for the request: "Could you please write something where Joji is cheating on his girlfriend with you and you're feeling guilty but can't stop because you love him?"
very small amount of smut, enjoy!
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The Hudson sparkles of streetlamps and skyscrapers as you blow on the glass and push your fingertips on the window, absentmindedly doodling as your mind races. The taxi ride from the airport is long. It moves you through Hell's Kitchen, West Village, Tribeca, then your purse rings. You ignore it, he can wait. Chinatown, Little Italy, East Village, 1st Avenue, Murrayville, your phone rings again and again and buzzes in your hand. You close your eyes shut. Are you really going to do this again? Madison Avenue, Upper East Side, Park Avenue, the hotel. You finally answer.
"Hello?"
"Where are you?"
"I'm outside."
"Good."
You exhale. Loudly. Yes you're going to do this again.
You pull your keycard from the door and push it open to reveal Joji exiting the bathroom. He's wearing an old tshirt, boxers, damp hair, bathroom towel in one hand. Your bags are on the ground in an instant and he's hiking your dress up around your waist with hands trembling in anticipation. There's lip biting, harsh kissing, and heavy breathing.
"Babe..." he nuzzles his face against your neck and bites hard on tender skin, it's been too long, "take your dress off, I want to touch you." You should hate yourself. You should really hate yourself, especially as he follows you to the bed.
"Where does she think you are this time?" You whisper, shifting your legs apart when he moves to crawl between them and he glares at you.
"Can you not do that when I'm here with you?" He pulls away slightly and you shrug. He takes it as a sign to continue his torment on your body, "just stop thinking, baby."
"I don't know how."
"Let me show you." He leans forward, lips dangerously close to your ear, letting his hot breath wash over your skin.
"Joji." You hate him. You love him. He lingers there for a moment, your heart pounding and your head whirring, before he brings himself to you. His hands are everywhere, running from your waist to your rib cage, squeezing your breasts, in your hair and on the back of your neck as to hold you still while he explores your mouth. At some point you manage to shed him of his t-shirt.
The rest of the evening is spent in the bed. No more words spoken as he shows you exactly how to stop thinking of her. Your head filled only with bliss as he held your wrists above your head, sweat dripping from his chin down to your throat.
He whispered dirty words against your jaw. He was possessive and greedy and he had complete control as he thrust into you. You cried out against the pillow and it took all of your power to not gasp the words you so desperately wanted him to hear but could never say. 'I love you and want to be the only one.'
Joji now lays staring at the ceiling while you sit cross legged on the ground, holding a cigarette out of the slightly cracked glass sliding door. Big raindrops run after each other down the big glass panels. You bend forward and exhale smoke as you lean your forehead against the glass, spying on everyone in the streets below. Glowing skyscrapers and flashing lights from an ambulance illuminate the otherwise dim room.
Joji sighs and shifts positions on the sheets to lay on his side. You turn your head slightly, feeling his eyes on you. He's wearing only his boxers and there's still a light layer of sweat glistening on his chest. He rubs his tired eyes and blinks a few times before the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk.
You find yourself smiling back but quickly avert your eyes to focus on the burning cigarette in your hand. The smile grows when you think that those very hands were gripping at Joji's back just minutes ago. It's so quiet, only the ambulance and honking cars from below make noise. He seems not to mind the utter stillness between us. You wish you had something good to say, something that wouldn't upset either of you.
You should be used to this though, it happens every time you come into town and meet up with him. Passionate whispers and disgustingly dirty words and then silence once it's all over. He doesn't have to talk to you, that's what his girlfriend is there for.
You put your cigarette out on the concrete of the balcony and join him in the bed. It's a mess of tangled sheets and clothing that you don't bother straightening up. It's gross and sweaty but it's the best you can get with him.
Joji pulls you in close, touching your stomach and kissing your hair. He has bed head, stubble, and a sleepy grin on his face. The bedside clock tells you it's past four in the morning. You love when he looks like this, so content, so close to being yours.
"You're so beautiful," he's barely awake but god, you love it when he compliments you. He whispers your name and your eyes flutter shut. Tomorrow he'll be gone but tonight you're in his arms. He'll ask when you'll be back and you'll promise him soon. He'll go home to an apartment with another girl and you'll be on a plane alone. He'll send you a flirty text and maybe it'll be enough to hold you over till next time. You hate him. You love him.
