Chapter 78

Requested – Nr9_forever

THIS IS A SMUT CHAPTER – IF YOU DON’T WANNA READ IT, I TAKE NO OFFENCE 🙃 

The door clicked at 9:47, and you knew it was her before the key cleared the lock.

You’d been agitated all day – a low hum under your skin, relentless that cleaning and coffee and bad TV hadn’t touched. Now you were curled on the couch, phone dead from scrolling, and the sound of her arrival sent something sharp through your chest.

Dani filled the doorway like a storm front. Her rehearsal clothes – black mini shorts, cropped tank, oversized unzipped hoodie – clung in ways that suggested sweat and effort and hours of movement. Her hair was half-escaped from its ponytail, dark curls plastered to her neck, her temples. Her makeup was smudged at the corners of her eyes, giving her a feral, undone look that made your mouth dry.

She dropped her bag with a thud. “Fuck, I’m dead.”

You didn’t answer. You were staring.

She caught it. Her head tilted, slow, and that grin started – the one that meant she’d noticed, the one that meant she was about to make you pay for noticing.

“What?” she asked, casual, stretching her arms overhead. The hoodie slipped off one shoulder. The tank rode up, exposing a strip of stomach, sweat-slick and golden under the lamp.

“Nothing,” you managed.

“Bullshit.” She crossed the room in three strides, each one deliberate, each one making your pulse kick harder. She stopped in front of you, close enough that you could smell her – coconut shampoo and stage lights and the particular smell of salt that you’d always associated with her, always wanted. “You’ve been looking at me like that since I walked in.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me alive.”

You swallowed. “Maybe I do.”

She laughed, low and rough, and dropped to the couch beside you, thigh pressing against yours, her body radiating heat. “Rehearsal was hell. Six hours of the same bridge. My hips are screaming. My-” She stopped, looked at you, read something in your face. “You’re in a mood.”

“I’m in a mood,” you agreed.

She leaned back, arm draped over the couch behind you, studying you with eyes that were suddenly sharp, suddenly awake despite the exhaustion in her shoulders. “Tell me.”

“I’ve been waiting all day.”

“For?”

“You.”

She went still. Something shifted in her expression – exhaustion bleeding into something else, something hungrier. Her hand, the one behind you, dropped to your shoulder, thumb tracing the tendon there.

“I was thinking about you,” she said, quiet. “During rehearsal. During the bridge, the one we ran forty times. I kept thinking about your hands. And last weekend. About-” She stopped, leaned in, her mouth brushing your ear. “About how you sound when you’re close. How you say my name like you’re begging.”

Your breath hitched. Loud. Obvious.

She pulled back, just enough to see your face, and her grin turned wicked. “You like that?”

“Dani-“

“You do.” She shifted closer, her hand sliding from your shoulder to your neck, thumb pressing into the pulse point. “I can tell. You’re breathing different. Your pupils are blown. You’re-” She leaned in, nose brushing your jaw, inhaling. “You’re already wet, aren’t you?”

The words sent a jolt straight through you. You gripped the couch cushion, knuckles white. “Thats-“

“True?” She kissed your jaw, light, teasing. “Say it.”

“Dani-“

“Say it, or I’ll stop talking.”

You closed your eyes, the humiliation and want mixing into something heavy. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I’m-” You stopped, swallowed. “Yes, I’m wet. Yes, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Yes, I want you to-” You broke off, gasping, as her hand slid lower, over your chest, your stomach, resting just above where you throbbed.

“To what?” she whispered. “Tell me. Use your words.”

“Touch me,” you breathed. “Please. I want you inside me. I want-” You grabbed her wrist, pressed her hand harder against you. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.”

She made a sound – low, guttural, almost pained – and then she was kissing you, hard, her tongue sliding against yours, her hand finally moving, finally pressing where you needed. You moaned into her mouth, arching into her touch, and she laughed against your lips, wicked and triumphant.

“Bedroom,” she managed, pulling back, breathing hard. “Now. Or I’m taking you there.”

You stood, pulling her with you, and she followed, hands already on your waist, your hips, pushing you towards the hall. You stumbled, laughing, desperate, and she caught you, pinned you against the wall just outside the bedroom door, her thigh sliding between yours, pressure perfect.

“Can’t wait,” she panted, kissing your neck, your throat, biting hard enough to mark. “Can’t fucking wait. Need to feel you. Need to hear you.”

“Then take me,” you whispered, and the words felt like surrender, like power, like everything.

She did.

*

The bedroom was dark but for the streetlight through the curtains, painting everything in blue and silver. Dani stripped you first, slow, her hands shaking with the same need you felt, her eyes devouring every inch as it was revealed. Then she let you strip her – rehearsal clothes peeling away, sweat-cooled skin warming under your palms, her body arching into your touch like she was starving for it.

“Tell me what you want,” she demanded, pushing you back onto the bed, climbing over you, her hair falling around you like a curtain.

“You,” you gasped, reaching for her, pulling her down. “Just you. Always you.”

“Not good enough.” She bit your shoulder, your collarbone, her hand sliding between your thighs, finding you slick and ready. “Be specific. Be dirty. Tell me how you want it.”

“Hard,” you breathed, arching into her fingers as they pressed inside, slow, deliberate. “Hard and deep and-” You gasped as she curled them, finding the spot that made your vision blur. “Fuck, Dani, right there, don’t stop-“

“Like this?” She set a rhythm, watching your face, her own expression rapt, hungry. “You want me to fuck you like this? Make you come apart? Make you scream?”

“Yes,” you moaned, head falling back, heels digging into the mattress. “Yes, please, don’t stop, don’t-“

She didn’t stop. She leaned close, her mouth at your ear, her fingers still moving with devastating precision, and her voice dropped to something low and filthy and completely yours.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” she breathed, feeling you clench around her, watching your face crumple. “All day, Y/N. All day I thought about this. About coming home and finding you like this. Desperate. Ready. Mine.”

She curled her fingers, just so, and you gasped, arching off the bed. She laughed, dark and satisfied, pressing her free hand to your chest to hold you down.

“Stay still,” she ordered, though her own breath was ragged, though she was trembling with the effort of control. “Let me. Let me feel you. Let me-” She pushed deeper, finding the rhythm that made your vision blur, your hands fly to the sheets, gripping white-knuckled. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Taking me so fucking well.”

“Dani-” you managed, voice breaking.

“I know,” she whispered, merciless, glorious. “I know baby. I know what you need. You need me to tell you, don’t you? Tell you how good you feel. How tight. How perfect.” She leaned down, bit your jaw, your throat, her words hot against your skin. “You feel like home. Like the only place I ever want to be. Like-” She pressed harder, faster, her own voice fraying at the edges. “Like I’m gonna lose my mind If I don’t feel you come apart right fucking now.”

You moaned, loud, unrestrained, and she fed on it, her words coming faster, messier, the filter between her brain and her mouth completely gone.

“Imagine if they could see you,” she panted, wicked, relentless. “All those people I was with today. The girls. The crew. The choreographer. If they know what you look like right now. What you sound like. How fucking pretty you are when you’re so close.” She watched your face, rapt, her pupils blown wide. “They don’t get this. No one gets this. Only me. Only ever me.”

“Only you,” you gasped, the words torn out of you, the coil tightening, unbearable, perfect.

“That’s right,” she breathed, her thumb finding you, pressing just so, and your whole body jerked, a sound escaping you that you didn’t recognise as yours. “Say it again. Tell me who makes you feel like this.”

“You.” you moaned, head falling back, spine arching off the mattress. “You, Dani, only you, please-“

“Please what?”

“Please let me-” You broke off, gasping, as she shifted her angle, her fingers curling, pressing, perfect. “Please, I need to-“

“Come,” she finished for you, voice raw, wrecked, as hungry for it as you were. “Come for me Y/N. Now. Right now. Let me feel you. Let me-“

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. The words and the pressure and the sheer Dani-ness of her – her voice, her breath, her absolute focus on you, only you – sent you over, unravelling with a cry that felt like it tore into something loose, her name breaking in your throat, her fingers still moving, drawing it out, making it last, until you were trembling, gasping, completely undone beneath her.

She kissed you through it, soft and reverent, murmuring love against your sweat-damp skin. “Good?” she whispered.

“Good,” you managed, breathless. “Your turn.”

You flipped her, pinned her, your hands finding her, your mouth following. She was already close, wrecked from watching you, from the power of it, and she guided you, showed you, her words dissolving into gasps and curses and finally your name, repeated like a prayer, like a curse, like the only word she knew.

After, you collapsed together, tangled in sheets and sweat and each other, the room quiet but for your breathing, your heartbeats slowing in unison.

Dani traced lazy patterns on your back, humming something tuneless. “So” she murmured, “dirty talk. New thing?”

“New thing,” you agreed, smiling against her shoulder.

“I like new things.”

“I noticed.”

She laughed, soft, and pulled you closer, her leg thrown over yours, her hand finding yours under the pillow. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“You’re incredible,” you corrected. “I just agreed with you.”

She hummed, content, and pressed her face into your neck, breathing you in. “Stay,” she mumbled, already half-gone.

“Nowhere else,” you whispered back.

She smiled against your skin, her thumb brushing your knuckles one last time. The room settled into quiet, the city humming distant and irrelevant beyond the walls, and you lay there, tangled in her, feeling her heartbeat slow against yours.

Tomorrow there would be rehearsals again, schedules, the world pulling at its edges. But tonight, there was only this. Only her. Only the aftermath of something new and the promise of everything still to come.

———-

told you I had some fun ones coming up 😉

but like, can we please imagine Dani dirty talking… stop I’m already folding 🥹