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copiousloverofcopia · 3 months

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Better late than never with some content for the Goore Whores!!!!!

Here is the next chapter of Under the Spell with Mary Goore and OC Piper!

Thank you to everyone who is patient with me. I recently got a promotion at work, and it comes with a lot of new training and responsibility... so I am doing my best to bring you all some content. I really appreciate all the love, support, and the patience from you all!

Also once again, please be nice I am SO not used to writing for Mary, so I hope its ok!

Also thank you to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the awesome dividers.

Piper and Mary have been best friends since they first met as children. When Mary and her boyfriend Sid asked her to come along on gigs, Piper thought it was a no-brainer. But as the excitement of the buzzing amps dies down, she realizes she wants more—now if only she can get him to agree.

Chapter 5: REPUGNANT

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Start from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

The hum of the amp sent shivers down his spine. Mary, feeling the thrill as he heard the crowd roaring. Walking out on stage for the second half of their show. His eyes were only able to make out a vague suggestion of bodies, hidden within the sea of light that shone on the stage. He felt amazing, ready, and most importantly—alive.

Though he lived for the stage, he found himself distracted. Absentmindedly biting his lip and occasionally forgetting the lyrics, though no one seemed to care. His mind was too obsessed with the memories of the night before. Fixated on the feel of Piper’s mouth, crashing into his. The warmth from her tears, felt as they dripped down over her cheeks.

The two of them, coming completely undone in each other’s arms until sunrise. Enraptured by the way they felt for one another. The physical attraction and the unspoken emotions between them tighter and tighter. Binding them together as they managed to fuck the night away.

He could still feel her hands on the top of his head. Running her fingers through his hair as he held open her thighs. Devouring her, tasting the blood so sweet on his lips. Listening to the click of her tongue ring as he glided across her teeth.

Though Piper had tried her best to stay quiet in the bathroom, she couldn’t help but moan and mewl with his touch. Mary, finding even more arousing that others at the party might hear them. Hear how good he was making her feel as he drenched his face in her juices and blood. Mercilessly eating her out until she came for him—over and over again.

By the time Mary had had his fill, Piper was barely able to stand. Bent her over the sink as he slid his desperate cock inside her. Thrusting away—fucking her senseless as their eyes lingered on one another’s face in the mirror. Mary felt his mouth watering even now at the memory of it—how tight her cunt was as he came. Spilling himself inside her—kissing and biting her along her neck. Leaving splotches of blood in his wake. Both of them, looking like a pair of satisfied vampiric lovers, spattered and spent, as the sun met the horizon of the sky.

Not many people had wondered where they’d run off too. The two of them stumbling, out of Tom’s friend's bathroom in the wee hours of the morning. Long after everyone else had left, making their way back to the hotel before ultimately passing out. Both of them woke up, hours later, in their separate rooms. Neither one of them, giving away to the other’s what had really happened the night before.

Piper had woken up that next day, covered in her own blood. Wondering to herself how things had gone so far. Sure she was already having sex with him, but that was different. For a purpose. Wasn’t it? Thinking to herself that despite how much she may want it, there was nothing real between them.

By the time the band’s gig was on that night, neither had spoken a word to one another. Both, however, stealing a number of glances during rehearsal. Each of them explaining it away as coincidence—something other than what it was. Mary and Piper were falling in love, like it or not things had changed forever between them and there was nothing that could be done.

For Mary it was perfect madness. While he started off a bit apprehensive, now he wanted more than ever to be with her. To give her everything she wanted—especially the baby. Finding himself more and more excited to be a part of the family they were desperately trying to create. He didn’t want to be just a friend, some sperm with a bit of time on his hands, to help her own. No he, to his surprise, was ready to be a real father.

The thought of them creating a little Pipes or a mini him filled Mary with a sense of content he’d never felt before. Imagining them, running around and causing chaos, in between him teaching them to play guitar. All of it filled his soul with renewed purpose. Finding himself warmth watching Piper smile, wondering if their child would share it. That same smile that managed to rip his heart right out of his chest. What a beautiful, bloody mess they had made between them.

Mary knew that they’d try again as long as Piper would have him. Though he doubted she’d turn him down now. He started to wonder when they should tell the rest of the guys in the band. After all, it would only be a short time before Piper would get pregnant if he had anything to say about it. Something that couldn’t be held secret for very long. Mary deciding that now he was ready to move forward—to tell Piper how he truly felt.

When the show was done, Piper was sitting alone as she waited for Mary. Her legs, hanging over the stage while she wrapped up some cords to keep herself looking busy. Hoping to seem unbothered, though her mind was absolutely spinning. Completely unaware that Mary had been watching her from behind the stage.

“Hey, you all almost done?” Yulan, the old headbanger of a manager, asked as he came towards her. The bar, now completely empty and quiet—everyone else having long gone. Before Piper could respond, Mary chimed in. Surprising her as he manifested from within the shadows to meet with them out on the stage.

“Yeah, we’re good. Be out in a few. Ok?” Mary said, coming up to stand beside Piper. She looked up at him, his face and body still covered in sweat and smears of paint as he held out his hand for her to take.

“Yeah, we are...pretty much done.” Piper agreed, without glancing away from him.

“Alright… well I’m locking up in front. So you got 20 minutes before I lock the two of you inside.” the old man chuckled. Piper finally took Mary’s hand and got pulled up onto her feet. The two of them, staring at one another for a moment before Mary spoke.

“You know what's funny?” he asked, Piper looking confused at the question. Still a bit embarrassed as she recalled what had occurred the night before.

“What’s that?”

“The last time you waited for me on stage, you asked me to put a baby in you.” he laughed, Piper’s face turning blood red.

“I–-who said I was waiting for you?” she asked, giving him a swat to the chest. Mary couldn’t help himself from laughing as he brought his hand up and placed it where she struck him. Finding it funny as he felt the sting, just how much she excited him.

“Ouch.”

“You big baby.” Piper said, shrugging him off as Mary’s face changed. The goofy smile turned more serious. His eyes softening towards her again as she felt her heart beating faster in her chest as she waited for what it was he would say.

“...baby…Pipes…ah when…when is the next time we can—-” Mary asked, choosing to not finish the sentence when he caught sight of Sid and Tom heading out the front door. Hoping they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Oh…oh. Not for a couple of weeks.” Piper blushed. Mary was unable to hold back his look of disappointment. Piper instantly on edge as she looked at him. Why that face, is he…is he really upset , Piper asked herself. “Is that ok?” she asked him.

“That's fine…heh…heh…Just trying to plan ahead.” Mary laughed, scratching the back of his head and pretending to be casual about it.

“Mare, you have never planned ahead in your life.” Piper said, laughing back at him.

“Well. I’m planning for this.” he assured her, closing the space between them. Piper found herself blinking. Wondering if she had imagined the change in him. The change in the way he looked at her. Hints of longing—or mistaken lust for love. Wishing she could know what he was really thinking.

Mary felt breathless. Taking in Piper’s beauty, her dark circles and smeared eyeliner from the night, only adding to her appeal. He wanted so badly to kiss her, to tell her that regardless of how things might turn out with agreement between them, she was now his. He couldn’t help but bite at his lower lip, ready now to confess how he truly felt.

Ready to tell her how he’d give her the world or burn it down—whichever she’d desire. Bringing his hand up to caress her face. Cradling her jawline as he inched towards a kiss. Both of their eyes closed, ready to give way.

“Hey you two coming?” Tom yelled from the doorway. Thrilled he’d managed to find the two of them before they left for the hotel. Mary and Piper both, looking over at him in surprise, wondering how much he had heard—or seen.

“Be right there!” Mary called back, smiling at Piper before grabbing what was left of the equipment. Both of them heading out the door without saying another word.

The hotel bed sheets felt too cold, Piper thought to herself as she laid wide awake. Her eyes fixed on the empty spot beside her. Wishing that Mary had come back with her to the room. Cursing Tom for having the nerve to show himself and interrupting the moment. Hoping there was something more going on—something still left unsaid.

She tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before deciding to give up. Throwing on an oversized Repugnant tee and some jeans before walking to a nearby coffee shop. Forgoing the free sludge they had in the hotel lobby, in favor of something that tasted rich and bold. Feeling she deserved to treat herself while trying her best to stay awake for the day. Hoping to find a moment of solace to think.

When she walked inside, she saw the shop was rather full. Piper, smiling once the woman at the front nodded at her. Acknowledging that she’d seen her come in before pointing to the small set of stairs that led up to an additional seating area. Ascending the steps until, to her surprise, she saw Tom and Annie sitting towards the back.

Before Piper could sneak off, she saw Annie waving her at her. Calling her over to join them when all Piper wanted to do was be alone. Feigning a smile as she forced herself to approach them. Taking a seat beside Annie, rubbing her tired eyes beneath her glasses and brushing back her unwashed mess of hair.

As usual, Annie was put together. Her hair swooped up into a ponytail, donning a mini skirt and an off the shoulder white top. Her makeup, already done even at that early hour. Tom was his usual self—long scraggly blonde locks draped down under a baseball cap and wearing his favorite jean vest.

The two of them, looking a bit out of place together. Tom however, despite his appearance, was the more mature of the two. Annie rested her head on Piper’s shoulders, letting out a sigh as she rejoiced in seeing her. Tom on the other hand seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

“Something wrong, Bones?” Piper asked him, watching him take a sip from his cup of coffee.

“Not really.” he said his tone quite as the waitress came to take Piper’s order. Her mouthwatering with anticipation of the French vanilla blend. Piper knew something was up, Annie was acting a bit nervous once Tom spoke and the air between them had changed from how it was just the night before.

“Unlikely…seriously, what is it?” Piper asked. Tom set his cup down, taking in a deep breath. The act of which set Piper on edge. Something serious was about to come out of his mouth.

“I think you’re making a huge mistake.” he blurted out. Annie’s face, looking as if it had been set on fire. It was clear that she had told Tom everything.

“I see.” was all Piper could say. Tom, looking over to her with his eyebrows furred and a glint of anger in his eyes.

“Is that all you can say?”

“I don’t know what it is you think I am supposed to say Tom.” Piper barked back, Annie watching them in stark silence.

“You can’t have a kid with Mary.”

“Why not?” Piper growled.

“What about Sid?” he asked her, hoping to avoid saying what he really wanted.

“Sid is no longer in the picture. I don’t intend on making the same mistake twice.”

“Oh but you’ll do this?” Tom snapped.

“Tom, baby please…” Annie began before he cut her off. Annie mouthing an “I’m sorry” at Piper.

“No, she needs to know.”

“Know what?” Piper asked him. Tom’s anger turned to sadness.

“If you and him have a kid…what do you think is going to happen to Repugnant?” he asked her. The words hit like a scorching flame—burning her ears and heart.

“Nothing is going to happen to it. I am not part of the band Tom. I’m just a glorified roadie. Mare will go on being with you all, I’m the one who will be taking off when the time comes.” Piper began when Tom began having a chuckle. Amused at her ignorance.

“You really think that’s how it’s gonna go don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The second that baby is inside you, the man will NEVER leave your side. Don’t you get it Piper?” he asked, Piper felt as if her lungs wouldn’t fill with air.

“Tom…” Annie tried once more when he continued, Piper staring down at the table. Trying her best not to cry in front of them.

“Piper, he had feelings for you.” Tom explained, the words making Piper gasp. Looking over to him in shock.

“No… that’s not true. We are just friends, that’s it. He’s doing this to help me. I want this baby Tom. It was my idea… not Mary’s. He is just along for the ride.

“Piper don’t be stupid. The rest of the band might not see it but I do. The way he looks at you gives it away every time. What do you think he will do when you get pregnant? Just let you run off with his child and be content to see you on the off weeks or months of time passing between visits? You gotta be outta your fucking mind if you think that’s what will happen.

“You’re wrong.” Piper cried, no longer able to hold back how she was feeling. Cursing her hormones for making her even more emotional and sensitive to Tom’s harsh—yet honest comments.

“You get pregnant and he will have to choose between his dream. Touring with the band, making records, becoming famous—all of it and you. Choose between making something of himself and getting what he has always wanted and giving you a baby. You’re being selfish.” Tom continued, realizing that his last statement had taken things a bit too far.

Piper swallowed back the tears. Wiping harshly at her eyes, leaving them red and sore as she stood up from her chair. She clenched her teeth, wanting to scream and holler at him. Not caring at all that they were in public.

Stopping herself only because deep down she felt he was right. Sniffling back as she looked over to Annie and then back to Tom. Ready to leave the shop and never look back. Tears began to stream down her face as the two of them locked eyes.

“Fuck you.” she told him, her voice trembling and low. Tom and Annie left alone at the table as Piper made her way back out onto the street. The pain inside her heart, unbearable.

Mary had gone looking for Tom, wanting to get some advice on how to move things forward with Piper. A smile spread wide across his face as he left the hotel and headed to the little coffee shop Tom asked to meet that morning. Stopping only when he saw Piper coming from the front door. Her face, sullen and eyes shot red.

She looked upset, more upset than he could ever recall seeing her. Running across the street with no regard for traffic. Heading the opposite direction of the hotel before Tom and Annie came running out after her. Piper, having disappeared around the corner as they caught sight of Mary across the street.

“What is going on?” Mary asked them as they met with him on the sidewalk, “His eyes fixed on the corner from where he last saw Piper.

“It’s what I wanted to talk to you about…I know about this thing between you.” Tom confessed, Annie almost hiding behind him. Ashamed she’d said anything now seeing what her slip of the tongue had caused.

“Thing?” Mary asked, almost aloof to Tom at all as he pondered chasing after Piper.

“The baby thing, Mary, I told her that it was a bad idea. You don’t need all that shit looming over you. If Piper wants to be a mom, I told her she needed to find better options than trying to take you down with her.

“You did what?” Mary hissed, turning back to face Tom with fury burning in his eyes. His heart pounding and his fist clenching up as he wanted so badly to punch him. Only seconds later, deciding to forgo the confrontation and find Piper.

“Forget it Tom, think what you want but I’m outta here.” Mary told him, running down the street. Hoping that it wasn’t too late to undo the damage. Hoping to confess to Piper how he really felt.

#Mary Goore x Piper #Mary Goore x OC Piper #mary goore x female oc #repugnant fic #Mary Goore #Repugnant #not ghost but like kinda ghost #mary goore fic #Repugnant fanfic #Mary Goore fanfic #Mary goore x female oc #Repugnant fanfiction #Mary Goore fanfiction #Mary goore smut #Repugnant smut #Ren Writes

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fishwithtitz · 1 year

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The Five Times I Hooked Up with Mary Goore (and the One Time I Couldn’t) - Chapter 2

Summary: From beside me, I heard what sounded like a mix between a groan and a low breath. My brain told me to keep looking ahead, to ignore him, to wait until the movie was done and I was feeling better before finding Des and asking for somewhere to crash for the night. My impulsivity got the best of me and I slowly cast my eyes in Mary's direction. His eyes were slightly larger, the flickering light of the screen reflecting off the olive hue of his irises, and his bottom lip was just barely caught between his teeth. He clearly felt my stare because his head pivoted in my direction. His gaze was nearly smoldering.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore x OFC / 8.5k words

Warnings: language, graphic description of oral sex, graphic depiction of manual stimulation, recreational drug use, alcohol, light gore

ao3 link

Chapter Two: Hook-up #2: The Den

Five hours. Five long, arduous hours of measuring, mixing, cooking, cooling, trimming, crumb-coating, frosting, and piping. I was almost certain that I had inhaled flour or powdered sugar at some point as my nose felt gritty and raw on the inside, but I tried my best to pay it no mind. I was on a mission.

It had been a few weeks since the house show at Thomas’ place (and the subsequent tonguelashing from Mary on the weather-torn roof), and I’d had done my best to try to write it off as the once-in-a-lifetime experience that I’d tried to originally pacify my nerves with.

It turned out that Thomas and Des had hit it off at the party, in more ways than one. I couldn’t say that I was necessarily surprised; Des was charming, alluring, and very persuasive when she wanted to be. Ever since she’d locked eyes on Thomas at the smoky bar downtown a couple of months ago, she’d known she had to have him, and to her credit, she’d accomplished it in record time. And honestly, I was happy for my friend. It had been a while since I’d seen Des so happy and free spirited while in the arms of someone she was so blatantly enamored with. However, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a tad bit jealous of Thomas and the hold he’d captured on Desiree.

Routinely, weekends had been spent just the two of us together - Doll and Des - curled up on my worn couch watching trash TV or engaging in parallel play as we sent videos back and forth that had us laughing so hard that we were covered in equal parts tears, mascara, and snot. Takeout or a drunken “do” meal (as I grew up calling them) of randomly delicious ingredients thrown together and cooked often followed, and both of us banked more memories than we could count of bonding through the sillied, domestic tasks we enjoyed together.

Not the past few weekends, though.

I got it, believe me, I did, but after the third night in a row that I’d been blown off for either a bar or a bedroom, I couldn’t help but be a little bit worn down at my best friend’s new love interest. To avoid being the ever-dreaded third-wheel, I denied Desiree’s kind offers of accompanying them out or to Thomas’ house, which unfortunately meant many nights of movies alone and crappy blue-box mac eaten straight out of the pot.

So when Des came begging for me to use my baking talents to make Thomas a custom cake for his 30th birthday (Puss in Boots eyes and all), I didn’t even hesitate to agree to the task. I missed my friend, and although I wasn’t looking forward to slaving over the black-metal themed confectionary after finishing a particularly grueling shift at work, I was happy to do this for her. “Besides,” Des had said, “it will give you a chance to do something you enjoy and live a little.”

So, here I was: my grandmother’s old apron tied haphazardly across my curved waist, melted chocolate and white icing smeared across my forearms and the backs of my hands, and the tip of my tongue perched between my lips in concentration as I finished piping the intricate Baphomet head and pentacle on top of the three-layer cake. I glanced up at the microwave clock and felt my stomach drop deep in my guts. The party was in a little over an hour, and I still had to pack up the cake, shower, and make myself look at least semi-decent before heading over. Taking a step back, I admired my work. It wasn’t perfect, but I knew that if I kept fussing with it I’d inevitably fuck it up, so I dusted my hands off with a sigh and left the kitchen to hurry through a shower and makeup routine.

After a way-too-quick rinse and a blow-dry of my hair in record time, I futzed through my closet to try to find something acceptable to wear. It was warm out, so I opted for a dark-printed swing dress and a pair of worn, black sneakers. As always, I lived by the motto of “comfort before style,” and I was fresh out of fucks to give.

I ran my curling wand through the long tresses of burgundy hair that hung down my back and framed my face before putting on a light face of makeup. It was too warm to wear anything heavy, and despite my annoyance of my freckled cheeks, I didn’t want to spend the evening wiping flesh-toned grease from my face every time I felt a sweat droplet dripping down my jawline. Simplistic it was, then.

I fastened my weathered St. Peter’s Cross necklace to rest on my decolletage and gave myself a quick once over before hustling into the kitchen to pack up the cake. After finding a cardboard box, some saran wrap, and multiple crumpled up balls of newspaper stuffed around the cake, I was off.

🜏🜏🜏

“Doll, you’re here!” Desiree swung open the front door with a cheshire-like grin, beckoning me in with the wave of her hand. I smiled at my friend, feeling genuine happiness for her excitement of both the party and for us finally getting to see each other. Awkwardly, I stepped into the home and followed her through the short hallway to the garage. “I want the cake to be a surprise,” she said in a low, nearly-whispered voice, ushering me out towards the outdoor fridge.

We set the cake on a lower shelf, still hidden by the recycled box I’d used to transport it in. She took a quick glance at the hand-drawn decoration on top and her eyes went wide before she all but pounced on me in a tight hug.

“It’s fantastic!” she squealed, holding me firmly before pulling back to look at me properly. “Doll, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so fucking rad. He’s going to love it.”

I flashed my own warm smile in response and chuckled. “Of course, Des. If he’s important to you, he’s important to me.”

We headed back into the house and Des led me out to the back patio, motioning towards a cooler propped against the sliding glass door as she stepped onto the eroded deck. I grabbed a random beer from the red and white Igloo and sat down in a nearby plastic chair, crossing my legs as I twisted the top off the bottle.

“Happy Birthday, Thomas,” I said as I leaned over, clinking the tip of my bottle against his own. At this point, Des had slid into the seat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she absorbed herself into the conversation happening around us.

“Thanks, Dahlia. Glad you could make it,” He replied as he tipped his bottle towards me in salute and took a swig, smiling politely before turning back to the chat we’d interrupted. I looked around and noticed that this party was definitely much smaller than the last one I’d attended here. There were only about ten other people, most of them acquaintances or friends from the music scene, and I recognized a few of them as Thomas’ band mates.

Leaning back in my chair, I took a long sip of my beer and allowed the warm air of the evening to envelop me. I had to admit, this was nice. It’d been a while since I’d been around friends with no expectations or masks to wear. I could just be me. I could enjoy the banter between the boys of which Metallica album was most iconic (and why according to Johnny, it was definitely Master of Puppets, because “zero skips,” of course), or how Mark was told by a coworker that it was “gay to wash your butthole” and how he found it completely fucked that one, he didn’t wash his ass, two, his coworker was homophobic, and three, Mark finally knew where the smell in the stock room was coming from. At some point during the story, Johnny had lit a cigarette which was now dangling dangerously from his lips, ash falling onto his jeans pocket as Mark animatedly told the tale. Suddenly, he patted the ashen pocket and his eyes went wide.

“Oh shit! I forgot to give you your birthday present!” Johnny fished a square (and slightly smushed) package from inside his pocket. It was wrapped in what looked like an old titty magazine, but I couldn’t be completely sure from my distance away from him on the patio. He leaned forward and plopped it into Thomas’ lap with a grin. “Happy 30th, dude,” he beamed with a salacious smile. “You’re officially a senior citizen.”

“30’s still young!” he defended with a glare, thumbs inching under the duct tape holding the wrapping together.

A snort was heard from beside him, and Greg, one of the guitarists from his band, muttered something to the effect of, “Yeah, for trees,” under his breath, which earned an even harder scowl from Thomas.

Thomas ripped the wrapping off and turned the slightly smashed box over in his hand. “Heat?” he questioned as he squinted at the brand on the box. He shook it a little and gave the parcel a quick sniff. “...is this a box of chocolates?’ His eyes looked at Johnny questioningly, but his lips were curved into a curious smile.

“Yup!” Johnny replied as he took another drag from his cigarette. “They’re kind of a present for the both of you.” He motioned to both Thomas and Des as he spoke, smoke rising from his hand.

“Are they spicy or some shit?” Thomas asked as he tried to read over the back of the box, picking at the plastic wrap covering.

“You could say that…” Johnny grinned, ashing the cigarette and taking another drag. “I figured that since you’re so old now, you might need some help getting your dick to work.”

I had been mid drink of my half-downed bottle of beer at his comment, and I found myself snorting as I swallowed, immediately causing the fizzy liquid to seep its way into my lungs. I coughed loudly, which luckily covered my laughter. Des and I both leaned over to get a better look, and I glanced at the small print at the bottom of the box:

“The high-quality chocolate that uses natural ingredients to increase your pleasure and boost your sex performance.”

“Are these aphrodisiacs?!” Des yelled out incredulously, eyes wide as she stared at Johnny.

All of my efforts to hold back my laughter were gone as I tilted my head back and dissolved into uncontrollable giggles. I couldn’t even formulate what Des was screaming at Johnny (although I knew it was likely something hilariously angry and defensive), and I beamed at the ridiculousness of the situation. I hadn’t laughed so hard in weeks, and it felt good to let go a little. Though, I’d never admit to Des that she was right…I’d never hear the end of it, especially now.

The conversation was cut off by a pounding on the door followed by three succinct doorbell rings. Des shot up out of her seat, yelling “pizza!” as she ran toward the door, tapping my knee on the way out as if to nonverbally ask for help. I grunted and rolled my eyes, begrudgingly getting myself out of the chair as I followed her. She must have ordered a ton of food if she needed two people to carry it out back, I thought.

Des swung open the front door and her look of excitement slightly fell, but she kept her smile in greeting. “Oh, hey Mary,” I heard from my place behind her.

Mary? I thought to myself. I felt my stomach somersault in my gut and I unknowingly bit at my bottom lip.

I hadn’t really seen Mary since the house show a few weeks back. Sure, he and Thomas had probably hung out, and if Thomas was socializing with anyone these past few weeks, Des had to have been there, too. However, she never mentioned anything to me. Then again, it would make sense that she hadn’t — I had never let her in on my evening hanging out with Mary (only that we had talked on the patio that night), and I definitely didn’t tell her about his shitty beer slushies and the eventual redemption arc of his head between my legs.

“...Do you need some help with that?” Des questioned as she moved aside, watching as Mary balanced at least three giant packs of beer while stepping through the threshold. The heavy boxes made the muscles in his arms appear permanently flexed, each limb framed by the cut-off sleeves of what was once a short-sleeve Morbid Angel tee. He was deceptively strong, and images of those arms curled around my legs as he dipped his face between my thighs ramparted my mind. I couldn’t help but watch as he moved swiftly through the house and out onto the patio.

“Nah, I’m good,” Mary grunted as he hurriedly beelined for the back door, pushing the crack of the door opening to the side with his foot as he slipped through with his contribution to the party. I subconsciously licked my lips and followed Des as she made her way back out to the patio with a sigh. Apparently, she’d really been looking forward to pizza.

The patio crowd cheered as Mary appeared and Thomas got up to help him empty a couple of the boxes of beer into the cooler. I slipped into my seat quietly, almost hoping to avoid his notice, yet watched as his hands smoothed out the cans of Keystone in the ice to ensure they fit when the lid was dropped.

He must have felt me staring, because his eyes shifted up towards me, quickly locking on mine. I felt my heart rate begin to staccato in my caged chest and I did my best to keep my face fairly stoic, though I knew it was futile. Those eyes like spring, of sage and straw, glued me into place.

“Hey,” he said, ever nonchalant as he finished organizing the brews and secured the lid. I looked down briefly, trying to mimic his cool behavior, and then flashed him a small, polite smile.

“Hi,” I replied quietly.

Mary took a seat on the other side of the patio (it was the only empty seat available) and struck up a conversation with a couple of the guys and their girlfriends that were nearby. I tried my best to engage myself in the exchange happening between Thomas and Chassie (another mutual friend of ours), but my mind was swimming with snapshots of my evening with Mary. I mentally shook it off, likening my response to my all-too-often loneliness and trying to focus on celebrating Thomas’ milestone birthday.

Not long after, pizza came, and we hovered both in the kitchen and the patio as we listened to Sabbath playing over the speakers and shot the shit with one another. The more beer I drank and pizza I ate, the more I loosened up, and I found myself reconnecting with some of the old friends I used to see at various venues around town. Mary weaved in and out of the conversations, but I did my best to pay him just as much mind as anyone else. He didn’t seem phased by me, and surely, I wasn’t phased by him, either.

I heard the door to the garage slam, and Des’ voice echoed through the kitchen landing. “Move it, out of the way, come on,” she said as she weaved through the couple blobs of congregated bodies, the cake box obstructing her face enough that she had to peer out from the side to see. I met her at the kitchen counter and helped her to unsheath the cake from the box, gingerly peeling the plastic wrap from it.

“Oh, god damn it,” she exclaimed as she stared at the top of the cake. I felt my stomach drop with fear that I had messed something up, but it was quickly abated when she continued her sentence. “I fucking forgot candles.”

Mark, who was unknowingly standing behind us, fished through his pocket before brandishing a cigarette. He held it between his lips and lit it before plopping it dead-center into the cake, the smoking stick appearing as if it was perched in Baphomet’s mouth. I let out another chuckle and Des shrugged.

Mark moved to help Des carry the cake, but she slapped his hand away playfully in an act of defiance and likely in worry that his drunk ass would immediately drop it on the floor. Though somewhat heavier than she expected, she slowly glided across the open kitchen and into the dining area. Chassie noticed and yelled out “Hey, cake’s lit!” and waved a few people in (Thomas amongst them) from outside to the dated dining table.

A raucous chorus of “Happy Birthday” rang through the room as Des set the pitifully smoking cake in front of a now front-and-center Thomas. I could tell he was trying his hardest to hide his smile, but as he looked at Des with softened eyes, it was obvious how touched he was at the personalized gesture. The moment was immediately broken when one of the guys belted into his own rendition of the song, singing, “Happy Birthday to you, you’re older than poo. If you were a horse you’d be made into glue!” which earned deep laughter from the majority of the room.

The cake was a three-layer round cake coated in thick chocolate frosting. A bright white Baphomet stared ominously from the center of a pentacle, while swirling piping lined the borders and edges. Thomas took a moment to study the cake, shaking his head in mock-annoyance at the song. As he went to blow out the “candle,” he stopped just short of the cake, eyebrow cocked, and slowly removed the smoking (and now ashen) cigarette from the middle of Baphomet’s lips. Mark took it from his fingertips and inhaled before licking the chocolate off the filter with a shrug.

The cake was cut quickly by Des and passed out on whatever dinnerware Thomas had laying around the house. It didn’t take long for only crumbs to remain on the cake board — a badge of honor that I took with silent pride.

After everyone enjoyed their cake, additional pizza, and sweaty cans of beer, Mark sidled into the kitchen to stealthily pour himself a shot of vodka and a chaser of soda. The bottle of soda that he’d found hidden in the fridge had been nearly empty, and as he drained it, realization lit his face. “Shit, Tommy, there’s one more present we forgot to give you!” he yelled out as he grabbed the bottle and ran out to the patio.

Empty two-liter bottle in one hand and a bag of bud that he had fished out of his pocket in the other, he looked at the crowd on the deck with a grin.

“Anyone up for grav hits?”

🜏🜏🜏

A small group of people crowded around the stained tub in Thomas’ spare bathroom — one sitting on the closed toilet lid clothed in a fluffy cover, and two others leaning up against the side wall. I sat on top of the builder-grade countertop, legs crossed, a shiver dancing against my skin at the feeling of the cold formica on the backs of my thighs.

Mark sat on one side of the tub’s edge while he fashioned some tin foil to place over the top of the mouthpiece of the cut-off soda bottle. Thomas sat across from him watching intently while his hands clasped onto the bag of pungent flower. Only a handful of us had been interested in the present Mark brought for Thomas ( Des had decided to stay out on the patio with the rest of the crew). I didn’t mind — the bathroom was small and it already felt pretty cramped with the amount of willing participants. Plus, I saw this as opportune bonding time for Thomas and I.

My eyes studied Mark’s fingers absently as he pricked holes into the tin foil and began to load the bowl with a mixture of shake and bud, packing it almost fastidiously, his movements careful as to not drop it into the water-filled bathtub. After he was satisfied with his work, he proudly handed the makeshift contraption to Thomas and extracted a BIC lighter out of his jeans. “Want to do the honors, birthday boy?” he asked as he handed him the light.

Thomas sank down to his knees and crouched over the tub, lowering the sliced bottle into the water so that only the top third was left unsubmerged. He held onto the threads of the mouthpiece as he flicked the lighter with a quick flit. The flame etched the surface of the weed, leaves and flower petals curling into charcoaled darkness as smoke began to simmer and swirl in the bottle's thick body. Thomas focused on making sure the bottom of the bottle's cut-off edge remained submerged but that there was enough room inside to collect as much smoke as possible.

When he was satisfied, he removed the flimsy silver bowl and handed it to Mark quickly before fixing his mouth over the neck, inhaling deeply as he pushed the bottle down into the water. The thick haze slurped into his lungs almost instantaneously and he all but shot up, the plastic bottle bottom dripping as his face contorted into discomfort. He let out a series of coughs before grinning wide at Mark.

"Forgot how hard that shit hits-" he started, head shooting to the side when the door bolted open and almost hit the man standing behind it.

"Oh fuck, sorry," I heard, and I lifted my legs from their dangling position over the bathroom vanity to hug my chest, hoping to avoid getting smacked by limb, body, or door.

Mary slipped into the bathroom, his golden hair stringing into his eyes as he turned to fasten the door shut again. He stood awkwardly in front of the threshold as he realized there wasn't much room in the bathroom for him to stand. Thomas reached up and opened the small window above the shower to filter out some of the smoke before inching his way past the person on the closed toilet and the few against the wall.

"I'm gonna find Des. Thanks for this, man," he reached across and clasped his hand with Mark's in gratitude, grasping into the handshake tightly before slipping past Mary and out the door.

I sat awkwardly on the countertop, doing my best to keep my legs folded and out of the way while still ensuring my dress covered my crotch and ass. I could feel the cold metal faucet pressing into my back and my butt felt like it was about to slip into the basin of the sink.

Over the next ten or so minutes, I watched from my uncomfortable position as a few more people in the bathroom each took their hits, most of them leaving directly afterwards to find some air in a less-cramped space. Eventually, only myself, Mary, Mark, and the guy sitting on the john (who I’d learned was named Jesse) remained. Mark gestured to me as he dumped the ash from the foil into the clear water of the tub and began to fill the bowl again.

I hopped from the counter, smoothing the skirt of my dress as I slipped past Mary and toilet man, eyes straight ahead to avoid any contact. As I knelt in front of the tub, I felt the cool tile lick at my knees and the heels of my feet dig into my bottom. Mark handed me the bottle and lighter.

I could feel Mary’s stare from behind me, and while I’d like to say he was decent enough to keep his eyes above the belt, I was certain he had snuck a glance at my ass as I flicked the wheel of the lighter. Shaking the perverse thoughts that bombarded my head, I pulled the aluminum from the bong and lowered my head, lips dancing across the mouthpiece as I inhaled deeply and fully while expertly submerging the bottle.

It was as if I licked a fiery raincloud. The smoke hung heavy in the alveoli of my lungs, pricking at the blood vessels and sacs, and I closed my eyes to keep them from watering. I rose up and exhaled, my hand softly pushing the 2-liter to Mark as I turned and gently pushed past Mary to exit. My head was swimming and I was doing everything in my power not to cough. I didn’t want to make a complete ass out of myself. Unfortunately, that also meant I was holding my breath.

I could hear the dull thud of the music playing through the speakers outdoors and unremarkable chatter punctuated the beat. I didn’t even recognize the feeling of my feet against the Pergo as I padded down the hallway and across the landing, down the carpeted steps, and right into the den, sinking onto the worn plaid couch with another weighted exhale. My head was spinning and my stomach wasn’t far behind. Maybe smoking after a handful of beers wasn’t my smartest choice.

Eventually, I lowered my forehead to the armrest of the couch and closed my eyes, lifting my legs up to curl under me as I soaked in the cool quietude of the empty den. I sat there for what my mind registered as an eternity. The calm doused my speeding heart and helped me to keep the heavy reams of impending panic from erupting in my chest.

I melted into the firm side of the couch, brow bone melding with the scratchy plaid material, and reached an arm out to ground myself against the side table. I'm not sure how much time passed —it could have been a few minutes or nearly a half hour— but my body was lulled into a calmer, settled state when I heard the slap of a remote against something firm followed by some quieted curses. The click of plastic buttons on the TV console tickled my ears.

Within seconds, sound from the TV began to ring out in the quiet den, the volume loud enough to hear over the buzz outside but quiet enough as not to startle me. I felt the couch slump next to me and the scent of cigarettes, weed, leather, and musk whooshed into my nostrils from the movement. I craned my head up to look at the man next to me. I'm not sure why. I already knew it was Mary.

"Assholes found lawn darts in the shed outside and decided to set up teams. Fuck if I’m gonna get stabbed," He started, bringing a bottle of water to his lips. My eyes trailed his form. His legs were crossed at the ankles, boots perched on top of the coffee table in front of us, and at some point during the night he had put on his leather jacket. He looked over at me and his demeanor changed from one of kind indifference to one of concern. "...you good?" he asked, turning to face me.

"Mmph," I mumbled, trying my best to sit up straighter against the pillowy back of the couch. I licked my dry lips and realized for the first time just how cottony my mouth felt. "Too high."

Mary let out a soft chuckle and the nerves that I had spent time pushing down into my belly threatened to peek through again at the warm sound of his voice. “Not surprised," he said with a shrug, eyes flickering to the movie on the screen before falling back on me, "I’ve never seen a chick take a hit like that before. You’re a pro.”

I wanted to argue with him. In a much more sober state, I would have denied his compliment and told him that getting the spins from smoking bud was not the sign of a pro, but at the moment, all that came out of me was the sentence "I am liquid garbage." I licked my dry lips again and inwardly groaned at the Sahara that was my mouth.

“It’ll pass.” Mary reached over and handed me the water bottle he had been drinking. I smiled, recalling the last time he'd shared his beer with me weeks ago out on the patio, and I took a couple of swigs. Capping the bottle, I handed it back to him, sinking a little further back into the couch as I began to watch the scene unfolding on the screen.

"What movie is this?" I asked after a beat, bringing my legs to cross in front of me as I snuggled into the pillows resting against the arm of the sofa.

Mary murmured his response, clearly focused on the film, and I didn't quite hear what he said. Or, if I did, I didn't recognize it. It looked like an older film (something I confirmed when I glanced across the room and saw the VHS cover thrown on the floor next to the TV console) and the quality led me to believe it was likely an indie film or B-movie. That seemed to track from what I knew about Mary.

We sat there for a while in a comfortable silence as the movie played in front of us. The lights of the den were off, but the incandescent kitchen lights shown in from the hallway, which paired with the glow of the TV made the details of the room fairly visible. We watched as the characters on the screen sculked down a dark alleyway, not a care in the world, and from my horror trope knowledge I knew that the action was about to start.

From my left, I heard the crinkling of a wrapper and the distinctive clunking noise of something bitten. Another wrapper crinkled and Mary brushed my arm with his own, his hand coming out in front of me.

"Here, eat something," he said as he handed me what looked like a square of chocolate. I felt my stomach tumble a little at the thought of something sweet, and I made a gruff noise in response, shaking my head a little.

Mary shook the chocolate slightly as if to double down. "It'll make you feel better. Settle your stomach."

I all but rolled my eyes as I grabbed onto the candy and muttered a noise of thanks. Typically, I'd argue with him that sugar was the antithesis of a sour stomach remedy, but his sweetness and ever-present thoughtfulness won me over. I snapped the chocolate with my teeth and as it melted on my tongue, I sank a little further into the couch cushions. It was good — a little more bitter than I expected, citrus-y, and not nearly as rich as I had worried about. Damn it, I hated when he was right.

Before I knew it, I had downed the whole square. Unbeknownst to me, Mary had watched with side-eyes and already had another square ready for me when I'd finished, which I accepted gratefully.

We remained like that, mere inches between us as we snacked on square after square of dark chocolate until barely any remained, absorbing the scenes of the movie unfolding before us. I felt warm and heavy and full in the sanctity of the cozy sunken room and the party outside lived far from the boundaries of my mind. Glancing at the table, I looked to see if I could find a wrapper or box to mentally note the brand of chocolate to buy it later, and I noticed a familiar smashed box laying open on the surface. Within seconds, the recognizable panic rose in my chest.

"Mary," I started cautiously, staring at the box, "where did you get those?"

I saw Mary shrug out of the corner of my eye. "They were in the kitchen."

I swallowed harshly. "So...you just…took them?" I said slowly, hoping to clarify that he hadn't taken what I thought he had. After all, Mary had shown up late. He wouldn't have known what they were.

This time, Mary turned his head to look at me straight on. The look on his face was relaxed and seemingly unbothered. "The box was all damaged so I assumed someone would throw them away. And Thomas is more of a Hershey guy," he reasoned.

At that moment, my heart fell out of my ass — partially because we had just eaten Thomas' entire birthday gift, but more so because of what we had eaten.

My face must have been a clear tell, because the long-haired man in front of me cocked his head in confusion. "Mary, those were, uh..." I tried to choose my words carefully despite the haze in my mind, "...those were fucking chocolates."

He laughed and looked at me with eyebrows raised and eyes wide, a look of ridiculing understanding on his face. "I know they were chocolates," he said with another mocking chuckle.

I grunted in frustration. "No, they were FUCKING chocolates!" I sighed and ran my hand through my long hair, tilting my head back as I searched for the right words. "God damn it, Mary, chocolates for fucking. Sex chocolates!" I looked over at him, my grey eyes widened a little in irritation, and studied his face for his response.

He shrugged, fucking shrugged, and leaned back a little further into the couch. "That shit is all marketing BS," he waved his hand and settled back in to watch the movie. I was certain he didn't notice me glaring daggers at him.

Despite my frustration, I followed suit and decided to distract myself with the film. I couldn't really decipher the plot (which I mostly attributed to my intoxication), but I began to deduce that it was some sort of slasher film riddled with horror cliches and gore.

My suspicions were quickly confirmed when the movie cut to an intimate scene between two of the side characters. As they moved against each other in the dark, clothing half-ripped off, lips trailing skin, and almost pornographic moans permeated the screen, I felt my stomach tighten. I wasn't typically the kind of person to be affected by sex scenes in movies or TV, but for whatever reason, I felt a rush of heat flood my abdomen and pull at my navel.

Shadows moved behind the preoccupied couple on the screen and I tried my best to focus on the horror element of the plotline. The murderer is in the room and is waiting for the opportune time to strike, I told myself in prediction, willing my eyes to study any and every small detail in the movie to keep the tugging at my core from building.

I licked my lips and let out a quiet breath, hoping to God that Mary didn't hear me. Anger started to prick at my gut. Was this a placebo effect? A side effect of weed and alcohol? Or were those chocolates the real deal? Regardless, I pulled my knees to my chest and did my best to not allow the movie to bother me (one way or another).

From beside me, I heard what sounded like a mix between a groan and a low breath. My brain told me to keep looking ahead, to ignore him, to wait until the movie was done and I was feeling better before finding Des and asking for somewhere to crash for the night. My impulsivity got the best of me and I slowly cast my eyes in Mary's direction. His eyes were slightly larger, the flickering light of the screen reflecting off the olive hue of his irises, and his bottom lip was just barely caught between his teeth.

He clearly felt my stare because his head pivoted in my direction. His gaze was nearly smoldering. I licked my lips, the wet sounds and moans of the TV punctuating our focus on one another, and I felt the air grow thick with tension that was practically palpable. My fixed stare drifted downward to look at his bitten lip and I shuddered as I noticed the reddened teeth mark against the soft flesh.

I don't know what overcame me. Suddenly I was lurching forward, my legs bent below me as I pushed into him, hand resting on the worn fabric of the band shirt below the jacket, knees brushing the fabric of his jeans. Our faces were inches apart and I could see the stubble outlining his chin and cheeks. His hand snaked up between us and grasped the back of my neck, and before I knew it, he pulled me into him with such force that I nearly lost my balance.

My lips crashed against his for the first time ever, and through the fog in my brain and body, I noted their firmness, how they were slightly chapped but still velvety as they moved against mine. I shifted to lift a leg over his lap and straddled him, both hands resting against him as his own free hand came to slot against the curve of my waist. The fabric of my dress floated around our conjoined laps and I tilted my head to the side to deepen our locked lips.

Mary groaned and the hand on my neck traveled down my back and over my ass before gripping onto the other side of my waist. With both hands, he held me firmly and pulled me down into his crotch. I could feel the rough jean fabric scraping against my inner thighs and seat of my panties. I let out a whimper.

Heat soared through my groin and had I been clear-headed, I would have laughed at the aptly-named chocolates, but I was too distracted by Mary's noises and his guitar-calloused fingertips now brushing up my thighs and oh god did he smell good (all leather, spice, cigarette, and earth). I felt my dress flutter up to the crease between my legs and pelvis and his hands came to cup around my backside. I let out a wanton moan into his mouth and he pushed his tongue against my lips, parting them as he ground himself into me.

Had we been completely alone in the house (or at least in a more secluded space), I couldn’t promise myself that I would have had any restraint against Mary completely taking me right there on the old sofa. However, a moment of worry panged at my core and I separated from him slightly, mere centimeters between us as we both breathed heavily.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” I stumbled out, lips brushing against his own as I spoke.

Mary grunted in reply and pulled me in against him deeper. “Everyone is distracted outside," he murmured against my jawbone as he pressed slow, tantalizing kisses that flowed down to my neck. I tilted my head further to the side and fluttered my eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against my own, fingertips digging into the tines of his zippered jacket. His lips ghosted a sensitive spot on the curve of my neck and I felt electricity swim across my skin.

"I don't fuck people I don't know," I breathed out, feeling my own hips move against his now as if betraying my own words.

He let out a noise that registered somewhere between a groan and an "mmm" before detaching from my neck. One of his hands reached up to brush some rogue strands of hair that had fallen into my eyes, tucking them behind my ear as he brought our faces close together. "I guess we'll have to get to know each other better, then," he rumbled out, voice low as his thumb pressed into my jaw and pulled our lips together again.

The lights of the movie flickered behind us and screams from the victims of the story percussed our heavy makeout. I paid them no mind, but after the third scream and the sploshing sound of what I assumed to be blood, I could have sworn that Mary's kisses became more heated.

His hand trailed from my jaw and down to squeeze at my breast through the thin fabric of my swing dress, which earned him a moan from me in response, before he traced his fingertips down to the skirt gathered at my waist. He dipped his fingers low between the heat of my legs, swiping them once, twice up the crotch of my panties to feel the wetness gathered there. I felt him smirk against my lips and his nimble fingers pushed the damp cotton aside to graze my pussy. I let out a whimper into his mouth and he took this as permission to go a little further, stroking along either side of my inner folds with his pointer and middle fingers.

The muscles of my legs quivered at the sensation and I moaned a little into his mouth again, my tongue licking against his own almost lewdly as he rubbed his hand against me. He broke the kiss just barely, squeezing his fingers on either side of my clit. "Did you want me to stop?" he purred out as he languidly stroked.

"Please," I choked out, the tenseness of weeks without physical touch bubbling up in my abdomen and throat.

He began to remove his hand teasingly. "Please what? Stop?" he asked as he bit softly on my bottom lip.

I tugged my lip back from his teeth and opened my eyes to look at him imploringly. "Please don't stop," I practically begged before leaning back into his touch. He slammed our mouths together again and began moving his fingers with more speed and intensity, rubbing me up and down but being careful to never directly touch my most delicate spot. His teasing had me dripping for him, and right when I felt my frustration about to run over, he dipped his hand lower and slipped inside of me smoothly.

I let out a noise of complete pleasure against him, our lips breaking apart, and rested my forehead against his as my eyelids squeezed together. His free hand rocked me against him and he added another finger before curling them into me, pushing and stroking and prodding at my g-spot expertly.

"Mary..." I moaned breathily, and he grunted out in response as he leaned down to lick a stripe from my collarbone to my ear. Goosebumps pebbled my skin and I ground my hips into his hand, unknowingly pushing it into his swelling cock.

"I've been staring at you in that dress all night," he purred into my ear. The movements of his fingers began to speed up and I reached down between us to rub at my clit, but he beat me to the punch, his thumb reaching up to massage it at a teasingly slow speed. "How your tits were pushed up against your knees as you sat on the bathroom counter," he took in a sharp breath and I felt his inhale prickle the curve of my ear, "The way your ass looked bent over the bathtub, lips around that bottle. Fuck, I wanted that to be my cock."

I could feel the outline of his hardness pressing against me through his jeans, and images of his leaking cock being pressed between my lips made my gut flutter with need. I brought my fist up to my mouth and bit into it, groaning loudly and hoping that it was at least somewhat muffled. The desire pooling in the pit of my abdomen was threatening to break through, the dam nearly cracking, and I could feel each nerve of my pussy jolting with fiery synapses, just waiting to explode.

My head tilted back and I looked down at Mary through half-lidded, lust-drunk eyes. "Mary, I'm—"

He cut off my whine, his voice gravelly as he spoke. "I want you to cum on my fingers, babydoll. Just like you came on my tongue."

I felt the fire rage inside me and it was as if I lost complete control of my body. My hips writhed into him and my hand reached up to grab onto his shoulder for support, fingernails digging roughly into the leather of the battle jacket as I let out a noise of complete rapture. His hand on my hip darted up and quickly covered my mouth as he continued to fuck me with his fingers.

"Shhh, you didn’t want them to hear us, remember?" His eyes pierced into mine, pupils wide and blown with desire, and he watched every minute movement of my face as I came around him. Despite his sultry reminder, I keened against his hand, his skin tasting salty against my tongue and lips with each little noise. He pulsed me through my orgasm and circled my sensitive nub with increasing gentleness as I came down in his arms.

After a moment, he slipped out of me and brought his soaked fingers to his lips before making a show of sucking my slick from them. "You taste just as good as I remember," he breathed out with a smirk. I let out a shuddering breath, closed my eyes, and rested my forehead against his once more, our hair tangling in a mess of golden brown and mahogany tresses. I felt his dick pulse beneath me.

My mind shot back to our time together on the roof, and as I sat nearly puddled against him on his lap, I realized that I had yet to return any of his favors. With shaky knees, I pushed myself from him (earning me a brief look of concern) before I slid down his lap and onto the floor in front of him. The worry melted from his face as his eyebrows rose, and a grin stretched across his lips.

My hands slithered down the black denim of his thighs, ghosting the skin of the ripped knees, and I grabbed his shins to push them open. Settling between them, I reached forward to push his bullet belt up and pull at the button on his pants. It popped open with minimal effort and I gripped my hands onto the meat of his thighs as I leaned my face directly over his crotch. Taking the zipper in my teeth, I wrenched it down smoothly. The heat of his groin flushed against my cheeks and even without looking, I could tell he wasn't wearing boxers.

He quickly pulled his pants down from his hips to his knees and his cock sprung out, nearly hitting me in the face. While he was no Owen Gray, it was longer and thicker than I had imagined given his height, and I knew that it would be difficult to take him completely. Grasping onto the base, I flittered my eyes up to him and peered at his face through thick lashes as I licked the tip lightly.

Mary let out his own series of aroused noises and his hands grasped at the couch cushions below him. I smirked and knelt a little closer, back curving to highlight the swell of my ass as I took the tip into my mouth and sucked sparingly before letting it go with a pop. Mary whined at the loss of my mouth and I let out a small laugh, enjoying returning some of the teasing he'd put me through, before I grabbed the base and licked from his balls to his frenulum.

The dialogue from the TV just barely drowned out his heavy breathing and I surprised him by taking him into my mouth as deeply as I could without gagging, hand still squeezing around the base as I began to bob up and down. By now, the spinning nausea and hazy headspace was gone and I was feeling the more positive effects of the gravity hit, so I slid my other hand down to cup his balls as I took him a little more deeply into my mouth.

One of Mary's hands came to thread through my hair, grasping the burgundy locks with a tight grip as he helped guide me up and down his shaft. I pressed the tip of my tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock and he groaned out, lips spilling out the words "Fuck, just like that” as his hips quaked beneath me.

I continued to move my head against him, alternating licking and sucking, hollowing my cheeks and pulling lightly at his balls. I could tell he was close when his moans became louder and his arm started to tremble. Speeding up my ministrations, I looked back up into his eyes to see them closed, his head tilted against the back of the couch, and he started to jerk his hips up roughly into me. I relaxed my throat and stilted the gagging feeling the best I could, tears pricking my eyes as I let him fuck my face.

The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and he let out a guttural noise, his other hand coming to grab onto my head as he thrust into my mouth. "Ungh, fuck, babydoll, you're gonna make me cum," he growled, and even with my recent orgasm, I felt wetness instantly pool in my already soaked underwear.

Seconds later, his hips spasmed into my face and he came roughly into my mouth. His salty spend pooled on my tongue and I swallowed around his cock before slowly sliding off with an audible "pop". A bead of cum dribbled down my lips and I wiped it with the pad of my thumb, popping the digit in my mouth to lap at it slowly while locking eyes with Mary.

He looked at me half-lidded, completely enthralled as I nearly devoured every drop of him, and I leaned back a little while shooting him pleased smile.

"I couldn't let you go through life without experiencing one of my blowjobs at least once," I said, nearly echoing his words from weeks prior. He instantly recognized this and laughed, one of his hands moving from my head to trace his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip.

"I don’t know what it is about you, dollface," he whispered. My heart leapt again at the nickname he'd assigned me and I hummed as I leaned into his touch before slinking up to sit next to him. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear the clink of his belt as he carefully tucked himself back into his jeans, the sound of his zipper whirring briefly through the heated air.

His arm came to snake around my waist and we sat there in a comfortable silence, film credits dancing on the screen. I heard the sliding glass door open from the kitchen and footsteps clatter against the fake laminate flooring, but I didn't move from Mary's grasp. I was too tired (and too satiated) to care.

After a while, I felt his lips press onto my forehead and I opened my eyes again to look at him. He motioned towards the last chocolate square on the coffee table with a subtle flick of his head, a smile carved into his face, and broke the quiet.

“...you gonna eat that?”

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