Warning - Explicit Content Ahead!
"Charlie..." she started, but her voice faltered. She shook her head, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. "You don't get it. You're sweet, in your weird, creepy way, but this isn't going to fix anything. I'm a disaster. You think I have everything together, but I'm just as messed up as you are. Probably worse."
Charlie's heart skipped a beat. "But I don't care about that. I don't care if you're a mess, or if you drink too much, or if you hate your job. I just... I just want to be there for you. Because I love you."
There. He said it. The words had been rattling around in his brain for so long, but now they were out in the open, hanging between them like some kind of awkward confession. He'd said it before, sure, in a thousand different ways—through creepy letters, bad poems, and weird gestures—but this felt different. This felt... real.
The Waitress stared at him, her lips parting in surprise. For a moment, the room felt too quiet, the sound of the wind outside almost deafening in its intensity. Her fingers twitched on the glass, and for a second, Charlie thought she might laugh in his face. Tell him he was an idiot. Push him away, just like she always did.
But she didn't.
Instead, she sighed, leaning back in her chair, her eyes drifting back to the whiskey in front of her. "You don't know what you're saying," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "You think you love me, but you don't even know me. You don't know the real me."
"I know enough," Charlie said, his voice steadier now. He took a step closer, his hands trembling as he placed them on the bar. "I know you're not perfect. I know you've had a rough time, and maybe you're not where you want to be, but that doesn't change how I feel."
She didn't respond right away. Instead, she downed the rest of the whiskey in one quick gulp, setting the empty glass back on the bar with a heavy thud. When she finally looked at him, there was something different in her eyes—something softer, but sadder too.
"Charlie..." she began again, her voice quieter than before. The Waitress stared at Charlie for what felt like an eternity, her fingers still curled around the empty glass like she was trying to hold onto something solid, something that wouldn't slip away. Her lips parted as if she was about to speak, but then she stopped, her gaze flickering to his face, his eyes—so hopeful, so desperate—and something in her seemed to break.
Without another word, she pushed the glass away and stood up, stepping closer to him. Charlie's heart hammered in his chest, a wild, erratic beat that made it hard to breathe. He wasn't sure what she was going to do—yell at him, tell him to leave her alone—but the way she was looking at him, with something softer, something... different, made him feel like the whole world had tilted on its axis.
She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm, just for a second, and Charlie froze. Her touch was light, hesitant, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to go through with whatever was running through her mind. His heart raced as he waited, barely breathing, as if the wrong move would make her pull away.
"Charlie," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the wind outside. She took another step forward, her body close enough now that he could feel the warmth radiating off her. "You don't... You don't know what you're getting yourself into."
"I don't care," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He took a breath, steeling himself, and reached up, his fingers hovering just above her arm. "I don't care if it's messy. I don't care if you're not perfect. I just—"
Before he could finish, she moved. It was sudden, sharp, like she was making a decision she didn't want to think about too much. She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, her hands grabbing the front of his hoodie and yanking him forward. Her lips crashed against his, hard and fast, like she was trying to silence all the doubts in her head.
Charlie's mind went blank. Completely and utterly blank. For a second, he wasn't even sure this was real. It didn't feel like it could be real, not after all the years of pining and hoping and chasing her from a distance. But her hands were on him, her mouth pressed against his in a way that felt desperate and raw, and it was real. It was happening.
He kissed her back, his hands awkwardly finding her waist, his fingers trembling as they slid up under the edge of her coat. She was so close, so warm, and the softness of her lips, the way she tasted faintly of whiskey and something sweeter, made his head spin.
The Waitress didn't pull away. Instead, she pressed closer, her body molding against his in a way that felt too good to be true. Her hands slipped up from his hoodie to his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. It was frantic, messy, but there was something behind it, something that felt like she was trying to lose herself in the moment, just like he was.
His breath hitched as her hands gripped him tighter, and he leaned into her, pressing her back against the bar as the kiss deepened. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild, uncontrollable rhythm that matched the way their lips moved against each other. There was nothing else in the world right now—just the two of them, tangled together in a way that felt so unreal it almost hurt.
She moaned softly into his mouth, and the sound sent a jolt through him, straight to his core. It was a sound he'd only ever dreamed about, one that he'd thought he'd never hear. But it was real, it was happening, and he wasn't about to let go of it.
Charlie's hands moved up her sides, trembling with nervous energy, as if he was afraid that one wrong move would make her stop, make her realize who she was kissing and pull away. But she didn't stop. She didn't pull away. If anything, she kissed him harder, her fingers tightening in his hair as she pressed her body against his.
The heat between them grew, the air around them thick with something neither of them had words for. The kiss was desperate, hungry, like they were both trying to prove something—to each other, to themselves. Charlie's hands slid under her coat, his fingers brushing the soft fabric of her sweater as he pulled her closer.
The Waitress broke the kiss just long enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his as she panted softly. Her eyes were closed, her lips swollen from the force of their kiss, and for a moment, they just stood there, holding onto each other like they were both afraid to let go.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered, her voice shaky, her breath warm against his lips.
Charlie swallowed hard, his hands still resting on her waist, his thumbs gently rubbing small circles into her sides. "It's okay," he whispered back. "I don't either."
She opened her eyes then, looking up at him with a mix of uncertainty and something else—something softer, more vulnerable than he'd ever seen in her before. "This doesn't mean anything," she said quietly, her hands still gripping his hoodie. "I'm not... I don't know if this is going to fix anything. I just..."
"I don't care," Charlie repeated, his voice firm but gentle. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I don't care if it's messy or if it doesn't fix anything. I just want to be with you."
The Waitress stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face like she was trying to figure out if he was serious. But there was something in the way he looked at her, something raw and honest that made her believe him, at least for now.
Without saying another word, she pulled him back into another kiss, slower this time, softer but no less intense. Her hands slid down to his chest, and she tugged at his hoodie again, pulling him closer as her lips moved against his with a slow, deliberate passion.
Charlie's hands slid up her back, tugging gently at the collar of her coat as he kissed her, trying to pull her closer, to feel every inch of her pressed against him. The heat between them was palpable, growing with every kiss, every movement. Her body felt perfect against his, and for the first time, Charlie thought maybe—just maybe—this was real.
But then, without warning, she shifted. In one swift, deliberate motion, she pushed him back against the bar, her hands gripping the front of his hoodie. The force of her move made him stumble, but he didn't care. His heart pounded in his chest as she climbed up onto him, her thighs sliding over his hips, straddling him as she kissed him harder.
Her fingers were in his hair, tugging with a mix of frustration and need as her lips claimed his. He could taste the whiskey on her breath, sharp and intoxicating, and all he could do was follow her lead. His hands, trembling with anticipation, slid down her sides, finding the hem of her coat and pulling it open, the heavy fabric slipping from her shoulders.
She didn't stop him. Instead, she broke the kiss just long enough to shrug off her coat, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Her hands returned to his chest, fingers gripping his hoodie, and in a swift motion, she yanked it upward. Charlie barely had time to register what was happening before the hoodie was over his head, tossed aside as she leaned back in, her lips finding his again.
His breath hitched as the cold air hit his bare skin, but the warmth of her body pressed against his made him forget everything else. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the curve of her body fitting perfectly against him, her legs tightening around his hips as she ground down, making him groan softly into her mouth.
Charlie's hands found her waist, tugging at the hem of her sweater now, his fingers sliding under the fabric to touch the warm skin beneath. She didn't stop him, didn't pull away. Instead, she lifted her arms slightly, allowing him to pull the sweater up and over her head.
Her hair fell back around her shoulders as the sweater joined their discarded coats on the floor, and Charlie's breath caught in his throat. She was stunning, her body flushed from the heat of their kisses, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looked at him with a wild, desperate need.
She didn't give him time to admire her for long. Instead, she pressed herself against him again, her hands on his bare chest, nails lightly scratching down his skin. Her lips found his neck, kissing and biting softly as she moved against him, the friction between them sending jolts of pleasure through his body.
His hands roamed over her, feeling the softness of her skin, the heat between them growing more intense with every passing second. Her body moved against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her hips grinding down on him in a way that made his head spin.
And then, without a word, she reached down, her fingers finding the button of his jeans. Charlie's breath caught in his throat as she undid it with a quick, deft motion, the zipper following immediately after. He could feel his pulse racing in his ears, his whole body buzzing with anticipation as she pulled his jeans down over his hips, her movements quick and determined.
He kicked them off, letting the denim pool at his feet as she leaned back in, her lips crashing against his again, more frantic this time, more desperate. Her hands slid down to his waist, her fingers brushing against the waistband of his boxers, and Charlie's breath hitched as she tugged them down, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.
With a sharp tug, she pulled her own jeans down, her body moving with a kind of practiced urgency. She kicked off her shoes and shoved the fabric down her legs, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Charlie's breath came in shallow gasps as he watched her, his heart racing at the sight of her bare skin exposed, her movements quick and purposeful.
She didn't hesitate. The moment her jeans hit the floor, she was back on him, pressing her body against his with a force that left him dizzy. Her hands found his shoulders, pushing him down slightly as she straddled his lap, her thighs tightening around him as she took control again.
Her lips met his with a fiery intensity, rougher and more determined now, like she was making a point. Charlie could barely keep up, his mind spinning as she kissed him deeply, her hands gripping his hair and pulling him closer. Her hips rocked against his, a slow grind that sent waves of heat through his body, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she kept up the pace.
Charlie's hands trembled as they moved up her back, finding the clasp of her bra. He fumbled for a moment, his fingers clumsy with anticipation, but she didn't wait. She reached back, unclasping it herself and letting it fall to the floor between them. Her body pressed flush against his, bare skin on skin, and Charlie's mind went blank.
Her hands slid down to his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin as her lips moved to his neck, kissing and biting softly. She was relentless, her movements sharp and deliberate, and Charlie could feel his pulse pounding in his throat as her hips rocked against him, harder this time, more insistent.
He groaned softly, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her tightly as she moved against him, the friction between them sending sparks of pleasure through his body. She moaned into his ear, a soft sound that made his heart race even faster, and Charlie's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her even closer.
The world outside didn't exist anymore. There was no storm, no bar, no worries about anything but the heat between them, the desperate need that fueled every kiss, every touch, every movement. Charlie's breath came in shallow gasps as she kissed her way down his chest, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
Her fingers found the waistband of her underwear, and with a quick, determined motion, she slipped them off, tossing them aside without a second thought. She was completely bare now, her body pressed against his in a way that made his mind spin, her skin warm and soft against his.
For a moment, she paused, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she hovered over him, her body pressed so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her. Charlie's heart pounded, his whole body buzzing with anticipation as he stared up at her, trying to process that this was happening—thatshewas happening. She was completely bare, her skin flushed from the intensity of their kissing, and her eyes locked on his with a hunger that left him breathless.
Charlie's hands slid up her thighs, trembling slightly as they roamed over her soft skin. He couldn't believe she was here, on top of him, completely in control, her every movement deliberate and filled with a kind of confidence that made his head spin. She leaned down, capturing his lips again in a kiss that was somehow both rough and tender, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she kissed him with a fierceness that left no room for hesitation.
And then, without a word, she shifted, her hips grinding down against him in a slow, deliberate motion. Charlie gasped, his fingers digging into her hips as the sensation overwhelmed him. She was relentless, moving against him with a rhythm that was both torturously slow and maddeningly intense, her body pressed so close to his that he could feel every inch of her.
Her lips moved down to his neck, kissing and biting softly as her hips rocked against him, a slow grind that sent shivers down his spine. Charlie's hands moved up to her waist, holding her steady as she took control, her movements sharp and precise, every roll of her hips sending waves of pleasure crashing through him.
She moaned softly into his ear, the sound low and breathy, and Charlie's breath hitched in his throat. Her body moved against his with an urgency that made it impossible to think, her hands roaming over his chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin as she ground down on him harder, faster.
The tension between them built with every movement, every kiss, every touch. Charlie's mind was spinning, his heart racing as he held onto her, trying to keep up with her frantic pace. She was in control, completely and utterly, her body moving against his in a way that left him powerless to do anything but follow her lead.
And then, just as the pressure between them reached a boiling point, she leaned back slightly, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she locked eyes with him again. Her hands slid down to his chest, pushing him back against the bar as she ground down against him one last time, harder than before, her lips parting in a soft moan as the heat between them finally reached its peak.
Charlie's whole body tensed, his hands gripping her waist tightly as they moved together in perfect sync, their movements sharp and desperate, the intensity of their connection overwhelming them both.
The moment stretched out between them, the tension finally breaking as they both gasped, their bodies moving together in a frenzied, desperate rhythm until there was nothing left but the sound of their ragged breathing and the feel of their bodies pressed against each other.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies still entwined, the heat between them slowly fading as they caught their breath. The world around them was silent, the storm outside still raging, but inside Paddy's, it was quiet—just the two of them, holding onto each other as the intensity of the moment began to fade into something softer, something almost tender.
The Waitress leaned down, her forehead resting against his as they both breathed heavily, her fingers still tangled in his hair. Charlie's hands slid up her back, holding her close, his heart still racing as he tried to process everything that had just happened.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. The silence between them said enough.
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Preview of next chapter:
Charlie's hands instinctively found her waist, pulling her closer as she pressed her body against his. Her kisses were harsh, bruising, her fingers digging into his skin as she guided him back toward the couch. There was no hesitation, no pause to think or breathe. She was in control, and he was just trying to keep up.
She pushed him down onto the couch, straddling him again as her hands fumbled with his jeans, her movements quick and determined. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts as she kissed him again, rough and desperate, her lips moving against his like she was trying to lose herself in the moment.
Vote now in comments on how this story should go (writing chapter 5 now)? Thoughts on having the waitress lose her memory, and Charlie getting to woo her later?
