Work Text:
🧵💋✨
6312 days.
17 years, 3 months and 12 days.
That was how long Penelope had known and loved Colin Bridgerton.
The neighbour boy she fell head over heels for. From when she knocked his lemon-flavored ice lolly to the ground and watched it melt, while he offered her nothing but a crooked smile and a quip to make her laugh. That had always been one of the many talents he possessed and also the one she adored the most.
She always had the front-seat privilege to every new interest (sometimes by choice, mostly because no one else had the time for his ever changing mix of hobbies, in Eloise’s words), every odd hobby in the ever-expanding Colin Bridgerton exhibit. But for Penelope it was never something trivial. They were little doorways to the mysterious ways his mind worked. She loved listening to him. Loved being his biggest fan. Loved loving him. Even when she realised, sometime in the tangled mess of teenage years, that Colin would probably never love her the same way she did. That he probably was born for someone else.
As the years passed – summer days at Aubrey Hall, grief-stricken skies that stole both their dads, heartbreaks and tears, the autumn of 2017 when Bewick’s swans returned to the wetlands for winter days just as Colin left for college, midnight calls, callous words and heartfelt apologies, one thing remained unchanged – him learning something new and her being his steadfast audience.
The time little Hyacinth was sick, soon after she was born, Colin learned to make paper cranes wishing for his little baby sister’s health. It was something that had held the family together during the difficult times following Edmund's death. They were still, to this day, one of Violet’s treasured keepsakes.
Lockpicking, from his visit to the Netherlands (even getting a membership in The Open Organisation of Lockpickers). This came in handy multiple times, like when the siblings conspired together to get their hands on Anthony’s priced liquor stash, or when Penelope locked herself out on the balcony of her new place. He had come in like a hero, saving her before her face lit up like a field of poppies because of the sun (thankfully).
Some lessons helped stitch things back together too. Like the chasm that had grown between him and Anthony, before Ant decided to teach him how to tie flies. Albeit being very time consuming – driving to multiple stores for the supplies – Anthony became a patient man, teaching Colin to do something their father had passed on to him. They came back like they had won a war after catching a single grayling; muddy boots, sweaty shirts and all, but joy disproportionate to the size of the fish. The brothers were indeed going strong now, though not without the occasional bumps.
Colin also learned a skill solely for her. When her book got rejected on the seventh attempt, she had all but disappeared into herself. Colin, of course, found a way to break through like he always did. He printed out her manuscript and bound it with a custom cover commissioned from Benedict, before slipping it under her door with a post-it note that read “10/10 book would recommend”. With 5 stars drawn on it with glitter pen and written “I miss you Pen, come out please” on the other side.
Then there was his charm, of course. A skill that he had from when he was a boy. Violet would always make a point of how similar he was to Edmund in that regard. It doubled and almost become insufferable after he learned to do different knots including bowline, cleat hitch reef knot (square knot), clove hitch, and a monkey’s fist, to name a few, during his first sail across the Croatian coast. It was a Penelope-only show at first, but soon it became a party trick. She couldn’t lie, she found it insufferable because it just meant more girls clinging to him, trying to get his attention and him being the charmer flirting his way throughout the night. Even though he’d always end up beside her at the end. Dozing off in her lap, or curled up close. Just not in the way she wished he would.
In short Colin loved new experiences. And that was how he learned threading from a lady during his last visit to India, and was now very much looking for a canvas to try it out. And Penelope, being the girl in love, couldn’t say no to him. Even though there was a big glaring chance he might fuck it up.
Christ, she didn’t even try to show a bit of hesitation.
She had messaged the girls right after offering herself up and he had promptly tackled her into a hug, saying he’d meet her tomorrow at her place and to get ready for the “Full Colin Bridgerton experience.” Whatever that meant.
Could she get any more pathetic?
What she was going to do was let him do whatever he wanted with her, or to her (She didn't mind, she really didn’t) and spend the rest of the time wallowing in her misery after he leaves. Though that was a matter of if . Knowing him, he would probably stick around her house like he owned the damn place, order Chinese take out and curl up next to her while they watched a cheesy 90’s rom com, probably Notting Hill, and filled each other in on the gossip they’ve collected before dozing off.
What she was not going to do was try to seduce him. That would be outrageous; he didn’t see her that way. Sure, he often made comments about how pretty she was. He was her friend, he wasn’t going to call her ugly. And sure there had been times, when it felt like certain lines were being crossed: when his hugs lingered a few seconds more than what was appropriate, when she sometimes caught his eyes dropping to her lips while they were talking, or wandering hands that would always find its way to settle on her belly while they were cuddling.
But that didn’t mean he was attracted to her or that he had any sort of romantic feelings for her.
She was not going to do it.
🧵💋✨
She was going to do it.
It was terrifying. She had never in her life tried to seduce someone. The way Sophie suggested it, made it sound like an opening of a cheap porn video. If asked what gave her courage to do it, she’d have to say delusion. What was the worst that could happen, anyway? Other than possibly DESTROYING their friendship of over a decade that means more to her than life itself, and them being something worse than strangers.
Ok, maybe she shouldn’t do it.
She tied the front of her white milkmaid dress into a neat knot, giving the girls an extra lift to make them pop and threw her hair in a loose messy bun, and slicked on a bit of lip balm.
Now, she was lying on the chaise in her living room, near a very handsome Colin Bridgerton standing at her side, twisting a cotton thread between his long slender fingers. His grip, strong yet gentle. He had walked in armed with scented candles, an essential oil diffuser, a silk bonnet to protect her curls, a pair of cozy slippers and a bottle of champagne. First he made her cleanse her face. Then handed her a glass of champagne, before playing his specifically curated playlist for the occasion. The strum of guitar and the melody of Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson filling the space.
She watched as he inserted two fingers from each hand into the thread loop and then twisted them delicately to make an ‘X’. She felt hallucinated by his hands, as if they were a pair of dancers doing an intricate routine; except the stage was her face and the dancers, his hands.
“Ready?” He asked, with the kind of affable compassion that he seemed to possess and she gave her approval with a nod.
He kept the fingers of one hand pinched together while opening the other one and slid the twisted part of the thread in a clean sweep, making her yelp a tiny “Ow”. That made him stare down at her with an odd, frozen expression, which made her stare right back at him and his gorgeous stupid face. Her eyes teared up a little, probably because of the slight stinging feeling, before regaining whatever composure she had left.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Only a little, but I think that is to be expected?”
She wasn't sure why this man was looking so worried. He was literally pulling hair out of her face by its roots. Of course it was going to hurt. But leave it to Colin Bridgerton to be cautious and caring, even when the circumstances didn't exactly demand it.
“You’ll tell me if it gets too much, though?” The concern in his eyes nearly made her want to cry. He was just everything good in the world. Being so gentle, so thoughtful, making her feel comforted and loved while doing something as simple as this.
“Yes, Colin. Now, get back to work! I believe you promised me the Colin Bridgerton experience, remember?”
“Yes Ma’am” and then he was back at it, forehead creased in concentration, silver rimmed round glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose, as he kept repeating the same action and asking her reassuring questions in the midst of it. Once finished he pressed a cool compress to reduce the redness, followed by a dab of a fragrance free aloe vera gel.
Ok deep breaths.
All she had to do was thank him for his efforts, and offer him something in return; that something being herself. And if he rejected her, move to another county and change her identity. Oh! And take off her bonnet before all that. She didn't do the ‘High effort meant to look low effort classic Y/N’ messy bun for nothing.
She could do this.
“All done” he announced, with the giddiness of a child who had gotten candy at bed time. If only this man knew the filth she was imagining in her mind right now. She stared back at the reflection of his handwork. He had done an extremely good job, giving her brows a soft arch that started fuller at the inner corner and tapered just slightly towards the tail while maintaining its natural form.
Here goes nothing.
She took one last final breath and then took the mirror from his hands, which madr him confused for a second before she gave him a blinding smile. “Oh my gosh! Thank you Colin, it looks really good” she said, her voice low and raspy, stretching out each word. He looked so effortlessly gorgeous in his white shirt that she now notices stretched deliciously around his biceps. She slithered her hand slowly to his midriff, resting it there, palms splaying across the firm, sturdy plane before gliding up towards his chest.
Then slowly, she took off her bonnet.
“I actually left my wallet, So…I don't know how I’m going to repay you?”
Don’t panic.
She could probably distract him with her cleavage. Because what are the chances of her forgetting her own wallet when they were at her apartment? He didn't seem to catch on to it though, so she pushed it a little further, toying with a button on his shirt, fluttering her lashes. His gaze slipped a second to her fingers, where they played with his buttons, before flicking to her chest and then her eyes.
“You don't have to pay me anything, Pen.”
She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was wondering at the moment, if he made her feel owed. Typical Colin. But, she didn’t want him to think. She wanted him to act. So she slid her hand further upwards, fingers tangling at the nape of his neck in the ends of his slightly overgrown mullet, which was definitely due for a trim. While her other hand shifted to his biceps as she scooted forwards. As absurd as it may sound, this position wasn’t exactly foreign to them. So she might just have to up her game again.
“I insist.” She plopped down onto his lap fully sideways, without hesitation, adjusting herself – the fabric of his shorts creating a teasing friction against her thighs. He just stared. Clearly taken back but still not seduced. Though his hands did land on her hips – Holding her, just there, not digging them into her flesh like she yearned for.
“What about PayPal?” she slid her freshly manicured fingers along the rough stubble, their prickles feeling like tiny kisses on her fingertips. She saw him swallow a nervous gulp “huh?”
“Oh yeah I have PayPal” he said it like a fact, blinking once.
“But Pen–”
”Shh” she shushed him, pressing her index finger to his plump lower lip.
"Get my phone” she whispered with an air of command. Tilting her head toward her phone resting at the edge of the chaise.
“Never mind, I’ll get it myself” Before he could make an effort to lift her off his lap. She shifted off him slowly, praying to every god that it looked seductive.
Turning her back to him she crawled to the edge, stretching just enough to give him a show. Her dress was not short enough to flash him her red lingerie, but it sure would expose her thighs a little bit more. She retreated the same way, easing back into his lap with a little bounce, unlocking the phone.
”Now… where's Colin?” she mumbled, pretending to genuinely look for his name. She wiggled her bottom a little, smiling faintly to herself when she felt him shift beneath her, a sharp breath escaping him.
His expression remained ambiguous.
But Colin jr? Not so much. The hard press against her left no room for misunderstanding. And it pleased her, even if she couldn’t be entirely sure it was because of her.
She was so drenched – aching that all she wanted to do was rut against the rough fabric of his shorts for some friction.
But then his hand soon covered hers, she also notices the palm splayed on her back now tightening its hold, his fingers tensing, their heat transferring onto her skin.
“Pen, what are you doing?”
“Repaying you, like I said”
He slipped the phone from her hand and threw it back onto the chaise.
“Hey!” She protested, reaching for it before being violently turned back to face him, both his hands now digging into her soft curves.
“I told you, I don't need your money”
“But I want to”
“No you don’t”
“Then maybe I can repay you in some other way” she said, pressing herself against him. There was literally no space left between them. Another inch and he’d be soon smothered in her tits.
Take the hint you idiot!
No way in hell he could be that dense.
“No, like I said this was all the Colin Bridgerton experience” His expression shifted to something akin to softness, then he had the audacity to bring his fingers to boop her nose, before breaking into one of his infuriatingly sweet smiles. The kind that usually made her swoon. Now it just made her want to cry.
Here she was throwing herself at him and he was treating it like just another day between a couple of friends. Penelope’s eyes welled up slightly, blinking to keep the tears at bay, her heart breaking, wondering if she looked so unappealing even after putting in her best efforts to look pretty for him
She felt the sting settle in her throat like a burn. Maybe she had read it all wrong. The touches, the lingering stares, the softness in his voice when he said her name. She felt it was time to give up. Stupid Penelope, who thought she had a chance. Apparently he didn’t even see her as a woman.
And then because she barely had any shame left, she threw in one last dart.
“I think then it's fair I repay you with a full Penelope Featherington experience.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No”
“Yes”
She replied adamantly and made an effort to wrench herself away from his lap to escape and get literally anywhere else. Perhaps flee the country. She tried to get away – pushing on his chest only for it to fail and then before she knew her bottom ground accidentally on his hard on, the lace digging into her pussy, causing her properly functioning mind to shut down, and she let out a moan.
Colin stilled completely for a moment, his eyes now bearing something she had not seen before, his pupils dilated fully.
🧵💋✨
“Did you just?" he asked in shock, his hands slightly slipping from their found haven on her hips.
Okay. Cool. No big deal. Just because he got a live demonstration of what Penelope Featherington – the source of his confounding feelings, the temptress that haunted him in his dreams – sounded like when she moaned didn’t mean the world was ending. No, it meant something else.
The end of him. The unraveling of every last shred of restraint he had wrapped around himself for the last 4 bloody years.
All he had wanted to do was give her a pep talk, to lift her spirits before her first ever book signing. But then she climbed into his lap, because he clearly made her feel like she owed him, which was not his intention. He knew the champagne and bonnet were a bit too much.
Stupid Colin!
He really didn’t do it expecting anything in return. But fuck. He was doomed, the moment he stepped foot into her apartment and saw her in that damn green dress, which was taunting him. The top barely held together with two flimsy strings, and all he could think about was how her tits would spill out of it gorgeously, if he were to tug on it. Then there was the sinful way it clung to her ass as she crawled to the edge of the chaise, her pale thick thighs he wanted to be suffocated by.
Get it together dude.
But how could he? When Penelope Featherington, the same girl who had once cried over a melted ice lolly on his front step, was now wriggling in his fucking lap like she didn’t just moan for him. He was suddenly gripped by a want that threatened to choke him. He was a simple man, made of flesh and blood, with an insatiable hunger and love he had always reserved for the very same person who was now trying their best to get away from him. Like hell he was going to let that happen.
“I don't know how I am going to repay you?” Her soft voice, that had written his ruination in bold ink, rang in his mind.
Colin’s hand tightened on her hips – not gentle now, no – he gripped her like he could mold her to him, keep her there forever. Maybe he should.
She stopped resisting now though. Her flush blooming deeper, spreading down her chest like spilled wine. As if embarrassed, she quickly buried her face in his shoulder, her scent rushing into him with her curls.
His little minx.
He slid his hand up her side to rest on the nape of her neck, catching a stray curl with his fingers. She shivered, her breath softly hitching and her fingers unconsciously scratching lightly at his scalp – teasing, coaxing a reaction out of him.
“You want to repay me Pen?” He tipped his head just back enough to look at her. She still refused to look at him. Stubborn woman!
His fingers trailed her hips to her thighs, like he was touching something divine, something forbidden. Thumb brushing near the hem of her dress, like waiting at the precipice of something grand. For a yes or a hum.
“Hmm” she gently nodded, eyes watching as he traced an unknown pattern with his fingers, drifting higher now, gracing the delicate skin of her inner thigh.
“But you forgot your wallet, didn’t you?”
She nodded again, her face feigning an expression of guilt. His wicked girl.
"tsk tsk tsk," he tutted, lifting her chin up to finally meet his gaze.
And god he was the one that got taken back. Her blue eyes staring right into his soul. Pink pouty lips parted, wet with her saliva and red from all the biting she seemed to have done.
“I could…,” she began but then he shifted, widening his legs. The movement had her grabbing his shoulder, another gasp slipping past her lips.
“I could repay you in some other way,” she offered again, steady this time. There it was. The challenge in her voice. She took her hand, the one holding her chin and dragged it slowly down her velvet skin, reaching her collarbone, before dragging lower, lower, taking them to her breast. She held his hand above the soft fullness of them, not pressing, just lingering. Keeping him exactly where she wanted him.
She wants to play? Fine. He’ll play.
With all restraint lost, like a man hungry for the object of his affection, he spread out his fingers wide and squeezed her lush breast, feeling the softness he yearned to feel for years.
She glanced down at his hand, then leaned in, and crashed her mouth to his.
And just like that, whatever cautious line he was treading, gets washed away by the violent wave crashing into the shores of him with her kiss and her lips. He groaned, weaving his fingers into the curls at her nape, bringing the wet heat of her mouth to his with more intensity, playfully nipping at first then swallowing her pillowy plush lips between his. Tongue sweeping into her mouth to taste her.
His hands slipped beneath the green dress, roaming over her warm skin, gripping her hips, her soft waist, then lower, cupping her ass, squeezing like she belonged to him. She rolled her hips down in response, grinding against his hard cock.
He broke the kiss for a second, breathing hard. Then pulled off his glasses and threw them somewhere and dragged his mouth down her throat. She complied, tilting her head to side to give him access. His lips ghosted over her collarbone, pressing wet kisses, tasting the salt, heat and a note of jasmine clinging to her.
“Colin–” She gasped as he mouthed at the top of her breasts, lips brushing the curve just above her neckline. He continued fondling the most perfect breasts in existence, her nipples pebbled and begging for his attention.
“Is this–?” he panted, opening his mouth wide and sucking on her unblemished skin, while her fingers grip his hair, pushing him down on her cleavage.
“Is this how you wish to repay me, love? With your pretty body?”
“Yes,” She didn’t hesitate for even a second before answering, offering herself up to him. And how could he refuse such an offer?
Sure, it was all happening fast. He had always pictured their first time happening on one of their lazy Friday nights after he had cooked her his best pesto gnocchi with chicken, roasted cherry tomatoes, warm bread and a bottle of white wine. After the meal she’d curl up beside him like she belonged there. He obviously would be dropping hints throughout the night, letting the tension linger, until the moment he’d tuck one of her loose curls behind her ears. She’d look up at him with those bright blue eyes of hers, and Colin would ask if he could kiss her, to which she would obviously say yes. He’d kiss her, she would kiss back and somewhere between the first and third kiss, he’d tell her he loved her. She’d say it right back, with the same devotion in her voice - “ I feel the same ”. Then he would take his sweet time, kissing her, learning her weak little spots that made her gasp and call out his name, obviously eat her pretty pussy first, and then take his sweet time fucking her slow and deep, whispering ‘I love you’s, until she was a flushed, beautiful mess beneath him.
But, yeah, this totally works too.
So he continued. Tongue trailing down her chest, his thumb brushing over one nipple, as he latched onto the other, wetting the fabric of her dress.
“Can I see you, Pen? All of you?”
She nodded and reached for the ties at the front of her dress, but he swatted her hands away. She was not going to lift a single finger. Not when he wanted to take his time, undressing her with all the devotion she deserved. So he got to fucking work. Locking eyes with her he took one of the strings between his teeth and tugged. He had imagined it to be quite sexy in his mind but the damn knot wouldn’t budge. He pulled once. Then again.
Way to ruin the mood!
He dropped the tie and switched to his fingers. Which also didn’t work.
And then, she chuckled.
At his incompetence for sure, before wrapping her arms around him, making him go still.
“You find this amusing Featherington?" he asked, because she was clearly fascinated watching him struggle with something simple as a knot. Well, that simply won’t do. So, he crept his hand up her thighs, inching towards the wet heat between her legs, drawing a sharp gasp from her.
“Come on, untie it” he taunted, while nipping at her neck. Her shaky fingers working on the ties.
Then the strings came loose. The dress parted at the front, the fabric sliding away until her breasts spill into his palm, warm and perfect. Fuck! She wasn’t wearing a bra. He groaned, bending to kiss at her exposed skin, kissing the curve of her breast, letting his tongue flick against the nipple.
She whimpered, tugging at his shirt, fumbling with its hem.
“Off,” She urged “Off, Colin.”
Which went straight to his cock. Why did she sound so hot commanding him like that? They definitely had to explore that later, along with his pending love confession. Colin was burning to let her know that he loved her. But he was holding himself back, by some miracle, because if this was going to be a one time thing, something she was going to give him before she broke his heart with a “this didn’t mean anything” and ruined him for anyone else – Colin was going to take it.
He took off his shirt, making his hair a bit of a mess, before throwing it somewhere on the floor. His throat tightened with want as she looked at him with marvel, dragging her acrylic nails from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers playing with the hair. Each touch setting him alight.
Then, in one smooth motion, he stood up making her yelp, lifting her easily in his arms as her legs tighten around him. He kissed her again, one hand cupping her ass, the other steady under her thighs as he carried her to her bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed, her low bun now untangling and spreading on the sheet like pieces of ember. Then, he was lowering himself, mouth hovering just above her lips, teasing. Before she wrapped her thighs around him, as he presses open-mouthed kisses over her breast, licking, sucking and making his way down to her belly. He paused at her navel before looking up, seeking permission. And with one nod he had her stripped from her dress, leaving her in just her red lace panties, that barely covered anything.
Colin smiled wickedly, flicking his eyes over each soft curve of her body, then back to her face. He dragged a thumb over her bottom lip.
“I know what I want as payment, Pen”
“What?”
His voice dropped.
“Sit on my face?”
🧵💋✨
SIT. ON. MY. FACE
The words glared at her, swirling in her lower belly, making her aware of the closeness of them, of his touch, of his bare chest against her. There was something so Colin about him posing such a filthy demand at her like a question.
She stared at him – at that soft wicked smile. And she felt wanted.
“What??”
“I want you to sit on my face, Pen. I want to taste you, feel you fall apart, will you let me?”
“Yes”
Which was all he needed. He slid her knickers down her legs, the cool air rushing in to meet her arousal, making her squeeze her thighs together. Then she was being lifted by his hands, curling around her waist, twisting her until she was straddling him. Her pussy drenching him, the sudden contact making her insatiable.
“Up for me, love” His hands guided her, strong but gentle – one at her lower back, the other behind her thighs, looking up at her with messy hair, eyes wide, and mouth parted. Like he belonged there - like he belonged to her.
She hesitated for a second, but then his hands are squeezing reassuringly at her hips “You are perfect, come here” and she obeyed, settling her weight full on his face.
He licked a line from the base of her slit to all the way up to her clit and the moan that ripped from her throat had her clutching the headboard for dear life. She could tell that it pleased him because he was sucking harder, like he was claiming it – branding her with his touch.
He left feather light kisses on her inner thighs that contrast with the bites he planted next, making her milky white skin, red.
“Please Colin" she begged, her lips shifting, for more, for his wicked, wicked mouth.
He hummed in acknowledgment and spread her thighs wider, laying his tongue flat as he lapped at her, gathering her slick like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. He sucked her clit, not fast but steady and gentle. At this point all she could do was give into him fully, gone was her worry about suffocating him.
And she was lost, rolling her hips to chase the pleasure, her back arching, little whines leaving her mouth. His hands snaked up her hips towards her tits. He palmed them, rolling her nipples between his fingers.
“Colin…..”
“Pretty Penelope” He remarked, his breath hot against her cunt. “Spreading your legs for me. Is this how you repay everyone sweetheart? Offering your pussy like this?”
She whined, nearly sobbing.
Why is he talking? Why is not touching her? Doesn’t he know that she aches for him?
“Mhm– hng” All logic was lost as she tried to bring his glorious tongue back onto her, but he restrained her, holding her hip.
“Answer me, Pen”
“N-No, only you Colin, please.” The sight of him between her thighs was so obscene, his chin and mouth glistening in her arousal, she would give him anything he asked.
“Good girl,” he rasped, his voice rough. “Look at you, so fucking good for me…riding my face like you were made for it.”
Then he was worshipping her, nuzzling at the curls of her mound, before continuing the same steady rhythm. She clenched her pussy, the wet squelch mixing with her soft broken cries. He lapped even more greedily now, flicking her swollen clit, then dipped lower to tease her entrance.
“You like this baby? Dripping all over my face”
She whimpered, nodding, the nickname doing all kinds of things to her. "Yes yes Colin, please don't stop–” she babbled, tugging at his hair, pulling him closer.
“Make a mess of me. Soak me, come on love,” His fingers are inside her, hitting the spot that makes her cry out, coaxing an orgasm out of her. Her toes curled, and she unraveled. Her vision going black around the edges. She ground down against his mouth, soaking his chin, squirting in hot pulses as she rode it out, as his hands kept her steady.
He doesn’t stop, but licked her through it, peppering soft kisses to the insides of her quivering thighs.
Only then does he lift her gently, gather her into his arms, and lean back against the headboard with her curled on his chest, tucked between his thighs.
“I love you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, both from the words and from his thighs accidentally brushing her still-sensitive cunt, but she looked up anyway, heart thundering, hearing him say words she had longed for.
Surely this was some trick her mind was playing on her. Surely Colin Bridgerton was not saying he loves her.
This must have been some post-orgasmic hallucination brought on by the fact that she’d just come on his face. Holy moly, she really fucking came on Colin bridgerton’s face.
“Did I hurt you?”
"What?"
“I asked if I hurt you? ”he repeated, his hand instinctively trailing down to check. She grabbed it mid-motion because she doesn't know if she could survive if he touched her once again.
“No, before that”
She watched him swallow a gulp, as though summoning courage.
”I love you, Pen.” He repeats, this time, slower. So clear, she could not deny what she was hearing.
“You love me?”
He nodded with that eager smile of his, then lifted her left hand and placed it over his heart, holding her there.
“As a friend?” he threw his head back in a chuckle.
“Hey!” she protested, pretending to be affronted.
Colin grinned “Do you sit on all your friend’s faces?”
“Colin!” she swatted at his chest,which only made him laugh harder. She joined in, her teeth biting into her lips to stop from smiling. “Friends don’t do that.”
“No, they don't,” he agreed.
She shifted fully to face him, and her feelings too, in the process. But her thighs brushed against something hard. She glanced down only to see him painfully erect, begging for her touch.
“I can’t believe you are confessing your feelings with a raging hard-on”
“And I’d do it again,” he replied without shame.
She laughed, her heart thundering “I love you too.”
For a moment he just stared, as if taken back, like he can’t quite believe what she just said. But then slowly, the shock melted to relief, and that relief softened to an adoring gaze. The way he looked at her made her feel seen, cherished and loved.
He swallowed hard, as if the moment itself was too big to hold, then his mouth curved into a grin.
"Not for as long as I loved you, I am sure, or for as long as I’ve known I loved you. My feelings for you weren’t a thunderbolt from the sky, Pen. They grew... quietly, without me even knowing. 1567 days, that is 4 years, 3 months, and 13 days, to be exact." He enclosed her fingers between his, before kissing her knuckles.
She burst out laughing thinking how adorable it was that he kept a count too. Well Colin Bridgerton was many things, but all above competitive. Too bad this was a match she was winning for sure.
“Oh yeah?” she asked with a challenge.
He hummed before returning to her neck, biting the soft flesh there.
“Well try 17 years, then– 17 years, 3 months and 12 days to be exact”
“But that–”
“I have loved you from the moment we met. You can’t win this Bridgerton”
She watched as he broke into his charming smile, dragging her even closer. “I think I have already won. Plus, I love you more.”
She gave him a shocked expression at that, before pinching the tip of his elf-like ear, “Not a chance.”
“We’ll see about that.” His thumb traced lazy circles on her hip.
“Can I kiss you, Pen?”
“You did kiss me.”
“Not like I wanted to.”
“Like what?”
“The slow romantic kind” He brushed a lock of her hair from her cheek. “The kind where I don’t rush. The kind where I get to tell you how pretty you look tonight.”
A shiver travelled down her spine, each word leaving a stroke, painting her a picture of what he had imagined.
“Or, how I’ve longed to feel your lips upon mine”
He leaned in slightly, but didn’t kiss her yet. Instead he trailed his fingertips over her cheek, then slipped his head to press a gentle kiss to the cluster of freckles below her eye.
“Kiss your freckles here first”
Then another kiss to the tip of her nose
“And your cute little nose”
His hands lifted her chin tenderly.
“Caress your chin, like you are the most precious thing in the world”
Her heart felt like it might burst from all the love and softness “Then?”
He smiled – full of love for her, slow and certain.
“Then kiss you…just like this.”
And finally he closed the distance. Their lips met in a light chaste kiss. Before he pulled back, and kissed her again, this time deeper. The kind of kiss that made their souls entwine, tasting of every desire she’d ever had about him, pieces of her dreams, the kind of kiss that marked their name in bold permanent lines across the pages of each other’s lives.
Then he was dragging her closer and she soon became aware of the state of her undress, which in turn reminded her how much left was there to explore of him. So she reached down, her hands slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts to palm him. He was hot and hard, the tip of his cock glistening with his cum.
“Fuck Pen” he groaned, breaking the kiss “I am trying to be romantic here.”
She grinned playfully, her fingers stroking him. “But I want to take care of you too”
And took care of him she does.
With her hands and then mouth – until he came, calling her name like a prayer.
They both collapsed together, tangled in crumpled sheets, hair a wild mess, skin marked with love bites that staked a silent claim on each other. His promise of “later” was murmured against her collarbone before his weight settled over her, head pillowed on her chest, arms wrapped tight around her waist. Her hand traced a slow, soothing pattern down his nape, lulling him into what he smugly called a “power nap”.
You could say it all worked out very well in the end.
Now all that was left was to text the girls – after all of it wouldn’t have been possible without those gremlins.
🧵💋✨
