Archive of Our Own

Once again, you drop one hand to the edge of your dress, dragging your palm down the material to dry off the imagined sweat.

You don't know why you're nervous. This will be your and John's fifth official date and not even anything fancy. Still, it ain't no stroll through the park, wrapped up with a stop at the local coffee shop in your area. No weekday evening spent at your place on a whim. Nor some activity like the last time, when John arranged a liqueur tasting with one of his favourite retailers of his favoured scotch.

This time you are on your way home to John.

He'd suggested it during your last date when you relaxed at your place after the evening of liquor tasting. One that left you tipsy and him, though not close to even slightly intoxicated, smiley and definitely much softer around the edges.

The decision you two would spend the night together wasn't pre-decided. You'd planned to go on the drinking experience and then have something to eat. Afterwards, John would walk you home, and stay for some time, before heading down to his car parked outside your building, needing to go home, as he was scheduled at the base in the morning.

'No deployment, simply meetings and paperwork', he'd said, continuing his argument that more than a few hours was enough for the slight amount of alcohol to subside enough to drive, especially after eating well before and after.

But the night took a turn, though not an unwanted one.

After the tasting, you and John had strolled down the streets, the nippy air refreshing but not chilling. Your hand had been wrapped around his bicep, his warmth inviting enough that you pressed close to his side.

What stopped your tracks was when you passed a pub. John had mentioned he stops by when in the city, 'You should give the food a try, one of the best around'. You looked at him while he'd said it, tugging his arm. It earned his attention, his blue eyes dropping to you from the place across the street.

'I'm not opposed to a takeaway', you'd suggested, feeling how tiredness had gradually settled in your bones. John only smiled, neither he seemingly fancying a dinner at some restaurant, and pulled you with him to the place.

Familiar with the man behind the bar, he was warmly welcomed as you stepped through the doors.

Nothing happened when you returned to your apartment with a takeaway bag. Not as when John had visited that first time after meeting at Marissa's pub... or some afterwards. You'd only sat on your couch, eating dinner by the coffee table rather than the dining table as some random show played on the TV. One you and John criticised between bites.

The enormous portion made you feel stuffed halfway through, which made you flop back on the couch with a satisfied sound. Having balanced a fine line between sleepy and slowly clearing tipsiness, you'd watched John close the takeaway boxes, putting yours in the fridge while scrapping his empty one.

As he returned, he'd smiled down at you. 'Scoot over'.

You'd shuffled to make room for him and once John settled comfortably, you rested between his legs, your upper body on his as your head was propped on his chest.

The sound from the TV faded. The two of you laid like that, having talked and laughed. And then, when you parted from a kiss where you barely contained your giggles for long enough to happen, whatever dry joke of his not wanting to die in your head, 'Watcha sayin', wanna have our next cosy hour at mine?'

He'd taken you off-guard, brows having shot up as you studied John. Soon enough, however, you'd nodded with a grin and kissed him, jokingly having asked, 'Getting tired of the city, ain't you?' John had shaken his head in amusement. 'Only wanna show I want you at my place as well'. He'd made your heart flutter an unhealthy amount as you gazed at him. 'Should I wear that dress then, so I know I'll be let in?'

You'd referred to what John had said the first night he stayed at your place and his home had been brought up.

He'd looked almost bashful for a second before he brought you closer, arms tightening around your waist. 'Gonna let you in whatever you wear, but I wouldn't complain'.

You'd chuckled, leant in close and kissed him after that.

Afterwards, things had slowed and you wouldn't put it past yourself that you occasionally had fallen asleep in his arms. At some point, the soothing motion of John's hand travelled to your neck.

Neither of you had been too invested in whatever played on the TV compared to the other's presence.

'Should be on my way then', his low voice brought you out of your partly dazed, if nothing incredibly relaxed, state. You'd blinked your eyes open, not having slept but merely enjoying the moment. 'You don't think I'm letting you drive, are you?' You'd looked up at him. Yes, you'd wanted him to stay despite it not being the original plan. But John also had enough to be on the verge of a non-road legal amount of strong drinks just a few hours earlier. 'Ain't too many on my roads at this hour'.

He'd tried sitting up, but you stayed put with one of your hands pushed against his chest. 'Stay. Spare you the drive tonight and possible loss of license'. At first, he'd seemed reluctant, but once he'd fallen back into the couch, you'd known it was decided.

'Could almost think you planned this', John had said. 'Was your decision to taste scotch on a Sunday night when knowing you have somewhere to be in the morning'. As he'd shuffled the two of you around, you'd snickered. 'Clever, ain't ya?' He'd mockingly scolded you as you'd laid there, squished between his front and the back of the couch. You'd given him a sugar-sweet smile. 'Incredibly so'. His hand landed on the side of your face. 'Lucky for ya, I ain't gotta be in full uniform tomorrow and have the bare necessities in the car. Otherwise, I'd been forced to go'. You'd beamed after he'd pressed a kiss to your lips.

In the morning, you'd woken up when he kissed your forehead. Bleary-eyed, you'd gathered he'd been awake for some time as he'd already changed to what only could be the everyday attire for soldiers. Tactical pants in a muted blend of greens and beige with a tight-fitted green t-shirt.

'Not a bad thing to wake up to', you'd sleepily mumbled as you stretched, eyes unable to not sweep his frame. He'd chuckled, moving in for a proper kiss. You'd reciprocated the unhurried press of lips with a smile. When you parted, you'd fallen back to rest against the pillows.

'I'm on my way'. John's voice had been low as if not to drag you out of your lazy state too soon. You'd hummed. 'Have you eaten anything?’ He'd been unable not to smile. 'Pickin' somethin' up on the way for me and the lads'. You'd nodded, curling to your side, head burrowed into the pillows again. 'Alright then, have a good day, say hi to the others from me and buy them something sweet in my name'. He chuckled at your muffled reply, kissing your head before he walked out of your room. You'd walked around with a smile the whole day after that.

Now, you knew John would've been right. He probably would've made it home without much hassle that evening, as even now, during the considered universal rush hour, there weren't many people out on the road as you neared his address.

You crossed a bridge, a gentle stream of water beneath it. As you approached an intersection, you looked at the sat-nav, taking the designated right turn. That was when the asphalted road switched to packed gravel.

You were barely minutes away from your destination and your gaze was set straight ahead, attempting to find what property would be John's. However, you soon realise you didn't need to gauge which house would be his on this road, as it was only one at the end. And yet, you second-guessed the sat-nav with a swift glance down and then up. But it was correct, and the easily recognised black rover parked further up only sealed that you hadn't gotten lost.

"Cottage, my ass", you mumble when continuing down the gravelly road.

You saw the fixes John had done to it. The traditional structure of the house was clear, stoney and blocky looking. Walls that probably were coppery bricks previously were now white, structured walls. The roof wasn't tatched but covered in dark brown tiles, matching the heavy wood-lined windows and doors with influences from France.

Upon driving further, the gravelly driveway widened until you rolled up alongside the house's side, stopping beside John's car. The crunch from the wheels was replaced by your feet as you opened your door and jumped out of the seat.

You looked around, the greenery only enhancing the house itself. Despite the house being newly restored and with a fresh look, the land around it still inherits that rugged beauty of a garden let to grow as it pleased yet have behaved.

Wildflowers, in an array of different colours, are scattered here and there in the greenery. Some fruit trees spurt from the more open spaces around the patch of grass further ahead. Green hedges lined the house's walls, those being the most trimmed yet not squared to perfection.

When the sound of steps through the gravel sounded, you turned back, finding John walking from the slightly raised dais that creates a solid entrance to the door that remained wide open behind him.

"John, this looks taken out of a fairytale", you greeted him as he crossed the parking lot to reach you. A smile etched onto his features.

"Then you'll fit right in". John's eyes sweep over you, wrapped in a dress you more or less bought for this occasion. You'd purchased it on a whim, shopping for other things online, unable not to keep tabbing back to the pretty open back piece of shiny white material adorned in pretty yellow citruses and their green stems.

"Flirt", you return, smiling as he stops before you.

He curls an arm around your waist, gazing down at you for a few beats before his head drops. "Hello, love", he finally says close to your lips.

"Hi", you return. Seconds after, John presses his mouth to yours.

You're a bit stunned at his greeting. Previously a hug had been the only thing you shared initially, a kiss not coming until further in. But you don't complain, not at all. In fact, after the last time, it feels right.

As John pulls away for you, you smile up at him, the look mirrored on his bowed head.

"You have a bag?"

"Mhm, in the boot". You nod backwards. Only then does John let go of you, heading towards the back of your car.

This time, you'd made plans to stay or, more so, John had asked if you wanted to when you fixed the details of when and where over text. It had been a no-brainer to say yes.

Even though you'd only officially planned for one night, you packed enough for the whole weekend, a possible reason why a grunt resonates seconds before your booth is shut.

"You ready, or you wanna take in the view some more?" John joins your side, your bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm ready". You smile, locking your car as he treks forward, beckoning you to follow.

You're immediately hit by an incredible smell when stepping over the threshold and into his foyer. Though your eyes sweep over the open space, noting some of the main pieces around the room, such as the built-in fireplace and thick wooden beams high above your head. Your gaze is instinctively drawn to the kitchen.

It was minimal, following the same colour scheme as the house's exterior. Dark brown cupboards below some light-coloured kitchen counter and windows on either side of the stove.

You rose to your toes, attempting to peek over the kitchen island, separating you from spotting the oven and whatever was in full swing of filling the open room with a delicious aroma.

"Started on a roast". A roast? Your eyes flicker to John as you drop down onto your feet.

"Didn't know you were such a good cook", you say, a smile forming.

"Surprised?" He cocks his brows.

You can't help but shrug, attempting to school your reaction by pressing your lips together. "Can't say I would've expected it, even though you invited me for dinner". John huffs in amusment.

"Mandatory to know how to make a decent Sunday roast". You chuckle, stepping towards him as your raise one hand, settling on his cheek.

Your fingers card to his beard. "Smell more than decent to me", you praise him, palm flattening and fingers curling backwards on his face to pull him in for a kiss.

It's a sweet exchange, shy of lingering too long not to develop into something more. But, as you part, you both smile at each other, content with the brief but somehow meaningful kiss.

"I'll show where you can put your things. The beef got some time left in the oven before I go pokin' at it".

You bite your tongue at John's comment, amusedly shaking your head as you slip off your white sneakers. He does the same to his shoes before you pad after him further into the house.

Rather than going through the open space of the first floor, towards the short hallway with only one door at either side, John steers towards the stairs. You follow him as he heads upwards. While he climbs the staircase silently, you notice how your steps sometimes make the wood creak.

When you reach the second floor, you instantly notice it contrasts heavily with the one below. Compared to the first floor, with its open space and conjoined kitchen, dining room and living room, making the space airy, the second floor was split into several rooms.

The one and first room John headed towards was positioned further down to the left. It was big and with seconds notice, you understood it was his bedroom.

You halt just shy of a step inside. The carpet is soft beneath your feet despite the lack of... simply most things that weren't essential. There weren't many decorations apart from the large mirror on the wall on the opposite side of the room and besides John's closet and clothing rack. Your eyes drift to what parts you from that side, his bed. It's large, placed against the wall on the right and with its end turned outwards. You realise it's the main piece of furniture in the room concerning the sparseness of other things.

That was where John headed as he continued inwards. He shrugged your bag off his shoulder, placing it on the foot of his bed. As he turned to you, he immediately broke into a grin.

"Look like a statue over there". John mused. Honestly, you would take his word for it. It was your first time in his home, meaning it would be impossible to be as bold and comfortable as he'd grown in your flat, enabling him to roam somewhat more freely.

You shift your weight. "Was promised a tour, or did you only mean your bedroom?" You replied, attempting to brush off the remaining nerves with jest.

His head tilted to his side as his hand rose, motioning you towards him, smile softer now. "Come here". When he said it like that, you had no problem walking forwards until reaching his outstretched hand and stepping into his embrace. "Happy to finally have ya here". A warm wave rushes through your body because there's no playfulness in his tone.

"Since when did you turn into a sap?" You reply, looking away from his intense eyes. Not having expected the turn of the conversation.

A hooked finger nudges your jaw towards facing John again, where he greets you with a grin curling his lips.

"And since when did you turn so shy?"

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm in your room this time", you reply, gazing into his eyes.

"Oh, I've noticed". John dipped to your level. "And I'm lovin' every moment of it". Before you could instinctually duck your head from the sweet words that struck a cord in your chest, John's lips moulded against yours.

His lips against yours made you relax. Your nervousness faded as he pecked your lips a few times, nudging his nose against yours as he spoke with eyes still closed. "Come down when you've unpacked your stuff and explored here, eh?"

"I'll be down in a few, then". John hummed at your answer, pleased that he felt whatever tension you'd gotten here with had faded.

...

As he'd said, John left you to unpack your things and explore the upper floor while he tended to the dinner downstairs.

Considering you think it's too soon to put any of your clothes amongst John's, you only put some you don't fancy creasing on the rack, leaving the rest in your bag on the floor beneath.

When stepping into the en suite with your toiletry bag, the things lining the sink surprise you. Aside from the toothbrush, there's an arrangement of bottles already lining the counter. You can't help but take a peak, reading 'beard oil' on the flask you'd picked up. You catch yourself smiling as you put it back in place amongst his other items, placing your products on the opposite side.

Stepping out of his room, you head halfway down the hallway, peeking into the room closest to John's.

It's an office, considerably less bare than his bedroom, concerning the bookshelf lining the left wall, the large Chesterfield club chairs facing each other with a smallish table between them before the actual wooden working desk further ached with its accompanying chair behind it.

You don't step inside, respectful of what most probably was his workplace at home. Instead, you continue forwards, past the staircase and towards the other two doors.

As you push the first open, you're met by a bathroom still amid renovation, the plastic sheets lining the floor, the stepstool and tools making it evident. Behind the second door is a spare bedroom. A giddy sensation enters your chest when you look around the considerably smaller space than John's. The room is adequately equipped for someone to stay there. And yet, he hadn't hesitated to settle you in his bedroom.

Without much more to explore upstairs, you head down, instantly spotting John in the kitchen. Though tending to a tray he seemingly had taken from the oven, he glances over his shoulder upon hearing you.

"Settled in?" He asks as he puts the tray into the oven again. This time without the tin foil now scrunched together on the stone counter.

"Mhm", you hum, unable to wipe the smile from your face. By now, your nerves were just a memory. You felt relaxed in a way you never had before. Something about John being so at ease made you fall into the same easy rhythm you always seem to have with one another.

After closing the oven, John straightens up. Putting away the oven mitts, he turns to lean against the counter.

By now, you've rounded the kitchen island, and though you'd planned on stopping there, John reaches forward, grabbing your hip and urging you near. You follow readily, never saying no to being close to him.

His hand massaged the meat at your hip, gently pressing and releasing the flesh as he gazed at you. It was a quiet moment. One where you looked into his blues just as intensely as his eyes flickered between yours. You barely notice how you drift closer, stepping forwards until your feet slot between his.

Your head is tilted back to look up at him. Though you tip to the side when his other hand raise to caress your skin.

It's a soft brush of his knuckles at first, then his palm settles partly on your jaw and throat, his fingers reaching to curl into your neck. The light press of his fingertips into your skin rocks you forward, meeting his lips.

It's not a heated make-out session despite your tongues intertwining. But it makes you warm, a shudder running down your spine. You feel soft and pliable against John as small sounds leave you both. Now and then, it urges small pauses where you linger against one another, neither of you desiring to take the next step where desperation bleeds into the actions.

...

The softness, that mushy feeling in your chest, remains. If anything, it only grows when you cook dinner together.

When you'd parted from John, asking if he wanted any help with the rest of the dinner, he'd attempted to make you sit down at the kitchen island as he opened a bottle of red, giving you a glass. 'You just relax, love', he'd said as he put on some jazz music, the tune humming from a speaker in his living room.

But you'd insisted on helping him and it ended with John overseeing the beef in the oven, checking the temperature religiously while also cooking the mashed potatoes. Meanwhile, you'd tasked yourself with preparing the vegetables and gravy.

Sometimes John stalled in his movement, standing there with his wine glass in hand. You stopped chopping the carrots upon feeling his gaze on you, finding him with a slight upwards tug in his lip. 'What you smiling about?' You would ask, unable not to reciprocate his smile. 'Nothin', he usually would shrug before stepping towards you, bringing you in for a short but wine-tinged kiss.

As you moved around the kitchen, asking John where one or the other thing was, you would place a hand on him, sometimes on his back, other times on his side. He would always glance towards you, you both knowing the kitchen was large enough that you could move without limitation.

When conversation naturally died out, and you stilled in the kitchen, every utensil needed to cook the meal already put forth, you unconsciously hummed along to the music.

You didn't notice. All your attention was set on the gravy you stirred in the copper saucepan. It wasn't until John stepped up behind you, arm curling around your waist, you would catch what you were doing, quieting down. Not because of the man plastered to your back, more so that you raised a spare spoon to ask him whether he thought the sauce tasted good. 'Hm, delicious, perfect timin' for the beef, as well', he dipped and said in your ear before parting from you.

Eating was as good as cooking the meal. It was a split between you and John being a good team in the kitchen, making a mouthwatering Sunday roast, and the atmosphere making it taste even better.

John had dimmed the lights on the first floor, setting a lovely mood without any candles needed. It made the dinner all gentle and slow. You talked, ate, only to talk some more.

Time ticked on, and you never wanted to look at the clock. But, in the end, both you and John felt full, cutlery laid down as you realised you made way too much food for two people.

The two of you agreed to dish off the table when the immediate sated feeling lessened, even if it took a bit longer than anticipated as you got stuck in a conversation once again. Although, when you both finally rose from the table, it felt good moving around.

You helped clean the table, wiping down the counters you'd coked on as well, but when you neared the sink, you were ushered away by John. Suceedinlgy persuaded that he would take care of it.

You took the liberty to roam towards the double French doors, just across the couch group, that caught your eyes during the dinner.

As you wander through the living room, the air is filled with the music and John's rummaging in the kitchen. The gentle sounds fall behind you when you near the white-lined doors.

Catching a glimpse of what's outside, your curiosity sky-rockets upon the lanterns lightening what seemed to be a patio.

You shift your glass from your dominant hand when the doors are within reach, hooking off the clasps with your freed fingers. Without much difficulty and sparing yourself of John calling out in aid, you push them open.

You let the doors stand ajar behind you as you step down onto the patio to let John know where you've gone when he's done.

The big slaps of stone covering the ground are cool beneath your sock-covered feet. They're seemingly placed to create a stable island in the gravel surrounding the four-by-four despite being in the same grey shade. The lanterns you'd spotted were embedded in the softer rocks along the edges of the patio, lightening the sitting area in a soft yellowy glow, further reflected by the grill a few paces ahead.

Your gaze rises, eyes roaming the scenery before you. To the left, around the corner of the house, you spot a lawn and an oasis of trees. But the beauty making you sigh is ahead of you.

A gravelly path that wraps around the house from the far right, one you only now realise is a continuation from the driveway as you spot the rear-end of John's car, separates you from a low metal fence. It's one of those you can see surrounding big-city parks' 'don't enter' areas. Not really stopping you but alerting you of the jeopardy of continuing. Further ahead, you spot the river, or more so, its banks. A lazy trickling gives away the body of water you drove over earlier as it drifts along John's property.

The sun peaks through the sparse area of vegetation and neighbours' roofs beyond the river. It feels like you're dreaming, standing here in the quiet evening. It's so unlike your evenings in the flat, where you can hear cars driving past, the sound penetrating the wall. And on warm evenings such as this one, when you're windows are ajar, you catch people talking as they stroll down the street.

The music from inside reach you still, gentler, quieter, but still a noticeable hum from within the house. It mingles with the trickle of the stream and some insects cricketing from within the surrounding greenery. You hum along to the song playing, only stopping when raising your glass to your lips, sipping your wine, eyes sweeping over the picture ahead.

"If this ain't a sight". You look over your shoulder, finding John leaning against the doors. One hand rests in his pocket, the other holding a low-balled glass with a russet liquid inside.

"Ain't too bad from here either". John smiles at your reply as your eyes flitter over his form.

"Poured me one, figured you favoured finishin' yours", he said, making a motion with his glass you presumed was filled with scotch.

"Yeah, I'm alright", you hum in response, smiling at him. John reciprocates it with a slight upwards tilt of his lips. You catch him pushing off from the doorframe just as you turn forwards again.

Like you, John didn't care to put on shoes as he stepped over the threshold and onto the patio. You'd learned that the man moved silently for someone of his stature. Nonetheless, you felt when he stepped up behind you. His presence gets even more apparent when he circles your waist from behind with his free arm.

You lean against his front, sighing as one of your arms rests over his. John shuffles, sipping his drink before he haunches slightly, notching his chin on your shoulder.

Your eyes slip close, humming along to the song again. Somewhere along the way, you and John begin to sway in place. It's a slow rocking motion, a shift of weight between the feet rather than dancing. Still, it makes you smile,

When you tip your head to rest on his shoulder, the arm around your abdomen tightens, drawing you closer with a heavy sigh.

"Love...". The pet-name whispered against your shoulder is more of a husky purr than anything else.

"Hm?" You question but get no immediate answer in return.

You wait a few more beats, anticipating him to continue his sentence. Instead, John kisses your exposed skin near your shoulder. It's followed with another press against the juncture of your neck. Then one beneath your ear, on that sensitive and lightly ticklish spot that's easily accessible from his current position.

You turn in his embrace, his arm still curled around your waist, hand now resting against the small of your back. While you keep your wineglass to the side with one hand, the other settles upon his chest. Grounding you both as you continue to rock gently.

You stare up at him, gazing into those blues that stray sunlight catches just enough to make shine. Something glimmers in his eyes, something enchantingly profound.

Your arm travels upwards, over his fabric-clothed collarbone and around his neck, fingers curling to play with the short strands of the chestnut at his neck. John's eyes slip close for a few beats, revelling in the sensation.

As they flutter open, his gaze is soft. Still, you catch the gentle fire in them. You can't help but card your fingers through his hair. Moving them up, up until you drag them downwards, grazing his scalp just slightly with your nails. You feel the shiver making John wet his lips and flex the hand resting on your lower back.

His gaze drops to your lips. Yours does the same to his.

You want to kiss him, lean in, slot your mouth with his, and give in to the sweet but slowly heating moment. You almost give in, swaying on your feet towards John. And yet, you pull away when he attempts to meet you halfway.

The low sound of a complaint leaves John's throat as his partly-closed eyes flutter open. But you don't regret not succumbing to his presence. There's something about this moment. Something unlike all the others you've shared despite them being intimate too.

You can't help but smile, stepping out of his embrace entirely. It causes his brows to quirk and his head to tilt. Silent question of what you're doing as he merely watches you raise your eyebrows, smile still lingering.

His eyes only drop from yours to follow your hand as it falls from his neck with a caress, brushing down the same path it did when travelling upwards.

You don't shy from letting your palm glide down his chest and stomach. His attention is heavy on your hand as you feel his muscles' reactionary flex. That's until his blues snap up to watch you taking a step to the side.

You don't let your hand leave him. Instead, you continue mapping his body, sliding over his waist, just above his navy chinos, then around the side of his body, only to let your hand fall when you step around him with a press to his ribs.

In the corner of your eyes, you catch how John turns to watch you walk away.

His warm body had infected your own. Heat melts through your sparse layers of clothing and into your very core. Even more so when you feel his attention on you, positively having stoked the previous fire within them to make his gaze this noticeable.  

When you reach the doors, you look over your shoulder. Even though John had turned, he was still in the same spit. And now, when you look back at him, gazes locking, you see the growing darkness in them. It eclipses his bright eyes like a solstice.

The quirk of your lips is hard to beat down. Not even the glass you rise to your lips can hide it. When dropping your drink, fingers shifting its contents with your grip around its bowl, you deliberately arch your brow, beckoning John with you as you step inside.

And he follows.

His steps aren't calculated or suppressed. They're heavy, meant for you to hear. He moves somewhat quicker than you to catch up when you stop by the table in front of his couch, setting down your wine glass. A second thud swiftly follows yours when he deposits his glass seconds before stepping into you from behind.

He doesn't throw you off balance, not from how his hands settle on either side of your hips, pulling you taunt against him.

"A bloody temptress is what you are". His face presses against the side of your head, sentence husked against the shell of your ear.

"Know you like it". The end of your sentence is breathed as John's hand slides down your front, between your thighs, gripping the fleshy part of your them.

"Fuckin' love it", he grunts, spinning you around with a movement that settles his hands below your ass. The skirt of your dress rises, the edge resting just in line with his pinky.

You barely have enough time to prepare before John crashes his mouth against yours.

A sound escapes from your throat, hands fisting the white shirt tucked into his pants, rucking the material free as you can't do anything but follow him as he walks backwards.

Just as you fully relax into the kiss, he parts from you. You're about to complain until you see why.

John had led you to the couch, sitting down as his shins hit the cushioned seat, naturally urging you to straddle his waist with a tug at your legs.

You obey him, not needing more than this man to look at you with want in his eyes to follow him down on the couch. With knees planted on either side of his hips, you settle in his lap with a slight wriggle.

The jostling makes you grind against John, who grunts as his fingers dig into your waist. But he doesn't stop you. Instead, he develops your action, pushing you down onto his groin, instantly moving your hips back and forth.

The rocking makes you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulder as you fall into the motion, canting your hips at the pace he sets.

"Wan't you to come just like this, love", he breathes, making you whimper. "Wanna feel you come all needy and grindin' on me".

"I-"

"S'pretty all the goddamn evenin'", he groans, his hand sliding under the skirt of your dress and hiking it to your waist, where the skirt bunches. Revealing your skimpy lace panties that make a low sound rumble in his chest. His pinky fingers insert themselves beneath the fabric curved over your arse. "Want you to drench this pretty fabric".

"They're gonna be ruined". John's hungry eyes flicker to meet yours as your head tips forwards.

"Want you to ruin them, wouldn't mind havin' you walk around my house all bare beneath this". He squeezes your waist, bunching your dress even further so he can watch each drag of your hips against his growing bulge.

"John". It should've been a scold, but it's barely more than a moan.

"Love my name on your lips", he breathes as he drags you harsher against him, bucking his hips into your heat to tease what's to come.

You shift your hips just the slightest and the seam of his slacks rub right against your clit. Unable to quieten the whimper, it cut through the air, your own sound making a shudder travel up your spine. You rock faster into him, your panties sticking to your folds from the wetness, something John must feel-

"Wan't you to drench those panties of yours, want to feel you soak through my pants, love. Want to feel how much you need me". You throw your arms around his neck, needing the leverage as he presses kisses down your throat and collarbones.

You can feel it building, gentle and not overwhelming, but still a fire in your stomach as pleasure curls there.

A soft moan leaves you when he guides your hips into your crotch, jutting upwards enough for him to press deliciously into you. The imprint of his cock against your dripping core makes your mind jump ahead. It's nothing more than a bend of the seem covering your pussy from direct contact, but you imagine grinding against his naked cock. Feeling as it nudges you from below, your clit, until positioned at your entrance...

You reach your peak, slumping rather than hurling over it as you lean against John, face burrowing into his warm neck.

"That's my girl", he purrs against your ear, kissing the places he reaches as your legs feel like jelly for a few seconds. You stir slightly, making John nudge your head with his nose. "M'how you doin', love?"

You lean back, gaze locking with his. "M'good, really good", you hum, leaning close to his lips. "Wan't you to feel good now as well". You press your weight down against the fabric straining over his groin.

John groans, not objecting as you reach down, unbuttoning his slacks. Not until you stand does he help you pull off his pants and underwear with a slight arch of his hips from the couch.

While he kicks away his clothes from around his ankles, you slip off your panties. And just as you're about to squirm out of your dress, he rises, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Keep it on", he rasps, hands gripping your waist. "Wanna fuck you in this pretty dress". He pulls you back into his lap.

When you settle on top of his hard cock, John groans and you pant, reaching a hand around his neck.

"Could've just bent me over the counter earlier". You breathe softly with the rock of your hips, gliding his naked and leaking cock through your fold, feeling him tense underneath you.

"Don't fuckin' tempt me, love", John outright moans as you slide over his shaft on your own accord, his heavy paws doing nothing but clutch your flesh.

"Wouldn't have minded", you stutter as his cocks throbs against you, the pulsing prominent against your nakedness as your head drops closer to his.

"You wouldn't have, eh? That's why you're so wet? Imaginin' me bendin' you over in the kitchen and fuckin' you silly", John mumbles against your lips. You nod wordlessly. "So fuckin' dirty, love, aren't ya?"

"All for you", you sigh, causing John's breath to catch. His hips buck against yours, bumping the head of his cock against your clit, grunting a fuck beneath his breath as he feels your pussy clench on top of him, dripping your arousal onto him.

"So good for me, too bloody good", his voice is thick as he stills you, tapping your thigh with a firm press of his fingers. "Gotta be inside you".

You mumble a string of 'yes' and 'please' in return, rising onto your knees upon his urge.

John swiftly lines himself up with you and you soon begin to sink down slowly, head thrown backwards.

He feels bigger like this, his tips catching at your hole that usually has been prepped by his fingers. His girth drags against your walls once he pops inside, more than usual, forcing you to take it slow.

You clench around him despite your languid pace, causing John's hands to shoot to your waist, halting your movement as he inhales deeply.

"S-stop, love, just... need a moment". Your head tip forwards, met by his pupil-blown eyes, lips parted after his moaned sentence. You feel the restraint he puts on himself, his cock twitching inside you, his thighs tensing. Yet, he remains still, giving you both the time needed to accustom to this new position between you two.

When John's fingers flex slightly and he groans a soft 'yeah', you start up again. You lower yourself until it feels on the verge of too much before rising up, repeating the movement.

Slowly, you work John into you, letting out a shaky breath when your thighs settle on his, sitting properly in his lap.

He's nestled so deep, prodding something that makes your body tense. John feels you tighten around him, your shallow breaths making your body quiver on top of him.

"Takin' me so good", he praises you, one of his hands sneaking down to sit on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit. Your keen is enough of an answer for him to continue his ministrations. "Such a good girl, eh?"

Although making you flutter around him, John's sweet whispers make you relax while the attention on your clit naturally makes your hips rock. It helps you fall into a slow roll off your hips, still adjusting to his girth but with greater ease.

When finally there is more pleasure than pressure and strain, you rise and fall, starting a slow bounce that gradually quickens, making you mewl.

"Just like that, love". The hand placed on your hip, enabling his thumb to toy with your clit, press a last time into your bundle of nerves before sliding back. His other hand, the one that's rested on your waist, rides backwards, only to meet his other one as he grabs fistfuls of your arse. Your dress flips down, partly covering how his cock stretches you wide as he messages the flesh.

"Ride me so well", he grunts, head craning against the back of the couch, exposing his neck to you.

You take the invite to pepper kisses there, not half-hearted but sloppy presses of your lips and tongue. There's a saltiness on John's skin from the sweat pearls beading at his throat. But you leave an even wetter sheen in its place.

On a particular nibble close to the base of his throat, he slaps your ass, making you squeak and your hips jump. The sudden movement makes you both moan.

"Damagin' government property, eh?" He sounds drunk, voice ridden with lust as his half-lidded gaze meets yours when you sit up straight. Hips still working but slower, a circling motion back and forth.

"They're leaving their marks on you. I want to leave mine too". In the weeks you'd gotten to know John, the scars littering his body were impossible not to notice. Even though you didn't linger too long on the thought of asking about them.

A deep rumbling sound resonates within his chest as he leans up, knocking his mouth against yours in his hurry to feel your lips.

Your hands settle on either side of his face as you steer the hurried kiss, simultaneously deepening it with a tilt of your head. John swallows your moans that bleed into his mouth as you greedily roll rather than bounce your hips against his, attempting to chase your pleasure despite the fatiguing sensation in your legs.

When you part, both panting, one of your arms circles his neck, attempting to gain the help needed as you can't help but let your pace fade. Repeated whines leave you, breathed straight into John's ear, making a breathy chuckle pass his lips.

"Gettin' all whiny when you can't do it yourself, eh?" He teases, shuffling beneath you to plant his feet on the floor, enabling himself to fuck into you from below, meeting each roll of your hips with a thrust.

Your legs tremble, strength vanishing upon the added pleasure, making John wrap his strong arms tightly around your waist, forcing you to slump against his chest as you're kept stationary in his lap.

John's repeated movements make your toes curl as your burning thighs relish when dropping onto his lap, feeling him going deeper into you than before.

You can fully relax as you bounce with each powerful snap of his hips, reaching something so deep inside a zip of electricity shoots up your spine.

One of your hands digs beneath his shirt, enveloping his back, nails carving red trails into his muscles. His shirt rides up, making his tensing abs peek forth and something goes off in your brain, which makes you melt against him.

You're in his house. An almost too-dreamy evening behind you. The moment at the patio. Fucking on his couch. Half-clothed but not desperate, almost feeling like you made...

And that's when you start babbling, the feelings too many, too overwhelming.

"J-John, John, I'm gonna- I'm... you, f-fuck, shit". Your words are a mumbled mess compared to your thoughts filled with a single four-lettered word compromising your feelings.

"Come on, love, I've got you", he mumbled and his word made your orgasm rip through your, shockingly compared to the first one as you hadn't felt the crest of this one near.

You jolt in his hold, forehead leaning against his as you shudder, a broken moan leaving your parted lips. He comes almost immediately after. As if your surprised high tipped him over his similarly unnoticed edge.  

For a few seconds, you only hear the pounding in your ears. Then, slowly, you notice the breaths, air swishing past your lips on each in and exhale. First your own, then John's puffing against your face. Next, you feel his sweaty forehead against yours, realising you're still pressed close to him.

You raise your head, which makes John's eyes flutter open, partly lidded as he watches you. Lazy smiles curl both your lips upward.

You lean down, the kiss is slow to be initiated, your limps simply lingering against one another before neither of you can keep away any longer.

When you part, you become acutely aware of his warm spend inside you. You attempt to wriggle off his lap to stop the sensation that makes your body quiver. But his heavy hands keep you still, causing your mixed juices to trickle around him nestled deep inside you.

"Stay like that", John mumbles.

"But-"

"Hm, not buts. Wanna have the pretty picture of you in this dress, creaming my cock just a bit longer". God, you're set on fire by his drawled sentence, hiding your face in his neck.

"John, you can't say things like that", you complain, face feeling like it radiates against his already heated skin.

If his satisfied chuckle isn't enough, the smugness in his voice tells you he isn't the slightest ashamed. "Can and will". You shake your head, burrowing yourself further into the crevice between his neck and shoulder. He exhales amusedly as one of his hands settles on your back, rubbing up and down soothingly.

You relax into him. "Didn't I say it would end the same?" You breathily sigh.

John hums at first, taking a few moments to deduce what you meant. "You knew what you were doin'". You emerge from his neck, looking down at him. Upon feeling your attention on him, his eyes flicker open.

"Maybe", you reply with a small smile. John rolls his eyes at you before settling his hand that's rubbed your back on your neck, pressing damp strands of hair against your sweat-covered skin.

"Yes, you did", he hums. You shrug, which makes him tug you down into a kiss.

"Can't deny you did the same", you part from him for a second to say. "With your staring and touches in the kitchen".

"Hm, fancy havin' someone to cook with", he said with a small smile and tilt of his head. "Could say I like havin' you around".

Your chuckle. "Well, I would hope so". John smiles up at you for a few seconds and presses a lingering kiss to your lips before saying anything.

"How much did you pack?"

You cock a brow, smile slowly curving your lips. "What would you think if I told you enough for a few days?"

His eyebrows jump. "Planned to stay the weekend, eh?"

"Suspected that you would ask". John chuckled heartily at that, making you bounce in his lap. It died off in a deep sigh as his hands dropped to your hips, thumbs circling your hipbones.

"Right you were".

You linger in the post-orgasmic euphoria a while longer. Sharing kisses and soft caresses until the stickiness between your legs grow uncomfortable, much like your sweat-slicked skin.

"Have a shower here that ain't in pieces and that I can use?" John chuckles before answering.

"Can use the one in my room".

You nod, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you attempt to get off his lap. But his hand remain firm on your hips. "John?" His name is a question of why he doesn't let you go.

"Only lettin' you go if it's an open invite".

"And you called me a menace". You roll your eyes, despite not being against showering with this man pressed close to you. "Come on then". He let you slide from his lap, allowing you to tug him from the couch.

As your dress fell around your thighs again, John pulled on his slack, bare underneath.

"Going commando, not scared you'll dirty them?" His eyes jumped towards you as he made a scene of picking up your panties and putting them in his pocket. His boxers followed but were stuffed much less delicately into the other one.

"If you didn't notice, love, you already soaked them". He grins as your eyes flicker to his groin and the partly zipped-up pants. Indeed there was a half-shiny stain on the front.

You flush, cursing him under your breath, which only makes him laugh and pull at your skirt, making you step towards him.  

"No need to be embarrassed, love", he kisses your cheek as you defiantly turn your head.

"No need to be so smug about it". You turn to John, looking up at him through your lashes. But it's hard to remain pouty when he softly kisses the side of your mouth, then your lips, despite the glint in his eyes.

"I'll make it up to you", he mumbles in-between sweet pecks before nodding for you to take the lead towards his room and shower.

This time, you're walking ahead as the two of you ascend the stairs, only to stall halfway when you catch a grunt and deep breath from John. You stop to glance over your shoulder.

"Doing good?" You watch his eyes flicker from somewhere low to meet your eyes.

"Real good", he says, stepping up to you. He kisses you briefly, remaining a breath away when he pulls away, looking at you. "But don't be surprised if we need to shower twice. This sight is a weakness for any man".

You hadn't noticed how his hand crept underneath the hem of your dress and beneath your skirt. But, at the end of his sentence, his fingers reached your bare pussy, swirling his fingers around your folds, sticky with both your juices. You gasp, eyes widening.

Though oversensitivity hasn't settled yet, his dirty action and the realisation he must have had a downright filthy view of your nakedness when walking behind you is the main reason for your reaction.

"You're fucking insatiable, John Price". Your pitched voice makes him smirk, pulling away his fingers.

"All for you, love". John's hand settles on your thigh, dotting your skin with your combined arousal as he tilts his head. You can't deny him the kiss he leaned in for after those words that already makes your achingly warm heart jump a beat.

When you pull away, you shake your head. "At this rate, I expect something sweet when we cuddle later".

"Asking for dessert, love?"

"Yes, I am", you huff, continuing up the stairs, feeling his eyes on you as you reach the top and step onto the solid ground of the second floor.

"Maybe you're the dessert, eh?" Walked right into that one, you think. Still, you send him a look.

"Dog, a downright dog", you scold him, but John only grins in return as he progresses up the stairs.

Your scold clearly doesn't work when John opens his arms with a suggestive wink. It makes you slap his chest when he joins you on stable ground. Though neither that deters him as he loops his arms around your upper arms, caging you against him with a defeated and delighted escaping you as you two stumble towards his room.