#wicked game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Text

Wicked Game

Pairing: Daniel Le Domas x Reader

Rating: Explicit- 18+ Only

Warnings: Angst; fluff; infidelity; explicit sexual content—vagina sex, oral sex. Not beta-read.

Notes: You can venmo me that soul whenever

Length: 6.9K

Summary: “Hey,” He murmurs, “You trust me?”

You shouldn’t. Daniel Le Domas has never given you a good reason to trust him. But you find yourself nodding. He gives your hand a squeeze, your arm a tug, and leads you into the trees.

He thinks about it.

As the others stream into the room, chattering frenetically, he thinks about. He looks at the box, and he thinks about it. If he brought her home—if he brought her in—what would she draw?

Old Maid?

Chess?

Bridge?

Checkers?

Or…

Daniel winces at the thought, turning his head and raising his glass to his lips. He drains the contents, revels in the burn, and shakes his head a little, trying to knock the thoughts away. He’s already let this go on too long if he’s even worrying about this. She’d seemed so damn putout when he’d told her that he didn’t think it was a good idea for her to come home with her for Thanksgiving.

He couldn’t blame her for her upset. Thanksgiving is no intimate affair for the Le Domas family—so few things are. And he hadn’t brought her home for it last year, either—or for Christmas, New Year’s, the Fourth of July, birthday parties, none of it. He’s been keeping her away from his world, tucked in their own private corner of his life.

His family knows that there’s someone, but they haven’t discovered her yet. He’s been careful. But she deserves to be with someone that can love her openly, not covet her in the shadows.

Maybe next Thanksgiving.

You don’t recognize the house until it’s too late. You’d only been there once, three years ago, but it’s unmistakably the same house. A steady welling of dread is beginning to flood you. Your boyfriend, James, doesn’t notice—he’s still going on and on, reminding you of things about his business’ silent partner—topics to hit on, topics to avoid. You hadn’t taken a look at his business partner’s instagram, but now you’re wishing you had.

Maybe your boyfriend’s business partner just knows the Le Domas family well enough to be invited to their annual Christmas party, and a brief stay at the gargantuan house. It’s a massive affair—well-to-do people, business moguls, politicians. It’s more a wander-around, eat-canapes, sip-champagne sort of thing. It was the most uncomfortable party you’d ever been to. You’d felt like an outsider, and like Daniel was ashamed to have you on his arm.

You only half-hear James’ notes and order. You’re not really listening. You’re bracing for the inevitable flood of them out through the front door, the surprised smiles, the backhanded comments, the forced geniality—the sight of him. He’s married now. They’d made sure you’d known that. You’d even gotten an invitation to the wedding.

You’d coped by setting it on fire.

“...Babe?” James plies when you don’t answer him. “You alright?”

“...Fine,” You manage. “Think I left the iron on.”

“Can we call someone to go check? We’re gonna be here a couple’a days,” He reminds you.

“Yeah,” You manage, “Yeah, I can…Actually, I think I ought to head home after the party tonight.”

James sighs heavily, as if a child has left their toys strewn across the floor again.

“Babe,” He presses, “We’ve talked about this. You know you need to stay through the weekend. Besides, it’s a three hour drive back home, and it’ll be late. We’ll go back on Sunday.” He reaches out, patting your thigh. “I know you wanna make this perfect for me, and I know that that’s why you’re so nervous, but you’ll do just fine. Okay?”

Fine.

You don’t tell James that it was like this the last time you were there. It had been different then—your third Christmas with Daniel, and your last. You hadn’t been the only trepidatious one in the car. Daniel had been just as nervous as you were—but he’d put his hand on your thigh and told you that it would be alright—even though he didn’t seem to believe it himself.

You’re on tenterhooks. You can’t help it. In the sea of pristinely attired people, you find yourself looking around warily, fingers flexing in the bend of James’ elbow. The three champagne flutes you’ve downed on an empty stomach are beginning to bubble and make their way back up toward your head.

You haven’t seen any of the family yet. You think that you may get out of this without seeing any of them, but—

“There he is—Daniel! Where have you been keeping yourself!” James crows, letting go of your hand to lightly and fleetingly embrace his business partner.

The champagne is beginning to drop away from your head and back toward your stomach in the worst way.

Then again, if you get sick, maybe James’ll concede that you heading home is for the best.

Daniel is staring right at you, even as James extends his hearty thanks for the invitation, his admiration of the house, the hospitality.

“Anytime, man,” Is Daniel’s flat, canned answer before he gives a nod toward you. “You gonna introduce me?”

Your eyes narrow at the implication, anxiety turning to anger. Introduce—like you’re new to him, like he’s never seen you before. You can’t call him out on it now; you didn’t mention to James that you knew one another—how could you have? You didn’t know that his Daniel had once been your Daniel. James introduces you like it’s nothing. He curls his arm around your middle and draws you into his side the way he always has—like you fit, like you belong there.

“How are you finding our little party?” Daniel asks you. You want to punch him in the face and pour your drink over him. In your mind, you’re doing much, much worse to him. But you force a straight face, and tell him, “Fine, thank you.”

“Better than fine!” James hurries to correct. “It’s great.”

“You two have a chance to look at your room yet?” Daniel presses.

“Not yet.”

“It’s a nice one. Big bed,” Daniel winks at James. Your stomach churns.

“Excuse me,” You mumble, beginning to step away from James.

“Where are you going?” James frowns.

“You’re looking a little green around the gills,” Daniel tacks on. He’s goading you, and he’s enjoying it. He must be.

“Where’s that wife of yours?” James adds, turning back to Daniel. “I’m sure these two will be fast friends.”

“I don’t know about that,” Daniel chuckles. “This one seems nice, and, well. You’ve met Charity.”

The two share a hearty laugh, complete with an arm slap; James tips his head back with the force of it. It’s too loud, too fake—just like this whole damn party. You mumble your excuse again, citing the need for a new drink.

“Aw, thanks, babe, I’d love one!” James says, pressing his empty glass into your hand. So much for a clean escape.

You dawdle at the bar, lingering behind a large group before stepping up. You request another champagne, and a scotch for James. Once you’ve got it, you direct a waiter over toward James with his fresh drink, and mumble your thanks before escaping outside.

It’s chilly out, but you manage to draw in what feels like the first deep breath since you arrived at the house. You raise your glass to your lips, taking in a deep pull. When you lower it again, it’s half-empty. You sigh softly, looking down at the contents. You can’t just make a run for it—a hired car wouldn’t be there before James came looking for you. You lift your head, eyeing the lit pool and fountains.

“Looks nice all lit up, doesn’t it?”

The voice makes your stomach churn, your shoulders going tight. You can’t run; the shoes you’re wearing won’t allow it. You could throw your champagne in his face—but by god, would that be an awful waste of champagne.

“Course, you’ve seen it like this before,” He goes on. His voice is drifting closer; you can hear his approaching footsteps. “Does it hold up to your memories? Better? Worse?”

“...I don’t know,” You manage. “I blocked that night out.”

“Pfft, what?” Daniel chuckles. “You said that was the best night of your life.”

“I lied.”

“Why would you lie about that?”

“I had to put on a brave face after you’d spent the night pretending I didn’t exist.”

You don’t turn to look at him, even as he comes to stand beside you. The sleeve of his suit jacket brushes your chilled bare arm.

“...Your boyfriend’s a shithead,” He offers.

“I guess I have a type.”

You hope it’ll sting him, but Daniel just laughs.

“You invested with that shithead,” You remind him.

“He’s a shithead with a good business model. Fingers in different pies.”

“And you always were the type to prefer quantity over quality.”

Daniel huffs another soft laugh, stepping up to the marble railing and leaning back against it and facing you.

“You’re going to stretch a muscle, reaching for those insults.”

He looks as smug as he sounds as you turn an irritated eye toward him. Something softens in his expression within a couple of blinks, his eyes wandering you.

“You look good,” He murmurs.

“I know.”

“Cold, though.”

“I’m fine.”

“So you’re shivering for fun?”

You say nothing. You just raise your glass to your lips and drain it. Then, unable to help yourself, you fling the glass over the side of the balcony. There’s something oddly gratifying about the sound of it crashing on the walkway below. Daniel’s smile widens, and you have to clench your jaw. You only just manage to halt your own smile, and you damn the fluttering in your stomach at the sight.

You hate that you know it’s one of his rare, real smiles—one that you’d been privy to at the very start of the relationship. They’d dwindled as you’d grown more serious, and damn near disappeared by the time he’d finally brought you home for the holidays. Yours had disappeared, too.

“...You look good,” he murmurs.

“You said that.”

“I mean it.”

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t think I think you look good?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think, Daniel, I really don’t.”

“You never did lie well. It’s one of the reasons you didn’t fit in here.”

“Oh one of the reasons,” You laugh a little hysterically. “My god, just list them all out now, why don’t you.”

“Sure, I can do that—”

“I’m being sarcastic, asshole.”

“Well, there’s the fact that you don’t know how to have fun, your complete lack of skill at Jenga—”

“Oh, fuck you, I’m great at Jenga.”

“You are not.”

“I am!”

“Your hands shake when you’re nervous.”

“You were all staring at me!”

“It was Jenga.”

“Oh—For fuckssake, I could kick your ass at Jenga—I could kick anyone’s ass at Jenga.”

“We’ll pencil it in for tomorrow night, then.”

Your fire is sapped at the reminder, and you glance away from him, arms folding across your chest.

“I’m not sure I’ll be staying that long.”

“Really.”

Daniel’s tone is a touch too joyous. You want to punch him. You want to slap his gorgeous, vaguely sad face. You glance over as Daniel gets up, and you frown as he shrugs out of his jacket.

“What are you doing?” You shake your head.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m fine—”

“Sure.”

You open your mouth to argue, but fall silent as he wraps his warm jacket around your shoulders. You anger is sapped, replaced with surprise and nerves at his sudden closeness. You look at Daniel almost nervously, eyes wandering his face. He’s focused on tightening the jacket around your shoulders, but as his eyes catch yours, he goes still. His gaze searches yours as you watch one another. He’s so warm, and so close—and he smells so good. Daniel always smelled so good. You used to cuddle up with him and press your face into his shoulder, breathing in the warm, woodsy scent of him. You’d had a sweater of his after you’d broken up, and kept it long after the smell of his cologne had faded.

Daniel takes a step closer, hands settling on your shoulder, the heat of him bleeding through the jacket. Your heart leaps into your throat as his gaze drifts, then lingers on your lips.

And then the call of, “Honey?” Cuts over your head, and you take a large step back. Your gaze drops to his chest, arms tightening around your chest as the click of heels grows closer. You can feel Daniel watching you still before he finally tears his gaze from yours.

“Sweetheart,” He bats back. “Come meet James’ girlfriend.” Then, “Remind me what your name is?”

Your gaze shoots to him, your anger and fire burning any warm, cuddly feelings you had for him just moments ago.

“I’m not sure that’s important to you,” You shrug the jacket off, flinging it back at him. He catches it without a flinch, without missing a beat. The woman that comes to stand beside him is frigid in her beauty, her eyes sweeping yours as Daniel wordlessly puts the jacket around her shoulders in turn.

“This is my wife, Charity,” Daniel tacks on.

“Nice to meet you,” She offers. She has that same veneer that other members of the Le Domas family had when you met them—shiny and bright, but hollow.

“You, too,” You nod before taking a step back. “Excuse me—I should find James.”

“Sure,” Charity nods, speaking over Daniel’s, “Great idea.”

You turn from the two of them, gripping at your dress skirt and drawing it up from your shoes to avoid tripping up the scant steps to get inside. You move with careful determination, not wanting to trip in front of either of them. You have two more days worth of this mess—of needling teasing. It won’t do to fall apart now.

You manage to keep out of the family’s way for most of the following day. You hide out in the library for the most part. It had been your only safe haven the last time you were there, too. James has spent most of the day rubbing elbows with the Le Domas family. In truth, you’re already thinking of the best way to break up with him once you’re home—and Considering the frosty reception you’d gotten when you’d gone to bed, you’re certain that James is considering the same thing. For now, there’s a silent, knowing accord—grin and bear it.

But you have been wrangled into going on a hike with the family and a few of the other guests that afternoon.

Charity sidles up to you before you can say or do a thing. She has a glint in her eye that wasn’t there the night before—one that’s no doubt a result of Daniel filling her in on some particulars.

You think, maybe, that she won’t be like the others.

You hope, truthfully, that when she persuades you to leave the group with her, to look at an old hiking trail Alex and Danny used to love, that she’s legitimately planning on showing you.

And you realize, fully, when she ditches you, that she’s just as nasty as the rest of the fucking family.

When she doesn’t come back with the others, Daniel’s hackles are raised. He asks James casually where his girlfriend’s gotten to, and the jackass simply says that he’s not sure—that she must be wandering somewhere, that she must be admiring nature.

Daniel lets it go for a bit—and then it starts to get dark. He lingers by the windows, scotch in hand, eyeing the treeline.

She’d never liked it out there. She’d told him last time that the grounds around the house gave her the willies. He couldn’t imagine that it was any different this time. He can’t shake the sinking feeling that something is deeply, worryingly wrong. It doesn’t help that Charity has a sinister little curl to her lips when she tells Daniel that it’s time for dinner—and that there’s no use waiting by the window.

Daniel slams back the rest of his drink, setting it on the windowsill. His wife makes no effort to stop him, just watches as he grabs his coat and goes out into the night.

He sees a panic in her eyes at the sight of him, one that he once had nervous nightmares of. He'd always been afraid of his family getting to her like this. Some nights, he dreamt of her stumbling into him, an arrow piercing her side, a growing stain of blood marring a white wedding dress.

Daniel can't speak for a moment, but he doesn't have to. She's darting to him and hooking her arms around his neck as she sobs into his chest. Her dirt-riddled fingers curl in the fabric of his pristine Armani jacket. He can barely make out the words she's spluttering—"Lost," and "Cold," and "Abandoned."

Daniel's body snaps into action. This hand holding the flashlight drops it automatically, plunging them into partial darkness as he hurries to wrap his arms tightly around her.

"It's okay," He soothes, pressing the promise against her temple. "You're alright. I've got you."

You’re freezing, irritated, tired. You don’t argue as Daniel bundles you into his jacket and guides you back, but you go still as you catch sight of the house. You tighten his jacket around you, anger and annoyance and fatigue beginning to well in you. Daniel glances between you and the house for a moment before he says, “Okay…Okay. Wait here.”

You frown, brow furrowing as he jogs to the house. You move to cower by the treeline, keeping yourself out of sight. You jump whenever you hear a branch snap, heart rabbitting in your chest. It’s ten minutes before you see Daniel leaving the house, a dufflebag in hand. He glances back toward the door before he waves you closer, taking your hand and leading you away.

“What’ve you got?” You ask.

“You’ll see.” Daniel smiles back at you before he guides you toward the trees again. You freeze, nervously digging in your heels, and Daniel stops fully.

“Hey,” He murmurs, “You trust me?”

You shouldn’t. Daniel Le Domas has never given you a good reason to trust him. But you find yourself nodding. He gives your hand a squeeze, your arm a tug, and leads you into the trees.

You’d never seen the two-floor pool house when you were on the property before. The house had seemed so damn expansive that you’d never thought to look elsewhere. Besides, anything beyond the treeline had given you the willies.

“I couldn’t get to your stuff, so—You gonna be okay with these?” Daniel asks, lifting a pair of sweatpants and a henley of his out of the duffle bag. You glance down at yourself, eyeing your dirt-riddled clothing.

“Do I have a choice?” You counter, taking hold of the clothes before nodding toward the duffle. “What else is in there?”

“Go shower,” Daniel waves you off without answering. “You smell like sweat and mud.”

You huff, turning and looking for the bathroom.

“Upstairs,” He says, waving toward the staircase. “First door on the left.”

“I bet your fucking garden shed has a wine cellar in it,” You grumble as you go.

You take your damn time showering, washing off the outdoors, and the hours of frantic worry and searching. As you clean yourself up, the stress of the day, and the situation, finally take you over. You lower yourself to the tiled shower floor, letting the tears that you’ve been holding back since you first saw the house flow free. You press a hand back against your mouth, stifling your whimpers and sniffles as the warm spray mingles with your tears.

When you finally pull yourself together and towel yourself dry, you reach for the clothing Daniel handed you. You can’t help the urge to raise the henley to your nose, taking a whiff. It’s that same warm, clean, woodsy scent. It makes your shoulders relax, though it shouldn’t. You draw in one more sniffle as you get dressed, buttoning up the henley and reveling in the comfort.

When you open the bathroom door, you’re greeted with a surprising, delicious scent. You frown, taking slow, careful steps down the stairs, as if you’re wary of spooking someone. You can hear the odd clink of glasses, dishes, and plates. You pull the sleeves of the henley down over your hands as you spot two plates, two glasses, and a bottle of champagne on the kitchen counter.

“What’s this?” You ask.

Daniel glances back from the stove, then toward the stove again.

“Grilled cheese.”

You grin. You can’t help it.

“That always was the only thing you could make,” You chuckle, walking closer to him. “Are these floors heated?”

“Yep. We sold our souls for heated floors.”

“Ha-ha. I’m opening the champagne.”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Nearly did when I fell out of the tree,” You mumble.

“You climbed a tree?” Daniel frowns, glancing back toward you again.

“I was trying to see if I could spot the house.” You reach out, unwinding the foil and the muselet.

“Did you see it?”

“I saw the sky, I saw some branches—” You twist the cork, wincing at the pop of the bottle. “And then I saw the ground.” You take up your glass, filling it, waiting for the foam to lessen, and then topping it up further. “You want one?”

“You think I got that other glass down for you to double-fist?”

“After the weekend I’ve had, I deserve it.”

You push yourself up onto the wide marble counter, swinging your feet back and forth. You watch Daniel for a moment, taking him in. He’s so far from where he is around his family—around his wife.

“Where’s the bitch think you are, anyway?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, but you’ve had a long day.

“Probably out drinking somewhere.”

“Which isn’t untrue.”

“It is not.”

“I want bacon on mine.”

“It’s in the other pan.”

“Good boy.”

You raise your glass to your lips as Daniel throws a stunned, amused glance back at you.

“What gives you license to talk to me like a dog?”

“The fact that you’re acting like one.”

Daniel’s smile wilts before he turns away from you. You resolve to not feel bad for the comment, or his reaction.

“...I’ve been a shit, huh.”

“You’ve been worse than a shit.”

“But not worse than your boyfriend.”

“The two of you are on par.”

Daniel opens his mouth to argue, but you’re cut off by a pounding knock on the door. You nearly choke as you inhale your champagne. Daniel shuts up the oven off, taking the glass from your hand and gripping your wrist. You wobble as you’re tugged off of the counter and down the hall, into a back room.

“Daniel, what are you—”

“Ssssh!” He hisses, nudging you into a closet. He passes you the glass of champagne back,wide-eyed and harried. “Stay in here, and don’t—don’t move, don’t say a thing. Okay? Just keep quiet and hold still, no matter what.”

“But—”

Before you can argue, Daniel shoves the closet door shut, plunging you into darkness. You frown, pulling your phone out of your pocket and shining it up and around. You’re surrounded by designer gowns and coats—things that are surely worth more than you make in a year. You huff, shuffling to the back of the closet and carefully lowering yourself to sit on the floor. You shine the light up toward the nearest dress. You lean up, squinting at the still-attached tag and balking at the cost. Christ alive.

You lean back, raising the glass to your lips and draining it. You swallow roughly, clapping your hand over your mouth as you hear Charity’s voice grow louder. Her heels click along the pristine hall floor. Daniel’s just behind. You can hear them arguing; you can hear her opening and closing doors roughly.

“What makes you think she’s here?” You hear Daniel snap.

“So you haven’t seen her?” Charity’s tone is rife with disbelief.

“By all accounts, you’re the last one to see her. Why don’t you tell me where she is.”

You hurriedly shove your phone under your thigh, hiding the shine of the flashlight before you tuck yourself up more tightly into the corner of the closet. Your heart thunders in your chest as you hear the floorboards outside of the closet creaking.

“...You really think I’d shove her in a closet?” Daniel asks dryly.

“Why are you out here instead of at the house, then?” Charity bats back. Through the slats in the door, you can see her turning back to Daniel, her hands planting on her slim hips.

“I needed a break from the circlejerk of thankfulness.”

You press your hand more tightly against your lips, shoulders shaking with a laugh.

“Are you coming back?” Charity asks.

“Eventually, yeah. Gonna have to. All of my shit’s over there, and I’ll never hear the end of it from dad.”

Charity turns to look at the closet again, her eyes sweeping the doors. Your stomach churns with nerves as she raises a hand to the doorknob…

Then lowers it, and strides to the door.

“Come back soon, alright? That business partner of yours is a fucking creep.”

“I only deal with creeps, darling. That’s how I met you, remember?” Daniel retorts dryly, shutting the door behind the two of them. You let out a slow, relieved breath, the panic beginning to trickle from you. You tip your head back against the wall, keeping yourself tucked tightly into the corner. You draw in deep, steady breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart as you wait.

You go stiff and nervous again as you hear the thudding of footsteps, then the closet door being thrown open. You bite your lip, watching as the dresses above you are shifted and tugged—and then Daniel comes into view, poking his head between and a Dior dress and a Chanel trenchcoat.

“Jesus,” He holds a hand out to help you up. “Thought you’d moved somewhere else for a second there.”

“Nah. Find a good place and stay there,” You wince as he pulls you to your feet. You breeze past him, tacking on, “First rule of hide and seek.”

All of the shades in the pool house have been closed, the curtains shut tightly around them.

“They’re gonna be watching for you,” Daniel warns. He plucks your empty champagne flute out of your hand, heading back for the kitchen.

“How are we gonna get out of here?”

“Don’t worry about that. I know a way.”

You follow him back to the kitchen, watching him fling the unfinished grilled cheese into the trash.

“Dude!”

“We’ve got more,” He waves you off. You shake your head, looking around for the dishes.

“What’d you do with the—?”

“The plates? Stashed ‘em in the oven.”

“Wow,” You mutter. “You work fast.”

“Want another one?”

“No, god. I’ll burst,” You mumble, still chewing the crust of your second grilled cheese. Daniel takes up your plates, walking over to the sink. You watch him for a moment before you reach out, taking up the champagne. It’s the second bottle—the two of you practically decimated the first one before you’d even started eating. Your head is beginning to feel a little fuzzy, and heavy from fatigue.

“Daniel?”

“Mm.”

“Why’d you come looking for me?”

Daniel doesn’t answer right away. He just focuses fastidiously on getting the pans and cooking utensils into the sink.

“I may not have a soul, but I still have a heart.”

You grunt, topping up both glasses before setting the bottle aside.

“News to me.”

He turns to face you slowly, hands braced on the edge of the sink. He’s looking toward you, but not really looking at you.

“Would you rather I left you out there?” He asks.

“You sure as hell left me out to dry at the party last night.”

“Well, you weren’t at risk of dying of exposure at the party.”

“...What’d you tell Charity about me?”

“Just that we were together for a while. Mom and dad corroborated.”

“A while,” You repeat with a scoffing laugh. “Three years is more than a while, Daniel.”

“You know what I mean.”

“That’s all you told her? That made her lead me into the middle of the fucking woods?”

Daniel’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze dropping to the floor as he seems to consider his answer.

“You’re the only other woman I’ve ever brought home, and she’s…She’s accustomed to a certain standard of living. Guess she felt threatened.”

“There’s no way a woman like that could feel threatened by me.”

Daniel smiles a little bit, shaking his head and turning back to the sink.

“Oh—don’t pretend you’re gonna do the dishes, Daniel Le Domas. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Daniel chuckles, turning from the sink and nodding, “Yeah, alright. What do you wanna do?”

“...Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I just wanna go to bed.”

Daniel nods, hands tapping on the counter.

“Alright. Let’s go over how to set the security system, and then you can just sleep in whatever bedroom you want.”

“You’re not staying?” The question leaves you with a nervous tone. Daniel’s mouth moves wordlessly for a second before he admits,

“Uh…Wasn’t planning on it.” Then, after a moment of apprehensive silence between the two of you, “Do you want me to?”

–

He sets the alarm ahead of the two of you going upstairs. You find yourself lingering in the stairway, watching him. Some nervous little part of you is terrified that he’ll simply leave, that he’ll raise the alarm to his family that he’s found you. But he comes to join you at the stairs and sets a hand on your lower back, guiding you upstairs. He leads you to the master bedroom, and lingers in the doorway.

You think for another panicked moment that he may not join you, but he walks the rest of the way inside, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you.

“Don’t turn the light on,” He urges as you reach for a lamp.

“You think they’re watching that closely?”

“Who fucking knows with them.”

You lower yourself onto the side of the bed.

“What exactly do you think they’ll do if they find us?” You frown.

“Make us go back. What, you dying to see James right now?”

“We’re adults. We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“Sure.”

“...Daniel.”

He doesn’t answer you this time. He just sits on the edge of the bed and tugs his shoes off. You sigh, pushing yourself back against the headboard.

“You never could stand up to them. That was the problem.”

“That was half the problem,” He argues.

“Oh yeah? What was the other half?”

“Don’t. Don’t start.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You really wanna do this now?”

“Can’t think of a better time.”

Daniel hops up from the bed, beginning to pace irritatedly. You watch him as he goes, back and forth, back and forth.

“What was the other half?” You press.

“You’re not like us!”

It leaves him in a manic burst, and it sucks the air out of your lungs. You know that you’re not like them.

“No, I’m not,” You agree, irritation surging through you. “I’m not rich, I’m not from a fucking legacy, I’m not—”

“That’s what you think this is about?” Daniel laughs a little hysterically. He whirls toward you, crossing the room in quick, steady strides. You’re stunned as he sits beside you and takes your hands in his.

“You’re not ruthless,” He swears, eyes wide. His hands begin to shake around yours. “You’re not self-involved, you’re not…You’re not hollow.”

Your eyes search his palid, stricken face.

“Daniel,” You breathe, drawing a hand from his and cupping his cheek. “Neither are you.”

Daniel doesn’t answer. He just tips his head forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You can feel him pulling in deep breaths, trying to steady himself as his hands tighten around yours. You slide your hand to rest on the nape of his neck, smoothing your thumb up and down.

You should be more irate. Your welcome during the weekend has been less than hospitable. Daniel has been an asshole—an aloof shithead, and a complete moron.

But he came looking for you.

James would never come looking for you.

You dip your head, nuzzling his dark curls gently. You suck in a stunned breath as his arms curl around your middle, drawing you closer. You feel Daniel tip his chin up, feeling his nose brush your jaw. A familiar anticipatory tingle makes its way through your belly. You turn your head down toward him, intent on saying that you ought to go to bed—but Daniel’s nose brushes yours. You hold one another’s gazes with steady, nervous care. Daniel’s fingers curl in the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing.

This is a bad idea. You’re technically still dating James, though he’s got a sense of inflated ego, and an absolute disregard for you. Daniel is married.

Daniel’s eyelids flutter slightly as you nuzzle your nose against his. His hand slides down, fingers skimming tantalizingly along the bare skin exposed between the henley and the sweatpants.

“I always liked you in my shirts,” He mumbles, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Daniel—”

“Loved it when I could see that you were mine.” His teeth graze your jaw, making your shoulders tighten, your stomach churning with surprise.

“Daniel,” You repeat weakly. “We shouldn’t. I—You’re married—”

Before the protest can leave you fully, Danicel reels back. You watch him tug off his wedding ring, flinging it into the far corner. You hardly have time to hear the gold ping against the ground before Daniel is grasping your face and drawing you in.

You go. You shouldn’t, but you do. You lean into Daniel, a shivering moan leaving you as he laps lustily across your lips. You know that him throwing his ring off makes no difference to what you’re doing. If anything, it simply means you won’t have the band of metal pressing into your skin. But you push yourself up, kneeling to straddle his hips. He tips head back, mouth opening in a groan as you cradle the base of his skull in your hands. You can’t help the wiggle and twitch of your hips down against his. Daniel tips back against the mattress, drawing you down with him.

Kissing Daniel is at once foreign and familiar. You know the favored tipping of his head, the slide of his lips. You know the way his hands shift and slide and squeeze as he likes and where he likes. But you haven’t been kissed or held or touched like this in such a long time. Sex with James is a dispassionate; kisses are perfunctory; touches are rare, and fleeting.

Daniel rolls you over, climbing over you. His knees press into the mattress, pushing you further up the mattress as his hands brace on either side of your head. He grips the hem of the henley, shoving it up to your neck. You wriggle it off, tossing it over the side of the bed and whining as Daniel dips his head to your breasts. His tongue flickers out, tipping back and forth, swirling and teasing your pebbling nipples. You whine, pressing your hips up against his and tightening your grip in his hair.

You can still stop. You can tell Daniel that you shouldn’t do this—that it’s wrong. You do raise your hands, pushing at his shoulders. Daniel reels back, lips pinking and swollen as he straightens, watching you. You raise your hands to the buttons of his suit pants, hurriedly unbuttoning and unzipping them before shoving them down around his thighs. He steps out of them, kicking them away. You lean up, undoing the buttons on his shirt from the bottom as he undoes them from the top. Your hands meet in the middle, and you push at the shirt, shoving it off of his shoulders. You lower a hand to the growing bulge in his briefs, swiping your tongue along your lower lip. You slide your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down around his thighs. You take him in hand, sliding your hand over his hard length. You turn your head, tongue flicking against his glans. He groans low in his throat, hand flexing against your shoulder. He watches you intently as you take him between his lips, bobbing his head and moaning around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He mumbles, “Just—Fuck—Just like that.”

You preen under his praise, picking up your pace and swiping your tongue along the underside of his cock. He rests his hands on your cheeks, holding your head still as he controls the length and pace of his pleasure. You let him draw you deeply onto his cock, and struggle not to choke and gag on him. You draw back with a wet gasp, tongue swiping along your lower lip as he peers down at you. He gives your jaw a shove before he bends down, hands tucking beneath your thighs and easing you further back against your bed. You hardly have a moment to adjust before Daniel is diving between your thighs. He spreads your lips, lapping broadly against your wetting pussy with a groan.

You pull in a stunned little breath, the sensation trickling along the base of your spine. He sucks a kiss to your cunt, then another before swipes his tongue along your clit. Your thighs tense, heels digging into the mattress. You use the leverage to roll your hips down against his hungry mouth. His stubble catches against your tender skin. He seals his mouth over your pussy, nose brushing your pubic mound. He watches each twitch and grind, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he draws back with a slick suck. He leans back just a touch, easing two fingers into you in one firm push. Your jaw drops at the stretching sensation, cunt fluttering around his thick digits.

“Dan—Daniel, fuck,” You whimper. He hums encouragingly, tongue making firm, upward flicks over your throbbing clit. He leans back, eyeing your spit- and cum-slicked cunt before he draws away, slapping your hip. You roll over, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Daniel is on the bed and behind you before you can draw in a deep breath. He curls his arm around your neck, steadying you as he eases into you. Your head hangs heavy, eyes slipping shut as you revel in the press of his thick cock, and the pressure of his arm against your neck.

Daniel presses himself flush to your back, nipping and sucking across your neck and shoulders. You grind back against him desperately, pussy dripping and gripping at him.

“Fuck,” He groans into your neck, breath hot against your neck, “Fuck I missed you, baby.”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes, and you squeeze them shut tightly. Your bodies move as one. You revel in the press of his chest against your back, and the dip and slap of his fingers against your nipple. You tip your head back against him, whining as he takes your nipple between his knuckles, twiddling it just enough to make you throb around him.

“Daniel,” You whimper.

It’s too much—missing him, seeing him, being held in a way that you haven’t been held in years.

“...I think I can see the sun,” You mumble. You’re boneless and sleepy, worn out as you eye the windows. Daniel sighs softly, nuzzling against your stomach.

“We’ll have to go soon,” He mumbles, “But hey. ‘Least we made it to morning. It’s possible.”

You frown, shifting your head on the pillow to get a better look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daniel doesn’t answer. He just takes hold of your hand, toying tenderly with your fingers. “...Daniel.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

“Better button-up on the petnames,” You warn, “And better figure out where the heck you threw your ring.”

“I’ll just get another one. It’s not the first one I’ve lost.”

“Not the first one you’ve lost, or not the first one you’ve thrown?”

“Same-same.”

You roll your eyes, resting your hand beneath your head and peering up at the ceiling.

There have been moments throughout the night that you’ve felt like you once did with Daniel—cared for, buoyant. Happy.

Maybe it’s been his enthusiasm. Maybe it’s the almost absolute certainty that this is the last time you’ll see him. Either way, you’ve found a spot of joy in this hellish weekend. Daniel pushes himself up over you, hands on either side of your head.

“Promise me something,” He murmurs.

“What?” “Promise me you’ll find someone good for you.”

“...James hasn’t been all that—”

“Promise me.”

He’s so firm about it, so insistent that you can’t bring yourself to tell him that he’s someone good for you—that you want him and only him, if he can shake himself from the grips of his family. So you raise your hands, stroking gently over his cheeks.

“Alright,” You murmur, nodding. “I promise.”

Daniel nods, lowering his forehead to yours.

“Promise me something else,” He murmurs.

“What is it?”

“Never, ever play hide and seek.”

“Why not?” You pout. “I’m good at it.”

“Promise, or I’m not letting you out of this bed.”

“You’re giving me fewer reasons to promise.”

“...Please.” His voice is quiet and wavers like a frightened little boy’s. You nod a little despite yourself and murmur, “Alright. Alright, I promise.”

Daniel sighs softly, lowering himself against your again and nuzzling into your neck. The two of you lay together, eyeing the window and watching the sky lighten. Daniel’s hands smooth up your sides and thighs. You hear him sigh heavily, and peer down at him.

“What is it?” You murmur.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen a nicer sunrise.”

#Daniel Le Domas x Reader #Daniel Le Domas x You #Daniel Le Domas/Reader #Daniel Le Domas/You #Daniel Le Domas fic #Daniel Le Domas imagine #Wicked Game

353 notes · View notes