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tigertales9 · 1 year

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QB1

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Cheating

Time/Place: February 11, 2023 (the night before the Chiefs/Eagles Super Bowl) - Phoenix, AZ

Description: A chance meeting in a dimly-lit club changes the course of your life.

A/N: I refer to reader's boyfriend as QB2 throughout the fic. He's an NFL QB, about the same age as Joe, with a girlfriend but not married. Y'all can insert whoever you wanna do dirty. 😉 Also, let's suspend disbelief and pretend Joe is single in this (and that he had some scruff during SB week-end).

Part 2 is now up : QB1 - Part 2

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You take a sip of your martini, wrinkling your nose at the taste just as a loud rumble of laughter breaks out across the room. You're mortified for a second, absolutely convinced people are laughing at you until you shoot a glance in the direction of the laughter. You breathe a sigh of relief when you realize no one is looking at you. No one at all.

"What am I doing here?" you whisper to yourself, annoyed that your boyfriend has once again left you alone in a club, strategically relegated to a far back corner booth while he lives it up with other pro ballers and cleat chasers.

"So sick of this," you mumble, giving a bored glance at the throngs of people interacting in the dimly-lit environment. Your man is nowhere to be seen, and you're just about to grab your phone and send him a text saying you're heading back to the hotel when your eyes land on a tall figure standing at the bar. Is that him? you think, your eyes going wide when the man turns his head and locks eyes with you. Def not him, you think, quickly averting your gaze, more than a little embarrassed to be caught staring at one of your man's rivals.

You take another tiny sip of your cocktail before sneaking a clandestine glance back at Joe Burrow; he's still staring straight at you in a way that causes your pulse to kick into overdrive. He holds your gaze, his sinful lips curling into a panty-dropping grin before you break eye contact. What the hell is he looking at? you think to yourself, knocking back the rest of your martini in one go. You set the empty glass on the table and are about to grab your purse and jacket and head for the exit when a deep voice startles you.

"Hey."

You drop your purse on the floor and knock your empty glass over all in one mortifying motion; you watch as a large hand quickly reaches out and grabs the glass before it hits the table. Cat-like reflexes, you think to yourself, trailing your gaze up the long, outstretched arm, not at all surprised when you see the arm belongs to Burrow.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Didn't mean to startle you." He flashes a smile before reaching down to grab your purse; his bare arm grazes your bare leg and you gasp at the skin-to-skin contact, giving him what you hope is a nonchalant look when he hands you the bag.

"Thanks," you mumble.

"You're welcome. Can I join you?" he asks, waiting for your nod of approval before dropping onto the banquette beside you. You scoot over to accommodate his large frame in the small booth, your cheeks going from pink to red when his manspread causes his leg to touch yours. "I'm Joe," he states matter-of-factly, like every single person in the club doesn't know who he is.

"I know," you giggle, moving to put a little more distance between you before realizing you're literally up against the wall. You flick your eyes down to his thick thigh nestled snuggly against yours; the heat radiating through his jeans sends an electric hum through your body. "I'm y/n," you murmur, hoping he doesn't notice your breathless tone.

"I know," he grins. "Where's QB2?"

You shrug. "I was wondering the same thing. Haven't seen him in a while."

"He left you alone?"

"Yeah," you mutter, "as usual." You feel the weight of his gaze on you for several seconds before he reaches a hand out toward your cocktail napkin and grabs a toothpick with two fat olives on it. "You don't like these?" he asks, lifting the pick to his lips, giving you a feral grin as he bares his pearly white teeth and pulls one of the plump orbs into his mouth.

"I … umm … yeah, I like them," you stammer, watching his chiseled jawline flex as he chews. Fucking ridiculous bone structure, you think to yourself, your eyes going wide as he holds the toothpick in front of your lips, offering you the remaining olive. You meet his gaze and open your mouth for him, mesmerized by the look in his eyes as he watches you slowly pull the olive into your mouth. Goddamn, you think to yourself, this man could feed me dog food and I'd happily lick my chops and beg for more. You chew the olive while visions of Joey B. feeding you something naughty dance in your head; after a few seconds you see his lips moving but are too caught up to register what he's saying.

"You zoning out on me?" he laughs, finally pulling you out of your porny fantasy.

"Oh … sorry," you mutter, hoping your thoughts aren't written all over your face. "What did you say?"

"Can I get you another drink?" he nods at your emtpy glass. "Dirty martini, right?"

"Yeah," you wrinkle your nose, "but it's not really what I wanted."

"Did they get your order wrong?"

"No. QB2 says apple martinis are immature and unsophisticated so he refuses to order them for me."

"God, he's such a pretentious prick," Joe snaps, rolling his eyes. "Be right back with your appletini."

As he goes to grab your drinks, you snatch your makeup compact out of your purse and give yourself a quick perusal -- hair looks good, no lipstick on teeth, no boogers. You put your compact away and set your purse down where it will serve as a barrier between your thigh and Joe's thigh. So glad I got a fresh bikini wax. "Where did that thought come from?" you mutter under your breath, giggling before scowling. You got the wax because your man promised y'all would spend some time in the resort pool but so far that hasn't happened. You narrow your eyes as you hear your boyfriend's snarky voice in your head. Joe doesn't want you. Don't embarrass yourself. "Screw you," you mumble. Just before Joe gets back to the table you move your purse. Fuck it, you think. It's probably the only action I'm gonna get tonight.

Joe sets your drinks down and eases back into the booth beside you, his thigh immediately pressing against yours. You swallow hard and try to control your breathing, acutely aware of the contact while he seems completely oblivious.

"Thanks for the drink," you smile, taking a sip.

"You're welcome," he grins, taking a sip of his own drink while maintaining eye contact with you. You blink a couple times before breaking eye contact, more than a little flustered by his close proximity. Your gaze is drawn to his throat as he takes another sip, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing in a way that makes you wonder what it would feel like under your tongue.

Good Lord, you think to yourself, get a grip! You avert your eyes, searching for a safe place to rest your gaze:

His broad shoulders which look tasty in that tight black tee? No!

His thick thigh pressed against you? Nope!

His long, agile fingers playing with the edge of your cocktail napkin? Oh Hell No!

You squeeze your eyes closed for a second, admitting defeat. There's no safe place to look at this man. Every single part of him screams SEX.

His deep voice breaks into your naughty thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

You feel another surge of heat in your cheeks, hoping it's too dim for him to notice how hard you're blushing. "Oh nothing," you say, aiming for easy breezy but sounding more chokey croaky. "Just zoned out for a sec."

He gives you a throaty laugh that sets off tingles in interesting places. "That's twice you've zoned out on me. Am I that boring?"

"God no!" you chirp, a little too quick and a little too loud. "I mean … I'm just not very good at small talk."

"Me neither," he smiles before leaning a bit closer. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret. I don't trust people who are good at small talk."

"Really?" you giggle. "Why is that?"

"Cause that shit is awkward as fuck." He gives you a slow wink before continuing. "Nobody should be good at it. Makes me think they have an agenda."

You nod your head in agreement even though you have absolutely no idea what he said after that naughty wink. You bite your bottom lip as your mind frantically searches for something to say. You take a quick sip of your cocktail and clear your throat. "I, ummm, I was really impressed with your statement on abortion rights."

He narrows his eyes at you. "That's dangerously close to good small talk, ma'am. What's your agenda?" The playful twinkle in his icy blue eyes makes your breath catch in your throat. Just trying not to cum from your mere presence, you think. The look on his face makes you wonder if you said that out loud for a sec before he gives you a smile. "Zoning out on me for a third time?"

"No," you protest, giggling when he raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "Okay a little, but I was impressed. You took major heat for that from the good ol' boys, but you also gained a lot of fans."

He shrugs. "Any man who thinks he gets to decide what a woman does with her own damn body is a toxic shithead." He makes a disgusted face. "Trying to control women is the ultimate in small dick energy."

I bet there's nothing small about you, you think to yourself, a little embarrassed when you feel another damn blush rise in your cheeks. You're pretty sure he notices the blush but is enough of a gentleman to ignore it.

"How's your drink?" he asks.

"Delicious." You take a swig and smack your lips dramatically before giving him a smile. His gaze focuses on your lips for several seconds before slowly sliding back up to capture your eyes. Your blush deepens at the heated look and you break eye contact and take a deep breath, trying to control your runaway pulse. Simmer down, you think to yourself. He's not coming on to you. He's just being nice. You frown as you hear your boyfriend's voice in your head. He could have damn near any woman in this club; he doesn't want you.

"I like your dress," Joe says.

You give him a weak smile. "Thanks," you mutter, feeling your mood deflate.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," you mumble, staring at the table instead of meeting his gaze.

"Did I say the wrong thing?"

The concern in his voice makes you lift your head and lock eyes with him. "No," you assure him, "it's just …"

"What?" he coaxes.

You shrug. "I like this dress, too," you admit, glancing down at the slinky dark teal halter dress that's currently riding up to show a nice amount of thigh. You tug the hem down a bit before continuing. "But I got a negative reaction from QB2 when he first saw me in it tonight."

"What did he say?"

The edge in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. "He said the dress was awesome but it would look better if I had bigger boobs."

Joe's eyebrows shoot upward. "What an asshole! You look fucking amazing in that dress." He lowers his voice and leans closer to you. "And I bet you look even better out of it."

You bite your lip hard enough to sting. "Thanks," you whisper, squirming a little at the steady throb of arousal his words set off.

"Does he put you down a lot?" Joe asks, his voice as sharp as his jawline.

"He doesn't really put me down; he just tells the truth." You shrug. "He wants me to get a boob job. He says since I have thick thighs and a big butt that bigger boobs would balance me out. I guess he's not wrong."

Joe's shaking his head no before you finish your sentence. "Fuck that. He's 100% wrong. You're perfect just the way you are." He takes a swig of his drink before continuing. "Does he understand that women come in all shapes and sizes? This ain't fucking Build-A-Bear," he grumbles.

You giggle and lift your gaze to meet Joe's. "I wish he felt the same way," you sigh.

Joe studies your wistful expression for several seconds before scooting closer to you; he leans in close enough for you to smell his subtle, spicy cologne. "You're gorgeous," he whispers, his hot breath in your ear setting off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. You mumble another weak "thanks." You've spent so long with a man pointing out every single perceived flaw that it's almost an out-of-body experience to have a man compliment you, have him look at you in a way that makes your toes curl.

Joe studies your face in the dim light, his gaze lingering on your lips for several heartbeats before sliding up to your eyes. This close up you can see his scruff, dark blonde and well groomed. You wonder what that scruff would feel like if he kissed you. What it would feel like on your breasts and between your thighs. You bite your bottom lip and squeeze your legs together as that naughty thought causes a gush of liquid heat deep inside you. Joe's gaze flicks down to your restless thighs before meeting your gaze again; he gives you a look that you feel in your core, clearly reading your body language as easy as he reads a zero blitz.

You break eye contact and take a gulp of your cocktail. "We don't really have sex anymore," you blurt out.

Joe is stunned into silence for several seconds before he responds. "Why not?"

"I don't think he's attracted to me."

"Then he's crazy," Joe states. "You exude sex, baby girl."

You check his expression to see if he's kidding, but the look on his face tells you he's 100% serious. You take another sip of your fruity beverage and decide to just unload what you're thinking. There's something about this moment with this man that makes it seem like the right thing to do.

"He only wants me to give him head but no actual sex."

"Are you kidding?"

You shake your head. "He says I don't get aroused fast enough, so it's just easier for me to give him head instead of having sex."

Joe's mouth is literally hanging open at this confession. He shakes his head in annoyance before speaking. "Why the hell would you get aroused for a huge asshole who negs the shit out of you? As your man, he should be building you up not tearing you down." Joe shoots a quick glance around to make sure no one is within hearing distance before continuing. "Does he even try to get you aroused?"

"He used to, but he'd just get frustrated if I wasn't immediately ready. The pressure was a huge turn-off for me, but he got really defensive when I told him that." You sigh and give a defeated shrug. "He also hates that it takes ages for me to orgasm. He says it's not his fault that I'm broken, and he shouldn't have to kill himself trying to please me." You give Joe a sad smile. "I probably am broken. He's the only man I've ever been with, so he knows a lot more about sex than I do."

The incredulous look on Joe's face slowly segues to pissed-off. "He's full of shit!" Joe grits out. "I bet he loved that you were a virgin so you wouldn't have anything to compare him to. That's . . ."

Your phone chirps before Joe finishes speaking and you hold a finger up. "Just a sec," you whisper, pulling your phone out of your purse to read the text. "He left," you mutter, "he's at a different club. Told me to find my way back to the hotel." You hand your phone over to show Joe the text. He reads it, his chiseled nostrils flaring in anger. "This motherfucker's 'bout to get told," he seethes, quickly typing a response.

"No!" you chirp, taking your phone back before he can send the text. "You can't ever tell him I told you all of this."

"Oh, I'm not just gonna tell him, I'm gonna beat his ass!"

"Please no!" you beg, your eyes misting up with unshed tears while you plead your case. "I've never told anyone else, and I only told you because I thought the info would be safe with you."

He takes a deep breath and gives you a lingering look before speaking. "It's safe with me," he promises. "You're safe with me."

"Thank you," you whisper, relief flooding through you.

"Why haven't you ever told anyone else? Friends? Family?"

You shake your head. "They all hate him for talking me into dropping out of college to move with him. I was almost finished, but he didn't want to wait on me." You shrug. "I guess I just don't want to hear 'I told you so'."

"You made a mistake and that's okay. We all make mistakes." He gives you a soothing smile before continuing. "But the worst thing you can do is keep making that same mistake just to save face. Own it, learn from it and move on."

"You're probably right . . ."

"I'm definitely right," he interrupts. "You need to put this asshole in your rearview mirror. You're not broken, okay? He's a manipulative dick on top of being a lazy selfish lover." Joe runs a hand through his hair in agitation before continuing. "If you're not gonna let me call him out at least let me prove him wrong."

"Ummm … how?"

"Any and every way you'll let me," he states matter-of-factly, his gaze sliding down to your thighs before slowly reversing course. Your heart literally skips a beat at the look in his eyes. Is he offering what I think he's offering? you wonder, afraid to ask in case you're dead wrong. No way he's attracted to you, your boyfriend's voice sneers in your head. Probably not, you think sadly, but just maybe . . .

You're still pondering Joe's intentions when he removes all doubt. "I want you," he states, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth in a way that puts your clit on notice. "Guarantee I won't have any trouble getting you off."

"I'm already wet for you," you whisper, a little appalled that you just said that to his face. "Where are you staying?" you ask breathlessly. He says the name of his hotel and you smile. "That's where I'm staying too."

"How convenient," he purrs, giving you a look so hot it would melt the panties off the Statue of Liberty. He stands up and holds a hand out. "Let's go."

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The second the door to his hotel suite closes he's got you backed up against it, his hot mouth and soft scruff on your neck making you squirm as his big hands travel to your ass. You drop your purse and jacket and wrap your arms around him, moaning into his mouth as he captures your lips; his kiss is intense, a sensual assault of lips and teeth and tongue that has every pulse point in your body throbbing in unison.

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his long fingers sliding up your inner thigh. "Damn," you whimper when his hand cups your lace-clad pussy, grinding against you in a way that makes your eyes roll back in your head. "You're gonna make me cum!" you gasp. "Not yet," he growls against your slick lips, sliding both hands back to your ass before easily picking you up; you wrap your legs around his waist and hold on for the ride as he carries you into the suite, easing down onto the black leather sofa with you straddling his lap.

He deftly unties the halter behind your neck, pulling the slinky material down to expose your breasts. You hold your breath as his hot gaze takes in your biggest insecurity. "You're perfect," he breathes, his big hands immediately cupping your breasts, long fingers teasing your nipples. You watch as he latches his pretty lips onto a hard peak, sucking it before flicking his tongue over it several times; he looks up at you through those sinfully long lashes as he nips it with his teeth before sucking hard. You hiss as your core contracts at the delicious sensation. I'm gonna be SO embarrassed if I cum just from him sucking my nipples, you think to yourself, moaning when he teases your sensitive nub with his scruff. "Damn," you whimper, grinding your crotch against his when he repeats the action. "You like that?" he purrs, giving you one more loud suck before focusing his attention on your other nipple. "Y … yeah," you whimper, lacing your fingers in his unruly curls as he continues to tease you, taking his sweet time instead of rushing through it like you're used to.

He continues to tease your nipples while sliding a hand down to your crotch, rubbing you through your panties before sliding his fingers inside, both of you moaning when he touches your slick folds. You're more than a little surprised at how soaking wet you are. QB2 always tells you it's your fault you don't get wet for him, but you're starting to realize it's actually his fault for not putting in the effort.

This feels like a dream, you think to yourself, shuddering as Joe slides a finger inside your slick heat. "So tight," he groans, rubbing his scruff against a super sensitive nipple as he adds a second finger, sinful lips curling up in a dirty grin when you whimper his name. "Does it feel good?" he asks, leaning back to look at your face. "So good," you breathe, a little dizzy at the sensation of his long, thick fingers moving inside you. He brushes his thumb over your clit, groaning low in his throat when your core clenches his fingers. "Fuck, baby, you look so hot riding my fingers," he purrs, "I wanna watch you cum." He buries his fingers deep inside you and grinds his thumb against your clit. "Cum for me," he urges, smiling when you throw your head back and do as ordered.

You fall forward as your climax hits, moaning against his fragrant neck as he continues to stroke you through your orgasm. His free hand rubs soothing circles on your back as you gasp for breath, several minutes elapsing before you manage to speak. "That was absolutely ridiculous," you mumble against his neck.

"Good ridiculous or bad ridiculous?"

"You know it was good," you giggle. "I think I almost passed out." You lean back and lock eyes with him. "Now it's your turn," you whisper as you reach down and grind your thumb against his erection through his tight gray jeans. "I need you inside me," you purr, absolutely lightheaded at the thought of taking his big cock.

"Later," he promises. "I'm not finished with you yet."

You gasp when he picks you up and spins around, sitting you on the sofa, his muscles rippling as he strips his shirt off before focusing his attention back on you. He's got your high heels off and your soaked panties halfway down your legs before your pleasure-fogged brain realizes what he's doing. "Oh my God," you breathe, your pulse jackhammering as he drops to his knees between your legs, spreading your thighs wide while licking his lips. He gives you a feral grin before lowering his head.

The noise you make when his tongue slowly licks your slit is a little embarrassing; before you have time to actually be embarrassed, he spreads you open with his thumbs and thrusts his tongue deep inside you. "Oh my God!" you whine, tangling a hand in his tousled curls as he repeats the action. This position would usually have you feeling self-conscious, but the way he's tongue-fucking you with strong, deep strokes makes you forget to breathe much less suck in your stomach.

He brushes a finger across your clit, groaning when your core clenches around his tongue; "I'm close!" you whimper, gasping when he drags his tongue up to your clit, teasing it with his scruff before giving a hard suck while sinking two fingers inside you. He curls his fingers and hits your sweet spot, causing a jolt of electricity to every nerve ending in your body. If you could draw enough air into your lungs you'd scream his name, instead you settle for pulling his hair as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightens then explodes, a sensual supernova that has you grinding shamelessly against his mouth as you ride out the intense climax.

"Goddamn," you wheeze, gasping for breath as he chuckles against your throbbing clit. "Still think you're broken?" he purrs. "Fuck no," you pant, blinking your eyes a few times to bring him into focus. Your essence glistening on his lips and the dark blonde whiskers on his chin is one of the hottest things you've ever seen. "You're really good at that," you whisper, watching intently as he collects the moisture on a finger before sucking it into his mouth. "Really fucking good at it," you repeat.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you another one of those dirty winks. "I try to be the best at everything, on and off the field."

You giggle at his cocky smirk. "Well I'm ready to give you the Lombardi Trophy, the MVP, an Olympic gold medal and any other award you want."

"Glad you enjoyed it," he purrs, his cocky smirk reaching epic levels just as you hear your phone chirp.

You make a face. "That's probably him," you mutter, watching as Joe walks to the entryway and grabs your purse and jacket off the floor; you adjust your dress back into place and give him a sad smile as he throws your jacket over the back of the sofa before handing you the purse. "Thanks." A feeling of dread overtakes you as you check the text. "He's locked out," you say, shaking your head in annoyance. "Lost his key card and is now sitting in the hallway outside our room."

"What a dumbass," Joe sneers, gently taking the phone from your hands before you can type a response. "He can wait," Joe states, sliding your phone back in your purse before holding a hand out to you. "C'mon," he orders. "We're not done yet."

Your pulse jumps as you place your hand in his much larger one and allow him to lead you into the bedroom. He grabs the hem of your dress and pulls the slinky garment over your head, his hot gaze raking up and down your naked body in a way that causes a flood of wetness between your thighs. He's already made me cum twice and I'm still desperate to have him again, you muse to yourself, watching closely as he strips naked before walking into the bathroom. Your eyes are drawn to his ass, beautifully plump and firm sitting high on top of those long legs. Fucking work of art, you think to yourself, breathless with anticipation for what's to come.

When he walks back in the bedroom he's slowly pumping his cock. Fuck, you think, watching intently as he continues to stroke himself. Imagine watching him jack off.

"Lay on your back and put a pillow under your hips," he orders, rolling a condom onto his impressive erection while you do his bidding, crawling to the center of the king-sized bed before shoving a pillow underneath you to tilt your hips up. His thigh muscles flex as he crawls onto the bed and positions himself between your spread legs, gliding the plump head of his cock through your slick folds several times before pushing inside; he takes his sweet time giving you every. single. inch. before he's fully seated. You grit your teeth at the way his thick cock stretches you, the pleasure/pain combo so good it literally takes your breath away for several heartbeats.

"You're huge," you eventually whimper, your walls contracting a couple times at the delicious invasion. "Does it feel good?" he asks, hot gaze pinning you in place as he starts to thrust. "God yes," you whine, gasping when he hits bottom before slowly sliding out.

Your last semi-coherent thought is that he fucks like he kisses - deep, thorough, intense, his big cock hitting every nerve ending inside you as you writhe beneath him. "You feel so good, baby, so tight," he groans, switching up his angle just enough to hit your sweet spot then picking up his pace when you whimper his name, as skillful in bed as he is on the football field.

"Please," you beg, arching up to meet his deep thrusts while digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders; he reaches between your sweat-slick bodies and rubs lazy circles on your super sensitive clit. "Can you cum for me again?" he purrs. "Yeah," you whimper, moaning as he continues to tease you. He gives you a smouldering look, his normally light eyes dark with lust as he lowers his head to capture your lips; you immediately open your mouth for him, sliding your hands into his messy hair as he twirls his hot tongue against yours.

After what seems like an eternity on the edge, he nips your full bottom lip just enough to sting while pinching your clit, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger; that's all it takes for you to come apart underneath him while he continues to ride you hard, your cries of pleasure and spasming core eventually pulling him over the edge with you.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to put his full weight on you as he pants against your neck. He eventually rolls off, landing on his back against the soft mattress. "Pussy like a snapping turtle, baby girl," he croaks, still gasping for breath.

"Is that good or bad?" you pant.

"It's very good," he chuckles.

After a few more minutes of mutual heavy breathing he gets up and walks into the bathroom, coming out a bit later with a damp washcloth; you spread your legs so he can clean you up, the intimacy of the action causing a throb of arousal. This man has given me three massive orgasms and I'm still sprung, you marvel to yourself. QB1 on the depth chart for real.

He tosses the washcloth back in the bathroom, watching as you ease off the bed. "I better get going," you murmur, grimacing a little at the delicious soreness between your thighs as you grab your dress.

"You don't have to go back to him," Joe states. "I'll take the key card down and let his ignorant ass in the room."

You smile and shake your head while shimmying into your dress. "That's super tempting, but I have a lot of shit I need to figure out. I'm not sure what I'm gonna end up doing. It's a whole ass mess, to be honest."

"If you need any help let me know, okay? A plane ticket. A place to stay. Tuition money. Someone to help you bury the body."

You laugh at the look on his face when he delivers that last line. "You've already helped more than you'll ever know," you sigh, standing on your tiptoes to drop a kiss on his pretty lips. You grab your purse from the living room and walk in the bathroom, quickly fixing your hair and makeup. You grin a little at how fucked out you look, knowing your so-called man won't even notice.

When you walk back in the bedroom Joe is completely dressed; he gives you a smile while holding out your panties and high heels. "Thanks," you grin, pulling on the still-damp panties before sliding your feet in the heels.

"Here's the story -- we're just getting back from the club," Joe says, grabbing your jacket and holding it for you while you slide it on. "Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let's go." Joe places a hand on the small of your back and steers you toward the door.

"Wait. You're coming with me?"

"Obvs. I'm seeing you safely to your room since your asshole boyfriend left you to fend for yourself." Joe gives you a wink. "If he kicks off about it, I'll beat his ass."

"Are you hoping he kicks off?"

"Maybe," Joe shrugs, giving a devilish grin when you shake your head at him.

Y'all step off the elevator 3 floors down and head toward your room; as you round a corner in the hallway you see QB2 sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Joe speaks up as y'all approach.

"Really shouldn't leave her alone in the club, bro. Lots of bad things could happen."

QB2 looks up, squinting to try and focus his alcohol-fogged vision. "Burrow?" he croaks, swaying a bit as he gets to his feet. "Thanks for taking care of her, man. I had a few too many and wasn't thinking straight."

"Be happy to take care of her anytime," Joe mutters, hitting you with a loaded look. You bite your lip and dig in your purse for the key card, holding your breath as QB2 speaks up again. "Ol' Joey B. coming in clutch as usual. You're a true bro for that, man." He slaps Joe on the shoulder before snatching the card out of your hand and walking into y'alls room. Joe slides a foot out to keep the door from slamming shut before locking eyes with you. "You deserve better than him," Joe states. "I meant what I said earlier. If you ever need anything just call me."

You nod your head. "Thanks," you whisper, giving him a tight hug before he turns and walks back down the hallway; just before he disappears around the corner he looks back and gives you a lingering look. "How am I supposed to sleep tonight?" you mutter under your breath as you walk in your room, rolling your eyes at QB2 who is sprawled on the bed fully clothed and snoring like a chainsaw. It's gonna be a looong night, you think to yourself, walking into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

You undress and meet your eyes in the mirror. "I do deserve better," you state, smiling at your reflection, truly liking what you see for the first time in a long time. "Joey B. coming in clutch for real," you giggle, your mind already made up as you step into the shower.

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