Fuck, it was a chick on the other side of the door. That always made things difficult because women couldn't just be dealt with through sheer force. Sometimes Wyatt wanted to punch certain ladies, but the lady-punching stayed right where it should: in his mind, and absolutely nowhere else. Every good southern boy knew not to put their hands on a girl, even if she was being Queen Cunt of the Century. Or, when they were massively throwing you off your game when you were about to get some.
It was right around that time, as Wyatt shuffled to the door and stopped behind it, that he had the option to think about what he was doing. Left uninterrupted, he could honestly tell himself where their actions were headed. Sure Ivy's foot was banged up but keep it out of harm's way while he banged the rest of her up, and they'd both be happy. At least, he hoped they were both happy.
Fuck he hoped they were happy. Okay, it was time to stop thinking about this. When he thought about things too much, they got really dreary and shitty. So instead, he opened the door, assured that Ivy was already inside the bathroom (a bathroom directly connected to the bedroom? Shit, was this the master bedroom or something!?).
Wyatt was still wearing all of his clothes including his shoes given how early 'round first base, en route to second, that disaster had decided to strike. So, he stood confidently behind the opening door, peering down at... Ariana? Had a few classes with her, rocking bod with tits that he wouldn't mind watching bounce, but seemed kinda full of herself, at least to him. Who knows, they didn't talk much. Also apparently she was bad at not knowing where she left her FUCKING COAT. "I think you got the wrong room," he said with his own barely-contained annoyance, but there was only so much he could unleash on somebody like his present guest. Deep breath, Wyatt. Hold it in.
"Just me and this killer fucking headache. Thought I'd lay down a 'sec." He stepped back and gestured around the room in exaggerated fashion. "See your coat anywhere?"
don't go wasting your emotion
#swiftball, private
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
The door suddenly whipped open, and Ariana found herself face-to-face with the large form of Wyatt Carter. It was nearly comical how tall he was in comparison, and she actually had to crane her neck up a little bit to actually look him in the eyes. He looked annoyed, but considering she'd interrupted whatever it was he'd been doing in here, that felt fairly on-brand. At the very least, he was making an effort to be polite, and that was a lot more than Ariana could say for some of the other party-goers on this evening. As Wyatt moved a little to give her a look around the room, her shoulders fell.
"Shit. You're right." Frowning, she chewed the inside of her lip. His excuse was valid on the surface, but he was obviously lying. She could have sworn she heard more than one voice inside of the room, but it seemed as though no one else was there.
Taking a second to allow her glance to linger on the closed bathroom door, she wondered just who he had, hiding away in the bathroom. If he had a headache, she was Santa Claus.
Looking back up at Wyatt, she contemplated it for a second. Did it really matter, in the long run, who Wyatt Carter was sleeping with, or messing around with?
She shot him a smile, kinder than he probably deserved.
In the long run, to her? It didn't.
"I'm really sorry to have bothered you. Thanks for letting me take a look around, this place is a fucking maze." Her eyes went to the bathroom door once more, and back to Wyatt. She smirked.
"Hope your headache feels better soon."
Turning from the door, Ariana walked down the hallway in the other direction. The mystery of the person in the bathroom was a fun diversion for her mind from the frustration of having slapped Marco, but in the long run, it was only that: a momentary distraction that meant nothing. She had more pressing concerns, and funny enough, she noticed that she'd started getting a headache of her own. All this high school bullshit was starting to grate on her.
Sex dreams.
Slaps.
Drunken hookups.
Hidden rendezvous.
High. School. Drama.
Ariana couldn't wait until it was all over with. Sighing, she turned the corner of the next hallway. It was time to find her coat.
She really wanted a cigarette.
((Ariana Moretti continued in Separation Anxiety))
"Shit. You're right." Frowning, she chewed the inside of her lip. His excuse was valid on the surface, but he was obviously lying. She could have sworn she heard more than one voice inside of the room, but it seemed as though no one else was there.
Taking a second to allow her glance to linger on the closed bathroom door, she wondered just who he had, hiding away in the bathroom. If he had a headache, she was Santa Claus.
Looking back up at Wyatt, she contemplated it for a second. Did it really matter, in the long run, who Wyatt Carter was sleeping with, or messing around with?
She shot him a smile, kinder than he probably deserved.
In the long run, to her? It didn't.
"I'm really sorry to have bothered you. Thanks for letting me take a look around, this place is a fucking maze." Her eyes went to the bathroom door once more, and back to Wyatt. She smirked.
"Hope your headache feels better soon."
Turning from the door, Ariana walked down the hallway in the other direction. The mystery of the person in the bathroom was a fun diversion for her mind from the frustration of having slapped Marco, but in the long run, it was only that: a momentary distraction that meant nothing. She had more pressing concerns, and funny enough, she noticed that she'd started getting a headache of her own. All this high school bullshit was starting to grate on her.
Sex dreams.
Slaps.
Drunken hookups.
Hidden rendezvous.
High. School. Drama.
Ariana couldn't wait until it was all over with. Sighing, she turned the corner of the next hallway. It was time to find her coat.
She really wanted a cigarette.
((Ariana Moretti continued in Separation Anxiety))
It wasn't a particularly long conversation, or a difficult one. The walls were thin enough that she could hear every word, only slightly muffled. Wyatt's excuse wasn't a particularly good one, but honestly, what else could he say? The very existence of the bathroom made the words ring hollow, not to mention the light spilling under the door (this whole thing was hardly worth standing in pitch darkness), but it didn't matter. Ivy really doubted Wyatt cared that some rando knew he was in here with a girl, and she probably didn't care much, either. There was no evidence that that girl was her, and that was all that was important.
She heard that door close. She heard his footsteps. She faced the mirror, still, eyeing her own tear-stained reflection, until the bathroom door opened. She barely turned her head, her face mostly hidden under a cascade of pink hair.
She could just fall into his arms so easily. The interruption was annoying but it was just an interruption, it didn't change anything, not really. They could be back where they were in thirty seconds flat. Did she want that? She thought she did. Did he? Of course he did. He was a guy. What they wanted was easy to predict most of the time.
She wondered if it mattered that it was her.
"Hi."
Her voice was so quiet. She felt very small. The fluorescent lights of the bathroom made her face look redder than it should and she resented every opportunity she was given to think harder about this than she had to. She turned, but couldn't look at him, her gaze trained on her feet.
The good-guy thing for him to do was probably ask how she was doing, if she was okay, what it was she wanted, and there was nothing in the world she wanted less than any of that. But she was paralyzed by doubt, by the creeping knowledge that her feelings went way beyond what she would admit to, by how much she wanted to be more than a plaything despite her continued insistence on acting like one. If she opened her mouth again, asked a real question, didn't interrupt his thoughts with a kiss this time, maybe she'd learn something. And probably she wouldn't like what she learned.
This night didn't need more complications. Her foot was still throbbing and her chest ached as she overthought every single thing like she always fucking did and sometimes, sometimes she just wished she could disconnect the bits of her brain that refused to allow her to treat anything like it was less than the potential end of the world.
Ivy reached upward for him, and hoped he'd figure out the rest.
She heard that door close. She heard his footsteps. She faced the mirror, still, eyeing her own tear-stained reflection, until the bathroom door opened. She barely turned her head, her face mostly hidden under a cascade of pink hair.
She could just fall into his arms so easily. The interruption was annoying but it was just an interruption, it didn't change anything, not really. They could be back where they were in thirty seconds flat. Did she want that? She thought she did. Did he? Of course he did. He was a guy. What they wanted was easy to predict most of the time.
She wondered if it mattered that it was her.
"Hi."
Her voice was so quiet. She felt very small. The fluorescent lights of the bathroom made her face look redder than it should and she resented every opportunity she was given to think harder about this than she had to. She turned, but couldn't look at him, her gaze trained on her feet.
The good-guy thing for him to do was probably ask how she was doing, if she was okay, what it was she wanted, and there was nothing in the world she wanted less than any of that. But she was paralyzed by doubt, by the creeping knowledge that her feelings went way beyond what she would admit to, by how much she wanted to be more than a plaything despite her continued insistence on acting like one. If she opened her mouth again, asked a real question, didn't interrupt his thoughts with a kiss this time, maybe she'd learn something. And probably she wouldn't like what she learned.
This night didn't need more complications. Her foot was still throbbing and her chest ached as she overthought every single thing like she always fucking did and sometimes, sometimes she just wished she could disconnect the bits of her brain that refused to allow her to treat anything like it was less than the potential end of the world.
Ivy reached upward for him, and hoped he'd figure out the rest.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
You know, it wasn't long, that he was pulled away from her and he had to retreat from his arms into the restroom. It wasn't long at all, somewhere from an objective standpoint far, far away from the mess that he'd created with her. But in the moment, in the here and now, being away from her was agony. To think that was a little melodramatic for his tastes; to say it would be far too much more, so Wyatt said nothing. He merely opened the door to see her there, standing before him, still looking up cutely at him as she always had to like somebody trying to look at the top of a building. She looked so vulnerable when she did that; was it wrong that the vulnerability made his dick even harder? Nobody was around to answer that question, either.
'Hi', she said. Again, Wyatt said nothing. He just stood there before her, confidently, his intention clear, and waited for Ivy to react in kind. She raised her arms and he took them, lifting her up like the breeze picking up her feet, bringing her out of that dingy bathroom and back where the two of them belonged. He'd finished her work by locking the door again after the untimely interruption. He trusted they wouldn't be interrupted again. Even if somebody pounded on the door, they'd probably be too busy to think about opening it.
Ivy and the bed made the most delightful combinations of sounds when he dropped her onto it.
'Hi', she said. Again, Wyatt said nothing. He just stood there before her, confidently, his intention clear, and waited for Ivy to react in kind. She raised her arms and he took them, lifting her up like the breeze picking up her feet, bringing her out of that dingy bathroom and back where the two of them belonged. He'd finished her work by locking the door again after the untimely interruption. He trusted they wouldn't be interrupted again. Even if somebody pounded on the door, they'd probably be too busy to think about opening it.
Ivy and the bed made the most delightful combinations of sounds when he dropped her onto it.
It didn't take long for her to realize she was silly for having worried. Since when was Wyatt the talking type?
She didn't expect him not to oblige her when she reached out for him, but the speed with which he scooped her up and deposited her back on the bed was somewhat impressive. She squeaked in surprise as the bedsprings did the same in protest. They got quite a lot louder when Wyatt joined her. She didn't expect to notice for very long.
Ivy couldn't possibly have said how much time had passed. She couldn't really blame the alcohol; she'd already been less drunk than last time when she'd dragged Wyatt into the room to begin with, and the earlier interruption had slapped her into near-sobriety. She was hazy, certainly, but there were other things she'd happily blame for that. No, she couldn't say how much time had passed because she didn't care. She didn't have to care. She actively refused to care.
This was the third time she'd found herself tucked under Wyatt's arm, the second time she'd done so without clothing forcing separation between them, and the first time there wasn't some sort of pressing issue on her mind keeping her from enjoying the moment. Well, maybe there was guilt, somewhere, buried further down than an outside observer might consider healthy, but that was something to consider at a later date. Or, more likely considering her past actions, not consider at all. Even acknowledging the feeling was there was a bit of a buzzkill, but the afterglow was such that she didn't have a particularly hard time putting it out of her mind.
Twice, now. Not quite a pattern yet, but getting there. Wondering if it was going to become one started bringing her uncomfortably close to thinking serious thoughts, so she chose to pull herself closer to him instead. The whole room had that distinctive lingering smell of sweat and sex hanging in the air, but he still smelled like himself. Like... wood, or leather, or something like that? It would feel strange to ask, but it was nice. Comforting, almost.
She decided she'd move when he made her and no sooner. They could stay here another hour or several and likely no one would notice or care. Probably they should take care of the sheets, at some point, though honestly, why should they choose now of all times to start being responsible?
She didn't expect him not to oblige her when she reached out for him, but the speed with which he scooped her up and deposited her back on the bed was somewhat impressive. She squeaked in surprise as the bedsprings did the same in protest. They got quite a lot louder when Wyatt joined her. She didn't expect to notice for very long.
Ivy couldn't possibly have said how much time had passed. She couldn't really blame the alcohol; she'd already been less drunk than last time when she'd dragged Wyatt into the room to begin with, and the earlier interruption had slapped her into near-sobriety. She was hazy, certainly, but there were other things she'd happily blame for that. No, she couldn't say how much time had passed because she didn't care. She didn't have to care. She actively refused to care.
This was the third time she'd found herself tucked under Wyatt's arm, the second time she'd done so without clothing forcing separation between them, and the first time there wasn't some sort of pressing issue on her mind keeping her from enjoying the moment. Well, maybe there was guilt, somewhere, buried further down than an outside observer might consider healthy, but that was something to consider at a later date. Or, more likely considering her past actions, not consider at all. Even acknowledging the feeling was there was a bit of a buzzkill, but the afterglow was such that she didn't have a particularly hard time putting it out of her mind.
Twice, now. Not quite a pattern yet, but getting there. Wondering if it was going to become one started bringing her uncomfortably close to thinking serious thoughts, so she chose to pull herself closer to him instead. The whole room had that distinctive lingering smell of sweat and sex hanging in the air, but he still smelled like himself. Like... wood, or leather, or something like that? It would feel strange to ask, but it was nice. Comforting, almost.
She decided she'd move when he made her and no sooner. They could stay here another hour or several and likely no one would notice or care. Probably they should take care of the sheets, at some point, though honestly, why should they choose now of all times to start being responsible?
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
If Bret ever found out, he was going to kill him.
Ivy felt real good on his dick, but he could have gone for anybody else. He was confident in his ability to get anybody else. Faith was here, he could have patched Ivy up and then given Faith a nice spanking.
Why did he keep going for Ivy? Why did he keep gunning right for his brother's girlfriend?
Man, thinking sucked. He should really stop doing it, he told himself. Wyatt turned his eyes down from the ceiling toward Ivy. Her hair didn't just look like cotton candy, it actually kinda smelled like it too. Huh.
"You're a lot more durable than you look." He jostled the nude girl resting under his arm. "Think I'd crushed you or splitcha in half by now." It was all he could think to say, he realized with a weird cold ball in his throat. It was a rare moment that the words weren't coming to him. No... that wasn't right, either. He was waiting for the right words, beyond those of a stupid joke. And Wyatt kept waiting for a while, wondering what he could ever say. No talk to be had about the party - they weren't going back out to it. Looking forward seemed impossible... they'd have to part ways at some point, awkwardly throwing their clothes back on without looking directly at the other too much, and everything would have to go back to normal. Because Wyatt Carter could take a girl away from any guy because he was the biggest fucking stud in school, and he could get away with it because of who he was.
Except from Bret. Because it was Bret, they had to hide it, and he was never any good at hiding things. He feared the day Bret found out. And they could just stop it now and be fine. If only he was strong enough to resist desire and in-the-moment comfort.
Wyatt moved his hip a little to take care of a hot, itchy spot that was wedged between their bodies. Letting a little air in worked wonders and the uncomfortable sensation soon faded. Looking down at her: sleepy face with heavy-lidded eyes, cute chest that Ivy was probably self-conscious about but sometimes a handful was best, hips that made him want to take hold and try another round (at least in spirit; his body likely wouldn't cooperate with him at the moment).
He was happy. Keep the ride going. Keep it going 'til it crashed all the way into the fucking dirt.
Ivy felt real good on his dick, but he could have gone for anybody else. He was confident in his ability to get anybody else. Faith was here, he could have patched Ivy up and then given Faith a nice spanking.
Why did he keep going for Ivy? Why did he keep gunning right for his brother's girlfriend?
Man, thinking sucked. He should really stop doing it, he told himself. Wyatt turned his eyes down from the ceiling toward Ivy. Her hair didn't just look like cotton candy, it actually kinda smelled like it too. Huh.
"You're a lot more durable than you look." He jostled the nude girl resting under his arm. "Think I'd crushed you or splitcha in half by now." It was all he could think to say, he realized with a weird cold ball in his throat. It was a rare moment that the words weren't coming to him. No... that wasn't right, either. He was waiting for the right words, beyond those of a stupid joke. And Wyatt kept waiting for a while, wondering what he could ever say. No talk to be had about the party - they weren't going back out to it. Looking forward seemed impossible... they'd have to part ways at some point, awkwardly throwing their clothes back on without looking directly at the other too much, and everything would have to go back to normal. Because Wyatt Carter could take a girl away from any guy because he was the biggest fucking stud in school, and he could get away with it because of who he was.
Except from Bret. Because it was Bret, they had to hide it, and he was never any good at hiding things. He feared the day Bret found out. And they could just stop it now and be fine. If only he was strong enough to resist desire and in-the-moment comfort.
Wyatt moved his hip a little to take care of a hot, itchy spot that was wedged between their bodies. Letting a little air in worked wonders and the uncomfortable sensation soon faded. Looking down at her: sleepy face with heavy-lidded eyes, cute chest that Ivy was probably self-conscious about but sometimes a handful was best, hips that made him want to take hold and try another round (at least in spirit; his body likely wouldn't cooperate with him at the moment).
He was happy. Keep the ride going. Keep it going 'til it crashed all the way into the fucking dirt.
Ivy giggled at Wyatt's dumb joke, because it was very like him. Because silly things like that were a lot of what she loved about him. And she was going to spend absolutely no time dwelling on how quickly her brain had just conjured the L-word.
She'd felt a twinge of something when he opened his mouth, though. Worry, maybe? She needed to remind herself again that Wyatt wasn't the sort to start a serious conversation in anything less than a life-or-death situation. Though this might qualify, considering Bret would fucking kill him if he ever found out. Another thing she didn't want to spend any time dwelling on. Considering how much she wanted to just exist in this moment for as long as it would carry her, her brain was doing an incredible job of self-sabotage.
There were probably a few things she could sort out right now.
For example, she was happy, right now. She was generally pretty happy when Bret fucked her, too, so that wasn't in and of itself proof of anything, but it was different in a way she had a hard time grasping. The best way she could describe it wasn't that her doubts after the fact were less, so much as that they were different. She wondered, with both of them, what they were thinking; she wondered that often, but all the more so in these quiet moments when they were vulnerable. With Wyatt she wondered what he would say, if she asked the questions she wanted to ask, if they were worth asking. With Bret she found herself wondering if he'd meant the answers he'd given her. And that stung. A lot.
Maybe that was all her. Maybe he'd been perfectly honest with her all along. But if it was all her, it still was, in a way that just wasn't there when she looked at Wyatt. She didn't doubt a word he said. It was a matter of being afraid that when he spoke he wouldn't say what she wanted to hear.
That was still better, though. Heartbreak might be better than doubt, in the long term. It wouldn't eat away at her the way things had, the way they'd gone.
But she'd backed herself into a corner with her own options. Of all the guys in the world, she'd had to pick brothers. Twins, even. Loyal enough to each other that she was surprised she and Wyatt had gotten this far; if he'd shut her down on day one she'd be unhappy, obviously, but she didn't think she could blame him for it. But he hadn't, and that was... nice. It was the closest thing she could get to assurance that this meant more to him than a convenient way to get his dick wet. If that was all he wanted Faith was right there.
Even so. She couldn't have what she wanted. Even if she never admitted the truth, even if she broke up with Bret without giving a reason, moving on too quickly would arouse suspicions. If she wanted anything more than what she was getting from Wyatt, Bret would have to know. And more for Wyatt's sake than her own, he couldn't. So why bother asking, if it would never come of anything? Why did it matter how much he cared about her if she couldn't have him no matter what she did? Maybe given some time, a few solid months of decompressing, she could wait for things to die down and have Wyatt on the other side, but if that was what she wanted she'd waited too long. In a few months they'd have graduated. They'd all be moving on from all of this, anyway, and she certainly couldn't ask for him to wait for her while she was at college.
Breaking up with Bret would be the right thing to do, of course, but she ran the very real risk of ending up alone.
He looked happy, she thought, when she looked at him through drowsy eyes. There were obvious reasons for that. There might be less obvious reasons, too. She paused for just another moment before she pushed herself upward so that she could once again press her lips to his. Not passionate or needy, this time, not asking for anything more. Just a kiss that still somehow felt like the most intimate thing she could imagine.
She wondered if he felt it too.
She'd felt a twinge of something when he opened his mouth, though. Worry, maybe? She needed to remind herself again that Wyatt wasn't the sort to start a serious conversation in anything less than a life-or-death situation. Though this might qualify, considering Bret would fucking kill him if he ever found out. Another thing she didn't want to spend any time dwelling on. Considering how much she wanted to just exist in this moment for as long as it would carry her, her brain was doing an incredible job of self-sabotage.
There were probably a few things she could sort out right now.
For example, she was happy, right now. She was generally pretty happy when Bret fucked her, too, so that wasn't in and of itself proof of anything, but it was different in a way she had a hard time grasping. The best way she could describe it wasn't that her doubts after the fact were less, so much as that they were different. She wondered, with both of them, what they were thinking; she wondered that often, but all the more so in these quiet moments when they were vulnerable. With Wyatt she wondered what he would say, if she asked the questions she wanted to ask, if they were worth asking. With Bret she found herself wondering if he'd meant the answers he'd given her. And that stung. A lot.
Maybe that was all her. Maybe he'd been perfectly honest with her all along. But if it was all her, it still was, in a way that just wasn't there when she looked at Wyatt. She didn't doubt a word he said. It was a matter of being afraid that when he spoke he wouldn't say what she wanted to hear.
That was still better, though. Heartbreak might be better than doubt, in the long term. It wouldn't eat away at her the way things had, the way they'd gone.
But she'd backed herself into a corner with her own options. Of all the guys in the world, she'd had to pick brothers. Twins, even. Loyal enough to each other that she was surprised she and Wyatt had gotten this far; if he'd shut her down on day one she'd be unhappy, obviously, but she didn't think she could blame him for it. But he hadn't, and that was... nice. It was the closest thing she could get to assurance that this meant more to him than a convenient way to get his dick wet. If that was all he wanted Faith was right there.
Even so. She couldn't have what she wanted. Even if she never admitted the truth, even if she broke up with Bret without giving a reason, moving on too quickly would arouse suspicions. If she wanted anything more than what she was getting from Wyatt, Bret would have to know. And more for Wyatt's sake than her own, he couldn't. So why bother asking, if it would never come of anything? Why did it matter how much he cared about her if she couldn't have him no matter what she did? Maybe given some time, a few solid months of decompressing, she could wait for things to die down and have Wyatt on the other side, but if that was what she wanted she'd waited too long. In a few months they'd have graduated. They'd all be moving on from all of this, anyway, and she certainly couldn't ask for him to wait for her while she was at college.
Breaking up with Bret would be the right thing to do, of course, but she ran the very real risk of ending up alone.
He looked happy, she thought, when she looked at him through drowsy eyes. There were obvious reasons for that. There might be less obvious reasons, too. She paused for just another moment before she pushed herself upward so that she could once again press her lips to his. Not passionate or needy, this time, not asking for anything more. Just a kiss that still somehow felt like the most intimate thing she could imagine.
She wondered if he felt it too.
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
As his lips met Ivy's again, Wyatt jostled her a little bit with the arm he had looped under her shoulders thinking he might be able to shake a little laugh out of her. Plus, no matter how light she was, having a little bit of weight to push back against his arm reminded him that she was there. Sometimes he just had to push somebody or pull them or shake them a little as if, like, to remind his body... not really his brain because logically he knew, but to let his body know that they were nearby. He'd always done it and he would also keep doing it until he died, probably. In the moment, his other hand slipped below her belly button, just to quickly flick and take advantage of the fact she was super sensitive because the squirming response he almost always got from girls highly amused him.
Coming to his senses just a bit, no doubt in part due to the blood flowing back into other parts of his body, Wyatt pulled himself up on his side and looked past all the really fun parts of Ivy's body to something significantly less fun: the toe that called him together in the first place.
"Y'know, I heard sex was like, basically the best anesthetic ever," he mumbled. "Bet you probably forgot about that for a while. Does it still hurt?" Shit, what did Faith even do again? Step on it? She probably stepped on it or stomped on it really hard. That was going to be a mess to sort through at a later date, he thought. Right now he was cool with Faith and he wanted to keep being cool with her, but he was also really digging Ivy and she obviously dug him and there was a slab of meat in the middle of them at the moment named Bret, but there wasn't any saying that he had to be there forever. They were on the cusp of just breaking up anyhow. If they split soon, then he n' Ives could hook up for real. No harm done. Just pretend the next time they fucked, it was their first time.
Coming to his senses just a bit, no doubt in part due to the blood flowing back into other parts of his body, Wyatt pulled himself up on his side and looked past all the really fun parts of Ivy's body to something significantly less fun: the toe that called him together in the first place.
"Y'know, I heard sex was like, basically the best anesthetic ever," he mumbled. "Bet you probably forgot about that for a while. Does it still hurt?" Shit, what did Faith even do again? Step on it? She probably stepped on it or stomped on it really hard. That was going to be a mess to sort through at a later date, he thought. Right now he was cool with Faith and he wanted to keep being cool with her, but he was also really digging Ivy and she obviously dug him and there was a slab of meat in the middle of them at the moment named Bret, but there wasn't any saying that he had to be there forever. They were on the cusp of just breaking up anyhow. If they split soon, then he n' Ives could hook up for real. No harm done. Just pretend the next time they fucked, it was their first time.
"Mmhm."
Technically an answer to his question, but an answer so flippant it could not possibly be interpreted as a genuine call to action. He wasn't wrong. Her injured nail had completely slipped her mind, and even when he mentioned it, making it the focus of her attention, it didn't particularly bother her. It hurt a bit, yes, but the pain had dulled significantly. Whether that was because Wyatt's argument had any merit or simply because time had passed, she didn't know or really care. It was what it was, and bringing too much awareness to it might divert his attention from where she wanted it. His hands, at least, were involved in more important matters, and she giggled and squeaked as he jostled and touched her; almost an automatic reaction, but no less genuine for it. Her sleepy smile stayed planted firmly on her face.
She loved him, she thought.
Not in that sense, or at least, god, she hoped not, but in a sense. In the sense where she could just lay here with him and not stress. She was stressed about plenty of things at the moment, yes, and Wyatt was certainly involved in several of them, but not through any fault of his own. She wasn't worried about him. He would be who he was, no matter what. He'd earned her trust. A near impossible feat, generally only accomplished by those she'd known long enough to have years of proof through action that they wouldn't betray her, with rare exceptions. She could love him the way she loved the friends she held close. And she could like him in an entirely different way, and want him in yet another.
Dangerous, but too interesting to pass up.
She rolled over and scooted in closer, pressing her back against his chest. They would have to leave, eventually, but not now. They would have to deal with things, eventually. But not now. She snuggled in close and wrapped his arm around her.
It would all sort itself out, eventually. Right?
>> Ivy Langley continued, chronologically, in you should see me in a crown
Technically an answer to his question, but an answer so flippant it could not possibly be interpreted as a genuine call to action. He wasn't wrong. Her injured nail had completely slipped her mind, and even when he mentioned it, making it the focus of her attention, it didn't particularly bother her. It hurt a bit, yes, but the pain had dulled significantly. Whether that was because Wyatt's argument had any merit or simply because time had passed, she didn't know or really care. It was what it was, and bringing too much awareness to it might divert his attention from where she wanted it. His hands, at least, were involved in more important matters, and she giggled and squeaked as he jostled and touched her; almost an automatic reaction, but no less genuine for it. Her sleepy smile stayed planted firmly on her face.
She loved him, she thought.
Not in that sense, or at least, god, she hoped not, but in a sense. In the sense where she could just lay here with him and not stress. She was stressed about plenty of things at the moment, yes, and Wyatt was certainly involved in several of them, but not through any fault of his own. She wasn't worried about him. He would be who he was, no matter what. He'd earned her trust. A near impossible feat, generally only accomplished by those she'd known long enough to have years of proof through action that they wouldn't betray her, with rare exceptions. She could love him the way she loved the friends she held close. And she could like him in an entirely different way, and want him in yet another.
Dangerous, but too interesting to pass up.
She rolled over and scooted in closer, pressing her back against his chest. They would have to leave, eventually, but not now. They would have to deal with things, eventually. But not now. She snuggled in close and wrapped his arm around her.
It would all sort itself out, eventually. Right?
>> Ivy Langley continued, chronologically, in you should see me in a crown
"Well, Fenris, the King of Gossip. We meet again."