Chapter Text
Emma Nolan
good morning 🍯anything special I need to wear today?
Brendan looked down at his phone and felt heat rising in his chest. The image of her naked body from the night before flashed in his mind and he desperately fought the urge to suggest garments she shouldn’t wear. He had wanted to do this right; he had wanted to take her on at least one, if not several, real dates before their relationship evolved. They’d never spoken outside of work before they ran into each other at Buggy’s, and everything had happened so quickly. His feelings had come on fast and strong, and he had been so concerned about whether he was coming across overbearing that he hadn’t really let himself believe Emma may have been feeling the same way. Whether she was or not, he was still determined to prove to her that he wanted all of her, so he’d decided to hold off on initiating sex. That was the plan, anyway, until Emma had climbed in his lap and begged him to touch her, until Emma had begged him to take her breasts in his mouth, until Emma had told him it was no pressure, she didn’t need to come. And then, suddenly, the plan had become: make Emma Nolan come so hard she’d forget any guy who couldn’t get her there, every guy that wasn't Brendan.
Mission accomplished. But now, 12 hours later, Brendan decided it was more important than ever that he show Emma how she should be treated.
Brendan
Good morning, beautiful. Dress warm and pack your camera and your skates. ❄️
Emma Nolan
do you want me to have some coffee ready when you get here?
Brendan
I’ll take you out for coffee baby. It can be our first stop. Breakfast too, if you haven’t eaten yet.
Emma loved a message.
Brendan knocked on Emma’s door with his right hand, his left hand delicately holding a bouquet of flowers. The flowers hadn’t been part of his initial plan, but when he’d picked up his mom’s Thanksgiving bouquet, instead of simply paying and leaving, he’d found himself asking the florist for the best “first date bouquet” money could buy. The door swung open and his heart nearly stopped. He expected her to wear a sweater and jeans, maybe even sweatpants, but certainly not a mini skirt.
“Ooh, Brendan! These are so pretty!” Emma reached for the flowers, seemingly not noticing Brendan’s inability to breathe. She turned around to carry her flowers to the kitchen and Brendan forced his eyes to look anywhere but her ass. He’d been staring at the red bow tied in the back of her hair when she turned back at him and smiled. “What kind of flowers are these?”
“Oh, those ones are snapdragons, I think. All of them are safe for cats, though, I made sure,” he answered, looking down at Brookie, who had come to rub her head against his pant legs. Emma’s cat was almost like a different species than his parents’ cat; Brookie loved attention and never seemed to hide from company. And, despite the fact that it went against his original reasons for liking cats better than dogs, he found it very sweet that Brookie was so friendly. It was like Emma’s nature had rubbed off on her cat.
“Oh, thank you!” Emma said, coming close to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I haven’t had any flowers since I got Brookie, actually, so I don’t even know which ones are safe.”
She hasn’t had flowers in, what, 6 months then, at least? Brendan thought. He wanted to ask who the last person who’d bought her flowers had been, but he pushed the thought away.
“I thought I said dress warm,” he said softly, looking down at her outfit.
“Oh, this is warm!” she answered. “These are fleece-lined, see?” She pinched the fabric of her sheer black tights to demonstrate how thick the material was.
“You sure you’ll be warm enough outside?” Brendan asked.
“I’m sure,” she replied, then reached down to grab a large tote bag. “OK, I think I’m ready to go. Got my skates and my camera bag in here.” She moved to lift the bag over her shoulder, but Brendan took it from her hand.
“Alright, let’s head out then,” he said casually, bringing no extra attention to the fact that he would be carrying the heavy bag for her.
Emma had never been in Brendan’s car before, but it wasn’t far off from what she’d expected. The inside was pristine, with clean black leather and shiny metals. The only thing that had thrown her a bit was that the black, maybe gray SUV she’d been expecting was actually a dark green.
“My favorite color,” he’d said, by way of explanation.
Once they were both seated and buckled in, she’d replied, “Mine’s baby blue. My favorite color, not my car, I mean.”
“I’ve seen your car,” he reminded her as he pressed the ignition button. “For some reason I thought you’d like yellow the best.”
“Well, I like any pastel color really. But blue’s my favorite color to wear, so it’s just my overall favorite I guess,” she answered, hoping she wasn’t rambling.
“So, I figured we’d go to a café first, and then I wanted to take you to some places I know around the city that I think would make for good photo spots. Does that sound OK?” Brendan asked, his eyes on her and his hand on the gear shift.
“Sounds perfect,” she answered. “I can show you how to use the camera too, if you want.”
“Only if you let me take photos of you,” he said, smirking. “You are my muse, after all.” Emma blushed as he pulled the car onto the road.
Emma was impressed by Brendan’s choice of café; he’d selected one in a neighborhood she hadn’t explored yet, but seemed to be filled with small independently-owned shops. She’d snagged them a seat by the window, through which she could hear the wind chimes that hung from the awning. Brendan had asked for her coffee and breakfast order, and after giving him a general idea of what flavors she liked (chocolate, vanilla, hazelnuts, honey) she’d asked him to surprise her. At work, Brendan was known for being rigid and unpleasantly serious, so she never would have pegged him as the type of guy to enjoy surprises. However, when she’d seen the look on his face after her request, she’d decided he liked having the opportunity to surprise her. He returned to the seat across from her carrying a very full tray of pastries along with two paper cups.
“Alright,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “One hazelnut mocha latte for you, that’s sweet cream cold foam on the top. Then I got us the almond and pistachio croissants, baklava since you like honey, and hot chocolate babka. The cashier said it has marshmallows baked into it so it’ll be super sweet.”
Emma took a sip of her drink and let out a satisfied hum. She’d seen Brendan set a fracture without surgery and look less proud of himself than he did at that moment.
“This is an insane amount of food,” she said with a giggle. “What’d you get yourself to drink?”
“Same as you.” The surprise Emma felt must have been evident on her face, so he continued, “Just wanted to see what you like about it.”
After they’d both eaten as much of the pastries as they could, Emma sat back in her seat and sighed. “If I died right now, I’d be perfectly happy with my last meal.”
“You Pitt people are all so morbid,” he joked.
“I am not morbid! But I guess I’m acutely aware of how short life is, and I like to enjoy things,” she replied. She looked out the window, past the windchimes, and found herself hit with a pang of nostalgia at the sight of a dad walking with his toddler standing on his feet. Brendan’s eyes followed hers. “My dad used to dance with me on his feet like that,” she said, nearly a whisper.
Emma had been hit hard by anxiety since nearly the day she’d turned 13. For years after that, she’d pray every night to ask, and occasionally beg, God to keep her family and friends safe and healthy. Emma’s grandmother died when she was 18, and she could no longer bring herself to pray. She had a sickening fear, not that God wasn’t listening to her, but that He was, and she hadn’t prayed well enough. Emma had felt so guilty that she’d offered to help with every aspect of the funeral, stretching herself far too thin amidst her grief, leading to her first ever panic attack. She’d been sorting through photos for the funeral reception slideshow when she discovered that in her entire life, Emma had taken less than 20 photos with her grandmother. That realization had been a gut punch, and as she stared down at a photo of her younger self pouting next to her grandmother, she couldn’t catch her breath. Why couldn’t I have just smiled? Why did I think it was OK to hurt her feelings like that? All she wanted was a picture with me. The guilt and the grief were swallowing her whole.
Emma’s mom had found her on her knees, doubled over and gripping her chest. She blacked out in the midst of her panic and could only remember coming back into her right mind, curled in her mom’s lap, looking up at her as she sang Emma’s grandmother’s favorite hymn. Eventually, Emma confided in her mom; she explained the guilt and the responsibility she’d felt when her prayers didn’t come true, her fear that everyone she loved would one day be gone, that she’d never be able to hold onto all the memories she wanted to keep. A week later, Emma found a camera, wrapped with a bow, sitting on her pillow. If anyone asks, her mom had said, it’s for your graduation.
Taking photos had been a form of therapy for Emma ever since. It eased her anxiety about losing or forgetting memories, always having a tangible reminder of time she’d spent with her loved ones. From time to time, though, something would remind her of the memories she’d already missed out on capturing, particularly ones from her childhood, and she’d be filled with regret.
“I wish I had more photos,” Emma said quietly, tearing her eyes away from the child and her dad and looking back at Brendan.
“How about we go take some, then?” Brendan asked with a casual smile on his face, though his eyes had softened as if he could read Emma’s thoughts.
The two of them strolled down the street, slow enough that Emma could demonstrate some of the camera’s functions to Brendan. They’d left the tote bag with her ice skates in the car, so the bulk of the weight was gone, but Brendan had still insisted on carrying the camera bag for her.
“Hang on, real quick!” she said, preventing him from moving by resting the lightest touch on his chest and scurrying further down the block. She turned back around, pointed the camera in his direction, and took his photo. When she returned, she showed him the screen and said, “See what I mean? And it’ll look better when it’s edited too, I can show you that some time.” He hadn’t even looked at the camera’s display yet, he’d been so busy staring at her. She had this intense look in her eye as she studied her work, her nose crinkling as her head tilted a bit. When she looked back up, he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Thank you, honey,” she replied, joining their hands and stepping to continue their walk.
“Any particular reason you’ve decided on honey?” he asked. He’d already decided the pet name was fine, but now that he’d heard her say it in person instead of just reading it on his phone, he’d realized he actually might even like it.
“Hmm. Mostly to tease you,” she admitted, flashing him the cutest smile he’d ever seen.
“At least you’re honest,” he said, chuckling. He stopped outside of a record store. “This is one of the places I thought you could get some good photos. All of these stores are supposed to be pretty cool inside, really,” he told her, gesturing to the stores on the remainder of the block.
“Will they let us take photos inside, though?” she asked.
“As long as we buy something, probably,” he responded.
If Emma asked, he wouldn’t admit it, but Brendan’s photoshoot idea was mostly just a thinly-veiled excuse to buy her things and listen to her talk about her interests. A gift to himself, really, but he thought Emma would like it just as much.
The first thing Brendan noticed upon entering the record store was how dark it was. He watched Emma snap a photo of a poster that read F*ck nudes, send me your playlist and wondered how she’d be able to fix the lighting. Maybe he actually would watch her edit these. She handed him the camera as she flipped through one shelf of vinyls. She pulled out an ABBA record and giggled.
“You like ABBA?” he asked, once again shocked that the girl who had wanted to update his music taste was interested in music older than he was.
“Sure, but really I just love Mamma Mia,” she answered, her face breaking into a huge smile. “April, Mari, and I watch it every year for my birthday and we’ve already planned to perform Super Trouper at each other’s bachelorette parties one day.”
He hadn’t really been able to stay focused on the camera when she’d given him his tutorial, so he could only hope he was using the correct settings when he lifted it up and snapped a picture of her carefree expression. He lowered the camera as if nothing had happened, then said, “Hold onto it then, we’ll buy it. Keep looking.” He’d never seen Mamma Mia, in fact he’d never seen a single musical, but he now knew what they’d be watching for their first movie date.
When they’d finished in the record store, purchasing the ABBA record and one of the Taylor Swift variants she’d missed out on (she'd tried to explain the limited time variant drops to Brendan, but it had all seemed overly complicated to him- just let people buy the album whenever they want), they entered the used bookstore.
“OK, this time, I’m buying,” she said. “Go find something you want.”
“Fine, how about I pick something I like, and you read it. You pick something you like, and I’ll read it,” he answered.
“Deal.”
They met back up at the cashier’s stand; Emma had picked a Christmas romance she’d seen on booktok, and Brendan had picked a thriller by an author his dad had mentioned. He cringed slightly as she pulled up her apple pay despite knowing that $30 was not legitimately going to make or break her budget. It felt wrong to let her pay for anything on their date, but if he argued the point with her too much, he worried it would end up spoiling the day.
Next, they entered a secondhand shop and were immediately greeted by an elderly couple. Within minutes, Brendan and Emma learned that their names were Andrew and Betty, they’d been married for 47 years, they’d owned the store for 25 years, and they had 13 grandchildren. Betty was immediately taken with Emma, an occurrence Brendan was beginning to realize was quite common, and took her straight to the rack of women’s dresses. Andrew made polite small talk with Brendan as they gave “the girls,” as Andrew called them, time to talk.
“Hey, honey? Can you hold the camera?” Emma called out to Brendan.
“Sure thing,” Brendan said, then, eyeing the beaded light blue dress Betty was holding, asked, “Are you trying that on?”
“I think Betty will kick me out if I don’t,” Emma replied, sending Betty into a fit of laughter.
As Emma changed in the tiny dressing room, Brendan answered the barrage of questions Betty threw at him. Are you really a surgeon? Are you from Pittsburgh originally? Are you planning to marry Emma? Brendan couldn’t have been more pleased with Emma’s timing, as she flung the curtain open just before Brendan could respond to that final inquiry.
Emma swayed back and forth, the beads sending shining patterns of light across the walls. Betty gasped and clapped, telling Brendan he must take her somewhere worthy of that girl and that dress. Brendan only peeled his eyes away from Emma to remove the lens cap from the camera, angling it to take several shots of her as she modeled. He recalled how she’d looked on stage the night he’d approached her at the bar, just as radiant, but here, there was a softness present, too.
Andrew nudged Brendan’s shoulder and held his hand out for the camera. “Go dance with your girl,” he said. Brendan followed his instructions immediately; he respected his elders, after all.
The two of them swayed for a minute before Brendan spun her around. They continued dancing as they heard the camera shutter capturing every movement. Finally, Brendan dipped Emma and kissed her. He told himself it was for the entertainment of Betty and Andrew, certainly not for his own benefit. But Emma looked up into his eyes, and, of course, they both knew the truth.
Betty and Andrew had convinced Emma to get the blue dress (“he won’t even need to get a matching tie, it matches his eyes!”) and Brendan, remembering Emma’s collection of little guys, checked out the figurines while she changed back into her clothes. He found a little deer with a head that wobbled and picked it up.
“Oh, it’s a littlest pet shop!” she said, now fully dressed with the blue dress draped over her arm. “I love those!”
“I remember,” Brendan said. So, armed with a new dress and a little toy deer, they bid Andrew and Betty goodbye. That is, until Emma took one step outside and turned back around to ask for a picture of herself with Betty.
“For the memory,” she explained. Betty simply hugged her and asked for a copy of the photo whenever Emma got the chance.
They drove for about 20 minutes before Brendan stopped the car. “More food?” Emma asked, noticing where they’d just parked. “We just ate all those pastries!”
Brendan turned the car off and ran around the front so he could open Emma’s door. “That was three hours ago,” he answered, “and it was entirely sugar. I promised you real food.” He extended a hand and Emma took it, holding on as she jumped down from the car.
“Ever been here?” he asked.
“Nope, have you?” she replied.
“Oh, yeah. Tons of times, especially as a kid. My dad is friends with the owner,” he explained. “It’s nothing too fancy, just Italian food with a wood-fired grill.”
“So what I’m hearing is pizza,” she said, making Brendan chuckle.
“That’s one option, yes,” he confirmed, opening the door for her.
It turned out to be the option for Emma, apparently, as she’d insisted they split a white pizza. She’d also gotten herself a chicken caesar salad, to make it a real meal, she’d explained, mocking Brendan. Brendan had gotten himself meatballs, which he confessed were better than his mom’s, but only after he’d sworn her to secrecy.
After they’d eaten most of the food, Emma sat back in her chair again. “That was really good,” she said.
“I know, right? They always cater my dad’s business events, too,” Brendan replied. He’d been trying to figure out how to bring this up since he’d spoken with his dad the night before.
“That’s cool,” Emma answered, looking at him as though she could tell he was struggling to decide what to say next.
“They have a New Year’s party, actually, that I usually go to if I’m not stuck working,” he told her. He nodded, proud of himself for getting his point across quickly and efficiently. Except, he realized, he hadn’t, because Emma was still sitting across from him looking confused, giving no answer to what he thought was a clearly implied invitation.
“So, this year I’m going again. I don’t know if you’re working, but I would really like to bring you, unless you have plans already,” he continued.
“I don’t have plans and I’m not working,” she answered, finally smiling again. “I’d love to come.”
“My family will be there, just in case that wasn’t clear,” he blurted out.
“No, yeah, I got that,” she said with a giggle. He wondered if she found his nervousness as cute as he found hers.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she told him, placing a hand over his.
“Thanks for saying yes,” he said softly. They stayed like that for another minute before Brendan decided to take her for a spin. Literally.
“I can’t believe you own ice skates!” Emma said, lightly smacking his arm. They’d made it to one of the city’s outdoor rinks, which was only in its first week of the season. Emma strapped into her skates in half the time it took Brendan.
“I played ice hockey in high school and college,” Brendan said. “Hopefully it’s like riding a bike.”
“Just don’t fall on top of me,” she told him with a giggle. Brendan turned out to be steady on his skates, so Emma felt comfortable holding his hand as they circled the rink.
“Show me something cool,” Brendan said. They moved to the center of the ice, where Emma checked to make sure there was enough space between herself and other skaters. She showed off one of her favorites, attitude spins, then skated a bit more to gain momentum for her double salchow jump.
“That was so fucking good, baby!” Brendan said, holding her close to him and spinning them around slowly. Emma blushed. She hadn’t skated competitively in many years, and hadn’t skated at all since moving to Pittsburgh, so it felt really wonderful not only to get back on the ice, but to do it with Brendan, who was looking at her as if she’d just performed an Olympic level routine.
“I used to be able to do a lot more, but I’m out of practice,” she said.
“I’ll bring you whenever you want. There’s indoor rinks we can go to when this one closes. I know the diner works, but skating might help when you’re homesick, too,” he offered.
It was simple, yet so thoughtful, that Brendan was trying to help with Emma’s homesickness. They’d talked about Brendan’s residency before, but he’d never really divulged his feelings about having been thousands of miles from home. She wondered if his desire for her to feel more at home was partially sparked by the memories of his time away.
“Thank you, Brendan,” she said softly, then rose to the front of her skates so she could kiss him. She wanted this day with Brendan, this perfectly planned date, to last forever.
“Mm, let’s take a picture of our skates!” she suggested as they pulled apart.
“Do you want me to get the camera out of the locker?” Brendan asked.
“No, no, I’ll just use my phone while we’re here,” she replied. They skated to the very edge of the rink, where Emma pulled her phone from her pocket and propped it against the bottom of the wall. She set the timer, then turned to Brendan and got on the tiptoes of her skates once again for another kiss.
“That’ll make a cute picture,” she promised.
By the time they’d finished skating, the sun had completely set, and the rink was illuminated only by the strings of lights hung around it. Emma stopped at the bathroom once she’d gotten her shoes back on, so, while he waited, Brendan bought each of them a hot chocolate from the concession stand. He handed Emma’s cup to her once she returned, then took her other hand in his and walked towards the parking garage.
“So, now that it’s dark, I figured we can go to my favorite spot in the city this time of year,” Brendan said.
“Very cryptic. Why does it have to be dark?” Emma asked with a giggle.
“Do you like Christmas lights?” he asked.
“Love them,” she replied. Brendan opened the car door for her. Once he got in the driver's seat, he pointed to the car’s dash screen.
“Alright, show me what an Emma-approved Christmas song sounds like,” he said. Honestly, Emma had primarily listened to traditional Christmas hymns and carols growing up, and she still had a soft spot for them. Typically, when Christmas came around, she’d still queue up Andy Williams, Bing Crosby, and Nat King Cole. She knew plenty of newer Christmas music though, and had even been in charge of the playlist for the cookie decorating party she’d thrown with April and Mari the year before.
Mistletoe - Justin Bieber displayed on the screen and within seconds, Brendan threw his head back and sighed.
“Don’t like Justin Bieber, I take it?” Emma asked, poking his arm.
“I don’t mind it, honestly, it just makes me feel old. Heidi was obsessed with him when she was little, so I’ve heard this one a lot,” he explained.
“Yeah, she’s only a couple years younger than me, right? So that makes sense,” she said, nodding casually. She hadn’t really thought much about Heidi, aside from the wedding playlist. She'd found it a little odd that Heidi was getting married at 21, but it’s not like it was unheard of, and she didn’t want to upset Brendan, so she’d kept that thought to herself.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” he said gruffly, swallowing hard before putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the spot.
Emma wondered why mentions of her age seemed to make Brendan so uncomfortable. Was it the age gap itself, or solely the proximity of his sister’s age to her own? She’d made it very clear, she thought, that she was interested in him regardless of any age difference, and even found it funny when their differing generational quirks came into play. She tried to force the worries away, telling herself he invited you to meet his family, after all, but she was a natural worrier.
“Are you OK?” she asked softly, putting a hand on his upper arm as the car exited the parking garage.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing to do with you,” he assured, although Emma didn’t quite believe him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She tried not to press too hard, but she wanted him to know she was there for him.
“Maybe another time. It’s just my brain trying to somehow reconcile the fact that my baby sister who is obsessed with Justin Bieber and Despicable Me is actually 21 and getting married. It’s just a weird time, I guess.” He never took his eyes off the road as he spoke.
“That makes sense. As a little sister, I think you do a good job showing up for her, though,” she told him. He nodded and took a deep breath, not speaking for the rest of the drive.
When they arrived, they grabbed their hot chocolate cups, which were finally cool enough to drink, and entered the park. Brendan put his arm around her waist as they strolled through the display of lights. There were the classic Santa decorations, some popular character displays like Bluey, and an excessive amount of jumbo candy canes. She looked up to see the strings of light dangling from tree branches when a sudden flash of light registered in her peripheral vision.
“Sorry,” Brendan whispered. “I don’t know the settings for this kind of lighting but I just had to take that picture.” He tilted the camera’s screen towards her, where she could see a slightly blurry but glowing photo of herself, sparkling lights shining in the reflection of her glossy eyes.
They continued their walk, with Emma pointing out and explaining the Christmas movie references in the display that Brendan hadn’t recognized. They paused to read the sign labeled Kissing Bridge TOLL: 1 Kiss, then walked right up. They stopped in the middle of the bridge, with Emma trying to plant a quick, soft little kiss on his lips, but Brendan lifted her off her feet and spun her as their lips collided. When he set her back down, she felt slightly lightheaded and couldn’t stop laughing.
“I love when you laugh like that,” Brendan told her, pulling her across the rest of the bridge.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Like you couldn’t stop even if you tried,” he answered. “I just like seeing you so happy.” Emma smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.
Once they’d reached the end of the trail’s loop, they sat on a bench and looked out on the park. Emma rested her head against Brendan’s shoulder and he turned his head to place a quick kiss on the top of her head. They sat together in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s company.
As they walked towards Emma’s door, Brendan trailing behind her carrying both Emma’s tote bag and their purchases from that morning, she softly told him, “Please come in.”
Upon opening the door, the quiet, soft tone of her voice was immediately contrasted by the whiny, almost angry-sounding meows of her cat.
“Her dinner is ten minutes late,” Emma explained, quickly preparing Brookie’s dish.
“You monster,” Brendan joked. Then he dipped down to scratch Brookie’s head. “Sorry, Brookie. Don’t be mad at your mom, it’s my fault we’re late.” Emma smiled at him, seemingly amused that he would entertain a conversation with a cat.
Once the meowing ceased, Brendan carried the bags to Emma’s bedroom. He’d been understandably distracted the night before, so he hadn’t really taken in the scenery of her bedroom. She had fairy lights twinkling in here, too, but unlike the living room, she had them hung in a swirling pattern covering the ceiling. The walls had strings of paper butterflies hanging over art prints, more shelves filled with figurines, and a corkboard covered in collectible pins and scraps of paper that Brendan assumed were connected to memories back home.
“Sorry, I know I keep things cluttered,” she said, following behind him.
“No, it’s very homey. I like it,” he assured. He traced a finger over the ruffles of her bedspread. She sat right next to his hand and peeled her fleece tights down her legs. “And I like you,” he finished.
“Hmm, I like you too,” she said, looking up at him and scrunching her nose as she smiled.
“Did you want me to go now that the bags are put away?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“No. I really, really don’t,” she answered. She grabbed the hand that was next to her leg and pulled him to sit next to her.
“Want some music?” he asked.
“No, I just want to hear you,” she said, her voice low and soft. How could he argue with that? He just wanted to hear her, too. He moved to the center of the bed, gently bringing her with him, and pulled her in for a kiss. One of his hands held the back of her neck and the other rested on her waist as she pulled his bottom lip into her mouth.
“Em, baby,” he said as he loosened his grip on her neck and pulled back.
“What?” she whispered, chasing his mouth with hers. When he wouldn’t let her reach, she settled for kissing and licking the side of his neck.
“Oh sweet Jesus, fuck,” he panted. “Emma, please wait.”
“Why?” she sighed, frustrated, and threw her head back.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to touch her, or kiss her, or fuck her senseless. He wanted to, desperately, but not as badly as he wanted to earn her trust. He wanted to prove to her how badly he wanted her, as a person, not just her body.
“I want you to know you can trust me, that’s all,” was the explanation he settled on. The second it left his mouth, he knew it wouldn’t be good enough.
“I do trust you,” she insisted. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do, but-”
“So trust me when I say this is what I want.”
Brendan sighed. He knew if they didn’t continue she’d take it as a rejection, and he couldn’t bear the thought of making her feel that way. He nodded, licked his lips, and crashed them into hers once again, not holding back. Emma reached a hand under his shirt, running it all over his chest. When she pressed her hips into his, they moaned into each other’s mouths. Emma pulled her hand from his shirt to fumble with his belt buckle.
“Please,” she gasped. He pulled back and finished undoing the buckle for her, pulling his pants off but leaving his underwear. He felt the shakiness of her hands and enveloped both of them in one of his, using his free hand to tilt her chin up towards him.
“You OK?” he asked, and when she only nodded, he continued, “We don’t have to do anything, baby. Or we can do what we did last night, if you want. There’s no rush.”
“I want to, I promise. I’m just nervous,” she said quietly, pulling her head from his grip to bury her face in his neck.
“Anything I can do to make you less nervous?” he asked, genuinely wanting to help.
“Be less hot, maybe,” she murmured, surprising Brendan enough that he let out a laugh.
“You’re out of my league as it is, Em,” he said, pressing kisses into her hair. They laid together for several minutes, just breathing together, before Emma pulled her head from his neck and shifted to her back. She tugged on Brendan’s arm until he was above her, kissing her again, still moving gently in case she needed to stop. He slowly moved his hand to cup her breast through her sweater.
“Bren,” she sighed, bucking her hips into him and scratching at the back of his neck. He moved back, balancing himself on his knees to give her space to remove her sweater, unveiling a bra made of sheer white lace.
Brendan forced his eyes shut to regain control of his impulses. “Fuck, Emma,” he grunted, before he felt a shock course through his body. His eyes flew open, looking down to find Emma palming his dick through his boxer briefs. He quickly grabbed her wrist, using it to pull her up for a hungry kiss. He leaned her back until she was resting on the pillows again, then removed his shirt while she hiked her skirt up to reveal matching white panties. He fell to his elbows, his face only inches away from her pussy, and looked up at her.
“So fucking perfect, baby,” he spoke, his voice rough with need. She combed her fingers through his hair, then pushed his head closer to where she needed him. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her underwear. He could feel the heat of her through the dainty fabric. He pulled them down slowly, keeping eye contact with her as he moved.
“Still doing alright?” he whispered, feeling her shudder from the loss of contact.
“Just need more,” she said, her voice breathy.
He moved slowly with his tongue again, adding more focused pressure and speed bit by bit, pushing her closer and closer to her breaking point. She begged for more, and this time, instead of pressing a finger into her, he reached a hand up to play with one of her nipples.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” she was fully yelling, so he removed the hand from her nipple and stuck two fingers in her mouth. She sucked hard on his fingers and the sensation went straight to his dick. He moaned into her, pulling his fingers out of her mouth and bringing them back to her breast. The cold wet saliva on her nipple sent her right over the edge, screaming Brendan’s name and throwing her head back onto the pillows. He kept his mouth on her until she started to squirm from the overstimulation.
He moved back up to her mouth, much like the night before, but this time they didn’t kiss lazily and they certainly didn’t cuddle. Emma pressed into him and he gave in. He started to rhythmically grind into her, her arousal soaking the front of his underwear and making the friction nearly unbearable. He waited for her to reach for his waistband, though, not wanting to rush her. Once she reached for it, he pulled them down immediately, the cold air causing him to catch his breath. Emma’s breath caught too, apparently shocked by the sight of his fully naked body.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice sounding much more strained than he’d hoped. She complied immediately, which surprised Brendan slightly, and he unzipped the back of her skirt.
“Thank you,” she said softly, wiggling as she slid the skirt all the way down her legs. Brendan turned her back around to face him.
“I want you to be comfortable,” he told her, trying to match the softness of her voice. He was still looking into her eyes when he felt her small, cold hand wrap around his dick. His eyes shut immediately and he reached down to still her hand. “You have to stop surprising me like that,” he hissed. He opened his eyes again to find a wicked grin on her face.
“I thought you liked surprises. You had so much fun picking my surprise breakfast this morning,” she answered innocently.
“I like surprising you. I think you knew that, though.” He reached down to grab her ass and she let out a noise he hadn’t heard her make yet, a very low-pitched moan, almost like a purr. She started to move her hand up and down his length again.
“I need you,” she said, her voice still low and heavy with desire.
“You can have me, baby. I just need to make sure you’re ready for me,” he assured her. He laid her back down on the bed, then stood up, dragging her legs over until her ass was right at the edge of the bed. He kneeled on the floor, stuck two fingers in his mouth, then used them to stretch her open. She moaned as he curled his fingers inside of her, then pulled them out to spread her wetness around. He grazed her clit with his thumb, causing her to shiver and cry out for more.
“OK, baby, OK. I’ve got you,” Brendan soothed, then reached down to pull his wallet out of his pants pocket. He threw the wallet on the ground once he’d located the condom he’d packed just in case. Emma lifted her head up, trying to watch him roll it on. He rose to his feet and pulled her back to the edge of the bed, since she’d already moved enough that she was close to the middle. He lifted one of her thighs a bit as he lined himself up with her entrance. He was about to confirm she was sure when he heard her start to beg him again, “Please, Bren, please!”
She went completely silent as he slowly entered her. He watched her face for any sign of discomfort or pain, but she seemed to just be focusing on her breathing as her body adjusted to him. “Tell me when you’re ready for me to move,” he whispered. She didn’t tell him, though, she simply started to rock her own hips, taking him further into her.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he moaned. He began to push into her with a steady rhythm, her thighs propped against his arms as his hands held on to her hips. He stared in awe as her breasts, still slightly concealed by the sheer bra, moved with each thrust.
“Harder, please,” she sighed. He lifted her left leg until it was propped against his shoulder, allowing him to chase a deeper angle.
“Oh my- fuck!” she yelled out. Brendan smirked as he realized this was the first time she’d cursed in front of him, excluding song lyrics. He wondered if she gave herself the same leeway with cursing during sex as she did with music, or if she just genuinely couldn’t hold back anymore. He reached down and began rubbing circles on her clit, curious what she might say next.
“Please, please, please” she breathed out with each thrust, her voice becoming increasingly desperate. He could feel his own orgasm building as she clenched around him.
“That’s perfect, baby. Just like that,” he groaned, then turned his head to sink his teeth into the leg propped on his shoulder. She screamed at the sensation, and Brendan knew she was close based on the way she was babbling somewhat incoherently Bren, please, I need- yes, that’s- oh god, more- fuck fuck fuck. He pressed the hand that wasn’t circling her clit onto her lower stomach, applying the pressure that had sent her over the edge the night before. She was clenching around him immediately, tears streaming down her face as she moaned his name. He could feel himself thrusting into her through his palm, and between that and the way she clenched around him, he couldn’t last a moment longer. He buried himself deep inside her, his own orgasm following hers within seconds. He stayed inside her until both of them were breathing normally again, then kissed her head and lifted her legs back up onto the bed so she could lay comfortably. He walked into the bathroom to tie off and throw out the condom, and when he returned, Emma was still in the same position, staring up at the swirly lights on her ceiling. Brendan sat beside her, taking one of her hands in his.
“Are you alright?” he asked, keeping his voice calm even as a wave of panic rose in him. He was terrified she was changing her mind, regretting what they’d just done, or even feeling like she’d been pressured into it. She looked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes.
“I think I might love you,” she whispered.