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neutron-stars-collision · 3 months

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Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

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neutron-stars-collision · 19 days

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 6 - Canada Water Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 5 Summary: Neil shows you just how well he can take care of you. As the night at your place takes a turn, you both need to adjust to the slight change in the dynamic. Warnings: Explicit content, and I mean it; swearing; slight angst. Author's Notes: Okay, so I'm a day earlier than I thought but since barely anyone reads this anyway... *shrugs* might as well. This is 10+k of smut and then another 3k of mental spiralling (thanks to Duran Duran), to make things more entertaining :)) It's been a while since I wrote scenes like this and it proved to be a challenge but I do hope I delivered. One thing is certain - these two definitely were into whatever I envisioned in my daydreams ✨ Without further ado, I'm leaving you with another 14k of words. The motivation for this story fluctuates like crazy but for now, more is coming. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Although it was far from the very first time you had a gorgeous man kneel before you with a promising smile on his face and a determination to cure your ails through the sheer force of a good orgasm, it might have been the most memorable one.

If only just because of Neil’s eyes, staring into the depths of your soul as he carefully took off your underwear, simultaneously laying kisses on the expanse of your calves, knees, and thighs. In some shades of the light, you would swear his eyes were twinkling.

At first, you wanted to look away, hoping it would help your case. Make it seem less meaningful in this unspecified way that you could not and would not dissect for months. Soon, you found that you simply could not look away. Instead, you looked on, letting his tender caress arrest your senses and instantly put you back within that fuzzy space of mind. Once he took off your panties, Neil glanced up to meet your gaze, that dangerous smile still hiding in the corners of his mouth. His hands continued the journey, pulling up the dress for easier access, all the while driving you another step closer to madness with perfectly laid kisses, burning the tender skin of your inner thighs. Before you could even think of anything to say, he broke the heavy silence:

“You’re beautiful,” the certainty in his voice, as if stating a fact not unlike the existence of the forces of gravity, made you feel lightheaded.

Sure, it was something you had heard before. Maybe even often. But that didn’t mean you believed it. The notion scratched at the edges of your insecurities, never quite managing to scrape them away. Usually, it fell way off.

“See, I don’t know if I should take that seriously” stumbling through the sentence with a breathless voice, you subtly shifted your hips on the sofa and pointedly glanced down at Neil with what you hoped was ferocity, “Considering what you’re about to do to me,”

From his vantage point, with his hands pinning your thighs to the couch, legs wide open with everything on display, the point was more than evident. You could tell Neil caught it with how that light pink spread over his cheeks again, painting a fascinating contrast.

“You should,” drawing mindless circles on your kneecap as if to buy his time, Neil added, “I’ve thought it since I first saw you. It just didn’t seem the right thing to say back then” he shrugged, daring to put forward another mind-blowing concept.

Another fact undeniable only to him. As if desperate to make talking even harder for you, Neil took the pause as his chance to drop his gaze from that respectable position, wandering over your face to stare at the apex of your thighs with nothing but hunger in his eyes. You swallowed hard, feeling the arousal spread through your veins like wildfire.

“And now?” the question was all you could manage, driven by the remains of sanity that considered this answer essential.

As if it would change anything at all.

“Now I’m hopefully going to make you feel really good, so… There aren’t many lines left to cross” Neil glanced up at you again, that same confident smile acting as both a warning and an enticement, luring you in.

As if aware of your increasingly muddled state, he let go of your knee to squeeze your hand and grinned. There was nothing more you felt capable of saying. Or doing, except to drop your head back on the sofa headrest and let Neil do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Which was to trace an invisible line up the expanse of your right leg to that place between your thighs, that was already drenched because of him. Even that ghostly touch burned your skin as Neil carefully parted your folds with the tip of his index finger and dragged it through the slick. Muffling a groan by forcefully biting your lower lip, you closed your eyes. You were already on fire.

“Is this all for me?” the wonder in his voice, combined with just enough smugness to make you consider punching Neil in the face, was another reason to drown in the embarrassment.

Although, drowning in need was a close second with how Neil slowly mapped out his terrain, spreading the wetness over your slit and around the entrance. Preparing you for what he had in mind.

Before you knew what you were doing, your hand had found its way to the nape of his neck, lightly playing with the hair ends and pressing against the warm skin. The contact acted like an anchor, assuring you of the realness of the situation.

“Yeah, but don’t get too cocky about it,” the end of what you hoped to be a warning never quite landed as it was immediately followed by a gasp.

A consequence of the fact that Neil decided to use that exact moment to delve in. His warm breath fanned across your bare skin as he settled between your thighs with a simple comment:

“I’ll do my best” the tail end of the quip was followed by the first experimental lick through your folds, the tongue lightly dragging through the sensitive skin.

You choked on a curse, fingers of the occupied hand already tangling in his blonde locks. Your other hand gripped the sofa edge hard enough that you worried it would leave indents in the material.

Neil took that sound as a cue, repeating the move till you could barely stay still. Keeping your hips pinned to the couch with one arm slung across your thighs, he swirled his tongue over your heat, collecting the arousal as if he was dying of thirst. Just when you thought he would offer respite, he dragged the tip of his tongue up towards your clit and focused the attention on the spot that had you crying out loud.

It was easy to let go then. To keep your eyes closed when Neil’s thoughtful manoeuvres and skilled tongue attacked your senses with an intensity that soon made it impossible to think or speak. Resorted to incoherent mumblings and moans, you tugged at Neil’s hair with force, making him groan. The sound went straight to your core, shooting like a live wire through your body and making you tense up. He was good at this. Not that you ever doubted he would be. He listened and used the cues available to go where you needed him, interchanging between lapping at your heat and sucking your clit. Like a scholar dedicated to his study. Like a devoted believer praying at the altar of his God.

Or goddess, apparently.

You could feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten, that wave of pleasure getting close to unbearable with every second. An attempt at speech only got you as far as a breathless admission, interrupting the silence filled with nothing but your shameless screams:

“I’m so close” it was merely a fact, something he could discern from the force of your grip over his hair or the way you quivered, barely able to keep yourself together, “Neil, please just-”

You did not even know what you were asking for. Something. Anything.

He knew anyway. You felt a comforting touch, a careful hand tracing invisible circles on the skin of your outer thigh as Neil took a break to glance up. Your eyes snapped open at the interruption, meeting his gaze as if following a sense you had no label for.

Much later, you would wonder whether that, the connection so alike the first time your eyes met over the carriage floor, could be something different than a trick of light. Something substantial. Something terrifying.

But, back then, you could only stare back. Vulnerable and at his mercy, yet not scared of the prospect. As if able to read your mind or the incoherent ramblings resembling scatterings of thoughts, Neil shot you a grin. His lips and chin were glistening, coated with your slick. The sight was enough to make you clench around nothing and shudder. Your body wound tight still.

Whatever Neil saw in that moment of silence must have been what he was searching for. Your eyelids fell close when you felt him dive in again, the talented lips enveloping your heat without a second wasted.

Before you could as much as let yourself immerse in the steady rise of pleasure, in the exact feel of his mouth at the most sacred of places you could offer, he took it that one step further. Delivering the deathly stroke with the tip of his tongue, prodding at your entrance, and penetrating it without mercy. It was too late to try muffling the cry torn out of your throat without warning. Christ. You could only attempt not to rip the hair from his head as you tugged at the blonde locks and tried to get him closer. Tried to do what you always did and take what you wanted.

But Neil would not let you, his grip unyielding over your hips, keeping you pinned to the sofa. Keeping you spread out and helpless as he dragged you over the precipice with the tenderness of his touch and the determination of a man desperate to do well. Desperate to serve.

“Oh, fuck,” the curse carried on a moan in that last flash of coherence before the edges of your vision darkened, and your spine rose in an arch, unable to hold still anymore, “I’m-” the thought, whatever it was meant to be, was never finished.

Instead, it got replaced with a litany of his name, whispered with the tint of ecstasy, colouring the vowels and consonants. As if you had nothing else to say. No one else to praise. Just Neil. The wave of pleasure crashed into you without subtlety, its force rendering you numb as you quivered beneath his tongue and under his firm hands. Neil held you as you shook, licking you clean as if he did not want to lose the taste of you from his tongue for hours to come.

When the orgasm started fading, and you felt your body relax again, falling limp against the cushions, you opened your eyes. The hazy vision blurred the edges of your living room, making it seem soft and pliant. Unreal. With a quiet sigh, you glanced down just in time to see Neil raise his head and meet your gaze.

He painted a picture, as always. The blonde strands fell into his eyes, and the sharp cheekbones bathed in pink blush as his lips curled into a smirk. That sudden spike of desire to grab his tie and pull him into a kiss, to learn what your taste feels like on his tongue, was hard to fight against. It made you curl your hand into a fist, focusing on the shade of blue in his eyes. Until you could take another breath. Until your heart rate slowed down. Until everything felt real.

Until you knew what was happening next.

As if aware of the internal crisis, Neil stayed quiet. He observed you with almost unnerving stillness before seemingly finding what he was looking for and letting your legs close with a final kiss on the kneecap. He propped his chin on your thigh, almost resembling a perverse image of a lapdog that you had no idea you were into before now. Curious.

“Everything alright?” the huskiness of his voice swept over your senses like a chilling breeze, waking you up from a trance.

What a silly question. As a preamble to an answer, you shot Neil a wide grin, aware of the madness still clearly visible in your eyes. It hardly mattered.

“Even better” dragging your fingers through his golden mane, you relished in the slight tremble of his hands as Neil settled them atop your thighs. Now it was time to give praise where it was due, “I always knew you’d be good at this, but… fuck’s sake,” that was as far as intelligence went, replaced with a groan that doubled as a dreamy sigh.

It still barely covered what you wanted it to. But Neil knew. It was visible in the pleased smile and the knowing glance thrown your way from his spot at your feet. Almost lazily, his tongue darted out to lick his lips clean of your arousal. Without breaking the eye contact. Of course.

You could hardly ignore the fact that you were wet again. Still, that is.

“I aim to serve, m’lady” squeezing your thigh, Neil got up from his knees to sit by you on the sofa.

He stayed close, and that proximity, complete with the undiminished hunger in his eyes, told you all you needed to know. A push in the right direction.

“Yeah, you do” offering Neil a sly smirk, you shifted so that you were facing him and reached out to grab his tie and pull him close. Just like God intended. Probably, “Come here, I need to-” that sentence had no end prepared, so you sealed it with a kiss.

Your lips covered Neil’s with a self-explanatory intent as your tongue teased and prodded until he opened his mouth and let you in. That first taste of yourself coating his tongue was a revelation. It made you groan, motivating you to rise on your knees and climb into his lap without breaking the kiss. That second of hesitation following the bold move was eradicated when Neil pulled you closer with his hands on your waist. He kissed you as if his life depended upon it, swirling his tongue around yours and mapping out the inside of your mouth. A rush of blood to your head was the reason why you decided to switch it up, lightly scraping your teeth over his bottom lip and pulling until you got a response. The answering growl, reverberating through his chest, ignited the sparks burning out in your blood. Now you knew what you needed to happen. The realisation made you pull back with a final peck upon his parted lips and open your eyes.

Neil’s wrecked gaze felt like a boost to the system, increasing your confidence. It was a reason why you comfortably settled in his lap and regarded him with quiet contemplation. Returning the earlier look.

You tried not to dwell on how different it felt, unhurried and deliberate like none of your previous hook-ups. How uncomplicated it all seemed, with Neil’s steady gaze and firm hands holding you still. How unavoidable you had deemed it to be a long time before. You tried and failed, burying the thoughts behind a wall of sensations and feelings. You hoped they would never resurface again. Somehow.

“Good?” Neil’s question made you start, instantly pulling you back from the abyss in your head.

The surprise must have shown on your face, for Neil followed the question by brushing his nose against yours, tenderness permeating every glance and gesture.

It was almost too much.

“Great” aware of the shakiness of your smile, you splayed your hand over the expanse of his chest, feeling the heartbeat.

It was both a distraction and searching for confirmation. A confirmation that you were not about to make an idiot out of yourself.

The rapid beat beneath your hand erased the doubts, helping you make that decisive move. Meeting Neil’s questioning gaze, you smiled. The edge of your grin turned sharp at the mere thought. Before he could catch the meaning, you got up from the sofa and reached out a hand towards Neil. Extending an invitation.

You could see the quick calculations behind his stare, the blue eyes switching between your extended hand and the enigmatic expression. Although the silence felt eternal, it only lasted a beat. Without another word, Neil took your hand, enlaced your fingers in a loose hold, and stood up from the couch. The certainty in his gaze made it easy to start leading him towards the room down the corridor. The room he has already seen, albeit not in this context.

At the doorway, you let go of him to turn on the lamp in the corner, bathing the room in a warm glow. Neil crossed the threshold, following you like a ghost. You did not need to tell him to shut the door till only a small gap remained. Or to meet you halfway across the room and pull you back into his embrace like you belonged there.

And tonight, it felt like you did.

One giddy kiss quickly turned into the next and then another after that. Until you were both gasping for breath, needy hands tugging and sliding across the pieces of clothing that were in the way. It was then, midway through an inhale you desperately needed, that you realised there was one crucial thing left to settle. One question that you owed Neil:

“Before I make a fool of myself… Do you want this?” settling your hands on his shoulders, you met Neil’s gaze with what you hoped was a coherent enough look.

You could tell the question surprised him from the way his eyes widened, hands wrinkling your dress over the hips with a tight grip. But the pause only lasted a second.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t” the confidence was striking, almost fatal in how well it fit his beautiful face. The angles softened by the warm light, and the smugness still felt lethal, threatening to cut you open if you kept on being reckless. You pushed the warning to the back of your head, focusing on the look in Neil’s eyes, “I want you. So much it drives me crazy” the admission completed the desire in his gaze.

Its simplicity drove a shiver up your spine and bloomed heat on your cheeks. While it was nothing you have not anticipated, hearing it said so plainly drove the point home. It offered no space to bargain for insecurities and doubts. As much as you still did not know the expiration date on this precious, lovely thing between you, now you knew where it was going. You knew the drill. The logic of it. Need, want, desire. Yearning to have another person, claim them as your own, just for one night. Just until you felt whole again. One night should be enough.

Right?

Instead of addressing that thought, you smoothed out the creases in Neil’s tie and met his gaze with indifference. (At least outwardly).

“Fab. I’m glad we got that sorted” giving the Windsor knot a final pat, you shot Neil a smile.

Slowly, with his grounding touch running over the sides and down to your hips, you could feel the temperature rise again. The increase was steady, not yet overwhelming like before on the sofa, but it was very much there. It made your gaze wander, trailing down the column of his neck, begging to be kissed and bitten, to the expanse of his chest, still hidden by the frustrating layers of cotton and linen. You desperately wanted to get your hands on him. Properly.

“Do you?” the question caught you by surprise, making you look up to see Neil’s searching gaze.

Your brain muddled with want, needed another second to understand what he meant. Only then disbelief took the stage, with the bewilderment in your eyes. What kind of stupid question was that?

“Obviously. I’ve only been eye-fucking you for months” that was an understatement.

But it hit the mark, with a hitch in his chest and a subtle move of hands on your hips pulling you a fraction closer. Enough so there was barely space left between your bodies, and you could just about feel the effects of your words and actions on Neil. At least the physical side of them. A glance down, below his belt, confirmed the suspicions and made you grin like a wolf that has just spotted its prey for the night.

“Have you now?” the hints of amusement in his voice, still somehow mixed with uncertainty, were enough to put the need aside for one second and meet Neil’s gaze with confidence.

The apprehension, when it came to how you saw him, had no place here. Not when each time you laid your eyes on him, you only found more reasons to be captivated. Not when Neil tended to be the only one you could see when you were together. When he haunted your dreams with beauty and pleasure. No, that wouldn’t do.

Covering his hands with yours, you stood on the tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. Leaning in, you whispered a simple admission:

“Yes, Neil” you hoped he could tell there was more behind those two words. That he could see the depths of admiration you had never possessed for another person, save for him. That he knew how much you meant every tender compliment and careful touch. It was the most you could offer. The furthest line you would cross. It was high time to return to the crux of the conversation. You did so with a bat of the eyelashes and a smirk on your face, “And now I want you to fuck me. Is that clear?”

Admittedly, the whiplash you served Neil was quite something. He took it with a few seconds of hesitation, a lack of comprehension flashing through his eyes in something resembling the 500 error screen. You fought the urge to burst out in ridiculous giggles. Then, as if his brain finally caught up with your words, Neil blinked. Once, then twice. Blue eyes flashing with inklings of understanding. It was fascinating to watch. To notice the different shades of his iris and then the exact second when yearning replaced the previous confusion and took up reigns.

“Yes, m’am” grinning wide, Neil mimicked a lazy salute and took a decisive step forward, pushing you towards the bed with newly minted drive.

You sure did not mind the initiative, letting him steer you in the right direction until you felt the edge of the mattress hit the backs of your legs. A sudden strike of inspiration made you use the years of ballet and turn on your toes, pivoting you both to reverse the positions. His quiet gasp was an indication that you succeeded. Without another word, you pushed him down to sit on the bed, meeting the bewildered gaze with a grin. It was high time he got used to it.

When you had him where you wanted – seated below you with a gaze full of awe and parted lips, you whispered the only praise that came to mind:

“Good boy,” the effect was instant.

A swallowed groan, complete with an eye roll that was still somehow fond. Before you could react, tease him further, Neil reached out to grab onto your hips and pulled you down, throwing you off balance. There was no point in resisting gravity as you tumbled down onto the mattress with a whoosh and found yourself in his arms. Again. His hands wandered over your body in broad strokes, igniting the fire as you closed the distance and captured his mouth in a kiss.

One kiss stretched into another and one more still, spanning minutes and seconds until you were both gasping for oxygen. Until all you could taste was Neil, and all you could feel was his touch. Between one sharp inhale and the next, you placed a kiss on the edge of his mouth and started trailing pecks down the column of his neck, making Neil shiver and moan. Each kiss was sealed with the tiniest bite, barely reddening the tender skin and a reconciliatory lick so you could satiate the desire with his taste. Just a little bit.

His exploring hands crept beneath the hem of your dress again, pulling up the fabric and creating goosebumps on your thighs. There was no guessing what it meant. Ending your intensive study with a lingering bite over his pulse point, marking him for everyone to see, you leaned back far enough to meet Neil’s gaze. You offered him a subtle nod and sat up, twisting so he could see the zipper running down your spine. The message was clear. He caught it with a knowing smirk, lightly brushing away the hair falling over the nape of your neck. The tremble in the wake of his touch had to be disguised with a sigh.

Even now, Neil was gentle. One of his hands settled on the back of your neck, stroking the delicate skin with unnecessary care, while the other tugged at the zipper, slowly undressing you. That first hit of colder air in the apartment was a shock to the system, making you inhale sharply. The sound alerted Neil. His hand skirted down your spine to warm up your skin revealed beneath the dress. Now, you could not do anything about the shivers rocking through your body in an embarrassing display. Before you could even attempt to fill the silence with another dose of bullshit, Neil pulled the zipper all the way down to the base of your spine and slipped his hand inside the dress. The warmth of his palm against your bare stomach felt like a burning flare, putting your soul alight. Sucking in the air sharply, you pressed your back to his chest, seeking out more.

The intimacy of the moment could not escape your attention. The slow pace and conscious decisions to get to know each other first were something new. Something unheard of as far as your hook-ups went. There was no rush in tearing off the clothes and getting off as far as possible to avoid the thoughts catching up. Instead, there was Neil’s hand against your midriff and his mouth against the back of your neck, gently biting the sensitive skin and making it impossible for you to detach from the present moment. Not that you wanted to.

When he deemed it right, Neil leaned back and slipped the dress off your shoulders. A sudden uncertainty took root in your heart, like a bad seed eager to corrupt the rest of the crops. What was about to happen seemed substantial somehow. Despite the improbable nature of the idea that Neil could take one look at you naked and decide that you were not worth his time, the concept was still there. It replaced the previous bravado, making you exhale shakily before standing up and turning towards him, holding up the article of clothing to keep it from falling.

You knew there was no point in fooling yourself that Neil did not catch on to your hesitation. Not with the way he always saw right through whatever posturing you tried to attempt. You met his gaze, aware of the extent of damage to the reputation it would do. All you found looking back at you was his silent reassurance, trying to keep you anchored. Inhale. Exhale.

Before your brain could become a little bitch again, you relaxed the hold over the fabric, letting it fall to the floor. You had nothing to hide behind, having left the bra back in the dressing room and your underwear on the floor of the living room. The chill in the air made you tremble, barely resisting the urge to cover up.

Neil’s gaze remained steady as he took you in. His eyes roamed over your body, noting the curves and edges, imperfections, and flaws. That fear was still there, making you tighten your hands into fists. Neil closed the gap, taking both your palms into his and relaxing the muscles. Taking a deeper breath, you risked meeting his eyes. The blue depths lured you in, showing nothing but affection and infatuation. For reasons unknown, the look felt dangerous in way you could not describe. So, you stared back, ignoring the desire to fill the stifling silence with words that could not be taken back.

As always, Neil proved to be the braver one.

“Are you alright?” his soothing tone complemented the gentle touch of his hands running up your bare arms to rest over your shoulders.

Even now, Neil proved to be shockingly respectful. His eyes never strayed from yours and although he had all rights to touch you as he pleased - he did not. Something in his gaze told you this was a given for Neil. A rule he would never even consider crossing. The realisation helped you find your voice again.

“Always,” the wavering tone did nothing to create an illusion of nonchalance.

But then, it was too little too late, anyway.

Upon Neil’s searching gaze, you nodded. It must have been what he was looking for because the next thing you knew, he was placing a lingering kiss on your lips and letting his hands wander. At first, tentatively down the centre of your chest and over the heart, beating so fast you would swear even Neil could hear it pounding in the silence. Then, he got braver, palms cupping your breasts and tracing the pink areolas, making you gasp and tense. If his hand delved between your thighs, you knew he would find you dripping wet.

But he didn’t. Instead, Neil mapped out the constellations of freckles and beauty marks over your chest and stomach while massaging your breasts and stoking the fire burning underneath your skin. When he first tweaked your nipple, the resulting moan made you clamp your mouth shut with your hand and stare at him in silent horror. There was no room for aloofness and detachment here. No space to pretend you were not bothered. And that was terrifying.

Yet, the most terrifying moment came a little later when Neil had you spread out beneath him on the bed. He was still wearing clothes, and it was a fact that would have caused much more annoyance had he not just finished leaving marks over your chest, kissing, and biting all the sensitive spots. Your panting mouth was still parted on a gasp when Neil released your nipple with a wet pop and moved back up to meet your gaze. Like this, with his cheeks permanently coloured pink and lips red from the kisses you did not seem able to stop trading, he was exceptionally breath-taking. Your chest heaved as you attempted to formulate any words, but before you could succeed, Neil broke the silence:

“You’re beautiful” it was an echo from maybe an hour before, uttered with even more reverence.

The effect was strengthened by the look in his eyes, roaming over your face with something akin to worship.

Worship you were not worthy of. Never. And especially not by Neil, who, without a shadow of a doubt, deserved better. The thought was not anything new, yet it acted like a bucket of ice-cold water, wiping off the dreamy haze you had settled into. Oh, so stupidly.

Suddenly, the rightness of it all seemed wrong. Skewed in a direction you did not dare ponder. Because yes, Neil was the right one, the one you desperately needed to have. Even if just once. But not like this. Not with all those feelings and monumental thoughts that strayed too far from the comfort zone. No, you had to act. Had to remind both Neil and yourself what was going on here. Who you were supposed to be.

Swallowing past the inexplicable lump in your throat, you sat up and pushed Neil up with your hands around his neck. It was much easier to breathe like this, no longer entirely at his mercy. With his blue eyes peering at you with curiosity, you settled your hands on the buttons of his vest and smirked:

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” now that sounded more like you.

It was a perfect opener, instantly eliciting a reaction in the form of widened eyes and parted lips. Neil stared at you for something close to thirty seconds, which proved that it was the last thing he expected you to say. But then, just as you dared undo the first button of his vest, he grinned. That wolfish smile which haunted your sleepless nights flashed at you with an edge of something dangerous hidden beneath. Something you wanted to discover.

“Then do something about it, Cupid” Neil shot you a wink and leaned back on his elbows to strengthen the point.

The point that you were allowed to do whatever you wanted to him. There was no need to say it twice. You undid the rest of the buttons on his vest, pushing the garment down his shoulders and letting Neil shrug it off till the garment landed on the floor. It had served its purpose. Definitely.

Loosening up the tie was the easy part, and as you took it off over his head, you paused with the burgundy accessory in hand. The second of hesitation did not go unnoticed.

“What’s up?” Neil’s cautious tone made you grin as you looked up to see him peer at you with curiosity and alarm in equal proportions.

Wrapping the tie around your fist to keep the accessory as a needed prop dressing in the scene, you shrugged:

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about the different ways I could use this on you” the twinkle in your gaze was unmistakable for what it suggested.

There sure were ideas. Tones of them, and one better than the other. Images like wrists bound together with the tie or the burgundy fabric used as a blindfold were only a start of what you could concoct at the spur of the moment. The ideas alone made you shiver with anticipation.

Even more so when you saw Neil’s blank gaze, staring at the very topic of the conversation with something that could only be described as revelation. It dawned slowly as his pupils dilated, and the darkness consumed the blue irises. Licking his lips thoroughly as if already feeling the effects of what was about to happen, Neil raised his head and met your gaze.

“Now?” he sounded breathless, tongue stumbling even over a one-word question.

You buried the wave of affection under a dry chuckle, focusing on unbuttoning his shirt with single-minded focus. The tortoiseshell buttons necessitated a certain degree of patience, which you were not sure you possessed. And least of all right now. But, considering that the alternative was doing something stupid like ripping it off him, you did your best. The expletives still came, even if only in the quiet of your mind.

“Next time” once you were halfway done, you looked up and winked.

Was it too much? Probably. It assumed a course of events that you had no right to dump on Neil. Let alone like this. As if it was a given. But hopes were there, traitorously scheming in the unconscious layers of your psyche. Faint wishes that maybe you could have more than a one-night special.

Before you could dwell on the probability of thoughts like these, you broke eye contact again and glanced at your work in progress. With just a couple of buttons left, you could see the perfect canvas - pale and almost unblemished. You rushed through the remaining steps and pushed the shirt down his arms until he took over the task with a smirk and shrugged it off. You did not wait to look where the shirt had fallen as your eyes took in the picture.

He was beautiful in that perfectly imperfect way that tended to catch you unaware. His broad chest narrowed at the waist, presenting just the right amount of musculature. Strong arms drew you like a magnet, and you did not hesitate before letting your hand dart out to skim over his biceps and down the planes of his chest to touch the firm muscles. Neil was watching you intently. His gaze followed your every move as you slowly took him in. Noticing the scattering of beauty marks along the inside of his right arm and the dark, coarse hair covering his torso. Pressing your hand against the centre of his chest, you felt the beat of his heart and the heat of his skin. A strange sense of completion settled in your chest, making the heat bloom on your cheeks. That never happened before, either.

Before you could spiral over that singular, alarming thought, Neil covered your hand with his and asked:

“Better than the picture?” although the smug smile graced his features, you could sense hesitancy underlining the question.

A fear that you were about to laugh at him or ridicule his looks. As if he wasn’t the most incredible person you’ve seen. As if you were not rendered speechless.

There was no other way to approach it than by acting. Fast.

You glared at him with what you hoped promised no bullshit to be accepted and pushed at his chest till Neil was sprawled on your bed with his head propped on the headboard. He painted a beautiful picture. The only flaw was the infuriating presence of pants, but that had to wait. Just a little longer.

When you had him where needed, you straddled his lap and met his slightly bewildered gaze with a confident smile.

“Definitely,” you nodded, strengthening the statement with a careful touch as your fingers stroked his torso, wandering down till you could lay your palm flat against his abdomen. The trail of darker hair disappearing under the belt acted like a magnet, and you did not even try resisting the pull, “You’re fucking stunning,” sealing the compliment with a kiss was just a formality.

Yet the way Neil leaned into it, kissing you back with the ferocity of that first time on the platform, made your head spin. Somewhere, at the edge of consciousness not presently occupied with the taste of his tongue and the exact way his mouth pressed against yours, you could not ignore the obvious. The fact that it was never like this. No one-night-stand ever felt this deliberate and measured in a way that still incited a fire in your stomach and hunger in your blood. There was something different in how you kissed and let things slowly build up to sex rather than just rushing through every step along the way.

It all led to another thought, a faint realisation that you might have already subconsciously decided that one time with him would not be enough. Even before getting to know what it was like. That thought was not as terrifying as you expect it to be. Still, you ignored it, placing it among the towering piles of things not spoken or thought of until the end of time itself.

The piles were beginning to topple. One by one.

Neil broke the kiss with a telling gasp, shifting beneath you and bumping his hips into yours, drawing your attention back where it belonged. Namely to the darkness of his eyes and the visible bulge below the belt. Your hands almost automatically wandered to the belt buckle, but before you could put them to work, his breathless attempt at speech made you stop:

“I’m not-” you did not need to hear the sentence to understand it.

It was there in the uncertainty of his gaze and the bashful blush on his cheeks. How he still chose to stare at the bedcover instead of you, even when you were in his lap, free to be ogled for all he liked.

It was increasingly clear that Neil was not like that. That he was not like anyone you had ever known.

Ignoring that primal desire to undo his belt right this very instant, you abandoned the task and cupped his face between both hands, forcing Neil to meet your gaze.

“You are. Trust me,” there was no need to make those words sound convincing, for you believed it more than you knew how to express.

You stared as Neil seemingly tried to take it in. His eyes roamed over your features with scrutiny for a beat. He must not have found anything amiss because the next thing you knew, Neil was breaking into a smile and pulling you back into his arms.

Things went a little easier after that when you could fall upon familiar sensations and actions to push you in the right direction. Sure, there still were a couple of hung-ups, like that embarrassingly long pause you stumbled into once you had successfully taken off Neil’s trousers and underwear and could compare imagination to reality. Your imagination fell short. Somehow. Because, as you probably should have expected, Neil had no reason to compensate for anything. In the slightest.

At first, your undivided attention made Neil fall quiet, with the bashfulness threatening to replace the tentative confidence you were beginning to enjoy about him. But that changed when you shook off the hitch and let your hands explore. Your fingers traced the veins on his length as your palm started stroking him with confident twists in the wrist. Then Neil was not able to stay quiet any longer. He groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest as he laid next to you on the bed. Something in his gaze made it impossible to look away as you stroked and touched him, listening to the cues so earnestly provided. Soon enough, you knew what he liked, what moves elicited the moans that shot right to your core, making you squeeze the thighs hard in pointless hopes that it would do something to ease the throbbing want. It didn’t do shit.

As if reading your mind (or simply seeing the need written all over your face), Neil batted your courageous hands away with a pained glare that told you all you needed to understand and allowed his palms to wander. The hand that was previously placed on your hip slid down your naked skin. The places he touched felt like they were on fire, and the sensation grew when you felt his elegant hand delve between your legs again with confidence. Unbeknownst to Neil, that – his beautiful and mouth-wateringly long fingers moving between your thighs and between your folds – was a frequently-featured hit in your nightly fantasies. The reality lived up and surpassed the imagination in this case, too.

A wolfish grin you noticed too late did not warn you of what was coming. Neil wasted no time. His right hand instantly darted to your clit to circle the bud with precision and speed that matched the level of your fever. With him, you found no need to fill the silence with pointless words, instead letting yourself gasp and moan as he met your gaze with a smirk on his face and dipped a finger inside. There was no need to question the wetness he must have found, yet you noted a surprise pass through his face as if that was somehow unexpected. But you had no time to dwell on the thought. That delicious stretch as Neil added the second finger to your entrance wiped all coherence from your head. A loud moan tore at your throat as you shivered, finally feeling something take care of the emptiness at your core. But it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be till you had him.

His fingers quickly build up a rhythm, with the thumb pressing at your clit just right. Your hands, which had previously idly rested on his chest, ventured up to grasp at his shoulders, looking for support as the pressure rose with overwhelming pace. You were aware of the red lines you were scratching on his back and the pathetic moans and half-swallowed curses that permeated the silence. But you were unable to do anything about them. Not with how Neil knew exactly what to do to make you come. Again.

That lethal strike came when you felt a third digit delve inside. It joined the other two, keeping up the pace and making you scream with pleasure. The perfect fulness could only be replaced with one thing. One sensation that would go beyond it. It was a thought that pushed you over the edge, making you rake your fingers through his skin and squeeze your eyes shut against the force of the orgasm. Only once you felt like you could breathe again, lying lifelessly on the bedding, you opened your eyes again. The smug smile on Neil’s face confirmed one thing – he knew what he was doing. You were but a mere puppet in his hands.

A very willing puppet, one might add.

When you recovered the senses and coherence enough to speak, you met Neil’s gaze and stated:

“I’d like you to fuck me” there was no need to hide behind metaphors and euphemisms when saying it out loud was merely a formality.

Everything before led to it, after all. Every touch, glance, and flirtatious exchange that with Neil was almost too easy. It was what you always wanted, right from that first conversation and the dawning understanding that Neil was too incredible to forget. It was not an accident that ever since meeting him, you had close to no desire to have sex with anyone else, no pull to score another hookup in the bathroom of a club or the apartment of yet another random guy.

No, what you wanted (who you wanted) was Neil.

What you saw in his eyes, looking back at you through the narrow space between your heads, told you that he got the message. The yearning you often thought you saw in his gaze was present now. Along with want that dripped from his hands as they touched your body, tenderly yet with purpose. Neil stared at you as if he never wanted to look away and could not be convinced to. Like you were the only thing he desired. Or at least, you hoped it was like that for him. Too.

“Are you sure?” the pre-emptive question would have been silly was it not so damn endearing coming from him.

It coexisted with his hands skating over every inch of your skin within his reach and his hardening length pressing against your thigh. You had no choice but to offer him a smirk and cup his face to soften the tone. Just a notch.

“Very,” sealing the response with a kiss, you moved closer across the minimal space so that no gap between you remained.

It was easy to hitch your thigh over his hip and take him in your hand to guide him inside. It was easier still to break the kiss with a gasp once you felt him enter you. The sound mixed with his choked breath, sharp and sudden as if even though it was expected, Neil was not quite ready. His hand tangled in the hair at the back of your head, gently holding you close. The other was splayed over your waist, helping to find that perfect angle. He slowly inched inside, taking his time to bottom out, for which you were more than grateful. The pace helped you get accustomed to the feeling of fullness, almost painful yet not at all. The slight discomfort was the wake-up call you needed, a sensation so familiar that you could rely upon it to find your footing. To ignore the feelings and inconvenient thoughts for the sake of this, right here.

It helped you adjust the position, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage and meet his gaze. A moan upon the feeling of him inside you, filling you perfectly, was muffled with a kiss he incited. It deepened as you opened your mouth for Neil and shifted so that your pelvises were touching. The move made him break the kiss with a telling groan, expressing exactly how it felt. He occupied all your senses, making it impossible to think or do anything but stare back at his beautiful face, now transformed by pleasure.

That first moment, the first sensation of connection when you slept with someone new, often hit like a drug. A dopamine hit, going straight to your brain. A rare sense of completion, especially sweet after months or weeks of pining for someone. It was like that now, too. The sensation of his naked skin touching yours, the heat of his body burning at your cells, and the strange knowledge that at least for the moment, you were one. Bodies and souls joined for one common purpose. Chasing that spectacular high that you knew was in reach now. Only then did you not feel like you were missing something crucial that you would never attain.

“All good?” your silence must have been alarming, for Neil’s question had a tint of concern underlining it.

Only that made you realise he was still as if frozen by uncertainty and afraid to mess it all up somehow. As if that was possible.

That had to be amended instantly.

“Yes,” offering him a slightly manic grin perfected by insanity in your gaze and tender touch ghosting over his beating heart, you added, “You can move now,”

Neil did not need to be told twice. He took your hand in his and started the slow tempo, thrusting with something you could easily mistake for gentleness. Softness you were not used to crashed against the walls built around your guarded heart. For now, they were too weak to cause damage. Thank God.

Tightening the hold over his palm, you raised your joined hands over your heads, looking for something to hold on to. Your other hand found purchase on his shoulder, digging in your fingernails as the pressure rose. The unhurried rhythm made the pleasure fill your veins in slow, consistent waves. You could feel it build up again as your inner muscles contracted, eliciting moans and curses from Neil. Once you knew how to meet him in the middle, you bucked your hips in response, earning a groan that shot straight to your molten core. The sound and the gratification it carried brought a grin to your face. It spurred you on with the promise that you could return the immense satisfaction Neil brought you. That you could make yourself memorable.

That notion inspired you to use the core strength and athletic training and topple Neil without letting you separate. His sharp gasp told you it was the last thing he expected. Good. From your new position astride him, you watched his heaving chest as Neil processed your impish trick. Warm light painted his skin and made his hair look like a golden halo belonging to a fallen angel. An angel worth the fall from the heavens.

Before he could recover fully, you rolled your hips and rose on your knees to fall again in the slightest of moves. It only strengthened the titillation on his face, but it did the trick. His blue eyes blinked awake as his hands found their purchase again, skating over your thighs to rest on your hips. With your subtle nod, he guided you to match the desired tempo.

Like this, with full opportunity to control the pace, you could allow yourself to stare. To take note of the subtle changes on his face. Like the crease between his eyebrows begging to be smoothed out. Or the panting mouth, pink parted lips still red from the kisses. Or the pearls of sweat on his temples and chest, proving that you were doing something right. Proving that perhaps Neil would remember you.

The coil in your lower stomach was tight now, feeling close to bursting and bringing you another orgasm. You could tell Neil was close, too. It was visible in the bliss written all over his face, and the abdomen muscles pulled tight. Your fingers grazed over his chest, drawing mindless patterns and bringing out goosebumps as a reward. As if able to read your mind or feeling the way you constricted around his length, Neil met your haze and raised his hand to place it between your thighs. Thumb on the clit, circling the bud with a rhythm that by now he knew would work. Just like that. Without you ever having to ask.

The realisation alone was why you could not stay quiet any longer.

“Neil-” a pathetic sob interrupted the sentence with no aim in sight, so the rest came out in a rush, barely aware of what you were saying, “You’re perfect,”

It didn’t make the words any less true. Any less real.

But still, it was not something he anticipated. Neil glanced at you, and before he could school his features into a less vulnerable expression, you noticed hints of uncertainty. Something else was there, too, occupying the dark depths of his pupils and shining through the greyish blue of his irises. It was gone before you could identify it, but you considered tattooing the exact shade of his eyes on your skin the morning after. You felt like it might match the shade of your heart tomorrow.

“You stole my line” there was no genuine grievance in the look he gave you, instantly bucking his hips into yours to make you swear and shiver. You were so close now. The edges of your vision were growing fuzzy again as you felt your inner muscles contract and squeeze around him, eliciting another groan and a sigh that matched the words echoing in your head, “Jesus Christ…” it took him another second of composure to find the words that only confirmed your suspicions “Cupid, I’m not gonna-” using his seconds of distraction, you leaned forward to deepen the contact and covered his mouth with yours, interrupting the sentence.

With the kiss, as hungry and devouring as always, you hoped to convey everything you could not tell him. That he mattered. That you were beginning to worry he had ruined you for anybody else. Ever. That although you would try, nothing would ever be the same again. Neil took the kiss with an eagerness that was still somehow startling. He nipped and licked at your lips, ensuring they stayed red and swollen. Only when another moan escaped the confines of his mouth and made it impossible to continue the kiss, you broke the contact and met his delirious gaze with a smile. You could feel his rhythm stutter and wane as he visibly approached orgasm. There was just one thing left to about it.

“Come for me” although piecing together a sentence was a struggle, the reward in the form of Neil’s muffled curse and full-body shudder was worth it. You watched as his abdomen muscles tensed, and he began thrusting with no rhythm or pace, helping you chase the feeling that was just around the corner. Leaning forward again, you placed your hand over his head and whispered into his ear, “Now,”

The word acted like a trigger. Neil stiffened in your embrace, his hands seeking out your waist and holding tight. Without thinking, you rested your forehead against his and felt him fill you to the brim. Warmth spread through your core, making you clench around him one last time before your body gave in. White sparks filled your vision as you closed your eyes and entangled your fingers in his hair. You could finally let go. A pleasured scream rang through the silence of the room as you collapsed, limbs falling lifelessly against his sturdy form. For a split second of stupid indulgence, you let yourself believe that Neil would always be there to catch you.

But that wasn’t a happy ending people like you wanted. Or deserved.

You were half aware of what came after. Of how your body trembled in Neil’s embrace and how he whispered your favourite nickname repeatedly, filling the word with enough affection to bruise your heart purple. You knew you should cut this short to prevent the inevitable awkwardness that almost always followed as fast as possible. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, you snuggled into the crook of his neck and inhaled, feeling the ache in your body. It would hurt like a bitch tomorrow, you were sure. But for now, you focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the comfort of his hands resting on your naked waist and back. By some miracle, it seemed like Neil was one of the few men who did not mind your desire to snuggle and breathe instead of quickly dismissing whatever transpired between you as an unimportant rendezvous on the timelines of your lives.

Yet, soon enough, you had to break the silence. The best way you knew how.

“You’re such a good boy” as soon as the words left your mouth, carried on a teasing tone, and accompanied by the smirk hidden in his neck, Neil’s comforting touch stilted.

Judging by the hitch in his chest and an ill-disguised cough, he choked on the breath intake. Even in the confused depths of your mind, you had to admit it was rather adorable. And it most definitely did the trick by diffusing the tension caused by the deafening silence and your synched-up heartbeats, which had no right to exist. Not here. Not ever.

“You’re incorrigible” laughter rang through the letters in his response as Neil chuckled dryly and resumed the caress, letting his fingers skim up and down the ridges of your spine.

You never wanted to move again.

That’s why it was high time to do so.

“You love it, though,” the rebuttal was easy to conjure as you lifted on your forearms and slid off his body with an apologetic smile. The gasp at the loss of contact and emptiness that followed was inevitable but also necessary. Laying down on your side so that you could see his face, you spoke, “Damn, that was…” before any accurate adjective could be found, Neil turned onto his side, mirroring your position and met your gaze, striking you mute in the process.

There was something indescribable there. A vastness of emotions you could not decipher without delving into that scary territory of your understanding that was never meant to be breached. Especially not like this. Not right now.

So, instead, you let your eyes take in his beauty, and the fading blush, complete with lips kissed raw and tangled hair. A look so thoroughly labelled as ‘freshly well-fucked’ that no other words were necessary or even advised. Even better so that you were the sole cause and reason. A point of pride, in fact.

“Good?” the joy in his gaze was enough reason to banish the strange thoughts and focus on the fact that his question demanded an answer.

As much as you were almost positive Neil knew just how damn good the sex had been, it still seemed like he wanted to hear it from you. You were happy to comply.

“Very good” a smug grin was complimented by the satisfaction Neil was bound to see in your radiant gaze.

Strengthening the point, you shifted closer to him to place your hand over his heart and winked. It did the job. Neil flashed you a bashful smile and leaned over to press a peck onto the crown of your head. That was an unprecedented act. Something that had never happened before. Terrifying in its novelty.

The realisation was enough to make you sit up and gather the covers to gain at least an illusion of modesty. A glance at the alarm clock told you how late it was, with the digits flashing a remorseful 02:27 AM. It was high time to make a move.

Without waiting for Neil to catch up with the drastic changes in your demeanour, you reached towards the chair next to the bed, where your dressing gown had landed that morning due to marvellous luck and got up to put it on in one, practised move. Only then could you look back at Neil to say:

“I’ll be right back,” sending him a smile that was hopefully neutral enough so that he would not understand the depths of your inner turmoil, you turned on your heel and waltzed out of the bedroom straight down the corridor to the bathroom.

Once the door had been closed, you let out a relieved sigh and met your crazed gaze in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your lips were kissed red, telling a simple tale. As were the faint pink marks left on your neck, which would require concealer tomorrow. It was all worth it. You knew as much without having to search your heart. At least now you understood what it was that you craved so badly. How it felt and how it tasted. Now you knew what about Neil made you feel so insane.

And now, knowing all of it, you also understood that just once would not be enough. It couldn’t be.

Armed with that knowledge and the particular pain of realisation that often accompanied those hard-hitting truths concerning interpersonal relationships, you also knew what you needed to happen. You had to do everything in your might to keep Neil close. To ensure you would not lose a dear friend so quickly after gaining him.

As you stared at the bathroom floor tiles, you reminded yourself of the crucial detail that it was all in Neil’s hands. He would be the one dealing the cards. The one deciding what awaited you next. The best you could do was be yourself and not scare him off prematurely. Easy, right?

A quiet scoff answered the rhetorical question as you dried your hands with a towel and turned towards the door again. Now onto the harder part…

If there was one rule you had, one that you never, ever crossed no matter the circumstances, it was that you never stayed for the night or invited whoever you had sex with to stay over at your place. Simple. Except for that first time you had to bring it up with someone new. Like now.

Before you could even consider deciding how to go about it or how to signal what you needed to happen without making the situation painfully awkward, you walked out into the corridor to see Neil standing in the doorway of your bedroom. He was finishing buttoning up the shirt and met your gaze with an understanding smile:

“I’ll get going” no matter how hard you looked, you could not see hurt or grudge in his eyes or in the shrug he sent as he put on the tie and tightened the knot.

That was certainly a relief. A cop-out, but you were not the one to argue with fate when it offered easy wins. But-

“Are you sure?” you had to ask.

Not that you were willing to break the rule, but you had to know that he was okay with it. Because, for some unknown reasons, what Neil felt and thought seemed important in ways you did not begin to understand. It was just a fact.

“Yeah. It’s late anyway” the assured look in his eyes told you there was no point in prodding further. Instead, you watched as he put on the vest and fastened the buttons. Before you could get lost in thoughts, Neil spoke again, “Thanks, though, it was… a very memorable night” the hint of a smile in his voice was clarified by the bright grin he offered.

It was a wild, sharp thing that always felt so right on his face that you wondered how come he was not smiling all the time. Although that could cheapen the effect, you noticed upon a second thought.

The grin almost made you ignore the affection in his gaze. Almost.

“That it was” the blush on your cheeks was no longer as rare an occurrence as you wanted it to be, so you tried to hide it by glancing at the floor instead of holding his all-seeing gaze. The sentiment stayed true, “Message me when you get home?” it was another question that had to be asked although you could not understand why, “So that I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere?” because that concern was also something new.

You never cared quite so much. Never before. It was worrying in ways that made you want to hide your head in the sand and never poke out again for fear of the consequences crashing on top of it. But life rarely offered such mercies.

“Of course, Cupid” feeling Neil approach, you looked up in time to see him close the awkward gap between you.

He passed you in the corridor, the cuff of his shirt brushing against your arm as he raised his hand, visibly hesitating. Tilting your head in a silent question, you waited for him to decide. The resolution came in the form of his hand cupping your cheek for the briefest of seconds. The touch was gone before you could react, but the ghost of it stayed behind as you whispered:

“Thank you” it was another sentiment that needed no prompt or inspiration; it was just a fact.

Something that sprung from your heart like an overeager daffodil seedling breaking through the frozen February soil. Too early and bound to freeze before it could ever bloom into life.

“For?” Neil stopped in the doorway to the living room and stared back at you.

The expression on his face was impossible to puzzle out. It almost made everything easier. Easier to risk the freezing for the chance of elaborating on what you wanted him to know.

“Everything, really,” shrugging, you offered Neil a smile.

Not the sharp, dangerous grin he knew too well. No, it was a gentle thing; so ill-fitting of what you thought you understood about yourself.

But perhaps you understood nothing.

Not too long later, you heard him open the door to your apartment and let himself out quietly. You padded to the living room and picked up the used dirty wine glasses and the empty bottle. For a second, you contemplated smashing the bottle against your head to stop thinking. Then you realised the blood loss was probably not worth the passing relief. Probably.

***

Staring at the depths of the coffee in his mug, Neil sighed heavily for the umpteenth time within the past three hours that passed since waking up. Waking up in the new world, he unhelpfully added upon opening his eyes. As if his brain conspired to fuck him over, Neil could not stop thinking about it. About her. And everything that happened. All to the point that he barely slept within the odd four hours he snatched between stumbling into his apartment past 3 AM and waking up with a curse on his lips sometime after 7 AM. There was no sleep to be found after, so he gave up.

Visit to the gym did not cause any miracles either, but at least now he was free to sit on the sofa and stare into space. As if that would help. It is not even that anything was wrong. Or that he regretted the previous evening because he certainly did not. He did not. Everything that happened was something he wanted. Starting from the not-so-smooth seduction and ending with making her come. Three times. Not to be smug or anything. He wanted her. Full stop.

And now, having gotten the taste, Neil also knew that the desire would not stop there. She would not be just a box on a checklist, ticked and forgotten. Cupid was not someone he could forget. Even with the current prognosis, which was not optimistic. Because she laid out the modus operandi from day one. There would be no fantastic love story culminating with a kiss in the rain in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. Not even because of the high risk of being run over by a car.

Yet, still, being an idiot, Neil could not help but think. About her. About their evening. About how it felt. About what he wanted to happen next. All the while knowing that not much could happen beyond it. And nothing without Cupid’s will and desire for it. That knowledge did not help the thoughts or dilemmas playing out in his head.

With another heavy sigh, Neil got up from the sofa and walked over to the radio to put on music. If he was to suffer, he might as well do so with the accompaniment of bops. In the truest meaning of the word. Yet, the algorithm must have held a grudge against him, too, for he barely managed to down the remains of his coffee before trouble started. It all came crashing down with the voice of Simon Le Bon and a song Neil knew too well. Usually, he enjoyed it. Usually, there was nothing particularly stinging about this song. Usually, the opening synths and the bass rhythm did not elicit a groan and make him hide his face in his hands. Usually.

‘And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance

But fear is in your soul

Some people call it a one-night stand

But we can call it paradise

Don't say a prayer for me now

Save it 'til the morning after’

When the bridge came, along with the final chorus of the damned song, Neil was seething. Be it with rage or utter frustration. The accuracy of what was so beautifully sung by Duran Duran did not escape his attention. Or the fact that this was the first one-night stand he could not just let go. The first time, Neil was wallowing in self-pity and confusion at the state of his feelings and thoughts because of a hook-up.

Or what was supposed to be just a hook-up.

The problem was Neil was beginning to worry it was not just that. That it couldn’t be. And it was a terrible realisation to have. It made him want to be hit by a car on Piccadilly Circus. Or on the Oxford Street. He was not picky.

Quietly cursing every star on the firmament and the sparks in Cupid’s eyes, he reached for the phone and automatically opened the text conversation with the woman in question. Their last texts offered no respite from the suffering with how she bid him a good night after Neil informed her that he had found his way back home unscathed. It took him another two minutes to get his shit together and dial the number with a press of the correct icon on the screen.

Feeling the heartbeat in his throat as he awaited her to pick up the call, Neil stood up from the sofa and began pacing the living room. The seconds stretched into infinity, almost making him talk himself into ending the attempt and blaming the call on a mistake. Before he could act on the cowardice coursing in his veins, the click on the line followed by her voice acted like a heavy curtain, shutting off every doubt and uncertainty until all that remained was Cupid:

“Hi,” the breathlessness in her voice made it seem like she was not anticipating the call.

As if it caught her by surprise. Neil winced against the observation, forcing himself to reply.

“Hello. How are you?” even to his ears, the innocent question sounded strained.

It betrayed the motifs before he was ready to disclose them. His pacing has brought him to the window, so he stayed there, leaning against the sill.

An intake of breath from Cupid broke the silence before she replied:

“Good, great even. Achy as fuck, but then I got up to stuff last night, as you’d know” the slight nervousness in her quiet giggle sounded off, out of place among the implications.

The infuriating blush Neil did not seem able to get rid of even when closer to the age of thirty, made an appearance again. It bloomed across his cheekbones like weeds, making him hang his head with shame despite being the only one present in the room. Ever so helpful, his bitch of a brain chose this moment to show him a reel of last night’s events. Cupid underneath the stage lights, dancing with grace in every step. Her laughter upon the streets of Soho. The feel of her naked skin underneath his hands. The taste of her upon his tongue- Yeah, message received.

“Yeah, I was there” the ridiculous feeling of pride entered the crowded stage of his heart.

Before Neil could attempt to shrug it off, Cupid spoke again:

“You were. I remember you” her tone lowered almost imperceptibly, yet enough so Neil would notice. The low timbre spread across his chest with warmth as she added, “Vividly” the emphasis made everything worse as it awakened the exact shade of yearning he wanted to banish for eternity “Neil, I know you didn’t just call me to ask how my morning is going” the matter-of-fact turn in her voice was the wake-up call he needed.

It reminded Neil about the true purpose of the call and what he needed to say. Now, ideally. He took another deep breath, aware of the prolonged silence on the line and the rapid beat of his heart. It took him another second to convince convincing himself to speak the words into existence. All with the grace of an elephant stumbling over the vowels and tripping on the consonants:

“No... But it’s- I’ve never done this before. I had one-night stands, but not with someone like you” the ending came out in a rush as Neil tried to get it out as fast as possible without further embarrassment.

Although he knew that it was too late for those kinds of worries anyway. He was already a personification of shame in all meanings of the word.

The laugh he expected from Cupid upon such a pathetic display did not come. Instead, he got a quiet huff, which was hard to interpret with his lacklustre detective skills and a question carried on a soft tone:

“Not with a friend?” to Neil’s surprise, she did not sound judgemental or sarcastic, as if making a joke on his expanse.

Admittedly, it was what he anticipated, knowing how the sentence sounded and what it conveyed. Knowing what a loser he was, confessing the facts instead of pretending to be someone he was not. Instead of doing what he usually did.

For whatever reason, Neil increasingly often found that he did not want to pretend with Cupid. He particularly enjoyed those moments when it felt like she saw him and enjoyed the picture revealed. It was at once terrifying and exhilarating. It was what made him turn on the heel to press his back against the wall by the window and slide down to sit on the floor, risking yet another admission:

“Yeah, exactly. And like- It was amazing. It really was, but now I’m… I’m so… confused” the word hardly covered the state of his mind since waking up, but it had to do for now.

Somehow, Neil knew she would understand. She would find meaning within the stammers and pauses, interrupting the incoherent reasoning. She was smart like that.

Because the clue of the matter was that there were no regrets. No particle of his soul that wished last night did not happen. It’s just that he didn’t know what was coming next. If anything at all.

“I get it. It’s uncharted territory for you” once Cupid spoke again, Neil tried to determine her feelings on the topic from her voice. There was nothing to interpret apart from thoughtfulness and the desire to understand. To understand him, of all people. A feat few attempted and even fewer succeeded at, “From my point of view, nothing has to change between us. But I don’t think last night has to be a one-off. It could happen again” the meaning of her words took a while to sink, and even longer to be processed by his brain, slowed by incompetence and whatever charm she had him under. When it did, Neil sat up straighter, a rare sense of excitement tugging at his gut and making him open his eyes wider “If you wanted it to” the addition was almost a footnote.

Because, of course, he wanted to. He would be a fool not to. Right?

The enthusiastic reply was almost at the tip of his tongue, but the remains of dignity stepped in at the right time. Instead, Neil let the silence speak, taking a moment to ask the second most terrifying question. If not the first.

“And what about you?” the fate of his self-respect was placed upon the pedestal made of four words.

Ready to be crumbled with just one sleigh of her hand. While Neil knew Cupid enjoyed what he did to her (and with her), there was no guarantee. No way of knowing without asking her first. Now, all he could do was wait.

Wait and listen to her breathing through the phone, trying and miserably failing at not hanging upon each exhalation as if it were a sentence determining the rest of his life. Luckily, Cupid was not the one to make him wait in misery for too long.

“I’d definitely want a repeat” the certainty in her voice felt like a rush of blood to his head.

It was tinted with that shade of playfulness he considered her trademark. It was barely there, but still, it made everything easier. Brighter.

Now Neil did not even try to fight off the grin from his face as he asked:

“Yeah?” it was just another lousy trick to make her confirm what should have been obvious but was not.

At least not to his stupid brain, burdened with the eternal fear of not being enough. Ever. For anyone. Not even as a friend that you occasionally shag.

“Yes,” Cupid did not hesitate, humouring him joyfully.

Or at least that is how Neil interpreted the light chuckle that followed the reply. It eased the burden a little, but soon he found another pressing question that needed answering. Should they continue… whatever it was that was happening. Phrases like the infamous ‘friends with benefits’ started floating around his head, but for the time being, Neil brushed them away.

“So, if we did… do it again, what are the ground rules?” the clumsy wording was something he could do without, but alas, there was no choice.

He could only hope that Cupid would ignore the failure. It was the very next thing he needed to settle. The rules of play, per se. It was a completely new territory for him, something he had never done or entertained because there was no reason to. No person was worth the confusion. But now- Yeah, now there was. And Neil had no fucking clue how it all made him feel. Or whether he was not making the mistake of his life by even considering the concept. Still, he ignored the idea as Cupid broke the silence with a factual voice:

“No staying over afterwards for the night, and you must tell me if you find someone to be with for real. I don’t want to be the mythical other woman” the business-like tone suggested what Neil already knew – this was not the first time for her.

Far from it. He added a strange pinprick of jealousy to the ongoing list of feelings and thoughts to be ignored and rested his forehead against his folded knees.

The simplicity of the do’s and don’ts was undeniable. Still, it was impossible to tell how bad of a decision it would be on the endless spectrum of ‘ways to fuck up’ that Neil knew too well. From experience.

“Okay,” he nodded, although she would not see it and risked another question. To calm the running thoughts before they escaped his control entirely, “Is it fine if I think about it for a while?”

The pros were easy to think of. If he agreed, this one night would not have to be the only time Neil would have her. He could keep acting on what came to him so effortlessly when near Cupid. He could touch and kiss her as he pleased, whenever he wanted, without first worrying whether it would destroy their friendship.

But the cons were not hard to come by either. Adding sex into the equation often destroyed the friendship on its own. Neil was not sure whether he could trust himself to be as detached emotionally as the situation required him to be. He would never actually have her. Not that he wanted to. Because he didn’t. He didn’t.

“Sure thing, sunshine. We don’t have to change anything right now” her steady reassurance stopped the increasingly frantic thought processes and filled his chest with warmth.

Neil never knew he was a fan of nicknames. Of being called sunshine. But apparently, he was.

The sudden wave of peace settling over his head was the only sign that the conversation was successful. He has reached at least some sort of clarity. Even if he still had no clue what the hell he was supposed to do.

“I’ll see you Wednesday. Like always?” the pathetic edge to that question did not escape him.

But it was impossible to end the call without asking. Without checking whether Neil had something to look forward to. Without ensuring that they were okay.

At this point, Neil did not even try to pretend that Wednesdays did not become his favourite day of the week. For absolutely no reason.

“Yeah, you will” the internal debate about whether he actually could hear her wink got quickly interrupted by Cupid’s question, “And Neil?” a noncommittal hum had to do instead of a reply, what with his brain becoming a lost cause. Still, it was impossible not to wait on her addition with bated breath and heartbeat thundering in his ears. You know, like a normal person would “You know I can’t offer you a relationship, but what we have still means a lot to me. It’s not every day that I have sex this good with my best friend” this time, Neil could definitely hear the sly smile in her voice.

That strange smugness and pride returned to fill his chest with warmth and painted a grin on his face. It was the highest of praises. Both because Cupid admitted that whatever they had was worth her time and attention and because she confirmed that the previous night was… satisfying. It was a challenge not to let that get into his head, successfully distracting Neil from any other thought he could have had.

He was a simple man, alright? One spoonful of praise placed at his feet, and he was done for. In all meaning of the word.

“No?” the joy was audible in his voice as he risked a tease, “I’m such a lucky bastard, then” it was barely an overstatement.

Even if it all was to backfire spectacularly and bite him in the ass soon, Neil felt lucky. Lucky that Cupid wanted to waste her time on him. Even for a wink of her time.

And yes, he knew he sounded like a pathetic simp. He was aware of it, thank you very much.

“You are” her laughter still rang in his ear as she whispered a necessary goodbye, “I’ll talk to you soon,” for once, Neil felt no need to question her promise.

No reason to doubt.

“Bye, Cupid,” his farewell was met with another chuckle before the woman in question ended the phone call.

Slowly, Neil put down the phone and raised his head to stare at the ceiling. The white paint was occasionally spruced up with cobwebs, reminding him just how long had passed since he had last deep cleaned the apartment. A sigh had to do before Neil got up from the floor and turned up the music.

Duran Duran had nothing on him now. Surely.

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