Actions

Work Header

Threshold

Work Text:

Title Plaque

As he shoved me against the kitchen counter hard, I knew I wanted more of him than I had ever had before. Our lips were caught together in a frantic mess. We were in a hurry, finding ourselves finally, truly alone. Off came my shirt, then his, with a kiss in between. Heaven forbid we didn’t connect for one little second. Then there was a quick pause for him to smile before he shoved me up against the cabinet. My knees drew up about his waist as my skirt pulled back, drawing him in. I wanted to feel all of him so urgently. The roughness I could feel pressing into me through the thickness of his pants and my thin little panties wasn’t enough.

He kissed me deeply and his long hair, free of his hat ever since telling me that he loved me mere seconds ago, was tickling my face. I thought that alone was unbearable until . . .

His hand grasped my neck and his thumb pushed into my jaw. He dropped his head and began absolutely killing me as his lips worked their way down my neck to my shoulder. I was about to moan when. . .

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Oh God!”

Jughead pulled away from me, startled. “Is that your mom?”

Ugh. Not again . . .


The last time we had gotten that close he had crawled through my window in the dead of night. He wasn’t as quiet as I thought he should be.

“Shh –“ I started as he captured my lips in his, pushing me back into the room. He deftly removed his hat, flinging it onto the window seat without a care and tore off his jacket, our lips still attached. My hands were deep into his glorious hair before his arms were even out of his sleeves, pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

He held my waist as he tiptoed me back to the bed. When we reached the edge, I sat and pulled him into me, still standing, and pressed my face against his stomach. But it didn’t take long before he peeled his shirt off and my cheek was against his warm skin. He was breathing deeply and I could feel every roll of it as it passed low. I noticed a line of fine dark hair leading down . . . there. I started to run my finger along it, but before I could even reach his waistband he said warningly, “Betty . . .”

“What?” I looked up at him coyly. Pulling back and propping myself back on my hands in such a way as to show off the cleavage exposed by my short nightie, I smiled up at him.

“God Betty, you’re going to be the death of me,” he growled and then the next thing I knew he was in my bed, on top of me, pushing up my nightie, frantically reaching for. Ahhh . . .

His fingers were exquisite. I dug my nails into his bare back as he played with my nipple and in ecstasy I whispered, “Juggie.”

He responded with a moan as he bit into my neck just below my ear. He was a little too loud.

“Shh,” I admonished again, but could barely focus as the bite deepened. Then he drew his lips down my neck and started rolling his hips into mine, over and over again.

He was rock hard, but I could barely feel him through his pants.

“Juggie,” I said and tugged at his waistband. “Please I want to feel you.”

He tore himself away from my neck to look at me, perplexed. A lock of his unruly hair fell down onto my forehead and just sat there between us as we locked eyes. “Are you sure?”

I tugged on his waistband more firmly this time. “Just a little.”

“Okay, just a little,” he said and smiled that smile he seemed to reserve just for me. The one that always reached all the way to his cerulean eyes and made the corners of them crinkle.

He reached down and started tugging on his zipper.

Zzzzzzzz –

“Jughead!” My bedroom door banged open as my mother’s voice rang out.

He startled so bad he almost fell out of my bed. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so pissed at my mom in that moment.

“Rise and shine!” she exclaimed going over to the window and flinging the curtains open wide upon the darkness outside.

“Huh?” he asked and grabbed for his shirt, whipping it over his head. My nightgown had fallen back into place the minute Jughead had been startled. My modesty was intact.

“Thank you for joining us this morning, Jughead. It’s time to go home.”

“Mom!”

“What Betty?” My mom looked down at her watch. “It’s 1am. That’s morning.”

We both just stared at her for a second.

“Jughead, sorry I won’t be serving breakfast this morning, or else I’d ask you to join us.” She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look, waiting for him to exit.

He stood up and made a move to retrieve his hat.

“You might want to zip up there,” she told him.

He blushed deeply and I was mortified for him.

As he left I turned to her, “Mom!”

“What?”

“Never mind, you’ll never get it.”

“Never get what, Betty? I like Jughead.”

“What? How can you say that? You chase him off at every turn.”

She gave that odd, wry turn of her lips and said, “You don’t have to believe me that I like Jughead, Betty, but I do. Let me give you something to think about. Do you think I’d ever let ARCHIE even make it past your windowsill?”

Mom stalked out of the room. Well, that was unexpected.

I thought about what she said carefully and came to the realization that yes, she really did like Jughead. I did not see that coming . . .

I couldn’t help but smile.