#don't worry Apple gets him back by stealing his drinks and then complaining when it isn't something she likes

[butterrdream]

🎨Commissioned art from raezoo

I don't think I've talked about it yet but unfortunately (/lh) these two are the type to be obnoxious and spoonfeed/handfeed each other during meals. Sharing food is a love language of theirs and stealing food is also one of Reborn's (he'll always say it tastes better that way much to her annoyance). They'll even do it out of habit when others are around without realizing it. Well... Reborn realizes it and just doesn't care. Apple does care and... Apologies in advance to anyone who is forced to witness their PDA 🙇🏻‍♀️

[prolix-yuy]

Plus One

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader "Ms Jackson"

Summary: It's Ms Jackson's company holiday party, and Frankie makes his debut.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, references to past escort work, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism kink, references to oral sex and anal play, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), spanking, possessive play, little bit of brattiness, Frankie is too damn hot and Ms J is gonna make him pay for it (in the best way).

Notes: Here's my (slightly late) SW!Frankie Christmas story! This is dedicated to @lowlights for saying "All I want for Christmas is SW!Frankie" and I couldn't resist giving her exactly that. She also picked Frankie's holiday party outfit, which is absolute perfection and I would climb him like a tree if he showed up in this fit.

Takes place after Callback.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Masterlist

The internal monologue running in the back of your mind comments on the tasteful decor, how the poinsettias and fake candles and red and green tablecloths really dress up the restaurant. The thought that “HR did a really nice job” skitters through your mind, and the warm scent of cider and mulled wine and store-bought cookies all envelops you in a nostalgic holiday mood.

Well, it would, but on the other hand this holiday party might actually kill you. Honestly. And yet you have to pretend that you’re not dying inside, a calm smile on your face while you fight back against the urge to scream.

It all started with an email.

Hi Team!

It’s that time of year again - our annual holiday party! Please join us for appetizers and drinks at Lesandro’s at 6pm Friday, December 23rd. If you want to enter the raffle for a special prize, please email Alison for a ticket.

This was all fine and dandy until you got to the next line.

Plus ones are welcome!

You shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not the first time your office has extended invites to partners. You had brought your ex-husband in the past, the brief sting of the memory flitting through your mind. It was to be expected every year, a night to enjoy yourselves on the company’s dime in lieu of bonuses. 

You would gladly accept a check rather than the cocktails and finger foods, but you weren’t not on the planning committee. 

A little tremor of excitement over that line lightened your spirits for the rest of the day. Thinking of Frankie schmoozing with your coworkers made a smile come to your face, and his solid comfort being by your side actually made you look forward to the event. The scales tipped more towards anxiety when you walked into your home, Frankie coming down the stairs with damp hair.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, a quick squeeze of a hug before heading to your car for groceries. Worrying at your lower lip, you waited until you were both in the kitchen sorting produce before you spoke up.

“I’ve got a company party coming up in a couple weeks,” you said, toppling a few apples onto the counter.

“You’ll be out late?” Frankie asked, dumping fruit into a colander in the sink. The running tap let you take your time with your response.

“Actually, I can bring a plus one,” you tried to say breezily, rolling a stray lemon under your palm. It grounded you as Frankie turned to you. “If you want to come,” you added at the end. When his pause went on too long you hazarded a look up at him. He was smiling in that somewhat exasperated way that let you know you’d been overthinking again.

“Why wouldn’t I want to come? Maybe I can guess which one of those girls steals your yogurt on Wednesdays.” The remark made you giggle, leaning back against the counter as Frankie’s mischievous eyes eased your tension.

“I don’t know, I built it up in my head, asking you.” You shrugged, voice getting a little softer. “My ex never liked going to these things. Complained for weeks before and after, then would barely talk to me when we were there.” You shifted, crossing your arms over your chest. It wasn’t the first time you’d talked about your past relationships with Frankie, but having to feel the grief, the sickness in the pit of your stomach, the tension of revising those memories still made you want to crawl out of your own skin. Frankie’s hands, heavy and soothing, wrapped around your biceps.

“If you want me there, I’m there,” he said, rubbing your arms with a reassuring smile. You nodded, letting your forehead drop against his shoulder when he stepped closer. Sucking a deep breath in, Frankie’s clean musk and fresh soap smell released the tight muscles in your jaw. “Where are they having it?”

“Lesandro’s.”

“Oh, so it’s like, a nice party,” Frankie mused, hand kneading at the back of your neck where you held much of your stress. You melted into the massage, pressing your cheek to his plush chest.

“Eh, we come from the office, you don’t have to dress up,” you mumbled into his worn t-shirt. He hummed in response.

“Could be fun, though,” he said, working his thumb into the meat of your shoulders. “Dressing up for it. I’d like to make a good first impression.” 

Leaning back, you raised an eyebrow at Frankie.

“Oh really?”

He blushed, and you thought your heart might explode at the sight. Slipping your fingers into the wisps of gray-brown hair at the nape of his neck, you swayed against your boyfriend.

“Then bring your A-game, handsome.”

Which is why you’re standing here now, close to literally exploding.

Because when Frankie texted to tell you he was here, you didn’t expect what walked in the door.

First of all, no Standard Oil hat. You didn’t expect him to wear it, but it’s such a part of himself now you forget he can go without it. He styled his hair loose and curling, not a wild mane but controlled wisps that flick out around his ears and bounce along his forehead. Little glints of silver you refuse to let him cover up at a salon catch the glittering lights in the restaurant. He’s wearing a white button-up, the top two buttons open to bare a delicious vee of tan skin around his throat. He clearly wasn’t patient enough with the sleeves, though, because he’s rolled them up around his elbows, accenting his strong forearms. You’ve never seen the pants he’s wearing, some sort of dark blue-black slacks that hug his trim hips perfectly before descending to black leather monkstrap shoes. 

And he’s wearing his fucking glasses.

Your cunt throbs at the sight.

He searches the crowd, the smile that breaks out when you lock eyes making your legs weak. He weaves his way through your coworkers, a few watching him curiously as he scoots by. Once he’s made it to you, a hand on your lower back and a kiss to your cheek, the eyes that followed him now land on you. The pride this swells in your chest makes you giddy.

“Have I missed all the food?” Frankie asks in your ear, your response a shaken head. He mock-sighs in relief before Cindy strides up to you both, ever the nosy one. Her smile is too big, hand outstretched to Frankie.

“And who have we here?” she asks, eyes flitting between you both. You brim with a little more pride when Frankie takes her hand, giving her a kind but firm handshake.

“Francisco Morales, the boyfriend,” he says with a little jest in his voice, Cindy laughing louder than necessary. 

This is the theme of the night, Frankie approached by coworkers and chatting his way through the first impressions. You smile and schmooze along with him, but inside marvel over how smooth he is. The perfectly timed jokes, the attentive smiles. As Cindy (and some people you’ve never even met) approach and leave, he knows exactly how to engage and play off their differing personalities. Giving space to the chatterbugs, coaxing conversation from the quiet ones, engaging in interests and offering his opinions. 

“This won’t be my first time in a room full of strangers with high expectations,” Frankie had said a few days before when you offered him an out on the party. The implication flew over your head until he added, “I’ve been hired as an escort too.” 

The revelation led to another one of those matter-of-fact conversations that were so fascinating with Frankie. He talked about sex work (and escorting, in this case) with no more emotional attachment than discussing what cars he worked on.

“I did a charity event once, older woman who wanted a younger man on her arm but didn’t want to look pathetic.”

“A girl had a bodyguard fantasy we played out at the Plaza. One of the nicest hotel rooms I’ve worked in.”

“You learn a lot by acting like the trophy, and people will tell you the wildest shit if you just listen.”

All of these skills were in action now as you watched him listen to someone from customer support discussing chatbot services. The second glass of champagne in your hand is warming under your fingers but you barely notice because this is a Frankie you rarely see. He’s in an element that’s foreign to you, used to his soft competency and attention and now witnessing his surety, his confidence, his ease at shifting into exactly what everyone wants.

Even the moments when you feel a stab of jealousy - Debbie touching his arm when he makes a joke, how he gives everyone his undivided attention - he always makes his way back to you. His hand rests on your lower back,  pulling you into conversations when you’re being edged out. And when you’re leading, having a discussion with a coworker, he listens closely by your side and nods along, even if you know he’s lost as to the topic.

It’s turning you on way more than you want to admit. 

The party is grating on your nerves after an hour and a half, your brain screaming at you to leave. Listening to Carl complain about the cost of events planning pales in comparison to showing Frankie exactly how much he’s been affecting you all night. The ache only worsens when you catch a glimpse of his profile, smiley and easygoing, as his shirt gapes to reveal no undershirt underneath. You could slip your fingers inside and drag them along the smooth expanse of skin there, before slipping them down to pop every button open as you descend lower and lower…

“Your man not dress up for you much?”

Erica, one of your favorite coworkers and confidant, sidles up next to you as Frankie tries to leave a conversation by the drinks table, two glasses in hand. Your face heats up as you fan yourself surreptitiously with a napkin.

“Mmmhmmm, okay no need to answer that one for me. Boss left ten minutes ago, go get your man out of here before Johnson bores him to death,” she murmurs, giving you an approving look before going back to her lost-looking husband. Her revelation, coupled with your increasing need, rockets you across the room to Frankie’s relieved face.

“Sorry Johnson, I need Frankie for a minute. Nice seeing you!” you rush out, depositing Frankie’s proffered glasses on a waiter’s tray. Hands free, you tug Frankie to the exit, his voice lost in the rush of blood to your ears. 

Out of the stuffy room and into the cooler night, Frankie huffs in surprise when you push him back against the building’s exterior and steal a heated kiss, a quick press of the lips preceding your tongue pressing into his mouth, stifling his moan with your own. Taking the hint, he pulls your hips flush with his, attacking your mouth with as much fervor as you’re giving. His teeth scrape against your tongue, letting you grind him against the concrete wall before he spins you to switch places.

“You had to wear the fucking glasses,” you gasp when he pulls back enough to nibble along your jaw. 

“Thought they’d make me look smarter,” he whispers in your ear, palming one breast with the broad expanse of his hand. You mewl under the attention, mind hazily realizing you’re way too out in the open to be getting groped so thoroughly. 

“Thought you’d ruin my panties is more like it,” you hiss back, spreading your legs to invite him between them. He shakes his head against your neck.

“Not here, let me take you home and take my time,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear. The whine you squeeze out surprises you both, “needy little thing” the next words that Frankie drips against your skin. 

“C’mon Frankie, feel how wrecked you made me,” you goad, the roll of his hips against your core revealing Frankie’s desire as plainly as your own. Stealing a glance towards the front door, he slides a hand under your skirt and swiftly pulls your panties to the side, sliding two fingers through the slick mess.

“Fuck, baby, all this for me?” he asks, and the buck of your hips against his hand slides his fingertips inside you shallowly. He growls in your ear, that feral noise that makes you want to push him until he snaps and takes from you. Pulling you away from the wall, he sucks his wet fingers into his mouth with a flash of darkness in his eyes.

“Get in the truck, we’re going,” he says quickly, his stride longer and faster paced than usual. His own need mirroring yours makes a wicked idea bloom in your lust-addled mind. It would get you into some trouble, but the reward would be as good as the punishment. Maybe better.

Frankie buckles in and drives you swiftly out of the parking lot, your house only a twenty minute trip from Lesandro’s. Twenty long, aching minutes with Frankie so close you can almost taste him. You need to taste him.

Palming his hard cock through the slacks earns you a groan and a swat at your hand, Frankie’s knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

“Baby, stop, I need to get us home. You can last twenty minutes,” he admonishes, which only mounts your need. Another long stroke, another warning, and you’re popping the top button of his pants open. He says your name now, hand coming to wrap around your wrist as you slide his zipper down.

“Please, Frankie, just let me taste you. I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg, one hand slipped under your own skirt and sliding through your slick. “You got me so worked up, I just want to make you feel good.” Leaning over you blow a puff of hot air onto his cock, still straining against his boxer briefs. A string of curses fall from his lips as you mouth him, wetting the cotton with your tongue.

“Fuck, you just can’t wait, can you? Okay, baby, okay, but you can’t…you can’t suck me off, I’ll crash the fucking truck if you try. Just hold me in your mouth if you need it that bad,” Frankie gasps, the words finally allowing you to slip his cock from its confines and into your hot mouth. He groans loud at your heat engulfing him, your clever fingers finding your clit and stroking quick circles as you try your best to follow his rules. But Frankie is large and thick in your mouth. You can’t help sliding back up to adjust your jaw wider. Or when you slide back down your tongue flattens against the underside, lapping at the thick vein. That’s just a force of habit. 

When you hum at the feeling of his head brushing the back of your throat, you can’t help but admit that you’re doing it on purpose.

“Fucking Christ,” Frankie swears, and you feel the car move from asphalt to dirt before coming to an abrupt stop. You slide your lips up and off his cock to ask why he stopped, but Frankie is already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you up to his mouth. He crashes his lips against yours, holding you in place with one firm hand on the back of your neck. 

“Little tease,” he purrs, and the rush of heat to your cunt has you arching into his chest, burying your wet fingers in his hair. “I was going to take you home, spread you out on our bed and make you cum so many times you’d lose your voice.” Frankie’s thick fingers pinch your jaw, widening it so he can delve deeper with his tongue. You’re practically dripping on the bench seat, trying to move to your back but he holds you there, and the roughness of his touch makes your body thrum like a live wire.

“Was going to lick this pretty pussy until you came on my face, then flip you over and do it again. Maybe even tease your perfect little asshole,” he continues, your heart hammering in your chest as he pushes your arousal higher and higher. “Then I was going to make you cum around three fingers. Get you to squirt for me.” 

“Frankie, fuck, please…” you whine, hips rocking against nothing, but he wraps his hands around them and bumps your noses together.

“Oh I’d have you begging by then too, but no, you couldn’t behave. Couldn’t wait the twenty minutes to get you home.” Your world spins as Frankie turns you to face away from him, pulling your ass tight against his hips. Heat blooms along your chest and face when you realize you’ve pushed him enough to lead to this.

“So you’re getting what you wanted, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you, needy little thing. Gonna give you my cock and you’re gonna take it just like this.” With that he flips your skirt up over your ass and slides his cock through your slick. Your jaw drops open; the truck is barely off the road, hidden by a few overhanging trees and a lack of streetlights but still very visible to another car passing by. Thighs trembling, you try to steady your breathing. It’s dangerous and mollifying, exhilarating and terrifying. 

“You know what to say if you don’t want this,” Frankie murmurs in your ear, gentler than before. You do, you know the colors and the words that will slow Frankie down. But like hell do you want that right now.

“Green, handsome,” you shoot back, wiggling your butt against him. He chuckles darkly, guiding your hips to slide his cock over your clit. 

“Then put your hands on the door,” he says, nudging you forward to brace yourself against the passenger door. Knocking your knees apart, Frankie’s bulk settles against your ass before his thick head begins breaching you.

Eyes rolling back and your mouth open in a silent moan, you savor the girth of Frankie’s cock with no preparation. You’re so slick and yielding, but he always stretches you to your limits. Even as he fucks shallowly into you, getting you used to him, you beg for more.

“Please Frankie, fuck me, want you to wreck me, been wanting you inside me all night,” you groan, pushing back to bury him deep inside, grinding the base of his cock to tease your throbbing clit. Frankie’s hands tighten around your hips, and with a sharp snap that knocks a gasp out of you as he sets a powerful pace. 

The truck cabin fills with the lewd sound of Frankie’s fat cock fucking into your wet cunt, his guttural moans mixing with your higher ones. When you look behind you, Frankie’s baring his teeth and puffing air through his nose, curls sticking to the sweat at his temples.

“This what you need, beautiful? Needed me to pound this pussy until you can’t think? Needed me to claim what’s mine?” His filthy words hit a chord deep inside you didn’t know existed until he spoke it into life. You roll your hips back against him, leveraging your thrusts with your hands on the door.

“Yes Frankie, need you to fucking take me, make me yours, take what you want, I want everyone to know I’m yours,” you babble. A sudden crack of skin on skin makes you cry out, flooding your cunt with arousal. Frankie soothes the red handprint on your ass before tapping his fingers along it. 

“Fuck, baby, you like that?” he moans as you nod vigorously in response. “Yeah, I can feel how much you liked that. Take it,” he orders before he slaps your other cheek, admiring how your movements get sloppier as you writhe in pleasure. “Mine,” he growls, another gentler slap. “Mine,” he pants as he yanks you back and pushes your chest to the seat, arching your ass up high for him to keep pounding into. “Mine,” he growls into your ear when he folds over your body, his thrusts shortening but hitting that powerful spot, tightening you around his cock.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I can feel it, you’re so close. Cum on me baby, I’m…fuck, I’m yours,” Frankie gasps, the possessiveness now curling in your own heart as you listen to him rail you within an inch of your sanity while repeating “yours” under his breath. 

“Frankie, please…” you ask, not sure of what you need but he nods against your spine. Threading his fingers between yours, he slides his other hand to your clit and strums it fast and hard, the intensity throwing you off the edge of your impending orgasm. 

With a muffled shriek you cum, feet scuffling against the leather seats and your hips bucking beneath Frankie’s weight. He holds you down, guiding you through it as he works his cock slowly through the grip of your channel. When the aftershocks subside, Frankie pumps into you a handful of times, then pulls out to spill on your ass with staccato moans. 

For a long moment the truck is filled with gasping breaths, Frankie using your own skirt to wipe up his spend. When his heat disappears you prop yourself up to catch him leaning against the driver door, legs splayed and his head tipped against the cool glass, chest heaving. It takes a moment to rearrange your limbs but you finally slide between his legs and rest your head against his chest. His arms come up to cradle you there, stroking your back. You enjoy the silence, the comforting cadence of Frankie’s breathing bringing you back down.

“Was that too much?” he asks, a little apprehension in his voice. “I know we don’t go down that kind of path often…”

“Frankie, that was fucking amazing,” you soothe, grinning into his chest. “And I instigated that, I knew what I was asking for. Though you did almost make me end it with that plan you laid out.”

“Oh did I?”

“Very tempting.”

“You made your choice.”

You both laugh a little, the glow of the truck’s clock reminding you of the late hour. But Frankie has one more question to air in the dark.

“You weren’t jealous tonight, were you?” he asks, tucking his chin to look at you. “Because nobody in that room held a candle to you tonight. Or any night. I’m yours, babe,” he says, stroking his thumb along your cheek. The love that blooms in your chest is all the answer you need, but you’ll still say it.

“I loved being yours tonight. And every night.”

After getting back on the road, Frankie hums thoughtfully.

“If you wanted to do that every now and then…” he says tentatively, drawing your attention to his stunning profile. “You know, tease me, get me riled up, I’d be into that.” 

A wicked smile curls your lips, half hidden in the dark.

“You like it when I rile you up?” you ask, leading Frankie’s hand back between your legs. You could find the energy for another round, your folds still soft and dripping. He gives you a look like he could devour you whole.

“I like it when I can show you you’re mine,” he rumbles, cupping your sex as the minutes until you’re home tick by.

“Show me again, then.”

END

The story continues in Frankie's First Time

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 91 Xs2) "Father's Day; On The Road"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

@crystalbaby12

@backoftheroomandnotbelonging

@5sosfam1dlover

"Dude... Can I say something?" Sam asks Luna.

The two of them are in the back of The Bus getting stoned and hanging out. Sam's sprawled out, hitting a joint while Luna sketches.

"Always?" Luna stops to give her a strange look.

Sam hits the joint again before passing it to Luna. Stoned mind trying to frame her words.

"It's really weird to see you with a kid..." Sam trails off. "But then you told her to Eat Her Fucking Cheeseburger and I was like Oop! There's Loons!!" Sam erupts into laughter.

Luna throws herself on the bed next to Sam with a groan. Puffing on the joint before she passes it.

"Uggghhh... I knooow.... I can't believe I said that." Luna says as she buries her face into her hands.

"I can!!" Sam continues to laugh at her. "You weren't mean... You were just... a bitch!" Sam's words cracking herself up.

"Shut up..." Luna laughs.

Taking the joint before hitting Sam with a pillow. Placing it behind her head, Luna continues smoking the joint. Thinking about what Sam said.

"It is weird, hunh?" She asks as she exhales.

"What? The kid? Enh... It is but it's not bad. It's... Different?" Sam tries not to freak Luna out as she takes the joint. "Honestly? You're doing better than I thought you would when you told me he had a kid." Sam admits.

Luna looks over at her with worried eyes. "Really?" She asks.

"Yeah, Bud...." Sam gives her a nod, swinging around to sit up. "You nervous about Tuesday?" She asks, changing the subject.

"More about talking than performing!!" Luna laughs as she fires up a fresh joint.

"Yeah... When's Patti gonna stop doing that shit to you?" Sam asks.

"Honestly? Never." Luna chokes on her hit, passing it to a laughing and agreeing Sam.

Luna watches her friend for a moment. Debating on whether to ask her next question or not. Or at least how.

"I gotta tell you something." Sam beats her to the chase. "I been kinda kicken' it with Baze...."

"I fucking knew IT!!!" Luna flies up excitedly. "Since when? The night we tripped, hunh? Is he a good kisser? Have you slept together yet?" Luna has a million questions.

Laughing, Sam hands her the joint to her quiet down. Luna eyeballing her with a smirk as she pulls on it.

"What?" Sam grins, turning red.

"Tell me!!!" Luna laughs, beaming at her friend.

"GAAAWD, I HATE YOU!!" Sam groans with a chuckle.

"Whatever. Hate me but tell me." Luna won't let up as they continue to share to joint.

"Fiiine... Yeah, but we didn't hook up. We just kinda held hands at the park and slept next to each that night..." Sam's cheeks look like two red apples. "And we haven't done it, so you can shut up on that." She continues as she rolls her eyes.

"Is he a good kisser?" Luna pries with a wide smile.

Sam closes her eyes and sighs.

"Dude.... He has the softest lips and that beard. MHM!" She shakes her head as she opens her eyes. Face gleaming in a way Luna's never saw before.

"Aww!!! Pal!!" Luna lunges for Sam giving her a hug.

"Shut up.... It's nothing." Sam protests in laughter as she pushes Luna away.

"Okay... It's nothing." Luna smiles, putting her hands up after passing Sam the joint.

Sam giving her a hard SideEye with a soft smile. Luna knowing her friend all too well to press any further. Not wanting to freak her friend out either.

-------------------------------------------------

The show at Revention Music Center is lit. The Boys on fire. Acoustics and Tech on point. No one missing a beat.

Although the setlist stays primarily the same, each performance is different. From the way Colson talks to the audience to how he presents himself and the songs, to the different shit he finds to climb on to and jump off of. Tonight being no different.

Luna watching SideStage with Casie, Sam and Ashleigh before and after she'd joined Colson OnStage. Making the crowd go wild for them.

It's not till the end of the show do the lights go down as Colson signals Casie out towards him. Grinning, she prances OnStage.

"How many of you are with your dad's, are a dad or just love your dad's here tonight for Father's Day?" He asks as he adjusts Casie's mic. "I'm really lucky because I have my Peanut with me tonight." He says as the crowd roars. "And we got a little something for you."

Ducking down, he asks Casie's nod if she's ready. Smiling, Colson begins to strum his acoustic.

🎼Today is gonna be the day

That they're gonna throw it

Back to you

By now you should've somehow

Realized what you've got to do🎶

Casie joins in with him as The Band kicks in lightly.

🎶I don't believe that anybody

Feels the way I do

About you now🎶

They sing the Oasis song together. The crowd singing in unison with them loudly. It really is a sight. Taking Luna's breath away. Finishing up, she grabs a shot of Colson hugging his daughter OnStage.

"I love you, Peanut." He whispers before letting her run OffStage.

Watching her go, a tear twinkles in his eye. Turning back to the audience he shouts a Thank You, Houston and GOODNIGHT!!! before barreling off to find Luna.

--------------------------------------------------

Tossing Luna on the couch the second they hit the dressing room, they're soon fucking missionary style on the couch. Going at it. Mouths and kisses sloppy on each other's mouths and necks as they pass a joint back and forth. Blowing each other's hits into the other's open lungs. Colson thrusting deep inside of her as she grips his ass and claws his back.

"Fuck, you feel good..." Luna breathes out as she glides her hips along with his rhythm.

"That's right, you take this fucking dick like the dirty girl you are." Colson demands deep in her ear.

Making her pussy tighten as she bucks hard. Taking his dick and cumming all over it. Her orgasm making him see his own fireworks. The joint far gone.

Both breathing hard, Colson lays his face next to Luna. Kissing her temple.

"I fucking love you." He says softly.

Turning, she nuzzles his lips with a Love You. They lay together, feeling each other's hearts and breathing sync up. Finally Colson pushes himself off of Luna.

"Uhhh... Kitten, I think we have a problem.." Colson says cautiously.

Looking down, Luna sees his bloody dick. Looking back up at Colson, she smirks.

"Awesome Bunny, you literally fucked me on to my period." She deadpans.

"I can do that?" He asks in disbielf.

"Noooo... You fucking weirdo." Luna laughs, pushing him off of her.

Lighting another joint, she coaxes him up.

"Come on, let's clean ourselves off... We gotta feed Case, I know she's starving..." Luna directs Colson as she starts the small shower in the dressing room.

"Who the fuck are you???" She finds her mind questioning itself again.

"I gotta Super Cock." Colson states as he slaps Luna's ass before climbing in the shower.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asks, laughing as she gets in behind him.

Not bothering to protest when he promptly bends her over. Making them both cum again with his Super Cock.

--------------------------------------------------

Colson's Eleven skip the BackStage party. Choosing to head into Craft, a restaurant inside their hotel.

Crowded around the table, they all laugh, drink and eat. Complimenting Casie on her performance tonight to her blushing Thank Yous.

Luna stealing glances at Sam and Baze. They're across from each other at the end of the table. Their conversation belonging only to them.

After finishing up and hanging for a bit, Colson and Luna leave the others. Taking Casie upstairs to bed. It's almost 1A.

--------------------------------------------------

"You didn't show him, did you Looney!??" Casie shouts from the bathroom after her shower.

"No, Dill..." Luna reassures her from the outside of the door.

"Show me what?" Colson asks, blue eyes lighting up.

"I'm not telling you. She'll kill me!" Luna laughs as she flops on the bed sideways to kiss him.

Luna hits the pen a couple times. Trying to avoid Casie. Handing out back to Colson.

"I'm sorry I had to work today..." He starts to apologize.

"You're off tomorrow though, right?" Luna cuts him off with her words and more kisses.

"Mhmmm..." He agrees, pulling her on top of him.

Not wanting to have another sex talk, Luna rolls off of him. Afraid Casie will walk out of the bathroom with more questions. Fingers laced together, they pass the pen a couple more times as they talk about the different things to do in Hermon Park. Tucking it away before deciding they'll start their day early, leaving Luna to catch a late flight to NY.

"I don't want you to go...." Colson starts to complain.

"Believe me.... I'd definitely rather be in Idaho with you than in NY on Ellen." Luna complains back.

"I'M READY!!!" Casie declares, swinging the bathroom door open. "PRESENT TIME!!" She continues to shout.

Grabbing the wrapped box and gift bag, she comfortably plunks down in between Colson and Luna. Causing them both to sit up as Casie hands over his gifts.

First the bag. Colson loving and laughing at the shirt and socks. Saving the best for last, Colson freaks out over PoopBall. Bouncing up and down on the bed, cheesing.

"This is Fucking awesome, Peanut!!!" Colson hugs and kisses her with a child like joy. "I can't wait till I have to poop!!" He exclaims to her and Luna's laughter. Father's Day Love & Gratitude happily being exchanged.

Calming down, they choose the new Lion King to watch. The three of them lounging randomly across the California King. Colson is laying straight with Luna across the bed, head on his stomach. Her pinky lightly tucked in the waistband of his sweats as one of his hands plays in her hair. The other cupping her ass. Casie on her belly, facing the TV towards the bottom. Propped up on pillows, legs thrown comfortably over Luna's waist.

It's a completely different scene from just four nights ago. Almost amazingly so.

---------------------------------------------------

Word Limit (2 of 2)

To be continued......