Clarity

14

OLIAS

Clarity has been at my house for two days. Two days since I kissed her. Two days since the last time I've been soft .

Has she had any idea? No.

She had no idea, even when she walked out of my bathroom with that small towel to ask me for extra soap. Or when she's walking around with my clothes on and no bra because it's comfy , as she says. Or when she twists and turns in her sleep at night against me. Or when her cheeks turn red when I say anything slightly sexual towards her. She has no clue what these two days have brought me. Maybe she pretends to have no clue. I don't know.

But I'm glad she's here with me.

But she probably won't be long after she tastes this monstrous breakfast, I'm trying to make for her. Keyword: Trying.

"Shit," I curse to myself as I open the oven, seeing the two waffles that are definitely overcooked. The heat and smoke rise, and I bend over quickly, picking up the waffles with my bare hands, which I immediately regret doing. Underestimating how hot they were. I hold my stinging finger as I stare at the broken toaster in the corner.

I drop the waffles on the plate with a clang, grimacing as I fan my hand quickly in the air.

After shutting the oven, I set the plate on the counter where the scrambled eggs are still cooking in the pan. I'm not sure if she likes her eggs scrambled or not. Usually, she just grabs the Frosted Flakes and goes to town on them. I had to go out and get an extra box yesterday, but today, I decided she deserves a nice breakfast.

So much for the nice part.

How did my mom do this cooking shit for us every morning?

Mashing the eggs around the pan, I turn around to the sound of a giggle.

Clarity stands by the kitchen entrance, my thin boxer briefs on and my shirt draped over her, stopping just above the brief seam. Her thighs meet, which I think is fucking hot. The way they stretch the material of my boxers.

She also holds Cat in her hands. He rests his small head on her arms, and she kisses his head. The got-damn cat gets more kisses than me.

"Morning," I mutter. What the fucks is wrong with my voice? I clear it before saying, "Sleep well?"

She smiles, and it lights up her tired face. Her hair is frizzy, and her lips are puffy from sleep. She nods at me. "Like a baby. Dog stepped on my face and meowed, and I smelt fire, so I thought maybe he was trying to warn me the apartment was burning. But I see it's not. What are you cooking? I can smell it from all the way in your room." If a person were high and listened to her talk just now, they'd probably think they were off it.

Her eyes travel to the pan and plate, lowering Cat to the ground. He meows at me. I shoo him away from behind her. We seriously have to settle on one name for this damn animal too.

I then narrow my eyes at her as she stands at my side, trying to ignore that she just indirectly insulted my cooking. She picks up one of the waffles and bites it. Then, immediately spit it out. "That's burnt.” She giggles, “How on Earth did you manage to burn waffles?”

My mouth parts at the disrespect. Before I can utter a sorry, she looks up at me with a mischievous grin.

"I'm just kidding, Olias!" she snorts. I'm sorry; you did amazing." Her cackles fill the kitchen. She comes closer to hug me.

I push at her shoulder, denying her a hug, and she gapes at me. "No hugs for that, you dick," I say.

She rests a hand on her hips. "Did you really just push my hug away?"

I nod at her and go back to my cooking. My Gordan Ramsey-level eggs sit in the pan.

I add some pepper and salt to it and glance at Clarity, who's glowering at me. I try to hold back my laugh and go over to the sink where my frozen bacon is defrosting, putting it on the counter beside the frying pan to cook next.

Slim arms wrapped around my torso from behind me.

Clarity's head lays in the middle of my shoulder blades, her arms tightly squeezing her body against mine into a hug. She's ridiculous. It's so ridiculous that I can't get enough of her. I inhale at the closeness of her.

"What the hell are you doing," my chest shakes with laughter.

"Hugging you, idiot. Since you won't let me hug your front side." She tightens her arms, and I can feel her cutting off my breathing. I turn off the stove with the eggs on it and pry her hands away from my chest as she attempts to keep them there.

"You want a hug?" I say daringly. "Hmm? Is that what you want? Me to hug you?" The warning tone of my voice makes her squeal as I turn around with her wrist in my hands.

She laughs, biting her bottom lip, trying to break free, but I lower my hands to her hips, picking her up. She yelps, and I hold her tightly by her waist, pressing her body against me and lifting her off the floor with ease.

I walk towards the living room.

"Olias!" She cackles. "I can't freaking breath because you're squeezing me so tight, you idi-" I lower her and drop her onto the black couch. A soft moan leaves her mouth as she roughly meets the cushions.

I drop myself on top of her, digging my hands under her body back into a hug. "Is this better?" I mutter against her breast.

She shuffles under me, laughing non-stop. Fuck, I love her laugh. I love making her laugh. And I love h— "You weigh like ten tons, Olias," she exclaims. What a liar; most of my weight is on my knee, not her.

I raise my head to look at her, and her laughter dies down a little, but her smile stays bright and big.

I study her face, her brown eyes that I could stare at all day, and gaze back. I haven't even talked with my friends other than a few texts here and there. The only person I want to spend time with is lying under me.

I watch the lips that I still feel against mine as if two days haven't passed. I wonder if she remembers as clearly as I do. If she craves it and more.Even if she did, every time I hear the word friend leave her mouth when talking about us, it diminishes all my hope that there is an "us".

It might be my new hated word. Friends.

I lift my hand, brushing her hair away from her face, revealing the spot where I had seen her bruise that the bastard of a boyfriend gave her. If you can even call him that. It's not as dark as before, but you can still make out where it is by the faint outline.

Instinctively, I bite down hard and lean up to kiss the side of her head where the bruise had been. I press my lips against her skin, and she touches my neck.

"Olias, I'm alright now," she whispers, half-smiling.

I shake my head, ignoring her. "Where else?"

She blinks at me, pressing her lips together before she sighs through her nose. She knows what I'm asking of her.

Slowly, keeping her eyes on me, her hand travels towards the other side of her head pointing to her cheek.

Bastard .

I lean up again, my hands pressed into the couch against her underarms, and press a kiss against her cheek.

Soft and gentle, just like her.

My eyes follow her finger to her neck, and I shake my head. My chest tightens, and I find it hard to keep my cool. Tilting her head a bit with my hand around her chin, providing access to her skin, I press my lips against her neck, kissing her twice.

"Where else?" I ask again. She lifts her hand but hesitates, her eyes glossy. I don't want to make her cry, but I want to do this. "You can tell me I won't freak out like last time," I assure her.

She lowers her hand, and I follow it down her body between her legs. She points to the inside of her thigh, the same spot where I noticed a bruise the first time she showered at my house.

I look back up at her, and she's crying and looking away from me. A frown is plastered on her face, and sniffles fill the living room. Her big eyes are covered with tears, and my body softens at the sight of her.

"Is this okay?"

She nods, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Yes," she whispers, looking down at me as I lower myself between her bent legs. “It’s okay.”

I keep eye contact with her as I tilt my head, kissing the place she motioned to. The place where he had hurt her. I keep my lip on her thigh longer than anywhere else, then lift to press more kisses on that spot. One after another, pecking her soft skin with my lips.

A soft laugh-cry escapes her as she wiggles her legs against my head.

I smile at her, dragging my lips up her thighs till I meet the fabric of my boxers she wears. From this angle, I can see her chest quickly rise and fall. And just like that, my sweats are tented.

Her hand plays with my shirt collar on her, biting on it as if she's nervous.

My face burns. I'm glad I put on sweats today. I raise myself, putting a hand on hers, moving it away from her face. Her pink lips are revealed again.

"You hiding from me?" I question softly.

She shakes her head, my body slipping lower between her legs and against her. "No, I'm just being stupid…and shy." She puts her hands back over her face in embarrassment.

I grin, pulling them back. "It's okay to be shy, it's not stupid. It’s alright. You won't be for long, though, especially not with me. I won't allow it."

Lowering my head, I lift my hand to the side of hers. My grin drops momentarily. "Tell me you're gonna break up with him. Tell me now, and I'll help you forget what he's done to you for at least a little while." The bruises may disappear, but I know he's wounded her heart. I see it when she looks at me, the pain he's made her go through. Probably lied and told her some bullshit about it being love.

She nods. "I'm going to break up with him." A small smile jumps at the corners of her lips.

“Tell me you’re not his.” I stare desperately at her.

“I’m not his,” her breath thinning.

My grin returns, and I whisper against her lips, “I'm proud of you.” My thumb rubs against her cheek, and I kiss her.

She inhales and stiffens, just like last time. But it takes only a second for her body to soften below me and kiss me back, her lips puckering with desperation. Her arms come around my neck, pulling me closer to her if that's even possible. She lets out this hot fucking moan as she opens her mouth to me, making me throb for her.

I will myself to remember this isn't about me. This is about her. All about her .

Our kiss deepens, taking her tongue between my lips to suck on it. I pull on her bottom lip till it pops out of my mouth. She lifts her head, pulling the collar of my shirt down, eager to kiss me again. Dazed with a yearning look on her face, it makes me want to give this girl anything she asks for.

I smile against her mouth, the mouth that Jonah has had the privilege of kissing. I just have to keep kissing her harder than he ever has till she forgets what he even fucking looks like. Till the taste of my mouth is the only thing on her mind.

Her mouth is so sweet, and the taste of my mint toothpaste is on her tongue. She must've quickly brushed before coming down to the kitchen. Even when she thought the house was on fire.

My pretty girl with good hygiene.

Her hands grip the back of my hair, and I groan in her mouth. Hair grabbing has never turned me on this much until Clarity.

I rip my hand away from her face, and it travels down her body, not leaving her frame until I reach the shirt's end. Her hips move ever so slightly in thrusts, and it takes everything in me not to fuck her right here and right now.

Lifting her shirt, I graze my fingers under the boxer's waistband, a soft whimper of hers filling my mouth. I break our kiss to look at her, both of us panting, her lips swollen pink, but her eyes stay closed. That won't do.

"Look at me, Clare." She pries her eyes open."Can I touch here?" I question, rubbing my fingers along her groin right above her pussy.

She nods with no hesitation.

I pause before asking the question that's been floating in the back of my head. "Has he ever…touched you here when you didn't want him to?" The question feels like acid leaving my mouth. But it’s necessary, I have to know.

She shakes her head frantically. " No , never."

I let out a sigh of relief, kissing her again to silently show her how glad I am she is safe in that sense—Thankful that he hasn’t hurt her to such an extent.

With my lips plastered against hers, I slip my hands between her legs, and her lips stop moving, shuttering. Her jaw drops as my fingers separate the damp fabric of my boxers from her lips below.

She grabs my arm, our eyes locking as my middle fingers slide over her slit, meeting her apparent need for me.

"Look at you, so wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you," I utter. Her cheeks glow a pink shade, breath fanning over my neck.

I press my middle finger between her slit, slowly rubbing her wet and throbbing clit. She moans, closing her eyes.

"Keep your eyes open," I remind her. She does as I say.

I smirk. "Good girl," I slip my middle finger inside of her at the same time as I kiss her.

She cries out a moan, and my lips part at the sight of her beauty.

I slide my finger out, then thrust it back into her warm pussy, another moan leaving her. She's so tight, her walls wrapping and pulsing around my curling finger.

"Olias," she breathes out as my finger continues to pump in and out, curling against the roof of her, the flat of my finger finding her rough sweet spot. She squeezes herself around me, her jaw going limp.

“This is nothing, baby. This is far from what I've thought about doing to you.”

I slip in a second finger, stretching her, quickening the speed of my hand. Her body moves up and down the couch slightly, meeting the rhythm of my fingers. Her breasts move along with her. Her now hard nipple practically ripping through the material of my shirt, screaming to get sucked on.

"What gets you off, Clarity. I wanna know," I whisper before raising her shirt with my free hand. She can barely speak as she looks between our bodies at my hand buried in her boxers and my fingers driving into her.

She tries to talk, "It feels…"

I'm dying to see how well she takes my dick. But I blink away the thought. This is about her.

"Talk to me. How does it feel, hm?" I question, getting off to the fact that she can barely form words.

Pulling up her shirt, it sits over her pretty breast. I groan at the sight of them. So round and perky, bouncing with her body motion. I come down and take one nipple in my mouth, between my lips, and suck. She throws her head back harder into the couch cushion with a squeal of pleasure while I take care of her. Just a little longer she has, I'm sure.

I pop her nipple out of my mouth, leaving it swollen and bright red. Then move to the second one and do the same. My dick pulses against my sweatpants.

"Talk to me, gorgeous," I say, shifting my fingers and curling them towards me inside her. She groans loudly in response.

"Right there," she squeals.

"I know , I know, " I say. She doesn't have to speak, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as I quickly rub against her sweet spot, tells me all I need to know.

CLARITY

I feel like I might be in heaven.

The speed of his fingers creates a sensation at the very bottom of my stomach, melting my entire body under him into a puddle of mush.

I squeeze myself against his fingers, and he lets out that sound again, blurring my vision.

"I like it when you make that noise," I manage to let out. "It's pretty."

He smirks, his fingers moving harder. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. "You like it when I moan for you?" he questions. Jonah never made a noise. He's also never made me feel anywhere near this good with his fingers.

I nod. "Yes."

He hums, then slows down and curls his fingers at the speed of molasses. I arch my back off the couch with the new burst of feelings that swarm me. He doesn't stop his thrusts. He doesn't falter.

I feel myself getting close. Olias fingers pick up speed once again, his pretty moans meeting my ear. My peak, it taunts me. A climax I've never had with anyone other than myself.

Not even with…

What's his name again?

It doesn't matter.

My legs begin to shake, and I thread my hands through Olias hair to brace myself.

" Olias ," I cry, a tear from pleasure dropping from the corner of my eye as he slips in a third finger, reaching my limit. "I'm close," I warn.

"Yeah?" he hums, dropping his head to lick my boobs again.

His tongue flicks at them rapidly, then takes one in his mouth again, and I watch him work me in two different ways. He makes me feel like I'm pretty, really pretty. The prettiest .

I tighten both hands around his dark hair as my legs stiffen, and I feel myself fall off the edge, my stomach and my center tightening around his long fingers, eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I rock my hips along his fingers as his head drops to my neck. “ Fuck ,” he cries out. Loud groans escaping both of us, his hips grinding and shaking against my side until I feel his sweatpants begin to stick against my hip.

He reached his high, too? But I haven't even touched him.

We lay with each other for seconds, maybe minutes, his head resting between my boobs and his arms wrapped around my waist just as they were minutes ago before it got heated.

Olias cranks his head up and kisses my jaw. My stomach flutters just like it has with everything he does to me.

"We're not just friends, Clare." His body vibrates against mine as he talks in his low voice. "You hear me? I don't want to hear you say it again. I can't take it."

Is that why he was sad in the helicopter the other day? I said we were friends… now I feel terrible for not realizing.

I nod, combing my fingers through his hair like he likes, and lean my head on his. "I hear you."

Silently, I lift my pinky in front of him, and so does he.

And I pinky promise it.