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Unexpected Visitor

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Your day started much earlier than most people’s. When you’re a stay-at-home mom, you really have no choice. Once your kids are awake, that’s it. All thoughts of rest are out the window and responsibility rears its ugly head. Now, you knew this when you decided to have kids, even still some days are harder than others. Today is definitely one of those days. For some reason, both boys are in bad moods and are bickering like crazy. It probably didn’t help that it was a snow day, and with the raging storm outside they had been forced to stay indoors.

It has been a harsh winter, and they aren’t the only ones with a case of cabin fever. You’re at your wits end, collapsing on the couch after washing dishes, when you hear a loud crash and your youngest starts to wail. “MOMMMMMM!”

Biting back a string of curses, you haul yourself off the soft cushions, when there’s suddenly a knock at the door. This time you don’t hold in the swear words, letting them fly in a string of nonsense, too tired to form a proper collection. The kids are still yelling, and now the knocking is louder, so you stomp over to the door only because it’s the closest one to you at the moment. Frazzled, you fling it open, fully preparing for a solicitor of some kind and ready to tell them to kindly fuck off. Instead, you find John Constantine standing there with a brown paper bag tucked under his arm and a flirty smile.

“‘ello, love,” he drawls. “Long time no see.”

“No,” you say instantly, pointing accusingly at him. “No, no, no, no, no…”

You try to close the door but John steps forward, using his foot to jam it. “Now, that’s no way to treat an old flame,” he tuts, hand on the door to keep you from slamming it on him, as you have done many times in the past.

“It is when it’s you, ” is your sharp retort. “Whatever it is, I don’t have time.”

John opens his mouth, but is drowned out by both your boys as they come tearing into the room, the youngest still crying while the oldest chases and taunts him. Too much is going on at once and you find yourself overstimulated, unsure of where to direct your frustration. Turning from the door, you round on the boys, catching both by the collars as they run past.

Enough!” you snap in your signature ‘fed-up-mom’ voice, which coincidentally also sounds like Christian Bale’s Batman. “You two have been fighting all day. What’s going on?!”

“He hit me!” the youngest accuses.

“Did not!” the oldest counters.

They try to get at each other, but you hold them further apart. “We will talk about this when you both calm down,” you declare. “Go to your rooms!”

“But, Mom !”

“NO!” you snap, before taking a deep breath and reining in it. Matching their anger and loudness will only make things worse, as you have learned through your past mistakes. “When you’re upset with someone, it’s okay to walk away and cool down. I need you both to go to your rooms and just take a few minutes to calm yourselves. Understood?”

It works. Your soft, but firm, tone makes both boys take deep breaths and as you tentatively let them go, they slink down the hall towards their rooms, though not without purposefully jostling each other along the way. Once they disappear from view, you let out a shaky breath yourself, sighing heavily when you hear both their doors slam.

Silence finally falls over the house and it’s then that you remember your unexpected guest. Steeling yourself for whatever shit John has gotten himself into, you slowly turn to face him. While you were distracted he had slipped into the house, and was now watching you carefully, though the flirty smirk is gone. In fact, he looks bewildered and extremely uncomfortable.

“They like that all the time?” John asks.

You shrug. “They’re at that age,” you say. “And being locked up in the house today with no school didn’t help.”

John doesn’t say anything further, only stares as he fiddles with the paper bag in his hands. You wait, expecting him to speak up, and when he doesn’t, you do instead. “Why are you here, John?”

That seems to jolt him out of his own head and he takes a step toward you. “Was in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop in, see how you were doin’,” he says

“Bullshit.”

John’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement. “Come again, love?”

“I said, ‘bullshit’,” you repeat. “What trouble are you running from now?”

“Why do you automatically assume I’m in trouble?” John asks.

Having no time for his games, you roll your eyes and turn away, heading for the kitchen. “Because I’ve met you,” you tell him. “And whenever you show up out of the blue, something terrible has or will happen.”

“That’s fair,” John concedes, following close behind. “Thought you might be able to help me lay low for a bit.”

“You thought wrong,” you snap.

“Bloody hell you’re testy today,” John remarks. “Not usually the welcome I receive.”

“It’s been years,” you remind him. “And I’m a mom now. I don’t have the time or patience for whatever trouble you got yourself into. So, kindly fuck off so I can make dinner and take care of my boys.” You’ve reached the refrigerator by now and fling the door open, nearly whacking John in the process. He dodges at the last second, much to your dismay.

“Actually, love,” John says, slinking around and coming to rest against the counter. “I can help with one of those things.” He puts the paper bag down and pulls out a frozen pizza.

As much as you hate to admit it, realizing you won’t have to cook does help you relax, and you close the refrigerator with a sigh. “Look, Constantine,” you say, purposefully using his last name so he knows just how serious you are. “I have kids now. I can’t get caught up in whatever crap you have trailing behind you, mystical or otherwise. Whatever you’re planning...”

“I’m not planning anything, love,” John interrupts. “I wanted to see you.”

Yeah right. The number of times John has visited you without ulterior motives is non-existent. There has always been a catch or an angle, and as you give him a hard stare, he knows you’re not buying it.

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically, throwing his hands up. “There’s this bloke…”

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing he didn’t ask for, believe me,” John smirks, wagging his eyebrows. “Unfortunately, mate doesn’t understand I’m not lookin’ for anything serious.”

You snort with disbelief, running your hands through your hair. “You need my help to hide from a one-night stand?” you ask. “For fuck’s sake, John.”

There’s a gasp and you jump, turning around to see your oldest staring at you, wide-eyed. “Mommy, you’re not suppose’ta say that word!” he exclaims.

“And you’re supposed to be in your room and not eavesdropping on Mommy’s conversation,” you scold playfully, walking over to kneel in front of him. “Want to tell me what happened earlier?”

The boy is staring curiously at John, but he looks away to meet your gaze. “We were just playin’,” he says in earnest.

“Did you hit your brother?”

“...yeah. But I didn’t mean to!” he insists.

“Okay, well, why don’t you go tell him that and apologize,” you say. “While Mommy makes some pizza. Then we can all sit and watch a movie. Sound good?”

Your son nods happily, giving you a quick hug before going to find his brother. With relief, you stand up straight, turning around to face John. “What?”

“Dunno how you do it. I could never ‘ave kids,” he comments.

“And the universe breathes a collect sigh of relief,” you say, brushing him aside to reach the oven. “Move so I can cook this pizza.”

A few hours later, once everyone has eaten and the boys are finally tucked in for the evening, you wander through the house trying to figure out where John disappeared off to. You find him on the snowy back porch, smoking those terrible Silk Cuts he likes so much.

“Kids asleep?” he asks.

“Yeah, finally,” you say, leaning on the railing next to him as you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.

“Meant what I said earlier. Don’t know how you do it, love,” John comments, removing the cigarette butt from his mouth. “I’d go bloody mental.” He flicks the butt into the dark and you watch it land in the snow bank.

“It’s worth it,” you smile. “Fuck, I’m exhausted. And it’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

John follows you back into the living room, but you’ve barely managed to close the sliding glass door and kick out of your boots, before an arm slithers around your waist and warmth envelopes your body as John wraps himself around you. “How exhausted?” he asks huskily, lips brushing your ear.

Your body reacts just as you knew it would, shuddering at the promise of pleasure. After such a long day, you relish the thought of losing yourself in his touch. “Not exhausted enough,” you grin, tilting your head to expose your neck. John brushes your hair away and places the gentlest of kisses below your ear, making your body erupt with goose bumps.

A hand slides around and deft fingers unties the drawstring of your sweatpants. “Not here,” you gasp as those same fingers dip into your underwear. “Bedroom.”

John doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the room, his smoldering look so intense it nearly takes your breath away. The door barely closes before you’re practically slammed against it, your hush scolding cut off by his mouth closing over yours. It’s your turn to fumble with his pants, yanking the button lose before maneuvering his zipper down. The need for release fuels your rough movements as you nip at John’s lips, wrapping your hand around his quickly swelling length.

You only get a few quick tugs before you find your underwear unceremoniously shoved down, and you hastily step out of them and your pants. Stumbling, you and John make it to the bed, where he falls onto his back. Wasting no time, you straddle his waist, grinding against the bulge in his open trousers. John is still devouring your mouth and he takes a break only to mutter. “Rubber’s in me pocket, love.”

A few quick seconds of fumbling and then you’re sinking onto John, biting your lip to keep from moaning loudly. John doesn’t think before he lets out a loud moan himself, and you promptly cover his mouth with your hand. “Shh,” you chuckle, rocking your hips forward.

John whimpers so you do it again, until you’re both writhing and panting together, lost in the sensations. He knocks your hand away, yanking you down into a feverish kiss. You fall into it, letting him take over your movements as he pumps himself up into you again and again. One quick movement and you’re on your back, his hands shoving your shirt up so he can bury his face between your breasts, sucking your heaving flesh. As much as you like to keep your distance, you can’t help but miss this side of John.

Release finds you quickly and brutally, locking your body in place as you twist the sheets and bite your lip even harder, nearly drawing blood. John soothes it with more kiss, and only a minute or so later shudders on top of you. With a guttural moan he collapses and you lay in a sweaty, panting heap, hearts and minds racing.

“Next time, call first,” you pant.

“Mmm, why’s that, love?” John asks, nuzzling your throat before giving a teasing lick.

“So I can send the boys to my mom’s and we can be as loud as we want.”

John laughs softly, which draws a laugh out of you before you pull him into another kiss.