Fandom: The Guild
Word Count: 2,592
Summary: It all started with coffee.
Notes: So this is for fadsforwhatever because not only did she request the start of this in a drabble meme in my journal, but she was kind enough to beta it for me ♥ Title taken from the Charlotte Sometimes song "Waves and the Both of Us."
It all started with coffee. Well, it all started with a text that read Four Corners Coffee 7:15. So yeah, it all started with coffee.
Codex remembers back when she was bitter - some 48 hours ago or something - when she thought coffee was an insignificant term meant to imply that neither party was ready or willing to participate in social interaction. But here she is, standing outside the coffee shop, trying her best to look nonchalant - and hot if possible - while she looks through the windows and pretends she’s not looking for Fawkes.
Zaboo’s meddling didn’t help. Oh god it didn’t help. The last thing she needed was a slightly off-balance Guildie trying to set her up with Fawkes. Because that already happened. According to the condoms in her trashcan, it happened several times.
But Fawkes doesn’t do second times.
Which doesn’t even being to explain why Codex’s palms are sweating or why she’s standing here trying to man-up and walk through the door. She can kick so much ass in game, but she can’t even order a vanilla latte in real life? Pathetic. Plus, she’s wearing that sweater that clings to her curves and is cut just low enough to make her rethink wearing it. This might be the first time she’s successfully left the house with it on.
There’s a knock at the window of the coffee shop, and Codex jumps, eyes going wide as she tries to focus on what’s in front of her. Fawkes is smirking at her - leering, really - and she can’t help but grin back at him. He lifts up a cup and mouths vanilla latte at her, and Codex melts inside.
Despite the feeling that she’s setting herself up for future heartbreak, Codex walks into the coffee shop and lets Fawkes kiss her. She turns her face at the last second and his lips brush against her cheek. She has some dignity after all, and he has to explain why he’s been a complete tool the past few days.
Though he did show up with flowers, and no one’s ever done that for her before. She should really let him off easy.
And when Fawkes pulls out her chair for her, making the entire coffee shop stare in a kind of awkward awe, Codex can’t remember why she was ever mad in the first place.
"I didn't think you would come," Fawkes tells her after they sit down. He's wearing a different kilt than last time, and Codex realizes she's never seen him in pants. How he can sit there confidently and with such poise while wearing such a ridiculous - yet entirely too sexy - outfit is beyond her.
"I wasn't sure I was going to? I mean, I wasn't. But then there was the whole…seeing you thing that made me kind of want to. I'm bad at this," she spits out quickly. This isn't how things are supposed to go. She's pretty sure this isn't how people with naturally wavy hair handle tense situations. Frowning, she takes a sip of her vanilla latte and lets out a small moan at the taste of it.
"You're good at that," Fawkes tells her, smirking just enough to make her feel awkward all over again. Something tightens in her belly, and suddenly it's not all awkwardness she's feeling.
"I can't remember everything. Or, you know, most things," Codex admits. He looks at her, willing her to continue, so she just keeps rambling. "I think I have sexual PTSD. I get these flashbacks. Like quick images of your mouth or your hands on my body and just go into this full-on panic. I think it's panic anyway. Could be…other things. So yeah. I'm bad at this."
"Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness. Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Fawkes says reassuringly. "Stop telling me you're bad at this. We don't even know what this is. And it's not like you can be bad at drinking coffee. Just go with it. Though, you are cute when you frown. Your mouth does this little pouty thing and I want to kiss it into a smile."
"See? You say things like that and I go all melty! I have no defensive strategy for this kind of thing," Codex mumbles. She's about to continue, but Fawkes leans over the table and kisses her silent. His mouth is every bit as fantastic as she remembered, and she sighs into the kiss. He's smirking at her when he sits back down, that cocky look that seems to fit him so well.
"I can work with that," Fawkes says. He wets his lips, and Codex shivers, another flashback coursing through her. That just makes him grin even harder. "I propose we avoid dates involving alcohol for a while. I'd like you to remember me at my best."
"Dates?" Codex asks, proud that her voice only squeaks a little. Because coffee is coffee, and she wasn't actually expecting to get anything else out of tonight.
"As in what we are currently on," Fawkes says with a snort. He reaches across the table and places his hand over her forearm. He stroke her wrist with his thumb, and she can feel it down to her toes. "Since I don't usually date, I find myself at a disadvantage, too, which is not something I'm acustomed to dealing with. How about we work through it together? With lots of hot monkey sex thrown in, of course."
"Of course," Codex says quickly. Because really, who would ever say no to that? She can't remember much, but what she does is fucking fantastic. The thought that Fawkes is just as out of his comfort zone as she is serves to calm her, and Codex speaks mostly on instinct. "Come home with me?" she asks impulsively.
"And take off your armor?" Fawkes asks with an impish grin. She can’t believe that she said that, though...actually it sounds like something she’d say.
"Maybe I need to work on my pillow talk," Codex says, laughing at herself.
"You really, really don't. Makes me want to break out my Talk Nerdy To Me shirt," Fawkes tells her, and Codex just laughs harder. This whole dating a gamer instead of a classical musician thing is a great idea.
"Let's go practice it. Now," Codex says before she loses her nerve, nodding as she stands up. Fawkes eyes her half-full coffee cup wearily, and she picks it up, chugging the last of her latte. "Oh god! Hot! That's hot," she says, eyes watering as she sets the empty cup on the table.
"You burn your tongue?" Fawkes asks her as he slides - quite sexily - out of his chair and walks around the table.
"Yeah," she says, pursing her lips. She's such an idiot sometimes.
"Good. Let me kiss it better," Fawkes says before crushing their mouths together. She brings a hand up and curls it in the collar of his leather jacket, molding her body against his. He sucks on her tongue, which medically speaking shouldn't do anything, but which nonetheless makes her feel a hell of a lot better.
Somehow they manage to separate and leave the coffee shop before people start judging them. Though, if it meant kisses like that on a regular basis, Codex wouldn't mind a little judging.
By some miracle, they both make it back to Codex’s apartment in one piece and completely clothed.
Considering Fawkes had to stop her once or twice on every block and kiss her or paw at her or suck on her neck, Codex is eternally grateful that they didn’t end up fornicating on someone’s front steps. She may be embracing her inner hoebag, but she’d at least like to keep things private.
She expects things to be awkward, to come to a standstill once they walk through her front door, but instead finds herself slammed against it. Fawkes’s mouth is rough on hers, his teeth sinking into her lower lip and making her moan into the kiss. Her hands fly up and shove at his shirt, frantically searching for skin.
“Bedroom,” Fawkes spits out when they pull apart. She nods, already moving to tug his shirt over his head. She runs her hands over his chest, unable to do anything but just touch.
Suddenly she’s not on her feet anymore, scooped up and half-tossed over Fawkes’ shoulder. She should feel ridiculous, should feel ashamed that he’s basically carrying her around, but instead she just looks at him in silent awe when he sets her down on the bed. She blinks a few times, but no...that still just happened. And things like that don’t happen to her.
“Well they do now,” Fawkes says, laughing as he steps out of his kilt. She’s about to say she didn’t know that she was speaking out loud, but then all she can do is look at Fawkes and take in all the skin in front of her. Of course he doesn’t wear anything under the kilt.
And he looks good. Fuck, he looks good. Codex shivers, scenes from the other night flashing through her mind. She can almost feel him again, her body suddenly on edge and craving his touch way too much.
Codex realizes that she’s way too overdressed and hurries out of her shirt, tossing it across the room before sliding out of her jeans. Fawkes’ gaze is heavy, and she blushes as he takes her in. Then he’s on top of her, scooting her up the bed and kissing her again. His mouth claims her, staking ownership with every kiss and nibble.
Codex lets go of the last few reservations she had.
All she can feel is Fawkes’ skin against hers and she arches into it, hips flying off the mattress even as he grinds down against her. This all seems too familiar, and the memories of their first night together hit her hard. She whines into the kiss, reveling in the feeling of Fawkes’ mouth against hers.
His hands are everywhere, sliding over her body and mapping out her skin. Codex gasps when his fingers dip below the waistband of her panties. His fingers brush against her, and she’s already wet; already so fucking needy for him.
“Need,” Codex pants out, her voice raw and foreign to her. Fawkes’ fingers work over her clit, sending her spiraling out of control. She bucks her hips, craving his touch. He slips a finger inside, and Codex tightens around it, her hips moving on their own as she tries to get more.
“Tell me what you need,” Fawkes murmurs against her neck. He nuzzles the sensitive skin there, his beard making her shiver.
“Want you,” Codex says, slurring her words. It’s like she’s drunk on this, like she could live on nothing more than the feeling of Fawkes’ body on hers. “Fuck me,” she keens, feeling bolder than she ever has. And she remembers this, remembers his hands on her and his mouth all over her body. She shivers again and whines - fucking whines - when Fawkes nips at the column of her throat.
“God yes,” he says, slowly pulling his fingers out of her. “One of these days I’m going to taste you again, going to make you come for hours before I take you. But not tonight. Can’t wait anymore. I’m crazy over you.” He leans up on his forearms and looks down at her, his eyes dark and pupils blown. His lips are pink, bitten and sucked swollen from their journey home.
He’s never looked better.
“I don’t have,” he says, trailing off and looking slightly embarrassed.
“I uh, got some. When we were maybe-dating and all,” Codex says. She can’t move, though, her whole body half-dead from Fawkes’ fingers. “Under the bed,” she tells him, whining low in her throat when he gets off of her long enough to grab a condom.
Fawkes sits back on his heels and runs his hands over Codex’s sides. He hooks his fingers in her panties and tugs them over her legs, hands caressing her calves on the way down. She’s about to take off her bra when he shakes his head, and she lets her hands fall back onto the sheets. Fawkes tears open the condom and rolls it down his length, and Codex reaches out for him.
He meets her halfway, moving between her thighs and pushing inside of her without any warning. She gasps, and Fawkes dips down, swallowing the noise. She feels so full, wonderfully stretched and desperate for more. Codex clings to him, rising her hips to meet each thrust with one of her own.
Reaching up, she wraps a hand around the back of Fawkes’ neck and tugs him down to her. Their mouths crush together, teeth and tongues battling as their bodies move in rhythm.
She’s feverish, feeling like her whole body bursting at the seams as Fawkes thrusts into her. She hooks a leg around his hip and bucks her hips, her body moving on its own accord. His mouth is everywhere, leaving a trail of bruising kisses in its wake. He sucks on her neck, raking his teeth over the hollow of her throat.
“Fawkes,” she breathes out. Her heart is beating wildly in her chest and she can’t focus on anything anymore, can’t handle all the feelings coursing through her body. There’s a fire in her veins and she doesn’t know how to handle it.
“Open your eyes,” Fawkes whispers, and Codex didn’t even realize she’d shut them. Her eyelids are heavy, as if they’ve been dipped in honey. They flutter open and all she can see is Fawkes staring down at her. His mouth is parted, lips ruddy as he grins at her.
Codex is rambling, her mouth moving around words she can’t comprehend. It’s all she can do to hang on, to move with Fawkes as he fucks her. He works a hand between their bodies, his fingers brushing up against her clit. He’s rough, rougher than she’s used to, and it send sparks shooting down her spine. She cries out in pleasure, her whole body exploding from the inside out.
She clings to him as her orgasm rushes through her, nails digging into his shoulders and body clamping down around him. Fawkes stills above her, his whole body tensing as he comes. He keeps pumping, working them both through it.
When he collapses on top of her, she’s pretty sure she’ll never move again. They’re panting, bodies sweat slick and trembling. She hasn’t come that hard ever and can’t even think right now. Fawkes rubs his cheek against her neck and an aftershock runs through her. She whimpers and he laughs, nipping at her earlobe.
“Fucking amazing,” Fawkes says before pulling out of her and rolling onto his back. He ties off the condom and tosses it over the side of the bed. She nods, knowing she should get up, should clean up or something. But then Fawkes wraps an arm around her and pulls her against his side. Codex curls up around him and drifts off surrounded by the warmth and scent of him.