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"No but it's what you meant!" He shouted. "I'm always the weak one! I never handle anything the way anyone wants me to! I butchered prom years ago, I got fired from my med job, I mean holy shit it's been like five years since my mom died and I still can't deal with that!"

"And that's okay-"

"No it's not okay!" Tears were lining his eyes, but they were almost impossible to see in the dark, the only give away being when the light from the house would twinkle off of them. "I wasn't strong enough for her then," his voice broke, "I'm not even strong enough for her now. And I have nobody to talk to about it."

He lifted his head to look directly at her. "My dad's bringing his fuck ass mistress to my brother's wedding that my mother doesn't even get to be at, and I can't say anything about it!" He threw his hands in the air. "I mean she's helping plan the damn thing, and I just get to bite my tongue while the woman my dad cheated on my mom with sits there in her little dress getting thanked for everything she did to 'make this thing happen.'"

He leaned down and grabbed some pebbles from by his shoes, starting to chuck them angrily into the water since he couldn't throw them at his dad's head.

"That's where my mom should be!" He wound up and threw the rocks as hard as he could.

"He shouldn't even fucking be here!" Another rock.

"When has he ever cared about Jeremiah?"

Another rock.

"He couldn't be there for him while we were growing up, but hey! It's a chance for Adam to make it about himself, he's damn sure gonna take it!"

The last rocks went flying. He stood there panting, chest heaving as he glared out into the water.

She stood there a few feet away, watching him silently. She'd known he wasn't the biggest fan of Kaylee, but wasn't aware that she'd been the mistress. Everything was starting to make a little more sense, all of Conrad's behavior from the last few weeks starting to add up.

And she was with him, his dad had one hell of a nerve to bring her to his son's wedding, and she felt like she was watching this one decision unravel all four years of therapy the poor boy in front of her had done.

She didn't know what to say to make it better, she didn't even know if she could make it better, but despite this conversation starting as an argument, she felt honored that he'd felt safe enough to share these things with her. These things that had so clearly been weighing heavily on him.

They stood there silently for a minute, the only sound being the continuous crash of the waves against the beach.

And then slowly, she crept towards him, feet silent in the sand. Just little steps at a time until she was just a few inches from him, just a breath away from touching his arm.

Gently, slowly so as not to startle him, she wrapped her arms around his closet to her, resting her head on his shoulder. Y/n braced herself for him to push her away, and yet, ever so slightly, he leaned into her hold.

"Y'know, for what it's worth," she whispered, hesitant to break the silence. "I'm really proud of you."

There was a still moment where she held her breath, scared that she'd overstepped, but then he turned into her, wrapping her in his arms and burying his face in her shoulder.

"And I'm sorry your brother isn't acknowledging all you've been doing for him-"

His grasp around her waist tightened.

"And your mom does deserve to be here instead of her."

There in the silence, as she held him so tightly, she heard a small sob, one that gradually got louder and louder, before he was just letting himself cry into her shoulder, distraught.

She brought her hand to his head, running her fingers through his hair and gently scratching his scalp, swaying from side to side as he finally got to release everything he'd been holding. He continued to melt into her, fingers bunching her shirt as he inhaled the scent of her perfume.

For the first time since his mom had passed, he felt grounded, he felt safe.

"I've got you, Connie," she whispered into his ear, now stroking his back. "And I won't let you go unless you want me too."

You can already feel yourself leaking, your aching clit begging for something, anything.

Steve wastes no time. He throws your legs over his shoulders, looks up at you through his lashes, then begins his worship.

You gasp and wrap your hands in his hair when his tongue licks up your folds, from your weeping hole to your desperate clit. You moan immediately, throwing your head back, your hips gently rocking.

He suddenly pulls back.

“What did I say?” he asks, voice quiet, but rough.

You love that tone.

“I’m sorry,” you pant. “You just — you feel so good. You make me feel so good.”

He gasps softly. You know how much he loves the praise, how much he needs it when he’s stressed, overwhelmed, desperate for your attention.

“I want you to watch me make you fall apart,” he says, a bit breathless. “And I want to see your face while I do it.”

“Jesus,” you breathe.

You almost throw your head back again when his tongue finds its way back between your folds. He groans loudly, his grip on you tightening. His deep dark eyes never leave yours.

“Thought about this pretty pussy all day,” he murmurs, mouthing at your clit. “Needed you so badly, baby.”

Your fingers grip his hair harder when the tip of his tongue gently swirls around your bundle of nerves. You sound pathetic, making little noises with every single ministration. You’re already panting, back arching.

Just how he likes it.

“You taste so sweet,” he mumbles. “Needed this, too, didn’t you?”

It’s taking everything in you to not look away from his greedy eyes.

“Always need you,” you breathe.

Steve groans, then tapers his tongue, fucking it into you. The bridge of his nose nuzzles against your clit and you gasp, then keen, head falling back for half a second before you force yourself to look down at him again.

He looks obscene. Hooded eyes, looking at you so intensely that it makes your cheeks burn. Determined, pussy-drunk. So in love with you.

“I love you.”

His eyes roll back and he sighs, breathing heavily.

“I love you,” he moans back.

You can’t hide your smile. “Eyes up here,” you pant.

Steve’s eyes snap open. You half expected him to be irritated at your teasing, but he seems to be very into the command.

His tongue explores your cunt messily. Worshipping you while you whimper, then wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking to hear you whine and sigh his name. He uses his nose wherever he can, keeping your clit stimulated at all times.

“Oh, like that, Steve, good boy.”

You tug at his hair and relish in the noises he makes, the way he fights his eyes from rolling back. Desperate, needy. All you want to look at is his face. Cheeks wet and red, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. You swipe it away with your thumb before it gets in his eye and his tongue finds its way deep inside of you, as if it’s a silent thank you.

“Y’gonna cum?” he asks, voice thick with you. “Gonna give me what I want?”

You nod, whimpering, your thighs shaking around his head.

His method turns more precise. Intentional, a little less greedy. Licking your clit with feather light strokes of the tip of his tongue, then circling it slowly. You gasp and arch your back, pulling his hair harder. He groans into you, sucking your clit between his lips.

“Steve,” you breathe. “Oh, god — please don’t stop.”

He huffs out a laugh, then groans lowly when your thighs clench and tremble around his head. Your grip is harsh, pulling his hair hard enough to almost make him pull back. But he’s so starved for you, for the honey between your legs he’s been craving for hours, that he fights against it. Laps at you, flat tongued strokes, avoiding your clit, teasing you. Wants to hear you beg for it.

Your head falls backwards again.

“Fuck,” you sigh, “my clit, honey, please — trying to cum for you —“

“Look at me.”

“Shit,” you gasp, head lolling forward again.

You’d like to apologize, but you’re struck by his intense gaze. Looking at you as if you’re prey.

Begging you to let him be the one that makes you fall apart.

Your mouth falls open, head tilting forward. You shake, closer and closer. Steve’s breathing heavily, making a mess of your pussy, his saliva dripping down your folds and to your ass. You hear little moans from him, stifled by your cunt, made louder when you tug his hair again.

“Please,” you whimper. Asking permission, not for more.

He nods, and watches with hooded eyes as you come on his tongue. You’re good for him, keeping your eyes open even as they want to roll back. You don’t look away from his face as you ride his nose and tongue, as hard as it is. As much as you want to throw your head back and fully relish in it.

His expression makes you come harder, calves and thighs tensing, high pitched moans forced out of you.

You’re exhausted by the time you’ve ridden your high. Your body slowly relaxes, and you allow yourself to tilt your head back against the back of the couch, panting.

Steve’s lips, wet with your arousal, kiss the inside of your thighs while his fingers rub circles into your hips.

“Good girl,” he praises lowly, grinning proudly, cockily.

He’s the only one who can make you feel like this.

“I’ll invoice you,” you pant, smiling lazily.

He sits up on his knees, cradling your face in his hands as he kisses you, transferring your taste from his tongue onto yours. Your hand snakes around the back of his neck, keeping him close, already needy for him again.

You miss along his jawline and reach out for the button of his jeans.

“What are you doing?” he asks, breathless.

You kiss your way to his ear, pressing your lips to the shell of it.