Work Text:
“You can say no.”
”I know.”
There’s a pause.
”Fez, really, I won’t be mad—“
“— Nah, I’ll do it.”
Lexi could've expected something else, a visceral recoil, a wrinkled nose or an uncomfortable shift that would trail and lead to their inevitable silence. She could’ve expected him to never talk to her again, tell her to leave the same way she came in (fast and hurtling, she rammed into his chest the moment he opened the door).
She could’ve expected for him to simply pretend she never spoke in some cheap hope that their friendship wouldn’t go limp and astray. She’d pretend, too, that it never happened and go back to pressing her eyes shut and allowing her head to idle and sink on top of his thigh.
Or, more simply put, she figured he’d maybe yelp and gently push her head off his lap as a mere involuntary reaction, billowing apologies but ending the conversation with, 'yeah, that ain't gonna happen, Lex. Also, what the fuck'.
Fezco does none of those things. He doesn’t even speak.
At first, Fezco gave her a long stare, blinking around her face, stunned into this trance-like state. Once her mouth open to readjust her tongue, planning to retract the idea and churn it small, he finally moved.
Fezco doesn’t seem to mind it — actually, he simply says yes.
“To get it over with, right?” He purses his lips, then sweeps the fallens hairs out of her face, back of his knuckle burning to her cheek. “Alright. Makin' sense to me.”
"You're lying and think I'm a freak." She can only assume. “And— and you’re being polite.”
"Alright, no." He squints, not quite connecting with the assumption. "Ion think you a freak and why'd I lie?"
“… Really?”
“- And why it gotta be weird?” He hasten to add.
She tucks her chin downward, giving him this slit-eyed look.
His hand pauses its drag.
”What?”
Lexi waits for him to say more, waits for his mouth to prune or his eye to twitch (a reflex Lexi discovered in the early years of grade school, the grass-gate incident: Fezco didn't want to participate in gym one morning and proclaimed, "I'mma allergic to grass", continued a year without having to do outdoor gym activities, so, Lexi spitefully asked him if he lied and, out of boyish embarrassment, he said "Nah, kid". Seconds later, his eye began to twitch manically. She caught him mowing his lawn a week later and, ironically, that’s the beginning of their friendship).
Instead of the tall-tale predictors, he calmly adjusts her focus to him, clawing gently at her jaw and craning it back upward.
He notices the stare and goes, “Ion get what you want me to say.”
“You’ll seriously do it?” And when he nods at her indifferently, she sighs. “Fez, this isn’t a joke, or a prank, as much as I'd fucking kill to get you back for the zip tie incident—“
The Zip-Tie Incident.
Fezco's regular shipment of chips, aspirins, drinks and chewing gum had also came with an accidental addition, zip-ties. The thing is, if you knew Lexi then you knew she wasn't innocent herself. The night previous, Lexi had switched Fezco's toothpaste with some Orajel. Harmless, yes. Annoying? Incredibly. Fezco couldn't speak for 20 minutes and spent the time trying to pinch his lips and tongue back to life, pads of his finger like a fucking defibrillator. His entire mouth was fuzzy feeling that continuing night.
Anyway, Fezco was thinking with his tongue the moment he saw a small, rectangular box gingerly labeled as zip ties.
So, what did Fezco do with said zip ties?
Gave her a piece of his mind, that's what. He comes over a week later, as usual, and watches a couple of episodes of Gilmore Girls before her body sulked and her head hit the pad of his shoulder. He peered over, smirked, and took an aching few minutes to scoot, inch her head off his bicep and slid the noggin to the pillow until he's able to successfully sneak from her bed with a mischievous step. Lexi, in the duration of that time, didn't even feel him leave her (and usually she was great at sleep waking to his muscle movement, grasping at his forearm and murmuring an incoherent 'stay', grinning to his small laugh and rewrapped limps).
Next morning, Fezco leaves her house and Lexi returns to her room to change, riffled through her closet and paused at a random zip tie securing her clothes to a hanger. She examined it, wrinkled nose and slowly tugged the hanger back to reveal another hanger cursed with the same symptom, and then another and another and another—
Not only that, the zip ties were drawn to her drawers. Her shoes were fastened by the lace, and, worst part, the fucking scissors were bounded.
Lexi frowns. "And I’m still finding zip-ties, by the way. Still."
"I said m’sorry." He sighs. "I get it. Too far."
"Well, if this is how you're apologizing, like, by having pitty sex with me-"
“— Jesus, man.” He chuckles out of bewilderment, ripping his hand from her jaw. At first she wants to panic until he lays his hand flaccidly on her shoulder. It's dangerously close to her collarbone, Lexi almost muses whatever phlegm caught her chords. “That ain't what's goin on. I'd never do that to you, you know that shit."
"I know, I know." She breathes, staring up at him staring down at her, like she's some fable, some type of wispy, wet portrait he's afraid will smear. "You’re just so, like... sure about it."
"Lexi, Lex, hear me out— yeah, I’ll do it cause I love you and wanna make sure the first time you got somebody near you like that gives more than just a fuck.” Lexi presses her lips close just as Fezco pauses on her. "You understand me?"
"I do." She says.
Fezco chews at the inner of his mouth, interjecting the idea with a sudden thought, “I mean, unless you ain't comfortable with me...?”
“I want you to do it.” Lexi assures. "I can't think of a better person."
Seriously. She can't. He's the first one that popped into her head when she thought about her virginity and how sick she was of having it, sick of having to worry about it.
The thing about Lexi is she wouldn’t think to ask anyone else and she wouldn’t actually care to try it out if it were anyone else. Maybe she was being a freak, seeking a loop hole to fuck her best friend without the ramifications of ‘ what does it mean?’ tottering across her skull.
Who cares what it means?
He tainted her anyhow. It’s not like this was new, whatever mauled and stretched at her core. Ever since she hit puberty she’d been looking at him different, finding laces and tendrils of this feeling , a pulse to her throat whenever he leaned near, a tightness whenever he spoke her name and whenever he habitually palms her opposite cheek and presses her close for a kiss on the temple. She romanticizes the heat, the wet of his mouth and the small drape of spit to her skin. It’s like melted gold to her at this fucking point.
But that's been known to Lexi for a while now.
The 'I'm scared to tell you my hand is sweaty' incident.
Lexi's 12 and 12 year olds usually notice when their parent may favor the other sibling more. Kids are observant like that, and Lexi was the worst thing a kid could be: 'grown' and 'sensitive' and 'instinctive' just to nullify the fact that their parent isn't. It's an isolated burden, an incident in itself.
It nicked her particularly harder on one afternoon while she waited for her mom to pick her up from school, an hour late, and already choosing to pick Cassie up from ice skating rehearsals, probably dreading the whole 'your dad sucks and I have to see him' debacle. At the school's concert stairwell is where she usually waited and, as usual, Fezco waited with her while Lexi kicks rocks away and chews at this muscle she discovered at the back of her cheek.
Fezco doesn't go to school anymore. He's 15 and his grandmother's business had been a peaking mountain, an incentive to the idea that Fezco was a needed party to such delivering, a reflective type of burden, isolated and secluded himself.
He had no reason to be there other than Lexi. Fezco is paranoid in that sense; always wanting to at least watch her go into the car, make sure she got in ever since he seen those milk carton pictures. It could’ve been anyone, he thought. And Lexi was his favorite person, his girl, if he were to be asked of it. He'd probably walk to her school in swallowing rain and shrewd gales if it meant being in her circuit, in her residence.
And, that afternoon, it's a psychedelic type of sunny that makes his cheeks sting and Lexi's eyes pool. So, there he is, watching the way her eyes crinkle, having the image fund whatever made his skin buzz.
Lexi refused to cry but her lip still wobbled and at the pit of her stomach, she felt a layer of flesh twist and roll. Her mouth lacked moister and she can't seem to find her voice or know how to use it anymore. Her mind always works, and her mind often laminates the thought that she's useless. Fezco didn't speak of the sound of her holding a strain in. Maybe, in some way, he couldn't solicit his voice either.
He took a deep breath, nudged closer to her and pick pocketed her hand out of her jeans, enclosing their palms, interweaving their fingers. Lexi didn’t breathe and when she finally found the courage to peer over, he gave a half grin, a half-hearted pulse.
A small gesture. Lexi wonders if he knew the domino effect, if he had set a trail of them to her veins and hadn't known it. Probably not intentionally since, later in the 10th grade, Fezco mentioned the only reason he doesn’t date is because of two things.
- The occupation he has isn’t too sweet. He could separate the two but, I mean, it’s hard to think romantically when you constantly got people asking you for coke and shit.
- Most girls had a problem with how close he is with Lexi and, to be blunt, he wasn’t going to give up his best friend.
- (Or, really, he liked being with Lexi too much. Fezco only had two girlfriends, a few flings, but there was always a disconnect, always an internal desire he couldn’t shut off and deplete. Basically, he figured this: you don’t need a girlfriend when you have a girl-friend, and if not Lexi’s parents then he, himself, favored her too severely. He admitted this one night, slurred in the dark while the movie credits prodded the screen, after they complied a list of romance movies to watch, after he looked at her a moment too long and she gave his mouth a glance, after Lexi had her first break up but didn’t feel it. She rolled to his side and rested her chin to his chest, watching his mouth move and having the unruly need to press herself to him, to draw a line the moment he kissed her nose and paused as if to contemplate on kissing her. Otherwise known as, the ‘we just watched love, Rosie’ incident).
That one gesture was the first time her heart started to wildly wobble in her chest, clawing out of her sternum and sitting at, what felt like, the frontal of her ribcage. She wondered if he could hear it whenever the sound went straight to her ear, the erratic, thump... thump... thump.. thumpthump.. thumpthumpthump... thumpthumpthump.
Minutes later, she's sweating. Her fucking hands felt drenched and sticky and she's debating on whether he was disgusted with her but is too civil to say so or to reel back.
However, he didn't let go until her mom came. At the back of the car, after waving bye at him and watching the car weave into the street, she zoned out the window, biting her lip, massaging the knot in her hand. She chewed so hard she tasted metallics. This must be what gold tastes like.
So, anyway, the feeling was always there, always leaking and peeking at her, like some type of fucked up rash that needs a scratch. And this virginity thing is a patriarchal concept anyway, so, it didn't have to mean something.
Who cares what it means?
Unless he did. Unless he really, really did.
Slowly, Lexi recites: “So, you really don’t think I’m totally fucked up and a -“
“— What? A pervert or somethin’?”
“Of sorts.” She permits.
He gives her something like a grin, but it falls just as soon as it had lifted. “Nah,” Then, he carefully brings a hand to her cheek. There’s a flyaway hair. “It don’t need to be weird.”
”But it kind of is.”
”How?” His hand falls.
Lexi almost laughs in his face.
“I’m asking you to, like, take my virginity and we’ve known each other since, how long?” Lexi winces. “Since I was seven? — how is that not weird?”
"S’only weird if you make it weird." He proposes with the same limp stare, eyes looking round and heavy.
Sure, fine, but that doesn’t disclose the oddity of your best friend asking to fuck you.
"It's seriously not the slightest bit weird to you?"
“You’re my girl.” He says, sort of like a reminder, and her palm goes pulsating. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe, hard not to shake.
“I know.” She breathes. “But you don’t hate me for asking?”
”No.”
“Why?”
Fezco goes quiet, seemingly contemplating himself. “Fuck, Lexi.” Then, a beat later, he dully exhales and leans back into the couch, keeping a slack arm on her stomach, unintendedly reaching the tip of her fingers; both their hands flinch from the contact. “We done shit before.”
“What?”
“We done shit before,” he says louder, but Lexi meant ‘ what?’ more so as a simple sound, a guttural reaction. “Ain’t that wild.”
"No, I, you-" Lexi splutters, “But that was way small, that was—“
“— Nah, you know it wasn’t small.” He asserts. They marvel at one another before he flicks his eyes to the tv, like he were trying to leer himself out of her orbit. “It ain’t something we haven’t thought about. I know you, and I’d do whatever you want. So, yeah. I’ll do it, Lex.”
Lexi almost chokes but finds herself too stunned to even do that. And Fezco, for that matter, well, beautiful and pensive as ever, he doesn’t look back at her.
They hadn’t spoken about it since that night, since the 'stone to the bone, my guy' incident.
The funny thing about getting high for the first time with your best friend is finding out you want to kiss your best friend and slurring it to their face. How does something so tragically mortifying become equally as fucking bad as it is good? How does it, in some sense, become one of her favorite memories and yet loneliest? A trail she forms ripples in, rounds, and plucks herself out to save herself from the fact that he hadn't spoke of it since.
“Try it.” He said, and pushed the bud of the joint right to her face.
When Lexi entered the 11th grade, Fezco resorted to spending his weekends with her as his work load piled and her school work pooled.
So, weekends were all game. Game for them was watching old movies at some run-down drive in, with the red chipped paint and an owner who keeps it running, though on a last standing leg.
It’s just them and a couple cars, all shitty looking and sporadically parked.
Lexi tends to think it’s ideal though. Here, she’s alone with him, and to be alone with him — she’d give her breath.
The screen emulated shadows and colors as Lexi turned to him. He briefly darted his eyes across her face as Lexi skeptically jerked a brow, cracking a small grin that made her feel callow, like a junkie up kid that was getting their big shot.
“You’re serious?” She said. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he rasped, wiggling the stick at her tauntingly. “Look interested.”
(Really, she wasn’t that interested. Lexi focused on the way his mouth wrapped to the paper, pressing and concealing the smoke, wondered what she’d look like on him, if he’d wear her well.)
Lexi snorted, took the stick and timidly tottered between the stick and his smug grin.
She figured it was celebratory since Fezco never offered a smoke to her, and whenever she mentioned it, he’d poke her side and call her goofy for even suggesting it.
He was keeping her health in check, he would insist.
She nudged his relaxed elbow on the armrest. “How long do I told it in?”
“S’long as you wanna.”
“How long do you hold it in?” She reworked.
“You’ll die.” He muttered, gesturing the hand that held the stick. “Don’t think too deep bout it. Whatever you can handle.”
Lexi looked back down at the smoke and slowly pressed the end of the joint to her lips, arching her eyebrows questionably and then, one inhale, one second of precious hold, and she’s hacking, yanking the stick and waving it at him.
”A good one second.” He beamed, smirking at the shove she made to his arm. “You a pothead now, Lexi.”
“God, shut up—“
”— Yeah, make me.” Fezco lamely retorted and retrieved the stick from her, sizing her up in a way that made her turn the other way. “Why you hiding?”
She coughed out, “Because you’re making fun of me.”
“Me? ” He snorted. “I ain’t say nothin’ to you, player.”
She didn’t move. From behind her shoulder, his sigh came out evidently more faint.
“Alright, I’m sorry.”
Lexi didn’t move.
”Lexi.”
Nothing.
“Hey.”
Quiet.
“… Miss you.” He said, and Lexi’s body felt small enough for her to contemplate whether she’d fit in his ribcage. Reluctantly, she turned around to face him with a glower. He returned her frown, swept her cheek and said, “Shit, Lex, wanna shot-gun? Might work for you.”
That perked Lexi right up.
“What’s that?” She asked, knowing exactly what that is.
Fezco was blatantly staring. Some part of her thought that he knew she knew the art of shotgunning, and when he shifted in his seat, licking his lips, examining the stick hemmed between his fingers, he appeared nervous.
“I, uh, gotta be up close in your space, but all you do is inhale.”
She pursed her lips. “Sounds easy enough.”
“And you trust me?” He asked, poking his eyes back at her; and Lexi knew with her whole heart.
“I’ve trusted you my whole life.” She simply said, instead of consulting him with how it could be possible that she’d drown herself in his arms and still be able to subsist.
“Near it.” He corrected. “Missed the first seven years.”
“ Near my whole life.” Lexi’s eyes rolled affectionately, raising her brows at him in casual snarky fashion. “Same sentiment.”
Fezco paused at her. She isn’t sure why but the short space between them began to cement and the air was no longer pliable.
Treading out of the gaze, he mumbled a small, ‘ okay’, and pressed the bud of the joint to his lips, sucking in and descending a lanky hand to her cheek, pushing the hair back and tipping her chin with the end of his finger.
Lexi felt white heat inflating the span of her face, and when he inhaled enough and pulled the joint away from his lips, reeled her closer to his mouth — she was adamant that she had seen God under all that scratchy heat.
He slid his hand down her jawline and used his thumb to her chin, widening her jaw with the edge of his finger, leaning over, lips just grazing her as the smoke shot out of him and tunneled into her.
She inhaled and this air felt refined, Fezco approved if she were to put a label to it. Though, she can only handle so much of that. Lexi leaned back with this kindle to her chest, held it, watching him watch her, and blew the smoke out the crack of the window, all while he couldn’t take his eyes off her lips.
“Yeah, just like that.” He murmured, impressed and all hot in the face.
“That is easier.”
Fezco hesitated but Lexi must’ve been twinkling because he asked anyway, “Wanna do more?”
Lexi stared at him, and gradually, a grin cracked over.
For the next few minutes, they repeat the same motion: he leans into her, holds her by the jaw, sometimes touching her mouth with his, with Lexi resisting the tap of his lips to hers, sometimes accidentally blowing the air right back into his mouth out of nerves and eliciting this pretty laugh from him.
The smoke bashed her eyes first and, half an hour later, her body is quietly tremoring, her neck is slack and her best friend keeps stroking the back of her hand.
”You okay?” He asked, after a while of Lexi merely gliding her eyes, forging a hole into the technicolor screen. She was just realizing that love, Rosie was playing.
Giving a dulcet hum, she rolled her head to look at him looking at her.
Lexi thought nothing of it but he does this thing whenever he’s high. He slowly drags his hazed up eyes down the round of her cheeks, to her bowed mouth, and then glimpses back up into her eyes.
A full, devastating scope.
By the time he reached her stare, like he was killing her, Lexi couldn’t breathe and the blood surged from her neck to her cheeks.
“Stop.”
His eyes narrowed at her. He chuckles confusingly, then, “…Stop what?”
“Making me want to kiss you.” Lexi blurted, going rigid the moment it came out and she realized what she just fucking said.
Fezco’s leg stopped shaking completely, and the slack of his eyes go round, like he were waking up and securing the thought.
They stared at each other, not breathing, not blinking.
Lexi’s mouth widened but her throat sealed. The only thing she could do is make flaccid half laugh sounds, with her body starting to spark and zap. Her spleen split and rolled. She’s sure of it. “I— wow, I'm so, like...”
Fezco blinks. “Lexi—“
”—Stoned to the bone… my guy.” She belatedly finished.
After a beat of silence and a stretched scan, “Lex, you ain’t that high.”
“Sure I am.” He was staring at her, picking her consecutively, almost to the where she was hostile. Her tongue wanted to break, so she mumbled, “Shut up” in response to his jerked brow.
“You don’t even know what imma say.”
“Well, I don’t even know what you’re talking about, so there isn’t anything to say.”
“If you’re embarrassed—“
”Incredibly.” Her molars started to hurt. “Drop it.”
“You can’t be sayin’ that and not expect me to—”
“— I didn’t say anything.”
”Lexi,” he began irritably. “You dead ass right now?”
Lexi didn't answer and consequently, mentally replaying the stone to my bone bit, she shrunk.
Abruptly, Fezco caught at her jaw, the very tips of his fingers scalding at her skin so she inherently flinched. Despite that, she submitted to the touch and watched him dip and bend her head with roaming eyes, making it all worse; her skin fluttered and she’s convinced he could feel it.
“Shit,” He muttered, more so to himself than her. Clearer and obviously to her, he said, “You ain’t that high. Why you wanna kiss me?”
His hand plummeted and she sucked a wad of air in; all the hostility quickly melded into dread.
“Fez, Fezco,” She started, or panicked, or gasped; she’s not sure and doesn’t register her infliction, stuck on the possibility that she has completely debilitated their quiet friendship within a singular confession. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m —”
“— Lexi, it’s all fine, you good.”
“I’m not,” Lexi whispered, grasping how awake his eyes appear, soft but otherwise perplexed. “That was weird, that was so fucking weird, that was…”
”Was a slip up.” He said. “We’re straight, alright?”
His face doesn’t move but Lexi still worries, ”Are you mad?”
“At you?” He scrunched his nose. “Nah, why’d I be mad at you?”
Her hand fell to her lap, fingers scrunching at her skirt. The thought of him leaving right there and then was more than debilitating, it was crippling. Maybe the weed was seeping in her. He’d take her as being high and he won’t be weirded out, wouldn't think so hard about this outburst.
He finds her elbow, and the static cuts; all is quiet.
“Lexi,” His palm then rose down her forearm, to her hand, tapping it lightly as if to wake her. “You’re fine, you really think Imma be mad at you, baby?”
Lexi took too much of the joint, she’s convinced. Fezco has called her many things — baby was not amongst any. She was contemplating the ethics of making this its own incident:
The ‘Baby’ Incident.
That could easily be misconstrued.
“Dunno.” She breathed. Then, she shook her head erratically and her hands smoothed to her knee. “No, you wouldn’t be mad at me.”
“Then what’s up?” He asked. “Shit. I’d do whatever you want, Lexi. I really would.”
She knew that. Lexi always knew that.
He had a way with making her desires feel certain, ways of making her feel plentiful and the welt on her mouth needed smashing, she had just watched him completely discard his smoke just a moment ago, she wanted more than anything for him to do that to her cloth—
“Tell me what you want,” He sounded smooth and soft. Lexi wallowed in that pitch, so she peered up and met his eyes looming over her mouth. He blinked up to look at her. “Tell me what you meant.”
“Practice.” She blatantly lied. When Fezco nodded, Lexi managed, “I wanna practice with you.”
“Kissing.” He reaffirmed, and Lexi answered with a timorous nod and girthly gulp. He glanced at her mouth to where she didn’t know how to move it, for him to then delicately nod at her. “We can practice.”
The thing is, Lexi has already had plenty of kisses before. She’d broken up with her second boyfriend just that previous weekend through text, something Fezco chastened her for but only half heartedly.
It wasn’t much. The relationship was built on making out and straining tension, with her learning to straddle a guy’s thigh and exceeding on playing with their sensitivities— tampering their jaw with her teeth and sucking quiet bruises to their skin.
Kissing is not something she needed practice on.
But, god, fuck it , Lexi’s learning to kiss Fezco.
His hand rolled to her jaw, bumping into the bone and bringing her back to where they were, in his car, in the dark, alone and, undisputedly, incapable of not leaning into each other. “You trust me?”
She nods, limp and red. “Do you trust me?”
“Uh huh.” He’s so close that his nose nudged hers and such a touch could be fatal. She tenderized and closed more of the gap, shadowed her mouth to his and nodded, unable to speak of the inexplicable. “You can back out.”
“No, I don’t want that, I... go, just...”
“Relax, just a kiss.” He whispered, already doing that, sort of— at the very least, his lips tap on hers with every spoken syllable.
She went limp, dragging a bit of her lip on his, vibrating an otherwise indistinct, “Just a kiss.”
There's a butterfly kiss to her mouth, an illusionary tap that ended too soon. A moment of quiet sneaks between them, where their lips drifted and all she felt was the swelter in her chest. He nudges her by the nose, following her mouth, hot in face, while Lexi's brain swelled and lumbered.
He tasted faint. Like he could disappear. His mouth was wet and warm. She wanted to swallow him whole but couldn't find the will to kiss him.
Like he read her, he tilted to press a firmer kiss to her and swallowed, coaxing her by enlacing his fingers into her hair and making this inadvertent back of the throat noise to her kissing him back. At a clumsier, stinging kiss, between his lips she croaks, “Fezco,” and the name is silenced with a weak breath, a bite at her bottom lip, soft sucking that tugged her closer.
Lexi, again, had made out with people before. But something about this was maddening and violent, had she always been this rabid? Her face was singed and burn to this feeble thought that this was the best kiss she’d ever get.
And he wasn’t even trying, from what she could tell.
He kissed her thin, grazed his mouth to hers and licked her bottom lip, priming her for the run his tongue made. She couldn't move. She felt stuck so he held her fixed to him, kissing her loose jaw and finding it not loose enough, he murmured, “Open”, and brought a finger to her chin, tugging her jaw wider before slowly sliding his tongue through the pink slit of her mouth.
She completely thawed and turned molten on him, loosening her jaw and trying it herself, kissing him to a sharp inhale, huddling the kiss by cupping his cheek.
Whatever may have happened, Lexi isn’t sure. She blanked to his hand crooking her waist, a small, 'get on me', so muted and almost shy. Lexi found herself straddling his lap, the kisses continue, slower, with his large hand kneading at her thigh and sliding up to hold at her waist.
Lexi moved her hip just the slightest bit, right over his crotch, across the zipper where he squeezed her hard and hiked her skirt.
”Lexi.” He mumbled, incoherent, drowsy with whatever laced his throat.
They make small rocking movements, blasted red and squeaking the car in the sound of small breathing, lips smashing and his hand rolling up to her underwear— but he doesn’t slip beneath them.
He was stopping himself. She could tell.
Though, frenzied, Lexi drops from his mouth and kisses down his throat, pausing at his pulse and biting him into a sucked in breath and pressing her core to his, a cracking, “Fuck.”
”Does that feel good?” She nearly groaned; she was too dumbstruck at the sound of his soft-core breathing, the way his hand twined into her hair, palm to the back of her head, sucking the inching moan she could feel wanting to rip from his windpipe.
He couldn’t answer.
It seemed he didn’t want to stop, focused on the ache on her mouth while she wondered how he’d look with her leg shrouding his shoulder. He only snapped out of it once she dragged her hands down his chest and tapped his belt with the back of her hand, rekindling the real life decision where she is beneath him and being torn into to, with her real life core right atop of his.
His hand squeezed her, a hint of a concealed groan, flustered and enamored by her enough to stop her from doing more, saying, “Think you already know how to do this. You don’t need me.”
“Practice makes perfect.” She murmured, close to his face, out of breath and scrabbling to respire. “Right?”
“Right.” He whispered. He's dazed and confused, matching her flushed and delirious. “You already perfect though, Lex.” His head hit the back of his head rest. He closed his eyes, breathless. “Shit.”
An hour later, they’re planning on making brownies at his house and pushing each other by the shoulder like they were standing domino pieces.
And that was that. They never spoke about it again, beside the occasional glimpse at the lip or the subtle kiss to the shoulder that said, ‘I remember, I remember, I remember’.
That was a year ago and, call it character development (or delusional self-reassurance), but Lexi took his word for it and figured he’d brush off a sex request rather than slaughter their friendship.
After all, it wasn’t his style, nor was it his nature.
Halfway into the movie that neither one could settle into (Lexi kept trying not to look at him; Fezco kept playing with her hand, kept bumping his fingers into hers, creating exhausted desire), with their eyes idling and rounding the room like a broken satellite, Fezco clears his throat. “You had a date planned or imma have to guess…?”
She can see him from her peripheral vision, reaching over gently to push back the branches of her hair behind her ear. Her skin is scorching, and the root of her neck is useless bark.
She can’t seem to move her head from his lap.
“Tonight.” She decides, just as he smoothes her hair, using his fingers to brush it back. “I’m sleeping over anyway, right?”
He hums, curling her hair with his finger, continuing a slow line from her jaw, meeting the hill of her chin, tracing the direction of her jugular vein, and down to her collarbone, the very dip of it.
All of that brings her face to heat.
Lexi doesn’t breathe, ironically, until he blankets his hand over her neck, laying it limply as if to measure her, as if only figuratively.
He yanks his hand away just as she moves to look at him, rotating her neck and contacting his eyes.
“Whenever you want.” He simply whispers.
Lexi’s eyes flutter and the noise, the static and grain, goes silent.
It reminds her of one instance that they really never talked about.
The ‘wrestle you for a remote’ Incident
“Whenever you want.” He said the moment she started to fight him on remote rights. “You pin me and imma let you have it.”
Sat on top of his bed, Lexi jerked a brow at him. “You’re serious?”
“Dead.”
Lexi took the fight to heart. The remote was always her birth right in his house, but after skipping class and hiding out in his room, with him barging in and giving her a flat look, telling her, “You suppose to be at school” and avoiding eye-contact, she knew it peeved him.
Or maybe it was the combination of missing school, wearing his sweater atop of shorts, and the peak of muted milky skin.
Nonetheless, she didn't think deep about it as she agreed.
“I’ll fight now.” She proclaimed, giving him a high headed gaze, rising up by her knees.
“Yeah?” Fezco stalled before chuckling to himself, inching closer to playfully push her into his bed. “Get outta here.”
He was joking about the fight, she realized, but when she caught his hand and yanked him down on top of her, it started something.
He pinned her down, snickering at her curling her limbs, at her clamping her thighs to his leg and attempting to roll him on top.
“You’re such a dick.” She muttered, not at all earnestly, circulating her wrists and trying to wiggle out as his knee pushes at her core.
It’s meaningless but her face still went ablaze before she successfully tickled his waist and pushed him over with one swift movement, with him releasing a small breath as his back hit the mattress. She took the opportunity to climb on top, sloppy, laughing at his chuckle, calloused hands trying to grab at her ankle, trying to shift her off him but she cages him with her legs wedging him to the bed.
“You cheated.” He claimed, laughing at her gaped mouth. “You did, you not suppose to tickle.”
Before she can speak, he tickled at her neck, making her snap her shoulder upwards, “Stop!”
“Make me.” He said, and all that noise made her settle closer to his pelvis, deliberately coaxing out a small hitch from his breath. “Cheap ass move.”
“Still won.” She mumbled with a short smirk, smothering his grin with her palm. He surrenders into the pillows. Just like it's nothing.
That's how it always was. Nothing. Always nothing.
But then there’s a pause.
Fezco’s eyes watch hers before, hesitantly, his hand timidly fell on her thigh. Lexi doesn’t move, not an inch, not even a millimeter, and so he skimmed up to her shorts.
She didn’t breathe. She couldn’t move either. Her hand felt glue to his mouth up until she felt him press a kiss to it.
Then, he carefully gripped the fabric of her shorts, reeling her closer. Her hand slowly drifted from his mouth to his chin, running through the hairs of his beard, and then lower and lower, down until she reached his throat and he instinctively tilted his chin up more.
Her nails scratch his skin, and his jaw began to tick.
He breathed out, “Careful.” with her hand sliding down, to his thorax. It’s a moment of silence, something had changed, the energy was rounding and shifting.
“You like that.” She realized, grazing for a few moments.
“Yeah.” He gulped, she could feel the lump. “You onna weak spot. Should let go.”
“A kink?” Lexi shot a breath. “How did you find this out?”
“Lex, c’mon.”
Quietly, in some sense of weak jealousy, “Do you like it when I do it more?”
He opens his mouth, only to retract it.
The room went cold.
He grabbed at her wrist, squeezing it once before shoving it away from himself, with his temples looking burnt up. He stares at her for a while; something in his gaze, something that seems to pain him so he peered away and propped himself up by the elbows. “You win. Forget it, let’s—“
Lexi descended down suddenly, revoking all future words from him. As she closen up; his voice ceased to exist entirely. Their noses nudged, slightly, and when Lexi tilted her head, tottering her eyes from his lips to his eyes, his jaw clenched.
It bothered him.
“Lexi,” He started, almost irritably but that must not be it because she could feel his skin singe, hear his words go brittle. “Better get off me before—“
“— Before what?” Lexi’s face kept still, but the hand she pinned to the sheets had started to curl and her chest won’t stop palpitating to just the graze of his heat to hers.
Fezco doesn’t respond quickly. He oscillates his focus from her eyes to her lips. He said, “You don’t wanna know.”
“I do.”
“Nah, Lexi, you don’t.”
“Tell me.” She presses, inching closer, tasting his mouth through mere breaths. “Show me.”
After a second of a glance, with him leaning inward, he abruptly tipped her body with one fluid motion, pushing her off with his hip, coaxing out a small gasp as she fell over beside where he once was, before he managed to top her, pressed her into the mattress, cuffing her wrists to it with his hands.
She yelped out a small laugh while wiggling beneath him, saying, “i wasn’t being serious!”
“You was full on threatening me, girl, don’t act like you some saint.” She squirmed again but his hold was adamant on cementing her. “Always talk so much shit—“
“— I can’t get out of this.” She admitted. “You’re bigger.”
He sighed. “Alright, I’ll get off.”
Hers legs clamped on him just as she voiced, “I like it when you’re on top.”
There’s a pause. Unlike the other times, it was tight. They were on a rope, tipping and falling, and she’s thinking that she could die to the way his eyes fell short, down to her mouth, where he leaned in but stopped; Lexi can feel her chest cavity cave in.
She hadn’t kissed him since the incident in his car, and with him being on top of her, all she wanted was his mouth.
“Lemme try something.” He said. His eyes met hers and after a marvel, “Can stop me if you hate it.”
“Is it weird?” She hoped.
“Yeah.” He paused. She must’ve given him a squint. “Just… stay still.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me to fuck off and I will.”
Her heart was going to burst.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He mumbled, and when Lexi blinked at him a few times, nodding limply after a gaze, he slowly leaned down.
Lexi went still, the moment he breached her warmth with this pressing kiss to her neck. He pressed another one to her crook, short but yet incredibly hot, and all the air left Lexi's mouth. She felt his lips ghosting even after he lifted his head.
He’s staring at something, just below her jaw, just above her collarbone.
“Shit.” He muttered. “You gotta scratch from me.”
He lifted one hand from her wrist and brought a finger to it, grazing her skin. She felt a small burn; a small insignificant nail made scratch, as thin as a pencil line, already stitched dry.
“I can barely feel it any…“ her words fell to a felt. His hand caught her jaw and tilted her. There’s a gape of warm flat breath to her collarbone.
He slowly pressed his mouth over it, a longer kiss, wet and warm, stinging. Unlike before, he dragged his mouth up and faintly sucked at the skin above the insignificant cut.
Lexi released a near moan, her hips bucking and his hand snapping back on her wrist as she went to grab his nape. He bit lightly and fastened her wrist into the mattress. His blunt nails dug into her.
“ Fuck .” She croaked quietly. His kiss continued up her neck, to the cut of her bone where he placed a sloppy kiss- bumping into her nose once she turned to him and their noses nudged.
Their mouths grazed and their breaths enhanced and twined together. When he lifted himself up to watch her, Lexi made a vital decision: she leaned her head off the bed to kiss his throat, scraping her teeth lightly, feeling his hand give up its grasp.
He groaned, low and quiet. Then, he kissed her forehead just before her head began to fall, scraping him momentarily.
A small kiss stamped to the corner of her mouth. Lexi nearly choked but didn't move.
He kissed her once more, at the same spot, her mouth but not exactly, all painfully slow.
Edging her mouth, he asked, “Too much?”
“No.”
“You want me to stop?” He furthered, pressing his fingers into her skin. Lexi felt blushed and warm, like her blood was singing.
“No.” She moved her head to the corner of his mouth where she kissed it lightly, brushing right into his mouth. “What do you want to do?”
“Kiss you again.” He blurted. Fezco bumped into her nose. “Can stop me now.”
Abruptly, after a beat of heightening breaths, she smashed her mouth to his, teeth clacking, a small throaty noise. He automatically responded with a kiss back, slow and hot, with so much ardency she nearly gasped. Lexi parted from the kiss but he quickly wired their lips intact, kissing her firm and hard.
Lexi slowly picked her back from the mattress. Fezco tilted back, disconnecting their mouths but kissing her cheek once she rose and pushed at his shoulder.
Fezco followed her movements, slowly being towered by her mouth as she guided him into rolling on his back, mouths pressing back to each other the moment she mounted on top of him.
"Can I touch you?" He asked, just before she nodded, kissing back to his mouth. He bit her lip delicately, hand falling to her lap, timidly rising on her thighs, lingering until he’s able to grab her ass; she sharply inhaled. “S’okay?”
She hummed on his mouth, shackling him closer by reconnecting their mouths as his hand rode up, hooking onto her underwear, fastening onto the fabric like it were a collar.
The kisses grew erratic. His hand was fleeing, always grabbing something new, always pinching her null.
Clawing at his jaw, she instructed, “Wider.” And his mouth dropped by instinct, widened more by her digging a thumb to his chin. She connected their skin and brushed her tongue onto his bottom lip, gliding it into his mouth.
Fezco weakened to that. There’s a small curse that got stuffed into her mouth and his hands went roaming over to her hips as he kissed his tongue into her mouth, skin buzzing and heat-like wrath flooding their faces.
When they’re finished, after an hour of pure lip locking, pecking each other pink and warm, Fezco gives her a look. She’s not sure what it meant but it was so excruciatingly close and heavy that she didn’t know how to breathe, how to hide that she was suffocating.
He slid himself up with his elbows, back to her face, gazing down at her mouth, raw red and looking bruised. He said, “Get off me, show off. I’ll make you dinner.”
And when she let out a quiet breath, a near scoff, he kissed her tenderly sorry. Then her cheek. Then her jaw. Then her nose. Then her closed lid.
Back to her mouth, with their lips hovering, he swallowed before whispering, “Forreal, get off before I want too much of this.”
“Of what?”
“This.” He simply repeated. They take a gander, too close, with their breath hitching off the other’s skin and their veins jumping, playing hopscotch. It’s intrusive; like they were staring into each other's skulls. She could see his mind whirl. Then, his lips flattened. “Okay?”
“Okay.” She breathed, though her heart had stopped long ago, the moment his mouth fitted to her windpipe.
That’s all it took for her to slowly untangle herself from him. That was the last time she kissed him.
It was also the last time she ever touched him intimately, and the next morning, she couldn’t look at him.
If he could do that, maybe that’s what gave her the courage to ask.
Maybe that’s what was really mulling inside of her; she wanted him.
And, now, his shrug at it seemed normal. It’s been built up, and yet she can still feel his hand buzz.
He was shaken himself.
Later, just before Lexi could apologize again to Fezco, Ashtray joined them for a few movies, where Fezco would continue to play with the hem of her skirt, skimming a finger up the thick of her thigh and sketching the skin, peeking his hand beneath the pleated fabric; all while talking calm and cool, with barely a hitch or wane.
Lexi doesn’t speak much, which, didn’t phase Ashtray all that much. The kid was overworked himself, so he tilted his back to the couch while Lexi adjusted her body, plopping and splaying her legs over Fezco’s lap, shrinking into the very corner of the sylvan couch.
All she can think about for the rest of the time is the lingering felt of his palm webbing her; the gentle tap he makes to her thigh, his makeshift folding of the fraying on her skirt.
Later, Ash asked, “What you guys finna do after this?”
Lexi’s mind wheeled, and as Fezco cladded her upper thigh with his large hand, she listened to him say, “Fuck around, probably.”
And it all dawned on Lexi.
The ‘fucking my best friend’ incident.
Later, the floor creaks and the window shades allow an only a little of the blue light in. The door squeaks to a close and his hand braces her lower back.
Lexi thinks she should be nervous about the fucking my best friend part but more than anything, she’s neurotic to this sensitive smile he gives her, like he knows she’s absolutely blistering.
He touches her forearm, sticks there and then his fingers drop to her hands, like he were drawing a broken, raging incision.
Fezco asks, “Can I kiss you?”
Lexi’s takes a step forward, leaning on the back of her heels as she murmurs, “You want to?”
”Sick how much I think about it.”
“Show me.”
Fezco goes slow with her. Expected. He might’ve caught the hesitation and wrote a mental note on the ways in which her body felt different; hot, aching throughout.
He leans into her, hand crooking on the back of her bicep, nose bumping clumsily into hers. He grazes his mouth to hers, she can feel the curl, the mid smile, the blunt of his beard.
and then, he kisses her soft. His face is so warm. It’s a near death; his touch would feel abrasive if her own face wasn’t hot coal.
Lexi slowly mends her mouth to his, thinking her whole body has sunk and been replaced with something else. She’s remarkably sensitive to every tentative touch, all ganders and tremors, every nick of his touch like a tack-pin that spurs her.
He wraps his hand on her waist and, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, breath meddling with hers, he raises up to her torso.
“Shit.” He mutters, then palming to just below her breast.
She manages to breathe out, “What?”
“You so warm.” There’s a tap at her rib. “You okay?”
“Nervous.”
His thumb sweeps her body. He’s staring at her, zipping around her face. Quietly, he asks, “You wanna stop? M’not gonna be—“
“— a bitch, I know. No, it's just...” Her voice trails, and so his hand stops its motion. He catalogues her face doubtfully. Then, she mumbles, “I just want to make you feel good.”
"Lexi,“ He starts, only to fall into a concise chuckle. "Baby, anything you do is gonna make me feel good.”
“You have experience though, and—“
”— I never loved anyone I had sex with Lexi.” Lexi quiets. Her face feels malleable, buffering and wincing to the hand that brought her to face him again. “Anything you do gonna mean more. Alright? Forget what I did.“
“I don’t want to force you.”
He closes the assumption with a kiss, humming to her lips, thick hands sliding down to cup the swell of her hip. "I wanna." Pecking her once more, he leaned back with glazed eyes to study the muscle contraction to her cheeks. “S’long as you wanna.”
“I want to, I really want to.“
Fezco tips her chin up. “Then we’re alright.”
“You’re cool about this.” She appreciates, maybe even envies.
Shaking his head, “Feel me, s'front”, he says, and presses his hand into hers. There’s a tremble. Small but violent. Lexi peers up at him. “See?”
Lexi nods slowly, leaning back into him to press a singular kiss. The kiss isn’t enough. Fezco follows her mouth just as she parts and joins their lips, barely flinching to her grabbing at his hand, guiding him to the fabric of her skirt.
His hand is drawn up, finger sliding beneath the elastic. He tugs, and after her breath rags against his lips, he tugs it again, rounds his hand up the high of her thigh. It’s a reminder. An ‘i remember, I remember, I remember’.
Lexi takes a shaky breath, moving along his mouth cautiously, kissing his bottom lip as he squeezes her ass, bringing his fingers to tap at the button that secures the fabric all together.
”Need help takin’ this off?”
”Please.”
He helped her slowly unfasten her skirt, fingers timorous and stinging the moment her skirt drops and she lands her hand on his shoulder for stability.
He feels warm, Lexi notes. When she peeks at him smoothing his hands to her waist, treading his fingers to her spine, he’s pink and beautiful. She doesn’t know how to bear it.
She leans forward and Fezco finds a way to bear the indescribable; kisses her cheek briefly and traces the hem of the sweater drooping over her limbs, rolling it off and throwing it to the side, fending his sanity with just a short peck to her mouth.
She’s in a thin tank top, even thinner panties, laced and red.
Fezco slowly sits at the edge of his bed, skimming down her body, familiarizing himself with what’s new: her exposed skin, hot and scathing, so much so that his palm flinches the moment he crooks a finger to the back of her thigh.
“Beyond pretty.” He whispers, decibels too low. Lexi thought she imagined it, felt fragile and prone to sardonic concepts. But then, “ Fuck. I mean it. I really mean it.”
Just his hand like this felt good, and all that felt made her forget how to move. She forgot, at the least, how she used to move before this moment. Something new clambered and there she was: watching her best friend witness her bare, reprieving herself of the reason as to why he was doing it, why he agreed.
“I think you’re pretty.” She says, matching the flushed smile he gives her. It’s so unlike what she had ever seen from him. “You’re so pretty.”
The lucid part of Lexi responds with raising a plush felt hand to his jaw, tilting him to look up at her. He meets her eyes while she’s droning and rousing from the felt of his short haired beard rasping on her skin.
Fezco observes silently, blinks slowly at her, tilting his cheek into her palm, able to press a small kiss to the inner of her wrist, a mark of faint spit — and all of the air is drawn from her lungs.
“Making me feel like the virgin.” He jokes dully, all dream-like. “Don’t need help with settin’ the mood or kissing. What you want from me, Angel?”
Angel. That’s new. She likes that.
“You.” Lexi blurts, watching his temple burn and tugging her hold away from his jaw. He presses a short kiss to her palm before leaning back and examining her tight body, long legs and thin cotton cladded torso. “I want you inside me.”
“Ain’t all I can do. Can give you my mouth too.” He mumbles, stuck on the red lace of her underwear, the thin of it. He suddenly taps at the front of the cloth, right to her core and receives a hybrid of a moan-gasp from Lexi, assuring him that she was just as sensitive as she is sweet. “Didn’t take you as a lace girl.”
Her balance feels off so she grabs at his shoulder, not able to do anything but whisper, “I figured you were a lace guy.”
“Can’t stand you.” He mutters, licking his lips into an unruly grin. “Know me too good.”
“You like it?”
“Got me tied up like a dog for you.”
“I want you.” She breathes and nearly splits at the squeeze to her thigh. “Do you want me?”
He presses a small kiss, just above her pelvis. His hand smoothed up, and quietly,“I’ve always wanted you.”
Her neck feels wobbly, capable of snapping and throwing her head to the ground but instead of the rupture, her head falls to the side and she can only vocalize a small, “Don’t believe you.”
He cocks his head, eyes examining, his hands like hot metal. “Wanna see proof?”
His finger skins the rim of her underwear, peeking into the hem and outlining, dragging a hooked finger from her abdomen to her hip, where he tugs the fabric down and flicks his eyes up at her.
He slowly leans forward to kiss the center of her stomach, conversing all those compact nerves, constricting all that muscle.
Her panties fall to the floor and he leans back, hot hand to her leg and head inclining back up to look at her.
“You so far. C’mere.” He says, and a simple request like that takes no work; she steps out of her underwear and meekly straddles him, descends slowly while his hands raise up from her hip, meeting at the dip of her waist.
She brushes her mouth to his, feels the scratch of his beard and the small tilt he makes to kiss the corner of her mouth, evoking her to gliding her mouth along his, teeth clumsily clinking and flesh cuffing the sound of her broken breath.
Her hand fatally cups his jaw, gaping mouth being moved along his, with the sting of his hand dribbling down the exterior of her spine, his fingers brushing her hair to lay flat on the other side of her body, twisting every cell in her brain.
Fezco pecks her once more before dropping his mouth to the bridge of her shoulder, tending and sucking up to her crook, sharpening his focus to her reaction; which isn’t bad, she lets out a breath and leans closer into him, allowing him to drag his tongue up, piercing and sparking a heat beneath her skin at a small bite.
“Don’t tease.” She moans out, after he peppers smaller kisses to the spot he pressed over.
He chuckles to her throat, murmuring, “M’not. I got you.” and slides his finger along her slit, roaming his touch to the bud but never settling, having her involuntarily roll. He sucks a gentle bruise and palms her, allows her hips to tilt and press. “Good girl."
"More." Lexi's teeth feel broken as she says this.
"Lemme get on top?” He pecks her, dewy and sweet. "Can do you better that way."
“Okay.” She breathes, feeling callow while he kisses her honeyed, as slow as his movements to carefully flip her to fall on her back and fit himself between her trembling legs, mouth sucking light to her jaw.
Fezco smooths his hand in the inner of her thigh, kneading the thick of it. It was an assertion, a warranty that he was aware of her body, all the tweaks and ever changing currents.
“Beautiful girl. Perfect.” He whispers, skimming his mouth to her throat, propping his knee to help him steady. “Trust me, alright? ”
“Trust me too.”
He drones a sound to her collarbone, strumming the movement down the pink of her body. Lexi's playing with the hem of his shirt, and feeling it, the tiny tug, he picks himself up and rolls the fabric off his shoulders, tensing up to the thin fingers that graze his abdomen.
"Perfect." She mumbles, watching him throw the shirt to the side, giving her this small grin.
"Nah, you." And then he slowly inches back down, placing small kisses, lifting the hem of the tank top to expose her bare breast, soft and mellow. Lexi’s chest nearly jumps to the bristle of his beard, grazing plentiful on the middle of her chest; a singular kiss to her sternum.
When his kiss began to move and his hand braced her breast, squeezing it, kneading the plush skin simultaneously with his mouth taking in her nipple, darting a swirl motion to the hard peak, Lexi’s legs reflexively clenched on his sides.
And he fucking groaned on her.
Lexi went boneless in his hold, hips rocking in an attempt to gather friction, any type, arching her back for his advantage like she were surrendering her being, telling him to pocket her and smother her dead.
His hand abruptly slips from her breast, tailgating down her torso until the tips of his finger hit her bare cunt. She flinches as the small circular motion he makes, the peek of his fingers into her tight hole, hearing him mumble, “You so wet, baby.”
“You feel so good.” She marvels, incapable of normal breathing; it all warps.
His finger slid in just the slightest bit, the very tip of his finger prompts her body into a stutter, but he’s merely collecting a small dose of her arousal. He slides out and skims his finger back to her clit, palming the heat and whirling round shapes onto her.
He kisses her cheek as his fingers slowly delved into her, so fluently that Lexi twitches in realization only once he thrusts his finger in, retracting it out as his mouth seeped into hers. Her walls are so tight that he has to inch his digits in gradually.
“You fighting my fingers.” He murmurs, lips pulsating against her. He then tunes her into another jerk on his hand, with his fingers sinking in deeper and deeper, as if to rip all the resistance out of her.
Lexi makes a noise; a hybrid of a gasp and moan. He keeps a pulse on her, biting lightly on her collarbone as her walls tighten his digits. He doesn't do a thing, just fucks her in spite of smallness of it all.
Slowly adding another finger, Fezco pushes into her deeper, crooking the very ends of his finger when sliding out, pushing the pad that shakes her body violently.
“Oh, that’s… Fezco, oh— oh, oh my god—“
Her head thuds down, quick sanding into his sheets as his tongue worked on her nipple and his hand steered her sensitive nerves, rolling her into silence, hips lifting with legs not strong enough to hold herself up. She tries to be closer, as if it were possible, but finds that he's as close as can be. Not enough, she thinks. An incident in itself, perhaps.
It starts rising, the blood and cool heat to her pussy, all accompanied by the soft suck he makes to her breast, the tiny pop of his mouth releasing her, a small clenched, ‘ More, please— ‘
Ghosting her mouth, sinking the tip of his finger into her for just a moment more, hot faced to the sound of her moan, “Want my mouth?”
“Anything you give me, yes.” She says, lazily grinning to a tiny shot of humorous air through his nose.
He starts to slide down, licking and nipping her stomach, down and down and down — his breath flattened on her and the world was black and blue.
He kisses her cunt fleetingly, Lexi nearly bites her tongue on accident. He places small licks, tiny marks that felt glistening, rolled his tongue to trace the slit.
Theres a small slap to the side of her thigh that wrings her out of it.
“Gotta look at me.” He says. He’s looking at her neck, the spot she can feel a pulse. A bruise forming. “You ain’t shy, Lexi Howard, don’t act like it.”
Lexi swallowed and tilted her neck to look downward. He’s settled between her thighs, draping a fleshy leg over his shoulder, cheeks a rosy red and mouth raw. Lexi’s heel presses into his spine, pulling him inward.
He follows the push and sticks his eyes to her, his chin dips to her cunt, he molds his hands to hold at her sides and it’s like he cut her in half. His hot tongue slides to her clit and his mouth gives it a kiss. Lexi nearly convulses to the felt of throbbing nerves, the quick return he makes to her cunt, with his tongue coloring over the swollen bundle, sucking it into his mouth with cooled, almost innocent eyes.
Lexi made a stretched, fucked sound, folding back into the mattress and licked a fine line, rolling a hand on the crease of her thigh, tending to the part of her that couldn’t tell what was too much or too little, why it was continuous.
And then he kept flattening his tongue over her, rolling it over her cunt and making this sensation that curled her legs to his head, muffled his hearing.
“That’s...” She whimpered, fingernails digging into the hand that held her waist. “Fuck. Just like that, just like that—”
He’s maneuvering her like a doll, rolling her cunt over his tongue, flicking his eyes to watch her body rouse and head pull back.
She could only say his name, repeat it like a mythic tenet, eyes sealing to his tongue whirling, mouth suctioning all the nerves and ceasing them.
More jagged, he pushed her thigh wider and dug his fingers in the flesh of her thigh, swirling torturous spheres.
His licks abruptly derails from her clit and before the whine could crater out— his finger slips inside of her.
Lexi’s eyes nearly roll out of her skull from the small fleshy thrusts he makes into her cunt, the small bites he made into her hip. He kisses to her clit again and hops her lightly onto his mouth, fucking her soft, walls contracting and pulsating along his mouth; she has to bite her knuckle from how fucking good it feels.
There’s a small groan, and when his nails slide to grab the dip of her waist, obsessively pinning her to the mattress— her brain went fuzzy.
The feeling she was grabbing came back; the tight cord reeling. His tongue did a certain flick, a repetitive tap and just like that, she malfunctioned and her heel went digging into his shoulder blade.
Her moan was bit back, Lexi kept it caged between lip and teeth, only flowering in some type of tranced silence once the orgasm hit and she came into his mouth.
She could hear a thick, obscene swallow, and the heat suddenly separated from her cunt.
Fezco pushed her thigh off and climbed back to kiss her dirty, bumping into her teeth but too riled to care where he kissed. His mouth follows her, rhythmic and ruthless, with his hand pushing at her knee, widening her legs.
He presses his covered cock to her fresh heat. Lexi bucks to his erection dragging on her, long and thick. His hands mark her hips while guiding her into lucid rocking movements, his under the breath groans vibrate on her lax mouth, her tiny whimpers warp through his ears.
More audible but raspy and weak, "You good?" Lexi hums, too choked up by his erection thrumming on her cunt. “You like that, huh?”
Lexi nods at him, nose resting to his cheek. He grabs onto her nape and runs his hand into her hair, has the slightest bit of a hold on the strands to help her keep in equal pace with him, stroking his hard on with her wet cunt, offering disconnected moans.
"I like you, actually." She blurts, once he kisses her jaw and she can feel him swipe a soft finger over her temple, cradling her.
His lips flinch into a brief smile.
“I like you too, Lex.” He mumbles, hoarse and thick. “I been thinking about fucking you.”
Lexi’s body feels like stretched static, all while her blood feels grainy as all the pressure pool to her face.
“I want to touch you,” She murmurs, “Can I try?” She timidly grabs at his waistband and pulls him closer, dragging her cunt over him with depth, whimpering and squirming. Going limp.
Her hand clamps on his shoulder as she rolls her cunt over him, muffling his moan with a small suck at his lip, caging his tongue into hers.
A restricted breath pooled out of him, and after she increased her speed, he grabbed at her hip, warning, “Chill, you gonna cut this short if you keep at it.”
Lexi isn’t sure as to what he could mean until she rubbed him the slightest bit and a harsh groan fell into her esophagus. His dick twitched and Lexi’s palm could feel him weaken — she wanted to ruin him.
She’s convinced she could.
Lexi pulls his waistband and slithers a hand down, finger tapping to the head of his cock.
It twitched just as he moaned on her mouth, falling silent and agape to a delicacy.
She slides her hand and rolls her finger over the tip, the surface of her arm feels his muscle tighten to it. His head leaned to her shoulder, and after a pump down his length, he grunted softly into her crook.
The tip of his cock shudders to her palm covering it, focused jerks at the very head, brewing all the blood to his face.
She kisses his cheek, jerking him kindly, teasing him into small incoherent noises.
Her hand flicks just right, enough to make him quiet for the next few seconds, cock feeling heavy and heavier as the blood rushes. Almost missable, he mutters, "You fucking with me."
"What?"
“You did this shit before.” He murmurs, out of breath and pinched. “Who you.. you never said anything.”
“Who do you think I touched?”
He opens his mouth to respond. Before that could happen, she jacks him in slower motions, choking him into a moan. His head slowly drops to her shoulder; she can feel his eyebrows furrow on her, mouth grazing her skin.
Another raw jerk later, he belatedly answers, “Who, Lexi?”
“Just you.” she claims, and when he huffs in disbelief, “I watched porn before I asked you to fuck me.”
“Insane.” He says, exasperated at such an idea. “Fuck.”
Maybe Lexi was always possessive, maybe this was her way of marking him, screwing him with the memory of her palm jerking up the veins of his cock. He’d never be touched the same.
“I want to be your favorite fuck.” She admits, melting at the small thrust he makes in her hand. Her head is blurry and sparky; it’s the same frenzy she had when she made his lips raw and red in the drive in parking lot. “I want you to forget everyone else. Just me.”
“You already my favorite. Always been my girl, right?” He kisses her crook. Another pump in her hand. She could feel his muscle tense, a breath to her shoulder. ”I really wanna feel you, lemme fuck you?”
She nods, propping herself up by her elbows while he leaned off of her, cock hard and exposed, asking for it to be touched so she does as his hand slides into his beside dresser, papers crinkling and wrapper sound wrinkling into the air just as he sucks in a sharp breath to her skimming her fingers over his heated skin.
Lexi peers up at him, long lashed and doe eyed. Fezco suddenly has to take a deep breath, “Swear to god, you gonna make me come all over you wit that.” and when he brings the wrapper to open it with his teeth, Lexi thinks she could end in the same fate.
Fezco bends forward to kiss her, propping himself with the heel of his hand. Her mouth moves along his as he slowly rolls the condom at the very tip of his cock before grabbing at her palm and maneuvering her grasp, guiding her to palm his cock and roll the condom over his shaft.
He groans along her lips, with the hot of her hand skimming down. She kisses his mouth, lining him up to her, he returns his gaze back to watch her. Lexi can feel her mouth, raw and hurting, and as he gazes down on her, he seems to notice the same thing, pecks a small kiss to the maiming of her lips.
“Gonna be slow.” He says, pecking her chin. Her head falls back to the pillow behind her, a bit impatiently. “Trust me?”
“Near all my life.”
He watches her expression, the twitch of her eyelids, her rosy raw lips part, as the thick tip of his swollen cock pressed into her, gradual and gently.
He focused on her eyes falling shut, jaw slackening to the very slow stretch her pussy made for him
The wet sound of his shaft slicing through her counters the small, “Fuck” , that splits out of his windpipe, muffling her soft made gasp. He resists the concept of overflowing her and fits only half his length into her. “You good?”
“More.” Is all she babbles. And when he doesn’t move, she wiggles on him, catching a soft moan, wrapping her arms over his neck, draping him with warm flesh kisses to the cheek. “More, baby. Want it all.”
He pauses at her like his mind short circuit but leans back down to kiss the Cupid bow of her mouth, fucking her slow, using half his cock. Within every pulse into her, every small scrape of her nail and collision of their heavy breathing, muffled moaning and tender pants, he fucks deeper into her, sinking his cock further and further until his shaft disappears into her tight cunt.
His cock throbs inside of her. There’s a moment where her body went mushy to the slow fill in, falling limp as she stretches. He lifts his head, brushing his hand to her jaw and tilting her to his eyes. “You okay? Talk to me.”
He swipes his finger on her mouth as she nods limply.
“Perfect fit.” She claims, though indefinite and cockdrunk, trembling legs clamping to his waist, cutting into his waist.
“Shit, barely.” He nearly snorts — he would, at least, smile if he could, if her cunt wasn’t so warm and wet.
He cups her cheek and draws her to a small kiss, throbbing inside of her walls and oscillating himself into jerking his cock into her, slow but hard, gagging her into disjointed sob-like whimpers into his mouth.
His kiss falls, cheek sliding to lean on hers, his lips feel vacant on her jaw. The feeling is pungent, so overcome with torrid pleasure that they both don’t even make noise. It’s purely the sound of skin and grazes, but all of it is quieted when he kisses her cheek and faintly whispers, “I love you so much, you know that? So much.”
“I love you.” She replies, taking the sloppy thrust, not knowing what she was made of, whether she existed before this kind of pressure. She’s being looted.
“ Fuck, can barely fit in you,” he rasps, unable to keep his mouth from touching her, to her neck, to her jaw, to the concaves of her face, places often untouched; his hands not making sense but faintly trembling to her neck, holding her hostage to thicker fucking. “S’okay?”
She nods, guiding her hips to meet his, sinking his cock deeper in herself. He plunges in another sharp thrust into her, eliciting a small whimper.
“Talk baby.” It’s a whisper; the meek of his voice defies the small grab he makes to her wrist, pinning her into the bed. The thrusts become messier and his body starts to weaken, so he pinches at her skin.
“So good.” She chokes. “I feel full.”
“S’cause you taking it all, Lex.”
“I am.”
“You are.” He watches the flush to her face, enamored with her frozen expression, with all those sensations swirling and catching up to this idea that she was meant to be in his grip.
After she blinks, widening her legs and arching her back, small whimpers slipping, he kisses her cheek, smashes his heated cheek to hers, skin sticking, mumbling, “Look so pretty being fucked by me.”
She lets out something like a whine, congested and cut off by a wad of spit sliding down her throat when he puts a hand to her shoulder and pounds into her rougher. His touch is nomadic; palms at her breast, finger kneading her nipple as he plunged into her, skin contact snapping and, when she lets out a more bellowed type of moan, his hand clamps to cover her mouth as he keeps grinding fast and short strokes into her.
He rests his forehead to her crook, muffling his own groan as his cock thumps into her walls. He starts to twitch inside of her, her walls overcoming with friction, her clit starts to vibrate from just the slam of his hips.
Her back arches without her knowledge and hanging her head back, with her neck elongating to reveal the plain pale skin, he takes the opportunity to slide his hand off her mouth and palm her neck. There is no strength behind it. It’s almost like he was interested, engrossed in feeling her spit get tangled, the small lump in her throat, the strain as her mind went blurry.
“I’m… I feel—“ she pauses, she can feel her voice get smaller, rolling timid. “Fezco.”
“I feel you, I know.” He nods on her, fucking her silent just as he croons, ”C’mon, baby, want it all.”
It’s a flash of cool heat again, her body pauses and he keeps his hips going, though falling in rhythm, more disoriented, with his mouth pressing into her throat, grunts muffled. As the feeling of her cunt fluttering goes at a peak, she grips onto his wrist and squeezes it. Her legs close on his hips, and such vulnerability makes his hips stutter to a stop, she can feel his mouth fall open and eyelashes twitch, a small hiss.
His hand runs up from her throat and cradles her nape, thumb to her jaw, tilting her head to press against his skin, while he’s nudged into her crook and his rattling, hard cock starts to settle with his breathing. She can feel the warmth. She can feel the hot liquid through rubber. She can feel him swallow.
The feeling eventually settles and both of them don’t return to lucidity until she kisses his forehead, trying to make sense of the mauling in her chest.
Fezco moved indistinctly after her hand braces the back of his head, a finger traced the scar, winding him back. He swallows, hazily kisses her throat, slow and soft before, “Imma pull out, alright? Might feel weird.”
She only nods and closes her eyes to his continuous kiss to her skin, with her wincing slightly to the slow extraction.
He’s out, and rolling off of her, he takes the condom and gets rid of it. She doesn’t look in his direction, purely listens to the mattress dip, to his body move within the dark, to the thump of her mouth and the heartbeat between her legs die.
Lexi blinks at the ceiling and peers into the darker end of his room, providing her only a slightly inkier shade of his body.
There’s ruffling. Shallow swallowing. Then, he comes back into the light with a pull over on himself, boxers and a knitted sweater for her. She knows it is, so she peels herself up and lifts her arms, loses focus to how he rolls it onto her without words, bending close to her face as he brings the cloth to cover her.
“There.” He mumbles. Close to her face. The moon dips onto him, flesh of lined light to his face from the space between the window blinds. Fezco flicks his eyes up at her. “Better?”
“Thank you.” She musters up, eyes erratically moving along his features. It’s some type of internal fight; she wants to flee but she also wants him whole.
He simply nods, pausing at her mouth before sniffing and turning away. She falls back into the bed, crawls closer to his body, back to the mattress, breath knocked out while Lexi’s body buzzes beside him. They don’t move.
After a minute of thrumming and throbbing, Fezco’s warm fingers creep into her palm and Lexi slowly curves her digits, capturing his touch like a Venus flytrap.
“I hurt you?”
“No.”
She feels his hand wrestling her, sinking between his digits like a crazed, tired animal.
“Good.” He breathes. He tugs her. She follows it and is rolled into his heated crook, finding his arm wrapped around her waist, binding them as one, like tethers.
Lexi briefly questions if they’ll do that thing where it’s never spoken about. When he kisses her cheek and uses his other hand to tilt her to his lips, kissing her soft, wrapping a hand to her nape and keeping her close, she desperately hopes not.
But this action and position was not too different from the usual. Again, Lexi slept over a lot.
The next morning, she’s snagged into his limbs, palmed by him like she were his faith, hair tousled, nose pressed against her temple. One tilt and she could kiss him awake.
Her legs are sore. She rather not move them, or her neck, her entire throat burns.
She finds, too, that she doesn’t want to wake him confused and feel bad for her discomfort. So, she slowly untangles herself, quietly rolls and slips.
Leaving the bedroom and slowly creaking the door open, closing it mutely, she rounds the doorway and finds her toothbrush accompanies the other two, blue and green, and hers, pink, fits perfectly between it.
Knocking the faucet on, with the bathroom door cracked open and brushes groggily, hair maimed and sporadically twisted and curled, she brushes more aggressive than usual.
She halts to the sound of creaking, all the blood rushes and lashes as the door is tapped open and his body heat fills the room.
Fezco doesn’t mention her cluster-fucked hair when he comes into the bathroom. Just all usual, as every morning she stayed, like nothing conspired the night before.
And waking up that next morning, Lexi hadn’t considered that she’d run into a dilemma nonetheless.
The ‘morning after railing my best friend’ incident.
He taps her hip, a small 'move' and she leans away while he reaches over her to get into the cabinet, rifling through the pills in search.
After a spit into the sink, with her bending down and bumping briefly into his pelvis, “What do you need?”
Fezco doesn’t seem to care about the closeness and, if Lexi weren’t up in her head about whether they’d go baking brownies and pretending his dick didn’t literally tear her open, she’d think this was a completely platonic move.
He moves forward, close; his biceps grazing achingly on her shoulder.
“Tylenol.” He mumbles with his chest then tilting to her back. “You seen it?”
“No.” She hesitates to the felt of muscle behind her but worries more about the imminent distance, so she leans her back to him. He doesn’t move, rather, he holds her steady. “Are you okay?"
"M'alright."
"What hurts?”
“My dick.” He says blankly.
Well, that answered that.
“Your… your dick hurts? Did I, oh god, I'm so sorry—”
“— Fuckin’ wit you. My head hurts.” He says under his breath, lacking any real wit. “You sleep okay?”
”Peachy.”
He nods and Lexi can barely keep her legs from buckling. Then, “And nothings botherin' you?”
”No.”
He glances at her, rummages her face sagely. “I ain’t botherin' you?”
“No.” She breathes, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why?"
He turns away, back to the cabinet.
"Nothing." He mumbles. There’s short silence, the levity between them starts to weigh. "You left bed. Thought you left the house."
"Oh, I just..." He continues rummaging just as she goes, “No, Fez, I just figured you wouldn’t mention it.”
His movements indistinctly falter. Only for a second, but Lexi catches the contraction and knows far too much of his subtleties.
“Mention 'it'?”
Lexi doesn’t know how to say it. For some reason, she doesn’t think it’s far off to say, “Just what happened and...”
“… Us?”
“Us.”
Fezco doesn’t answer at first, and Lexi goes cascading that word through her head, readjusting the volume and rewinding it, reworking how her heart is doing that thing again, the domino effect: thump… thumpthump… thumpthump… thumpthumpthunpthump…
“Didn’t know how you wanted me to be the next day.” Fezco aimlessly mumbles, with his hushed gravel voice tickling the shell of her ear.
Lexi sluggishly asks, “How did you want to be?”
It’s quiet and, for sakes of all kinds, he stops meddling with the cabinet and fully wraps an arm over her waist, cinching his chest to her back, bringing his nose to her nape and pressing them together like they were to mend and fade into each other.
A couple of beats pass when he asks, “Why’d you leave bed?”
“I don’t know.” She says, and then realizing that she’s lying, “You liked me yesterday, so… I didn’t want to see you not like me today and regret it.”
“Not possible to ever regret that. I like you today and tomorrow.” He pauses in thought. “Do you?”
“Like you? Yes.”
"Wildin'." She can feel his mouth move on her. Something like a crooked smile. “Meant regret it, Lexi.”
“No.”
He relaxes, compresses his mouth to her nape and kisses it; soft and hard, with all the vehemency. “Don’t leave the bed like that again. Thought I hurt you.”
”Sorry.” She accedes, brittle in the throat and everywhere else. Probably stained in his smell. Bruised in his touch.
It’s a moment of nothing, scattered breath before he promptly shifts, squeezing one hip. “Lexi?”
“Yes?”
“M’sorry for the zip-ties.”
Lexi’s lip twitches.
“You were thinking about that?”
“Felt bad again.” He explains. “You had it comin’, though. Try to tell myself that but you taste so sweet.”
She snorts and goes, “You made up for it.”
He hums. “Last night?”
“Mhm.” Then, “But don’t be surprise if one of these days, something very fucked up happens to your clothes.”
He shot some air from his nose, a near snicker, and a string of silence ensues after while his lips press to her skin and her inability to not smirk at it castes through.
Abruptly, while wobbling her body in small swaying motions; like a nervous tick, he asks, “Lemme tell you something?”
She peers into the mirror. He doesn’t budge, so, Lexi slides her hand up the forearm he has wrapped around her, cupping his knot-like knuckles with her palm.
“Okay.”
It’s quiet again. It stretches, thrashes and swings.
And once it seeped, “I really love you.” He says, though with a clunky inflection, as if the words had never been spoken aloud, not native to his tongue, a nomad of complexities.
But was it that complex?
Maybe not. This was known; Lexi knew he meant the kind of love that chokes you small, peels you bare and dry.
Lexi thinks to keep this name simple. The ‘I love you’ incident.
“Yeah?”
He hums, nods and murmurs, “Near all my life, probably.”
He kisses her spine once, lifts his head from her nape to rest his chin to her shoulder. She twists her head to face him, knocks briefly into his nose and all that noise settles in her head.
“I really love you too.”
He nudges her nose. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She says, grinning over at him slowly grinning at her, all before he kisses her soft, dragging the touch down to her jaw. “Near all my life.”