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Freya

°I'm sitting here, crying in my prom dress°

82 posts

"Don't Do That-don't Touch Me Like That"

"Don't do that-don't touch me like that"

The Booty-Call Dare - part 4

Fic masterlist

Happy Rowaelin Month y’all! I was starting at day 6, but had the idea to add this yesterday yayyy

Prompt: Idiots in love; a huge thank you to @rowaelinscourt for organizing the event <3

Warnings: NSFW

Words: 2k

Under the doctor’s office lightning, Aelin bargained with foreign gods she’d heard of as a child, for Mala Fire-Bringer had forgotten about her most faithful child.

Her body was lava—pumped by a burnt-out heart, it erupted in violent waves, uneven through her body. Still, now she sped through the empty street, even the car seat felt like too much—she squirmed against it, and now it was not enough.

It was true that no one understood true desperation until it happened to them.

Or maybe Aelin was just that horny.

On her side, Rowan didn’t look half as conflicted as she was. Likely because he just got cleared for as many light activities as he tolerated by Dr. Towers—as long as he avoided strenuous activities and heavy lifting, his ribs should heal just fine.

There was one strenuous activity Aelin had been aching to do for the past three weeks, but she would go as easy on him—his ribs, more specifically.

Inside his apartment, Rowan put his exams on the coffee table and sat on the couch, his whole body sagging into it with comfort. Aelin was halfway into sitting by his side when she went for his lap instead, straddling him so they could be face-to-face. His hands found her hips like a magnet.

“Hi,” Rowan whispered, bumping his nose into hers.

“Hi,” she near purred, wrapping her arms around his neck with a provocative grin—which was quickly shut down when Rowan caught her lips with his.

Their kiss started agonizingly chaste, but he soon surrendered to her hot-blooded approach. Aelin leaned into him, tugging at the roots of his hair, biting his lip. Warm, swollen, wet. Her entire world narrowed down to his hands on her ass, her grinding against his erection.

Aelin was so into it she felt her pulse through her pussy.

After three weeks of making out like teenagers, she knew surrender when she saw it—how he tugged her into the couch with him, his emboldening touch.

Shit, she could ride him just like this. He wouldn’t even have to do much.

Aelin broke them apart and took her shirt off, but Rowan covered her fingers with his as she unclasped her bra.

“Are you sure about this?”

“My tits need you, baby.” Aelin tried to sound commanding, but it came off like a plea. For the first time, she slowly uncovered her chest for him, sliding one strap at a time off her shoulders and then the lace, at the same time she said, “You know only your tongue does what I need.”

Rowan gaped at her tits as if they’d cast a spell on him. “Fuck,” he said—a curse and a prophecy if she had her way.

He didn’t waste any time on her breasts, his tongue on one nipple while he toyed with the other between his knuckles.

Aelin whimpered, adjusted herself on his lap so he wouldn’t have to bend to reach her boobs with his mouth, then got lost into it. His rough play on her hardened peaks made her want to do things so strenuous to him, his doctor would be horrified—then he soothed her with his flat tongue, and its pressure felt like an out-of-body experience, leaving her lightheaded.

Aelin took his mouth into hers again for a crushing kiss, then put their foreheads together, breath heavy as she unzipped his jeans.

She’d offered before, but Rowan wouldn’t take a blowjob until he could give her something back. He thought she wanted to do it for his sake only, but Rowan was the rare kind of guy with a big cock aura so strong, it just made her want to suck him off into oblivion.

However, when she opened his jeans to the bottom of the zipper, he stopped her short.

Rowan pushed her—gently, but far enough she couldn’t feel his erection underneath her anymore.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Very,” she said, eyes on his lips.

“Great.” Rowan stood up. “Fancy a sandwich? Some soup? Takeout?”

Aelin frowned. Had she not been clear enough? However, she did feel a bit hungry, so maybe it was best to eat first. “A sandwich sounds good.”

He abruptly left for the kitchen, leaving Aelin topless and alone in the living room. Weird. She didn’t rack her brains for it, though, just fished a t-shirt from Rowan’s clean laundry basket, not in the mood for her tight-fitting shirt anymore, and met him in the kitchen.

Rowan seemed to be doing what Aelin called his classic ‘slap n’ chop’, where he slapped every content of his fridge on the cutting and chopped it all together. He didn’t acknowledge her arrival—instead, Rowan chopped and frowned at the tomato as if it’d offended him.

He was clearly in a bad mood, mind somewhere else, Aelin got it. She grabbed another cutting board and the cheese, then chopped it in little cubes by his side. Aelin might not be the best chef, but she did know how to use a knife.

“Thanks.” Rowan gave her a quick, close-lipped smile. The way he softened when his attention was back at her, it seemed like he was mad at himself rather than it being about something she’d done, which didn’t exactly make things better, but at least Aelin wasn’t left wondering what she’d done wrong. Maybe Rowan was still frustrated about his ribs? That made them two, since she felt the same about some bodily functions of hers too.

Rowan wasn’t in the mood, now was not the time to bring up sex, but Aelin wanted their bargain done with, and she wanted it urgently—not because she didn’t enjoy his company, but because she enjoyed it too much.

The weight of the booty-call hang between them each day, and it was torture—spending her days this close to him and unspoken promises of what was bound to happen plaguing her thoughts at night.

Another train of thought also distressed her, one that lingered just as much as the sexual ones, though she tried and failed to shrug it off every day. This permanent state of waiting shifted the nature of their relationship, and Aelin has been seeing Rowan in a new light since then.

Which was foolish of her. She knew how Rowan operated, he was never shy with girls. If he wanted something more with Aelin, he would’ve said so.

Still, she wanted him—romantically, permanently, un-booty-call-y.

Each day, Aelin fell further, and she worried about falling down deep into a hole she wouldn’t bear to bring herself out of.

Which was a troublesome addition to how horny she felt.

She handed him the contents of her cutting board so he could mix it all with some condiments. Rowan still looked tense, shoulders rigid, unreadable glances at her that lingered for a little too long.

“Aelin?” Rowan called after he put everything in the oven for a little.

She hummed as she wrapped his waist around her arms, chin on his chest.

He stiffened under her touch. Opened his mouth, then met her eye and closed it again.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled, huh, Buzzard?” Aelin muttered as she slid her fingers down the side his left cheek.

He grabbed one wrist and then the other, gently yanking them away from her face. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

The world yawned open around her, cold and still. “I’m sorry.” Aelin took a step back as if he’d burned her—in a way, he did. “You mean just now or…?”

“I don’t think I can do the…” He swallowed. “Booty-call thing. Not anymore.”

“I see.” Aelin clasped her own arms, almost in a self-hug, though it wouldn’t help her chest from straining. She had a quip half-ready about how he could’ve softened the blow, but held back because he couldn’t. “Very well, then”

“Don’t be like that.” Rowan stared a hole into her, and had the gall to look pained as he did.

“You know what, you’re right. Why act upset if I just got rejected after being led on for three weeks?”

Rowan’s mouth gaped, shock overtaking his features. “I led you on?”

Actually, Aelin led herself on. No, scratch that—Aelin’s Mind warned Aelin’s Heart about it, but Aelin’s Heart led itself on. She was too stubborn to take the words back, though.

“Are you telling me you didn’t?”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. Groaned. Rubbed both palms against his face. “Could you recollect the terms of the agreement you proposed to me?”

“We fuck!” Aelin burst out, fueled by frustration. He’d already rejected her, why was his point now? “I called you asking for a fuck, and then we fuck. It was a booty-call, not a fucking treaty.”

“One night.” Rowan looked away, jaw clenched, and it took a moment for him to get the guts to look back at her face. “I get two broken ribs and one night. It’s not enough—not anymore.”

Her heart stopped short. Will. Not. Hope. Aelin allowed herself lots of things these past three weeks, but hope was too dangerous. She crossed her arms. “What do you mean?

“For starters, I can’t even do half the things I’ve—“ Rowan cut himself off, pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“If I can only have you for one night, I think it’ll hurt less if I get none at all,” he said with gut-stabbing earnestness.

In any other occasion, Aelin would just jump at it or be stubborn about the rejection and leave; instead, she hang on to every word he said, wishing she could replay it like a movie, or pause it to study the milimeters between his brows and get an inkling further into what he was feeling now.

Instead, she stood motionless in his kitchen—too frozen by his words, her breathing too shallow to fuel her brain in the way her racing thoughts needed. Messy. When Aelin needed her brain the most, it melted into a useless puddle on the pit of her skull.

“But, you know,” Rowan said, crestfallen. He pointed at himself. “This is why people have rules about these things, so—“

“So you wanna renew our agreement to a non-casual relationship with non-casual feelings?”

He blinked, rooted to his spot. Rowan’s expression looked near transparent now, and it was easy to see there’d just been a glitch inside his mind.

He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to appear more relaxed. “Is that what you want?”

“It’d be nice.” she tried not to sound too eager, in case it went downhill.

“I think so too.”

“So.” She took a step closer. “Are you upgrading me to ‘situationship’, or—“

“God, please, no!” Rowan crushed her into a hug, and it was muscle memory that melted her body into his embrace. “It’s either ‘girlfriend’ or the door, Aelin Galathynius. I think even ‘booty-call’ is better than this situationship bullshit.”

She chuckled, burrowing her nose on the crook of his neck. And to think she nearly lost him because… she wasn’t sure why, actually. Idiocy, maybe.

“You can call me anything you want in the new agreement,” she said. “I just want the prospects of contractual renewals and upgrade agreements, that’s all.”

He held her face with both hands. “You’re mine, then. Is that part of the deal?”

Aelin laughed—brightly, but not half as lit up as she felt inside. She nodded in agreement and locked their lips together.

A/N: NSFW + BURNT SANDWICH SOON GUYS (that’s literally the entire plot of part 5)

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