Traces of You

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

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12:53 a.m.

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

It is time to go home.

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

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

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

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

You smile.

“So do you, Yuki.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smug bastard.

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

“No.”

You stand, confused.

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

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

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

“What’s the rule?”

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

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

“Nick,” you whimper. “Come on—”

“You? Yeah, sure, if you want me to.”

The proposal makes your jaw drop and you inhale sharply.

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

“Slowly,” he demands, his voice rough.

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mine,” he grumbles. “My job.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

“Your wish is my command.”

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

You kiss his chest. You crawl backwards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” he breathes. “I can do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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