Written for January’s image 13
***
“Fucking fill me up,” Amara exclaimed, her voice filling the room.
Derek growled, pounding harder into her. He was throbbing, already at his limit. Still, he kept going, wiping his brow clean. No one knew how to take him like Amara did.
He could be as rough as he wanted, and she’d only look up at him, grinning. His hand clamped around her neck. She stuck out her tongue, taunting him. She pooled saliva in her mouth and spat in Derek’s face.
“Fuck,” he grunted. It only motivated him to pound harder. Derek tightened his grip on Amara’s neck, and his other hand wiped her spit off his face. Return to sender. He shoved his fingers into her mouth, grinning as she lustfully licked them clean, her eyes closing in ecstasy. With his hands keeping their hold on her steady, keeping her in place, Derek pummelled Amara until her eyes rolled back, and her feet were bouncing in the air to the hurried pace of his hips.
Derek felt her pulse around him, and that was enough; his back arched, pressing deep to shoot as deep as he could. He softened inside her, completely milked dry, and craned his head down into the crook of her neck.
As she always did, she moved her head as far away from his face as possible. Amara was down for almost anything, but she had one hard limit with the men she hooked up with: no kissing.
Derek didn’t quite get it, but she explained at least once or twice. Amara believed that kissing inevitably led to feelings. Feelings led to relationships. Relationships only led to heartbreak. Too many relationships gone wrong, and the last thing Amara wanted was more of the same.
After Derek pulled out and rolled over onto her bed, Amara walked up to the mirror, admiring her body, giving a twirl for herself with a grin. The mess between her legs, white, dripping down the inside of her thigh, had her attention, and she whistled. “That was a lot. You never cease to amaze me.”
Derek shrugged, half out of humility, half out of cockiness. He sprang up to his feet and scoured the ground for his clothes, picking them up, one by one, as he walked by them. “How do you like your eggs? Want me to whip up some breakfast?”
“You always ask that,” Amara said, rolling her eyes. Derek saw her mild annoyance clear in her reflection, hoping to find at least an ounce of amusement.
“And you always say no,” Derek shot back quickly, masking his disappointment, as he hopped into his pants. “I’m…guessing today’s no different.”
“I’m off to work now,” Amara said, her eyes piercing Derek’s through the mirror. The crooked smile felt more like sympathy than a gentle decline. Her attention returned to herself as she preened her short hair and put on all of her jewelry first.
Derek thought it was an odd order to put things on, but since there wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t seen, it wasn’t like she had anything to hide.
He sighed.
That’s what he liked about Amara. She knew what she wanted and was unafraid to be her authentic self. She always said what she meant, never beating around the bush. She was honest. Transparent. Blunt.
“You know the drill. You can stick around for a bit, but make sure you’re gone before the cleaning lady is here.” Amara walked over to her speaker on the dresser and turned on some music before picking out some underwear. She strolled into her closet next, with today’s outfit. Her voice quietly sang along while her body swayed to the beat.
“Yeah, I know,” Derek said, that last syllable stretching longer than he intended. He watched her get dressed. That confident smile of hers was brighter than anything he’d seen. But there were moments when that smile didn’t quite stretch high enough to reflect in her eyes. He couldn’t pinpoint what he did see, but his best guesses? Boredom. Regret. Loneliness. “Amara.”
“Yeah,” Amara answered, looking over her shoulder at Derek. Her brow raised.
“You good?”
“Yeah.” Amara looked at herself in the mirror. She seemed like she was convincing herself more than anything. “Though I might struggle walking today, and I barely got any sleep, and–”
Derek chuckled. “I mean, like, mentally. Or emotionally.”
Amara smiled to herself. There it was again: a smile meant to fool everyone, including herself.
The silence between them went on for too long. “You know, if you ever wanna just talk–”
“We don’t just talk,’” Amara interrupted him, her smile falling to a flat line. “Don’t worry about me.”
He would anyway. “True, yeah. Sorry.”
~
Derek imagined he and Amara worked so well because he never tried to overstep. She told him he was the current record holder for the length of time spent hooking up; they must have been approaching almost six months of casual sex. Not that Derek was counting.
They had a routine. One of them usually initiated with a text or a call. When Amara was particularly horny, she’d send a voice note. Occasionally, a few pictures throughout the day would also build up Derek’s anticipation. Derek sometimes snuck away from his desk, taking a longer bathroom break than usual, to enjoy his mid-afternoon gift. He’d send a video back to Amara, often receiving a flurry of emojis in return.
There would even be stretches when they never spoke at all. Derek would sometimes get a text, out of the blue, at eleven at night, asking if he was up, and he knew that meant to go right on over. It was the same song and dance. His phone dinged.
Like clockwork.
The door opened for him, and just as Derek cleared the threshold, Amara pounced immediately before the door could even shut behind them with a thud. Her hands dug down his pants before his coat was even off. He wasn’t complaining. He followed suit, peeling off Amara’s baggy shirt, balling it up, and tossing it to the ground.
No words shared. Just passionate breaths. A silent test with their hands to see who would the first to beg. It was a toss-up, but Derek had a good feeling, given how forcefully Amara’s hips rolled against his palm. She was practically dripping onto his hand.
“Fuck, I need you inside me,” Amara said, biting her lip. She pulled Derek into the living room, walking while she let her panties fall to her ankles.
Derek followed excitedly, peeling his pants off. After she climbed on all fours on the couch, Derek took his place behind her. His fingers traced her opening. He was so wet already. Two fingers inside earned him a gasp. He loved her expression as he looked back at him over her shoulder, her brows furrowed, her mouth hanging low.
“Come on. Please don’t make me wait anymore,” she said, panting as Derek stroked her walls. One of her hands reached back to furiously circle her clit.
Derek wouldn’t torment her. He took his hardness and dragged the head along her slit. He pushed forward, and he slid right in. A groan slipped out, voice husky, “Oh, God.”
His hands grabbed her hips, and his fingertips pressed into her flesh as he pounded hard. No buildup, just full force right off the bat. They were past the need for starting slow; that’s what their short-lived foreplay was for.
Amara loved this position for the angle. He sped up, encouraged by a never-ending staccato of moans. Derek breathed deeply, and his lungs struggled to keep up. Sweat coated his body; he’d been pistoning back and forth for who knows how long.
Amara’s breaths were shallow. Her voice rose into the higher registers as she moaned. Curses never sounded so sweet when they came from her lips. She tightened around Derek when he grabbed a fistful of hair.
Her back arched, head pulled back, and from her heavy heaves alone, Derek knew she had the biggest smile on her face. He wished he could see that blissful beaming for himself, but he was having too much fun.
Derek raised himself higher, keeping one foot on the couch for leverage and the other on the floor for stability. He dug down into her with the force of a jackhammer. The sight of Amara‘s lips gripping around his girth was always so hot: a testament to how badly she wanted him inside her.
A hand on the back of her head pressed her face into the couch cushion. Her fingers clawed into the upholstery, and she let out a muffled scream, “I’m coming–”
Moans barely crept out, drowned out by the couch, and Derek watched as Amara rode out her climax and fell flat against the sofa, her back muscles tensing with each heavy pant.
Derek parted her legs, just enough so that his cock could press against her entrance again. The soft shudder from Amara told him she wanted more. He plunged deep, quickening his pace, until Amara whimpered.
With Amara fucked silly, she could barely muster any words between her noises of pleasure. Derek could barely hear her slurring words, slipping through between groans. “So…deep…”
In this angle, she could feel every inch, and Derek felt just how tightly she gripped. His hands on the small of her back pinned her down against the couch as his hips pressed against her, clapping against her ass. He throbbed. This was it.
Amara gripped the couch, and her body tensed under Derek, hips raising against him to angle him against her sweet spot. Unintelligible groans, desperate and drawn out, grew louder as her head arched up.
He withdrew, jerking furiously, spraying thick ropes all over Amara’s back. White globs contrasted well against bronze skin and tanlines.
Amara, still in a daze, reached for her phone to check the time, but Derek swiped it away, pulling up her camera to capture the masterpiece on her body. He slid the phone back into her hands, and Amara’s eyes widened. “Would’ve looked better dripping from me.”
“How about I try again for round two?” Derek joked with a crooked grin, tussling her hair before getting up for some tissue. He plucked a few from the box, wadding them in his hands before wiping Amara down. She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and Derek felt his chest pound. The smile that followed only made it worse. It wasn’t seductive. It wasn’t smug. It was just…
Cute.
He tried to shake the feeling, walking away to toss the tissue into the trash. On the way back to the couch, he retrieved his phone from his pants and sighed, seeing that Amara was sprawled along the entire sofa, still lying stomach-down. Derek tapped her calf. “Hey, what kind of host doesn’t offer their guests a place to sit?”
“You’re hardly a guest. You’re here like all the time,” Amara teased.
“Whose fault is that?” Derek joked right back. Amara grumbled to herself, kicking her feet up to make space for Derek at the end of the couch. He took what he could get and wouldn’t pester her for more.
Amara changed the subject, flashing her screen towards Derek. “You want some Chinese? I know you like the chow mein with the char siu pork.”
Derek smiled, flattered that she remembered her order. He shook his head. “I’m good. Thanks, though.”
She shrugged, switching back to social media, kicking her feet in the air mindlessly as she scrolled. She laughed to herself at memes or funny videos and bobbed her head anytime she heard a good song. Derek found himself watching along; her feed was entertaining.
One video in particular kept Amara‘s detention: a clip from some movie. Derek saw a big, red “Part 17” at the top of the screen, and wondered why she didn’t just look for the full film online. Even still, he was hooked in no time. Amara was getting into it; her feet relaxed, lying across Derek’s lap.
Derek dared to rest his hands on her calves, and while she peered back briefly, she allowed the contact. His thumbs pressed into the muscle, and she let out a sharp exhale. “Feels nice.”
He did the other leg, then moved down to massage her feet. Still, no protests. Derek wondered how much walking she did regularly at work, or what shoes she wore. With some effort, he was able to break down some stubborn knots, and Amara groaned, eventually wiggling her toes to signal that she was fine.
Still not looking back, she spoke at last, “I didn’t know you were so good with your hands. For, like, massaging, I mean.”
“I’ve tried to tell you before,” Derek insisted, “but you said massages are too intimate.”
Amara ignored him, returning her attention to her video. By now, she was on Part 21. She watched in silence, mostly, save for some melancholy hums, deep sighs, and the sucking of her teeth. Eventually, she closed out of the app, shaking her head, and flipped her phone over.
“I wanna know what happens,” Derek said with a chuckle. He watched Amara roll over, surprised that she kept her legs across him. He placed a hand on her thigh, and her forehead creased, but her only reaction was a soft hum.
“You didn’t strike as a fan of that sappy crap,” Amara said.
“A guy can’t like romcoms?” Derek said with a laugh, squeezing her leg gently. His grip tightened again, and his thumb traced along her skin. Her legs loosened under his touch, relaxing.
“They’re gonna kiss, and one person is gonna realize that they want something more than what they are. They’re gonna try, and it’ll fail.”
“Won’t it work out in the end?” Derek asked.
Amara didn’t answer. Her expression fell flat for a moment, and the smile returned when she looked towards Derek. There was mischief in those eyes. She sat up, crawling onto Derek’s lap, straddling him. Her face moved closer to his.
“W-what are you doing?” He tensed beneath her, stammering, but not daring pull away. Derek steeled a smile.
“I found a pimple on your chest that I wanna get,” Amara said, smirking.
Nails pinched Derek’s skin sharply, without warning, and Derek yelped in pain. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. He felt the heat radiating from between her legs, moving his hands to her rear. “Could you at least count down next time?”
“Deal.” Amara’s eyes dilated. “Ooh, there’s one on your face. Can I get it?”
“You gotta lay off the pimple popping videos,” Derek said, shaking his head. She was laser-focused on his face; her tongue stuck out through pursed lips. She was locked in, and this type of hyper fixation on her face was at least a little bit cute. Derek didn’t have the heart to say no. “Fine. Just count down, at least—”
“One!” Amara exclaimed with a devilish grin, her fingers pinched a spot on his cheek, and Derek exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Do you do this with all your hookups?” he asked incredulously.
“You’re the only one I’ve been seeing lately, in all honesty. Most guys would be weirded out if I did this,” Amara admitted, sporting an uncharacteristic shyness. “Don’t pretend that you don’t secretly like it.”
“What are you–” Derek‘s eyes widened as he noticed himself hardening against Amara. “It’s because you’re right on top of me. Not because you’re popping my blackheads.”
Derek groaned, shifting in place. Amara’s lips sat perfectly along his shaft. She started rolling her hips, grinding against him, and he could feel her wetness tease him. He bit his lip, wrapping a hand around his base and tapping the tip against Amara’s stomach. “Are you ready for round two?”
“Let’s see who caves first.” Amara put her hands on Derek’s shoulders, supporting herself while her hips rode along his length. The two ground in unison, and it was nice to go slow for once.
Derek’s hands squeezed Amara’s ass tightly, guiding her along his hardness. Warmth dripped from her lips, and he cursed quietly. His hands wandered, moving out to her hips, caressing them softly, before travelling higher, and gripping her waist. A low shudder left Amara’s lips, plump and parted. Music to his ears, but also a sight to behold. He couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. Amara licked her lips, and Derek tightened his hold on her waist, holding her still, leaning closer to her.
Mere inches separated them, and Amara’s whispers tickled Derek’s lips, stopping him in place. “What are you doing? Kiss me, and we’re done.”
Derek looked up defiantly. He lifted her, his heart racing as Amara’s breath hitched, and lined her entrance with his tip. Thrusting up towards her, he teased her, letting agonizing groans accumulate behind her pursed frown.
“No fair,” Amara shuddered, her voice barely audible. Her forehead met Derek’s, and her eyes fluttered closed. She felt his hands move along her body: one settled between her shoulder blades, and the other cradled the back of her head. The heat from Derek’s breath taunted her.
She peeked at the man, and he had no idea. His eyes were on her mouth. Curiosity. Suffering. Fixation. Obsession. Amara imagined his mind wandered as all her boys did, eventually. Fire that burned in his eyes died down, and Amara’s own disappointment was reflected in his deep, brown eyes. With a gulp, she forced down any temptation. “I thought you were different, Derek.”
Derek moved closer, past Amara. Their cheeks grazed, and his words made Amara shiver, “I haven’t done anything.”
“But you’re thinking of it.” Amara’s hands tightened their hold on his shoulders. She whined, feeling his tip prod between her lower lips. God, she wanted to feel him again. Her hips lowered, not even by an inch, and her nails pressed into his skin, drawing a wince from him. Making him moan always was an accomplishment. “Life isn’t like the movies. Been there plenty of times. Don’t pretend like we aren’t bound to get hurt. I don’t want to fool myself into thinking there’s more for us.”
Her eyes widened, and she quickly stuttered to correct herself, “I m-mean I don’t want you to fool yourself.”
Amara dropped her hips, taking Derek’s entire length until her ass collided with his lap. Fuck. There it was. This was the reminder she needed. They were fuck buddies.
Nothing more.
Relief hit Amara as Derek pulled away, his head rolling back against the back of the couch. He writhed beneath her, moaning, cursing to himself. This is how it was always meant to be.
The more she ground against him, the more the corners of his lips curled up. She could see it all. Elation. Indulgence. Lust. But his eyes opened, and his smile didn’t reach them. There was awe, the way he looked up at her, watching as she rode him, but also a distinct sadness. He looked down. “It’s…a little too late for that.”
“What…do you mean?” Amara asked, taken aback. She didn’t let her surprise thwart her; he felt too good for her to want to stop. Heat built in her core the longer she rode, but that wasn’t it. A burning curiosity tightened around her chest.
One of her fingers hooked beneath Derek’s chin, lifting it up towards her. Still, he refused to meet her gaze. Amara brought a palm to his face, rubbing it along his cheek. He sighed, turning pursed lips and nuzzling into her palm. She seethed, using her thumb to drag his bottom lip down. A carefully aimed wad of spit landed square in his face, and he swiftly wiped it with the back of his hand.
This always worked to encourage him to fuck her harder, but this time was different. There was no fight behind his eyes. He thrusted up into her, but without the raw passion Amara was used to. Fine. She could take matters into her own hands. She planted her feet on the couch, on either side of his legs and quickly lifted her hips before slamming back down. Yeah, that was better. Her fingertips struck his cheek–a few times in succession until he finally met her gaze. She repeated herself one last time, “What do you mean?”
“I like you, Amara–” Derek’s breath picked up with every bounce of Amara’s hips. He smiled as he stared up at her, but his words brought her to a screeching halt.
“Derek, no. No, no,” she whined. A hand covered her face, and she couldn’t look him in the eye. She felt him twitch inside her and lifted herself off, scooting away to the far end of the couch. “We have my rule for a reason.”
“Hey, I followed it!” Derek said, smiling nervously. He put his hand out, resting it on the middle cushion, but Amara kept her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, I never told you. I thought these feelings would pass, but here they are, still there, going strong.”
Amara looked over.
Derek sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not like you gave me mixed signals, either. You told me what you wanted, set your boundaries, and it’s really just me who couldn’t be honest with what I wanted.
“Fuck,” Derek laughed. He stood up, searching the ground for his clothes. “I should probably get out of your hair. This is probably a lot. Again, sorry, Amara.”
A firm hold on his wrist kept him in place, and Amara peered up at him. Furrowed brows bore more questions. Pleading eyes begged for answers. “You knew where I stood about everything. How could you still come to like me?”
“Easy. I’m into that sappy crap.” Derek’s grin was earnest. “I’m here all the time. A few times a week. Your doorman knows me by name. You’re the only woman I’m seeing, and it’s the same for you. We’re basically exclusive, without the label.”
“You know I–”
“I know!” Derek interrupted. His smile was bittersweet, and he looked away. “I admit it. I fooled myself into thinking this could be anything more.”
Before Amara knew what she was doing, she sprang to her feet, and wrapped her arms around Derek. It was a futile grip, but she didn’t dare let go. Her head rested against Derek’s chest, and she could feel his heart pounding against her ear.
“Obviously, we have great sex. I wouldn’t have gotten a text back if I was bad in the sack,” Derek joked, continuing to ramble on, “We don’t do a lot of talking, but I enjoy it when we do. Genuinely. And there are days when I want more. I don’t wanna just lose sleep because we’re two beasts in the heat. I want to scroll on our phones at night, showing each other videos, until we lose track of the time. I want to massage you when your body is sore. I’d like to eat together. Not just Chinese food–because it’s the only thing that’s ever open when we’re fucking–”
Amara silenced him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips against his. It was a long kiss, and her lips felt like they were on fire.
“You must really want to get rid of me,” Derek scoffed, rubbing his thumb against his lips, curled up into a half-hearted smile.
“Derek, that’s not–”
“Like you said before: I kiss you, and we’re done,” Derek parroted back, shaking his head. “This works for you, though. A clean break.”
Amara practically clawed into his nape, pulling him back down to her. This kiss was sloppier. More urgent. She pulled away, panting before looking up at Derek. There was confusion on his face. His mouth couldn’t form the words to start his countless questions, but it was better that way.
This was far too much talking for Amara’s tastes.
She pulled him by the hand, leading him into the bedroom. Her ears tuned out any questions Derek had, and she pushed him onto the bed, climbing over him. After licking her lips, she wrapped a hand around him and aimed him at her entrance. “You still owe me a second round. That sorry excuse on the couch isn’t gonna cut it.”
Derek helped steady her to her feet, holding her so that she wouldn’t topple over as she lowered herself, impaling herself on Derek’s cock. She slid down slowly, groaning as each inch worked its way in. At last, she slammed against his hilt.
The two cursed together, moaning and reaching out, fondling the other. Derek’s hand found her breasts, squeezing them fervidly, and Amara planted her hands on his chest. After a few deep breaths and shallow strokes, she raised her hips up repeatedly, bouncing down with her full force.
He felt huge from this angle. Her lips gripped him tightly, and she was met with more resistance as she lifted off of him for each stroke. Amara bounced faster, moaning, and enjoying the sight of Derek’s eyes closing in agonizing pleasure.
Her legs gave out, and she collapsed on top of Derek, disappointedly, panting. She felt his hands wrap around her, rubbing her back. The gentle touch felt like salt in the wound. Amara buried her face in the crook of his neck to hide her frown.
The hands she loved gripping her waist or tight around her neck felt like hot coals when he caressed her. She wanted to pin his wrists down and ride him until he was milked dry, but she hated that her skin would have craved the warmth of his hands.
She hated that whenever she tried to put distance between herself and Derek, she always let him come closer. Amara always took one step back, but let him take two steps towards her.
Most of all, she hated the idea of not seeing him again.
“Here, let me,” Derek said, cupping her ass, bringing her down to meet his hips as he thrusted up into her. Their torsos touched, moving in unison. His lips found her nipples, kissing them gently while his other hand rested on her back, firmly holding her against him. A rhythm built; a rolling bowl: slow and intense. Low breaths escaped whenever he bottomed out, slamming his cock into her.
Amara winced when his teeth clamped down on her nipple. She felt his tongue flick against hardened peaks. Her hips rolled, meeting his thrusts halfway, pressing him against her sweet spot. A shudder left her lips as Derek‘s lips slid across her breast. So soft. So delicate. She thought of how good they felt against her, but a nibble against her breasts snapped her out of it.
“Harder,” she told Derek. “Bite them harder.”
Derek put more force behind his jaw, and his teeth dug into Amara’s flesh. His lips puckered, sucking against her skin before moving to a new spot.
She admired the teeth marks and darkened skin. His lips trailed sweetly across her skin again before biting down again, this time focusing on the skin of her collarbone. It was a cycle, sweet kisses, contrasted by rough bites. The constant back-and-forth between pleasure and pain was driving her crazy.
Amara felt Derek stop at her neck, and she leaned her head away, letting him do as he pleased to her. Just as he painted her back earlier, her neck was a new canvas that he could make his own.
Derek rolls both of them over, gently lowering Amara onto the bed. His lips traced her jawline.
She felt his teeth against her skin, and she tapped his shoulder. Her words slipped out past the moans: “Gentle. Let’s take it slow.”
He nodded, looking down at her. Her eyes were kind, but somber. His smile, conflicted.
Amara rolled her hips up towards him, and he started thrusting slowly. When he moved like this, it was easy to feel every inch and just how much he stretched her out. She craddled the back of his head and pulled him down to her.
Their lips didn’t crash, but met reluctantly. Slowly. Cautiously. Amara’s lips parted in time, assuring that this was what she wanted. Her tongue poked past, meeting his, and Derek pressed back in response.
His hips rocked harder, but kept the same slow rhythm. He leaned up, pushing her legs back and pinning them against her body with his weight.
The two moaned in unison. The pace was perfect; heat built up in her stomach. He hit her so deep in this angle. Amara cursed between bated breaths. “Keep going. Just like this. Nice and slow until you fill me up.”
“One last time?” Derek said with a nervous smile.
Amara’s throat tightened, and she grabbed him down for another kiss, ignoring how her view of him blurred. She choked back tears, focusing on the way he pumped slowly.
Derek moaned against her mouth and she responded in whimpers. Her muscles clenched around him, and she was first to come. Her body rolled, and she reached a peak every time his cock pressed against her sweet spot. With every spasm, she held him closer and tighter, nails gently digging against his skin.
He came shortly after burying his seed deep, groaning Amara’s name until he expelled every drop.
Derek meant to pull out and push off of Amara, but she kept him in place, maintaining her hold on him. He stroked her hair, nails gently dragging along her scalp.
Amara felt him brush her bangs off her sweat-laden forehead, kissing it gently, and turned away to hide her fluster. She let go of him, felt him plop down beside her, and turned away.
A finger tapped her shoulder. “Take care, okay?”
Amara pulled his arms around her, ashamed by her own audacity. It wasn’t fair to him. Not at all. His arms calmed her as much as they terrified her. “At least stay until I fall asleep. Then I don’t care what you do.”
What a bold-faced lie. Derek’s arms tightened around her, and she scooted back into him. She felt a soft peck against the back of her head.
“I know the drill. I’ll be gone before the cleaning lady gets here.” Derek laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it.
~
Amara winced when the sun hit her face. She rubbed her eyes, the bright sunlight lingering in her vision. Her hands rubbed along the top of the sheets. Derek was gone. Not a trace of him, except for the dried-up seed that flaked along the inside of her thigh.
She sighed. Amara expected relief, but instead, she felt regret. Her phone buzzed, and her hand snapped to grab it. Nothing new from Derek. No missed calls. No voicemails, desperate to make things work. No texts, not even one to tell her that he made it home safe.
Whatever. She shouldn’t care. This was what she wanted, after all. Even if Amara humored something more with Derek–a real relationship–how long would it last, realistically?
She picked out a fresh pair of underwear and slipped on a loose shirt before walking out to the kitchen. Her jaw hung open in disbelief.
“How do you like your eggs?” Derek asked. Oil jumped from the pan, and he flinched, dodging subsequent splatters. He must’ve regretted cooking without a shirt.
“Why are you still here?” Amara asked him. She bit the inside of her cheek, but a smile was inevitable. He saw through her crossed arms, too. A pinch on her arms was enough to at least confirm this wasn’t a dream. Her stomach fluttered, and she wished it was just hunger.
“Freak blizzard. The city is buried, plow trucks are still working their way around, but they won’t pass by for a bit,” he said, flipping an egg, careful not to pop the yolk. He repeated his question, “How do you like your eggs?”
“Can you do an omelette?” Amara murmured, her voice quieting. “With cheese.”
“You got it.”
Derek cooked in silence, and Amara watched him. There was so much to say, but she had no idea where to start. The words escaped every time she opened her mouth, and before she could utter a single word, her food was done. Derek plated it carefully and slid it along the counter towards her.
When words failed her, actions would suffice. She got up on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on his lips. The man blushed, clearing his throat, and she continued, “Thanks. For breakfast, but also not leaving.”
“Didn’t have a choice,” Derek joked. “The buses aren’t running. So you’re stuck with me for at least today, then you never have to see me again.”
Amara wrapped her arms around his torso, and he followed suit, confused at first but eventually holding tightly. She shook her head against his chest. Half of her words muffled against him, “I’m not really good at this kind of stuff, but you don’t have to go, okay? We can try, but I want to go at my pace. So be patient. It’s been a while for me, so I’m not really sure how to start all this.”
Derek smiled. “How about we just start with breakfast, then?”
Amara nodded, helping herself to a first bite. It was steaming still, and she blew hot air out, fanning herself before shoving Derek playfully. It was fluffy, though. The cheese was perfectly melted. Amara covered her mouth to hide her smile. She regretted not taking him up on his offer before.
Amara had no idea how long she and Derek would last, ultimately. She had no idea if he was the man she would marry (or even if she wanted to get married at all). But any couple needs baby steps to figure that out, and eating an omelette on the counter on a snow day sounded as good a start as any.
submitted by /u/rotonoscope
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