Traces of You

Hi, folks! It's literally been three and a half years since our last post. Being in the state of mind that I've been in for a few months (and missing writing fanfiction), I decided to take inspiration from one of Nick's latest Instagrams and write something. So, hopefully, you enjoy it. <3 br="" deejae="">

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12:53 a.m.

The digital clock blinks, redness filling your sight as your eyes become wearier by the second. You have been sitting in this swivel chair for hours now, your ass forming to the cushion and your posture worse than it was at the start of the afternoon. A day of filling out Excel sheets and querying on Access has left you with rows and columns etched in your mind, and your forearms have indents where you’ve rested them on your keyboard and desk.

It is time to go home.

By the time you leave the office, campus is quiet. Your heels tap against the linoleum and you swipe your key card in front of the reader, waiting for the beep before you swing the door open. The office is empty, except for the nice old woman who is always there to clean up around the same time every night.

“Home, finally?” she asks, just as she does every night.

“Yeah.” You sigh, holding the door open to look at her. You purse your lips and exhale, hair flying upwards. “Welcome Week is coming up, so I’ve got to make sure the student groups know where to meet our point person to grab their tables and chairs, and I’ve got to make sure I’ve contacted all of the vendors, then I have to—”

“Go home,” she interrupts, one hand on her broom, the other lifted as a gesture for you to stop. She points at the file accordion and portfolios in your arms. “You work too hard.”

You smile.

“So do you, Yuki.”

With an exchange of goodbyes, you pivot on your heel and descend the steps to the main plaza of the campus. The traffic lights of the nearby intersection are already blinking red, the usually trafficked area of Telegraph and Bancroft completely barren except for a few sleeping vagrants taking refuge in the pockets of space near the closest shops.

Walking half a mile down the block, you pause in front of your car to unlock it, quickly getting in. It takes no more than a few seconds to throw the files into your passenger seat, and you leave your familiar parking space with haste.

You turn on the air conditioner and radio, both at their highest volumes to prepare yourself for the twenty-minute drive home, and sleep is already desperately trying to win you over. Your phone blares loudly, whipping you out of cruise mode, and you take a glance at the screen, scanning the road quickly for any cops.

I’ll be home in twenty, you tell yourself before putting your phone back in the cup holder. Your boyfriend will understand.

The drive is quick, as it usually is at this hour, and before you know it, you’re pulling into the driveway of the two-bedroom condo that you share with your significant other. The light in one of the bedrooms is on, and you realize he’s still awake. You frown. He must have stayed awake to wait for you.

You reach over to the passenger seat and hoist the materials back into your arms, releasing another heavy breath. The semester begins in three weeks, and there is still so much work to be done. You are already planning your second all-nighter this week.

You also start orchestrating the explanation you’ll offer to your boyfriend when he lectures you to stop bringing your work home. He is too used to this.

You glance at your wristwatch, grimacing when the hands read 1:28, and you head towards the front door of your home, locking the door as you walk. As you step through the doorway, you kick your heels off to the side, using your foot to slam the door shut. It registers in your mind that you are home and just as fast as you had walked through the door, you feel the sleepiness in your eyes pull your weight down and you cannot believe how tired you are.

Desperate, you throw your belongings onto the table near you—your files, your keys, your purse, and anything else you happened to find in your pockets. The stairs are mere feet from you, and you are too tired to be surprised by the speed with which you ascend them.

The door to your master bedroom is ajar, light filtering through the tiny open spaces around the door. As you begin to unbutton your blouse and use your toe to nudge open the door, your jaw drops and your hands fall to your side.

“Nick,” you breathe. The sound is caught in your throat as you watch your boyfriend sprawled out on the bed with his clothes in small piles on the floor. His head is thrown back on the pillow he is leaning against, one hand grasping the blankets with the other wrapped around his cock. He is pumping himself, eyes shut and his bottom lip cradled between his teeth. He lets out a moan as his eyes flutter open.

“Hey,” he greets you weakly, and you feel the bravado of his voice. It is enough to wake you up, if only slightly. Your eyes fawn over him, analyzing every fold and angle of his body—the bulk of his arm as he continues to pump himself slowly, the curve of his fingers around his shaft, the creases in the muscles of his abdomen, the sheen of sweat that covers his chest, and the glisten of his cock as he rubs the head and uses his own wetness to lubricate himself. The sound is slick as skin moves against skin, and it is enough to make you tighten your legs and stimulate yourself.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is shaky. Or you’re stuttering. You can’t really process anything at the moment.

“I was waiting for you. Or, well,” he stops to take in a deep breath, and his hand slows, “I tried to invite you, but you sent me straight to voicemail. So, I had to go with alternative methods.”

“You’re kidding me. I… I was driving home from work. I’m exhausted.”

“Join me,” he says simply. You recognize the smirk forming in his lips.

Smug bastard.

“In bed? Sure. I’d love to sleep.” You jerk yourself out of the trance, enough to move your feet, but he stops you with one word when you round the corner of the bed.

“No.”

You stand, confused.

His hand has maintained its same speed, but the sound of his going up and down, and back again, makes the hair at the back of your neck stand on end.

“Excuse you?” You find the words, but aren’t sure if they’re coherent.

“You know the rule for this bed.” He moans, arching his back off of the bed as his hand quickens. It is enough to make you whimper. You give in to him.

“What’s the rule?”

His eyebrows cock upwards, his lip caught between his teeth again. He twists his body slightly towards yours, his dog tag, resting on his chest, glimmers in the light of the lamp.

“You’re only allowed in the bed if you have no clothes on.”

“Nick,” you whimper. “Come on—”

“You? Yeah, sure, if you want me to.”

The proposal makes your jaw drop and you inhale sharply.

“Fine. N-No clothes.” You start pulling at the fabric of your blouse that is tucked into your skirt. Starting from the top, you begin to unbutton.

“Slowly,” he demands, his voice rough.

Intrigued, you feel a smile creep onto your face. You decide to have fun with him, no longer sleepy, but anxious.

“Hmm, you want me to strip for you, Nicholas?”

“Fuck.”

You smile through pursed lips and take a tissue box from the nightstand, tossing it his way.

“Wipe your hands. They’ve been doing what my mouth is supposed to.” You lick your lips, and you watch Nick’s chest rise and fall quickly. He wipes his hands and moves the box and used tissues to the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes following you as you move to the foot of the bed.

With a smile, you start with the button at your cleavage. The fabric is thin in your hands, the buttons tiny between your fingertips. Little by little, more flesh is revealed and you see Nick’s toes curl. When your hands reach the bottom of your blouse, you shimmy your shoulders and let the fabric fall to the floor. Your bra doesn’t leave much to the imagination, the pinkness of the cups wrapped in black lace. Nick traces the roundness of your breasts with his eyes, and you unhook your bra at the front, separating the bow clasp that keeps the two cups together.

“Oh, my god.” Nick reaches for his cock, but you stop him.

“You’ve touched yourself enough, Nick. It’s my turn. But, you have to be a good boy and wait.” He whimpers, balling his fists at his side in a quiet tantrum.

You move the cups from your chest, letting your breasts fall naturally, the skin breathing for the first time in hours. You smirk; that may have been more pleasurable for you than for Nick. You wink at him from across the bed and he responds by shaking his head. You two love to torture each other.

Removing the bra from your body, you hold it at the tip of your index finger before tossing it to the side, on top of the pile of Nick’s clothes. No longer concealed by fabric and padding, your nipples harden and you caress yourself, teasing him a bit as you pinch the peak of your own breasts.

“Mine,” he grumbles. “My job.”

He has been reduced to one-syllable words. You chuckle.

“Just wait.” Resting your hands at your side, you slowly unzip your pencil skirt, letting it fall to the floor, and step out of the ring fabric that it creates. You stop at the lacy panties, the cheeks of your ass hanging out. You turn to face your backside towards Nick, shaking your ass from side to side to tease him.

“Fuck. I… I can’t do this anymore.” Nick gets onto his knees and crawls towards you. He kneels at the foot of the bed, pulling you close to him, your back against his chest, his cock against your ass. You feel his hardness and gasp, putting your hand between your bodies and taking full hold of him. His cock feels hot in your palm and as you touch him, he nuzzles the back of your neck with his face, placing small kisses on your shoulder and neck, the moistness of his lips making quiet noises as he does so.

His hand wraps around your body, resting on the area where your stomach meets your waist, and he kisses the top of your spine.

“Let me make love to you. Please.” He is begging. He whimpers, he moans, and he whispers your name. He reaches to the top of your head, unclasping the hair clip there. Your hair falls onto your shoulders in waves, and the smell of your shampoo envelopes the both of you. “I love how you smell, and… and how you taste.” He kisses you again, right where your neck meets your shoulder, this time with an open mouth. You feel his tongue trace circles as he sucks, the noise making your knees weak. You know there will be marks tomorrow.

His hands and body leave you for a moment, and you frown. Turning yourself to face him, you see him seated on the bed, his legs over the side. He is smiling and reaching for your hands with his own, and it feels electric when his fingers touch yours.

Nick leans forward and gives you a light kiss, right between your breasts, and swiftly, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your panties before pulling them down your legs. He silently prompts you to step out of them, tossing them aside when you do.

“How do you do that?” you ask him. You straddle him, your knees on either side of his hips and your hips raised above his lap. The heat of his cock is intoxicating.

“What?” He sounds like he is in a daze. He catches your body, one arm wrapped around your waist, and he uses the other to prop himself up, his fist digging into the bed.

“Ten minutes ago, I was exhausted. Now, all I wanna do is fuck you senseless.”

“I—”

His eyes are glistening, and he cannot believe the words that have just left your mouth. His free hand is tracing lines into your back before he opens his hand and cups your ass.

“Your wish is my command.”

Nick leans backwards onto the bed, bringing you with him, and attaches his lips to yours. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, pulling at it with his teeth. You feel the heat in the skin of your lips, and he does it again. He moans, his hands exploring your backside. His fingers trace your shoulder blades, then he presses softly into your spine, keying in piano notes against your skin and he stops at your hips.

Your arms are holding you up, a hand on either side of his head, and you have to stop for a moment. Your lips leave his, a tiny ‘smack!’ when it happens, and you wink at him again.

“Get up higher on the bed,” you instruct him. He looks confused, but you point to the pillows. He complies, resting his back against the pillows, his head against the wooden headboard.

“What are you doing?”

You place a finger to your lips to quiet him, resting your palms on his knees before you widen the space between his legs. You crawl closer to him, settling your body in the space that you’ve just made, and your face meets his. You leave a kiss on his cheek. And then his jaw.

You kiss his chest. You crawl backwards.

A kiss on the muscle of his abdomen. And then the other. And then another.

You trace his vee cuts with your tongue, and then finally settle at his belly. You leave a trail of kisses down, then rest your palms on his hips. You hear him whimper as you run your palms downwards, closer and closer to his cock before finally wrapping around the shaft.

“Please,” he begs. You bite your lip to keep from laughing. It is amazing that only you can make him unravel like this. “Fuck.”

You press your lips to his head before opening your mouth and taking it between your lips.

“Shit,” he hisses, while your tongue traces the tip of it slowly. He whispers your name, one of his hands reaching for your hair. He tangles his fingers in the waves and you press onward.

He whimpers when your mouth leaves him. You look up at him, his jaw slack and his eyes barely open, but you let him watch as you moisten your palm with your tongue, enough to make it slick against his cock. You use it to grab his cock and pump him slowly, pulling his hand out of your hair and interlocking your free hand with his. He holds you tighter as you quicken the pace of your other hand.

He is squirming underneath you, and you place the tip of his cock on your tongue again. This time, you settle your hand at the base of him, letting your mouth completely devour him as far as he will go. You feel the tip of him graze the roof of your mouth, and you pull your mouth upward before sucking him in again.

You jerk him off with your mouth, and your eyes are watering, but the taste of him leaves you wanting more. You lick, and you tug, and you trace his veins, and he keeps squirming—

“Babe!” He sounds desperate. With a ‘pop!’, you remove your mouth from him and when he whimpers your name, your lift your hand from the base of his cock. “Let me taste you. I just need to taste you.”

With a quick maneuver of your bodies, you are on your back, legs folded at the knee and he spreads you wider. He disappears between your legs and you feel his breath at your center. His fingers are touching you, tracing you, and you hear him breathing heavily. He leaves a kiss on your knee, then leaves a path from there and down your thigh. He crawls forward, his face tucked between your thighs, the back of your legs resting on his shoulders. He leaves one more kiss before nuzzling his mouth between your lips.

Your back arches and your hands reach for his. Your fingers meet and intertwine, and you pull at his hands. He takes one back, propping himself up on an elbow before pushing one of your legs further to the side.

“You taste so good,” he states simply. He parts your lips with his fingers and the sensation sends you reeling. His tongue traces the outline of your lips and go upwards—up, up, up until his tongue circles your clit. Your knees jerk, and he holds you close as his mouth closes around your clit and he sucks lightly, changing the intensity as he continues. His pursed lips circle your clit and he sucks, making you writhe against the bed, the sheets shifting around.

“Nick, stop.” It is your turn to beg. You thrash against the covers, and whimper when his mouth leaves you. “I need—I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” he breathes. “I can do that.”

He kisses you once more on the thigh and crawls over your body, kissing up your stomach, up your chest—your skin burns where his facial hair has brushed against it. Finally, he kisses you on the mouth and you taste yourself on the tip of his tongue, grunting against him as he presses his body into yours.

Hooking your knees around each of his elbows, he positions his cock against your entrance and you feel the pulse and heat of your bodies. Both of you are breathing erratically, your chests heaving upwards and downwards as you wait for him to make his move. His eyes search yours and finally he asks.

“You’re ready?” He asks it so innocently but his voice is unwavering, deep in his baritone. He breathes with a slack jaw, your legs still in his arms.

“Baby, I need you inside me.” He smiles, his mouth crooked and his eyes blinking slowly. “Fuck me already.”

And that is all he needs before he presses inside of you, leaning his body into yours, your legs spreading wider as he presses them further apart. Your body takes him in with ease, the slickness of his cock pressing into the soft warmth of your heat. You gasp, lifting your head from the bed for a moment as he pushes himself as far as your body will allow.

He grits his teeth, and you feel his breath as he blows air against your shoulder. He leaves a trail of kisses from one collarbone to the next, and then dips his tongue in notch between them both, licking up your throat and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw before meeting his lips to yours.

He thrusts forward, slow first. You don’t know where to focus your sensations first—he releases one leg and lets it rest on the bed, hooking the other behind his back, pressing himself into you at a different angle. You moan into his mouth and lift your hand to bury your fingers into his hair.

“Baby,” he whimpers. His bottom lip is caught between both of yours, and he winces when you nibble lightly, pleasure taking over him as he quickens his hips. His jerks become erratic, and you pull on a handful of locks. He says your name, like a mantra and then, “Fuck.”

His forehead is resting against yours, and you feel him sliding within the softness of your pussy and with a quick rotation of his hips, he hits the nerve bundle that makes you squeal his name, high-pitched and desperate.

“Nick, baby, I need you to go faster.”

You wrap your legs around his torso, pulling his body into yours. Concentrating, he pushes himself onto his knees, lifting his body at an angle before thrusting his hips into yours—he hisses when you clench around him, both of you enjoying the shift. His arms are flexed around your head, his weight resting on his palms as he gasps with each thrust. There are droplets of sweat on his biceps, slowly making their way down the lines in his arms.

His necklace dangles from his neck, the dog tags resting on the center of your chest, and they clink with each thrust as his body and yours writhe in pleasure. As his hips quicken, you feel him shifting on his knees again. Licking your lips, you reposition your legs around his waist and push your hips upward, meeting his thrust with your own.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead onto yours. “You’re going to make me explode—I… fuck, I’m so close. Baby, touch yourself. Can you do that for me? Touch yourself while I fuck you like this. I want you to come with me.”

You respond with an incomprehensible moan, exhaling with his name at the tip of your tongue. He slows down for a moment, letting you readjust. You rest a leg on the bed and he holds the other at his hip, pressing your knee towards your body to spread you wider. You lift your index and middle fingers to Nick’s lips, pressing them against his soft bottom lip before pressing them into his mouth to moisten the tips of them. He bites lightly at the pads of your fingers, and your eyes roll backward as you bite the corner of your mouth. He sucks on your fingers for a moment before licking and biting them once more.

“Fuck you,” you breathe, punctuating each word slowly.

Hastily, you reach down to touch yourself, first feeling the hardness of Nick’s throbbing cock as it enters and retreats from your entrance. Your senses are swimming in this moment. The feel of your bodies connected, the scent of his sweat and cologne, the sound of his breath against your temple, the sight of him unfolding as he holds himself above you, and the taste of his tongue as he kisses you again, his tongue searching for yours.

You press your fingers against the hood of your clit, circling against it softly. You let out a soft breath, moaning in response to the sensation of all that is happening to you. Nick’s speed picks up, his body damp with his own sweat, and you feel him pulsing between your walls. Both of you are teetering over the edge.

“Together,” he says, teeth clenched. “I feel you, baby, and fuck, it feels so good. Let’s… Let’s do this together, okay? I want us to come together.”

“Mmhmm,” you nod. You lift your hand away from your heat, pressing your fingers back to Nick’s lips and he moans an expletive in response to the taste on your fingers, darting his tongue out to taste you.

You hold your arms out and wrap them around his chest, resting your palms on his shoulder blades. You rest them on the angles of his muscles and dig your nails into the taut skin there. He hisses when you scratch into him, thrusting faster.

“Nick, I’m almost there,” you say, desperation in your voice as your pitch grows higher. “Touch me.”

He obliges, pressing his thumb to your clit and thrusting forward quicker. The headboard is hitting the wall, the mattress softly squeaking as his movements become rapid. He presses onward and continues, touching you, fucking you—your nerves are on fire, and his lips meet yours. Digging your nails into his back, you scratch and pull and writhe against the bed. You feel the tingle start at the pit of your stomach, and that familiar feeling is back and before you have time to reacquaint yourself with the feeling, your walls begin to shudder and your hips lift from the bed.

“Fuck,” Nick groans, thrusting more, slowly this time, and removing his hand from your pussy. He rests on his elbows, muttering more expletives as he rides out the sensation.

“Oh, god,” you groan, your hips twisting to meet his as you, too, reel from your orgasm. You feel his thickness still inside of you, the wetness of your bodies making the movements so easy and natural. Finally, he stops. He collapses onto his elbows, his chest pressed against yours. You hold yourself still, breathing in sharp short breaths as you slowly come down from your high.

“Unbelievable,” he laughs. It is a soft laugh, and you smile when you see the look on his face. His eyes are soft, heavy-lidded, but his grin—oh, god, that smile. “That was incredible.”

He presses his lips to your neck—licking and sucking and kissing and breathing in your scent. He smiles against your skin, and you let your eyes flutter shut as you, too, inhale the smell of him.

“You can sleep now,” he says, his mouth forming a smirk. He lifts his hips away from yours, his cock leaving you feeling just a little empty, and collapses next to you, resting on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes your body, then places his free palm on your hip, tracing circles into your bone there.

“I can’t believe I came home to you like that.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I was feeling experimental.”

You laugh and shake you head, responding, “I can’t believe you.”

“Well now,” he says, wrapping his arms around your naked body and pulling you close to spoon you, “you can sleep—” he kisses your shoulder, “—and sleep in tomorrow—” he kisses behind your ear, “—and we can do this all over again when you wake up.”

The exhausting is coming over you as your shut your eyes, your breath relaxing as Nick continues to kiss you.

“You’re absurd,” you manage to say. “I have to work in the morning.”

He laughs, and you are almost offended before he responds.

“It’s Saturday, workaholic.” He points to the clock. “You don’t have to go back until Monday… Now go to sleep, babe.”

The last things you remember before succumbing to sleep are the butterfly kisses Nick is leaving on your neck, and his arms wrapped around your torso like he will never let you go. And as you begin to dream, you know that he won’t.

Becoming Reality

Hey, guys, I know it's been ages. I'm so sorry! I'm slowly trying to start writing again, so I'm also sorry if this lacks a certain ~pizazz~ I used to have. ♥

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The dress:


+++

When Jen gets home, she isn’t entirely sure how to react. Her apartment has a faint layer of fog emanating from the kitchen and for a moment, she thinks she forgot to turn off the stove before leaving for class. Despite the spike in her heart rate, she does not try to move; she cannot.

“Bug, is that you?”

A voice calls for her from the kitchen, but it sounds further away than it should. She recognizes the voice and that in itself is enough reason for her to walk towards the source of the smoke. Coughing just a little, Jen fans away some smoke as she walks down the short hallway and makes sure to open the patio door to let the air filter out.

“Joseph.” His name comes out in more of a sigh than anything else.

When the kitchen comes into her field of view, she has to stop and take a mental picture. Her jaw drops slightly, her eyes skimming the small area of space that has a two-burner stove and a pathetic excuse for a refrigerator. She almost frowns; her boyfriend, a man who is used to hotel rooms as big as her entire apartment, seems like a giant in a miniature dollhouse.

“Bug! I wanted to surprise you.” He does not look at her, but continues to stir whatever it is he is making in a saucepan. The smell is overwhelming; there is the usual thick scent of gravy with a hint of frosting accompanying it. Jen almost laughs, but stops at a smile; she thinks it is embarrassing that she just knows the smell of frosting.

Finally, she realizes that this is more than just her boyfriend making a surprise visit. He should be halfway around the world right now.

“What are you doing here? How did you get inside my apartment? When did you get here? Why are you cooking? What—”

“Whoa,” Joe laughs. “That’s enough questions for now, Quizmaster. I’m cooking because I know my girlfriend is a total foodie; I got here sometime after you left for your film history class; I have a key because, like a creeper, I had one copied when you first moved in; and finally, I am here—” He sets the spoon down on a paper towel and looks at her, a stain of flour on his cheek, “—because I need to be.”

“What are you talking about?” Jen’s tense shoulders fall when she hears his answers. “I thought you guys were doing some benefit concert in Zurich or something. You told me you wouldn’t be home for Christmas.”

Joe grabs the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder and wipes the remnants of flour from his hands, taking slow steps towards Jen with a crooked smirk on his face. He sets his hands on her shoulders and leans forward, pressing a kiss to the apple of her right cheek.

“Yeah, um, that was a little lie.”

Incredulous, her eyes widen and her jaw falls lower as she swats his bicep with an open hand. She watches him wince and hides a smile, flicking his shoulder for added effect.

“You liar!”

“Well, it’s not like I was going to tell you, ‘Oh hey, Jenbug, I’m going to surprise you with dinner and dessert on Christmas Eve - be surprised!”’ That wouldn’t have elicited this reaction - look, you’re blushing!”

She has to smile, then. She feels the heat on her cheeks and touches the back of her hands to her face, the warmth comforting her frozen fingers. When Joe reaches for the scarf around her neck and unravels it, she feels the chill running along her spine.

“Plus,” he whispers with the scarf between his fingers, pressing his lips to her collarbone, “I wanted to show you that I can cook without anyone’s help. Which, oh yeah, I totally can.”

“What are you cooking?” she asks, pulling away from him with bright, excited eyes. “It actually smells good.”

Jen walks to the stove and tries to peer into a pot, but is shocked when Joe yells “No, not yet!” and runs to stand between her and the still-cooking dishes.

“Are you serious?” she asks, wanting to laugh at the serious expression on his face.

“Yes,” he replies quickly. “Now, go take a shower and change because I know you’re tired after taking the last of your final. I want tonight to be special, so I need you to be as comfortable as possible.”

When he stops to finally take a breath, Jen finally breaks. She laughs, throwing her head back with a large grin on her face. She hugs him, her fingers tugging lightly on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Joseph, I love you.”

He sighs, breathing her in as he presses his lips to hers for a short moment. Just as quick as it happened, it is over.

“Now, go.”

Letting out another laugh, she nods her head and does as he says.

+++

When she steps out of the steaming shower, Jen notices the smell of the meal has gotten even stronger. She stops to inhale and lets a smile rest on her lips, appreciating the work she knows Joe put into the surprise.

She tightens the towel around her body, letting her hair lay damp against her shoulders as she runs quickly from the bathroom to her room. After she shuts the door behind her, it doesn’t take long to see the dress bag Joe set on her bed.

“Yes, you have to wear that!” she hears him say from the kitchen. It is like he can read her mind, regardless of the distance between them. Excited, she unzips the bag and a breath catches in her throat.

The dress is a beautiful strapless that she assumes would reach just above her knees. The peach satin peeking through the black lace over the bust of the dress shines against the light coming from her reading lamp, and she traces the intricate designs as well as the satin sash that wraps around the torso.

The chiffon that makes up the dress’s skirt makes her laugh; she remembers telling Joe that frilly dresses make her feel like a rockstar. The chiffon is tiered, giving the dress an even fancier look. She shuts her eyes, imagining what his face must have looked like as he chose it in the store.

“That one,” she is sure he said. “It’s perfect.”

And it is.

+++

By the time he hears Jen call for him, Joe is done setting the table with candles and a small bouquet of white roses he prepared himself. He brushes his palms on his dress pants, pausing for a moment to curse himself for doing it. When he hears heels click against the linoleum, he turns around and stops to see Jen leaning against the entry to the kitchen and he is sure that the world, for at least a millisecond, has stopped spinning on its axis.

“Jen,” he breathes, his eyes glistening, “I would say that you’re beautiful, but I don’t think that even begins to cover it.”

He rolls his eyes when she starts to list off reasons why she shouldn’t be wearing something like this.

“But my arms! I hate them, and this dress is beautiful, but my arms! And, my God, my feet; my huge feet in these heels. I wish I had your eyeglass prescription because I want to see that beauty that you claim to see.”

“Stop it.” Joe takes quick steps towards her, his palms on her shoulders as he searches his eyes. “You are gorgeous. I look at you and I kid you not, I am always left breathless. You’re beautiful; whether in this dress, or sweats and a tee shirt, you’re perfect.”

She lets the words sink in, chewing on her bottom lip.

“No, I have to change.”

Jen turns around, wrapping her arms around herself. As she steps into the hallway towards her room, she feels a rush of air as Joe’s hands reach for her. When he spins her around, she avoids his gaze and shakes her head.

“Jennifer, stop it. You look beautiful. Plus,” Joe smiles. “You won’t be wearing clothes for too long after this.”

A laugh escapes her mouth in the form of a gasp, her eyes widening in surprise. When he winks and shrugs his shoulders with an open-mouthed smirk on his face, she shakes her head again and remembers he is the one who makes her feel beautiful. Finally, she believes him.

“Now, sit down. I took time getting this all ready for you, so I hope you enjoy it.”

“Joseph, it smells so good,” she assures him when she gets to the neatly set table. “But, really, you didn’t have to do this. You know I don’t mind takeout, as much as I appreciate you preparing all of this.”

“Yes, I did. I know I’m not going to be here for Christmas and I figured I’d give you your presents early. You know, even if it’s only a whole two days early,” he shrugs. His back is turned to her as he grabs a ladle sitting atop a spoon rest, using it to stir what she assumes is gravy in a small saucepan.

“Is that…” she gasps, running over to the counter where a bowl of white fluff is waiting to be served. “Potatoes! Oh, my God, yum! And—Joseph, I can’t believe you made turkey and ham for just the two of us.”

When Jen turns around to look at him, Joe is blushing. She thinks maybe it’s the heat of the stove until he bites his lip and smiles crookedly, “Um, about that – I didn’t want to, like, burn anything like that, so I kind of stole some that mom made. I hope you’re not mad.”

“At you?” she takes his hands in hers, forcing his body to face hers. She wraps her arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to hers. When their noses touch, she presses forward and leaves a light kiss on his lips. “I could never.”

+++

By the time the microwave reads nine o’clock, Jen is already full of food. There really aren’t any words to describe how good the food is, but Joe takes her “ohmygosh”’s and “so yummy!”’s as enough of feedback. She sees that he has barely touched his food, telling him, “Stop making me feel like such a fatty when you’re over there nibbling on peas.”

“What?” he laughs, “I’m not that hungry after slaving over a stove for two hours. You know me; I do too many taste tests in the name of science so by the time I’m done cooking, I feel like I’ve eaten an entire meal.”

She rolls her eyes. Of course.

“So Chef Joseph, what’s on the menu for after dinner?” she winks across the table.

“Slow down, Bug.” He has to laugh at her eagerness. “We’re so backwards sometimes.”

“How so?”

“I would totally think of food after making love, whereas you would be able to jump me right after a meal.”

She blushes at the way he says it.

“Well, I’ve only got you for so long; I’m impatient!”

“Here, let’s make a deal: I’ll finish cleaning up in here, that should take me at least half an hour,” he smirks, “and you can go start watching one of the movies I rented for you. They’re on top of your TV.”

Holding back excitement, she smiles and kisses him on the forehead before racing from the kitchen to her equally tiny living room. On top of the entertainment center are stacks of DVDs she remembers watching with Joe when they first started dating: Titanic, Saw, Star Wars, Romeo and Juliet, Garden State, Harry Potter, Twilight, The Hills Have Eyes, High School Musical—

She wants to laugh at the variety.

Finally, she spots a box with multicolored letters and claps her hands, smiling as she opens it and puts the DVD into the player. A few moments later, the music sounds through the TV speakers and she waits for the movie to play. When Joe lets out a groan from the kitchen in reaction to the music, she giggles.

“You love it, don’t lie!”

The main character breaks into song in the opening scene, and Jen sings along with redone lyrics: “Good morning, San Diego! There’s my boyfriend who cooks good food. He’s a totally awesome dude!—”

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Joe says, still yelling from the kitchen.

Jen just laughs.

+++

Before Jen can sing along to “Without Love”, Joseph is already waltzing into the room with a cupcake in his hand. Jen stares at him like he’s holding a brick of gold because when the silver sitting on top of the cake catches some of the light from the lamp on the opposite side of the room, she feels like she’s dreaming.

“What is this?” If anyone were to ask, she would deny that he voice is shaking.

“Jennifer…” he says slowly, his eyes shining. Jen knows he’s crying; she can hear the shakiness in his voice, too. “I know it seems too soon, and I know there are a million reasons you’d say no, but just hear me out.”

He hasn’t even asked and already, she is sobbing.

“First of all, I love you. I hope you know that, because I know I don’t say that enough. Second of all, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m not always here to hold you when you’re scared, or available to talk on the phone when you need some assurance that you are remarkable; I’m sorry that I can’t be here twenty-four-seven to kiss you and hug you and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. I’m so sorry that I’m rambling right now because, seriously, I don’t even know where to begin.

When you walked into my life not even two years ago, I was a complete mess. I didn’t know where my life was going, and I wasn’t sure if anyone could help me out of that rut. But you… God, you don’t even know how much I appreciated you talking to me like I was a normal human being. All I needed was someone to be there, and you were. Whether it was just a text message, or a frantic lunch date scheduled twenty minutes before – Jennifer, you have always been there for me.”

Listening to him speak almost proves too much for Jen. Tears have already found their way down her cheeks, making tiny splashes when they hit the bodice of her dress. Her hands are covering her mouth, small sounds emitted from her throat as she continues to cry.

When Joe gets down on one knee, she loses it.

“Jennifer, I want to be there for you. And, okay, I know that’s a completely ridiculous statement, right? Because, well, you don’t have to be married to be there for somebody, I know. But, Jen, I love you so much and I just want everyone to know, and I would be the luckiest person in this galaxy if you said yes.” He pauses to wipe the tears that have gathered at his eyelids.

“You’re my everything and I think about you all the time; every second, everywhere. I thought it was physically impossible to do that, to just think about one person every second of everyday, but it’s possible, Jen. It’s so completely possible and I don’t want to spend another day on tour lying through my teeth, telling them I have a ‘special girl in my heart’ because, damn it, I want to shout it from the rooftops.”

He jumps to his feet, startling Jennifer when he does, and waves his hands in the air.

“I, Joseph Adam Jonas, love my girlfriend, Jennifer, with my entire heart and I want – I need the whole world to know that I am willing to do anything for her.” He falls to his knees again with the cupcake in his palm, holding it in front of her face. “So, Jennifer, will you please marry me?”

Her fingers are clasped around each other tightly, her thumbnails digging crescents into her skin. Her sobs have calmed, her tears drying; she has to inhale-exhale deeply before she is able to talk. Even when her heart stops beating a million times per second, she has to take a moment to collect her thoughts.

Joe begins to shake, leaning on his one knee, and his face looks uneasy. He hears her sigh and isn’t sure what she’s going to say.

“Yes.” She says it, no louder than a whisper, so he has to hear it again. “Joseph, I would love to call you my husband.”

When she says it, the word ‘husband’, he has to think about it first. The shock is evident in his narrowed eyes; even in his most confident moment, he still had doubts that she would say yes. The corners of his mouth – pouty, pink lips with faint freckles sprinkled all over – curl upwards and he is smiling, grinning like a fool.

“Yes. You said ‘yes’, I can’t believe it.”

“What are you talking about?” Jennifer asks, her face twisted in confusion. Of course she said yes.

“Nothing, just – nothing. You said yes and I’m ecstatic.” He takes her left hand between both of his and when she flexes her fingers, he slips the silver band onto its respective digit (it has a single princess-cut diamond in the center and when she sees it, her breath catches in her throat).

“It’s so weird.” She’s laughing at herself when she says it. “We’re engaged. I have a fiancé. I am a fiancée. We’re getting married. This is, like, so surreal.”

Joe watches the blush creep onto her cheeks; he watches as it deepens when she looks at the ring again, her chest rising and falling with each deep inhalation. He never thought it was possible for her to look even more beautiful than before but the effervescent glow that surrounds her is too much for him to handle. She has never looked to breathtaking than in this moment. When she laughs, the sound reaches his ears and it is enough for him to smile, too.

“Can I kiss you?” slowly, he asks. He sounds almost nervous, like it’s their first date and he is again nineteen years old and completely naïve when it comes to life. His palms are sweating, too; he’s sure of it.

“Of course,” Jen tells him. “Of course you can kiss me.”

First, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear – they chuckle when his fingers hit the earpiece of her glasses and make them go lopsided on her face. She fixes the frames herself just as Joe leans forward and presses his lips to hers. To say the least, the kiss feels… different.

Joe, forcing himself off of his knees and to his feet, puts a palm on either side of Jen’s face and in an easier maneuver than they both imagined it to be, they are standing. Joe wraps his arms around her, his hands resting on the tail of her spine and his lips are moving, slick against hers.

“Bedroom.” It is all she has to say to get him to move, though she’s surprised he is able to understand her with their mouths so close together. He tosses the cupcake to the coffee table (he is proud when no frosting ends up on the glass) and takes her hands, leading her to the room. She whimpers when their lips are apart, but follows him stubbornly.

The dress bag is neatly folded and hanging over the back of her desk chair, but it falls to the floor when the door opens. Joe shrugs (he doesn’t want to make some cheesy joke about how he’s magical; it’s not the right time), and Jen just looks at him with a smile that refuses to leave her face.

“C’mere,” he says, leading her to the bed. He sits down on the edge of it, pulling her towards him and letting her stand between his legs. The material of the dress brushes against his jeans and it makes a subtle scratching noise when he takes a handful of it in his palms. “I love how it looks on you.”

“Liar.” He is taken aback when she says it, but sees the gleam in her eyes when he looks up at her. She is smirking, and it does not take a genius to understand where this is going. She kisses the tip of his nose and makes a trail across his cheekbones and leaves one last kiss on his earlobe. Jen whispers, “You know you’ll love it more when it’s not on me.”

“You’re so eager,” Joe teases. He gasps when Jen pushes him backwards and falls with him, her body hovering over his. She kisses his chin before covering his mouth with her own. She pins his arms to the bed and Joe realizes he is powerless. The kiss deepens quickly and just as fast, they are both moaning. Joe lefts his head and parts Jen’s lips with his tongue. She loses grip of his hands soon after that, and Joe takes the moment to push Jennifer to her feet.

“Right, I am the eager one.” She purses her lips and blows him a kiss.

“You’re like a present,” Joe says. “I want to unwrap you.”

Before he can even touch the chiffon, her hands are at his neck loosening the black tie that is wrapped around the collar of his shirt. Jen thinks he looks so elegant, yet so laid back at the same time. His shirt is not tucked into his pants, but his tie adds somewhat of a crisp touch to his outfit. When it is undone, she tosses it aside like a piece of crumpled paper.

They are breathing erratically, busily trying to undo the extra articles of clothing that are still on Joe’s body.

“Too much,” Jen grumbles. “Too many layers.”

It is an ordeal getting him down to his boxers, but a pile of his pants, shirt, tie, socks, and shoes are in the corner of the room, forgotten for the moment. Jen is standing close to him, Joe’s hands wrapped around her waist like he won’t dare let go of her. Still in the dress, her tummy is pressing against his chest while he stays seated on the bed.

“Stop stalling,” he grins, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip as he pulls away from her just a few millimeters. Once his clothes had been practically torn off, their mouths had connected like magnets and Joe had to fight to push her away. Still, no matter how hard he tried, she would not back down. He mumbles, “Fine.”

Joe reaches behind Jennifer and pulls down the zipper on the middle of her back. Slowly, he tugs it downward, resting his hand on her ass when he feels the zipper has reached the bottom. Jen steps away from him, whimpering quietly, and lets the dress fall to the floor. There is a delicate whoosh as the fabric hits the floor.

“Wait.” Joe stops, his lips already swollen, and looks at her. His hands travel down her curves, paying close attention to the hourglass of her hips. When Jennifer looks at him, his eyes are dark and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “This,” he says, “is exactly that I want to come home to every night.”

“I thought you liked me for my personality.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, but I distinctly remember you telling me–” Joe stands up and whispers harshly against her ear. He pulls her forward, forcing her hips against his own; she gasps. “–you only like me because I’m a fine ass boy who can cook and throw you against a bed if I damn well please.”

“So are we gonna keep talking, or will you just fuck me already?” Her cute, naïve façade is quickly deteriorating and Joe, for a moment (or five), is shocked at her forwardness. He smirks at her (she is rolling her eyes again) and replaces his lips over hers, suffocating any sarcastic comment that is about to leave her mouth.

Jen pushes him onto the bed and unclasps her own bra, watching Joe’s eyes move over her as she does it. The metal separates and the cups drop, revealing more soft skin. Jennifer is sure she saw Joe twitch beneath his boxers. She is giggling behind her fingers, her hand covering her mouth. She leans forward, kissing his belly and making a trail through the fine hair between his groin and belly button.

“Jeeeeen,” he groans, her moist, swollen lips touching his sensitive skin. She makes a wet line of kisses up his torso, between his pectoral muscles, and finally at his vein that extends from his collarbone and disappears at the nape of his neck. Her breasts are resting against his chest; Joe can barely breathe what with the way her hardened peaks are pressing into his. “Fuck–”

She keeps quiet, leaving love bites across Joseph’s jaw line. She can barely keep her hands to herself, and she feels herself slipping off the edge of the bed. Still, Jennifer keeps kissing him (avoiding his mouth entirely) and she can’t help but smirk against his mildly warm skin when she feels him squirming; he is whimpering, too.

“I can’t take this–”

Joe forces her onto her back and before Jen can say anything, she is letting out a string of moans as his mouth leaves a soft kiss on her sternum. He presses his lips down her tummy and up again, the tip of his tongue tracing circles into her skin. He looks down at her body, fully exposed, and kisses the peak of her breast. Jen’s jaw drops when his mouth closes over the tip of it, his tongue circling it.

“Joseph, oh my–“ He switches sides, clasping his lips over her other nipple. Not wanting any part of her to feel neglected, he cups his hands over the opposite side and massage the breast. The softness in his palms makes him swell, and his hips start to twitch against her body. Through her panties, she can feel his hardness pressing into her and it makes her shudder.

“Can I take this off?” Joe asks. His voice is soft, coaxing her out of a daze, and he is staring at her with his mouth half-open. His thumbs are hooked in the lacy waistband of her underwear and he is already tugging them down her legs. She responds with a short head nod and when he pulls harder, she covers her mouth with the back of her hands; feeling the air hit her exposed skin, she bites on her index finger.

“I don’t get it. No matter how many times we’ve done this, I still feel like it’s my first time and we’re in your hotel room, waiting for someone to wake you up for call time.” Jennifer is whispering, so quiet that Joe can barely hear her. Her heartbeat reaches his ears and he kisses her kneecap.

“You’re always nervous. But I’m here, Jen. I’m always going to be here.” He guides her legs out of the panties and throws them into a pile on the floor. He looks at her the heels that are still strapped to her feet and smirks. “Leave those on.”

He leans forward again and captures her lips in his. When he is busy sucking on her tongue (he doesn’t even try to hide the guttural moans escaping his throat), Jennifer pushes his boxers off of his hips, scratching her nails against his vee cuts just slightly, and Joe finishes the work by shimmying them off.

The heat of their bodies rises and soon enough, they are swimming in pure desire and lust.

“You’re okay, r-right? Like, you’re comfortable and stuff?” It is Joe’s turn to be nervous. He is brushing away hair over her eyes and she can’t help but feel the least bit of empathy for him. He is always like this, and it just adds to the list of reasons why she loves him.

“I am fine.” She kisses his forehead and smiles. “I wasn’t kidding – I really just want you already.”

“What do you want, Jen? Tell me, please? It’s been such a long time since we’ve done this – I want it to be right.”

“Mm, Joseph, you know I love anything and everything you do.”

He kisses her throat, nuzzling his nose against her neck and sighs when she laughs. He knows she will not articulate what she wants, so he brings her higher on the bed and makes a trail of wet kisses down her chest; he passes her belly and bites down just a little bit. She gasps, giggling when he does it, and he can smell the scent of her soap on her skin. He kisses her waist and down to her thigh, marveling at the sight of the beautiful woman just waiting for him to pleasure her.

“Can I?”

She nods, which never fails to make Joe anxious; antsy.

She is glistening, her heat welcoming him and he has to inhale-exhale a few times to calm himself. He parts her legs just a tiny bit wider and touches her. She jerks, her shoulder coming off of the bed just slightly and she lets out a loud breath. He kisses her hip again, pressing a single finger into her. She feels tight; like she said, it is like their first time.

“J-Jen, you’re soaking wet. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.” He tries to brush it off with a chuckle, but even he cannot ignore the way his heart is dancing in his chest. He is so eager, so goddamn eager that he just wants to touch her and taste her and hold her, and then do it all over again. The tip of his tongue darts forward and licks her; she yelps.

“Joe! Oh, God.” He does it again, eliciting the same response, but it comes out as more of a moan than a yell. He removes his fingers, replacing them with his tongue for a while. He massages her with it, the taste of her overwhelming his senses and he feels like he could do this all day; really, he would willingly lay there, just to know that he is the reason she is coming undone at the seams.

He kisses the hard nub and then closes his lips around it, sucking softly. Jennifer is writhing against the bed, her nails scratching against the bed sheets so hard that it sounds like ripping fabric. He uses two fingers this time, pressing them in and retreating them, only to repeat it again and again.

She is begging him for him; more tongue, more fingers, faster – no, slower. Finally, she just tells him to keep going, her words mixing together in a mush of incomprehensible sounds. He hums as he does it, tiny vibrations sending shockwaves throughout her body. She feels like she is falling, falling so fast with nothing to catch her. She loves it.

Her legs are resting on his shoulders, the heels of her shoes occasionally pressing hard into his skin. The pain grows exponentially as the throbbing in his groin intensifies. The pleasure of the pain makes his ears pulse.

Joe takes his mouth off of her, pressing a very wet kiss to her thigh and takes his fingers from her. She whimpers loudly, searching blindly for his body as he crawls up to be with her. One by one, he licks and sucks his fingers clean, smirking at her when she stares in shock.

“Jen, I just–” He kisses her, the taste of her still on his tongue and he feels her surprise when she digs her nails into his biceps. “–I want to feel you. Can we do that, Jen? Can I make love to you right now, my beautiful, beautiful fiancée?”

“Fuck, yes. Joseph, please, I want it so bad.” The entire statement comes out as a moan and both of them are shocked at how coherent she is. Joe, too, is already ready for her, the hardness of him already coated in his own fluid and he pumps himself once, twice before pushing his tip into her. The feeling is foreign for both of them, having waited so long for the moment they would be able to connect like this again.

Jennifer wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him into her as he eases himself in, too. His entire length is buried to the hilt and she can feel him brush against that soft spot inside of her that makes her head spin. Joe is supporting his weight on his palms, his hands on either side of her shoulders. He pulls back slowly and takes the same amount of time to push back in.

“Shit,” he grits his teeth as her nails scratch against his back and the heels are digging into hips. The sensations all over his body send him into overdrive and he feels the heat seeping out of his pores. Their bodies are damp and slick, moving together as one. Their movements make the mattress springs squeak, the frame of the bed swaying back and forth; the sound of the headboard hitting the wall is like a soundtrack for every thrust and every breath.

Jennifer’s hands are frantic; they touch his ears, his biceps, his fingertips, his hips – every part of him that she can reach, she has to feel for herself. He is thrusting harder, the sound of his cock retreating like a slippery noise that makes her all the more anxious. She is whimpering, his name falling from her lips like a mantra.

“Joe. Joe, Joe, Joe…” she says. He responds with another thrust that brings her that much closer to the edge.

He lavishes her in kisses, his tongue coming out flat against her skin as he tastes her. Her sweat and her scent are enough to make him feel drunk; he feels like the fucking king of the world, the way she is praising him and asking, begging for more. He does not want it to end, yet he feels the tightness in his stomach already beginning to stretch.

“Shit, Joseph. Touch me, please. Y-You know where I need you. Fuck, you know me so well.” Her eyes are boring into his, the look in them soft and pleading. She is nearing the edge, the flash of light already behind her eyes.

Joe takes one hand, his weight braced on the other, and rests it on her mound. She is slick, still so wet, when he puts his thumb to her clit. She screams, a moan accompanying the piercing sound when he does it. He moves his thumb in circles, wanting her to continue saying his name like a prayer. It feels like they are the only two people in the universe.

“F-Faster, Joe, ahh–I–” She looks so angelic, he thinks. Her mouth makes this tight little ‘o’ shape and her eyes are finally shut tight while she waits. She is eager, hungry for the spasms that she know are going to explode all over her body.

“Come on, Bug, I’m right here. Come with me, baby.” He kisses the corner of her mouth, leaving her for a moment to kiss her breast. Every nerve in Jen’s body is absolutely alive and he can feel the way her walls are already coming down on him. He can barely hold out any longer. He coaxes her back and forth over the edge; his thumb is moving faster, his hips hitting hers at an angle that makes her scream even more.

“Shit, I’m there, Joe–I’m already–”

That is all it takes. One more circular motion with his thumb and a quick thrust and Jen is writhing against the bed like mad. Her muscles are contracting against his cock and the sensation sends him reeling. His forehead wrinkles as he feels the release come and go. His toes are curled and his hands are wavering; he collapses beside her, their bodies still together.

They ride their highs together, both of them struggling to breathe. The air in the room feels thick and suffocating, but in a completely erotic way. Neither of them know what to say and it takes a while before the silence is broken.

“That was incredible.”

Jen is shaking when she says it. The sound of her voice, the pure awe in the tone of it, makes Joe blush. He feels pink all over, but he has to agree. Every time, every damn time, leaves him speechless.

He slips out of her, the absence of his body making her frown for just a moment. He is grabbing a blanket to place over them and when he does, he wraps an arm around her, too. He kisses the back of her neck, and then the corner of her shoulder before biting her softly.

“Vampire,” she laughs. He laughs, too.

“You know you like it.”

Their breaths even out as Joe explores the curves of her body beneath the blanket. She is soft, vivacious, and he would not have it any other way. She is the most breathtaking woman in the world and he does not understand how he, of all the men in the world, could be so lucky to have her love.

“I am in love with you, Jen. So very, very in love.”

Jennifer lifts her hand and admires the ring on her finger before turning her neck and telling Joe, “I can tell.”

“So you’re sure you want to marry me, then? Like, I know I’m not around twenty-four-seven; I know it’s not an ideal–”

“Shut up.” Jen turns and puts a finger to his mouth, hushing him quickly. The contrast of their bodies – her light brown skin against his undecidedly tan complexion – is mesmerizing. He thinks back to nights when he would marvel at the sight, the hardness of him disappearing into her and the way their bodies looked so connected, yet so different at the same time. “Just, shh. I am so ready to marry you.”

“Then let’s do it, then. Let’s elope or something!”

“Great,” she grumbles. “Another one of your master plans.”

“Hey, Bug.” He pokes her in the side. “This right here was one of my master plans and look how it worked out. We just had, like, mind-blowing sex and you’re going to be my wife. I’m pretty fucking genius if you ask me.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll give you that much. But these–” She lifts her feet above the blanket. “The heels may have been a bit much. They’re cute, but my toes are killing me.”

“Oh, those.” Joe is burning crimson again.” Yeah, those were just an experiment. I’ve always had this, like, fantasy about fucking you in heels. So we can check that off the list.”

“Joseph. So vulgar.” Jen smirks, straddling his waist again. She gasps when she feels Joe hardening underneath her, smiling at how easy it is for her to excite him. “Well, in that case, I have a few more fantasies up my sleeve that we can try out.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Jennifer bends down and kisses him, their lips still swollen and sensitive. Her tongue dances with his as she reaches over to shut off the lamp. Joe hears her tinkering with something in the side table and he pulls away when he hears the drawer shut. He asks, “What’s that?”

There is a clinking noise that sounds, Jen refusing to answer and instead, holds the object in her hands. The room is pitch black and Joe, his curiosity spiking, tries to reach around her. Purposely, she lets her hands graze his fingertips and can’t help but laugh she feels him gasp.

“Handcuffs?”

I never knew I had a dream
Until that dream was you
When I look into your eyes
The sky's a different blue

Hello, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed Bee's latest post. ;) Well, it's Deejae here to tell you that I've created a Twitter just for the jbdmg's to use. I know a couple of you follow me on my personal (which is completely fine, I promise), and offer me suggestions as well as give me a push in updating (which, I assure you, I always need - even if I still haven't updated as much as I used to >__<).

So to make it easier for all of us, I think it'd be really great if you could all follow us at http://www.twitter.com/jbdmg. When you follow us, I'll make sure to follow you, too, just so I can catch your @replies. We're working on keeping motivated when it comes to NC-17 stories because we aim to please (That's what he said. Yes, yes?). Thank you so much for sticking with us, even if there's always a huge time gap between one story and the next. Love you all. <3

-Yo' DMGs.

PS. Have y'all kept bouncing?