My Personal Hell Hole

Leo

He’s incredibly respectful about anything remotely sexual, this guy is a stickler for rules and boundaries and doesn’t push anything. He actually doesn’t think much about the sexual side of your relationship because it just doesn’t cross his mind, the way your dynamic comes off is very elderly-couple vibes even from the get go. That’s not to say the leader in blue doesn’t have urges, though. Sometimes he catches himself looking at you and has to force down any and all indecent thoughts that come to the forefront of his mind.

The way you both get to the point of your first time is entirely by accident. Leo wanted it to be perfectly planned out, romantic and scheduled in accordance with your availability, but that went wayyy down the drain when you came over to the lair one evening. His brothers were out on patrol, Splinter was god knew where, he had no responsibilities for once and you were sitting on his bed. How could Leo not kiss you? One thing led to another and you’re both confronted with your first time…

You had both been at it for a while. Hot, open mouthed kisses, the feeling of Leo’s wandering hands, the feel of his thick, muscled thigh pushed up flush against your crotch. He pulled away with his eyes half lidded, searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You were conflicted. The dull throbbing between your legs screamed at you to hurry up and get rid of the panties Leo hadn’t taken off yet, but another, louder voice was telling you to hide and never come out ever again. As long as you could remember the idea of your first time had been absolutely terrifying. It had only become worse with time; the internet, societal expectations and friends of friends’ experiences all contributed to how people viewed sex, and you were, quite frankly, scared. The grainy videos circling through guy’s group chats of unrealistic bodies and exaggerated moaning and really really questionable tropes didn’t help at all. You knew Leo. You knew how sweet he was, how he took care of you and you had no doubt in your mind about trusting him with something like this. However, there was the nagging fear that refused to leave you. You silently cursed humanity for becoming so prudish about nudity and not teaching you about what your first time would actually be like, or what was right or wrong or anything at all. Leo kissed your neck and you shivered, rolling your clothed heat up into his hard dick where it rested against your thigh. Your panties were soaked through, sticking to you and covered in a mixture of Leo’s pre and your own wetness. God, it wasn’t this difficult for nature. Most of it consisted of getting on all fours, fucking for like two minutes and being done with it. You sighed. Leo reached to brush your face.

“Are you… Do you want us to stop? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, sweetheart.” He was breathing heavily, an oddly pained look on his face that told you he was definitely struggling to control himself. You looked down. He’d taken your top off, and your pants, but left your underwear on. The feel of him rock-hard against your clothed pussy was making you squirm.

“I’m okay. Yeah, I’m…”

Leo frowned at the millisecond of hesitation that marked your words. He cupped your face. “Talk to me. I’ll stop right now if you don’t want this, yeah?” He breathed out, leaning his face down closer and moving himself back a little, away from between your legs to give you space.

You shook your head hurriedly, reaching up to touch his plastron. “No, I don’t want you to stop. I’m just… y’know. Nervous.”

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

“Both? I don’t know.” You exhaled, squeezing your legs together around the thigh he’d moved away to get him to come closer again. “I’m scared,” you whispered, eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks when you looked down. “I don’t want you to see, but I also really want um-” you burned with embarrassment. Leo understood what you were saying, and he didn’t like the tone of insecurity creeping into your voice. He kissed your forehead.

“Listen to me. Listen, okay?” He kissed your cheek. His cock was throbbing and he swore he could feel the pulse of your pussy just from where his dick rested. “We’re doing this slow. You trust me, right?” You nodded. “You have nothing to be scared of me seeing. I love you. You love me. I was scared about you not being exactly okay with my own situation, I mean- different anatomy- but you made me feel good about it. Let me make you feel good.” Leo’s voice dropped an octave as he spoke. He gently rutted against your clothed cunt once more, getting you to squirm and let slip a wanton moan. His hands trailed down to your panties. He glanced up at you once to make sure you were okay with it, before peeling the thin, sticky, semi-transparent fabric from your slick soaked pussy. He groaned. “Oh. You’re so… such a pretty pussy. Come here. Yeah, come here gorgeous.” Leo was going to fuck all the worry from your mind and then some.

Raph

He’s thought about fucking you before, but is at first too worried about hurting you to actually initiate anything beyond making out. Is likely more insecure than he gives off, that man loves getting you all flustered but has no clue how to deal with the aftermath. Your first time isn’t exactly planned. However, you both do have a lengthy conversation about how it’d work and the prep required in the first place.

Raph is the type to forego internet research, but will very awkwardly ask Donnie what to do because why would he need the internet when he has the equivalent in the form of his brother that doesn’t save search history? He does try to be all casual and hypothetical about it, but Donnie definitely knows why his brother’s suddenly asking about that kinda stuff. The red turtle has come across one or two outrageously explicit videos before, though. He will reassure you a million times over because he gets it. Eventually your first time creeps up on you and he finds himself with his head between your legs…

“Fuck. I can smell you.” Raph’s big hands were on your hips, rubbing little circles on them. It relaxed you a little, but you were still stressed out and were struggling not to shut your thighs in embarrassment. The idea of him so close to your cunt freaked you out and turned you on all at once. You’d been in this position before, but the knowledge that this time was for real was gnawing at your gut. The gooey slick collecting between your legs was only increased by Raph’s small, warm huffs against your panties. The anticipation was killing you, you could feel your thighs trembling and your hands shake as you stared down at Raph’s face between your legs. He was salivating, eyes fixated on where the damp patch in your panties grew bigger.

“Don’t say it like that,” you whined. He chuckled and experimentally licked over where the fabric clung to your pussy. You jerked your hips up, squeezing your thighs together reflexively in humiliation. Raph groaned, prying your thighs apart away from around his head. He noticed your trembling and paused. “Baby. You’re shaking.” You shook your head, keeping your head turned away as your face flushed with heat. Raph slid a hand up to gently hold onto one of your own, moving up enough to kiss your lower stomach. You were so desperate it was making your thoughts fuzzy, but even then the dull prick of anxiety shot through your stomach and made your skin clammy and cold while the temperature between your legs stayed hot. The contrast was making you feel almost feverish.

“Sweetheart. Hey. What’s wrong, hm? It too much? You know I ain’t gonna do anything if it’s too much.”

You clung onto his hand for comfort, taking a few little breaths. “I’m scared. I’ve never done- you know. It’s a lot but in a good way?” The furrow in Raph’s brow relaxed as you clung tight and didn’t flinch away. He was scared of being too much, too big, too overwhelming. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off, but it looked like you were adamant about him staying right where he was. Your mind was at war with itself while your body had the straightforward objective of getting his cock in you. Raph kissed your lower stomach reverently, trailing the kisses down.

“I gotcha. I always gotchu, you know that, right?” You nodded your head and he kissed where your panties started. “Use your words hon.”

“Mhm. Yeah. You have me. You got me.” The affirmation was more for yourself than in response to him, but your breathing slowed and your trembling slowly lessened as Raph squeezed your hand and waited. Raph huffed against your pussy again, licking once when he felt like you were more prepared. You moaned in encouragement and he pulled your sticky panties to the side, groaning lowly as he pushed his thick tongue into your hole and lapped at your wetness. You rolled your hips, still clutching desperately onto his hand as he sloppily ate you out. His other hand’s thumb rubbed against the rim of the tight ring of muscle, before sliding slowly into your pussy with a squelch. He moved his mouth away from your clit with a loud slurp, saliva stringing between your pussy and his lips. You moaned obscenely, just his finger was enough to have you grinding down, already stretched out.

“Don’t you worry. I’m gonna take care of you,” Raph mumbled dazedly into your pussy, replacing his thumb with his index and making a beckoning motion that had your walls twitching and fluttering. His own hard dick slid in a pool of its own pre against the mattress and he grunted, rocking his hips as he stretched you out with his fingers. Raph was going to take care of everything.

Donnie

This guy has looked at every single online forum and alternate source of information possible. He’s a scientist, he’s well acquainted with bodily functions, but in practice it’s a little different. He’s similar to Leo in that he completely forgets about sex as a whole and then it just hits him that you both might do it one day. Is incredibly respectful and tentative with the sexual side of your relationship. However, he’s had all sorts of fantasies about you and has needed to sit with himself and a hard-on in silence more than once after you’ve been down to the lair. He’s the type to wait until you bring it up while being in absolute agony trying to suppress his urges.

Is absolutely resolute on needing to talk to you about it before and go over his own anatomy. He’s slightly scared of being rejected, but you love and trust him and he chills out about it. Your first time starts with the lab… (cause duh)

You were in one of Donnie’s worn shirts, nestled in his lap. You were waiting for him to finish his work and, in the process, had begun to fall asleep with your cheek smushed against his shoulder. Donnie was laser focused on his work, but he had started slowing down when he realised you were falling asleep. He paused his work every thirty minutes or so to kiss your temple and mumble something about being done soon. You huffed and sat back the third time you stirred awake and found yourself still stuck on his lap at his desk. Donnie rubbed your back guiltily.

“Hey, love. Did I wake you?”

You groaned and flopped back into his chest dramatically. You sleepily kissed his neck and Donnie froze, staying utterly still as you irritatedly smooched up his jaw and onto his cheek. “You,” kiss “said,” kiss “you’d,” kiss “be done soon!” Donnie’s expression softened and he found himself grabbing your face so you’d kiss him properly. The two of you melted into one another until Donnie’s other hand left his worktop and rested against your waist. You scooted closer on his lap, hand resting on his plastron and other hand against his shoulder; Donnie made a noise when your chest brushed up to press against his. Ten minutes later you were on your knees staring up at him. Determination filled you; if he wasn’t going to make good on his promises to finish up you were going to encourage him. His large, calloused palm was flush with your cheek, and his glasses were foggy. He was biting his lip. Donnie watched with his breath held in suspense as you nuzzled your face into his crotch, the warm air making him shudder. You tugged at his sweats and he fumbled to help you slide them off. He was panting from the way you kitten-licked his cloaca. God, you were perfect; he’d insisted you didn’t need to do anything for him, that he hadn’t wanted to make you uncomfortable, but you were adamant. He kept his hand on top of your head, petting you and mumbling assurances as you experimentally sucked.

“So good. You’re so good. Just like that. Sweet girl.” His voice cracked when he fully dropped and you felt the slightly slick feeling of his cock resting against your face. He was staring down at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Donnie- ah- Donnie, hold on…” Donnie had you back on his lap. He’d pulled you back up before he had the chance to cum, wanting to return the favour. His eyes were half lidded with lust and he thumbed over your hard nipples as he rocked his cock against you. You were humping his cock needily, the sleepy haze hadn’t yet left you and the pulsing in your pussy as he got you to grind down on his dick dragged you into another kind of haze. His hands were slipping down to palm your hot, achy pussy and you whined. “Donnie, you don’t need to I-” The purple turtle kissed your cheek slowly, glasses bumping against your cheekbone. He panted.

“I can- I’m sorry, I can stop. You want me to stop?” He looked down where the crotch of your panties were covered in a hefty coating of your own slick and his precum and made a low sound you swore sent vibrations up your cunt. His dick was shoved under the soft cotton and flush with your heat, the pretty fabric held his cock to you as you both rubbed against one another.

“No, no, I don’t want you to stop. I… If we keep going I- I don’t wanna disappoint you.” You whispered it reluctantly, as though you’d been thinking about it for a long time. Donnie paused. “Is that what you’re worried about?” You slowly nodded, ducking your head. He cupped your face. “You could never disappoint me. You’re perfect. You’ve done so well learning about me and adjusting to my needs; let me take care of yours. I want to, if you’ll let me. Let me prove how perfect you are.” You shyly nodded, forehead pressed to his.

Mikey

Two words: Dirty minded. I mean, Shell tightening?? This guy is so down bad for you in every single way it’s almost painful. His love is sweet and innocent and as bright as the sun at the start of you guys’ relationship, and you both get comfortable making crappy ‘that’s what she said’ jokes at one another. You can joke about sex, but Mikey is secretly terrified that when it comes to the actual thing he won’t know what to do. Like Raph he has also stumbled across some wild videos and been permanently scarred for life.

He’s made out with you tons of times, the two of you have strayed into dangerous territory more than once and every time Mikey has felt more and more confident about the prospect of a first time. He was scared at first, but now he’s needy on the low. Is incredibly respectful and will wait until you express your want of it, but is bouncing off the walls with need for his pretty girl. Your first time is perfectly set up by one of the tangerine turtle’s date night ideas…

“Aaaand open them!” Mikey took his hands off your eyes and gestured dramatically to the pillow fort he’d constructed. You squealed in excitement, looking up at Mikey and then back at the abundance of pillows and blankets.

“Movie date?” Mikey nodded in response, “Movie date, girl. Please, ah-ah, hold your applause. This way babe.” He led you to the centre of the mass of blankets. There was an assortment of snacks and several drink options set down next to them, condensation beading at their sides and slipping down to form watery rings on the little table Mikey had set everything out on.

The movie was long forgotten halfway in. Mikey was watching you lean into his side. You had a knee hiked up over his thick thigh, he was tracing his three-fingered hand up and down your upper arm. You were restless, feeling a sort of heat creeping up your thighs. Mikey’s every touch felt electric. He was clingy, you knew this, and yet today felt ten times more intimate than it had before. You huffed, lifting your head from where it rested on his shoulder and manoeuvring yourself to sit on his thigh. Mikey’s hands went straight to your hips to steady you.

“Angel. I can’t focus.” You frowned. Mikey gazed up at you where you sat perched on his thigh.

“Whad’you need baby? I can go get you some water? Ooh, ooh, we could totally ditch the movie and look for a game.”

You shook your head in response to both, not quite knowing what you wanted, but knowing that Mikey was the root cause of your restlessness. You leaned down slowly to nudge your nose to his cheek. Mikey’s breath stuttered. “I don’t know. I want you.” You mumbled it in hopes that he wouldn’t hear, but of course he did. His eyes widened, and his hand slowly slid up to your face. “You have me.”

Mikey was grinding you on his thigh. You’d been making out for the better part of an hour, worked up beyond belief and whimpering into each other’s mouths. Mikey’s thick cock had dropped the second he’d felt you humping his thigh. You whined when he squeezed your sensitive tits, pawing at you and flexing his muscular thigh under your pussy to goad you into jerking your hips harder. Mikey felt you struggling and placed a hand on your lower back; he pushed up and pushed you down onto the blankets. He was lost in the softness of your lips, moaning into your mouth and situating himself between your legs. You gasped when he replaced his thigh with his hand and slipped his hand under the fabric of your panties. Your thighs immediately clamped shut around his forearm and you squeaked in surprise. Mikey soothingly rubbed your outer thigh, slipping his hand out from between your legs. “You okay? Did I do something wrong?” You immediately shook your head. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. You haven’t seen uh… down there before ’n I just freaked out for a sec.” Your voice was a whisper; Mikey’s brow furrowed in confusion and sympathy.

“Do you not want me to see?” You ducked your head, nodding once, but responding quickly to reassure him. “It’s not that I don’t want to, ‘m just worried. What if you don’t…” You trailed off, biting your lip anxiously. Mikey kissed your nose to pull you from your thoughts. You broke into a tiny smile.

“Babe. Baby. Love of my life. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. Every bit of you is pretty. Don’t do those ‘what if’s, I’m right here and I’m telling you, nothing about you will ever, ever put me off you, girl.” He kissed between your eyes again, a pure, unfiltered look of love on his face. You exhaled, feeling slightly teary as you pulled him down to kiss you again. Mikey was out to prove he loved every bit of your body.

Tucker has been staring at you like a lost puppy all night. He could barely really focus on the party when he somehow could hear your laughter over the lively music. Catch you smiling at something someone said in the corner of his eye. Dancing along to a song you've sworn is "your song" for the past five songs, despite being in that silly bread costume.

He remembers you talking about how you and your roommate were going to come to the duos party dressed as bread and butter. Oh, yeah, forgot to mention he's talked to you multiple times in Russian class and yet he still acts like he's just seen you for the first time ever.

He hasn't told any of the guys. He doesn't know why, he just hasn't. It could be because he feels ridiculous for maybe falling for you in the span of the first week of the semester. The man is smitten and doesn't know what to do with himself.

When the song ends your laughing again for whatever reason, his heart could leap out of his chest at any moment. You turn around and lock eyes, noticing him looking and he almost chokes on his beer. You're on the way over, maneuvering through the crowd towards him.

Oh, shit.

It's too late to run now!

"Tucker!" You practically jump into his arms as you hug him. "I've been looking for you all night!"

You smell...so good...

He chuckled nervously and wrapped his arms around you while trying to stay focused. Be normal, be normal, be normal!!

"Ah, y'know. Just been running around with the boys."

You pulled away with a smile that never left your face. He could stare at you for hours. Wait, he kinda has already-

"I dig the costume," you said. "Who's your duo?"

"Logan. He's dressed as a bird."

"A bird..." you repeated as you put two and two together. "Birds and the bees."

"Correct," he said before taking a swig. His nerves started to settle the more You two talked. "Where's your butter?"

"Off somewhere else. Probably with someone else, hence why I've been dolo the past two hours, but...now I have you. If you're not busy or anything."

"Nope. Not busy at all."

...he said that pretty fast.

"Okay, good, cause," you start bopping you head along to the rhythm of the new song, a classic by Rihanna, taking his beer from his hands and water falling a good amount of it before setting it down on the kitchen counter.

Perfection. Absolute perfection.

"This is my song," you grabbed his hand and took him out to the living room to dance with you. Twirling under his palm and moving your body with his while lip syncing your heart out. He's following your lead like it's second nature.

Closer to the end of the song he leans in to ask if you want a drink, you say yes and keep dancing. He was getting the drinks, yes, but his heart was also pounding against his ribs. He's not sure if you noticed but your ass brushed against his crotch one too many times (no such thing as too many, silly) and he felt like he was going to pass out.

Tucker got caught up in conversation with Garrett about Hannah for about 15 minutes before he went back to find you. He searched the crowd until his eyes landed where he could see your hair past someone's shoulder, but when he saw who you were talking and laughing with, he froze.

Dean.

Oof. Dean's giving you that look as he's talking. That "I'm gonna ease my way into your pants" look. He's leaning down to hear you talk, winking, smiling, he has you giggling and playfully slapping his biceps. Drink in hand as you listen to him talk about his family's vacation homes. Meanwhile, Tucker feels like he just lost the lottery by one number.

He puts the drink he brought for you back in the cooler and goes on about his night. If it was one thing he knew is that it was almost impossible for any woman to untangle themselves from Dean's web. And the crazy thing is, Dean didn't even look like he was just trying to fuck. He looked genuinely interested. Tucker, in his mind, didn't stand a chance.

Closer to the end of the night, Tucker went up to the room he was staying in after helping with some cleaning up. Calling it a night. He took off his costume and flopped backwards onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling and all he could think about was you. The brief most amount of joy he's had all night. Then how it all shattered when he saw you with his friend. Smiling just as big as you would with him.

Maybe he's being dramatic but he can't help it. It's not the first time he's been overlooked by women that know him and the other guys and it won't be the last. Looks like this is just another one of those times.

Three soft knocks come to his door. Was it one of the guys? They don't usually knock that soft.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, Tuck, it's me. Can I come in?"

He shoots up from where he was lying and stares at the door. Was he hearing things? He said your name aloud, you answered back and he stood up to open it. You look slightly tired and a little tipsy.

"Uh, hey," he said. "I thought you dipped already."

"Nah, I was talking to Dean for a good minute," you said. He tried not to frown. "But then I went looking for you."

Looking for him? Him?!

"Really?"

"Yeah?" You said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "So...ya gonna let me in or what?"

He blinked then stepped aside to let you in. You slipped past him and he just realized you took your costume off. Your outfit just screamed "you." As per usual but he's never seen you come out like this for a party.

When the door shut he became hyper aware of the sound of the match. You're really in his room...after a long night of partying and having a clearly very engaging conversation with one of his best friends. He almost wanted to pinch himself.

You turned to face him and gave him a look with your hands on your hips, a feigned pout mixed with that 'I'm about to lecture you' look. And you were standing a little close-

"You made me go searching again," you pointed at him accusingly but couldn't hide your growing smile. "I knocked on two doors before finally landing here and I was waiting for that drink but I thought you ditched me!"

It feels like someone dropped a bucket of water on a bunch of wires in his head. The dim lighting of the room made your skin glow and the faint scent of your perfume mixed with the lingering tang of whatever drink you'd been sipping hit him like a freight train.

"I...uh..."

"I missed you."

He gulped.

"...are you drunk?"

You looked a little offended. "What? No! I mean, I had a few drinks but I'm perfectly fine. Why?"

"Sorry, I just," he cleared his throat and took a small step back. "I didn't expect you to say that."

"Oh...too forward?"

"No! No," he waved it off. "I mean like I saw you talking to Dean earlier and...I didn't want to interrupt. Looked like you were having a good time, so I backed off."

You furrowed your brows and tilted your head at him. Wait, did he think...

"Did you think I was into him?"

Wow. He has never heard you be so direct.

"Um...kinda?"

"Tucker!"

"What? Who doesn't fall for Dean?"

"You're looking right at her!"

Silence.

"You think I'm easy?"

That question had him panicking as soon as he registered it. Everything swirling around in his head came to a screeching halt. "No, God, no! That's not-"

He fumbled over his words as he tried to save the conversation. That's the last thing he'd want you to think he feels about you!

"I swear I didn't mean-"

Smooch.

Tucker stopped talking and looked at you. The feeling of your hands on his shoulders as they circle around the back of his neck made his mind go blank.

You just kissed him to shut him up...

"I'm just fucking with you," you said in a softer tone. His hands hovered your hips for like three seconds then slowly let them rest. "I want you, Tucker. Is that clear enough?"

Alas, the confidence of John Tucker came back just like that.

"Clear as day."

"Good," you murmured. "Can I kiss you now?"

He didn't even bother answering verbally. Instead he lifted a hand to cup the side of your face and close the distance himself. The sweetheart that was just stuttering and terrified that he lost you to Dean was now kissing you like it was meant to be.

He meant to pull away by now. To say something, anything to confirm this was real, but the way you were tugging on his collar was all he needed.

Clothes were discarded within the minute. You both chuckle as he falls on top of you when the back of your knees hit the bed. Your hands roam his bare chest and biceps as he carefully peels your panties down your legs. You swiftly unclipped your bra and tossed it aside while he settled in between your thighs.

It looked like he did a short prayer of gratitude before kissing a trail along the soft flesh. You hold back a giggle because this is the most serious you've seen him.

Your head falls on the half undone bed when you feel his tongue flatten against your folds. A shaky whimper escaping your lips. The groan that followed from him made you twitch.

He held your thighs in place as he dove in further. His nose consistently bumping into that sensitive bud at the crest had you instinctively trying to close your legs. Hips bucking a little and your fingers finding their way into those gorgeous curls.

Tucker's whole focus lied into the taste of you. Getting you off. Making sure you're having the time of your life. The feeling of you gripping his hair, your nails dragging his scalp was all traveling south. His growing erection caused by the simple fact that he was responsible for your pleasure and he was clearly doing a great job. So far.

"'m so close," you whispered, subconsciously grinding against his face. "Don't stop. Please."

You didn't have to tell him twice!

He swirled his tongue over and over again in the same spot until you came. So much slick hitting his face and running down his chin, you could feel him smiling as he lapped it up.

When he pulled back and gazed at the mess you made--courtesy of him--he admired the sight like a painting during the renaissance period. He hovered over you while wiping his face and licking his fingers. You looked up at him with blurry eyes and sudden embarrassment.

"You good?" he asked softly as he laid next to you, propping himself up on his elbow to give you some space. You nodded and felt the heat creep up your neck.

"So good," you reassured with a huff and caught your breath. "I just didn't think I'd, ahem, squirt all over your face."

You laughed and covered your face for a split second before glancing at him.

"I wanna keep going," you added. "If you're up for it."

He smiled and pecked you in the cheek. You're just so freaking cute.

"Roll over for me," he murmured in your ear. "On your side."

You did just that with a giddy smile before biting your bottom lip. He stripped his boxers off and caressed your thigh, lifting it a little so he could line himself up. You shuddered when the tip glided along your wetness. When he finally, slowly, pushed inside, your eyes met.

He was much bigger than you thought.

"This okay?" He asked softly.

You nodded and kept your eyes on him with a gentle smile. Which quickly fell the more he inched in.

"Let me know if it's too much," he whispered. Meanwhile you could barely focus now. Mostly because you were still sensitive to the touch but you didn't want any downtime. Just him.

He moved agonizingly slow to give your body every chance to adjust to the stretch. When he bottomed out, the leg he was holding was starting to tremble just a little, but enough to notice.

"I got you," he continued. You relaxed and gave him the okay to move. He did a few experimental pumps to make sure you were comfortable and your response was perfect. You got the hang of his rhythm and adjusted to his size. This much was so clear.

"Faster?"

"Please."

The sweet, hesitant man from earlier vanished upon your request. Replaced entirely by the confident athlete who knew exactly how to handle what was right in front of him. The woman of his dreams.

Your moans weren't so quiet anymore. There was a spot he kept occasionally hitting and it had stars dancing in your eyes. He didn't mind when you looked away from him because it meant everything he was doing was right.

He slid his hand further down your thigh to push it back a little more. His ragged breathing echoed off the plain walls. It was like your body molded under his hands in real time.

"It's gonna... I'm gonna-"

It you weren't so sensitive from him eating you out like his life depended on it earlier you'd probably be lasting longer, but that simply just wasn't the case tonight. Your eyes shut tight as your orgasm hit you once more. Just as intense. Tucker didn't stop pumping until his hit and pulled out to let his cum hit your stomach.

He let your leg down slowly before holding you close to his chest. For about two minutes, the only sound in the room was your synchronized heaving and the distant, muffled bass of the party downstairs. He laid three soft kisses on your shoulder then rolled on his back, taking you with him so you'd be lying on his side, head on his chest.

"Think anybody heard us?" He asked after those quiet moments. You chuckled.

"I'd be surprised with that bass," you muttered. "What time do we have to be out of here in the morning?"

"9:30 at the latest."

"...bath time?"

right now was yet another time at malones with the others. the boys had won a game, you were sitting on tuckers lap as he didn't want to let go. he was clingy nonetheless but you noticed the others drinks were running low and it was your turn to treat them

"alright, im getting refills. ill be back" you announced as you stood up. tucker was quick to grab your waist and pull you in, kissing you before you had the chance to walk away

"OH GET A ROOM" logan yelled, his drunk self never knowing how to be quiet. you laughed and walked away to the counter to grab the next round. you hummed under your breath as you leaned against the counter and waited

"oh ill be right there sunshine" della called out but you shook your head

"take your time, they need pacing anyways!" you called back and she laughed before you heard a deep chuckle. you turned your head to see a random guy you had never seen before, you weren't going to be mean. everyone knew you were a sweetheart, that was a known fact

"rallying the boys?" he asked and you shrugged

"something like that"

"you sure you can handle them on your own, princess? seems like a lot" he tried so desperately to flirt but it wasn't landing. not one bit

"been doing it for a few years now, nothin i can't handle" the one thing you did get from tucker? the fucking southern accent, none of your words ended with a g, they couldn't.

"soooo you here alone orrr?" he led off and you laughed it off. everyone knew you were with tucker, it was campus knowledge

"im gonna guess you're from eastwood..." you questioned

"how'd ya know?"

"because everyone here knows i have a boyfriend who's on the briar hockey team. john tucker, you might know him" you said, his eyes widened and he stared at you

"oh my god you made the bracelet that he never takes off?" he asked as he drifted closer. clearly he didn't care about the knowledge of tucker but tucker was watching. his jaw was clenched as he stared. he knew you were only being polite and you would never do anything, it didn't mean the guy wouldn't.

"so you do know him? yeah no i made that, as i made everything else. we've been together for a few years now"

"well what he doesn't know won't hurt him..." he led off

"im happy with him, no thanks"

"oh come on" he said as he stepped closer and tucker was done. he was up and out of the seat in two seconds. he moved like a boulder through the crowd, pushing other people to the side, ignoring the grunts and the "hey!"s as he passed through.

then he was there, in between the two of you as he death glared the guy in front of you. your hand grabbed his and he intertwined your fingers as he stared at him

"im pretty sure she just told you she's with me. she's not yours, dickface so walk away before i do something i won't regret" he threatened, the southern accent drifting out as he death glared him. you could fill the heat in your stomach bubbling, why was him being jealous and protective hot?

"jesus man, take a joke"

"i don't anything about my lady as a joke" his lady, oh my god kill me. the guy scoffed and walked away before tucker turned back to you

"you alright?"

"im okay, he was just weird"

"i noticed, you know you're too pretty. i might have to start hiding you" he said and you laughed as you nudged him. he laughed and leaned in as he kissed you. della bringing the drinks over, right on cue. but now all you wanted was tucker and god knew you were about to get it.

It was never easy finding time where all three of you could have a weekend completely free. But the moment you had, Dean had whisked you and Allie away to Cape Cod, where you’d spent most of your time stretched out on Beau’s family’s private boat.

Dean had insisted he wanted nothing but the best for his girls, and his own boat was going through an upgrade.

Weekends like this were your favourite kind of luxury. Dean had picked the destination. Then, Allie had packed your bag before you’d even thought to do it. They remembered your favourite snacks, reminded you to drink water, and quietly took care of all the little things before you’d even noticed they needed doing.

Normally, you were the one making every decision. Between your demanding major and the need to plan three steps ahead these days, your brain rarely got a chance to switch off. By the end of the semester, even deciding what to eat for dinner felt exhausting.

But being with Dean and Allie felt like finally being able to take a deep breath after being constrained for so long. You so naturally let go, trusted them to know you in a way that you didn’t know yourself. With them, all you had to do was exist and that was enough.

Behind you, Allie shifted on the lounger until her knees rested on either side of you. She leant forward, her chest warm against your back as she loosely wrapped her arms around your waist. the familiar scent of her perfume mixed with the salty summer air had you relaxing almost instantly.

The afternoon grew warmer as the boat drifted across the water, the sun beating pleasantly against your skin.

“I think it’s time for sunscreen,”  Dean suddenly announced, reaching into the cooler for another bottle of water.

You instinctively reached for the sunscreen beside your towel. Dean’s hand shot out to catch your wrist. “No.”

Blinking, you turned looked up at him. “No?”

“No,” he repeated, gently taking the bottle from your hand. “Your only job today is to sit back, look beautiful, and let us take care of you. Can you do that for me?”

Heat crept into your cheeks despite the breeze; it always did take a reminder for you of your role. “Yes, Dean,” you whispered.

“Good girl,” Allie praised softly, her lips brushing just beneath your ear. “You’re doing so well already.”

You shifted against her, she knew how much you liked praise and always made sure to keep you full of it.

Dean squeezed a generous amount of the sunscreen onto Allie’s palm.

“It’s cold,” she warned you.

The warning was appreciated, but it didn’t stop you from jumping slightly as the first touch of the cream hit your shoulder.

“I did warn you,” she giggled.

“I know,” you whined.

Dean laughed from where he sat in front of you both, one hand absentmindedly rubbing slow circles over your knee while the other rubbed the cream over your leg. Behind you, Allie carefully worked the sunscreen across your shoulders and down your arms.

“Lean forward for me, babe, so I can get your back,” Allie murmured, her hands gently guiding you forward. You complied easily, leaning forward and sighing as she massaged it into your back.

Neither of them rushed.

Allie made sure to cover every bit of exposed skin, even lifting your arms so she could get the backs of your hands before carefully rubbing over and between your fingers.

“There,” she said proudly. “No sunburns on my watch.”

Dean leant forward, studying you with exaggerated concentration. “Hmmm, I think you missed a spot.”

“What? Where?” Allie frowned, she took her job very seriously.

“Right...” Dean cupped your cheek, his expression looking far too serious for about half a second before he leant in and pressed a deliberately sloppy kiss to your mouth. “...here.”

You giggled against his lips as Allie theatrically gagged behind you. “Oh, boo!”

Dean pulled back just enough to look at her over your shoulder, one eyebrow arched. “So, you don’t want one?”

“When did I say that?” She retorted.

“Did you not just boo me?”

“I was booing the drama.”

Dean grinned. “You wouldn’t love me without the drama.”

Allie huffed before reaching over your shoulder, wrapping her hand around the back of Dean’s neck, and tugging him across the small space. “Shut up and kiss me, Di Laurentis.”

Dean barely had time to laugh before she gave him a quick kiss. He kissed her back eagerly, before she shoved him away with an eyeroll.

Nestled comfortably between them, you couldn’t help but smile. This was where you always loved being, sandwiched in the middle of their constant back and forth, equal parts flirting and bickering.  

“I could get used to this,” you sighed.

“Aren’t you already spoilt?” Allie teased, pinching your waist lightly.

“I am,” you admitted, “you really know how to look after a girl.”

“That was the plan,” Dean said as he reached into the cooler for snacks. “You’ll never be able to settle for less than us.”

Leaning further back into Allie, you smiled once again. The most difficult decision you had to make right now was whether to take a nap now, or after lunch. Thankfully, it was one that Allie and Dean were more than happy to make for you.

Dean Di Laurentis x Reader

You’re reading in bed, wrapped up in a dark romance about a prince from an enemy kingdom who has kidnapped a princess who is also a warrior. Suddenly, you feel something, or someone, snaking up your legs beneath the blanket.

“Dean.” You set your book aside and start untangling your goofy boyfriend from the blanket before he suffocates himself. His head finally pops out at the top, coming to rest against your breast.

“You’re too heavy!” Laughing and playfully struggling, you try to push your boyfriend off you, but he doesn’t budge, sprawled across your body.

“Hello to you too, princess.” He winks at you and buries his head into your tits. “I just want to reclaim my territory.

You roll your eyes, grab your book again, and go back to reading. You rest it on his back like a bookstand, unfazed by his ridiculous whining.

“You know how beautiful you are when you’re focused on something?” He kisses your chest. At this point, he’s just worshipping you, eyes sparkling. “What are you reading?”

“The one I mentioned last night when you tried to get in my pants.” You ruffle his hair. “I was reading and you interrupted, remember?”

“Well, I guess I’m gonna make it up to you.”

Dean rolls off you and stretches out at your side this time. He smoothly takes the book from your hands and begins to read aloud for you.

“At that moment, Edmond slams her against the wall, pinning her wrists tightly above her head. ‘So, princess. Have we reached a consensus?’ She stares at him, but there’s nowhere else to go. Eventually, she meets his gaze, frustration flickering in her eyes.”

Dean lets out a low whistle. “Babe, you’re into this type?”

"Hey, show some respect. He’s got a castle and other cool stuff.” You blush and swat his bare shoulder.

Right—Dean’s shirtless. As usual.

“Don’t make fun of me. This is supposed to be you making it up to me.” You glare at him, though you’re not actually mad; you love his voice. You should make him do this more often. “Read. Keep going.”

“Bossy.” He smirks. “Alright, then.”

But you have no idea the plot is about to get spicier. Edmond lifts the princess and starts eating her out. Dean’s voice grows more amused and teasing as he notices you getting more and more flustered.

“I think we should stop here.” You snatch the book from his hands. “I’m tired.”

Dean cocks a brow. “Really?”

“Yes.” You yank the blanket up over your head. “Goodnight.”

“But I still need to compensate you.” Dean hovers over you, slowly lifting the blanket. “Permission to demonstrate my excellent skills for you, princess?”

John Tucker x Reader

Tucker loves having you around when he’s cooking. He lets you put on your favorite playlist and just chill nearby, occasionally asking for help with simple tasks, and you always reply playfully, with “Yes, chef.”

Today, you’re reading a book. Tucker has lifted you onto the counter so you can read in peace while still keeping him company in the kitchen.

You sing along with the song as you turn a page, giggling.

Tucker asks without turning around, slicing mushrooms into pieces. “Did Chest finally decide to do the right thing and get his girl back?”

“His name’s Jess,” you correct him. “And yes. He asks her to forgive him and give him one more chance.”

“I don’t know. I’m on the other guy’s team. Olivia deserves better.” Tucker shrugs. “That Jess guy is a walking red flag. Charles is much better.”

“But he’s making an effort,” you protest. “He defends her in the bar scene, remember?”

“Fair point.” Tucker smiles. He loves how seriously you can talk about fictional men. It’s cute.

By the time you’ve read about twenty-five pages, lunch is already finished.

You glance up at him as he adds the last of the toppings. “I’ve been talking about this book a lot lately.”

“Yes?” Tucker starts washing the dishes. “I’ve noticed.”

“Do you think I need to touch grass or something?” you ask carefully, worried you’re getting annoying.

“No. Why would you think that?” Tucker beams at you. “Your eyes sparkle with passion when you talk about this book. I love it.”

“I was obsessed with a series when I was in elementary school, and I couldn’t stop talking about it with my friends. Eventually, they got tired of hearing about it. I feel like I’m in that situation again.” You set your book down. “If I ever get too overwhelming, please tell me.”

“You will never be overwhelming to me.” Tucker dries his hands and steps between your legs. “Besides, you’ve dragged me into this book, and I’m already genuinely captivated by Charles, so you can talk about it as much as you like.”

He holds your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead. “But if Olivia chooses Jess over Charles, I’m quitting this series on the spot. I’m serious.”

“Babe!”

Satisfied that you’re happy again, Tucker helps you down from the counter and then leans in to kiss you on the lips. “I think I finally figured out why I don’t like Chest,” (“Jess.” You correct him again.) he murmurs against your mouth. “It’s because you’re into him. But guess what? You’re already mine.”

The arena buzzed with pre-game energy, the distant roar of the crowd rolled through the concrete corridors like a living heartbeat, every chant, whistle and burst of applause bleeding into the next until the whole building seemed to vibrate beneath everyone's feet, while the clock crept dangerously closer to puck drop and Garrett's patience finally snapped. 

"Where the hell is Dean?" he demanded for what had to be the third time in as many minutes, voice slicing through the tense locker room as helmets clattered against benches and sticks were shoved into waiting hands. 

Dean had stepped out for what was supposed to be a quick phone call, barely sparing anyone a glance before disappearing through the door but now his phone went unanswered, his stall sat untouched and every passing second tightened the knot settling over the team. 

Out in the stands, Hannah frowned as her phone buzzed in her lap, the glow of the group chat reflecting across her face before she looked up. 

"Dean's missing," she announced, angling the screen so you and Allie could read the frantic string of messages piling in. 

Wedged comfortably between your friends, hard plastic seat pressed cold against the backs of your thighs through your jeans, your attention snapped away the instant your own phone let out a single, familiar ping. The only notification you still kept unmuted was reserved for Dean alone, paired with a ridiculous contact name hidden safely behind your privacy screen protector from the inevitable curiosity of anyone nearby. 

Your pulse kicked a little harder against your ribs as you read the short message waiting for you. 

“We need to talk.”

Questions came immediately the moment you pushed yourself to your feet. "Where are you going?" Allie asked, brows knitting together as she moved to let you pass. 

"Bathroom," you answered without missing a beat, already turning sideways to squeeze through the impossibly narrow row, muttering quick apologies as your knees brushed strangers' and you accidentally stepped on more than one pair of shoes before finally reaching the aisle with a relieved exhale. 

His text sat heavily in your mind as you descended the concrete steps, the choice of words carrying too many meanings between the two of you to ever be simple. Sometimes it ended with clothes abandoned across the floor in a rush neither of you truly acknowledged afterward, other times it meant sitting shoulder to shoulder in silence until one of you found the courage to admit something neither of you wanted to say out loud but receiving it minutes before one of the biggest games of the season, twisted your stomach into an anxious knot. 

You had no idea what waited on the other end of that message, only that if Dean had reached out, there had to be a reason, because beneath the practiced smirk, the effortless confidence and the cool-guy act he wore as naturally as his jersey, you were beginning to catch glimpses of the man underneath, the one who only seemed to surface when no one else was looking. 

Meanwhile, several corridors away, Dean stood alone with one hand braced against the cool cinderblock wall, jaw working as he stared blankly at his phone before slipping it back into his pocket with a frustrated sigh, unable to drown the restless energy buzzing beneath his skin no matter how many deep breaths he forced himself to take. 

His chest felt strangely tight, shoulders refusing to relax and every instinct that usually sharpened before a game seemed hopelessly distracted by whether you'd actually come. He checked the hallway without meaning to, caught himself listening for footsteps instead of the muffled roar pouring in from the ice, rubbed the back of his neck hard enough to ease the tension gathering there, then huffed under his breath at himself. 

It was ridiculous and he knew it. He just wanted to clear his head before the game, that was all. 

So why the hell did the thought of you ignoring his text without answering feel worse than facing the opening faceoff?

You followed the directions Dean had fired off in a rush, leaving the bright, crowded concourse behind as the arena slowly transformed around you, polished concrete giving way to older, scuffed tile worn smooth by years of staff traffic, each turn pulling you farther from the crowds until the deafening roar of thousands of fans dissolved into a distant, muffled hum buried beneath the walls. 

The service hallways twisted in every direction, narrow and dimly lit with exposed pipes snaking across the low ceiling and fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, a few flickering enough to cast shadows that stretched across the floor as you passed doors stamped with Staff Only, Equipment Storage and Maintenance, wondering more than once if you were about to get caught somewhere you definitely weren't supposed to be. 

The air carried the stale scent of concrete dust mixed with machine oil and the lingering sweetness of popcorn drifting in from somewhere impossibly far away, while the bass from the arena speakers reached you only as a faint vibration through the walls, your own footsteps suddenly sounding too loud in the quiet. 

By the time you found the room he'd described, your pulse had climbed higher than you'd care to admit, your hand hesitating only briefly before pushing against the heavy door. 

It creaked open to reveal a cramped storage room swallowed in shadow, cluttered with haphazard towers of labeled cardboard boxes, battered equipment trunks, racks of old practice jerseys, spare goalie pads, broken sticks shoved into corners and enough forgotten arena gear to fill an entire locker room, dust drifting lazily through the thin strip of light spilling in from the narrow window set into the door. 

You barely had a second to take it in before a large hand closed around your upper arm and tugged you firmly inside, the sudden movement pulling a startled breath from your lungs as the door clicked shut behind you and Dean guided you farther into the room, away from the window, until your back met the cool cinderblock wall with a soft thud. 

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness little by little, finding him standing far closer than you expected, broad shoulders drawn tight beneath the half-fastened layers of his gear, blond hair slightly mussed from dragging frustrated fingers through it and jaw clenched. 

"What the fuck was that?" you hissed, voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at him, still catching your breath. 

"Where were you?" he shot back immediately, the words coming lower than usual, rough around the edges with something that reached beyond pre-game nerves, his hand lingering around your arm for another heartbeat before he seemed to realize he was still holding you. 

The warmth of his grip disappeared as you gently pulled free, smoothing the sleeve of your jacket more out of habit than necessity. 

"I'm not from around here, remember?" you muttered, shooting him an unimpressed look. "These hallways all look exactly the same." 

Dean let out a quiet exhale through his nose, his eyes flicking instinctively toward the narrow window in the door, checking for passing shadows before returning to you almost immediately, as if reassuring himself you were actually standing there. 

The tightness that had been sitting in his chest ever since he walked away from the locker room eased so subtly he didn't even register it, his shoulders dropping a barely noticeable inch, though he would've sworn it was simply because he could finally get this conversation over with. 

"Yeah," he replied, one corner of his mouth twitching despite himself, "I do. Every time you curse me out over text in a language I can't understand."

"That's what dictionaries are for." You folded your arms across your chest, watching him with growing suspicion as Dean let out a long, exhausted sigh that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his lungs, his shoulders lifting and dropping beneath the weight of his pads. 

"I'm aware," he muttered. "I ordered one."

Despite everything, you couldn't stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. "Great. Did you want the audio version too?" You reached forward and gave the center of his chest a light punch, more teasing than reprimanding, your knuckles meeting solid muscle that barely budged beneath the protective layers, hoping the familiar banter would snap him out of whatever strange headspace he'd worked himself into. "And you can't just grab me like that." 

Dean didn't react to the joke the way he normally would. His eyes stayed fixed on yours, unusually intent, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and unsettlement. 

"You're leaving," he said quietly, the words falling heavily into the silence between you. 

You stared at him, confusion replacing the irritation that had flared when he'd dragged you into the room. You didn't exactly object to him throwing you around under the right circumstances but hidden inside a storage room five minutes before puck drop definitely wasn't one of them. 

"Let me get this straight," you said slowly, lifting a brow. "You called me down here minutes before the game just to tell me to leave? I like being told what to do, Dean but preferably when we're both naked and horizontal…I thought I made that clear." 

Normally that would've earned you an eye roll or one of his cocky grins but instead his chest rose sharply as he sucked in another deep breath, dragging both hands through his blond hair until it stood up in messy directions before falling untidily across his forehead again. 

The dim lighting carved hard shadows beneath his cheekbones, making the strain on his face impossible to miss. 

"You're leaving," he repeated, slower this time, watching you with an expectant look that somehow made even less sense than before. 

You frowned harder. "The game hasn't even started. Why the hell are you breathing like that?" Your eyes swept over him properly now, noticing details you'd brushed past when he'd first pulled you inside. The faint flush climbing his neck, the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples despite the cool room, the restless way his fingers kept flexing at his sides as though he couldn't get comfortable inside his own body. 

"Do you have asthma?" you asked, genuine concern slipping into your voice despite yourself. "Or did you take a puck to the head already?" 

For half a second Dean almost smiled because hearing you ramble somehow eased the pressure squeezing at his ribs, your voice grounding him more effectively than those deep breaths he'd been forcing ever since he left the locker room. 

It irritated him that it worked. He had no explanation for why the frantic, inexplicable feeling clawing under his skin had only gotten worse while you were gone and quieted almost immediately now that you were standing in front of him, safe, talking and looking at him with that familiar mix of annoyance and concern. 

It couldn't possibly have anything to do with you…He was just stressed, that had to be it. 

"Can you focus?" he asked, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, his voice rougher than intended. 

"Can you make some fucking sense?" you fired back immediately. "What do you mean?" 

Dean's brows knitted together so tightly they nearly touched as he pointed at his own chest with obvious disbelief. "What do you mean, what do I mean? It was a question." 

A short, breathless laugh escaped you, completely devoid of amusement as you stared at him. 

"No...what you just said was a statement, it has that flat inflection at the end." You gestured between the two of you as though explaining something painfully obvious. "You said, 'You are leaving.' Full stop. That's not a question, Dean, the words are literally in the wrong order." You pinched the bridge of your nose with a quiet groan, shaking your head. "I mean...I knew partying was going to mess with my English eventually but apparently it's taking yours down with it by association."

He nodded once, his jaw still set so tightly you could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin. 

"Fine...okay." He paused, visibly thinking through it before trying again. "Are you leaving..." His mouth twisted with faint irritation. "Question mark." 

You almost rolled your eyes. "The question mark is implied, genius, and no..." The answer had barely left your mouth before you caught it, the change in him so immediate it was almost startling. 

His shoulders sagged as if someone had quietly lifted a weight off them, the rigid line of his chest loosening with a long breath he didn't seem to realize he'd been holding, his fingers finally going still instead of drumming anxiously at his sides. 

Dean only knew the tightness squeezing his ribs had eased, the strange pressure behind his sternum faded into something manageable and his brain eagerly filed it away as relief over having an answer…nothing more. 

"What made you think that?" you asked, voice softening. 

He scrubbed both hands through his hair again, leaving the blond strands even messier. "Winter break. Some guy Logan knows is an exchange student too." He looked away for a second, jaw flexing. "He said he's leaving and isn't sure he'll come back." 

Your eyebrows climbed. "And that got your nuts in a twist?" you asked, blinking at him in disbelief. "You're about to play one of the biggest games of the season and your team thinks you've disappeared–" 

"But are you leaving?" he interrupted again, the question slipping out before he could stop it. He was impatient with himself for needing to hear the answer twice. 

"No, I'm not leaving!" you repeated, meeting his eyes without looking away, even though holding his gaze still had an annoying habit of making your stomach somersault. "Jeez…I'm not dropping all that money just to sit bored out of my mind in my room back home for two weeks." You tilted your head. "Are we done here?" 

"Not even close." The grin spread slowly across his face, easy and genuine, transforming him so completely it was hard to believe he'd looked ready to crawl out of his own skin less than a minute ago. "What will you be doing then?" 

You threw your arms out dramatically, shrugging with exaggerated indifference. "Having tons of sex. Who the fuck knows?" You reached over and poked a finger firmly into the center of his chest. "You need to focus." 

His grin only widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked down at you with unmistakable amusement. "You care about me performing well." His voice dipped into something teasing. "That's cute." 

"In bed? Sure…On the ice?" You shrugged, fighting the smile threatening to betray you. 

Dean laughed under his breath, the sound low and unguarded, eyes lingering on your face. It struck him, not for the first time, just how effortlessly you filled silence, how every expression crossed your face before you could hide it and how animated your hands became whenever you talked to anyone you felt comfortable with. 

He found himself watching those tiny details without thinking, memorizing them for reasons he couldn't explain and every time he caught himself doing it, he blamed simple curiosity. 

"You should come to New York with me." The invitation escaped before he'd thought it through, tumbling out naturally enough that he couldn't grab it back and his own eyebrows lifted a fraction as if surprised he'd said it aloud. 

Still, he didn't look away. His eyes searched your face shamelessly, catching every flicker of surprise, every twitch at the corner of your mouth and every tiny shift in your expression. He'd discovered somewhere along the way that his favorite part of talking to you wasn't even the conversation itself, it was watching you have it, watching your face give away thoughts before your words ever could.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion replacing anew the concern that had settled there only moments before. "I hope they test you for drugs before you go out there, because something's..." You trailed off, studying him like you were trying to solve a puzzle. "Off." The word hung between you before your expression changed again. "New York? Are you–" Your brows knitted together as the implication finally caught up with you but just as quickly you seemed to shove the thought aside, lifting a hand to point toward the door instead. "See that door right there?" 

Dean didn't even bother looking, his attention never leaving your face. 

"I'm gonna leave the way I came." 

A quiet, breathy laugh escaped him. "Good luck kiss?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though there was an unmistakable note of hope tucked beneath the teasing. 

Your lips twitched. "Good game fuck," you corrected matter-of-factly. "Because that's what we do." You gave him another pointed poke against the chest before stepping around him. "Now go do your fucking job and we'll talk." 

He stepped aside without complaint, giving you room to pass even as his eyes followed you across the cramped storage room with an absent sort of focus he couldn't seem to switch off. 

"You're obsessed with good sex," he noted, shaking his head with a grin that reached all the way to his eyes. 

Your hand was already wrapped around the door handle when you glanced back over your shoulder. "You would be too if you could squirt your stress away." 

The door eventually swung open and shut behind you with a hollow click, leaving Dean alone in the sudden silence. 

He stood there for another second, looking down at the toes of his skates before a laugh slipped out under his breath, quiet and helpless as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"I've created a monster," he muttered to the empty room, the words swallowed by the cluttered space. Still, he didn't move. His eyes drifted toward the closed door, lingering there without any real reason, as if part of him expected it to open again and when he caught himself staring, he huffed out another laugh at his own expense before reaching up to adjust the collar of his gear, trying to shake off the strange pull that made leaving feel oddly difficult. 

You, meanwhile, had only made it a handful of steps down the dim service hallway before your pace slowed. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you stopped in the middle of the corridor with an exasperated groan, scrubbing a hand over your face. 

"Don’t…Your visa was too fucking expensive for this. Just too…fuck." you muttered to yourself, already turning on your heel before your brain had fully committed to the decision. 

You marched back, shoved the heavy door open and crossed the cramped storage room in quick, determined strides. Dean barely had time to register your return before both of your hands fisted in the front of his jersey, dragging him down to meet you. 

Your lips crashed into his with all the urgency you'd been pretending not to feel for the past week, the kiss stealing the rest of his surprise before it could reach his face. He froze for the briefest heartbeat, then melted into it instinctively, one large hand finding your jaw while the other settled carefully against your side, thumb brushing the curve beneath your ear as he tipped your face upward. The faint taste of the mint gum he always chewed before games lingered between you, familiar enough to make the distance of the past week disappear in an instant and the kiss deepened naturally, unhurried despite the clock counting down somewhere beyond those walls, every anxious thought that had chased him all afternoon dissolving into the simple fact that you were there. 

For ten perfect seconds nothing else existed, not the game, the waiting locker room or the noise outside, until you finally pulled back with a quiet, reluctant breath, your foreheads nearly touching as both of you stood there breathing a little harder than before.

"Didn't want to be responsible for the team losing tonight," you murmured, the confidence from moments earlier giving way to vulnerability as your eyes wandered everywhere except his face, settling briefly on a stack of dusty equipment before darting toward the floor. "That's me being charitable..." You cleared your throat awkwardly, waving a hand as if you could dismiss your own words before they sounded as ridiculous as they felt. "You should probably look that up in your dictionary and highlight it or something...just in case it happens again, you know?" 

Dean's expression softened, the teasing edge melting away as his voice dropped into that low, unhurried register you usually only heard in dark bedrooms after the jokes had run out. "Of course..." His thumb brushed slowly across your swollen lower lip, lingering for a heartbeat as though committing the feeling to memory before he smiled to himself. "You just hate repeating yourself and it's definitely not because you wanted a kiss." 

Warmth crept into your cheeks before you could stop it. "That's not good for the brand," you muttered, catching his wrist and pushing his hand away from your face before giving the center of his chest another light shove. 

Dean let you move him without resistance, rocking back half a step with an easy chuckle. "Right...because Y/n has a very strict program that doesn't include boyfriends." His grin grew wider. "Only sex." 

You nodded with exaggerated seriousness, trying very hard to ignore the way your pulse still hadn't settled. "It's good that you know that, because I was about to remind you of your position." You cleared your throat again, pointing toward the door with as much authority as you could fake. "You should go first. It's you they're looking for." 

He nodded, then ignored your attempt at ending the conversation by stepping back into your space one last time. His fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face up just enough for him to press one final kiss against your lips. It was nothing like the one before, soft, brief, almost careful and somehow that made it infinitely more disarming, lingering long enough to feel like gratitude before he pulled away again. 

He turned toward the door, wrapped a hand around the handle, pushed it open, then paused halfway through the doorway as though another thought had caught up with him.

Looking back over his shoulder, he asked casually, "Ever been to Central Park?" 

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost disappeared, intentionally looking somewhere over his shoulder instead of at him. 

"Fuck you, Dean," you answered, though there was barely any heat left in the words. 

His laugh echoed quietly down the hallway. "I know you want to do both," he shot back. "I'll see to it." 

Then he disappeared into the corridor, the soft thump of his guarded skates fading over the worn tile until it blended with the distant noise of the arena, leaving you alone in the dim storage room as the heavy door clicked shut behind him. 

For several long seconds you didn't move. You simply stared at the closed door, absentmindedly touching your lips before catching yourself and dropping your hand with an exasperated sigh. Normally your brain would've seized on every tiny detail, turning each sentence over until you convinced yourself there had to be a hidden meaning buried somewhere underneath it, dissecting every glance and every pause until you could no longer tell what was real and what you'd invented. 

That version of you would've spent the entire walk back constructing theories that would only leave you more confused than before but that version of you was exactly who you'd promised to leave behind when you boarded a plane for the other side of the world. 

Your exchange year had never just been about another university or another country, it had been about unlearning the exhausting habit of searching for answers to questions nobody had actually asked, of carrying every uncertainty until it became unbearable. 

If Dean wanted to tell you something, he would. If he didn't, you refused to do the work for him. 

With one last glance at the closed door, you drew a slow breath, squared your shoulders and headed back toward the arena, letting the roar of the crowd grow louder with every step until it drowned out the temptation to overthink altogether.

The moment you found your seat again just as the puck hit the ice, it became painfully obvious that whatever labels the two of you had so carefully built around your arrangement had started to bend under the weight of something you hadn’t agreed to allow. 

You told yourself you were only watching the game, yet your eyes kept finding Dean without permission, tracking every powerful stride across the ice, every hard check into the boards and collision that made your stomach tighten before you could remind yourself he did this for a living. 

Whenever he was knocked down, your fingers curled instinctively around the edge of your seat and whenever the whistle sent him to the penalty box, your heart lurched with an irrational frustration that had nothing to do with the score. 

Across the rink, Dean fought the same losing battle. 

Every so often, his gaze drifted toward the stands until it found you effortlessly, lingering only long enough for him to catch himself before dragging his attention back to the play, jaw tightening as though forcing himself to focus.

It became a quiet exchange that you didn’t mean to participate in, two separate worlds orbiting each other across the ice without ever truly meeting. 

As expected, the game ended in victory, the arena erupting into deafening cheers while teammates celebrated, fans screamed themselves hoarse and congratulations echoed through every hallway of the building, yet beneath the smiles you each wore for everyone else's benefit lingered a strange distance that neither of you seemed capable of shaking. 

You slipped out before the celebration had the chance to grow louder, offering quick excuses before retreating to your dorm instead, feeling oddly detached from the endless parties already spilling across campus, the idea of forcing yourself into another crowded room suddenly exhausting. 

Dean disappeared just as quickly the first chance he got, exchanging the post-game chaos for a hood pulled low over his damp hair as he crossed campus unnoticed, taking advantage of the fact that most students had already scattered toward bars and apartments. 

He knew the walk to your building by heart now, every turn familiar and staircase automatic but when he finally reached your door his confidence faltered for the first time. 

There had been no text or call, none of the casual messages that usually brought one of you to the other's room. Just a quiet knock and the hope that with whatever had taken home uneasily between you earlier that evening, you wouldn't send him away. 

The door opened after only a moment, revealing you standing in the warm glow of your desk lamp, the room behind you dim and comfortably lived in. 

Your eyes met his and without a single word you stepped aside to let him in. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, only heavier than usual, lingering as the door clicked shut behind him. 

There was no frantic rush to close the distance this time, none of the familiar race against the clock that usually accompanied stolen evenings together. 

Shirts were shrugged off absentmindedly, shoes abandoned near the door, your movements slower and more careful. 

You asked where he'd been hit during the game, fingertips brushing lightly over the places he admitted were already beginning to bruise while he answered in short, distracted replies, unable to ignore how often his eyes wandered back to your face instead of the spots you were checking. 

The room remained hushed around you, the muffled sounds of distant parties drifting through the window, every small gesture carrying an unfamiliar tenderness, both choosing, at least for tonight, to let the comfort of being close speak louder than the questions waiting patiently beneath the surface.

You lay beneath him, legs spread wide and open, thighs trembling slightly from the effort of staying that way. Dean’s weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, the heat of his body sinking into your skin as he reached for the drawer. The foil wrapper crackled sharply in the quiet room when he tore it open and you watched, breath shallow, as he rolled the condom down his length, the latex gleaming with the slickness already coating him.

A flash of memory hit you then, of the first time you’d ever been penetrated. You hadn't told him then and you weren't about to start now, though the way he moved told you he already knew. He was too observant, too attuned to the slight tremors in your frame and his gentleness was a testament to that unspoken knowledge.

Your mind was a blur of conflicting instincts. When he had reached down earlier, you’d declined the fingering. Your body felt wound tight, like a spring pushed to its limit and you feared that any more preparation would make you snap. You were still navigating the map of your own desire, caught between the logical fear of the unknown and the primal, aching need to be claimed. 

Right now, your body didn't want a tease, it wanted to be intruded upon.

He hovered above you, chest rising and falling as he nudged the blunt, heavy tip of his cock against your soaked entrance, sliding through your wetness with a filthy, audible sound. He held there, eyes locked on yours and waiting until you gave him a small, shaky nod. Only then did he begin to press forward.

A sharp gasp tore from both of you as he started to breach you. The stretch burned instantly with a tight, searing pressure that made your walls clamp down hard around his girth. 

Inch after thick inch pushed its way inside, the slick drag of the condom against your drenched heat creating a heavy, obscene friction. Your legs jerked, heels digging into the sheets as your body fought the overwhelming invasion, forcing a broken whimper to slip from your throat. 

Being opened like this felt terrifying and perfect all at once, as though your body was being remade around him.

He paused halfway, buried deep enough that you could feel the pulse of him throbbing inside your tight channel. The stillness let the sensation bloom, from the way your pussy stretched obscenely around his cock, to the slick heat of your arousal coating him and the heavy fullness pressing against every sensitive spot deep in your belly. 

His thumb found your swollen clit then and started rubbing slow, firm circles, sending sparks of sharp pleasure shooting through the ache.

Your walls fluttered and gradually softened, growing wetter, slicker and yielding to the relentless stretch. You moaned softly, eyes fluttering as the burn melted into something hotter, deeper. 

Dean felt it too, deciding to rock forward again, gliding deeper with one long, smooth thrust until he bottomed out completely, hips flush against yours as the head of his cock kissed your pulsing cervix.

A long, high whine escaped you, back arching off the bed, nipples tight and aching as your body struggled to adjust to the sheer size of him splitting you open. The wet, squelching sound of your bodies joining filled the small room, embarrassingly loud in the quiet.

You remained locked together, chests heaving and skin already slick with sweat as you felt his heart hammering against your breasts. Dean’s gaze dragged slowly downward, drinking in the sight of your puffy, glistening pussy stretched wide around the base of his cock, your juices shining on his skin and dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you. Then his eyes traveled up over your heaving chest, stiff nipples begging for attention, until they reached your face again.

“Talk to me,” he rasped, voice rough and low, raw with need. “You know I can’t read your mind.”

You swallowed, throat tight and let your trembling hand slide down his sweat-damp abs until your fingers reached the place where he disappeared inside you. 

The feeling was dizzying. Your pussy felt impossibly full, stretched taut and throbbing around every inch of his girthy cock, the heat of him radiating through your core.

“I’m just…” Your voice came out shaky, barely a whisper. “I feel so full of you.”

Dean groaned softly at your words, leaning down to brush his lips hot and wet along your shoulder and across your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made you shiver. The contrast between his gentle mouth and the heavy, throbbing fullness buried deep between your legs sent another rush of slick flooding around him. 

Your walls clenched hard, failing to milk his length as fresh wetness coated you both.

He stayed there, buried to the hilt, letting you feel every inch while his thumb kept working your clit in steady, slippery circles. The vulnerability of being so completely opened, so helplessly wet and full beneath him, only made the heat between you burn hotter.

Tentatively, he gave a slow roll of his hips, the weight of his cock dragging heavily inside you. 

The latex slid through your soaked walls with a slick, audible squelch, sending a raw jolt of pleasure-pain straight through your core, pushing a broken whimper from your lips as you clung to him, fingers pressed tight against the messy, dripping place where your bodies joined.

"Move your hand, baby...you’re okay," he breathed against your neck, the low rumble of his voice sending fresh shivers across your skin.

You obeyed, fingers slipping away from the drenched heat. They left a shiny trail of your arousal across his forearm as you wrapped your hand around the strong muscle there, gripping him hard for something solid to hold onto while the rest of the world narrowed to the obscene fullness splitting you open.

"There you go..." he whimpered, the sound raw and desperate, almost broken. He rolled his hips again, deeper this time, grinding his cock into your pussy with slow, heavy strokes. Each movement dragged against your sensitive walls, stretching you so wide it stole your breath. 

It simultaneously filled the room with wet, filthy sounds every time he pushed in, your slick coating the condom and leaking out around his shaft and soaking his balls.

He paused for a moment, eyes searching yours as his chest heaved against your breasts, sweat slicking your skin together. "We’re okay, right?"

You could only nod, lips parted and breath coming in shaky little gasps as the mix of the stinging stretch and building pleasure twisted tight in your belly. Overwhelmed by it all, you turned your face into the pillow, muffling the desperate noises you couldn’t hold back.

An unabashed moan vibrated against the fabric as he moved again, pussy clenching hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing with every inch that pushed deeper. Your fingers dug into his arm, nails biting into his skin, leaving little red crescents while your other hand fisted the pillow.

Dean groaned loudly, the sound rumbling through his chest into yours as he could feel the way your walls pulsed and fluttered around him, producing a hot and silky substance that kept gushing around his cock with every slow thrust, your whole body trembling underneath him.

"We can slow down," he offered, voice rough with worry even as his hips kept rolling in that same devastating rhythm.

You shook your head quickly, pulling your face from the pillow. You didn’t want ‘slow’, you wanted to feel every inch of him ruining you, filling you up until there was nothing left but him and the desperation must’ve shown clearly on your face because his expression changed, need bleeding through the concern.

He eased his thumb off your clit, the sudden absence making your breath catch sharply. The pleasure narrowed down to the heavy, throbbing pressure of his cock alone, buried so deep inside your soaked pussy.

"Better?" he whispered.

You nodded, breath hitching anew. Without the extra stimulation everything became sharper, more intense. He continued moving, rolling his hips in long, deep strokes, angling upward to hit that perfect spot that made your toes curl tight and your back arch off the bed.

He leaned down further to press his lips to yours, messily and desperately, tongues sliding together as he moaned into your mouth. The sound was primal and needy, breaking into a whimper every time your pussy squeezed him especially tight or when your body pressed against one of his forming bruises, until kissing was no longer possible. 

“You…you should be at a party,” you whined, voice shaking with every thrust, trying so hard to cling to some scrap of sense while your body melted around him. “Celebrating.”

Dean let out a low, breathy laugh that melted into a soft moan against your neck, the sound smug and hungry all at once. You couldn't help grinning through the pleasure, head falling back against the pillow as another shaky whimper slipped out. “What? Got lost around campus…and…fuck–ended up here?” you gasped, fingers digging hard into his broad shoulders. “You have no excuse, Dean.”

“Gonna decide for me now?” he teased, voice dropping low and rough. He answered his own question by rolling his hips deeper, a slow, grinding circle that forced his cock even farther inside you. The thick head rubbed right against that sensitive spot, stretching you wide and making your pussy flutter wildly around him. 

He paused there for a brief second, buried to the hilt while watching with dark, hooded eyes as your lips fell open and your breath caught in a silent, desperate plea. He continued thrusting then.

You nodded frantically, vision blurring at the edges. “I…should.”

“What’s so wrong about this?” he murmured, though the question sounded more like a tease than anything else. He was too busy savoring the way your dripping cunt clung to him and the obscene wet sounds it produced.

You lost yourself in it too, eyes fluttering shut as a long, broken moan poured out of you.

“Mm, pretty?” he called softly, the velvet in his voice pulling you back to him while he kept rolling his hips in those lazy, devastating circles.

You swallowed hard, mind hazy. “New York,” you breathed, the word jagged and barely there. “That’s what’s…w-wrong.”

The second it left your lips, Dean dropped his head into the crook of your shoulder with a guttural “fuck.” His hot breath fanned across your skin as he kept moving, hips rolling steadily, the pressure building tighter and hotter with every deep grind. His cock throbbed inside you, stretching you so perfectly it made your toes curl.

He eventually lifted his head again, eyes intense and understanding as they locked onto yours. “Can’t be alone that long…bored,” he murmured, voice thick and rough with lust. “I want you to come–”

Your pussy clamped down hard around him at his words, squeezing his cock in tight, rhythmic pulses that made him stiffen above you, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth as the sudden grip made his head spin.

“Right here…and to New York too,” he added, voice strained and breathy.

A whiny and breathless laugh bubbled out of you, half disbelief and half aching longing, the sound melting into a soft moan as he kept moving. Your eyes snapped open to meet his and the hunger on his face looked almost cataclysmic but underneath it sat something devoted that made your chest tighten in return.

“I’m serious,” he confessed, the words vulnerable. 

He rolled his hips slower now, intentionally dragging every inch along your fluttering, greedy walls so you felt every ridge, every vein and throbbing pulse of him. 

You opened your mouth, ready to give him that familiar warning tone, to tell him he was pushing for more than he knew how to handle but the words never made it out. Your eyes widened suddenly as a sharp jolt of pleasure ripped through you and one of your hands flew up, palm pushing against the headboard as your back arched off the mattress, pushing your peaked nipples to his burning chest.

"Dean..." you gasped, voice cracking.

He shifted above you without a word, catching the back of your knee and pushing a leg higher, folding it toward your chest. The new angle opened you up even more, letting him sink impossibly deeper as his hips switched to shorter, sharper snaps that made the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin echo through the room. Every quick thrust pulled a broken moan straight from your throat, the slick sounds of your dripping pussy taking his cock growing louder and messier with each measured snap.

You couldn’t stop moaning when pleasure coiled progressively tighter in your belly, as his cock dragged against that perfect, newly found, spot inside you over and over with precision. Your soaked walls fluttered and clenched around him, fresh slick leaking out around his shaft with every thrust, coating his pelvis and making everything slippery and loud.

Your gazes met and neither of you could look away, breaths mingling hot and heavy between your parted lips. His face hovered just above yours, sweat glistening on his forehead, blond hair damp and messy as he stared down at you in a manner you couldn’t quite read. 

The usual cocky smirk had faded, replaced by something open and stripped bare.

You felt so vulnerable like this, leg hiked high, body completely spread open beneath him while he fucked you with those relentless shallow strokes. You pushed against the headboard harder while your other hand clutched desperately at his back, nails shamelessly leaving marks into his skin.

"D-Dean," you whispered again, voice timid and trembling even as another moan slipped out. "I’m right there, please…I’m…I’m gonna cum."

The words came out shaky and sincere but shy, as if admitting it made the pleasure even more intense. Your pussy clenched hard around his cock at the confession, squeezing him in wet, rhythmic pulses as the pressure inside you built higher and higher while your breathing turned frantic.

He groaned low in desperation but held that steady eye contact, gaze becoming more exposed as he watched every flicker of overwhelming pleasure cross your face. 

You stayed right on the sharp, deep edge, leg trembling in his grip, body arching and clenching, eyes locked with his as the orgasm hovered dangerously close.

Both of you were breathing hard now, chests heaving in sync against each other with every shallow, snapping thrust as a sudden and strange wave of emotion crashed over you without warning. 

It was thick and impossible to name, lodging itself in your throat until swallowing became difficult, eyes stinging as tears gathered without warning. 

Dean's brows knit together, a sharp breath catching somewhere in his chest as his own eyes began to glisten, confusion flashing across his face because neither of you understood where it had come from. The feeling swelled between you, overwhelming in its intensity, tangled with something far deeper than either of you was ready to confront, all while your bodies raced toward release.

Tears slipped down your cheeks first, hot and startling, catching you so off guard that you barely noticed them until they blurred your vision. Dean's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, searching your face for an explanation you couldn't give but before either of you could speak, his own tears spilled over, carving short tracks through the flush coloring his cheeks. You were both crying now, breaths meeting in uneven, trembling exhales, unable to tear your eyes away from each other as confusion settled, while he kept fucking you with those short, desperate rolls of his hips. 

Instead of breaking the moment, it only seemed to sharpen it. Your pussy clenched hard around his cock, fluttering wildly as the orgasm finally crested.

A broken, sobbing moan tore from your throat as it hit you. Your back tensed violently, leg trembling in his faltering grip while wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your core. Your walls pulsed and squeezed around him in powerful, rhythmic contractions, gushing wet heat around his cock as you moaned openly. Dean groaned deep and raw, his own tears falling faster as he kept thrusting through it, hips stuttering but never stopping. 

His cock throbbed hard and heavy inside you, buried to the hilt as your orgasm milked him in powerful, rippling squeezes. He let out a broken groan that cracked into a sob as the pleasure finally overwhelmed him.

He came hard, hips stuttering against you in short, desperate thrusts. You felt every pulse as he spilled into the condom, thick, hot spurts filling the latex barrier while your clenching pussy kept squeezing around him. The condom swelled slightly with each heavy rope, the warmth of it noticeable even through the thin layer as he emptied himself deep inside your soaked cunt. 

The pleasure rolled on and on, leaving you shaking with tears streaming down your face and into the pillow while you stared at him through blurred vision. He looked just as lost, just as wrecked, jaw tight and eyes shining with the same strange uncertainty as his hips kept moving, drawing every last tremor out of you.

When the last trembling aftershock finally ebbed away, leaving nothing but the echo of it humming beneath your skin, the spell between you shattered all at once. Dean pulled out of you so abruptly that you both sucked in startled breaths at the loss, scrambling backward until his spine hit the wall at the end of the bed, his chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven pulls as though he couldn't draw enough air. 

You reacted just as instinctively, scooting backward until your shoulder blades met the headboard, folding your knees tightly against your chest and wrapping your arms around them, curling inward as if making yourself smaller might somehow quiet whatever had just happened. 

Silence rushed in to fill the room, broken only by your shared, ragged breathing, while tears continued slipping unchecked down both your faces. 

Without thinking, your hand fumbled for the rumpled sheet tangled beside you, dragging it over your body in one desperate motion and across from you Dean snatched the nearest pillow from the mattress, clutching it awkwardly across his lap as if the flimsy barrier could restore some distance that no longer existed. 

Neither of you spoke. 

You only sat there shaking, pussy still pulsing with the aftereffects and heartbeat refusing to slow down, the warmth lingering beneath your skin now overshadowed by a confusing ache that settled deep in your chest, because whatever had existed between you moments ago had felt impossibly right while it was happening, only to leave you feeling painfully exposed afterward in a way that had nothing to do with nudity. 

You couldn't understand the tears still falling and judging by the bewilderment written across Dean's face, neither could he. 

His unfocused gaze wandered aimlessly around the room until it caught on the open suitcase sitting in the corner, half-packed with neatly folded clothes for the upcoming break and he stared at it without blinking, fresh tears gathering along his lashes as something behind his expression quietly crumpled. 

Your eyes followed his, settling on the same suitcase and suddenly the ordinary object seemed unbearably heavy, loaded with all the clauses the two of you should've underlined in the terms and conditions of this arrangement before either of you ever agreed to it, the reality of time, distance and a decision that still hadn't been made staring back at both of you from the corner of the room.

Another tear slipped free before you could stop it, your breath catching as the unanswered questions thickened inside the room, leaving the two of you stranded at opposite ends of the bed, still breathing hard, crying and unable to explain why.

you scan the backyard, and lock eyes with your target.

reclined on a deck chair, he’s pretending to listen to beau’s teammate bitch about how fucking terrible their offensive line has been playing. 

he’s got a half-drank bottle of miller high life dangling from his hand. the condensation of it is a steady drip, drip, drip onto his levis. 

hunter davenport. 

bingo.

you knew it was a fucking stupid idea. the kind of idea your brain only conjures up after taking a shot of room temperature tequila. 

but just because you know what’s good for you doesn’t mean you turn your ass around. 

no, dean deserves this, some deep dark part of you thinks. he deserves to know how shitty you feel every time you see a puck bunny feening for his attention. 

you march up to hunter. plaster a bright a smile on your face, and convince yourself you’re making the right call. ignoring that rotten feeling in your gut screaming at you to find dean. it’s your body betraying you, you decide. you pull the trigger anyway. 

“hunter! it’s so great to see you. you’re usually never at these things.”

you cringe at the truth hidden beneath your words. he’s usually not at these things because these things are at your boyfriend’s house off campus. your boyfriend who wishes hunter davenport was buried six-feet under. your boyfriend who stays up at night plotting how to do it himself.

you squeeze your eyelids shut, bracing for the retort you’re expecting to be slapped in the face with. some mean, cruel comment that hunter is somehow always armed with. 

you pray for a portal to open up, and spit you out into an alien dimension where you have a shred of confidence. 

you really thought you could flirt to hunter davenport. what a fucking stupid idea.

you’re about to raise the white flag, to be noble and walk away, when hunter’s face breaks out in a wide-toothed grin. 

“hey, trouble.”

oh?

he flashes his canines at you, and you swear his teeth glimmer. his eyes trace the outline of your silhouette, figure accentuated by your mesh mini dress. his gaze lands on your breasts. 

you look down. your nipples are pebbled from the cold air. standing at attention through the mesh fabric. 

you’re quick to cross your arms and shield him from the view he thinks he’s so privy to. the view he sees as an invitation. 

“i didn’t realize dean would let you off your leash with so many people around. must be my lucky day.”

oh. right. 

this is why you didn’t talk to hunter davenport. he was a pretentious fucking asshole.

“i’m not–” you sputter at the comment.

“dean doesn’t.. i’m not on a leash," huffing, you set a hand on your hip.

you can see hunter wracking his brain for some quippy comeback. but the smug look is wiped clean off his face the second a shadow overtakes it. 

you feel someone breathing down your neck, and a heavy arm wraps itself snugly against your middle.

dean.

“what the fuck is going on here, davenport? what are you playing at?” dean’s gaze is hard-set on hunter. 

“dean, chill out. it's fi–” hunter is practically cowering under the weight of dean's stare.

“actually, no. y’know what? get the fuck out of my house. i’ll deal with you later.” dean’s voice is steady and cold. he doesn’t yell. he doesn't need to. he points to the back gate, and hunter has already left with his tail between his legs. 

“upstairs. now.” 

you don’t need to hear another word before you’re sprinting through the crowd of strangers. 

your heart is beating in your throat. the lace trim of your dress is itchy on your skin as you take the stairs two steps at a time. you almost trip over the last one on your way up. 

when you get to dean’s bedroom, you’re blurting out apologies before he even gets the chance to shut the door. 

“i’m so so sorry, dean. i didn’t– didn’t think he’d be like that. i didn’t think it through, i swear,” you hiccup as you plead, throat tight and scratchy — straining just to get the words out.

“please, please don’t be mad.”

dean’s got that unimpressed look on his face. massive arms crossed cooly over his chest. his large frame kicked back with one boot against the door. 

he looks so handsome tonight in a creamy white henley and faded jeans. the mean, unforgiving look in his eyes doesn’t suit him. it makes you burst into tears. this is all your fault. 

“you’re un-fucking-believable, you know that? running off to fucking davenport in my house. didn’t realize you were such a little attention whore. can’t handle not having my eyes on you for two seconds, can you?”

a loud sob escapes you. you wanna scream and plead and promise him you want nothing to do with hunter. you were just being stupid.

but you keep your mouth shut and hang your head. try and convince yourself his words are empty. devoid of any real meaning. you’re jumping through hoops trying to tell yourself your boyfriend doesn’t think you’re a whore.

you sniffle and wipe at the flood of tears pouring from your bloodshot eyes. you look like a wreck, you’re sure of it.

maybe dean’s right. none of this would’ve happened if you’d just been good. 

“i’m just so so sorry, dean. i just– i missed you. you were busy and i–”

he gives you an accusatory look that shuts you right up. he’s not interested in excuses right now, obviously.

you try again.

“i wanna make it better. please, let me make it better. i’ll do anything.”

his ears perk up at that. he cocks his head. “you’d do anything, huh?”

you nod furiously. it’s true. you’d do whatever he asked if it meant he’d stop looking at you like this. like you'd disappointed him. 

“anything you want,” you promise.

dean’s toying with you. pretending to weigh his options. maybe he’ll granting you forgiveness. or maybe he’s planning how to make sure you regret ever going up to davenport in the first place.

he pushes his body off the door. walks a few steps over to the end on his bed and slowly lowers himself down. he sits and stares at you. 

you’re standing in front of him, pulling at the mesh fabric of your dress. tracing the pretty cheetah print pattern of it. distracting yourself by thinking of a happier time — last weekend, when dean had bought you this dress at a boutique downtown. he'd chanted sweet nothings to you in the dressing room.

“crawl.”

“w–what?” your eyes pop open.

he’s got his hand beckoning you forward in a come hither motion. his legs are spread wide and you feel yourself start salivating at the bulge in his jeans. 

“crawl to me.”

you weigh it in your brain.

you and dean definitely weren’t vanilla by any means. he was prone to settling a rough hand around your throat every now and then. slapping your ass in doggy. but you’d never delved into anything teetering on bdsm.

you decide dean knows best. 

you gulp in anticipation, legs shaky as you lower yourself onto your knees. 

it feels so primal, having his eyes on you as you bring yourself to all fours. a natural submission. feeling any sense of power slip through your fingers as the fibers of the rug eat at the skin on your palms. knees scraping against the fabric. your bones aching against the wooden floorboards. 

you move toward him, and you see his hand slip under his waistband. lazily playing with his cock. and, god, you want it so bad. 

the heady smell of him hits you when you arrive at his feet, eye-level with his crotch. it’s a woody musk mixed with the denim fabric of his jeans. you want to bury your face in it. 

“sit.”

you immediately obey. panties completely soaked through. slippery arousal dripping down your thighs.

you’re wet. 

the realization is a sucker punch. you pause. the anxious, flighty feeling bubbling up is like dark storm clouds over your head. 

you like this. 

maybe you shouldn’t. 

you’re reeling. navigating the ocean of your brain a million thoughts per second. thinking that you’re dirty. that this is wrong. thinking why the fuck do you like being treated this? 

and the worst one of all — oh god. dean’s really going to think you’re a whore now. 

“hey, where’d you go baby?” dean’s voice is so soft and shaky it makes your guts tangle into something poisonous. he’s touching your face so lightly, dragging his thumb up and down your jaw. 

“you need to stop? shit. baby, i shouldn’t have pushed you that hard.” 

if it weren’t for the panic attack you were on the brink of, you would’ve laughed.

“no, no, dean i–” you take a deep breath in and muster up the courage. “i don’t– i don’t think the punishment is working.”

“god, baby, i’m so sorry. had a feeling that was too far. smack the shit out of me next time i–” 

“dean, i–,” you sigh. “you don’t understand. i liked it.”

god, what were you even saying? how are you supposed to tell your boyrfiend that you like being punished. that you like it when he’s mean to you.

“sorry, what?” dean stops in his tracks. 

fuck it. 

“i think i like it when you.. um– get mean? how terrible is that. god, you probably think i’m disg–”

“oh, baby.” 

he lifts your chin up. looks deep into your eyes.

you hope he doesn’t see the deep rooted humiliation you feel.

no, it seems like he doesn’t. or maybe he’s putting it to the side for now. because he’d got this fond look in his eye. readjusting himself to lean in closer to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you preen at that, nuzzling your head further  into his hand.

“my girl likes being roughed up a little? likes being on her knees for me?” his thumb forces its way into your mouth and you latch on. swirling your tongue around the digit instinctively.  

“jesus, baby, you’re so fucking hot. just wanna be told what to do, yeah? c’mon then, baby. show me how bad you want me.”

you hear his boot tap against the floorboards, and look down at the laces swinging side to side.

“c'mon. be a good girl for me, baby,” he coaxes. it’s a warm invitation. one you really can’t refuse. you lick your lips at the thought of it. 

taking a shaky breath, you lift your hips, and he’s quick to fill in the gap with his boot. you carefully settle yourself down onto it. wince at the feel of the hard leather against your heat. it’s so much pressure so quickly. it has your pussy throbbing against the laces as you start grinding against it. 

“oh fuck– dean,” you choke out, grasping at his jeans and twisting the denim fabric in your fist. trying to ground yourself.

he leans back with a smirk on his face. 

“ride out your feelings for me, angel. show me what a good puppy you can be.”

you suppose you asked for this. and god it feels so fucking good, riding his boot with his hand tangled up in your hair. your clit snagging between the laces. pussy juices leaking onto the leather. it's probably fucking stain.

dean’s always been a dirty talker. and you’re lucky it drowns out that little voice inside your head telling you how wrong people would think this is. 

“you wanted to be my puppy this whole time, didn’t you? just needed a little guidance, babydoll. fuck– keep rolling your hips like that. make a fucking mess on me, pup. i’ve gotcha.”

you know you’ve never been this wet before. then dean starts bouncing his leg up and down, and a white hot heat burns in you as the leather vibrates against your core. the coil in your tummy is about to snap.

“dean– can’t. i’m gonna, fuck– dean!” you squeal, pain searing deep in your bones and throttling you headfirst into an orgasm. 

a soft command, let go f’me, puppy, is all you need before you’re squirting all over the black leather of his boot. body convulsing and pretty tears welling up in your eyes.

“you’re such a good girl,” he coos, lightly tapping your damp cheek. “you liked that? making a mess on me?”

you nod dumbly, still grinding out the aftershocks. 

“since you liked it so much, you can clean it up too.”

he raises a brow, daring you. seeing just how far you’ll push yourself for him. 

if he only knew.

you inch yourself backwards. arch your back till your ass is wagging in the air, and you’re eye level with your slick pooling on his boot.

it doesn’t take long before you’re practically making out with it. tongue threading between the laces.

it’s so mindless and oh so fucking hot. you can’t help yourself when you reach down, pushing your panties to the side and rub circles on your raw clit. 

it’s heaven, until you feel the sharp sting of dean smacking your ass and you pout, pulling your hand away from your core. 

Three weeks.

Dean had been looking for her for three weeks.

It sounded ridiculous when he admitted it, even to himself.

Briar wasn't a small campus. Thousands of students walked the paths between lecture halls every day. It wasn't impossible that two people could simply miss each other.

Except they had shared one night that Dean couldn't seem to forget.

He remembered the way she'd laughed so hard on the porch that she'd covered her mouth with both hands.

He remembered the tiny crease between her eyebrows whenever she was thinking.

He remembered that she hated overly sweet drinks and loved old movies.

He remembered her name.

He just couldn't find her.

"You're doing it again."

Dean looked up from his untouched lunch.

Garrett dropped into the chair across from him with Logan and Tucker close behind.

"Doing what?"

"Looking around like you're waiting for someone."

"I'm not."

Logan snorted.

"You've become a terrible liar."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"I just have practice in ten minutes."

"You've looked at that door seventeen times," Logan replied.

"You counted?"

"I got bored."

Dean ignored him, though Garrett's knowing smile made him wish he'd eaten somewhere else.

The worst part wasn't that they were teasing him.

The worst part was that they were right.

Every crowded room became another chance to spot her.

Every flash of a familiar sweater made his heart jump before disappointment settled in.

It was driving him insane.

—

You loved the library.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying.

You simply liked how quiet it was.

No one expected conversation.

No one looked twice at the girl tucked into the corner with three textbooks, a notebook filled with color-coded notes, and a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.

It was peaceful.

You had almost convinced yourself to stay another hour when someone dropped into the chair across from you.

"Found you."

Your head snapped up.

Dean.

He looked almost... relieved.

Like he'd been searching.

Your stomach flipped.

Then common sense returned.

Of course he'd been searching.

You'd disappeared after your night together.

He probably wanted to make sure things weren't awkward.

Or worse...

He wanted to ask if you wanted another casual night.

You closed your notebook carefully.

"Hi."

He smiled.

"Hi."

Neither of you spoke.

Dean laughed quietly.

"I had this whole speech planned."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to it?"

"I forgot every word."

Despite yourself, you smiled.

"I've been looking for you."

There it was.

Your chest tightened.

"You have?"

"I couldn't find you anywhere."

You looked down at your notebook.

"I'm sorry."

His smile faded slightly.

"Sorry?"

"I probably should've..."

You stopped.

Should've what?

Left a note?

Given him your number?

Not gone home with him in the first place?

Dean leaned forward.

"You disappeared."

"I know."

"I woke up and you were gone."

"I thought..." You swallowed.

"I thought that's what you would've wanted."

He stared at you.

"What?"

"You don't have to pretend."

"I'm not pretending."

"You don't owe me anything."

Dean looked genuinely confused.

"I know I don't."

Silence settled between you.

Students walked between the shelves around you, blissfully unaware that the two people sitting in the corner were having entirely different conversations.

Finally, Dean cleared his throat.

"Would you... maybe want to get coffee sometime?"

There it was.

The invitation.

Simple.

Casual.

Safe.

Your heart wanted to say yes immediately.

Your head answered first.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

His expression fell so quickly that guilt washed over you.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"No." He forced a smile.

"It's okay."

"I just..."

You searched for the right words.

"I don't really do casual."

Understanding flickered across his face.

"So you think I'm asking because..."

You gave him a small, apologetic smile.

"You don't have to explain."

Dean sat back.

For the first time since meeting him, he looked completely unsure of himself.

"I wasn't."

You blinked.

"What?"

"I wasn't asking because I wanted..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was asking because I wanted coffee."

Your breath caught.

Dean stood.

"I'll let you study."

Before you could respond, he offered one last smile.

"It was really nice seeing you again."

Then he left.

You watched him disappear between the bookshelves.

Your heart hurt.

Because for just one impossible second...

He had sounded sincere.

—

"You look like someone kicked your puppy."

Dean glared at Logan.

"We don't have a puppy."

"You know what I mean."

Garrett tossed his hockey bag into the locker.

"What happened?"

Dean tied and untied one skate.

"I found her."

Three heads turned.

"And?" Tucker asked.

"I asked her to get coffee."

Logan grinned.

"Finally."

"She said no."

The grin disappeared.

"...Oh."

Dean shrugged, pretending it didn't bother him.

"She thought I wanted a hookup."

The locker room went unusually quiet.

Garrett sighed.

"Can you blame her?"

"No."

Dean hated that answer.

Because Garrett was right.

His reputation had been built one casual relationship at a time.

He'd never cared before.

Now it felt like a wall he couldn't climb over.

—

Two weeks later, you walked into your psychology lecture balancing a notebook, a coffee, and far too many pens.

One escaped your grasp.

It rolled beneath the seats.

"Oh."

You crouched awkwardly, trying to reach it.

A second hand picked it up before you could.

"I think this belongs to you."

A brunette with kind eyes smiled as she handed it over.

"Thank you."

"No problem." She glanced toward the nearly full lecture hall.

"Mind if I sit here?"

You looked around.

"There are lots of seats."

"I know."

She smiled again.

"But you look nice."

The compliment caught you so off guard that you simply nodded.

"I'm Hannah."

You introduced yourself.

"It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

The professor hadn't arrived yet, so Hannah started chatting as though you'd known each other for years.

She asked about your classes.

Your major.

Your favorite coffee order.

She talked enough for both of you but never in a way that felt overwhelming.

By the end of class, she smiled brightly.

"I'm grabbing lunch with a couple friends tomorrow."

"Oh."

"You should come."

Your instinctive response was immediate.

"I don't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be."

"I really..."

She tilted her head.

"Can I tell you something?"

You nodded.

"You looked lonely when I walked in."

Heat rushed to your face.

"I don't mean that in a bad way," Hannah said quickly.

"I just remember feeling exactly like that freshman year."

She offered a gentle smile.

"So... come eat lunch with us."

"You don't even know me."

"I'd like to."

No one had said those words to you in a very long time.

You looked down at your notebook.

"Okay."

Hannah beamed.

"Perfect."

—

The next afternoon, you arrived at the student union five minutes early.

You almost turned around twice.

The voice in your head was relentless.

They invited you to be polite.

They're going to realize you're awkward.

You're going to ruin their lunch.

You were about to leave when someone waved enthusiastically from across the room.

"There she is!"

Hannah.

Beside her sat Allie.

Across from them...

Garrett.

Logan.

Tucker.

And—

Dean.

Your feet stopped moving.

Dean looked just as surprised as you felt.

His eyes widened before something warm spread across his face.

A smile.

A real one.

One that reached his eyes.

He stood automatically.

"Hi."

Your heart stumbled.

"Hi."

Hannah looked between the two of you.

"You guys know each other?"

You and Dean answered at exactly the same time.

"A little."

"Not really."

Everyone blinked.

Logan slowly looked from Dean to you.

Then back again.

"Oh," he said.

"This is going to be interesting."

Dean shot him a warning look.

Logan only smiled wider.

For the first time in weeks, you considered turning around and walking away.

Instead, Hannah patted the empty chair beside her.

"Come sit."

You hesitated.

Then you did.

None of you knew it yet.

But that lunch would become the beginning of something none of you had expected.

For the first time since transferring to Briar, someone had saved you a seat.

And for the first time in his life, Dean Di Laurentis realized that earning someone's trust would take a lot more than charm.

End of Part ll

-------------------

taglist: let me know if you'd like to be added :)

The two of you went to the back of the aisle while Garrett returned to his place at the altar.

The wedding coordinator smiled. ‘’Crisis averted. Shall we continue? Best man and maid of honor, you'll be the last ones down the aisle before the bride. Dean, once Garrett's in position, you'll take yours beside him.’’ 

Dean gave a curt nod. 

He hadn’t changed much since you last saw him. His hair seemed a little longer and his shoulders wider, but he still looked as handsome as you remembered. Especially in gray. It matched his blue eyes well. 

Tearing your eyes from him, you busied yourself by smoothing the wrinkles from Hannah's dress, adjusting the water bottle in her hands that served as a bouquet before stepping off to the side. It looked ridiculous, but her flowers won’t get here until tomorrow morning so Allie improvised and gave her a water bottle instead. 

You felt a nudge. Dean was waiting and offering you his arm. You apologized quietly and took it. 

The second your hand slipped into the crook of his arm, Dean straightened and you began walking side by side down the aisle — not as a couple, not even close —, but there was something undeniably intimate about it. 

With calm eyes looking ahead and a soft floral dress ending just above your ankles, you began walking. Every step brought you closer to your brother standing tall at the altar, but all you could focus on was the feel of Dean’s bicep under your hand. 

‘’How’s Florence?’’ the latter asked quietly. 

‘’Good,’’ you replied carefully. “Quiet. Beautiful. A little too easy to get lost in.”

Dean hummed softly, like he was picturing it. “Sounds like you picked the right place, then.”

You glanced up at him, but his eyes stayed forward, focused on the path ahead. Dean’s arm stayed steady beneath your hand as you walked, like he wasn’t thinking about it at all. Like this was just another role to play.

But you were very aware of it.

The warmth of him. The solid press of muscle under your fingers. The way he matched your pace without effort.

‘’You look good in that dress, by the way.’’ 

You almost stopped walking right there, taken by surprise by his compliment. It wasn’t just any compliment though. It lingered — heavier than it should have, carrying something unspoken beneath it.

The wedding coordinator watched carefully from the front, then lifted a hand. ‘’Perfect. Stop there!’’

You both came to a halt, still arm in arm. 

‘’Dean, you'll step over to Garrett once she reaches her spot. Maid of honor, you'll line up with the two bridesmaids. Your spot is at the front."

You nodded.

‘’Perfect,’’ the coordinator said, making a note on her clipboard. ‘’Now let's practice the bride's entrance.’’

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

For the rehearsal dinner, the wedding party had gathered around a long table in the property’s large backyard. The sun was about to set over the lake, giving a beautiful golden hour ambiance, which was perfect to take pictures for the wedding album.

Three years had gone by since you all sat down together. Life had pulled everyone in different directions — different cities, different countries. Sunday dinners like this didn’t happen as easily anymore.

But somehow, the chaos was exactly the same.

‘’Because G has banned me and Pricilla from his house. You know I would never miss your birthday, Hannah,’’ Tucker defended.

You glanced at him, a soft smile on your lips. ‘’Priscilla? You got a girl, Tuck?’’ 

Logan laughed, shaking his head between bites. ‘’Priscilla is Tucker’s golden lab.’’ 

You blinked. How did you not know Tucker got a dog?

You knew he had moved back to Texas and opened a gym, but somehow a whole dog had completely slipped under your radar.

‘’That dog got mud all over my couch the last time you came over,’’ Garrett added. 

‘’And the carpets…and the entrance wall,’’ said Hannah. 

‘’And Priscilla is very sorry about the mess,’’ Tucker apologized, completely unbothered. ‘’She’s better behaved now.’’

Garrett rolled his eyes.

‘’Can I see her?’’ you asked. 

Tucker pulled up an album from his phone and handed it over. ‘’This was when Dean visited last month. He took her on a run every morning. She loved him. Refused to leave the guest room for hours after he left.’’

You raised an eyebrow as you looked over the screen. ‘’You? Dean Di Laurentis? You went to Texas?’’ 

That was unexpected. Dean had always been a city person. The kind who preferred penthouses to ranches and clubs to open fields. You had difficulty imagining him in cowboy boots and a plaid shirt. 

You swiped to the next photo: Priscilla in a truck bed, a purple bandana around her neck, someone’s hand scratching her belly. You recognized Dean’s signet ring instantly. Swiping again, a short video of Dean in athletic shorts, shirtless and sweaty, likely coming back from a run. Tuck called for his dog, but the latter stayed by Dean’s feet. 

‘’She’s very cute,’’ you said, handing the phone back. 

You couldn’t risk staring at Dean’s naked chest too long.

Tucker slipped it into his pocket with a satisfied grin. ‘’She knows it, too.’’

‘’She also knows she can get away with murder,’’ Dean pointed out. ‘’Last Christmas, she stole an entire loaf of garlic bread off the counter.’’

‘’It was artisanal,’’ Tucker defended. ‘’My girl has expensive taste.’’

Garrett scoffed. ‘’She ate the plastic bag too.’’ 

Laughter rolled through the table, and something in your chest tightened.

When you left for Europe, you had assumed keeping up with your friends through social media, texts and phone calls would be enough to stay in the loop. Apparently, it wasn't. There was so much you had missed…

‘’Enough about that dog,’’ Allie decided, setting her empty glass of wine down. ‘’Now that Hannah and Garrett are tying the knot…who is next? I saw this gorgeous dress on 5th Avenue and I need an occasion to buy it.’’ 

Hannah laughed, shaking her head at her best friend. 

Garrett’s eyes turned to Logan. ‘’My bet’s on Logan. No pressure though,’’ he added. 

Allie made a disapproving sound. ‘’Your money’s already lost Graham because Logan doesn’t want to get married. Grace told me.’’

Grace narrowed her eyes at Allie and Logan was quick to defend himself. ‘’That’s not what I said.’’ 

‘’I said I didn’t see the point of spending so much money on a wedding. I’ve seen the prices and it’s insane shit. Right now, our priority is to get a house,’’ he explained, covering Grace’s hand with his. 

Beside him, Grace nodded. 

‘’We all know Dean’s never settling down, so that leaves you,’’ Allie continued, shifting her eyes to Tucker and then to you. ‘’And you.’’ 

‘’Tucker caught Dean’s college habit, so marriage is probably not on his mind,’’ Logan teased, only to receive a piece of bread thrown at him. 

‘’And my sister is not seeing anyone,’’ Garrett said, his eyes falling on you. ‘’She would have told me, right?’’ 

Before you could say anything, Allie did. 

‘’You don’t know that,’’ Allie said smoothly. ‘’She might have a mysterious Italian man she didn’t tell us about.’’

The table went a little quieter.

There had been an Italian man in your life, but that boat sank into the Mediterranean sea before it even left the port. His name was Edoardo. He was tall, handsome and worked as a chef at a high-end restaurant. You kept him from your friends due to that relationship not being serious enough to share. 

Dean’s gaze found yours then, steady and unreadable, like he was waiting.

‘’I don’t.’’ 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

After one last glass of wine, you wished everyone good night, then went to your room. Being the sister of the groom had its perks — you had been granted a room to yourself. Unlike Tucker and Dean who were forced to room together. It'll be like away games at Briar, Garrett told them with a clap on their shoulder and an amused smile. 

Unzipping your dress and removing the makeup from your face felt freeing. Although she was relatively comfortable, you had been wearing that dress since noon. You couldn’t wait to fall on the plush bed and close your eyes.

Except your eyes wouldn’t close. 

The ceiling fan turned slowly above you. Outside, faint frog sounds mixed with crickets as the moon glowed over the lake. It should be relaxing, but instead your mind wouldn’t quiet.

It kept replaying moments you didn’t want to replay too closely.

Dean’s arm under your hand.

His voice beside you in the aisle.

His eyes on you when Allie asked if you were seeing someone.

He hadn’t looked at you like that since…Paris. 

You had posted on your social media about setting foot in Paris and, a few days later, Dean sent you a DM about an hypothetical trip to Paris. He needed a place to take his mind off work because working at his grandfather’s law firm was sucking the life out of him. 

Seeing him haul his suitcase up to your small apartment the following made you mentally kick your feet and giggle. He was really there. For you.

That night, you went to the bar under your apartment and talked over a glass of wine. It was funny how quickly life had changed from beers at Malone’s to wine in Paris. You felt so…adult. 

‘’I didn’t know you were a win connaisseur, Di Laurentis.’’ 

Dean let out a quiet laugh, swirling the deep red wine in his glass before taking another sip. ‘’I’m not. I just appreciate a good french red.’’

You smiled over the rim of your own glass. ‘’Paris does have great wines.’’ 

‘’What else is great about Paris?’’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer over the table. 

You wanted to grab the front of his shirt and kiss him. But you didn’t. 

Not long after, the combination of jetlag and a long flight hit Dean and you came back to your place. 

‘’I forgot to tell you, there’s only one bed,’’ you explained, slightly embarrassed, motioning to the Murphy bed near the window. 

Dean glanced at the bed, noting your light pink sheets that matched the ones at your old dorm — some things didn’t change. ‘’What?! I thought this was the Ritz.’’ 

You threw a pillow at him and he laughed. 

The next day, instead of taking him to all the tourist traps, you decided to show him your Paris. The neighborhood café you always go to for breakfast, your favorite bakery, little rituals you loved, and hidden corners tourists rarely see. Dean’s french was terrible, so you had to translate for him…and you may or may not intentionally left out the compliments locals gave him. 

It wasn’t until that evening that he made a move to kiss you. Not a sweet, romantic kiss like the romcoms. It was all tongue and pure desire, making up for all the time he had wanted to kiss you again but refrained from. You heard a passerby whistle teasingly but ignored him, gripping the front of Dean’s button up shirt to press him against you. 

That week in Paris was your best kept secret. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

It was nearly 1am when you heard a knock on your door. 

Peeling the comforter off you, you left your bed. You assumed it was Garrett getting cold feet and needing to talk, but when you cracked the door open, your heart stumbled.

Dean.

He had changed out of his dress clothes into a pair of athletic shorts, his blond hair looking like he had been tossing and turning for the past hour. 

‘’Sorry,’’ he said quietly. ‘’I thought this was Garrett’s room… Tucker’s snoring is a violation of the Geneva Convention. I was hoping to crash with him.’’

You raised an eyebrow. ‘’Garrett's room is on the floor above. He has the master bedroom.’’ 

‘’Right. I should I guessed that.’’

Dean scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence dimmed by sleepiness and the late hour. The dimmed hallway light casted soft shadows across his unfairly handsome face. 

‘’Do you want to come in? Can let the best man show up with bags under his eyes. It’ll ruin the wedding picture.’’ 

Inviting Dean was at the rock bottom of the list of good ideas. Actually, it probably belonged somewhere below drinking champagne on an empty stomach and letting Logan pick the wedding playlist.

Because this was Dean.

Dean, who found you alone and crying on your birthday during your second year at Briar and took you to the closest bakery to buy your favorite cake. Because no one should be alone and crying on their birthday…especially without a cake. He even made it a tradition to send a chocolate and raspberry cake to your door on your birthday. Dean who punched Hunter Davenport after he cheated on you. Dean who kissed you the night the Hawks won the Frozen Four and called you his good luck charm. Dean who came to Paris just to spend time with you. 

And now he was standing in your doorway in the middle of the night, shirtless and looking far too good for you to keep your hands — and lips — to yourself.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

‘’You dropped out of law school?!’’ you repeated, staring at him in disbelief. 

‘’In my second year. And I left the family’s firm,’’ Dean added, sinking farther into the plush pillows, one arm hooked behind his head.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. ‘’What?!’’ 

You had always found it ironic that the guy who got into the most trouble was the one who wanted to become a lawyer — like his grandfather. But the more you got to know Dean, the more you realized there was far more to him than his Six Flags reputation. Beneath the effortless charm was someone who was genuinely intelligent. He stayed on top of his classes, picked things up faster than most people, and had a sharp mind that made law seem like the perfect fit.

Dean gave a small shrug. ‘’I realized it wasn't for me. It was...too much.’’ His gaze drifted toward the ceiling before finding yours again. ‘’After I quit, I went down to Tucker's place in Texas for a few weeks. I needed to get away, clear my head, and figure out what I actually wanted to do with my life.’’

‘’Did you find it?’’

He hummed. ‘’I coach a junior girls team. I may have missed my opportunity to play in the NHL, but hockey is still part of me.’’ 

A smile spread across your face. ‘’That’s great, Dean.’’ 

He let out a quiet laugh, though it sounded almost embarrassed. ‘’Yeah?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ 

You pulled the plush blanket over your legs as a cool breeze slipped through the cracked window. As you shifted against the headboard, Dean's eyes flickered down your cami two-piece pajama for the briefest second, following the movement before catching himself and looking back up. He could probably see your nipples against the fabric, but it’s not like he hadn’t already seen them. 

‘’I’m sure you make an amazing coach.’’

A crooked smile tugged at his lips. ‘’Those girls are something else,’’ he continued. ‘’They're between eleven and thirteen, so half the practices are spent teaching them hockey, and the other half is convincing them that falling isn't the end of the world.’’ He chuckled. ‘’But when one of them finally nails a drill they've been struggling with, it's a better feeling than getting an A on any exam I ever took.’’

You couldn't help but smile wider. ‘’You like seeing them succeed.’’

He nodded. ‘’I do.’’ A thoughtful silence settled over him. ‘’I spent so long chasing what everyone else thought I should want that I never stopped to ask myself what actually made me happy.’’

His eyes met yours, steady enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Turns out, it wasn't arguing in a courtroom. It was being at a rink.’’ 

You held his gaze a second longer than necessary, his as beautiful as you remembered. In the soft moonlight spilling through the large window, you had a perfect view of the ripples of muscles of his chest and abs. He may not play hockey anymore, but his body still carried the unmistakable strength of an athlete.

Dean caught your wandering eyes, and one corner of his mouth lifted. ‘’What about you? Paris looked good on you. Why move to Florence?’’ 

‘’A job opportunity. You know the winery we visited together?’’

His expression softened slightly, the memory clearly clicking into place. ‘’The one where you tried to convince me you could tell the difference between wines?’’ 

‘’I could,’’ you defended, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him.

Dean laughed, catching it against his chest with an easy grin. ‘’You absolutely could not.’’

You laughed quietly before continuing. ‘’A position opened up in their marketing department. Their headquarters are in Paris, but the job is remote. I can work from wherever I want as long as I’m in the office once a month. Paris was amazing, but I wanted something different. Somewhere quieter.’’

Dean looked impressed — and proud. ‘’That’s great, baby.’’ 

The word slipped out so naturally neither of you registered it at first. Then both of you froze.

You searched his face before allowing the smallest smile on your lips. ‘’You used to call me that.’’

Dean let out a quiet breath. ‘’Old habits are hard to unlearn.’’ He tried to make it sound like a joke, but the longing in his eyes gave him away.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

A soft but insistent knock on your door slowly pulled you from sleep. Not again…

You chose to ignore it, far too comfortable under the sheets, and pressed your face deeper into your pillow. Whoever needed you could wait another ten minutes, right? 

Then you felt the warmth of someone beside you, and the events of last night came rushing back. You couldn't remember exactly when the talking stopped or who fell asleep first. You must have moved during the night absentmindedly because Dean’s arm was under the bottom of your top, resting over your soft skin and you were curled up against him. The touch was intimate, but not undesired.  

Peering one eye open, you saw that Dean was still asleep. His blond hair was messy from the night, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see. Without the usual smirk or playful confidence, he looked almost peaceful. 

You brushed a hand through his hair, wishing you could stop time and stay here longer. 

Unfortunately, a second knock hit your door. 

‘’Hey, you awake?’’ Grace's voice came from the other side. ‘’It’s past eight and Ava is here for hair. Madeline should be here in fifteen minutes for makeup. Unless you want to look like jetlag is affecting you, I suggest you come down. Oh, and there’s breakfast too!’’ 

Right. The wedding. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The large living area, which had been turned into a bridal glam suite, was already alive by the time you walked in. You hadn’t bothered dressing, not wanting to get unwanted clothing marks when you’ll change into your dress later. 

The smell of fresh coffee and pastries filled the room, mixing with the sound of laughter and the occasional panic that came with a wedding morning.

It was organized chaos.

Hannah sat on a chair in her silk robe, coffee in one hand and a croissant in the other, laughing as Allie tried to convince her that she absolutely needed to get her hair into an updo because it’ll look better with her veil…and will make her chest stand out. 

‘’I don’t like having pins poking at my scalp,’’ Hannah argued, tearing a piece from her croissant. ‘’And my chest will stand out whatever I do. My dress is a sweetheart neckline.’’ 

‘’I’m with Allie on that, but not for the same reason,’’ Grace replied, sitting across from her while Ava was beginning to curl her hair. ‘’It’s gonna be hot today and having your hair down is only going to make you uncomfortable.’’ 

Hannah’s mom agreed with Grace, but reminded Hannah that it was her wedding. She could wear her hair however she liked.

You made yourself a plate with blueberry scones and some strawberries, trying to not think about the man who was in your bed. 

‘’So, are you feeling nervous?’’ you asked the bride-to-be. ‘’I can’t wait to have you as my official sister in law.’’ 

A sigh left the brunette’s lips. ‘’A little,’’ she admitted, trying to not think about everything that could go wrong. ‘’But who isn’t on their wedding day, right?’’ 

You rounded the table and sat beside Hannah, offering her a small smile. ‘’Well, if there’s one thing you can stop worrying about, it’s Garrett leaving you at the altar.’’ 

Hannah looked over at you, her eyes softening.

‘’My brother has been head over heels in love with you since college. I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he’s with you, or talk about anyone the way he talks about you. You’re it for him.’’ You paused, glancing down at your hands before continuing. ‘’Garrett and I didn’t grow up with the best example of what love was supposed to look like. He was so scared of being like him… But he found an amazing girl who helped him realize that he wasn’t our dad’s copy. He was nothing like him.’’ 

Hannah’s eyes grew glassy, and she reached for your hand. ‘’I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry so early.’’ She tried to blink the tears away, but her mom handed her a tissue. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

The ceremony was beautiful. 

The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the lake, its calm surface shimmering behind the flower-lined aisle. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers through the gardens, stirring Hannah's veil just enough to make it dance as she walked toward Garrett.

There wasn't a dry eye among the guests.

Especially after the vows. You had expected something heartfelt from Hannah. As a musician and songwriter, she had a way of putting even the biggest emotions into words. But Garrett? No one had expected him to put together something as touching. There hadn't been any grand declarations or poetic metaphors — just honest promises, quiet memories, and a love so undeniable even Cupid’s nemesis would’ve been rooting for them.

By the time the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, the entire lawn erupted into applause.

Garrett didn't hesitate. He cupped Hannah's face and kissed her as though he'd been waiting years for that moment — which, in a way, he had.

Across from you, you caught Dean looking at you. He didn't look away when your eyes met, holding your gaze.

You hadn’t talked once today. There hadn’t been any time to. From the moment you climbed out of bed this morning, the day had been a whirlwind of hair and makeup, dress repairs, photos, last-minute details, and the ceremony itself. 

For a brief moment, the cheers around you faded into the background.

He looked devastating in his blue suit, the tailored jacket hugging his broad shoulders and tapering perfectly at his waist. The crisp white shirt beneath it made his sun-kissed skin stand out, while the afternoon light caught the golden strands of his hair. Clean-shaven and effortlessly put together, he looked like he had stepped straight out of a perfume ad — so unfairly handsome it was almost distracting.

Dean’s gaze flickered back to the newlyweds before returning to you, and the smallest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but something in the way he looked at you made your heart skip.

Behind you, Allie was studying the exchange without saying anything. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Long oak tables overlooked the lake, dressed with a dusty blue table runner that matched the cushion on the chairs. Low arrangements of pale blue delphiniums, white ranunculus, baby's breath served as centerpieces, accompanied by flickering candles. The woodland elegance matched Hannah and Garrett perfectly. 

On the very left, a small stage was built with a piano keyboard set in the middle, letting the guest assume Hannah would be performing later. According to Allie, she had written a song for Garrett. A song she never planned on releasing nor singing elsewhere. A song just for their big day. 

‘’A picture with the bride!’’ 

Jules called as they were holding  a camera, making sure you, Allie and Grace were all in the picture too. 

You had already taken loads of pictures, but these were only for the memories you would look back on years from now. Silly selfies, people dancing and laughing, and inappropriate gestures from the groomsmen. 

After the picture was taken, one of Hannah’s aunts stole her away and Grace went to Logan’s rescue, catching a woman well into her forties flirting with him. An amused laugh spilled on your lips at the sight. 

‘’What’s going on between you and Dean?’’ 

You snapped your attention back to her. ‘’What are you talking about?’’ 

Allie gave you a look. ‘’I saw him looking at you.’’ 

‘’You’re imagining things. When was the last time you had your eyesight checked?’’  

‘’Don’t play that card with me,’’ she warned, not letting go of the subject. 

You sighed. ‘’I’m not playing any cards, Allie. There’s Dean and I.’’ 

Speaking of Dean, he was standing by the bar, getting drinks with Tucker and a Bruins player. Tucker was talking about hockey stats, completely invested in whatever point he was trying to make, but Dean’s attention had shifted to you. His eyes moved over you slowly, taking in the blue dress you were wearing and the way the silky fabric fell perfectly against your body.

He watched Allie leave, then turned back to the bartender and ordered another glass of champagne. 

‘’Thought you might need a refill,’’ he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear as he appeared at your side.

You smiled as you accepted the glass. ‘’Trying to get me drunk, Di Laurentis?’’

Dean's lips twitched. ‘’If I was, I would have brought you something stronger.’’

A laugh escaped you. ‘’Thanks.’’

As you took the flute, his fingertips lingered against yours for the briefest second before his other hand found the small of your back. The touch was innocent enough that no one around you would think twice about it, but you felt every second of it. You leaned slightly into him, taking a sip of champagne while his thumb brushed your skin lightly.

‘’Having fun?’’ he asked.

You looked around, seeing Hannah and Garrett smiling patiently through yet another round of family photos.

‘’It's weird,’’ you admitted. ‘’My brother is married.’’

Dean followed your gaze. ‘’I know.’’

‘’It feels like yesterday we were all at Briar, and now…’’ You laughed softly. ‘’Give them a couple of years and they'll probably be chasing toddlers around.’’

‘’Garrett's going to be an overprotective dad.’’

‘’Oh, absolutely.’’

‘’Hannah's going to pretend she's the reasonable one.’’

‘’But she'll secretly be worse.’’

Dean chuckled. ‘’One hundred percent.’’

For a moment, the two of you simply watched them, the conversation settling into a comfortable silence.

‘’So, when are you going back to Florence?’’ Dean asked.

Before he could answer, the band eased into a slow song. Around you, conversations quieted as couples drifted toward the dance floor. 

‘’Dance with me.’’ 

You blinked. ‘’Dean…’’ 

He set his champagne flute on the nearest table before holding out his hand. ‘’Come on. It’ll be like on Canal Saint-Martin.’’ 

The memory hit you instantly — the warm summer night along Canal Saint-Martin, some musicians strumming their instruments beneath the glow of a lamppost while a small crowd lingered along the water's edge. Without a second thought, Dean had held out his hand, a crooked smile tugging at his lips, and pulled you into the music. He surprised you by not stepping on your feet — not even once. You swayed to the music, his hand settling at your waist before he effortlessly twirled you beneath the glow of the moon. 

No one had ever danced with you like that. No one had ever looked at you the way he had that night. 

You looked at his outstretched hand for another second before slipping your fingers into his. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You couldn’t remember who made the first move. Who reached for whom. All you knew was that Dean's lips were on yours and your hands all over each other’s body. 

Every few steps, one of you would reluctantly pull back just enough to keep climbing the stairs before crashing together again and kissing against the wall, unable to wait until you reached somewhere you could finally be alone.

This kiss was the first since Paris. 

That last night, you both agreed to never speak of Paris. Because you would never work as a couple. Dean was in New York, working at his family’s firm and would be attending law school in the fall while you were on the other side of the ocean. The distance between you was simply too much. 

Yet here you were. 

Dean’s hand cupped your jaw as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding in and caressing yours. Your fingers tangled in the lapels of his suit, wrinkling the expensive fabric as he backed you up another step.

A laugh escaped you when your heel caught on the edge of the stair.

‘’Careful,’’ Dean murmured against your mouth, one arm instinctively circling your waist before you could lose your balance. ‘’I don’t want you to get a concussion before I get my piece of cake. I’ve been wanting to do kiss you all day.’’ He pressed his right below your ear. ‘’To touch you all day,’’ he continued, kissing down your neck. ‘’To fuck you all day.’’ He pulled the thin strap of your dress down your shoulder and kissed your exposed skin. 

You leaned your head back, pliant under his lips, and pushed your hands into his hair. Dean’s breath hitched when you pulled at it, loving the way you knew exactly how to unravel him.

He kissed down your collarbone, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of skin he hadn’t touched in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Once you made it into one of the rooms, you pulled Dean’s jacket off and began working on his belt while he lifted the bottom of your dress up, high enough to slip a hand under and press his hand over your panties. 

‘’Dean,’’ you mewled, bucking against him. 

He smirked against your lips, keeping going as he felt a wetness soak through the fabric. ‘’Like that, babydoll?’’ 

Tease was Dean’s second name. This man absolutely loved to play with your body and vice versa. He could spend over an hour just doing that. But your body was literally aching for him right now. 

‘’Dean,’’ you repeated, breaking the kiss. ‘’If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll kick you out of this damn room and do it myself.’’

He didn't need to be told twice. 

Pants down to his thighs, the blond slipped a condom on before pushing inside you, the sensation making you gasp  sharply and claw at the vanity table under you. You had almost forgotten why everyone at Briar went to him for a good time. Your body arched at the delicious stretch, your walls clenching around his cock. 

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ you moaned, feeling him fill you. 

Dean thrusted into you with long, deep strokes, his hands on your hips keeping him anchored. ''Baby, you feel so good,'' he praised, his pelvis smacking against your ass loudly. ‘’Missed this so much. Missed you so much.''

You rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts as desire ran through your whole body. There was no better dick than this one. Not that you would ever admit it. 

Curses left his lips as he thrusted more erratically, desperate and needy after all this time apart. Your breasts were threatening to spill from your dress, whose skirt was currently bunched up at your waist for accessibility purposes. Taking it off would have been easier, but neither of you bothered fully undressing. 

After you both finished, Dean, who was spent and breathless, pressed kisses up your spine, a smirk curling on his lips. He wasn’t ready to let go of you — and neither were you. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You and Dean slipped back into the celebration, each stealing a glass of champagne from a passing server. The music was still playing, laughter drifted across the lawn, and, thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed you had disappeared.

Dean took a sip of champagne, but you stopped him. 

‘’Wait,’’ you said, reaching up and brushed your thumb across the corner of his mouth, wiping away the faint smear of your lipstick.

‘’Where were you?’’ came Grace’s voice from behind you, making you both turn a little too quickly. ‘’You missed the bouquet toss.’’ 

You nearly choked on your champagne.

For a second, your mind went completely blank. Between the lingering taste of Dean’s lips, the orgasm he just pulled out of you and the pleasant haze you were basking in, coming up with a believable excuse felt impossible.

Dean didn't miss a beat.

"She lost an earring," he said smoothly. ‘’I was helping her look for it. It belonged to her mom’s, so it’s a very sentimental piece.’’

Grace's face immediately fell. ‘’Oh no! Did you find it yet?’’ 

You nodded, forcing a small smile. ‘’It was in the grass, over there,’’ you said, pointing to the right. 

Relief softened her features. ‘’Good!’’ 

Guilt twisted in your stomach as she smiled, completely convinced. But before you could dwell on the lie, Grace linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from Dean. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Hannah disappeared for a few minutes before returning in a different dress — a simple white satin gown that flowed around her as she crossed the lawn toward the small stage. A hush gradually settled over the reception. Conversations faded, glasses were set down, and every guest turned toward her.

She smiled as she settled onto the piano bench, smoothing the skirt over her legs before resting her hands lightly on the keys. Behind her, hundreds of fairy lights twinkled against the trees, reflecting softly across the dark lake. The warm glow bathed the stage in gold, making it feel almost magical.

Garrett stood at the front of the crowd, unable to take his eyes off his wife. 

Hannah leaned toward the microphone with a nervous laugh. ‘’Garrett and I had an unusual debut, you could say. I was going to tutor him in Ethics and, in exchange, he would help me get this one guy’s attention. He came up with this whole plan where we would pretend to date...except we forgot about the pretending part.’’

Laughter rippled through the guests, Garrett shaking his head with an affectionate smile.

Hannah's sparkling eyes found him before she continued.

‘’Music has always been my form of expression — my refuge. With a guitar in my hand and a sheet or paper, I was practically the next Taylor Swift,'' she continued, glancing at Allie. ''But there came a moment in my life where I was convinced I had lost my creativity and ability to write lyrics.''

She looked down, making your heart ache. The past may be behind her, but would never stop hurting. You had never met someone as strong as Hannah. 

‘’Garrett encouraged me to write songs again.’’ Her smile returned. ‘’He would listen to my old videos and tell me how he loved that song. How he loved my voice. His confidence in me gave me the courage to write again and to perform my original work.'' 

You’ll never forget the day of her showcase. How everyone had rushed to the auditorium to see her perform and support her. She and Garrett were broken up at that time, but he had stood in the front row — for her. 

‘’The day I accepted to tutor him was the best decision I made because, unknowingly, I needed him just as much. He didn't just make me fall in love — he made me believe in my music again. And without him, I wouldn't be recording in a music studio. So, for our special day, I decided to write and dedicate this song for you, my husband.’’ 

Hannah pressed the first keys and you got lulled into her melody, the soft notes drifting across the lakeside like a secret meant only for the two of them.

For a moment, nobody moved.

The entire world seemed to narrow down to Hannah sitting beneath the glow of the fairy lights and Garrett standing a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung every star in the sky herself.

Her voice joined the piano, gentle at first, carrying every emotion she had poured into the song. It wasn’t a performance. Not really. It was a love letter set to music.

You watched Garrett’s expression change as he listened. The playful smile he had worn moments ago slowly disappeared, replaced by something softer. Something vulnerable. 

Your eyes drifted through the crowd, looking for Dean.

He stood on the other side of the stage with Tucker, his attention on you — again. Except this time, there was no smirk. No teasing grin. No playful look in his eyes. He was just looking at you. Really looking at you. And somehow, that felt more dangerous.

You expected him to look away the second he realized you had caught him, to put that familiar wall back up and pretend he hadn’t been watching. But he didn’t.

Dean held your gaze across the crowd, the music filling the space between you.

Then Hannah’s voice rose, pulling your attention back to her. 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

As fun as weddings were, nothing compared to the moment you finally take off your shoes. Pretty shoes were demons in a heel form! With a relieved sigh, you slipped the straps from your ankles and kicked the heels away before wiggling your sore toes against the cool bathroom floor.

You removed your jewelry and caught your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was beginning to fall from its carefully pinned curls, and your makeup was begging to be removed. 

Just as you were about to change out of your dress, you heard your door open and close. The sound of the water faucet running covered it, causing you a near heart attack when you saw Dean’s reflection in the mirror. 

‘’You want to kill me, Di Laurentis?’’ 

His tie had disappeared somewhere throughout the evening and the top three buttons of his dress shirt were undone. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and he looked just as tired — and tipsy — as you felt. 

‘’You’re too beautiful to kill,’’ Dean replied with an easy smile, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

You turned off the faucet and snorted. ‘’That’s your opening line? You’d make a shit slasher killer.’’ 

‘’Who said I wanted to be a slasher killer? Can’t hide that handsome face under a mask.’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’What are you doing in my room?’’

He pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few slow steps into the bathroom. ‘’I wasn't lying, by the way."

You paused, your hand resting on the edge of the sink. ‘’About what?’’

He met your eyes in the mirror. ‘’About you looking beautiful.’’ 

‘’Can you unzip my dress?’’

Dean reached for the delicate zipper, his knuckles brushing the bare skin of your back as he slowly eased it down. The soft rasp of the zipper seemed impossibly loud in the quiet bathroom. 

When he finished, his hands lingered at your waist as he caught your eyes in the mirror, then pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder. ‘’Anything else?’’ 

You pulled the thin straps from your shoulders, letting the dress slip down your body until it pooled around your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Dean's gaze lingered on your reflection in the mirror, sweeping over your bare skin before finding your eyes again. You should have felt shy beneath his attention, but you had been naked together long enough to not care anymore. 

A light groan left Dean’s throat. ‘’Now you’re going to kill me.’’ 

A cocky grin threatened to spread on your face. You would never get over the power you had over this man. This man who normally oozed confidence like cologne, could melt into something softer just from seeing your naked body. No one else ever acted that way with you.  

‘’Am I?’’ 

One of his hands slowly moved up to your chest, cupping and squeezing your breast in his large hand. ‘’Yeah. I’m fucking dead, babydoll.’’ 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Morning came far too soon. 

You woke up to sunlight spilling through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind that made it impossible to pretend you were still asleep. Past you was an idiot for not shutting the blinds last night. 

Rolling over, you came face to face with Dean’s blue eyes. 

‘’Morning,’’ he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

Somehow, even after an entire night of celebrating, he looked unfairly good.

A small smile pulled at your lips before you could stop it. ‘’Morning.’’

He watched you for a moment, then a familiar crooked grin appeared.

‘’What?’’ you asked.

‘’Nothing.’’

‘’You're staring.’’

‘’Can't I appreciate the view?’’ 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide your smile. 

Before Dean could come up with another smug remark, the door swung open and Allie rushed inside, her hair a mess and missing one slippers on. 

‘’Bathroom emergency!’’ she announced breathlessly. ‘’My room doesn’t have a bathroom and someone is already using the main one and I really, really need to…pee.’’ She came to an abrupt stop, her eyes darting from you and then to Dean, and the fact that his bare ass was in full sight. ‘’Oh my god.’’ 

Allie’s jaw dropped. For a solid three seconds, she didn’t move — or breathe — and just stood there like someone had pressed pause on the entire universe. Then her brain caught up. Dean Di Laurentis was in your bed and completely naked. 

‘’Oh my god!'' she shrieked again, louder this time.

Dean barely flinched, while you wanted to disappear through the mattress. Not because you were embarrassed of being seen with him. It just wasn’t how you wanted to reveal your ‘relationship’. 

And you wanted to have a talk with Dean before telling anyone. What did last night mean? Was it simply two people getting caught up in a wedding, too much champagne, and old feelings...or was it the beginning of something real? You needed to know where Dean's head was. Where his heart was. 

‘’I’ll be back,’’ Allie declared, her bladder forcing her to rush to the bathroom. 

‘’Cover yourself,’’ you hissed at Dean, pulling up the sheets to hide his lower half. 

He grinned like the devil. ‘’That’s not what you were saying last night.’’ 

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You had forgotten how American brunch was different from in Europe. You had grown accustomed to fresh bread, cheese, prosciutto, and an espresso that disappeared in three sips. Here, brunch was an event — towering stacks of pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, hashbrowns, endless refills of coffee, and enough food to keep you full until dinner. 

It was also the perfect cure for hangovers. 

They also had bottomless mimosas. This was the best part of American brunch. 

At one of the tables, Tucker, Logan and three Bruins players were stuffing their faces with eggs, bacon and hashbrowns while feeling the weight of an elephant sitting on their head. Some things never changed. 

A few tables over, Allie and Grace were sitting together, visibly regretting last night’s last glass of champagne. 

With a plate of pancakes and a mimosa in hand, you walked over to them. ‘’How’s the head, Gracie?’’

‘’I hate champagne,’’ she replied, glaring at your mimosa. 

‘’She and Logan stole a bottle of champagne last night,’’ Allie explained, stabbing a hashbrown. ‘’It didn’t agree with the cocktails and she got sick.’’ 

‘’Oh no,’’ you said, feeling bad for Grace. 

‘’That’s Logan’s fault,’’ the latter grumbled. ‘’He kept getting me refills—’’ 

‘’Heard that!’’ Logan called from his seat. ‘’I plead not guilty.’’ 

You laughed, then began eating your pancakes. 

‘’So,’’ Allie began. ‘’Did you sleep well? Aunt Shauna said she heard some strange noises all night. Her room right next to yours.’’ 

Lifting your head from your plate, you glared at her. She may have kept her mouth shut about this morning, but you knew Allie Hayes too well to know she would do anything to pull the juicy gossip out of you. 

You opened your mouth to spill out some lie, but Dean appeared at your table. He had showered and changed out of his wedding clothes. 

‘’Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but Garrett is looking for you.’’ 

You raised an eyebrow. Was Garrett actually looking for you? Unlikely. He and Hannah were busy thanking Hannah’s family for their gifts and for coming to the wedding. They were from the midwest, so some of them were going to hit the road soon. 

‘’I'll be back,’’ you told the girls.

‘’Take your time,’’ Allie sang, her grin widening.

You shot her a warning look that only made her smile harder.

Dean waited until you had fallen into step beside him before leading you away from the dining room and out onto the wraparound porch overlooking the lake. The chatter from brunch faded behind you, replaced by the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the few singing birds. 

‘’We need to talk.’’ 

You nodded. ‘’I know.’’ 

‘’I assumed we would talk in the morning, but hurricane Allie blew in and…’’ Dean trailed, taking a seat on the bannister so he was closer in height to you. ‘’This weekend, it wasn’t just a wedding fling. Not for me. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I quit the firm. About us.’’ 

He let the words settle between you before continuing.

‘’Not just the physical part. Although the sex is fucking great.’’ 

You let out a small laugh. He wasn’t wrong. 

‘’What I’m saying is, I want to try us. For real.’’ 

‘’We still live on different continents, Dean,’’ you reminded him. 

‘’I know. But we were at different stages of our life back then. I think we can work.’’ Dean searched your face, as if trying to gauge whether you were on the same page or not. ‘’I coach from September to May. I have the whole summer to myself. And you said it yourself, your job is remote. You can spend a few weeks in New York, work from there. We can make it work.’’ 

You stared at him.

Because that was the thing about Dean. When he really wanted something, he didn't just talk about it. He figured out how to get it. But right now, he was making it sound almost too easy. 

‘’I know there'll be days where the time difference sucks. Days where one of us is tired or busy or wishes the other person was just there.’’ He paused, reaching for your hands and pulling you in. ‘’But I want this. I want us, baby.’’ 

Your heart tightened. 

‘’Dean…’’ 

‘’You want it too. I know it.’’ He leaned his forehead against yours. ‘’I feel it.’’ 

Of course you wanted it. Wanted him. But you were scared of hurting. Because love was painful. 

‘’I don't want this to be something we try for a few months and then give up when it gets hard,’’ you admitted. ‘’I don’t want to get hurt, Dean.’’ 

His expression turned serious again. ‘’Neither do I.’’

He leaned to kiss you, slow and deep, and you melted against his tongue. 

Behind you, the door opened and Garrett stepped out. ‘’What the fuck?!’’

══════════════════