Chapter Text
Pink, red, and white heart confetti wink at you. They glimmer from the daylight that floods through the large bay windows of the school gym. You meander down the length of the table, assessing its sugary spread with a mild disinterest. Chatter and shrieks of children echo off the lofty ceilings and urethane floor. They collide with the scattered laughter and pompous posturing from onlooking parents.
Hastily, you grab a cup of water and find your way to an empty chair at the edge of the room. Getting comfortable, you watch kids exchange their paper cards and giggle with glee at their assortment of candies.
You really only came here for your niece—a favor for your brother so he could prepare for Valentine’s Day. A small secret smile rises on your face. If he shows up… well, then you really came here for him.
The moment he walks in, a current of fervor passes through the room. A wave of self-consciousness engulfs the adults: moms shift their weight, toss their hair; dads draw themselves up to their full heights, a few form white-knuckled grips. Eyes flash, drinking his presence in sips, others frisk over him in blatant thirst.
You allow yourself a glimpse. He stands at the doorway, his kid tugging on his hand in an innocent excitement. His dark hair is fashioned into its usual spikes. Today he’s wearing a long-sleeve white button down with a nehru collar. It's tucked into a pair of navy slacks that hug his narrow hips. A twinkle from his gold chain peeks through the undone buttons at the top.
He crouches down, pulling out a dollar. You see his mouth moving in quiet instruction, patience and amusement oozing from every pore on his face. They smile up at him nodding vigorously and toss their arms around his neck squeezing with all their might. He encircles them in his arms, chuckling. He places a kiss to the side of their head and murmurs in their ear.
They pull away and bound off to the rose booth exchanging their newly acquired cash for a full red rose.
He watches them hanging back, hands tucked into his pockets. When they return, it’s a gentle exchange: placing the flower into his hands and sternly pointing to it; his answering smile and nod of assent. They leave him running to your niece, their bag of valentines bouncing.
Standing, his eyes scan the crowd. A seed of apprehension bursts in your stomach and you swiftly take a sip of water. You let your gaze dance from person to person, cataloging. A handful of people's eyes linger on him, and you bite your lip to hold back a chuckle when you see one mom, who you know to be recently single, adjust her cleavage in a not so subtle maneuver. You can't really blame her.
You catch the rim of your cup between your teeth and glance back at him. His eyes cut through your thin veneer of indifference and pin you in place. He rolls the stem of the flower in his hand. Deliberately, he brings it up to his nose and inhales.
Your breath catches in your throat. A tingling zaps through your legs. You stand. The movement is more awkward than you intend, but he has that effect doesn't he? With his tasteful tattoos, those glinting hoops lining his ears—everything about him sets you ablaze.
You lick your lips and drain your cup. You exit through one of the side doors dropping it in one of the bins on your way to the bathroom.
Pushing open the door, you are greeted with perfumed muggy air. Warring plumes of floral, spicy, and earthy notes berate your nose as you ease past a woman fluffing her hair. She chitters to a lady next to her who puckers her lips and reapplies a vermilion lipstick.
"Did you see what he was wearing today?"
"Oh, I saw! And did he get a new tattoo? God I would kill for him to wrap me in those arms."
You bite your tongue and check your outfit in the mirror. You adjust the waist of your skirt. Maybe you should have worn a dress—or those new pair of pants that make your legs look stunning. Nibbling on your lip you flip the faucet on and wash your hands.
"You think he's giving that rose to anyone other than his kid?" A yearning colors her voice.
"Fuck no. He loves that child—but if he did, you know I got first dibs!"
They laugh together, their reflections sharing wide toothy smiles. You do your best to keep the grimace from your face, opting instead to carefully dry your hands. You pull out your phone, a text flashing on the screen.
M: third hallway on the left, three doors down
A whorl in your stomach—and you're pushing the door open, exiting into a flock of women on their own preening missions. You shoulder past them, and make your way out from the throng of people.
— — —
The moment you open the door his hands are on you. He pulls your face towards him and captures your mouth in a lavacious kiss. His tongue swipes your lip. Teeth nip. His broad-shouldered frame presses against you, feverish.
Your back hits the door with a dull thud. Your hands reach up to delve into his dark hair. He opens his jaw, deepening the kiss, tongue thrusting into your mouth. A compulsory moan erupts from you both.
Pants fill the small space the moment he retreats. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He tilts his head, eyes raking over you. The skin on your arms prickles. You do your best not to fidget. An abrupt rise and fall of your chest is the only semblance of your floundering control.
"You look nice today." It’s a mutter snaking its way into your tense muscles.
He dips down again, placing a kiss on your swelling lips. His hand cradling your face transfers to your neck and he places his thumb on your thrumming pulse. He tips your head back trailing kisses on the line of your jaw then down, down, down. His other hand slides along your thigh bunching your skirt in his hand.
"I really like this," he says.
One, two, three fingers hook in the material. They ball up the fabric slowly exposing your thigh. You catch your lip between your teeth, a familiar warmth spreading between your legs. A finger grazes your skin, ticking and tingling.
He grasps your thigh in his hand. He squeezes. Your stomach clenches. A blistering swell of lust erodes your remaining composure. You whimper, swallow, and close your eyes, marveling at the wildfire his touch sparks. His hand inches up making his way to your velvety folds. You inhale. His finger grazes your core. He pauses.
You open your eyes a fraction to see his low-lidded longing. His tongue darts out wetting his lips.
"No underwear for me today?"
He smiles, gaze flicking to your lips. He angles his hips pressing his bulge to your hip. You instinctively rub against it, a shaky breath escaping.
A second finger stretches out to poke at your leaking wetness. You squirm, legs shifting. Peering down, you gulp down the sight before you: his rolled up sleeves, the fabric of your skirt piled at his wrist, the bluish ridges of his veins.
His lips drift up to your ear.
His fingers dip into you the moment he whispers, "Where do you want to cum today?"
You pulse around him a hand flying up to clutch his forearm. The lean muscles flex under your grip. He begins to glide his fingers.
You avert your eyes. They roam over the worn boxes of crayons, congealed globs of glue on orange caps, piles of colorful paper, and bins of blunted scissors.
His hand stills. The silence bloats and teeters awaiting a puncture. He leans in and kisses your ear. You close your eyes, a muscle twitching in your jaw. He catches your earlobe in his teeth and tugs. His other hand finds the buttons on your shirt thumbing them open to expose your breast.
You feel strangely exposed, skin prickling in the cool air, chest swelling under his scrutiny. Wet kisses flit down your neck and chest until the flat of his tongue engulfs your nipple. Your body jerks. You contract.
"Hmm?"
It bursts from you in a gust.
"Uhm, y-your cock. I want to cum on your cock."
Teeth teasing your nipple, he pulls his fingers out. They smear your sticky slick up to your clit. Slow tight spirals make your hips lurch. His nose drags across the valley of your breasts.
"Where else?"
His fingers move down, up, in, out. You shudder.
"Look at me." His voice is a beckoning tendril of warmth.
Your eyes flutter open and meet shining dilated pupils. They hold a tenderness that unknots the tension in your chest.
Your mouth parts. A wiggling thought at the back of your mind elbows its way to the front. A rush of heat floods your face. A creeping trail of slick seeps from you. You attempt to turn away, but long nimble fingers hold your head in place. His lips graze yours.
"Where else baby?" He cajoles.
"Y-your tongue." It’s a wisp of a statement he greedily inhales .
Humming his assent, he presses a brief kiss to your parted mouth and backs up. Your arms flail from the loss of him; but, he's kneeling down in front of you, hands curling around your thighs. They glide up, collecting your skirt.
Your hands fall to rest on his shoulders, watching in a dazed trance. Eyes fixed to your gathering wetness, he ties your skirt into a loose knot that rests at your hip.
Once secure, his hands return to your legs massaging them. Each squeeze parts your legs further and slides your feet along the floor. His hand slips under your left thigh guiding it up to rest on his shoulder. Your hand shifts to his cheek brushing his pink blush. He leans into your touch, one corner of his mouth lifts.
He takes a handful of your ass while the other rests on your lower belly, thumb pointing down to your leaky lips. He pulls your hips toward his face supporting you as you shift your weight. He adjusts until you nod with a small " mhm ".
He leans forward sucking his thumb. It leaves his mouth with a soft pop to swipe at your clit. You shiver, and return your hands to his silky hair. He leaves a kiss on the inside of your thigh. Scooching closer, a small puff tickles your core.
Petal soft lips caress you. They are wet, slippery, and scorching. Your fingers fidget and curl into his scalp. Your body throbs deliciously.
Salacious slurping fills the small room. They overlap the vibrations of his low grumble as he opens his jaw. His tongue darts out, undulating among your soft folds. It's mesmeric. You sigh letting him soothe your voracious want.
His tongue dips into you. It lunges in shallow spurts making your legs spread. You yank his head towards you. Deeper, you want it deeper.
Your body lurches when his teeth grate your clit. His mouth suctions on the kernel and he nurses it with an even beat. Your thighs shake, head bowing, a broken keen flows forth. You writhe like a ribbon caught in a rousing breeze until he releases it.
He withdraws, and you open your eyes a fraction. His face is flushed, lush lashes framing his glowing orbs. Erratic puffs of air escape his glossy lips. He slides his hand to meet the other on your lower back and lifts your hips slightly.
Diving back in, kitten licks dot your soaking cunt. A graze of his teeth jolts your legs. He travels back down, laving you with his tongue.
His nose nuzzles your clit and a purr vibrates from his mouth. You twist your fingers in his hair. Smoldering ardor builds in your veins. His tongue stokes it, feeds it.
"I–I'm gonna—"
He keeps his pace and twists his head, angling to let his thumb pull the hood of your clit up. He licks up and encloses it with a dewy kiss. Your body locks, the light staccato of his tongue the only discernible movement.
Your muscles begin to quake. You bring a hand up to fondle your breast, pinch your nipple.
Back arching off the door, a delectable burn shoots through your limbs. It expands, alighting a resplendent flame deep in your belly.
He moans with you as you find your release. His tongue teases out your tremors, navigating their cascades with ease as they sluggishly subside.
Smacking fills the room as he licks and kisses the deluge of liquid, messily smudging it to coat your vulva. He pulls back with labored breathing.
A clinking of his belt unbuckle. A rustle of his pants. You glance down in time to catch his hand swipe at his face. He transfers the slick coating his cheeks down to his erection. His shoulder shimmies under your thigh as he pumps himself. He tilts his head to rest on you, eyes glued to your glistening folds. He sighs blissfully.
You comb your fingers through his hair watching as he jerks off to your visible arousal. Swallowing, he leans forward leaving a chaste kiss.
Carefully he removes your leg from his shoulder and stands. He gathers you to him, scattering kisses on your cheek.
A knee wedges between your legs coaxing them open and he tip of him prods your center. Smiling at your anguished whine, he continues tapping it, making you twitch and dig your nails into his biceps.
Blindly, you reach down. Placing a hand over his, you guide him to your entrance.
"So impatient," he huffs in a chuckle.
But then the satiny head of his cock slips inside you. It’s a tormenting tease, a painful reminder of how empty you feel.
He grunts, and with a rock of your hips he sinks in a little deeper.
"Fuck, fuck ." His voice is a strained melodic intonation. "You feel so good."
He shifts, crouching down, widening your stances. You bring your arms up to encircle his neck, your nose bumping his. Bit by bit, he begins to bury himself deeper. Greedily you pull him in.
" Always feel so good ." He hisses.
You clench around him the moment his pelvis meets yours. Shallow pants mingle. A volcanic simmer emanates from your coupled bodies. A light sweat breaks out on your hairline.
He rolls his hips.
You suck in a sharp breath, and clamp down unforgivingly. He shudders.
"I know," he puffs, "I know."
Tucking his face next to yours, he rolls his hips again. Again. He falls into a steady pace like a gently lapping shore. Your walls flutter and toes curl.
Closing your eyes, you cherish his unshakable resolve; his tender generosity; his meticulous devotion to pleasure. It breaks over you like a dappled ray of a golden autumn sun and spills out of you in an exhale to stain the air in delicate euphoria.
"Yes baby, that's it. That's right, lemme hear…"
He picks up his pace, hips moving from rolling waves to swelling surges. Your eyes shut focusing on the familiar rippling grind. You relish each saturated slap of skin; each skim of his mouth; each beading ache in your hips; each depraved groan.
Your eyes blink open and stare at the junction of you both. You watch him disappear inside you, a creamy ring condensing at the base of his cock. It sticks to the dark neatly trimmed curls.
His movements stutter. You feel him twitch inside you.
" Fuck , so tight." He mumbles.
He crowds you, lips pitiless as they latch onto your mouth. A hand thumps next to your face. His thrusts become shallower, deeper.
"So fucking good f'me. So f–fuck—"
He bumps your cervix. You vice round him. He grunts.
His hand fists in your periphery. A white-hot pressure begins to build. It fogs your brain in a ravenous blaze. A gasp fights to claw out of your throat.
"Let it out baby, let it out."
Your wail is perverse. It fans your inflamed hunger. Your pelvic floor lengthens. You convulse, back arching forward, face tucking into the space between his neck and shoulder. A honeyed decadence envelops and adheres to every bone in your body. It expands, oozing in a heady torrent.
He fucks you through it. His laments blend into the next and meld with your own incoherent babble.
Gradually, his movements even out and slow to a standstill. You rest on him, arms and legs like jelly. Your chests heave in the humid air.
A hand kneads your nape. You kiss the clammy skin of his neck.
Both your breaths begin to lengthen as he softens inside you. As you move to lean back against the door, he lifts your chin and slides his mouth against yours. He hums into your mouth, tongue lazily flicking.
When he pulls away your lips chase his. He pecks them before looking down. A hand skates along your thigh—and then he's pulling out, kneeling between your wobbling legs.
You recoil at the prod of his fingers. Your hands cup the back of his head as he leans forward and licks your shared release. You tremble like a fragile stem.
His mouth recedes. Artfully, his fingers scoop the milky mixture that escapes, and stuffs it back through your puffy lips.
He stands, lips a plush ring around his fingers. You grasp his wrist and pull them from his mouth. Skimming the puckered flesh over your parted lips, you suck them into your mouth and swirl your tongue around them.
"So good for me," he coos, gently thrusting his hand.
Removing them, his mouth captures yours in an effervescent kiss. It's like a spill of cool water cleansing you of any lingering thirst.
Extracting himself, he unknots your skirt. It falls down in a rush hiding the sticky mess between your legs. He stuffs himself back into his pants and you watch in rapt muteness, clumsily fumbling with the buttons of your shirt. You only manage to fit one back through its hole before he replaces your hand with his and quickly does the rest.
"How about we do this in a bed next time?" he says softly as his lips ghost across your temple.
You freeze.
"What?"
Your eyes snap up, searching his face for any ounce of mockery. Instead you find sincerity in the curve of his mouth; the back of his hand along your cheek; the measured way he repeats himself.
He rests his forehead against yours. Warm, slightly calloused hands cradle your cheeks. You focus on his lips, swollen, parted, and carmine.
"What about dinner first?" he coaxes.
"Like a…a date? Or, just–I mean—"
"Yeah, like a date."
A rush of questions floods your mind. Has he talked to his kid about you? Is this still just going to be sex? Is he looking for something else? Do you want something else? It's not that you don't want to be with him in that way… but that's more than you want. Isn’t it?
A tide of panic rushes in. You feel like an unmolded lump of clay bobbing in choppy waters threatening to drown.
Your palm finds its way to his torso. Shifting your weight, you vacantly decompress. Dimly you assess the supple threads of his shirt; the gentle rise and fall of his chest; his pounding heart.
"Ok, yes. I would like that." You concede.
He encompasses you in a snuggling hug. A hand rubs your back, soothing the tension residing there. You close your eyes reveling in the comfort of his embrace.
Later, you can deal with those questions later.
When he pulls back, a rose materializes in front of you.
"Didn't your kid buy this for you?" you ask, breathy.
"They wanted to buy it, so I could give it to you." he muses with a small smile.
You stare at him, eyebrows lifting.
"Oh really?"
"I was telling them how I made a friend recently, and wanted to do something nice for them this Valentines."
You blink.
"Of course, I really had something else in mind…"
Hesitant and bashful, he smiles. A downy blanket cushions your heart. Curling your fingers around the base of the flower, you bring it to your nose and drink in the redolent fragrance.
"Thanks."
A finger under your chin, and he meets you with a sweet kiss. You melt into his chest until a phone buzzes.
Oh, right—the kids.
With shaky legs, you back up.
"You go first,” he murmurs, “I'll text you."
You nod as he opens the door. Fresh air greets you. Before crossing the threshold, you turn back, stealing a few more pecks.
Distant giggles echo in the hall. They sparkle and thrum with the shimmering that swells in your chest and a harmony erupts from their resonance. You close your eyes. Inhale. And tenderly tuck away this gilded moment.