Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13885251.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Betty_Cooper/Jughead_Jones
  Character:
      Betty_Cooper, Jughead_Jones
  Additional Tags:
      Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Betty's_Bedroom, Emotions, but_also_smut, First
      Time
  Series:
      Part 8 of Bughead_Stories
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-06 Words: 6453
****** Home Fires Burning ******
by ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary
     Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. Betty's lying in bed when she
     hears a series of loud banging noises. Jughead's outside Betty's room
     on the ladder and knows the first one was him, but thinks he'd better
     get inside quick since he can't identify the others. Anything could
     happen when Betty and Jughead find themselves literally and
     metaphorically in the dark in this S1E12 add-on. Rated E for a sweaty
     winter's night.
Jughead left Archie standing just inside the doorway, that only half-apologetic
look on his face. Outside, the brisk air whisked Jughead’s anger away like
steam off a scalding cup of coffee; he couldn’t stay mad at Archie, not when
he’d been let down so much more frequently and so much worse by people who
really were his family. Jughead watched his breath float and glimmer in the
Andrews’ front porch light. Just like that vapour, he couldn’t last here. As
accommodating as Archie and his dad had been, Jughead knew his role as the
Little Princessin their attic was as unsustainable as his previous stint as
Harry Potter in that Riverdale High closet.
He stopped in front of Archie’s barely-used music studio, staring down his dim
reflection in the door’s window. Jughead knew his dad would be counting on him
to get by. His mom would be thinking the same thing, if she was thinking of him
at all tonight, since their brief phone call. Jughead dwelled on it a moment
too long and the smirk that dragged his mouth up felt painful and unnatural.
Backwards, glass-Jughead’s sarcastic look sickened him and he dropped his eyes.
They would be expecting him to survive, but he decided it wasn’t going to be
like this. He wouldn’t spend his last night before the shit really hit the fan
sleeping like a fucking raccoon in the Andrews’ garage. No, he wasn’t angry
anymore, but he was so tired. Looking back at his reflection, Jughead could see
the purple scoops under his eyes.
He hadn’t noticed the light was on until it went out, and he found his head was
turning to search for it. Betty.
===============================================================================
 BANG!
Jughead’s foot slipped off the rung and the top of the ladder bounced and
slammed into the side of the house. He winced and caught the sides of the
ladder in a death grip, as if holding it more securely now could somehow muffle
the noise that had already been made. His heart started to pound as fight-or-
flight set in, but Jughead’s rationality told him his best chance was to climb
and let Betty spin a cover story to her mom about the sound’s origin while he
hid in her closet.
Nearly at the top, Jughead heard a second disturbance and peered cautiously up
over the sill in time to see Betty racing out of her room in her pajamas.
Jughead’s eyebrows pulled together; his natural inclination was to yank up the
window and run after Betty. He hadn’t realized that the instinct to follow her
into an investigation was so deeply ingrained. But if he rushed in now, there
was no way he’d be able to explain it. Still, better to be close at hand.
Jughead eased the window up and clambered through, catching himself before he
could thud onto Betty’s floor. He turned and slid the window shut. Jughead
looked around nervously for a minute, but it was too dark to see anything
beyond Betty’s doorway. He glanced down at her bed, where the covers had been
flung back. Despite all of the other problems of that night, including the
potential danger of whatever had caused the second noise, Jughead’s dick
jerked. His eyes flicked to the doorway, but there was nothing to see.
Jughead pushed his fingers up under his hat, gripping his hair in exasperation
at his own reaction. He was still staring down at Betty’s laid-in bed and his
brain repurposed the sensation; suddenly Jughead was seeing himself on top of
Betty, pressed skin to skin, driving in and out of her. It was herfingers
caught in his hair, the tug an obvious expression of the irrepressible desire
he sparked in her. Jughead’s blood pulsed in his crotch, bringing him back to
the reality of his girlfriend’s empty room.
After standing outside and scaling the side of the Cooper’s house, and maybe
also after his short detour into one of his many Betty-centric fantasies, the
room was feeling almost swelteringly warm. Jughead pushed his hat from his head
and shrugged off his jacket, stuffing his hat in the pocket. He sat on the edge
of Betty’s bed, jacket across his lap. As he ran his hands unconsciously across
the denim, he wondered if Betty would think it looked like he was trying to
cover up an erection. Jughead dropped his jacket to the floor and forced it
under her bed with his heel. He realized he might as well take his shoes off
too, so he unlaced them distractedly, keeping an eye on the doorway. Jughead
slid his shoes off, then his socks, and pushed them back to join his jacket.
He could hear faint sounds downstairs now: voices and chairs scraping across
the floor. It might be a little while until Betty returned, but at least now
Jughead could stop worrying that someone had broken in. Besides himself.
He shifted on Betty’s mattress, feeling himself slouch forward in a reminder of
how tired he really was. Jughead figured it couldn’t hurt to lie down. He could
make himself as flat as possible and pull the blankets up over the top of his
head so Mrs. Cooper wouldn’t spot him if she came in before Betty got back. It
might be an even better hiding place than Betty’s closet.
Jughead turned and flopped onto his back, reaching across to draw the covers
over himself until he was totally insulated. Too insulated. The scent of pure,
100% Betty filled his nose on Jughead’s first inhale and suddenly he wasn’t
tired at all. His cock jumped as his hormones were totally over-engaged.
Jughead was snuggled into the warmth Betty had left for him (unwittingly) and
she was the only thing on his mind.
Betty pushed all other thoughts away, the way Jughead often fantasized about
shoving the heaps of papers from the Blue and Golddesk to the floor so he could
lay his brilliant, blonde girlfriend back and give it to her. Of course, in
situations where he’d been thinking that lately, Jughead had just adopted his
signature serious expression and pretended to be deep in thought while Betty
brainstormed the Jason Blossom case aloud. Here, in her room, in her bed,
ticking towards midnight, there was no innocent escape.
Jughead’s erection reacted, pressing upwards so emphatically that Jughead began
to worry it would be the thing to give him away if anybody walked into Betty’s
room. He reached down, unzipping his jeans and kicking them off, before
grabbing them and shooting them deep under Betty’s bed, out of sight.
Now, there was nothing for it but to lay there in a kind of agony, resisting
the urge to flip over and rub himself against the spot where Betty’s hips had
lately rested. Jughead raised his head just high enough to let it thump back
against the mattress and groaned.
===============================================================================
 Betty scuffed back into her room and slammed the door shut behind her, hoping
the bang would make more of an impact than her words had been able to. She was
beyond annoyed that, after actually letting her in on a serious discussion for
once, her parents had decided to leave for Thornhill without her. As if Betty
didn’t have an equal right to confront the people who had known all along that
Polly’s baby was the product of incest. As if Betty hadn’t been the one steady,
dependable person in Polly’s life. Between her parents and herself, Betty
thought she would have been the obvious choice to talk her sister into coming
home. Really, she had been the only one of them not to basically kidnap Polly
and shut her away from the world.
Betty smacked her closed door with an open palm, then took a deep breath. She
might as well go back to bed. Her mom and dad would take their time venting
their rage to the Blossoms―their journalistic instinct to go back over every
little detail and hold Clifford and Penelope to account would be irresistible.
Then, when things had ended with some cutting remark (likely coming from her
mother, since Betty knew from experience that she would always lash out with
the last word), her parents would hurry Polly away. Her sister had changed in
these last months though. She had become stubborn and fiery and Betty knew that
Polly would not be meekly led anywherewithout a second explanation. With the
added time for the fallout of that confrontation, Betty couldn’t see her family
arriving home for several hours.
She shoved away from the door and crossed to her window, watching the
taillights of her mother’s car flash away down their dark street. It would have
been only too easy to jerk the window up and scream after them, or throw
something heavy in their wake. Tempting, but a waste of energy, and definitely
not a healthy reaction. Betty exhaled slowly and sank down onto her bed. Maybe
if she laid down, her frustration could run off her like water and she’d be
able to get some sleep.
Betty realized she was sitting on top of her comforter so she rose again to
draw it back. There was something―someone―in her bed and Betty’s voice leapt
into a ringing scream. A hand shot out to grab her before she could stumble too
far from the bed and Betty covered her mouth to temper her reaction, realizing
it was Jughead.
“Jesus, Juggy!” Betty breathed, dropping her hand. She stopped trying to yank
her arm out of his grasp and Jughead slid his palm down to hold her hand
instead. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was now shifting further
back onto her bed, guiding her forward into the empty space.
“I’m―I’m really―I’m sorry, Betty.”
Betty clicked on her bedside light and clearly saw that Jughead was struggling
not to laugh. She glared at him, but sat down next to her boyfriend, drawing
her legs up under the blankets; her feet were getting cold.
“You do realize that there’s a murderer still loose in this town, right? I
mean, was it just me or have we not agreed that your father’s framing is
obvious to everyone but Sheriff Keller?”
Jughead put his other hand on Betty’s back. His palm felt annoyingly warm and
comforting.
“I’m sorry, Betty. If I promise that I’m not here to murder you, will you lay
down?”
He was still smirking and Betty couldn’t help but join him, adding an eye roll.
Jughead moved his arm away and Betty lay back, feeling him slip his arm under
her neck. Betty rolled over to face him, towards his heat, and realized she’d
never been horizontal with Jughead before. The closest to this position they’d
ever been was slumping back into one of the couches in their school’s student
lounge. Suddenly, Betty was afraid to move. If she came closer, would he think
she was making a move on him? If she backed off, would it register as
rejection? This close to Jughead, Betty was nervous to even breathe too hard.
Jughead seemed much more relaxed. His hand came up to the back of her head and
he tugged out her elastic. Betty’s hair spun out of its bun and Jughead tossed
the elastic in the direction of her bedside table.
“You keep your hair back that tight even when you sleep? Ouch.” He started
running his fingers over her scalp and Betty let out a quiet noise of pleasure,
closing her eyes. She breathed slowly in and out. This situation was fine. She
could handle it. She should just talk to Jughead normally and then it would
feel like they were hanging out together anywhere.
Betty opened her eyes and Jughead’s face was much nearer than it had been.
Their heads were definitely on the same pillow. In the warm light of her lamp,
Jughead’s face was soft. The smudges under his eyes didn’t look as severe as
they had that morning in the cafeteria. The colour of his eyes was dreamier.
His lips… his lips looked softer too. Betty licked her lower lip and watched
Jughead watch her. Talking would definitely be safer.
“So what are you doing here?”
Jughead’s mouth curved up and Betty wanted to roll him onto his back and get on
top of him. “I saw you reverse-Gatsbying me.”
Betty’s face scrunched up and she shook her head in confusion. “I’m sorry, what
was I doing?”
“I was standing outside across the street and I noticed your light go out.”
Betty smoothed her voice into a monotone. “Ah yes, I forgot we’d just switched
all the bulbs to green.”
“And that Mr. Andrews recently had his porch extended out into a dock?”
Betty smiled. “Pre-emptive I’m guessing, in case all this snow and ice ever
melts and Sweetwater floods all the way up here. I’m surprised you’re not
freezing, by the way.” She pulled her hand out of Jughead’s and ran it up his
arm, unused to feeling so much bare arm. “I hope you didn’t come over here in
short sleeves.”
Jughead put his hand on Betty’s waist while she played with the edge of his t-
shirt sleeve. He shook his head. “My jacket’s under your bed.”
Betty raised her eyebrow. “Settling right in then?”
Jughead laughed. “I may have been here a little while.”
Betty smiled in premature sympathy. She knew that Jughead might not appreciate
her questions right now, but finding him in her bed late at night wasn’t
exactly typical.
“Juggy, what’s going on? Why aren’t you at Archie’s? He was really worried
about you last night when we didn’t know where you were. I’m sure he’d like to
spend some time with you.”
Jughead turned his face to the ceiling and sighed.
“I think I might be the anti-Littlest Hobo.”
Betty frowned and laid her palm on the side of Jughead’s face to bring it back
towards her. At this point, she didn’t need to say anything for him to know
that she wanted him to elaborate.
“No matter where I go, people don’t want me to stay.”
“Don’t say that, Juggy. It’s not even true.”
His eyebrows drew together and his look grew hard.
“Oh really? You didn’t hear Archie’s dad tonight. My days under the Andrews
roof are numbered.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes in what Betty interpreted
as mental exhaustion.
“Oh, Juggy.” Betty traced her finger up his temple and over his forehead until
Jughead’s face relaxed. “You can stay here tonight if things are getting tense
across the street.”
Jughead nodded, looking humbled, but relieved.
“Is that why you came?”
Jughead’s eyes looked shiny. “I wanted to be somewhere that felt like… home.”
Betty was overwhelmed, feeling both grateful and heartsick. She tilted her chin
up and pressed her mouth to Jughead’s, then rolled her body towards his.
After a minute of fairly PG kissing, Jughead’s face pulled away from hers on
the pillow.
“Is this a pity kiss?”
Betty narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”
Jughead’s hand fell between their chests and he tapped spastically at the
mattress as if he were typing.
“You know. Are you just feeling sad for me?”
Jughead’s eyes locked with Betty’s and she made hers open to him.
“Absolutely not.”
Betty grabbed the back of Jughead’s neck and pushed her lips against his,
clipping his lip with her teeth in the process. The kiss was rough and lacked
the control Betty was normally so careful to implement in her every physical
expression―since the night of the hot tub and the handcuffs―but it was perfect
for convincing Jughead. He drew her towards him, his palm pressed to her back,
and sent a deep groan into her mouth, along with his tongue, which rolled
against hers.
Betty reached out with her bare foot, selecting that moment as the one to take
them past the sort of kissing and holding that could be done upright. The arch
of her foot brushed against Jughead’s calf. Jughead’s jeans-less calf. Betty’s
eyes flew open.
“Juggy.”
His eyes opened more reluctantly.
“Are you…?” Betty’s eyes darted across his face. “Do you not have…?”
Jughead looked at her blankly so Betty trailed her foot lightly up and down his
skin. He laughed.
“My jeans are under your bed with my jacket. I’m not naked, Betts. Jeeze.”
“Um, so then why…?” Betty anxiously started tucking her undone hair behind her
ear.
Jughead’s arm loosened around her, his hand coming suddenly down to grip the
underside of Betty’s thigh. He slid his palm to the back of her knee and tugged
her forward with a jerk, making Betty gasp, and hooked her leg over his hip.
His erection pressed firmly and obviously against her, blocked by two thin sets
of cotton shorts.
“That’s why I took them off.”
Betty’s tongue was suddenly more interested in mapping the roof of her mouth
than in helping her form words. She cleared her throat softly.
“You make a compelling argument.”
Jughead’s blue-green eyes told her he could feel as much of what was between
her legs as she could feel what was between his.
“I was here long enough that things started to feel… tight, but not so long
that I had time to consider that you might climb in before I had a chance to
put my pants back on.” Jughead held completely still, but the look he gave
Betty got her wet. “Is my desire,”―the word hung between them―“for comfort
making you uncomfortable?”
Clearly, Jughead was feeling every bit of what Betty was feeling because at the
end of his little speech, his dick swelled, causing it to tap against her the
way a self-conscious guest, late to a party, might knock at a door.
Betty felt her face flush.
“Not necessarily.”
She tunneled her hand up under the hem of Jughead’s t-shirt, resting her palm
on his muscled abdomen, and rocked her hips.
Jughead let out the sort of moaning gasp Betty made during a really serious
crying session. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath to collect himself.
“Holy shit.” He opened his eyes. “That’s ‘not necessarily’?” Jughead’s forehead
wrinkled at the forcefulness of his eyebrows’ rise. “I can’t imagine what total
conviction would feel like.”
Betty smiled. She pulled her hips away enough to move her hand down the front
of Jughead’s boxers, brushing the top of his erection with her fingertips.
Jughead’s fingers dug into the back of her knee and he bit his lower lip.
“Pull my hair right now and you’ll own me forever,” he murmured.
Betty extricated her hand and smoothed it up the back of Jughead’s shirt,
rubbing her fingers up his neck, then letting him feel her nails as she pushed
slowly into his hair. Her careful movements had Jughead shivering against her,
until Betty suddenly collapsed her hand into a fist, tugging sharply at
Jughead’s hair.
He slammed his hips against Betty’s then pressed his body fully to hers,
pushing her onto her back. His hand was running up and down her bare thigh as
he made love to her over her clothes, Betty’s core welcoming his bumping
erection by soaking the crotch of her pajama bottoms.
Betty groaned and pressed her torso up against him, getting up on her elbows to
bring their chests together. More, more, her brain stuttered. Betty caught the
hem of Jughead’s t-shirt and drew it up, making Jughead tuck his chin so she
could yank it over his head. He shook it down his arms and let it fall over the
side of the bed.
Betty’s hands were on his skin, stroking over his muscles, when Jughead dropped
down to kiss her, the muscles shaping his kiss impressing her as much as the
ones on his chest. Betty threw her arms around Jughead’s back, holding him to
her, winding her foot backwards through his legs so that her thigh was more
securely hooked over his hip. The seam of her shorts was pinned between her
body and Jughead’s nudging erection, rubbing relentlessly over Betty’s clit
whenever he moved. Betty began working her hips against his and Jughead’s
movements grew sharper.
Betty had to turn her face to the side, crying out as Jughead’s dick patted her
clit, then her shorts dragged over it. It was a deadlier duo than the classic
one-two punch.
Betty breathed unevenly, falling out of herself in Jughead’s inescapable
presence; he felt, smelt, and tasted like her own personal hot, moody Lonely
Boy. Jughead’s mouth had moved down to her neck, his fingers starting to
discover the warm skin of Betty’s bare stomach, when she orgasmed, jerking
against him with an “Uhh, Juggy.”
===============================================================================
 A red blush bled up Betty’s face as she shook beneath him. Watching her
expression, Jughead almost came too, his dick nestled in the warm, wet paradise
between her thighs. Sheer surprise held him back. Betty’s eyes opened and she
turned to look up at him, her irises green like spring in the middle of all
this winter. Her lips parted and Jughead pressed them desperately with his own.
Her body felt overheated against his, so Jughead sat up, kneeling between
Betty’s knees so that the blankets were lifted away from her. Uncovered, Betty
twitched and Jughead’s cock tried to pull towards her as he watched the change
in temperature raise her nipples under her pale blue pajama top.
Betty wrapped her arms around her ribcage.
“Are you trying to give me hypothermia?”
Jughead snorted. “Are you kidding? You’re like a million degrees. Lucky you
don’t read more or else it’d be Fahrenheit 451 in here.”
Betty flicked the back of her hand against Jughead’s chest, her action floppy
and imprecise.
“I read.”
“I know.” Jughead smiled. “But it’s hard to keep your nose stuck in an Oxford
Shakespeare when you can watch gorgeous, young, ultra-blonde Leonardo DiCaprio
in the movie version instead.”
Betty rolled her eyes. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a crush on Leo.”
“Oh, that comment was totally self-directed.”
Betty laughed, taking Jughead’s hand in hers.
“Except for the ‘gorgeous, young, ultra-blonde’ part. That was about you.”
“Jughead Jones,” Betty smirked, “are you flirting with me?”
Jughead bit his lip, smiling.
“I’m not super experienced with the whole boyfriend thing, but it seems like a
good idea to let a girl know you’re definitely interested before you start
taking her clothes off.”
Betty raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Come here.” Jughead eased Betty up to a sitting position, then let go of
her hand. He felt her trembling exhale on his chest. Her eyes were trained
there as well until she suddenly lifted them to his face. Holding his gaze,
Betty raised her arms straight up.
Jughead leaned in to her, angling his face to kiss Betty deeply while his hands
went to her hips. He found the hem of Betty’s shirt, sliding it up until he
could hold her in his arms and feel bare skin all the way around. The heat of
their activities and her subsequence climax had made Betty sweat, and her back
felt tacky like a licked stamp. Jughead removed his mouth from hers and pressed
it into the concave where her neck met her shoulder, breathing deeply.
Betty drew her legs carefully back through his and scrambled up onto her knees,
lowering her arms and holding his shoulder for balance as she pressed their
torsos together. Jughead’s dick strained when Betty’s breasts compressed
against him under her shirt. He leaned back slightly and lowered his eyes as he
lifted her top over her chest, head, and swished it up her arms when she raised
them again. He absently tossed it to be relocated to some part of Betty’s
floor.
Betty’s hands went to his shoulders, then his biceps, then across to his chest.
Jughead smiled at the look of her tangled pillow hair―sex hair, by any other
name―and released a concentrated breath as though he were about to jump off a
cliff or receive an injection. He pressed his palms to her ribs, feeling their
curve as Betty breathed heavily under his hands. Slowly, Jughead ran them up
her body to push her breasts up and Betty inhaled roughly like she might
sneeze. Gently, she took his hands in hers and repositioned them to cover her
breasts.
Jughead squeezed, breathing hard, and Betty sat back, looking up at him. He
stroked along the outer curve of her breasts, making Betty sigh. She lowered
herself onto her back and Jughead let his palms run fully over her chest. When
the heels of his hands bumped over her nipples, Betty’s chest heaved up against
him.
Jughead placed his hands on the backs of her knees, smoothing her legs out on
either side of him so that he could bend over her, licking the nipples that
were as pinkly alive as Betty’s now moaning mouth. The bed shook beneath him
when Betty was overcome and channeled her energy by beating at the mattress
frantically with her heels for several seconds.
While he busied his teeth and tongue, Jughead pressed his hands to his
girlfriend’s warm sides, letting his palms ride the gentle curve of her waist
like a rollercoaster. He tucked his hands under her back to touch the scored
dip of her spine, dragging a finger along it until he encountered her lower
back. Betty was grasping him tightly, but allowed Jughead to move away when his
fingers plucked sensuously at the band of her shorts.
===============================================================================
 Betty exhaled, catching her breath, as she watched Jughead shift back and his
black, wavy hair swoop over his forehead. She could feel his fingers wriggling
to get under the material at her hips and wanted to both stop him immediately
and make him go much, much faster. Betty blinked hard, staring down the length
of Jughead’s body, sepia-warm in the low light of her lamp. She wished that she
could draw, or at least draw the world with words in the artistic way that
Jughead could, rather than her no-nonsense Hemingwayesque style where every
word, every clause had a purpose. Jughead looked good with no purpose at all,
or at least needing no purpose. Right now the wonders of his physique―through
visual appreciation alone―were serving the purpose of working Betty back up.
Fast.
His gaze was serious, trained on her abdomen as he started to pull her shorts
down over her hips. Betty panicked.
“Juggy, wait!”
Jughead’s eyes locked on hers instantly.
“What is it? Did you hear your parents coming home?”
“No.” Betty laughed. Compared to that, the nerves she felt at the idea of
Jughead seeing her entire naked body seemed pretty manageable. “I just… would
you mind if we turned the light off?” She darted a look sideways at her bedside
table.
Jughead’s wide mouth turned down slightly. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you
want.”
Betty felt conflicted. She knew this was a big night for him too. She reached
over and felt around on the table.
“I have this though.” Betty let her voice lift like a question as she held up a
glass jar containing a sturdy, dark candle.
Jughead leaned towards her hand, squinting at the label. “Licorice?”
“Are you making fun of my choice in scented candles?”
Jughead laughed. “No, it’s just not what I would have pegged you for.”
Betty let the jar click back down sharply on the table. “Oh? And what was it
you were expecting?”
Jughead stroked his chin. “Either something that pairs well with a pink candle,
like bubble gum or roses―”
Betty narrowed her eyes at him.
“What are you giving me that look for? Don’t pretend it wouldn’t go with
everything else in your room.” He gestured around and Betty shrugged in
acquiescence.
“Or, something that smelt really fastidious.”
“Fastidious? Gee, Juggy, that’s a great scent name. Maybe you can sell that
idea to Calvin Klein.”
Jughead flicked Betty’s knee and she flicked him back in the stomach.
“I mean it would be a really sharp clean smell. Minty or citrusy.” He looked at
her seriously. “I would think a scent that’s focused and powerful might
actually be the most calming for you because you yourself are calmed by feeling
in control.”
Betty felt transparent and couldn’t remember why her arm was stretched out.
“Instead you go for licorice, which is kind of sexy.” Jughead raised an eyebrow
at her. “You’re not going Dark Betty on me, are you?” The corner of his mouth
twitched up.
“How―” Betty was laughing, flailing her arms at Jughead in wild attempt to tip
him over. “―dare you!”
Jughead was laughing too, until he managed to secure her wrists on either side
of her head, his torso held inches above her own. Betty maneuvered her legs out
from under him and bent her knees up, spreading her hips wide so that Jughead
settled between them. She felt the prod of his erection.
Jughead’s chest brushed against hers as he exhaled in a pant. He held her eyes
for a second, then flung himself off of her, leaning over the side of the bed.
He came back up holding a lighter and this time leaned forward, covering
Betty’s body with his as he lit the candle on her table. Her lamp went out and
she heard the lighter clatter onto the wooden surface, then Jughead’s face
appeared, side-lit, above her.
His look was so intense, it would have scared Betty if it had been on anyone
else’s face. Betty knew it meant that Jughead was completely engaged, locked
onto her unwaveringly. As close as they were, or were trying to be, he’d never
looked at her quite like this. If he were a hunter and she were a rabbit, she
couldn’t have run.
In the quivering light, Jughead’s hair was like smoke. Dark, moving, with
undefined edges. Betty brought her hand to the side of Jughead’s face, rubbing
his cheek and pushing back his hair. Jughead’s eyes still held hers as he
pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. She smiled conspiratorially.
“Ok.”
He wasn’t looking away yet, so Betty nodded eagerly. Jughead’s palm landed
lightly on her chest. Betty’s heart tried to jump up to touch it, unaware of
the skin and bone and blood that kept it safely confined like an exotic fish in
an aquarium. Her heart wanted to be his. Betty, who had the benefit of a brain,
knew that it already was.
Jughead ran his palm down between her breasts and over her stomach. Even there,
Betty could feel the pound of her heart. He grasped the sides of her shorts and
Betty pressed her shoulders in the mattress, lifting her hips so Jughead could
get her pajamas off. She watched her shorts go up her thighs to her knees, then
over the top and down her shins like a mountainside gondola. Jughead held her
feet in his hands as he raised them to free her clothing.
The sound of her pajamas rumpling on the floor was sweet, like the scents of
candles that she didn’t own. The way Jughead’s hot stare dove between her legs
was sexy, like the candle she did.
Betty breathed that scent in until she was dizzy. Despite her self-administered
anesthetic, when Jughead’s tongue roughed over her clit, the sensation hit her
un-numbed. Betty’s back arched, even her hips leaving the bed ever so slightly.
Jughead grabbed her, continuing steadfastly with a lick to her entrance while
his fine, straight nose dragged against her clit. Betty thought of how much she
loved that nose, until Jughead’s tongue slipped inside her, tickling her front
wall, then Betty loved bedsheets. The muscles in Betty’s hands were nearly
driven to cramp by how suddenly and tightly she gripped the sheet on either
side of her.
Jughead’s tongue teased her clit to an almost unbearable tingle and Betty
closed her eyes. She tossed her head to one side, the feeling starting to
overwhelm her. The world was a flammable red-orange as candlelight soaked
through Betty’s eyelids.
Jughead’s face moved away after a last lingering lick and Betty opened her eyes
blurrily to see her boyfriend up on his knees, shifting his boxers down his
hips. Betty’s chest rose and fell with want as Jughead revealed himself; his
body was full of long, straight lines, apart from the sharp inward slices from
his hips to his groin.
Jughead negotiated his boxers down his legs, banishing them over the side of
Betty’s bed, then his hand was on her thigh. The muscles between Betty’s legs
tensed and pulsed as she let Jughead guide her legs flat onto the mattress. Her
right foot kicked out, possessed by the ghost of her last orgasm. Jughead
paused and Betty grabbed him by the wrist, speechlessly urging him forward.
He braced himself over her and Betty felt so much a part of his every action
that she found her hand sliding down his stomach and across his lower abdomen,
resting above and parallel to Jughead’s hand as he aligned his cock against her
opening.
Jughead pushed in slowly, Betty’s muscles at first going no, no, no before
switching to yes, yes, yes when his hips angled up and the head of his cock dug
into her g-spot. Betty half wished Jughead still had a shirt on so that she
could clasp some part of him. Her hands skittered up his chest, then around to
his back after Jughead laid into her with the first thrust that told her he
meant it.
Betty’s eyes were operating on the same wavelength as her hands, though
skipping around his face instead of his body. Jughead’s expression was the
complex progression of a sci-fi character seeing their first alien: awed
disbelief, brain-trying-to-overrule-eyes disbelief, worry, obsession, wanting
to tell everyone, wanting to tell no one to let the experience belong only to
them.
“How―” she paused to moan as Jughead rubbed against her with a slow drag,
“―does it feel?”
Jughead grasped Betty’s shoulder, pressing as far into her as he could before
letting his head hang down, his hair sweeping her forehead. Betty looked into
his eyes―nighttime teal.
“I’m in love with you,” he blurted. The edges of his mouth turned down. “That’s
not exactly what I meant to say.”
Betty bent her knee, twisting one leg around Jughead’s stilled hips.
“You’re supposed to be the artist with words.” Her gaze shifted quickly from
his eyes to his mouth and back. She licked her lower lip.
“I owe so much of my brilliance to control Z.”
Betty rolled her hips, scratching her clit against him and trying to force his
cock to strike her g-spot.
“So you want to take it back?”
Jughead groaned as Betty made a second, more aggressive attempt at getting him
to hit her right where she wanted it.
“Course not. It feels… it feels…” Jughead angled himself up on his elbows,
speeding up his thrusts since it seemed Betty would just carry on without him
if he didn’t.
Betty pressed her palm to the side of his face.
“Tell me later, Juggy.”
He just nodded, lowering his mouth to hers. His tongue pushed thickly into
Betty’s mouth and she wouldn’t have been ready for it if Jughead hadn’t driven
sharply into her at the same moment, opening her mouth in a gasp.
Jughead started working hard and fast. Betty unhooked her leg, letting her
thighs fall open loosely on either side of his shuttling body. She was rewarded
for allowing her legs to lay limp; Jughead wasn’t fighting her grasping or
offbeat reactions, able to plunge in and out with unchecked power. Betty
abandoned the idea of not grabbing onto him and scraped her nails up Jughead’s
back to his trembling, electrified approval.
Soon, Jughead’s thrusts became wild and brutal as he went in for the kill,
trying to force Betty over the edge. He clamped one hand onto her hip and
groped at her chest with the other, pinching and rubbing her nipple. Betty
shook, struggling to slide her sweaty back along the sheet that was attempting
to stick to her while she tried to put herself in the way of every bit of
pleasure Jughead’s efforts were offering her.
Betty’s hand clapped down on the back of Jughead’s damp neck and she jerked her
hips against his. Her mouth opened, moaning as her clit connected with him,
feeling like it―and she―had been turned totally inside out. Jughead broke
stride, delivering short flicking thrusts that bumped her g-spot relentlessly
until Betty couldn’t hang on anymore.
With a wail that sounded Amazonian in her ears, Betty came, throttling
Jughead’s cock to hold it deep in her channel. Denied another thrust, Jughead
finished anyway, huffing out “Betty!” He moved slickly in and out when her
muscles started to relax, shooting easily through her generous wetness, before
stilling.
Jughead collapsed playfully on top of her. Betty laughed, lifting her head to
rest her forehead against his shoulder.
“Help,” he mumbled into her hair.
“I can’t,” she started giggling hysterically, “I’m too weak.”
Jughead nuzzled his nose against her ear then kissed rapidly up and down the
side of Betty’s face. She turned to him, trapped his chin between her index
finger and thumb, and gave Jughead a deep, slow kiss. He moaned into her mouth.
Betty pulled back, smirking.
“So, Juggy.”
Jughead opened his eyes to focus on her face.
“How does it feel?”
Jughead’s pet expression of dark, concentrated broodiness moved in on his
features. Without raising his body off of hers, he bucked his hips forward and
back. Betty groaned.
“I might have to―”
“Again,” she cut in.
His eyebrows raised.
“If this is the influence of the licorice candle, then―”
Betty’s mouth slammed into his. She brought her knees up, holding Jughead’s
hips in a vice as she started to roll him onto his back. Jughead drew back from
the kiss, panting.
“Wait.”
Betty stilled.
“It feels like I’m nevermoving away from you. Not to Toledo, not to anywhere,
unless you’re coming with me.”
Betty nodded, quickly and emphatically, the space between her eyebrows pinching
as she resisted the sob that rose up in her.
Jughead ran his hand along her collarbone.
“Is that what you were going to say too?”
Betty exhaled carefully.
“No, I was going to say it felt like I imagine winning my first Pulitzer is
going to feel.”
Jughead grinned.
“And that is why I’m hitching my star to yours, honey.”
He leaned over and blew out the candle.
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