Hi guys,
This is something I didn't know existed until today. Ages ago, I accidentally watched the first episode of Riverdale and was hooked immediately. I fell in love with the idea, that Alice Cooper and FP Jones definitively had been together in High School and I was hoping for something on the show that would maybe indicate that. Since we didn't get that, I seemingly decided to write my own story, but forgot I did. Found this on my phone today and remebered writing this on my way to work one day. It's unbetad and unedited, but I thought, what the hell.
This isn't my usual fandom, but here goes.
Enjoy and tell me what you think
Love, J
Reliving History, Repeating Mistakes
He had been ignoring the constant banging against his front door for the last five minutes. His son knew how to get in if he really needed to, without him opening the door, and everyone else that could have any business with him is simply not important enough to leave his comfy couch right this moment. He's not drunk, when you spent the greater portion of your adult life downing drink after drink like it's tap water, you develop a resistance, definitively need more than five beers to get him there – but that's exactly where he's trying to get at. At least until someone decided to show up at his trailer in the middle of the night.
He closes his eyes, sinks further back into his couch, intend on blocking the aggravation noise from his mind, when he hears a voice accompanying the banging. It sounds pissed and, knowing exactly who is on the other side of that door, he, for a moment, feels a sick sense of glee. He'd always love to rile her up – even back in high school those were the times he found her the most attractive. Of course attractive is something she had always been to him, no matter in what mood he happened to cross her path.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" her voice is loud enough to be heard through the closed door, but carefully silent enough that hopefully nobody else hears. "Having me look like a fool out here for the last five minutes. Come on, I know you're home and not nearly drunk enough to be passed out yet"
For a brief moment, he wonders how she would know that and then he remembers – her daughter is dating his son – and with a groan he realizes that that is probably exactly why she's here.
He had been to dinner with the both of them, in an attempt to become a better father from at least now on, and dinner had; at some point, gone horribly wrong. He had been trying to be polite – had succeeded for a good part of the evening – but when they started to ask the wrong questions he had started to snap at them. The wrong questions like, I he serious about the new job Fred Andrews gave him. Like is he going to give up drinking completely. Like is he ever going to cut ties with the Serpents. He realizes, in hindsight, that they were teenagers and probably didn't know better than to ambush him like that, but it had still pissed him of. They had reminded him just a little too much of their respective mothers. The kids had left when he had ordered his first beer of the day.
That one, he had told himself, was just to cope with their aggravating questions. The other four were to start his journey to getting smashed. He has been home for about an hour, left just after the kids did, and of course she knows that.
He finally gets up from the couch when he hears her let out a frustrated sigh, but he knows her too well to think she will be leaving before he lets her in. Standing at the door, his hand already poised over the knob, he takes another full minute to contemplate if he really wants to open it, and the he swings the door inward with a flourish.
Her hand is raised in mid-air, as if she has been about to start the obnoxious knocking back up and he can read the anger and frustration from her face. She's still hot, he has to admit again, though this time he keeps his mouth shut and only thinks it to himself. And he reminds himself that that's not what they're here for. When she opens her mouth to, presumably, shout at him, he holds up a hand to silence her.
"As much as I like to see you all hot and bothered, I am actually just not in the mood for company tonight" he flashes her one of his sarcastic smiles she used to love when they were younger. "But if you're missing the old days, you're welcome to stay. I think my kitchen needs cleaning" He has no intention of actually letting her in.
"I'm not here to joke. I have a crying teenager locked in her room because her boyfriend won't talk to her, and another one angry and frustrated next door, because you pissed them off. So I'm here to ask what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Tell me, which one are you actually worried about? My son or your daughter?" he steps backward when she pushes her way into his trailer, closing the door behind her absently.
"As much as it might surprise you, I do care about your son" She sends a look of hatred in his direction – at least that's what she hopes he receives. The way her mind betrays her with images of him (them really) wearing far less clothing makes it entirely possible that what's showing on her face is about a lightyear away from hatred. "Someone has to" It's a low blow, because even if he never had been the best of fathers, he had always cared about his children. She knows that, but she's angry and when she gets angry she does and says things she's not thinking through beforehand.
"I do love my son and don't you ever dare say otherwise again" He's angry, too now. Even though they didn't always get along in high school and even less after she became serious – and later married – to Hal Cooper, he had bever shouted at her – has never been this angry before. They had traded sarcastic innuendo ever since they were old enough to know what the word meant and had viciously snapped at each other more often than not during their rather complicated relationship, but they'd never reach the point they are at now. They've known each other their whole lives, he knows what she is capable of if she loses it, but it had never been directed at him. This is the first time he fears she might snap.
"You don't want to threaten me" He voice drops to an alarming calm and icy tone. She steps closer to him, and as much as he hates to admit it, he would have backed up if the wall behind him didn't exist.
Instead he gets up in her face then – her beautiful face – and almost physically pushes her away from him. "I'm not scared of you" He hisses under his breath, just loud enough for the sound to carry between the almost non-existent space between them. And, right in this moment, he realizes it's true – he's way too aroused to feel anything beyond that. By the look he gets of her chest, rising and falling in irregular patterns, she's not fairing any better. He'd always wanted her the most when she was mad at him. "Don't talk about my son like that" He adds almost as an afterthought, because he is already preoccupied with thoughts of pushing her up against the wall and fucking her and the knowledge that she would probably let him. The gorgeous eyes that stay on his lips way too long, while hers part almost as if in anticipation, doesn't help matters.
"It's not like you care one way or the other" She doesn't really mean it, because logically she knows he cares for his son and in a way for her daughter, too. She needs to say something to defuse the rising tension, though, before they let it get too far. A moment later, she doesn't care anymore.
"I highly suggest you stop talking now" He has no idea what he would actually do to her if she didn't but he strongly suspects that it's not something she wouldn't want him to. He might be tough and doesn't shy away from hitting and threatening other people, but he has never been, nor will he ever be violent towards her. Kissing her to shut her up, however...
"Why don't you make me?!" And that's his cue.
His mouth is on her before she can even comprehend what she just said, and though she has no idea where it came from (that's a lie, but she keeps telling it nonetheless), she doesn't want to take it back. It's been way too long since she had been kissed like that, since he had kissed her like that, and she's more aroused than she can think of ever having been while kissing her husband. The small part of her brain that tried to tell her what she's doing is wrong is silenced, when her back crashed into the front door of his trailer with more force than necessary. The groan she emits from the impact is swallowed by his eager mouth and his tongue takes the opportunity to slip between her lips at her gasp. Whatever reservations she might have had up until now, and granted they had been rather slim anyway, dissipated in a flurry of hot tongues, wandering hands and a tingling between her legs she had thought she wouldn't feel in association with him anymore.
She kisses him back eagerly, her tongue dancing with his in a rhythm they haven't done in over 20 years but it doesn't matter. They come to each other so seemingly effortless, as if it hadn't been 20 years since they had last done that, but rather 20 minutes.
Her purse hits the floor next to her feet when he picks her up and holds her firmly between the door and his broad chest. Automatically, hands fist into his hair and legs wrap tight around his hips. She tries to bring him even closer to her, one hand loosening the buttons of his shirt when they finally come up for air.
They don't talk, there's nothing to say. They both know they shouldn't be doing this, but they both also know that they really want to. Wanted to for the last twenty years. So he shifts his weight to stand more securely and balances her against the door for a moment while he takes hi hands off her hips so she can slide his open shirt from his shoulders. Then he kisses her again until she's breathless and when he leaves her mouth to trail kisses and nibbles down her throat and cleavage she realizes her blouse has joined his shirt on the floor. She has no recollection of him unbuttoning the garment or of his fingers working it down her arms, but then he has always been good at distracting her. Her bra is next to go and she doesn't object. Not when the lacy cups covering her soft skin are replaced by an incredibly talented tongue and questing fingers.
He works her nipples into hardened peaks while she pants and moans and grinds her lower half against his ever growing erection. She's holding his head in place with both of her hands while she absentmindedly slides off her heels to find better leverage. He's so close to her that they don't even know where they ended or the other began, but it's still not close enough for her. She's waited twenty years for this, so she might as well take advantage.
Looking down so she can watch what he's doing to her she sees that, with her bra gone and her skirt shoved up over her hips so he can step between her legs comfortably, she's as good as naked in front of him. Only the flimsy fabric of her panties gives her the false sense of modesty. And she realizes with a start, that he's wearing way too much clothes. So she pushes him back from her chest, he has switched over to her other breast some time when she wasn't paying attention, and brings his mouth back to hers for a brief but thorough kiss. She feels his hands sliding up and down the outside of her thighs, over her ass and back around, to dip teasingly between her legs for just the briefest of moments. The gasp is involuntary, but she can't stop it when his fingers ghost over her soaked panties for the first time.
When she reaches for his pants, belt already half undone, he kisses her once more, taking her hands in both of his and pinning them to the door above her head. She sends him a dirty glare, looks like he also still knows she likes it when he's in control, that turns into a frown rather quickly, when he takes one of his hands away and untangles her legs from around his hips. He only smirks at her. Then he lowers her feet back onto the floor and steps back just enough to still be able to hold her hands still.
She's about to say something, to threaten him with bodily harm if he dares to stop now, when his free hand winds around her hip and a second later the zipper of her skirt is dragged down excruciatingly slow. The skirt finally hits the floor at her feet and, without further ado, her panties join. He brings his free hand to her hip, holds her there, while his thump traces irregular patterns against her hipbone. And just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, he sinks to his knees in front of her, her newly freed arms following him down, finding purchase in his soft hair.
The first touch of his tongue on her aching clit is heaven and she lets out a low moan to show him just how much she is enjoying this. He works her into a frenzy fast, sliding two fingers into her, never once letting his focus (and tongue) shift from his main goal. She comes against him with a strangled cry and he smiles against her flesh. Then she tries to push him from between her legs, her orgasm still abating, but he fucks her through it and with a satisfied smirk pushes her over the edge a second time. She screams this time.
She thinks she might have blacked out there for a moment, for when she opens her eyes, he's standing before her, admiring her naked form with longing. She pulls him forward, kisses him, feels herself on his tongue and it does things to her body she thought she would never feel again. They make quick work of his pants and when he stands before her, equally naked, her heart stops for a moment. She's wanted this for so long, right from the moment they said they couldn't do this anymore, and she still does.
"Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?" he suggests. It's the first word either of them has spoken since he had kissed her.
"No" she answers. This will get way too emotional for the both of them were they to end up in his room. But he's right, she has to admit, they are too old to do this somewhat comfortably against a wall and so she drags him over to the couch.
She pushes him down and, straddling him, fuses their mouths together for a deep and passionate kiss. She reaches between their bodies and takes him in her hand, teases her entrance with the head of his cock, before she lines them up perfectly she all she has to do is slide onto him.
"Why don't you leave and go back to your husband?" He gives her one last chance to get out of this, to stop this. She doesn't take it.
"Why don't you just shut up and fuck me?"
So he does.
