Smut, Spice and everything nice

Can you Fuck me Damon?

Mary

As I stand on Damon's porch, time feels as though it's slowing, each second a silent drumbeat pounding in sync with my heart. I can't catch my breath, and every inhale feels tight, shallow. The weight of what I'm about to ask of him crushes my chest, suffocating me with nerves. My fingers twitch by my sides, and I briefly glance at my shoes as if they might suddenly propel me away from here, away from the mistake I'm about to make.

Damon—my best friend, the one person who has been my constant through every season of my life, who knows the darkest corners of my soul—has no idea what's coming. He has no idea about the feelings I've been drowning in for months. Tonight, I'm about to strip my heart bare and lay it at his feet, hoping desperately he won't crush it.

Why did I think this was a good idea? My pulse thrums in my throat as I stand frozen in front of the door. It's not too late to leave. I could still turn and walk away, escape the humiliation that might follow. But before I can second-guess myself into oblivion, my finger presses the doorbell.

The sound of footsteps approaching sends a tremor through my legs, and I instantly regret everything. My stomach twists violently, and a sheen of sweat gathers at my temples. I swallow hard, trying to force down the panic clawing at my insides. I can still run. I could just turn and—

The door swings open.

There he is, in all his frustratingly perfect glory. Damon stands before me, freshly showered, his hair still damp and curling at the ends, sticking slightly to his forehead. He looks so effortlessly casual, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, yet somehow the simplicity of it only makes him more attractive. There's a natural, rugged handsomeness about him, and my heart skips a beat. His hazel eyes lock onto mine, filled with that familiar warmth, but now tinged with concern.

"Mary... hey." His voice is like a comforting balm, low and soothing. He looks at me with that patient, almost protective gaze that never fails to calm me. Except right now, it does the opposite.

Because tonight, I'm going to shatter the illusion of our friendship, and I can't bear the thought of what might come next.

Without thinking, I blurt out, "Damon... I need to ask you something."

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. His expression remains soft, as if he's ready to listen, ready to offer me the safety he always does. I feel the words burning on my tongue, and before I can stop them, they tumble out.

"Can you Fuck me Damon?"

The world comes to a standstill. The air between us thickens, and for what feels like an eternity, neither of us moves. Damon's face freezes, his eyes widening slightly as if he can't quite believe what he just heard. He blinks a few times, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"Mary—what are you—are you serious?" His voice cracks slightly as he takes a small step back, his shock palpable.

I can feel the heat rising up my neck, my face burning with embarrassment. I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. What the hell was I thinking?

"No, forget I said that," I mutter, my voice shaky as I try to retreat, stumbling over my own feet in my haste to escape. "I... I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, Damon. I'll just—"

Before I can fully turn, Damon's hand shoots out, gripping my wrist firmly but gently, pulling me back toward him. My breath catches in my throat as I feel the warmth of his skin against mine. His touch is familiar, but now it feels electrifying, igniting something deep within me.

"Mary, wait." His voice is softer now, the shock dissipating, replaced by something else. His eyes darken, his gaze turning more intense, more... deliberate. "You don't need to apologize."