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It starts with this: strobe lights flashing green, blue, orange, dancing off the sequins of her dress; music so loud she can feel it in her bones; the sting of alcohol as she sips at her drink, something lavender and fruity she had found about on Pinterest; the coldness of the glass against her fingertips and the heat from the gaze of the man staring at her. He has been for the past few minutes, seemingly as bored with the club scene as Luna is.
Eyes bluer than the sky, freckles across an aquiline nose and high cheekbones. A shock of thick (soft) looking red hair and full lips and a sharp jaw half hidden behind an equally red beard that Luna wants to rub her face against. He’s older than her, crows feet at his eyes when he laughs, lines at his mouth when he smiles, but it kind of makes him more attractive? Older men are more fun anyway, more likely to indulge her and baby her a bit than a guy her own age would.
She considers it for a moment, chewing on the straw to her drink and smirks a little when the guy meets her eyes, a slow smile growing on his own face as he raises his bottle of beer to her in a mock salute. She cocks her head at him, lets the slender strap of her dress slip down her shoulder, lets him see she has no bra underneath it. He’s still looking at her, his full attention on her and it causes heat to sweep through her body, goosebumps to erupt on her arms. He brings his bottle to his mouth, a big hand and long fingers and a muscled forearm and Luna’s mouth goes dry at the sight of this throat and how it moves when he swallows.
(Does this make her an embarrassed amount of horny? Yes. Does it bother her? A little. Who the hell gave this man permission to seduce her via beer bottle? The prick.)
His tongue sweeps along his lower lip to catch the stray drop of beer there and Luna is not proud at all of how her heart lurches at that, her stomach twisting and breath catching in her throat. He smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her and Luna hates him a tiny bit for it, cocky bastard. She watches him finish his beer before making his way over to her, heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest, blood rushing hot through her veins.
He’s taller up close, towering over her with a broad chest she wants to hide herself in. He gives her a smile that reminds her of a wolf about to devour its kill, blue eyes drowning her and he is the only thing she can see, that she can focus on.
“What’re you drinking?” He asks, voice smooth and deep and it sends a shiver racing down her spine, mouth going dry. It takes her a moment to remember how to speak, how to say the words, and he smiles at her, kind of looking proud. He gets the attention of the bartender and Luna giggles at the sight of this big and burly man ordering a witches brew cocktail. He shoots her a look over his shoulder, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes slightly crinkled in amusement, like he knows exactly why she’s amused.
He makes a big show of giving Luna the glass, making sure she sees that it went from the bartender to him and straight to her, nothing nefarious going on from point a to point c.
“Thank you,” she says, rising up on her tip-toes, leaning into the warmth he’s radiating like a furnace, hand on his arm for balance, his wrapping around her waist. She tells herself it’s so he could hear her better, not because he smells good, not because it feels so bloody good to be so close to him. God she can’t even lie convincingly to herself.
“I’m Ron,” he says, arm still wrapped tight around her waist, fingers drumming a rhythm against her hip, head tilted down towards her and hers tipped up towards him. “Luna,” she introduces herself, smiling when he murmurs “ little moon” against her temple.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says, leading her back towards a vacant bar stool, hand on the small of her back to help her into it, before situating himself between her legs. She tells him about studying to be a Vet, her love of animals and wanting to make sure they are as healthy as they can be. She had watched her cat get run over by some asshole driving too fast down a residential street, had watched the veterinarians at the local clinic do everything they could to save Poppy, had watched her cat die anyway. She tells him about her blue-nosed staffy puppy, Tessie, and her best friend Pansy, the person that got her through the death of her father when she was only twelve years old.
He tells her about his job, about how he used to be a detective in the Homicide unit before it got to be too much, waking up screaming in the middle of the night because what if the next body was someone he knew? What if he was the reason someone he loves was murdered? It had taken years of therapy before he could even walk past his old precinct without feeling ill. Now he co-owns his older brother's joke shop, surrounded by laughter every day and children plotting how to prank their next victims. Very heavy topics for a virtual stranger but a stranger won’t judge the way a non-stranger would.
She cackles with unrestrained laughter when he tells her about his best friend Harry knocking up his baby sister Ginny with their third child. “It's an immaculate conception,” he says as seriously as he can, mouth twitching with amusement at the sound of her laughter. “Ginny is still a virgin and I refuse to believe otherwise.”
“Right,” she says between giggles, nodding solemnly at him, “your sister is the new Virgin Mary.”
He snorts, beaming openly at her and wraps her up in his arms. She rests her chin on his chest as she looks up at him, fingers gripping the soft material of his shirt as he runs his fingers through her hair, the intimacy of it stealing her breath right from her lungs.
His arms tighten around her and then he’s swaying them side-to-side, at odds with the pop song blasting from the speakers. Luna laughs and Ron squeezes her tighter for a moment, lips pressing against her hair. He leans down when she tilts her head up and Luna welcomes his kiss, warmth spreading through her body and waking up every nerve. His tongue against her lower lip and Luna opens up for him without even realizing, body bowing against his so every part of them is touching, desperate for more.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs against her mouth, hands tight around her waist, her breath mingling with his and Luna’s nod is shaky. He smiles, gives her another sweet kiss, and then leads her out of the building so fast she’s stumbling on her heels.
The hotel he’s staying at is only a block away from the club and he holds her hand the whole walk, making sure he’s always on the side of the street. She’s basically trembling when they finally get to the room, anticipation making her heart race, her stomach in knots. She takes a moment to admire the king-sized bed, hoping the sheets are as soft as they look, the sound of the door locking grabbing her attention.
Ron circles her the way a predator circles prey right before they pounce, hunger in his dark eyes and a promise in every line of his body. Her heart beats out a frantic rhythm, a bird taking flight and soaring far away. He smiles like he can hear it, calloused fingers brushing along her jaw before wrapping around her throat, loose enough that she can breathe properly but enough pressure that it feels like a branding, like he’s saying you’re mine.
She lets him lay her down on the bed, legs dangling off the edge and her brain feels so foggy that it takes a moment for her to realize he’s on his knees, calloused hands dragging up her legs until his fingers catch on the hem of her dress, dragging the skirt up until it’s bunched up around her hips. “Hold, baby,” he says absentmindedly, pressing kisses to her left knee until she’s got her dress in hand. She doesn’t realize what he’s planning on doing until he’s got her soaked panties stuffed into his back pocket and he’s wrapping his hands around the backs of her thighs, holding her legs open.
“Tell me you have nothing to do tomorrow,” he mutters, chin on her thigh, fingers tracing patterns on her skin and Luna gives a rueful little smile, shakes her head no. “Have an exam at 9,” she says, copying the pout on his lips with one of her own, “have to leave at 7 to get to campus on time.”
“Can’t take my time with you just yet then,” he says against her thigh, sucking red marks into her skin, a promise, “ we have to make this quick.”
All protestations die on her lips the minute his mouth is on her and she’s lost in a daze of mind-numbing pleasure as he feasts on her like a man starved, pressing her writhing body against the mattress. She scrambles for purchase with a keening cry, fingers finding his hair, whimpering when he presses his teeth into her thigh, a squeeze to her ass, and then his tongue is on her again, in her, the sting of the bite gone.
She loses count after he forces a third orgasm out of her, her whole body feels warm and loose as he presses kisses to her thighs, hands soothing her as he rubs them up and down her calves. “You’re okay baby, being such a good girl,” he says, voice a low rumble as he stands back up, laying his body against hers, arms holding his weight over her and Luna makes a small sound, burrowing her face into his chest, fingers gripping his sweater in a tight grip.
Her brain feels fuzzy, thoughts hidden behind some hidden wall and Ron is too far away from her, much too far even though he is as pressed up against her as he can be. Luna wants to be inside of his skin, wants to be joined to him so no one could take him away. She wants Ron to always be with her, taking care of her and calling her good girl , giving her kisses.
“Daddy,” Luna whines, pressing herself tighter against him, fingers underneath his sweater so she can feel his skin under her fingertips, mumbles “too far,” ignores his small laugh but kind of forgives him when he lets her take his sweater off. She holds her arms up, says “off” in a small voice and hums in pleasure when his eyes soften, hands gentle as he takes her dress off, giggling when he presses an exaggerated kiss to the top of her head.
“Too far,” she says again, tugging at his shoulders until he catches the hint and cradles her cheek in one hand, making her hum with pleasure as she nuzzles into his touch. “What does my little girl want, hm?’ He murmurs, hooking his fingers under jaw so he can tip her head up. “Big girl words,” he admonishes when she only whines.
But words are beyond her right now and he’s still too far away from her and why doesn’t he understand ?
He makes a condescendingly soft sound, tapping his thumb against her lower lip and hums in approval when Luna sucks on his finger, lips wrapped tight around it. “Do you want daddy’s cock?” He asks, head tilted to the side as he looks her over, eyes assessing. Luna nods eagerly because yes, daddy’s cock is exactly what she wants. He laughs, the sound dragging her deeper and deeper into that fuzzy headspace and Luna whimpers around his thumb, mumbles “ please daddy please ,” words garbled and nearly gibberish.
Ron shushes her, takes his thumb away and ignores her little huff of protest that dies the moment she realizes he’s taking off his pants and boxers, cock springing free and already red and ready for her. Her mouth waters at the sight and she nearly cries at how much she just wants her daddy.
Right.
Now.
"Daddy," Luna sobs, writhing underneath him as Ron slowly thrust into her, her silken heat closing around him like a vise. She opens her eyes with a small keening sound when he presses a warning bite to the soft skin of her shoulder. “Be good,” he warns her, nosing along her jaw and cheek before he kisses her hard, all teeth and tongue and Luma keens into his mouth, finger scrambling for his shoulder, his hair, his back, anything she can. Her leg gets hitched up to his hip and she obediently wraps it around him, heels digging into the small of his back and she’s rewarded with a roll of his hips that makes her see stars, the new angle letting him tap that part of her that makes her dizzy with pleasure.
“ Fuck ,” he groans, ripping his mouth from hers, forehead pressed against hers as his fingers tangle in her hair, thumb pressed against her pulse and Luna is done for, free falling over the edge as her release crests over her, her vision going white. She’s aware of him cursing against her damp hairline, grip bruise-tight on her body as he fucks her through her orgasm before bareling into his own. She’s half-aware of his starting to pull out of her and Luna cries, fingers digging into his shoulders and holding onto him so tight he’ll bruise. “Inside,” she begs, over and over, “inside daddy! Inside.”
Ron curses, body wound tight, muscles ridgid under her fingers, mutters “okay, baby, okay, fuck” and Luna whimpers, hips pressed up into his as he spills himself inside of her, body shuddering.
“Good girl, such a good fucking girl letting daddy cum in you,” he’s muttering between kisses against her shoulder and Luna flushes a pretty pink like he isn’t still balls deep inside of her. They both make sounds of distress when he pulls out of her and she feels distressingly empty, her whole being revolting against the idea of being separated from him, letting out small whimpers until Ron gathers her up in his arms, lips pressing soothing kisses to her temple and cheek.
“You’re fine moonbeam,” he mumbles against her damp skin, “I’ve got you, you’re okay,” repeating the words until she’s limp against him, head buried in his neck and fingers tangled in his hair.
She’s half-aware of him picking her up sometime later, shushing her when she makes annoyed sounds, and sits her down on the toilet. “You have to pee,” he tells her and waits there until she washes her hands to clean her with a wet washcloth before dressing her in a clean pair of panties he had bought with him from her own dresser at home and one of his old sweaters, big and warm and soft and smelling of him. He indulgently carries her back to the bed and lets her curl up against him, legs thrown over his. Their after care routine for the past year and a half.
His phone pings with a message and Luna leans her head against his shoulder, smiling when one hand immediately goes to her thigh, the other occupied with his phone. His grip tightens on her, fingers digging into her skin and she looks up at him, the sharpness of his jaw and the slope of his nose, the cupid's bow of his lip.
“What is it?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up and he gives her an amused look, “Your mum wants to know if I’ll be home for dinner.”
Guilt makes her stomach turn for a moment before Luna remembers all the times her mother has put other things, unimportant things, before her own daughter, the men coming in and out of her life as her mother goes from fling to fling and the guilt dies away. Ron is not like that, he’s the complete opposite really. Always puts Luna first, above her mother, since day one. Even when she was being a brat (read: bitch) and trying to make his life a living hell. Ron never gave up on her and slowly he broke down her walls, carved a place in her life for himself until he was so thoroughly a part of it she couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t.
Hatred turned to like, to appreciation, to love to lust, a hopeless crush Luna despaired over until Ron had kissed her a few weeks after her nineteenth birthday, pressing her against the counter and licking into her mouth until Luna was writhing against him, whining for more.
“You’re mine,” he had said against her mouth, hands gripping her waist and knee wedged between her thighs, a delicious friction against her clit that left her breathless.
“You’re mine and I’m yours, in every way that counts,” he had promised the first time he fucked her, lips against her throat and cock carving a place inside of her, fusing them together until Luna didn’t know where he ended and she started.
And his she is.
“She can waist,” Luna says, head tilting up so she can press a kiss to his jaw and he smiles down at her and pulls her into his lap to cuddle. And one day soon, when he finally leaves her mother, she’ll be his wife, not his step-daughter.