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Jody is certain she must’ve been a saint in a past life. That’s the only thing that makes sense for how she’s ended up here.
Colt’s hands planted firmly on her hips, her legs wrapped around his waist as he mouthed at where her neck met her shoulder. Occasionally nipping at her skin only to soothe the marks with light kisses. Her hands threaded through his hair, occasionally tugging on the blond strands woven between her fingers.
The jacket he’d been wearing to the premiere was discarded somewhere; his tie was half undone, along with the buttons of his shirt. He was, simply put, a mess. And a possessive thrill ran through her at the notion that he was a mess because of her.
She tilted her head back with a gasp as Colt trailed kisses up her neck and to her jawline, one of his hands coming to rest on her exposed thigh from the slit in her red-carpet dress, thumb tracing circles into her skin. Jody kept one hand in his hair, the other slowly trailing down his scalp and toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him tug her closer, a low whine catching in his throat as she raked her nails up and down across his scalp.
A smile played across her face, though her brow furrowed when the tip of one of her manicured nails caught on a small dip in his skin, right at the back of his head. Colt tensed under her immediately, and she shuddered as he pulled back, exhaling nervously. His eyes were blown wide as he looked at her, his face tight and his nose scrunched.
“Colt-”
“I need a minute,” he blurted, pulling fully away from her and wincing as he brushed his fingers over the back of his neck. “I uh, I-”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him, sliding off the countertop. “I do not expect anything out of you, you know that. If you’re done, we’re done.” Colt opened his mouth to argue, but Jody cut him off with a look and a stern, “I am not doing anything with you that you’re not explicitly comfortable with.”
Colt hunched his shoulders, almost trying to curl in on himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “I uh, I just need a shower. And then I think I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Are you okay with me coming in so I can take my makeup off?”
Colt hesitated for a moment, fists clenching and unclenching before he nodded slowly. “Ye- yeah, I just-”
“I’ll give you your space, I promise.”
“I know you will, I just-” he tapped his foot nervously as his voice strained- “I-”
“Go take a shower,” she said softly, keeping her distance just in case. “We’ll get ready for bed, and we’ll go straight to sleep, alright?”
He nodded.
“I love you,” she added.
Colt cleared his throat for a second, his voice still coming out hoarse. “I love you too.”
Colt’s ability to clean up into an almost unrecognizable version of himself, in Jody’s opinion, has always been one of the great mysteries of the universe. How he could turn the murky, semi-anonymous role of the “unknown stunt guy” and blend near perfectly into whoever he was doubling for, while also being capable of sharpening his edges into a persona wholly his own when the occasion called for it.
But, when set didn’t call for a stunt double and the papparazzi weren’t clamoring for photos of visionary director Jody Moreno and her stud of a stuntman boyfriend, Colt Seavers, she did always have a soft spot for the Colt she only saw at home and got all to herself.
While he’d been a hard lines and sharp smiles on the red carpet with her, he’d softened almost immediately once he tugged on a shirt from a production he’d worked on years ago and a pair of sleep pants. Even more so when he gestured for Jean-Claude to hop up onto their bed and curl up at her feet.
She smiled, tugging back the blankets as he sat down next to her, head tipping back against the headboard. “Better?”
Colt’s mouth pressed into a thin line before he shook his head slowly, tucking his knees against his chest and resting his head on top. Jody frowned, scooting closer to him. “Did I do something?”
“You didn’t know,” he murmured. “It’s not your fault.”
“So I did do something,” Jody said slowly, studying his reaction as he winced again.
“No, it’s not your fault, Jodes. It’s- you didn’t know. You couldn’t’ve known.” His fingers hovered over the nape of his neck. “You didn’t know to avoid it. And I-” his voice caught in his throat- “I thought I was over it by now.”
“Over it?”
His jaw tightened for a split second as he stared at the ceiling. “Bear with me because I’m gonna sound like Ryland for a second. Blue eyes are a…they’re a recessive gene, right? Like there’s a solid chance that our kids-” Jody raised an eyebrow and Colt yelped slight- “if- if we had them, if that was- was something you even wanted…with me…or like…in general, they’d uh, they’d have blue eyes, because we both do. It’s the uh, the same with blond hair, and I mean, yeah mine is naturally a little darker but-”
“Your parents have dark hair,” Jody said slowly. “And dark eyes.”
“That’s uh…” Colt bit the inside of his cheek- “Adam and Jenna aren’t my–our–Ryland and I’s uh, they aren’t our biological parents. They adopted us I think-” he counted on his fingers- “when we were like…eleven? I think? They were our fifth foster placement, well, my fifth, Ry’s third. We uh, we got split up for a bit.”
“No wonder you didn’t call them Mom and Dad,” Jody whispered, mostly to herself.
“You didn’t wonder why?”
“I thought it was an American thing.”
Colt tilted his head to the side before nodding. “Fair. Ryland and I don’t even think about our biological dad as our father, much less our dad, so-” he shrugged. “Yeah. Adam was a huge improvement; I mean, anything would be better than a guy who beat the crap out of us.” He laughed lowly as Jody’s mouth fell open in horrified shock.
“Colt-”
“Don’t,” he said, holding up his hands. “I already know. I’ve got the pity enough to predict it. He’s dead, and I try not to think about him. Just- I dunno, sometimes I remember that he uh, what he did to us doesn’t just live in the past.” He reached up, twisting his body so he was facing away from her as he brushed the hair at the back of his head away, revealing a small, circular, discolored indent on the newly exposed skin. “That’s what your nail caught, by the way.”
“Jesus, Colt,” she breathed as he turned back to face her. “What-”
“I broke a plate, I think? James–biological dad–was a chain-smoker whenever he wasn’t, ya know, drunk off his ass. Decided that apparently, instead of making sure his son didn’t cut himself on the shards, I needed to be taught a lesson so I had the-” he wiggled his fingers for air quotes- “‘privilege of being his human ashtray for the rest of the day.” He rolled up his sleeve, showing a few more perfectly circular scars on the inside of his wrist.
Jody’s eyes widened as she held his arm carefully, her eyes tracing over each blemish. He could almost catch the fire of anger in her eyes, but before he could make some sort of disarming quip, she brought his wrist up to her mouth and pressed her lips gently against the scars.
Colt froze, breath catching in his throat as Jody looked up at him through her lashes. “Is that okay?” She whispered gently.
“Yeah, just,” he paused for a second as she interlaced his fingers with hers, “most people are fine with the stuntman and surgery scars but not- not the other stuff. Makes me complicated and human and I-”
Jody cut him off with a soft kiss pressed to his lips. “I have to say, I prefer you when you’re human,” she murmured, thumb brushing over his cheek. “You’re softer when you’re not trying to be something better than just a person. It’s my favorite look on you.”
“I’ll- I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.”