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" 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 "

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His presence around the house was far from uncommon. Honestly, it seemed like James was around your house more than he was around his own. You'd come home: he'd be lingering in the kitchen, rifling around in the cupboards to procure a glass, pour himself a drink and smile at you before retreating to your brother's room upstairs. If you didn't find him in the kitchen, he'd be in the garden, throwing a football back and forth with your brother while he charmed your dad who stood a foot away with a beer in hand.

He was never out of the goddamn place.

However, more recently, there'd been another area of the house that James had begun to occupy–an area that you didn't think he'd cross. The boundary had been placed there the first day he came round with a firm, "Don't go in my sister's room or she'll kill you," from your brother. James had complied quite happily for some time. He didn't have much of a desire to go into his best friend's little sister's bedroom. Why would he?

That thought remained until the night your mom had officially invited him to participate in the family dinner. When he’d realised something…strange about you. Something different.

Your mom had requested he come around, saying that they had never properly sat down to get to know him despite him being around so often. Your brother had shrugged, muttering a simple "whatever" and then mumbled something about calling him and asking.

That was how James had managed to join the family dinner–his seat placed opposite you. At first, he didn't give it much thought, too focused on impressing your mom and behaving in front of your dad. But then he began to catch your eye, the cough that followed it and then the nervous fidgeting as you played with your food.

It had been such a confusing ordeal–James weighing up all the options in his head. The few that came to mind had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat and for his own peace of mind, he concluded that you were just shy.

Nonetheless, after that dinner, you began to act strange around him; seeming to run into him an awful lot more than you usually did. Unfortunately for him, the regular interactions had caused something to transpire deep in his gut–something forbidden.

And it was that one night in the kitchen when he was staying over and couldn't sleep because he'd overheard you on the phone giggling and talking to your friend about some guy, that the dynamic shifted. When you bumped into him and your face smacked into his chest as you exited the kitchen and he entered.

You'd been so embarrassed that he'd had to grab both of your shoulders and promise that it was an accident. Then, there'd been a moment of silence, a tension in the air that neither of you decided to address as you shuffled a little closer.

Without thinking it through, he had kissed you that night–with the moonlight streaming through the window and all his inhibitions leaving his head.

It had been a whole lot of sneaking around since then. He'd kiss you in the dead of night when you both "accidentally” bumped into each other on the way to the bathroom. He'd kick you under the table every time your mom asked him about his love life and you'd try and hide your smirk by shovelling food into your mouth. He'd make his way to your room in the dark when everyone else was asleep, muffling the sounds you made with a pillow as he nipped at your thighs and slipped his fingers deep inside you. He'd intentionally come around early before your brother or your dad was home, and grin giddily when he opened your door and saw your face light up.

However, because of how little you got to be alone, you'd yet to take that one leap - the one thing you so desperately wanted to do with him.

And he'd promised so many times that it would happen soon–with a kiss on your forehead and his arms wrapping around your middle.

"Soon, baby, I promise." He'd say.

Soon felt like months, waiting expectantly for him to come into your room and just fuck you. It wasn't as if everything else you did wasn't enough, but you were so desperate for more of him that you didn't think of much else than his full weight on top of you, his cock pushing inside you as he clapped his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Finally, after far too long, it was happening.

He'd come early like he did often nowadays (much to your mom's enjoyment) and slipped into your room, lying down on his assigned side of the bed and gazing up at you.

"Guess what?" he'd said.

Raising your eyebrows and putting your book down, you crawled over to him, swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him.

"What?" His hands found their preferred place on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the skin.

"Guess."

You rolled your eyes, not able to contain your smile as you placed your hands over his.

"Don't be difficult."

You weaved your fingers around his hands, pulling them away from your hips so you could hold them.

"Just guess." He smirked up at you, eyes alight with affection.

"No," you'd said stubbornly. "Tell me."

He shook his head at your behaviour, the both of you not even able to pretend that you weren't so incredibly happy being in each other's presence.

"You want a clue?"

You had supposed that was the middle ground and had nodded.

That smirk never leaving his lips, he had untangled his fingers from yours, put his hands on your hips again and gripped you tight against his crotch. Insistently, he rolled his hips upwards–revelling in the slight parting of your mouth.

"Guess." He'd muttered, grip on your hips not loosening.

Eyes fluttering open, you'd furrowed your brow, looking at him sceptically.

"You mean…" He'd nodded and the smile that broke across your face was so wide it almost hurt. You'd cupped his cheeks as you kissed him, a grin still on your face as his hands snaked up your back–hugging you close to his chest. “Really?” You’d consolidated, the thought that maybe he was teasing you a genuine speculation.

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yeah,” you’d responded quickly and he’d let out a short chuckle, hands roaming underneath your shirt and warm against your back.

“Well, I’m not lying this time.” He’d beamed up at you and you’d beamed right back, pressing your lips to his once again and pouring all of your gratitude into the kiss.

Then, the front door had slammed open, the sound vibrating throughout the house and you'd both abruptly pulled away.

"Shit, that's your brother." He'd said and you'd scrambled off of him, giggling as he frantically adjusted himself in his pants. You had pecked his lips once before he opened the door.

"I'll see you tonight," he’d promised.

"Tonight."

All evening. All damn evening you had been waiting for him, trying to preoccupy yourself with anything you could. You'd tried focusing on your book but every time you got to the bottom of the page, you realised that you hadn't been reading at all and had to start all over again. You’d helped your mom a little with preparing dinner for tomorrow but even she had picked up on your abnormal mood and the incessant questions had just pissed you off. Eventually, you stopped trying and instead decided to go shower. In preparation.

It was like the asshole knew where you were at every moment because as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, face hot and legs freshly shaved, he was waiting patiently. A quick scan from head to toe and a smirk.

"For me?" He asked, already knowing the answer from the way you rolled your eyes and adjusted the towel on your head.

"No."

"No?"

"No," you confirmed. "It's all for myself."

"Just for you, huh?"

You nodded.

"Okay, then, guess I won't come by tonight."

You didn't call his bluff, just muttering an "asshole" and walking past him with a roll of your eyes.

You didn't miss the hand grabbing your ass and you also didn't miss the laugh that followed your squeal. After a harsh look, eyes narrowed and smirk unable to be dampened, you scampered away to your room, cheeks hot and heart fluttering.

It was torture, having to wait so long for him. The day passed by extremely slowly and the noise coming from your brother's room was so loud that you’d wanted to go in there and drag him by the scruff of his neck to your bed. There was always a tinge of jealousy when he’d spend copious amounts of time with your brother, the laughter from the room down the hallway always taunting your envy. But, turning on the stereo to drown out the noise, you began to settle, rolling around in bed and trying to think of anything but what would be happening soon. Your stomach roiled all day, nervous butterflies dancing in your belly whilst you patiently kicked your feet.

You just thanked God that your mom hadn’t made a real meal that night and you’d been able to indulge in a shitty TV dinner that you couldn’t quite stomach. In your room. By yourself, without his lingering gaze and goddamn smirk that had you weak in the knees. It was nice for the most part. But it would’ve been better if he was there.

Midnight rolled around and he still didn’t show, the moonlight casing your room in a white glow that cast profound shadows onto the wall. You found yourself staring at them as a sense of melancholia washed over you. Even if he’d got drunk and passed out, even if he’d genuinely forgotten what he’d promised, you don’t think you’d forgive him for this.

His words had meant so much to you, the simple way he had proposed such an idea to you. It had meant so much.

Rolling over onto your side, you huff in irritation. God, was he gonna get an earful when you saw him again. You were so angry that you were in the right mind to do so right in front of your brother. And your dad. And why not throw your mom into the mix too? What did you have to lose? Maybe, the least you’d get would be a telling–off and a lecture about the importance of boundaries. Your brother would stop talking to you for a few weeks but he’d come round. James, however, wouldn’t be leaving that house without some serious injuries.

Just as the thought became appealing, there was a light knock on your door. Your heart jumped at the thought of who could be on the other side, stomach twisting as you got out of bed and padded over, barefooted to the source of the noise.

If it wasn’t him, you were going to murder him in his sleep.

The metal of the doorknob cool against your fingers, you twisted the handle and pulled the door open, your face one of frustration as the blonde mess of his hair met your eyes.

“You’re late,” you said plainly.

“I know, I know.” He pushed his way into your room, repeating his actions from the morning and sitting down on the bed. “I’m sorry, baby, your brother just wouldn’t pass out. I tried to get him as drunk as I could without killing him.”

You stayed where you were, arms crossed and pouting. He noted your silence and sighed deeply.

“C’mon, you know I would’ve come quicker if I could,” he appeased, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ve been waiting all day,” you complained.

“Babe, I couldn’t.” He stood up and approached you, intent on mollifying your vexation. “You don’t want us to get caught do you?”

“I was thinking about it,” you grumbled, unable to control the flipping in your stomach as you remembered why he was here in the first place. Swallowing, you tried to push the excitement from your body and focus on why you were so mad at him. Though, it seemed irrelevant now. “I was hoping you’d get caught so my brother would beat you up for fucking his little sister.”

Your frustration only grew as he began to laugh.

“Technically,” he began, planting himself in front of you and carefully circling his arms around your waist–tugging you close. “I haven’t fucked you yet.”

You try and prevent a smirk but it's impossible. He notices the slight twitch of your lips and takes that as a sign he can go further.

“Is that why you’ve got such an attitude? You just horny?”

Your eyes widen at his blatant crudeness, pushing against his chest which only makes him hold you tighter.

“James,” you scold, giggling as he runs his hand through your hair and smiles down at you.

There’s silence for a moment as the energy in the room shifts, your ears ringing as he scans your face and holds the back of your head in his hand. He softly strokes your hair, smiling at you with such genuine adoration that you forget why you were ever mad at him. How could you be mad at such a handsome face?

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, circling patterns into your waist and tugging you closer to him.

“Don’t start getting all romantic,” you say, your face getting hot as the words linger in the air.

“Just telling the truth.”

You smile at him, tugging at your bottom lip with your teeth and melting into his hold.

No reason to be angry when he was being so sweet.

“C’mon,” he starts guiding both of you towards the bed, walking backwards until his legs hit the edge. “Let me make it up to you.”

Your stomach is flipping so much you think you might be sick, your heart beating fast in your chest as he spins you around and lightly pushes you down onto the bed. You go with him, back hitting the mattress and shuffling away until your head hits the pillow.

It’s not long before his lips press against yours, opening up your mouth in a sweet kiss that has you arching into him. The wait was worth it, your brain a muddled mess as you thread your hands into his hair and revell in the weight of him on top of you.

His kisses continue on your jaw, your neck, down to your collarbone and back up to your cheek where he pulls away with a heaving chest.

“You sure you want to?” he asks, not having to specify. You knew exactly what he was implying.

“More than anything,” you reply, pressing your lips to his and resuming your desperate kisses.

A groan comes deep from the back of his throat, sending vibrations through every inch of your body and eliciting a pathetic whine from you.

“You desperate, baby?” he asks breathlessly as he attacks your neck again, hands sliding underneath your shirt and pushing it up underneath your armpits.

You nod as he gropes your breasts, the sight of your bare tits giving him that wild look in his eyes that always appeared when he touched you. When his head was between your legs and he gazed up at you with a look one can only describe as pure, unadulterated lust and desire.

“Me too,” he breathes out. “Been desperate all fuckin’ day.”

You can only whine, his thumbs dragging over your nipples, squeezing and rolling them between his fingers until they sit hard against your flesh. He groans before leaning in to attack the skin, biting and suckling each breast and, forgetting where you were, a moan slips from your lips loud enough to wake the residents of the house.

He stops and claps a hand over your mouth, shaking his head as he listens for any noise. After a moment of silence, his eyes on the door the entire time, he decides that no one is coming and presses his hand harder against your mouth.

“Forgot you can’t be quiet,” James says.

You try to tell him to shut up but it comes out muffled and unintelligible under his hand.

“What was that?” he teases and you try and speak again. He gives you a look of confusion, refusing to take his hand off you. “Huh? Not quite getting it.”

You try and kick at him but he holds you down by your hip, not giving any indication he’s letting you go any time soon as you writhe underneath him. After many futile attempts and a smug smile from him, you lick the palm of his hand, relishing in the look of disgust on his face as he finally pulls away.

“I told you to shut up,” you say, giggling lightly as he wipes his hand on your shorts.

“You’re the one who needs to stay quiet,” he counters and tenderly pushes hair from your face. His eyes narrow and he rests his hand on your cheek.

For a split second, you question yourself.

“Did I ruin the mood?” you ask trepidatiously and he laughs in reply. A short-lived laugh filled with affection.

“No, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips in confirmation, filling you with warmth and love so profound, that it didn’t all that matter that you were about to embark on something so intimate with your brother's best friend. You thought you’d feel a little more guilty for even thinking of it but he made you so insurmountably happy and so full that you just didn’t care.

“Good,” you say, your bottom lip between your teeth as his hands trail further up your body, brushing the underside of your breasts.

“Well,” he mutters as he creeps closer to your flesh, your body shivering in anticipation. “Where were we?”

There’s no time to reply as he presses his mouth to yours, groping your breasts and running his thumb over the raised nipple. Smiling into your mouth at your whimper, he caresses the curves of your body, the dip in your waist and the smoothness of your freshly shaved thighs–the softness of your skin and the warmth emitting from in between your legs as his hand travels closer.

You let him fully into your mouth, tongues entangling as he presses his weight on top of you, insistently grinding his bulge into your crotch. You tug on his shirt, silently telling him to take it off and he complies quickly, pulling away to rip the offending item from his body and place his mouth back onto yours with so much haste you think he’s just as desperate as you.

His chest presses against your breasts, the sensitivity of your nipples heightened as his body moves above yours.

“James,” you groan, his kisses reduced to pecks and being planted on your cheeks and jaw.

He groans your name right back to you, hand dipping into your inner thigh and stroking the flesh. His palm is wide and big against you, touch surprisingly light as he trails his hand up to the waistband of your shorts. Fingers slipping underneath the fabric, he pulls away from your mouth to ask your permission.

“Can I?” he asks softly, breath fanning your face as he speaks. You nod far too quickly but don’t have it in you to care as he pulls on your shorts.

You feel him hook his fingers into your panties on his journey down, greedy bastard, and peel your clothes off your legs with more grace than someone would expect from him. The items land on the floor beneath you, discarded and forgotten and you grow hot under his gaze. His eyes move up and down the length of your body like it was the first time he had ever seen you so exposed.

From the heaviness of his breath, it certainly seemed like it felt like the first time.

“I should probably feel bad,” he began, dragging the pads of his fingers from your ankle, all the way up to your knee. “Fucking my best friend's little sister…” he continues his journey up your leg, stopping close to your exposed cunt that glistens wet and wanting in the moonlight. “But you’re just too damn pretty…” Without warning, he cups your pussy, his chest heaving as holds his hot hand against you. “Can’t help myself.”

You buck your hips, grinding into his hand to create friction and gain relief from the sweet ache that throbs harshly at your centre.

“Please,” you groan, gripping his shoulders and futilely trying to force him to move.

He doesn’t have it in him to tease, not today and with a noise, deep from the back of his throat, he dips his fingers into your slick, circling your slit and dragging the wetness in a trail towards your clit. You gasp when contact is made, biting your lip to try and calm your sounds.

“Stay quiet for me, baby,” he mutters near your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he moves his fingers in deliberate circles.

You do as he says, your breaths heavy to substitute for the alternative noises that threaten to spill from your mouth. The urge to whimper, or cry, or moan gets stronger as he swipes your clit again. It becomes downright impossible to keep quiet when he dips the tip of his middle finger inside you, his breaths loud in your ear, and then enters you fully. He’s knuckle deep inside, curling his middle finger as he searches for what makes you squirm.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmurs, eyes fixated on his finger disappearing beneath your legs.

There's warm pressure with every drag of his finger, harsh static surrounding you as he presses his palm over you and a dull ache as he stretches you out with another finger.

“J-Jesus Christ,” you stammer out, breathing erratically as he eases the pain away and thumbs at your clit.

“No,” he begins and you can almost guarantee what's coming next. You’d put money on it. “Just James is fine.”

You snort out a laugh that’s cut short by a rather loud moan, and the sound of laughter continues as James chuckles at your predicament. His fingers continue their slow pace, reaching that spot inside you that has you reeling and keening into his touch.

“I’m gonna have to gag you,” he mutters offhandedly, easing another finger inside you. The pain returns as he stretches you out, the implication of his words prevalent as he slowly drags his thumb over your clit. He leans down to pull your nipple between his mouth, suckling and nipping at your breast with a force as sharp and brief as a pinprick, murmuring unintelligible sounds into your skin.

He draws a slow back-and-forth against the softness inside you, your legs drawing around his hand and bracketing his arm as the pleasure wriggles around you–it has you writhing, gasping, pleasure sparking with the friction, and you cry out as tension flickers and flames. It roars in your belly like fire, scalding your skin as it burns hot and his ardour bleeds into you as you rise high.

Then it snaps.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he murmurs, holding his body over yours–so close you can feel his heart beating in time with you. He draws out the warm waves of your orgasm, hoping you’d quiet your moans out of your own volition but noting that you were in no state to do so, presses his mouth to yours in an inharmonious, utterly incongruous kiss.

You can barely kiss back, too intoxicated from the pleasure and his dextrous touch as you come apart in his hands.

Once the ringing in your ears ceases, the throb between your legs reduced to a low hum, you peel your eyes open–catching your breath as you slowly gather consciousness.

His gaze is on you, adoration and reverence clear on his face as he slips his fingers from inside you and discreetly wipes away the remnants of your pleasure.

“Was I too loud,” you sheepishly ask after a moment of silence.

“For me?” he asks. “You’re never loud enough. For all the people sleeping right now?” You feel heat rise in your cheeks, embarrassment peeking its head around the door. “Maybe a little too loud, yeah.”

“I’ll be more quiet,” you whisper, hands settling on his hips and tugging on his waistband. “Now get your clothes off, please.” It’s less of a humorous request and more of a command laced with pure desire for what lies beneath the fabric. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him before. You had. Plenty of times: on your knees, hand wrapped around his cock, tip in your mouth and his hands tugging at your hair. Hovering over him, jerking him off with a proficiency you had learnt from copious amounts of time spent practising with him.

This time, however, you felt entirely nervous to see him so exposed. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time with him. And that, to you, caused more anxiety to blow wide like a balloon inside your head.

There was the sound of his fly, obscenely loud in the quiet of the night, travelling lower until it met resistance and the sonority faded; mingling with a continuous hum that ran rampant through the house. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t cause your stomach to flip, the acid inside roiling in protest. You’d also be prevaricating if you said the sight of him as he sat back on his haunches, shoved his jeans down his hips and hastily pulled them off his legs, dick springing free, didn’t make you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation.

He looks so much bigger when you know that he’s going to be inside of you, the sight of his hard cock, throbbing in need, causing the nerves to come rushing right back.

“You were commando around my Mom?” you ask to relieve the tension you feel, the sight of his cock standing so freely in front of you teasing your self-control.

His chuckle is short-lived, grasping himself in hand and lazily stroking.

“Yeah. Around your Dad too.”

You groan at the admission, biting down your smile with difficulty and covering your eyes with your arm.

He whispers your name, sweet and loving and you peel your arm away from your face to gaze upon his pretty form.

“What?” you whisper back.

“I promise you’ll be fine.” He says it with such genuinity and love, such compassion and consideration that it relaxes you almost instantly. “You’ll let me know if it's too much.” He says it as a statement, adamant that your relationship is at a point where honesty is expected.

Either way, he lets you nod in confirmation, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, soft enough to have your stomach fluttering, and swipes the head of his cock back and forth along your slit.

The feel of it as it brushes your clit, the heaviness of it against you has that familiar excited nervousness running around your stomach. You think for a moment you might throw up, until his fingers brush through your hair, bracing himself with his right hand grasping your scalp, and lines himself up with you.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Oh, fuck sake James just hurry up.”

He groans at your impatience, not even willing to scold you for your restlessness and, with a little too much haste, guides himself inside. The raw, sweet scrape of him against you is so real, so fulfilling, and as you look up at him with hooded eyes, he seems so entirely dazed by his own pleasure.

With both hands against the soft sheets, balling into fists as he grips the blanket beneath to keep his full weight off you, he presses further. Around the halfway mark, you think that it's enough, that there can’t be any more of him. The stretch burns, peels away at your insides as you feel yourself tighten around him but it's so sweet; you can do nothing but let your mouth hang open, eyes closing and relying on the rest of your senses to guide you through the sensations.

Just as you think he can give you nothing more, he keeps going, shuddering as he lets out a deep gasp. You whimper, borderline sob as you feel his balls press flush against you, his arms shaking beside you as he finally reaches the hilt.

After some deep breaths, he seems to collect himself, eyes opening, arms stable and prepared. It takes you longer to feel steady.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, breathless as he feels you squeeze him in–begging for movement. You writhe around, murmuring in protest. He says your name, sternly with the same admonishment he used that one time he’d pissed you off and you’d genuinely threatened to call your brother and tell him everything. He also knew that you’d listen to him either way so the austerity was lost as he said his next words. “You gotta be quiet.”

Finally, you manage to look at him, glancing once at how he disappears inside of you before casting your gaze to the blue of his eyes.

“I will,” you breathe out, voice shaky and pathetically weak.

“I promise,” he starts, “next time I’ll make sure we’re alone and you can be as loud as you want. You can scream for all I care, baby, but right now…” he rolls his hips, almost testing you as his pubic bone brushes against your clit. You open your mouth, no noise emitting from it. “You gotta stay quiet.”

His voice is strained, entirely displaying his desire and you feel him pull away from you–cock leaving your cunt. There’s a single suspended moment, just his tip teasing you before he pushes back in with a measured thrust, his shoulders rigid and breaths heavy.

He’s gentle, to begin with, finding the desired pace before he picks up some confidence and eases into a continuous progression from clumsy tenderness to sinfully saccharine lovemaking.

And, god, how difficult it is to dampen the sounds threatening to fall from your lips. You have to press your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut with every drag of his cock inside you.

Each thrust is a display of his want, his hips crashing against yours as he chokes out a groan and dips his head down against your shoulder–biting at the skin to keep himself quiet. His hands feel so large as they pull away from the mattress and land on your waist instead. You hope his grip leaves bruises, dark and purple, ugly but beautiful all at once, just so you can show everyone that he is yours and yours only. That he is for you to treasure.

He grits out your name, the syllables harsh with his strained voice and it seems like he wants to say more but can’t. He only produces choked sounds from deep in the back of his throat and then, lets out a noise you haven’t ever heard from him before: a high-pitched, fucking whimper. You keep the sound in the back of your mind for safekeeping, wanting to replay it over and over again (and tease him about it later).

“Fuck,” he hisses out and you wonder if he’s close as he makes a face that seems like he’s almost pained with the intensity of it all. His hand seeks out your clit, rubbing at you and you arch your back and keen.

You feel it coming, spreading through your body like vines and it's impossible that it can occur so quickly. He’s impossible. Touching you like it's the first time, thrusting into you slow enough you think he expects you’ll break under him. Truthfully, you think you’ll break too as your eyes roll back, thighs shaking and the feeling of fullness so prevalent in your mind that you can sense yourself ascending.

“Come on, baby,” he says in a voice much whinier than you expect from him, thumb insistent against your clit as both movements of his hands and hips speed up to get you there faster. The pace change acts as a catalyst and you feel a palm cover your mouth to muffle moans you didn’t even realise you were producing.

His hair tickles your collarbone as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, smoothing over the bruise that blossoms there–licking it as if in apology. Abruptly, he bites at it again, the ache emitting a whimper from low in your throat. He brands you, a ringing in your ear as he embellishes you in a deep scarlet. And you come hard, violent twinges attacking your body that run sharp and dull all at once.

He’s not far behind, you can tell, hips stuttering, breaths harsh in your ear as he fucks you through the conclusion of your orgasm. Once you’re able to open your eyes, you gaze at the part of his mouth as he stares at you like everything outside of the present has been shoved aside. And you see it: how perfect and utterly satisfying this is for him.

A full-body tremor ripples through him and you feel the loss of his cock as he frantically pulls out, takes himself in his fist and strokes himself until he spills all over your stomach. It spatters against your skin, warm and wet until he heaves out a shuddering sigh and flops down on the mattress before he loses his strength and falls on top of you.

You can only lay there, listening to his pants and focusing on the feeling of being drained of everything inside you.

For a little while, you both lay still, gradually finding your way back to the ground. Then, to appease any doubts he may think you may be feeling, you manage to rest your head on his chest–shuffling closer to feel the warm press of his body against yours.

“You alright?” he asks, arm wrapping around your shoulder and holding you tight.

“I think we were a little too loud.”

He snorts, sighing deeply and brushing hair away from his face with his free hand.

“Maybe,” he says thoughtfully. “Guess we’ll find out in the morning.”

“We’d find out in about thirty seconds.” You trace shapes into his chest, nuzzling into him. “Knowing my dad and brother, they’d drag you down the stairs naked by your hair.”

“Probably.” He pushes his fingers into your locks, scratching against your scalp in a manner so soothing you know that sleep will overcome you soon. It’s calm for a moment, the silence allowing you to rest your eyes undisturbed, until he pipes up again, voice full of insistence and promise. “We’ve gotta tell them soon.”

“I know,” you say quickly. Damn the consequences. You just want to be his and have everyone know.

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” his hand travels down to your neck where a bruise blossoms, the bite throbbing deliciously.

“You know, I think my mom would be happy if she found out.” You continue to circle his chest, tracing unknown shapes and spirals into his skin. “She regularly tells me how much of a gentleman you are and how she hopes you find a good woman soon. The only thing she doesn’t like is your hair.”

There’s a pause where he thinks. Then, comes from his mouth some of the most absurd words he's ever uttered to you.

“So if I cut my hair I could have your mom too?”

You snort, muffling the sound by burying your face in his chest.

“You’re disgusting,” you mumble against his skin and he just holds you tighter, laughing with you.

It’s calm. It’s easy. And as he places a kiss on your head you think this is all you could possibly want.

You both stay perfectly still for a while, not speaking, just lying with each other, touching each other and being content in one another's presence. Then, he says the words you’ve been dreading to hear since he walked through the door.

“I’m gonna have to go soon.”

You hold him tighter, arms around his neck as you bury your face against his collarbone and mutter a quiet, “Don’t.”

“I’m gonna have to.” Every inch of his body screams in protest to his words, contradicting his statements as he unconsciously holds you tight and presses a kiss to your head, then another, and another. Soft and sweet.

You sigh defeatedly and pull away. It's irrational to be angry at him, you know it is, but it's so utterly aggravating that you can’t sleep and wake with him beside you. That has never, ever been an option for the two of you, James always having to slip back into your brother's room after being intimate with you–using the excuse that he went to piss if his friend wakes up.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he tries to assuage, whispering the words with such softness and care.

“I know,” you say like a sulking child. You’re suddenly aware of his cum drying against your stomach, the sensation that all good things don’t last forever, that tonight had been so wonderfully transcendent of everything you thought intimacy and sex could be. It makes you feel slightly better. “I know,” you repeat and turn your head to face him.

“Yeah, you know, now give me a kiss before I leave.”

You bite your lip and a smile stretches your lips. It's not long before you’re clambering into his lap and pressing your mouth to his in a feverish kiss.

The osculation lasts longer than anticipated, neither of you ready to say goodbye. But you hesitantly peel yourself away from him, letting him clean you up with the tissues on your vanity and throw your shirt at you.

You watch as he dresses, buttoning up his pants and slipping his shirt over his head, the action messing his hair which he promptly smooths down. The sight of his skin disappearing beneath the fabric makes your heart sink. You want to rise with him, see the morning sun on his naked skin and wake him up with delicate kisses.

But you can’t. You know you can’t and once he’s fully dressed, you know he has the same realisation.

“We’ll think of something,” he says as if he can read your mind. Sometimes, you think he can. He always seems to know what you want. “Get a motel room or somethin’. Then I can fuck you as long as I want.” The vulgarity cuts through the despondency and you feel your heart lighten slightly.

“And I can be as loud as I want?” you ask sweetly.

“Yeah, you can. As loud as you fuckin’ want.”

He kisses you goodbye twice before he finally slips out the door, the hinges creaking. You briefly hear his footfalls down the corridor before they drift off and he’s lost to the night.

Feeling the loss of him wholly, you settle down under the covers, rolling over to his side (the side that was assigned at the very start of your relationship) and breathe in the scent of him still lingering on the covers.

You wish he could stay. More than anything. And as you drift off, you pretend he’s there with you, holding you tight and professing his love over and over until you can hear nothing but those three words of unsullied commitment.

━━･❪ ❁ ❫･━━

A/N: well that was fun! haven't done a one-shot in a very, very long time. i hope you enjoyed! a lot of this was an amalgamation of ideas that me and bub have discussed a multitude of times. brothers best friend!james is something i truly cannot get over. anyways, hope you're all having a good day/night and i'll see ya next time.

love ya,

alana ♡

#alana's fics #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #metallica

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