Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time he laid eyes on her, Anthony knew he was perfectly and exquisitely fucked.

Not a name. Not a word spoken. Just a tall, lithe beauty leaning against the bar at Ben's pop-up event, chatting animatedly with his brother. Raven curls spilling down her back, cutting cheekbones, long lashes and full lips. Fit all the way down to her gazelle-like legs. Fucking gorgeous.

And Anthony felt something stir in him that hadn't stirred in a very long time. Hadn't so much as twitched. Suddenly, it felt like a volcano erupting in his gut.

Ben spotted him across the room, and waved him over. The woman's eyes followed, and Anthony quickly looked away, feeling…panicked? Overwhelmed? Intrigued? Some combination of all of the above.

"Ant!" Ben said jovially, embracing him. This was three-drink Ben, judging by the volume of his voice. "Thanks for coming. This is Kate."

Kate. Anthony's head snapped to his brother, who gave him a blithe smile and a subtle shrug.

He'd heard about Kate. He'd heard an obnoxious amount about Kate, actually, so much so that Anthony had suspected Ben was secretly in love with her. But Ben insisted that while they got on wonderfully as friends, they would be all wrong as lovers, and Anthony was the better match for her personality.

Ben had said she was beautiful, of course, but Ben thought everyone and everything was beautiful in its own way. A painter's mind, he supposed.

But he had not exaggerated. If anything, Anthony thought he'd downplayed it considerably.

"Kate," he said, realizing he was taking too long to respond. "I'm Anthony."

If she found it odd that he didn't reach out his hand to shake, or lean in for a hug, she didn't show it.

Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "Ben talks about you all the time. It's nice to finally meet you."

Ben scrunched up his face. "Only to tell her when you're being a twat."

"Sure," Anthony intoned. Ben did often think he was a twat, but of all their siblings, his brother was the one who had always understood him the most. Certainly not because they were the most similar — more, he suspected, because Ben had been the oldest when Anthony changed, and knew why.

"I've just seen Granville," Ben announced a little too loudly, hoisting his beer in the air. "Get to know each other, I'll be back shortly."

Ben disappeared, and Kate shook her head, resting her own drink — clear, a gin and tonic, maybe? — on the surface of the bar. "He's been trying to set us up for ages, you know."

"With all the subtlety of a tornado."

Kate laughed, a musical sound, and Anthony bit back a smile. "He means well."

"He always does," Anthony said, a genuine current of tenderness running through him. "There's not a malicious bone in his entire body."

"I know. That's why I like him so much. What you see is exactly what you get."

He nodded. "But you're not…?"

She arched a brow, then seemed to understand his unspoken question. "Interested? No, it's not like that. I love him to death, but I would murder him three weeks in."

It was Anthony's turn to laugh. "He'll be brilliant for someone, someday. But I fear his joie de vivre is not exactly compatible with a traditional partnership."

"Excellent pronunciation. Do you speak any French?"

"Only what I helped my little sister learn."

Her smile was warmer this time. "That's cute. I used to help my little sister with her assignments, too."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-one. In that fantastic spot of desperately wanting her independence while being broke and clueless."

"Ah. A fine age," Anthony commiserated. "Hyacinth is twelve. Old enough to be an absolute terror but not old enough for me to give her a taste of her own medicine without feeling dreadful about it."

"The life of the eldest."

"I would toast to that, but I don't have a drink."

"Mmm," Kate hummed. "Let's fix that, shall we?"

As they flagged down the bartender and Anthony got a Jack and Coke in his hand, something in him whispered this is dangerous.

He'd been a flirt once upon a time, just like Ben. Worse, probably. Always capitalizing on the opportunity to chat up a beautiful woman, just for the thrill of it. But he was woefully out of practice, and for good reason.

They spoke about their families for a bit — twenty minutes or so, during which time he'd caught a glimpse of Ben waving his hands in the air and mouthing something to the effect of I fucking told you — before she was dragged away by a friend who wanted to introduce her to the host of a podcast, or some such thing.

"It was nice to meet you!" she called over her shoulder.

"You too," he murmured, leaning against the bar and sipping his drink. There was a twinge of disappointment, but Anthony brushed it aside. It was better, wasn't it? A quick flirt, with none of the lingering awkwardness. Maybe Ben could finally stop bringing it up, now.

His brother sidled up to him ten minutes later — Anthony had been checking his watch, for lack of anything better to do — and gave him the smuggest imaginable smile. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Kate seems great," he said noncommittally.

"She's bloody fantastic, and you two have so much in common, it's honestly frightening. If I close my eyes, I can imagine you lecturing me about something."

Anthony snorted, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm glad someone is keeping you in line when I'm not around."

Ben took a swig of his beer — a nearly full one, so this was contemplative four-drink Ben. "You think she might break your rule?"

He tensed up. It was mostly an unspoken thing, these days. Once upon a time, Ben had considered it his mission in life to find the woman that would change everything. His brother had never really understood, but eventually, he'd respected it.

Until Kate, Ben had done an admirable job of not bringing it up. For a few years, really. So it wasn't hard to guess that he had high hopes for Kate.

Anthony swallowed. He couldn't really blame Ben for meddling. He only wanted happiness for his family, a goal that Anthony shared. Even if they sometimes differed on how to achieve it. Everything Ben did, always, was out of love. "Don't you have a friend to be pretentious over a painting with?"

Ben shoved his shoulder, but accepted the change in conversation. Mercifully. "Don't I always?"

He would never tell Ben this in a hundred thousand years, but in the late hours of the night — his mind too active for sleep, as it often was — Anthony fell apart in his fist with images of Kate in his mind.

It wasn't that he didn't feel desire. He felt it as much as he imagined any healthy man his age did. And Kate was a beautiful woman; there was no mistaking that.

He'd felt a draw to her, something in the little flash of her teeth when she smiled at his jokes, the graceful way her body moved as she gestured, the curls that bounced against her cheek. Anthony had been overwhelmed with the urge to brush the curls away, and wondered how Kate would have reacted to that.

It had been ages since he'd wanted to touch someone.

There were two stages to Anthony's sexual life. Every part of his life, really. Before he turned 18, he was like every fumbling teenager figuring out how it all worked. There were young girls in his town who were willing to experiment, mostly at parties. A little fingering, a few hand jobs and one uneventful blowjob. There'd never been any rush for more. It seemed like there was nothing but time.

And then his father died.

His first instinct was to drown it in alcohol and bad decisions. The grief was so bad that Anthony didn't think he would survive. He had to dull it, if only to get to the next day, and the next.

So he texted Melissa, a girl he'd fooled around with a few times. She invited him to her flat in the middle of the night, and the second she touched him-

He had a panic attack. Anthony could barely remember it; only that when he came to, he was hunched in a corner, with Ben standing over him and Melissa looking absolutely terrified. She'd texted his brother when Anthony became unresponsive.

Ben had always kept it between them, though he was sure that Melissa chatted to her friends. It was too good a story not to.

Not that it mattered. The grief settled in, hardened, became a part of his personality. Violet went off the deep end, and Anthony decided marriage wasn't the path for his life. There was nothing worth inflicting that kind of grief on someone else.

Sex wasn't love, but physical intimacy could be emotional intimacy. He had nothing to give anyone, so why even try? Better to just leave it, altogether.

Ben was the only one who knew for sure. Anthony rejected every attempt to fix him up, until Ben finally realized it wasn't what he wanted. He suspected that Colin suspected, but he didn't seem to care. The rest of them probably assumed he was just discreet about his affairs. They could touch him freely, without incident, so they had no reason to believe anything was amiss.

But Kate…Kate was the first stranger in eleven years that he had truly, genuinely wanted to touch.

He wondered what that meant. If it meant anything.

Did it mean he was healing?

It was a month before he saw her again.

The music was pounding in his ears, the lights flashing hard enough to present a safety hazard, and Anthony couldn't think of any place he wanted to be less than this overstimulating club that Ben seemed so fond of.

He really needed to stop caving every time his brother begged him to tag along.

Ben had no issue getting into the spirit, hopping around on the floor, drenched in sweat, singing at the top of his lungs.

He envied his brother. They hadn't been affected by Edmund's death in the same way. Anthony had withdrawn into himself, put up a shield that no one could penetrate. Ben was entirely the opposite — living his life loudly and freely, completely exhilarated. Always with an open heart, even if it occasionally got crushed.

Ben's whole life was a work of art. And Anthony felt like he was looking at a painting, watching from the outside in, able to admire but not to replicate.

"Anthony," a voice said from behind, and he turned. Kate. She looked even more stunning than he'd remembered, her hair gathered up in a messy twist, wearing an emerald green dress that skimmed the middle of her thighs. An impulse shuddered through him — his fingers dipping underneath her dress and feeling between her thighs. What kind of knickers was she wearing? Would he find her warm and a little wet?

He shook himself out of it. His thoughts were…ridiculous. Anthony couldn't even decipher where they were coming from. He hadn't had them in ages.

"Hi," he said, trying not to stare at the curve of her lips. His entire body seemed to light up at her presence, his skin tight and hot, his stomach dropping. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," she said, with a little smile. She was flirting with him, he was almost certain, and he had fuck all idea what to do about it.

He'd thought about her. More than once. Wondered when their paths might cross again. Imagined her, in a few moments that made his cheeks heat now, in various states of undress and several positions in his bed.

His fantasies, on the occasions he had them, had never been this…strong. They usually blipped in and out of existence so quickly that Anthony didn't have time to question them.

But Kate…

Fuck. She was something else.

"Are you going to ask me to dance?" she asked, arching a brow. It was clear that she knew he was attracted to her, and she was bold. He couldn't help but respect a person who pursued what they wanted. Even if he was very much not sure what he wanted at the moment.

Everything in him was screaming to excuse himself, to walk away. To breathe.

Everything in him was screaming to feel her against him.

"Do you want to dance?"

She smiled properly, nodding. Anthony inhaled, trying to tamp down the panic in his stomach.

It was only a dance. If it triggered something in him, he could disappear. Kate would probably think he was a freak, but what did it matter? He barely knew her.

She extended her hand, and Anthony took it, relieved when the alarm bells didn't sound. It felt nice, actually, her long fingers twined with his, warm and secure.

Maybe he really was healing. He'd been avoiding contact for so long that it was hard to say when things had shifted.

He led Kate to a dark corner where the crowd was thinner; he still didn't relish the idea of drunk revelers bumping him from every angle. She leaned into him, sliding her arms around his shoulders, pressing her body to his.

Anthony tensed, his breath going shallow, but nothing happened. He just felt her warmth, felt the curves of her, felt her heart beating against his chest.

She felt good.

She felt incredible.

"I was hoping you would be here tonight," she whispered into the minuscule space between them. Anthony's hands slid to her waist — he needed to put them somewhere — and he nearly groaned at the overstimulation of it. The perfect fit of her beneath his hands, the huskiness of her voice, the knowledge that she had thought of him too.

He didn't know how to respond, so he didn't, his hands tightening around her waist. Kate's eyes locked on his, cinnamon and gold, her lips shiny and sumptuous. She ground against his hips, lightly, just testing, and Anthony heard a noise fall from his throat. As if it came from someone else, because he certainly didn't have any control over it.

She did it again, his cock beginning to respond, a few curls falling loose from her updo. How did Ben, who wanted to fuck everyone, not want to fuck this goddess? She was sin incarnate.

Anthony felt his tightly-held control start to unravel. He wanted to push Kate against the wall, wanted to hear her moan, wanted to taste her-

Suddenly, her lips were on his. Anthony hadn't kissed anyone since he was eighteen, and it had never fucking felt like this. Like fire and need and indulgence. Like relief.

His hands curled into fists in the silky fabric of her dress, her tongue slipping against his as she wove her fingers into his hair. He felt greedy for her, all the greedier because he'd been without this for so long. He wanted to kiss her forever.

But Kate pulled back, all flushed and panting, making him impossibly harder than he already was. His own mouth tasted like the flowery syrup from her drink, and her lip gloss was smudged.

She ran a hand down his shoulder, stopping at his chest, and blinked up at him. "Take me home," she murmured.

All at once, reality hit like a bucket of ice water.

Anthony wasn't this person. He didn't pick a woman up at a club and fuck her all night and then leave her in bed, sated and happy. He wasn't like Ben, though she probably thought he was, because why wouldn't she? How would she know how broken he was?

The seductiveness fell from her expression, the silence stretching between them awkwardly. The lust-filled haze of her eyes cleared and she looked mortified, wiping hastily at her mouth to remove all traces of their debauched moment.

"Oh," she said, looking down at the floor. "I really read this wrong."

"No," he said quickly, feeling like an absolute bellend. "Kate, you didn't-."

"No, it's okay." She brushed a few strands of hair from her face, her shoulders squaring. As if he was watching her rebuild herself in real time. "Really, you're allowed to not be into it."

Anthony felt compelled to say something, but the words didn't come. How could he explain, but to tell her everything? To tell her that he was a virgin, that he'd never fucked anyone because the touch of another person made him feel like he was dying?

Or at least it had, until tonight.

But she didn't give him a chance to even attempt it. She flashed him a fake smile, nothing like the real ones from before. "It was fun. Goodnight, Anthony."

She took off in the direction of the restrooms, while Anthony stood there. He couldn't stay — that would only be more painful. So he shot off a text that Ben wouldn't read until he came up for air, and slipped out of the club and into the frigid night.

He walked home, needing to shake off his nervous energy, and knocked his head soundly against a sign for good measure.

He was a fucking idiot.

He didn't really want to do this at the gallery.

But it was the only place Anthony knew he would find her. He had a hunch she would be avoiding social invitations from Ben for a while — he'd do the same, when facing wounded pride — and he thought it might freak her out a bit to show up at her home, even if he gathered up the nerve to ask Ben for her address.

She was so beautiful, every time. It took his breath away. A fitted, pale pink dress, just above her knees, with strappy black heels. Kate handled operations for the gallery while Ben was their creative director and part owner — better for him to use his trust fund for something he was passionate about, Anthony figured.

Clutching the bouquet of pink tulips in his hand, he stepped further into the gallery, dodging curious glances from a handful of visitors. Kate lifted her head, a word on her tongue to welcome him in, her eyes widening.

"Hi," he said, keeping his voice low. "Could we speak privately, maybe? I'll be quick, I promise."

Kate looked down at the flowers, and then met eyes with a woman holding a clipboard, giving a signal that she would be stepping away, to which the woman nodded. "Come with me."

She led him down the hallway and scanned her keycard, and they entered the storage room. Somewhere he imagined he wouldn't be allowed in, if his brother wasn't the benefactor.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Kate looked up at him expectantly. Confused, as she surely had a right to be.

"These are for you," he said before he forgot and gave his whole speech holding flowers like a dimwit.

She took them hesitantly, pressing her lip between her teeth. "Thank you," she said softly, running her fingers along the petals. "They're beautiful."

He swallowed. Maybe this was all a mistake, coming here now. Coming here at all. He'd done fine for more than a decade, swearing off women, eschewing intimacy and all the complications that came with it.

But Kate was different. He didn't know how, yet, but he felt that he needed to know. Whether she was the person who had given him the ability to endure touch again, or hers was the exception.

Either way-

He just fucking wanted her. He couldn't explain it. Even in this moment, when she thought he was a prick, Anthony thought he'd go mad if he couldn't kiss her again.

"What happened at the club-."

"You don't..." She sighed. "You don't need to bring me flowers and formally apologize for turning me down. I told you, it's okay if you didn't-."

"I did," he interrupted, which seemed to quiet her protests. She looked at him curiously. "I just want to tell you why I hesitated. Because I…I really hate the idea that you thought it had anything to do with you. You're absolutely gorgeous, Kate."

If nothing else, he needed her to know that. Surely her ego wasn't so fragile as to be crushed by the likes of him, but still. She deserved to know how lovely she was.

Her cheeks reddened. "Thank you."

Anthony rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Look, Ben is who Ben is. But I'm not really like him. I don't…"

"Sleep around?" she prompted. "So you're like, super monogamous? Or already committed?"

"No. I mean, yes. But no. It's…" Christ, he'd never get it out at this rate. He took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. "I don't sleep around. I haven't slept with anyone."

She looked even more confused, and then understanding dawned in her eyes. "Oh," Kate said softly, furrowing her brow. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Thanks." He wasn't sure how he'd expected her to respond. With disgust? With jeering? She didn't seem like that kind of person. "I just…I don't really like being touched."

Kate slapped a hand over her face, groaning. "Oh my god, and I was all over you. I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm trying to tell you- I don't like being touched. I haven't for a long time. But that night was different. I wanted to dance with you, I wanted to…" He pressed his lips together. "Any time that's happened in the past, it was easy to say no. But you caught me off guard, because I…I didn't really want to say no."

She stared at him, something unnameable in those pretty eyes. "So what does that mean?"

Anthony shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't have to mean anything." There was no real reason for her to roll the dice on a man who was emotionally stunted and relatively inexperienced. Other men would kill for a chance to take her to bed, he was sure. "Or we could try again. And see what happens."

He held his breath as she mulled it over. She had no reason to say yes. But he really hoped she would.

She stroked her thumb over the tulips. "You could come over to mine for a drink on Friday? No expectations. You can leave whenever you need to. Just…see what feels comfortable."

Anthony exhaled. "I would love that."

Kate smiled, reaching her hand out. "Give me your phone. I'll give you my number and my address."

Anthony felt ever-so-slightly ridiculous primping and preening for his…date? Sure, date.

Fixing his hair, dabbing on cologne, changing his shirt three times. All the while wondering what the fuck he was doing. Kate was…beautiful, and alluring, and entirely out of his league. Not to mention she worked with Ben. If he embarrassed himself horribly in some way, he'd never be able to visit the gallery again.

He didn't want to leave her frustrated and wanting, but he genuinely didn't know what the line would be. It felt so good to have her close to him — would that carry all the way through to being inside her? Or would he reach a limit where it was too much, too overwhelming, too untenable?

No expectations. It was just a drink. Beyond all the sexual tension, he genuinely did want to know Kate. What she liked, what she didn't. Her history and her hopes for the future. She was smart and witty and intriguing, and according to Ben, very much like him.

So, he would focus on that. Just getting to know her. Whatever else happened would happen naturally.

He arrived at her flat with a bottle of expensive Cab. Kate was wearing a flowy navy slipdress — the same silky fabric as the dress she was wearing at the club, but more conservatively cut. He wondered if she was trying to make him comfortable; make it clear that she wasn't aiming to seduce him.

But she was absolutely seducing him anyway. He didn't think she needed to try.

"Can I?" she asked, gesturing to him.

"Yes."

Kate smiled, pressing up on her toes slightly to kiss him on the cheek. His skin burned.

She took the wine from his hands, and waved him inside. Her flat fit her well, he thought, or what he knew of her at least. Everything was tidy and organized, but warm and cozy. The walls were neutral, but the pillows and fabrics were richly colored. She had a tiny kitchen, which wasn't unusual in the city, with a spread of cheese and fruit and other snacks on the counter.

There were photos of her family — two other attractive women who might have been her sister and her mother. And lots of artwork on the walls, including a stunning portrait of Kate, standing half-turned against a balcony railing. He recognized the style immediately.

"Ben painted this for you?" he said, walking over to it.

"Yeah. He's very talented, isn't he?"

"He is. I don't think he always believes it, but…I do."

Kate handed him a half-full glass, and sipped her own. "I don't think he would've done half of what he has if you didn't believe in him," she noted. "Ben speaks very highly of you. You mean more to him than you know."

A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed it down. He knew his siblings thought he was a pain in the arse sometimes, and sometimes he was. They loved to tease him and needle him and roll their eyes at him.

But he loved them with everything he had. And it was comforting to know that might be reciprocated, even a little.

"Are you and your sister close?" he asked before he got too choked up.

"Oh, yeah. Center of my life, for better or worse," Kate said wistfully. He raised an eyebrow in question, and Kate gestured vaguely with her glass. "She says I'm controlling. I don't want to control her. I'm just so desperate for her to be happy." She smiled ruefully. "I talk about it with Ben, but he doesn't really get it."

"I do."

"I thought you might," she murmured. "Why do you think you're here?"

"Because you're wildly attracted to me?"

He'd kept his voice light, so she wouldn't think he was being serious, but Kate only laughed. "Well, that is also true. But I was always curious about you, even before we met."

His heartbeat stuttered. Anthony was still having trouble reconciling the fact that this dazzling woman was attracted to him, and so open about it, at that. "I was curious about you too. I just never asked to meet you, because…well."

Kate nodded, seeming entirely understanding. Although, he couldn't imagine how she could understand. He barely did.

"Want to sit?" she asked, making her way toward the plush living room. She sat on a velvet chair, motioning for him to sit across from her on the sofa. Another way to make him feel at ease, he thought. "You know, if I didn't know you, I would think the whole I can only touch you thing was a creative pickup technique."

"You don't know me." It was the truth. They'd only met three times. Nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

Kate leaned back, crossing her lean, perfect legs. "I know what Ben says about you. And it's enough for me to know you're not that type of person," she said. "You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I am curious why."

He supposed that was fair. She was taking a gamble on him, and if they were going to have any kind of physical experience together, she had a right to know what to expect. "Um, there's not much to tell. I didn't used to have this…aversion. My father died when I was eighteen, and it hit me hard. My family could get close to me, but anyone else, I just…it was difficult."

She hummed, sympathetic, thoughtful. "What makes me different?"

"I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out," Anthony admitted. "When we were dancing, I just…it was good. I liked touching you. Being touched by you. And I figured- maybe enough time has passed that I'm getting over it. Maybe I should try."

"I like touching you too," she said with a wry smile. Taking a long sip, she drained the rest of her wine, and cautiously approached the sofa, sitting beside him. "Is this okay?"

The way his heart was pounding didn't feel okay, but it didn't feel like panic, either. Only anticipation. "It's okay."

"No pressure," she reminded him, scooting a little closer and kissing him. It was a soft thing, tentative, searching. A few steps back from their sloppy, heated makeout at the club. He still couldn't figure out why the fuck someone like Kate was making such an effort to go slow for him, but he was grateful.

She tasted divine, like grapes and something sweet. Her lips were warm and soft, and it was instinct to weave his hand into her silky curls, deepening the kiss.

Kate responded to his cues, one hand cupping the back of his neck as she teased his tongue with hers. She moaned into his mouth, and Anthony felt his cock jump at the needy sound.

"You're good at this," she encouraged, nipping gently at his lip. There was increasingly less blood flowing to his brain, and he thought if she kept this up, he might simply pass out from arousal. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," he growled, clumsily tugging her closer, and Kate responded, climbing into his lap. She rucked up her dress to her thighs, settling her panty-clad core against his swelling erection, and she sighed, long and low.

Kate ground her hips slowly, experimentally, hitching her breath at the feeling. Anthony wasn't sure he was breathing at all. "Do you remember when I walked away at the club, and went to the loo?"

"Yes," he managed, barely, against the sensation of her moving her hips like that.

"I locked the stall and touched myself," she admitted, inhaling sharply as he grew harder beneath her. "So, even if nothing happens tonight, you've already made me come."

Anthony wasn't going to survive this. He wasn't sure any man could survive this.

They hadn't reached the line yet. And all Anthony knew, with all the conviction in the world, was that he desperately wanted to bring Kate to orgasm. "Tell me," he said, his voice strained. "Tell me how to make you feel good."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

He wasn't completely out of his depth here. Of course, the girls he'd fumbled as a teenager had been similarly inexperienced. But he knew the mechanics of it.

Kate slid the thin straps of her dress over her shoulders, the whole thing pooling at her waist. It had been one of those garments with a built-in bra, he wagered, because he was suddenly at direct eye level with Kate's perfect tits.

Keeping her eyes on his, she placed one of his hands on her breast, her nipple stiff and her skin soft beneath his palm. She slipped the other hand into her knickers, using her fingers to guide his in gentle circles around her clit.

It was so much, and Anthony reminded himself to breathe. He was struck with the urge to run, to tear himself away, to retreat to safety, but…but he couldn't. He couldn't move a muscle as he watched Kate use him for her pleasure.

She writhed against him, tipping her head and letting her curls spill down her back, a little whimper falling from her lips. He was lightheaded, dizzy, and unable to focus on anything but the siren in his lap. Anthony squeezed her breast, gently, and Kate moaned.

Almost absentmindedly, he traced his thumb around the peak of her nipple, watching in fascination as she shivered.

"Can I-?" His face flushed, but Kate was vulnerable, so why could he not be too? "Can I use my mouth?"

"Yes," she breathed, and Anthony licked a stripe over her other nipple. Kate's hips jerked, her arousal slicking his fingers, and he could feel her fluttering.

Closing his lips around the bud, he sucked lightly, laving it with his tongue. "Anthony," she gasped, and he pulled back in time to watch her come, her eyes shut and her thighs shaking. Breathtaking.

She smiled lazily, her breathing heavy. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen had just climaxed on top of him, half-naked and relaxed. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't dreaming.

Finally, she opened her eyes, placing her hands on his chest. "How do you feel? Was that okay for you?"

"That was fucking brilliant for me, thank you."

Kate chuckled, shaking her head. "Glad to hear it," she said. "I can take care of you. If you want me to."

Distantly, Anthony was aware that he was much too hard for these trousers. He watched porn, he jerked off — his stamina wasn't atrocious. But Kate was a bloody temptress, and pushing him to the edge faster than he cared for.

"Only-," he said hoarsely. "Only if you're okay with it."

"I'm very okay with it," Kate said seductively, a hand trailing down his chest as she lifted herself off his lap and knelt on the floor. And oh, he was not prepared for this sight. Kate on her knees, staring at him like a predator stalking her prey, her nimble fingers undoing his too-tight trousers. "I'm going to suck you off, Anthony. If you need me to stop, tap my arm twice. Got it?"

Her take-charge attitude was terribly arousing. "Got it."

She did her straps back up, sadly covering herself again. Finding a comfortable position, she tugged down his boxers and stroked her hand along his cock. Anthony groaned just at that, gripping the sofa cushion to keep from thrusting into her firm grip.

"I might- I might not last long," he warned.

He felt unbearably green. Ready to come just from a few touches and a little dry-humping. But Kate just smiled wickedly, said "Good," and took him in her mouth.

Anthony could barely watch her, lips stretched over the width of him, her delicate hand wrapped around his base, her eyes slightly glazed. Tension curled around his spine, he was too close, and Kate twisted her wrist as she took him further, her tongue doing something unholy, and-

He didn't even have time to signal before he erupted, spilling into her mouth, hissing like he was dying. Kate barely flinched, seeming like she'd expected it. She worked him through it, sucked him clean, and swallowed, leaning back on her haunches.

Anthony threw a hand over his eyes, his head falling against the sofa. "I'm sorry, that was- shit, it wasn't supposed to be that fast."

He felt Kate climb back onto his lap, and lift his hand up, setting it back by his side. "There's no reason to be embarrassed," she promised, looking like she actually believed that. "It's easier on my jaw if you come fast, trust me."

Kate kissed him, the taste of himself strange on her tongue, but it turned him on. He was starting to think there were a lot of things Kate could teach him about himself.

"Hey," he said when she pulled back, looking at him. There was something in the way she looked at him that made him want to tell her…anything. Everything. "Thank you. For- for giving me a shot."

She nodded. "Do you need to leave now?"

"Should I?" He didn't have anywhere to be tomorrow, at least not until Hyacinth's match at noon. But he didn't want to overstay his welcome.

"Well," she said, thinking about it, or at least pretending to. "I could go brush my teeth, and we could eat something and get through some more of that wine. And then…I don't know. Dot dot dot."

Carefully, Anthony placed his hand on her thigh, pushing at the hem of her dress. All of this felt new and terrifying, but also…freeing. This wall that had been around him for so long, preventing him from engaging with the world, with other people, and it simply crumbled around her.

He wanted to push his body as far as it would go. Wanted to taste her, wanted to feel the tight, damp heat of her wrapped around him, wanted to make her sob for him.

He wanted all of her.

"Yes," Anthony agreed, teasing her satin skin. "That option."