Archive of Our Own

At twenty-four years old, Penelope felt pretty fucking good about her life, all things considered.

She’d graduated from Uni with honours — Summa Cum Laude — a bachelor’s degree in Journalism, and she made decent money as an editor and ‘special projects’ writer, which meant her boss trusted her enough to research and write pieces that held the public interest, keeping them coming back to an admittedly dying art form in the age of TikTok and AI.

Her pieces were quirky, interesting, well-written, and relevant. It created buzz, comments, likes, and, in turn, gave Penelope job security and the ability to live in her very own flat, a feat she wasn’t always sure would be possible for her at eighteen years old, only just emerging from under her mother’s thumb.

She cherished her own space, her flat. No one could tell her how to decorate it, how to act, or what to do. If she wanted to fill every available shelf with books, she could. 

If she wanted to make risotto at midnight on a Saturday while finishing a bottle of wine and singing along loudly to Imagine Dragons while wearing just a tank top and knickers, absolutely. (The red wine stain on the hardwood floor was a bit difficult to scrub out the next day, but worth it.)

Having lived much of her life feeling constricted, insecure, and criticized, the ability to finance her own lifestyle was freedom. She deserved it, and she’d earned it. 

She was comfortable being single, independent, and fabulous. For now.

About six months after settling into her Bloomsbury flat, she gained a new neighbor. 

She practically ran smack into his chest as she was staring at her phone, climbing the stairs while quietly cursing at an email from her boss that was moving up her deadline. “Jesus fucking Christ! Figure it out yourself, Colin, ugh.”

Her face made contact with a warm, hard, slightly sweaty barrier, and though she tried not to inhale deeply, she did, and lord did it smell good. 

Fortunately, she was several steps away from the staircase, so she only stepped back onto solid ground rather than meeting a certain death by toppling down a full flight.

Even so, a strong hand gripped her upper arm tightly, ensuring she didn’t fall. “Oh dear, what did I do now?”

Penelope looked up (and up, and up again, almost craning her neck) at the tall man in front of her who was currently tilting his head to the side with a bemused expression. Looking from his face to his hand on her arm, then down his body briefly, she tried to find words to speak with her apparently useless tongue. 

He was…fit. He had a black t-shirt on that was tight around his biceps and torso, with blue jeans, a bandana tied around one of the belt loops that already looked a bit damp with sweat, like he’d been using it all afternoon.

“Um, I’m assuming you weren’t cursing me, since I believe we’re just now meeting.” He’d released her arm at some point when she was ogling him and gaping at his body like a horny guppy. He stuck out his arm to shake. “I’m Colin Bridgerton. I’m moving into 4D today.” He gestured over his shoulder as he waited for her voice to return.

Finally getting her bearings back, Penelope resumed acting like a Normal Human and tried to let out a friendly laugh, though it came out rather squeaky. “Hi,” she muttered, taking his hand in hers and shaking it up and down mechanically. “I’m Penelope Featherington. I live in 4C. And sorry, my boss’s name is also Colin — not you, obviously…”

Colin’s face brightened at this and a ridiculously handsome smile broke out on his perfect face. “4D! We’re neighbors, right across the hall! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pen.”

Penelope was about to correct him on instinct, but there was something about the earnestness with which he gave her the nickname — no alternate agenda, no trying to be condescending — it just seemed like it fit coming from his lips. So she smiled and nodded. 

“A pleasure to meet you too, Colin. Not boss Colin. Neighbor Colin.”

If he was weirded out by her objectively odd behavior that caused an entire tirade of expletives inside her own brain, he didn’t show it. “Hopefully we can get to know each other soon,” Colin said, before two men and one woman who looked remarkably like him (same noses, eyes, and chestnut brown hair) marched up the stairs past her carrying boxes. 

“Oi! Are you going to help move in the rest of your stuff, or just stand there flirting?” the young woman said as she passed what Penelope could only assume was her brother.

Colin’s cheeks pinked, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Eloise, I’m helping! I was just going for another box when I almost knocked over my new neighbor Pen here.” He gestured towards Penelope, who waved a hand shyly. The two men muttered a hello while they lugged their heavy boxes through the door to 4D that was propped open wide. Eloise gave Penelope a once-over, a smile, and a wink before heading inside to unburden herself as well.

“I better get back to moving my own stuff before my siblings bite my head off. I’m sure I’ll see you soon in the hallway, yeah?”

There was something about how he genuinely seemed to mean it that disarmed Penelope, but she nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure we will. Good luck with the move, neighbor Colin.”

“Good luck with your day, and with ‘boss’ Colin,” he replied with a little smirk. “See you around!”

“See you around,” she mumbled, cheeks already pink as she slipped back into her flat and breathed heavily with her back to the door.

“Well, fuck me,” she whispered to herself.

***

Colin was absolutely delighted to finally be moving into his own flat. A place that was his, with no one else in his family living under the same room.

A place to put down roots in London. A new start.

He was twenty-eight and freshly unemployed — a great time to buy a flat, naturally.

After graduating from Uni at twenty-two, he’d started travelling and never looked back. Majoring in Communications, Colin felt fed up with academic life and wanted to learn from the world. Grabbing his trust fund by the balls, he basically walked off stage at graduation with his diploma in one hand and a plane ticket in the other. 

It had been wonderful — he’d skipped through countries, continents, cultures, people, foods, drugs, parties, relationships, beds, hotels, and experiences as if they were a never-ending fountain that would only run dry when the Earth stopped turning. But eventually, somehow, even the most perfect-sounding life became dull if it lacked a purpose. A north star, a direction.

So almost seven years later he found himself in Bloomsbury, his sometimes annoying but ever-supportive family helping him move his boxes from storage into a permanent London flat, finding roots for the first time since he’d lived under his mother’s roof. 

Running into his new neighbor Penelope the first day had been a wonderful coincidence. He’d been struck immediately by her red hair, kind blue eyes, and how cheeky she’d been calling him ‘neighbor Colin.’ 

Over his first week there, while getting adjusted, he’d run into her a few times in the hallway. They’d talk for a bit — she didn’t seem like the overly chatty type, but there was a genuineness in her eyes that told him she was catching up with him because she wanted to, not just to be polite. Then they’d go their separate ways, into 4C and 4D, respectively. 

While Colin had plenty to keep himself busy — figuring out what his life looked like outside of a suitcase and a hotel room and how to start using his Communications degree and everything he’d learned in the subsequent years for something productive, as Anthony put it — he couldn’t help but think about the short redhead across the hall who always brought a smile to his lips.

Several more weeks went by and Colin attended a few interviews – the travel magazine he’d done freelance work for wanted to make him a full-time editor. Lending his expertise on the road to pieces submitted so he could read them over and make notes on lending an authentic voice to the experience that readers would relate to.

One evening, Colin had his keys halfway in the door when he found himself pulling them out and shoving them back in his pocket as he heard Pen approaching, so he could have an excuse to talk to her longer. He stood sort of awkwardly outside 4D with his elbow against the doorway. 

“Neighbor Colin,” she murmured with a smirk, sorting her post as she walked down the hall towards her own door. 

“Anything good?” Colin asked, tilting his head and gesturing towards her mail.

“Junk, junk, a bill — not sure why they still send it by paper when I get an email, text, and voicemail — and more junk.” Colin watched her curls bounce as she went through the white envelopes, huffing a breath through her plump lips. (What chapstick did she use? It looked slightly tinted, shiny, and he could smell the slightest whiff of strawberry floating towards him.)

Finally, Penelope looked up at him properly and gave out a delightful giggle. “Did I miss the announcement from the building that we were filming an ad? You’re posed so perfectly next to your door, I can snap a photo if you like?”

Colin was taken aback by how much he adored the tinkling sound of her laughter that it took him a few seconds to feel embarrassed. He lowered his arm that had been resting on the doorframe and rolled his eyes playfully. “Nah, they asked me to do a photoshoot but I said I was too new to the building. Wouldn’t be ethical for such a newbie to advertise the amenities. Perhaps someone more seasoned, like the redheaded writer in 4C.”

He watched her cheeks turn adorably flushed as she waved her hand dismissively and shook her head. “Nah, no paparazzi for me. I interview the interesting people, I’m never the subject.”

Colin made a humming noise because something about this irked him that she didn’t consider herself to be someone noteworthy. Worth investigating. Interesting. “Well then I guess we won’t have an influx of new neighbors,” Colin said cheekily. “All’s well — I still need to get to know my closest one better.”

Penelope paused for a second, and Colin hoped desperately he hadn’t overstepped — but then she giggled again and shook her head. “You’re too much, neighbor Colin. Enjoy your night.”

“You too, Pen!” he called, grinning from ear to ear.

The next time they ran into each other, he offered her a podcast recommendation — a comedy show he’d been following for years that she’d never heard of.

The next time, she mentioned she’d loved the podcast while searching for her keys at the bottom of her overly full day bag.

The next time she took a paperback out of her purse and gave it to him, mentioning that she finished it on the Tube that afternoon and thought he might enjoy it. It was dog-eared, the cover faded, and slightly folded in the middle. He finished it in two days.

The next time he invited her in for tea — it was only 4:00 in the afternoon, and he’d offered to discuss the book before he gave it back to her. She dithered for a moment, then accepted. They spent nearly two hours deep in conversation until her mother called her three times with some ‘emergency’ and she thanked him profusely before returning next door.

It continued that way, back and forth, until one night Colin came back from his new job particularly knackered. He paused by his door the way he usually did recently — instinctively — listening to hear if his neighbor in 4C was home. It was 7:00 pm, so probably, but he still listened for a few seconds and was able to discern her humming quietly while cooking, the smell of rosemary and the sound of a Spotify playlist gently making its way into the hallway.

It made him smile, forgetting the exhaustion for a moment while he walked into his flat, flipping the lock on the door and shedding his bag, coat, trainers, and eventually his shirt while he walked to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and turning on a playlist, crooning along with Yellow by Coldplay while pulling up Uber Eats and ordering too much Thai takeaway.

The tracks blended together for a few songs as Colin pushed his briefs down, setting his whiskey on his bathroom counter and starting the shower. Now singing along to a Hamilton song at the top of his lungs, he enjoyed his shower until the water turned cool, taking that as his cue to dry off and make his way back out for his dinner, and oh shit!

His phone was buzzing and the doorbell was ringing. Dripping wet and butt naked, he jumped out of the shower, almost slipping on the wet bath mat, and grabbed his phone, writing a quick text for the driver to just leave it outside his door, no confirmation needed. 

The deliverer must have been new because he was arguing back, so Colin seized the first towel he could find and wrapped it around his lower half, grabbing his phone angrily and jogging to the front door. 

“Just leave it, mate, why do you have to give me trouble…” he muttered to himself as he made it to the door, ready to give the guy hell as soon as he opened it. 

The man wasn’t there, and neither was his delivery. Colin cursed quietly, clutching the towel around his waist and acutely aware of the fact that his hair was dripping on the dingy hallway carpet. He looked to his left, then his right, then straightened up when he saw a brown paper bag sitting outside of 4G, two doors down. 

Knowing full well he should go back inside and put on proper clothes, Colin let the rumbling in his stomach win the argument as he walked over to 4G, verifying that the label on the front of it did indeed say “C.Bridgerton,” and was his exact order. 

Hoping his neighbor didn’t have a Ring camera, Colin trotted the few meters back to his own door, holding the takeaway in one hand and trying his doorknob.

It was locked.

It was…locked?

It was locked.

Oh fucking fuckity fuck.

As if he was now in a video game where there was a new Final Boss, Colin squatted slightly next to the takeaway bag on the floor beside him, looking up and down the hallway to assess the damage of who may or may not be witnessing him at his most embarrassing moment to date.

Fortunately, no one was making a sound, so he was left alone with the ridiculous notion that he was naked save for a towel. In the hallway. Of his new building.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he said as he ran a hand through his wet hair, thankful that he’d at least had his phone in his hand when he’d sprinted out the door. Running through any possible solution in his brain, Colin realized he’d have to call the landlord — it was a Friday evening, so who knew if he’d get a response tonight. Maybe a locksmith?

He was just pulling up Google on his phone when the door across from him opened and out walked Pen, dressed in a pink tank top with little black shorts, gasping as she viewed Colin’s nearly naked form.

“Pen!” he shouted, eyes wide. “I — um, I got locked out of my flat.” He gestured uselessly at the closed door behind him.

“I heard you cursing out here pretty bad, so I thought I’d investigate,” she said at the same time.

They were silent for a few seconds, just staring at each other.

“You wanna come in?” Pen asked.

“Yeah, I’d really appreciate that,” Colin agreed.

She stepped away from her open door, gesturing inside.

Colin put a hand on the towel knot, swallowing down his embarrassment, and walked through her door, nodding his head resolutely. 

***

Penelope had been roasting a chicken, listening to music quietly, when she heard curses in the hallway, recognizing Colin’s voice and going against her none-of-my-business instinct to ignore it. 

It was Colin, and somehow she couldn’t just ignore him.

Pushing open her door cautiously, she sucked in a jarring breath as she took in the scene before her eyes.

He was wet.

In a fucking towel that was hanging by a thread around his waist.

His chest was fucking perfect. A silver chain around his neck, rounded pecs, pert nipples (had she taken note of male nipples before? No, but for some reason she knew his were perfect), sculpted abs, and dark hair covering every inch in an effortlessly rugged and hot way.

After too much time staring, she finally made contact with his eyes, and after a moment when her brain had left her body, she invited him in. So now there was a wet Colin Bridgerton in a small towel standing inside her flat. 

“Thanks, Pen,” he said, walking inside with only his phone and a bag full of takeout. As if just remembering this fact, he put it on her kitchen counter and gestured towards it. “Oh, I got Thai! The reason for my, erm, predicament, really. Help yourself, I’m going to try and call an emergency locksmith.”

Penelope looked at the takeaway bag, then at her own oven. “I’m roasting a chicken, actually. It’s got garlic, rosemary, carrots, potatoes. You’re welcome to some, it’ll be ready in about forty minutes.”

“I’ll take home-cooked food every time,” he said with a smile, putting his phone up to his ear and sounding like he was going through a phone tree for a few minutes.

Penelope tried not to stare, really, she did, but he was just so…fucking fit.

She pretended to be gathering plates together, filling glasses of water, doing nothing productive really as she watched a droplet of water fall from his dark curls, down his cheek, until it hit his shoulder, fell into his chest hair, and made it’s way downward like a fucking fascinating game of Plinko until it hit the towel that was sinking dangerously low on the happy trail while Colin was distracted but what if it just slipped off —

“Pen!”

“Huh?” she said, whipping her eyes back to his guiltily. 

“Is it okay if I stay here for a few hours?” Colin asked, holding the phone over his chest as he asked her permission.

“Yes, of course!” she answered. “As long as you need, it’s fine.”

He mouthed a thank you and returned to his phone call, showing her his equally toned back, the muscles rippling as he leaned over to concentrate, negotiating the speed with which the locksmith could come help him.

Penelope quickly turned back to the kitchen counter, trying to find something to do that wasn’t ogling her hot neighbor who was in a vulnerable position. 

She heard him hang up his call and sigh — a familiar sound that she’d heard him make often in only the few months they’d known each other. 

“Everything okay?” she asked, turning around slowly and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, it will be. This is right embarrassing though, isn’t it?” he said with a shrug. “The locksmith said it’ll be a few hours, and now I’ve inconvenienced my cute, successful neighbor on a Friday night without a speck of clothes to my name.”

Penelope gaped for a moment, processing the fact that he’d called her cute, successful, and acknowledged that he was practically naked. 

Be cool, Featherington. Be so fucking cool.

“Just make yourself at home on the couch, I’ll bring you a drink. Do you like red wine?”

She saw Colin look down at his lack of attire, then at her couch, then back at her before shaking his head with a chuckle.

“How about I sit here at your kitchen island for now?” He settled himself on one of her barstools and crossed his arms on the counter, leaning over slightly, which did nothing to make his abdomen less attractive, thank you very much.

“That works,” Pen said, pursing her lips and pouring him a hefty glass, sliding it into his hands across the countertop. “On the house.”

“Well, that’s fortunate, I seem to have forgotten my wallet,” Colin replied with a small, playful smile, swirling the wine first before tasting it. “Mmm, is this a Côtes du Rhône? A recent one, I’d guess.” 

Penelope’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in surprise. “It is indeed, very impressive palate, Bridgerton.”

“My travels through France were worth something after all,” he quipped, taking a large sip, then wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist.

“Sounds amazing,” Penelope replied, taking a sip of her own wine. 

“Do you want to try some of my takeaway? I mean, since I’m here, and it’s the reason I’m stuck,” he chuckled. “I ordered this great spring roll. I’ve been to Thailand, and I swear this is the best I’ve tasted in London, the closest by far in terms of authenticity.”

“Wait, did you order from White Lotus?” 

“Yes! You’ve heard of it?”

“Colin, I’ve been ordering from that place forever. Or at least since I moved here, same thing. I know you’re a big deal or whatever, but around this building, White Lotus is a staple. That’s probably why the delivery driver was suspicious of you and delivered it to Alfred’s door!”

“Who’s Alfred?” Colin asked, already pulling out the spring rolls from the paper bag, placing the container between them on the counter and furrowing his brow as he awaited her answer.

“Oh, he’s the guy in 4G. Very by the book he is, but he’s not around a lot. An academic, as I gather, travels a lot for his research.” She looked at the container Colin had put in front of them and sighed in recognition — two perfect spring rolls.

She warred with herself between being demure in front of her hot and nearly naked neighbor but she was also hungry. Colin apparently had no such reservations as he grabbed a roll, dipping it in the sweet chili sauce savagely and downing the entire thing in one noisy bite. 

Penelope blinked at him. “Can I have the other one?”

Colin wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his lips, and Penelope resisted the instinct to lick the residue herself. “Of course! The rest is for you, I’m sorry. I grew up with a lot of siblings, so the urge to just eat what’s in front of you quickly is hard to shake.” He laughed, the sound rippling over his chest visibly.

Penelope nodded and focused on the spring roll, dipping it in the sauce and taking a small bite. While chewing, her eyes flickered to Colin’s, and she was shocked to see them widen slightly as he stared at her lips.

Was he…interested?

Taking a chance, she took another bite, then put the roll down, swiping the corner of her lip with the tip of her thumb, then briefly letting it into her mouth, sucking the sweet substance off for just a moment longer than was necessary. Hazarding a glance back at him, she saw his cheeks pink as he was clearly caught staring.

Coughing loudly, Colin reached back into the paper bag and pulled out another container. “Still hungry? Or do you want to wait until your chicken is ready, and we can save this in the fridge until tomorrow?”

Penelope raised an eyebrow at his (probably) mistaken insinuation that ‘they’ would save it in her fridge until tomorrow, meaning he would still be there in the morning after the locksmith let him back into his flat.

“I mean, well, oh bloody hell!” He dropped the container of rice he’d been holding onto the floor and scrambled to pick it up, clearly not thinking about his attire as he bent over to grab the container and the few kernels of rice that had sprinkled out onto her hardwood.

In the process, the towel slipped up and the end result was her neighbor Colin Bridgerton fully showing her his arse. 

Just like the rest of him, it was…bloody perfect. Round, pert, and biteable.

Several seconds passed as he tried to clean up his blunder before Colin seemed to realize what he’d done. “Oh, fuck!” he shouted, straightening up immediately with one hand on the knot of the towel, the other placing the takeout container and stray rice on the counter like it had burned him. “Pen, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, putting a hand in front of him placatingly. “You must think I’m such a creep. I can leave, please don’t call the police.”

They stood for a moment in silence. Colin looked a bit pained, clearly unsure if he was about to be slapped or kicked out, and Penelope was trying to process everything that had just happened.

“It’s alright,” she said finally. 

“It’s not —” he tried to interrupt, and she shook her head.

“I mean it’s not, but it is,” she reaffirmed. “It’s — well, it wasn’t unpleasant to look at.” 

She could see a little of the tension visibly releasing from his shoulders as he processed what she said. “Not…unpleasant?” He suddenly had a little bit of the playful light back in his dark blue eyes as one corner of his mouth ticked up at the corner. Putting both his hands on the kitchen counter again, he looked at her across the island expectantly.

“Yes, well, I’ve, erm, seen worse bums.” WHAT THE HELL, PENELOPE?! She cringed as soon as the words had left her lips. 

Colin let out a genuine and loud laugh at that, clutching his non-existent belly and shaking his head. “How many arses are we talking about, Pen? Do you have a rating system?”

She couldn’t help but snicker too, and as the laughter died down, a new type of tension surrounded them like a thick fog. Colin caught her eyes as he slowly moved to the edge of the island, while she did the same on the other side, until they were standing next to each other, face-to-face. He brought his large hand up, catching her eyes for permission before touching her cheek lightly. 

“You’re — um, you’re very pretty, you know. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you since moving in.” His hand moved from lightly touching to cupping her cheek, until the side of her face was engulfed by him and she leaned into it a little, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You’re also smart — like smarter than anyone I’ve ever met outside my family, I think, and so kind, really. Welcoming, sweet, and —”

“Colin,” Penelope finally interrupted, bringing a finger to his lips to silence him. “I like you too,” she whispered, finding a confidence deep in her gut and leaning forward until they were breathing each other’s air, hoping he would close that last few inches.

“Same page then,” Colin sighed as he leaned forward, letting their lips meet with a soft moan and a tightening of his grip on her jaw.

Uh-oh, Penelope thought, as she let go of the restraint she’d been holding onto tightly and watched it fly away in the breeze of her mind’s eye.

***

Colin thought he’d never recover from accidentally mooning the neighbor he’d been crushing on — and kissing her minutes later was not on his Bingo card — but as their lips met, he felt a sort of peace fall over him like a soft, warm blanket. 

It was right.

And it was good.

And it felt like no other kiss in his entire life.

As her soft lips (so fucking soft) moved against his, random images flashed through his mind — the tulip fields in Amsterdam, the night markets in Shanghai, cherry blossoms in Washington, D.C., sunrise on a hilltop at what felt like the edge of the world in Sri Lanka.

He’d been searching, searching, searching, but now he felt like he finally found it.

All of this shot through his head in a matter of seconds (minutes, hours?) and he was broken from his thoughts with a small, gorgeous moan that transferred directly from her tongue to his throat, then straight down to his groin. 

Both his hands moved down to her waist, gripping her curves over the sinfully thin tank top she’d been wearing when she rescued him from the hallway. Massaging the flesh, he worked his fingers underneath the cotton and groaned at the feel of her warmth against his skin.

Feeling greedy, he let his mouth move from her lips, over her jaw, then down to her neck where he started to suck and lick the delicious salt from her skin, letting one hand skim upward towards her luscious breast. He went slowly so she could stop him at any time, but as soon as he made contact she groaned, tangling the curls at the nape of his neck in her fist and scratching with her nails lightly. 

It felt divine.

“Christ, Pen,” he mumbled. Without further preamble, he leaned down and lifted her by the thighs onto the countertop, plopping her down with an oof! escaping her lips in the process.

“Off?” he asked, motioning to her shorts.

“Off,” she agreed, nodding enthusiastically and lifting her hips so he could wrench her shorts and knickers down in one go. 

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, sinking to his knees. She was short, he was tall, and her countertop happened to be perfectly positioned so that his face was right in front of her currently spread thighs that he could not wait to be crushing his fucking head between.

Yanking her forward so her arse was teetering on the edge, he made eye contact as he let his tongue touch her gorgeous pussy for the first time. He watched her face as he explored, tasting her arousal first, moaning at the heady mix of her. 

He’d had fun giving oral in the past, but this time he was so fucking focused on the smell, the taste, the feeling of her body surrounding him. The noises she made, the way she started to grip his hair lightly, guiding him gently but firmly.

He’d been flicking her clit back and forth with the tip of his tongue, then he started to suck it into his mouth while blowing a breath on the sensitive flesh, and he tilted his gaze back up as she moaned and gripped his hair harder. What he saw was divine.

She’d pulled one of her breasts out of her flimsy tank top and was flicking her nipple between her small fingers. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, mouth agape, and fiery red hair cascading down her back as she looked simply undone.

Colin had never ever seen a sexier sight in his entire life. 

Doubling down, he pulled the precious nub between his lips and let his tongue creep forward, circling it again, while squeezing her thighs with both hands until she opened her eyes and looked down at him. 

Making eye contact, he continued, watching her face as a bead of sweat glistened at her temple, her lower lip trembled, and she finally, finally, fell apart, squeezing so hard against his ears that he grunted as he continued sucking, working her through her release until she finally pushed his face away for relief.

“Holy fuck, that was…” Pen started, before a loud beeping blared through the kitchen.

Colin fell backwards onto his arse in surprise before realizing it was the oven timer. 

“Oh!” Pen exclaimed, hopping off the counter as if her bare, wet pussy wasn’t completely exposed, donning a heatproof mitt and removing her roast chicken from the oven. 

At some point in all the kerfuffle, Colin’s towel had finally, well, thrown in the towel and come undone, leaving him bare arse naked with a raging boner while he watched Penelope Winnie-the-Pooh it with an oven mitt on her right hand. 

“We’ll eat the chicken later, after we fuck, right?” she said matter-of-factly.

“Oh yeah, that’s an elite post-sex snack,” he agreed.

“Perfect.”

Without further ado, he dove in, throwing her over his shoulder like a caveman and completely guessing based on the layout where her bedroom might be. He found a room that had a large bed, quirky decorations, and loads of books on the shelves that lined practically every wall. 

Colin placed her on the bed, moving to hover over her form and check in again, noticing her heavy breaths and glassy eyes. 

“Okay?” he said, running a finger softly over her cheek in concern.

“Absolutely,” she assured, sitting up slightly to pull her tank top over her head. 

Colin’s brain momentarily stopped functioning as he realized her breasts were now bare in front of his face. 

“So, are you going to fuck me, or do I have to do it for you?” 

Penelope’s cheeky voice broke him out of his stupor, and he looked back at her face with just the tiniest bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, God yes, I’ll get a —” The words died like ash on his tongue, since, of course, he didn’t have a condom — he didn’t have his wallet or anything whatsoever. 

“I, well, I never do this, but I have an IUD, and I swear to god I’m clean. Most recent check-up was a few weeks ago.” Penelope looked up at him and bit her lip nervously.

“Oh thank God,” he blurted out, his dick having made itself known and feeling angry with the lack of attention in the last few minutes. “Same for me, I — well, it’s been a minute, and I have no issues either.” 

They stared at each other for another few seconds before Penelope gnawed at her lip again and he truly couldn’t resist kissing her, touching her, feeling her start to rub her arousal against his tip as she moaned into his mouth. 

“Yeah?” he asked, as he felt his sensitive head notch at her entrance.

“Yeah,” she agreed, putting a hand on his cheek and focusing his attention on her face. “Yeah.”

Colin gasped as he started to push inside her body. She was so fucking tight. Warm, wet, perfect.

“Pen,” he breathed, looking into her eyes as he bottomed out. “I — you’re —” he couldn’t find the words.

“Perfect,” she supplied.

“Perfect,” he agreed. 

Slowly, he started to pump his hips, relishing in every single sound she made. Every breath, gasp, moan, grunt, and facial expression he committed to memory as he moved inside her.

What a fucking privilege, was all he could think to himself as he fucked her. 

“You’re so good, so fucking good,” Colin said, and as soon as he spoke, it was as if a dam had burst and he couldn’t stop. “Christ, Pen, this pussy, I can’t believe it’s so tight, so warm, and you’re just goddamn perfect.”

He’d been peppering kisses on her neck and tits, but now he pulled back suddenly, rising up and yanking her upper thighs so she came with him, pulling the right one up and out so it rested over his hip with her ankle tapping his arse. 

He couldn’t help but press just a little deeper then, groaning as he watched her panting, her eyes flashing down to where they were joined, her pussy swallowing his thick shaft over and over, glistening with her arousal and his precum.

Bare.

This fact resurfaced in his brain, and he felt a tingling in his balls, grunting loudly as he used his free hand to start circling her clit again.

“Oh!” Penelope cried as soon as she felt his touch. 

“Yeah, that’s where my tongue was, love, making you come. I’m gonna make you come again, but on my cock this time.”

He felt her flutter on his dick at this, and it was all he could do to keep thrusting in the same rhythm. 

“You want that? You want to come on my cock, love? I want to feel it, I’m dying to feel it.” Colin pounded harder now, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as his gaze was entirely focused on Penelope’s face and his finger was still on her clit.

“Yes,” she breathed, sounding almost pained. “I’m so close, Colin, please right there, right fucking there.”

The sound of her begging took his breath away, but he kept going and suddenly she was coming, she was clenching and fluttering and fucking squeezing his cock and oh fuck —

“Pen, I’m, oh Christ!” He’d meant to ask where she wanted his cum, he really had, but before he could stop it, he was coming inside her and coming hard. His hips stuttered to a stop eventually as his face pinched in pleasure, shooting what felt like an endless load into her cunt as she shook around him in the throes of her own pleasure. 

It took what felt like forever for them both to come down. Colin pulled out of her eventually, wincing as he realized a bit of his cum was oozing out of her well-used pussy. 

“C’mere,” she mumbled, arms out inviting him to snuggle. 

He smiled, immediately reassured, and dove down into the bed, nuzzling his face between her breasts with a contented sigh. “You’re perfect, you know,” he muttered.

“I don’t know about that,” Pen replied. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty perfect.”

Colin grinned and stuck a tongue out to lick into the side of her boob, delighting in her resulting giggle.

“How about we agree that neither of us are perfect, but we’ll try?” Colin hesitated for just a moment before steeling himself for the next part. “And maybe we could try for perfection together? Like, if you wanted to…of course.”

Waiting for what felt like a lifetime, he eventually tilted his head to view her face and was relieved at what he saw. 

She looked relaxed and happy, reaching out a hand to stroke his hair again, which immediately gave him the urge to purr like a cat.

“Colin, I’d like to try for perfection and fail every time. As long as it’s with you, I think we’ll be alright.”

Her words made him feel as if his heart was trying to break out of his body to win a race he hadn’t even realized he’d started. He immediately peppered her face with kisses and they both giggled with delight. 

Eventually, Colin’s phone chirped from the other room.

“Oh shit, that’s probably the locksmith,” he said, getting up regrettably only to remember he had no clothes to put on.

“Um, do you want me to greet him?” Penelope offered, already rising to pull on some joggers.

“That’s probably for the best,” he agreed. 

Penelope was about to leave the room when he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“If he’s making copies, please tell him to make two.”

Penelope quirked an eyebrow, then nodded. 

“All in, neighbor.”

“All in,” she agreed with a wink.