[ JEALOUS ]

rating: PG couple: cho guesung x female reader request: "can i ask you to imagine cho gue sung if he gets jealous because of one of the other players?" tags: jealousy, cake, kangin shenanigans, making out in a hotel hallway lol note: reader has had a crush on guesung for a long time. she was starting to wonder if her feelings might be reciprocated while they were apart during the Qatar World Cup, but during a welcome back party for our KNT boys, guesung begins to act very, very strange. /

You realize something is wrong immediately.

You can’t quite put your finger on how you know. He’s standing on the other side of the room, several feet of carpet, appetizers, and rowdy footballers stretching out in the space between you two. Seungho is laughing at his side. Jinsu must’ve cracked a joke, because Guesung appears to be laughing too now. But…

But you can tell something is wrong.

Maybe it’s that tight set to his jaw. (You can see it clench and unclench, an unhappy habit you know he’s been trying to break for months now, per his dentist’s orders.) Or maybe it’s his arms, crossed over his chest. He’s standing broad; feet apart, shoulders squared. He looks half-ready to fight or bolt – and yet, still, he continues to laugh between Jinsu and Seungho. As if everything is fine, as if nothing’s wrong.

His eyes briefly flicker over. They meet yours. You frown at him, trying to ask and convey:

What’s wrong?

Guesung’s expression does not change as he looks away yet again.

“Noona, did you taste this yet?!”

Suddenly a fork comes in line with your vision.

You look to your left, startled. Kangin had been chatting animatedly by your side for the last few minutes but, with Guesung looking so off, you hadn’t been able to pay much attention to the boy. The Mallorca boy smiles down at you with a broad, earnest smile, all teeth and dimples, and you immediately soften.

“No, not yet,” you reply, leaning forward to take the bite of cake he offers to you. It tastes of blueberries and whipped cream. “Are you guys even allowed to eat stuff like this?”

“Of course,” Kangin’s grin grows even wider, a truly impossible feat. “It’s Day 1 of our vacation. I deserve this today. Isn’t it good?!”

The sweetness clings to you, both from the cake and the boy.

“Yes,” you laugh, shaking your head. “It’s very good.”

Pleased, Kangin moves to take another bite for himself now. He’s settled close to you, as he had been for the last hour…

(I’ve missed you, noona! he had exclaimed, as soon as he had found you waiting in the hotel suite, still adding the last finishing touches to the makeshift welcome party you and the rest of the Seoul-based staff had thrown together.

The day had been a hectic one – their flights delayed, the airport erupting into chaos, countless fans lining up outside the hotel where the team had intended to touch base before all going their separate ways. You had been a mess then, hair still up in a sloppy bun, a pile of knotted streamers in your hands. Kangin had nearly tackled you down with a hug regardless.

You should’ve come with us, he had whined, arms still tight around your waist. Qatar wasn’t the same without you!

Over his shoulder, at that moment, you had seen Guesung walk in, face gaunt, eyes tired. He had stopped briefly when he saw the spectacle before him – Kangin hugging you in a wild bear hug, walking you backwards and nearly knocking over a bowl of confetti in the process – before shaking his head and making his way immediately towards the bar cart.)

That had been one hour ago.

And now, Kangin is still pressed into your side, curled up beside you on one of the hotel suite loveseats – and Guesung…

Well, Guesung has still not even come to say hello.

You’re trying very hard not to take it personally. It isn't as if you have any claim on Guesung. He isn't even your boyfriend, after all. You're close of course. You're close with all of them really. But… but Guesung had been different. Had felt different.

Especially over the last few weeks, throughout the World Cup campaign. You two had been talking more than ever. Constant phone calls, constant texts. You had spoken to him more over the last few weeks while he was in Qatar than you had ever before.

(And when he’d fall asleep, mid-sentence, mumbling to you over the phone about just wanting to do well, to make everyone happy, to make you feel proud of him… well, was it wrong for your heart to have flipped at the promise? Was it wrong to start to wonder if, for the first time in years, that perhaps your feelings weren’t so one-sided after all?)

You did well, Guesung. I missed you. I’m proud of you, Guesung. I missed you.

You had had so many things to tell him in-person and yet, now, you can’t even find the courage to approach him from across this very hotel room.

Was it possible for someone to feel far away, even while in the same room? How had he managed to feel even closer, when he had been oceans away before?

“You wanna know a secret, noona?” Kangin suddenly asks.

He’s pressed to your side, radiating a comforting kind of heat that briefly distracts you from how strange Guesung has been all evening.

You force yourself into a brief, small smile before turning to look at Kangin again. He has a small smudge of whipped cream on his Cupid’s bow. He looks as soft, kind, and sweet as ever. A boy, enjoying his cake, just happy to be here at all.

“Sure,” you can’t help but laugh, reaching over to wipe the cream from his lips with your thumb, endeared. He blushes sheepishly at the action, licking at his lips afterwards. This time, you press your shoulder into his instead, laughing teasingly. “What’s the secret, kid?”

This gets him back on track.

Momentarily forgetting his sheepishness, Kangin straightens up, sitting broad in the loveseat with you, shoulder firm against yours. He gives you an owlish, knowing look.

“I’ve been conducting an experiment,” he says, very matter-of-factly.

You raise a brow, licking the icing off your thumb. Kangin doesn’t bat an eye.

“You see, when we were at the airport, some of the hyungs were all making fun of… someone,” he raises a brow right back at you, all swagger now, as if he wasn’t just caught with frosting on his lip. “They all knew you’d be here, waiting for us when we got back, ya’know.”

You’re not quite sure where this is going.

“They were making fun of him, saying that… that someone would probably be soOOOooOo happy to see you,” Kangin hums, clearly pleased with himself. “He tried to deny it the whole trip. Said it wasn’t a big deal. Said he just wanted to see you just like everyone else. Said it wasn’t like that.”

Wasn’t like that. Suddenly your heart is caught in your throat.

“Kangin,” your smile falters.

Kangin’s expression transforms from faux swagger to warm encouragement in a split second. He sets his cake down onto the coffee table and, hands free now, shifts even closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“I needed to call bullshit,” he smiles warmly, no malice lacing his words whatsoever. Just pure kindness and laughter. He radiates so much softness that you can’t even admonish him for swearing. “I wanted to make them acknowledge that: nope, this is exactly like that.”

Kangin squeezes your shoulder firmly, never breaking eye contact with you.

“Noona, you deserve someone who will be honest about their feelings. You deserve someone who will be proud to have you in their life and who will fight to keep you always.”

(Just want you to be proud of me, Guesung had murmured sleepily on the fourth night.

His voice had sounded far away on the phone. You had pressed the receiver closer to your ear. You could catch what he said next just barely. It came so soft and sleep found him so quickly after that you wondered if you had dreamt it all.

Just want you to want me too, he had whispered. Just want you.)

“So I started wondering, ya’know. If this guy can’t even be brave enough to tell his friends that he likes you, then will he ever be brave enough to deserve you?” Kangin continues, this time more flippantly than before. His gaze flickers over to the side of your head but he holds you still, does not let you look away. “So I needed to run a little experiment.”

Suddenly Guesung is standing before you.

This time, Kangin lets you look up, look away. Lets you look up into Guesung’s face, to find his expression pinched and unhappy, his big hand brushing Kangin’s off of your shoulder with focused intent.

Guesung grabs your arm and lifts you up and off the couch.

“We’re going,” Guesung grits out. “Now.”

“Guess I know my answer now,” Kangin laughs loudly, a full-bodied laugh. You can see he has some whipped cream still left on his chin, too, that you hadn’t noticed before.

You glance between the young boy and Guesung in confusion – but Guesung doesn’t give you a chance to squeak out another question.

He leaves behind a laughing Kangin and pulls you further and further away, his hand firm on your arm, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls you through the crowd of people, his steps so wide that you nearly trip over your own feet to keep up with him.

Heungmin is laughing now, just as loudly, and you can see Jinsu and Seungho doubled over in the corner.

Guesung does not spare anyone a second glance.

He does not even spare you a glance until you’re out, finally, standing in the hotel hallway, the suite room slamming closed behind you. Your back hits the wall.

“I’m – what – what’s going on – ” you sputter, Guesung’s hand still tight around your arm. “Guesung, you’re hurting me.”

He drops his hand immediately, as if burned. Still, he does not look at you. He stares down at his hand instead. His chest is heaving and his expression has morphed from frustrated anger to one of disbelief, as he stares down at his palm. He clenches it closed into a fist, his knuckles white.

Just want you to want me too.

“Sorry, I’m – I’m sorry,” Guesung is muttering now, voice low and gravelly. Thick with something uncomfortable. “I shouldn't have – sorry, I grabbed you. I shouldn’t have – ”

You can hear the party even through the thick hotel room door that separates you from the rowdy footballers. You can almost hear Kangin laughing, still.

Be brave, he’d probably tell you.

Be brave, he’d probably tell the both of you in this hallway.

Slowly, you raise your hand to cover Guesung’s closed fist. His hand is so big, compared to yours, that you can barely cover half of it. You raise your other as well. Cradling his fist in both of your hands, you smooth your thumbs over his clenched knuckles. You can feel him shiver at the touch and finally, finally… you buck up the courage to look up.

To look at him.

Guesung stares down at you, towering over you with his height. He blocks out the hotel light behind him, still breathing heavily, shoulders shaking, and, for once, all you can see is him. The hotel room, the laughter, the party: everything fades away. There is only you, and there is only him.

The silence is deafening.

His mouth is pressed into a thin line. His expression is still unreadable, guarded and unhappy, but the beauty mark just below his eye is so endearing that you can’t help but soften, despite yourself.

For the first time that evening, you think you may finally understand what was wrong all along.

I miss you, his eyes seem to scream. I missed you!

You let go of his hand to reach up to cradle his face carefully instead.

“It’s okay,” you whisper into the silence of the hotel hallway. “Don’t be sorry.”

Be brave!

“I missed you too,” you admit quietly.

The change in his expression comes so swiftly that you can barely register it before he crushes you against him. He presses your face into his broad chest and wraps his muscled arms around you tightly, desperately. He holds you so close that your own chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. His breath is warm and harsh against your ear, a faint whine of unhappiness rising up when you wiggle in his arms, trying to free your own arms so that you can wrap them around him. Only when your arms circle his waist does he finally let out a ragged, relieved sigh.

Still, he does not let you go.

“I hated it. All of it,” he mutters into your hair. “Everything in there. I'm sorry. I hated that Kangin was the first one you saw. I hated that he was with you all night. I hated that we didn’t speak and that you didn’t look at me and that you were looking at him and –”

He’s rambling now, all nonsense and tight breaths.

You smooth your hand down his back. Follow the curve and dip of his spine. Rub soothing circles into the base. He seems to melt into you at the touch, though he’s careful not to rest his weight onto you.

You don’t think you’d mind it, really. You tug him closer, still.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper back quietly. “I’m sorry too.”

This stops the rambling.

Guesung seems to go still in your arms. And then, unwillingly, reluctantly, he slowly pulls back. His hands are locked behind your back so neither of you can go very far, but he pulls back just enough to get a better look at your face. You’re not sure what you look like. Your hair feels like a mess, from being pressed up against him just now, and you’re sure you’re flushed as well – but…

But Guesung looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

And, damn, if he isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen as well.

His mouth is red and his cheeks are flushed. He stares down at you with such intensity that you want to squirm under his gaze, but still he holds you in place. You swallow. His hair has come loose, the pomade softening, and a few strands fall into his forehead. You want to push them back. You want to hold him closer. You want him to…

“You didn’t know?” Guesung asks softly, breaking your train of thought.

You shake your head slowly. He licks his lips. Watches you watch him too.

“You didn’t know that I’ve missed you like hell for the last few months? You didn’t know that the first person I wanted to see after our Portugal match... was you?”

Guesung’s gaze never leaves yours.

This time, you do shiver.

“You wanted to see me first?” you reply shakily, a slight tremor in your voice.

Guesung sweeps one hand up from your waist to the side of your neck. Normally he runs cold, you know, but today he is warm, skin hot against yours. His thumb smooths over the slope of your jaw, the touch purposeful and tender.

“I always want to see you first,” he replies, just as shakily, his voice giving him away.

You cannot hear Kangin laughing anymore. You do not hear anything but the sound of Guesung’s soft voice and your own heart thumping loudly in your chest. It’s time to be brave now.

“Good,” you reply.

You tilt your face up to Guesung. And then, staring into his eyes, you lift yourself up onto your tippy toes, rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean up and into him.

When your lips find his, the first kiss is unbearably soft.

A barely there brush of your lips at first – but then there's a second, and then a third.

By the fourth, Guesung is hungry as he pushes you back further against the wall, one leg slotting between yours, his big hand cupping your cheek to tilt your mouth up and open for him even more.

“Missed you,” you murmur between kisses, his tongue catching your bottom lip. You shiver when his other hand stops at the small of your back, thumb sweeping across the stretch of skin there that appears as your shift lifts just slightly. “So proud of you. ‘M so proud of you. Wanted to tell you all night.”

He shakes in your arms at this, holding you closer, his thigh warm between your legs.

“Proud of me?” he mumbles back, pressing another kiss at the corner of your mouth, nose brushing against yours. “Missed me?”

You nod, dizzy now, breathless as he kisses you in earnest. Your hand finds its way into his hair and you give the strands a light tug, pulling him back slightly. When he tilts back, you can see him clearly now. Mouth wet, pink with your lip balm, his hair even more mussed than before. He’s heaving now, chest rising and falling with each desperate breath.

You can taste that cake still – blueberries and whipped cream clinging to the backs of your teeth – but you can taste Guesung too, you think. You lick your lips.

He seems to melt at the sight.

He sags against you, pressed firmly against you, wedging you between his thighs and the cool wall behind you.

“Did you really?” he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

For someone who just kissed you as if their life depended on it, a flash of uncertainty shines in his eyes.

Oh, Guesung…

You decide to be brave enough for the both of you.

“I did. I’m so proud of you. And I missed you so much,” you answer steadily. Your hand in his hair is gentle. You brush the strands back slowly, carefully. Breathe in his cologne and let yourself get dizzy with it. “Wanted you. So much.”

Guesung looks dizzy himself.

He nudges his nose against yours. You’re sure the position must be uncomfortable for him, towering so high above you but leaning down so that he can reach you, like this. He does not seem to care. The uncertainty in his eyes seems to be fading now.

“Really? You wanted – want me?” he clears his throat. Presses himself closer to you, all heat between your legs, shuddering when your fingers card through his hair, nails grazing the nape of his neck. He tries to laugh shakily. “Even more than Kangin?”

The joke catches you so off guard that you let out a helpless, breathless laugh.

“Is that really a question?” you ask, looking down at the predicament you two are in briefly before looking back up at Guesung. Do you see this right now? is what you should really be asking. Instead, you decide to humor him. “Of course more than Kangin. More than anyone else. Always. I wouldn’t be out here kissing Kangin like this!”

This seems to appease him.

He crowds against you even closer, nuzzling your nose with his, sneaking a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Only kiss me like this. Only want me. I know I only want you.”

You know there will be lengthy conversations after this. You know the two of you will need to discuss your feelings properly – will need to iron this out and speak like adults, rather than kiss-drunk kids who want only to be wrapped up in each other’s arms. You know that that will all come...

But for now, you let yourself have this.

Be brave.

“Only want you,” you promise, voice soft. Reassuring. Guesung is warm and solid in your arms.

He is everything you could ask for at that moment.

He is everything you could ask for always.

“I promise.”

Bonus cut:

Several minutes later, after a few more lengthy, hungry kisses:

Guesung fixes his hair, ruffling the strands between his fingers, as he gazes at you thoughtfully. You raise a brow at him, as you readjust your shirt, trying to tuck it back in from where he had pulled it loose.

“What is it?”

He purses his lips, a curious look in his eyes.

“You tasted like… blueberries. Do you always taste like berries?”

You pause.

And then, schooling your expression into the most neutral one you can manage, you sniff: “Did you get to try the cake we got for you guys? It’s blueberries and cream. …Kangin fed me some. Didn’t you see – ”

(Really, you both had tried to straighten yourselves out in vain. What was even the point of trying to straighten out your shirt again?)

You yelp when Guesung reels you back in, big hands immediately grabbing onto your hips as he pulls you closer, staring at your mouth with intent, chasing you for another kiss.

“I’ll kiss it away. Gonna kiss you til you taste like me instead,” he growls roughly, mouth open and wet against yours.

You can only laugh into the kiss in agreement.

For the Love of God(dess) || CL16 {2}

Summary: Greek God/dess AU. You show Charles a part of your world and he shows you a part of his. Warnings: angst, fluff WC: 2.6k Part One || Two

The old stone path should have been worn for all the centuries that it had been used as the entrance to Olympus but it was still as perfect as it was the first time you walked it. Nothing ever changed, not since the war ended and a new hierarchy settled among the gods. For two thousand years nothing had changed in the Eternal City.

“Love, what have you done?” The imposing form of Ares filled the road to your temple, his arms the size of your waist. His molten red eyes barely glanced at the man at your side before snapping back with a double take. “Kàrolos?”

“Uh, so everyone keeps saying,” he answered quietly, his eyes sizing up the God of War as he spoke for the first time since arriving through the portal. “And you are?”

“Intrigued,” Ares said with a smirk. “Good luck.”

The god vanished and Charles rubbed at his head, murmuring, “Fucking weird dream.”

“You’ll wake up soon,” you sighed. It might not be the wake up he expected, but it was coming - you just had to find Athena. “I know someone who can help make sense of this, we just need to get you back to my place first. It’s right over h-” your words froze as turned towards your temple.

Where grey stone walls had stood, great white pillars of marble rose. Where empty garden beds lay, hundreds of white roses bloomed.

Your temple had been restored.

“This is your home?” Charles asked, a little awestruck by the sounds of it. It was quite amusing that he walked among the gods but he found beauty in a building of all things.

“Our home.”

“I have a home - in Monaco.”

You opened your mouth to argue but saw the quiet desperation in his features. He was clinging to his humanity and it forced you to remember that this wasn’t the Kàrolos you knew, this was a stranger. The only resemblance they held were their eyes, but they were the window to the soul and they still had the same soul.

“Let’s just go inside.”

The doors beyond the marble arch swung open on your approach and the interior had changed just as much. The vast room was open to the sunlight and a fountain filled the centre, the sound of bubbling water a calming feature. Open arches led to more rooms but you made your way to the furthest one.

Charles followed sedately into the bedroom and out onto the balcony that overlooked the city. Above rose the peak which Zeus had claimed, his golden palace glittering beneath Apollo’s sunshine. Below, the forests of Artemis spread far and wide with lush green canopies and the Orlias river winding through it.

Your palms warmed on the stone railing as you watched a herd of deer pick their way to the river for a drink. “I know you have a million questions and I’m sorry for…everything.”

Charles’ shoulder leaned into yours as he drank in the scenery but he jumped back when an owl swooped in, the spotted wings brushing his cheek. A flash of light burst from the owl and bare feet touched down on the balcony.

“Hmmm, you have had quite the night, Love,” she said with an appreciative look over Charles. She reached out to his face with a smile and wiggled her fingers. “May I?”

“Why? What are you going to do? Who are you?”

“So many questions,” she laughed. “I am Athena, I am knowledge, and if you want the answers then you will let me touch you.”

He looked to you for help and gods damned if it didn’t make something in your chest hurt before you nodded. He swallowed the fear of the unknown and trusted you as he stepped into her waiting hands. Lightning shattered his brain, blinding him with flashes of images that moved too fast to see. But he knew. Knowledge expanded and exploded in his mind at an exponential rate until he knew everything. Thousands of years of history burned into his retina in less than a second. The history of the gods and goddesses that called this place home. The history of the wars and the destruction it brought. The history of you and everything you lost.

He knew it all. And it hurt more than the pain that splintered his head.

He didn’t even realise he collapsed until he felt the softest mattress dip beneath his weight as you laid him down. Your concerned face appeared above him, the sun catching your hair and weaving a golden halo around the strands. A thought crossed his mind and he laughed, shaking his head.

“What?” you asked curiously as his fingers twitched like he had to fight the urge to reach out to you.

“When we met I thought you looked like a goddess, but of course you do. You are.” He looked to the balcony but the owl had already taken flight back to her palace on the hill. “I’m not him, you know.”

“I know.” The man you loved had died a long time ago. You had your time together, no matter how short, and you had mourned for him. It was time to move on. “I don’t want you to be Kàrolos. I want to learn who you are, Charles.”

“And what if you don’t like who I am?”

“I am the Goddess of Love,” you teased, climbing onto the bed to sit beside him. “My arrows don’t work unless there is compatibility between the souls. Psyche is probably better off explaining that but my power only amplifies what attraction is already there. Can’t say I have been on the receiving end of it before. This will take some getting used to.”

“What will?”

“The want, the need to touch you,” you confessed as you looked down at your hands that gripped the bedspread tightly. “It is difficult to be this close and not reach out.”

Charles frowned. “You loved Kàrolos but you didn’t use an arrow?”

“Not everyone needs an arrow to fall in love. Like I said, it only amplifies. People find love on their own everyday, only some need a little poke in the right direction. Those friends who have been dancing around each other for years, the abused who don’t think they are worthy of being loved, the colleagues who only flirt at work. The fates weave their tapestry with a trillion threads of life and when there is a snag, like two lovers who failed to meet, then I repair it so the loom can continue its creation.”

Charles blinked as he began to understand how complex the roles of the gods were. “Fuck.”

You laughed and his lips tugged up at the sound.

“I don’t mind, if you want to touch me,” he admitted quietly, reaching for your hand and unfurling it from the bedding. His hand was larger than yours but your fingers settled between his comfortably and your body sagged with relief. “So what do we do now?”

You shrugged, not exactly knowing the answer yourself. Time was plentiful so there was no rush, but you were eager to find out who it was your heart had been given to. “What do you enjoy?”

Charles’ smile dropped as he suddenly remembered the world he had left behind. “Shit, we need to go back. I have a race this week.”

–

“Breaking News: Peace had been brokered between nations all over the globe in a dramatic turn of events. For more information we will be heading to our correspondent at the United Nations HQ…”

Charles turned off the TV in the hotel but he didn’t miss the way your eyes remained fixed on the screen, or the way your lip wobbled. Crossing the room, he grabbed your hands and bent his knees so you were eye to eye. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault,” you whispered through the lump in your throat. “I failed my duties.”

He looked back at the TV where you could still see the breaking news. Peace had come after two thousand years of skirmishes and wars on the mortal plane. There should have never been wars to begin with.

“That isn’t your fault,” he argued, but he had the knowledge of the gods, he understood how your power worked. The gods were a fragile ecosystem that required balance. You were the balance to Ares’ power and his effect on the world.

“I was weakened when Kàrolos died, I lost half of myself, half of my strength. It left Ares unchecked - of course it is my fault.”

Charles wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck so you couldn’t stare at the TV. “You’re making things right now, that’s what matters.”

“It’s not even me,” you laughed bitterly. “It’s you. I couldn’t do this on my own.”

“Come on,” he said as he started to drag you towards the door.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a distraction, and I know just the thing.”

Charles drove to the circuit he would be practising on in the morning and it was relatively quiet as he led you through the paddock. A few teenagers excitedly asked for photos with him and you smiled as he stopped to talk with each one. He was so different to Kàrolos. Kàrolos was a warrior, proud and unmoving. Most children gave him a wide berth when they saw the scars that littered his body. It wasn’t in him to idly chatter or placate others, the only soft spot he had was for you.

“You’re very patient,” you commented as he waved goodbye and continued to the edge of the track.

He smiled shyly and looked at his shoes as he shrugged. “I try my best to talk to fans, especially when I have the time. Take a few laps with me?”

You followed his gaze to a Ferrari that was parked in the pit lane. “I’ve never been in a car.”

“No, really?” His eyes were wide with disbelief and you laughed at the innocence in those eyes.

“I go where I want, I’ve never needed to drive.”

He grabbed your hand and excitement flowed through you as he set a quick pace to the car. “Trust me?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.

You were immortal so it didn’t matter if he crashed. Sure, it would hurt but you would eventually heal. But the question felt heavier than just asking if you trusted him not to crash, more that you could trust him to keep you safe. “Yes, I trust you, Charles.”

You slipped into the seat that was moulded to cradle you before he bent down and buckled the clips in for you. His cologne reached your nose at the close proximity and you inhaled deeper as you committed the rich scent to your memory.

“Is this comfortable?” he asked as he tugged the harness.

“It is…managable.” Restrictive, confined, and claustrophobic came to mind but you didn’t want to worry him as he went around to his side. There was energy in his step that had been missing in Olympus, an ambience that brightened the moment he arrived at the racing track, and you wanted to keep that light in his aura.

“We’ll take the first one slow,” he promised as he started the engine and gripped the wheel.

You had flown into battle on the back of a pegasus, you had held onto the fins of charybdis as they raced through Posiden’s domain. Nothing came close to the thrill and the speed of Charles’ car.

Your heart jumped up your throat as you were thrown back into the seat and then the world around you blurred. Everything faded away except for the window ahead and you didn’t dare blink in case you missed a moment. There were no thoughts on the what ifs of the future, or the regrets of your past. There was only the car, and Charles grinning at you.

“Are you sure this is slow?” you asked with a giddy laugh as the adrenaline reached your head and the initial surprise was erased.

“Hold on, cherie.” The engine roared louder and like a beast it leapt forward. A scream of exhilaration filled the car as Charles lassoed the metal beast and wrangled it through each corner until he finally slowed to return to the pit lane.

“I finally understand the obsession,” you admitted as he parked back where he had left. Your fingers were almost stiff where they had gripped the harness over your chest and you flexed the feeling back into them before unbuckling it. “I can’t even describe it, but I feel alive - if that makes sense? I can’t think quite clearly now.”

“I understand.” Charles smiled softly and wiped away the stray tear that ran down your cheek from having your eyes wide open for so long. “It’s getting late.”

You climbed out of the car and looked up to see stars dotting the desert night sky. It felt like time stopped while you were in the car but nothing could stop time and it all came rushing back. “Can we do this again?” you asked, a little sheepish at how needy you sounded.

“Of course,” Charles promised, taking your hand as naturally as breathing. “After this race it’s winter break and I am all yours.” He stumbled and caught himself. “I mean, if you want to hang out and, uh, stuff. I don’t have any plans, but if you do we can figure something ou-”

You rose onto your toes and kissed his cheek that was turning pink in the moonlight and he fell silent. “I don’t have any plans either.”

Charles stared at your lips, still feeling the warmth on his cheek and he touched the skin as a smile tugged at his lips and he nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay.”

“You’re cute,” you said as you felt the urge to kiss his lips next.

His nose wrinkled at the compliment. “Cute?”

“Amongst other things,” you added, biting your lip to keep your other thoughts to yourself.

He grew confident and curled his finger under your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and pulling it free from your teeth. “You’re beautiful.”

Your lungs refused to work as his head dipped down slowly, giving you time to change your mind. You could still feel the remnants of that thrill in your veins and the charge was electric as you gave into your desire and threw your arms around his neck. The kiss started slowly, hesitation holding you both back as you tasted the chemistry, but it grew deeper as his arms curled around your waist, pulling your bodies flush.

The track faded away as you spared one last critical thought to teleport back to the hotel room. Charles blinked as he looked around the bedroom, but the surprise turned to a smirk. “That is handy.”

“You can do it too,” you said as your fingers traced the hem of his shirt. “You can just have to picture the image in your mind.”

Cold kissed your skin and you looked down to see your own shirt had disappeared.

“Holy shit, it worked,” he gasped. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Your shirt returned in an instant but it was now the same shade of red as his team colours.

“I wasn’t complaining,” you smirked but the humour dimmed as his hands came to rest on your waist that was still wrapped in red cotton. “We can take it slow, Charles.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you, not your regrets. I want you to be ready.” Ready for an eternity together.

Charles sat at the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap. “The first thing you should know about me is I have never been good at going slow,” he admitted as he cupped your cheek and crushed his lips to yours.

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aokiss

3 years ago