Jughead cut the motorcycle's engine, but remained rooted to the seat. He couldn't move. His fists gripped the handlebars, his knuckles turning white.

He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have brought her here. To Sunnyside or to his dump of a trailer. What on earth had he been thinking when he suggested it?

Oh yeah, he berated himself. That she looked cute as fuck asking to spend more time together, with your beanie on her head and her lips swollen from your kisses.

Jughead sighed. Of course, he hadn't been able to resist her expectant gaze.

Now, though, he cursed himself for giving into temptation without thinking logistics through. He hadn't yet seen the inside of Betty's house, only its immaculate white exterior, but he could picture it. All clean lines and stylish modern furnishings. Not a speck of dust or clutter in sight. Jughead was sure the trailer was a far cry from what she was used to. He was willing to bet what little cash he kept stashed in his sock drawer that she'd never hung out remotely close to a trailer park before, much less been inside of one.

A nightmare scenario popped into Jughead's head of him opening the door and Betty reacting, if not quite with horror, then obvious distaste. A chill ran through him imagining her sneer.

His self-consciousness was on heightened alert knowing that her friends had been talking shit about him and his background. Did Betty think that, too? he wondered. Had her confession at the swimming hole about their reservations been a bid for honesty, or a warning?

Jughead's head jerked to the side. He spotted Betty idling by the porch steps. She was glancing at the surrounding trailers with a neutral expression. Jughead frowned and fiddled with the beanie she'd returned before the ride over. What an idiot he was. He had been so preoccupied by his own anxieties he hadn't felt her hands sliding off his stomach, or her climbing off the bike. God, get yourself together, man.

Betty's lips ticked up when she felt his gaze on her. "Jug?" she prompted.

"Yeah." He pasted something resembling a smirk onto his face and forced himself to stand up.

If Betty was able to acquit herself perfectly normally in the unfamiliar trailer park, then it was high time he man up, too. She agreed to come, he reminded himself. She wants to be here. With you.

Jughead stashed his helmet and led her up the wooden steps of the trailer. Thankfully, the windows were dark and his dad didn't seem to be home. For the first time in his life, Jughead was grateful FP had a standing Friday night date of getting plastered at the Wyrm. He and Betty would be alone for a few hours, at least. His heart beat a little faster.

He unlocked the trailer door and fumbled for the light switch.

"Welcome to Castle Jones." Not his best wisecrack, but it would suffice.

Betty let out a little giggle and began to glimpse around.

Jughead's shoulders tensed as her eyes traveled over the wood-paneled walls and grimy white lace curtains. Her gaze fell to the pair of ugly, floral yellow sofas his mom had picked out years before and that his dad had never bothered to replace. They were covered in throw pillows whose colors Jughead could only describe as puke green and dark brown. Beside one of the couches, near the front door, stood a worn black leather armchair with a threadbare gray afghan sloppily folded over the side. A small flat screen TV resting on a rickety stand hung in the far corner.

Betty's eyes widened a touch when she noticed the vintage dark wooden coffee table atop a frayed, patterned rug. Jughead winced. The table was littered with unpaid bills, half-empty beer bottles, and what appeared to be potato chip crumbs.

"Sorry." His voice was sheepish. "I would have cleaned up, but…" He scratched his eyebrow, trying to distract her from the redness creeping up his neck. "We don't get much company."

"I don't mind, Juggie." Betty's gaze was soft on his. "It's nice to see where you live."

He nodded, his lips trembling as he attempted another smirk. Betty's eyes swept past the kitchen toward the cased opening to the hallway, as if expecting to be led to his bedroom next.

Jughead's throat constricted. He visualized the dirty clothes and messy pile of books spilled over his desk and dresser. And his unmade bed with the rumpled gray-and-white striped sheets. Which he was dying to press her into. He could feel his ears heating up under his beanie. No, he warned himself. The first time he brought her in there, he wanted it to be as spotless as he could make it. She deserved that.

"Let's sit." Jughead kicked off his shoes and plopped down on the couch closest to the door. He pulled his laptop out from under a leftover takeout box on the side table.

Betty perched beside him, examining the stickers he'd affixed to the back of the screen. A small smile alighted on her face.

"I like the Shakespeare," she told him.

Jughead offered her a strained grin. "Thanks." He flexed his clenched fingers and pulled up his library of movie downloads. "Any requests?"

Betty shook her head. "You choose."

He selected an old classic film he had seen half a dozen times and cast it to the television.

Black and white images began to flicker over the screen, but Jughead couldn't focus. Betty's presence in the trailer had already thrown his mind and body into overdrive. Her nervous shifting next to him on the couch wasn't helping matters in the slightest.

He tried to hold himself very still, careful to keep a gap of space between them and his hands to himself. His stomach bubbled, afraid of what might happen if he moved even an inch. Stop it. You're being ridiculous, he rebuked. You've been alone with Betty before. Jughead blinked, his mind wandering back to their dates at the Twilight and Pop's. Yes, they'd been alone then, but not like this. He had her all to himself in a private place and all he could think about was pinning her to the nearest surface and drowning himself in every part of her. He had since the moment she stripped down to her underwear and jumped into the river. She was precious and he wanted her, but he didn't know how to express that without it sounding like he was pressuring her to go further than she may have wanted. He was usually so good at reading people, but now he was drawing a blank. What was Betty thinking? Did she want him back? She seemed to, but how much? Jughead didn't know how to gauge, and it frustrated him to no end.

Betty's small voice interrupted his thoughts. "You can touch me, you know."

Jughead attempted a confident smile, but his insides were tied in a knot. He stretched his arm around the back of the couch. Betty snuggled closer.

He relaxed enough to begin following the movie dialogue for a short stretch. But after a few minutes, he felt her palm pressing gingerly against his knee. He stiffened, a shiver skittering down his spine. Unaware or undeterred, Betty's hand soon started to crawl up his leg, her thumb rubbing tiny circles into his thigh. Jughead's throat got tight. His jeans got tighter.

Taking on a mind of their own, Jughead's fingers tiptoed under the collar of her t-shirt. He began tracing lazy patterns into her skin. Betty whimpered softly and Jughead's eyes immediately clouded over with a vision of her beneath him, his fingers between her legs, drawing that same sound out of her again and again until she splintered apart. His cock twitched, the slight bulge in his jeans becoming too obvious to hide. He flushed and snuck a peek at Betty. Her eyes were wide and glassy with anticipation. She lowered her lashes and tilted her chin up, an obvious signal for him to kiss her.

Jughead's whole body felt like it was on fire. Overwhelmed, he leapt up from the couch.

"Uh, I'm going to get some water."

He dashed toward the kitchen and opened the fridge door. He stood before it, the cool air flooding his overheated body. What the fuck, Jughead? What are you, 14?

He tried to reach for a bottle of water, but his hand was shaking too hard. He closed his eyes and sighed, pressing his forehead against the freezer handle. Soon enough he heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him.

"Jug?" Betty murmured. She brushed the most delicate of touches against his shoulder.

He flinched but forced himself to face her. She was biting her lip, her face a mix of concern and lingering desire, and Jughead lost it, ready to burst.

"Damnit," he growled. In less than a second, his mouth was on hers.

His soft kisses quickly turned feverish and demanding. He pushed Betty backwards, lifting her by the backs of her thighs and slamming her up against the mint green cabinets. Betty responded eagerly, her hands lifting to clutch at his shirt. Her legs spread open and she pulled Jughead's body against hers, her lips hungry on his.

Jughead's tongue slid into her mouth, tangling with hers. Betty's fingers crept up to muss his hair, knocking the beanie askew. Jughead let it topple to the ground. He cupped her face and kissed her harder. When he could barely breathe, he eased his mouth from hers and nipped along her jawline. His lips found the tender spot behind her ear, sucking on it gently. Betty whimpered and dug her nails into his shoulders. Jughead's hands brushed over her arms, slipping the denim spaghetti straps of her romper down to her elbows.

"Can I?" he whispered against her ear.

She nodded and he helped her wriggle out of the garment. He rose to kiss her once more and her hands slid under his t-shirt. Her fingertips grazed his abs, clearly wanting the shirt gone. Jughead broke away to meet Betty's impatient gaze. He grinned at her and lifted his arms so she could pull it off.

Betty reached for his neck, drawing Jughead back to her. He cradled her face and kissed her deeply. She edged forward on the countertop. He released her mouth and kissed his way down her neck, stopping to suck in a bruise just above her collarbone. Betty moaned and writhed against him. His lips still on her neck, Jughead began to fiddle with the hem of her ribbed t-shirt. His fingers stole under the edges.

A loud, forceful knock sounded at the door and they sprang apart.

Betty startled and hunched against the cabinet. "Oh my god," she yelped.

Jughead jumped to her side, goggling at the door as if it were aliens coming to invade. He had to dig his fingers into her hip to reorient himself. He glanced up at Betty. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, like she'd just been caught hooking up in the janitor's closet on school grounds. Jughead would have laughed, but he was sure he had the same red-handed expression on his face.

"Maybe you should get that," she muttered faintly. The sound of disappointment in her voice was palpable.

Jughead groaned and buried his head in the crook of her shoulder. He had no desire to answer the door. He could think of literally no one who was worth an interruption to him kissing Betty. Let alone undressing her. But the other person seemed insistent. They began to pound harder on the steel frame.

"Jones, I know you're in there." Sweet Pea's shouts rang through the door's narrow glass pane. "I see your bike, man."

"Jug," Betty murmured.

He groaned again and peered up at her. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I'll get it."

Jughead's eyes darted to the two oil colors of flowers in black spiral frames that decorated the nearby kitchen wall. He hoped staring too hard at the crappy art his mom had left behind might quell the very obvious erection in his jeans.

"Okay…I'll, uh…" Betty sank down from the countertop and pointed to the living room.

He managed a nod. His throat felt like sandpaper.

Betty nodded back. She picked up her romper and slipped past him.

Jughead ran his fingers through his hair to calm himself. When he felt a bit steadier, he grabbed his shirt from off the floor. He wrestled back into it as he walked to the front door.

He flung it open and immediately glowered when he was greeted with Sweet Pea's toothy grin.

"What do you want?" he barked.

"Yo, what's with the attitude, man?" Sweet Pea glared back at him. "Where the fuck have you been all day?"

"Busy," Jughead snarled.

Sweet Pea appeared ready to chew him out when his gaze fell on Jughead's exposed head of wavy raven locks. A look of realization settled on his face.

"Wait." Sweet Pea's eyes lit up in amusement. "Do you have a girl back there?"

"Keep your voice down." Jughead's teeth grit together. "She's not just a girl."

"Northside girl's here?" Sweet Pea looked positively gleeful. "Can I say hi?"

"Absolutely not."

"Pretty please?" Sweet Pea pretended to bat his eyelashes at him.

Jughead rolled his eyes. "No. Go away."

"Oh man, come on. I'll be nice. I won't put my feet up on the furniture or anything."

"Yeah, yeah," Jughead intoned. "Goodbye Samuel."

He banged the door on its hinges and barrelled back to the living room. "I'm sorry about—"

Jughead stopped dead in his tracks. Betty was waiting for him on the sofa, the afghan wrapped snugly around her chest. Her shirt and bra were folded neatly over the back of the armchair, along with her romper. Jughead's eyes bulged as he took the scene in. He couldn't help but ogle Betty, his eyes raking over the smooth lines of her collarbone, the hint of her cleavage. He was fixated on the tiny moles between her bare shoulders and breasts. He wanted to kiss each one of them.

"Hi," she breathed.

"Hey," he choked back.

A pretty blush filled Betty's face and she slowly lowered the afghan.

Jughead stared at her in awe, riveted by her breasts now on full display. They were beautiful, perky and full. She was beautiful, he corrected. Lovely and angelic. He just wanted to worship her all over.

"I want you to touch me."

Jughead gawped at her, tongue-tied. A girl like Betty was telling him in no uncertain terms she wanted him to take her apart. He felt like the luckiest bastard on the planet.

"Please."

At that one word, Jughead shook himself from his stupor. He knelt down on his knees before her. His hands lifted to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. He glanced up at her, heat smoldering in his eyes. Betty bit back a moan and nodded. Jughead ducked his head down and swirled his tongue over her nipple. He took the hardening peak between his teeth and sucked it lightly. Betty's head lolled back, no longer able to suppress her moans.

"Jug," she gasped.

His lips curved into a smirk against her skin. He licked his tongue over her other nipple until it, too, pebbled. Betty trembled against him and his mouth lowered, trailing kisses down her stomach.

Betty wrenched him up to his feet. His body lurched forward and he collapsed onto her above the sofa seat cushions. She scrambled for his shirt and tossed it off. Jughead chuckled softly and took her mouth in a hot, wet kiss. Her legs encircled his hips and Jughead groaned as his chest brushed her bare breasts. He felt himself hardening once more against her inner thigh.

She fumbled for his hand and threaded their fingers together. Jughead squeezed her palm and kissed his way down her neck. Unsatisfied, Betty tugged his hand and dragged it lower over her stomach. Her skin was a flame, hot and begging for his touch.

His index finger skimmed the waistband of Betty's panties and she shivered in anticipation beneath him. Jughead dipped his finger inside the elastic. He trailed it along the lacy fabric until he reached the crease where her thighs met her hips.

"Is this okay?" he murmured.

"Yes." Her hand moved to caress his cheek. "I want you to."

Jughead ran the tip of his finger slowly up her slit. His eyes rolled back as he felt her for the first time. She was so wet. So needy for him. His finger reached her clit and he gently rolled the slick on it. Her soft cry sounded in his ear and Jughead hissed like he'd been stung.

Betty gazed up at him, worry in her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." His eyes momentarily flickered shut and he swallowed to control himself. "You're just really wet, Betts."

Her green eyes glittered. "That's a good thing, no?"

Jughead snickered, back at ease thanks to her innocent teasing. "So good."

He leaned down to kiss her, his finger slipping inside of Betty. He started to edge it in and out of her. Betty mewled into his mouth, her hips angling up and rocking gently against his hand.

Her body bowed off the sofa as he pressed deeper inside her and she looked up at him through long, fluttering eyelashes.

"Can I touch you, too, Jug?"

A shudder went through him. "Yeah…" he answered, his throat dry. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so nervous. He had done this before. But it somehow felt all new with her. Like uncharted territory.

Jughead forced his hand out of her underwear and sat up. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them off. They crumpled into a pile on the floor. Betty reached for him and ran the back of her fingers against his erection. He swallowed, his cock twitching in pleasure. She tugged on the waistband of his boxers and he popped free. Her hand curled into a delicate fist around his tip and she stroked him up and down. Jughead groaned. Those soft, hesitant fingers would be the death of him.

He felt a desperate need to be touching her again. Jughead sank back against the pillows, hovering on his side over Betty. He slipped his hand down her panties, this time sliding two fingers inside her. His wrist strained against the tight scrap of fabric and he used his other hand to push it aside down to her thighs.

He delved his fingers in deeper, curling them up until he found the spot he wanted. Betty let out a sweet, pathetic little mewl, her hips bucking frantically against his fingers.

Jughead nibbled into her neck. "Does that feel good, Betts?" he questioned softly.

"Yes." Her hips stuttered forward as her grip around his cock tightened. "Don't stop, Juggie."

Jughead growled and took her mouth in a rough, wet kiss. He began using the bottom of his thumb to stroke her clit. Tiny, breathy moans escaped from her throat. He increased his pressure on the nub, grinding the rest of his palm in a steady back-and-forth motion that matched the thrusting of his fingers. Betty panted and cried out his name. The flick of his fingers grew even more relentless at that glorious sound.

The sensation was too much for Betty. She keened and fell apart, her body clenching around his hand.

Jughead watched her come eagerly. Betty was breathless and shaking, her lips pursed open in a tableau of ecstasy. Jughead thought he may have catapulted up to heaven right along with her. It was the first time he had ever made Betty come undone and all he wanted was to do it again and again until forever.

Betty drifted back down to earth and began to tug more firmly at his cock. Her long, slow strokes over his shaft sped up and Jughead's hips jerked into her touch. He was so wound up, he could barely contain himself.

"Fuck, Betty," he groaned.

She pumped him faster and his body spasmed. He came hard on her heels, spilling into her hand.

Her fingers slipped out of his boxers and she gazed up at him with soft, wide eyes. Jughead shuddered and let himself crumple against the sofa back cushions so as not to crush her.

Betty shimmied her panties back over her hips and sat up. She plucked a square of paper towel from the roll on the coffee table and wiped her hand dry. Jughead made a mental note to buy more. He usually kept some handy in the living room to clean up FP's various messes, but maybe now if Betty started coming over frequently, he would have a better use for it. He bit his lip to stifle the smug little smirk forming.

She glanced over at him. She was clutching the dirty wad of paper in her hand, looking unsure of what to do with it.

Jughead grinned at her, wiping his own hand on his thigh and righting his boxers. "Just leave it." He would have to remind himself to clean everything up later before his dad got home.

Betty nodded and dropped the paper daintily onto the table. She turned back to him, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. "Was that okay?"

"Okay is an understatement." He placed one hand on her waist and drew her body back to his. The other planted itself on her cheek. He kissed her once, lazily. "That was amazing. You're amazing."

"You're pretty amazing yourself," she said in wonder.

Jughead chuckled and kissed her temple. His laugh lines tickled her cheek as he murmured in her ear. "Did you like it?"

"Yes." She shivered against him. "Did you?"

"Yes," he mimicked, teasing her. He wrapped his arm tighter around her. "Have you done that before?"

"Yes…but not like that."

Jughead's heart skipped a beat. Betty didn't elaborate, but she didn't have to. He knew what she meant. Every sense of his was magnified with her, too. Like a meteor streaking past thousands of weakly twinkling stars across the night sky.

"Me too," he whispered to her.

She hummed and snuggled into him. They cuddled like that for a while, the trailer quiet but for their soft breaths, until it was time for him to take her home.

Jughead finished getting dressed first. He stood idly by the door waiting for her. His skin felt warm and tingly as he watched Betty slip back into her clothes and tie the laces of her sneakers. He almost couldn't believe that she was real, that she'd let him kiss her and touch her. The whole day seemed like a miracle.

Betty stepped up from the couch. "I'm ready."

Jughead nodded, but found himself unable to turn the knob. He stood very still and gazed at her. "Betts?"

"Yeah?"

"I really like you."

Betty's face melted into a radiant smile. "I really like you, too, Juggie." Her hand lifted to graze his cheek. "Thank you for a perfect day."

He was hit with a flash of memory from their date at the Twilight. How Betty had shuddered when using that word to describe the choking expectations of her small world. Her saying it now meant something. It meant everything.

Jughead felt his lips quirking up to match her smile. "Anytime."