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luxurychristmaspudding · 7 months ago

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summary: after showing frankie what he was missing, something seems to have been awoken in you all. with joel away on a contract and santi called out of town, you're left in frankie's care. except one rule still stands - you can't touch.

read part 1, listen, here BONUS: al's handy guide to reading watch

grouping: f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia

rating/warnings: 18+. MDNI. no outbreak (tlou) - but based after the tf mission. alright, buckle in. softdom!joel, softdom!santi, sub!frankie, sub!reader, lil bit of softdom!reader and bratty!reader as well hehe. drinking, pet names (inc. little/baby girl, baby boy). rules get broken (surprise!), praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, public fingering, blowjobs (m receiving and giving), rimming, mutual masturbation, phone sex, use of toys (f&m), consensual somnophilia, cumplay, edging, facesitting, anal fingering (m), mfm, anal sex (m receiving), tiny bit of breath play (not reader), light bondage, brief gagging, very high sex drives but who can blame them, once again so many orgasms i lost count, and in the immortal words of @thatredheadwriter, 'so much fluid exchange I think a hasmat team should probably go in to clean it up' reader wears dresses and has hair, but has no other descriptions. no use of y/n.

wc: 25k (i know, i'm so sorry)

an: many many many thanks to the peeps who waited an age for this. you've all been so patient and kind and i hope you enjoy! for @schnarfer, @swiftispunk, @5oh5 and @janaispunk who, without their constant encouragement and recommendation, this may not have happened at all <3 dividers as always from the wonderful @saradika-graphics

In the weeks that follow, you wait for the ball to drop.

You wait to feel weird about what the four of you did, for the kick of it, for Joel to reveal that he actually wasn’t that sold on it. You wait for a text or call from Frankie or Santi to say it was nice knowing you, but it was a little much, a little weird to see you around now.

It doesn’t happen.

You stay slotted into Joel’s life like you were always meant to be there. You stay over at his, he stays over at yours. You spend lazy Sunday mornings making waffles or pancakes and getting fucked dumb. He brings you flowers when work is hard, you rub his shoulders when he’s had a rough day on site. Your body is marked beneath your clothes with his bruises, the shape of his teeth, and his is marked by yours, the scratch of your nails traced delicately down his back.

You spend your time orbiting around each other, close and safe in the bubble you’ve built, warm and soft in the afternoon sunlight that streams through the curtains on your days off, eating in and eating out. He becomes more familiar than anyone else has ever been with the inner workings of your mind, the inner workings of your body. He introduces you to his brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. He talks about you to Sarah, and she says she’d love to meet you next time she’s home from college. He makes space for your books on his shelves, and your clothes find a way into his wardrobe; his squeeze into your drawers, a spare toothbrush for him in your bathroom. He kisses you, hot and open mouthed when he drops you off at work, does the same when you find his truck waiting outside for you when you’re done. He asks how the boys are when you come home from drinks with them, listens with sparkling eyes when you tell him Benny’s latest hookup is from the bar you used to work at, the place where they first met you. He chuckles and tells you he's glad Santi introduced the two of you when he did, before any of the others swooped in and took you for themselves.

Sometimes, you think he forgets about the night that Frankie asked you out, the conversations that followed. How close it could have been.

But that's naive of you. Naive of you to think that he doesn’t see, doesn’t seek out the claim that Frankie and Santi have also made on you. Because he knows. In some infuriating, impossible way, he always knows.

He shows you he knows one morning, when you have already been awake for what feels like hours, watching his broad chest rise and fall with deep, sleeping breaths.

You trace the curve of his nose with your eyes, the scruff of his beard, the way his curls have grown out. Luscious and thick, spattered with grey, curling down into the nape of his neck. His lips look so warm, so soft, that you’ve been challenging yourself, seeing how long you can go without kissing him awake. Seeing how long you can go with just remembering how they felt between your legs last night, wet with spit and your release as he soothed you through orgasm after orgasm, kissing your thighs, sucking marks into your soft flesh as he held you down with one thick palm braced against your belly, the other with its fingers gently pumping in and out of you. The deep timbre of his voice when you made yourself look at him, his praise, good girl, there she is, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl through your tears, as you begged him, begged him for something else, something more. More, daddy, you’d pleaded. You'd needed something thicker, something deeper. You always do.

You squirm beneath the sheets, pressing your thighs together. Try to think of anything else. The green of his bedroom walls, the boots you know will be at the end of the bed. His trinkets on the dresser - the watch Sarah bought (and fixed, many times) for him, the picture of him and his family at Tommy and Maria’s wedding, your clothes scattered about the floor, the chair in the corner of the room, the chair where he sat that night, as he watched, as he watched you -

You roll over onto your side to look away from it, squeezing your eyes shut, barely able to control your whimper. You’re slick between your thighs, too warm as your wetness mixes with the cum still drooling out of your cunt. You try and count his freckles instead, starting from his forehead to his cheekbones, down to his neck - his neck - his shoulder, the bite mark you left there as he spilled himself into you, the hand resting on his chest, his thick fingers, his fingers -

It’s no good. It’s no fucking good. He needs to rest, so you take a deep breath and steel yourself. Coffee. You’ll head downstairs, you’ll make coffee, and when he’s slept enough you’ll talk him through everything you’ve been thinking about, and he’ll make it better. Starting with his tongue.

You press your hands to the mattress as you start to raise your torso from the bed, and almost immediately at the shifting of your weight, Joel’s hand shoots out to grab you.

‘Where you goin’, pretty girl?’

You smile, smug. So he's awake. And you know, with his grip like this, you’ll get anything you want from him.

‘Coffee,’ you say, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his soft lips. He returns it, eyes still shut, hand shifting from your forearm to your bicep, to your shoulder, to the back of your neck. He holds you there as he draws his tongue across the seam of your lips, and with a groan you let him in. The bristle of his moustache tickles as he licks into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as his free hand skates between the sheets to skim over your bare thigh. You shift against him, bringing your calf over both of his legs. The movement brings his hand forwards, dipping between your legs to trace two fingers up through your drenched cunt. You moan loudly against him, and Joel chuckles.

‘Last night not enough for you, little girl?’

You hum against him, shaking your head. He retracts his fingers.

‘Words, baby.’ He reminds you.

‘No, da-’ you start, but as soon as your lips part he has his fingers on your tongue. On instinct, your eyes flutter shut and you suck them, swirling your tongue over the thick digits, savouring the taste of you both.

‘Rude to talk with your mouthful, sweet pea,’ he murmurs, ‘Somebody oughta fuck some manners into ya.’

With his fingers still in your mouth, Joel turns you onto your back, bracing himself away from you to watch you continue to suckle on his fingers. He pushes them further back, further, further, only to watch you begin to gag around him.

‘Good girl,’ he says, withdrawing them, spit-slick, before bringing them back to your pussy. He watches your face as he pushes them easily inside, the crease between your brows, the way your jaw slackens, the way your eyes widen as he curls them into your sweet spot. He nods, pleased. ‘Think you’re wet enough to take me already, baby,’ he says, swiping them over your clit. You jolt, moaning again at the feeling. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, daddy,’ you sigh, ‘Ready for you.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Always so ready f'me, isn’t she, princess?’ He says, lining himself up at your entrance, gripping your jaw to keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t expect an answer this time. ‘Yeah, always dripping for me, aren’t you? Poor baby girl. Poor baby girl and her messy little pussy.’

He feeds his cock to you slowly, so slowly. You whine and arch against him as he does, brain trickling away from you, already so given in to the sensation; mind deliciously blank, nails scratching at his forearms as he cages you in, thrusting deep, bottoming out. When he sees your eyes roll back, he picks up his pace smoothly, thrusting faster and harder, deeper. You moan out a long daddy, and he huffs in amusement.

‘Does daddy feel good, sweet girl?’

You gasp out a yes, fuck, daddy, and he hums in response.

'There she is,’ he says, ‘Didn’t need coffee, did ya, baby? Just wanted daddy. Just needed your daddy, hm?’ You nod furiously, tongue loosened by the heavy weight of him inside you, babbling away about how good he feels, how deep, how big he is. You lock your ankles around the bottom of his spine to pull him closer, and he groans, head dipping to yours. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘You take what you need, baby. Just wanna get fucked, huh? Woke up dreamin’ a me? Dreamin’ a me fuckin’ you full of my cum again, babygirl?’

You moan again, neck pulling taught as you arch further, pull him in deeper. The coil deep in your belly tightens, jaw clenching as you scratch at him, as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

‘Poor baby, can’t even get her words out,’ he coos, and like he wants to prove his point, he pushes even deeper, tip kissing your cervix, the bruising feeling making you gasp, making you plead, making you beg as you try and move your hips away from him. He brings his hand away from your face to your waist, keeping you in place.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he smiles, rocking in and out of you again, ‘I know you can take it, just relax f'me. That’s a good girl. I know it’s big but you can take it.’

You clench around him, painfully, try to mumble out how close you are, but you can’t even summon the words. In this room, he is all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel. The slickness of it, the heat, the burning pleasure rising inside you as you writhe beneath him.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, ‘You’re close already, huh?’ You hum, body tight, so close, so close, head so empty. ‘Yeah, you are. Fuck, love when you get all stupid on me like this. You like getting fucked dumb on daddy’s cock, baby? Can you feel me all the way in here, sweetheart?’ he asks, moving the hand on your waist to press against your lower stomach. You clench harder as he presses down, the coil tightening, spiralling, and you’re right there - ‘Wish you could fuckin’ see yourself right now, baby. Wish you could see how pretty ya look getting fucked. You like being watched, don’t ya, darlin’? Yeah. Want Santi and Francisco to watch again, baby?’ You gasp at his words, surprised, vision blurring, hurtling towards your climax, the build up scorching, impossibly long. ‘Sure you do. Or d'you want Santi to fuck you again, make you scream his name while he’s inside you, huh?’

Fuck, okay. Okay -

‘Yes, daddy -’ you breathe, pussy fluttering around him, the beginnings of your orgasm.

‘Santi? Or is it Frankie, baby? You want his mouth on you, want to feel him stretch you open? He’s big, isn’t he? Wanna see how he feels, if he fits like me?’

He is, you remember, he is, and you could try. If you can take Joel, you can take Frankie, and oh, what a thought -

Your body pulls tighter, aching, painful, and you cry out.

‘Shit -’ you moan, ‘Shit, Joel, I’m -’

‘Come, babygirl,’ he tells you. ‘Come all over my cock, princess. Get it nice and wet, just how daddy likes it.’

You burst aflame beneath him with a shout, body jerking as you hiss and gasp, gripping him to you as he fucks you through it. You whimper with every thrust as he keeps talking through gritted teeth, thrusting harder.

‘Yeah, that’s it. So sweet, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. You want them again, darlin’? Want to play with 'em? Want to watch 'em play with your daddy?’

A needy whine slips past your lips as you picture it; Frankie on his knees, Santi on all fours, and you grow even wetter at the thought, the slick of your orgasm and Joel’s words making the prettiest noises.

‘She likes that,’ Joel says, almost to himself, ‘Yeah, she likes that. Dirty girl. Dirty girl, wanting all three of us, wanting to watch, hm? Wanna touch, baby? Wanna see how it feels?’ He looks so fucked out on top of you that even you’re not sure if he knows what he’s saying, what he’s asking you. But you gasp out a yes anyway, something warm and quick trickling up your spine, tightening your cunt again.

‘Another one,’ he grunts, ‘Another one, darlin’, and I’ll give you what you want.’

You don’t need to be told twice. Your second orgasm rips through you lightning fast and white-hot, so good that you hear ringing in your ears, so tight that Joel stutters inside of you, groaning, breathing your name as he pumps and spills and twitches. You’re both breathing so heavily that it’s all you can do to lie there, licking your lips as Joel pulls out with a moan and flops beside you. A breathless little giggle escapes your parted lips.

Joel reaches across your body and tugs you by the arm until you’re nestled into his side. Too hot, too breathless, but you breathe him in all the same, tracing patterns on his chest.

The room is quiet as you both come down from your highs, your eyes falling closed as Joel presses a kiss to your hairline. Your brain tries its best not to think, not to read into it, but even through the exhaustion, his words come back to you.

Watch, touch.

You have to know. You have to ask, now, want to know, want it, want it, want it -

‘Do you - do you want to do it again?’ You stutter.

Joel puffs out a laugh to the ceiling.

‘You’re gonna have to give me at least ten minutes, baby.’

You laugh and nudge his side with your fist.

‘No,’ you smile, ‘No. The - the thing you said, about that night -’

He raises an eyebrow, and you bare your teeth awkwardly.

'You know - that night.'

‘Mm?’ Tease.

You lean further onto his chest and take his skin gently between your teeth. You nip, and he relents. You lean back slightly to look at him.

Joel smiles at you, crooks his head so he can nibble at your ear lobe.

‘Baby, I’d love to.’

The sound that leaves your lips is obscene, and you don’t care. Fuck, the thought of it. The three of them together, the four of you together.

‘All we gotta do is send the text,’ he says, ‘Could send it now and they’d be here in the hour.’ He chuckles. One of his hands moves down to your thigh, hooking it over his hip before moving to your ass to rock you against him. You groan into his shoulder. Your next question leaves your lips before you can even stop it.

‘Did you - did you mean what you said, about you and Santi and Frankie?’ You ask. It sounds clumsy, almost like you shouldn’t be asking. Fuck, maybe you should have waited for him to bring it up. You tense, waiting for his reaction.

Joel opens his eyes again with a small smirk, peeking down at you down his aquiline nose. His movements still.

‘Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

You draw a quick breath and hold him closer. You won’t ask anymore questions. Try to push away thoughts of what Joel could do with his hands, his mouth, his cock, of what the two other men could do with theirs, what it would be like to watch, what it would be like to feel -

‘I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.’ Joel says, quietly.

You pull back from his chest and watch him watch you. His dark eyes are honest, wary, and a question forms on your lips. He said he had been with multiple people in the past, it was something he’d done, something he was clear he had enjoyed -

‘With a man. I’ve never… done anything with a guy.’

Your stomach swoops at his nervousness. You feel your brow crease, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

‘That’s okay,’ you whisper, ‘That’s… I didn’t realise, that’s all. ‘M sorry if I pushed you.’

Joel shakes his head. He hums beneath you, a deep rumble in his chest.

‘Y’didn’t. You ain’t.’

You stroke your thumb along the patches of his beard.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’

Joel closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath.

‘I’ve thought about it. For a while. Watching people, watching you. I’m… curious.’

You nod, even though he can’t see you.

‘That’s normal, baby,’ you whisper, ‘So normal.’

Your mind flashes back, back to how tender he was with you, with Frankie. His warmth towards Pope as the four of you cleaned up afterwards, as you dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find. The way his eyes lingered on your body, Santi’s body, Frankie’s, the curiosity you glimpsed as you snacked and rehydrated, the goodbyes as they slipped out the door.

It makes sense.

And it’s even better to know that all this time you’ve been imagining it, he has, too.

‘I’d like to try it,’ he says, blinking at you. ‘With them. With you. If that’s okay?’

You clutch his face tighter, tender, warmth blooming in your chest at his trust. You smile wide at him, and he visibly relaxes. Tears threaten in your eyes.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘Yes. Of course it is. I… it’d be more than okay.’

He swallows.

‘You sure?’

You untangle yourself from him as much as possible, but he keeps an iron grip on your waist. You settle on your elbow.

‘Of course I’m sure, baby,’ you soothe, ‘Of course I am. I’m glad you told me. It’d be - it’d be an honour - it’s very brave of you to -’

Joel cuts you off with a snort, pulling you roughly back against him. He holds you tight within his grasp.

‘Very brave -’ he chuckles.

‘It is,’ you insist, muffled against his chest, ‘It is, and if there’s anything you want to try -’

He pulls you up so your face is level with his, and shuts you up with a firm kiss. And when you lick him a little while later, tongue pressed up, pressing in to his tight ring of muscle, you find that there is plenty he wants to try.

And plenty you want to help him with.

———

Will greets you first at the bar that evening, and you quickly lose yourself to the rhythm of the night.

The five of you are tucked back into your usual booth, bottles and glasses crowding the table, the noise of other patrons bringing you closer together, knees knocking, hands over forearms to claw yourself further into the conversation. You talk for hours, work tales being swapped, gossip about old friends, former lovers. Will and Benny seem particularly interested in your romance with Joel, and you happily fill them in, telling them about the barbeque you had round Tommy and Maria’s, how you’re meeting Sarah next time she’s home from college, and how Joel will be away on a contract next week. Frankie and Santi listen in with gleaming eyes, half-smiles of their own, sharing secrets across the table that only you are privy to. It makes your stomach tighten, your panties damp.

And the way Frankie watches you, it’s like he knows.

Seats are switched throughout the night after bathroom breaks and drinks collections, but Pope always finds a way to be close to you - a hand on your thigh, a squeeze of your palm, the press of his shoulder against yours. He stacks a small pile of peanuts on the table between the two of you, hidden behind a glass, and at any opportune moment you can, you take turns flicking them at Will or Benny. With every small, yellow projectile that smacks against their chests, arms, sometimes even faces, Frankie racks up a tally on a napkin. The game is all but lost when Benny looks at up the ceiling and asks in disbelief whether it’s raining fucking peanuts, and you and Santi collapse into fits of giggles. Benny stares at you in blank confusion, furthered by Will’s growing rumble of laughter - until he finally fixes stoic Frankie with a betrayed look, noticing the tally half-hidden by his palm, and cries out an accusatory -

‘Is that you?’ Which sends Frankie over the edge, too.

When places switch again, Will makes sure to gather you in a headlock in his strong arms and grind his knuckles roughly into your scalp. You yelp with laughter, giggling against each other, sinking into the dirty leather as Will muses on how much of a bastard you are, wondering out loud how your skills as a former bartender allowed you to outsmart ex-Delta Force operators.

Frankie watches with his usual boyish charm, his eyes crinkling at the edges, warm and molten and wanting when they meet yours. Your tongue burns with the things you want to tell him, with what you and Joel had discussed, eventually in great detail, in bed at home. But you bite the words back, knowing what is and what isn't yours to share. Instead, you lean into Santi’s touch, scraping your nails along his jeans until he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, biting his lip in a wicked grin. He excuses himself soon after, and with his departure, Benny calls for a round of pool.

He’s already slipping out of the booth before you can protest, Will following closely behind. Frankie steps out, too, rounding your side and holding out a hand for you. You accept it, stepping out in front of him so you’re pressed chest to chest. He lifts his palm to your cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to your hairline. You press his bicep in thanks before turning back to the table, hinging at your hips to grab both his drink and yours, taking extra care to subtly grind your ass into his crotch. His palm comes to rest at the top of your thigh, holding you there for just a moment, before moving to your waist. You turn back to him. He leans in close.

‘I don’t know what you’re trying to do to us tonight, hermosa,’ he breathes into the conch of your ear, ‘But it’s working.’

You grin at him as he moves his hand from your waist to the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing gently before letting go. You take a sip from your beer, reaching up to take the cap from his curls and nestling it backwards on your own head.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

His answering smile is dirty, thrilling, and he follows you as if on a leash to the pool table the brothers have secured.

Santi joins you soon afterwards, his cheeks a little flushed, a fresh drink in his hand. You’re split off into the most unfair teams possible; Will, Benny, and Frankie taking one cue, and you and Pope with the other. Frankie racks up the balls with swift, deft movements, taking the cue easily in his massive hands, the wood resting between his thick fingers. You feel your body warm as you watch him, still wearing his cap, trying to squeeze your thighs together inconspicuously. You bring your cool bottle to your neck as Pope winds an arm around you, letting his hand settle at your hip, stroking and pinching the flesh there. You don’t look at him, but you sigh deeply, and he lets his head knock against yours, pleased. With Frankie shooting first, there’s no great rush to grab your cue and be prepared.

You watch as he pots ball after ball, mouth curving in a playful scowl as he shoots you a grin after each one, moving around the table with so much grace and ease that it starts to make you a little dizzy. Benny and Will cheer him on with loud hoots and shouts, and Pope makes sure the two of you boo him like a pantomime villain with every flick of his wrist. When he finally fails to sink a shot, Pope passes you the cue, and you take your time lowering yourself to press your chest to the green felt, inhaling deeply. You’re warm, relaxed, a little buzzed, more than a little horny. You wiggle your ass a little, and Will laughs, shouting something about how your distraction technique won’t work, and he’s right. It quickly backfires when Frankie sweeps around the table, pressing one half of his body over yours as he directs you on how to hold the cue, how to position it, how to cradle it in your fingers like he does. When he’s sure you’ve got it, he breathes into your ear for you to pull your elbow back with just the right amount of leverage, and you try to ignore the goosebumps that break out along your neck and shoulder.

‘You’re ready,’ he whispers, and just as you begin to snap your wrist forwards, he presses his firm cock into your thigh.

Your quick inhale stutters your movement, and you watch as the tip of the cue just catches the edge of the ball, sending it spinning off into a barren corner of the table. You stand and spin to Frankie.

‘You asshole!’ you cry, indignant and hot, pointing a finger at him as he snatches his cap back from your head and retreats. ‘You - jogged me!’ Frankie spreads his hands in front of him, pouting, his bulge only just covered by the front of his button up.

‘I tried my best.’ He grins.

‘Don’t worry about it, kid,’ Will calls from the other side of the table, ‘Fish is known for being good with his hands. Even when he uses them for evil.’

The men laugh as Frankie flushes, knocking his fist into Will’s belly. Despite yourself, you laugh with them, enjoying watching him flustered as Will gasps out his laughter. Pope leans in close to whisper in your ear.

‘Good with his mouth, too.’ And all the air is sucked from your lungs as you feel your own face heat. Santi laughs louder next to you, taking the cue from your hands so you can grasp your bottle instead. You watch as Benny misfires, then Pope, still giggling at his own joke, before Frankie takes over again, sinking each one until only the white remains. Not that you notice, finding yourself now caught up in the way he bites and wets his lips, how plush they look, how they’d feel pressed to your thighs, your tits, your clit -

Benny snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, waving you back to reality.

‘Ground control to Major Loser,’ he grins, ‘Frankie whooped your ass, in case you weren't paying attention. It’s your round.’

You scoff playfully at him, whirling on your heel back towards the bar, but not before catching Pope’s eye again as he smirks at you, leaning against the table next to Frankie.

You flip them off as you work your way through the crowd.

When Frankie parks his truck outside Joel’s, all the lights in the house are off.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, and Frankie eyes the front door a little warily, eyes narrowing at the distance between. You giggle at him.

‘Frankie, baby, the boogeyman is not going to get me in the space between your truck and the door.’

He frowns at you all the same before unbuckling his own seatbelt and jumping out the driver’s side. You roll your eyes at him as he bounds round the front of the truck, swinging your door open and helping you out. He grins at you.

‘I know,’ he says, ‘I know, just - let me do it. Humour me.’

He swings your hands between you as you walk up the front yard, and you try to stifle your giggles as you slot the spare key into the lock. It’s unlike Joel to not wait up for you, but you’d made sure to tucker him out before you’d left. You’re glad he’s finally getting the rest he needed.

The door swings open in front of you into yawning darkness, and Frankie gives your hip a squeeze.

‘You’re sure Joel’s home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you nod, flicking the hallway light on. ‘He’s probably just asleep. It’s late, and -’

‘You probably spent the first half of the day making him see God, I suppose.’ He finishes for you. You smack his chest when you see his shit-eating grin, but aren’t able to wipe your own from your lips.

‘Obviously.’ You smirk.

Frankie laughs quietly as you shut the front door behind him, letting his hands wander from your hip to your waist, up and down the span of your back, pulling you towards him. You can still feel him, warm and half hard against you, and a soft moan slips from your mouth in response to his small grind. He smiles again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull to his chest as he rocks you back and forth, letting you feel everything while having nothing. Your own hands clutch at his shirt, shifting it higher so you can splay your palms over his bare abdomen. He looks down at you with soft, lazy eyes, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to kiss him. And when he leans in to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you’re going to wake Joel up and beg for him to take the two of you now. But instead, Frankie asks in a whisper -

‘Do you think Joel’d mind if I used his bathroom?’

You snort a laugh, pushing yourself away from him, and he giggles back at you.

‘Of course not,’ you say, pointing off down the hallway. ‘Just up there. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

He salutes as he backs away, almost knocking into the bannister of the stairs, and you have to clap your hands over your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. You step quietly into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water, but only get as far as reaching up into the cupboard when there are soft footsteps behind you. You grin, about to tease Frankie for not being able to find the bathroom on his own before warm, calloused hands are on you. Shameless, needy, groping up your top, tugging your bra down, cupping your breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Your body goes quickly liquid at the familiar touch, all smart quips dying in your throat as Joel ruts against you from behind, the weight of his hard cock hot and firm against your ass, barely disguised by his grey sweatpants. Your hands come to grip at the countertop, and you try to get the words out to tell him not now, Frankie’s here, but all that escapes is a moan.

‘’M glad you’re home, baby,’ he growls in your ear, fingers making quick work of your button and zipper. ‘Missed you. Dreamed of you. Did ya miss me, too?’ as he tugs your jeans down to the tops of your thighs.

‘Joel -’ you breathe, but you’re too slow, unable to process anything beyond the fingers he dips into your panties. Usually you love him like this, swaddled in sleep, desperate to bury himself inside you, and you’d let him take you anywhere, but not right here, not right now. Your body continues to betray you, pulsing out more of the slick that has kept your underwear damp all night - the touches beneath the table, the pressure of Frankie’s cock against your thigh during pool, him pressed up against you in the doorway. Everything you’d done with Joel earlier in the day, the way he’d come apart with your tongue and your fingers, the way he’d eaten you to the point of tears, all coming together to show him how you glisten in the low light of the kitchen. The two of you are insatiable, and he groans against you, offering you his fingers to suckle as he pulls the waistband of your panties down to join your jeans. You try to mumble out around him again - Joel, wait - but he’s too fast as he sinks himself inside of you, and every thought, every word, is wiped from your brain.

He sets a punishing pace from the off, and you take it easily, cheek pressed into the marble, head turned away from the door as you drool and whimper around him. The thick, heavy slide of his cock, covered in your slick, the wet sounds, the soft moans and pants that ricochet around the kitchen, and when he swirls a finger around your clit, your own sharp gasp heaves you to life.

‘Joel, wait - Frankie - Frankie’s here -’

But it’s too late, far too late, you realise, when you turn your head to the other side to find Frankie already stood in the entryway, leant against the frame like he’s been silently engaging you in casual conversation. Except he looks ravenous.

Joel groans from above you, tip kissing your cervix as he pumps in and out, fingers twitching over your clit to feel you tighten around him.

‘I know, baby,’ he groans, ‘He’s watchin’. See how he’s watchin’ you?’

It’s almost impossible to look, to watch Frankie take you in. The throb of Joel’s cock inside you, his fingers, the tightening knot that threatens to burst already, it’s making it hard to keep your eyes open.

‘That what you want, hermosa?’ Frankie asks.

You nod furiously against the marble, biting back a sob as your knees begin to give way, as you tighten, tighten, tighten, as your core locks down, your pussy growing hotter and wetter. Fuck, all that thinking, all that teasing means the build up has happened so impossibly fast, and you stumble towards the edge of the cliff already, aching for the fall.

‘Just like we said, huh?’ Joel hums. ‘You wanna be watched, don’t ya, baby girl?’

‘Yes - daddy -’ you choke out, and he hums again, this time speaking to Frankie.

‘Hear that? Want you to watch. Be a good boy, and watch.’

Frankie nods quickly, every bit the soldier; his jaw set, eyes black, curls peeking out from under his cap. In this moment, he doesn’t look like your Frankie. He looks cool, almost detached if not for the burning of his eyes. And he watches every movement, every part of your skin Joel touches, everything that is revealed to him, like he’s trying to commit it to absolute memory. The sounds, the way Joel’s cock glistens as it stretches out of you, the breath that is punched from your lungs as he pushes back in. It’s like it’s the first time he’s seen this happen.

But then, you realise, it is.

This is the quiet, obedient Frankie who kneeled behind the door. The Frankie who didn’t move an inch, the Frankie who could do nothing but listen as the three of you fucked each other. The Frankie who curled himself over your hand as he came, hot shocks of arousal and humiliation rocking his body. And now, he gets to watch.

But oh, how you wish he could touch. How you wish he’d come closer, away from the doorframe, how you wish he’d run his hands over your body, undress you, hold you, lick and suck and kiss you, how he could fuck your mouth as Joel fucked your tight cunt until your throat was raw, how you’d take him so deep, as deep as you could, until there would be nothing left, nothing more for you to feel or think about than what went on beyond the two men and you. You watch as his eyes rake over Joel, over you. How they track every movement, the curl of Joel’s fingers against your clit, how you gasp and choke, how Joel grits his teeth as he pounds into you, getting close now, feeling you tighten and leak and flutter around him, bunching your shirt up your back so he can press a hot kiss to your spine.

‘Give it to me,’ he groans, ‘Give it to me, baby, come on. You’ve got it, you can do it. Come for me.’

You heave a broken, high pitched whine at his words, and Frankie’s eyes snap to yours. His lips part in a breath, his only visible reaction, but it’s enough. Like the command has slipped from his lips too, your vision whitens and your back arches, fingers scrabbling against the smooth surface beneath you as you constrict so tightly around Joel you can feel the way you have to stretch again to take him in.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Such a good girl. So pretty, baby, so good. Now, tell me - tell me where you want it -’

You moan again, eyes flicking back to Frankie when they roll from the back of your skull. The thought crosses your mind, but you can’t find the words, can’t feel your legs, only the grip of Joel's fingers as he changes tack - ‘Tell me, or I’ll decide.’

You gasp out a fuck, forehead pressed against the counter, trying to decide whether you’re brave enough to say it, brave enough to ask -

‘Please -’

But it doesn’t come from you. You roll your head on the marble to find Frankie stepping slowly into the kitchen, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling quickly.

‘I can - let me help -’ Fuck. Fuck. You try to twist to gauge Joel's reaction, but his mind is made up so quickly you only get the chance to feel desperately empty before he tells Frankie to kneel.

The younger man drops to his knees beside you m, in front of Joel, chest heaving now, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously - and you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him so bad, but the thought is quickly whisked away as Joel steps closer, fisting his thick cock in his hand.

‘You want this?’ He grits. Frankie nods eagerly, transfixed by the man above him, eyes flicking between Joel’s and the swollen head of his cock, soaked with your slick and cum, dribbling the precursor of Joel’s own release. ‘Show me.’

Frankie’s mouth falls open instantly, his tongue sliding past his lips to welcome the tip of Joel’s cock. You moan, knees finally giving out, landing next to Frankie. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joel.

The older man gasps out a curse at the sight, before ropes of thick, milky cum spurt from his tip onto Frankie’s tongue, filling his mouth, weaker pulses landing on his chin as Joel squeezes the last of his release out. You tear your eyes from Frankie to the man above you, the way he pants, eyes aflame, jaw slack.

‘Swallow.’

You whip back round to Frankie to see his throat bob as he follows the instruction, and he opens his mouth again to show Joel that he’s done exactly as he asked.

‘Good boy,’ he drawls, swiping a thumb against his chin to collect the remnants of his spend before offering it to you. You open your mouth just as eagerly, but Joel seems to think twice. He spreads it across one cheek, and then the other, painting you, before placing the digit firmly on your tongue, allowing your tongue to lathe the taste of him from the pad. Frankie leans towards you, and then you feel his tongue, warm and wet against your cheek, licking away at the cum that Joel spread there. Joel chuckles at him.

‘Desperate for more.’

Frankie hums against you, tongue now flicking at the corner of your lips. Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

‘What are you waiting for, sweetheart?’ he purrs, ‘Show Frankie how well he did.’

You twist your head to Frankie’s, one hand going to the back of his head, fisting his curls, the other tracing the waistband of his jeans, eager fingers feeling the warm skin there, trying to touch further, trying to reach him. You lick into his mouth, tongue grazing his teeth as you palm him over the denim, and he moans against you. You retract your hand from his curls and start at his fly before a sharp, trilling noise makes you flinch back. His phone rings in his back pocket.

‘Ignore it, don’t worry about it,’ he says, pulling you back towards him, his mouth soft and urgent against yours, your fingers clumsy at the front of his jeans, twisting in the material, against metal, and fuck -

‘Why do you have so many fucking buttons?’

He laughs, breathy, exasperated into your hair.

‘It’s the - it’s the fucking style - there’s no zipper, it’s just buttons -’

You giggle as well, the ringing of his phone chiming off as you hear Joel say ‘just buttons?’ from behind you.

You manage to get two undone before his phone begins to ring again, and this time he breaks the kiss to drag it out off his pocket and silence it. He glances at the screen, hisses a fuck, and bites his bottom lip. You stall your movements, frowning at him.

‘You okay?’

‘One sec -’

He declines the call, but you see he’s missed messages as well. His brow pulls tighter as he reads them, and he scrubs an irritated hand over his face before looking back at you, his eyes dark, apologetic, pissed off.

‘I gotta go,’ he says, forehead knocking against yours before he’s wobbling to his feet, breathless, ‘I gotta - it’s Benny, I don’t know - I don’t know what it is, but -’ His phone pings with another text, and he breathes out a fuck’s sake. ‘I’m sorry -’

‘Hey,’ Joel says softly, and you look back up at him. He still looks as wrecked as before, but he’s straightened himself out and his gaze is softened by concern. Without looking, he holds a hand out to pull you up off the floor, and you gratefully accept, pulling up your jeans. ‘It’s okay, really, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry - what’s happened?’

Frankie relaxes, exhales.

‘Bar fight. Benny and Will were still there when we left. Looks like Benny’s managed to piss the wrong people off.’ he pauses. ‘Again.’

Joel chuckles, lands a hand on his shoulder.

‘Got a little brother just like it. You want us to come with?’

Frankie looks from you to Joel, and shakes his head.

‘No,’ he smiles, ‘Thanks, that’s alright. Can’t be getting distracted on my way there. Won’t be much help in jail.’

You grin at him, straightening his shirt, his curls, and he lets you fuss. You swipe your thumb at the corner of his mouth, and he flushes.

‘Are you sure?’ You ask.

He huffs a laugh, adjusting himself through his jeans, and you pout a little at his discomfort.

‘No,’ he admits, ‘But I’ll be alright. Honestly.’

‘Okay,’ you say, ‘Okay.’

He smiles again, dipping to kiss your cheek before shyly, hesitantly doing the same to Joel. You watch the smile that blooms across the older man’s lips before you find yourself mirroring it.

‘I’ll walk you to your truck.’ Joel says. Frankie nods gratefully, and you hum as Joel squeezes your waist before heading towards the front door.

‘See you next time, baby.’ You murmur to Frankie.

‘Next time.’ He whispers back, grinning and turning to follow Joel. He makes it to the open doorway before you remember.

‘Frankie -’ you call, and he turns, framed by the night behind him. You make a motion at your crotch, and he cocks his head at you. ‘Buttons.’ You stage-whisper, and he laughs as he adjusts himself, refastening the two you managed to get undone.

‘See you soon, hermosa,’ he says softly, and you smile as he follows Joel out to his truck.

You can’t sleep.

You’d bored quickly of tossing and turning, Joel dead to the world beside you, and had slunk downstairs for a glass of water. There’s a niggling feeling in your chest, something left unsatisfied. Guilty that, yet again, Frankie had not been given what he deserved, guilty that you hadn’t had time to see it through. And you just want to know if he’s okay, if he’s safe. You shoot him a text, leant against the marble he had watched you get fucked over less than two hours ago. Just a quick hey, are you okay?

You bite at your thumb, tap out another one - did you get home safe? He replies almost instantly.

Hey. I did. All good. I’m great. Had a great time

Then -

Thank you

You chew your lip a while, frowning, trying to work out if you believe him or not. God, texting sucks. Maybe you should call. You should call, just to check, even though he stayed, even though he watched, even though he said yes, even with the text -

But Frankie takes the decision from you with the next message, a voicenote minutes long. You wind yourself up for whatever it could possibly be, but nothing prepares you for the breathy moan that emanates loudly from your phone, so surprised that you almost drop the device. It’s followed by another, and the slick sound of what you can only assume to be Frankie’s fist fucking his cock, filtered through his quick, hot breaths. You close your eyes in rapt attention, dropping a hand to cup your sex as you listen to him whimper, as you listen to him whisper how good it feels, how he wants you, how he can still taste Joel in his mouth, how he’s about to come, how he’s coming -

It takes you an embarrassingly short amount of time to follow him, chest heaving against the cool marble of the counter top, legs shaky as you stand up right.

There’s not a peep from upstairs. You decide to let Joel sleep this one out.

You’ll send him the audio in the morning.

———

Work is slow, and is only sped up by being, in Joel’s words, an insufferable tease.

You’d bounded around the bedroom this morning, still secretly thrilled with the voicenote from last night, not heeding Joel’s pleas to come back to bed as he watched you don his favourite matching set, stockings, a tight little pencil skirt and blouse, before pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth and floating out the door to work. You made sure to send him a pretty little picture of your dripping cunt on your lunch break, quickly followed by Frankie’s voicenote, and to your delight, receive a video of him coming hard in return.

You bite your lip, squirming at your desk, sure you’ll soak through your skirt when he sends you a follow up message soon after.

You got plans tonight?

No? You shoot back.

Good. Stay free, baby

And oh, you don’t plan on being anything but before he leaves tomorrow.

———

When you get home from work, Joel is waiting.

Waiting conspicuously in a pressed white dress shirt and slacks, a couple buttons undone so you’re greeted with the warm sight of his chest as he opens the door. He looks… divine. And he smells just as good, too. You press your lips to his quickly.

‘You look gorgeous,’ you smile, palm against his chest, one hand on his cheek to smooth the hair of his moustache. ‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Come upstairs,’ he says, smiling. ‘I wanna show you something.’

You raise an eyebrow, all manner of possibilities flashing through your mind before you drop your bag in the hallway and take his outstretched hand.

With one hand on your hip and another over your eyes, Joel guides you towards the bed. His fingers are warm and clammy over your eyelids, and you giggle as you both stumble forwards, the shadow of a bitten laugh trickling into your ear from behind you.

‘What are you doing?’

‘One more second, ‘n you’ll find out.’

Joel brings you to a gentle stop before positioning you at just the angle he wants before taking his hand away from your face. He chuckles to find your eyes still squeezed shut.

‘Open your eyes, baby.’

You blink them open, taking a long moment to realise what it is he’s showing you.

Laid out on the bed is a beautiful short and silken black dress.

A short breath bursts from your lips as you step forwards to take the hem delicately in your fingers.

‘Joel…’ you whisper, accusatory. It feels like water, so luxurious beneath your fingertips that you want to scold him for buying it. But when you turn and find his eyes bright, excited, soft, the guilt dies easily in your chest. ‘It’s beautiful.’

He shrugs, trying to disguise how pleased he is with your reaction.

You step back towards him, taking his face in your hands, pressing kisses anywhere you can.

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, ‘Thank you, baby, thank you. You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

He scoffs lightly against your lips, hands gripping your hips again.

‘’Course I did,’ he grins. A dirty, secret little thing. ‘You needed something to wear for tonight.’

A worry tugs in your chest. Tonight? Have you forgotten something? Fuck - should you have bought him something, too? It can’t be the anniversary of anything, you haven’t even -

As though he’s read your thoughts, Joel pulls you closer, one hand drifting lower to palm your ass.

‘We’re going on a date.’

‘A date?’

Mhm, he hums against your mouth.

‘Surprise date.’

‘You bought this for a date?’

You give him your most serious look, head tilted, movements stilled. Pink flushes up from beneath his shirt collar.

‘Yeah, darlin’. Special dress for a special girl.’

You frown a little.

‘Where are we going where I’ll need to dress like that?’

Joel bites his lip.

‘Nice restaurant. We’re all getting dressed up.’

‘All?’

Joel extracts himself from your fingers, moving to fix his slicked back hair.

‘Joel. All?’

He shrugs again, looks at you over his shoulder in the mirror.

‘I had some help choosing the dress.’

Fuck. Fuck. Heat flashes between your thighs so quickly that you sit down heavily on the edge of the mattress. Joel smirks at you through the glass as you try and regulate your breathing. Your heart thrums in your chest as the thoughts clash through your head - Frankie on his knees behind the door, his wide, hungry eyes, Frankie on his knees in front of Joel, the drip of your cunt onto the floor, the full, overwhelming feeling of Joel claiming you after Santi, Santi’s fingers on your jaw, you look at your daddy when you come for me -

Joel squats down in front of you, his knees popping, two fingers lifting your chin.

‘Need to get ready, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘Rude to keep the boys waiting.’

You suck in a hot breath, eyes glazed, body warm and fluid already.

‘Are - are they coming back here?’

‘Not tonight,’ he murmurs. ‘Want you to myself before I head out in the morning.’

He stands as you blink up at him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth

‘Soon, baby,’ he reassures, ‘You’ll have us soon.’

———

Joel holds your hand as you descend the marble steps into the sunken restaurant. It’s gorgeous - classy - maybe a little too much, but you can’t find the wherewithal to care when he leads you to your table. Frankie and Santi are already seated and looking equally as handsome. They stand as you approach, Frankie flushing as he takes you in, kissing your cheek, Pope letting out a low whistle as he does the same.

You talk over glasses of wine, nibbles of bread, and your starter course; conversation often interrupted by anecdotes and jokes and observations of other patrons that definitely could have waited til later. Joel fills the boys in on the contract he’ll be away on up in Tulsa until late next week, and Pope says he will be flying back to Colombia for a few days to straighten out a couple loose ends with his last contract. You frown at him, having not been aware of this most recent development, but he’s quick to assure you that it is just that. Paperwork and documents he needs to ensure can be sealed away, picking up a couple of things from the Embassy, catching up with a couple of old colleagues, and then heading home. The boys never really talk about exactly what went down those years ago when they lost Tom, and frankly you’re not sure if you want to know. From what they have said, it was rash, greedy, and all but fucked from the start. Not something you’re particularly keen on imagining. But you’re glad that, this time, he’ll be safe and keeping away from it.

Joel and Santi share a glance over your head, and you realise you should have known. Should have known they’d be plotting and scheming.

It doesn’t take as long as it did the first time to set out the rules.

With the older men away, you and Frankie are free to spend your time as you see fit. Neither of you need to be looked after, neither of you need to be kept an eye on, but Santi and Joel phrase the opportunity to spend time together as more of a challenge. To see how you can work each other up, how well you can behave without either of them there to tell you what to do and how to do it. You’re grinning into your wine as you imagine it, all of the things you can do without actually fucking, until Joel halts your train of thought.

‘There’s one rule,’ he says. You pause mid-sip. He spears a piece of asparagus with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. ‘You can’t touch each other.’

You swallow, confused, looking across to Frankie, who is suddenly unable to meet your eye, and then to Pope, who watches the two of you with a cruelly delighted smirk.

‘We - what?’ You ask, confused.

‘Can’t touch,’ Joel says again, ‘’s your only rule. Dinner, drinks, movies, hell, sleepin’ in the same bed is fine. You just can’t touch.’

You stare at him. This is it. He’s lost his damn mind.

‘Little challenge for you, baby girl,’ he says, ‘I know Frankie can do it. This one’s for you.’

You open your mouth, about to protest how that can’t possibly be fair before snapping your jaw closed again. Joel watches, amused. This is not an argument you will win.

‘Fine.’ You say, even as Santi snickers at the fact that it’s evidently not. You decide on a change of tact. ‘And myself?’ Frankie finally looks up at you, eyes wide. Your lips curl in a pleased smile as Santi takes a steadying sip of his drink.

‘You can touch yourself, darlin’’ Joel says, unfazed, ‘Never said you couldn’t do that.’

You nod, gears turning. An idea forming, one you tamp down by resting your hand on Joel’s thigh.

‘Was Benny okay last night?’ You ask Frankie, changing the subject. Your fingers begin their slow and steady stroke up and down Joel’s thigh as you watch the younger man flush.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘He was only arrested for starting a bar fight -’

Your hand pauses only briefly on Joel’s thigh.

‘He was arrested?’

Frankie grins.

‘Yep. Not the first time. One day he might learn his lesson.’

You chuckle along with Joel and Santi.

‘Was he okay?’

‘Always is,’ Frankie says, ‘Lucky motherfucker. You should see the other guy.’

You smile, scraping your nails along Joel’s pants now, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He leans in close to your ear.

‘Knock it off, princess. I know exactly what you’re tryna do.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

‘Never said I couldn’t touch you, daddy.’

You turn back to face Frankie, and he eyes you suspiciously.

‘Don’t miss those days,’ Joel says, and Frankie’s eyes flick to him. ‘Tommy straightened out once he met Maria. Think the worst time I had to bail him out was the night’a my 36th birthday. He near caused a riot at some bar downtown. They still won't let him back in.’

‘Can imagine Tommy raining hell down on ‘em,’ Pope says, beside you. ‘He and Benny would make a hell of a team.’

Joel chuckles.

‘Sure would,’ he says, and you slide your palm over to cup him through his pants. He’s rock hard, cock twitching at your touch. But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. ‘She made him into a better man, my sister-in-law. Keeps him far outta trouble.’

His hand finds your own thigh beneath the table, squeezing as Santi begins to regale a story from his younger days with the boys. He starts the same ministrations as you, stroking, scraping, higher and higher, up to where you’re dripping, soaking yourself -

‘Joel.’ You whisper, something urgent in your voice. Why isn’t he stopping?

You’re suddenly nervous at the fact you’d decided to forego any underwear for the sake of the dress, before realising that is exactly what Joel had wanted. Like he knew you’d be running your hand up and down his thigh at the table, like he knew you’d be teasing him. Like he knew he could not only tease right back, but win the whole damn game. Smug bastard. He can read you like a book.

He leans in close to murmur into the conch of your ear.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby,’ as he pushes your dress higher to cup your sex. You clench your jaw as he chuckles underneath his breath, feeling how wet you are, how much more slick spills out at the pressure he applies.

His fingers move up to circle your clit gently, and you let out a shaky breath. You watch him from the corner of your eye, his chin in his fist, eyes sparkling as he listens to and watches the two other men, as his movements against your cunt grow firmer, faster. You reach for your wine glass, eyes flicking to Frankie, only to find him looking at you, eyes bright with amusement. You narrow your eyes, and Joel leans in again.

‘Good girl, he says, ‘You’re gonna keep looking at Frankie, and I’m gonna make you come like this. And next time, you’re not gonna play any of your games in the middle of a restaurant.’

You grit your teeth against the whimper that fights to escape as quiet falls at the table, the conversation quickly forgotten as Frankie leans back in his chair, smirking, watching intensely. You don’t break eye contact as Santi’s hand drifts to the soft flesh of your thigh, drawing goosebumps as it nears Joel’s, as he traces the seam of your cunt, smearing the wetness around your skin. You don’t even look when Pope brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the tips before releasing them with a lewd pop.

‘Good enough to eat.’

Your cunt throbs in response, breathing coming more laboured as Joel’s fingers work you tighter, tighter, slipping away to hook your thigh out wider, only to be replaced by Santi’s. Once he’s satisfied with your new position, he slips his hand beneath Pope’s, working the digits easily into your pussy, pumping in and out, curling to find that sweet spot within you. A small, desperate noise escapes you, and you set your glass down, your drink forgotten as you clutch at the napkin closest to you, body burning, buzzing, throbbing with pleasure. It’s too much, and it’s not enough.

You break eye contact with Frankie, holding your breath and biting your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll either pass out or draw blood.

‘No, baby,’ Joel rumbles into your hair, ‘Keep looking at Frankie. He’s gonna watch you come like this.’ You moan quietly again, meeting Frankie’s eyes, hot and close, so close.

Santi leans in so you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, goading, teasing -

‘Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.’

Your orgasm clatters through you, the tightly bound knot bursting as you lean forward onto the table, trying to stop your body from twitching. You feel yourself tighten and clench around Joel’s fingers, feel your thighs grow wetter, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Pope looses a quiet groan. The fire and heat of it make it almost impossible to keep quiet, a moan slipping past your lips as Joel retracts his fingers too quickly to pat you on the back in some kind of misleading gesture. Santi keeps his fingers pressed to your clit for as long as possible, letting you ride it out, before circling it again.

A gasped fuck passes your lips, and you slam your fist down onto the table, clattering the silverware and glasses. The action draws a chuckle from Santi and Joel, and sharp looks from the two tables closest to you.

You cough a little, trying to affect the pretence of choking, spluttering, anything that doesn’t look like you just came in the middle of a restaurant.

When you haul your body back to sit upright, Joel moves his hand to your thigh, and Santi follows suit. Their fingers are wet against you, and you try not to look, try not to feel it, but it’s impossible. The slick feeling, the heat, the pressure. You could go again.

But, god, your throat is so dry.

As if on cue, the waitress appears at your shoulder to refill your water. You try to clear your throat to express your gratitude before noticing the deep red flush clawing up her neck, her gaze drawn to each hand still splayed on your thigh, dress rucked a little higher than it should be. You smile sheepishly at her, finally whisper a thank you.

When she leaves the table, you heave a deep breath, your head in your hands.

‘Almost.’ Joel whispers in your ear.

You resist the urge to flip him off, and instead decide the best way to get a hold of yourself is to head to the bathroom. Clean yourself up, splash a little cold water on your face.

‘Excuse me,’ you murmur, voice hoarse and strained, and Frankie can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes. Looking to Joel and Santi, it appears they feel the same way. You grin despite yourself as you stand on unsteady legs, Joel’s hands shooting out to steady you as you giggle at the three of them, enjoying their favourite game.

‘Fuck you guys,’ you laugh as you turn on your heel, and they mirror your chuckles.

You’re almost to the door of the restroom when your waitress catches your eye. You try to smile at her and glide past without drawing any more attention to yourself, but fail.

‘Ma’am,’ she calls softly, stepping just in front of you. Your stomach twists. Fuck, she knows. She knows, and she’s gonna kick you all out, you’re gonna get arrested - ‘Are you alright?’

You blink at her, surprised. And then it clicks. One woman, surrounded by three men. The hands on your thighs, your dress. Three men who have been talking intently, possessively, obviously, even if they can’t be heard. You exhale.

‘Oh no, it’s - yes. Thank you for checking. That’s - really kind of you. I’m fine. We’re friends - I mean - it’s complicated - but it’s nothing to worry about.’

It’s complicated? Why the fuck did you say that? You twist your fingers as you try and work out how to extricate yourself from the hole you’ve dug, but your mind draws a blank. You pray she missed your phrasing, her eyes searching your face as you give her your warmest smile. It’s only a moment before she returns it, even brighter.

‘Oh, like a - what is it - a polyamorous thing? That’s neat. You get it, cowgirl,’ she grins, before clapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh my god,’ she gasps, ‘I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional -’

You laugh, somewhat relieved, placing a gentle hand on her arm - it soothes her.

‘No, please,’ you giggle, ‘It’s fine, really.’

She peels her fingers back from her lips nervously and massages her temples.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ she whispers, before meeting your eye again. ‘I’m sorry. But as long as you’re good. You know, taken care of.’ You watch as she cringes at herself. You reach out again to press her bicep.

‘Really, it’s fine,’ you say, glancing back to your table. You feel… warm as you look over at the three of them - relaxed, laughing. Warm at how easily you can all move back and forth in this dynamic. Warm at the feel of the slick around the tops of your legs. ‘I’m very well taken care of. And it’s really good of you to check.’

She smiles at you again as you step away towards the bathroom.

‘Oh, not at all,’ she says, bashful. ‘I’m glad. You guys have fun.’

The rest of the night passes easily, wrapped in conversation and good food. Jokes are whipped across the table so fast that the four of you cackle with laughter, the air sizzling with good humour and lightness. Joel has his hands on you whenever he can, and when you finally leave the restaurant just before closing time, Pope holds you tenderly, kisses both cheeks, and murmurs that he hopes you learned your lesson. You smack his arm and tell him to be safe in Colombia. Frankie does the same, but departs with a remark about how beautiful you looked instead - ‘especially when you come, hermosa’ he adds.

Joel makes sure you remember what he taught you at the table, taking the time to rock you through orgasm after orgasm in his bed until you’re in tears, until he’s sure the neighbours can hear you calling yes daddy, thank you daddy, I’m sorry daddy over the lawn.

He pulls you close afterwards, pressing kisses to any slither of skin he can, telling you how well you did, how proud you make him, how good you can be when you try. He only leaves to head through to the bathroom to turn on the shower, making you promise to join him when you can rouse yourself from the snuggly duvet. You don’t take much convincing.

Once you can hear him humming under the flow of water, you pad downstairs to the bag you’d left in the hallway yesterday. You root around in it before finding what you need, clutching it to your chest with a thrill before retreating back to Joel’s bedroom. You bury it in his suitcase, underneath at least a day’s worth of clothes, before stripping and joining him in the shower.

———

When you wake the next morning, Joel’s suitcase is already zipped shut, and the smell of coffee is drifting up the stairs.

You find him sat at the breakfast table, staring out into the weak morning sunshine, a steaming mug already set down for you across from him. You drift past him, a hand trailing from one shoulder, over his broad back, to the next, tracing the lines of your favourite plaid shirt, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

You sit quietly in each other’s company, the silence slowly turning to low conversation. What route he’ll be taking, where he’ll be staying, what the job will involve, what the people are like. What your work week looks like, what the book you’re reading is about, what you’ll do with him gone. You settle your chin on your palm.

‘Any other rules I should know about?’

Joel looks back at you with amusement written all over his face.

‘No. Jus’ don’t try anything at dinner again. Or do. I’m always happy to remind you.’

You giggle, and he grins back, all white teeth and crinkly eyes.

‘You know, even the waitress asked if I was okay afterwards.’

He grunts, enough of a question in it for you to continue.

‘I mean, I don’t think she saw anything go down. But she saw me with you guys and asked if I was okay.’

Joel raises his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’

You falter.

‘I guess… you know. Me, with you guys. Just making sure nothing - weird was going on.’

‘Weird?’

‘Bad.’ You say. Joel’s eyes soften, but his brow furrows.

‘I said no, of course. That we’re all friends. I don’t know. I rambled. She asked - she asked whether it was a polyamorous thing,’ you shrug.

‘’N what did you say?’

Something about the way Joel asks the question catches you off guard. A little brusque, a little too quick off his tongue. Your eyes narrow slightly.

‘Nothing,’ you admit, ‘I didn’t want to get into the semantics of what we do with a stranger. And - I don’t know what to call it. I don’t know if that is what it is.’

‘It something you’re interested in?’

You blink at him. He’s not looking at you, his jaw set, body tense. You feel your own jaw clench.

‘Is it something you’re interested in?’

Joel chews the side of his cheek, brow knitted as he looks out to the garden into the morning sunlight.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, ‘Not really thought about it before.’

You soften at the way his body deflates. Remember this is just as fresh for him as it is for you. You nod, reach out to take his massive hand in yours. His eyes swing back to you, and you squeeze his fingers.

‘You don’t have to think about it,’ you reassure him, ‘All of this is new. All of it. And if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk about it. But -’ you say, reaching to hold his other hand, too, ‘I want you to know none of it changes how I feel about you. You are enough for me. You will always be enough for me.’

Joel searches your face, quiet and serious. You lift his hands to your lips and press a tender kiss to his knuckles.

‘I love you.’ You say, softly.

There’s no sound through the quiet dawn of the world but a quiet intake of breath from Joel across the table. Your eyes flick up to him at the sound, to the brows slightly further up his tan forehead, his wide, surprised, brown eyes. And you realise that it’s slipped from you, aloud, for the first time. All that time spent thinking it, knowing it, feeling it, but those words in that order have been yet to pass either of your lips. In the conversations between sharing spaces, meeting families, spending time with friends, you’d forgotten to put into words what you’d assumed Joel already knew.

I love you.

You still, his hands unmoving before your lips, releasing a quiet exhale of your own.

‘I love you,’ you say again, even softer. And then, through heat rising in your chest - ‘You don’t have to say it back. If you’re not ready yet - you don’t have to ever say it back if you don’t want to -’

He grips your hands tight.

‘I love you.’ he says, gravelly and warm. And you believe him. See it in all its molten gold truth in his eyes. I love you.

You can’t help the delighted little laugh that falls from your lips. The same sound slips from Joel, and you sit, giggling and grinning at each other, in love, unaware of the minutes that tick by. You bite your lip.

‘Does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?’

Joel baulks at you, laughter frozen on his lips. Your heart squeezes, joy almost overtaken by nerves.

‘You mean - did I never ask you that?’

You shake your head slowly.

Joel sucks a breath in through his teeth. Something passes over his features; embarrassment, shame -

‘I’m sorry,’ he says lowly, a flush colouring his cheeks, ‘I’m sorry - I just - I assumed -’ he ducks his head away from you, ‘What an ass -’

You giggle at him, and he fixes you with his best puppy dog eyes.

‘Joel,’ you smile, ‘It’s okay, honestly -’

But he shakes his head.

‘No,’ he winces, ‘Sarah would be - so disappointed in me if she knew. She -’ he fixes you with an apologetic stare again, ‘She knew I loved you before you did. My God. And Tommy - Tommy would be wringing my neck, and my Momma - she raised me better than this -’

‘Joel,’ you laugh, standing from your chair to circle the table. Instinctively, he spreads his thighs for you to sit, and you settle down onto him, your legs perpendicular to his. You thread your arms around his neck, holding him close, and a warm palm comes to pet the small of your back. ‘Relax. Please don’t worry about it,’ you press a kiss to the patch in his beard, and he leans his head into you, eyes closed. ‘Besides. I kinda assumed it, too.’

His eyes open, so full of warmth, love.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?’

You huff a laugh into his neck, resting on his shoulder.

‘Baby,’ you tease, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

You spend a little while longer like that, curled up in his lap like a cat, sharing kisses and giggles, until Joel checks his watch and sighs. You clamber off him and follow him upstairs, leaning against the doorframe as he makes his final checks.

‘Joel,’ you call softly, hesitating. You cringe in the doorway. ‘Is it - seeing Frankie for dinner tonight, is that - is that still okay?’

He smiles and steps towards you, gathering you in his arms.

‘You know what the limits are,’ he says into your hair. ‘I trust you. ’F I didn’t want you to do something, you’d have known about it before dinner. ’Sides,’ he says, ‘You’ll look good together at that table. I’ll be thinkin’ bout it while I’m away.’

You snort and rest your forehead against his chest, breathing his scent in.

‘Just wanted to check.’ You mumble. Joel presses a kiss to your hair, rocking you side to side.

‘I love you.’ He says.

‘Love you too.’ You whisper.

Minutes later, you watch his truck peel away from the house, waving through the rays of sunlight now peeking out from the trees. He waves back, his arm out the driver’s side window, until the truck disappears from view. You swallow the lump in your throat, wash the coffee mugs, gather your clothes, and lock Joel’s front door behind you.

———

Joel calls you later in the afternoon to let you know he’s arrived safe. And Frankie texts to let you know he’s picking you up at seven.

When you get home from work, you busy yourself with a shower, with laundry you’ve held off, with tidying the house, and when you’re settled, ready, you call Joel again. Just to hear his voice, just to know he’s eaten. He chuckles a melody down the line at your fussing, but before he has to hang up, he lets slip that he misses you already, just as much.

When seven rolls around, you feel warm, giddy, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you wait for the sound of tyres outside.

Frankie greets you at your door, relaxed in a t-shirt that strains across his arms, his signature cap, and a beaming smile. You melt a little at the sight of him, so boyish, so bashful, so handsome, that you have to forcefully remind yourself of the rules. No touching, which must surely extend to no kissing. Still, as though he can’t help himself, he keeps a palm on the small of your back as he leads you into the small restaurant he’s chosen and plays with your fingers while you’re sat at your table.

You eat and talk, laughing and smiling like you always do. He asks about work, the projects you’re working on, and you fill him in on all the office gossip. How one of the line managers got fired last week, how Trisha from accounting is pregnant. He asks question after question until you laugh and remind him that you want to talk about him as well, and he flushes shyly. You ask about Lucia, about work, about flying again. He tells you about the places he’s been, the people he’s taken there, and one nightmare trip from last week where one woman refused to get in the helicopter, too scared to fly, until she had to be told that it was part of the proposal her boyfriend had planned.

You order gelato for dessert and share it with two spoons, giggling as you feed it to each other. You both get a text from Santi, a selfie of him sipping a beer, looking warm and delicious. You get a text from Joel, too, a picture of him straight out of the shower which sets your cunt throbbing, hoping you’re having a good night.

Frankie insists on settling the check and walks you back to his truck with a warm palm still on your skin. He opens the door for you, waiting for you to settle in your seat before he shuts it and crosses to the driver’s side.

He drives you to a spot overlooking the city, and you stay in the cab, seatbelts unbuckled, turned towards each other, swapping stories like teenagers at a sleepover. You try not to think too hard as the night settles in around you. Try not to watch his hands, his thick fingers, the way his arms bunch and flex, how strong his thighs look, how good he smells. But it’s so hard, so hard when he’s right across from you, smiling, eyes trailing over your body, getting caught on your lips, watching the way your limbs are draped in his truck. The way he’s looking at you makes it hard to remember the rules, hard to resist leaning over the console and pressing your mouth to his, especially when he lowly confesses how badly he wants to kiss you.

You huff a breathless laugh, looking away from him out to the shimmering skyline outside the window screen. Try to distract yourself with how the distant lights of the city shimmer like moonlight on water, how the structures of the skyscrapers reach up to the night flights swooping over the horizon. Something as far away from your body as possible, so you don’t have to think about Frankie’s warm, broad chest, what he would sound like moaning against you.

‘I wish you would,’ You whisper. When you turn back to look at Frankie, he is already watching you. Pressed against the driver’s side door, mouth slightly open, his eyes sparkling and dark. ‘You could kiss me.’

His mouth closes with a gentle snap of his teeth, and he shakes his head.

‘You know I can’t do that.’

You nod, eyes finding the skyline again.

‘I know. But I still wish you would.’

In the silence that follows, you can feel slick drooling and cooling from your cunt, soaking your panties. You shift in your seat, unsure whether you’re trying to ignore or resolve the discomfort. Frankie watches you still, and when you wriggle again, his own hips shift. You fix him with a stare, the air hot and thick between you. You curve your body towards him, one hand coming down gently to hold yourself over the console.

‘They wouldn’t know. If we kissed.’

Frankie continues to stare as you remain frozen, poised before him.

‘I know.’

‘Then let me kiss you.’

‘No, hermosa.’

You look back and forth between his eyes and his lips, watching his throat bob as he tries to keep his distance.

You slump backwards a little, trying not to feel any kind of acute rejection. You’re just hot, bothered, unbearably aroused in the cabin of his truck. His refusing to kiss you isn’t a mark on his desire, just his self control. Muscle memory of years of following instructions. Frankie turns his body, facing forward out the windscreen in his seat. He swipes his palms over the steering wheel, and your lips part, cunt burning when you imagine those hands on you again, huge palms sweeping down your curves, your thighs, up between your legs -

‘I’m not gonna kiss you, because then I’ll need to fuck you.’

Your gasp zips past your lips before you can stop it. Frankie keeps his eyes trained forwards as you stare at him. Your pussy clenches around nothing, needing something to sate it, a touch, a glance, anything -

‘Frankie -’

He shakes his head, grip tightening on the wheel.

‘Please, Frankie, I’ll be so good -’

‘Enough.’

You watch his nostrils flare, watch a muscle in his jaw tick. Watch a certain darkness sweep over his features, and you know, you know you’ve won.

He never stood a chance.

‘Tell me,’ you whisper, and he shakes his head, skull pressed into the headrest, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. ‘I want you to tell me. Tell me how you’d fuck me.’

Frankie closes his eyes slowly, his shoulders tensing, breath faltering.

‘No,’ he whispers, ‘No, baby, I can’t do that -’

You whine, hands scrubbing down your bare thighs, trying to find something to grip, to hold, something that’s not him -

‘God - it aches, Frankie,’ you whine, wriggling in the seat, and his eyes flick back and forth over you; your pathetic attempts to grind into something, the heaving of your chest, the wild, desperate look in your eyes.

‘What, baby? What aches?’ He breathes, and he’s tilting forwards towards the centre console like he could pounce on you, like he could hold your hands in a tight, binding grip behind your back, like he could eat you here, devour you here -

You whimper by way of an answer, hands finally resting on the hem of your skirt, pushing it up, up to rest at your hips. Frankie watches, eyes molten and black as you cup yourself, as you grind against your hand. He moans loudly at the sight.

‘There, hermosa?’

You shudder out a sigh, a hissed yes as you apply more pressure. His throat bobs as he considers, as he weighs his options.

‘Please, Frankie -’ you beg, though you’re not sure what for. Rules, rules, but none of them seem to make sense anymore, none of them seem to matter as you lick your own lips at his growing bulge in his jeans. He breathes in harshly, swiping a palm across his mouth before he fixes you with a look that makes you feel dizzy. He swallows thickly.

‘Show me.’

It's easy, so easy. You lift your hips from the seat and slide your thumbs under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, down, watching him the whole time. He waits like he’s forgotten how to breathe, this starving, tortured look in his eyes like he’s dying of thirst and water is just out of reach. You spread your legs for him and dip your fingers to your slit, gathering the slickness there before trailing the digits further up, spreading yourself in a v shape so he can see everything, see how you throb, how your clit twitches, how you leak down into the cleft of your ass.

‘Need you, Frankie,’ you whine, ‘Need you to -’

He lurches back like he’s been shocked.

‘Don’t,’ he grits, ‘Don’t, you know I can’t touch you -’

‘Then watch,’ you breathe, ‘He said don’t touch. But you can watch. I can watch.’

‘Watch?’ he repeats, breathless, body shifting, open, and you nod, rutting against your palm.

‘Yeah,’ you murmur, ‘Frankie, baby, let me watch you. Need to see you.’

He stares at you, something working behind his eyes.

‘Watch,’ he says again, nodding, ‘Yeah, please baby, is that okay? Can I watch?’

You nod, relishing in the control that he shifts so easily to you. You trace the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading the glistening wetness so it catches every stream of moonlight bruising through the window.

‘You, too. Wanna watch you, too.’

He nods quickly, mouth agape, unable to tear his eyes away from your core. He palms himself roughly over his jeans.

You trace your fingers back over your clit, swiping it in circles until your head falls back against the window, your brows pulling together as you loose a quiet cry. You bite your lip, looking down your nose at him.

‘Is it good?’ he gasps, ‘Please - tell me - how does it feel?’

‘Good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie.’

He groans, his hands finding his button and zipper, undoing them before shifting his hips to pull his jeans down. He reaches inside his boxers to pull himself free, swollen and leaking.

He’s thick, and just as big as you knew he would be - but he’s so pretty as well. The same tan as his skin, pink flush at his tip, skin silken, blue veins just hidden beneath the surface. You moan, wanton and crooning, sinking a finger into yourself as he grips his base, squeezing at the sight of your digit disappearing up to the knuckle.

Your hips lift as he begins to fuck himself slowly with his fist, lips wet and eyes blown, his other hand coming away from scratching at the denim of his thigh to cup his balls. You go slow for him as he watches, working your bud in agonisingly steady circles, pumping your finger in and out gently until you remove it completely, Frankie’s eyes drawn to the strand of slick suspended from your finger. He moans, a sick, feral sound, his head falling back against the seat to expose the straining muscles in his neck, the sweat that glimmers in the hollows before his clavicles. He jerks himself faster, tighter - tip ruddy now, beading with precum that he swipes down the length of his shaft, slick enough for you to imagine that it’s your spit, your wetness. A surge of arousal floods your fingers again, and you whimper.

‘Look at you, Frankie. So pretty.’

Frankie answers with his own choked moan as he watches you sink your finger into your heat again, but this time he grits his teeth, inhaling sharply before endowing you with an instruction -

‘Give yourself more, hermosa. Another. Know you need it, baby.’

You comply, sinking in another finger easily, rocking your hips back and forth, the sound of it obscene, loud in the quiet around you, and Frankie squeezes himself, breathless.

‘Fuck, hermosa, you’re so wet - so wet. Does that feel good?’

You nod frantically, speeding up your movements until Frankie matches your rhythm, his body tense, his tip turning a beautiful shade of crimson. You whimper again. This soft, sweet man, reduced to this savage across from you, fisting himself, reeling himself back from the edge just to wait to come with you.

You watch as his eyes drop to your cunt again, as a grunt wrenches itself from his chest, and he begs you - more, please, hermosa. You oblige, sliding another of your fingers into your dripping cunt just to catch a glimmer of what he’d feel like inside of you. Your orgasm flexes, tight and searing inside of you, and you whine.

‘Close, so close, Frankie -’ you pant, and his eyes widen, fist working so furiously you wonder whether it hurts, whether he likes it like that. He groans deep in his throat.

‘Make yourself come, baby, please make yourself come. I need to watch you come.’ And you obey, seizing, pussy gripping your fingers, body curling in on itself as you come, teeth clenched to bite back your scream. Frankie falls slack in his seat, eyes glazed as his cock jerks in his grip, and you meet his eyes, gasping out -

‘Frankie - want you to come, come for me, baby boy -’ and he erupts over his hands, over the tops of his thighs and his belly with a whine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You watch his spend trickle over his knuckles, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight, and your fingers twitch as you pull them from inside you. You are so close to reaching out and taking it on your own fingertips to swipe against your lips, and it’s like Frankie reads your mind -

‘I want to taste you. So fucking bad.’ he gasps, gaze fixed on your shining fingers. You bring them to your mouth, tongue sweeping between the digits, beneath your nails, moaning at your own salty sweet taste. Frankie groans again, tugging his spent cock weakly if only to stop himself from reaching out to snatch your wrist to him.

‘I promise,’ you murmur between licks, ‘I promise - soon, baby - God, so soon -’

You suck your middle finger into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked with his, before releasing it with a lewd pop. Frankie looks physically pained.

‘Stop,’ he pants, ‘Just - stop. I need you to stop.’

You understand, whole body still at fever pitch despite your release. Your hands fall to your thighs. Frankie tucks himself back into his boxers and lifts his hips to fix his jeans before popping open the driver’s side door.

‘Just - give me a moment.’ He murmurs as he jumps out, leaving the door open behind him. You watch as he walks circles in the dirt beside the car, his hands on the back of his head, breathing like he’s run a marathon. It takes a minute for your own brain to catch up with you. You tug your panties back up and your skirt down, some kind of horrible anxiety, disappointment and desperation clawing up your throat. You swallow and pop your own door open, rounding the truck to find Frankie.

The air has done him good. His eyes are clearer, body more relaxed, and he watches you approach with an expression that softens at every step. He barely gets out a you oka- before you rush to him with open arms, crashing into his chest with a quiet mmph. Frankie wraps his arms around you just as quickly, rocking the two of you back and forth, swooping a palm down your back.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whisper. Frankie stops his swaying, gives your shoulder a little squeeze.

‘Why are you apologising, princesa?’ he asks, so sweet you have to swallow again before answering.

‘I don’t know,’ you murmur, ‘That was supposed to feel good, but I don’t - I don’t know how I feel -’

He holds you tighter as tears threaten in your eyes, and you will yourself not to blink, lest they fall.

‘S’okay,’ he whispers back, ‘Might be ‘cause you want it so bad,’ you feel the rumble of a chuckle ripple through his chest. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and I still feel like I could rip my skin off.’

A sharp laugh bubbles out of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You blink and the tears begin to fall, and you laugh harder. The man might be right.

‘This is so weird,’ you chuckle against his chest, ‘I’ve never been so horny I’ve cried before.’

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your head.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘And it’s not weird. Feels like my brain will never work the same again.’

You laugh harder, sniffing as you pull away from him. He grins down at you, pinches your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Home?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, Frankie,’ you smile, ‘Take me home.’

Frankie holds your hand over the centre console the whole way home. You’re too tired to think about the semantics of rules, too overwhelmed to wonder what Joel or Santi would say. You grant yourself a small mercy in the passenger seat, reminding yourself that this is okay. This is aftercare. It’s necessary, Joel grumbles in your ear, it doesn’t come with rules.

When Frankie pulls up outside your place, he hops out to make sure he can the truck door for you and help you down. He walks you to your front door like he’d done so many moons ago, ever the gentleman, and waits until the door is unlocked and you’ve flicked the hallway light on.

You turn to face him, wrapping yourself around him again. He returns the hug.

‘Will you call me if you need anything?’

‘Yeah,’ you breathe, ‘Will you?’

‘’course,’ he swipes the back of his hand over your cheek, and dips to press a soft, firm kiss to your forehead. ‘See you tomorrow, baby.’ He says. You pinch his cheek as he pulls away, chuckling as he bounds back down the path.

You watch his truck peel away like a teenager, standing in the doorway smiling to yourself until his tail lights disappear around the corner.

———

When Joel calls not fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing one of his shirts, grinding your bare pussy into your pillow, fingers working steadily against your clit.

You fumble with your phone, taking longer than usual to swipe to answer the call, and if that hadn’t have given you away, your pants and whimpers do. Joel chuckles warmly down the line at you.

At his ‘how you doing, baby girl?’, your mouth curves in a shy smile, and a heat blossoms in your chest. Your ‘good, daddy’ is true, a kind of peace settling over your frazzled body and mind. You let out a cooing moan before you can ask how his day’s been, and his breath catches down the line.

‘And what are you doing, baby girl?’ he asks softly, so soft, and you smile even wider.

‘Thinkin’ bout you, daddy.’ You breathe, and he hums at your words.

‘Just me?’

‘Mostly.’ You confess, and he chuckles, a honeyed sound.

‘Mostly,’ he echoes, ‘And what are you using while you’re thinking about me, baby?’

You give a strong roll of your hips, grinding down as you answer him.

‘A pillow, daddy.’

‘Mhm. Just a pillow?’

You whine.

‘Fingers, too.’

‘Greedy fuckin’ girl,’ he chuckles. You moan loudly, and are rewarded with a low grunt in return. He listens to you breathe for a moment before you hear the crackle of him shifting, moving.

‘Stop now,’ he says, gently. ‘Need to ask you somethin’.’

You pull your fingers out of your cunt, whining as you do. You can picture his smirk so clearly that you tell him to knock it off.

‘Sorry baby.’ He apologises, so disingenuous.

‘What’s the question?’

‘I found something. In my case,’ he says. ‘Don’t suppose you’d know who put it there?’

You bite your lip.

‘Hmmm. Depends. What is it?’

You hear Joel fumble with something before he speaks again.

‘Let’s see. One of ‘em… pocket pussy things.’

‘Huh. No idea. Must have been your other girlfriend.’

He laughs.

‘Motherfucker. You damn well I can’t handle another one of you.’

You grin at your reflection. If you had a cord phone, you’d be twirling the plastic around your finger right now. Girlfriend.

‘My bad. Must have been me, then.’

‘Causing trouble even from all the way over there, huh, angel?’

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s drawing it out.

‘Sure, daddy,’ you coo. There’s a beat. ‘Have you… tried it?’

He huffs, and you can see the frown in your mind. How you’d smooth your fingers over it.

‘Ain’t need it when I’ve got you.’

‘Even when you’re far away?’

There’s a pause as Joel considers his reply.

‘You feelin’ sorry for me or somethin’?’

You sigh, letting your fingers dip to your clit. He won’t know, so long as you’re quiet.

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone.

A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip.

‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’

‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’

‘Better ‘n my hand?’

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’

You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine.

‘No, daddy.’

He hums down the line.

‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’

You sigh again, louder this time.

‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’

Joel chuckles at you properly this time.

‘You sound disappointed, baby.’

‘I am.’

He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows.

‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous.

‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word.

Mmhm.

‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’

You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing.

‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’

‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’

Joel laughs again.

‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’

You smile, smug. Hum in agreement.

Joel sighs.

‘Too eager for your own goddamn good,’ he murmurs, ‘Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm?’

God, his mouth. You moan openly, rocking your hips again, ready. Ready to hear him moaning, too, ready to hear the slick sound of the toy on his dick, ready to hear him groaning your name as he comes.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Joel hums, pleased. His breathing comes a little ragged this time, making your core hotter, tighter, wetter.

‘Use it,’ you moan, ‘Please, daddy. Wanna hear you use it.’

‘I’ll use it,’ he grunts, ‘But you ain’t gonna touch yourself. Just gonna have to listen, sweetheart.’

‘Please -’ you whine, but he cuts you off with a harsh tut.

‘No. You’re gonna be good, you’re gonna listen to me first.’

You begin to groan out again but he says your name in such a tone that you feel your body shift into submission, acquiescing to his demand.

‘You’re gonna stay still,’ he tells you, ‘And you’re gonna leave that pretty pussy alone until I’m done, y’hear?’ Your eyes half close, head dipping forward.

‘Yes, daddy.’

‘Good girl.’

You listen closely to the pop of the cap on the bottle of lube you’d packed for him, his heavy breathing as you imagine him soaking the toy, his sharp inhale as he spreads the cool gel over himself. The pop sounds again, and you wait with baited breath.

You’re rewarded almost immediately with a groan that resonates right through your body, vibrating straight down to your cunt as though he had voiced it against your lips.

‘Gonna start with my hand, baby,’ he says, voice low and breathy, ‘Start nice and slow, just like you would if you were here, huh?’

You hum low in your throat and lick your lips.

‘Wouldn’t start like that, daddy.’ Your voice is husky, drenched in lust at the thought of Joel spread on the hotel bed stroking his cock.

‘Oh?’

‘Start with my mouth,’ you breathe, ‘I’d lick you. Get you nice and wet so I can suck on it.’

‘Yeah?’ he whispers, ‘That what you’d do, you’d suck on it?’

You ache and throb between your legs, your free hand scratching at the skin of your thigh to distract yourself. Your mouth waters at the thought.

‘Mhm, daddy. Nice and deep, how you like it. You could fuck my throat if you wanted to.’

A low, guttural sound answers you, the slick sounds of his moving fist getting faster.

‘I’d want you to hold me still while I take you, daddy. I’d want to dribble and gag and cry.’

Joel huffs.

‘Would you, baby? You’d be such a good girl for me?’

You nod, lip between your teeth, even though he can’t see you.

‘Yeah, daddy.’

‘And what if daddy wants to fuck your tight little pussy, baby girl? What would you do then?’

You moan, eyes fluttering shut, hips shifting of their own accord. You grip the hem of your t-shirt.

‘I’d let you.’ you answer, helplessly.

Joel chuckles darkly.

‘Want me to tell you what I’d do?’ He asks, and you loose a pained little sound, brows pulling together. You’re sure you’re soaking the pillow at this point, dripping through to the other side. Joel laughs again. ‘I think I’d tie you up, baby,’ he says, so low, so deep, that the world starts to drift away from you. You’re barely aware of the fact that the noise of his hand has stopped until he moans wantonly into the phone, and your eyes fly open. ‘Fuck,’ he grits, and then he huffs a cruel little laugh. ‘Was gonna tell you how I’d tie you up and fuck you, baby,’ he growls, ‘But this toy feels good ‘nough that I might just make you watch me instead.’

You whine, chin tipped up to the ceiling, hushed little cries of no, daddy, please - falling from your lips.

‘Oh, sweetheart. You don’t like the sound ‘a that?’ he asks. You shake your head, mewling, ‘No, ‘course not,’ he murmurs ‘Just wanna be stuffed full ‘a daddy’s cock, huh? Wanna be creamin’ around it way you love to, all stretched out and used, yeah?’

God, yes you do. You moan breathlessly, cunt twitching and throbbing, and you wonder whether this is enough to just come hands free. If you concentrate hard enough, if you bear down enough -

‘Maybe I’d film it,’ he muses, ‘Film it so Santiago and Francisco could watch. See how you really like to be used, how cock dumb I can make you. Would you like that, angel?’

‘Fuck, daddy, yes -’

‘Mmm. So they can see how good you look when you beg, when you’re dripping with my cum, huh, baby girl? See how good you look when you cry, when you just take it for me?’

You can tell he’s getting closer, his breathing heavier and more ragged, longer pauses between his thoughts. You wriggle on the pillow, feeling yourself flutter around nothing at the pathetic stimulation. He moans again, broken and loud, and you puff against the speaker, seeing your opportunity -

‘Come for me, daddy,’ you pant, ‘Please - come for me. Need to hear you daddy, please -’

Joel’s breath catches raggedly, once, twice, before it cuts off with a deep growl. With every resounding moan you hear, you can imagine the spurts of cum bursting from his tip. You wriggle even more, cunt burning.

‘Atta girl,’ Joel gasps, ‘Atta girl, helping your daddy out.’

‘Please,’ you moan, breathless, ‘Please, daddy, my turn, is it -’

‘Your turn,’ he says, so warm, so sweet, ‘Go ahead, baby. Long as it’s only yourself you’re touchin’.’

Your fingers flutter to your clit, swiping it gently, so sensitive, and you grit your teeth.

‘Only me.’ You repeat, and you can picture Joel’s answering smile. All teeth.

‘Just you, baby girl. No touchin’ no one else. Not even Frankie.’

You stay silent, moving your hips now to drag your soaked folds against the pillow. Your head falls to your shoulder, and you moan long and loud, wondering whether you can convince Frankie, whether you’ve got enough time together to film the two of you - watching each other, then Frankie stretching you out, filling you with his cum. Something you could send to Joel and Santi, a little treat, a little teaser.

You’ve been quiet for too long. And Joel knows. He always knows.

‘You gonna break the rules, baby girl?’ He coos.

You smile, as though he’s read your mind.

‘How much trouble will I be in if I do?’ You ask through a moan, biting your lip.

He chuckles down the line at you.

‘I don’t know, sugar,’ he drawls, ‘But you could always find out.’

The line clicks and beeps as he hangs up, and you stare down at your phone in disbelief. The signal must have dropped.

Just as you fumble to press the call button again, a text flies through.

Night, babygirl x

And then another -

Try to be good. I know it’s hard for you

You huff a laugh as you drop the phone into your lap, hips curling again over the pillow beneath you. Sonofabitch.

You’ll behave as badly as you damn well please.

———

You and Frankie make quick work of dinner the next evening. Your hands are clammy at the dinner table, pulse fast in your neck, a flush passing high over Frankie’s collar the whole time.

He makes even faster work of the drive back to yours, scraping through red lights as you pull your skirt higher, as you skate your fingers over your thighs, over your panties, watching him the whole time. There’s a wonderful thrill when you catch him looking, when his eyes meet yours and then drift to your hands, how dark they are in the passing streetlights, the white-knuckle grip of his hands on the wheel.

You can feel the heat of him behind you as you unlock the front door, the hunger of wanting his hands on you, pushing you through the doorway, the press of his chest against your back. But you can wait. You can be good.

You move through to your kitchen with him trailing behind you, and you’re grabbing two beers from your fridge before the question of do you want a drink? is even out. When you turn to face him again, Frankie is dangerously, dangerously close. You can smell the musk of his skin, see every changing fleck of colour in his eyes, and it’s too much. You’re pressing the bottle into his chest at the same time as you’re tipping your head for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed. He takes both bottles from your hands and places then somewhere behind you before caging you in with his thick arms, his mouth in a tight, serious line. You arch your back subconsciously, but he seems to anticipate every movement of your body; somehow still always millimetres away, like the ghost of a man pressed up against you, a layer of film between you.

He leans in so close that you can taste the hot breath he’s pouring into your mouth, so close you can feel the air moving when he tells you, so softly -

‘Take your clothes off. And sit on the couch.’

You strip yourself as you watch him do the same, eyes blown wide by every stretch of bare skin that’s revealed to you. And it is not fair. So unfair that Frankie is finally naked in front of you - so gorgeous - long-limbed and tan, beautiful cock hard and heavy between his thick thighs - and you are unable to touch him.

You clench your jaw, sat back and stretched out like a cat at one end of the sofa, petting yourself as you watch him come towards you and lower himself onto the cushion next to you.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into the rhythm you found last night. It’s hypnotic. The movements, the sounds, the words. Watching Frankie is heady, intoxicating. It feels like you’re watching something happen outside of your own body, and you find yourself surprised as you move to kneel beside him, as you swing a leg over his legs so you’re straddling him. You’re so wet, so warm that you’re sure the night could pass for a summer’s day. Your skin is glimmering with sweat, same as Frankie’s. You search his eyes to find him staring back at you, just as fucked out, just as woozy. You moan, hot little pants dripping past your lips. He echoes you.

You sit back on his thighs, your fingers diving in and out of you as you watch his fist work furiously around his cock. Something warm and hot, greedy and possessive swells inside of you. He looks delicious like this, spread out in front of you, wanting and needy. His cock thick, swollen, dribbling. It twitches as you watch him, and you moan somewhere beyond your consciousness. Need, your body whispers. Need. You inch forwards, lifting your hips higher, higher, Frankie watching you like he’s somewhere outside his body. You take his hand from his cock, fingers slippery with his precum, and place it at your hip. You grind into your hand at the slick feeling, pulling your fingers out with a wet sound and hovering above him, gripping his cock so you can brush the swollen head of it against your clit. Frankie shudders, his body going slack, and you almost come from the sensation alone. You lower your hips just a little, bracing the mushroom of his tip at the tight ring of your entrance.

You gonna break the rules, babygirl?

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, suddenly unsure.

You huff against him, everything too tight, too heady. Need.

‘Shhh, it’s okay,’ you whisper. ‘It’s okay, just a little bit. Just wanna feel you a little bit.’

‘But -’ he’s cut off by his own loud whine, unable to protest as you fit his head just inside your pussy. You throb around him, at the stimulation it brings. You clutch at his shoulder, head falling forwards at the stretch. Fuck, you could absolutely come like this. You need him deeper, need him to to fill you, but -

Oh, he is so good.

His hands are like steel at your hips, keeping you in place. Frankie doesn’t want to disobey, doesn’t want to get in trouble. His grip speaks to that, his wide eyes, the sweat at his temple. But you can see on his face as you drip down him, the clutch of Joel’s control doesn’t hold nearly enough power when faced with what he truly wants.

You move back and forth a little, still with his tip just inside, moaning brokenly at the feel of it, and his eyelids flutter closed as something like a prayer brushes past his lips.

Frankie is good, but you are so, so bad.

You drop your hips down further, and his fingers flex against your skin as he gasps, a high, keening noise reverberating from his chest.

‘Jesus Christ -’ he groans.

‘Fucking - hell, Frankie -’

He’s a lot. You can feel yourself adjusting as you slide down his length, your promise quickly forgotten. Greedy fuckin’ girl. But you can’t help yourself, brain short circuiting, body molten as you take him in inch by inch. It’s too much, all consuming. There’s no space for another thought, any more consideration as he fills you, as you take what you need.

He whimpers as you bottom out, grinding against the curls at his base, breathing heavily.

‘So good,’ you whisper, ‘So good, you know that?’

Your head hangs forward against his shoulder as you gulp down air, as you feel yourself clench and leak around him, as he twitches inside you. After moments in almost silence, you lean back to look down at him.

His eyes are glassy, fucked out as he looks back at you.

You lift your hips, and the moan he lets out is pained. Your skin is on fire, and you want his hands everywhere.

‘Frankie, touch me.’

‘I can’t -’

‘You can,’ you grit, ‘You can, because I told you to.’

He moans again, and suddenly he’s everywhere. He knows where you need to be touched like you’ve done this before, his fingertips scorching and cooling as he strokes your thighs, your neck, as he grips your ass. Encouraged, you continue to move, slowly rocking up and down on his cock, breathing raggedly. Every noise that escapes the two of you seems to come without being registered, something primal, starved. Already, the coil is tightening, your body racing towards where it needs to be, and you know it will be intense, all-consuming to come around him, so thick inside of you. You lean further forwards, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your sternum, licking the skin before turning his head to take a nipple in his mouth - hot and wet and sucking, lathing it with his tongue.

‘Fuck,’ you hiss, moving faster, chasing, chasing what is so close. You grip the hair at the back of his head, tugging and keeping him close to your breast, keening against him.

‘Like that,’ you gasp, ‘Yeah, like that baby, god, so good, you’re so good for me, feel so good baby boy, you have no idea -’

You can feel yourself tighten and tighten, and Frankie holds you harder, force that feels so delicious you don’t even care about the hurt, not until it turns to iron, not until he rips his mouth away from you -

‘I’m gonna come -’ he whimpers, gripping your hips so tight you couldn’t move if you wanted to. ‘Please, baby, please - stop - I can’t - I’ll come -’

Hot desperation claws up your chest. You are so close, so close, but he looks so wildly at you that you stop trying to move, try to force back tears of frustration as you lean forwards to kiss him as sweetly as you can. Spit-slick and swollen, you pull back and rest your forehead to his. Try to think straight, tell him what he needs to hear.

‘No you won’t,’ you coo, taking his face in your hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. You put everything into your gaze, all your warmth, all your care for him, try to make him see how good this is. He stares up at you, eyes wide, dark. Panicked. Panicked at the thought of disappointing you. ‘You won’t, Frankie. It’s okay, you’re not gonna come.’ You try to shift a little so you can settle on your thighs to soothe him, but he clenches his eyes shut at your movement and whimpers louder, his mouth screwing up.

‘Please don’t move,’ he whispers, ‘Just wait, - just -’

You lean forward and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling his tip move slowly to a shallower part of you. Fuck.

‘Relax, baby boy,’ you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. ‘Concentrate. I’m gonna sit down, and you are not going to come, okay?’

You wait, but Frankie still has his eyes screwed shut, nostrils flaring, fingers bruising against your skin. The tense feeling in your chest swells again.

‘Frankie.’ You say sharply, and he jumps out of himself, eyes flashing open to yours. ‘I’m gonna sit back down. Take a deep breath.’

Frankie watches you as he breathes in through his nose, and you move at the sound of his airflow. His hands slacken at your hips, and he moans, low and long.

‘That’s it,’ you say, sinking all the way down, writhing helplessly at his base. You’re already both so close. ‘Good boy. How are you doing?’

Frankie breathes shallowly as you adjust around his cock. His cheeks are red, hair sweaty. His lips are bitten, bleeding through one crack of skin, eyes almost entirely black. You scratch at the curls at the nape of his neck, massaging the tendons there.

‘Okay,’ he croaks. You try not to think of how he feels inside you. How full you feel, how stretched out. He’s thick and nestled in deep - not as far as Joel - but the ache you feel around his girth is delicious. Fuck, this was a bad idea. You should have just hopped off him, let him slide out so you could both catch your breath. And now, instead, you’re managing to edge the two of you even further.

You know you can’t last long, and you know, from the desperate look on Frankie’s face, that he won’t either, no matter what you do. It feels crueller to stop now than it does to keep going, to watch him deny himself like this, to feel you deny yourself, too. You can feel your pussy tightening and leaking around him at the thought, the ache, the need that’s just there -

‘I have to move, baby -’

‘No -’ he chokes, ‘Please, hermosa, just a minute -’

‘I have to, Frankie, I - you feel too good, baby, I need to move. Wanna come, wanna see you come, too -’

Frankie’s iron grip returns to your hips as they lift of their own accord, and he hisses, head bowed, at the movement. You moan hoarsely.

‘It’s okay,’ you pant, gripping his chin in one hand, lifting his face to yours. ‘Listen to me, it’s okay. Focus now.’ You begin to move up and down him again, the slow drag of his cock tightening your grip on his face but loosening the hold you have on your body. You whimper, pussy fluttering around him. Frankie groans, breathlessly whispers your name, a pleasepleaseplease -

‘I know you can last as long as I need you to, baby,’ you whisper. ‘You’ve done it before, haven’t you?’ Frankie whines, his eyes rolling back, mouth falling slightly open. You can’t stop the moan that bubbles up your throat - him edging himself as he watched you the night before, eyes stuck on your fingers, your pulses, your wetness. You feel him throb inside you as he nods drunkenly. ‘That’s it, good boy. I know it feels good, but you can last a little longer. I know you can, Frankie. You’re doing so well.’

His fingers clutch at the swell of your hips, weak, sweaty, and you clench so hard around him that it’s a challenge to drag his cock through your walls. You breathe shallowly, slowing the pace again, and Frankie watches you through heavy lidded eyes. He licks his bottom lip.

‘Come,’ he breathes, a hand leaving your hip so he can thumb your clit. You hiss, hips stuttering so hard you sink all the way down onto him, grinding his tip into your womb. Frankie grits his teeth. ‘Come, hermosa,’ he tells you again, and you can feel the savage heat, pussy winding tighter and tighter, your body about to burst. Quietly, with a command he’s not had in his voice until now, Frankie says your name. Come. Now.

Your orgasm is blinding. You cease to exist in the corporeal world for an indeterminate time, coming to only when Frankie pulls you to his chest, his hips pressing up into you as you milk him. You’re achingly aware of the way his cock jumps inside of you as he pumps you full of cum, of the way his fingers grip and bruise your body, of the way you sink your teeth into his shoulder as you continue to throb around him.

‘Fuck.’ you bite out, resting your forehead against his as you pant into each other’s mouths. Minutes tick by, Frankie’s harsh grip turning to soft caresses, and you press chaste kisses to his nose, his forehead, his lips, before you rest your head against his collar bone. He takes a deep breath.

‘Baby,’ he starts. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, searching for what he’s about to say. You squeeze his middle gently. ‘Joel -’

‘Is my problem,’ you breathe, ‘I did this. It’s on me. He knew I’d break the rules.’

He swallows, nods.

‘Okay.’

You press a kiss to his neck, and he visibly relaxes.

‘It’s okay,’ you murmur. ‘No one’s gonna be mad at you. No one’s gonna be mad, full stop.’ He makes a noise of appreciation somewhere in his throat.

You bite your lip and lean back, fixing him with a wicked grin.

‘Besides, this is all part of the foreplay.’

‘The foreplay?’ He whispers, brow furrowing.

You nod, humming at the feeling of his cum slipping from the warmth of your cunt.

‘You really thought he’d just come in your mouth?’

His eyes darken, a huff slipping from his kiss-bitten lips. He brings your hand from his neck to his mouth and bites down on the flesh of your palm. You giggle again.

‘Mm, you like that, baby boy? Like the idea of daddy playing with you, too?’

‘Stop.’ He groans, ‘You keep talking like that, and -’

‘There’ll be a round two?’ you tease. ‘Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me,’ you smile, feeling him twitch inside you. ‘In fact,’ you continue, ‘That sounds like something a very good boy would do.’

‘Stop talking,’ he growls, ‘And take me upstairs. I remember something about you promising to let me taste you.’

The smile that grows across your lips is impossible to hide.

———

Pope wasn’t fucking around when he told you Frankie was good with his mouth.

He wakes you the next morning with more of what he gave you last night, his tongue warm and wet against your cunt, lapping and kissing and sucking until you’re sweating and writhing above him, hands fisted in his hair.

He likes that.

Likes biting marks into your thighs, making you moan and cry and come again and again. Likes when you’re a little mean, when you tell him what to do, when you hold him afterwards, when you let him fill you and fuck you until you’re both whimpering and covered in cum and slick.

The three days that follow pass in a blur of not touching and definitely touching. Frankie quickly becomes accustomed to waking wrapped up in your bed, your arm thrown over his side, and you quickly become accustomed to the sweet praises that drip from his lips as he slots himself inside you - how tight and sweet you are, how he can’t believe he fits in so well. How he can’t wait to share you, properly this time.

He bends you over the kitchen table after you’ve finished eating dinner, licking into you before splitting you open, and you take him in your mouth on your knees in the shower, making sure to remind him of how pretty he is, how good he feels in your mouth. You work him open with your fingers, your tongue, curling them inside him just to watch him struggle not to come so fast. It’s gorgeous. And when you’re too sore and swollen to have each other again, you find yourself cradled between his thighs, your back to his chest as he circles your clit gently with two fingers, kissing your neck and grinding himself against you as you moan, as you remind him how you need to get to work.

‘I know, baby,’ he murmurs, ‘Just wanna watch you come again.’

It’s feverish, it’s risky. You try to be a good liar, but you’re sure Joel knows. Knows you well enough, anyway, to guess that it would happen at some point. Which just means he must have been planning what he’d do to you after finding out for some time, too. You try to be careful as the week goes on - planning to wash your sheets, to not have Frankie in the house when Pope or Joel return. To just try and make it look like you succeeded, that you listened. That you were good.

You’re on your elbows and knees, body weak, pussy swollen and dripping as Frankie spears you from behind when the text comes. It’s Santi.

I’ll be home 2morrow. Look forward to seeing u 2.

One more time, Frankie gasps. Once more like this, and then you can wait.

The two of you can wait until tomorrow.

———

You wait all day for Santi.

And you try to be good, you really do. But Frankie’s mouth is just so convincing.

He’s not allowed to bite, not allowed to leave any marks. He has permission to make you come, and then he has to clean you up again like nothing ever happened. You’re not going to touch him, and he’s not going to touch himself. He’ll have to save it for when Pope gets here. Which, as it’s turned out, is much later than he said. But not late enough to miss the show.

‘Am I interrupting?’

Frankie lurches away from between your thighs like he’s been scorched, backing up towards the end of the bed. He looks so surprised, so worried, that you snort at him, still so caught up in the throes of pleasure to not be too worried about Pope’s reappearance.

He looks good. A healthy glow to his skin, tight black top, his curls perfectly framing his face. His mouth is twisted into its most alluring smirk, and you watch it deepen at the flush of Frankie’s cheeks and the way you snake a hand between your legs.

‘Not at all, baby,’ you coo, and his eyes darken, following the path of your hand. It’s ingrained into you now, how Pope touched you last. The memory rushes through you, and you moan softly, the noises your hand is making against your wet folds so obscene. Still watching, he peels his belt from its loops, curling it in his fist.

He jerks his chin at Frankie.

‘You at least make her beg for it?’

You huff a small laugh, thinking back on how not thirty minutes ago Frankie had been on his knees in front of you, begging for a taste, begging to lick your cunt.

Santi’s eyes shoot to you and the amusement on your face, and he steps forward with a smile.

‘Should have known,’ he says gently, through a smile. His palm cups your cheek, and you nestle into his touch, forgetting that whatever punishment Joel might have thought up, Santi might share. He traces your skin down your jaw, your neck, across your clavicles and down the arm closest to him. He holds your wrist, and pulls it up to his mouth where he can kiss your knuckles in greeting. ‘Hello, querida.’

You look back at him with wide, lust-blown eyes. ‘Hey, Santiago.’

He takes you in greedily, eyes scouring over your bare body, scrutinising so intensely that you almost feel self-conscious.

‘What do we have here?’ he purrs, his spare hand reaching over you, thumbing your nipple. You whine and arch against his touch, fingers moving faster, and he tuts, shaking his head. ‘This will never do, cielo.’ He squeezes your breast firmly before running his fingers down the length of your arm, gripping your other wrist to bring your wet fingers to his mouth. He parts his lips and presses them in gently, and you mewl, hips bucking, as he works his tongue over the digits. His eyes are dark, boring into you, only distracted by the heavy breath Frankie takes from the other end of the mattress. He releases your fingers quickly.

‘No.’ he barks at the other man, and you swing your head to look at Frankie, a hand frozen mid-pull on his cock, face flushing an even deeper shade of red. ‘Did I tell you you could touch yourself?’

Frankie shakes his head frantically, hands moving to his sides.

‘Did I?’

‘No.’ he whispers, breathless, apologetic. Pope jerks his head again, over his shoulder.

‘Off the bed.’

Frankie unfurls his limbs to stand at the bedside, cock heavy and bobbing against his stomach as Santi easily joins your wrists with one hand. It takes you too long to work out what he’s doing - his belt already curled around your hands before you make a noise of protest, silenced by a hard look from him. He twists the leather around your hands twice before tying them to the bedframe above you, giving a sharp pull to test the give. Your chest heaves, something sparking inside you as he cups your cheek gently.

‘Good?’

‘Yes, Santi.’ You murmur, taking your cue from how he admonished Frankie.

He steps back, admiring his handiwork, looking pleased.

‘Maybe that’ll help you keep your hands to yourself.’ He says, half-turning to Frankie.

‘Down.’

Frankie drops to his knees at the command, and you moan, thighs clenching, arms straining above your head, tight to your eyes. Santi says something to you, muffled, and you try to relax again to hear him, a quiet hm? the only sound you can make.

He cocks his head at you, lips curled.

‘Lube, querida,’ he says, ‘Where do you keep it?’

You inhale sharply, mind buzzing.

‘U-under the bed.’

Pope drops to his knees beside you, rifling around until he finds and pulls out a green box, ripping off the lid. His face splits in a dangerous, thrilled grin.

‘Now, what have we got in here?’

You watch with bated breath as Pope rummages through the box, your chest heaving, arms straining against the belt again. He throws the bottle of lube onto the bed before turning his attention back to your toys. He brings your wand into your line of sight, and you squeeze your eyes closed as he presses the button, the room filling with its buzzing sound.

You flinch when he brings the vibrator into contact with your skin, tracing your nipples. Your eyes fly open to find him and Frankie watching you intently.

‘Had a lot of time to think about this while I was away,’ Santi says, almost to himself, ‘But I’ve got much better ideas now.’

Pope licks his lips as he dips the wand lower, teasing it around the soft flesh of your thighs before resting it against your clit.

You yelp at the contact, body juddering.

‘Please, Santi,’ you cry, ‘Please -’ but he shushes you gently, stroking your hair as he lays the wand between your thighs, nestled in to where the feeling is most intense, most overwhelming.

‘It’s okay, baby,’ he coos, ‘Just need you to hold that there, be a good girl.’

You whimper brokenly up at him, and he pouts at you, teasingly.

‘Listen to me,’ he says, and you hold your breath, ‘That’s gonna stay right there, against your pretty little pussy, and you’re not gonna come, are you, querida?’

Your brain buffers, jaw clenching against the heat rising through you, and Santi frowns at you.

‘Are you?’

The air bursts from your lungs as you moan out a no, rewarded with a smile.

‘Good girl.’ he says, dipping to pick something up from the floor. Your panties from where Frankie had stripped you of them earlier.

He taps your chin.

‘Open,’ your mouth falls open of its own accord, and Santi stuffs the lace in. ‘Something for you to bite down on.’

You huff, brow furrowing in concentration, desire, as Pope steps away again and moves towards Frankie.

Frankie, still on his knees, watching open mouthed, cock jumping as he takes you in - stretched out, bound and desperate. His eyes leave yours to watch Santi begin to strip himself of his clothes, and you join him, groaning at the slow show he gives you both. His smooth, tan skin, the muscles that ripple beneath. He unbuttons his jeans before stilling, eyes falling on Frankie.

‘Come here,’ Santi says, and Frankie shuffles forward instantly. ‘Good boy. Now take me out, and show our girl what else you can do with that mouth.’

Your eyes roll back into your skull, and your wrists tug at Santi’s belt. From behind the fabric in your mouth, Pope can hear your muffled fuck. He smirks down at Frankie.

‘Before she comes, hermano.’

‘Pope,’ Frankie breathes, shocked through his haze of arousal, confused, warning.

‘What?’ Santi says, cupping his cheek gently. ‘You don’t think I checked with Joel? Didn’t ask what you got up to before he left? Don’t worry, baby, I did. He just wants to know she’s being taken care of. The sooner you put me in your mouth, the sooner we can do just that.’

Frankie swallows visibly, flustered, eyes flicking to you before he reaches out to tug Santi’s jeans and boxers down, taking the other man’s hard cock in his hand, squeezing and pumping gently. He takes care to thumb over the precum that gathers at his tip, using it to ease the movement. Pope breathes out slowly before touching Frankie’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth. He joins Frankie’s hand at his base and taps the head of his cock where his thumb had just been, and Frankie opens wider, allowing space for Pope to slide in. He takes lazy thrusts as you watch with wide eyes, hips canting against the toy, cunt pulsing, body on fire - acutely aware that Frankie has a gag reflex to rival your own. The thought makes you giggle, a kind of pride blooming in your chest. So easy. Frankie stares up at his best friend with glassy eyes, cock leaking and untouched between his legs, palms resting, unflexed, atop his thighs.

‘He’s a good toy, isn’t he, cielo?’ Pope hums, slowing the rhythm of his thrusts. ‘So good at just - taking it. Barely any fight in you, is there, baby boy?’

With his mouth full of Santi’s cock, Frankie can barely shake his head. The corners of Pope’s lips curl.

‘No. I’ll bet she hardly even had to ask you. Just a little while longer watching her and you’d have begged to feel her milk you yourself. Isn’t that right, Fish?’

Frankie moans beneath him, his cock dribbling and straining. You want so badly to have it on your tongue, in your hand, inside your pussy, that you whine again, louder. Santi’s eyes slide to you, mouth wide in a smirk.

‘Quit whining, querida. We’ll be with you in a moment.’

You groan again as Pope twists his fingers in Frankie’s hair, cooing at him.

‘Yeah, seems that you both thought to tell us how’d you’d watched, hm? It’s a pity you couldn’t wait to touch, though. Could have made this so much easier for yourselves.’ You wriggle your hips a little more, finding just the right angle, the right pressure. Oh, it’s so good. Too good. Your noises come louder, faster, and though Frankie’s eyes don’t leave Santi, his body twitches, finely attuned now, to how you sound before you come. As though he’s read Frankie’s mind, Pope’s eyes snap back to you.

‘Not yet.’ He bites.

You breathe jagged, harsh breaths through your nose, eyes scrunching shut against the coil that’s tightening in your core. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping through your folds, straight onto the sheets, and you try to think of anything but the sound of Santi’s cock moving in Frankie’s throat. What groceries you need to buy, the post you need to hand to your neighbour, what you’ll wear to meet Sarah. Joel. Joel. Fuck, no. That makes it even worse.

You moan again, dangerously close to the edge, cracking open your eyes to see Frankie bobbing up and down Santi’s length, drool escaping the corners of his mouth. How his cheeks hollow, how he sinks down to the wiry hairs at the bottom, eyes fixed on Santi’s face, unwavering, swallowing; moving back up to kiss the tip, the spit that trails from his lips to Pope’s head, how Pope rocks his hips forward, chasing the sensation. How Santi groans for him, tomalo, mírame, tu boca, tan bonito -

Your hips stutter, now trying to move away from the vibrator as Pope’s hand finally grips Frankie’s curls, pulling him in closer, holding him still as he fucks his throat, and you try to get out a please, please, trying to back yourself down, trying so hard even though it would be so easy -

Santi’s gaze finds you, lost to the feeling of the other man’s mouth, and he smiles kindly.

‘Casi ahí, bebita.’

You shake your head, eyes pleading, desperate, teary, and he seems to take pity on you. He uses his grip on Frankie’s curls to ease him off slowly, marvelling at the way his cock emerges, glistening; at the way Frankies mouth still hangs open for him to fill.

‘Should we help her out, baby?’ He asks softy.

Frankie looks to you, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Please, you try to moan again.

‘Yes.’ He says, voice hoarse.

Pope holds a hand out to him to help him off the floor, and Frankie stands on shaky legs. You try to will them to move faster, teetering on the edge, breath leaving you in great puffs, your body straining away from the toy, arms aching with the effort of trying to pull yourself away.

‘You ready to come, princesa?’ Santi murmurs.

You gurgle an mhm, sniffling as his hand moves low, hovering over the vibrator. Frankie bends, his cock angry and red still, to press a kiss to your temple.

‘Did so well,’ he whispers, ‘It’s okay, hermosa.’

Pope takes that as his cue to take hold of the wand.

Your back arches as he presses it down, harder against you, roving it back and forth for extra friction. You start to beg through your panties, knowing you can’t hold back anymore as your pussy turns traitor, beginning to flutter. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes, and Santi smiles.

‘Now.’ he whispers.

Your body pulls impossibly tight, giving in to the rush of fire that has been simmering, your muscles clenching painfully as sound and sight evade you. You can feel your lungs working, feel the choked gasps leaving you, feel your arms pulling at Santi’s belt, but you are somewhere outside your body. A rush courses through your body, and you feel yourself gushing between your thighs.

When you come to, blinking, body slick with sweat and your cum seeping down your legs, Pope is untying your hands. You drop them above your head, and Frankie takes your wrists, massaging them soothingly with his thumbs. Santi presses a tender kiss to your stomach, moving the vibrator away as you shiver and jerk with overstimulation.

‘So good, bebita,’ he says, ‘Atta girl. Look how well you behaved there.’

He presses his fingers into your mouth to remove the lace, and your tongue works around your gums to alleviate the dryness the fabric left.

‘Can you move?’ He asks gently, and you nod weakly, cinching at the waist to haul yourself up. He brings his palms to your shoulder, rubbing your skin as Frankie sits behind you, pressing kisses to the nape of your neck. ‘Well done, princesa.’

He brings you further forward, cradling you to his chest as he tells Frankie to lay back behind you, then angles your shoulder to turn and face him. Frankie looks fucked. His bare skin untouched, his cock dribbling precum, pooling at his stomach as you watch. His jaw is clenched like he’s trying to stop himself from begging, and you reach out to touch his thigh, trying to offer comfort in any way you can. He whimpers at the warmth of your skin.

‘Should we help him, querida?’ Pope whispers in your ear, your back still to his chest.

‘Yes.’ You answer, throat dry. He kisses your cheek, and you feel his smile.

‘Use your mouth, bonita.’

You move from Pope to settle yourself between Frankie’s legs on all fours, breathing kisses into his inner thighs before touching him, trailing a finger down his soft shaft. He hisses at the sensation, and you pause, meeting his eye. He swallows, nods.

‘Keep going.’ He rasps.

You pull yourself further up, mouthing at his underside, pressing kisses to his leaking tip before laving your tongue up and down his length. When his hips buck at the sensation, you move a palm to cup his balls and take him fully into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks, humming with the salty taste of him. His hands quickly find the side of your head, and you move back up towards his tip, licking into his slit to drink down more, playing with his frenulum in a way you know drives him insane. He moans, deep and needy, puffing out a soft fuck as you take him down to the base again, nuzzling the hair there, breathing him in. His cock jumps in your throat, and he looses a needy whine, pulling on your hair, but you don’t budge.

‘Hermosa -’ he breathes, voice tight, and Santi speaks again from behind you.

‘Are you gonna last, hermano?’

Frankie looks up from watching you, unfocused, swaying his head. Pope makes an amused sound, and you feel his hands on you, positioning you, then the press of his tip against your slick hole.

‘Just a little longer, Fish. So much to do with you two.’

Santi glides inside of you easily, but it’s still enough to knock the breath from your lungs. You moan around Frankie’s sensitive dick, and he gasps, hands tightening in your hair.

‘Please -’ he warns, ‘Please -’ as Pope pulls out and thrusts back in again. You cry out, moving back up to Frankie’s tip, moving up and down the best you can as Pope dives in and out of your pussy, knocking you forward to take Frankie deeper with each thrust. ‘Santi -’ Frankie grits, and the other man chuckles behind you.

‘Alright,’ he says, ‘Don’t want to spoil the fun.’

You whine and pout at the loss as he withdraws from you completely, turning your head to find that he’s stripped himself of his jeans and underwear. He winks at you before giving you a little push.

‘Ride it, querida.’

You push yourself up eagerly, coming to straddle Frankie’s hips before positioning him at your entrance. He looks up at you with blown, lust filled eyes, absolutely ruined.

Despite the stretch, you sink down onto him without stopping.

He feels so good. Just like the first time.

You writhe down at his base as his hands shoot out to grip your hips, his beautiful neck straining as his grits his teeth, his abs flexing as he attempts to hold you still. But it didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now.

You take yourself slowly up, smiling at the wet sound of the movement before sinking down again, feeling him stretch you out, feeling him in your stomach. It’s a delicious ache. You wonder what Joel would say right now, watching you take him so easily, watching how he fills you. Bet you can’t wait to know what his cock feels like inside you, huh? Can’t wait to be droolin’ and comin’ over him like you do me, hm? You clench tight around Frankie at the thought, at the same time as a little ache settles in your chest. You miss him. You miss him, and you wonder what he’d be doing with his hands, his mouth, his cock -

‘Que cosita mas linda.'

Santi’s voice brings you back as you bounce on Frankie’s lap, and you lift your head to look at the younger man, his eyes heavy-lidded, lip nipped between his teeth.

‘She gonna make you come like this, Francisco?’

At the use of his full name, all of the sounds Frankie has been trying to hold back break free from him. All of his pretty little gasps and moans, his whimpers, the way he pants your name as he clings to you, eyes never leaving where you’re joined as he pleads -

‘Can I? Can I come?’

You clench around him again, the knot in your belly snapping at his words, your orgasm blinding as it comes at you sideways. Frankie moans loudly, repeating your name. You gasp, high little pants of uh- uh- as you jolt on him, pain mixing with pleasure as you call his name, Santi’s name, Joel’s name -

‘Up. Off.’

Santi presses a palm to your backside to move you off of Frankie’s length, even as you still clench around him.

‘Fuck,’ Frankie heaves, ‘Fuck, please, no -’

‘Quiet.’ Santi bites at him, and Frankie whines, his cock jumping between your folds at his tone. You close your eyes.

‘Let him,’ you plead, ‘Please, let him, Pope.’

You wanted him to come, he deserved to come. You move your lips up and down his length, and Frankie chokes a moan, his body moving higher up the bed as Santi moves behind you, but you can’t work out why behind the darkness of your eyelids. Your eyes are still closed, body still quaking as Santi leans forward to press a kiss to the centre of your spine. You arch your back against his mouth and he chases you, pressing another slightly higher, scraping his teeth against your skin.

‘Querida,’ he says. You can only moan in response. You know it’s not what he wants, but your brain is so fuzzy it can’t comprehend anything beyond it.

‘Turn around,’ he says, and you whimper, eyelids fluttering as you scratch gently at Frankie’s chest. The man beneath you writhes at the feeling, head rolling, eyes closing, fingers flexing bruisingly on your hips. ‘Turn. Around.’ Santi grits, this time taking Frankie’s hands so he can prise them off you, gripping your waist in an effort to turn your body.

There’s no graceful way to do it, but Frankie handles your limbs with gentle hands as you swing your legs around him.

When you face Pope, the sight that greets you is even better than you could have imagined.

He eyes you hungrily, carnally, his brow dark and hair curled more than you've ever seen. But your eyes are taken to where his fingers are sunk knuckle-deep into Frankie, pumping them slowly. You moan as he digs them in deeper before curling them, repeating the beckoning motion until Frankie’s belly twitches. At the tells of his orgasm, Pope removes the digits slowly, deaf to Frankie’s desperate begging. You watch, mute, as Pope then takes the bottle of lube from beside him, pouring it onto his cock with a quiet moan, jacking himself before pressing his tip to Frankie’s hole. You feel the man below you tense slightly, and you stroke his thighs, fallen open on either side of Santi, with soothing fingers. When he relaxes, one of Pope’s hands meets yours on his flesh, the other helping to guide himself in. You watch as his length is swallowed, breathing shallow, listening to any noise the pair make. Frankie’s ragged groan, the way he chants Pope, Jesus, fuck, his bruising grip back on your hips, Pope’s answering growl as his eyes roll to the ceiling before fluttering shut. When he bottoms out, you watch as his stomach flexes, eyes then drifting lower, where you can only see the coarse hair at the base of his cock, the rest of it buried inside Frankie. You feel your face crease as your stomach turns molten.

Your hips drop to the swell of Frankie’s stomach, searching for any kind of friction. It should be impossible to be this constantly turned on. You move your hips as Pope drags his cock in and out of Frankie once, twice, murmuring how tight he is, how pretty, how good, before his eyes find yours.

‘You want her to sit on your face, pretty boy?’ Santiago purrs at the man over your shoulder.

‘Oh, fuck, please.’ Frankie moans.

Pope jerks his chin at you, sending you shuffling clumsily backwards, blinded by how badly you need to feel something, eyes fixed again to where he thrusts in and out of the younger man, angling your hips above Frankie’s face. You only see his mouth open, tongue already out to lick a fat stripe through your folds, before he pulls you roughly down, moaning against you.

‘Jesus - fuck -’ you hiss, trying to jerk away. It’s too much, too soon, but Frankie is too strong, too desperate to taste you. Your hand flies out Santi’s chest, scratching his skin before trying to find purchase higher up. You take his neck between your thumb and fingers as Frankie eats at you, his mouth harsh and hungry as it sucks and licks. Santi stutters out a groan as you tilt his head at you and squeeze.

‘Make him come,’ you murmur, ‘Make him come, baby, and then you can show me what else you wanna do with us.’

Santi grins and pants against you, his hips faltering for a moment as he leans his neck further into the cradle of your hand. He nods quickly, eyes glazing and soft. You smile back at him, squeezing again, pleased.

‘Frankie always said you were a good soldier, Santiago,’ you coo. ‘Should have known what you really needed was to be told what to do.’

‘Fuck you.’ He grins against your lips.

You answer it with a pathetic, needy little whine.

‘Mm, yes please, baby.’

Frankie takes the moment to suck particularly hard at your clit, and you feel your face crumple - one hand scrabbling at the younger man’s belly, the one at Santi’s neck now gripping the shoulder of the man fucking him. Frankie works diligently at your cunt, anchoring your hips to him as he devours you ravenously, letting the tip of his nose rest just inside your entrance as he flicks your bud with his tongue, swirling it in circles as you grind against him.

This orgasm comes slow, like wading through treacle. It drips down your spine as you curve over Frankie, gasping and shuddering, so breathless that even Pope slows down. Frankie must feel you jolt and twitch above him, lapping up the last of your cum before he releases you from his grip. You lift your hips quickly, needing reprieve, aftershocks still knocking through you as you pant against Santi’s chest.

‘So good,�� you breathe, loud enough for Frankie to hear, ‘So good to me, baby boy, aren’t you?’

Pope presses a kiss to your hair as you work a fist around Frankie’s cock, squeezing his base. He jumps beneath you, a heady, keening noise wailing from his now unoccupied mouth, and you squeeze him tighter, pumping him once, twice, his shaft slick with your juices and his precum.

‘You’ll make him come.’ Pope warns, and you hum against him, forehead just above his sternum. You’re too lost in the way his cock looks as it disappears into Frankie.

The door opens so quietly you don’t hear it, but Santi does. How he keeps his wits about him despite what’s happening is beyond you. He stills his movements inside Frankie, and you feel his damp breath against your forehead, head dipping as he nudges your cheek with his jaw, turning your face towards it.

‘Look who’s home.’ He murmurs into your ear.

Your stomach swoops.

Joel stands in the doorway. His nose and brow rosy from working in the sun, your favourite flannel draped over his broad shoulders, a grin twisting his lips as he takes the scene in. His eyes dip from yours to your tits, to the way your body curls over Frankie’s. He takes in the man laying beneath you - his face shining with your cum, blissed and fucked out. The rise and fall of his tummy, the way his thighs are splayed to make room for Pope. The way Santi can’t help but flex inside him, earning a ragged groan from both of them, up the other man’s torso, his neck, to the dark eyes watching him back. It’s breathtaking.

Joel cocks his head.

‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he drawls, ‘Y’all make such a pretty picture.’

You swallow loudly, letting your head fall back to Santi’s warm shoulder, panting before looking back at him. Something swirls in your gut, and you speak before even realising.

‘Come here,’ you whisper, voice cracking. ‘Come here and make it even prettier, daddy.’

The three of you watch as Joel steps towards you, letting the door fall shut behind him.

help with spanish translations from @/urmomsgnocchi's invaluable post here. if there are inaccuracies, please drop me a message <3

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ifancyharry · 2 years ago

Text

Dinner and snuggles at the studio

Word count: 1.7k

What it is: in which YN and her daughter bring Harry dinner at the studio, and he asks them to stay; fluff; dad!Harry

First attempt at writing dad!Harry, let me know if it's any good, please!!!! i love feed backs

“C’mon baby, don’t yeh wanna see daddy?” YN cooed as she gently unbuckled her daughter from the car seat.

It was around 8 when Harry had texted her, asking — begging — her to bring him something to eat, as he was stuck on a song and couldn’t afford to interrupt the creative process (at least, that’s what he wrote in the text).

YN had consented, because she could only imagine how much effort it took to write a song, and if she could be of any help to her husband, she would do whatever it takes. Even if that meant waking their 2 years old soundly asleep in her room. It wasn’t like she could’ve left her alone, and YN thought it would be nice eating together, even if in the studio.

So, after not so little fussing from her daughter, she managed to buckle her in the backseat, where she’d almost instantly fallen asleep again.

After picking up Harry’s favorite takeout, YN made her way to the studio, driving through the empty streets of London.

Perching her daughter up against her hip, she picked up the takeout bags from the passenger seat and locked the car with the keys. The toddler whined against her shoulder, probably disturbed by the locking beep sound of the fancy car Harry had gifted her a couple of years back.

“Shh, ‘s okay” she soothed her.

YN rang the doorbell and waited for the door to be unlocked, and once the buzzing sound of the door resonated in the quiet air, she pushed it open and walked in. The studio was empty since it was a Sunday night, and YN walked through the hallways light on her feet.

Once she reached what she knew was Harry’s part of the studio, she knocked on the door and then peaked her head in.

Harry raised his head quickly from his position on the couch, his eyebrows raised and a gleam to his eyes as soon as she walked in.

“Hi baby!” He smiled brightly, but YN was quick to shush him, “she’s sleeping” she explained, caressing her daughter’s back gently.

Harry nodded understandingly and got up from the couch, taking the bags from her fingers and placing them on the little table behind him.

“Thank you, my love. Proper angel yeh are” he said, leaning in to peck her lips lightly.

“‘S okay” she smiled, tilting her head to kiss him again.

Harry parted from her lips quickly as soon as he heard a whine coming from his daughter, still propped up against YN’s hip.

“She’s a bit grumpy” YN explained, “she was already sleeping when you texted”.

Harry’s lips closed in a pout, and he tilted his head to the side to look better at his daughter’s face.

“Give her t’me” he said, picking the little girl from her mum’s arms, “there yeh go. How are ya? My little angel” he propped her against his chest and cradled her head with his big hand, caressing her hair with light fingertips.

“Mmh, nooo daddy” she whined, snuggling closer to her daddy’s chest, “tired”.

“Oh, yeh tired?” He cooed, and when the little girl nodded against his hoodie, he leaned down to press a kiss to her hair line “daddy’s here now.”

YN looked at them with soft eyes, her chest feeling warm at their exchange.

Harry sat back down on the couch, his little girl asleep again on his chest, snuggled against the fabric of his hoodie.

YN picked out Harry’s salad from the bag and opened it for him, picking up a plastic fork and handing it to him. She took out her sandwich from the bag and unwrapped it, plopping down on the couch next to him.

Silence fell between them, the only sound being heard was their daughter’s soft breaths and Harry crunching on the salad leaves.

Once they were both finished eating their dinner, YN leaned her head against his shoulder and looked up to him.

“How’s the song coming?” She asked, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Harry closed his eyes tiredly, finally feeling the tension relieving as YN massaged his scalp soothingly.

“Mmh” he hummed, “fine. Slowly comin’ together”

“That’s nice” she smiled, placing a soft kiss against the skin of his jaw.

“Sorry I haven’t been home much… how’s she been? Is she good to yeh?” He asked, speaking in a low voice as to not disturb his daughter.

“‘S okay”, she reassured him, “and she’s fine… a bit grumpy when tired, just like her daddy” she teased, biting jokingly at his cheek.

“Heyyyyy,” he whined, pouting his lips, “‘m not grumpy”

“You are” she giggled, leaning in to press her lips against his, kissing his pout away, “but I love you anyway”

“Love you so much” he whispered against her lips, tilting his head forward to deepen the kiss.

YN shifted her body to be more comfortable, her leg bending at the knee against the back seat of the couch so she could sit facing him.

She placed a hand against his jaw and caressed the scratchy skin of his cheek with her thumb. He licked her bottom lip with his tongue, and YN gasped, allowing his tongue to brush past her lips and dip into her mouth.

Before he could deepen the kiss any more, they both felt their daughter shift on his lap, two little pudgy hands coming up to knuckle at her tired eyes.

YN parted quickly from Harry’s lips, smiling down at her daughter, “hi, bug”

“No kisses” the toddler pouted, pushing her mum’s face away, “‘s my daddy”

YN looked to her bewildered, and then shifted her eyes to Harry, that was giggling with his head tilted backwards.

“Yes, m’angel, ‘m yehr daddy” he giggled, cradling his daughter’s face with his hands and placing big, loud kisses against her chubby cheeks.

YN pinched the skin of his bicep between her index finger and thumb, and Harry whined loudly, “heyyy, what’d you do that fo’?!”

“It’s not funny, Harry! This is your fault. You spoil her too much”

It wasn’t the first time their daughter had showed her possessive side, but it had never come to the point where she’d push YN away from her dad! It was true, it was Harry’s fault, he spoiled her so much, and not only with material stuff, but also with attention.

“Sshh, she’s just a baby” he laughed, tickling the little girl’s tummy with his fingers. The baby giggled and fell against her dad’s chest, squirming in his hold. YN playfully rolled her eyes, crossing her arms against her chest and turning her back to them.

“Look what yeh did, bug! Made your mummy sad” he pouted at his daughter, that looked up at him with her big green eyes, not fully aware of the situation.

“Sad?” The little girl repeated, her voice laced with worry.

Harry exaggerated his pout and nodded at her, “yeah”

“Daddy fix it! Fix it!” She shouted, tugging on the neck of his shirt to grab his attention.

YN listened to their conversation, trying hard not to laugh. She felt Harry’s palm sneak through her shirt and he started tickling her side, then passing to her belly. She chocked out a scream, laughing hardly as Harry kept tickling her.

“Stop, stop, Harry, please, please!” She begged, crunching down on herself hoping to escape his ticklish fingers.

“Are you finished bein’ sad?” He asked.

“Yes! Yes! I’m happy, I’m happy, please… please”

She breathed out a relieved sigh once he stopped, and he leaned in to kiss her neck lovingly.

She turned around and smiled at their daughter reassuringly, “mummy was just joking, baby”

The little girl nodded and plopped back down on Harry’s lap, snuggling against his chest.

“Yeh tired again?” He chuckled lightly, brushing the hair from her face.

“Maybe we should go, leave you to work?” YN asked her husband.

“Stay a while… we can leave together in an hour, two at most” he pleaded, holding his hands up together in a praying motion.

“Harry… I’m tired, she’s tired” YN protested.

“Yeh can sleep here! I’ll wake ya when ‘s time t’go. Couch’s very, very, very soft, I’m sure you remember…?” he winked, alluding to that one time Harry had called YN in the middle of the night, so hard it hurt, and begged her to come and help him with his problem.

She scoffed, swatting scoldingly at his arm, “what about your car?”

“I’ll get someone to take it home with me tomorrow, c’mon…” he pleaded once again, “you know I love havin’ you here — both of you. And I don’t want you to drive late at night” he raised one hand to caress the skin of her jaw with his index finger, and YN leaned in his touch, closing her eyes and debating on her decision.

She was tired, and she wanted to sleep, but she also knew she wouldn’t get any sleep until Harry came home; and the thought of driving this late in the night when she was this tired, and with her daughter actually frightened her, so she nodded her head and “okay” she said, tilting her head to kiss the palm of his hand.

“Thank you” he smiled, relieved, “lay here on the couch, I’ll sit on the floor” he got up from the couch, his daughter cradled in his arms, and waited for YN to lay down.

Once she laid down, he placed their daughter next to her, against the back of the couch so she could snuggle against her mum’s body, and YN started stroking her hair soothingly as she shifted to move on her side, giving her back to Harry.

Harry picked up his guitar, put his headphones back on his head, and started strumming it, finding the right melody for his song.

YN fell asleep instantly, soothed by his gentle humming resonating in the quiet room.

Every once in a while, when Harry felt lost in his creativity process, he would turn his head to look at his girls, snuggled on the couch behind him, and he would feel his heart beat hard against his chest, the inspiration quickly coming back to him, and he would crunch down and write on his journal words upon words of how much he adored them.

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petersbaby · 2 years ago

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Cold- Eddie Munson x reader

Part five ♡

Part four / Part six

Warnings: oral (m receiving) and that should be it

A/N: so turns out reader is a switch so the dynamic will change. She’s kinda dominant here. I am, in fact, a switch irl so I might be referencing myself a little >:) also I need to add these to my masterlist but I’m putting it off because linking all the different parts together is gonna be a pain in the ass. I shall do it though, soon. Whenever I get back on desktop hehe

“Hi Eddie.” Your voice comes through the phone and into his ear, causing a smile to spread across his face.

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Welllll I’m thinking. Thinking about how nice it is outside and how it would be good to maybe go back to that spot near the lake. We could get food, have a little picnic in the back. What do you think?”

“I think that sounds perfect. I’ll come get you in about an hour, okay?”

“Okay. Bye.”

He had barely gotten out of the bed yet, he was just lazily lounging around since it was a Sunday. He likes to call them “lazy Sundays” when in reality he’s pretty lazy every other day too. When he got your call, he got butterflies in his stomach, and he was immediately praying you’d say you wanted to see him too.

He hopped up and into the shower, washing his hair and putting on a clean outfit with his beat-up old Reeboks. Admittedly, he doesn’t always care so much about his appearance or presentation. You were making him think and act totally different, because all he could think of was you no matter what he was doing.

He sprays on his cheap cologne as a final touch and heads out the door. After a couple of minutes into the drive to your house, he got nervous and habitually reached for a smoke. He really loved that the smell of tobacco didn’t bother you. In fact, you’d told him it was a comforting smell to you. Something that relaxed your senses for some reason you couldn’t quite place.

He finally arrives at your door, and you’re conveniently waiting by it so you answer it right away. This surprised him, but he thought it was really sweet. All the voices racing in his head seemed to all cease the second he laid eyes on you. His eyes scanned your body, not so much in a sexual way but rather to see what inevitably is gonna be a super cute outfit you chose for the day.

“You look cute.”

“No, you do.” You smile, giving him the same look up and down. You step outside with him, closing the door behind you and following him to the van where he opens your door like he always does, even though you’ve told him he doesn’t have to. He also had a solid habit of asking to make sure you’re buckled up, citing that you’re “precious cargo”.

You guys stop by the convenience store, the only place he could think of to spontaneously get food for a picnic. He was worried a bit that this wasn’t what you had in mind, but it was also admittedly just he could afford. He looks over at you once you park in front of the store, looking a bit like a confused puppy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nothing.”

He was just overthinking. You were more than happy with this. Once inside, you both grabbed a premade sandwich, some candy, chips, and a couple of drinks. You got pink lemonade and he got root beer, after which you set it all down on the counter up front. The cashier bags it all up, and you happily take the bag from their hand. You waited as Eddie paid, then followed him yet again back to the car.

He plays music on the way, tapping his fingers on the wheel to the beat which was really cute and had you smiling when you saw it in your peripheral vision.

When you get to your spot, you both go to the back again to spread everything out on the blanket and sit down.

“You know, I’m not gonna lie. I thought it was weird that you had a van, maybe even a little creepy. But now I see the appeal.” You laugh, gesturing to the space where the two of you had hung out on several occasions. It was cozy. That was one thing you remember from that night, how you just felt so comfortable and safe in there.

“Ouch. Well at least you don’t think I’m creepy anymore.”

You ate, you laughed, you talked, but ended up making out once again. Bound to happen. It was admittedly something you probably did more than you should, but it was addicting. His lips were a LOT softer than they looked, and had a mint/cigarette taste on them.

You were far past just his lips, now, though. You were practically swallowing each other whole, tongues not fighting so much as moving together in harmony until he pulls back to breathe.

“God, I don’t want to make you feel pressured but I need you so bad.”

“Hmm.” You start, an indicator that you’re thinking of something mischievous. You remember one thing you said on the phone that one time, about how you’d like to hear him beg.

“How bad?”

“Really bad.” You exchange whispers between deep kisses.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll take anything. I’ll take anything you’ll give me.” He sounded so desperate he was falling apart with every word.

You start to move, to hover above him and sit on top of him.

“Okay. Gonna take it?”

“Y-yes.” He breathes.

Your lips leave his, moving over to his ear where you nipped his earlobe and started kissing from his jawline and then lower, taking your sweet time until he’s whimpering and then you finally reach that perfect spot at the bend of his shoulder and neck, where they connect.

You kiss this spot harshly, sucking the skin between your teeth and running your tongue over the spot to soothe it and then repeat this over and over.

“Get this off.” You tug at the bottom of his t shirt, which he pulls off right away. Now you have more expanse to cover, kissing and licking his collarbones and slightly bearing down, clothed heat rubbing up against his erection.

“Oh, god.” He murmurs. “Can I?” He holds his hands up, eyeing your waist.

“Mhm.” You take his hands and help guide them to your body. He runs his hands up and down the curve of your waist and all the way back down to your hips. His big, calloused hands find their way to your ass, where he uses a little bit of pressure to push your crotch down against his once more. You weren’t prepared for this, moaning when he does it.

“Oh, shit.” He murmurs.

That was the first time he’s ever heard that sound from you and he decided he needed more right away. He grew even harder, if that was at all possible, and you could feel it. You allowed him to continue guiding your hips up and down and you tried to hold back the moans that threatened to follow that first one while you kissed the tattoos on his chest.

You pull back off of him to just sit for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall with the intensity. He was so, so beautiful, especially like this. But, eventually, you remember that you’re in the view of anyone who may come near. “Fuck, close the doors.” You order him, a little more urgently than you meant to. You had all day, after all, but that fact slipped your mind in the moment.

He scrambles to pull them shut, leaving you alone in the back with him and still an ample amount of sunlight coming through the windows. You shuffle close to him again to push him back, and he does fall back but doesn’t seem to mind at all.

You start to take control once again, having allowed your guise to slip when he caught you off guard. He looked completely submissive and entranced right in front of you, big brown eyes blown out. You start to desperately undo his belt buckle, and he grabs both your hands.

“We don’t have to go that far, you don’t have to do that.” He reminds you, almost in a warning tone.

“I want to. I mean, only if you do too, of course.”

“You have no idea how much I want it.”

“Okay then.” You say, with the slightest bit of smartass-ness.

You make quick work of it, then just having to unbutton and unzip his black jeans. You tug on them slightly knowing you’ll need his help in getting them off, and he assists you. Once it’s free and you see it for the first time, you can practically feel the drool pooling in your mouth. “Jesus.” You comment, a little stunned.

“You okay?” He half laughs at your reaction.

“Mhm. I’m more than okay.” You fake confidence that you’re gonna be able to fit that in your mouth with the hopes it’ll just happen magically. You procrastinated a little, licking up and down the bottom of his shaft at which he groaned repeatedly, and then kissing the tip.

The kisses turned sloppy, the sloppy kisses turned into kitten licks. All over the head of his cock, over and over again until you finally feel like you can take it. You do it slowly, sinking your mouth down onto it with your tongue flattened against the underside.

He makes sure to keep his hands beside him, makes sure not to touch you and not to make you feel like you have to go faster. Not to rush you, not to make you feel the slightest bit pressured. He let you take your time, and it pays off, because now you have his entire length filling up your mouth and throat.

“Good god, Jesus Christ.”

“Hmm.” You hum around his cock.

“No gag reflex? Holy shit.”

You pull off only to take it all back down again, nose touching against his happy trail and slightly into the dark hair at the base. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking even harder, and he’s gripping his fists into the throw blanket below the both of you.

His head tips back and leans against the wall as his eyes shut involuntarily and he has to make an effort to keep them open, keep them on you and your pretty little face down there. He couldn’t last long at all, and he couldn’t even begin to try and stop it. He just hoped you didn’t mind, and don’t think he busts that quick every time. There had just been so much sexual tension.

“I’m gonna cum, pretty, ‘m gonna cum.” He warns you, and you continue without a second thought until his load is going into your mouth. He thinks that, anyway, when it’s actually going straight down your throat.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He’s said that probably a million times already, but it was just the default thing to say when his mind couldn’t find any actual words. He looks fucked out, a little dumb, and he sounds like it too.

When you pull off of him, he looks up at you, dazed and almost as if he’s expecting something. You just looked back at him and blinked through your dark lashes.

“Did you swallow that??”

“Mhm. Was I not supposed to?”

He laughs in amazement.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky, sometimes I’m convinced you’ll vanish right from my sight, like you were a dream.” He says, pulling his pants back on but remaining shirtless for now.

“A good dream, I hope?”

“A really fucking good dream. Too good to be true. C’mere, don’t disappear. Don’t just be a dream.”

He holds his arms open for you and you crawl into them, into his lap as you wrap your arms around each other. Just to stay like that, for a while. Just stay.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson brainrot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

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bitchyfoxymama · 2 years ago

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Wildest Dreams - Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Bucky and reader are horrible people in this, cheating, allusions to smut, angst, no happy endings, talks of morning after pill and birth control

A/n: ok so I had the idea for this year's ago and it was originally gonna be a Steve Rogers X Reader but I'm back on my Bucky BS so here this one came haha. Enjoy!

********

The soft sheets of the hotel suite covers my bare chest as I lay my head on his chest, using my fingers to draw random shapes, sundays like these were a once in a blue moon type of deal.

"We should drive out of here and never look back, away from all the crowds and hustle and bustle of the city" he says, drawing a finger down my spine, a shiver running up it.

I wanted to agree I truly did, but we needed to end this relationship. Heaven can't help me now, I needed to end it now before it got too complicated. He was married, we were just having fun, we were avengers for god's sake! We had to understand that nothing lasts forever.

“You know why we can’t do that, you know we both agreed this was just sex,” I tell him wrapping my the sheet tighter around my chest and sitting up, “You told me this was no strings attached,” the crease begins to form between my eyebrows.

This is gonna hurt, I can already feel it, he's so tall, handsome especially for someone who is 106. He's so bad, he was my bad boy, he was the sun and I was icarus, I flew too close to the sun.

"We have to end this, this is the last time we are sleeping together bucky, I can't take the heartache and your wife deserves better, she deserves a husband who will love her and only her," I quickly got dressed, I knew this would end in hellfire the moment it began. The longing looks during debriefs, the subtle touches.

"My last request before we part ways, say you'll remember me, staring at the sunset in Boca Raton, when we had that undercover mission, remember me standing in a nice dress, red lips and cheeks rosied from all the drinks we shared that night. Promise me you'll see me again, even if it's in our wildest dreams,"

*********

Weeks after the flirting, we finally caved. I had booked a hotel room for a mission and now Bucky and I were just the two of us. Away from prying eyes.

"No one has to know what we do" I say against his lips as he takes a fist of my hair, kissing down my neck as I undo his belt buckle, the coolness of his vibranium arm slipping under my shirt, goosebumps spread across my skin like a wildfire.

"But, I'm married and you've just become a member of the team," he says as he continues his assault on my neck.

"And you can stop and tell me to leave and I will, you don't have to continue this, we can stop and never speak of this again," I bargain, knowing that he doesn't want to stop, "someday when you leave me, I bet these memories will follow you around," I swallow thickly as he rips my white button up open the buttons flying everywhere.

"Then let's make memories worth remembering," he says before capturing my lips in his once more.

******

That night begins the years long affair, sneaking out during training to fuck in the closets at the compound, late nights after successful missions, we were like rabbits trying to single handely repopulate our species, luckily for the both of us, condoms and birth control were always handy including the morning after pill.

We both knew it was wrong but did doing the wrong thing feel so good.

After the first time we both agreed it would just be sex, nothing more than that even if it hurt once we both knew we were bluring the lines and falling in love.

"You'll see me in hindsight, you'll remember all of the times we would be tangled up in bedsheets, talking all night about what our future would be," I say while zipping up my jeans and walking towards the door, I lean down to pick up my shoes, I take one more look at the man I will be forever in love with but won't be able to call my own, "don't forget check out is at noon,"

#bitchyglitterfox writes #marvel #marvel studios #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky imagine

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stray-kaz · 2 years ago

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Three Day Hire : a Leo Grande x reader FF : seven + epilogue

18 and up, y’all.

Sunday morning, you were slow to get up, slow to get ready and slow to eat breakfast, scooting the bacon and eggs around on your plate until they had turned cold and virtually inedible. When you left the dining room, your luggage was already waiting for you, Leo’s leaning up against it. It all looked small and inconsequential, even though it had been witness to some of the more memorable memories of your lifetime thus far.

Leo carried most of it to the waiting car, bearing the brunt on his shoulders, much wider than yours were, physically and psychologically. Looking back at you sitting on the porch steps, he saw how lost and sad you were, compared to the semi hopeful girl you were when you arrived, hand in hand with him. He remembered his first day with you and wished he could rewind the time and do it over again with you, just to get the details right and make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Hey, baby.”

You looked up at the sound of his gentle voice and smiled sadly.

“Hello.”

“So sad, beautiful girl.”

You shrugged and let him help you up off the step and down onto the drive. He slung his arm over your shoulders, tucking you into his side.

“Hey!”

You stiffened against him and he glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw Millie pacing quickly towards him, her eyes like two bullets trained on your back.

“You didn’t say goodbye” she accused, reaching out to pull at your shoulder. “You said goodbye to everyone else but not me. Why is that? Why do you look like a kicked puppy this morning? Did the king of sex break up with you or something? Look at me!”

You spun, fists clenched, but Leo got there first. Eyes hard as jade, voice lowered, he got right in her face, his body crowding hers. You watched him, awestruck and gratified.

“Millicent” Leo growled, dragging out every hated syllable. “Drop it. Let it go. She doesn’t want to look at you, okay? With any luck, she’ll never see you again. Goodbye. It wasn’t nice to meet you.”

She stared up at him, eyes wide and gulping like a goldfish. Without another word, he turned on his heel and took you to the car, making quick note of the fact it was the same one from the club night. He held the door open for you and then climbed in after you, slamming the door shut.

“Thank you for what you said” you said quietly.

Buckling his seatbelt, he glanced over at you with a faint smile.

“You’re welcome. It might have been a bit much, I admit, but -”

You shook your head, cutting him off.

“It wasn’t” you assured him. “I’ll be quite happy never having to see her again.”

He nodded and you shuffled over to lean your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as the engine growled to life and Reginald drove away, leaving the holiday home in a cloud of dust.

Leo was prepared for the flight home, now knowing your fear of flying, and was holding your hand the second your seatbelt was secure. You kept your eyes closed until the plane was in the air and all you could see was white and blue.

“I’m sorry your stories about your sister were true” Leo told you, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’m sorry she doesn’t love you the way you should be loved.”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Does anybody love anyone how they should be loved?”

Leo fell silent, thinking about that. It occurred to him that you were probably right and that maybe you were a little bit wise, and even braver than he was for admitting it. Maybe there was a little bit of Gryffindor in you, too.

To your surprise, Leo followed you into the same cab when you left the airport.

“Aren’t you going home now?” you asked, puzzled. “You have no more obligation to me anymore, the weekend is ov-”

He kissed you to shut you up, pressing you back against the car door.

“I’m following you home” he murmured against your mouth. “On the house. This is all for me. And all for you.”

Half an hour later, you were crashing through your bedroom door and falling onto your bed, unmade from the last time you slept in it days ago, comfortable and familiar, silver and white. Leo’s hands were up your shirt, but he didn’t bother undressing you this time, instead just pulled your underwear down, along with his shorts and underwear, and tipped you over onto your hands and knees to face the headboard, skirt still on.

You arched over and dug your hands into your pillow, shaking as he entered you, the stretch as sweet and earth shattering as you remembered from the previous two times it had happened. Leo pushed the hem of your skirt up and out of the way so he could see what he was doing, his grasp on your hips tightening as his snapped against you, making your thighs tremble and your breath hitch, your eyes closing against the pleasure.

You cried out on his name so many times over and over, the letters blurred together into a mess. He tapped the same blackout spot again and again, until your mouth opened on a silent scream and he held you up against him until he came with a whisper of your name and collapsed with you in a jumble of limbs and too many clothes.

And then when he was sure you were okay and breathing normally again, in the heavy afterglow, he told you about his life, the real one that had morphed into this new, shiny cover story he didn’t let anyone see behind. You held his hands as he told you about his mother, what she had seen, and how she had forced him out of his home and named him dead. And he told you his real name.

As the light started to change out the window, Leo dressed and walked to the door, shouldering his backpack and gripping the handle of his suitcase. One hand on the doorknob, he turned to look back and blew you a kiss.

“Goodbye, baby” he said quietly, peacefully.

And then he opened the door and closed it. Gone.

Epilogue : 4 months later

You had never felt more anxious in your life. You paced in front of the door to your flat, wondering for the fiftieth time if you were making a mistake.

You had booked Leo again, but had given no indication what for. Nevertheless, when he knocked, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you opened the door and let him in. He kissed your cheek and closed the door.

“It’s nice to see you again” he told you, smiling. “I wasn’t sure I would. You’re just as beautiful as I remember.”

“So are you” you replied, and facepalmed yourself as Leo laughed.

He put his backpack down, crouched and started to unzip it, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and he looked up expectantly, hesitating.

“I didn’t book you for sex” you said quietly.

Leo stood up and looked down at you.

“So why am I here?” he asked, puzzled.

You took a deep breath and lifted your shirt, turning side on so he could see the swell at your belly.

“Wha-?”

He stepped back and stared, starry eyes wide.

“How...how far along?”

“Four months” you said shyly. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but then I realised you deserved to know.”

You could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes and you were about to tell him not to worry, you’d be fine on your own, when he took a step closer and held out his hands.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course. Go ahead, Leo.”

You nodded and he placed his hands tentatively on either side of your bump. An expression of surprise came onto his face and you waited, watchful.

“It’s so hard and so soft at the same time” he said, awed, as he traced your skin with his fingertips.

You giggled a little and covered his hands with yours.

“It’s a boy” you said softly, and fixed your gaze on his.

Leo stared again, not sure what to say.

“I would like to name him Connor, if that’s all right with you” you said slowly, your voice steady. “That name deserves a fresh start.”

With trembling hands, Leo cupped your face and brought his lips to yours, tender, pouring out, grateful.

“I would like that” he murmured against your mouth. “Thank you.”

“But I need you to know you don’t have to stick around. I can do this.”

He shook his head, his nose rubbing against yours.

“He’s my son. He’s my responsibility.”

“But you don’t -”

Leo kissed you again then, stealing your breath and your words.

“We will figure it out, baby” he told you, grinning. “My job’s a little unusual, but we’ll make it work. So...your place or mine?”

Tagging: @fineanddandy @slippinginto-theairwaves

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read to the end! This story fulfilled itself in ways I didn’t expect, and the ending? You can thank Daryl McCormack in The Randomer for it. I am a sucker for a man with a baby. Keep your eyes peeled for a Christmas themed Leo x reader oneshot, featuring baby Connor.

#leo grande #leo grande x reader #good luck to you leo grande #liss writes

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boi-muppet · 1 year ago

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On Today's Menu: Gaslighting

On today's episode of #datinginmy30s we discuss gaslighting. Buckle in because this one can give ya whiplash.

---

The Sunday before last I meet up with a new human - we'll call him The PODling. We meet for coffee at 12 and proceed to walk around this adorable harbor town for SEVEN AND A HALF HOURS. At no point was this man trapped and I even asked a few times if he'd like to hit up another spot or part ways for the day. This point will be valid later. After, I text and say I had a great time, would love to see him again, AND that I was too chicken to ask if I could kiss him. He said Tuesday works and that he would have said yes FYI.

Monday we proceed to text a bit where we say nice things and he tells me that he's distracted at work daydreaming about our walk together etc etc. and what wine he will bring over the next day. He also tells me that he told his housemates (POD) about me and that they want to meet me. I said it was up to him...to which he said "Hopefully sooner rather than later" and suggested Thursday. Sure.

Tuesday comes around and he shows up, we have dinner, we get cuddly and do some making out. At SEVERAL points I draw attention to the time as he wakes up super early for work. He says - and I quote "No. I'm an adult and I want to keep doing what we are doing here." Great. You got it bud. I was not upset as he had shown himself to be a solid kisser.

Wednesday he tells me that he wore the shirt to work that he wore to see me the night before because it smells like me...and that it made his day better. He also calls me amazing and a variety of other sweet things.

Thursday I get to his place. He's cuddly, and affectionate physically and verbally. Imeet his housemates for a little about an hour and then him and I do some sexy/flirty things for the rest of the night. He tells me he likes me a fuck ton and that this has gone faster than he expected. I very openly ask if he wants to slow down/back off to which he says "Absolutely not." I stay the night because it was late and an hour's drive home.

Friday *BOOM*. Something has changed. He's not as responsive, is being odd, and is just different. To be honest, I get solid flashbacks of my ex and I'm really not jazzed. I give him a 50/50 chance that he'll run away by the end of the weekend.

Saturday I am running around on errands and he is doing housework with his POD. He sends me pics and includes me in his day. Ok great. Later that night they all start drinking and apparently talk about me. Keep in mind at this point I have seen him three times and met most of them for less than 60 minutes. They are discussing my 'top energy.' This is weird for me but I will discuss that later. He tells me that they all like me and that they would love to have me around. Great. What about you bud? He basically says that it has happened faster and sooner than he was expecting and that he'd like to slow down. All good by me bud

He gives a few more comments that get odd about how he wasn't expecting me to be so "overwhelmingly forthright with complements." Bud, I told you I liked you and you asked me to elaborate. SO I DID. What were you expecting? Lies? For me to be an ass?

Then he said something about planning vacations together - duder...I'm going on vacation with or without you. I offered you to MAYBE one and we even decided that wasn't a great plan so that isn't happening. What's your deal? I get a few more of these and finally decide to tell him that I just thought we were excited about each other. That's as far as I had gone.

His response "I am sure that I was just riding your high. You were so excited about me that I wanted to match it. You even commented on how I wasn't excited"

I said no such thing. Are you REALLY trying to tell me that this is all in my head?

Buddy, I was born at night but it wasn't last night. That's gaslighting. If you wanted to go slower or were scared of your feelings, fine, but don't go trying to make me think I'm crazy and made it all up instead of facing your own shit.

#dating #dating apps #dating in your 30s #single life #online dating #dating online #dating life #relationships #emotions are hard #emotional availability

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steddieworks · 2 years ago

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finally safe for me to fall - chapter 7

hi!! I'm so sorry for missing my usual update last Sunday, but I hope this chapter makes up for that! it's been through two different versions but i'm pretty happy with the final result!

read on ao3

Summary: The twins get sick, so Eddie takes care of them. But who will take care of Eddie? ... Steve will, of course.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, non-explicit depictions of sickness/illness

Words: 9.1k

It’s a month into Eddie’s role as babysitter when something inevitably goes wrong.

It was only a matter of time, really. With the weather getting colder, all the kids at school seemed to have been coming down with one disease after another, whether it be a cold, the flu, or a stomach bug. Eddie had been incredibly diligent with passing out vitamins and allergy pills every morning before school, taking hand sanitizer with him to pick-up, and keeping them fed the healthiest foods possible.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

Eddie is humming to himself as he folds the last of the laundry, this time a load of the twins’ clothes, when the phone rings. He doesn’t think much of it as he answers, still in a rather pleasant mood, having done everything on his to-do list already for the day, and it’s only noon.

“Hello?” he says when he answers the phone, balancing it between his ear and shoulder.

“Eddie, honey?” Steve’s voice fills the line, and Eddie perks up immediately.

“Hi,” Eddie says around a little smile. “Uh… everything okay? You don’t normally call me during the day.”

“Well, actually, no,” Steve says with a sigh. “It’s nothing too bad. But the school just called and the twins are both sick. Ivy’s running a fever and Jazz has thrown up twice apparently.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks at the thought of his girls being sick. “Oh, god. I- I should’ve known! Jasmine didn’t finish her eggs this morning, and-”

Steve cuts him off with a gentle voice before he can spiral further. “Hon, it’s not your fault they’re sick. But I need you to go to the school and pick them up, okay? I have back-to-back meetings with investors from now until four, so I won’t be home until five at the earliest. I’m so sorry.”

It’s easy for Eddie to shrug that off. This is his responsibility, since, after all, it’s the very thing Steve pays him for. “No, of course, of course. I don’t mind at all. I’ll go grab them and take care of everything before you get home. They’ll be right as rain when you get here, okay?”

It sounds like Steve’s smiling when he replies, “thanks, Eddie. Let me know if you guys need anything, I can bring back something for dinner if you want.”

Eddie agrees to let him know before hanging up and grabbing his coat and his keys. Time to go get his kids and play mommy-nurse for an evening.

~~~

It’s worse than Eddie is expecting. Jasmine is so pale she favors Eddie more than her father, a fact Eddie ignores, lest he start thinking about how nice that would be, to have a child that looked like him. Ivy is nearly asleep in the nurse’s office, so drowsy with fever that she can barely walk. He takes Ivy out to the van first, buckling her in and checking that she’s alright before going back for Jasmine. He thanks the secretary and the school nurse profusely before heading outside, shushing Jasmine gently as he carries her to the car.

“I don’t feel good,” she cries against his shoulder.

“I know baby, I know. We’re going to get you all fixed up when we get home, though, okay?” He reassures, petting her hair as he gets her in the car, buckling her up to match her sister.

The drive back to the apartment is short but stressful, Eddie hyper-aware of any jarring movement that might make them toss their cookies, but luckily, they make it back home with no accidents. They’re both in varying stages of crying by the time they get upstairs, Eddie carrying Ivy with one arm while Jasmine trails after them, clutching desperately to Eddie’s hand. It’s a bit of a struggle, but they make it.

“Alright. Ivy, honey, we’ve gotta get you in a cool bath to get this fever down, okay? It’s not gonna feel very good at first, but I promise it’ll make you feel so much better,” Eddie explains as he carries her to Steve’s bathroom, since it has the nicer tub.

“I don’wanna,” she whines against his shoulder, her tears already soaking a sizeable patch into his shirt.

Eddie sighs. “Baby, I know. But if you’re a brave girl and take your bath, I’ll get you a treat when we’re finished, okay?”

Ivy sniffles, but nods.

Jasmine, who had followed them into the bathroom, says, “what about me?”

Eddie smiles at her as he sits on the edge of the bathtub and turns on the tap, testing the temperature before putting the plug down. “I didn’t forget about you, love. I don’t think your fever is as high as sissy’s, but as soon as I get her in the bath I’m gonna get the thermometer to check, okay? And if it is, you’ll need to take a cool bath too.”

Jasmine frowns, but nods. She sits on the closed lid of the toilet, staring down at her feet. Eddie bites his lip to hide the quiver there, because he truly hates the fact that these girls are so miserable and he can’t just wave his hand to put a stop to it. That just feels completely unfair.

“Alright, hon, let’s get you in the bath,” Eddie says, helping Ivy strip down to her underwear before helping her into the water.

She immediately lets out a cry, and Eddie’s omega cries back, so full of pain he almost feels sick himself. “Baby,” he says tearfully. “I know, I know it’s chilly.”

“It’s too cold,” Ivy cries, shaking her head. “It’s too cold, Mommy.”

Eddie doesn’t even register what she said at first, too wrapped up in trying to soothe her. When it hits him, he just feels even worse. “I know,” he says. He knows that it’s not actually that cold, he’d run the warm water far longer than he should have, if anything, but at least this way it must be working. “Can you be a very good girl and sit right here until I get back with the thermometer and some ginger ale for you guys to sip?”

Ivy doesn’t look happy about it, but she nods. “Y-yes,” she chatters.

Eddie offers her a small smile, brushing her hair back gently. “Very good. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nods, and Jasmine does the same when Eddie checks in on her before leaving the room. He rushes to the twins’ bathroom, where he knows a thermometer lives in the medicine cabinet, and then he stops back by the kitchen to grab a can of ginger ale out of the fridge and a straw out of a drawer. It had been more of a purchase for himself than anyone else, as he got frequent nausea spells leading up to his period, but it was coming in very handy right now for sure.

When he gets back to the bathroom, the girls are talking quietly, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. He hears Jasmine mumble something that sounds like, “-wish he was, though,” before he steps through the door and they go quiet.

“Alright, Jazz, come here, honey,” Eddie says as he goes to sit back on the side of the bathtub, holding the freshly opened can of ginger ale out for Ivy to sip from while he gestures the thermometer at her sister.

Jasmine comes to stand beside him, obediently sticking her tongue out for him to place the thermometer underneath. The room is silent for a moment, except for the sipping sounds from Ivy, before the thermometer makes a quiet beeping noise. When he pulls it away, he frowns down at the tiny display screen.

“Is it very high?” Jasmine asks softly.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not too bad,” he says. “It’s at ninety-eight-point-four. If it gets above a hundred, we’ll need to take a cool bath, okay?” he tells her firmly.

She nods, then points to Ivy. “Can I have a sip of that?”

Eddie nods, checking that Ivy is finished before handing it over. He doesn’t figure it makes sense to have them stop sharing things now that they’re sick - whatever it is, they’ve both got it.

“Can I get out now?” Ivy asks quietly.

“Let me see if you still feel so warm,” Eddie says, leaning in and placing a hand on her forehead. She’s still a little warm, but not nearly as hot as she was when he picked her up. He nods, turning to gesture at the towels. “Yeah, honey. Jazz, will you hand me one of those? Thank you, love. Let’s get out, Ivy.”

Ivy stands on shaky legs, and Eddie gets her wrapped up as quickly as possible before taking both of them back to their own bedroom to find a suitable pair of pajamas for each of them. As soon as they’re dressed, Eddie directs them to get into bed.

“Can we…” Ivy starts, sounding a little timid.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. “Can we do what?” he asks.

Ivy glances at her sister before looking up at Eddie, her eyes wide and watery with sickness. “Can we go snuggle in Daddy’s bed? He always lets us sleep in his bed when we’re sick.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine agrees. “Can we, please?”

Eddie hesitates. He hadn’t asked Steve for permission to do that, but… on the other hand… being around their father’s familiar scent would likely make them calmer, quicker to recover. He thinks that outweighs whatever weirdness he feels about it.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Come on, bring your stuffies and let’s go to his room.”

The girls cheer quietly, clearly relieved to be allowed to have this. Eddie is glad they asked, because he never would have let himself think of it personally. They gather up their favorite stuffed animals and Eddie marches them through the house to Steve’s room, and naturally, with his massive, tall bed, Eddie has to help them up.

“Alright, lay down, get comfy. I’m gonna go grab each of you a popsicle. Have you had lunch yet?”

They chorus a quiet “no,” but Eddie catches the way Jasmine wrinkles her nose. “I’m not hungry,” she admits.

Eddie nods. “Okay. Your tummies are probably too weak to handle anything much right now, anyway, but a popsicle will definitely give you enough sugar to keep you going, and the cold will help keep your fever down.”

The girls nod, and off Eddie goes, back to gather up popsicles, towels to hold them with so their little hands don’t get cold and sticky, and some crackers for them to nibble on when they get to feeling better. He has a feeling this will be a long evening.

~~~

“Eddie? Girls? I’m home!”

Steve’s voice rings through the apartment, dragging Eddie from his half-asleep state with a bleary blink of his eyes. He startles when he remembers where he is and what he’s doing, or, well- meant to be doing. The twins are passed out on either side of him, and he vaguely remembers how they got there. He brought them popsicles and as soon as she finished hers, Jasmine was passed out. Ivy took some coaxing to get to sleep, crying because she felt so bad. Eddie’s heart broke a million times over seeing how miserable she was, and he’d sort of unintentionally began to release calming pheromones, rubbing his cheek against the tops of their heads in an attempt to soothe. Try as he might, though, he could tell it wasn’t really working. After all, he’s not their mom, his omega pheromones aren’t what they’re familiar with.

Still, he tried. For nearly an hour he soothed them and hummed and tried to be what they needed until they fell asleep, and eventually, he drifted to sleep as well.

“In here,” Eddie calls back quietly, hoping not to wake the girls. He sits up slowly, brushing a hand over Ivy’s hair, checking her temperature with the back of his hand before turning to Jasmine to do the same.

“Oh,” Steve says from the door.

Eddie glances up with a sheepish smile. “Hi. I’m sorry about- all this. They wanted to sleep in here, and-“

Steve shakes his head, dropping his coat onto his dresser and toeing off his shoes before making his way to the bed. “No, it’s fine, Eddie, really. God, they really don’t feel well, do they?” He has the most devastated look on his face as he comes around to the side of the bed, stroking a hand over Jasmine’s hair like Eddie had just done. Steve glances up at him with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

Eddie shrugs. “I’m fine. Too soon to have caught anything from them, probably, but, um…” he debates on what he’s going to say next. “My immune system is usually sort of weak this time of month, so…” he watches Steve’s face carefully as he waits for it to click.

It takes a second, but when it does, Steve frowns. “Oh, Eds, why didn’t you tell me you were- what do you need?”

It makes him flush a little, the way Steve is immediately trying to take care of him- as if that’s even his job. “It hasn’t started yet. I’m cramping a little, but it probably won’t be bad until tomorrow. But I really don’t need anything, and I can still take care of the girls and everything.” Eddie offers him a sweet smile.

Steve’s frown only deepens when he hears that. “Well, sure, but who’s going to take care of you?”

Eddie gives him a look of surprise, unprepared to answer that. “Um…”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Steve asks, taking charge in that distinctly alpha manner that Eddie’s omega thrills at.

“I had breakfast with you guys, and then…” Eddie realizes with no small amount of surprise that he hasn’t actually eaten anything since then. “Oh. I guess that’s it. But I’m okay, though, really, I-“

Steve sighs deeply, his hands on his hips in this way that just screams disappointed parent. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to go make you some dinner. You can lay here for as long as you like, but you need to try to eat a little bit before you go back to sleep.”

Eddie is already shaking his head, trying desperately not to appear as lazy as he’s feeling right now. “Oh, there’s no need, really, I’m-“

“Going to lay right there until I get back,” Steve says firmly, his narrowed eyes leaving no room for argument. His face softens for a moment and he reaches out to brush a strand of Eddie’s hair back. “Let me take care of you, honey. You’re taking such good care of the girls, so let me take care of you.”

And how is Eddie supposed to deny that face? He can’t. “Okay,” he finally says, voice soft. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve just smiles, forever sweet and endlessly kind. “I’ll be right back. Gonna make some soup for you and the girls. I assume they haven’t eaten either?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, just some popsicles, that’s all. They didn’t feel well enough to eat.”

Steve nods in understanding. “Alright. Well, sit tight. I’ll be right back.” He gives Eddie one last look, like he’s checking to make sure he’s going to stay put, and then leaves the room quickly.

Eddie sighs, laying back in bed as he listens to the tell-tale sounds of Steve putting together some food. It’s a casual kind of domesticity, the kind that Eddie has been wistful for ever since he presented as an omega. He smiles as Jasmine rolls over in her sleep, curling up against his side with a sleepy noise. Normally he’d be feeling a little sorry for himself, wistful for things that don’t truly belong to him, but today he lets himself be content. He closes his eyes and pretends that these are his pups, and that his mate is in the kitchen making food for them, and even allows himself to think of Steve’s bed as his nest. It’s a dangerous daydream, one he knows will probably only hurt him more in the long run, but he lets himself have it for now.

He doesn’t realize he drifted off to sleep until a soft voice is coaxing him awake.

“Eddie, honey? Wake up, I’ve got some food and water for you.” Steve’s voice is like a familiar friend, and Eddie unintentionally curls close to the gentle hand in his hair. Steve coos, and it’s the sweet sound, more than anything else, that wakes Eddie up.

He startles away from the warmth of Steve’s hand, blinking blearily up at him. “Huh?” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to go back to sleep. It’s just so… warm,” Eddie apologizes, a little pathetically.

Steve is smiling down at him, a broad, pleased thing that just makes Eddie’s heart race. “It’s okay. Can you sit up for a few minutes? I brought you some soup and some ice water.”

Eddie nods, shifting gently to sit up against the headboard, absentmindedly reaching out to stroke through Ivy’s hair where she’s snuggled in against his side. “Want me to wake them up too?” He asks as he watches Steve stir a bowl of soup on the bedside table.

Steve shakes his head. “Eat first, and then we’ll wake them up. The soup’s still on the stove, so it’ll stay warm.” He cradles the bowl with a tea towel, handing it to Eddie carefully. “Be careful, it’s really hot,” he warns softly.

It’s silly, but for some reason, the thoughtful gesture almost makes Eddie tear up. He doesn’t think he’s had soup brought to him in bed since he was a tiny child, before his mother died. His uncle Wayne probably would’ve if Eddie had let him, but Eddie was more the “suffer in silence” type when it came to illnesses. He’s not sure why it feels so normal, so right, to let Steve baby him like this while he’s sick, but it does. It doesn’t make him cringe or feel helpless like it probably would with someone else, it just makes him feel… loved.

His face must be flushed with the absurdity of that thought, and Steve frowns at him from where he’s perched at the edge of the mattress. “Are you alright?” he asks.

Eddie nods, slurping at the hot chicken noodle soup to hide his face. “‘M fine,” he mumbles into the spoon.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, and before Eddie can flinch away, Steve’s hand is coming up to feel his forehead. “You don’t feel like you’re running a fever, but your face is red…” he says, looking perplexed.

Eddie shrugs, goes in for another slurp of the soup because this shit is delicious. “Probably just, uh… steam from the soup?” he suggests lamely.

Apparently it’s not too lame, because Steve just nods in understanding. “Yeah, that makes sense,” he agrees, although it really doesn’t. “Here, have a sip of your water. I’ll go grab some pain medicine in just a second.”

Steve holds the glass up, nudging the straw around for Eddie to sip from, and Eddie feels like he’s blushing even harder with the way Steve is staring at his mouth as he sucks on the straw. He pulls away, clearing his throat. “You really don’t have to do all of this,” Eddie says, avoiding Steve’s gaze.

“And you really don’t have to fight me on it every time,” Steve counters lightly. When Eddie looks at him, though, he’s got a pained look in his eyes. “Sweetheart, I really don’t mind. I…” He looks down at where Jasmine has suddenly shifted in her sleep, rolling over towards Eddie, burrowing her head into his side to mirror her sister. Steve smiles at her, his gaze flicking up to Eddie’s. “I like taking care of you. Maybe it’s just some alpha, hetero-normative bullshit, but…” Steve shrugs. “I like that I can… you know, provide something for you.”

His face is probably red enough to match Eddie’s at this point, and something about the sentiment, or the dual embarrassment, makes Eddie smile. “Okay,” he concedes. If Steve wants to do this, Eddie is going to let him. He can’t think of a good reason why he shouldn’t, besides the obvious issue of his pesky little feelings, but really that’s not that important. They’re under control. Really, they are.

“I’ll be right back,” Steve says after a few moments, standing and making his way to the bathroom. A confused noise traps itself in Eddie’s throat, and he has to hide his face once again when Steve glances over his shoulder at him. “Just gonna grab some ibuprofen,” Steve reassures.

Eddie nods. “Okay.”

He eats his soup slowly, vaguely aware of the cramping in his lower stomach, a sure sign of his upcoming monthly cycle. He’s luckier than most omegas, though. His cycle has never been as miserable as he’s often heard described by his omega friends, usually just two or three days of bleeding and some cramps, nothing like the puking and migraine-filled periods he’s heard about. Eddie is grateful for this for a number of reasons, the main one being, of course, that he has no real need for cycle-management birth control, which he’s heard can make heats more erratic as a side effect. He’s incredibly thankful that’s not a problem he has to deal with.

“Here,” Steve says, returning from the bathroom with a small handful of pills. “I don’t know how many you usually take, but here’s four.”

Eddie smiles at him and holds out his bowl of soup so they can trade for a moment. “I usually only take two at a time,” he says as he plucks two of the tablets out of Steve’s hand. “Thanks,” he tacks on before he pops them in his mouth, reaching for the glass of water that Steve is already holding out for him.

Steve watches him with a small smile, handing the bowl back as soon as Eddie’s done with the medicine. “Are you feeling very bad yet?” He asks, perching himself on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Jasmine.

Eddie shakes his head. “No, not yet. It’ll probably kick in sometime tonight or in the morning. Getting a head start on it with the medicine and stuff really helps,” he says, glancing up at Steve with a sheepish, but grateful, smile.

“I’m glad,” Steve says, reaching out and brushing a hand through Eddie’s hair. “I can’t stand the idea of you being in pain.”

And there it is, once again. Steve saying something so impossibly sweet and caring, something he can’t possibly mean. Eddie has half a mind to call him out on it, but instead he just smiles and rolls his eyes. “Well, don’t worry about that. I feel fine, really. Besides, I have this Harrington-special soup, however could I be sick if I have that?” he jokes, grinning at Steve.

Steve laughs quietly, considerate of his sleeping daughters. “Oh, of course, yeah. Should I send your compliments to the chef?” He’s got such a flirtatious look in his eye, one that Eddie really can’t help but flirt right back with.

“Oh for sure. Let the chef know that I give him a five-star review, ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“I’ll pass the message along,” Steve says, still playing along. He drops his hand to Eddie’s knee then, rubbing circles into it with his thumb. “Any other messages for the chef?” He says, his voice light, even as his eyes dart away from Eddie’s as if he’s… nervous?

Eddie pauses, not sure how to respond in the face of what seems to be actual, genuine flirting. He knows what he’d like to say, what he’s wanted to say since day one, but as for what’s appropriate…

“Can you two be quiet?” A little voice suddenly interrupts Eddie’s entire train of thought, nearly making him spill his soup in his surprise.

Steve and Eddie both glance down at Ivy, who has lifted her head to glare at them both. “‘M tryin’ to sleep over here!” she grouches.

Eddie has to bite his lip to stifle his laugh, and Steve appears to be having the same struggle beside him. “You’re right, honey, we’re sorry,” Steve appeases her gently. “Are you hungry, Ivy? Could you eat some soup?”

At that, Ivy lifts her head for real, blinking her eyes open blearily. “Soup?”

~~~

They make the twins get out of bed to eat, because they both know they’re just asking for disaster if they give two six-year-olds bowls of hot soup on a mattress. Steve insists that Eddie can just stay in bed and rest while he deals with the twins himself, but Eddie’s not having it. He finishes his soup quickly and follows them into the kitchen, making the girls a glass of ginger ale each while Steve ladles their soup into their bowls. They work together in tandem, never bumping into each other unless it’s intentional, and when they’ve got the girls everything they need, Eddie feels a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over him.

“I’m gonna go sit down for a minute,” he tells Steve, his voice a little weak.

Steve, who had just been explaining to Jasmine that yes, she would feel better if she ate some soup, looks up with concern etched into his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

Eddie almost rolls his eyes at the outpouring of worry and concern that Steve always seems to have for him, but he refrains. “Yeah, just feel kind of light-headed all of a sudden.”

“Go lay down,” Steve suggests, his voice noticeably lacking any alpha-lilted order that would take away Eddie’s ability to choose for himself. When Eddie starts to shake his head in protest, Steve gives him a look, dropping his hands to his hips in a clear picture of disapproval. “Honey, I’ve got this. Just go lay down for a bit. We’ll be back in there as soon as we’re done.”

It takes Eddie’s brain a second to catch up. Steve wants him to- “You want me to… your room?” He stumbles through the question, staring at Steve in surprise.

Steve looks vaguely confused for a minute. “Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I can’t very well take care of you if you’re on the other side of the apartment,” he says with a little smile.

Eddie feels his face flush, so he nods and turns to go back to Steve’s room. He may be a little bit embarrassed and ashamed to be sleeping in an alpha’s bed when they’re not even mated, but the biggest part of him is thrilled. Steve’s scent is so strong in this room, stronger than Eddie has ever gotten it, and he doesn’t stop himself from snuggling into the sheets, shoving his face into the pillow he’s almost positive is Steve’s favorite, the scent of alpha cloying his senses. It’s perfect, and his omega is practically purring with joy.

Apparently, he’s sleepier than he’d thought, because the next thing he knows, he’s waking up to something pressing against his back. He must make a noise of some sort, because the next thing he knows, a soft voice is shushing him.

“It’s just me, babe.” Steve’s hand strokes over his hair, and Eddie presses himself into the touch helplessly.

“Where’s - girls?” Eddie mumbles, turning his head and blinking, trying to find Steve.

“They’re here,” Steve assures him.

Eddie sits up a little, his panicked heart settling a little when he lays eyes on the twins. Jasmine is pressed close to his side, her gaze focused on the television on the other side of the room, which Eddie realizes now is playing a movie on a near-silent volume. Ivy is on the other side of Jasmine, holding her stuffed animal to her chest and looking up at Eddie with a little smile.

“Did you take a nap?” She asks sweetly.

Eddie smiles at her. “Yeah, I did. Didn’t mean to, though,” he says, glancing over at Steve. “Was I asleep for very long?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not at all. The girls finished their soup, I took their temperatures again and gave them some medicine, and they wanted to come snuggle.” He smiles over at his daughters, and Eddie’s heart does that stupid clenching thing it wants to do whenever he sees the love Steve always lavishes onto his kids. He wishes, selfishly, that it was lavished onto him as well. Then he feels guilty for thinking that, when Steve is clearly already doing so much to take care of him as it is. He should just be grateful for that, rather than be selfish and wish for more.

“Daddy? Can we sleep in here tonight?” Ivy asks suddenly, interrupting Eddie’s little mental pity-party.

Eddie glances up to see Steve’s reaction. The man smiles at his daughter, nodding easily. “Of course. We’re overdue for a slumber party, I think.”

Ivy smiles, then turns that sweet little puppy dog gaze onto Eddie. “You’ll stay too, right, Eddie?” she asks, and if she wasn’t so precious, Eddie would probably be more annoyed by the coyness. Maybe he’s crazy, but he’s almost positive she has a knowing glint in her eye, like she knows what this is doing to Eddie’s heart.

“Um…” he says awkwardly, glancing up at Steve uncertainly.

Steve smiles, an eerily similar expression to the one Ivy wears. “I don’t mind,” he says softly. His hand comes up to brush through Eddie’s bangs, and Eddie can’t help it when he tilts into the touch. “How about you go get your pajamas on? Then it’ll be a proper sleepover.”

Eddie flushes, but nods. Really, how could he turn him down with a face like that? “Okay, I’ll be right back,” he says, rolling off the bed with shaky limbs. He takes a second to stretch from where he’d gone a bit stiff, and he can’t help but smirk a little when he catches Steve watching him. “Alright. Pajamas. Girls, do you need anything from your room?” he asks.

“Can you bring me my pillow?” Ivy asks.

Jasmine lights up at that, finally tuning into the conversation. “Ooh, yeah, can you bring mine too? And my fluffy blanket?”

Eddie laughs, but nods. “Sure, I’ll-”

Steve interrupts him then. “You just go get dressed, honey, I’ll grab their stuff. Any other requests, ladies?” He’s got his hands on his hips, once again in that decidedly parental pose, and Eddie tries to hide his smirk.

The twins confirm that all they want is their pillows and blankets, and Steve follows Eddie out of his bedroom. “I really opened a can of worms with that one,” Eddie says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”

Steve just laughs, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. It’ll kind of be like making a nest,” he says thoughtfully.

And of course he has no idea what that’s going to do to Eddie’s heart. How is he supposed to predict that those words will make Eddie’s chest clench and his head swim with images of a domestic fantasy where he’s allowed to have that?

He tries not to indicate just how much those words sting. “Huh. Yeah, I guess so,” Eddie mumbles quietly. He gestures pointlessly at his bedroom. “I’m gonna… um…”

Steve nods, but there’s a fissure of concern under the carefully neutral mask on his face. “Okay. I’ll grab the girls’ things quickly.”

Eddie just nods, stepping into his room and going to rifle through his pajama drawer, almost on auto-pilot as he changes out of his jeans and into the soft flannel bottoms Steve had bought him, along with their matching shirt. He forces himself not to think about the idea of making a nest with Steve, something he doesn’t deserve and will never have anyway. He’s never even had a proper nest, not really. The one partner he’d had… well, they hadn’t wanted him to have a nest, even if it was something he technically needed. So his pipe dream of having one with Steve is stupid - Eddie doesn’t even know how to do it properly.

He tries to push that thought out of his head, but from there his mind spirals to his other omega failings thus far. He’s old for an unmated, childless omega, and even though he’s helping rear Steve’s pups, he’s not their mother. Fuck, he couldn’t even comfort them properly with his scent - something any decent omega should be able to do on some basic level for any pup, even if they’re not biologically related. And Eddie can’t even do that right! What a poor fucking excuse for an omega. What a lousy, pathetic-

“Eddie?” Steve’s panicked voice comes from the doorway, jolting Eddie out of his nervous, near-manic state. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he’s breathing hard, probably not far from hyperventilating. “Honey, what’s wrong? You smell-”

And Eddie can’t cope with the idea that Steve just knows how fucked-up he is. How pathetic. So of course he has to go and prove it by bursting into tears.

“I- I’m sorry,” Eddie chokes through quiet sobs, reaching up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to muffle the sound. “I…”

Steve drops the handful of bedding bundled up in his arms, stepping into Eddie’s space with no hesitation. “Oh, come here, babe,” he says, wrapping Eddie up in his arms easily.

Of course Eddie, the pathetic omega he is, nearly falls into the embrace, his face immediately tucking into Steve’s neck and breathing in his scent deeply. He can’t help it, really, but he’s aware that that’s probably a shitty excuse, no matter which way he twists it in his mind. “I’m sorry,” he says, a bit more firmly after a minute of sniffling. “I… I don’t know what came over me.”

Steve strokes his back, his hand leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Okay. You seemed fine a minute ago, but then your scent… it got so sour all of a sudden, like… well, like an omega in distress. Are you… Like physically speaking, are you okay?”

Eddie appreciates how carefully Steve phrases that. “Yeah,” he answers, because that’s technically the truth. He should probably pull himself out of Steve’s grip now that he’s admitted that he’s fine, but when he goes to retract himself, Steve is not having it, holding him even tighter instead. “I’m fine, Steve, really, I just…” He doesn’t want to lie to Steve, so he settles for a half-truth. “I just started thinking about how earlier, when I tried to calm the girls down, I… well I couldn’t. Not like…” He sniffles again, the tears welling back up in his eyes.

“Not like what?” Steve asks softly, petting Eddie’s hair.

“Not like their mother could,” Eddie whispers after a moment of silence. “I tried- I really did! But… I don’t think my scent will ever be a good enough substitute for the real thing,” he admits. He’s ashamed to bring this up to Steve, in a way. He’s sure there’s some trauma associated with the absence of the twins’ mother, and he doesn’t want to drag Steve down with him during his breakdown, but he also doesn’t want to lie about how he’s feeling, not when it concerns the kids, at least.

“Well… You did everything you could. And honey, I’m just thrilled that you love them that much- that you would share that with them? That you would try to scent-soothe kids who aren’t biologically yours? Eddie, that means the world to me.” Steve pulls away just a bit, finally reclaiming his personal space when Eddie peels himself away from his neck. “Okay?”

And while that sounds nice, it feels like… like a gesture of placation. Eddie feels the tears swell again. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m a bad omega.” His voice comes out a sob, and he tries to pull away from Steve fully, intending to go wallow in self-pity on his own, but Steve pulls him into a crushing embrace, tucking him back against himself with ease.

“Eddie, no,” Steve says, his voice firm in a way that almost suggests anger. “You are not a bad omega. “I can’t even believe… Don’t even say that, okay? You…” Steve’s voice cracks then, and Eddie realizes belatedly that Steve is shaking. “You’ve been so good to my pups, Eddie. You’re such a good omega. Such a good mom to them.”

And fuck if that doesn’t make Eddie’s omega sing. Still, he has to choke down his sobs to even respond to it, swiping at his eyes with a weak hand. “Really?”

Steve kisses his forehead. It’s a completely unmistakable press of lips to skin, and Eddie nearly melts against Steve at the touch. “Of course. I can’t imagine anyone else doing a better job with them, Eddie. They love you, and they can tell how much you love them. So… biology or not… you are the closest thing to a mom they’ve got. And I won’t hear any more of this “bad omega” bullshit, understand?” His voice goes hard and stern, and pathetically, Eddie feels a little turned on by it. “I’m serious, Eds. I won’t have you tearing yourself down about your abilities, okay?”

Eddie nods. He’s not promising that he’ll never feel that way again, but he certainly won’t go around voicing it in Steve’s presence anymore. “Okay,” he says quietly.

Steve gives him one last forehead kiss, a long, lingering thing that makes Eddie’s skin flush. Then, he steps back. “Alright. Grab your pillow or whatever else you need to sleep with, and let's go. We’ve got a nest to build with the kiddos, and we’re missing out on all the good snuggles.” He’s got a smile on his face, but Eddie can tell it’s somewhat strained. He curses himself in his head for making Steve’s life more difficult, for making him feel like he’s got to be some sort of emotional support for Eddie’s little meltdowns. Still, Eddie keeps that self-loathing to himself, as he’s pretty sure Steve won’t approve of it.

Eddie grabs his favorite pillow off his bed, then turns around, giving Steve a shaky smile and following him down the hall. “Sorry about all that,” Eddie murmurs as they’re walking through the kitchen. “I think it’s just, like… My emotions are scattered this time of month, you know? I’d like to think I’m not always that much of a mess.”

Steve glances at him over his shoulder, and this time his smile is more relaxed, more genuine. “Honey, I promise it doesn’t bother me. It’s normal to have emotions. Bottling them up until you have a breakdown is definitely a problem, but we can work on that.”

Before Eddie can disagree, or say anything that makes him sound less like an emotionally stunted mess, they’re stepping back into Steve’s room, where the twins loudly complain that they thought they’d died or something. Eddie smiles to himself as he climbs up onto the bed in the face of their whining.

“We didn’t die,” Steve says, rolling his eyes as he hands out their pillows and blankets, helping them get comfy.

“Were you two smoochin’ or somethin’?” Ivy asks, narrowing her eyes at Steve.

Eddie nearly chokes on his own spit. Thank god he was sitting down and wasn’t drinking anything. His eyes, undoubtedly wide and panicked at even the accusation, flit quickly to gauge Steve’s reaction.

Steve, who is looking back at him already and appearing to be hiding a smile, or maybe a smirk. “No, you nosy girl. We were not "smoochin’ or somethin’". Mind your business.”

Ivy shrugs, snuggling under her blankie and allowing it when Steve climbs onto the bed beside her and opens his arm for her. She cuddles up to him and says, “I was just asking! You guys were gone for ages!”

Steve rolls his eyes, sending a sly wink in Eddie’s direction. “Well, I can see you’re feeling much better, missy, since apparently you can interrogate me on my whereabouts.”

The conversation moves naturally to what the meaning of the word “interrogate” is (“they’re six, Steve, of course they don’t know what that means!”) and why they can’t stay up all night watching movies (“I have work in the morning, and if you guys are just so sick, you should go to sleep. Oh, you feel better? Then you’ll go to school tomorrow!”)

By the time the twins are actually asleep, Eddie is exhausted and not far behind. Steve flicks the lamp off on his side of the bed, casting the room in almost pitch-darkness, save for the soft blue light of the television.

“You want me to turn that off?” Steve asks, his voice soft.

Eddie shakes his head, then remembers that Steve probably can’t see him. “No, it’s fine. The girls need a nightlight anyway, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, and sounds like he’s smiling. “You feeling okay?”

Eddie rolls over onto his side facing Steve, and despite the fact that they’ve got the twins between them, he feels impossibly close to him. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I don’t feel like I’ve caught whatever crud the girls have, at least.”

There’s a ruffling noise, like Steve is nodding his head against the pillow. “Your period will probably start tomorrow though, right?” He doesn’t sound embarrassed to ask about it, and the thought that he actually cares about the answer makes Eddie feel warm.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “There was enough cramping today that it wouldn’t surprise me if it started at some point in the night, to be honest.”

Steve makes a soft, sympathetic sound. “That sucks, babe,” he says. Eddie tries not to blush at the pet name; he’s noticed Steve sprinkling that one into conversation more and more frequently, and as much as he tries to convince himself that it’s “unprofessional,” he likes it too much to say anything. “Wake me up if it does, okay? I can go get you medicine, or a drink, or whatever you need.”

Eddie grins into the pillow, is grateful that the darkness of the room gives him some cover, and prays that the television screen isn’t highlighting the stupid smile on his face. “Okay,” he says, even though he knows that he would never, in a million years, wake Steve up for something like that. Still, the sentiment that Steve would take care of him if he did? That’s enough to make Eddie’s whole body feel like it’s been dipped in molten lava.

“You need anything right now?” Steve asks after a couple minutes of silence.

“Mm. No, not that I can think of,” Eddie replies. Jasmine makes a snuffling sound in her sleep, and Eddie reaches out to feel her forehead. “Jazz’s fever seems to be gone.” He reaches out to check Ivy’s as well, and in some shitty rom-com move, his and Steve’s hands brush over her head. “Oops,” Eddie says on a quiet laugh.

“Ivy’s is gone, too,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he’s smiling.

Eddie yawns. “Good,” he mumbles. “Hated seeing them sick. Glad they’re feeling better.” His eyes flutter close, and he knows he’s gonna be out within a few minutes.

“They had the best mommy taking care of them,” Steve says, his voice so soft and far-away that it could be a dream.

“Mm,” Eddie hums in response, just in case it was real.

“Goodnight, Eddie. Sweet dreams.”

Eddie’s out within seconds.

~~~

When Eddie wakes up, he’s immediately aware of two things.

One, it’s still very much nighttime, given the darkness behind the curtains and the sleeping bodies next to him.

Two, he’s hurting. Bad.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, curling up on his side, facing away from the bed and cradling his stomach with one arm. At least he was right about what time it would probably start, he thinks to himself bitterly as he waits for this cramp to subside.

He doesn’t think he’s making all that much noise until he hears a soft voice behind him.

“Eds? Honey, you okay?”

Of course it’s Steve. Of course Eddie woke him up by accident. God dammit.

“Yeah,” Eddie grits out through his teeth. “I’m fine. You can go back to sleep.”

Eddie feels the bed shift, and he squeezes his eyes shut right as the movement sends a wave of nausea through him. The beginning is always the worst for him, and he tries to frame it like this in his head, so that it doesn’t seem so never-ending. Sometimes that sort of thing works. This is not one of those times.

“Here,” Steve’s soft voice is now directly in front of him, making Eddie jump a little. “Shh, it’s just me, babe. It’s a heating pad. Can I lift up your shirt?”

Eddie can only nod and whimper, curled up in the fetal position as his body spasms with pain. “Sorry,” he mumbles as Steve slides the heating pad under his shirt and turns it on a medium setting.

“For what?” Steve asks, looking confused. The television screen is washing him out, but Eddie can still make out his features, even in the weak light.

“Waking you up,” Eddie says, grits his teeth as his stomach clenches. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Babe, I told you to wake me up so I could help you,” Steve says, lightly chastising. “I’m gonna go grab you a ginger ale and some crackers. Do you think you could take some more ibuprofen?”

Eddie nods. “I could take some morphine to the neck if you had any,” he jokes weakly.

Steve laughs quietly, brushing his hand through Eddie’s hair. “Noted, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be right back.”

Although he hates to see him go, Eddie is relieved that Steve is going to find some things that will hopefully bring him a little bit of relief. He’s hurting badly enough that he’s not even worried about being annoying or getting on Steve’s nerves with his neediness, which is a true testament to how bad he feels. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe deeply, hoping that might distract his body from the cramping pain.

“Alright, I’ve got crackers, drugs, and ginger ale,” Steve murmurs softly once he comes back into the room. “Can you sit up for just a minute?”

Eddie nods, pushing himself up and leaning heavily against the headboard. Steve passes him a cracker and watches him as he eats it. Eddie struggles to swallow around the dryness, but Steve prompts him to take a sip of ginger ale, which helps it go down. They repeat this process three or four times before Steve finally hands him some medicine. “Thanks,” Eddie murmurs before he takes it.

Steve’s holding the can of ginger ale for Eddie in one hand while his other travels up to cup Eddie’s jaw. Eddie nearly chokes on the pills at the closeness, the intimacy, of the move, but catches himself just in time.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” Steve whispers.

He’s so close. Their faces are only inches apart, and if Eddie holds very still, he’s almost positive he can feel the warmth of Steve’s breath over his face. And in this liminal space in the dark, Eddie craves…

“It’s okay,” Eddie whispers back, like they’re swapping secrets. He watches the way Steve’s eyelashes flutter softly and yearns for something he can’t have, something he feels guilty for even wanting.

Steve’s thumb is swiping over the line of Eddie’s jaw so gently, back and forth, back and forth. And Eddie knows that he’s seconds away from doing something very, very stupid. “Eddie-“ Steve breathes, like he can read his mind. His eyes are intense, and even in the dark, Eddie catches the way they flicker between holding his gaze and staring at his lips.

Subconsciously, Eddie’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, Steve’s gaze tracking every movement.

It’s like time slows down for a moment.

Softly, quiet enough that Eddie could honestly be imagining it, Steve whispers, “oh, fuck.”

At the same time, his hand finally takes a firmer hold of Eddie’s face, tilting his chin up just so.

Steve leans in, and Eddie is certain his heart has stopped working altogether when he feels the barest brush of-

“Steve,” Eddie forces himself to say.

This is wrong.

“Yes?” Steve breathes, and his lips brush against Eddie’s with the word. If he just leaned in a bit more-

“We can’t,” Eddie replies. The words hurt, god they hurt. He’s just a centimeter or two away from getting everything he’s ever wanted, but of course he has to go and ruin it for himself.

Steve jerks back like he’s been burned, his face frozen in something like confusion or hurt. “Fuck, Eddie I’m sorry, I didn’t- I thought…” Steve shakes his head, and Eddie notices that his hands are shaking as well as he goes to set down the can of ginger ale. “I’m sorry,” Steve repeats.

With that, he stands and retreats to the bathroom, leaving Eddie sitting there staring at the television and hating himself for making Steve look so crestfallen.

Which lasts about five seconds before Eddie thinks, fuck that.

He’s careful as he climbs out of Steve’s massive bed, and he feels slightly unhinged as he walks quickly and quietly over to the bathroom. Steve had left the door open a crack, and through that, Eddie can see him braced against the sink, breathing deep, heaving breaths. Eddie slips in silently, gently pressing the door closed behind him.

Steve’s head snaps up, meeting Eddie’s gaze through the mirror. “Eddie, I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, honestly, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess I thought-“

Eddie doesn’t let him finish that thought. He crosses the small space between them while Steve talks, and as soon as he’s close enough, he reaches out to touch. One of his hands finds a gentle grip on Steve’s hip, while the other goes further up, cupping Steve’s jaw in an imitation of the way he’d held Eddie only moments before.

He doesn’t overthink it. He doesn’t think at all, honestly. Eddie just closes his eyes and leans in, pressing his lips to Steve’s with a gentleness he didn’t even know himself to be capable of.

He doesn’t drag it out. He wants to- God, he wants to slide his tongue inside and bite and suck until Steve’s lips are wet and pink, but he doesn’t do that. Steve’s mouth is soft and warm and perfect, but Eddie doesn’t even give him a chance to reciprocate before he’s pulling away. He doesn’t go far, resting their foreheads together, his eyes still closed.

“We shouldn’t do this again,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve makes an affronted noise, and Eddie knows he’s about to protest. He doesn’t give him a chance to do that, either.

“I’m serious,” Eddie says quietly. “I work for you, Steve. And… and it just wouldn’t be right. But I couldn’t…” Eddie laughs once, humorless, before pulling back and looking at Steve. He knows the smile he wears is sarcastic and sad at best. “I didn’t want you thinking that I didn’t want you to. And… and I’m selfish. I just wanted to know…” he trails off, sighing.

Steve looks devastated. There’s no other word for the look on his face. His eyes are glassy and downcast, and he sucks in his bottom lip, and Eddie nearly winces at the way his teeth dig into the plush pink skin of his lips. “Yeah,” he says, despondent. The cloying, rotten scent of an alpha in distress is filling the air, and Eddie tries to hold his breath. He knows part of that scent is probably his own, their designations proving, as always, that they can never fully hide how they feel.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and he knows both of them can hear how little he means it. “I probably shouldn’t have…”

Steve gives him a sad little smile. “I’m glad you did,” he murmurs. “I wanted… I wanted to know how you tasted, too.” He says the words Eddie couldn’t get out himself, and Eddie knows he’s going to be thinking about the way Steve looked when he said that for weeks, maybe even years.

It makes it worse, of course. Knowing that Steve wants him like that, finally having that confirmation. It’s still not exactly what Eddie wants- it’s not the pipe dream of a family and an alpha who wants to claim him and give him pups, but it’s something. And Eddie honestly isn’t sure which part hurts more- knowing that Steve wants him sexually, or knowing that they can’t have that.

“God,” Eddie groans, pulling away. “I- I’m sorry. I know I just made things… difficult.”

Steve is already shaking his head. “You didn’t. I’m the one who sort of… started all this. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I know it’s…” he sighs, sags back against the sink and runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Definitely inappropriate, given the circumstances.”

Eddie nods, chewing his lip nervously. He still kind of feels like he did something wrong, even though Steve doesn’t seem particularly mad about it. “Right,” Eddie says quietly, trying desperately to fill the silence between them. “Can we maybe… just not talk about this?”

Steve looks a little offended at first, but his face clears and he nods, looking away. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he agrees.

And yeah, that’s not great to hear. Some part of Eddie thought that maybe Steve would argue, would fight for him. Which is ridiculous, and stupid, to expect. “Right,” Eddie repeats. “I-“

They’re interrupted by a sound in the other room, which Eddie is secretly very, very grateful for.

“Daddy?” Ivy’s confused voice calls from his bedroom.

Steve closes his eyes for a second, sighing deeply. When he opens them, Eddie offers him a weak smile. “Duty calls,” he jokes lightly.

“Yeah,” Steve says with a little smile in return. As he steps around Eddie, he reaches out and squeezes his hip. A little surprised breath, almost a gasp, sneaks past Eddie’s lips at that, and Steve gives him a sad look of repentance. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Eddie doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. Still, he nods, and watches him go, forcing himself to pretend that his heart isn’t in his throat, his ribs aching around the empty space in his chest.

#steddie #steve harrington and eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #single dad steve harrington #babysitter eddie munson #alpha beta omega dynamics #abo dynamics #finally safe for me to fall #fsfmtf #the twins get sick in this one #original harrington children

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dehya-selei · 3 months ago

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back to quieter times(ish)... 1.5 weeks ago

it was mainly just me in my sub-department, and n had a couple of his colleagues in his area. this was after my jealously had subsided and i was feeling a lot better after the hormones quieted. maybe perhaps i was maintaining as much of a positive and solution seeking outlook as much as possible.

what happened that week? oh, that's right. f was out the entire week. monday, n looked like he was having a mental breakdown (maybe because f was out), and i was sick of him. so i remoted the day after. when i came back to work the next day, n was more nice to me than usual, popping up at my cubicle with a smile in an upbeat tone. then friday, he dropped some good news that was happening in his life to me. i guess, that bit of attention, put my guard down and i decided to be affectionate again. i was hoping my jealously was all in mind (i still do not yet know).

for lunch, i asked to drive with him to pick up food. everything felt great, i was feeding off of his energy and his with mines. laughing and chatting along the way and back. i've been wearing perfume for months and he had complimented me on my scent through one of his songs. and i realized he smelled amazing, because he recently started to wear cologne as well. vetiver maybe? a very deep and manly smell, but he wore the perfect amount. after grabbing the food, he opened the passenger side to let me in, but before i was able to get in he passed me the bags full of food. and i was reaching out to hold it as he was, but he didn't let go and i felt my wrist against his. "hold on, this isn't fully closed" (the packaging was loose) so we both kind of held our wrist together and i wanted so badly to stay that way forever, and we were standing so close. and he slowly set the bag down into the floor as if he too was wanting this moment to last. he stared at me for a moment, i looked at him and laughed because that was the first time he waited for once, and let me buckle my seat before he drove off (he tends to just start driving straight away which makes it difficult for passengers buckle in - we all pick on him for it).

the coming sunday, i didn't expect to see him at church knowing he'd be back at his parents, but i saw him near the front row. it's weird seeing him more casually dressed with his shirt not tucked in. still hot as hell. i took the seat next to him. after the song was finished, i glanced at him as both smiled at each other. he looked happy to see me as i was seeing him. and this time he put his hand out for me to hold, as a friendly greeting. and i held his hand, something i've been fantasizing about for a while. he was the most gorgeous male hands i've ever seen. they felt cool, not as soft as mine, and they felt nice. he went to the restroom after a while, and when he came back he looked at me and smiled as he walked past me to get to his seat. he can be so boyishly cute.

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casspurrjoybell-23 · 7 months ago

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LOST and FOUND - Chapter 1 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

My fingers caught on the buttons as I put on one of my nicer shirts.

The depressed part of myself was trying to talk out the saner part from going to church this morning.

I swallowed and forced myself to button the shirt.

I looked at myself in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door as I finished dressing, pulling on a cardigan.

I just hoped no one else would see the sadness in my eyes but who was I kidding?

It was plain as day.

The pain I was experiencing showed in every facet of my expression.

I even tried to smile but it just looked so pitiful.

Hopefully everyone at church would be too nice to say anything about my appearance.

I knew everyone would be happy to see me.

I hadn't stepped foot in a church since Harrison's funeral.

Was that so hard to say to yourself, Beau?

He's dead, he had a funeral.

'Though you don't remember half of it because you were so out of your mind, you pathetic piece of shit.'

My eyebrows drew together and my lower lip trembled but just the slightest bit.

Your brain could be mean to you when you were depressed.

I'd learned that a long time ago.

I brushed my hands over my shirt, smoothing the invisible wrinkles.

I smiled at myself in the mirror one more time, willing myself to have that little twinkle, that little sparkle that Harrison always said I had in my eyes.

It was gone though.

Had been gone for five months.

It probably wasn't ever coming back.

I left the large bedroom before the emptiness could start closing in on me.

I was sleeping in the guest room now but I hadn't found the motivation to move my clothes.

I couldn't find the motivation to do anything these days.

I breathed deeply as I made my way downstairs.

I didn't want to start panicking before I even made it to church.

I was going.

I was not going to talk myself out of it.

I went to put on my shoes, ignoring the stack of bills I had set on the dining room table.

Yesterday I told myself 'you'll deal with them tomorrow'.

I had set them right there so I couldn't pretend to will them out of existence but now I was trying really, really hard not to think about them.

I swallowed thickly and brushed at my cheeks but I wasn't crying.

I grabbed my shoes from the shoe rack that I refused to stop using.

Harrison had gotten on me so hard when I first moved in, telling me very firmly that no, I couldn't just throw my shoes wherever I wanted.

I actually smiled at the memory of his arms waving around as he scolded me.

I refused to let a sob bubble up.

'It's a happy memory, Beau. You can remember things and be happy, right? You don't have to be sad all the time.'

I finished putting on my shoes and made sure I had my wallet and phone before grabbing the keys from the little bowl on the table by the door.

Another thing I refused to stop using even though in the beginning I had told Harrison how stupid it was.

He always had to have things just so. I really loved that about him.

I can't remember if I ever told him.

I moved some hair behind my ear and unlocked the door, locking it back up again once I was outside.

I got in the car and buckled my seat belt, making sure I could see in all the mirrors.

I turned the car on, no radio playing.

I hated driving, Harrison always, always drove.

I hadn't driven anywhere in the seven years we were together.

I pulled out of the driveway.

I was doing it.

I was actually going out and doing something I used to do every single Sunday for seven years.

I had talked myself into it and it was actually happening.

I couldn't help the proud little smile that slipped onto my face.

Now I just needed to stick to the right direction and not end up pulling off to the side of the road and blubbering like a baby.

You can do it, Beau.

The service ended with the band singing a few songs that I tried to sing along to.

I was running out of steam and I really just wanted to go home and curl up on the couch with Harrison's favorite blanket, it had stopped smelling like him a long time ago but I still loved it.

After the final few notes of the song played, I wiped my palms on my pants and stood up.

Not a second later I was accosted by a group of three women.

I could see other people waiting in the wings to talk to me.

I was not getting out of here quickly, unfortunately.

I don't know why I thought I would.

"Hello, Carol," I said, forcing a smile.

"It's so nice to see you, sweetie," Carol said.

"Can I give you a hug?"

I nodded.

Carol was round and short, just as short as me, so it didn't make it awkward.

I hated being hugged by tall people... except Harrison.

I had only ever felt safe with his height and bulk wrapped around me.

Once Carol hugged me, Nancy and Linda took their turn.

I knew I was going to have to hug at least twenty more people before I got out of here.

I already felt exhausted.

"We've missed you, sugar," Nancy said, resting her hand on my arm.

"How have you been holding up?"

How did I answer that?

I forced a small smile.

"Well, you know..."

I didn't know where I was going with that and it just trailed off with no continuation in sight.

Someone saved me though by saying an excited...

"Beau," Hannah, Nancy's daughter, came over and gave me a one armed hug while she had her baby propped on her hip.

For the life of me I couldn't remember the baby's name.

That made me feel like fucking shit.

I forced another smile as I looked at Hannah.

"It's nice to see you," I said for lack of anything better to say.

I even used to get coffee with Hannah once a month before my life became a nightmare.

Harrison said that it was good that I had friends so I didn't 'bother him all the time' so I picked Hannah as a friend after I started going to church with Harrison.

He hated when I went to get coffee with her, I could tell but he never wanted to admit that he missed me when I was gone for only a few hours.

Hannah said something about getting together again soon before her baby started crying and she had to go outside.

Nancy, Carol and Linda continued to talk and I'm not sure if I answered... I felt numb.

This all felt so wrong, being here without Harrison.

I hadn't even wanted to go to church in the first place when I started dating him but he was bossy and made me do things I didn't want to do just because he wanted to do them.

I missed that... I missed it so much.

I felt lost, empty without his hand on my back as he talked to other church goers.

He knew everyone and got along with all of them.

He was much less grumpy around other people than he was around me.

I knew everyone at the church had been on the fence about our relationship as first.

Not because Harrison was gay, everyone knew that and it didn't matter.

Everyone had been unsure of me at first because I was thirty years younger than him.

That had come to a shock to all of them when I had first shown up with him.

A lot of people asked if I was his nephew.

They knew he didn't have children, so the closest explanation for my young age was being his nephew.

I had heard the slightly embarrassed grumble in his voice as he explained that I was his boyfriend.

When I snapped out of my memories... I was hugging someone else.

I don't know how long I had been stuck in my own head but as I looked around at the people waiting to talk to me I felt completely overwhelmed.

"I... I'm sorry," I stuttered to a friend of Harrison's that had been talking to me.

"I... I have to... have to go."

I turned around and found the quickest exit, wrapping my arms around myself and ignoring all the pitying looks I got.

Everyone knew I was worthless without Harrison.

I was just a stupid kid that didn't know what he was doing.

Useless.

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khodorkovskaya · 1 year ago

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complete recap of my skating camp trip part 1

sooo buckle up besties, get yourselves a cup of tea and let me embark you on this journey with me. to figure skating summer camp!

so it took place in a town in the mountains called V. it's also a ski station. and, as lucien told me, it's quite lowkey. like it's a ski station for swiss people and it's not super touristy, compared to like verbier or crans montana. it's very old money basically. like it's super luxurious, clean and expensive, but it's not flashy like a lot of ski resorts. also it's weird bc i didn't see any young people there. there were mostly 40+ yr olds and elderly couples. and lots of good cars. again, not the flashy types, but like little porsches or just like discrete german cars. i saw one g-wagon with ukrainian number plates, but the rest were like old money cars, you know what i mean? lucien also told me that there's no airbnb there. like it's really not that much of a touristy place.

but anyway, im getting ahead of myself.

so the plan was for me to come there on sunday so that i could spend the night at lucien's parents place and not have to wake up super early on monday bc skating camp started at 8:30. but they didn't want to take me in lol. bc im not family and they were skeptical.

so i ended up waking up at 5am on monday and taking the train at 6. i arrived to the closest train station at like 7:30ish and lucien met me there to drive me to the camp.

and okay right off the bat i knew i was in for a wild ride. bc imagine, it's 7am, i was supposed to meet lucien at the café at the train station. and like as soon as i walk in, he's like super hyped. he had butler energy. like he usually looks pretty rough lol, but this time i was surprised by his appearance bc he had slicked back hair and he was wearing this like really cool red hoodie (from diving school) and the whole look was giving nutcracker like adjshjhg.

anyway, i walk in and he grabs my suitcase and exclaims "madame!!! may i offer you a coffee?" and im like umm sure yeah and he turns to the lady there and he's like "a coffee for madame please!!!! it's my treat for madame!". like it was really giving butler, i was a bit embarrassed bc he was so loud so early in the morning.

then i gave him the tshirt i made. because, getting side tracked, but every year i organise a contest for my birthday for the best video montage and the winners get tshirts with my face on it, it's a whole thing. so yeah i finally gave lucien his tshirt. and he changed into it right then and there. and again i was a bit embarrassed bc like he has a nipple and a bellybutton piercing and his hyped energy weirded everyone out i feel.

so yeah then we got in the car and he drove me around this town like 10 times. he was like "yeahhhh i want you to feel independent, madame. you should know where everything is in case you need anything".

then we got to the rink and met our coaches. and omg they're so good! so there's A who's an ex competitive skater, she went to junior worlds, four continents and sea games. and R who's her ex coach who lowkey reminded me of dave lease lol.

we were the only adults there lol. the rest were girls aged 7 to 15. we were 10 in total.

we lived in a little chalet right next to the rink, it was literally perfect!

then we went on the ice straight away. and it was my 1st time like properly skating in my new skates. and the euphoria i felt when i stepped on the ice oh myyy. i was so happy!

so the way it was organised is that we'd have 3 hours of ice per day. either 1 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon or the other way around. and during each session we'd be split into two groups and alternate between the coaches every 30 minutes.

the lessons were absolutely incredible! like idek how to explain it. but it was like high level stuff. the coaches had a very individual approach tailoured to everyone and it was so good!

after skating we had lunch. and the camp reserved a table at this super nice restaurant for us for lunch and dinner. with a gorgeous view on the valley. and the food was so good!!!! i mean it was tailored towards kids so we had pasta, chicken, chips. croque-monsieurs, that kind of thing. so nothing too spicy or too weird. but to me it was basically comfort food every day and i enjoyed it a lot!!!!

after lunch lucien suggested we go see his parents... and i was a little uneasy bc they didn't want me at their house, right? but he insisted. and i, being eastern european, was like "let's stop by the bakery and get them something for tea". lucien found it a bit strange. and he was like why, so i explained to him that it's impolite to come empty handed if you're invited to someone's house. and he was like "we're not invited, we're just gonna show up". and i was like "that's literally why we should definitely bring something!!!!".

so yeah, we stopped by the bakery and got his parents two pieces of this like pear chocolate cake.

so the parents weren't expecting us, and especially not me, so there was a bit of awkwardness there. but old people usually like me and they were very pleasantly surprised by the cake, so the awkwardness went away pretty quickly. but they were a bit on edge because we just like came without an invitation.

his dad looked a lot like the turtle from kung fu panda lol. and i think he has a cataract or some kind of old people eye problem bc his eyes were a bit weird. meanwhile the mum looked like a typical well off house wife. like makeup in the house, simple clothes that fit her well, tidy hairdo.

the chalet has been the same since the 70s, it had this kitsch 70s decor like flowery wallpaper and greens and orange-browns. they still had lucien and his sister's drawings up dating from the 70s, calendars from the 90s, some old christmas decorations, old family photos, lots of kitschy objects and decor. but it was all very tidy and, despite not being minimalist at the slightest, it didn't give off the vibe of like being hoarded, unlike a lot of poor old people's houses, you know what i mean?

then lucien wanted to show me how to ride a bike because umm yeah confession time, idk how to ride a bike. so he got out his old bike that he's cleaned the day before and we went to the flat part of the road for me to try it out. it was a lot easier than expected and i learned almost immediately.

then lucien asked me if i want to try out his electric bike and i was like sure. so i got on it and oh my god. have you guys ever tried an electric bike? the sensation is incredible! and so i took his bike and rode off lol. meanwhile he was left with the regular one.

and yeah, we ended up cycling for 17km! idk how lucien survived lol bc it was mostly uphill. like he's in such good shape but still.

we ended up missing gym class and got back right in time for the second skating session.

then lucien went home for dinner with his parents, meanwhile i had dinner with everyone else.

oof okay besties, im literally falling asleep. part 2 tomorrow! there's so much tea to spill likeeee y'all are gonna love it, this is just the beginning! laku noc 😘

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paybackraid · 2 years ago

Text

You’re All Terrible (But I Love You)

Fandom: Bob’s Burgers

Summary: In “The Ring (But Not Scary)”, Bob said some things to his kids that he probably shouldn’t have and forgot to take them back. So...

Mostly family fic, consistent lowlevel BobLin (because Bob stans Linda and Linda stans Bob)

Also found on AO3. One chapter for now but I have thoughts for more.

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“Pile in, everyone,” said Nat with a smile, holding open the door of her limo. “It’s late, I’ll get everyone home.”

“I have to drive Gayle home,” Linda denied. Gayle, looking particularly exhausted, was already climbing into the back of the station wagon. “D’awww, but thanks for coming to the kids’ help, Nat! It was so nice to see you again! We’ve got to find time to go shopping sometime!”

Gene dove into the back of the limo, ignoring a solid five feet of ground. Louise hopped in with both feet, Tina following calmly.

“If you’re free on Sunday, I’ve got to shop for Mark’s enclosure, you’re free to come.”

“Who’s Mark and where are you enclosing him?” Louise asked, poking her head out.

Nat laughed, “Mark is my komodo dragon, he needs some fresh resting rocks, best place is out a few miles on Route 1.”

“Ooooh, exotic,” Linda cooed, flashing eyes to Bob. “You can handle the restaurant, can’t you?”

Bob groaned, but more for theatrics than anything. “Fine, go komodo dragon shopping. Don’t bring one home!”

“You’re no fun,” Linda laughed. She reached out and pulled Nat into a hug. “I’ll call you Sunday, it’s a date! Don’t be jealous, Bobby.”

“I said you could go, I’m not gonna get jealous.”

Linda just laughed again. “I’d better get Gayle home real soon or she won’t get outta the car. I’ll see you at home. Be safe!” Linda reached to cup Bob’s cheek and pull him into a kiss, then leaned and blew kisses to the kids in the back seat. “See you at home, babies. Go right to bed!”

“Bye, Mom,” the kids all called, waving. Linda climbed into the station wagon, still blowing kisses, and she and Gayle took off toward Gayle’s neighborhood.

“Nat,” Bob said, turning on the woman. “You sure you don’t mind bringing us home?”

“Of course not, Bob,” Nat said with a wave of her hand, gesturing to the back door. “What kind of person would I be if I let Linda’s kids and husband get kidnapped or murdered on the way home in the middle of the night?”

“I mean, I doubt if we’d get kidnapped or murdered on the way home, so.”

“Yeah! Kidnapped and murdered!” Gene crowed.

“Gene.” Bob sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Would it be less weird if I sat in the front with you? You know, since I’m an adult and also not your customer right now?”

“No, it’d still be weird,” Nat denied, gesturing one last time to the back door. “I like to spread out.”

“Spread out? No, nevermind. I don’t want to know. Thanks, Nat.” He took a breath and ducked his head to step into the limo. The kids lined up on the bench at the back, so he sat on the side-facing one, spreading out comfortably.

“Of course, Bob. Buckle up!” Nat dropped into the driver’s seat, laughing to herself. “Sorry, limo driving humor. There are no seat belts! Louise, no sunroof.”

“I know!”

The drive was almost uncomfortably quiet. Despite playing for hours in the day and an hour at night at a waterpark, the kids were completely silent. Louise picked her shorts, Tina tapped her heels together. Maybe they were sleepy, but they didn’t look sleepy. Bob figured he’d be carrying maybe one of them to bed when he got home. Gene probably, the way his head was low.

Nat pulled up in front of the restaurant, stepping out to open the back door. Bob climbed out, thanking her, and went to unlock the front door and drag tired kids to bed. All three were awake enough, still suspiciously quiet (although they also thanked her, because in spite of it all they were good kids).

“Bed, all three of you,” Bob crooned when they passed him. “I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in. Good night.”

“Night…” called three little voices from up the stairs. Affection coursing through his veins, Bob closed the door to seal the warmth in and turned to Nat. “Thanks again, Nat. Sorry to drag you out in the middle of the night. And to a waterpark of all places.”

“My pleasure! What’s a day without a little adventure in it? You and Linda are cute, you know. Two of a kind. I hope the whole thing lasts.”

“Yeah, well. Me too,” Bob laughed. “For the trouble, why don’t you come here sometime? Burger on the house. Just, uh, not now. I’m so tired.”

“Sure, I’d love to! Linda always says such nice things about your food, I’d love to check it out. Anyway, I gotta bounce, make sure Mark hasn’t taken over my whole bed. Take good care of those kids, Bob. They’re keepers.”

Again, affection and warmth pelted into his veins. Something about someone else telling him his kids were good (not strange, awkward, inappropriate, a menace to society) was incredibly heartening.

Like Linda said. They were good parents.

“Yeah, I’ll do my best. Good night, Nat. Good luck with, uh, Mark.”

Nat half-saluted, getting back into her limo and peeling out down the road. Bob shook his head when she left, once again astounded by the amalgamation of friends they had, then turned back to the door to tuck the kids in and wish them good night.

Things were still eerily quiet when he went upstairs. The kids’ doors were all shut. Had they climbed into bed already?

“Hey,” he said, knocking on Tina’s door. “You three brush your teeth?”

A long pause, and then Tina opened her door and stepped under his arm, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry,” she said softly, moving to the bathroom. Two more doors opened as Gene and Louise also picked their way to the bathroom, also avoiding his eyes.

What. They wouldn’t even look at him?

“Good night,” he said again as they turned around, mouths freshly cleaned. “Sleep well.”

No answer as the three doors closed, occupants tucked safely inside. Bob frowned, glancing from door to door, and sighed a long sigh. Things would be different in the morning. They always were.

For now, though, he would go and watch TV. He was tired—so tired—but Linda would be driving home disgustingly early in the morning, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew she was home safe and sound.

Banjo was on TV28, but it wasn’t a particular favorite of his, so he put it on to pass the time, but didn’t really watch. He had to think up something to do for Linda tomorrow now that his original, blow-their-anniversary-out-of-the-water idea had been ruined.

Maybe he could name a Burger of the Day after her, somehow. That would be cute.

The Leaf It to Linda burger. Comes with green leaf lettuce and lentils.

Bob groaned and tossed that idea far away. It was about as symbolic as his infamous heart-shaped food gifts. Maybe he could just make her an omelet.

Maybe he should give up. He was good at that. Hell, just earlier he’d done it. Given up on the ring. At least Linda would know what to expect. She’d have to drag him from the bottom of the lazy river, which might be a surprise, but…

Well, no. The kids had done that instead. Which was a lot to expect from a thirteen, eleven, and nine-year old.

As frustrating as they were—and they were so frustrating sometimes, but Bob figured that was just being a parent—they had still turned it around and done their best to locate the ring. Gene had been diligent with his best guess of a time table, telling them with startling intensity which rides he had been on in which order and for how long. They’d been out for at least an hour, probably closer to two or three, searching with the rest of the adults for would-be-Linda’s lost ring.

And then, just as Bob had given up and was ready to nail his own coffin shut and drop it into the grave of “worst husband ever”, they had all turned around and apologized.

And he…

He…

“Craaaaaaaap.”

He’d never said a word! Nat had distracted him, and after that Mr. Wetty had shown up, and then Linda, and he was too busy falling in love all over again to realize he and his kids had to have a serious chat.

“Crap crap crap crap.”

And after everything he’d said? Spending as long as he had in the water had seriously cooled Bob’s temper, and thinking back on it, he’d said some awful things. They could never speak to him again? They weren’t his kids anymore? They couldn’t come to his funeral?

What kind of a dad said things like that!

And what poor Louise had said? “Do you want us to go live somewhere else? We can go to an orphanage for a while,” and Bob hadn’t had the attention to deny it.

Shit.

Bob took a deep, calming breath. He had to be calm about this, because any level of emotion beyond reasonable may just signal to them that they were about to be kicked out of their own home, and that was simply and purely unacceptable.

“Hey kids? Can you come out here? We’ve gotta talk.”

It was silent for a few beats, and then doors opened as three pairs of little bare feet padded their way out, Tina in the lead. She stopped just at the cusp of the living room, her younger siblings hidden behind her.

Bob sighed, surprise affection again coiling in his belly. They were so cute. “Come,” he said, nodding to the couch. “Come sit. No one’s in trouble.” They really should be, probably, but it was clear they had taken his words hard. Maybe that was enough punishment for one day.

Or maybe they should be grounded for a bit. Louise at least would definitely interpret this as “look sad to get out of trouble”.

The kids piled onto the couch, Louise squished between Gene and Tina. Bob sat on the coffee table to get to their level, resting his elbows on his knees. “First of all,” he said, looking between them, “thank you for coming to help look for the ring. You shouldn’t have taken it out of the house, and definitely not to a waterpark, but I still appreciate that you tried to fix it.”

“I didn’t mean to, Dad!” Gene said, voice quiet. “We were trying it on and it got stuck!”

Bob sighed through his nose. “I understand,” he lied, because these were thirteen-year-olds at most and at their age, he definitely had not wanted to try on his parents’ jewelry. “You and your mom have surprisingly similar finger sizes.”

“We’re sorry,” Louise said, her ears drooping just a tad as if she was in control of them. “Do… we… when do you want us to go? There’s an orphanage on the other side of town, and—“

“Louise, no,” Bob cut her off, heart tight. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The three all cringed, like somehow that was worse. Maybe they were thinking of different things. Maybe they thought Bob would do worse.

God, had he ever implied…?

“Yes, you’re all still grounded. But until the end of the week, not the rest of your lives.” He reached both hands out, one cupping Gene’s shoulder and the other cupping Tina’s. He looked all three of them full in the face, making sure he had their full attention. “And you’re not moving out, or getting kicked out, or whatever. Of course not. You were just being kids, and I don’t know what I expected, hiding anything expensive in this house with these kids.” He sighed quietly, but looked back up wearing a soft smile for them. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry. No matter how angry or frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have said what I did to you. You’re my kids, and no matter what, I love you. Okay?”

Louise looked back and forth between her older siblings, squirming nervously. Tina finally looked up at him, big blue eyes wet like she thought she’d cry. Bob’s heart would surely break if she did. “…Okay. Promise?”

“I swear.”

“Okay…” Gene and Louise copied. Louise was fisting her pants, looking down toward her little feet, and Gene squirmed.

“Bring it in?” Bob dropped their shoulders and widened his arms, urging them in.

It took no further prompting. Louise hopped off the couch and into his lap in two hops, while Gene and Tina just slid into place in either arm. Bob squeezed them tight, hoping he could translate his affection into hug form. He felt Tina’s glasses press against his shoulder and wiggled her just a little, until she squirmed and the glasses pushed up. Gene copied her, his eyes on his other shoulder, while Louise clung to the front of his shirt like a lifeline.

God. These were his babies, and they were the most precious things in the world to him.

One by one, he brushed back the bangs (and hat) on their foreheads and pressed a hard kiss there. “I promise,” he said firmly, even more when he felt the shoulder Gene was perched in get just a little bit wet, “that everything is okay between us. I’m still mad, but that’s never gonna change how much I love you.” He kissed Gene one last time, who was surely reeling a little harder than his sisters and always seemed more emotional than them. “You’re still my babies.”

Louise breathed a little, shaken sob and buried her face in his shirt. He squeezed them impossibly tighter to chase away hurt feelings, loving them up.

Bob wasn’t sure how long they remained there. But before they could separate, someone gasped behind them, and Linda appeared next to Gene. “My family!” She crowed, as she was wont to do. Her arms fit around them, one around Bob and one around the kids, and she squeezed them even tighter in a backbreaking hug that had the kids laughing.

“Ow, Lin!” Bob laughed after a moment, but didn’t in the slightest fight her off. Her arm around him and his arms around the kids just felt so right. This was just where the five of them belonged.

“I love my family!!”

#my writing #creative aces #bob's burgers #bob's burgers fanfic #bob belcher #linda belcher #tina belcher #gene belcher #louise belcher

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years ago

Text

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen.

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error.

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully.

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering.

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice.

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter.

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?”

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle.

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless.

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.”

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask.

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper.

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly.

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space.

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?”

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven.

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.”

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do.

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about.

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper.

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.”

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer.

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine.

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk.

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows.

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth.

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide.

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers.

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

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