Chapter Text
It started out innocently enough, but lately, she felt herself getting deeper and deeper into something that she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. It had started over the Summer. Or, perhaps it was as far back as Spring. There was so much happening in her life that her brain slowly began to block things out sporadically, and most days she was just thankful that she could remember her name.
Damaged. She felt shattered, and broken into a million pieces. Somehow, she found the glue to keep herself together enough to function for what was left of her family. When she didn’t have her family with her anymore, though, she let herself crack. She let herself fall into her bed and not come out for days. When she emerged, it was as if nothing had happened. She was professional on the set of The Voice, she drove the speed limit to pick her boys up from school, and she kept herself numb to any kind of real emotion. It was all she could do, the only way she could cope, to still make sure she was alive and breathing and keep life moving along for the three that mattered most to her.
And then Blake happened. Gwen had no idea exactly how it happened, but they found themselves in this predicament of spilling their life stories to one another and coincidentally, they found themselves stranded on the same island of divorce with (and without) their respective long time partners. She remembered the night that they got really drunk at her house, which she guessed was where it all really started. There was plenty of sexual tension that had built in the air, but that night was the first time bodies slammed into walls and vases were thrown off tables to satisfy the desperate desire that both of them had to feel something again. And it hadn’t seemed to slow down since then.
Gwen took a seat at a dark, upscale cocktail hotel bar she knew a bit off the beaten path away from the Hollywood drama. Her long, blonde hair was worn down, casually cascading down her left shoulder, revealing her bare neck. Her dress was silver - short, tight, and unforgiving. Signature red lipstick adorned her lips, her jewelry was minimal, and she was wearing four inch fuck-me-now heels that were quite intentional. It was unmistakable - the distinct sound of the heel-to-toe pattern of cowboy boots she heard faintly, only growing louder as they approached her.
“You’re going to get us into a lot of trouble if you keep wearing dresses like that,” Blake said lowly, taking the seat closely next to her, sliding onto the barstool with ease. “I mean fuck, is that even an entire dress, or did you lose half of it?”
Her eyes flashed wickedly towards him, before going back to the cocktail in front of her a second later, nonchalantly. She brought the cool glass to her lips, taking a sip. She didn’t seem to have a lot of joy in her life lately, but damn, she did enjoy the thought that one look at her could make Blake that uncomfortable in public.
“You should learn to control yourself better,” she quipped, her eyes briefly looking down to his groin. “And perhaps it would be a good idea to invest in looser jeans. You seem to be stretching the ones you’re in.”
Blake motioned over the bartender who promptly responded by attending to Blake immediately. “Whiskey, straight up,” he ordered. Gwen waited until the bartender was out of earshot before turning her gaze towards him.
“Doesn’t seem to be the only thing straight up right now,” she mumbled, under her breath, as she took another sip.
Fuck. This woman was literally going to make him combust and kill him in the process.
The bartender came back and presented Blake with his drink, to which he immediately took a few swigs of the harsh, tan liquid. Gwen was playing it cool, casually sipping at her cocktail and playing hard to get, which she knew would drive him up the fucking wall. She was avoiding eye contact, pretending to be interested in anything but him. He knew deep down she was longing for him to touch her, but that knowledge did nothing to help his current situation.
“I want to start our game now,” he said suddenly, adamantly. Those words alone caused Gwen to forget how she was supposed to be playing hard to get as her head snapped over to him, eyebrow raised, eyes locked.
Finally, something got her fucking attention, Blake thought to himself, beaming with subtle pride.
“Why?” she asked quickly.
“Because there’s no reason to wait until we get to New York tomorrow. There’s no reason why we can’t start tonight. Besides, you’re up first, and I’ve got a lot of…inspiration..right now. It would be a damn shame for it to go to waste.”
Gwen tore her attention away from Blake as her delicate hand reached forward to her cocktail glass, suddenly downing more of the clear liquid than she had intended. Blake watched her carefully, as he sipped on his own whiskey.
She remembered their conversation clear as day from a week ago. They were sprawled out, tangled up in the sheets of his bed after a few incredibly rough rounds of sex. She had been exhausted, trying to steady her breath as her fingers trailed down her own body as she felt the newly inflicted bruises on her skin from being thrown up against the wall and pounded into relentlessly. Blake mentioned something about their upcoming trip to New York, but what came next definitely had taken her by surprise.
“I want to try something different when we’re out of town,” he had said abruptly, turning on his side to face Gwen, who was still laying on her back. Her eyes had flashed over to his, searching for meaning in those words. Try something new? It excited and scared her at the same time.
He had moved over to her then, closing the distance between them. His arm snaked under the sheets and over her naked body to hook around her midsection. Blake had planted a few kisses on her neck, Gwen arching back slightly to receive them. She let out a breath. His breath came in contact with her skin, and she bit her lip.
“What kind of fantasies do you want to try?” he breathed into her, as his hand began trailing along her bare sides. It tickled a little bit and she squirmed slightly under his touch, her eyes meeting his.
“Where are you going with this?” she asked, barely audible, as she was focused on the sensations of him being so close to her in such an intimate way. Even though they were becoming well accustomed to being naked in bed together by then, it was something entirely different when he seemed to be getting closer to her - both physically, and maybe even partially, emotionally.
“I want to play out your fantasies with you, Gwen,” he responded, as he planted another kiss on her neck before nibbling at her ear. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, as her body turned to him under the command of his touch. “I want you to write them down. I’ll write mine down. And when we’re in New York, we’ll take turns making them a reality. What do you think?”
“We should leave it all in New York,” Gwen had responded. “You can’t read mine until we get there. And outside of the interviews we’re doing, we should be strangers. We won’t socialize. We won’t speak. We’ll just meet back at the hotel. It’ll be a real escape from reality.”
He seemed to agree, as the next moment he was pulling a pad of paper from the drawer with a pen and handing it over to Gwen. She seemed to write something immediately, without much thought, but the others seemed to take a few minutes to come to her. When she was done, she tore the paper off and folded it up tiny. Blake wrote his down and did the same. Just as she was about to hand it over to him, she held onto it as his hand grasped the paper.
“Do not look at this until we get to New York,” she said sternly, eyes intent on him. Blake smirked, and pulled it out of her hand, and willingly seemed to hand his over to her without hesitation.
“You cheated,” Gwen said simply, raising her eyebrow at him. “You already read all of mine, didn’t you?”
Blake slid a key card across the small space that separated them without a word, as he began to stand up. He took his glass and threw back the remainder of his drink, and stepped forward so his body was touching her shoulder. His hand grasped her arm, pulling her to him a bit suddenly, his face leaning in so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her neck.
“Room 502. You have four minutes to finish your drink and get on the elevator.”
And with that, he let go of her arm and disappeared into the shadows, leaving her alone again.