Notes: Shameless smut inspired by the spoilers/description/Tumblr discussion of upcoming New Girl episode "Helmet," in which we learn that Jess tells Cece she's had a sex dream about Nick.
Still Dreaming
The loft is quiet as Jess tiptoes into the kitchen. She's pretty sure that Schmidt has left some sort of fancy European chocolate somewhere, and since no one is using the TV, she can finally watch a Disney movie without judgment (although she thinks Winston would probably join her if the other guys weren't home). Feeling liberated and girly, she scans through Netflix until she finds Mulan, which has some of her favorite songs. Also, for cartoon, Shang is pretty hot.
She curls up on the couch, piling up all the pillows around her and enjoying the fact that she has the blanket all to herself. Nick is kind of a blanket hog. So is Schmidt. And Winston. She lives in an apartment full of blanket hogs. But not right now: right now she has all the pillows and the whole blanket and a Disney movie. Life is pretty damn good.
It isn't long before she starts dozing off, humming "I'll Make A Man Out of You." She isn't sure how long she's asleep, but when she wakes up the TV is blank and there's some music playing very quietly somewhere in the apartment. It's vaguely familiar but she can't hear enough to tell what song it is. She stretches and starts to stand up, and then realizes with a jolt that she isn't alone. There's a man in the doorway, and she can't see his face because he's wearing a motorcycle helmet.
He walks toward her, and she knows it's weird but she's not scared because she knows him somehow, and damn he looks good in those jeans. He pulls her against his chest as soon as he's close enough, and a little gasp escapes her. A delicious, shivery wave of anticipation spreads low through her belly. He's silent, but that's fine, and God he smells good, feels good. His hands are so warm as they slide up and down her back, over her hips and up her sides. His thumbs brush the sides of her breasts and she bites her lip.
Her fingers struggle with the buttons of his shirt as his fingers dip below the waistband of her pajama pants. She finally pushes open his shirt and runs her hands over his chest, gasping as his fingers trace up her tummy, over her diaphragm. He's pushing her shirt up as he goes, and a second later she's tossing her top to the floor. She knows she's flushed and breathing hard, but his hands are sweet and patient as he cups her breasts.
His silence inspires her own, and even though she's dying to see his face, somehow the mystery is extremely enticing. She slips down to her knees as she tugs his belt off, and she takes a second to spread her fingers along his hipbones before getting to work on his fly. His fingers tangle in her hair as she slips his jeans and boxers down his legs. A low noise escapes her as she wraps her hand around his cock. He's big, she can feel his heartbeat throbbing in her palm, and his head goes back from the pleasure of her touch. He groans from under the helmet as her grip tightens around him. It's such a sexy, masculine sound that she shivers.
She sucks him into her mouth, moving her hand down to cup his balls. His fingers tighten in her hair as she moves her lips up and down his shaft. God, she's so hot, so ready for him. She can feel the wetness on her thighs now, can feel how her greedy her body is to be filled by him. But she can't stop herself from licking and sucking him. Especially when he's moaning, his hands guiding her head with gentle pressure. His legs are trembling and she knows he's trying not to thrust into her mouth. That knowledge only makes her suck harder, and she teases the head of his cock with her tongue until he can't help but buck his hips into her.
Suddenly he pulls her up, stripping her out of her pajama pants with shaking fingers. He growls when his hand slips between her legs: she's so ready, so wet. He slides a finger into her, then two, but before she can start rocking her hips against his hand, he pulls away and twists her around until she's facing away from him. A firm hand against the small of her back urges her to bend over the couch and she moans, bracing herself by gripping the back of it. His touch is everywhere: over her breasts, rolling and teasing her nipples, then between her legs. Next he grips her ass before spreading her legs apart, and she's panting for air even before she can feel his cock brushing against her, sliding up and down her slit.
"Please!" she gasps as he rubs his cockhead over her clit, sending shockwaves through her.
His hands grip her hips and he slides into her, so slow, so maddeningly, deliciously slow. Her head goes back as a long, throaty moan escapes her. He holds her there, fully impaled on him. It's driving her crazy with the need to move, and she grinds back against his hips desperately. He doesn't relent, although his hand trembles as he slides it down her stomach to her core. Rough fingertips tease her clit and she is whimpering now, begging him wordlessly. How is he so fucking good at this? Her hips are bucking, she can feel her pleasure starting to crest, and then he thrusts into her hard and she comes apart, her orgasm tearing through her with blinding intensity.
He rides her through it, grinding into her as the aftershocks go on and on, and her arms nearly give out. When she finally comes back to herself, he slides out of her. He's still hard, she can see his cock twitching with need as he turns her back toward him. He sits on the couch and pulls her down into his lap.
"Oh God yes," she groans, sliding herself down onto him. His hips immediately buck up into her as he enters her again, and his hands slip up to her breasts, teasing her nipples while she finds her rhythm. Within seconds, she's gripping the back of the couch again as she rides him hard. He feels so good that she can't stop the noises that are slipping through her lips, the greedy gasps and moans as he thrusts up into her, as she grinds down on him.
She can tell he's close: his cock is pulsing hard in her now and his thrusts are starting to get wild, desperate. She's close too, God she's so close, but before she can come again she needs to see him. She grabs his helmet and before he can stop her, she pulls it off of his head. Her eyes widen when she sees his face and yes, God, she's been hoping it's him this whole time—
Nick pulls her in for a kiss that's as wild and desperate as his thrusts, and her heart breaks with the sweetness, the rightness of being with him. Then she cries out against his lips as his fingers rub hard over her clit and she's coming again. He is too, arching up hard into her as he calls out her name, and for a second everything whites out as the pleasure rips through her…
And then her eyes open and she's alone on the couch. The movie is still playing on the TV but it's almost over. No one else is awake, which is good because she's a confused, sweaty, horribly turned on mess.
Oh shit, oh shitty McShit shit… She pushes her hair out of her face, the shock making her clumsy. What the hell was she going to do?
"But Cece, it was Nick. I had a sex dream about Nick. Loft Nick. Bartender Nick. My ex-boyfriend, Nick!" Jess is trying—unsuccessfully—not to panic in the middle of the restaurant she's met Cece at for an emergency best friend brunch.
"Oh, did you say Nick? I'm sorry, I must have misheard you the thirty other times you've said is name in the past five minutes." Cece is trying to tease Jess, to make her laugh or relax, but her friend only stares at her with slightly manic blue eyes. "Honey, listen, this isn't that weird."
"But we live together! And I'm dating someone else!"
Cece reaches across the table and takes her hand. "Jess, having a sex dream about your ex-boyfriend is completely normal, especially if you still see him all the time."
"I haven't had a sex dream about him in so long. I thought all that was over," Jess replies, her voice miserable. "Why now?"
"Well, maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something." Cece shrugs but she knows this is nothing to make light of. She's been wondering how long it would take her friend to realize that she's still in love with Nick, but as usual Jess' timing is total shit. She's just rekindled her romance with Sam, after all. But then, Cece is pretty sure that nothing—nobody—is going to keep Nick and Jess apart in the end.
"What? No! No…what…I mean…what would my subconscious be trying to tell me?" Jess is stress-eating a carrot.
"Honey, we both know that you've been attracted to Nick for a long time. Especially when he decides to work hard at something. He's been putting a lot of effort into the bar, you guys have been hanging out a little more…it's kind of inevitable."
"You—that can't be—I can't—" Jess covers her face with her hands. "You're right. You're right."
"Jess." Cece tugs at her wrists, gently forcing her friend to stop hiding. "Sam is great. Sam has always been great, and if you're happy, of course I'm happy for you. But I think maybe, if you're honest with yourself, you'll realize that you're—"
"Still in love with Nick," Jess finishes. She looks down at the tablecloth. "I am. I'm still in love with Nick."
Cece gives her fingers a quick, supportive squeeze. "It sounds like you have a choice to make."
But really, there's no choice. There never really has been, not since the day she'd knocked on the door to a sun-soaked, beige-y loft and asked for Schmidt. Since then, whether she'd known it or not, it's always been Nick.
"Thank you, Ceec," Jess says. She scrambles out of her seat and rushes around the table to hug her best friend. "I've got some things to take care of, I've got to go."
Cece shakes her head, smiling. "Good luck! I hope you know what you're doing."
"I have no idea what I'm doing…but that's okay!" Jess is beaming as she digs some cash out of her purse for the bill. "I love you, I'll call you soon!"
With one last wave, she skip-walks out of the restaurant and in the direction of Clyde's. It's time (it's actually well past time) to put things right. And while it's no declaration in the middle of a Prince party, Jess is pretty sure that telling Nick she's in love with him is going to be pretty damn spectacular.