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His scowl is tense, his blue eyes stormy, and his jawline clenched. He's wearing a dark tee and black jeans, his biceps practically bulging underneath the short sleeves. He's generally sharp and refined as it is, but ever since his 14 year old son was arrested for murder, his demeanor, understandably, has become much more harsh.
He moves his head and you quickly cast your eyes back down onto the dining table, placing your hands together. "Andy," your father reaches over to pat his shoulder, looking just as stressed. "We're going to do whatever we can to help you. Jacob will get out of there. Okay?" Andy doesn't even look at him- instead, he's looking towards the window with the troubled expression that's become his norm, as if Jacob will come strolling up the path. As if his wife will pull up in the driveway again even though everyone knows she's most likely staying at her sister's for quite some time. The strain has been too much for her, and Andy has changed entirely. These days, he seems almost... dangerous. You can see it in his eyes- he's getting desperate. He'll do anything to get his son in the clear, whether he committed the crime or not.
"Do you want more?" you offer to break the awkward silence, lifting up the container of pasta you and your father had brought over to his house. Andy looks to you, shaking his head and clearing his throat. "No. Thank you though, Y/N. You made it, didn't you? It tasted good." You give him a smile, happy to hear the compliment. Anything you can do to make your neighbor's mood better. You've known Andy and his family since you were a teenager, and now as a 23 year old, you want to return all the support and thoughtfulness he's given you. "Thanks. I'm glad you like it." You stand up, cocking your head. "If you're all done then, how about I help clean up?"
Your father nods with a smile. "That's a good idea, sweetheart." He glances down at his watch and sighs. "I've got to meet with my boss at the office in twenty minutes, I should probably head out now. You stay and help Andy, alright?" You nod and he leans down to kiss your cheek. "Thanks, Y/N. I'll see you back home later." He gives Andy a somewhat sad smile, a sigh escaping his lips. "Please, buddy. Hang in there. We're going to figure this out, I promise." Andy barely nods, giving the man a brief thanks and a hug goodbye.
He leaves the house and you barely bite your lip, but start bringing empty dishes to the sink to rinse them off. "Do you have enough food?" you ask, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. "I have some free time this weekend, I'd be happy to make you some more..."
He's quiet for a few moments before he steps closer to you. "I don't need food, Y/N." He mutters, running his fingers through his brown hair, his features filled with nothing but tension. "I don't need food, I don't need sympathy– you know, I don't even need my wife." You're about to wash the dishes but you sense a whole new level of gravity to this conversation, and so you slowly turn around to face him. "I... Are you two getting divorced, then? I thought you were just taking some time apart... you know, temporarily." Andy and Laurie had always seemed like such an amazing couple to you, especially considering your own parents were divorced. Their love for Jacob was immense, and they always looked so happy to you as a whole. You supposed experiencing such a traumatic incident could change that.
"I don't want to be with her anymore." He speaks bluntly, coming to stand next to you and leaning against the counter, blue hues looking back towards the window. "She doesn't get me the way I thought she did." You look up at him, feeling strangely intimidated- something you had never felt around him before. "Andy," you speak quietly, "do you think maybe that's because... you've changed?"
There's a silence for a few seconds, and you wonder if you've gone too far. He's still looking to the window, but he looks as though he's pondering over this thought. "I'm sorry." You finally say, clearing your throat and turning to the sink. "I shouldn't have said that, I know this is a hard time for you. For all of us. Let me finish up he-"
"No." Before you know it, his hands are on your waist, spinning you back around so that you're facing him, his own body now completely turned towards you. "Tell me, Y/N. Do you think I've changed?" His voice is lower, his eyes locked onto yours, his grip securing your hips tightly. You widen your eyes slightly, thrown off to say the least. You'd be lying if you said you'd never had the silly little daydream of being this close to Andy Barber, let alone being in his arms. Even as a 16 year old, you had somewhat of a puppy crush on the older man, finding his chiseled features, perfectly groomed facial hair, and built stature incredibly handsome. Still, you had never felt anything more for him- you couldn't even allow yourself to. He's your neighbor, one of your father's close friends– hell, he's a father himself, of a boy you used to babysit.
But even throughout the years of slightly crushing on him, a scenario like this had never quite exactly popped into your head.
"Maybe a little," you whisper, staring up into his eyes somewhat nervously. You practically don't recognize the man you're looking at. However, you aren't scared of him. You're scared of what he must be feeling, of everything he's going through. He's not dangerous. He's helpless, he's afraid, he's in despair. "But I don't blame you for changing. I think it's just because of everything you're dealing with." You explain, slowly placing your hands over his. "Andy, maybe you should... let go..."
"Do you know what I need, Y/N?" he asks suddenly, still holding you tight, and you remember your conversation just a few moments ago. Not food, not sympathy, and not even his wife. "What?" you ask softly, your heart pounding. He leans down and you nearly shiver; his lips are mere inches away from yours, his breath warm and almost taunting. "I need a fucking release." He mutters through slightly clenched teeth, and you can see the vein in his neck slightly bulging. He's angry. He's sunk. He's in need.
"Okay." You find yourself breathing out, and that's all he needs. A husky growl escapes from deep within his throat as he crashes his lips against yours, hands pulling your body even closer until it's pressed up against his. It isn't long before he's simply scooping you up into his arms, lips still connected in a heated kiss as he brings you to the living room, though you quickly make a whimper of protest before he can toss you onto the couch. "W-wait," you practically gasp as you pull back, already breathless, "not here, the... the window..." Your cheeks are bright red as you glance towards the large living room window, the thought of your father or even any neighbor seeing the two of you making you beyond uncomfortable. You already can't believe you're doing this, but you have to admit, his kiss in itself is more than convincing. You can't help but want more.
He seems like he wants to chuckle, and you know the old Andy would have shown at least some form of amusement.
This one, however, seems to be running on some type of agenda, and so he simply nods with a somewhat impassive face. "As you wish." He murmurs, easily carrying you up the stairs and to the bedroom. You feel guilty once again knowing that he once shared this room with Laurie, but when he practically throws you upon the mattress and crawls over you to kiss you again with even more intensity than before, this guilt goes flying out the window. For now, anyways. You kiss him back just as fiercely, moving your hands to run your fingers through his beard and his soft, soft hair, back arched desperate for the feeling of his hips against yours.
"Fuck," he mumbles shortly as he moves his open mouth down to your neck, biting and sucking roughly. "A-Andy!" you let out a high pitched hiss, gripping his hair, "N-not too rough, don't... don't leave any marks..." He nips at your shoulder in response, moving one of his hands down to rub against your clothed entrance. "How many boys have you slept with before, Y/N?" he murmurs huskily into your skin, teeth still teasing your sensitive flesh. You can't help but moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you enjoy the pressure of his fingers in your lower region. "Only... only one..." you mumble softly, somewhat embarrassed- you've got to be far more inexperienced compared to him. "And how old was he? Your age?" he asks, finally pulling back to look down at you with a look so intense, you don't even realize he's pushing down your pants. "A year older- o-oh!!" you cut off your own answer with a moan when you feel his digits pressing up against your now damp panties, rolling your hips unable to help yourself.
"You're already wet for me." He notes, kneading at the wet spot roughly with his knuckle making you whimper. "Naughty girl. Is fucking a man nearly twice your age a fantasy of yours?" Your cheeks turn bright red as you stare up at him somewhat flustered, having no idea how to answer this. He raises a brow, hooking two fingers in your panties and tugging them down, his thumb now moving to rub your clit. "I asked you a question."
"Mm...!" you moan, your breaths becoming heavier. "N-not just any man..."
He smirks, and you're expecting him to pry the rest of the answer out of you, but it seems he's satisfied enough. You can also sense he's not all that interested in talking at the moment, anyways. He pushes one finger inside you and your whimpers become more high pitched, your head tilting back. "Oh... oh, Andy," you moan, and he clucks his tongue, pumping harder. "You're fucking tight. I'm going to need to stretch you out a bit if you're going to fit me."
You gaze at him with slightly wide eyes, your lips parted and your cheeks flushed. "Wh-what do you..." you start to ask, but instead let out a gasp when he pushes another finger inside, your teeth tugging at your lip hard. "Mmn...!" He pumps both inside you at a steady pace, watching you with dark eyes. "You can take it. C'mon, Y/N." You slowly begin moving your hips in sync with his movements, whines becoming moans of pleasure, head rolling back all over the pillow.
A third finger slides in, and your back practically lifts off the mattress. "It's... it's too much...!" you whimper through shut eyes, though at the same time, you don't want him to stop. He knows just how to maneuver his fingers, and it's now clear that you've been missing out by not hooking up with older men. "How about now?" he murmurs deeply, slightly crooking his fingers and moving them expertly in rhythmic motions, finding your sweet spot as if he knew exactly how the entire time. "A-ah... fuck, right there!" you find yourself cursing, and at this, he chuckles lowly, continuing to pump in the same spot. "There you go. Come for me, Y/N, go ahead." He practically coos, his tone oddly encouraging yet dark at the same time– nonetheless, you release with a loud moan, your chest heaving underneath your light sweater, your skin hot and crimson.
"Good girl." He does not waste any time as he pulls back, and therefore you have none to get yourself together. Withdrawing his fingers, he briefly sucks on them before nodding towards you. "Take that shirt off or you're going to overheat. I want to see all of you." He's already removing his own shirt, hastily reaching down to unzip his pants and remove his briefs as well. You blush but sit up, trying to control your breaths as you lift your shirt off over your head, thankful you didn't embarrass yourself by somehow getting stuck in it. All he has to do is gaze towards your bra and arch an eyebrow expectantly; you instantly reach behind to unhook it, biting on your lip. However, when your eyes drift down to his length, they immediately widen. He's long, and thick.
You realize what he meant before.
"Lie back down." He commands, and you obey, though you're still nervous. "I... just... be careful..." you somewhat pathetically manage, and he looks down at you for a few moments before barely smirking. "You don't think I don't know what I'm doing?" He reaches over to the nightstand, taking a condom out of the drawer and putting it on. You still can't help but stare. There's no way you're coming out of this without feeling sore and aching. And yet you still feel undeniably aroused, your heart practically pounding out of your chest from desire and need. He pumps himself as he guides his shaft towards your entrance, his breath hitching as he presses up against you.
"Fuck, this is going to feel so damn good." He mumbles, pushing his hips forward and thrusting inside you with a low groan. You inhale sharply, reaching up to grip his shoulders, head tilting back once again. "Oh... mm... Andy..."
"God my name sounds good coming out of your mouth." He scoffs, bucking his hips harder as he pushes more of his length inside you. "Fuck. You like that, Y/N? You like the way I stretch you out like this?" You can only nod weakly, his dominating thrusts soon overpowering every inch of you, rocking your body back and forth as if you're nothing but a little doll underneath him. He was not kidding about needing a release. Every rough movement, every clench of his jaw, every grunt and groan that slips out of his throat– he's had pent up frustration for a long time now, and it's evident he's going to let it all out on you.
He reaches out to hold the bedpost with one hand to support himself, other hand placed on the mattress by your shoulder only to swing his hips even faster, the bed now beginning to creak. "Fuck. You're so fucking tight." He hisses in a pleasured rasp, his breaths heavy and uneven as his knuckles begin to whiten from his tight grip. He keeps thrusting into you hard, eyes staring down at your body below him– until he suddenly changes it up, adjusting himself so he's on his knees before grabbing your legs and pushing them back by your head. "Flexible little thing." He breathes out, bucking his hips roughly as he groans louder.
You let out a string of intangible moans and mewls, eyes rolling back as he keeps fucking you, practically jackhammering into you at this point. "Andy! Andy, I-I'm close!" you're practically screaming, even holding your own legs for him and digging your fingers into your own flesh as a form of release. He smirks breathlessly, shaking the sweat out of his hair as he keeps going. "Go on then," he grunts, "come for me again."
You release, panting heavily as you stare up at the ceiling, and he comes soon after with a low groan of satisfaction. You watch as he slowly pulls out, moving back to stand beside the bed, carefully disposing of the condom in the bin before running his fingers through his slightly graying beard. "Thank you." He rolls his neck to either side then looks at you, and you can practically see at least some of the stress having faded away in his features. "I needed that." You sit up, suddenly reaching out to take his arm, gently pulling him down to sit next to you. He blinks, turning his head to look at you with simultaneous confusion and curiosity. You hold his hand on your lap, rubbing his knuckles slowly. "This isn't going to fix anything, Andy, and you know that." You mumble softly, "But I promise. Everything will be alright. He... he's going to be okay. And so are you."
He looks at you for a few seconds and you're a little nervous he's simply going to shut you down, but he nods. "Thank you." His words actually seem genuine, and instead of displaying frustration and hostility, he only seems... worried. Distressed. Like a true father, one with compassion, empathy, and who only wants the very best for his beloved child.
You gently lie him down in the bed, rubbing his chest. "Get some sleep, Andy. Please." You whisper, and he stares at you before exhaling deeply and tiredly, nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."
You can't help yourself when you lean over and kiss his forehead. "I'll... come check in on you tomorrow. Goodnight." You pick up your clothes and leave the room, closing the door behind you. Quickly getting dressed on the landing of the stairwell, you walk downstairs and peer out the window facing your house, relieved to see your father's car isn't in the driveway yet. You turn off all the lights before exiting out the front door, steps light as you walk through the grass separating your driveways, entering your own home- your heart still racing. You can't believe what you've done.
Furthermore, you can't believe that you want to do it again.
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