Work Text:
James 🎸
'Are you busy tonight?'
You held your phone in your hand, staring at the message on your screen. You knew you weren't, of course, you rarely had anything going on outside of filling out applications and visiting Clarissa, and you weren't planning on spending your Friday night writing another college essay. Plus, Clarissa was clear across town, spending the weekend with her mom. It wasn't hard to figure out that James wanted to see you, but you were unsure.
You'd been avoiding Clarissa like the plague, only texting her when she texted you first. You let her calls ring until they went to voicemail, telling her you'd lost your voice. Here soon you'd have to give up on the 'I'm sick' act. The guilt had been eating away at you, and you'd been seriously considering telling her. In fact, your thumb had been hovering over her contact in your phone before James texted you.
It's not as if you didn't want to go see Jim, you very much so wanted to. Knowing that he was pursuing you drove your crazy. He'd told you that first night that he thinks about you; you wondered what he thought about doing to you. But that entire thought process was the problem. You couldn't keep feeding into these selfish desires. You weren't sure if there was anything you could do to make this up to Clarissa. How would she react when she found out? You knew the longer you waited, the longer you let this go on, the worse it would become. The more you spoke to James, the more attached to him you got. You hated that it was more than the stupid crush you had when it all started; you were actually starting to like him. And that only made it worse.
A small part of you wondered if he had feelings for you.
You shook the thoughts away, forcing yourself to toss your phone to your side. You groaned, dropping your head in your hands, feeling confused and frustrated. You weren't sure what to do anymore, you didn't know whether to go to bed, call Clarissa and tell her everything, or messages James back. It all felt so black and white. You wanted to rip your hair out, you were so stressed.
Your phone pinged, your screen lighting up.
James 🎸
'I want to see you.'
You groaned, opening your texts and pulling up your keyboard. You replied with the first thing you thought of.
'I don't know, I'm kind of tired'
'Please? I can't stop thinking about you.'
Your mind shot back to what he said that first night, once again wondering exactly what he thought about you. You cursed yourself for being so damn easy.
'I don't feel like driving'
You were using lame excuses, trying to find a way to convince yourself to just stay home tonight. Your phone pinged again, and you quickly looked at his reply.
'I'll pick you up.'
You sighed, chewing on your lower lip as you typed out your response.
'what are we gonna do?'
'Well, we'd have the whole place to ourselves.'
The idea made your heart pound, and you couldn't resist asking the question that'd been pestering you all night.
'so you’re thinking about me?'
'What do you mean?'
You blushed, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. It felt silly, but you wanted to know his desires, you wanted to make the night good for him.
'you said you were thinking about me. what were you thinking about?’
Your phone buzzed quicker than you expected, and you were almost scared to see his response. You had to type in your password three different types before you could get your phone unlocked.
'As I said, you.'
You frowned - it wasn't much to go off of, and he was clearly doing it purposefully. You wanted him to tell you exactly what he thought about.
'what about me? if you want me to come over so bad, you're gonna have to convince me'
You smirked to yourself, feeling smug. There was no way you wouldn't get what you wanted now. You stood, making your way to your dresser, picking through clothes, trying to decide what to wear. You settled on plain jeans and a white t-shirt, opting for comfort over style. You'd probably have to take these off later, you didn't want to have to struggle through layers of clothes. You were about to decide what to do with your hair when James finally texted you back. You practically leaped across the room to your phone, anxiously opening his messages.
'Oh, so that's how it's going to be? Well, if that's what it takes to see you tonight 😉'
'Sometimes I imagine you're just a little virgin, so shy and inexperienced, and I just snatch your innocence away.'
You sucked in air, feeling breathless. You wanted to push him to tell you other thoughts he'd had, you wanted to know more.
'what else?'
'Maybe if you're lucky you'll find out tonight.'
-
You, rather ungracefully, plopped down into the passenger seat by James. You smiled at him sheepishly, pulling the car door shut behind you. "Hey," you tread carefully, unsure how to start a conversation. "How have you been?"
He gave you a warm smile, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of your driveway. "I've been okay," he answered, expertly turning the wheel and heading towards his home. "I've missed you."
He was wearing a plaid flannel, buttoned all the way up. He had on dark blue jeans, they looked new. You could see the faint dampness of his hair, and you could smell the soap on him. His beard was groomed, his cheeks smooth and clean. You swore you caught a whiff of cologne, too. You wondered if he'd cleaned up tonight to impress you.
"So you've said," you responded, the guilt once again weaseling its way into your brain.
He frowned, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. "You alright?"
You looked down at your lap, picking at your nails. "I…feel guilty," you admitted quietly. "We shouldn't be doing this."
A sad look crossed Jim's face, and the car slowed.
"Yeah," he muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but still occasionally looking over at you.
"Why did you text me, asking me to come over?"
"Because I wanted to see you. Why did you say yes?"
"I tried not to."
"And I tried not to text you."
You sighed, looking out the window. It was selfish, it was wrong - and yet, you still weren't asking him to turn the car around and take you home. "I just know Clarissa is going to be hurt," you said quietly, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.
He pursed his lips, clenching his fists around the steering wheel. "She doesn't have to know," he answered, nervous. "She doesn't need to know."
"But she needs to. Eventually we have to tell her," you persisted, turning to face him.
Jim sighed, his left leg starting to bounce with anxiety. "I don't want to talk about this tonight," he whispered, looking at you with pleading eyes. "I know it's wrong, I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize to me. I'm doing it too."
He gave you a small, sympathetic smile, and you recognized the turn onto his street.
"So how has the music thing been going?" you asked, trying to switch the topic of conversation.
He shrugged, reaching around the center console for his pack of cigarettes. You quickly grabbed them, taking one and placing it between your lips. He gave you a strange look, but you merely lit it and handed it to him before setting the pack down. He gave you an appreciative nod before placing the cigarette between his own lips and taking a slow drag. He exhaled through his nose, rolling down the window to flick the ash out of the car.
"It's going alright, I guess," he finally answered, pulling into his driveway. "And your school…?”
You shrugged, the only light in the dark car was the slowing ember on the end of his cigarette, but you couldn’t see much else unless you passed a street light. “Essays and portfolios are kicking my ass,” you admitted, nervously running your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth the strands down. “But otherwise I'm doing fine, I suppose.”
He nodded in response, pulling into the driveway. As the car slowed to a stop, you unbuckled your seatbelt and took a breath to ground yourself. The house was dark, aside from the porch light James must have left on for himself. The typical light coming from Clarissa’s window was off, and you were hit with a sudden pang of guilt. What were you going to tell her? How were you going to tell her?
You hadn’t realized James had exited the car already, not until he rounded the car to open the passenger door for you. He gave you an expectant look, raising a singular brow quizzically. You smiled sheepishly, climbing out of the car and shyly stepping around James. “Sorry,” you explained quietly, “I’m not used to no one else being here.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he admitted, chuckling slightly. “Wanna go inside?”
-
You hadn’t known what to expect tonight, but you certainly didn’t expect to find yourself where you were now; on the couch, James’ arm slung over your shoulder, a glass of wine in your hand. It felt adult , like you were on a date with him. You couldn't bring yourself to complain, however, when he’d offered up a movie and dinner. It was sweet, and you felt safe, at home. But of course, it’d make sense for you to feel at home in the house you practically grew up in.
The thought made you sick to your stomach, and you took a large swig of the dark wine to ease your nerves. Why were you so nervous?
The wine was strong, the taste of fermented strawberries coating your mouth. You would have never pegged Jim as a wine-drinker. You tried your hardest to keep your gaze on the TV screen, but you couldn’t peel your eyes from James. You could already feel the alcohol swirling in your stomach, warming your body; your face felt flushed and hot.
James was delicately running his fingertips over the exposed skin on your arm, his eyes never leaving the screen. You briefly wondered how he could be so cool and collected about this. Your anxiety was getting to you, and you quickly downed the rest of the liquid in your glass, grimacing at the strong taste and burning feeling in your throat. You reached forward, searching for the open bottle of wine he had set on the coffee table in front of the two of you. You pushed the half-empty cartons of Chinese takeout to the side, gripping the neck of the bottle and pulling it towards you. Jim tsked, reaching out to take the bottle from you.
“I’m not trying to get you shit-faced tonight,” he chastised playfully, taking the chance to refill his own glass.
You watched the pinkish-red liquid pour, your mouth watering at the sight. Drinking always gave you that boost of confidence you needed…
Your lower lip jutted out, pouting, and you turned to face him. “ Please ?” you asked sweetly, holding out your glass expectantly. “Just one more?”
He squinted his eyes at you, pursing his lips while he weighed the options before him. “One more and you won’t be able to make it home,” he was speaking slowly, testing the waters.
It hit you like a ton of bricks when you realized he was slyly asking you to spend the night, trying to gauge how far you wanted to go. You knew that this was your moment to make a decision, and most likely your last chance to be taken home and have the whole thing forgotten. If you left, you could go to bed, and tell Clarissa in the morning. Maybe she’d hate you less if you come clean now. If you stayed, however...well, you knew what would happen then. But to have sex with your best friend’s dad, in her own home, that would cross the line of unforgivable. You’d most likely lose her forever.
Even though you knew this was all true, you were still trying to convince yourself to stay. Maybe Clarissa deserved someone better, someone who wouldn’t do this to her. Maybe you could apologize and admit you were wrong and she wouldn’t hate you forever. The alcohol in your system wasn’t helping to clear your mind, either. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and you instinctively held out your glass without thinking.
“Top me off,” you whispered, the glass trembling in your hand.
“Are you sure?” his tone was doubtful, his gaze worried.
It’d calm your nerves, wouldn’t it?
You sighed, closing your eyes. You knew you wanted this, but you also knew the consequences.
“I’m sure.”
You made your choice.
You heard him hum in response, followed by the slow pouring of liquid into a glass. You carefully opened your eyes, and the first thing your gaze landed on was James’ hand; he was raising his glass to his lips, his hand comically large compared to the delicate wine glass. It made your heart swell that he was going all out for you. You smiled - probably the first genuine smile you’d given him all night. You slightly tilted your glass towards him, turning to face him on the couch.
“Cheers.”
He chuckled, deep in his throat, and lightly clinked his glass against yours.
“Cheers.”
-
Spinning, tilted. Everything was warm.
You were giggling softly, leaning on Jim for support. When did you start walking down the hall? How many glasses of wine did you have?
You spun around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him expectantly. He chuckled softly, reaching down to push your hair out of your face. “You should go to bed,” his speech was slow, slurred, but still understandable.
You hummed, shaking your head. “‘M not tired,” you told him, pressing your face into his chest.
He was warm, and his flannel was soft against your skin. You inhaled, taking him in, wanting to bury yourself in him. His hands dropped to your back, gently smoothing over your skin. “I know…” you were whispering, hiding your face from him. “I know what you brought me here for.”
Jim frowned, gripping your shoulders and gently pushing you away from his chest. He took a step back, looking down at you.
“I brought you here because I wanted to see you,” he assured you.
“Because you want to fuck me,” you corrected, standing up on your toes, trying to appear intimidating. The alcohol was making you bolder than usual, it seemed.
His face turned bright red, and he immediately looked away from you, breaking eye contact. You’d embarrassed him, put him on the spot; you both knew you were right.
“ Yeah ,” he answered slowly, still refusing to look at you. “Yeah , I did.”
You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, chewing on it nervously. It’s not as if you hadn’t known what he wanted before you came here, but hearing him admit it was overwhelming. You didn’t know whether to be angry and turned on; the mixed feelings were clashing together in your lower abdomen. Underneath it all was a sliver of fear, paranoia of being hurt, and it begged the question of his real intentions.
“Did you get me drunk to fuck me?” you asked, almost scared of the answer.
His eyes shot back to you immediately, however, his face twisting up in hurt and confusion. “What?” he questioned, bewildered. “No, of course not.”
You looked around yourself, realizing you were standing just outside Clarissa’s bedroom door. You forced down the all too familiar guilt, looking back at James. He was taking you to lie down, taking you to Clarissa’s room to sleep it off. You felt stupid for thinking he’d do something like that to you.
“I…” you spoke slowly, shame creeping up on you. “I’m sorry.”
James shook his head, sighing softly. “No, I get it. I’m sorry,” he replied sheepishly, gingerly reaching out for you. “Do you still want my help or do you got it from here?”
You frowned, glancing from Jim to Clarissa’s room, and back to Jim again. No matter his intentions, yours were still the same.
“I’m not tired,” you said slowly, taking a careful step towards him.
He frowned again, eyeing you with caution. “You should sleep,” he suggested, his voice quiet.
You shook your head, reaching for his hand. He took your hand in his hesitantly, slowly lacing your fingers together. “ I’m not tired ,” you repeated, firmer this time.
He exhaled slowly, gently pulling you towards him; you only hummed, following his lead, moving with him. He leaned forward, using his free hand to tilt your jaw up, and locked your lips in a kiss. A quiet whimper left your throat involuntarily, the relief of getting what you’d been waiting for all night overwhelming you. He squeezed your hand, tightening his grip on you as his lips moved over yours. You reached up, gripping his shirt, and he sighed. You felt yourself spinning, and before you could process it your back was against the wall, pinned between the hard surface and James’ chest as he kissed his way along your jaw. You huffed in surprise, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He was hunched over you, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, his hands finding your waist, his thumbs digging into your hips. “You’re so fucking sweet .”
You whined, tangling your fingers in the short, curly hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him flush against you. “I missed you a lot,” you admitted in between gasps of air, already feeling breathless. “More than I should’ve.”
He hummed, gently nipping at your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth. "I missed you too," he muttered against your skin, his voice sending little vibrations through your throat.
You closed your eyes, leaning your head back, resting it against the wall, letting his lips and teeth move over your neck and collarbones. You lightly scraped your nails over the back of his neck, keeping him as close as possible. You leaned into him, following his movements, letting him take the lead and guide your body against his. He held your hips, moving his hips against yours, lightly rocking against you.
You leaned up, tilting your head to kiss around his ear, tracing the shell of his ear with your tongue. He let out a shaky breath, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, giving you more access to his neck. You let out a pleased hum, gently tugging on his earlobe with your teeth, his silver earring cold against your tongue; you reveled in the quiet whimper he let out. You let go of his earlobe, brushing your lips up to his ear. You knew exactly how to get his attention; you hadn't forgotten what he'd told you earlier.
"Go slow with me," you whispered, running your hands down to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "I'm new to this."
James stiffened in your arms, letting out a shaky gasp.
" F-Fuck ," he whispered, breathless, turning to bury his face in your neck.
His tongue ran up the side of your neck, and his hands fumbled to make their way under your shirt. His hands were trembling, his hands firm on your skin. You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders, standing on your toes to reach him. "P- Pick me up," you gasped out, tactically climbing his body at this point.
He groaned, begrudgingly dropping his hands to the backs of your thighs, lightly tapping them. "Jump up," he instructed, gripping your legs.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, steadying yourself, before launching yourself in the air, with the help of him lifting you. You threw your legs around his waist, gripping his shoulders, his fingers digging into your thighs. You were settled around his stomach, your head a few inches above his. He pressed you right back against the wall, using the added support to hastily begin pulling your shirt above your head. You raised your arms above your head, allowing him to remove your shirt and toss it to the side. You immediately tugged at the collar of his shirt, and he began undoing the buttons on his shirt, fumbling with a few. You placed your hands on his chest, pushing the soft fabric off his shoulders. He pushed his hips against yours, holding you in place as he removed his shirt completely, tossing it to the side.
He immediately reattached his lips to yours, kissing you deep and hard. You moaned against his lips, raking your nails down his chest. His large hands groped your thighs, and he turned on his heel, carrying you down the hall. You gasped, clinging to him, afraid of falling. He shushed you, tightening his grip on your thigh, one of his hands holding onto your waist. You pressed your face into his shoulder, his skin warm against yours. He turned his head, humming softly, and kissed the side of your head. You heard a door creak open, and you raised your head, scanning your surroundings.
You didn't recognize this room; in fact, you had never been in this part of the house before. It was dim, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp by the large bed in the middle of the room. There was a crowded desk, covered with papers, in the corner. Near it was a white guitar, dinged up and faded yellow. Your heart jumped to your throat when you realized it was James' room.
He kicked the door shut behind him, his lips still brushing across your cheekbone. He walked you across the room, hunching over and lying you on the bed - his bed. You didn't let go of him, only clinging to him tighter, pulling him on top of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a shaky breath.
This was too much, it was too far - you'd never even seen Jim's room before and now you were half-naked in his bed, with him on top of you. He was unaware of your conflicting thoughts, still kissing along your neck, down to your chest. It felt great, his lips soft and warm, his beard lightly tickling your skin; but your mind was swirling with guilt, confusion. "J-Jim," you stuttered out, pushing at his shoulders.
He lifted his head, looking up at you, his lips parted.
"Yeah?"
His eyes were sweet, filled with adoration. It made your heart pound, your stomach clench. Guilt be damned - you still wanted him.
You took a breath, reaching up to lightly cradle his face in your hand. You traced your thumb over his lips, and he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. He kissed the pad of your thumb, gently grabbing ahold of your wrist, smoothing his thumb over your pulse point. You ran your free hand down your stomach, searching for the hem of your jeans. Jim crawled onto the bed, kneeling above you, wrapping an arm around your waist, lifting your hips off the bed. He used his free hand to help you undo your jeans, pushing them down your legs. You kicked them off, wrapping your arms around his waist, attempting to pull him closer. You lifted your hips, whining softly, wanting some pressure, some friction against your aching heat. He only sat up on his knees, watching you as he began undoing his belt. You could hear his metal buckle clinking against the button on his jeans, and it made you shiver.
You sat up, coming face to face with his stomach, looking up at him, and hooked your fingers in his waistband, tugging his jeans and boxers down. He hummed, gently pushing you onto your back and leaning over you, supporting his weight on his elbow, using his free hand to take the rest of his clothes off. You whispered his name, desperate for him to touch you, but he merely tapped your thigh, gesturing for you to move.
"Move up the bed," he said softly, nodding his head towards the pillows at the head of his bed.
You bit your lip, nodding, and crawled back up the bed, keeping your eyes on him. He wrapped his fingers around your ankle, gently holding onto you, and he leaned forward to kiss your calf. You hummed, spreading your legs, watching his lips trail up your calf, over your knee, to your inner thigh. You put the leg he wasn't attacking with lips and teeth over his shoulder, pressing your heel into the middle of his back, trying to pull him closer. He smirked, lightly biting and sucking on your thigh. "So soft and sweet," he murmured, running his hands up to your hips. "And all mine."
You gasped, tangling your fingers into his hair. "A-All yours," you stuttered out, pulling his hair.
He hummed in approval, sitting up once more. He removed your leg from his shoulder, opting to wrap your legs around his waist instead. Your hips were raised off the bed, and you were supporting yourself on your elbows, grinding your hips onto his. He groaned in response to your movements, leaning down to trap your lips in another kiss. You whimpered, his hips bucking into yours. His tongue slid across your lower lip, and you parted your lips for him, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. His cock was hard, throbbing against your thigh, his precum smearing over your skin.
You shuddered in his arms, reaching between your bodies to grip his cock, slowly jerking him off. He moaned against your lips, and you swallowed the sound, gently squeezing the base of his cock. James shuddered, rocking his hips into your hand, finally breaking away from you, gasping for breath. Your heart was pounding, your blood swirling; you could feel the alcohol still coursing through your systems, flowing through your veins. You felt high, dizzy, like you were floating. Your body was warm, and you could feel the sheen of sweat beginning to coat your chest and stomach.
Jim's eyes were closed, his hair falling into his face. You could see small beads of sweat rolling down his neck, and you couldn't resist the urge to lean up to run your tongue over his adam's apple. His sweat was salty and cool on your tongue. He sucked in a breath, his nails digging into your skin. You tightened your grip on his cock, pressing your thumb down on his frenulum. He shuddered, pressing his chest flush against yours. He began tugging at your underwear, pressing his lips to your ear. "Fucking-" he panted out, still fucking into your hand. "Fucking take these off ."
His tone was harsh and demanding, spoken through clenched teeth - a complete 180 from the gentle treatment you were receiving earlier. It left you stunned, unsure of how to respond. He groaned in frustration, hastily yanking the thin fabric down your thighs.
"Take these off," he repeated, his tone impatient, "before I rip them off."
You gasped, lifting your hips and snapping into actions. His words spurred you on, and you shoved his hands away from you, sliding your underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side. He was smirking, clearly proud of the effect he was having on you. You sat up on your elbows, spreading your legs, silently asking for him to fill the space between them. He gripped your thighs, yanking you down the bed, and you let out a quiet yelp in surprise. He shushed you, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
You pouted, wrapping your legs around him once more. "Rude," you teased, resting your palms flat on his chest.
He chuckled softly, running his hand up and down the side of your thigh absent-mindedly. His hips were pressed against yours, and you were eye level with his chest; you had to tilt your head back to look at him. He was hunched over you, leaning on his elbow, resting by the right side of your head, his left hand still stroking your leg.
"I want you," you murmured, grabbing hold of his biceps, your hands comically small in comparison to his arms.
He hummed softly, pulling his hand away from your leg to lightly suck on the tip of his finger; you watched him curiously, until he reached between your legs to circle his spit-coated finger around your entrance. You gasped in surprise, your hips jerking from the light touches. He shushed you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours as he slid a single finger inside you. You closed your eyes, feeling his breath fan across your face and he slowly worked his finger around inside of you, feeling along your walls, dragging along your heat. You moaned involuntarily, digging your fingers into his arms. He drew his hand back, sliding his finger out of you, only to quickly replace it with two, carefully stretching you out.
You whimpered out his name, your walls clenching around his fingers. The tip of his nose brushed across yours, and you lifted your head, catching his lips in a kiss. You sighed in relief, grinding down on his hand. You wrapped an arm around his neck, using your other hand to grip his cock, jerking him off in time with the movements of his fingers inside you. He whined against your lips, and the sound sent a jolt through your body. Your stomach felt tight, your body hot; he was driving you insane.
"P- Please," you gasped, pressing your lips against his every chance you could. "Please, I want you."
"I know," he grunted, pulling his hands off of you entirely.
Well, his actions certainly didn't match his words.
You whined, squeezing his cock. "No, please ," you repeated, trying to guide him to your entrance.
"Calm down," he cooed, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the side. "You're getting what you want."
You huffed, tossing your head back onto the bed in frustration, trying to shake your hand free of his grasp. He only held you tighter, and you grabbed the arm he was using to restrain you with your free hand, whining like a child throwing a fit. He only shushed you, his gaze locked on your center. He was running his hand over his cock slowly, gently pressing himself against you. His leaking tip barely slid into you, and you dug your nails into his forearm.
"Oh, fuck ," you cursed, screwing your eyes shut. " Fucking Christ ."
James leaned over you, planting soft kisses on your chest, trailing up to your throat. He let go of your wrist, gently easing your harsh grip off of him. You were practically limp in his arms, the mixed sensations of being wine-drunk and in James' bed like this taking over you. He gently sucked at your skin, running his lips and tongue along your collarbones. You let out a quiet moan, and he shifted, sliding further into you. Your walls clenched around his cock, and he groaned, holding onto your waist. With his free hand, he reached up to grab your hand, lacing your fingers together.
Your lips were parted, your chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath you took. You were sweating, panting, your body rocking against the bed with every move of James' hips. He slowly wrapped your legs around his hips, working his cock as far into you as he could, until his pelvis was pressed firmly against your own. His body was heavy atop yours, making you breathless. He ran his hand down your waist, along your thigh, holding you firmly against him. He let out a barely audible whisper of your name, drawing his hips back and slowly pushing back into you.
Your head lolled to the side, completely giving yourself up to him. He trailed his lips up to your neck, over your jaw, the tip of his nose brushing over your cheek. You drew in a shuddering breath, wrapping your free arm around his neck, gripping the back of his shoulder. He shuddered, continuing to thrust into you, keeping a slow, even pace. His breathing got heavier with each thrust, his face screwed up in pleasure. "Fuck," he gasped out, his breath hot against your cheek. "You're so fucking good ."
You merely whined in response, beginning to move your hips with his, trying to follow his rhythm. The hand gripping your thigh slid up your leg, his gentle touches making their way to where your bodies connected. He kept up his steady movements, running his long fingers over your heat, drawing out your pleasure.
Your stomach was taut, the muscles clenching. Your thighs trembled around his waist, and you squeezed his hand hard. He hummed, nudging the side of your face with his nose, silently asking you to turn your head. When you did, his lips met yours once more, kissing you feverishly. His hand worked over you faster as he continued fucking into you, putting more force behind his movements. He grunted against your lips, smoothing his thumb along the side of your hand as you trembled below him.
You arched your back, pushing your chest flush against Jim's, letting him have full control. Your nerves felt stretched, your abdomen was tight and hot. You could feel your stomach twisting in knots, your senses starting to tingle. You whimpered against James' lips, once again squeezing his hand, bucking your hips against his fingers. He sucked your lower lip between his own, lightly biting it and running his tongue over it before letting go, moving to press his face in your neck.
You let out a loud moan, your eyes screwing shut - even the dim light emitting from the lamp was too bright. It wasn't much longer before the tight knot in your stomach snapped, your orgasm pouring out of you. You squirmed in James' arms, gasping out his name; it felt as if all your organs jumped, moved up an inch higher in your body. Your lungs burned as you panted, breathing in mouthfuls of air as your legs twitched with spasms.
James continued to fuck into you, chasing his own high. He was mumbling practically incomprehensible praises, his voice muffled from his lips being pressed against your shoulder. Mutters of how good you felt, how gorgeous you were, how much he loved seeing you fall apart. You felt like you were out of yourself, watching this happening from across the room - who would have thought half a bottle of wine and an orgasm would give you an out of body experience?
Before the aftershocks of your orgasm had even left your body, James was cursing, his hips coming to a sudden stop as he spilled inside of you, panting heavily. "Fuck, fuck fuckfuck -" he whined, his body tense in your arms.
You shuddered, the feeling of his cum filling you making you uneasy. You whimpered, gently pushing at his shoulders. He slowly sat up, rolling onto his back beside you, his hair sticking to his sweat-covered face. You licked your lips, self-consciously wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling suddenly cold and empty. Jim's eyes were closed, his face red from exertion, and you listened to the sound of him catching his breath. You stayed still, unsure of where to go from him. You were still drunk - although soberer than you were earlier - and you didn't trust yourself to walk home. You doubted James would be able to drive you home, so you most likely would be staying here tonight.
You couldn't go sleep in Clarissa's bed, not after what just happened. You figured Jim would ask you to leave, say sleeping in here with him was too far. Which left you with one option - the couch. It was uncomfortable, but you could manage. Listen to you, complaining about the comfortability of your sleeping arrangements after sleeping with your best friend's dad; you felt ridiculous.
You were snapped out of your thoughts by Jim reaching over to gently touch your shoulder, a worried expression on his face.
"You alright?" he questioned, his voice quiet, his tone unreadable.
You slowly nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. You lightly squeezed your own shoulders, comforting yourself, and let out a deep breath. James delicately brushed his fingers along your arm, watching you with concern.
"I'm okay," you finally answered, turning on your side to face him. "Just thinking."
Jim hummed, reaching to push your hair behind your ear.
"Thinking about what?"
"You."
He smiled lightly, opening his arms and gesturing for you to come closer.
"C'mere."
You sighed, scooting across the bed and into his arms. He wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head. "Goodnight," he mumbled, and you frowned as you noticed him reached for the lamp.
"You want me to sleep in here?" you questioned incredulously, your tone suspicious.
"Well," James started, seemingly confused. "I assumed you would."
Your brow furrowed, and you slowly laid your head on his chest. "Oh," was all you could think to say.
"Goodnight," he repeated, softer, and this time you didn't stop him from turning the light off.
You eventually fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, the wine allowing the sweet release of sleep to come almost instantaneously.
-
5:43 A.M.
That's what the alarm clock on his bedside table read. His arm was slung over your waist, you could hear the deep rumbling of his snores from behind you. The faintest rays of light were beginning to shine through the windows, and from your spot on the bed you could see your underwear lying crumpled on the floor. Your head was pounding, and you screwed your eyes shut. Your mouth was dry, and you were dying for a glass of water. Carefully, you lifted James' arm from your waist, lowering it beside him. You slowly sat up, your movements silent and cautious.
Your feet silently dropped to the floor, and you slid out of the warm bed, now being met with the cool air that settled in the house overnight. You squinted, trying to see through the dark, picking through random garments to find your underwear and jeans. They were cold from being left on the floor overnight, and you shivered as you pulled them over your legs. You tiptoed across the room, occasionally looking over at your shoulder James, who was still fast asleep, unknowing. As if the guilt of hurting Clarissa wasn't bad enough.
You slowly opened the door, flinching when it creaked louder than expected. James kept snoring, however, and you slid out of the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You let out a deep breath, the wooden flooring in the hallway cold on your bare feet. You quietly made your way through the house, grabbing your phone from the living room table, and your shirt from the hallway. You picked your shoes up from by the front door, stopping to finish getting dressed. You glanced around the dark living room once more, trying to remember if you'd left anything behind.
Satisfied, you unlocked the front door and stepped out into the cool morning, shutting the door behind you. You rubbed your hands together before stuffing them in your pockets, glancing around the quiet neighborhood. Everyone was asleep, all the houses were dark and silent. Sighing, you took one long glance at the house behind you before beginning the slow walk home.
Tomorrow you were going to call Clarissa, you swore to it.