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You feel the weight of the ring in the center of your palm, the coldness of the metal against your skin. Chris sits next to you, a similar ring held in his hands. Jill watches silently from beside Chris, trying to keep her face carefully blank so as not to betray the turmoil that's erupting inside of her as she realizes what you’re being asked to do.
The handler for your mission resumes speaking.
“Your target is a wealthy mercenary, suspected of selling and transporting bioweapons. It’s believed that they’ll be making a transaction at this hotel before the end of the week. Your job is to get as much information as possible about the transaction and prevent it from happening. You and Chris will act as a married couple on your honeymoon. Jill will be there as backup in case things go south, staying as low as possible. But Jill doesn’t know either of you. Remember that. Try to keep your interactions to a minimum, otherwise you might arouse suspicion.”
All you can do is stare at the ring in your palm in disbelief. You’ve never had to do anything like this for a mission before. Chris speaks before anyone else.
“I don’t know if we…can do this. Can pretend we’re a couple. Is there any other option?”
You commend Chris for trying. He knows this will make you uncomfortable, that just the thought of being with a man romantically makes you uneasy. But you also know that the organisation won’t budge. These things take months of planning. The handler lets out a sigh before sliding three plane tickets across the table. You pick them up tentatively.
You’re going to Greece.
“You can do it, and you will. You’ll be less suspicious as a married couple. And these cover identities have already been set up months in advance. So make it believable.”
You try to push down the anxiety you feel surge inside you at that last part and then steal a glance at Jill. You’re interested to see how she’ll react. You’ve harbored secret feelings for her for years. She was one of your closest friends, and always looked out for you and remembered the tiniest things about you in a way that you found almost romantic.
However your relationship was anything but, always remaining strictly platonic and professional, despite the definite…romantic feelings on your end. After a while you had come to terms with the fact that she definitely didn’t feel the same way you did. After all, she had had plenty of chances to make your relationship into something more, right?
She doesn’t look you in the eyes, but you notice there’s a tightness to her face that you can’t quite parse. You put it down to pre-mission jitters.
“You and Chris will be in the honeymoon suite, room 304, and Jill will be just down the hall, room 310.”
You sputter. You think you hear a strangled sound come from Jill but you convince yourself you must be imagining it.
“We have to share a room?!” You ask, incredulous.
The handler gives you a cold stare in response.
“That’s what married couples do, isn’t it? If they’ve got optics on you, the bit has to be as believable as possible. That means no cutting corners, and no separate bedrooms for newlyweds.”
“This is ridiculous,” you mutter.
Chris nods in agreement. Jill says nothing.
“You’ll leave the airport at 6:00 AM tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”
Then the handler gathers their files and promptly leaves the room without another word, obviously sensing a tension growing that they don’t want to deal with. There’s a long silence after the door closes behind them.
Then you let out a long sigh and look at Chris. You feel grateful that at least you were doing this with one of your closest friends, with someone you trusted not to cross the line. You offer him a small smile.
“Congratulations to us…I guess?”
He laughs awkwardly in response. Jill is looking down at her hands. Chris turns to her.
“At least you don’t have to pretend to be married to one of us, how did you get so lucky?” He says jokingly.
She lifts her eyes to your hands as you slip the ring onto your finger, checking it for size. Something akin to pain flashes through her at the sight of you with a ring on your finger that wasn’t from her. And then the pain gives way to an ugly and gnawing jealousy. She tries not to let her emotions show on her face.
“Yeah…lucky me,” she says quietly.
___________
The next day, you step into the hotel lobby with Chris, your hands dutifully intertwined in commitment to the act. You can already feel yourself itching to yank your hand away. The crease between his brows suggests he’s fighting the urge to do the same.
The whole flight you had sat in uncomfortable silence, apprehensive for the week of pretending ahead of you, keenly aware of Jill’s presence a few rows back.
Every now and then you look down at the ring on your hand and try not to think about how easy this would be if you were pretending to be married to the other agent on this mission, how you feel a thrill in your chest at the thought of her sliding that ring onto your finger, sealing it with a kiss.
“I’m sorry you’re having to do this,” Chris whispers to you, breaking through your thoughts. You know he can sense how uneasy this is already making you. You try to reassure him.
“It’s fine, I trust you. Let’s just get this over and done with.”
You had already agreed with each other what was allowed beforehand. Holding hands, touching the arms or back, calling each other darling, quick pecks on the cheek. Things that would be seen as baseline affection between two spouses. Everything else was strictly off limits. In a moment of weakness, you wonder what this would have been like with Jill, if anything would have been off limits. You try to muster a smile befitting of a newlywed as you push the thought from your mind.
____________
Jill walks into the hotel lobby alone, keenly aware of your absence. Although she knows she shouldn't, she's instantly searching the room for you, knowing that you and Chris left the airport before her.
Within seconds she spots you, your presence like a magnetic pull on her very being. You’re standing next to Chris and talking to another couple who must also be here on their honeymoon. Her chest tightens when she sees your hand interlocked with his, the glinting metal of the wedding band on your finger catching the light. She almost chokes on her own breath at the sight of it, watching as you lean your head casually on Chris’s shoulder while saying something that looks suspiciously like the word “husband”.
She tears her eyes away from you, having to remind herself that she’s being ridiculous, that all your affectionate body language is purely for appearances. She’s pretty sure you don’t even like men. But not absolutely sure, a little voice inside her whispers. You and Chris have always been close after all. She knew herself that Chris was a good man, that he would treat you well. Hell, if you were anybody else she would be happy for you. It wouldn’t be a surprise if after everything the two of you had developed some romantic attachment. Something writhes inside her at the thought.
Despite herself, she steals another glance at you and sees that Chris has brought his hand down to rest on your back. Her heart drops, and something inside her pulls so tight it feels close to snapping. And then before she can stop herself she finds herself doing something that she knows she absolutely shouldn’t, something that could put the mission in jeopardy.
She walks over to you and introduces herself as her cover identity, shaking hands with both you and Chris, a jolt of electricity shooting through her when her hand makes contact with yours. She can tell the two of you are trying to subtly give her a what the fuck are you doing look but she pretends she doesn’t notice, placing herself a little closer to you than is acceptable for new acquaintances, even touching your arm a few times. She knows she’s being positively reckless but the manic jealousy that’s permeating every fiber of her being right now prevents her from caring.
____________
At midday all three of you prepare to leave for a museum that’s a 20 minute bus ride away. The trip is part of a tour given by the hotel, and headquarters had been given intel that a potential lead would be going on the trip as well. Which was why you and Chris tried to put on your best performance of marital bliss as you stepped off of the bus and out into the hot Greek sun, Jill spaced out from you but not far behind.
You still weren’t sure why she had broken protocol by talking to you earlier, but for now you were assuming she had good reason to. Jill wasn’t the type to take risks when it came to things like this.
Chris was visibly tense next to you; you could tell the stress of the mission was getting to him already.
“You alright, darling?” You say, patting him on the arm. The affectionate language feels rough in your mouth, and you fight not to focus on how the physical contact makes your skin crawl.
You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up.
You try to communicate reassurance to him through your eyes.
We’ve got this.
He nods at you, offering you a meagre smile.
When you enter the museum your eyes widen in amazement. There was so much history here. You had always wanted to visit Greece, but between missions you had never had the chance. You feel a dull sense of disappointment in your chest at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to fully appreciate it this time round.
Work comes first.
You both follow the tour guide around the museum, their voice loud and echoing in the vast halls as they tell you about the various paintings and historical pieces. But neither of you are listening; instantly you’re both scanning the faces around you, comparing them against the ones you memorized from the case files the day before.
While doing this, you notice Jill’s face some ways behind you. She’s already looking at you when your eyes meet. She smiles softly when she sees you recognize her, gesturing around her at all the artwork and mouthing ‘wow’.
You can’t help but smile. Before you can stop yourself, you’re imagining walking through here with her, in another world where you weren’t government agents, and where you could marvel at the beauty all around you, as well as revel in the feeling of her hand in yours. Then you’re dragged back to reality by the feeling of Chris jostling your arm.
You snap your face round to him and he nods to somewhere in front of you, a little to the left. You immediately recognize the face of a man from the case files. You look at Chris and both silently agree on something. Not yet. You’d have to choose wisely when to approach him so that it didn’t seem suspicious.
The perfect opportunity presents itself around 20 minutes later, when the tour group is given a small period of time to mull around the halls at their own pace before returning to the hotel. The man, who you’ve both been watching the whole time, is standing in the corner, looking at a painting.
You and Chris both decide that he should approach the man alone, to seem less suspicious. Just a fellow tourist asking for his opinion on the artwork.
As he introduces himself you see him gesture towards you, obviously telling the man he’s here with his wife. You smile and wave. Then you look around the room and go to sit down on a bench in front of a piece that has particularly caught your eye, preparing to wait the rest out.
____________
From the moment Jill enters the museum she can’t help but watch your face, drinking in your every reaction like you’re the fucking sun she revolves around. She loves seeing the awe on your face, noticing which things catch your eye the most. You seem to have an affinity for paintings, she realizes, specifically landscapes.
She knows she’s supposed to be scanning the faces around her for leads but she can’t seem to drag her eyes away from you. Then, like you can hear her thoughts, you look over your shoulder and make eye contact with her. She can’t help but smile. You’ve got a radiant look to your face, like all the beauty around has invigorated you.
She gestures around her and mouths ‘wow’ at you, trying not to think of another world in which you were really her wife, in which she had taken you here herself because she knew how much you loved artwork, and god knows she would do anything to see that look of wonder in your eyes.
But then Chris grabs your attention and you turn from her, and she feels her heart sink. This wasn’t that world.
She sees you both focus in on a man towards the front of the crowd. She recognises him as a lead. But neither of you make a move. She assumes you must be waiting for a more opportune moment. She can feel the heavy weight of the gun she hid in her jacket before leaving pressing against her side. If anything happens, she will do whatever it takes to protect you.
Around 20 minutes later she sees Chris head towards the man and introduce himself. He gestures towards you, the words ‘my wife’ leaving his mouth. Jealousy twists at her insides. God, seeing you as someone else’s wife was a special type of agony she didn’t even know she could feel.
She watches as you go to sit down in front of a large landscape piece, your hands folded in your lap. Like a dream, she sees herself going over to sit beside you, taking your hand in hers. It takes every bit of restraint within her not to do it. She forces herself to go and look at the other paintings, wandering around slowly to waste time. But after 10 minutes of that, wondering what your thoughts would be on each piece she sees, she gives in.
____________
You begin to lose yourself in the piece in front of you, the azure blues, the jade greens, the clouds rendered so beautifully you feel like they might really be floating in front of you if you just reached out your hand to touch them. Then you feel a weight as someone settles onto the bench beside you.
You look at the person beside you. Jill. She’s gazing at your face with a strange look in her eyes that you don’t quite understand.
“What do you think?” She asks, gesturing around her. You feel her leg inch sideways to touch yours, and your breath hitches in your throat. You try to smother the heat that instantly builds inside you at the contact.
“It’s beautiful,” you say, words escaping you as you force yourself to look down at your hands after you notice your eyes lingering on the muscles of her arms.
God, she makes you nervous.
“Which one's your favorite?”
You nod towards the piece in front of you. She takes it in and smiles.
“You have good taste,” she says.
Her knee is still pressed against yours. It feels too deliberate to be an accident, but you convince yourself she must have not realized yet.
You notice then that she’s looking at the ring on your finger, a small crease forming between her brows.
“It suits you,” she whispers, so softly you can barely hear her. If you didn’t know better you could have sworn there was an edge of bitterness to her voice.
Then all your senses malfunction as she reaches up to place her hand on your shoulder before leaning in to plant a soft kiss at the base of your neck.
You feel fireworks explode inside you at the feel of her lips on your skin, and your vision goes hazy. All you can hear is the blood gushing in your ears.
Then fear pierces through you, remembering Chris and the man in the corner, and you shift away from her touch. You come back to your senses, the world snapping into focus around you.
Did you just have a fucking hallucination?
The panicked expression on Jill’s face suggests otherwise. And then you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see Chris. The man he was talking to is looking at you weirdly, his head cocked to one side and his eyes narrowed.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Is everything alright darling?” Chris says through gritted teeth, his eyes nervously darting towards the man. Usually newlywed brides weren’t seen being kissed on the neck by a random woman while in the same room as their husband.
You shoot to your feet and throw your arms clunkily around his neck, planting an awkward kiss on his cheek to try and remedy the situation. His hands come clumsily to rest on your sides, trying to make it look natural despite the uneasiness you both feel being this close to each other.
“Of course, why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?” You say with a forced cheeriness you desperately hope doesn’t look too false.
Then you let Chris guide you over to the man, not daring to look back at Jill even though you can feel her eyes on you as you walk away.
____________
By the time it’s evening, Jill is trying not to have a full on meltdown. She doesn’t know what came over her. All she intended to do as she walked towards you in the museum was sit down and ask you about the artwork. But then seeing the ring on your finger, she had been overcome by an instinctual and irrational need to kiss you, to make it clear to everyone that you were hers. She had never felt that out of control before, that possessive, and she was deeply embarrassed by it.
And god, the way you had looked at her. It was unmistakeable. There was fear in your eyes. She had scared you, and probably caused a problem between you and Chris. She couldn’t abide the thought that she had made you uncomfortable.
After hours of pacing her hotel room, she comes to a decision. She knew you were both going to the buffet dinner at 6:00 PM to scope it out for leads. And she was going to be there, to make things right.
She checks her watch; it’s 5:50 PM. She goes to her closet and pulls on a leather jacket, feeling like the extra layer of clothing might shield her from the awkwardness of what’s to come. She almost chickens out as she closes the door behind her, but then she steels herself.
She has to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t hate her.
____________
Jill meets you and Chris outside the hotel’s dining room, desperately trying to make the interaction look as normal as possible and to ignore the confused looks on your faces. She spends the whole time studying your body language towards her, trying to see if you’re upset. You seem to be pretending that nothing happened, treating her as normal, your emotions remaining annoyingly enigmatic to her. She guesses that’s better than you openly hating her.
After waiting for a table to free up, the three of you go to sit down. Jill, feeling a desperate need to smooth things over between you, offers to take your jacket and pulls the chair out for you. The look you both give her makes her realise that maybe that was the wrong move. She feels her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
How could she forget? Chris was the one who was meant to do that for you, not her.
She awkwardly runs her hand through her hair and tries to calm herself down by taking a few deep breaths. But her efforts to soothe herself are in vain as you pat the chair beside you for Chris, giving him a small peck on the cheek when he sits down. She can feel the manic jealousy that has become all too familiar to her in the past few days bubble to the surface again.
Stay calm, Jill, she thinks to herself.
She couldn’t have a repeat of what happened earlier, she wouldn’t.
Once you’re all sat down you begin to look through the menu, placing a hand on Chris’s arm. Jill feels her whole body tense at the sight. She can quickly tell that this dinner is going to become a fucking disaster if she doesn’t get her emotions in check quickly. She keeps her eyes glued to the menu for the next few minutes, furiously reminding herself of how ridiculous she’s being.
After 10 torturous minutes of watching you fawn over Chris while she tries to bite back the nausea that rises inside of her every time you touch him, the drinks come and you begin to take long sips of your drink, your other hand resting on the table.
Jill can see the ring glinting on the finger of your resting hand. Her brain feels like it catches fire. She itches to reach out to you. And then before she can stop herself she does something unbelievably stupid, an action borne of the absolute wreckage of her emotions. She reaches over and takes your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the wedding ring on your finger. For the first few seconds she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it, her mind a complete haze.
And for a second you let your hand linger there, your mind completely giddy from the contact of her skin on yours. You notice how it feels almost natural to you, the way her thumb glides over the wedding ring like she gave it to you herself.
Then the reality of what she’s doing comes crashing down on Jill and she snatches her hand back. But it’s too late for that. She feels panic rise inside her, her eyes jumping upwards to study your face. Your expression is something akin to shock. Chris is just staring at the both of you like he can’t understand why on earth you’re both acting like this, and why he’s been cursed to do a mission with two idiots.
You stand up suddenly from the table.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” you say, giving Jill a meaningful look that says follow me, and then promptly storm off.
____________
You wait anxiously in the bathroom, tapping your foot on the cold tiles. You can’t understand why Jill’s being so reckless, why she’s actively disobeying orders like it’s nothing. She was meant to be staying low for heaven's sake, staying away from you and Chris as much as possible, not fucking kissing you on the neck. You try to ignore the way a specific kind of heat pools in your stomach at the memory, pushing it to the back of your mind.
You can’t think about that right now, or you’ll do something stupid.
At least now you finally have a chance to speak to her alone and ask her what the hell is going on.
Then a thought pops into your head before you can stop it, a thought that makes your heart skip a beat. The way you had seen her tense from across the table every time you touched Chris was fresh in your mind.
Was she…jealous?
You instantly rebuke the thought. No. You were letting your own feelings distort her actions. You were seeing what you wanted to see. Not what was really there. There must be some other explanation for the way she’s been acting.
And it better be a good one. She was putting the whole mission at risk!
Once Jill enters the bathroom a few minutes later you whirl to face her, your arms crossed.
“What the hell are you doing, Jill?”
You can’t help the interrogative tone to your voice, the turmoil and confusion of your thoughts riling you up inside. She looks almost startled by your bluntness, and you can see the tips of her ears begin to tinge pink. You notice she’s changed into a leather jacket before dinner, and you try not to let your mind linger on how fucking good she looks in it.
“What do you mean?” She says, trying to act oblivious.
You try to keep your voice low despite your emotions, mindful of the fact that there could be people listening in on you. You had already checked whether the bathroom stalls were empty as soon as you got in, but you were still veering on the side of caution regardless.
“What do you mean? Jill, you’re meant to be lying low. Hell, we’re not even meant to be talking to each other. They said to keep the interactions to a minimum.”
She scoffs and her next words sound bitter.
“What, like you’re keeping your and Chris’s act to a minimum? I don’t think even real couples touch each other that much.”
That feels like a slap to the face. Was she seriously accusing you of being unprofessional right now?
“They said to make it believable Jill, so we are. But you’ve been interfering all day. What is your problem?”
The tinge of pink has reached her cheeks.
“My problem is that you’re fucking enjoying it. You’re taking every chance you can to touch him.”
Her voice is louder now, and it sounds strained in a way you’ve never heard it before. It suddenly dawns on you.
Oh. She is jealous.
It almost surprises you, how het up she is about you just holding hands with Chris, giving him a few chaste pecks on the cheek. You were only doing it because the mission demanded it of you. In another moment her jealousy probably would have made you flustered. But her accusatory tone and the stress you feel about the integrity of the mission immediately puts you on the defensive.
“That’s not fair. You know all of this is for the job. And even if it wasn’t - which absolutely isn’t the case - you have no right to act like this. I’m not yours, Jill.”
Jill blinks. That last part hits her like a punch to the gut. The way you had said it was harsh, and Jill realizes suddenly that you probably want it that way. You’re likely reminding her to back off, to stop being so overbearing. Her mind flashes back to the fear in your eyes earlier at the museum.
Of course. How could she be so stupid?
She looks down at her hands. She realizes just how horribly possessive she’s been about someone who isn’t even her girlfriend. How stupid she must look. How uncomfortable she must have made you. She can already feel the shame clawing its way up her throat. She has to get out of here, right now.
“I’m sorry”, she mumbles.
And then she opens the door and leaves, not looking you in the eye. You fight the urge to call out to her, to make her come back. To tell her that you could be hers if she just fucking asked you to be. But the tension of the day, the emotions it’s stirred in you, has all been too much. You can feel it all churning in your stomach. Right now, you need some space.
____________
That night you try desperately to fall asleep but it’s no use. Now that your anger has worn off all you can think about is Jill, about the fact that just the mere thought of you being married to someone else even when she knew it was fake had made her throw caution to the wind. And you knew how seriously she took these missions. In all the years you’d known her you had never seen her disobey orders once. But she had…for you. And then you had stupidly acted like you didn’t want her. Like you hadn’t wanted her for years. You silently curse at yourself.
You sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed, careful not to wake up Chris who had opted to sleep on the sofa. You go into the bathroom and change into some breezy clothes, meant for the beach. Then you quietly open the door and leave.
You know that you technically shouldn’t be doing this, but you feel jittery with adrenaline. She wants you. You walk down the hall to room 310 - Jill’s room - and knock on the door, anticipation building inside you. And then you wait…and wait. You knock again. There’s no answer. You can feel the anticipation inside begin to fizzle out. You look at your watch and realise it’s nearly midnight. You bury your face in your palms.
What the hell were you doing?
You take a deep breath. You need a drink. You glumly take the elevator down to the hotel bar, your head beginning to pound from the sheer emotion of the day.
But as soon as you enter the bar, you stop in your tracks. Jill’s there, sitting on a bar stool with a beer in her hand. Your heart aches at how beautiful she looks. And that’s when you notice she’s talking to someone, a woman. It feels like the world becomes slow motion as you see the woman reach over to rest her hand on Jill’s arm, clearly flirting with her. And Jill doesn’t lean away.
You feel like the ground has fallen out from underneath you. Something white hot and volatile rages deep inside.
Look who’s jealous now, a voice in the back of your head taunts.
You feel hot tears sting your eyes. And then Jill looks up in your direction and her face drops at the sight of your expression. Panicked, you turn away and try to speed walk to the elevator.
You couldn’t let her see you like this.
____________
Jill couldn’t take being in the hotel room alone anymore. All she could think about was how recklessly stupid she had been. It's like she couldn’t control herself around you. She had let her emotions interfere with the mission, and then gone and accused you of that very same thing. And even worse, you had practically rejected her. Despite her best efforts, her mind keeps wandering to the thought of you and Chris in the honeymoon suite down the hall, all the things you could be doing. That’s when she knew she had to distract herself.
Which is how she found herself in the hotel bar, talking to a woman who seemed nice enough, and who was obviously trying to flirt with her. If it weren’t for the events earlier that day it might make her feel flattered. But all she could think about was you. How it had felt so right to hold your hand over the table, to stroke the wedding ring on your finger like she had given it to you herself. Which was why she didn’t notice when the woman began to become more bold, leaning closer to her, laying a hand on her arm.
Suddenly Jill becomes keenly aware of your presence, like a tug on her very soul. She looks over her shoulder. You’re standing at the entrance of the bar, your shoulders tense, your hands clenched beside you, looking at her. And then her heart drops when she takes in your face. You look like you’re about to cry.
As soon as the two of you make eye contact you whirl around and hurry away in the opposite direction, and without wasting any time Jill excuses herself as politely as she can and goes racing after you.
You’re nearly at the end of the corridor. She calls out your name but you don’t turn around, so she increases her pace, reaching out to grab at your arm.
When you turn to look at her you’re staring down at the floor like you’re trying to hide your face.
“Hey, are you okay?” She asks, her voice wrought with concern.
“What the hell, Jill.”
She’s taken aback. Then she realizes that you’re probably still mad at her for her behavior earlier.
“Look, about today, I was completely out of line-“
“Who was that?” You interrupt her.
She furrows her brows in confusion.
“The woman at the bar? I don’t know-“
“You spent all day acting like a crazy person because me and Chris were acting like a couple, because we were forced to, and then you chat up some random woman you don’t even know?”
She sputters in disbelief.
“Chat up? I wasn’t chatting her up. I wasn’t even…” she trails off, suddenly realizing that you’re standing here in front of her, distraught, all because she talked to another woman. She feels a smile tug at her mouth despite the current situation and her next words tumble out without thinking.
“Wait a second, are you…jealous?”
She can see your eyes widen and your breathing quicken in response, betraying yourself. And then you abruptly turn away and start walking briskly in the direction of the elevator.
“I can’t talk to you right now,” you say angrily over your shoulder, and then you turn the corner and you’re gone, leaving her standing there in the middle of the corridor completely shocked.
You were jealous.
She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at the thought.
This changes things.
____________
The next day you find yourself back at the hotel bar with Chris, trying desperately to push any memories of last night out of your head. You feel like such a hypocrite, and a pathetic one at that. All that shit you had given Jill yesterday over her being jealous and then you went and did the exact same thing over something far less. Your chest floods with embarrassment. She made you crazy, unpredictable. And because of that you’d have to avoid her at all costs until the mission was over. Then maybe you would gather up the courage to face what had happened between you.
Chris has been silent for most of the morning, sensing something tense within you. He knows you left in the middle of the night, and that you came back upset about something. You wonder if he knows it’s to do with Jill.
Who were you kidding? Of course he knows.
He glances in your direction, holding a beer in his hand, and then takes a deep breath before speaking.
“Are we going to talk about it?” He asks.
You feel your pulse quicken but try to force your face into calmness.
“About what?” You respond, trying to feign innocence.
He gives you a look that says you’ve got to be joking.
You roll your eyes and swill your drink around your glass, remaining silent. Then he bumps your shoulder gently with his, a subtle gesture that encourages you to open up. You sigh, pinching your brow with your fingers.
“It’s…complicated,” you finally settle with.
“Doesn’t seem complicated to me,” he says.
You give him a look, to which he shrugs his shoulders.
“Please elaborate,” you respond drily.
“All I mean is that you obviously both have feelings for each other…feelings that are making you act like complete and utter idiots. So maybe you should stop being idiots and talk about them.”
You almost laugh despite yourself at his bluntness. You bury your face in your hands, trying to hide your expression. Chris, having said his piece, retreats back into silence.
Suddenly your ears prick as you hear familiar footsteps come up behind you. You know who it is without even looking. Jill.
So much for avoiding her.
She says good morning to Chris and asks him how he is. You can tell he’s trying to communicate something to you silently as they talk, probably willing you to go and have a proper conversation with her, alone. The thought of doing that makes your heart stutter. You pointedly avoid his gaze. You can’t do this right now. But Jill has other plans.
“Could you excuse us for a second?” She says, giving Chris an apologetic smile.
You feel your heart fluttering frantically in your chest, and you turn slightly to look at her. She’s avoiding your eyes, but you can see a reckless glint to them, like a fire is burning her up on the inside.
“Please do, for god’s sake,” Chris says, to which you give him a sidelong glare.
Then Jill is leading you away from the hotel bar and into the elevator, her hand making its way to your lower back, firm and warm. You feel something pulsing and hot stir inside you at the contact, and you have to force yourself not to shiver underneath her fingers.
As soon as the doors close you step away from her hand. Being touched by her right now was too much for you. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t make the right decisions. Both of you are silent.
Then Jill leans sideways against the elevator wall, her arms crossed, facing you, waiting for you to say something. You keep your eyes glued to the elevator doors, despite the desperate urge you have to check her out right now. You begin to speak, desperately wanting to break the awkward silence.
“Jill, we need to talk about-“
You’re halfway through your sentence when you glance over to her. You can’t help yourself. Your eyes drift to her face and then go lower. She’s wearing that jacket again, and fuck she looks good in it. Your voice wavers and the sentence dies in your throat. Jill notices immediately. You can see a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, and you quickly snap your eyes back to the cold metal of the elevator door.
She steps closer to you.
“You know you do that a lot,” she says, a teasing confidence in her voice that you’re not used to. It makes your stomach explode with butterflies. You try to keep your voice level.
“What?”
“Look at me and then pretend that you weren’t.”
You don’t say anything in response. You don’t know what to say. She continues.
“I always just assumed it’s because you were a generally nervous person…but I'm starting to think that maybe it’s just because you’re nervous around me.”
She’s looking directly at you, waiting for any reaction. You try to come up with a witty retort that will bring this situation back to normal (and your heart rate back to normal) but you can’t find one. All you can think about is what her skin would feel like under your fingers. You can hear your blood pumping in your ears.
Then she takes another step towards you, and her hand that's closest to you comes up to brush tentatively at the skin of your arm, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You don’t. Your breath hitches and you have to fight back the whimper that rises inside you at her touch.
She’s watching you intently, studying your every reaction to her touch with wild eyes like she’s just uncovered a secret. You can tell she’s seeing all of it, the desire you’re trying so desperately to hide plain on your face.
“You were saying something, before,” she says softly.
“I was,” you say, nodding slowly.
God, you feel like you might combust just from her touching you.
“You stopped.”
“I did.”
There’s a pause. She begins to stroke your arm with her thumb and it feels like you might just be malfunctioning.
“I think it’s because there’s something else you’d rather be doing right now.”
You feel your breath hitch, and you know she definitely notices it too. She brings her hands down to your wrist. You know that she can feel your pulse fluttering wildly under her fingers, betraying your feelings. You can see her chest begin to heave.
“It’s funny…this whole time I thought that this-this want…only went one way. But then I saw the way you looked at me last night. And I knew you felt it too.”
Then she brings your wrist up to her face and plants a gentle kiss on your pulse point. This time the whimper slips out before you can stop it.
The sound makes her freeze. There’s a strange look in her eyes, a hunger. She steps even closer, her nose brushing yours. Your back is flush against the wall of the elevator now.
“Tell me you don’t want this, tell me to stop, and I will,” she whispers, her breath fanning over your lips.
It feels like your body might catch on fire from her proximity. There’s a pulsing ache growing in your core that’s impossible to ignore. Your breath is coming in short bursts. And then she brings her hand up to run her thumb over your lips and it’s like a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine at the touch, going straight to the heat at your core. Your legs turn to jelly.
“Don’t you dare stop,” you gasp.
You hear a tortured sound leave her lips and then her mouth crashes against yours, desperate and starved. You feel like you’re floating. Kissing her is better than you ever could have imagined, and god knows you have. Her hands are warm and tight on your hips, pulling you into her in a way that feels almost possessive. Claiming.
All you can do is melt into her, your hands reaching up to thread through her hair, tugging slightly in a way that makes her moan into your mouth. You dimly remember that you’re still in the elevator, that you’re meant to be married to someone else, and that being seen with her like this could potentially turn the whole mission on its head. But as her fingers begin to sneak up under your shirt to brush at the bare skin of your stomach, you can’t really find it in yourself to care.
When the elevator doors open you’re both stumbling down the hallway to her hotel room, her lips not leaving yours for a second, her hand fumbling with the door handle while you breath in her scent, unable to believe this is actually happening.
Once you're both inside she guides you gently down onto the bed, coming down to kneel in front of you, placing herself between your legs. She holds back a groan at the sight of you splayed out in front of her.
You bring your hand down to cup under her chin. She’s looking at you almost reverently, like she can’t believe you’re really here. The sight of her kneeling in front of you like that makes your heart feel like it’s going to pound out of your chest. There’s no sound except for both of your panting breaths. Then Jill breaks the silence.
“Be mine”, she says, her voice vulnerable, all the confidence of before gone. She’s looking at you like she’s completely helpless. The bluntness of it catches you off guard. She continues.
“Before…You said you weren’t mine. But I want you to be, have wanted you to be, for so long. Seeing you with someone else, with a ring on your finger that wasn’t from me, it hurt me in a way I didn’t even know I could feel. Seeing you be a wife to someone else…it was embarrassing how much the jealousy consumed me.”
You laugh softly, affectionately brushing her cheek with your thumb. You’re almost amazed at how natural it feels to you to touch her like this, how right. Your next words are vulnerable, your voice quiet.
“Jill, I already am yours. I was yours from the day we met. No one else has ever stood a real chance with me since the moment you entered my life.”
You don’t know what to expect in response. You’ve practically just admitted that you’ve been in love with her for years. She brings her face forward to bury it in your stomach, breathing you in. There’s a long pause. You begin to worry that you’ve come on too strong, too quick. But what she says next quickly quashes that worry.
“Say it again,” she says, the hoarseness in her voice barely disguising her need. You feel your heart skip a beat.
“I’m yours,” you say, louder this time, bringing your hand down to stroke her hair. The wedding ring gleams on your finger. And then what you say next comes from somewhere deep inside you.
“If I’m ever going to be anyone’s wife, I’m going to be yours. I’ve been imagining it was your ring on my finger all week.”
A guttural sound leaves her at that last part, and she leans back again to look you in the eyes, her pupils blown out.
“I’m sure I can arrange that,” she says, her voice teasing but still raw with emotion. The look in her eyes makes something inside you ache. You want nothing more than to feel her skin bare against yours, to feel her fingers inside you. She can see the desire flash across your face.
“Tell me what you want, I’ll do anything,” she says, her thumbs brushing circles on your hips. You say the next part slowly, wanting to watch the effect that each word has on her.
“I want you to make me yours…I want you to make love to me like I’m already your wife.”
Her reaction catches you off guard. She whimpers. In all the years you’ve known her, you’ve never heard Jill fucking whimper before. You don’t know what to do with yourself, with the knowledge that you can make her sound like that. But you don’t have to, because Jill decides for you, spreading your legs open with her hands and climbing on top of you, her mouth back on yours.
The kiss is deeper this time, slower, like she wants you to feel every sensation of her lips as they move against yours. Her hands are roaming all over your body; your face, your neck, your waist, your thighs. Her touch is soft, reverent, like you’re something precious that she wants to savor every last bit of. You can feel that her hands are trembling where they touch you.
Her fingers slip under your shirt and move upwards and you begin to moan softly into her mouth, desperately clutching at the front of her shirt. The sound of you only spurs her on, her kisses becoming more wet and messy, and then she's sucking at your collarbone, marking you. You gasp at the sensation.
“No doubt whose wife you are now,” she says teasingly into your skin, bringing her knee up to press against your core.
“Fuck,” you whimper in response.
You can feel her smile against your skin as she continues kissing you.
“You like that, huh? When I call you my wife.”
All you can do is nod, your brain turning to putty at her touch.
“My beautiful wife,” she hums into your skin.
You can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter as she continues planting hot kisses all over your neck, and you're overcome by a sudden and primal need to feel her bare skin against yours.
“Take your shirt off,” you gasp, your voice frantic.
She pulls away from you, a smile tugging at her lips from how desperate you sounded to see her.
“Yes ma’am,” she says, and then without wasting any time she shrugs her jacket off and pulls her tank top over her head, revealing her braless form.
You moan softly at the sight of her, reaching out to stroke softly at her stomach, and you notice the tips of her ears turn a bright red in response. Then with shaking hands she tugs gently at the hem of your shirt, looking to you for confirmation. You nod.
“Lift your arms for me, my love,” she says, and you do exactly as she tells you, trying not to combust with heat at her use of a new pet name. Then she lifts your shirt over your head gently, and you can’t help but notice how much care she takes with you. It’s so beautiful it almost makes you want to cry. You grab her hand and kiss her palm.
When she sees you fully her breath begins to come faster, her eyes widening as she takes you in.
“You’re gorgeous,” she says softly, and then leans down to give you a series of soft kisses all over your face. You giggle, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders.
Then noticing your chest is heaving with breath she begins to move her mouth lower and lower, watching your face as she brushes her thumbs under your breasts in a silent ask for permission. You nod desperately, and then she finally does something she’s always dreamed about.
She brings her mouth down to one of your nipples, licking and sucking while she massages the other with her fingers. You moan loudly at the sensation, feeling a pressure begin to build in your core. The sound of you makes her more confident in her ministrations, and she begins to nip lightly at your breasts with her teeth, your back arching into her. You can already feel that you’re soaked through.
As the pressure in your stomach continues to build you feel a desperate need overcome you, pushing at her head softly. She immediately stops, leaning back with worry on her face.
“Did I-“
You stop her before she can finish the thought.
“I want you to touch me,” you say, your voice thick with desire.
She pauses. There’s a sudden playful glint to her eyes.
“I’m already touching you, baby.”
You stifle a moan at the sound of her calling you baby.
“I want you to make love to me, now,” you clarify, your voice wrought with anticipation.
You whimper as she brings your hand up to your mouth and kisses at your ring finger before giving it a slow suck, her tongue warm on your skin, coating your finger in her saliva. She only speaks once she’s done.
“And how does my wife want me to make love to her?”
She brings her fingers down to the waistband of your underwear, just slipping them under. You feel like you can’t breathe with how badly you want her to touch you. You know she’s going to keep teasing you until you say it.
“I-I want your fingers inside,” you say between breaths.
A smile tugs at the corner of her lips seeing you so desperate underneath her.
“What my wife wants, she gets.”
She slips her hand fully into your underwear and begins to rub at the hood of your clit at a tantalizingly slow pace. You moan, clutching at her back.
“That feel good, sweetheart?”
You nod, beginning to roll your hips against her hand, desperate for more friction. You can feel how slick you are under her fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” she says, her voice hoarse.
You bring a hand up to push a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“It’s all for you, Jill. My wife.”
She groans, and then her touch is gone, making you whine. You’re devastatingly aware of how empty your core feels, how much you want her inside. And then you look down at her and you see she’s tugging slightly at the waistband of your underwear, watching your face.
“Can I take it off?” She asks, and you nod eagerly.
She quickly takes off your shorts and then begins to pull your underwear down your legs achingly slow, her breath hitching when the crotch of them sticks to your arousal. When you’re finally bare beneath her a strained look flashes across her face and she bites her lip, like she might come just from looking at you.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead.
Then she brings her fingers down to your entrance, panting for breath at the anticipation, almost like this is working her up more than you. She tears her eyes away to search your face before she puts them in. You whine her name, and that’s all the encouragement she needs.
She moans as her fingers slip easily inside you, already knuckle deep into your wet heat, and then begins curling them deep against that sensitive spot inside while she tries not to lose it at the feeling of you tightening around her. She keeps her pace deliciously slow, wanting you to feel every bit of it, the pressure inside you beginning to gradually build to a precipice.
“God, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long,” she admits as she watches her fingers move in and out of you with wide eyes, biting her lip when they start making a filthy squelching sound. She continues.
“All I could think about all week was making love to you like this. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.”
When you hear that you begin to moan her name loudly over and over again, tracing your nails gently down her back in a way that makes her shiver while she talks you through it.
“Is that how my wife likes it? Slow and sweet?”
You try to form a coherent sentence but words fail you, letting out a broken moan instead as the coil of pleasure in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, already close to snapping.
A thought suddenly comes into your head that people could be able to hear you right now, that it would become pretty clear that neither of you were who you say you are. It only makes you say her name louder. You want everyone to know that you're hers. Then, almost like she can read your thoughts, she speaks hoarsely to you.
“Louder baby, I want everyone to know how good I’m making you feel.”
You happily oblige, almost shouting her name now between breaths, and you can feel yourself beginning to clench tighter around her fingers as you come closer to the brink, screwing your eyes shut with pleasure. You’re bucking your hips up into her, chasing the high, and knowing that you’re close she brings her thumb up to rub messy circles around your clit. You feel like you’re gasping for air at the added stimulation.
“Keep going baby, I want to feel you come all over my fingers,” she says desperately. The raw need in her voice tips you over the edge.
“F-fuck,” you gasp.
And then the pressure inside you snaps and your body begins to shake, your cunt clenching around her over and over again. She watches your face as you fall apart underneath her, her fingers not stopping their movements inside you until she knows she’s drawn every last tremor from you. She’s in awe of how beautiful you look right now, and she admits to herself that it’s a wonder she didn’t come just from watching you. When you come down from your high you blink slowly, your chest still heaving and your face damp with sweat. You’re looking at her like she hangs the moon. And god knows she would try to if you asked her.
She lies down beside you in her bed, gently stroking your cheek with her thumb. You look at her and smile.
“How’s our real honeymoon going to top that?”
She laughs, and a warmth floods her chest at the sureness in your voice, the confirmation that you really want to be her wife. She knows at that moment that from now on she’ll do anything to make you happy. She intertwines her fingers with yours and kisses the back of your hand.
“Just you wait, sweetheart.”