you realized there were strands that seemed to want to curl. The few pieces in the front in particular were intent on the action. 

“Bedtime?”

“Bedtime.” You agree, “Go to sleep, Stephen. You have to go to work tomorrow and hear everyone’s day late birthday wishes.”

“Ugh.”

You smile, “I know, Sweetheart.”

Stephen was quiet for a minute before asking softly, “Can I have one more birthday request?”

You look at the nightstand, “Only eleven forty-three, you’ve got time.”

“C-can you…” He trailed off all shy

“C’mon, what’s it, Pretty Boy? Anything for you.”

He buries his face back in the crook of your neck and forces out softly, “Will you hum while I try to fall asleep?”

You hoped he didn’t hear the way your heart absolutely scram at such a sweet request.

“What do you want me to hum, Stephen?” You ask, burying your nose in his hair

“Anything.”

“Even if you don’t recognize it?”

“Mhm.”

You thought for a moment, before just choosing the first song that had popped into your head, hearing the lyrics in your head as you hummed…

‘That glass doesn't break

My voice doesn't shake

We're talking cause we wanna

I swallow my pride

You acknowledge your side

we're not acting out our trauma

Oh I know it's weird but

I'm jealous of us

Somewhere in the multiverse

There’s a you and me that works

We never fucked it up

We’re out there still in love

Somewhere in the multiverse…’

Stephen closed his eyes and listened as you hummed softly in his ear. That sweet, gentle sound that he’d thought of so many times since the first night you sang to him. His eyes fluttered closed and he found himself wishing midnight would never come. You two would stay like this forever because it would be forever his birthday, and that’s what he’d ask for. 

It’d been a perfect day.

“Doctor Strange, from what Christine has told me, you’ll do just fine. Flash a smile and be honest. I recognize this is your alma mater—“

“My alma mater is responsible for a barely legal teenagers’ drugging and rape, I’m a bit far beyond caring about what the school means to me.”

“Forgive me. I never can be too careful.” Mrs. Ramirez apologizes, “Now, I must go. I suggest the two of you do the same, enjoy your weekend. Put the case out of your mind until January, okay?”

“Yes.” You sigh, “Thank you Mrs. Ramirez. Goodbye.” 

You press the end call button and lean into the island, resting your forehead against it and letting out a deep breath. Stephen pats your back and you pick up your head to look at him. He quirks a small smile and reaches over, brushing flour off your forehead. You give a little huff and a ‘thanks.’

“Feel any better?” He asks

“I’d feel better if this turkey would hurry up.” You grouch

“You’re the one that wanted to do Thanksgiving for everyone.” He reminds you

“Yes, I know. Please stop me from proposing ridiculous ideas from now on.”

“It doesn’t help when I do.” He argues, “Besides… selfishly, I think it’s nice. I haven’t celebrated Thanksgiving in years.”

You, Stephen, Christine, Nic, Billy, and… maybe Gavin. That had still been rocky.

“It’s not even Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving was two days ago.”

“Yeah, but our chef had to work that day.” 

“That’s probably my favorite part of the job.” You say sarcastically, “The times I rarely get holidays off.”

“Someone’s gotta’ do it.”

“Oh, but not you?”

“I said someone.”

You smile at him and roll your eyes, “Mhm.”

“What time is everyone supposed to be here?”

“Billy may be early… depending. Nic and Chrissy will be here between half past five and six.”

“That mean I have time to shower?”

“It’s only three. Doesn’t normally take you three hours.”

“What if you joined me…” Stephen comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, bending down a little to whisper, “We said holidays.”

You smile to yourself and tilt your head back to look at him, your nose brushing against his as you repeat firmly, “Thanksgiving was two days ago.”

Stephen pouts at you, “Yeah, but I’m trying to give thanks now.”

You giggle and swat his arms from around your waist, “No, Strange.”

He huffs and pulls away, grumbling as he walks down the hall to his room, “Comes into my home, uses my credit card at the store, makes a mess of my kitchen, sleeping in my bed tonight…”

“I’m not a prostitute, you know?” You call with a smile, “It’s not transactional! You’re just being a good friend!”

“Being a good friend sucks when there’s no reward!”

“My presence is your reward!”

There’s a pause before he admits, “Good enough… I guess.”

You chuckle to yourself mixing up the cornbread. He was such a horny mess.

You loved it.

But no. You had to hold strong. You’d almost made it to the week mark, and you were hoping you’d make it until after Christmas. Well… you’d let him have Christmas eventually, just not in your parent’s house. And after that… after you made it through to the new year safely and things calmed down you would tell him. You’d tell him and he’d either never wanna see you again or it would be fine. Your heart dropped thinking about it though… you had a strong feeling he’d choose the former. So you pushed that thought away and instead chose to focus on getting the corn ready. Corn on the cob— better for you than creamed corn.

Thirty minutes later when Stephen came back out— thirty minutes was still too long— you served him a knowing glare, but he just smirked and shrugged. You rolled your eyes and turned to hide your smile. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey sweater. He looked so cute and homey. You stifled a laugh noticing his socks were grey to match the sweater… another one of his strange little habits. His socks always matched his shirt.

“You look good.” You compliment

“Thanks, Doll.” Stephen says pacing behind you, “Not too dressy?”

“Nope. Very cute. That sweater looks very nice on you.”

Stephen was grateful you were turned to hide the blush on his cheeks from such a simple compliment, “Ah, thanks. Dug it out the back of the closet.”

“We really should do a closet and drawer cleanup for you, you know? I bet there’s tons of stuff you never wear anymore— we can donate.”

“You’re one to talk, shoe hoarder.”

“But I wear all my shoes.” You defend, “You don’t need three different coats— you don’t even wear your coats.”

“Well, I’m not wearing Tom Ford into the hospital if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“No, I’m just saying there’s probably someone who could really benefit from a nice coat.”

“I’m not giving away my designer coats for some hobo to destroy in the streets.”

“Stephen…” You sigh, serving him a glare

“Sorry.” He mumbles, “I do wear them. I just don’t have the occasion to wear them very often. But they come in handy when there are winter galas to attend. The problem is, the gala season is usually in the spring and summer. And I don’t tend to go overseas to conferences anymore, which is where they were originally bought and worn.”

“Hmm.” You hum, “Where all have you been?”

“Uh… England, France, Italy, Germany, Japan…”

“Wow. That’s… really cool, Steph.”

“Where’ve you been?”

You roll your lips together, “Don’t laugh at me please, I’ll cry. I’m emotional this last week, you know?”

“I’m not gonna laugh at you.”

You had been emotional. A nervous wreck really. He was almost certain it had something to do with your new meds, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention something about it. Didn’t feel like his place.

“Never left the southeast until I moved up here for college.” You admit, “We didn’t really have the time for it. Money, sure, but not the time. Can’t just up and leave a farm for a week.”

“Oh, God, Doll. We gotta get you out in the world!” Stephen exclaims, “C’mon, where do you wanna go?”

You turn to him and shrug, “Never given it much thought.”

“Anywhere.” He insists, “I offer you a flight right now to anywhere in the world, where are we going?”

“Promise me you won’t actually book the flight first.”

He rolls his eyes and leans against the island, “Promise.”

If you didn’t have the job you did, he would have.

“I dunno… maybe Ireland? Iceland? Greenland? Northern Europe. Somewhere cold and away from everything.”

“No, no, no. That’s a vacation for after you’ve traveled and actually seen things, we can’t start there.” He objects

“Hey! This is my vacation!”

“Not anymore. Nope.” Stephen goes into planning mode, “I think we’ll go to Paris first— that’s where the Monet Marmottan Museum is, you like Monet—“

“Says who?” You challenge

“Says your key chain, several stickers on Daisy, and the pattern of the pillows on your couch.” Stephen shrugs, “The clouds in the pond.”

“Reflections of Clouds on the Water-Lily Pond.” You correct, “But yes…” Your heart fluttered at the little attention to detail

“We’ll do lunch at a little café that you’ll be comfortable in— I’ll try to flirt with French women in French and you’ll pretend to be annoyed when you’re secretly impressed and oddly a little turned on because I speak very good french.” He gives you a very charming smile that forces you to quell one of your own, “After lunch, we’ll go see the Notre Dame de Paris. You’ll be beside yourself with excitement, I’ll think it’s very cute, you little bumpkin…”

“Uh— hey!”

“Then Tuileries Garden. Ferris wheel, flowers, you can be irate about the horses they parade around all day that you have to pay to ride. For dinner we’re going to Jean-François Rouquette, which you will hate because you have to dress like a proper lady and sit like a proper lady and use your table manners like a proper lady and eat foreign food and not makes faces at it like a proper lady— but I will love it, so you’ll do it for me. Finally, we will go back to our hotel— Shangri-La Paris— which I chose specifically because of the view of the Eiffel Tower at night.” Stephen finishes, holding his arms out wide as if to say, ‘ta-da!’

You attempt to choke back your smile at such enthusiasm and fail completely as you laugh out, “Oh? That simple is it?”

“Yes, but I forgot the best part.”

“And what’s that?”

Stephen grabs your arm and pulls you against him, pressing your hands to his chest and ducking down, his nose brushing against your own as he looks into your eyes and murmurs, “The part where I get you drunk on the best champagne available and fuck your brains out on the balcony of our room while you stare at the Eiffel Tower all lit up.”

You roll your eyes and look up at him through your lashes with a grin, not bothering to pull away and lessen your proximity as you breathe out, “So it was all an elaborate ploy to get into my pants?”

How dare he?

How dare he tempt you with such a wonderful fantasy? How dare he smell so wonderful fresh out of his shower? How dare his lips be so perfectly full and kissable looking? How dare he try to seduce you with such a silly little scenario!

And how dare you for falling for it!

But one little kiss couldn’t hurt, could it?

“No.” He pouts at you, reaching up and tucking a strand of hair that’s escaped from your bun behind your ear, “Not all of it. Only the dinner and champagne. You know you love seeing me in a suit.”

“I’ll consider the offer.” You tease

“Really?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “Because I need to start booking things n— oof.” He grunts as you jab him in the stomach

“No, not really! You’re supposed to be behaving, Stephen Strange.”

“I!” He exclaims, bright blue eyes wide, “I just offered to take you on an all-expenses-paid, once-in-a-lifetime, romantic, dream vacation! Most women would be on their knees right now— you know that right?”

You bite into your bottom lip and tilt your head just a bit closer, your lips millimeters away from his own as you whisper, “Then go talk to another woman, Stephen.”

Christ, he wanted to kiss that smile off your lips. And if he was reading these signals right, you sure did want him to. Then again, it could have just been wishful thinking. Luckily, he was saved from his stupidity by a knock on the door. He narrowed his eyes at you and settled for placing a chaste kiss against your temple. You giggled and turned back around to start peeling potatoes while Stephen got the door.

“Hey Bil—“

“Where’s my wife?”

“Kitchen.”

Billy stormed straight past Stephen and into the penthouse. Stephen closed the door gently, leaving it unlocked for Christine to barge in as she preferred to do. He walked back into the kitchen and gently nudged you out of the way, taking over peeling potatoes while you listened to Billy. And Stephen listened too, of course…

“He left this morning. He told me he wouldn’t go until next week, he told me we had until next week—“

“And he left this morning without warning?” You ask, completely gobsmacked

“Yeah. He called me at five, told me he had a flight at eight. I went, we argued, he left… we’re through.” Billy shrugs

“Oh, Bill…”

“It is what it is now, isn’t it?” He shrugs, “No use in—“

“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t pull a Stephen.”

“Excuse you?” Stephen objects, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you like to pretend things don’t hurt when they do.”

“I’ve been better…” He mumbles

“You’re right, you have been.” You correct yourself seeing the hurt on Stephen’s face, “I’m sorry, Steph.”

“S’fine. You’re right anyways. You shouldn’t internalize things, only makes it worse when it all comes out.”

“Oh, does it?” Billy sent a pointed glare to you and Stephen both individually. Maddeningly neither of you seemed to notice he was talking to both and not just one of you. “Look, I’m not internalizing— and don’t regurgitate your therapy sessions at me!” Billy huffs to Stephen, “I’m just… I’m not ready to talk about it. It all happened so fast…”

You nod and look to your feet, holding out your arms, “You wanna’ hug?”

You glance up to watch Billy quirk a small smile and step forward into your arms. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed you tight, making you giggle.

Billy looked over your shoulder at Stephen, “Do I get a hug from you too?”

“What about a solid fist bump?” He counters

“Oh my God.“ You reach behind you and grab Stephen’s sweater, pulling him behind you and wrapping his arms around you and Billy. He grumbles but doesn’t fight too hard because at least you’re a part of it too. Billy looked up and wiggled his eyebrows at Stephen and that’s where he had to draw the line. You whined when Stephen pulled away, teasing, “I was enjoying that.”

“I bet we can put you in a similar position that you’d really enjoy…” Billy wiggles his eyebrows at you now and you burst into a fit of giggles

“Enough.” Stephen grunts, “Do you want me to keep peeling potatoes or is there something else I can do to help?”

“Potatoes are good.” You agree, “Thank you.”

Stephen nods and turns his back to you and Billy to resume his work in peace. You creep over to the drawer you knew Stephen’s aprons and rags were kept in and snatched one out. You padded over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, disguising the action of placing the little waist apron on with a hug. Billy snickers to himself when Stephen just gives a little smile, not even noticing the apron’s been tied around his waist. You held a finger to your lips to shush Billy and Stephen kept about his chore happily as you moved to get a big pot of green beans on the stove.

“Go sit down and rest, Bill. There’s not much you can do.” Stephen says, “She’s a control freak in the kitchen.”

You pout, “Things just get done better my way.”

“You still owe me cooking lessons.”

“I show you how to make something for lunch tomorrow.” You promise, “Even though you’ll have so many leftovers.”

“Can I take leftovers?” Billy asks

“Yes, please.” Stephen begs, “We just got rid of all the Philippe Chow yesterday.”

“Cool.” Billy says sauntering over to the couch and eyeing it wearily, “Quick question. Do you two do… it… on this thing?”

“No.” You deny

“Oh, yeah.” Stephen says at the same time

“Ugh.” Billy groans

“It’s been cleaned!” You defend, “I promise.”

Stephen looks back and suggests, “Wouldn’t touch that blanket though.”

“Gross.” Billy whines

“Oh, shut up.” Stephen rolls his eyes, “Would offer you my bed, but I doubt you’d find that any better.”

“Definitely not.” You snort, beginning to shuck corn on the other side of the sink, sharing the trash bag with Stephen

“Please don’t.” Billy begs

“You started it.” 

“Hey, Bill?” Stephen asks

“Hm?”

“For what it’s worth… we’re glad you’re here.”

You smile softly to yourself, “Which is Stephen’s way of saying he’s glad you’re still here without revealing too much that he actually cares about you… a lot.”

“I know.” Billy smiles, “I love you both too.”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as Stephen quirked a little half-smile, quickly masking it with indifference. He also still hadn’t noticed the apron. He looked awfully cute all domesticated in his sweater and waist apron. What a sweet little housewife he made.

You were snuggled up in Stephen’s lap, him cradling your legs and holding your head against his shoulder as he talked and laughed with the other three. Dinner had been wonderful and warm and familial. Your little hospital family all sat around the coffee table in Stephen’s living room and laughed and ate together. Christine and Nic didn’t ask about Gavin… perhaps due to a text you sent about the situation before they arrived, or perhaps not. Who could really say? And now after dinner, stuffed full and perfectly content, you all laid around on the couches listening to music and just talking. About yourselves. Not the hospital, not tragedy, not Gray’s case— just your lives. You were feeling… very light and very sleepy. Five full glasses of wine will do that to a person. Stephen attempted to lean forward to grab his own glass— only his second, he’d been on his best behavior— and you whined, pouting up at him. 

He gives something between a laugh and a scoff, “Pardon me, ma’am. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you.”

“Ah, it’s that time of the night, huh?” Christine teases, “Clingy girl comes out.”

“And she’s gone.” Billy adds

“N’I’m right here.” You say, “Wif, Stephy.”

“Oh, with Stephy, huh?” Nic chuckles, only laughing harder when he sees the blush that covers Strange’s cheeks

“Mhm.” You hum

“Have you ever considered maybe Stephy needs to move?” 

Your pout got deeper and your eyes immediately welled with tears, looking up at Stephen. His heart could’ve imploded as he cradled your head back to his chest reassuring, “I don’t need to move, you’re alright.” He turns to look at Billy, “She’s been sensitive the last week, now is really not the time.”

“She has been, hasn’t she?” Christine muses, “What’s that about? She’s not preg—“

“Shit, I sure hope not after a whole bottle of wine!” Billy exclaims

Stephen starts at such an idea, “Christ, no she’s not pregnant, Christine— don’t say shit like that.”

You point lazily at Stephen, “Doesn’t wanna’ be daddy.”

‘Not quite like that.’ Stephen thought to himself

“Not at the moment, certainly not.” He huffs aloud in agreement

“Well, then what is it?” Christine prompts

Stephen hesitated before theorizing, “I think it’s her new anti-anxiety meds. They do not appear to be helping… at all.”

“I’s ‘posed to take that.” You murmur

“You need to take it now? I’ll go get it for you, Auggie.” Stephen asks and you shake your head on his shoulder, “Why not?”

“Left ‘em home.” You say

“Why’d you do that, Doll?”

“‘Cause I don’ like ‘em.” You whine, “Scary dreams. All the time. No sleep.”

Stephen’s brow furrowed, “You’re still having nightmares?”

“When did she start having nightmares?” Nic asks, “And is she saying the meds are what give them to her?”

“They do.” You insist

“They’re more like… terrors.” Stephen says, “She woke up in a cold sweat one night— they make her talk in her sleep, she normally doesn’t.”

“What are they about? Can you tell what she’s saying?” Christine asks

“Not really, it just sounds like she’s somewhere she doesn’t want to—“

“‘Bout rape.” You say very bluntly

The other four fall quiet at this. Very, very quiet. Three of the four are wide-eyed looking at each other to see who makes the first move.

When you try to continue, “‘Bout rape ‘cause—“

“Because that’s what you see for a living all day every day… yeah. Guess that will do it, huh?” Christine interrupts hurriedly, standing from her seat, “Auggie, Dear, let’s… let’s maybe go get you ready for bed, yeah?”

You cling tighter to Stephen, enjoying his embrace far too much to just let go, “But… Steph.”

“Stephen will be in super soon, okay? The other boys are gonna help him get stuff cleaned up and he’ll come lay with you, right, Stephen?” Christine prompts

Stephen’s mind was reeling. Was that what you’d been dreaming about that night? Had you been dreaming about it every night since then? And technically speaking… were you watching something from the outside or were you actually—

“Stephen!” Christine says more firmly

“Uh— um, yeah. Yes, Auggie, Doll? Go with Chrissy and let her help get you ready for bed. I’ll be there soon.”

You pull back and look up at him all teary-eyed, “Promise?”

“Yes, promise.” He agrees, ignoring the flush he can feel creeping up his neck. He was not used to you being this affectionate or needy in front of the others. Part of him loved it, while the other part was worried it made him look lovesick— as if Billy needed any more ammunition, “Go on.”

You placed a big kiss on his cheek before standing unsteadily from his lap. Stephen grabbed your hips to balance you and you giggled. Christine stifled a laugh at the look of pure shock on Stephen’s now very red face. He had not been expecting that smooch. She wrapped her arm through your own and started walking down the hall with you. The other two boys just sat there staring at Stephen, trapped between amusement at his state of discombobulation and fear that they were about to have to cover for your ass and all be on the same page as they made up the cover on the spot.

“So… Stephy?” Nic finally chokes out, bursting into a fit of laughter

“Ah— shut it.” Stephen gripes, sinking farther back into the couch cushions

“I mean… I don’t know what more proof you need than that, Stephen.” Billy chuckles to himself

“She’s drunk and she’s always over affectionate at this time of night anyways. It doesn’t mean anything.” Stephen objects

“Oh yeah…” Billy says, standing with a sigh, “Because people never say what they actually mean when they’re drunk.”

“Speaking of which, did she just say she’s been dreaming about—“

“Like Christine said…” Nic interrupts, “what would your nightmares be about if you’d been working SANE for five years? And especially with what’s been happening with Gray… she’s shaken. Exhausted and shaken. Her body is just trying to process. And if you really think those meds are what’s causing those dreams, we should probably talk to her about switching them over.”

“Yeah…” Stephen says, “Don’t think she’ll be… upset at the suggestion?”

“No, Stephen. She’ll like that you care enough to bring it up. You’re not just some rando, she knows you care about her. You knew she was on them in the first place, so clearly she trusts you with the information.” Billy reassures

“Exactly.” Nic agrees, “Now c’mon, everyone up. Let’s get this place in decent order so Stephy can go cuddle with the baby.”

“Bite me, West.”

Billy had just shuffled out the door when Stephen heard a, “The baby is in bed.” Christine looked frazzled as she came back out into the kitchen, “Are you sure you want her to stay here tonight? I could take her home—“

“Babe, we aren’t getting her away from him tonight.” Nic says, “She didn’t want to leave his arms, how do you think we’re gonna get her out the door? Much less into the car.”

“She doesn’t need to go anyways.” Stephen objects, “I’m not gonna try to—“

“Oh, Steph, no.” Christine says, placing a gentle hand on his chest, “Thought never even crossed my mind. She’s just… very… needy at the moment.”

“That’s alright.” He insists

Christine gives him a small smile, “You don’t mind too much, huh?”

Stephen returns the smile, “No. Not at all.”

She nods, “Still, if you need anything call, okay?”

“I will.”

“Good. You two enjoy your day off tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Stephy.” Nic claps Stephen on the shoulder, helping Christine shrug on her jacket with one hand

Stephen glares at Nic but says, “Both of you get home safe. Good night.”

The door shut softly behind Christine and Nic, and Stephen locked the bottom lock and deadbolt. He normally didn’t bother, but always when you were in the house. He glanced toward the pile of dishes in the sink. He rolled up his sleeves and started washing things off, placing them in the dishwasher. He almost never hand-washed anything— though that seemed to be your preference. But honestly, Stephen was just trying to get stuff in and turn the thing on so he could get to you. He was halfway through the pile in the sink when he heard the floorboards creak behind him. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Doll?” He calls, not receiving an answer, “Did you get out of bed?” He shakes his hands off and dries them quickly on the towel, turning to face you

You stand in the hallway with a giant blanket wrapped around you, pouting at him like a disgruntled toddler, “Yeah.”

“Why’d you do that, Sweet Girl?”

“‘Cause I missed you. You din’t come to the bed.”

“I’m coming.”

“Now?”

“I need to finish putting the dishes away and I’ll be right there.”

“Now.” You repeat again, clearly not a question this time around

Stephen chuckles and makes his way over to you slowly, “You’re awfully bossy tonight, Little Girl.”

“But I need you t’come now.” You say drawing out the ‘o’

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I need you t’hold me.” You pout, holding out your arms

Stephen moves forward quickly, scooping you up in his arms and settling your legs around his waist. You give a little squeal and giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck tight. Stephen smiled into your shoulder… such a sweet little sound. You wrapped the blanket over Stephen’s back the best you could as he carried you to his room. You didn’t want him to be cold. You wanted him to be warm. He deserved to be warm and in bed with you.

“Don’ drop me.” You murmur against his shoulder

“Have I ever dropped you, Auggie?”

“No.” You admitted, “But you’re drunk.”

Stephen laughed at this, “Baby, you’re the drunk one.”

“Oh, yeah. I forget.” You hum out

“You don’t drink often, do you?”

“No. Only when I go see Bryce.” You grouch, “N’ he never lets me have more than three drinks. That’s not a whole lots. N’ he waters them down.” Stephen places you on the bed carefully and you pout up at him, “Where you goin’?”

“To put on some PJ’s so I can come cuddle with you. Is that alright, Princess?”

You preened like a happy cat when he ran his head over the top of your head and nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah.”

“Alright. Stay right there for me.”

You sat on the edge of the bed perfectly still, watching as Stephen walked over to his dresser. He shed his jeans and his sweater, turning away from you for proprieties sake. He heard some shuffling on the bed and glanced back to find you watching him intently, a silly little smile on your face. He flushed— God it was like he was in fucking middle school. He quickly pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and started making his way over to you.

“C’n I have my shirt?” You ask

“Your shirt?” Stephen asks, “Aren’t you wearing your shirt? I don’t remember ever owning anything with Taylor Swift’s face on it myself.”

“No, no, no.” You shake your head, “My shirt. My Victor shirt.”

Stephen stifled a laugh and repeated, “Your Victor shirt?” Stephen turned and dug through his shirt drawer briefly before holding up the Our Lady Peace band tee, “You mean my little brother’s shirt?”

“Yeah, that one.” You agree

“This is my shirt.” Stephen says firmly, but walks it over to you all the same, “You hear me?”

“I hear me.” You nod, snatching it from his hands. Stephen shook his head and turned while you shed your own shirt to trade it for his. When he went to turn off the overhead light you objected, “No! Big light, please.”

“Big light? To sleep?”

“Yeah…” You said shyly

“Doll, I can’t sleep with the overhead on. How about we turn on both of the lamps? Would that work?” You hesitated before giving a little huff and nodding your agreement, “Thank you.” He said, flipping off the light

After he turned on both of the lamps he walked over to your side of the bed and pulled back the covers gesturing you under. You crawled over, but sat up on your knees in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him forwardly quickly. Your lips were on his before he even realized what was happening. You gave a little whimper and pulled him closer, putting your hands in his hair. You loved his hair. Soft. So, so soft. Lips were soft also. Very good lips… good for kissing. Stephen smelled good too. He smelled good. He smelled like Stephen. 

You loved Stephen.

When Stephen’s brain caught up with his body, he immediately brought his hands to your face and pulled you away gently, searching your eyes before whispering, “You’re drunk, Baby Girl. We can’t do that right now.”

You frowned, “But you wanted to fuck me at the Eiffel Tower.”

Stephen gave a little laugh, “No, not quite. Very close though.”

“M’kay so fuck me…“

“No, Augustine. Not right now, Doll.” He shook his head

“You don’ wanna’?” You asked, a trace of— was it desperation or sadness— laced in the words?

“I do. You know I do. But not when you’re drunk. Remember?”

“But y’know— I think it’s okay, because we’ve—“

“But that was at a different time, Auggie.” Stephen reminds you, “That was when we were something different.”

“Something different…” You repeat

“Yeah.”

“W-what are we now?” You ask quietly

“Friends.” His brows knit together, staring down at you softly

 Your eyes welled with tears and you mimic,  “Friends.” You hesitate for a moment before observing, “But— but friends don’t sleep together. We do— did. Since we aren’t that anymore.”

“No… no, I guess friends normally don’t sleep together.” Stephen agreed

“S’that why I can’t kiss you?”

“You can’t kiss me because you’re drunk and less than eight hours ago you told me we weren’t doing that today. And I would feel very bad if I let you kiss me now when that’s not what you wanted sober.” Stephen explains to you gently

You let out a shaky sort of breath and a tear rolled down your cheek as you whispered, “I wish you’d kiss me more.”

“I’m sorry, Baby. I can’t right now.”

You shake your head in his hands, “I don’ mean right now.”

Stephen’s breath caught in his throat, “Well—“

“I mean all th’time. Any time.” You explained, “Just ‘cause you wanted to. Just ‘cause I want you to.”

Stephen’s heart thundered in his chest, but he closed his eyes and reminded himself just as much as you, “You’re drunk, August.”

“But I mean it.” You insisted

Stephen rests his forehead against your own and realized just how wet his palms were against your face. When he opened his eyes to meet yours he was met with the sight of tears running rivers down your cheeks. Your eyes were lost in a storm of hazel color; green and brown and gold, his own eyes reflected back at him in your iris. He ran his thumbs under your eyes to wipe away the tears, but more took their spot just as quickly. The tip of your nose was pink and you sniffed harshly. He searched your eyes for a long time, but neither of you said anything. And he relished in it— the silence, those four words all that existed between you two— that and the exchanged air.

“I mean it, Stephen.”

He nodded slowly, his heart breaking as he said, “Then tell me that tomorrow morning, okay? I swear, if you tell me tomorrow morning, I’ll kiss you. I’ll kiss you to make up for all the times you wanted me to. I’ll kiss you to make up for every time I’ve wanted to… just because.”

You nodded quickly, “‘Kay. I will. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“Good.” He nods back, trying to fight away the tears welling in his own eyes

You take in another shaky breath and admit, “I wish you’d have told me again in the morning.”

Stephen paused, “What?”

“You— you said you liked me th-than more as a friend some days. I wish you’d said it again.”

“When?” Stephen’s brows tensed and you smiled weakly at the little bump, reaching up to soothe it away with your thumb

“You told me when you were like me.” You try to explain, “When I wouldn’t let you kiss me ‘cause you were like me.”

When he was like you? 

Drunk?

But what— oh. Oh, that first night. 

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut and sighed, “That’s what you said I didn’t mean.”

You nod, “Din’t mean it, s’okay. I understand.” You try again, “B-but I mean it. N’ so I’ll tell you again in th’mornin’.” A tear escaped from the inner corner of Stephen’s eye and you reached up to wipe it away clumsily asking, “Why are you sad? Is it ‘cause… should I not tell you—“

“Please, Augustine.” Stephen begs, “Pl— do what I didn’t. Tell me again in the morning. Please.”

He knew he’d have better luck asking you to lend him a thousand dollars tomorrow morning. He knew this would all fade away into your sleep, and you’d wake up terribly hungover, not a word of the conversation remembered. But for right now… for right now he’d let himself believe you’d still feel this way when the morning came.

“Will it make you less sad?”

He gives a choked sort of laugh, “Yeah, Baby. Yeah, it will.”

“I will.” You promise again, “N’ then you can kiss me. And we can both not cry anymore.”

“That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“But we gotta’ go to sleep if you’re ever gonna’ wake up and tell me tomorrow, right?” Stephen prompts, “You gotta’ lay down and let me tuck you in. Gotta’ come cuddle up next to me. I’ll hold you all night. And you can wake up in my arms and roll over and tell me you want me to kiss you.” Stephen ran a shaking hand gently over the top of your head, trying to see you through the tears glazed over his eyes, “You tell me and I’ll kiss you.”

“You will?” You double-check, sniffling to try and clear the tears in your eyes and your runny nose

“Promise.”

“‘Kay.” 

You sit back and move carefully to the head of the bed, pushing your legs under the comforter and laying down. Stephen pulled it and the blanket at the foot of the bed over you, turning and taking in a deep breath, running a hand under his eyes to try and dry the rest of his tears. He walked around to his side of the bed and settled, and you waited patiently until he held his arms out to you. You smiled and rolled over to meet him halfway, immediately burying your face in his chest.

“M’sorry if I snot on you.”

Stephen gave a great laugh and simply pulled you closer, teasing, “You’re so gross.”

You give a little giggle and apologize, “M’sorry.”

“That’s alright.” He exhales slowly, “You sleep good, okay?”

“I will. Hope I have a good dream.”

“I bet you will.”

“Good. Hope you have good dreams too.”

“Thanks, Doll.”

“G’night, Steph.”

“Good night, Auggie.” 

Stephen sighed, turning to stare at the ceiling. He ran his hands over your back, feeling as you wiggled about trying to get comfortable. About twenty minutes of silence followed before he felt you settle: your breathing evening out, your body going lax against his own, little hands wrapped around his neck still tangled in his hair. He took in a deep breath before releasing it, tears streaming down his face and neck. Stephen didn’t know when the last time he’d cried like this was, and he could have done without crying like this ever again. But his chest fucking ached, his heart felt like it was tearing in two— he couldn’t think, he could only feel. 

He turned slowly and pulled you closer. Closer and closer and closer, and it wasn’t fucking enough. He dug one hand into your hair and buried his face in the top of your head. He grasped roughly at the shirt you wore— his shirt— balling it up and dragging you closer. Closer and closer and closer. And it would never be enough, not like this. And Stephen would have never thought another person could make him feel like this. No one had ever been able to break him like this, and he was so mad that you had. But still, he’d do the whole night over again just to hear you tell him one more time… you meant it. He’d never cared if he meant anything to anyone, never cared if anyone meant anything to him.

But then there was you.

And how could he ever not care about you?

“I’d kiss you anyway if I wasn’t afraid.” He whispered to your sleeping form, “There’s a lot I’d do with you if I weren’t afraid, Augustine.” Stephen lets out a deep sigh, “I wish I weren’t scared. There’s a lot I wish I weren’t for you.” You shifted a little and Stephen held his breath until you settled again, “I— I think there’s some stuff we gotta’ figure out, Doll.” He swallows hard and lies to himself, “I think I’ll tell you in the morning.”

You woke up to the feel of soft sunlight on your face. You immediately groaned, a pounding headache setting in. You eased open your eyes and were immediately met with the sight of a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. You smiled internally at the gesture, the physical act feeling like way too much effort for the time being. You recognized that Stephen wasn’t in the bed with you, though that was probably for the best. You just knew you looked like a wreck. You gave yourself ten minutes before shuffling out of the bed and going into the bathroom— you forced yourself to puke to get out whatever remnants of last night’s drinking escapades remained. You peed and rinsed your mouth out with water and went back to the bedside table, downing three ibuprofen with your water. 

Lazily you drug yourself into the kitchen, pausing when you saw two suitcases sitting by the island. Stephen was leaning over the counter, writing something out on a piece of paper.

“Good morning.” He bolted upright and immediately threw his hands over the paper, crumpling it up in his fist and you smiled, “Whatcha’ doin? I thought I told you no Paris?” You gestured to the luggage at his feet

He gives a weak half smile, “Yeah— no. No Paris… just… I’m headed to California for the next two weeks.”

“The next two weeks?” You repeat, a twinge of disappointment in your tone

“Basson— Kohl had an availability much earlier than he thought. And… well, I’m gonna need a lot more of his help than I’d care to admit. He’ll be my second in command, it only makes sense to be over there while we parse things out.” Stephen rushes out and holds up the piece of paper he had been scribbling on, “I was gonna leave a note, but… you’re awake.”

You watched as Stephen tore the note into little pieces and threw them in the trash can and nodded, “Alright, well… let me get my stuff and I’ll—“

“You can stay.” He says, “I was gonna leave these too… just… if you needed to be somewhere that wasn’t your apartment.” He drops his house keys on the counter, “Just no house parties… or whatever the kids are doing these days.” He drops the pen he’d been using into one of the junk drawers and continues, “But there’s a whole bunch of food in my pantry and fridge that’ll go bad in the next two weeks… figured you could make good use of it.”

You nod slowly, “Right… you want me to be here when you’re not?”

“I don’t see why not.” He mutters, refusing to meet your eyes

“Stephen…” You take a step toward him, “Are you alright? You seem… a bit out of it.”

“I’m fine. Good. Just didn’t sleep well. Had a bad dream. Been up for hours.”

You frown, “I’m sorry… you must’ve taken mine. First night I haven’t had one in weeks.”

“Well worth it then.” He offers a weak smile, “I uh— back in two weeks, like I said. Then two more full weeks of work and we fly to Georgia for your birthday. We’re leaving that Friday and not coming home until Tuesday… Christine somehow worked it out with Ricky, don’t ask me how. Guess we shouldn’t expect Gavin to be there now—“

“Awe, shit. I didn’t even think about that. I can pay you back for—“

Stephen shakes his head, “No need, you’ll see.” He pats his pockets checking for his car key and drops it on the counter, “Leaving the Huracán here too. You are not permitted to drive her.”

“Not even in an emergency?”

“What emergency is there that you need to drive my car for and not Daisy?”

“What if Daisy spontaneously combusts?”

Stephen gave a grunt, “As likely as that is, I regret to say that if Daisy spontaneously combusts, you may drive the Huracán.”

“Understood.” You beamed up at him

Stephen forced himself to look away from your smiling face, instead checking his carry-on one last time, “Alright, I really need to get going— already running behind.”

You nod, “Okay. Sorry if I was awful last night…” You say shyly, “I know I can get pretty annoying—“

“You were fine. Just needed some cuddles.” He gives a strained laugh, “Anyways, I’ll be going now. Just make sure you lock the door when you leave and when you’re here alone— if you’re here alone, no pressure.”

“I will.” You step forward and stand on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, hoping maybe it’ll calm him down just a bit

Stephen freezes in place and looks at you wearily, “What was that?”

“A goodbye kiss?”

“A goodbye kiss.”

“Yeah. Why not?”

He cracks a half smile and mumbles, “Just ‘cause?”

You shrug, “Yeah… just ‘cause.”

Stephen’s heart gave a small pull. Not exactly the ‘just because’ he’d been hoping for, but a ‘just because’ nonetheless.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your opposite cheek, pulling away and watching your cheeks flush as he returns, “Just ‘cause.” You nod shyly, “I’ll see you in two weeks, Auggie. Stay safe, do good work, if you need anything call and let me know.”

“Okay.” You agree, “Be safe, Sweetheart.”

“I’ll be back here in one piece this time in two weeks.” He promises

“You better be or else my family is gonna think I made you up.”

“Well, as tempting as that is…” He smiles down at you softly, “I’d like to meet your Mom.”

Your heart flutters, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Stephen swallowed hard.

‘Just do it.’ He begged himself, ‘Kiss her now. Kiss her just because you want to.’

But he didn’t.

He grabbed his bags and popped up the handles, starting toward the door, “I’ll see you soon, Doll.”

“See you soon, Stephen.”

He gave you one last smile before walking out the door, letting out a deep breath. He’d have plenty of time to think about this on the plane. Plenty of time to text Donna. Plenty of time to talk to himself. He’d make a plan and when he saw you again in two weeks he would tell you. 

And he’d spend however long you’d let him kissing you… just because.

Stephen had been right, there was a very tasteful amount of side-boob present he hadn’t noticed upon his very first viewing of the dress.

Then again, he wasn’t exactly looking at the dress most of the time then.

Stephen stood beside the oval-shaped glass table in the center of the room, gently rolling one of the chairs on wheels back and forth, simply to occupy himself while he gathered his thoughts. He set your heels down on the table carefully, knowing that your shoes were worth more to you than anything else. You watched Stephen mess with the way your shoes were standing for what must have been five minutes… you weren’t even sure he was aware it’d been that long, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry.

“Are you—“ Stephen started and hearing the timidity in his voice, cleared his throat and tried again, “Are you sober?”

“Haven’t had a drink since I was downstairs with you guys.” You shrug, “Why?”

“Because I want you to be fully conscious to hear my apology.” He says, swallowing hard and looking down at you, your arms crossed over your chest, your ankles cross on the floor, “I— what I said to you… what I accused you of and implied was totally unfair. I know that, and I knew I fucked up as soon as you left. And I know this is like the third time I’m having to apologize for this sort of behavior…” He sighs, “But I am— sorry, that is. I should have never spoken to you like that, and I should have never raised my voice, or gotten in your face…” Stephen watches as your face softens a bit, just a sliver of approval, proof that he was saying the right thing. So he played his last card, a sign of his desperation. He sank to his knees on the floor in front of you and held out his hands in surrender, “I am sorry. I will do— anything, Augustine. Just tell me you don’t hate me. Tell me how to make it right.”

Your heart gave an unfortunate ache watching such a proud, head-strong man on his knees in front of you. Your mind battled with two options: One, Stephen was truly this desperate for your forgiveness. Or two, and what you thought was more likely, he was putting on a real good show.

But so had you.

There was a long silence in which Stephen watched you deliberate. You rolled your lips together, chewing on the inside of your cheek while you waged your options. And Stephen thought he’d just been putting on a show for you, but as time stretched out he felt himself getting ill. What would he do if you said no? What if he’d really lost you? He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he waited… for what felt like ages. 

You finally whispered, “I could never hate you, Stephen. If I could, I would have from the start.” A slight smile pulled at your lips, “There are only two things I need you to do and you’ll be forgiven.”

“Anything.” Stephen repeated immediately, his hands falling to his knees

“Help me put my heels back on.”

Stephen blinked up at you dumbly, his brows coming together forming a bump. You did your best to quell your smile at his confusion. Stephen gave his head a little nod and stood to retrieve the shoes from the conference room table. He walked back over to you and expected you to stand… but you didn’t. You uncrossed your legs and flitted your eyes from his face, down to the floor, and back up.

Oh.

He carefully sank to his knees once more in front of you, holding eye contact and watching the amusement twinkle in your irises. He unbuckled the straps of both shoes and carefully slid your foot into each. He couldn’t help but note how smooth your skin was, how toned your calves were as you flexed your foot to help him slide the shoe on. You watched Stephen’s eyes rake up and down your legs, jumping from your thighs to your face, a darker look in his eyes— and you knew exactly where his head was at. He went to scoot closer to you, one hand sliding farther up your right leg, long fingers begging to move upward.

With a tilt of your head you lifted your left leg and placed your foot squarely in the center of his chest, pushed him back, and raised a brow in challenge. Stephen lightly bit into his lower lip and dropped his hold on your leg, instead moving his hands back to complete his assigned task. He secured the strap of the first heel and you placed your foot gently back on the floor, quickly replacing it with the other, studying him intently. It sent shivers down his spine when you looked at him like this… he couldn’t tell if you were plotting his demise or fucking him in your head. 

He’d have allowed either outcome in this position.

Was he turned on right now?

Yes.

Yes, he was.

As he finished with the little clasp of your second heel, he was brave enough to run his fingers gently along your lower calf, just a taste of the skin exposed to him. He had gone from intensely apologetic to horny in exactly sixty seconds. And you knew what you were doing too… you just didn’t care. And that was somehow even hotter. You crossed your ankles once more and Stephen couldn’t help himself from glancing between your thighs, practically drooling at the idea of being between them. When he looked back up at you, you were smirking. He was so dumbfounded by this whole interaction— he didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. 

In his own head… in his fantasies late at night, these roles were usually reversed. You on your knees in front of him, doe-eyed and innocent looking, squeezing your thighs together looking for relief from his presence alone. His hand cradling your face as you opened your mouth, begging for a taste of him. And God, he always gave it to you, because how could he not? 

But this was not that. You weren’t the one begging. And he’d beg for you if you asked him to right now. He would beg for your forgiveness all over again, beg to touch you, feel your skin on his in any capacity.

“What are you thinking about, Doctor?” You tease, the title sounding more degrading than the praise he usually heard it as

Stephen hesitated and asked, “You want the real answer?”

“I think we’ve been through this before… lying doesn’t really work for us.” You say dryly

“I want to fuck you. Or… I guess I want you to fuck me.” He revises, “I’d let you use me however you want, Augustine.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, your lips curling into a devious sort of smile. You stand to your feet and take a tiny step forward, standing between the forlorn, wrecked looking man’s legs. You bend at the waist and lean over, looking down at him with a bemused smile. You looked like some Amazonian goddess to him at the moment— your hair falling over your shoulders and into your face, the moonlight coming through the large glass windows behind you giving you a silver outline. He reached up and placed his hands on the back of your thighs, sliding them upward, barely brushing past the hem of your dress. He was more than aware of your tits in his face, his eyes unable to decide between them and your face.

You reached down and grabbed the collar of Stephen’s shirt, pulling on it and forcing him to rise to his knees. His breath caught in his throat as he came face to face with you, your nose brushing against his own, your lips so nearly touching. But he didn’t dare move. He waited with bated breath, watched your eyes sparkling, observing him. You surely must be a goddess— no. A siren. That’s what he had decided so long ago now, and that’s what you must be.

To have Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange on his knees for you, you couldn’t be anything less.

“You want me to fuck you, Stephen?” You whispered against his lips

He closed his eyes, his head tilting up toward you, trying desperately to press his lips against yours. If he could just reach a little farther—

Your voice was low, laced with honey as you repeat, “Do you want me to fuck you? You want me to fuck you the way you fuck me? You want me to use you? Praise you? Tell you how good you are for me? Do you want me to have my way with you here? Where there are security cameras and anyone could come through those elevator doors and see me playing with you.” 

“Yes.” Stephen practically groaned at the idea, opening his eyes and begging, “Please.”

You smiled and leaned in farther. Stephen braced himself to feel your lips crashing into his… but that never came. 

Instead, there was a soft, “No.”

A gentle kiss was placed on his cheek, your grip on his shirt collar disappearing. Stephen settled back on his knees, his emotions a jumble of horny and confused and angry and admiration. He heard your heels clicking against the tile floor and kept his eyes squeezed shut, waiting to hear a door open and close, waiting for you to walk away without revealing to him what second task he needed to complete to earn your forgiveness. He thought his horniness had once again ruined his chances… he hadn’t been genuine enough, and you’d been testing him. So you would leave him here and he’d never hear from you again. But the click of the door behind him never came either.

You walked over to the glass table and leaned against it, watching as his shoulders slumped, his eyes closed, his breathing unsteady. You’d admit… it was hot. To have him on his knees, begging for you like that. You never even considered him in this position— or yourself outside of it, for that matter. The idea was appealing, but it wasn’t the right time for it. You didn’t want him to think a good fuck would let him off the hook. That was the opposite of the message you were trying to convey.

“I’m sorry…” Stephen breathes out, “I thought— I was getting the feeling you wanted—“

“I do.” You say, “But not now.”

Stephen perked up at this. He hadn’t utterly fucked up.

“When?” He asks, refusing to turn and look at you, still feeling as though he’d made a bit of a fool of himself

You give a shrug he can’t see and reply confidently, “Not sure, but definitely not now.”

“Okay.” He agrees

“I need you to come over here.” You say

Stephen swallowed his pride for the umpteenth time tonight and stood to his feet clumsily, turning and readjusting himself in his pants. You smiled seeing his arm move and knew what was going on, forcing back a giggle. Stephen turned to face you and you nodded him forward. He came willingly, stopping at what he felt was an appropriate distance for the time being.

There’s a long pause before you breathe out shakily, “I am sorry I pushed you.” Stephen watched as your eyes welled with tears and his heart broke, “I— I wish I could say I didn’t mean to— maybe I didn’t? I don’t know. It was all… such a mess.” You tilt your head back to keep your tears from falling, “But regardless, I should have never touched you like that, and I just feel… fucking awful about it, Stephen. I feel bad about the whole thing, but that…” A tear falls despite your best efforts and you give a sniff

Stephen steps forward carefully and reaches up to wipe a tear from the opposite side of your face. He looks down at you concerned, unsure what to say, how to make you feel better. He’d hardly even thought about the shove… even in the moment it had seemed pretty warranted to him, and he’d been glad that was all he’d provoked with the way he’d spoken to you. But it was clear you thought yourself the perpetrator of some grave crime.

“Auggie, I— it’s alright. You didn’t hurt me or anything—“

“It’s not alright.” You insist, “No one should touch you like that.” Your voice breaks, “No one should have ever touched you like that…”

It was with that sentiment Stephen understood why you were so upset about it. He sighed and pulled you into his arms, holding your head against his chest and you physically shook, and despite your little clothing, he doubted that was the reason.

“Hey… I’m good. It’s been so long, I’m so far removed from that—“ Stephen struggled to find words to convey his indifference to the action, “You didn’t hurt me. And I know you would never do something like that with the intent to hurt me.” He thought about it and said, “There’s a difference between you shoving me when we’re fighting and I’m in your face yelling at you versus my dad hitting me because it made him feel big, Augustine. Please don’t think this and that are the same.”

You nod your head gently but beg, “Don’t ever let me do something like that to you again. Stop me, if you can. If I’m not thinking…”

“If we’re fighting, I will never lay a hand on you.” Stephen says seriously, “I get… I get rough quick. I guess it got passed down, sort of. Donna and I both do it. So you can do whatever you’d like to me— you could slap me, full-force, every intent to make it hurt, and I’m never going to raise a hand to you, not even to stop you. Don’t ask me to do that.” Stephen swallows hard, “I don’t know what I would do if I...” His voice is barely above a whisper, unable to even finish the thought

“Maybe next time we fight we stand on opposite sides of the room and yell at each other from our designated places?” You suggest after a moment of silence

Stephen gives a little chuckle, “Maybe we don’t let there be a next time.” You peek up at him and raise a quizzical eyebrow and he sighs, “Yeah, I know. There will be.”

“There will be.”

“There can’t be if you don’t tell me the second thing I’m supposed to do to earn my forgiveness.” He notes anxiously

“I need a ride.” You say simply, “Get me where I’m going and you’re free. One-hundred percent forgiven.”

“That... that’s it?”

“That’s it.” You agree

“Okay.” Stephen says, a bit of a laugh slipping through his lips, “You got it, Doll.”

You smile into his chest, “Do you need to stay longer? Do we need to get the other three—“

“They’ve got the hired driver. I’ll call us a cab.”

“Don’t you need to stay—“

“No.” Stephen says, “Mr. Stark’s attention was and I’m certain will be occupied the entire night.”

“What did you need to speak with him for?” You feign curiosity, pulling away from Stephen’s embrace, much to his dismay

“Funding. For the optogenetic studies I’ve been working on. Takes a lot of money for a project like this, and he’s got a lot of money.”

“Oh?” You knit your brows together and reach in between your cleavage pulling out the check Stark had handed you before you and Stephen went upstairs, “Is that what this is for?” You unfold it and pass it into Stephen’s hands, watching as his jaw goes slack and his mouth pops open. Stephen looks up to you in shock, while you just grin ear to ear at him and shrug. “Happy early birthday, Pretty Boy… that’s the first of the funding, at least. I also have his number and the head of his tech for healthcare’s number.”

Stephen doesn’t think he just moves forward and wraps you in his arms, your feet leaving the floor causing you to squeal in delight as he spins you around. You laugh and a million words of thanks fall from his lips, his hands against your back feeling very in place, his smile when he pulls back to look at you so genuine.

“How—“

“It must have been the charm.” You lie, “Or he had already been well enough impressed by your work— does it really matter?”

“I guess not—“ Stephen sets you down gently and looks over the check in his hand again, the numbers ensuring that research could continue steadily for another year, “I can’t believe he just…”

“He’s a nice guy.” You say, “Shit pool player, but nice guy.”

Stephen chuckles, “That right?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence where Stephen can do no more than look between you and the check. You shift back and forth on your feet, looking up at him with a shy smile. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your cheek and your face burns bright red. You always look so cute when you blush.

Stephen puts the check in the inside pocket of his blazer and clearing his throat offers, “You do look… very nice tonight.”

“I thought so.” You beam up at him, “I called Gray and they walked me through the makeup… they wanted to come do it themself, but they were with their family again and I didn’t want to take them away.” You spin around and look at your shoes, kicking your heel up and saying, “These were actually Doctor Kohl’s idea. I’d shown him the dress a few days ago and he saw these in the window of a store on his way over, thought they’d look nicer with the dress than what I had planned—“

“And what had you planned?” Stephen asks, knowingly

You flush and look to the floor as you say, “The dick-stompers.”

Stephen chuckles, “It would have been a different vibe, yeah. I think Doctor Basson wins this one, Doll.”

“I am never wearing this God-forsaken thing ever again, by the way.” You pull at the hem of the dress, “I think I’ve flashed more than my fair share of people for the night.”

Stephen smirks, “I didn’t buy it so you could wear it for the general public.”

“And that’s exactly why I did, but it really is a pain in the ass.”

“How can it be? Barely touches it.”

“Oh, shut it.” You gripe, “It’s fine, first thing that’ll come off tonight—“

“Well, I could help you with that.” He flirts

“I know you could, but you won’t.” You roll your eyes, “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

Stephen knit his brows together, “Um, it’s my birthday?”

“Yes, I know that, but do you have plans for your birthday, or are you acting like a hermit as per usual?”

He scoffs, “I do not—“

“Yes you do.”

“Yes I do.” He sighs, “I’m… I was just planning on being at home.”

“Great.” You agree, “Now let’s go join the other three, I’d like another drink.”

“I thought I was taking you home?”

“You are— after I have a few more drinks. I haven’t seen the other three in a week… I’d like to.”

Stephen had whiplash from the last fifteen minutes so all he could do was offer his arm and agree, “Yeah, sure.”

You used your keycard privileges to find a nice, private lounge hidden in the north tower. You led the rest of the group along, flashing the card at security and holding your head high to make it seem as though you belong. Exactly one man stopped you and refused to let you pass until you demanded he call your name through his comms to Stark himself. After that, he was extremely apologetic, letting you right through.

“Your husband already taking good care of you.” Billy notes, plopping down onto a couch and kicking up his feet with a gin and tonic in hand

“The best… and my friends too.” You agree

“Meaning what, exactly?” Nic asks

Stephen pulled the check out of his coat pocket, holding it out to Nic, whose jaw went slack the same as Stephen’s had looking over the number written out.

“Damn.” 

Christine snatched it from his hand and gawked at Stephen, “You got it?”

“He handed it to Star Shine over here.” Stephen says, pulling gently on your ponytail, “Her charm, she says.”

“Steph, this is funding for a whole year!” Christine beams at him and you

“I know.” Stephen smiles back, “And we can get so many different people in on it. Billy will you send me a—“

“Already on it.” Billy says, tapping away on his phone

You giggle, “He knows you better than you know yourself, Doctor.”

“Unfortunately.” Billy grumbles, “Stephen, will you cash the check yourself or are you handing it off to—“

“Haven’t decided. Makes more sense to hand it off the Devin with—“

“But you want time to parse it out yourself.”

“Yep.”

“‘Kay.”

Christine clears her throat and asks carefully, “Should I still be planning to pack my bag next week?”

Stephen gives an indignant grumble and says, “I wasn’t going to withhold your tickets… that’s just mean.”

“Speaking of birthdays, Nic and Chrissy, are you working tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Nic says, “But we could sneak away during break if—“

“We’ll be somewhere between one and three… maybe a little longer.” You wave a hand, “You’ll just have to text him his happy birthday—“

“Where will we be for that long?” Stephen asks

“It’s a surprise.” You smile back at him

“How did you know I would be free that long?”

“Billy once told me you never do anything on your birthday. Seemed like the perfect day.”

“The perfect day for what?” Stephen pushes

“I’m not telling! You have to wait and see!”

You did a little happy dance in your seat and Stephen looked to the other three who seemed equally confused. Except for…

“Chrissy?” Stephen asks

“I can’t tell you!” She exclaims, “Please don’t make me ruin it! Just know I helped approve—“

“Christine, shh!” You scold

“I’m sorry!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Nic teases Christine

“I can’t. I can’t tell anyone, I’m sworn to secrecy.” She smiles brightly and giggles, “But it’ll be really funny if he cooperates.”

“That is not reassuring.” Stephen grouches

“You’ll be fine.” You wave him off, “I know it’s something you want, and there’s something I owe you. Just be glad we made our peace tonight.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Oo, I can’t wait to see what this is.” Billy gives a Disney villain level evil laugh, “You will tell us what it is when it’s done, won’t you?”

“Depends.” You shrug

“On?” Billy pushes

“If he likes it or not, silly.”

“He’s gonna love it.” Christine giggles into Nic’s shoulder

“Is it something I even want to hear about?” Nic asks hesitantly

“God, please let it not be.” Stephen begs, looking to the ceiling

You scoff, “Go ahead and take your expectations way down, Pretty Boy.”

“What? He doesn’t get birthday head?” Billy teases

“Do you give your friends birthday head?” You ask Billy in reply

“Ouch.” Stephen hisses

“You can find someone, I’m sure.” You roll your eyes at him

This confused Stephen. You had just said you wanted— but now you didn’t? But maybe that was just what you were telling the group? You two weren’t supposed to be fooling around anymore, and maybe you’d asked Christine to hold you accountable? So obviously you couldn’t announce whatever sexual plans you had for him… if any. And if not, that was okay too. You weren’t supposed to be fooling around after all. So that would probably be for the best.

But you were going to spend the day with him it sounded like. And that made him very happy. He had planned on getting wasted and blacking out for most of the day, so this was a vast improvement. Maybe he could convince you to go to dinner with him after whatever you had planned? Get you all dolled up and take you out…

“So, Auggie… we haven’t heard from you much this week. Anything new?”

You give a dry laugh, “Plenty, but... I don’t want to kill the mood. I’m okay, physically so let’s just... save it for another time, yeah?” And Stephen can hear the pleading in your voice

So he automatically redirects, “You said you spoke to Gray?”

You give a soft smile at this, “Yes. They’re doing very well. They start back with ballet in a couple of days, they’re super excited for that. They told their parents—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Nic hold up a hand, “Can we get some background for this update?”

“Gray. The kid I found outside in the parking deck one night?” Stephen looks around the room and seeing no recognition on anyone else’s face decides, “Neither of us said anything about them to you all?” There’s a shaking of heads so Stephen quickly summarizes, “I was at the hospital early in the morning last week—“

“How early?”

“Like two.”

“Why?”

“Because I can be, now quiet, Nic.”

“Okay.”

“Anyways, came out to head home and there was this kid casing the Huracán. They’d been drugged at a party they were at, didn’t want to go in, sat outside with them, called in our favorite little SANE, got them inside, sent them on their way.”

“Sent them on their way.” You scoff, “He put Gray up in a hotel for a week and bought them a whole new phone.” You give a bit of a smile and pout all in one and coo, “Gray was wearing his jacket when I got there any everything… what a sweetheart this one is.” You pinch at Stephen’s cheek and he snaps his teeth at you, making you laugh, “Anyways, they’re gender neutral, they have like eighteen siblings—“

“Five.” Stephen corrects

“They’re punk—“

“Alternative.”

“And they’re starting at Julliard next semester!”

“For ballet.”

“They’re super cool.”

“Good kid.” Stephen finishes

“Sounds like one hell of a personality.”

“Gray trauma bonded themself to Stephen.” You shrug, “He did good with them. Really good.”

Billy chuckled as a blush covered Stephen’s cheeks at the small compliment and teased, “Mr. I-hate-kids.”

“I never said I hated kids.” Stephen argues

“Then what did you say?”

“I’ve told you I wouldn’t be a dad.”

You shrink back in your seat and glare at Billy. Your stomach gives a nasty twist and Christine shoots Billy a look of warning which he chooses to ignore.

“Why not?” He presses on

“I’m already talking about this with my therapist—“ Stephen tries to evade

“Great, so talk to us about it.”

“I’m—“ Stephen shrugs, “I mean, c’mon. It’s me, guys. Poor kid wouldn’t stand a chance.” Nic snorts and turns his head to hide a smile and Stephen glares at him asking, “What, West?” 

“You’re just…” Nic sighs and shakes his head, “You think you’re this big, bad guy and you’re not. You could be a criminal or a druggie for Christ’s sake. You’re a Columbia grad with more doctorates than I can count on one hand, more money than you know what to do with, and a propensity toward beautiful women. That’s no sin, Strange.” He shrugs, “A kid could be a lot worse off.”

You smile and look to Nic, appreciating the kind words behind the harsh tone. Nic and Stephen may not get along so well, but they sure do show up for each other. Christine stares at Nic with all the admiration in the world— you can’t tell if she wants to jump his bones or crush him in a hug, but she chooses hug, snaking her arms through his own and resting her head on his chest with a pleased little smile. He looks down at her and raises a brow but she just shakes her head, so he kisses her forehead. They’re so in love, it makes you beam for them. It’s been a very, very long time since you’ve felt that. The same certainty, knowing you can love and be loved in return.

Stephen rubs the back of his neck and mutters a, “Thanks… I guess.”

“You like… predestined yourself for alone so long ago you just think that’s how it’s meant to be now.” Billy says, staring up at the ceiling, “But you don’t have to be…”

“There’s a difference in being alone and feeling lonely, Bill.” Stephen says, barely above a whisper, but it echoes through the quiet of the lounge. You turn your head to look at him, offering a smile to find he’s already looking at you, “Haven’t felt so lonely in a while.” 

Stephen put the other three into the hired car and waved them off. You promised you’d be back at work next week… your fake headache was feeling much fake better. Christine shook her head at you disapprovingly but smiled and gave you a kiss on the cheek. You gave Nic a big hug, which he returned in full, and Billy you permitted one groping of your ass in the dress making Nic and Christine chuckle while Stephen rolled his eyes.

“You’re just jealous.” You teased as he helped you into the cab

“Sure as hell am.” He admitted freely, “Let me have one as an early birthday gift?” He asked as you gave the driver your address

“No.” You refused, laying your head on his shoulder

Stephen thought little of it when he took your hand in his own. It was comfortable. He loved holding your hand. You had pretty hands— small and delicate, but so incredibly capable— of both help and harm. He chuckled to himself at the idea and rest his head against your own.

“What happened this week that you didn’t want to tell us about? Night is winding down now anyways…”

You’re quiet for a long time before admitting in a hushed tone, “My mama got diagnosed with cancer on Monday.” Stephen was shocked into silence by the declaration, “Stage two pancreatic cancer.” Your voice shakes as you add, “Might not have her for another year. Abby says she’s already set on refusing treatment.”

Stephen didn’t have any words of comfort to offer, so instead he just wrapped his arms around you. You leaned into his embrace and took in a deep breath. You wouldn’t cry. Not here in the back of a cab after a decent night— the first decent night since you’d learned the news. Stephen didn’t try to tell you he was sorry or that it would be alright. He was certain something of that nature would just make you huff and roll your eyes. So he settled for silence and holding you in his arms. You could feel one of his hands running up and down your back gently, the other cradling your head to his chest. You shut your eyes and focused on his breathing. In for five, not a second of a hold, out for another five. Even, and stable, and strong just like him. 

“Abby told you?” He asked after a while, “Your aunt?”

“Yeah.” You say, “Mama doesn’t know I know. She didn’t want me to know…”

“Why not?”

“She thinks I’ll want to move back home.”

Stephen braced himself for the answer to the question, “Do you?”

“I don’t know.” You shake your head, “I think… I feel like I should. And I mean… I don’t— I don’t really want to. I like it here. I like MGH, I like my apartment… I like you. And Chrissy and Nic and Bill. I don’t want to leave you.” You look up at Stephen and ask, “What would you do?”

“Ah— shit, Auggie. You know I’m the wrong person to ask when it comes to this.” He hesitates before adding, “But for what it’s worth, I like having you here. I think it’s just something you’re gonna have to talk out with her. And if she’s anything like you—“

“Yep.”

Stephen gives a little chuckle, “Then something tells me it’ll be a losing battle.”

“It is either way in this situation.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, “Maybe it is.”

“How’d your mom die?” You ask after a while

“Dad woke up one morning and she didn’t.” He says, “Pretty good… as far as dying goes.”

You give a soft, sad sort of smile, “That’s exactly how I’d like to go. In my sleep, next to the love of my life—“

“You’d want the love of your life to find you dead?”

“Better them than anyone else, I think.” You shrug, “Better than in a river with no one else around. That’s how Daddy went.” You swallow hard, “Better than in a hospital room with a thousand nurses coming in and out and the inability to do much of anything. Next to someone I love and someone I love only… yeah. That’s how I wanna go.”

“You’re so dark sometimes.”

“The occasion seems to call for it. But sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Stephen whispers, “I don’t mind. I— I like hearing what you think. We do a lot less talking than I’d like.”

“That right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Everything.” He shrugs, “Anything.”

“Mm… might take a while.”

“Would you mind?”

“Would I mind?”

“If it took a while. If you had to spend the time with me.”

“Not if you don’t pick any fights.” You tease

“No promises.”

“Well… I suppose I wouldn’t mind even then. I like talking to you too.”

Stephen smiled to himself and buried his nose in your hair, taking in a deep breath. His heart was beating wildly in his chest as the confession. You hadn’t decided he was intolerable, even after all the shit he’d pulled recently. And you liked him enough to be part of the reason you didn’t want to leave. You could hear the thrum of his heartbeat in your ear. It had been very nice to fall asleep to the morning before it all went to shit. You’d like to fall asleep like that again tonight. But you couldn’t do that tonight. Maybe tomorrow, but not—

“I wish we hadn’t ended it.” His voice was soft in your ear, his breath fanning across your neck

“Me either.” You admit, “But I think we’re better off this way, Stephen.” You look back up to him, and terrified for the answer ask, “Do you still want to talk to me? If you don’t get anything—“

“Yes.” His eyes search your own as he reaffirms, “Of course, I would… do. I do.”

‘I’ve just never felt the way I feel with someone else when I’m with you that way. And I think you feel it too. Is that normal? Does it usually feel this way or am I just—‘

“Right answer.” You say with a small smile, feeling the halt of the cab, “This is me for the night…”

Stephen furrowed his brows and looked out the car window to find a nice hotel. He swallows hard and weighs his options.

“Do you know them well?” Is all he asks, “They won’t hurt you?”

“It’s only Doctor Kohl, Stephen.” You reassure him, your plan crumbling as soon as you hear it’s concern for your safety rather than his ego, “He had some contacts he wanted to give to me he still has from when his wife…”

“I get it.”

“Tomorrow morning, here, ten o’ clock. I have a reservation for brunch at ten forty-five for us.” You smile softly, “Straight from there to your surprise. Bring a pair of comfy clothes to change into after brunch. Your sweat shorts and a tee or something, okay?”

“Okay.” He agrees

You turn and pop open the cab door, swinging your legs out. You turn and place a kiss on Stephen’s cheek, taking one last inhale, letting the scent of his cologne fill your lungs, and make you dizzy. Stephen couldn’t hide his soft smile as you pulled away.

“You’re forgiven.” You announce

Stephen let out a deep breath, “Thank you.”

“What time will you be on this curb tomorrow?”

“Nine fifty-five.”

You give a little laugh and admit, “You never are late.” Before shutting the cab door gently behind you

Stephen asked the cabbie to wait as he watched you walk into the building. Doctor Basson was standing inside the door waiting for you, offering his arm as soon as you stepped through. He swore he saw you look back, very quickly, and could have just as easily been looking to the doorman who’d opened the door for you. But he let himself believe it was him you were looking to.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He murmured to the cab window