Work Text:
On a late-summer Saturday night, the air is thick with smoke and sweat, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the walls. Drunken teenagers stumble over themselves, lost in the music, and in each other. In the corner of the room, Fezco leans against the wall, calmly smoking a blunt.
This wasn't his scene—at all. He was here for business, not pleasure. People came to him, so he showed up, stayed long enough to make his sales, and left.
Usually, he found a quiet spot—whether it was a corner like this or an unoccupied couch—and waited. He never stayed longer than he had to. These days, there were only a few places he'd rather be, and none of them were here. If Fezco had a choice, he'd be at home, stretched out on the couch, watching a movie with his best friend. His favorite person.
It still caught him off guard sometimes—the way his life had changed, how easily she slipped into it. For the longest time, Fez believed peace only existed in fleeting moments, buried somewhere between the drags of a blunt. But then, on New Year's, she sat next to him.
Lexi Howard.
The girl he had only admired from a distance, the one who always seemed just out of reach, had settled beside him that night, smelling soft and floral, offering him a nervous smile. It wasn't their first conversation, but something about that moment was different. She stayed with him, talking about anything and everything, and Fezco just listened. And for the first time in a long time, something felt real.
Before she left, he asked for her number. When he got home, his mind refused to let go of her. He wondered if she'd text him. If he should text her.
He didn't have to wonder for long.
Less than a week later, Lexi showed up at his store, returning the sweater he'd left at the party. She could've dropped it off and left, but she didn't. She stayed, filling the silence with words, and Fezco just listened. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he realized he didn't want her to leave.
That became their thing.
She started stopping by the store after school, settling into a routine neither of them questioned. Then, Fez started seeking her out, texting her first, offering to pick her up just to drive around and listen to her playlists. Some nights, he parked the car somewhere quiet so they could watch the sunset together. Eventually, she started coming over to his place, curling up on his couch for movie nights that stretched past midnight. More recently, she started staying over.
And Fezco? He got comfortable. Too comfortable.
The more time he spent with her, the worse it got. His self-control wore thin, cracking under the weight of his own thoughts.
When she dozed off against him during a movie, he wondered how she'd feel in his lap, how perfectly she would fit in his arms if he just held her. When she pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek before climbing out of his car, he imagined how it would feel if she kissed him somewhere else. How her lips would taste. What sounds she'd make if he tugged on them with his teeth.
When she hugged him, he wanted more—wanted to pull her closer, bury his face in the crook of her neck, breathe her in.
It was driving him crazy.
Some days, his desire for her made him feel like a madman, restless and aching. He wanted Lexi in ways he didn't think he was allowed to. He wanted to keep their relationship the way it was because losing her wasn't an option. But he hated when she talked about other guys, when she entertained the idea of liking someone else. The thought of someone else having her—touching her, hurting her—was enough to make him see red.
And yet, Fezco kept his distance.
Lexi never had to try for his attention. She always had it. He watched her without meaning to—the way she furrowed her brows when she got lost in a book, the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, the way she looked at him when he spoke. Her laugh, her smile, the way she leaned into him when she was tired. He took whatever she gave him because he was afraid it was all he'd ever get.
Fezco knew he wasn't good enough for her.
He didn't want to drag her into his world, didn't want to ruin her the way he ruined everything else. Lexi deserved better. But the selfish part of him—the part that burned for her, that ached when she wasn't around—wanted to keep her anyway.
So he stayed quiet.
He let himself be happy with the little things—the hand-holding, the lingering touches, the stolen moments. And maybe that was enough. Maybe it had to be.
_______
Tonight, business is good.
Fezco steps outside for a break, the party inside growing louder by the minute. The air is thick with heat, smoke, and the distant hum of bass vibrating through the walls. His first blunt is already gone, the second burning slowly between his fingers. A red plastic cup rests in his other hand, half-filled with Hennessy. He's not much of a drinker, but he's in a good mood tonight. A little Henny gives him the kind of buzz that smooths out the edges without dragging him too deep.
He lifts the cup to his lips, but before he can take another sip, the sharp sound of a car door slamming cuts through the noise. His eyes flick toward the source, and the sight nearly knocks the breath out of him.
Lexi steps out of what looks like Cassie's car, her head down as she rummages through a bag in her hands. She hasn't noticed him yet, but Fezco can't tear his eyes away.
The dress she's wearing is red—his favorite color.
It clings to her body in ways that make his hands twitch, his fingers curling around the fragile plastic of his cup. He's never seen her in something like this before, and now that he has, he doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to forget it. The dress highlights every curve he's never let himself think about for too long, and the heels she's wearing make her legs look even longer, even better than they already do.
Fuck.
He can't be looking at her like this.
But he is.
And it's messing with his head in ways he's not ready to deal with.
—————
Lexi doesn't even want to be here tonight. Cassie and Maddy dragged her out, ignoring her protests about wanting to stay home. If it were up to her, she'd be curled up in bed, her favorite pajamas on, waiting for a text from her favorite person.
Fezco.
It all started on New Year's. She had made up her mind that night, deciding she was finally going to talk to him. The conversation went better than she ever could've hoped. Even when she started rambling—listing random facts, talking too fast—he never seemed bored, never looked for an escape like most people did. He just listened, really listened, like she was saying something worth hearing. It made her feel seen in a way she wasn't used to. And she wanted to feel that again.
She got lucky when he accidentally left his sweater at the party. It gave her an excuse to see him again.
After that, everything fell into place so easily. She started texting him all the time, calling him, showing up at his store after school, spending hours just talking to him. And Fez never pushed her away. Never made her feel like she was annoying or too much.
She liked him. More than she should.
And it only got worse.
Because Fezco was beautiful. Too beautiful. Every time she saw him, she got nervous, fumbling for words, her heart stuttering in her chest. And the more time she spent with him, the more those innocent little feelings branched into something deeper.
Something she shouldn't want.
But she did.
Some nights, alone in the darkness of her room, she let herself think about it. About him. About what it would feel like if he touched her the way she wanted him to. She imagined his lips trailing over her skin, his hands gripping her in places she ached to be held. She imagined his fingers buried deep inside her, his body pressed against hers, holding her down, keeping her close.
But as much as she craved it, she knew it was nothing more than a fantasy.
Because Fezco probably didn't see her that way.
Maybe she wasn't pretty enough. Maybe she talked too much. Maybe she was just his sweet, bookish friend who hung around because he didn't have the heart to tell her to leave. She tried not to think about it too much—it hurt too much. So instead, she let herself settle for the small things.
For the way he let her hold his hand sometimes. For the way she could tuck herself into his side, lay her head on his shoulder when she was tired. It wasn't everything she wanted, but it was something.
And maybe that was all she'd ever get.
——————
"Lexi! Would you stop zoning out. Did you not put the lip gloss in your bag?" Cassie asks, irritation creeping into her voice as they start getting out the car.
Lexi frowns, fingers digging through her purse. She swears she put it in there, but for some reason, she can't seem to find it.
"Just forget it," Cassie huffs, clearly impatient as they reach the front steps.
Lexi doesn't, though. She keeps looking, determined to find it.
"Oh my God, this is my song!" Maddy suddenly shrieks, grabbing both Cassie and Lexi's arms and pulling them toward the inside of the house.
Halfway through the door, Lexi stumbles slightly, trying to steady herself in the heels she can barely walk in. But when she glances up, her heart nearly stops.
Her eyes lock onto someone she half-expected to see.
Fezco.
—————-
Fez didn't miss the look of surprise that flickered across Lexi's face when she finally noticed him standing there. He told her he was working tonight, but he never mentioned where. And judging by her expression, she hadn't expected to spend her Saturday night at a party.
He had been watching her since she stepped out of the car, his gaze trailing every move she made. But she had been too focused on her bag to see him.
Not that he minded.
He really didn't want her to see him standing just a few feet away, watching her.
His blunt is burning between his fingers, the cup of Hennessy hovering near his lips, but he's frozen in place. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes are different.
Dark. Intense.
Fez takes the deepest breath he can muster before downing the rest of his drink. The warmth of the Hennessy spreads through his chest, but it does nothing to settle the way his stomach tightened when he was watching her in that dress.
With one last deep breath, he turns and disappears back into the crowd of the party.
———————
Back inside, Fezco refills his cup with more Hennessy before settling onto the couch. The party keeps moving around him, voices blending into the bass-heavy music, but Fez is barely paying attention.
Because this time, Lexi just so happens to be in his view.
And he can't stop watching her.
He's barely seen her all week. Between handling business and looking after Ashtray, his days have been packed, leaving little time for their usual hangouts. He hadn't even realized how much he missed her until now—until she walked into this party looking like that.
Seeing her and not being able to go up to her is driving him crazy.
So, he pulls out his phone, tapping out a simple message. Nothing too much. Nothing that gives him away.
"I like your dress."
It's innocent enough, but Lord knows it's not the only thing he wants to say.
Fez watches closely as Lexi checks her phone, her lips twitching into a small smile as she types back. His phone vibrates seconds later.
"Thank you, it was Cassie's idea."
A few seconds later his phone vibrates again.
"You look really handsome."
His stomach tightens, heat creeping up his neck. He takes a slow sip from his red cup, letting the warmth of the liquor mix with the warmth already spreading inside him.
"Wait... are you drinking?"
He huffs a short laugh. Of course, Lexi would notice.
"Just a little."
A few seconds pass before she responds.
"You don't even drink like that. What's the occasion?"
Fez shifts on the couch, his gaze flickering back to her across the room. You. That's what he wants to say, but he can't. He won't. So, he settles on:
"Just felt like it."
Lexi doesn't answer right away, but he can tell she's watching him now, sneaking quick glances in his direction. Fez looks back at her, his grip tightening around his cup.
The buzz from the Hennessy lingers, making him a little looser, a little weaker than usual. He's hit his goal for the night, but he's not leaving—not yet.
Not when she's right here.
So, he gives in.
"Meet me out back, on the side of the house."
He doesn't wait for a response. Instead, he gets up, bringing his drink with him as he makes his way through the crowd.
————
Lexi felt the vibration in her hand before she even realized she was gripping her phone too tightly. She glanced down at the screen, and the moment Fezco's name appeared, her heart tripped over itself.
"I like your dress."
She exhaled slowly, but it didn't help much. The text was simple, barely even flirtatious, but coming from him? It sent a jolt through her body, settling deep in her stomach.
Because Fezco never said more than necessary. And the words he did say always carried weight.
She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. "You look really handsome." She almost didn't send it, but then she thought about him looking at her in this dress and finally pressed send.
Then, curiosity got the best of her.
Lexi lifted her gaze across the room, finding Fez exactly where she expected—sitting on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He looked completely at ease, like the chaos of the party didn't touch him. Like nothing did. But she knew better.
Because even from a distance, she could feel it—that thick, charged energy he carried. The weight of his attention.
Her eyes flickered over him, and suddenly, the room felt too warm. The white t-shirt he wore stretched across his arms and chest in a way that made her hands twitch. The gold chain around his neck glinted under the party lights, drawing her eyes lower—to the faint hint of ink peeking out from his collar, to the way his black jeans sat just right on his hips. Then, there were the fresh white Air Forces, always spotless.
God. He looked so good.
Lexi bit the inside of her cheek, a habit she'd picked up whenever she wanted to stop herself from thinking too much about Fezco—about how easy it would be to cross that line.
Because that's all it would take. One step. One moment of weakness.
And she wanted that moment.
Some nights, it kept her up—how much she wanted to know what it felt like to be pressed up against him, to have his arms wrapped around her waist instead of resting on the back of some worn-out couch. She wanted to know what his chain would feel like against her lips, how his voice would sound whispering things he didn't hold back.
But Fez had boundaries—ones she wasn't sure she was allowed to cross.
Yanking herself back into the present, she quickly typed a text.
"Wait... are you drinking?"
She peeked at the cup in his hand again. Fezco wasn't much of a drinker. Sure, he'd sip something on occasion, but it was rare.
When he replied, "Just a little,"
Lexi arched an eyebrow.
"You don't even drink like that. What's the occasion?"
It took him longer to answer this time. And when he did, it wasn't much.
"Just felt like it."
Lexi didn't believe him, but she let it slide.
Instead, she stared at her phone, debating whether she should just go talk to him. It wasn't like she hadn't done it before, but something about tonight felt different.
Before she could make a decision, another message appeared.
"Meet me out back, on the side of the house."
Lexi sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the phone.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she glanced up at Fez, but he was already on his feet, slipping through the crowd with ease.
Lexi took another breath, smoothing her hands down the sides of her dress before she turned toward the back door.
And then, a few minutes later, she followed him.
——————
Outside, the cool air settles over Fezco, grounding him as he leans against the side of the house, his red cup dangling loosely from his fingers. The buzz from the Hennessy lingers, warm in his chest, mixing with the high that's still sitting behind his eyes. But none of it—none of it—compares to the feeling that takes over when he hears footsteps approaching.
Soft footsteps.
He lifts his head just in time to see Lexi turning the corner.
And Fezco—who never smiles much at these parties—can't fight the grin that tugs at his lips the second he sees her.
She hesitates for a second before stepping closer, her arms wrapped around herself like she's cold—or maybe like she's trying to hold herself together. Fez knows the feeling. Because as much as he's trying to play it cool, the way she looks at him has his chest feeling tight, his fingers itching for something—someone—he can't have.
"You never drink," Lexi says, tilting her head, her voice laced with surprise.
Fez lets out a quiet chuckle, rolling his cup between his fingers. "Yeah, well... felt like switchin' it up tonight."
Lexi's eyes flicker to the cup in his hand, then back up to his face, like she's trying to figure him out. He watches her watch him, his grip tightening just slightly.
"So, what's the verdict?" she asks.
Fez raises a brow.
"On the liquor in your cup," she clarifies.
He smirks. "Shit's strong, but it's alright."
Lexi hums like she's thinking about it, then, almost too casually, she says, "Kinda like you."
Fez stills, his smirk faltering just slightly.
His stomach tightens, the space between them suddenly feeling smaller. It's probably the Hennessy—or maybe it's just her—but his mind goes places it shouldn't, places he tries his best to keep locked up.
"Yeah?" he says, his voice lower now, rougher.
Lexi nods, her gaze dropping for a second before flicking back up to his. "Yeah."
Fez runs a hand over his buzzed head, exhaling through his nose before stepping away from the wall. His body moves before he can think twice about it, closing some of the space between them.
"You ain't cold?" he asks, eyeing the way she's hugging herself.
Fez watches the way Lexi tugs at her arms, rubbing them like she's trying to chase away the chill. The dress she's wearing doesn't do much against the cold, and for a second, he almost curses himself for not bringing a hoodie—like he usually does.
"A little," she admits, but she's looking at him like she's not even thinking about the cold.
"C'mere," he says, voice low, rough around the edges.
Lexi hesitates, eyes flickering up to his. "What?"
He tips his chin toward her, expression unreadable. "You're cold, right?"
She doesn't answer at first. Maybe because she knows where this is headed, knows that getting too close to him is a bad idea. But Fez? He's already made peace with that.
After a beat, she steps forward, slow, cautious. Fez sits his drink on the ground, then reaches out, his hand grazing her arm before he pulls her in, letting the space between them disappear. His arms settle around her, steady but firm, and Lexi stills—just for a second—before melting into the warmth of him.
She fits too well against him, her body pressing into his chest, her arms lightly curling around his middle. Fez exhales through his nose, fighting the urge to hold her even tighter, to let his hands linger in places they shouldn't.
"This better?" he murmurs, his lips close enough to her ear that he sees the way she shivers.
Lexi nods against him, but she doesn't say anything. And honestly? Fez doesn't think he could either.
Because holding her like this? With her body flush against his, her scent curling around him, her hands barely gripping at his shirt like she's trying not to hold on too tight?
It's a fucking problem.
The distant sounds of the party fade, leaving only the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her against him, the way she feels so damn right in his arms. Fez lets his chin rest lightly atop her head, closing his eyes for a second, soaking her in.
He knows she's got a whole storm of thoughts running through her head.
Fuck. He wants to know all of them.
Lexi feels the change in Fez the second his arms tighten around her, his grip turning heavier, more deliberate. What started as an innocent attempt to warm her up shifts into something else—something neither of them acknowledges, but both of them feel.
Fez pulls her closer, his hands smoothing over the curve of her back before settling low, his fingers pressing into her just enough to make her breath hitch. It's not just warmth anymore. It's possession. It's Fez holding her like he wants to keep her there, like he doesn't want anyone else to look at her in that dress, like he doesn't want to go another night without touching her.
Lexi doesn't resist. She should, but she doesn't. Instead, she leans into him, lets herself sink into the weight of his hold, her fingers lightly gripping at his shirt. She wants to believe it's just her being cold making him act like this. That it's just the Hennessy making him looser, bolder.
But then he speaks, and she knows better.
"I ain't just call you out here 'cause of the drink, you know."
His voice is low, steady, but she can feel the slight rasp against her temple where his mouth nearly brushes her skin. It sends a slow shiver down her spine.
Lexi's breath catches. "No?"
Fez shakes his head. "Nah." His thumb moves absentmindedly against her side, grazing the fabric of her dress, before his grip tightens again. "I just wanted to see you."
Lexi swallows hard, fingers curling slightly against his chest. She tilts her head up, searching his face. "You see me all the time," she murmurs. It's not a challenge, not an argument—just quiet disbelief, a hesitant wonder.
Fez's lips twitch. "Not like this."
The words are a confession, raw and unfiltered, slipping out between them like they belong there.
Lexi's heart pounds against her ribs. She can feel his breathing, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands. She can feel the weight of his stare, the way he's really looking at her now, like he's seeing something he shouldn't but can't look away from.
And she's looking back—really looking.
Neither of them moves. Neither of them pulls away.
And neither of them wants to.
But Fez quickly makes the responsible decision to pull away.
It takes effort. More than it should.
His arms loosen, the warmth of her body slipping from his as he steps back, hands lingering for a second longer than necessary before finally letting go. The absence is immediate—his skin already misses the way she fit against him, the way she smelled like something soft and familiar.
Lexi shivers slightly, and Fez almost—almost—pulls her back in. But he can't. He won't.
"You should head back inside," he says instead, voice rougher than before. "It's warmer in there."
Lexi blinks up at him, still a little dazed, like she's not quite ready to leave either. But then she nods, shifting on her feet. "Yeah... you're probably right."
Fez shoves his hands into his pockets as he tilts his head toward the house. "Your friends are prolly lookin' for you, anyway."
Lexi hesitates, eyes flickering across his face, as if she can tell there's something he's not saying. But instead of questioning it, she just gives him a small, knowing smile. "And you have business to get back to."
Fez nods, playing along. "Yeah."
It's a lie. And maybe Lexi knows it—he sees it in the way she studies him for a beat longer before finally stepping back. But she doesn't call him out on it.
She turns to leave, but not before glancing back at him once more, like she's waiting for him to stop her.
He doesn't.
Instead, he watches her disappear around the corner, jaw clenching as he forces himself to stay put.
Because the truth is, there's no more business left for him tonight. He's already hit his goal. He should be heading home, getting some rest.
But he's not going anywhere.
Because Lexi's still here.
So, Fezco does what he does best—he stays in the background, making sure she's good, keeping an eye on her without her even knowing.
He picks his drink back up, then he slips back into the party, maneuvering through the crowd with ease before settling back onto the couch, sinking into his usual spot. He takes slow sips of his drink, letting the warmth settle but never pouring more. Instead, he lights another blunt, inhaling deeply, letting the high take the edge off.
And as much as he tries to focus on anything else, his eyes find her.
Every time.
Across the room, Lexi's with Cassie and Maddy, laughing at something, her face lit up in a way that makes Fez feel something deep in his chest. He watches as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
He should stop looking.
But he can't.
And for the next hour and a half, Fezco stays exactly where he is—drinking slow, smoking steady, and keeping Lexi in his sights.
——————-
Lexi shifted from foot to foot, nodding absently as Maddy rambled on about some guy she was toying with, but the words barely registered. Her drink sat untouched in her hand, the music thumping in the background, bodies pressing in all around her.
None of it mattered.
Because all she could feel was him.
His presence. His stare. That quiet, unrelenting pull that had been driving her insane all night.
She hadn't even glanced his way in over an hour—she couldn't. But it didn't matter. She still felt him watching. Felt the weight of his gaze on her skin, burning through the space between them. And the worst part?
She wanted him to look.
The need to be near him was clawing at her, making her restless, making her reckless. And she couldn't take it anymore.
"Bathroom," she blurted, barely giving Maddy a second to react before she turned on her heel, pushing through the sea of people.
She didn't stop to check if anyone noticed her leave. She didn't care.
Across the room, Fez's jaw ticked the second she moved.
That dress. That damn dress.
He'd been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, nursing the same drink, high mellowing into something hazy but sharp whenever he looked at her. And he always looked at her.
At first, he'd told himself it was fine. He could handle it. Just sit back, watch from a distance, let her enjoy herself.
But she wasn't enjoying herself.
He could tell. Could see it in the way she barely reacted to anything her friends said, the way her eyes kept flickering around the room like she wasn't really there.
Like she wanted to be somewhere else.
He let his head fall back against the couch for a second, inhaling deep, trying to get a grip.
He had two choices—stay put and pretend like he wasn't going crazy or get the fuck up, check on Lexi and get his own fix of having her attention again tonight.
By the time he realized he'd already made his decision, he was on his feet, moving through the crowd like it wasn't even there.
Lexi disappeared down the hallway, and Fez followed, each step slow, deliberate, every nerve in his body locked onto her.
She slipped into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open behind her.
She hadn't locked it.
Fez exhaled through his nose, jaw clenching as he came to a stop outside. He should turn around, should leave her be.
But he didn't.
Instead, he reached for the door.
Lexi stood in front of the mirror, palms pressed to the sink, chest rising and falling in short, uneven breaths.
Fez's grip tightened at his sides as he took in the sight in front of him.
Lexi, flushed and tense, gripping the sink like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
Something twisted in his chest.
He hadn't thought twice before following her back here. He'd watched her slip away from the party, that far-off look in her eyes, and he hadn't thought, Maybe she needs space.
No.
His feet had moved before his brain could catch up. And now, standing in the doorway, seeing her like this? He was glad he had.
Because she didn't look okay.
"Lex," he said, his voice low but firm.
She flinched, spinning around, eyes wide like she'd just been caught doing something she shouldn't.
Fez's frown deepened. "You good?"
She hesitated—too long. Fez stepped closer, closing the door behind him, barely realizing he was doing it.
"You feel sick?" His voice dropped softer, gentler, but his eyes stayed locked on hers, watching for any sign of what was wrong.
Lexi opened her mouth, then shut it.
Fez's stomach tightened. He'd never seen her like this before. Flushed, breathing all uneven, looking like she's trying not to fall apart.
His concern deepened.
Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over her forehead, checking for warmth.
Lexi sucked in a sharp breath, freezing under his touch.
Fez felt it—the way her body tensed, the way her breath hitched.
His hand dropped.
"You don't feel warm," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "But you look like you need to get the fuck outta here."
Lexi swallowed hard, her brain still scrambling to catch up. He was so close. Too close. Her body still burned from where his fingers had barely touched her skin.
Lexi felt like she was burning up.
Too warm. Too tight in her own skin.
And she knew exactly why.
It was him.
The way he looked at her. The way his presence swallowed up every room, like nothing else existed when he was near.
And how the hell did he even know she was in here?
"How'd you—" Her voice was too tight, so she swallowed again, trying to sound normal. "How'd you know I was in here?"
Fez shifted slightly, running a hand over his head. He couldn't exactly tell her the truth—that he'd been watching her all night like some lovesick fool, that the second she disappeared, he felt like he was losing his mind.
So, instead, he shrugged, playing it off. "Just came to tell you I was leavin'."
Lexi blinked, her head tilting slightly. "Oh."
He studied her for a second, then exhaled through his nose. "You wanna come with me?"
Lexi's heart tripped.
"What?"
Fez jerked his chin toward the door. "You can stay at mine. If you don't wanna be alone."
Lexi knew she should think about it—should process what was happening, should consider what spending the night at his place now might mean.
But she didn't.
Because this was Fez.
And deep down, she always wanted to be with him.
She nodded. "Yeah. Okay."
Fez's shoulders relaxed, just a little.
"Aight," he said, then smirked faintly. "But I been drinking, so to be on the safe side, you gotta drive."
Lexi let out something between a breath and a laugh.
Fez nodded toward the door. "C'mon. Let's go."
She followed him out without another word.
—————
The car ride back to Fez's place was quiet. Not uncomfortable—just quiet.
The tension from the party still lingered between them, thick and unspoken, but the cool night air and the steady hum of the tires against the road dulled it slightly.
Fez slouched in the passenger seat, one hand resting lazily on his thigh, the other rubbing at his face. The Hennessy was still in his system—not enough to cloud him, but enough to make everything feel heavier, slower.
Lexi kept her eyes on the road, her hands gripping the wheel with careful precision. Every so often, she glanced over at him, her gaze flickering with something unreadable.
"You good?" she asked softly.
Fez hummed in response, his eyes half-lidded as he turned his head to look at her. Even in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, she looked good—too good. Her lips were slightly parted, her brows faintly furrowed in concentration.
She had no idea what she was doing to him.
Or maybe she did.
The drive ended without much more conversation, but the moment they stepped inside Fez's place, the silence between them shifted.
No party. No loud music. No distractions.
Just them.
Lexi kicked off her heels with a small sigh, flexing her toes against the floor. "I can't feel my feet."
Fez smirked, running a hand over his buzzed head. "I don't know how they convinced you to wear 'em."
"Yeah, I don't know either," she muttered. She expected him to head to his room like usual, maybe toss her a blanket for the couch like he had a hundred times before.
But instead, he hesitated.
His fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting with himself.
Then, his voice, rougher than usual, cut through the stillness. "I'm goin' take a shower."
Lexi nodded, watching as he kicked off his shoes near the door. "Yeah, you should."
Fez gave her a lazy smirk before disappearing down the hall.
Lexi exhaled deeply, tipping her head back for a moment before making her way to the his room that's down the hall from the bathroom. She dug through the drawer where she always kept some spare clothes—soft sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, familiar and comforting.
By the time she stepped back into the living room, Fez was already out of the shower, fresh sweatpants slung low on his hips, a plain white tank top clinging to his frame. His hair still damp, a towel lazily thrown over his shoulder.
Lexi swallowed hard.
He looked too good.
She ignored the way her stomach twisted, settling onto the couch just as he dropped down beside her.
The TV flickered in front of them, playing some random movie neither of them were paying attention to. The quiet between them was comfortable at first—Lexi resting her head on his shoulder, Fez relaxed beside her, his body warm and solid.
————
The couch felt different tonight.
Maybe it was because the party was still humming in their heads, or maybe it was because Fez wasn't keeping his usual careful distance. He let himself sink in, let his body relax in a way he hadn't all night. And Lexi? She noticed.
She always noticed.
Fez was close. Too close.
His thigh pressed against hers, his arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers lazily playing with a strand of her hair. It wasn't something he usually did—wasn't something he ever did, really. But tonight, he let himself. Let his fingers twist and smooth the soft strands between them, let his knuckles graze the side of her neck like he wasn't thinking about it.
Lexi wasn't sure what to do with it.
But she didn't pull away.
She should have said something, should have asked what he was doing, but she just sat there, letting the movie play in the background, pretending like she wasn't hyper-aware of every small touch.
And then, after a while, Fez started fidgeting.
His fingers flexed against his thigh, his jaw working like he was debating something.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"Lexi."
She hummed in response, eyes still on the screen, but she felt it—something shifting in the air between them.
Fez hesitated, then exhaled through his nose, like he'd just made a decision he couldn't take back.
"Can you hug me?"
Lexi blinked, sitting up slightly. "What?"
Fez stretched his arm out more, fingers grazing her shoulder. "C'mere," he said, his voice steady now. "Hug me."
Lexi hesitated—not because she didn't want to, but because Fez never asked for things like this.
He wasn't the type to say what he needed. He just let things happen, let her inch closer in the small ways she always did.
But now?
Now, he was asking.
And she wasn't about to say no.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she shifted, moving carefully over him, hesitating just for a second before straddling his lap. Fez exhaled slow, like he'd been holding his breath, his hands instinctively finding her waist, warm and solid.
Lexi melted into him, her arms slipping around his neck, her weight settling fully against him. Fez held her like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he needed this more than he wanted to admit.
For a while, it was comfortable. Easy.
Lexi traced light patterns against his shoulder, and Fez just breathed, his hands resting steady on her waist.
But then—his hand moved.
Slow. Hesitant.
Fingertips brushing beneath the hem of her sleep shirt, slipping against the warm skin of her lower back.
Lexi tensed, but she didn't stop him.
Didn't pull away.
Fez's touch was cautious, barely there, like he was testing a boundary he wasn't sure he should cross. His fingers traced up the curve of her spine, his palm pressing warm and firm against her bare skin.
Lexi shivered.
The tension that had dulled during the car ride came rushing back, thick and electric.
Fez felt it too.
His grip tightened, his other hand flexing against her hip, feeling the way her body pressed into his.
And when she didn't pull away—when she melted into him instead of recoiling—something inside Fez unraveled.
Slowly, he let himself sink into the warmth of her, his head dipping to her neck, his nose brushing against the soft skin there. He inhaled deeply, letting her scent flood his senses, his chest rising and falling against hers.
His hands, steady but reverent, started to move.
Fingertips tracing slow, deliberate lines up and down her back, pressing into the curves of her waist, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin barrier of her shirt. But it wasn't enough.
He needed more.
His hands slipped beneath the hem, sliding up her back, palms fully against her bare skin now, caressing, mapping her out with a touch that felt like worship.
Lexi let out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching slightly where they rested on his shoulders.
Fez squeezed his eyes shut, jaw clenching.
"You shouldn't let me touch you like this, Lex," he muttered against her skin, his voice thick with restraint.
Lexi's breath hitched.
"Why not?" she whispered.
Fez exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip flexing on her waist like he was holding himself back from something dangerous.
"'Cause I ain't tryna be good right now," he admitted, voice raw, honest.
Lexi shivered.
The feeling she had been trying to fight all night—the restless, aching need—was mutual.
She wasn't imagining it.
It wasn't just her.
Fez wanted her, wanted her the same way she wanted him.
The realization sent a rush of heat through her, made her heart pound so hard she was sure he could feel it.
Then Fez pulled back, just enough to search her face, his blue eyes flickering between hers, looking for something.
Permission.
Reassurance.
Something to tell him she felt it too, that she wanted this as much as he did.
Lexi swallowed hard, her hands sliding up from his shoulders, fingertips ghosting along the sides of his neck, her touch hesitant but intentional.
She held his gaze, let him see the truth written all over her face.
She wanted him.
The air between them grew heavier, the space too small, too charged.
Fez's thumb brushed against her ribs, barely there, but it sent a spark through her, made her breath stutter.
This was a line.
A thin, fragile line that they were both teetering on the edge of.
And for the first time, neither of them wanted to pull back.
Fez felt like he was standing at the edge of something dangerous, something he had no business wanting but couldn't stop himself from craving.
And then Lexi touched him.
Her fingers slid up his neck, featherlight but deliberate, sending a slow, burning heat down his spine. When she cupped his jaw, tilting his head up toward her, he knew—he fucking knew—there was no turning back.
Her touch was soft, but her grip was sure. She was making a choice. And Fez was drunk enough off her, off this, to let himself believe—for one fucking second—that maybe, just maybe, this was okay.
Lexi's gaze flickered between his eyes and his mouth, searching, reading every unspoken thought written on his face.
He swallowed thickly, his hands twitching where they rested against her bare back.
She saw it now.
The hunger in his eyes.
The tension he had been swallowing down all night.
And she wasn't running.
She was leaning in.
Fez mirrored the movement, inching closer, his breath mixing with hers, his nose brushing the tip of hers. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, could almost taste her already.
His lips hovered over hers, just about to close the gap—
But then Lexi pulled back.
Slight. Just enough to make him freeze, to make him chase the space she put between them.
Lexi was still on the high of Fez asking her for things he's never asked her for, she couldn't resist asking him this.
"Tell me you want it," she whispered.
Fez nearly lost it.
It wasn't just what she said—it was how she fucking said it.
Soft, teasing. Sweet, but laced with something dangerous. He's never seen Lexi like this.
But she already knew the answer.
Like she was just waiting for him to admit it.
Fez exhaled sharply through his nose, his hands gripping her tighter, grounding himself. His jaw clenched beneath her palm, his whole body wound tight, his restraint hanging by a thread.
His lips brushed against hers—barely—as he muttered low, raw, "I want it, Lexi. I want you."
Lexi's breath hitched.
And then, finally, she closed the gap.
The first brush of her lips was hesitant, testing—but Fez didn't let her stay unsure for long.
He kissed her back slow but deep, like he'd been waiting for this, like he'd been starving for it. And he had—he just never let himself have it.
But now?
Now, he wasn't holding back.
His hands slid further beneath her shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of her waist as he pulled her closer, swallowing the quiet gasp she let out against his lips.
Lexi clutched at his jaw, her other hand caressing the back of his head, pulling him in, pulling him deeper.
The kiss turned urgent, all the tension from the night spilling over, years of unsaid words and lingering stares finally boiling over into something real, something undeniable.
Fez was drowning in her.
The taste of her, the feel of her—everything he had ever denied himself was now right in his hands, pressing into him, wanting him just as much as he wanted her.
And he wanted her.
He kissed her like he was trying to memorize her, like he'd never get another chance. His hands roamed, no longer hesitant, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine, the dip of her waist, the soft expanse of bare skin beneath her sleep shirt.
Lexi melted into him, her own hands running over his buzz cut, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Fez groaned into her mouth, his grip tightening, pulling her closer—as if that were even possible.
His lips left hers only to find the warmth of her neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her skin, slow and lingering, breathing her in. She smelled like something sweet, something familiar, something his.
Lexi gasped softly, her fingers gripping the back of his head as his mouth traveled lower, just beneath her jaw, right where she was sensitive. Fez smirked against her skin when she shivered, when she let out the faintest whimper.
Fuck.
She sounded so good.
And then she moved.
It wasn't on purpose—not at first. Just a shift in his lap, an innocent press of her hips against him—except it wasn't innocent. Not with the way he was already feeling, not with the way every nerve in his body was locked onto her.
The friction sent a shockwave through him, pleasure and frustration mixing into something dangerous.
Fez gritted his teeth.
He was losing his grip. Fast.
"You tryna kill me, Lex?" His voice was hoarse, strained, barely hanging onto control.
Lexi froze, then smiled.
She knew that tone.
So, she tested him.
She moved again—this time intentionally. A slow, subtle grind of her hips, barely there, but enough.
Fez sucked in a sharp breath, his hands flexing against her hips.
"Lexi." His voice was low, a warning.
She ignored it.
Instead, she leaned down, her lips barely grazing his neck before whispering, "What if I am?"
Fez groaned, his fingers digging into her skin, his self-control hanging by a single fraying thread.
Lexi was so soft. So warm. And now? She was testing him?
She had no idea how much she was playing with fire.
Or maybe she did.
Fez clenched his jaw, tilting his head back against the couch, trying to fucking breathe. His hands skimmed up her sides, slipping beneath her shirt, feeling more of her, memorizing every inch of skin he could reach.
He could have her like this forever.
Could kiss her, touch her, worship her in every way he'd ever imagined.
But not like this.
Not when he'd had a few drinks. Not when he couldn't trust himself to take his time.
"Lexi," he muttered, running a hand down his face, trying to keep his voice steady. "I had a few drinks. I don't want our first time to be like this."
Lexi's teasing smirk faded, replaced with something softer. She searched his face, seeing the restraint in his eyes, the way he wanted her but refused to take her like this.
She could push.
She could kiss him again, roll her hips again, see just how much further he'd let her take this.
But she didn't.
Because this was Fez.
And she wasn't about to cross a line he wasn't ready for.
So, instead, she exhaled softly, her body relaxing against him as she rested her cheek near his collarbone.
Fez swallowed hard, exhaling slow, still trying to reel himself in.
Lexi's fingers traced lazy circles against the back of his neck, soothing him, grounding him.
And for now, this was enough.
Even if they both knew it wouldn't be for long.
———
The room settled into a quiet hum, the only sounds coming from the low murmur of the TV and the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Lexi stayed curled against Fez's chest, her body warm and soft, her weight resting on him like she belonged there. He let his chin rest lightly against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, letting the rise and fall of her breathing lull him into something calm.
For the first time all night, neither of them spoke.
There was nothing to say.
Not when this—just holding her—felt better than anything words could give them.
Fez could feel her heartbeat against his chest, slow and steady, matching his own. Every now and then, she'd shift slightly, getting more comfortable, but she never pulled away.
Neither did he.
Minutes passed, maybe longer.
Fez wasn't sure how much time had gone by until he felt Lexi's breathing change, becoming slower, deeper. He slightly pulled back and glanced at her face and sure enough, her lashes were fluttering shut, her body melting further into him as sleep started to take over.
Fez smirked softly to himself.
"You fallin' asleep on me, Lex?" he murmured, his voice rough but quiet.
Lexi hummed, barely lifting her head. "Mhm... comfy."
Fez huffed a small laugh, his fingers brushing lightly against the small of her back. "Yeah? Bet you'd be even more comfy in bed."
Lexi groaned softly in protest, burying her face further into his neck.
"No," she mumbled sleepily. "Don't wanna move."
Fez smiled, shaking his head. "You gotta, though. C'mon, let's go to bed."
Lexi sighed, but she didn't budge.
Fez started shifting beneath her, preparing to move her himself, but before he could, she wrapped her arms around his neck tighter, holding onto him like she refused to let go.
Fez stilled.
Then, with a grin in his voice, he asked, "You tryna keep me here forever, huh?"
Lexi nodded against him. "Mhm."
Fez exhaled through his nose, amused but endeared as hell.
"Aight," he relented, pressing a lazy kiss to the side of her head. "How 'bout this—you go to bed, and I promise I won't let you go. We can cuddle 'n' shit. That sound good?"
Lexi was quiet for a moment.
Then she pulled back just enough to look at him, her sleepy eyes searching his like she was making sure he meant it.
Fez lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before murmuring, "I got you, Lex. Just come to bed."
That was all she needed.
With a tired nod, Lexi finally, finally shifted off of him, stretching with a soft yawn as Fez stood, reaching for her hand.
She took it without hesitation.
And as they made their way to his room, fingers intertwined, neither of them had to say it—
Neither of them wanted to let go.
————
Hours later, Lexi woke up. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the gold street lights peering in from behind Fez's blinds, casting soft shadows against the walls. The quiet hum of the fan mixed with the low sound of Fez's breathing—slow, steady, deep.
Lexi lay draped over him, her body molded perfectly to his, her cheek pressed against the solid warmth of his chest.
But she was wide awake.
Her eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dimness, her heart already beating a little too fast for someone who'd just woken up.
Because the problem was how she woke up.
Warm. Restless. That deep, aching need curling low in her stomach, making her thighs press together, making her fingers twitch where they rested lightly on Fez's ribs.
She inhaled sharply, trying to will it away, but it only made things worse. Because now, she was hyperaware of everything.
The weight of Fez beneath her. His natural scent. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The way his body heat wrapped around her like a blanket, seeping into her skin, making her too warm.
And the way her own body was reacting to all of it—needy, aching, desperate for something she wasn't sure she could ask for.
Lexi bit her lip, her eyes flickering up to his face.
He was still asleep, his features relaxed, lips parted slightly, his arms loosely draped around her. He looked so peaceful, so unbothered—completely unaware of the war waging inside her.
She should go back to sleep.
She should.
For a good few minutes she seriously tried to go back to sleep.
But she couldn't.
Not when every brush of his breath against her forehead made her toes curl. Not when her mind kept conjuring up images of him touching her exactly where she needed. Not when the scent of him—clean, warm, Fez—was making her dizzy.
Lexi clenched her jaw, exhaling softly through her nose.
This is ridiculous.
Lexi swallowed hard, her body thrumming with heat, her pulse drumming steadily in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to calm down, to ignore the way her skin tingled with awareness, the way the slightest shift of her hips sent sparks through her veins.
But it was impossible.
Because he was impossible.
Everywhere she touched was warm, solid—his chest, his ribs, the dip of his waist beneath the blanket. And the longer she lay there, the worse it got.
Lexi exhaled slowly, watching the way the faint light cast soft shadows over his features, the way his lips parted slightly with every slow, steady breath.
Her fingers twitched again before she could stop them, and before she knew it, she was reaching up, brushing her fingertips against his jaw.
Fez didn't stir.
She traced her fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw, skimming lightly over the faint stubble there. Then up, over the slope of his cheekbone, down to the curve of his lips.
She paused there, her thumb barely ghosting over the soft skin, her heart hammering so hard she swore he'd wake up just from that alone.
But Fez didn't wake up.
Not yet.
Instead, he shifted beneath her. A low, deep breath dragging through his nose, his grip flexing slightly where his arms still rested around her.
Lexi froze, her pulse stuttering.
His lips parted, his breathing growing uneven for just a second before steadying again.
And then—he made a sound.
A quiet, almost inaudible groan from the back of his throat, like something he wasn't even aware of.
Lexi's breath hitched.
What the hell was he dreaming about?
Her fingers flexed against his cheek as she studied him closer, but then—Fez inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering open.
At first, he looked dazed, his gaze hazy, lips slightly swollen from sleep. He blinked slowly, brows knitting together as he adjusted to the dim light, his arms instinctively tightening around her.
And then his eyes met hers.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Lexi wasn't even sure he was fully awake yet, wasn't sure he knew what was real and what wasn't.
Because something flashed in his gaze—dark, unreadable, his breath stalling in his chest. His hands twitched against her back, his thumb brushing over her ribs in a slow, absentminded stroke.
Lexi swallowed, her own breathing uneven.
Then—Fez exhaled sharply through his nose, realization settling in, his expression shifting.
"You real?" His voice was rough, still thick with sleep, his lips curling just barely at the corners.
Lexi huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah, Fez. I'm real."
Fez blinked again, his grip on her waist flexing like he was testing if she'd disappear. Then he sighed, his head sinking deeper into the pillow. "Shit."
Lexi frowned slightly. "What?"
Fez huffed softly, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, dragging warm, lazy circles against her lower back. "Nothin'. Just... Thought I was dreamin'."
Lexi felt heat creep up her neck, her stomach flipping at the way his voice sounded—low, scratchy, intimate.
She bit her lip. "Were you dreaming about me?"
Fez exhaled sharply through his nose, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "Maybe."
Lexi narrowed her eyes playfully. "Good or bad?"
Fez hummed, his fingers slipping higher, grazing along her spine now, making her shiver. "Dunno."
Lexi arched a brow. "You don't know?"
Fez's smirk deepened. "Felt good. Real good."
Lexi's breath caught in her throat.
Because fuck, she was already on edge, and now he was saying that?
Fez tilted his head slightly, his eyes dragging over her face like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. "Why you up, Lex?"
Lexi hesitated.
She could lie.
She could say she just woke up randomly, that she wasn't feeling the way she was feeling, that her body wasn't aching for something she wasn't sure she could ask for.
But Fez was looking at her like that—like he already knew.
Like he could feel it too.
So she swallowed hard, shifting slightly, her fingers trailing absently along his jaw again. "Couldn't sleep."
Fez hummed low in his throat. "Yeah?"
Lexi nodded.
Fez's fingers flexed against her skin again, his touch getting just a little firmer. "How come?"
Lexi inhaled sharply, her body tightening at the question.
But she didn't move.
Lexi held her breath.
Another beat passed, and then—
"Lexi."
His voice was rough, groggy, thick with sleep.
Lexi froze.
Fez shifted beneath her, his lashes fluttering slightly, his gaze hazy but sharp enough to pin her in place. His grip on her waist tightened more, fingers pressing into her skin like he already knew.
Like he could feel it.
Lexi swallowed, heat rushing to her face. "I—"
"You good?" Fez murmured, his voice still laced with sleep, but there was something else there now. Something deeper.
Lexi hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Yeah, I—I'm fine."
But Fez wasn't buying it.
His gaze flickered over her face, searching, his fingers dragging lazily along her waist, making her shiver.
Then—
He flipped their positions placing Lexi under him, as he quietly watched her.
Fez hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his palms firm against her waist as he looked down at her like he was trying to figure her out. Like he was trying to see what she needed—what she wasn't saying.
Lexi's breath was shaky, her fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt, her body pinned beneath his. The sudden shift had stolen the air from her lungs, had made her thighs instinctively squeeze together in search of any kind of relief.
Fez noticed.
His gaze flickered lower, catching the movement, and his lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling a little faster now. His thumb dragged slow, lazy circles against her skin, teasing, testing.
Then—
His lips quirked slightly.
Not a smirk.
Something darker.
Something knowing.
Fez inhaled slowly, letting his head fall between Lexi's neck and shoulder. As he exhales through his nose like he was processing something.
Then—
His fingers slid lower.
A slow, deliberate glide against her skin, his grip firm, his voice low when he finally spoke.
"Y'know you ain't gotta pretend, right?"
Lexi's breath caught.
Fez's lips twitched again, his hands flexing, his voice dipping lower, rougher—
"Been layin' here tryna figure out how long you were gonna stay quiet 'bout it. The slight press of your hips gave it all away Lex."
Lexi's pulse spiked.
Her lips parted slightly, her throat suddenly dry, her mind scrambling for words that wouldn't come. She didn't know her hips were moving.
And Fez?
Fez just watched her.
Waiting.
Expecting.
Daring her to ask.
Her fingers curling slightly against his chest as she swallowed hard.
It wasn't fair.
How easily he could unravel her like this.
How just looking at her like that—like he knew what she needed—had her squirming beneath him, her body already begging for more.
She should say something.
She should deny it, brush it off, pretend like she hadn't been lying here fighting the very thing he was calling out.
But the way Fez was looking at her? The way his voice had deepened, rough and knowing? The way his hands had settled so firmly on her waist, fingers flexing like he was already making his decision?
She couldn't lie.
Not to him.
Fez's thumb dragged slow, lazy circles against her skin, his patience damn near saintly despite the tension thickening between them. "Lexi," he murmured, the sound barely above a rasp. "Say it."
Lexi exhaled shakily, her thighs pressing together before she even realized what she was doing.
And Fez noticed.
His grip tightened, his lips parting slightly, something hot flashing in his gaze before he could mask it.
Lexi felt lightheaded, her body vibrating with something between anticipation and hesitation, but
She wanted this.
She wanted him.
But she still didn't know if she was allowed have him though.
So she finally let herself do what she'd been holding back all night.
She moved.
Slowly. Carefully.
A subtle shift of her hips, opening her legs more to accommodate the press of Fez between them. She grinds up against him just enough to feel the way his body responded, the way his breath hitched sharp in his throat, the way his fingers dug into her waist.
Fez gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so tight she swore she could hear it.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his head burying further into Lexi's neck, his grip flexing again like he was trying to hold himself together.
Lexi breathes out "Fez please tell me I'm allowed to have it."
"What is it that you want? Tell me, baby," he murmured, his breath warm, his hands slipping under the hem of her shirt now, splaying wide across her bare skin. "Tell me what you need."
Lexi exhaled shakily, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, her nails digging in just a little. "You."
Fez groaned softly, his head dipping lower, his lips trailing a slow, open-mouthed kiss along her jaw. "Yeah?"
Lexi nodded quickly, her breath stuttering as his lips reached the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "Yeah."
That was all he needed.
He leaned down, letting his nose brush against hers, his lips hovering over hers, his breath mingling with hers.
Fez groaned softly. "Lex..."
Lexi swallowed, her lips grazing his just barely. "Fez."
And that was all it took.
Because then—his mouth crashed against hers.
This kiss was different than before.
It wasn't hesitant.
It wasn't slow.
It was hungry.
Fez kissed her like he couldn't get enough, like he had been waiting for this moment forever and wasn't about to waste another second.
Lexi felt it in the way his hands roamed her body—sliding up her sides, gripping her waist, splaying across her back like he wanted to touch everywhere at once.
She melted into him, running her fingers over his head, making him groan into her mouth. His hips pressed against hers, slow and deliberate, and the friction sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through her body, making her whimper.
Fez inhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on her. "Fuck," he muttered against her lips, his voice strained, almost pained.
But he didn't stop.
Didn't want to stop.
He kissed down her jaw, down the column of her throat, his lips hot and open-mouthed against her skin. His hands slid beneath her shirt, fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns along her bare stomach, moving higher, making her breath hitch.
Lexi arched into him instinctively, her body chasing his touch, the need in her stomach twisting tighter, hotter.
But then—
Fez pulled back.
Just enough to see her face, just enough to slow them both down before they completely lost themselves in this.
Lexi made a soft, impatient noise, her fingers gripping at his shirt, trying to pull him back in, but Fez caught her wrists gently, pinning them against the mattress.
His breathing was heavy, his lips red and swollen, his pupils blown so wide his eyes looked almost black in the dim light.
"Lex," he murmured, his voice thick, hoarse.
Lexi blinked up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her lips still parted from their kiss. "What?"
"You sure you wanna do this right now?" Fez asked, his voice low, gravelly, the last thread of his self-control hanging by a fucking thread.
Lexi froze, her stomach flipping at the way he was looking at her—serious, intense, so full of restraint it almost hurt to look at.
She swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears. "What?" she whispered.
Fez licked his lips, his hands releasing her wrists so he could brush a strand of hair from her face. "I need to know this is somethin' you really want," he murmured. "Not just 'cause it's late, not just 'cause we feel good right now."
Lexi's heart clenched.
Because fuck.
Even now, even while fighting every instinct in his body to take her the way they both clearly wanted—he was still thinking about her.
Still making sure this was her choice.
Lexi bit her lip, her eyes searching his, her fingers brushing lightly over the sharp edge of his jaw. "Fez," she whispered, "I want this."
Fez's throat bobbed, his fingers twitching against her waist. "You sure?"
Lexi was beyond sure.
She felt like needed him.
She needed his hands on her, his mouth on her—needed him to pull her apart and put her back together in the way only he could.
Lexi nodded, her touch sliding down, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palms. "Yes."
Fez let out a slow, controlled breath, like he was really trying to keep it together.
Then—his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming.
"Say it again," he murmured.
Lexi's stomach flipped, heat rushing to her face. "Fez—"
"Nah," he interrupted, his fingers trailing so lightly along her ribcage it made her shiver. "Say it again, Lex."
Lexi swallowed, her nails lightly scraping against his stomach, making him tense.
"I want you."
Fez inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into her skin.
"Yeah?"
Lexi nodded, her breath shaky. "Yeah."
Fez's lips parted like he was about to say something else—maybe tease her again, maybe double-check one more time—but then?
Lexi pulled him back down, her mouth crashing against his, and Fez finally finally gave in.
This was years of restraint snapping like a rubber band, of built-up tension crashing down all at once.
His hands were on her again—warm, rough, exploring. He sat back slightly, his eyes dragging over her body like he was trying to memorize every inch of her, and then he reached for the hem of her shirt, his fingers grazing her stomach.
Fez exhaled sharply, his voice low, thick with something dark and intoxicating.
"Take it off for me, Lex."
Lexi swallowed, her whole body burning under the weight of his stare. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Fez sat back on his knees, watching intently as she pulled it over her head, letting it drop onto the bed beside them.
And then—his breath hitched.
His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and for a long, heavy second, he just stared.
Because she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
"Fuck," he muttered, his voice rough, almost like he was in pain. His hands flexed against her waist, his fingers tightening, like he was trying to ground himself.
Lexi bit her lip, heat crawling up her neck. "What?"
Fez dragged a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "Lex... You been like this the whole fuckin' time?"
Lexi's stomach flipped, something about the way he said it making her even hotter. "Yeah..."
Fez let out a low, shaky breath, his hands smoothing up her sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath her breasts but not quite touching.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. "You're actually tryna kill me, huh?"
Lexi smirked despite the way she was burning up inside. "Maybe."
Fez huffed out a short laugh, but his eyes were darker now, filled with something that made her thighs press together. "Yeah? That funny to you?"
Before she could answer, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her collarbone—soft at first—then open-mouthed, wetter, hotter.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his arms as his mouth moved lower, down the slope of her shoulder, then across the swell of her breast.
"Fez..."
He hummed against her skin, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, his thumbs grazing over her already hardened nipples.
Lexi's head fell back, a sharp moan slipping from her lips as Fez's mouth closed around her, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking deep, slow, hungry.
"Fuck—"
Her back arched off the bed, her body pressing into him, desperate for more. Fez groaned against her skin, his other hand gripping her waist, keeping her steady as she instinctively grind against him.
"Lex," he muttered between kisses, his voice strained, like he was barely holding himself together. "You feel so fuckin' good..."
He switched to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention—kissing, sucking, teasing—until Lexi was trembling beneath him, her thighs squeezing around his hips.
"Fez, please—"
He pulled back slightly, his lips swollen, his breathing uneven. "Please what, baby?"
Lexi whimpered, her fingers gripping his shoulders. "I need—"
Fez smirked, his hands trailing down her sides, teasing, taunting. "What you need, Lex? Tell me."
Lexi clenched her jaw, her whole body pulsing with heat. "I need you to touch me."
Fez's smirk deepened, his fingers slipping lower. "Yeah? Where, baby?"
Lexi sucked in a sharp breath, her thighs trembling. "Everywhere."
Fez groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping her hips tighter. "Shit, Lex..."
And then—he gave her exactly what she wanted.
Fez's hand slid down between them, his fingertips tracing the edge of her shorts, teasing her, feeling how warm she was beneath the fabric. He dipped beneath the waistband, just enough to brush against her bare skin, his breath hitching when he felt the slick heat waiting for him.
"Goddamn," he muttered, his lips grazing her neck as his fingers found her folds. "You're so fuckin' wet, Lex."
Lexi let out a strangled moan, her hips jerking against his touch. "Fez... please..."
He kissed her again—soft, slow—while his fingers parted her gently, stroking through her wetness, learning the rhythm of her breath, the little gasps she made when he found a spot that made her tremble.
"This good, baby? That how you like it?" he murmured, watching her face.
"Yes," Lexi breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. "Just like that."
He kept his touch careful but deliberate, slowly circling her clit before easing one finger inside her, feeling how tight and warm she was. Lexi cried out softly, her hands clinging to his shoulders.
"You're takin' me so good, Lex," Fez whispered, his forehead resting against hers. "Wanna make you feel every bit of it."
He added another finger, stretching her gently, curling his fingers with perfect precision. Lexi's hips rolled against his hand, chasing the pressure, her thighs starting to tremble.
"That's it, baby... ride my fingers. Just like that."
Her moans got louder, more urgent, and Fez's thumb returned to her clit, rubbing soft, slow circles in perfect sync with the movement of his fingers.
Lexi's breath started catching in her throat, her entire body tightening. "Fez—oh my god—I'm—"
"I got you," he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Come for me, baby. I got you."
She came hard, her body convulsing around his fingers, a sharp cry tearing from her lips. Fez didn't stop—he kept his fingers buried inside her, working her through it, slowing only when her hand reached down, trembling, resting gently over his.
That was all he needed.
He stilled his fingers immediately, pulling them out of her slowly, carefully, like he didn't want to hurt her—like she was something precious.
And then he leaned in, pressing soft, reverent kisses all over her—her stomach, her ribs, the inside of her thigh—his lips moving like he was saying thank you with every touch.
Fez looked at his hand—the fingers slick with her release—and his tongue darted out before he could stop himself. He brought them to his mouth and tasted her, groaning deep and low.
"Fuck, Lex..." he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. "You taste so fuckin' good. Like heaven or some shit."
Lexi's body was still tingling, her breath shallow, but the way he looked at her—the way he needed her—sent another wave of heat crashing through her.
Fez leaned back over her, brushing his nose against hers, his voice softer now, but no less hungry. "You think you can go again for me, baby?"
Lexi nodded, already aching for more. "For you? Always."
Fez groaned, pressing a slow, deep kiss to her lips. "Please let me taste you properly, then," he whispered. "Let me put my mouth on you, Lexi."
"Yes," she whispered back. "Please."
He moved with care, sliding down the bed, kissing his way along her stomach, her hips. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts and slid them down her legs, tossing them aside.
And then—he saw her.
Completely bare.
Her cunt was glistening, still flushed from her orgasm, swollen with arousal—and he just stared. His breath caught in his throat, eyes locked between her legs like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Fuck," he whispered, almost reverent.
Lexi whimpered, shifting beneath him, her hips lifting off the bed like she was begging for his mouth.
Fez's smirk returned, lazy and wicked. "Patience, baby."
He leaned in, pressing kisses along the insides of her thighs, making her squirm, her hands tangling in the sheets. He dragged his tongue along her skin, avoiding where she needed him most, teasing her until she was breathless.
And then—he gave in.
His mouth finally met her center, licking slowly, deliberately through her folds before he sucked her clit into his mouth.
Lexi cried out, her hips jerking, her thighs trembling around his head.
"Fez—fuck—"
He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against her. His tongue worked her expertly—circling, dipping, flicking—alternating between slow licks and hungry sucks. He was savoring her like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
And in the haze of her pleasure—lost in the rhythm of his mouth, the slow drag of his tongue, the maddening flicks over her clit—Lexi's eyes fluttered open, catching sight of something that made her breath catch in her throat.
Fez was grinding against the mattress.
His hips moved in slow, hungry circles, like he was chasing friction, chasing relief. But his focus never left her—his mouth still worshipping her like he couldn't get enough. It hit her like a bolt of lightning, the idea that he needed her just as much as she needed him. That all this control he kept slipping in and out of? It was just barely holding.
The ache in her deepened—hotter, more urgent. She didn't just want his mouth anymore. She wanted him. All of him.
"Fez..." she gasped, her voice hoarse, trembling.
He slowed slightly, murmuring something low against her skin in response, but didn't stop.
"I need you," she moaned, her fingers running over his buzz cut, pressing gently to get his attention. "I need you inside me."
Fez froze.
The way he lifted his head—his lips swollen, his eyes dark and wild—sent another jolt through her. He stared at her like she'd just broken something open in him.
"You—" His voice cracked, low and breathless. "Say that again."
Lexi bit her lip, her heart pounding, her body practically thrumming with need. "I want you," she said again, slower this time. "I need you inside me, Fez."
He groaned—deep, guttural, like the sound had been dragged out of him. His hips jerked against the mattress again, harder this time, like he couldn't help it.
"Fuck, Lex..."
She reached for him, pulling him up by the front of his boxers until he was hovering over her again, his face inches from hers. They kissed like they were on fire, mouths desperate, messy, tangled with all the need and heat they'd been holding back.
Their bodies moved instinctively—grinding, pressing, aligning.
Fez pulled back just long enough to fumble in the drawer beside the bed for a condom, tearing it open with shaking hands. But before he touched her again, he paused, holding himself over her, his forehead resting against hers.
"This what you want?" he asked, his voice low, shaky, vulnerable. "You sure, Lex?"
She nodded quickly, her hands on his face, her eyes wide and full of trust. "Yes. I want you. I want this. Please."
It undid him.
Fez slid the condom on and then guided himself in her slowly, carefully, one hand on her hip, the other holding himself steady. He pressed in inch by inch, watching every change in her expression, waiting for any sign of discomfort.
Lexi gasped as he filled her, her hands clutching at his shoulders. "Oh my god... You're— Fez, just... go slow, okay?"
"Yes baby," he whispered, kissing her softly, his voice thick with restraint. "I got you."
He moved slow, just like she asked, each stroke deep and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her lips—whispering her name like a prayer between every breath.
But soon, her soft gasps turned to whimpers, her hips rising to meet him, her nails digging into his back.
"Faster," she moaned, breathless. "Please, Fez—faster..."
He gave her what she needed.
His pace quickened, his thrusts growing stronger, deeper. The bed creaked beneath them, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Fez kept one hand tangled in her hair and the other gripping her waist, grounding himself in the feel of her.
He held on, focused entirely on her—her pleasure, her cries, the way she clenched around him—until her body tensed beneath him, her moans rising with each thrust until she broke apart again.
Only then did he let himself go.
His thrusts turned frantic, chasing the high he'd been holding back for too long. He groaned her name into her neck as he came, his body jerking, trembling, the intensity of it rocking through him like a wave. He stayed still for a moment, breathing hard, buried in the crook of her neck, letting it all settle.
"Shit..." he breathed, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. "You okay? I wasn't too rough, right?"
Lexi smiled, eyes glassy, lips swollen. "You were perfect."
Fez leaned down, kissing her again—this time soft, sweet, slow. The kind of kiss that said everything they hadn't said yet. The kind of kiss that promised more.
And then they kissed—soft, slow, no longer rushed by the burn of tension or the pull of urgency. It was tender now. Reverent. The kind of kiss that lingers not because it has to, but because it wants to. Fez cupped her face like she was precious, his thumb brushing along her jaw as their mouths moved together in quiet rhythm, no longer chasing heat but savoring the calm after the storm.
Lexi hummed against his lips, her fingers curling lightly around his wrist. The way he kissed her now felt different. Like a promise. Like he was trying to tell her everything he didn't know how to say yet. She could feel the care in it—the way he held back just enough to make space for her, even though she already belonged there.
Eventually, they pulled apart with matching soft smiles, both breathless in a different way. Fez pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her cheek, then down the bridge of her nose, making her giggle as she buried her face into his neck.
"Come on, baby," he murmured against her hair, his voice hoarse but warm. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Lexi nodded into his neck, not quite ready to pull away but trusting his touch as he helped her up. They padded quietly to the bathroom, their fingers laced together, moving like they were already something whole.
Fez turned on the shower, letting the water run warm while he checked the temperature with his hand. Then he looked back at her, that soft, crooked smile tugging at his lips again. "You wanna hop in with me?"
Lexi gave a small nod, her smile lazy, lovestruck. "Yeah."
He stepped in first, holding his hand out for her like she was a princess, and she took it, letting him guide her under the water with him. The warmth poured over their skin, steam curling around them, and for a moment they just stood there—foreheads resting together, water running down their bodies, their breath mingling in the hush between heartbeats.
Fez picked up the body wash and poured some on to a towel, before he started gently working it over her skin. His touch was slow and reverent, gliding the towel over her arms, shoulders, down her back. Lexi leaned into it with a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut, letting him care for her the way only he could.
When she took the towel from him, she rinsed it off and applied more body wash, then she mirrored the same tenderness—her hands smoothing over his chest, down his stomach, fingers brushing places that earlier had made him groan. But now there was no urgency in it. Just affection. Intimacy.
They rinsed off in silence, with little smiles and soft touches, and when they stepped out, Fez grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her first before grabbing one for himself. He kissed her damp shoulder before leading her back to the bedroom, the room now dim and quiet and calm.
Once they were tucked under the blankets, skin still warm from the shower, Lexi rolled onto her side to face him. Fez was already looking at her.
Her fingers trailed lightly over his chest, drawing small, aimless patterns. "Feels kinda crazy..."
Fez tilted his head. "What does?"
She glanced up at him, eyes soft. "That we've wanted each other like this... for so long. And neither of us said anything."
He let out a breath of a laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah, well... I think I was scared I'd fuck it up."
"You wouldn't have," she said quietly. "You never could."
Fez shook his head with a small, disbelieving smile. "I used to lay in bed some nights thinkin' about you... wonderin' what it'd be like to hold you, to kiss you like I meant it."
Lexi's heart ached, full and warm. "I used to wonder what it'd feel like if you looked at me the way I looked at you."
Fez leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I always did, Lex. I just didn't know if I had the right."
"You did," she whispered, her fingers slipping up to rest over his heart. "You always did."
He covered her hand with his own, holding it there. "I love you," he said, voice thick with truth.
Lexi's eyes welled a little, but she smiled through it. "I love you too."
They lay like that, wrapped around each other—no more guessing, no more waiting, no more pretending.
Just love, soft and certain.
Eventually, their breathing slowed, their limbs tangled, and they slipped into sleep together, peaceful, warm, and finally home.