Duncan x Reader

Chapter 2: Part Two

Hand reaching for the door of the cafe, Gwen pauses. She can see Duncan, his hand wrapped around a large mug in the far corner of the cafe. Courtney is opposite him. They look small spread across the large four-seated booth they've acquired, with only the pair of them to fill the seats. Something hollows out in Gwen's chest as she takes a cursory glance around the cafe. Trent hasn't shown up.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Courtney waving at her, calling her over beyond that glass. She throws open the door, steps into the warmth of the cafe and weaves her way over to the table.

'Heard from Trent?' Courtney takes a sip from the edge of her cup and burns her tongue, hissing when the liquid hits it.

Gwen slips into the booth, modifying the disappointment she knows is plain as day on her face on before responding.

'Sorry I'm late.' Trent's bag lands on the leather bench before he does. He looks tired. Purple bags cling to his eyes betraying the forced straightness of his spine. 'Anyone ordered yet?'

The group shake their heads.

'Right. Everyone down for the usual?' Almost as soon as Trent sits down, he's back on his feet again. He slips his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and avoids Gwen's eye before turning on his heel and making towards the counter.

'I'll, erm...' The excuse dies on his tongue before it's fully formed and Gwen slips from the booth, following as quickly as she can on Trent's heel. She hauls in a deep, deliberate breath trying to calm the surge of nerves in her intestines. The feeling wiggles about in her stomach and squirms. She tenses her stomach in an attempt to squash it, but it just makes it worse. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle, a whole new sensation overtaking her chest as she shuffles to a stop beside Trent in the queue. 'Hey...' Gwen wraps his shoulder. 'Can we talk?'

Rolling his shoulder out of the woman's grip, Trent pulls his eyes up from his shoes. 'Is it about lunch?'

Gwen swallows.

'Then no.'

Duncan is quiet. He watches the scene unfold from his seat in the booth, sipping lazily at the lip of his mug and ignoring Courtney's frantic taps on his shoulder.

'You can't just ignore me forever...' Gwen's hand is back at Trent's shoulder. The rounded muscle warming her palm, making her skin itch.

Trent bites down on the inside of his cheek. His head was spinning. Looking at Gwen is hard. His gaze drifts to her lips, drawn to the plush skin like a magnet. They were softer than he had expected. Her hands too had been gentle as they pulled at his scalp. The thought of kissing her again hollows out his chest and makes his teeth clench. Then, it's eclipsed by the guilt. Your voice echoes in the back of his head, the image of your bottom lip quivering as you'd asked him if he had kissed back ensnares him. Trent shakes it off. 'I need time, what part of that is hard to understand?'

'The part where that meant you starting to blame yourself.' Gwen steps back. Tilting her head she watches as the air catches in Trent's throat. 'I was the one who kissed you, it's my fault and -.'

'Leave it.' Trent tries to keep his eyes sharp when he stares back into Gwen's face, but as soon as he sees the small pond of tears nested in the lip of her eyelid he caves.

'No.' Gwen bites her lip.

There's a hollow in Trent's chest again as he takes hold of Gwen by the shoulder and pushes his way back through the cafe. He doesn't stop until he's barrelling through the door, Gwen still in toe, and slipping down the thin alleyway beside the shop. 'Tren– fuck – stop it – what are you -.'

Trent releases Gwen , throwing her back against the wall. 'Why won't you just stay out of my head?' He pacing, fists balled up at his sides, shoulders scrunches up by his ears.

'Tre -.' Gwen reaches for him, then thinks better of it.

'You had to go and fuck it all up, didn't you? Had to make me fucking – make me.' There's a bubble in his throat, the words jam behind it and choke him bringing tears to his eyes as he struggles to spit out what's really got him so worked up.

'Had to what?'

Trent stops. 'Had to make me fucking want you.'

The admission hits Gwen in the chest. Her eyes widen, mouth dropping ajar as she stares at the man in front of her.

There's only a moment that elapses between them, a moment of them stood still, facing each other and frantically trying to predict each others movements. It makes Gwen's fingers itch, makes her want to sing and be sick all at the same time. Then, Trent is on her. He presses her against the wall, forcing Gwen's back against rough brick. Even through the thin fabric of their shirts and the thick wall of pectoral muscle, she can feel his heart beat. It races, hammering wildly against his ribs and encourages Gwen's to do the same.

'I – I...' Trent's voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. His voice tickles Gwen's ear, his lips almost brushing the exposed junction of her neck as he speaks into her skin.

Gwen's frozen. It takes a second to unlock her arms, to force her body to relax enough that she can move and as soon as she can, she wraps her arms around Trent's shoulders. 'Hey – hey – it's okay... It's...'

'I want you so fucking bad.'

The little panic that had swelled in Gwen's stomach vanishes. Her hand tangles into Trent's hair, palm cradling his head just like she had done the first time. There's something inside of him that hates it. She hates how her body seems to slip perfectly into the concave turn of Trent's chest, hates how his lips hovering her ear make goose-flesh out of her skin. She hates it because she knows she's not his. 'Trent, I -.'

Trent pulls back. His eyes are bloodshot, the strips of skin along his cheekbones raw and wet. 'I hate you.'

'I know.' Tears fall over Gwen's lid, only to be wiped away with a quick swipe of Trent's thumb.

'Can I kiss you?' Trent leans in, placing a hand around the back of Gwen's neck.

'But -.'

'Please...' His voice dies in his throat, but then Gwen is nodding and her body is moving without her telling it to. The kiss is messy, desperate as he licks into Gwen's mouth.

For a moment, they only breathe each other, losing themselves to skin and heat in a frantic attempt to steal as much of each other as possible. Gwen's hands bunch up in Trent's shirt, tugging him close as the other slips his thigh between her legs. When they pull away, they're panting.

Trent rests his forehead against Gwens, his eyes screwed shut. 'I still hate you.'

Gwen swallows. 'I know.'

'It's not fair.'

'I know.'

'I still love her.'

The thing in Gwen's stomach squirms again. It tightens, threatening to wriggle up her throat and choke her. She chews his lip. 'I know.'