u/rotonoscope

Synopsis: It’s Valentine’s Day, and Naoko is having the absolute worst time telling her coworker about how she feels. It should be as simple as breaking the ice with a box of chocolates, but if only that were the case.

Written for image 08 for the August contest!

~

Naoko’s heart faces. Every time she hears a set of footsteps behind her, she scurries to hide a box sitting on her desk. She freezes completely when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Ooh, are those Valentine's Day chocolates?” one of Naoko’s coworkers, Ichika, asks as a curious grin stretches wide, motioning to the box.

“Er, yes,” Naoko answers sheepishly.

“Homemade too, it looks like. I didn’t think you were the romantic type,” Ichika muses, stroking her chin. “Are these for love or obligation?”

“L-l-love,” Naoko stammers, clamming up. If she weren’t at her own desk, she’d hurry away and find somewhere to hide. 

“Is that so?” Ichika’s smile stretches wider, and her eyes narrow as she taps her lips. “You must have a crush on one of our coworkers, then, don’t you?”

“Uh, is it that obvious?” Naoko asks, ready to implode. Her face feels so hot. She must be red as the ribbon on the box, and it doesn’t help that she’s staring at Ichika’s lips as she speaks. 

“Either that, or you have a date after work,” Ichika suggests cheerfully. She puts on a determined face, leaning into Naoko’s space with excited, clenched fists. “Do your best. I hope your feelings will reach him.”

“Thank you, I hope so too,” Naoko mutters. 

Ichika walks away, offering one final wave before walking off to her own cubicle. “Good luck!”

Naoko needs all the luck she can get. In truth, the special box of chocolates is for Ichika. She’s absolutely smitten by her, and it’s been that way ever since the day Nako first joined the company. Ichika was definitely the reliable, supportive type, two years Naoko’s senior. She helped onboard her onto the job, assuring that she could come to her anytime she had a question.

She has such a bright personality, cheerful every morning, with or without her coffee. And that determined look on her face when she falls into the rhythm of her project? It’s just way too cute. She’s always generous, offering to buy drinks from the vending machine, and she even knows Naoko’s coffee order by heart.

These feelings have been simmering in Naoko’s heart for years. It’s getting to a point where they’re in danger of boiling over. Every day. Every conversation they share. Every time they sit next to each other during work meetings, her heart races, ready to burst. Naoko finds herself thinking of Ichika, even off the clock, and her bed feels far too big for just her when there’s space for both of them. She fantasizes about them holding each other at night, and on occasion, she shamefully humors the idea of them doing…more than cuddling.

Naoko’s coworker, Sachi, sneaks into the cubicle and squats down with a nosey look. “So did you do it? Did you give the chocolates to Ichika-senpai?”

Sachi is a recent hire the company brought on late last summer. Considering her college years were spent in America, she has a very…different approach to dating. After spotting the box of chocolates, sealed with an ornate ribbon, still sitting on Naoko’s desk, her brows furrow, and she sighs. “Why haven’t you given it to her yet? I swore she was right here talking to you!”

“I got scared,” Naoko admits, pressing her forehead on the arms crossed on her desk. Her voice is muffled. “I’m a failure. I’ll never find love.”

“Don’t think like that! You just have to be direct!” Sachi assures, hoping to give Naoko the vote of confidence. 

“I’m not brave like you, Sachi.”

“I’m not brave either. The one I love is back in America, and I never got to tell her before I came back home to Japan.” Sachi chuckles to herself before her smile fades. “So, learn from my mistakes, and don’t push down your feelings, okay?”

With a nod and a few taps on her shoulder, Sachi smiles again, eyes full of hope. “I believe in you!”

If only it were that easy. Naoko had heard talk about Ichiki moving among some of the other workers. There were mentions of Ichiki getting her things packed and wanting to wait at least until she was finished with some ongoing projects. That bought Naoko time, but she didn’t know how much. It was tempting to make mistakes to prolong the project, but the last thing she wanted to be was a nuisance or a roadblock in what would be the next stage of Ichika’s life—even if it wouldn’t include her. 

Gods, this is hard. Naoko fiddles with the end of the ribbon and frowns. Still, she has to try.

~

Sachi helps Naoko think of some ways to create the opportunity or some sort of excuse for them to talk. While they’re both in the same department, Ichika’s desk is on the other side of the office with the other project managers. Plus, if other coworkers are around, Naoko won’t have much of an excuse for her to go there without business.

Thankfully, Naoko’s in the midst of finishing up a report. She has the perfect plan: she can hide the chocolates underneath a stack of paperwork and hand it to her. It’ll be discreet. 

Damn. Naoko didn’t anticipate other coworkers mingling with her already. Ichika’s all smiles, as usual, laughing politely, nodding as she listens in to other coworkers talk. Naoko’s steps slow, and she’s tempted to turn on her heel and go back to her desk. Goosebumps cover her neck when Ichika calls her name.

“Did you have something for me, Naoko?”

Naoko crumples the stack of paper, wrapping it around the box. Biting the inside of her cheek, she shakes her head. “I made a mistake on a few of the fields, so I’m going to redo it.”

Ichika smiles, walks towards Naoko to close the distance, and reaches a hand out for the papers. “Don’t worry about it. I can always fix it.”

Naoko puts the papers behind her back, and the office feels like its walls are closing in on her. “You’re always fixing my mistakes, and I don’t wanna keep making trouble for you.”

“Didn’t I tell you you could always rely on me?” Ichika flashes that half smirk that she loves. “I really don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” Naoko responds—way louder than she intends—before scurrying off, too embarrassed to look back.

~

By lunchtime, she works up the courage to try again. With a renewed sense of confidence, Naoko marches over to Ichika’s desk, clearing her throat to get her coworker’s attention. Naoko nearly loses heart, but gulps down all of her worries, knowing she needs to try.

“W-would you like to eat lunch together, Ichika?” Naoko asks, praying her voice was loud enough to be heard. 

Ichika glances over, removing the pen from her mouth. She frowns. “I don’t have lunch today. I was thinking of ordering takeout.”

“It’s okay. I…actually made too much this morning, so I have plenty to share,” Naoko suggests, holding up her bento box. Her breath catches in her lungs as she waits anxiously for a response. 

Her coworker licks her lips and sighs. “It does sound tempting, but I’m scanning over a proposal from a new client, and I really need to get this done. I’m sorry. Maybe another time?”

“I understand. Do your best…” Naoko’s voice trails off as she walks towards the break room. It’s a legitimate excuse, but it’s hard not to feel rejected. She chooses a spot by the window looking at the couples outside. There are gift bags and balloons and boxes of chocolate, and she wonders if that’s something she’ll ever get to experience: walking hand-in-hand with a lover.

She tries not to dwell on every failed attempt today. It feels like the universe is telling her to give up. Maybe it’s not meant to be, and that her crush on her coworker is nothing more than that: just a crush never meant to come to fruition.

Naoko nibbles to herself, relieved that the food tastes fine, but what good is it if she can’t share it? Her gaze lingers on the empty seat that Ichika would’ve been sitting in.

A stray pair of chopsticks swoops in to steal a bite of rolled omelette, and she looks up to see Sachi, who offers a nervous grin. “Sorry, just me. I’m guessing Senpai said no to eating together?” 

Naoko shrugs. “It just didn’t work out. She was too busy with work. I don’t think I can do this after all, Sachi.”

“I know how it feels. Love can be scary,” Sachi admits glumly, staring at her phone as if she’s waiting on a message. “But I hope you have better luck than me. I don’t think it’s too late. Just…keep trying. Maybe the right time will appear.”

Naoko reaches for the box of chocolates, giving it a light shake. She laughs. “With my luck, the time I get the chance, it’ll be White Day, and these will be a month old.”

Sachi steals an octopus sausage, throwing the whole piece into her mouth. With her mouth full, she asks, “Since Senpai isn’t eating with you, your extra food is up for grabs, isn’t it?”

“Sachi, you’re just taking my food because all you eat is instant ramen from the convenience store,” Naoko jokes. “You’ve gotta learn to cook one day.”

“I’ll learn to cook if you give your chocolates to Senpai.” Sachi flashes a grin. 

~

While she wants to try, Naoko basically gives up whenever she builds up enough courage to stand. The fear of rejection weakens her knees, and she sits back down, weighed heavily by an endless number of what-ifs. 

Naoko gets lost in her work, and eventually, the end of the day approaches. One by one, her coworkers fizzle out of the office, probably off to do Valentine’s Day plans (if they have a partner). Naoko’s not so lucky, of course, so she has no reason to rush through her work.

A head pops up over the top of the cubicle walls, and Naoko furrows her brows in response. Sachi offers a calculated smile. Her face twists, and she puts a pair of clasped hands in front of her face. 

Dreading the incoming request, Naoko looks at her half-finished stack of work to comb through and sighs. Looking up at her coworker, she mutters, “Are you gonna ask me to finish your work so that you can go off and do Valentine’s Day stuff?”

Sachi shakes her head and eyes the box of chocolate sitting on Naoko’s desk, still untouched and neglected. “I’m actually playing Cupid. Ichika-senpai has to work overtime tonight. A reliable source told me she doesn’t have plans, either, so it’ll just be you two at the office.”

“Eh?” Naoko says, stunned. A frown forms. “I don't know if I can.” 

With a shrug, Sachi offers, “There won’t be anyone here. No one to interrupt you, and it won’t take long, right? You just have to give her the chocolates, and that can be it. Now go, before you change your mind. Love hotels get booked really quickly on Valentine’s Day—”

“Sachi!”

“See you later!” Sachi says with a grin before walking off. What a meddlesome coworker. 

Still, Naoko does feel a little reassured, so she takes her box of chocolates and walks towards the rustling coming from the copy room. She holds the box behind her back and stands at the doorway when she sees Ichika loading a ream of paper with an uneasy look.

“Oh, you’re still here?” Ichika says, a smile finding her face. It’s impossibly warm, and Naoko feels a fluttering in her stomach almost immediately. Her eye contact is intense, not intimidating, but it feels like looking into the sun: bright enough that Naoko feels like she has to look away. 

Naoko laughs, embarrassedly tucking some hair behind her ear. “I’m staying late to finish up some work. What about you?”

“I’m the same. Haru and Todo asked me to finish their work for them since they have Valentine’s Day plans,” Ichika says with a forced smile, digging the toe of her shoes into the office’s tile. “I… kind of thought you were in the same boat.”

Naoko tilts her head. “Why do you say that?”

“The love chocolates,” Ichika mutters. There’s an expression on her face that Naoko can’t read. Disappointment? Jealousy? “Did you not give them to your crush?”

“I got a little scared,” Naoko admits, “but a troublesome junior transferred all of her courage to me.”

Naoko pulls the box out from behind her back and walks closer to Ichika. Her fingers knead the box packaging, twiddling along the edge of the ribbon before holding it out towards her coworker. “Um, you’re the one that I like…these are for you.”

There’s a glimmer in Ichika’s dark, brown eyes, a part to her lips, and the slightest curl to her to the corners of her mouth. “Really?”

“I know that it’s weird…because we’re both girls, but—”

“That’s not weird,” Ichika says confidently with a smile that reassures Naoko. She holds the box with a careful touch, as if holding something precious. “You made these?”

“Sachi and I made chocolate at her apartment because she was feeling nostalgic, so I made chocolates for all of our male coworkers, as usual, and she convinced me to make these ones for you,” Naoko explains.

“Should I have some now?” Ichika asks, fingers clutching the end of the ribbon already, eager to open the box.

“Oh.” Naoko laughs. “You don’t have to. They’re not anything spectacular—”

“But they’re special because you made them for me!” Ichika says, unable to stop smiling as she pulls the ribbon and pops a piece of chocolate into her mouth. Her smile widens, and she nods. “It’s good.”

“I’m glad I got to eat something you made today,” Ichika says, smiling nervously. Her lips quiver, and a smile forms. “When you asked me to eat lunch with you…it made me really happy, and I was really disappointed that I didn’t get to try your cooking.”

“It’s not like I do anything fancy,” Naoko says humbly, trying to ignore the flush on her cheeks and the tightness of her grin.

Ichika shakes her head. “I really wanna try, so I hope that we can in the future. Next time? I can bring some sides too, so we can share.”

“I’d like that,” Naoko says, but reality sinks in, and her smile drops. “But will we really get a chance? Weren’t you leaving the company soon?”

Ichika covers her mouth as she finishes with her third or fourth piece of chocolate, gulping it down hard, and your eyes widen. “You heard about that?”

Naoko nods. “I was really sad when I overheard the news. I wanted more time with you here, and it made me regret not telling you how I felt earlier.”

“I’m glad you told me, now,” Ichika says, reaching her hand out towards Naoko’s. She squeezes it. “And I’m glad you gave me these chocolates. I’m glad that you ended up working here for this company. But most of all, I’m glad that I won’t be gone for very long.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re opening a branch in Hokkaidō,” Ichika explains. “They’re sending me over to get some of the future project managers up to speed for some training. It’ll be a few months, but I’d love to come back here on the weekends. Maybe we can…go on dates?”

“Really?” Naoko says, her heart pounding. She nods, grinning from ear to ear. “I could also go to you.”

Ichika smiles as bright as ever. Brighter even, and Naoko can’t believe that smile is because of her. “There’s not as much to do there as there is in Tokyo.”

“As long as I’m spending time with you, it wouldn’t matter what we do.”

“You really are the romantic type,” Ichika says with a smile. She looks down at the box, already half-eaten. “I can’t believe it. Your chocolate really gave me more energy than my 7 p.m. coffee.”

Naoko laughs. “Isn't that late for caffeine?”  

“I only do it when I have to work late,” Ichika promises. She rolls her head around her shoulders and reaches back to rub the back of her neck. “I’ve got a lot to do for tomorrow, so I’ll get back to it. Thank you again for these chocolates.”

“You’re always working so hard,” Naoko says abruptly. “It’s one of the reasons I like you so much. That determination is so inspiring, and it makes me think that I wanna be just like you. There are so many times I wish that I could be of more use to you.”

“These chocolates are helping me plenty,” Ichika says with a grin, “Though I would love it if you could refer me to a masseuse.”

Naoko raises clenched fists in front of her. “Leave it to me! It’ll be free! A Valentine’s Day special.”

“I won’t say no to that.” Ichika smiles, takes her copies from the machine, and walks to her desk. When she takes a seat, Naoko stands behind her, kneading her thumb into stiff shoulders. She presses through tight knots until they break apart with a crack. A sharp breath exits through Ichika’s nostrils.

Naoko keeps at it, increasing the pressure and spurring a moan from Ichika. She hates to admit it, but she loves the sounds Ichika makes, and it stirs something in her that it probably shouldn’t.

Ichika leans her head forward, and Naoko’s hands move up, focusing on her neck, which is almost worse than the shoulders. Days straight of staring at a screen don’t do her any good, but as Naoko works knots out of her neck, Ichika feels the relief in each deepening groan.

When Naoko pauses to flex her fingers, Ichika’s breath hitches. “Don’t stop yet…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep going,” Naoko assures, grinning, continuing to massage her tight muscles. She finds herself breathing deeper as if responding to Ichika’s moans. Her face flushes when Ichika starts unbuttoning her blouse. Maybe it’s the mood or the noises, but Naoko feels a heat growing, and she’s not sure what to make of it. After clearing her throat, Naoko says shyly, “Just let me know if there’s anywhere else you want me to focus on.”

Ichika stands abruptly, and it startles her coworker. She stretches her arms, letting out a deep sigh. “You’re really good with your hands. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Oh,” Naoko says, waving a hand in front of her. “You don’t have to return the favor. Let me do more for you, if anything.”

“That’s not what I had in mind at all,” Ichika says timidly, which is uncharacteristic for her. That usual determination and confidence fizzles away, and there’s nothing but a deep flush on her cheeks. “I just have an…unorthodox request. If you’ll humor me, that is.”

Naoko smiles, sitting down, and her eyes widen when Ichika sits on her lap. 

“S-sorry,” Ichika stammers, undoing the rest of her buttons. “With how good your hands are, I couldn’t help but imagine them on…other places.”

“Like where else?” Naoko asks, trying to avert her eyes when she gets a glimpse of Ichika’s cleavage. Her beautiful breasts are practically begging to be grasped, spilling out of her bra. 

Ichika reaches for one of Naoko’s hands and wraps it around her body, guiding it to her breast. Breathing harder at Naoko’s touch, she coaches her coworker, encouraging her to squeeze tighter. Her fingers find the bottom of her bra, and she pulls it up so that her breasts can drop down. She grins when Naoko’s fingers timidly fiddle with her nipples. “You can squeeze and pinch them. No need to be gentle.” 

Naoko does as told, letting her other hand rest atop Ichika’s knee. Her own breath hitches when Ichika guides it higher up her thigh until her fingertips touch her skirt’s hem. With a tremble in her voice, Naoko asks, ‘Is this really okay?”

“Mhm,” Ichika assures. “It’s just us here. Can I tell you a little secret? Something I’ve never told anyone else?”

Naoko’s heart nearly stops in her chest. “Of course.”

“I never mind doing overtime.”

“Is it because of your 7 p.m. coffee?”

Ichika chuckles, but the breath that follows is charged. The pause bears something heavy. “I’m usually one of the last ones here, and when I’m alone, I’ll masturbate at my desk. It’s a good way to relax my mind, but there’s something about touching myself in a place I shouldn’t be. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“That’s not weird,” Naoko says. “If I knew that that’s what you were doing. I probably would’ve stayed more nights.”

There’s a giggle that nearly catches in Ichika’s throat before a moan slips out.

“What would you do if I saw you?” Naoko dares to ask, biting her lip. She rests her chin on Ichika’s shoulder. “You’d stop, right?”

Ichika licks her lips, smiling to herself, turning her head to face Naoko. Her lips quiver, puckering until they meet Naoko’s cheek. “No…I’d…want you to touch me.”

“Show me how you want to be touched,” Naoko says, grinning, watching Ichika hike up her skirt. Her fingers trace against Ichika’s stockings. “These are in the way, you know?”

Naoko’s pulse quickens when she hears nylon tearing. 

“I need your fingers,” Ichika says, breath light. She bites her lips, feeling fingertips press against damp fabric, and she rolls her hips into Naoko’s hand, silently begging for more touch. She whimpers, hips growing restless, and she presses a hand over the one resting on her breast, squeezing tighter. Her thighs shake, squeezing Naoko’s hand between them. Voice soft and desperate, Ichika asks, “This is okay, right? It’s not too weird?”

She kisses Ichika’s temples, working her lips towards her coworker’s cheeks. With a shake of her head, she assures, “I like it the noises you make. It’s so cute.”

Ichika brings her hands to her face, muffling a squeal. “Isn’t that embarrassing to say?”

“I’ve always wondered what kind of sounds you make, and I’m just really happy to hear them for myself,” Naoko starts, licking her lips, staring at Ichika’s mouth. She leans closer, and their lips brush, but she pulls back using the last of her willpower. “I want to touch you more.”

Ichika nods, reaching down to hook her panties aside. She guides Naoko’s hand to her wet slit, letting fingertips graze along her entrance, breath hitching, and her lips stretch into a smile.

Naoko earns more sharp breaths as she prods a second finger inside. Her other hand rolls a hardening nipple between fingertips, pinching it gently and taking time to cup and grip those luscious breasts. 

Ichika breathes harder, silenced when Naoko closes the distance between their lips. It’s a needy kiss. One that the two have been curious about longer than they care to admit. Her lips are perfect, everything that Naoko imagined. Naoko especially loves how wet Ichika is. 

Naoko moves her other hand to squeeze the neglected breast. Her lips find Ichika’s neck, and she kisses and sucks, taking care not to leave a mark. They have work tomorrow, after all, and the last thing she wants is to make trouble for Ichika. 

Desperate hands comb through Naoko’s long hair, and Ichika pulls her in for another kiss. Her brain nearly short-circuits when she feels Ichika’s tongue against hers. Their kisses get sloppier with each contact. Naoko feels the spit dripping down her chin being licked up by Ichika, and it spurs her to move her fingers faster and grip her breast harder.

Every sweet moan is a treat, and Naoko can’t get enough. She nibbles the sensitive edges of her coworker’s ears, grinning when she hears her shudder. Ichika tenses in place, spreading her legs wider, halfway to melting in Naoko’s lap. Each of her words tickles her ears, and she moves her lips to kiss the newly formed goosebumps on the back of her neck. “What kind of things do you think of when you’re here alone? Besides getting caught?”

“Really perverted things,” Ichika says through a sharp gasp, her voice filled with shame. “You wouldn’t like me as much if I told you…”

“Why would you say that?” Naoko assures. “I would like it because you’re telling me.”

Naoko moves her hand away from her wet slit, letting it trail up her body to grab the other breast. She squeezes firmly, and stiffened nipples against her palms encourage her to squeeze even harder.

“Why’d you stop?” Ichika whines. She looks over, frowning, and that whimper is so cute. Her lips pucker as she cranes her neck towards Naoko. Another whine slips out when Naoko pulls away, just short of their lips touching. Her lips quiver, and her words are needy. “I was really close.”

“Tell me your fantasies, first,” Naoko whispers, biting at Ichika’s earlobes. “Maybe I can make one come true tonight.”

Ichika moans, tugging against Naoko’s hair, holding her head in place so she can steal a needy kiss. “I’d get so turned on from being caught, and I’d want to be bent over my desk.”

“Getting taken from behind?”

“Y-yes,” she eyes glinting as they look at Naoko. 

“Stand up, then.”

“What?” she asks, excitement shaking her voice.

Naoko guides Ichika up to her feet, but her weakened legs barely support her. There’s a pause as the two stare at the desk. There’s an intense amount of need between them, but they still make careful efforts not to mix up the organized piles. After easing Ichika down over the desk, Naoko scoots the woman’s skirt down, gripping her leg, raising it to rest at the edge of the desk. “Kind of like this?”

Ichika nods enthusiastically without a word. She looks back, completely enamored, eyes rolling to the back of her head when she feels two fingers prod into her. Her breaths are husky, syncing up to every slow stroke of Naoko’s fingers against her rigid walls. 

Naoko’s fingers work Ichika’s blouse off, gently tugging it back, and she unclasps the bra, letting it fall to the desk. With a grin, she muses aloud, “It’s one thing to be caught touching yourself. It would be another thing to be caught like this–practically naked–bent over your desk, moaning for your younger coworker.”

A breathy exhale is followed by an eager nod. “So naughty…”

“Would you feel embarrassed if you were seen like this? Or would it only turn you on even more?”

“I-I don’t kn-know,” Ichika stammers, and that desperate look in her eyes spurs Naoko’s fingers to push deeper. Ichika bites her lip, smiling when she feels her sensitive spot being rubbed gently, tempo ramping up slowly.

“I bet you’d like it a lot,” Naoko suggests. “I can tell from the way your walls close in around me. So tight.”

Ichika has nothing but moans for Naoko, but there’s a low mumbling that barely leaves her throat.

“Can you speak up? I can’t hear you,” Naoko coos. 

“M-m-mo–more!” Ichika eventually pushes out, begging as she claws against the wood of her desk.

“I’ve got two fingers in, and you’re so tight already. But if you’re sure you can handle it, I’ll give it to you.” Naoko eases in a third digit, starting slowly at first so that Ichika can adjust. She’s surprised when Ichika's hips greedily inch back to take more, and it’s a silent assurance that she can take it. With a pleased hum, she pushes into the end of her fingers until the tips are rubbing against Ichika’s favorite spot. Naoko’s not sure what comes over her, but she puts her hips behind her hands, pressing them against Ichika’s ass in tune with every thrust of her fingers. “How’s that?”

“So good,” Ichika groans, voice climbing higher whenever her ass feels Naoko’s hips push against her. 

“I bet you’re so close to coming, aren’t you? I’m sorry I stopped earlier before you got to come,” Naoko says sweetly, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses up Ichika’s spine. She whispers against Ichika’s skin, grinning at the forming goosebumps. “You forgive me, right?”

“Mhm.”

“As a reward for your patience, I’m gonna make you come,” Naoko promises, kissing along Ichika’s back. “We’re not leaving the office until you do…all over my fingers.” 

Ichika nods, gripping the desk and pushing back against Naoko’s fingers. Her breaths pick up. Moans stay trapped behind tightly-locked lips.

With every clash of Naoko’s hips against Ichika’s rear, her fingers press deep. She’s careful to rub the same spot, over and over, and she reaches under Ichika to rub her clit. Small circles treat the engorged bud, and swift swipes push her further along. Every sound Ichika makes encourages her to keep pace, settling on the tempo that keeps Ichika’s breaths quick and desperate.

“...so…” Ichika’s words are broken up by truncated sounds, cut short by her shallow exhales. “...close…”

“I wish you could see yourself. The way you lose control over my fingers. Every movement of your body, jerking, naked on your desk. You’re pushing back onto me, moaning and begging for more, about to come for one of your coworkers. Who would’ve thought that you were such a pervert?”

Ichika whimpers, breaths barely making it past her lips, and she tightens around Naoko’s fingers. Her body shakes with every elongated moan, pressing her forehead against the desk. She thrusts back harder until she unravels completely, arching her back, enjoying the way Naoko’s fingers work every sensitive spot.

Curled fingers clench into fists, and whitened knuckles rap against the desk. A deep, sultry moan fizzles out into silence when the tension in her body tightens. A final sharp exhale leaves Ichika’s lips, and it’s a lot of things: Relief, elation, and a hint of embarrassment as she looks up at Naoko.

She pants, barely able to stand up, and Ichika collapses onto her desk chair, halfway slumping, covering her face to mask the deep red blush across her cheeks. “Sorry…just…give me a moment. I can return the favor.”

“There’s time for that later,” Naoko assures, looking at the spreadsheet on Ichika’s computer.
We have work to do, don’t we?”

Ichika hurriedly put her clothes back on, smoothing out any wrinkles, and ensuring her hair is presentable. She offers a sweet smile. “Maybe we should just leave instead? Since I’m the project lead, I can ask for deadline extensions, you know?”

“What are we doing instead?” Naoko asks. She perks up, flashing her brows when she gets an idea. “My apartment is a short commute from here. We can go back to my place, and I can make something so you can try my cooking.”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” Ichika says through gritted teeth, tapping her leg impatiently as she closes her computer. She stands up, grabbing Naoko by the wrist. “Maybe we can find a love hotel, and I can try you instead.”

Naoko rushes to her desk to gather all her things, and the two practically run for the door. There’s a flutter in her stomach when she eyes the box of chocolate in Ichika’s clutches. She’s glad she had the courage to give them, after all. As they wait for the elevator, panting, standing hand-in-hand, Naoko’s heart races. 

Synopsis: A knight requests a night with the Queen. This may be the most audacious man she’s seen.

Written for image 06 for the August contest! Note: the piece isn’t split into stanzas for any structure, but this is rhyme central lol 

~

The forest queen has riches beyond measure, earned mostly through trade. Gold, gems, and other treasures many seek in her abode’s shade. If she’s met one person, she’s met them all. Some come of their own volition, some from a quest. Some answer destiny's call, others endure a test.

A knight may seek a sword, a sorceress a wand. A bard asks for the right words, and a spinster a love bond. All are rewarded if they offer something good in return. All the riches she’s hoarded are well-earned. 

She allows the last of her visitors into the room, and the knight’s armor falls to the ground with a clang. He chooses silence instead of addressing his boon. The queen wonders, what is his plan?

His inner shirt is removed, and he bares his chest. He shoots her a look like he expects her to swoon, so she worries what will come next. He strikes other poses to accentuate his physique. Laughter exits through the queen‘s nose as she wonders what reaction he seeks. Her guards assume there’s an issue, but that’s not the case. The showboating continues, bringing a smile to the queen’s face. 

The queen asks, “Have you had your fun? Have you had your laugh? Why have you come? Tell me at last.”

“Most gracious queen, you’re opulent and wise, but the reason I’m here is that I wish to be the occupant between your thighs.”

“Thanks for the show. Is that your means to persuade? Surely you know, my business is trade. If it’s my body you seek, you must make an offer. If the deal is weak, no relations will foster.”

“I suggest a friendly game. A bet,” he says, pointing to himself with his thumb. “A night with you I'll get, if I can make you come!”

The guards grab their spears, but the queen puts them at ease. She wipes her tears. “Making me laugh is no easy feat. This is why you sought an audience with me? To come here, to flex your chest? All this to see how I'd react to this jest?”

“This is no farce,” the knight assures. He flexes his arms, ignoring the laughter it incurs. 

“This is no trick? Are you as daft as you seem?”

“I wish to use my dick and make you scream.” 

She laughs haughtily, rolling her eyes, while he grins naughtily, eyes locked on her thighs. “Okay, the wager is set. Bring me to climax, even just once. If that condition is met, then we shall have your fun.”

The queen relieves the guards of their post, and sends them away. 

The knight grins with a boast. “I think they should stay.”

“What’s that you say? You dare suggest something so lewd?”

“When’s the last time you had a good lay?” The knight apologizes. “I don’t mean to be rude.”

“I’ve known many lovers, but I admit it’s been a while. Truly, you don’t mind if they hover?” 

The night nods with a smile. “Let them bear witness to their queen’s pleasure. I’ll rescind this wish if I perform below measure.” 

The queen‘s wetness builds between her legs as she slowly loses her composure. With a pleased grin, she says, “Audacious knight, come closer.”

The knight does as told, with his chest puffed out. That expression of his is bold; in those eyes, there’s no doubt. 

She grins when the man pauses. She asks, “Is it nerves?”

He smiles. “I’m at a loss as I admire your curves.” 

With a roll of her eyes and a scoff, she says, “Approach me at will.”

But when he strips the rest of his clothes off, her heart can’t remain still. With a giggle and blush, she remarks, “Your sword is drawn.”

Her heart turns to mush when he teases, “Would you prefer the clothes on?”

It’s no dagger. He’s quite well-endowed. The queen breathes faster when the knight kneels down. She parts her thighs, shuddering at the tips of his fingers. He meets her eyes, and his gaze lingers. With a tight grip, he keeps his hands steady. She watches his lips say, “Are you ready?”

There’s nothing under her garments. He feels wet lips right away. His fingers are ardent. He pauses to say, “Not panties underneath? What if someone should see?”

“Whatever do you mean? No one would dare to do anything about it except the.”

“That is true.” His hands fidget. “So what shall I use? My mouth or my digits?”

“Please use whatever tool. You need all the luck you can get. For you will look like a fool if my needs are not met.”

Two fingers ease in with a prod. That half smirk of his is cocky. And when the queen nods, he gives her more promptly. His fingers delve deep, massaging her walls, and the further he creeps, the more her composure falls. With a smile, he jokes, “You’re already so wet. Was it when I spoke and suggested my bet?”

“Do you think this is for you?” the queen lies through her teeth. “This is nothing new. I’ve merely been pent up for weeks.”

“Or is it because you have a crowd? And you like to be seen? I implore you to be loud, my queen.”

“Don’t make assumptions…for that’s hardly the case.” The queen barely functions as she’s shaking in place. She scoots in her seat to grind against his hand. To not accept defeat, she’ll do whatever she can. She doesn’t care for his face. On it, there’s a smug grin.

“Can I have a taste?” As he pushes his fingers deeper in.

“It won’t change a thing, so do as you please.” She wants her words to sing, but hates the new buckle to her knees.

He uses just the tip of his tongue, licking slowly, steadily. She slowly comes undone as he hums a sweet melody. The night gets lost in the act, licking wilder for it. The queen tries not to react, but her sounds fill the forest.

Her hips buck hard against his mouth, and his free hand grabs her arse as he continues eating her out. He laps, and he laps, not getting his fill. When he pauses at last, his eyes look at her still. His fingers curl, pressing against her walls; the room twirls, and out, she calls. It’s a shrill cry, surprising all of the guards, and when the queen and knight lock eyes, she nearly sees stars.

“How rude of you, knight, to not tell me your name.”

“I can tell you tonight if that’s all the same.”

“You haven’t won yet. Don’t count me out.” His tongue on her clits is a threat, and she bucks into his mouth.

His tongue flicks faster, his fingers increase pressure. He pauses to ask her if she’s satisfied with her pleasure.

“Don’t count your luck.” The queen fights back a squeal, but when her sensitive spot is struck, her fate is sealed. He presses the sweet spot and licks upon her swollen bud. Her head contains not a single thought, except for the impending flood.

It’s too late to turn back. The clock is ticking. He squeezes her ass, and his fingers keep flicking. 

“Come for me, my queen,” sweetness filling his words. What follows next is obscene: she sprays spurt after spurt. Clear fluid floods out in violent torrents, and the queen releases moan after moan. Her voice feels forest.

“My, my, you’ve dirtied your throne.”

He removes his hands, and then his mouth. The queen stands and shouts: “Guards! All of you, leave me be. You’re dismissed for the night. Everyone except you, bold knight.”

Her guards all exit; it’s just the two of them, alone. Her need is incessant, and the knight’s still hard as stone. 

“Is doing all you please just a part of your game? Render your lovers a feast before revealing your name?”

“It makes the chase more fun,” the knight says with a grin. “As for the knight who made you come, his name is Sir Finn. I’ve won my wager, so I’ll see you anon—”

“Why delay it to later when everyone is gone?” The queen shakes her head, mouth curled to a pout. “I can’t wait for a bed, plus your weapon is out. Come on, celebrate your win.”

Her arousal burns hot, still. “Stick it in, and have your fill. The tongue works wonders, and your fingers too. It’ll be a blunder if I don’t get to feel you.”

Finn moves closer, lining up with her slit. The queen loses her composure when he rubs on her clit.

“I’m happy to appease,” Finn answers with a playful tone. 

“Oh, you’re such a tease,” she says with a moan.

Her hands find his waist, shaking in lust. Moving closer to his face, a kiss is a must. It’s not sweet or chaste. It’s passionate instead. She’s needed a taste. The queen grabs his head. Fingers thread through his hair, tugging his locks hard. The queen strips herself there, and Finn gets rock hard. With her garments on the forest floor, he works his way in. He gives her a bit more, and the pleasure wipes off his grin. His voice comes out as a groan; she feels so wet and so tight. The queen’s voice joins with a moan as she smiles in delight.

The queen shudders and gasps, guiding his hand to her breast.

“‘Tis only half,” he says before shoving in the rest. He thrusts up to his base with a deep, slow stroke. He loves the look on her face and every noise that leaves her throat. The more the queen groans, the harder Finn pounds. His hips spur more moans and all of her sounds.

The queen calls out his name, and her legs shake about. It drives her insane when he tries to pull out. “Don’t you dare withdraw. Bury it deep inside.”

Finn isn’t sure what he saw, but there’s a fire in her eyes. So harder, he thrusts, his hips not letting up. He takes a moment to adjust so that his cock angles up. It presses against the rigid spot from before.

The queen screams, “Don’t stop! More…more…more!”

The faster he goes, the more she smiles. From the curl of her toes, she’s not had sex like this in a while. He keeps hitting that spot inside, the one so sensitive and sweet. He ebbs and flows like the tide, and every movement repeats. Finn strokes deeper, grinding against her walls, his eyes widen when he feels her squeezing his balls.

“They’re so tight…I bet you’re ready to come.”

He puts up a fight. “I’m not even done.” Grabbing her waist, he pounds harder still. After grabbing her waist, he goes for the kill.  He stops for a breath. Each grunt is ragged. Kissing her breasts, his hips run rampant.

The queen's eyes roll back. There’s a tightening in her core. She claws at his back, begging for more. She’s at a loss. Words escape her. Behind Finn’s back, her ankles cross as he continues to take her.

“I’m so close. I’m gonna come on that cock.” She scrunches her nose, begging him not to stop.

His thumb finds her clit, and he rubs it quickly.

“Oh, that’s it! Please cum, and fill me!” Obscenities escape; the queen is blunt. A smile crosses her face. “Fill this fucking cunt.”

“How obscene,” Finn says with a tsk, but the queen silences him with a kiss. She gives him her tongue, and he empties his balls. The queen comes undone as cum coats her walls.

Despite filling her deep, the knight doesn’t stop. She feels his dick seep, pushing out every drop. He grinds against the rigid walls with skill and precision. There’s no air to her calls and a blur to her vision.

“I’ll come again for you,” she says with a whine. She has climax number two, looking absolutely divine. The queen is in heaven, and her head feels lighter. She savors the rest of the session, until Finn shrinks inside her.

When Finn withdraws, his dick leaking cum, the queen stares in awe.

"Now that was quite fun.” Her expression is guarded and she breathes harder, watching Finn gather his garments and also his armor. “Going so soon? Is that the only reason you came? I wouldn’t mind round two, if you fuck me just the same.”

Finn offers a smile. “I don’t want to intrude, though it’s not my style to be so rude. If you want me to stay, just say the word. If it’s okay to say, I'd love seconds or thirds.”

“Why stop there?” the queen tells the knight. At his twitching dick, she stares. “I could do this all night." 

Finn squints his eyes, “Is this some sort of test?”

The queen laughs then sighs. “You’re bolder than the rest. You’re a lot of fun and also, you’re honest. Your dick makes me cum when I grind up on it. Say you’ll stay; you’ll have a place in my bed. Then we can play. You may even get head.”

“You’d suck my dick?” Finn asks with a doubt. 

The queen rubs her slit and grins. “Why don’t you stay and find out?”

“Now, I implore, what must I do to deserve it?”

“From how you fucked me before, I believe you've earned it.” She sits Finn on her throne, and gets down on her knees. “Are you ready to be blown by a queen?” 

Synopsis: Hedda marries into a nomadic race after falling for Garruk, their soon-to-be chieftain. The ceremony is beautiful, filled with their customs, but there’s one tradition Hedda can’t wait for: their first night together. 

Written for prompt 04 for the August contest! Three randomized prompts down, two to go! 

~

Hedda keeps her eyes forward, focused on walking straight along the aisle. Her vision, obscured by her white veil, catches glares of hundreds of candles, one for each guest. As the sliver of the new moon rises above the lake's horizon, the crowd sings in unison. It’s a beautiful folk song, acting as her wedding march on the way towards her new beginning.

The Khoupor people are a severely misunderstood race of nomads. They’re given a reputation of being brutish and barbaric, likely from their larger stature and their deep connection to wolves. It's said that on the night of a full moon, the tribe in its entirety takes the form of a wolf pack, hunting together, sowing chaos into the forest. Since coming to know the Khoupor people, Hedda has learned that while transformation is possible, it is not at the whims of nature, but instead the result of a deep dedication and reverence for their people’s history.

Years ago, Hedda’s carriage was ambushed by ruffians and rogues, and when her own guards fled—men her father had trusted to protect her—the Khoupor were the ones to save her. Just as any of Hedda’s peers would have, she curled up facing away from her rescuers, cowering in fear, assuming they would take her for themselves.

But they surprised her with warmth. Thick furs were draped around her to cover her torn dress. They took her in, tended to her wounds, fed her, dressed her, and upon getting to know them, Hedda decided that these were her people now, and gave up any desire to return to human society. 

Falling for Garruk, the next in line for the position of chief, was inevitable. He’s a stern, strict leader to his people, but he’s so incredibly sweet to her.

He’s waiting for her at the end of the aisle. As with all the other men of his tribe, Garruk seldom wears anything more than pants for modesty, and today is no exception. 

Tradition has always dictated that the Khoupor steer clear of humans, and as one of the few outsiders the Khoupor have welcomed into their tribe, Hedda felt incredibly blessed to be accepted. When her union with Garruk earned the blessing of the elders, they were beyond happy. A wedding is no small deal among the tribe; a great celebration awaited them.

Hedda’s elegant, white dress is covered in fine embroidery—a tradition for a wedding. The Khoupor do not share this custom, but many onlookers stare at her in awe. Hedda tries to hide her grin when she catches whispers in their language, roughly translated to: “as bright as the moon and just as beautiful.”

Garruk stands with his hands crossed behind his back before meeting Hedda at the end of the aisle. He takes her hands; his own are nervous—uncharacteristically so—this man is an avid hunter and seasoned warrior. The tremors don’t suggest fear, but instead, a great respect for this lifebond.

“Khunji, khamurji,” Garruk says in his tongue, repeating it for Hedda in English, even though he knows it is unnecessary. “My moon, my beloved.”

He smiles for his bride. “You are striking tonight.” 

Hedda looks up at her beloved, who towers high above her. Her neck is used to the strain. 

They perform all of the rituals, as tradition, for a Khoupor wedding. The water’s level, up to their waist as they wade into the lake, represents the depth of their bond. Joined hands symbolize the support they may offer each other in the future. The long bow that he warps so that Hadda may thread it, represents protection and bountiful nourishment, while the bow’s string represents the strength known only by love. The tip of the arrow, lit ablaze, is fiery passion. Garruk holds the bow firmly while Hedda pulls the string back. They aim together towards the moon in a high arc, and the flame goes out when the arrow inevitably falls down to the waters edge, to show that all will eventually meet our end when the time comes.

Hedda jumps into Garruk’s arms, filled with happiness. He holds her tightly as they share their first kiss as mates for life. She pulls away only to breathe and smile, but then steals another flurry of kisses. It's greedy, but she cares not. 

As is custom, a feast follows. There's much eating to be had. Drinking too, and the finest desserts, but the main event is the talking. Stories from all as the newlyweds mingle with those paired before them, receiving endless wisdom for a happy union.

In time, the sun rises, and everyone returns to their tent. The morning after a wedding is a time for all to rest, but Hedda is far too happy to do so. She removes her dress, dropping it onto the forest floor, and waits for her lover on their cot. Her ethereal beauty, highlighted by the sun’s warm glow, makes her look particularly dazzling, and her husband stares in delight. 

“What are you doing, Hedda, my love?”

“It is tradition for us to bed the night of the wedding. After a night of celebration and merriment, we're to ravage each other. Shall I show you the human ways?”

He smiles nervously, scratching his head, looking away. “Unfortunately, khunji, we have a slightly…different tradition. The wedding ceremony always takes place on the night of a new moon, while the consummation of the marriage occurs on the night of the full moon that follows.”

“Surely some traditions are meant to be broken, though?” Hedda proposes, only met with a sweet smile from her husband. She thinks of the fact that their people often partake in very casual premarital sex—non-monogamous, too. She and Garruk have certainly had their fair share of romps in the years that she’s lived among the people.

“The new moon represents a new beginning while the full moon represents a full womb,” Garruk explains. His shoulders slouch, and he sighs, pulling his wife into his arms for a sweet kiss. “I do understand that it sounds abysmally old-fashioned.”

“You mean to tell me that you do not care to have another taste of this?” She says, motioning to herself and her naked body. Her finger trails along the wetness that’d been building throughout the evening, and she brings it up near Garruk’s mouth.

His eyes follow her finger, and he licks his lips, letting them part. Garruk’s breaths are shallow, and he gulps hard, shutting his eyes and turning away. “We must wait the two weeks, my moon, and when we do, I promise you you shall be howling like a true Khoupor.

~

The days that follow are torture.

The first is spent with the other ladies of the tribe, preparing ornamental jewelry for an upcoming ceremony for the hunters. Hedda makes one for her husband, slightly larger than the others, and she continuously checks with her peers to ensure that all beads are strung in the correct order.

Her desire for physical activity is partially quelled when she joins her husband and their friends on a longer foraging journey. The walk is nice, and it’s faster when they don’t bring the entire caravan with them, and they can often go further while providing reconnaissance for future legs of their journeys. Garruk’s dripping sweat catches glints of the sun; he practically sparkles, and Hedda wishes he was on top of her right now, pinning her down, giving it to her hard and rough.

She finds ways to occupy her hands, impressing some of the other Khoupor with her strength. Her pent-up desire manifests itself—in an almost comical—boost in strength. The bows, such as the ones Garruk bent for their wedding ceremony, are notoriously hard to warp, yet she does it with ease. With gritted teeth, strained muscles, and furrowed brows, a master craftsman strings the bow, carefully taking notes not to get on her bad side.

Some trading does her well, too. She buys some new furs, something lightly colored for the summer. A plain beige works perfectly; since living with the Khoupor, she’s had no need for bright hues and expensive dyes. As she tries on new sets, every graze of fabric against her skin ignites something deep inside her that she wishes to snuff out.

On a day when both Hedda and Garruk are free, he invites her out for a hunting game, just the two of them. He twirls an arrow into the air, and it lands pointing at him. He grins towards his wife, and his bare teeth sharpen as Garruk assumes his wolf form.  “It appears I am the prey today. Surely my wife will do us justice.”

Garruk takes off running, and Hedda listens for his strides. 

She knows the rhythm well, and locks it into her memory. Hedda waits idly, giving Garruk a head start to hide. Victory is hers if she can track him and ultimately immobilize him. While her skills with a bow and arrow have vastly improved, she knows that it would make too much noise and hinder her movement.

A distant howl signifies that he is ready, and she dashes through the forest. Her bare feet enjoy the feel of grass and soil with every step. Her heart races and a smile stretches across her face. Hedda feels truly alive when allowed to sprint to her heart’s content. She’d been on real hunts before, helping chase boar and deer on horseback. The pace is fast, but on foot, half of the goal is stealth.

Hedda watches the forest floor, avoiding any leaves and twigs, keeping her feet light, bouncing on the ball of her feet with each step. The trail of paw prints stops at a tree, and Hedda pauses to load a dart into her blowgun. A berry at the end of the dart ensures that Garruk would not be harmed. Should she hit him, the splatter would signify an impact, marking her win.

Rustling light in the trees has her attention. She snaps up, surprised to see Garruk back in his human form. His hulking frame does him no favors for subtlety, and while his darker skin in the tree’s shade should camouflage him in the branches, he is unfortunately quite conspicuous.

When they lock eyes, he turns around, hopping from branch to branch. As nimble as he is, that extra height means extra weight, and one wrong step snaps a branch, and he plummets to the forest floor. Hedda aims her blowdart carefully, compensating for gravity and the speed of his fall, and she pushes out a powerful puff of air.

The berry splatters right in the middle of his chest, and Garruk falls to the floor, snapping some twigs when he lands. He sits up with a groan, lying back down to catch his breath. His fall knocked the wind out of him, but a smile stretches wide across his face when she stands with a foot on either side of his torso.

She leans down, smug, propping a hand against a tree trunk. 

“My moon, that was an excellent shot,” Garruk gushes proudly.

“I got lucky that you fell,” Hedda says humbly. “You know I’m not the greatest at scaling trees.”

“Which is precisely why I went up there to hide.” Garruk grins. “But it appears I underestimated your aim. I should consider myself lucky that you did not choose a bow and arrow for this game.”

“One of our human gods, the god of love, is often depicted wielding a bow and arrow.”

“Then perhaps your god struck me in my heart, over and over, because I love you every bit as the day we first met.” Garruk helps her down to sit on his chest.

“Show me how much you love me,” Hedda says, grinning, puckering her lips, awaiting a kiss, and she giggles when his mouth presses against her sweetly, at first, until the passion grows inevitably. She grabs his head, holding it to hers, and she shudders, breath hitching, enjoying the feeling of their lips against each other. “The full moon approaches.”

“In a week’s time,” Garruk says before blushing. “Not that I’m counting, of course.”

“I most certainly am,” Hedda is not afraid to admit. “Are you quite certain that of all the Khoupor traditions, that is the one you intend to follow?”

“Unfortunately, we have many superstitions of the sort. Consummating the marriage before the full moon arrives can mean an early termination of the pregnancy or—God’s forbid—one of us is taken from this mortal plane.” 

Hedda looks at him with understanding. Even still, her hands graze over his pants. Her desire cannot be snuffed away quite so easily, and from his throbbing hardness, neither can his. Even the contours of his member through the fabric are enough to stir her along further, and she bites her lip. “With this tradition, does it speak against only sex? Or is it all forms of pleasure?”

Garruk pauses, thinking to himself, trying to ignore the feel of her hand on him. After a truncated gasp, he says, “Admittedly…I know not the answer. Though I’ve been under the impression that it refers to sex.”

“So hands will be okay? Or my mouth?”

“I believe my seed cannot be spilt, but I believe that we should avoid the temptation entirely.” Garruk looks away, ignoring Hedda’s pout. A shallow breath slips out. “My moon…you should be wary about how you tempt me…”

Hedda takes his hand to clamp around her neck and invites Garruk to squeeze, even if only lightly, knowing it is not his nature to be rough or forceful. “That is by design, my love.”

She grins at her lover, stroking his cheek, leaning down to steal more kisses. Her words come out as a whisper. “The offer stands. Think of it as a commemoration of my victory over you. Do you not wish to celebrate your wife?”

“I believe it is allowable for a woman to have her pleasure, so as long as my seed remains unspilled.” Garruk scoots her farther up his chest, until her heat hovers above his face. He tries not to stare, but brings her down to him, pulling aside her furs and breathing sharply. “Sit upon your throne, my moon.” 

The first lap of his tongue against her wetness is more than enough to send sparks through her body. She thinks of the hundreds of torches from their wedding ceremony. Even the sum of those fires does not compare to the heat inside of her. She needs her husband, and it isn’t long before she’s grinding against his face, pressing down, increasing the pressure, loving how generous he is with his mouth.

She’s dripping already, and she can hear him slurping her up, not letting a single drop go to waste. Her fingers curl through his hair, gripping tighter the faster he licks. Her mind goes blank, and the words that escape in her ecstasy slip out. “I’ve missed that tongue.”

Garruk’s tongue licks wildly at her engorged bud, and if she knew that her pleasure was allowable in this waiting period, she would’ve indulged herself every night until her body was too tired to continue. Nearly a week’s worth of pent-up desire has her whole body ablaze, consuming her from the depths of her core, dousing her body and sweat.

Her legs nearly give out from supporting herself, and his hands grip the crease between her thighs and stomach, pulling her to put all of her weight on him. Her husband is strong. She should know that, but his grip on her thighs and his moaning reassure her. “Worry not, my moon.”

A deep moan escapes her. One she has been meaning to let him hear. The forest is peaceful, a gentle breeze swaying the leaves and branches above them. Bird calls break the quiet, as do the chirps from the bushes. With only them around, there’s no need for modesty. She can let her voice loose in the way she can’t when in the tent with the rest of the caravan. Hedda’s voice is hoarse from not using the register often. Her husband well deserves these cries.

She grinds her hips harder into his face, seemingly pinning him to the ground, but he does not complain, not even once. In fact, he welcomes it, holding her down against them, reaching his hands up behind her top to knead her breast and pinch her nipples with his fingers. Hips roll to grind her bud against his tongue, faster and faster to meet the pace of his generous flicking.

With a deep breath, Hedda wills herself to sit up, pressing her sex into his mouth, eagerly taking his tongue. Her hands reach back, steadying herself as they find his body, and she clumsily pushes his pants down, taking his hardness into a hand. He’s throbbing hard, and she lacks the concentration to stroke him properly, content on using his pulsing member to keep herself grounded.

The Khoupor are rumored to have larger…appendages. Though Hedda has been assured that that’s a generalization, a mythos created by humans without proper exposure to his people. In the case of her husband, Hedda knows that this is merely modesty at its finest. Garruk is quite gifted down there.

Hedda reaches down for his base. While the Khoupor as a whole are not universally larger than a human member, there’s still a vast difference between the two species. A Khoupor cock has an engorged, bulbous mass near the trunk, typically called the knot. It expands when arousal heightens, and is quite a bit girthier than the rest of the member. It’s a means to lock inside of his partner in times of lovemaking. 

In the years they’ve had sex, Hedda has never taken Garruk’s knot. It’s mostly out of thoughtfulness on Garruk’s end, but that’s not to say Hedda’s never been curious. In fact, today more than ever, she is exceptionally curious, wondering if she could take him. She thinks of their countless bouts of passionate sex under the moonlight or in their tent together, and her core tightens, hips speeding up to drive her closer to release.

“My moon, you’re so close. Please allow me to give you the pleasure you so deserve. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to wait this week, but let this be my tiny offering if you should take it,” Garruk begs, speaking between breaths and eager licks. 

“Of course, I will take it,” Hedda muses, grinning. She reaches forward with one hand, grabbing his hair, pulling him into her mound as she presses down against him, pinning him to the Earth. Her other hand strokes slowly along his length. “My love…I’m coming…”

A desperate howl leaves her lips, fizzling out into shallow cries as she completely loses control of her body, spasming and twitching above his head. He grips her by her waist, holding her down against him, not allowing his tongue to slow until she’s ridden out the entirety of her climax. Wave after wave has her grinding against his face, hips jerking faster the longer she tries to persevere.

Hedda works through quaking legs, moving her feet to press and flat against the Earth. Her heels push off moist soil to force herself off of her husband‘s face. He loosens his grip and grins, his chin and cheeks drenched in her juices. She gathers her breath, supporting herself on his chest, scooting back into his lap and lining his hardness up with her pulsing walls.

His eyes widen. “My moon, what are you—-”

Hedda lowers herself, even just slightly, taking just his tip, taking note of the wide grin on her husband’s face. “It is allowable as long as you do not spill into me, yes?”

“Yes,” he answers shakily, leaning up to kiss her. She can feel the need in his lips and mouth as his tongue nearly devours her as he did her slit earlier. “My moon’s wetness is a shelter. A warmth that I never want to be out of. This week of waiting has been agony.”

She breathes deeply, easing herself down, stretching to accommodate her love. A week without him inside her has Hedda feeling out of practice, but she trudges along, taking more with a deep breath until her lips rest just above his engorged knot. Hedda exhales sharply through her nose, grinning from ear to ear. “Keep talking like that, and I shall lock you into me.”

There’s the slightest smirk at the corner of his lips, but his expression forms into a guilty frown. “You’ve never taken it all before.”

“Shall I try?” Hedda asks, rocking her hips, daring to press down further. She bites her lips, feeling Garruk press up into her, even if only slightly. 

“Let us save it for the night of the full moon,” Garruk begs. “Should you manage to take all of it, there will be no going back. You underestimate just how strong a hold it can have when you clamp down on me. It’s often minutes spent buried inside a partner even after I’ve emptied myself before the swelling goes down enough before I can withdraw.”

The jealousy of Garruk’s past partners should twist Hedda’s stomach. Others have had him, and even experienced his knot in all its glory, yet she has not yet been given the chance. Knowing her husband, it’s a matter of consideration.

Hedda can handle herself. 

She uses two fingers to spread your lips further, and Garruk gasps as she works her way down, lips stretching around the top of his knot. Hedda winces, and her eye twitches. It’s not a forgiving taper at all, but the way her husband describes it only makes her want more.

“Perhaps I can try a little bit?” Hedda asks, searching her husband‘s face for assurance.

“I worry I would not be able to stop myself, should you try,” Garruk admits, licking his lips and her hands reaching up to pull her down until their forehead meet. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“I know for a fact that you would not hurt me, and that you would stop yourself if I asked. You’re a seasoned warrior, an avid hunter, but a gentle lover, at your core. You know when to use force, and when to use a gentle touch. Forgive me for my curiosities, for it is merely an attempt to know all of you. To take all of you in a way that I’ve not before,” Hedda opens up, speaking truthfully.

“It is admirable. You show the spirit of the Khoupor, and with our union, you are indeed one of us. Come the full moon, I promise to give you my all, at last, so that you may experience it.”

He gulps, bringing Hedda down for a tender kiss. “If you truly desire a taste, and nothing more, I can grant you your request. In our marriage, I’ve sworn to give all that I can to you all within my power, and because you trust me to stop, I trust you to be adventurous.”

“I love you, Garruk,” Hedda says.

“And I love you, my moon,” Garruk responds, rubbing her back. It’s a tender touch, slow and loving, and the curses in his tongue when he feels her legs hook beneath his, forcing herself down to take more of him.

She grits her teeth, instantly feeling a stretch at her entrance. The further she dares to delve, the more pressure she feels at the end of her walls. She looks down at her stomach, imagining just how far up into her Garruk must be right now. “Gods…”

“Shall I stop yet, my moon?”

Her eyes lock shut. She licks her pursed lips. Yet she shakes her head, arching her back and pressing her hips further down.

Garruk looks up at her in admiration, watching her lips grip around the firm knot, feeling her clutch around him. For every convulsion, she lets out a ragged breath. Her face twists in blissful agony, and her mouth parts, hanging low. As her head shoots back, her chest heaves with every breath. “You’re so strong, Hedda, my moon. Please tell me when you’ve had enough so I may grant you reprieve.”

“Not yet…more,” Hedda says sternly after a deep breath, plunging down just a bit more. Her legs shake, and her walls clamp around him, pulsing. She manages a grin. “As you know, I’m not familiar with this anatomy. I can’t quite see well how it looks, so you must let me know when enough is enough, lest I let temptation get the best of me.”

“There is more to take before we’ve gone too far,” Garruk assures, eyes watching as he pushes a hair deeper. 

They groan together, and their hands reach out for the other. Eyes lock in the same way their fingers do. Hedda's lower lips pulse excitedly around his firm knot, and he gulps. Garruk smiles through a labored pant, looking up at his beloved. “We shall go no deeper than this.”

Hedda nods in response, raising her hips and dropping them again. She can feel her lips grip along his hardness, as if she doesn't want to be apart from him. When he fills her again, and she’s at the depth she reached before, she feels hands, hold her waist, preventing her from moving forward further. He gives her a knowing look seeing right through her ambition, shaking his head playfully.

“We…must…control ourselves,” he says through charged breaths, even though he does not seem particularly fond of the idea. Garruk lays back, bringing her with until her torso lays parallel to his. He removes himself slightly before pushing in deep, making extra care to give her only as much as would be allowable.

Their breaths match up. With every slight unsheathing, they breathe easier, even if it’s only a little bit, before exhaling sharply when he bottoms out. “Hedda….”

He much prefers calling her by her pet name, which she adores, but every utterance of her own is a treat. Between soft moans, Hedda calls out his name in response, “Garruk…”

“Forgive me for my greed,” she pleads through desperate, needy breaths. “This must be torture, since you must abstain until the full moon.”

“Do as you need. Use me. I am yours for the rest of my life,” he grunts, curling his fingers against her back. Thrusting up into her, he continues, “You’re most dazzling when we spar, or hunt, but you look particularly beautiful as you ride me.” 

She geoans above him, pressing down so he can ram into her sweet spot. “Keep this up, and I am sure to come all over my husband‘s cock.”

Garruk squeezes his hand between their bodies, flicking his fingers against her sensitive bud. He moves faster, spurring quick moans and shallow breaths. “Unravel for me. Let loose, my moon. The pleasure is yours to be had, so soak up every drop.”

“Oh, how I wish I could soak up all of your seed,” Hedda mutters through a sultry smile. 

“Patience, Hedda. You will have it soon enough, and it will all be yours.” He rubs faster, following the pace of her breaths and pushes into her. Garruk winces, grunting when he feels her tighten around him. Using an arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, he digs his head against the earth. “I know not how much longer I can endure. Your warmth is heaven, and no earthly pleasure compares. You've ruined me for all others, for I am yours and yours alone.”

Hedda‘s body gives out, and she collapses forward. She pants with a smile and pushes up to take her lover's lips. The force of his hips, thrusting upwards, pushes her off the ground and her curled toes barely graze the forest floor. She holds him by the neck firmly so that she may have as many kisses as she needs. She gives him her tongue, and he accepts, in the same way Hedda takes his dick.

As Garruk speeds up, her climax begins.

It’s a tumultuous torrent, rivaled only by nature. Thunderous claps of their bodies. An all-consuming fire, burning through her as pleasure floods into every inch of her body. A series of sparks send quakes and tremors through her body, and she arches her back when she releases a heaven-piercing cry.

When Hedda is sure she has ridden out the entirety of her well-deserved release, she pushes herself, knowing very well she would otherwise try to greedily take more. Her body nearly falls limp against the forest floor, and blades of grass tickle her skin all down her body. She giggles, her head light and dizzy from the intense pleasure, and she pulls Garruk to her for a sweet, long kiss, as a silent show of appreciation.

She has half a mind to pull him between her legs and take him again until her breath runs ragged, but she knows better than to let her greed get the best of her.

Garrik lies on his side next to her, moves her furs up, and parts her legs. He undoes the tie behind her neck and slides her top down, freeing her breasts, exposing them so that he may lean to kiss them.

“Garruk, my love,” she starts, breath hitching again when his large hands grip her breasts. “What are you doing?”

“Making mischief,” Garruk answers, bearing a smile Hedda recognizes to mimic her own. His hands trace her skin lovingly until his touch wields a charge she knows quite well. “If your pleasure does not break tradition, then I shall make the most of it, for I have missed your touch. I’ve missed your taste. I’ve missed the sweet body of yours.”

Garruk kisses her breasts tenderly, taking gentle bites of her flesh, and lapping against hardened nipples. His fingers trace her entrance, and her breath pauses when he inserts one. Her body tenses in anticipation for a second as she rakes his skin. Whimpers escape. With a grin, Hedda tells him, “You spoil me.”

“And I shall for the rest of my life,” Garruk promises. 

Synopsis: Professional chef Felipe Sáenz is finally convinced to leave his house by his fellow chef and best friend, Simon. What follows is hopefully a recipe for success. 

Written for prompt 01 for the August contest!

~

“You’re a bad influence,” Felipe says, sulking, resting his cheek against his fist, staring out of the passenger-side window.

“Your mother has always said that about me,” Simon says cheekily, “but if over forty years of friendship is anything to speak of, I must not be that bad.”

“I was perfectly fine at home, and you’ve got me dressed up.” Felipe grimaces, ultimately thankful he didn’t have to wear a tie. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Would you…hate me if I said I wanted to run a recipe by you?” Simon mutters, keeping his eyes forward. There’s a slight tug at the corners of his lips, and Simon doesn’t care for it.

“Jesus, you’re taking me to the restaurant.” Felipe rolls his eyes. After a sigh, he asks. “You hate me. Now, I know for sure. ”

“What? Dinner service is done, already. Everyone should be cleaning up. You won’t have to cook, or serve, or talk to the patrons.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve not cooked, not cleaned, and not talked to anyone from the safety of my home,” Felipe argues. His frustration fades when he feels a light touch on his shoulder.

“See, that’s the problem.” Simon grins. “When’s the last time you left the house?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Felipe scoffs. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, thanks for coming out tonight,” Simon tells his friend. “The feedback will be helpful.”

“Chef Caro is a perfectly fine judge of new dishes. I’m glad we added her to the staff. She was never gonna get a star at that last place. Also, literally any of the sous chefs would be competent enough to tell you if something isn’t working. It didn’t have to be me,” Felipe insists, staring at the restaurant’s signage in the distance. 

“It has to be you! You’re the Sáenz of Simon and Sáenz.” Simon grins. When he parks, the two are pleasantly surprised when there isn’t another soul there. He unlocks the door, turning on only the low, warm ambient lights; the pesky fluorescents are only for cleaning and routine inspections from the city. 

Felipe traces a table, smiling when his fingertip doesn’t bring up even a speck of dust or grime. “Spotless. You run a tight ship while I’ve been out.” 

“It’s a drag being the strict one around here. That was always your thing,” Simon calls out from the kitchen. When Felipe passes by the counter—already covered with ingredients Simon needs—he heads towards the lockers, to which Simon stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Am I not the sous tonight? I can do prep. Just tell me what you need,” Felipe insists, grabbing his apron briefly before popping back into the kitchen. 

Simon wags a finger. “Co-founder or not, you’re just a guest tonight.”

“Let me have this,” Felipe asks, trying his apron behind his back, eyeing his embroidered name on his chest. “I already went through the trouble of putting on pants for you. I might as well help out.” 

With furrowed brows and pursed lips, Simon slides over the cutting board and offers his knife. A handful of freshly washed Granny Smith apples roll across the table towards Felipe. 

Felipe peels the apples, and the spiraled skin falls onto the counter. Thuk. Thuk. Thuk-thuk. Felipe dices, peering up towards Simon.

“Smaller than that, please.”

Felipe smirks, rolling his eyes, cutting smaller with the slices that follow. “We really could’ve just done this at my house.” 

Simon taps the range, and the grates clank against the top of the stove. “We paid too much for these to just be cooking at the house. Literally, I cook here more than I cook in my own house, and I’m convinced it’s better when I make food here.”

“As expected of a two-star Michelin chef,” Felipe teases. 

“That applies to you too, you know,” Simon says, looking up from his chopping board. 

“Yeah, well, I was going for three this time.” Felipe looks away. He breathes hard, shaking his head. Cutting the apples keeps his mind occupied—mostly.

“We all know that.” Simon motions around the kitchen. “Everyone saw how hard you took it when the review came out. Two stars are still really fucking good. It’s not worth using years’ worth of unused PTO so that you can supposedly work out recipes from your house.”

“I have been working on recipes from the house,” Felipe says, trying to keep his voice low. “I’ve just…been in a slump. I was so sure that the truffle risotto was gonna be it. I don’t know. I feel…like I’ve lost my touch.”

“You’ll be fine, Felipe.”

“I’m serious. Last time I worked with Chef Caro, she was blowing me out of the water with the lamb medallions. Even some of the other sous chefs are improving with their prep times. It's getting to a point where I feel like a vestigial part of this restaurant.”

“That’s really just untrue, and you know it.” Simon pulls out a mortar and pestle, and each heavy boom breaks up his words. “You’re still…so stressed when…we have next year to…try again.”

Simon disappears briefly beneath the countertop before coming up with a mixing bowl and whisk. He measures out the flour he needs and whisks in water. After turning around, he mutters to himself, preheating the oven, and pulling out baking trays and parchment paper. 

“Next, chef?” Felipe asks, trying not to linger on the concentration on Simon’s face. 

“See that wine?” Simon motions to a bottle near the kitchen’s entrance, with a ribbon tied around the neck. “Pour a glass for you and me. A potential vendor dropped it off for us to taste test. Local. Up north, apparently.” 

Felipe purses his lips, furrows his brows, and taps his foot. 

“Go,” Simon shoos him away. “I’ll bring this out when it’s ready.” 

Felipe shrugs, grabbing some wine glasses from the dish rack and the bottle before heading to the front of the restaurant. He chooses the table by the windows overlooking the courtyard. It’s always been his favorite spot in the whole establishment. When he and Simon first bought the building, this was where they sat (even if it was just cross-legged on the floor. They would plan future dishes and talk about the interior design, fantasizing like they didn’t have a budget—a blank check they could do whatever they wanted with. They came to a good, healthy medium; ambience did not suffer, and they got the best bang for their buck.

He peels away the decorative foil on the bottle’s top and uncorks it, taking a whiff near the mouth. It’s sweet. Hearty. Nutty, almost. He pours some for himself, and some for Simon. His attention returns to the window, and he peers up at the sky. It’s a clear night, and he takes a deep breath, admiring the stars. 

Time passes, and Simon walks in with a serving tray, balancing it expertly—almost as good as all their best servers. He puts down a small platter for the desserts between them, along with some spoons and forks. 

Felipe reaches out, his sweet tooth activated, and Simon swats at his hand, shaking his head. He offers his friend a glass of wine, and they clink their glasses together, taking a sip. It’s sweet, with hearty notes. Swirling the glass, he asks Simon, “Port?”

“Mulled, actually.” Simon strokes his chin. “This might synergize well with the new dessert I’ve got.”

“Then let’s move on to that. Tell me about this new dish,” Felipe says, sipping his wine.

“I’m mostly concerned about the filling, but I have it prepared two ways. One is flauta style with a nice crispy crust—instead of a tortilla—while the other is more like an empanada.” Simon proposes, motioning to the 

“Are you gonna do a drizzle?”

“Take a bite, and then we’ll talk about plating.”

“I was just gonna say that a flauta will roll, and chances are that the plating will get ruined on the way to the table.”

“Fair point,” Simon concedes. “Now taste it!” 

Dragging a fork along the outside of the desserts, Felipe smiles. “Great crust.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

Felipe takes his first bite, and the filling is still hot, but not enough to burn his tongue. He blows hot air out, and steam exits from the flauta instantly. It’s flavorful. The apple is well-done with the perfect softness, soaked in its glaze. A spice rolls into the profile, and Felipe’s eyebrows flash, and he snaps to look at Simon. “Whiskey in the filling?”

“You know it.”

“And what’s that crunch?”

“Almonds, candied in cinnamon, pounded into tiny little pieces.”

“That’s really good.” Felipe puts the flauta down and bites into the empanada. His eyes close, and he hums to himself, nodding his head. “Nope. This is where it’s at. That soft flaky crust is a perfect contrast to the crunch from the almonds. Fuck the drizzle. Sugar coating, probably.”

“Damn. I should’ve thought of that.” 

“Both are great,” Felipe says after scarfing down the empanada. “Excellent work, my friend. Are there…any more?” 

“I’ve been working on it all week, so I’ve got some failed attempts in the fridge. Staff has been picking at it slowly, but I can pull those out. I’ll throw it in the oven?” Simon points towards the kitchen.

“Just because you’re a Michelin star chef doesn’t mean you can’t use the microwave.” They laugh together, and Felipe looks at Simon’s hand resting on his. There’s a warmth that spreads to his chest. Is it the bits of whisky? The wine?

Simon walks away, and Felipe traces the rim of his glass before taking another generous gulp. The microwave beeps, and Simon comes back with a plate full of different variants. Presentation isn’t the best, but he was primarily going for proof of concepts rather than a full plating. The two friends pick at the plates, talking, laughing, enjoying the restaurant at its most peaceful state.

The two eat in silence, munching their empanadas and drinking spiced wine. Simon smiles, staring out the window. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

“At the expense of our love lives,” Felipe jokes.

“What? Is cooking not enough for you?” Simon grins. 

“It is, but it’d be nice to have someone to come home to after a long day. Sometimes, I wonder what the point of having a house my size is if I don’t have anyone to share it with. That early success money really got to my head.” Felipe laughs to himself. “It's funny. I always romanticized cooking for a partner every day. Not even the fancy stuff we make here… something more like a bocadillo.”

“Can't beat a good sandwich.” Simon crosses his arms and nods in agreement. He shoves Felipe's knee playfully. “Though with how you work, your partner would never see you. You rarely take a day off.”

“Heh, true.” Felipe raises his glass before downing the rest of his glass.

“You regret it? Going to culinary school and basically spending your life with me?” Simon asks with the slightest smile on his face.

Felipe looks into his friend’s eyes. “There are worse partners to have.”

“Life would’ve been so different if you never came with me. I think I would’ve lost heart, but having you by my side really pushed me to be the best chef I can be.”

“You would've been fine either way,” Felipe muses as he grabs the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen to wash them. Simon follows behind, and Felipe smiles to himself. “But I'm glad to be along does the ride.”

“What kind of dishes have you been working on while you’ve been out?” Simon asks curiously, leaning against the counter. He grabs the washed plates and forks, drying them thoroughly to prevent any water spots. 

“The same old,” Felipe says, a grimace finding his face.

“The truffle risotto, huh? Any progress on it?”

“I feel like it’s missing something. I’m so close! I can feel it.”

“Yeah, that’s how you get. You hyperfocus on something until it’s the only thing you can think of, but I think because of that, you forget to just have fun cooking. That's how we got here in the first place.”

“It feels like a waste to just…give up.”

“It’s not a waste or giving up,” Simon assures. He offers a smile. “Love you to pieces, Felipe, but you’ve gotta learn to stop chasing perfection. If you keep hyperfocusing on what’s missing, you’ll forget that you’ve got a pretty good dish as it is. I’m not just talking about cooking. In life, too.”

He puts his hand on Felipe’s shoulder and squeezes it. “A two-star life is more than what some can accomplish in 20 lifetimes, so I feel pretty content. You should too.”

“You’re right,” Felipe he agrees at last, fighting the tightening corners of his mouth. “I think I needed to hear that.”

“Wanna get out of here? I can take you home now.”

“Yeah.” Felipe smiles, drying his hands. “But let’s take the scenic route. A nice, long drive. Windows down. Like old times.”

“With today’s gas prices?”

“Is it not worth it?”

“For you, my friend, it’s always worth it,” Simon says with a smile, jingling his keys as the locks the restaurant back up, taking a moment to admire the sign. 

~

The summer evening is cool, and the wind breezing through Felipe's hair has a crisp air to it. He smiles, leaning an elbow out the window. He feels fingers rub along his sideburns.

“Your hair is starting to grey,” Simon mentions, glancing over.

“Yeah, I keep meaning to get it dyed, but you know… I've been so focused on cooking.” Felipe smiles. 

“Just leave it. It looks good on you. To live long enough to see your hair grey is a blessing on its own,” Simon says. 

“Your life must’ve been particularly fulfilling, then, old friend,” Felipe jokes, nudging Simon and pushing his arm lightly. 

“Without a doubt.” Simon nods confidently. “Living out my dreams with my best friend? What more could I ask for?”

“I hear that. The whisky you used for the empanadas? That was Crown Royal Apple, wasn't it?”

“Good catch.” Simon grins, chuckling to himself. 

“That was our first taste of alcohol. The summer before college? We raided my mom's liquor cabinet, and we both took a shot. I coughed up a storm afterwards, not expecting how harsh it was. It felt the way rubbing alcohol feels on a scrape after falling off your bike.”

“We got used to it eventually,” Simon reminisces. “Didn’t we end up doing, like, three shots each that night?”

“Yeah, and that’s when I learned you can’t handle your liquor, so I’m glad we only kept it to a glass of wine each tonight,” Felipe teases with a laugh. “Yeah, that night was something. I’ve never seen you quite like that. All mushy and cuddly and clingy.”

“I hardly remember,” Simon shoots back, lips pursed into a flat line. A nervous laugh follows. 

Felipe looks over, furrowing his brows. “Then, does that mean you don’t remember when you tried to kiss me?”

“I do, and I’m really sorry about that again. I don’t know what came over me.” Embarrassment fills Simon’s voice, and he grips the steering wheel tighter.

“You were slurring your speech. I just remember that loose grip on my shirt. You moved closer, telling me to  close my eyes and just pretend I’m Alessandra Ruiz—my crush that summer, remember?”

“God, don't remind me,” Simon begs, shaking his head, laughing. 

“I hadn’t really thought of that night in a while,” Felipe admits. “The taste of the empanadas brought it back, I guess?”

“It bothered you that much?” Simon asks with uncertainty in his voice.

“It’s not that it bothers me,” Felipe clarifies. “It made me wonder: what if we did kiss that night?”

Simon puts the car in park, and Felipe realizes that they’re already back at his home, sitting in his driveway. The silence is damning, and regret slowly eats at Felipe.

Felipe gulps. “I know how you say that I’m never content, and I’m sure that’s how it looks now, but it’s not like that this time. A friendship as long as ours?  It's not something to take lightly, and I don’t wanna ruin it or waste it just because I’m selfish.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you have the wine,” Simon jokes, eyes widening when he looks at Felipe's hand on top of his, resting on top of the shift knob.”

“This is a sober thought,” Felipe promises. “When I took my time off, the extra sleep and time to myself was great at first, but in time, it was lonely. Yeah, I missed the restaurant, but really what I missed was being able to see you every day.”

Felipe takes a breath, weaving his fingers through Simon's. “All of this, just to say that you mean a lot to me, and I’m glad I have you in my life.”

“There are worse partners to have, right?” Simon grins, turning his hand to hold Felipe’s. He meets his friend’s eyes. “If you miss me that much, I take it you're coming back to the restaurant soon?”

“Not yet. I need a little bit more time,” Felipe posits, looking over at Simon. “Did you maybe want to come inside?”

“For what? Coffee? You know I worked all night?” Simon leans closer, a smile finding his face.

“How about dessert?”

“We just had dessert back at the restaurant,” Simon says cheekily.

“I, um,” Felipe starts, laughing nervously. His hand moves up to the back of Simon’s neck, fingers finding the bottom of his hair. “If it’s not too late, are you still open to that kiss?”

“Are you gonna close your eyes and imagine I’m Alessandra Ruiz?”

“I want it to be you,” Felipe asserts, laughing, offering a shaky smile. “Do you want to or not?”

His breath hitches when Simon closes the distance, and their lips meet. He shudders when Simon pulls away, and his eyes flit open as he looks up at his friend.

“Verdict?” Simon mutters, eyes locked onto Felipe's lips. “Is it…everything you imagined?”

“No…not at all,” Felipe says.

Simon sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes and leaning closer still. Their noses touch, and the car is silent, save for whatever charged breaths they let out. “What’s it missing? Let me try again, then.”

“It’s not missing anything. It was perfect,” Felipe tells Simon, desperately leaning closer and stealing one more kiss. This one is deeper than the last; his lips part, and he pushes his tongue past Simon’s mouth before pulling away with quivering lips. “I didn’t think my heart would be racing this much.” 

There are no more words between them that could express what they feel. With a nod, Simon closes in again. They share kiss after kiss until Simon turns the car off and works on unbuckling their seatbelts. “You said I could come in?”

“Please,” Felipe whispers, practically jumping out of the car and racing for his front door. He hears eager footsteps behind him. For a brief moment, they're eighteen again in the summer before college, and they laugh together as smiles crinkle the corners of their eyes.

Felipe fumbles with his keys before Simon turns him around and presses him gently against the door. Another kiss has Felipe dropping his keys, and he pulls his fingers to thread through a full head of grey hair. Just as Simon said previously, it truly is a blessing to grow old enough for hair to gray. Felipe realizes now that it’s another blessing to fall in love with your best friend.

“I thought we were going inside,” Simon says with a smirk. “You seem distracted.”

“That’s your fault,” Felipe insists, picking up his keys and turning around to unlock the door. He doesn’t even bother with the lights; there’s no use lingering in the living room to beat around the bush. He takes Simon‘s hand and guides them through the dark hallway, lit only by what slivers of moonlight come in through the windows. 

Felipe pulls off his sweater and starts to unbutton his clothes, dropping them with every step, and can hear Simon’s clothes follow. 

Firm, well-weathered hands meet the front of his body as Simon grabs Felipe from behind. There’s a hardness he can feel through Simon’s pants, and Felipe grinds back, breath hitching when he feels Simon’s lips against his neck. Turning his head, he takes Simon’s lips again, and they share a flurry of kisses until they deepen again, inevitably. They smile together, lips pressing into the other, finding a steady rhythm.

Gentle hands push Felipe onto the edge of his bed, and he looks up at Simon. Felipe’s hands move up to Simon’s belt and pants, and just as he finally undoes the belt buckle, Simon shakes his head, kneeling to the ground and doing the same for Felipe.

“Get these off,” Simon says, voice low. 

“After all that trouble of convincing me to put them on? Ironic, don’t you think?” Felipe jokes, shaking his head, looking down at Simon’s eager hands with a blush.

Simon pulls Felipe’s pants down when he lifts his hips, and he wiggles them off his ankles. His hands rest on the top of Felipe’s thighs, and he leans down to kiss the tip of Felipe’s dick, letting his lips linger on the pulsing head, focusing on the ridges. Simon rolls his eyes. “Do you want me to suck it or not?”

“I would love that,” Felipe says, face flushed, squirming, dick twitching as he feels Simon’s breath along his length. He shudders when he feels lips consume his hardness, inching down his shaft, taking more and more with every second that Simon’s sweet warmth stays. He learned very quickly that Simon is a good kisser, but is delighted to know he’s even better at this.

Simon bobs his head, squeezing Felipe’s thighs, sucking and slurping, moaning with his mouth full. When he pops up for a breath, he bites his lip, looking at Felipe. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

He swallows Felipe back up, sucking more fervently than before. A hand moves down to cup Felipe’s sack, kneading gently, and Felipe inadvertently bucks his hips to push his dick deeper.

Felipe groans, grabbing the sheets, his grip tightening the harder Simon sucks. He feels his breaths pick up, and every exhale is labored, shallow, and desperate. Thinking straight isn’t possible, and a growing heat at the base of his dick builds until he’s ready to boil over. “Simon, w-wait—”

Simon pulls away, and his lips purse. His eyes don’t dare meet Felipe’s as he forces a smile. “Second thoughts?”

Felipe shakes his head resolutely, pulling Simon up until their lips meet again, and he reaches for his friend’s crotch, rubbing it, enjoying the hardness pressing against his palm. “Do you…are you…open to having sex?”

“Unbelievable,” Simon teases, already working the rest of his clothes off. “You really are never happy with what you’ve got. You always need more.”

Felipe looks down shamefully, gasping when he’s pulled in for a deep, needy kiss. Despite his teasing, Simon wants it too. 

Simon smiles to himself, easing Felipe down to his back and finding the space between his legs. They grind against each other, hardness throbbing against the other, and kisses follow. Too many to count. He pulls away, grinning, shaking his head. “You’ve been thinking about that almost-kiss for this long?”

“Is that sad?” Felipe asks with a crooked smile. He leans up to kiss Simon’s jawline. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Simon answers, licking his lips, holding Felipe by his hair to bring his lips to Felipe’s neck. “I think about it too, sometimes, except I keep thinking that I nearly ruined our friendship. I felt so guilty about it. I never really properly apologized for it; you just chalked it off as me being drunk.” 

Felipe holds Simon‘s head gently, looking into his eyes. He shakes his head before bringing Simon down for a sweet kiss. “You don’t have anything to apologize for…except for not being inside me right now.”

“You’re so eager,” Simon smirks. “You know better than everyone that you can’t rush perfection.”

“I don’t need perfection. I need your cock,” Felipe mumbles, reaching over for a bottle of lube. His mind melts when Simon takes his lips, and he does his best to spread a generous amount of lube onto Simon’s dick, stroking it generously.

“Fuck, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

Felipe holds one of his knees back while his other hand guides Simon to his tight hole. Just grinding against the tip spurs a smile-ridden moan. He grips the tight muscles on Simon’s back as he feels the dick inching deeper into him. “Holy shit….”

“Too much? Or too fast?”

Felipe answers silently, shaking his head, instead moving his hips to take more of Simon. “Too slow.”

Simon’s hands work their way underneath Felipe’s back, pulling up towards him until their lips meet over and over. There’s barely a sound in the room except for their breathing, and the thunderous claps of bodies clashing as Simon speeds up.

“Much better,” Felipe says, smiling. It's been a while since Felipe had sex, but it feels fresh. New. It’s something to savor, and he feels young again, a new sense of invigoration coursing through him.

Simon’s eyes are all over Felipe, taking in the sight of his body, and his hand moves up to caress his hair. He leans in to kiss the gray patches on Felipe's sideburns. “Your body is just as nice as I remember.”

“I put on some weight. Comes with the profession. Lots of eating,” Felipe says, giving a playful tap to his stomach.

“Some of it’s muscle too.” Simon’s lips find Felipe’s shoulders, and it takes all of his willpower to resist biting down, but a hand on the back of his head and a grin give him the go-ahead. He sinks his teeth into Felipe, and his lover winces, gripping against his back.

“I’ve always wondered if it was too late for this to happen. We're past our prime. We're not young anymore.”

“You think our first Michelin star came easily? We were 38, but we just kept trying. That was what worked for us, right? It’s never too late.” Simon grins, but the smile fades as he looks away, breathing hard, his hips not letting up. “Is this just a taste test? Or is this something we could add to the menu? A regular item?”

“I was thinking this could be a permanent addition,” Felipe says sheepily. “Provided I pass review.”

“I’m already obsessed.” Simon presses his lips against Felipe, fucking deeper, putting more power behind each thrust. “I could have this every day and not get tired of it.”

“Me too,” Felipe says with a sweet smile. He grabs Simon’s cheeks, holding their faces together, taking what sweet kisses he can before it inevitably deepens. His breath hitches when he takes Simon’s tongue. “Fuck, keep going. That feels really good.”

His fingers thread through grey hairs again, tugging tighter the better he feels. “Shit, you’re gonna make me come…”

“Good,” Simon says, licking his lips, sitting up for more leverage as his hips scoot back and forth, plunging deep, hitting against Felipe’s spot with every stroke. He puts a hand around his lover’s dick. “I was just thinking that that body of yours is perfect, but it needs something.”

“What’s that?” Felipe asks, face twisting, arching his back off the bed as his heels dig into the mattress.

“A good glaze,” Simon clarifies, grinning, stroking faster to meet the speed of his hips. The look on Felipe’s face is to die for. Just as a chef’s greatest compliment is seeing a smile on a patron’s face, that look of ecstasy scattered all over Felipe’s face is a sign of how good he feels. Their bodies meet with a loud clap every time his hips crash against Felipe‘s ass.

A cry escapes, followed by a moan for each stroke of his dick. A shaky, elongated moan punctuates every thick white spurt as Felipe sprays across his chest and stomach. The corners of his lips tighten into a wide grin as he curses loudly, “Fuck—fuck!”

Simon's smirk is wiped away once Felipe pulls him down for an eager kiss; they melt into it. Felipe takes a soft nibble before pulling away to season Simon’s neck with pecks and smooches. Through a shutter, he says, “We’re not done yet.”

Simon puts his hands on Felipe’s ass to unsheathe himself, but ankles crossing behind his hips tell Simon what Felipe wants. He twitches inside of Felipe’s eager hole, and he feels the clench of his walls around his dick. His thrusts speed up. “A dessert as sweeet as you needs a proper filling, too.”

“Exactly,” Felipe says, bringing his Felipe down until their chests grind with every thrust. “So you better not stop until you fill me up…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Simon forces out through grunts. He slows down in an attempt to milk out as much as he can, but his hips continue to drive deep, and Felipe’s ring tightens around him. “Oh shit.”

Felipe’s arms encircle him, and their lips join in a sweet but desperate kiss. Their air is shared, lungs an extension of the other, and Simon’s lips quiver as the last few pumps unload furiously into Felipe‘s ass. 

“Shit, that’s a lot,” Felipe says, moving his hips to Simon’s rhythm until they both slow to a stop, panting, enjoying each other’s embrace. He looks up with a smile and cranes his head up to kiss Simon’s lips. “I…love you. I’m sorry that it took forever for me to admit that.”

“There’s always been love between us,” Simon assures. “We were just content with being platonic all this time.”

“It’s okay that it’s more than that, right?” Felipe asks, gasping when Simon pulls out and he feels cum leak from his puckering hole.

“I would hope so. You mentioned wanting this to be a permanent menu item,” Simon smirks, taking his place next to Felipe on the bed. 

“I meant it,” Felipe mumbles, puckering his lips until Simon moves in to kiss him. 

“Speaking of menu items, what are the chances you want to whip me up something to eat? It was busy tonight, and I didn’t get my lunch break.”

“You’re gonna ask me that right after you fucked me like that? How am I supposed to move?” Felipe jokes 

“What?” Simon asks without shame. “I’m hungry!”

“That’s your fault for only taking me all the way to the restaurant only to make desserts.”

“Were they or were they not awesome?“

“They were incredible, yes. We established that.”

“And didn’t I do pretty well just now?”

Felipe sighs, shaking his head, fighting a smile that forms. “What do you want? Wanna try the truffle risotto I’ve been working on?”

“How about a bocadillo?” Simon suggests with a warm smile. “If you have bread, that is.”

Felipe smiles back. “Sounds excellent. Meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. No pants required, because I’m not a monster.” 

“We can’t eat here?” 

“We’re not eating bocadillos in our bed,” Felipe says sternly.

“Our bed? Aren’t you being presumptuous?”

"You know what I meant!” Felipe blushes, clenching his fist, and scurries away to cook. 

Synopsis: After the formalities are over, newlywed couple Taylor and Braden end the night with each other. A love this deep is a gift on its own, but Taylor has a few more things up her sleeve; she's determined to make their first night as husband and wife a night to remember.

Written for image 07 for the August contest!

~

Taylor spins her wedding band around her finger, glancing over as the last guest leaves the ballroom. The sliver of light through the door disappears, leaving them illuminated only by the ambient twinkle lights.

With everyone gone, the DJ plays the newlyweds’ song of choice. Taylor and Braden fall into step, dancing slowly, all smiles. While a couple’s first dance as a married couple is one of the key events of a wedding reception, Taylor and Braden were most excited for a last dance of the night: a private moment between the two. It’s something just for them.

They took weeks’ worth of dance lessons for the first dance, but this one is completely improvised, and that was by design. Every mistake and every stumble is part of the act. Just like sex, dancing is never perfect one-hundred percent of the time, but having a good partner you can navigate hardships with? That’s the real prize.

Taylor stares into Braden’s eyes, and there’s so much warmth behind them as they catch the twinkling lights above them. Her attention flits to his mouth moving, and she can’t quite make out what he’s saying. She leans in closer. “What’s that?”

“I said that I love you,” Braden says, whispering into her ear, holding her head to rest against his chest. He kisses the top of her head. “You have no idea how happy I am.”

“I love you too, Braden,” Taylor answers, wrapping her arms around him. As the bridge of the song plays, signifying the end of their sweet moment coming to an end soon, they sway in place, stopping finally when they lock eyes, and their lips meet. They hold each other tightly, and their surroundings fade until they only see each other. 

The music stops, and the couple makes their way towards the exit, greeted by cheers coming from a crowd filled with friends and family. Laughter, happy clapping, and tears are all around, erupting into a collective wooo when Taylor and Braden’s joined hands shoot into the air and the couple shares a kiss. They make their way to the elevator and give their guests one last goodbye for the night.

Last night, sleeping without Braden was tough on Taylor, but now she has him all to herself. The elevator door finally closes, and she grins, jumping into his arms. He supports her under her butt, bunching her wedding dress up, taking care not to drop her. Taylor presses the tip of her nose against his, nuzzling it, and her cheeks flush pink as she moves in for a deep kiss. “You’re in trouble tonight, Mr. Turner.”

“Why’s that, Mrs. Turner?”

“Because I’m not letting you get a wink of sleep tonight.”

“Are we finally gonna marathon the Lord of the Rings trilogy?” he jokes, smirking, but another kiss steals the breath from his lungs. 

“You wish,” Taylor says, flashing a smile. She taps his shoulder, asking to be put down, and pulls him down by the tie until their lips crash again. “You can put it on in the background, but your eyes better be on me.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Braden assures her, gulping as her hold on his tie doesn’t let up. 

The elevator door opens, and Taylor kicks off her heels and dashes for their suite at the end of the hallway. “Race you!”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Braden says, laughing, scrambling to catch up. His dress shoes have no grip to speak of.

Taylor holds an L to her forehead, taunting her now-husband. She unlocks the door when she gets there first, letting it slam behind her. She hasn’t run track in years, but she’s still got it. The runner’s high she feels now is surpassed only by two things: the day Braden proposed and their first kiss as husband and wife.

With the lead she secured, Taylor climbs onto the bed, hiding a surprise for Braden behind her back. She fluffs her dress and preens her hair. She waits for the sound of the door opening, followed by Braden panting. 

“When did you have time to put out the trail of rose petals?” he asks amusedly.

“I had the girls do it while we were tearing it up on the dance floor.”

“Can you blame me? They played my song.”

“You literally picked half of the playlist.”

“I’ve got good taste,” he says with a grin. When he walks to the doorway, he looks at Taylor, up and down, smiling to himself. “Yeah, I’ve definitely got good taste. I’m surprised you’re still wearing your dress.” 

“You know better than anyone that as soon as I get home, I want to strip my clothes off, especially when it’s just us, but today’s a special occasion, and I want my husband to do honors for me,” Taylor proposes, and Braden’s blush at his new title is adorable. She beckons him closer with a curling finger. 

“I like the sound of that.” Braden takes Taylor’s hands and helps her to the edge of the bed, where she hops off. He turns her in place, holding her waist, and kisses up her spine as he slowly undoes the corset top of her dress.

Taylor lets out a deep breath, not just because it’s easier now, but because his lips always leave a sweltering heat to pass through her. His hands guide her dress down, and she steps out of it. Braden steps away to grab a black tanktop—one of Taylor’s preferred sleep shirts—and slips it over her head. Moving his hands up to cradle the back of her head, Braden pulls her towards him, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“You looked gorgeous today,” he says softly.

“Because of the dress?” Taylor asks, pointing to the pendant dangling from her neck. “Or because of the necklace you got me? You’re always spoiling me.”

“You said you wanted it, so I figured it’d make a good wedding gift.”

“It is pretty.” Taylor nods, looking down to admire the gemstone, “but I got something that’s a bit more my speed.”

She pulls out a box from behind her back and hands it to Braden.

He smiles, looking at the box, poking at an open flap. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted it? I could’ve gotten it for you.”

“I thought I’d make for a fun surprise,” Taylor says, blushing, patiently waiting for Braden’s reaction when he pulls out a leash.

“This is for me?” Braden laughs. “Seems a bit much. You already know I’m yours. I’m too loyal to stray, and you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. Always have been, even since day one.”

“It’s for me, actually,” Taylor clarifies cryptically, nudging towards the box and crinkling the tissue paper. “Keep going! There’s more!” 

Braden pulls out a collar and a small padlock. His thumb passes over the metal buckles, the thick, sturdy leather, and the various rivets.

“Do you think it’ll look good on me?” Taylor asks, gulping hard, motioning to her neck. She can’t read his expression too well. It’s not shock, but she can tell he didn’t expect this.

“Definitely,” Braden says, awe filling his expression as he looks up at Taylor. “I didn’t think you were into this.”

“It’s just a way to show that I’m yours.”

Braden takes her left hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses her rings: a modest rock and a wedding band to match his. With a smirk, he looks up at her. “These aren’t enough of a symbol?”

“Everyone knows how devoted you are to me. You pamper me in a way I’ve just never had before. You’re patient. And kind,” Taylor starts, finger tracing his tie before tugging it to pull him in for a kiss. “But you’re rough when I need you to be, which I can’t get enough of.”

Braden smirks, dropping his new gift and bringing his hands up to rest on Taylor’s neck. She puts her hand on top of his, quietly beckoning him to squeeze, and when her breath hitches, she can’t help but grin.

“Harder,” she whispers, and Braden obliges, biting his lip, carefully adding more pressure. When he loosens his grip, Taylor exhales. The breath is sharp and sultry, and her needy lips press against Braden's. Her hands travel to his shoulders, and she slides his blazer off his shoulders before hastily untying his necktie. “You’re wearing too much.”

The blazer falls to the ground, and Braden removes his cufflinks to roll his sleeves up.

Fuck. Taylor loves when he rolls up his sleeves. Those veiny, strong arms are such a treat to look at, and the hands connected to them are her favorite. They can be on her. In her. Anywhere he wants to put them. He’s gentle with her, always, until she needs something harder than gentle (and tonight is one of those nights). Taylor guides his hands back up to her neck, and he nods, understanding her silent plea, squeezing it harder than before.

A moan slips out, and they’ve been together long enough for her not to be embarrassed. She bites her lip, telling him, “While I do love your hands around my neck, let’s see how the collar fits.”

Taylor turns around and brushes her hair out of the way, baring her neck for Braden. She shudders when his lips graze her skin, but she hears the sounds of buckles, straps, and snaps. Her breath escapes sharply through her nostrils when leather presses against her skin, slowly encircling her neck.

“Is that good?” he asks.

“Y-yes, she stammers, excitement getting the best of her. The heat in her core is far more than a simmer. She’s nearly at a rolling boil, and her wetness has her squeezing her thighs together. Taylor waits patiently as Braden tucks in the strap and secures the buckle. He puts on the padlock to lock the strap in place, and when it clicks closed, Taylor bites her bottom lip with an eager grin, watching as Braden stares at the engraving on the tiny lock:

To Have 
and 
To Hold
8.6.26

“Cute,” he says.

Taylor grins. “Are you talking about the lock or me?”

“Both, if that’s allowed,” he answers, kissing her forehead. “I have the cutest wife in the world.”

Taylor grabs the leash and clicks it onto the D-ring of her collar. She places the slack in Braden’s hand, and her eyes stare at the way his veins pop when he grips it tighter. The look he gives her is that same confident one he flashes when he’s ready to take charge, solidified by the firm grip on her shoulder. 

“I, uh,” he starts nervously, flashing a smile. “...I don’t know what I should do with this.” 

“Honestly, I’m so excited I can’t even think straight,” Taylor admits through a wobbly grin. “Pull it. Hard if you want to. You don’t even have to be gentle. ” 

She closes her hands around his—specifically the one holding the leash—looking up at him. With a smile, Taylor hugs him, nuzzling into his exposed collarbone. “I trust you.  And I love you. Do what feels right, and I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

“This is a sign of our bond and love,” Taylor continues, motioning to her wedding ring. She grabs one of his hands, placing it over her collar. “And this is a sign that I am just for you. Only you.” 

“I love you,” Braden says sweetly with half-lidded eyes. “I need your lips. Please, kiss me.”

Taylor nods, leaning up to close the distance between their lips, but the leash goes taut, and her lips stop just millimeters short of contact. Her brows furrow, and she looks down at the leash before grinning. As usual, Braden learns fast. Truly, he spoils her, giving her whatever she wants.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, unable to hide the smugness in his smirk. “I said I wanted a kiss.”

When Taylor tries again, Braden’s grip is tighter on the leash, and he pulls her down further, growing the distance between their mouths. Braden pouts and sighs dramatically. “You must really not want it as badly as I do.”

“I doooo,” she whines, frowning, pushing out her bottom lip. Taylor’s no stranger to being teased, but the extra physical aspect of the leash and collar has her more wet than usual. It’s exciting: a new thrill that they can explore together. She shudders, feeling leather graze her neck as the collar rotates, so that the point of connection sits behind her nape.

His hand pins the slack against the mattress, and it pulls Taylor back, moving to straddle her legs. Braden towers over her, putting his head above her. “Go ahead. Kiss me.”

Strain finds her voice, slipping out in a whimper when the leash pulls taut again. Taylor can’t fight the growing grin. “I’m trying.”

“You want it, don’t you?” Braden asks, and Taylor responds quickly with a nod. “Then beg for it.”

“Please, my love,” she answers promptly. “I need your lips on me.”

A moan slips out when his mouth crashes against hers. Taylor’s lips part desperately, wanting his tongue, and her eyes roll back when he presses his against hers. It’s a sloppy, needy kiss. She can’t tell who wanted it more, but she’s in heaven, right where she wants to be.

There’s a tug on her neck, and before she realizes it, Taylor’s head is down on the mattress. She stares as Braden moves to kneel by her head. There’s a bulge with her name on it, and she reaches out with parted lips only to be pulled back to the bed.

“Not until I say so,” he says sternly.”

Yes, sir. Braden puts so much care into scenes and heavier playtime. His fingers clump the bottom of her shirt, and he pulls it up, slowly dragging his knuckles along her abdomen. Her core spasms at his touch, and she raises her arms as he removes her tanktop. Braden’s eyes veer towards Taylor’s panties, and there’s the slightest smirk.

His fingers graze the inside of her thighs before passing over her panties, finding the dampness between her lower lips. Slow rubs along the entire length of her slit drive Taylor crazy, and she humps against his hands. Desperation brings her hands over his, and he shakes his head, shooting her a look, lightly swatting them away.

“No. Don’t touch,” he says.

“Sorry, sorry…” Taylor says, voice filled with shame, but her shoulders lighten when Braden offers a warm smile. He loosens his grip on the leash, stroking Taylor’s face, and leans in for a sweet kiss.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, eyes glimmering with the familiar warmth she fell in love with. He leans closer. “How am I doing so far?”

Taylor gushes, grinning wide. “You’re a natural. So you know how you told me not to touch, just now?”

“Yeah.”

“How would you feel if…had a way to keep my hands bound?”

Braden pauses, thinking to himself. “I’m…not all that good at knots. Don’t tell me you have rope.”

“I don’t have rope, no,” Taylor says, then she goes quiet. “There…should be some cuffs hanging on the side of the mattress…for my ankles and wrists.”

“You’re joking.” Braden smiles in disbelief.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice it!”

“I was too busy looking at you,” Braden says with a grin.

“I take it it’s a ‘no,’ then?” Taylor says. 

“Now, I never said all that.” Braden leans down for another kiss. “Do you want to use them?”

“Can we?”

“Our wedding night is a once-in-a-lifetime occasion,” Braden says before raising an eyebrow. “Right?”

“Obviously,” Taylor mutters. “You’re the only one for me.”

Braden goes to one side of the bed, kneeling down to locate the cuffs. He tugs on her leg, harder than he usually would, but it’s part of the experience. He knows Taylor gets an extra thrill from it. After her ankle is secured in place and the straps are tightened appropriately, her wrist follows.

“How’s that?” he asks, glancing towards Taylor. 

Taylor grunts, trying to bring her hands to her face. There’s some slack on the cuffs and straps, but not enough to reach. 

“Perfect,” he says to himself. Braden walks to the other side of the bed and repeats the process. He shoots Taylor a look to test out the strength of the straps and cuffs. There’s enough to move and squirm, but not enough for her to get out.

Just how Taylor wants it.

Braden returns to his spot, kneeling next to Taylor, and his expression shifts again, flashing a grin. “Are you ready?”

Taylor’s breath catches in her throat, and she shakily smiles back, cheeks tightening from the grin that stretches across her face. “What did you want to do to me?”

He reaches a hand out towards her, resting fingertips on your skin. He sneers and tells Taylor, “Now that you can’t accidentally kick or swat at me, this is the perfect time to tickle you.”

Taylor’s nostrils flare and her eyebrows furrow. “No, no, no. NO. Fuck you. You better not—”

She flinches away from his hands, wiggling in place, and erupts into laughter even after Braden throws his open palms into the air. It’s cute to see her like this, and her core tenses. Even when his hands rest on her waist; even the light touches spur more light laughter.

“I won’t. I promise,” he says. Braden grabs the leash and pulls it up towards him, lifting her up as far off the bed as she can go. 

Taylor’s eyes linger on her husband's lips. She doesn’t even realize how hard she’s breathing. Her mouth moves, but nothing comprehensible comes out. They only calm when Braden finally kisses her. She melts into it, smiling sweetly against him, and the kiss deepens when Braden tugs on the collar, pulling her into him. His free hand moves to her chin, guiding it down to part her lips, and she takes his tongue eagerly.

Any other day, she would wrap her limbs around him, but when she tries, the restraints stop her. Taylor writhes in place, trying to work past the heat in her core that needs to be addressed. Breaking the kiss, her hips are inconsolable, bucking off the bed into nothing. She stares into his eyes. “Touch me.”

Braden looks at her blankly, pinning her down by the slack on her leash. She goes against the extra pressure on her neck from the leather. A whimper muffles into pursed lips, and her eyes beg. “Please, baby.”

He moves a hand to her knee, tracing a finger on her kneecap. Taylor’s breath hitches  in response, and her eyes follow his fingertips working up the inside of her thigh. Braden licks his lips and nods. “Here you go.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Taylor says, eyes sliding away, unable to watch how wild, eager hips twitch as they try to maneuver and grind against his hands. She pouts when he pulls his hand away, playfully waving his fingers at her.

“I need your fingers—” Her words are cut off when the leash lifts her off the bed. The corners of her lips meet the webbing of his two fingers, and she locks her lips around them, sucking the digits, massaging them with her tongue, moaning when he rubs slowly along the top of her taste buds.

She gasps when he removes his hands and shudders as he presses his fingers over her panties, using the same long, teasing strokes over the soaked fabric as before. It’s torture, and Taylor can’t get enough. “Please. I need them inside me…fucking finger me already.”

Braden drops the leash and falls to the bed with a jingle. He pulls the gusset of her panties aside and gives her the two fingers she begged for. She’s so tight around him, and she’s pulsing already, but by the time he presses against her sweet spot, she breathes harder. With a smug grin, he asks, “Oh, you’re gonna come for me already?”

“N-no,” she lies, and when he speeds his fingers up with that small grin of his, her lips quiver as moans slip past her lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing. All that teasing is paying off, and she’s wrapped around his finger in less than thirty seconds of finally feeling him. “Fuuuck—”

Taylor breathes deeply, resisting release, until it spills out of her. Her eyes slam shut, and she grits her teeth. Words barely slip out through hoarse whimpers, “You're gonna make me—”

Her eyes glaze over when the tension on her leash tightens, and she’s pulled against Braden's lips. She presses her tongue into his mouth until it meets his, flicking at it. Moans muffle into his mouth, and she pulls her limbs in until her restraints are taut.

Taylor falls slack. She should be spent, but the fire still burns in her eyes as she looks up at Braden. “Give me that dick. I need it. Come on, baby. Fuck your wife.”

Braden moves to kneel beside her head, and the bulge in his dress pants is begging to be released. He grins watching Taylor curl up towards him, lips just short of contact. He'll let her get close, but the leash keeps her off of him. There’s frustration in her flustered breaths, but even better, Braden can hear her desperation in her needy whines.

His heart races when he feels the heat of her mouth through layers of fabric. Husky heaves and her hot breath find his tip, accompanied by her lips. Her eyes flit up towards him, pleading for more.

“Take it out…take it out,” Taylor repeats like a chant or prayer through quivering lips. She breathes heavier. “Even if you don't want fuck me yet…I need to suck it. Please.”

Braden drops the leash to undo his pants, and he pushes them down with his boxers. Grabbing the leash again, he coils the slack around his wrist until his thumb can graze over the cold, metal latch.

Taylor’s mouth waters. She leans closer, parting her lips, sticking out her tongue. To need him this badly while being denied physically stirs something inside her. She fights harder against her leash’s resistance. Braden is strong, but her resolve is stronger.

He curses to himself when her lips make contact at last, and he doesn’t realize just how much his grip loosens on the leather when Taylor lets her lips slide down his shaft to bob her head, making the most of this temporary freedom, sloppily sucking him while she can. Her tongue massages along his shaft, and she moans when he leaks onto her tongue.

“Thank you,” she says while popping up for a break. Her lips curl up, and there’s a warmth across your face, surpassed only by the insatiable heat inside her.

“You’re doing okay?” Braden checks in.

“Absolutely,” Taylor says, grinning when Braden wipes the drool from her mouth with his thumb.

“Do you need me to be rougher?” Braden asks, scratching the back of his head. “I…had an idea.”

“Show me, then.” Excitement builds inside Taylor, and her eyes are fixated on his dick as he moves closer to her. He holds his base, aiming for her mouth, grazing the tip along her lips. She sticks out her tongue, flicking at the ridges, hoping to get another taste of this pre-cum.

One of his hands rests on the back of her head, and after a deep breath, he shoves himself into her mouth until his base meets her plump lips. Slow strokes tease Taylor, letting her ease into it. Her lips quiver around him when he balls her dark hair into his fist and thrusts deeper. Through a grunt, he asks, “This okay?”

Taylor flashes a thumbs-up, and her eyes glimmer.

Braden breathes sharply through his nostrils with every slow stroke. He’ll tease her lips with his head and push all the way until he reaches the back of her throat. When she nods, he speeds up, tightening the grip on her hair and working up the pace to fuck her face properly. “God, that mouth feels so fucking good.”

Taylor concentrates on breathing through her nose while Braden claims her mouth. She locks around him, slurping and slobbering, feeling spit dribble down her chin. A gasp muffles around him when he uses the leash to hold her against his base. Her eyes widen, and what she thinks will be a quick hold lingers longer until he finally loosens his grip and lets her back off.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Got ahead of myself. How was that?”

“Oh, that was awesome. More of that, please,” Taylor exclaims, wiggling her toes, smile stretching wide.

“If you need to breathe, just tap the sheets,” Braden says, motioning towards her hands. “Not really a way to use the safe word when your mouth is full.”

Braden thrusts again, filling Taylor’s mouth, and she loves every groan that escapes when he bottoms out into her. He pulls on the leash, holding her against him, and she massages him with her tongue, staring up at his toned body. She watches as his free hand finds its place between her legs again. God, he’s really spoiling her tonight.

Taylor’s deep groan is barely audible when her mouth is filled with Braden’s hardness. His girth stretches her lips wide. As he slips his two fingers in, her eye twitches when she feels a third digit tease along her entrance.

He pauses, staring down at her for permission, and she nods, exhaling sharply through her nose when the third finger prods in, joining the other two. Taylor’s legs twitch around him, squeezing his hand.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises Taylor, hips rolling to fuck her face. “You’re taking three fingers, and your mouth feels incredible.” 

Leather digs into the front of Taylor’s throat as she’s tugged away from his dick, and her chest heaves as she gasps for air. She squirms, knees getting as close to each other as she can, and her ankles come to a harsh stop when she reaches the end of the restraint. Starstruck eyes stare up at Braden, head dizzied with pleasure. “Am I a good wife?”

“The best,” Braden says, gripping his dick and tapping it against her offered tongue. His fingers flick inside her, hammering against her sweet spot, and she feels her walls tighten around him again.

Braden shoves his dick into Taylor’s mouth and takes hold of the leash again. He’s going harder—faster, too—and he keeps poking against the back of her throat. He hides his concern behind a stern voice as he notices he’s giving her fewer windows to breathe. “You can still take it, right?”

Taylor holds out two thumbs even if her hands shake from the tremors passing through her. The vulgar glucks of his tip breaching into her throat turn the corners of her lips up. She smiles wider as he pounds into her face. 

It takes all of her concentration to remember to breathe, and she relaxes her jaw, letting Braden use her mouth as he needs to. She loves her husband, and to see him like this is always a treat. 

When his fingers speed up, it’s over for Taylor. She whimpers around him, bobbing her head, swallowing him as deep as she can handle. The heat builds inside her like a pressure cooker ready to blow. She wants to pull her hands to cover her face and hide that shameless smile, or just squeeze her legs together to ride out the pleasure, but the tension on the straps on her limb matches the tightness in her core.

“Fuck, fuck. You feel so good. I wanna come down your throat.” The desperation in this voice is what sends her overboard, and cries are muffled around him as her hips buck violently into his hands. Her eyes roll back, and her jaw nearly locks as she holds her mouth open for him.

She twitches and spasms, clenching her fist, curling her toes, and her legs shake until her whole body feels like jelly. Taylor hurriedly taps her palm against the bed, and it bounces off the mattress.

Braden withdraws immediately, and his hands quickly go up to cradle her face, thumbs rubbing her running mascara off her cheeks. “Hey hey, are you okay? Too much?”

Taylor shakes her head, looking away shyly to hide her stupid grin. “Holy shit, Braden.”

“I promise you I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Braden says, relief washing over him. “Want me to take your restraints off?”

When she nods, Braden unbuckles all of the latches, and Taylor sighs, rubbing the cuffs on her wrists. They’re a good match for her collar. These are definitely going to be fun additions to their toy collection.

“Do you need anything?” Braden asks. “A nap? Some water?”

Taylor pounces on her husband, knocking him onto his back, and her eyes are like those of a huntress. “I need my husband’s dick.”

He’s frozen in place with the biggest grin on his face, and Taylor offers a few generous strokes, twisting her wrist as she plants her feet on either side of his hips. She drops herself down onto him, sliding so easily, thanks to the spectacular job Braden's been doing.

She rests her hands on Braden’s chest. Her fingers curl more with every bounce. Taylor paws against his skin, breath getting more difficult the longer she rides.

“Fuck, I feel you throbbing, already,” Taylor says through a groan.

“Yeah, but let’s see who comes first,” Braden challenges, pulling Taylor down by her leash until their lips meet. Neither of them wants sweet or tender. They want the other badly. A hasty, desperate kiss deepens, and while Taylor’s head struggles to focus on keeping a steady pace, she feels Braden's arms wrapped around her as he thrust up into her, slamming into her sweet spot.

“I was supposed to do the work,” Taylor says, short of breath, offering a shaky smile. It disappears when she feels his hardness grinding against her clit with every stroke. “Fuck, Braden.”

“Are you spent? Or do you got one more for me?”

She didn’t last very long on top of him. Her legs are still shaking from her last climax. “I’m trying my best.”

“You don’t have to do much, babe. Let me spoil you. Let me make you come. I know you can do it.” He praises her sweetly, peppering kisses on her neck. When she tries to turn her head to take his lips again, the leash pulls her away, and she yelps, grinning. “I love my wife’s pussy.”

“Are you sure this is the only one you need for the rest of your life?”

“Without a doubt,” he answers, not skipping a beat. “This dick is just for you. No one else gets it.”

“I’m the only one who gets to be filled by you?”

Braden nods, fucking her faster, and Taylor completely unravels over him, crying out into his shoulder.

“Give it to me,” Taylor begs through a whimper. “Fill your wife up.”

He grits his teeth and holds her close, slowing down, pushing as deep as he can. Taylor gasps when she feels how hard he throbs, expelling every drop of cum into her. She uses what energy she has left to lift up and slam down onto his dick, milking him until there’s nothing left.

They bodies slow to a stop, and Braden tightens his arms around Taylor, rolling the two of them onto their side. They stare at each other, grinning, catching their breath.

“So?” Taylor asks, “What’s the verdict?”

“Excellent wedding gift. Ten out of ten. Would recommend,” Braden says, breathing sharply, collapsing onto his back. “I do have one concern.”

“And that is?”

“How do we adapt these straps to our bed at the house?” he asks. “We need to do that as soon as possible.”

“It’s universal. It all goes under the mattress,” Taylor explains. “I did my research.”

“Yeah? Who did you learn that from??

“My husband,” Taylor says, nuzzling her nose into his.

“He sounds particular,” Braden says, working the cuffs off of Taylor’s ankles and wrists. He unlatches the leash from her new collar and leaves them in a neat pile on the corner of the bed.

“He is!” Taylor giggles. “But I’m stuck with him.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Braden jokes with a smirk.

“Don’t be.” Taylor traces her nails against Braden’s scalp and pulls him down for a sweet kiss. Through a smile, she tells him, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Synopsis: There’s apparently a spell for everything, and Nava uses a new one to help her with chores. But can the same spell be used to address her dry spell?

Written for image 19 for the August contest!

~

Nava walks into the apartment, sighing to herself as she looks at the mess. Clothes everywhere in small piles, the countertop cluttered, and the sink absolutely filled with old dishes. It’s just Nava and her roommate living here—and neither of them is hardly home—so it’s a wonder that this much mess can accumulate.

Perks of it being their final year at the University of Sorcery, Nava imagines. Her roommate is always at the University’s lab working on her thesis for her potions concentration. It’s something outlandish, like creating an elixir to increase ejaculation volume. Nava shudders at the thought; she doesn’t want to imagine what kind of fluids her roommate has to clean when she’s conducting her trials.

Looking at the apartment again, Nava imagines this pales in comparison, but it’s still overwhelming. She frowns and flops down on the couch, wishing she didn’t have to put in so many hours at her apprenticeship at the Grand Library. It’s convenient that the library isn’t too far from campus, but the hours are long: a ten-hour day with a small team? It’s a great way to get her steps in, at least. 

Nava would think they needed more help than just her, but with the foundation strapped for cash, she was lucky she gets any sort of stipend. When she spends all of her time in lecture, studying, and at her apprenticeship, there’s never any time to clean. There’s barely enough time to eat.

Her mana is low from overexertion today, but the perk of having a roommate in potion studies is that she always keeps spare elixirs available. Nava looks through the stash, grinning to herself when she finds one labeled ‘Mana’. After giving the vial a swirl, she downs it in one go, and she feels instantly revitalized. She waves her hand towards some clothes—one of her shirts. It floats, following the movement of her hand, and with a flick of her wrist she sends it into the hamper.

With flashy theatrics, Nava speeds up the process, incorporating her second hand. Every article she spots gets tossed into the hamper, and she rests her hands on her waist, nodding in triumph. It’s good to celebrate the little victories. 

That’s one task down, thankfully. Nava looks over at the sink full of dishes and grimaces. She’ll do laundry all day, and even organize the countertops, but she hates doing dishes. It dries out her hands, and the texture of wet food is nauseating. She’s considered a barrier spell to keep her hands dry, but to taper it down to the shape of her hands would be too strenuous, and she’d pass out before even a plate gets scrubbed.

Nava switches gears, looking to organize some piles on the counter. There are pamphlets for a job fair (she and her roommate were planning on going), some sloppy notes for a possible concoction (her roommate’s, of course), and one of her grimoires. 

An idea hits her. Nava grabs the grimoire, flipping through it to find some of the more niche spells. Her salvation comes in the form of a spell she’d disregarded for years: Mage Hand. Despite the silly, straightforward name, Nava realizes just how much utility it has, now that she’s older.

Mage Hand lets her conjure up a phantom hand that she can task to do anything she wants. It’s a tad advanced, but it’s not an issue for a mage of Nava’s caliber. The mana requirement isn’t terrible, but it can be tough to manage if you have too many going in conjunction. 

She holds her hand out, palm to the dishes, and channels her mana, picturing it gathering in her palms, splaying out to the ends of her fingers. Nava casts the spell; just one, for now, as a test. A singular blue flame forms, and the ember stretches into the shape of a hand. It’s not how she expects. This isn’t considered projectional magic, so the hand doesn’t follow or mimic her movements. Instead, she has to focus on the task hand—no pun intended—and it will carry on its directive until Nava dismisses it. 

Nava tells the floating hand to turn the faucet on, and when it does—almost instantly—she’s beyond impressed. Switching tasks is as easy as commanding out loud, but she even has luck thinking to herself, and her summon does her bidding. The intricacies of magic never cease to amaze her. Very quickly, Mage Hand has earned its place in Nava’s daily rotation. 

Two Mage Hands in tandem make quick work of the dishes, and Nava is astounded at how efficiently they work, all without a single item dropped. No broken plates, cups, beakers, or test tubes. Oh, this is awesome. Multitasking will be so much easier now

She grabs a duster to clean the shelves in the living room, periodically glancing over to the sink, but she sees the dishes dripping in the dish rack while the hands float idly, likely awaiting the next thing to do. Her stomach grumbles, and she has them whip up something for her and her roommate. In the meantime, she picks up a book to leaf through; a little extra cram time for an exam this week would do her well, and when her roommate walks in, sticking her nose up to sniff their nearly-done dinner, she apologizes for leaving stuff in the sink.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nava says with a grin. “I’ve got help now.”

~

One Sunday morning, for once in a blue moon, Nava has no commitments. The library is closed today, and she’s already caught up on schoolwork. Chores are taken care of, thanks to her new favorite quality-of-life spell. Nava pulls the covers back over her shoulders, smiling to herself, enjoying the warmth and comfort of her bed. She could do this all day, but knows she should spend it doing something at least.

There are some grimoires that she’s been meaning to pick up, like the newest edition of Talbot’s Advanced Transformational Incantations. Nava reminds herself of the books she has yet to crack open. Actually, why should she spend one of her rare days off doing more work? She should use it to indulge in something fun! Her roommate is running trials for her thesis, and none of her other friends are available, tied up with work or catching up on sleep or school.

Nava walks over to the shelf, tapping each spine until one calls out to her. She blushes, checking over both shoulders, as if caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her finger helps pull it out, and she mutters the title to herself, “Vatro’s Titillating Tales.”

It’s an anthology, apparently written by a bard from one of the bigger towns. He collects the sexual exploits and stories from his guildmates, retelling them for readers like Nava to enjoy from the comfort of their home. Just as adventurers come in different shapes and sizes, so do their stories. 

She opens the book up to where she left off last, smack dab in the middle of a story featuring a beachhouse cabin, light femdom, and lots of tentacles. Nava starts it from the beginning, reminded about why she had to stop in the first place. She lies on her side; one hand holds her book, and the other buries itself under her panties. 

Her breaths pick up, and she’s soaked in no time. Curses slip past her lips, and her hips grind against her fingers. Getting into the groove isn’t as easy as she’d like. Having to turn the page interrupts her rhythm. Just as things get good and Nava gets close, it’s time to turn the page again. It’s cyclical. Eventually, she focuses on the story, finishing it finally, satisfied, for the most part. Her wetness, having been ignored too long, pulses, aching for touch. 

Gods, it's been too long since she's had a proper lay. 

Nava wants to read, but she wants to play with herself too. She rolls her eyes when she realizes she’s forgetting about Mage Hands. Putting a palm out, she mutters the incantation to herself, watching the small fire mold into a hand. A second follows. Then, a third. It feels excessive, but after a good night’s rest, she’s got mana to spare, and it feels like a well-deserved treat.

She lifts her hips, letting two hands remove her undergarments, while the third keeps her knee propped up. Nava’s infinitely glad the spell derives from a flame and not, say, an ice cube. The warmth of the fingers tracing her slit pulls a sharp exhale from her. 

Reading onto the next story, she’s content being able to read, uninterrupted, without having to ignore her growing desires. Nava tells the hands to help her feel like she’s part of the story, and they do. The hands tune in to what she wants, reenacting whatever she’s reading. She’s eased onto her back, and a hand tugs at the bottom of her tunic, pulling it up and over her arms and head. 

Nava shivers, catching a draft from the cracked window, and she feels a Mage Hand gripping a breast, flicking its thumb on her nipple. Whether stiffened from the cold or from the touch, Nava isn’t sure, but it spurs a moan either way. A second hand finds her neglected breast, and they knead together in tandem. 

This is luxurious. Nava wishes she thought of this sooner. She reads on, excited for what awaits, eyes widening when the character in her book gets choked. Immediately, there are fingers on the side of her neck, squeezing tightly until she smiles wide. Fingers graze her lips, and she parts them, taking them into her mouth. 

It’s odd. She can see the two fingers easing deeper past her lips, and she can feel it, especially when she locks around them to suck, but there’s no taste. Willing the hand out of her mouth, a different part of Nava requires attention. One hand plays with her clit, mirroring her favorite rhythm and patterns, while the other prods a finger into her wetness. 

She groans as the finger rubs against her walls, instantly finding her favorite spot. While Nava misses having a partner to fool around with, this is an equitable alternative. The Mage Hands know what she wants and likes, giving it to her exactly how she needs it. 

“Shit,” she says, lowly, eyes blurring on her page. “One more finger…” 

Her thighs squeeze together, and a wince twitches her eyes as she adjusts. Has it really been that long? Gentle strokes take their time, and the longer they move back and forth, the more they soak up her wetness, gliding more easily for it. 

The pressure on her walls increases. Slow rubbing helps her feel every inch of the spectral appendages. Fingertips circle her entrance, teasing it slowly before pressing back in. The pace is perfect, and Nava bites her lip, flipping the page.

The hand on her clit moves faster, circling her stiffening bud, and every pass of a fingertip over the sensitive nub leaves Nava biting her lip. The quick tempo starkly contrasts the slow movements of the fingers pressing against her sweet spot. Nava nearly closes her book, but she powers through, moaning as she reads to herself.

Her head weighs the idea of adding a third finger, and before Nava can make a decision either way, the hand knows what she wants, and she curses aloud when a third digit eases into her. Her walls close around the fingers, and she’s surprised that’s all it takes to jump-start her climax. It’s a slow ramp-up, but she desperately begs her summons, “More—more—don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop—” 

Whimpers explode into hoarse, husky breaths, and Nava tightens her grip on the book, her fingers digging into the leather of the book’s hard cover. She humps into the hands, milking as much pleasure from them as she can before a grin finds her face and she nearly falls slack. 

Nava points to her dresser’s handle, and a wide, snapping sweep opens the drawer. A finger motions to a dildo, willing it to levitate, and she conjures it closer to her, into the grasp of one of her Mage Hands.

After a deep breath, she finds her place in her story, reading on, letting the hands do as she needs.

Propping her leg up, he enters the mage from behind, and every inch deeper he delves spurs her to moan. It’s deeper than anyone had gone in a while, and she’s so happy to be fucked at last. She’s needed this, more than she cares to admit, and a grin finds her face. 

Nava can’t get enough of this story, and the hands on her body make everything so immersive. Two hands support her leg, holding it up by her knee and the inside of her thigh (a finger dangerously closer to her wanting opening). The hand wielding the dildo eases it into her; even just the thick head splits her lower lips and stretches her out. 

This toy is one she’s only ever tried to use once, and not even to completion because it was too much for her to handle. Today is different. Nava feels brave. Ambitious. Daring. She has some helping hands, and those help, too. With a nod, she asks for more of it, licking her lips, bracing herself. 

The mage whimpers, stretching around her lover's overpowering girth. She grips him tightly, breathing sharply as he goes deeper. 

“Is it too much for you?” he asks.

Nava shakes her head, silently answering the character’s question with a whine. She invites more of the toy in. Each point of contact from the Mage Hands bears such a pleasant warmth that every neglected part of her is riddled with goosebumps. She conjures up more hands to caress every curve. To hold her.

“Gods,” Nava moans, head spinning as a finger returns to press against her clit again. Her eyes dance off the page, staring up at how light shines through leaves, splaying out across her ceiling. She lets her eyelids close, enjoying every sensation. 

The hands on her are so gentle. Not too rough. And the warmth and tenderness of the touch spreads the heat deep in her core up to her chest, blooming as she thrusts herself back onto her dildo. 

She drops the book; the story can wait. For now, she rolls onto her back. A hand gathers her wrists, pinning them above her head. Nava breathes sharply, a smile curling her lips up as hands reposition her to her whims. There’s a stretch to her hips as Mage Hands behind her knees prop her legs back, and another pair pushes her ankles as far back as she can muster comfortably. 

Her toes wiggle, and she opens her eyes, fixated on how much of the toy she’s taken already. A hand strokes her cheek, and she kisses against a phantom thumb, licking it, needily locking her lips around it. 

“I can take more than that,” Nava says with resolve, and the hand pushes more into her. Her eyes roll back. She exhales sharply. That was only an extra inch? It’s a tad disappointing. 

“More…”

The hand obeys, and she gasps when the tip of her dildo presses—hard—against her sweet spot. “W-wait…right there. Fuck me right there.” 

Nava’s thankful that the experience has her drenched. Despite her walls fighting against the toy’s size, her wetness helps it ease in and out, and with every pass from the tip to the depth of her sweet spot, it gets easier. Her fingers move down to fiddle with her clit, and it helps relax her muscles, letting her take more of the dildo. 

Hubris gets the best of her. Nava reaches a hand out, and three more hands apparate from tiny embers. The new hands grasp her breasts, squeezing them harder than before, and the last wraps around her neck. 

The dildo thrusts at the speed she needs. The tempo is perfect, hitting the spot with a precision she’s never had. A sharp cry escapes with every slam against her walls, and she feels herself tighten around the toy. 

She wills it to speed up. Extra pressure flushes her head of everything except rapturous desire. Her core twitches, tightening further with every deep press into her sweet spot. Every breath barely escapes, and it’s a miracle enough air finds its way to her brain.

Nava’s toes curl and chest pounds after her legs are pressed further back. Her view of the room blurs as a hand tightens around her neck, and a dumb grin stretches across her face. “Come on. I’m so close—right there…”

She tightens around the toy; the firm texture offers resistance, and the pleasure is so mindnumbing that her hand on her clit nearly freezes in place. Her thighs clench together, and she grips the dildo tighter, feeling every ridge and contour. Violent tremors pass through her, quaking every part of her body before the Mage Hands disappear and her limbs fall limp onto the bed. 

Her vision goes black, and for a moment, there's nothing. Nothing but residual ecstasy sending sporadic spasms to every muscle, enveloping her in a pleasant warmth. 

Nava’s eyes snap open, and she sits up, gasping. She takes off her glasses, rubs her eyes, and wipes the drool from the corner of her mouth. “Holy shit.”

She reaches for her toy, still buried deep inside her, and she pulls it out, shuddering when it pops out and a breeze passes over her gaping entrance. Refusing to move from her spot, she points at her book and dildo, putting them in their respective places. Grinning to herself, content with the start of her day, Nava props her feet up, crosses her ankles, and puts hands behind her head as she rests on her pillow.

Mage Hands has proven its use once again for Nava. It's nice, but she takes this as a sign that it’s time to get back into the dating market, because she’s thoroughly convinced Mage Mouth or Mage Member aren’t real spells (much to her disappointment).

Synopsis: Todd’s girlfriend just moved into the house with us, and for the most part, she’s the ideal roommate. My only gripe: she never wears pants. While anyone else in my position would call that a perk, it’s turning into a big problem for me (and I’m not sure how to navigate it). 

Written for prompt 10 for the August contest!

~

When the universe hands you a roommate who walks around in her underwear, you’re probably supposed to say ‘thank you.’ But with a good conscience, I can’t. 

Todd and I had a spare room when our roommate moved out. His girlfriend, Tania was looking to move out of her current place (catty roommates, apparently), so timing couldn't be better.

I wasn't opposed. “Yeah…she’s pretty cool. I’d be down for that. At least we don’t have to worry about the vetting process. Unless she’s got some weird secret that you’ve been keeping from me.”

“Nah, nothing like that.” Todd laughs. 

~ 

Helping Tania move all her stuff is a breeze. She doesn’t have a lot of things: mostly her clothes, some miscellaneous kitchenware, and all of the apartment's cutlery (her ex-roommates were not too thrilled about the last one). 

She’s surprisingly only been over to our house a handful of times; Todd usually goes over to her place. That doesn’t mean I don’t know her well, though. The majority of time I’ve spent with her involves playing games with her and Todd. She’s usually the one racking up the most kills between the three of us, and thankfully, Tania’s super laid-back when not playing. 

I’d almost argue too laid-back. One thing I was not prepared for was seeing her walk into the kitchen without pants. 

Averting my eyes, I nearly choke on my food. Tania giggles.

“You good?” Tania asks playfully, not looking. She reaches up for a mug from the top shelf, and her shirt hikes up, revealing half of her ass and parts of a cheeky pair of purple panties.

Wow. Todd is a lucky guy. I try to keep my eyes on my food, but with every little sound of struggle, I look up, unable to stop myself from glancing towards her butt. 

“Devin? Can you help me reach?” Tania asks, frowning, pleading with her eyes and pointing up. 

I walk over, trying to tear my eyes away from her bare legs and look towards the shelf. “Which one? The pink one that says ‘Princess’?”

“That’ll do, but that one’s actually Todd’s.” Tania laughs. “We made it at one of those places where you paint pottery. It was his idea, actually. Pretty funny, right?”

After I hand Tania the mug, and she reaches up to pinch my cheek, stretching it away from my face until I wince. “Thank youuu.”

She pours some coffee into the mug, walking away after, and I guiltily steal a look, admiring the way her butt jiggles with every step. I hear a loud slap echo from the hallway, followed by a giggle from Tania and a soft smooch. Her voice is distant, down to a whisper, but I can still hear her talk to Todd: 

“Watch those hands, mister, or I’m gonna need you for round two.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” Todd calls through the doorway, walking into the kitchen with a big grin. “Devin, you’ve gotta get a piece of that.” 

“Huh?” I must have misheard him. I try to flush the image of cheeky purple panties from my mind, and I clear my throat. “Piece of what?” 

Todd points into the fridge at one of the larger containers. “It’s this breakfast pizza we saw at the store that we made last night. Has sausage, egg, cheese, and bacon. Get this: instead of sauce, it uses breakfast gravy. It’s super good. You want any?”

“Uh, I’m full actually,” I say, and Todd shrugs in response. “Hey, can you level with me?”

“Mhm.”

“Stop me if I’m out of line. Maybe it’s laundry day or something, but…Is it like—” I pause, very carefully choosing my words. “Does Tania…ever, like…wear pants?”

“Yeah, when she goes out. Duh.”

“Okay, but what about when she’s at home?”

“I mean, she’s at home now, isn’t she? But to answer your question, yeah, if she doesn’t have to wear pants, she’s gonna go without them. Especially considering how hot this house runs in the summer,” Todd explains. He smirks. “Is it not a nice change of pace compared to the last guy? He did the same thing, basically, with his holey boxers.”

“Yeah, but at least his boxers covered his ass cheeks,” I say, grimacing.

“You’re telling me you see an ass like Tania’s, and your first request is to have her cover it up?” Todd sputters a laugh, and I roll my eyes in response. “She should charge you for looking.”

“I–I wasn’t looking!” Heat rushes across my cheeks, and my voice falls to a mutter. “Or, not really. It was just there. Out in the open. No warning.”

“I’m just messing with you, dude,” Todd says, flashing a crooked smirk. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons her last roommates were shitty to her. She never wore pants, and it’d attract the attention of her roommates’ boyfriends when they came by. Lots of staring. Like, jaw dropped, eyes locked. Mesmerized. On a regular basis. She’d hear arguments through the walls.”

“You’re joking.”

“And on at least one occasion, some of them texted Tanya, begging her for a chance to sleep with them while their girlfriends were out at work.” Todd stops his story, raising a brow, and walks towards me. He squats down, and I freeze up when his eyes narrow, meeting mine.

I feel my heartbeat in my ears. Coherent thoughts don’t find me, and the shift in the air is unbearable.

Todd’s voice wields a gravitas I’ve never heard from him–not even once–in the years we’ve lived together. “Don’t tell me you’re just like them?”

“N–no, I’m not,” I stammer. “She’s your girlfriend and my friend. I would never think of her that way.”

He smiles again, which loosens some tension in my slouched shoulders, but the nervousness creeps back in when his hand on my shoulder grips tightly and gives me a few friendly taps before standing back up. Todd shrugs, “Honestly, I don’t care that you look every now and then, and I’m almost positive Tania doesn’t care either. She’s so used to it from her last place, really.”

“I guess.” 

“I mean, if anything, I’ll let her know you said something—”

“No!” I exclaim, covering my mouth. Looking away, I sigh. “Forget I said anything. It’s really not a big deal.” 

~

It’s a bigger deal than I realize. 

There’s always some kind of incident. Maybe it’s my bad luck (though I’m sure some would pencil it off as good luck). 

Tania’s moving the laundry from the washer to the dryer. There’s a little hop she does to reach down to the bottom of the drum. It’s…actually kind of cute, and I’m not just talking about the part where her shirt flies up, and I get a view of today’s panties (bright blue). I turn back to the TV, and I rewind a few minutes because I have not been looking at the screen.

When she cooks, she loves to blast her music. She listens to a lot of everything, and I know she’s in the zone when she’s dancing through the kitchen, prancing from area to area to the rhythm of whatever’s playing. I didn’t know you could shake your ass to a metalcore breakdown, but Tania finds a way. She’ll pull Todd up with her, and their heads will bob in unison. Tania will try to pull me to my feet from my seat at the table. “C’mon, Devin, join us in this fucking pit.” 

“I’m good,” I tell her embarrassedly, set on sitting until the bulge in my pants shrinks to something more modest. 

~ 

In time, the no-pants thing is a non-issue. 

Mostly because Todd and Tania love to fuck. They’re so loud, all the time, and I’m happy at least someone in the house is getting laid, but I’m ultimately grateful for my earbuds. Next paycheck, if I can swing it, I’m going to shell out for some noise-cancelling ones; I’ll need it for my sanity.

I always guessed Todd would be the one to initiate, but Tania is just as guilty. Truly, they match each other’s freak. They’re bound to grope the other while their partner washes dishes. The dishes get clean, but once that faucet’s off, they run off to get down and dirty. 

Movie nights are fun. Until the blanket comes out. Sure, it’s big enough to drape over them, but I can see the hand movements. Not subtle. If the kind of tent Todd can pitch isn’t bad enough, there’s an unmistakable wet shlick sound that leaves no room for doubt. Poorly stifled moans follow, and Tania eventually sneaks off, saying she’s “sleepy.” Todd follows behind, usually no more than fifteen minutes after, and it doesn’t sound like sleeping up there. 

One morning, I hear the shower running around the time I head out to work. I knock on the door. No response. I knock again, louder this time, and I hear Todd call out, “Come in! It’s unlocked!” 

It was too quiet in the house for the two of them to be literally anywhere else. It’s a relief that we have shower curtains instead of those cloudy, frosted glass doors; even if their image was blurred and distorted, I’d definitely be able to make out two forms going at it. As I walk to the sink, all I hear is hushed voices.

“Shhh, stop.” Tania giggles. 

“I can’t help it. You feel too good.”

“Think he knows?”

“Yeah, I know,” I announce flatly, carefully spreading toothpaste across my brush’s head. 

“Sorry, Devin—” a gasp cuts Tania off, and I can’t bear the idea of trying to imagine what’s happening behind the curtains. 

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth, and I’ll let you guys get back to…whatever you’re doing,” I assure them with furrowed brows. It’s weird to think that I could barely hear them when I was walking down the hallway, but now I’m in the bathroom with them, Tania seems to be moaning louder than before.

Maybe I’m imagining things. 

I’m trying to focus on the tiny circles from my toothbrush, and not on all the little sounds coming from their direction: Water splashing. Desperate breaths. The subtle clap of wet (and likely soapy) bodies. The shower rungs being drawn.

My eyes veer to Tania’s hand planted against the wall, her fingers gripping the shower curtain. She pulls it back just enough to expose her face, and her expression is absolutely flushed with bliss. With a grin, she teases, “There’s room for one more if you want to hop in.” 

I sputter, and toothpaste suds splatter into the sink. Coughing, I pat my chest with my palm and rinse the sink, wiping the mess.

“I’m not hearing a no~” Tania coos, breathing a little harder as Todd picks up his speed. “Come on…there’s nothing like getting your rocks off before work. The rest of the day will go smoothly after that.”

“I’m sorry about this one,” Todd says, and I can hear the grin from the way he’s talking. “She gets riled up when she has an audience.”

“It’s fine, guys,” I answer, pulling at my collar. I gargle some mouthwash and spit, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Tearing my eyes away from the mirror, I walk off, but before I can even hit the doorway, I hear Tania’s voice again:

“Maybe next time, then? Fuck—”

I let them be. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not bothered by it at all. Sometimes I’ve made a point to listen to them, but that’s usually reserved for evenings when they’re in a different room. I’d never be so bold as to jerk off while they’re in earshot, let alone with a clear line of sight.

If anything, I’m more bothered by the fact that I’m turned on with no time or means to take care of it. 

I guess I’m also a little bothered by the fact that I wasn’t brave enough to take Tania up on her offer. I wonder if it was ultimately just her teasing me, and more of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Something to drive Todd to fuck her harder; some guys get off on that. 

Yeah, no. No more thinking about it. I nearly leave the house without my car keys. 

~

I wake up one evening from a nap. I must’ve needed it more than I thought, because I slept through the alarm I set, and the sun is already down. I check the time and groan to myself when I hear Tania moaning from down the hall—likely their bedroom. God, those two are insatiable.

As I walk down the hall, navigating slowly in the dark, her moans get closer, and there’s a distinct lack of Todd’s voice. Maybe his mouth is buried deep between her legs, but maybe he’s just uncharacteristically quiet today. 

Nah. No way. That’s not Todd’s style at all. He must have stayed late at work. 

I slow my pace—just slightly—as I walk past their door, surprised that it’s wide open. Knowing Tania, she doesn’t care, and I try not to think about whether or not this is by design. She’s lying down in the dark. Her face is illuminated by her phone, and traces of light from the street catch the curves of her body. Both of her legs are spread. One of them is propped up, and I see a yellow thong pooled at one of her ankles.

Her finger rubs away at her clit, and she moans harder, back arching off the bed, head digging into her pillows. There’s the slightest grin on her face as she’s fixated on whatever she’s watching.

My pants tighten, and I can’t stop watching. She still has a shirt on, and I’m well-acquainted with her legs, but this is definitely the most intimate situation I’ve ever seen her in, without the cover of a blanket during movie night or a shower curtain.

“Devin~” she calls out, and my blood freezes in my veins. I move, just past the doorway, but peek back. Tania’s attention is on her phone—not at me. I’m convinced she still hasn’t realized I’m here. Her breaths sound more labored with each sharp exhale, and her voice is so shaky. “Fuck, Devin…Devin, fuck me…harder…harder—”

Shit. I pull my shorts down and grip my hardness, tugging at it like I never have before. I keep a hand over my mouth to stifle any sounds that might come out, and I stare at her hands rapidly rubbing at her mound, thinking about just how stunning she looks.

Her knees squeeze together, thighs locking her hand in place as she whines needily. She rolls over, onto her knees, sticking her ass in the air, and her cries are muffled against the pillow. “Fuck, just like that—”

That ass is incredible. If I were bold, I’d clear my throat or make her aware that I’m here, even at the expense of being chided for watching. With some thought, I know Tania. Despite her constant lack of pants, when she wants privacy, she closes the door. She got home after me today, greeting me, even; she knew I was home. Despite that, she left the door open. 

I watch as her hands speed up, just long enough to bring her to climax, and she collapses onto the bed, melting into the mattress, lying still for a few moments, breathing heavily to herself. 

When Tania snaps out of her daze, she sits up, crossing her legs and the glistening between her legs has my full attention. She’s typing on her phone. I can hear every keystroke, and when she sends her message, my phone dings in my pocket.

There’s no time to freeze or hesitate; I pull my pants up immediately. I can’t turn away fast enough. All my focus is keeping my footsteps quiet, and I hurriedly walk away with widened eyes, ignoring the goosebumps running down my neck. 

My heart is pounding, and I feel my palms sweat. I flip on the TV and turn my phone on. There’s a single notification: a text from Tania, and I’m terrified to open it. I’m dreading a text that says she knew that I was there, watching, and that she’ll tell Todd everything. 

Relief briefly finds my shoulders when it’s nothing like that:

What do you wanna do for dinner? Todd mentioned wings, and that sounds kinda good actually 

My clammy hands struggle to type a response. I’m having the hardest time shaking the image of Tania touching herself. My dick is calling out to me, throbbing in my pants, asking to be touched some more, berating me for leaving my business unfinished. I consider slipping away to the bathroom to jerk off, but a hand on my shoulder startles me.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Tania asks.

A hand over my mouth muffles a curse, and I grab a throw pillow to cover my lap. I feel sweat beading on my forehead, and I slowly look up towards Tania, offering a nervous smile. “Wh–what are you talking about?” 

Nonchalantly, she points at the TV. The credits are running. “That’s that one show you’ve been into, right? Todd was talking about it. It was the climax, right?” 

I pause, not thinking straight, considering my body prioritized sending blood to my dick, and not my brain. “I’ll probably have to rewatch it. I don’t know. I was having trouble paying attention.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Tania says. “Did you get my text?”

“Yeah, I did. That sounds awesome. Actually, I’ll buy. Just send me what flavors you and Todd like.”

“Sweet. Just let me know what me and Todd owe you.”

I shake my head frantically. “Don’t worry about it. You guys spotted me last time we ate out.”

“I’ll pay you back, somehow, at least,” she assures with a smile. Tania points up. “You done with the TV?”

“Knock yourself out,” I say, holding the remote out towards her, but she ignores me, walking over to her console to turn it on, and I spy the yellow thong from earlier. 

“Do you wanna play too?” she offers, holding up my controller. 

“Todd’s not here, though,” I say, raising an eyebrow. We have the perfect three-person set-up. Tania runs point, Todd provides cover fire, and I play support, jumping in where they need me.

Tania laughs, grabbing my cheek to squeeze it. “Cute. You know we’re allowed to play just the two of us, right?”

I stare blankly, chuckling to myself, grabbing my controller from her. “We’re talking about gaming, right?”

She tilts her head, laughing, and there’s a certain coyness in her eyes’ glint, and the slightest curl in her lips. “What else would we be talking about?”

“Right.” 

There's silence between us while we watch the loading screen, but Tania is the first to break it. “Hey, Devin?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is everything cool between us?”

“Uh, yeah? Why do you ask?”

“The other day when you brushed your teeth while Todd and I were in the shower, and I said there was room for one more? Todd’s been saying I should cool it with teasing you, so I’m sorry about that.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” I assure, not daring to look her way. “I figured that was you just fucking with me. Something spontaneous you say without realizing. Stuff I don’t really put any weight to.”

“Aw, give yourself a bit more credit. You don’t think you could handle it?” Tania says with a toothy grin and scrunched nose. So much for toning down the teasing. “Todd says you’ve been going through a dry spell recently.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to stay off the apps, and after work, I’ve got no one to go out on dates with, so this is my life now,” I say, pointing to the TV.

“Well, if you ever need company, you know where to find me.”

I laugh, flashing a smile. “Thanks.”

“I mean it,” she says. There’s something charged in the way Tania speaks. “I’ve always…been a little curious what it’d be like…just you and me playing together.”

My throat dries up, and I press the pillow on my lap down harder before nudging my head up towards the TV. “Good news: you’re about to find out.”

Tania sighs before shaking her head with a smile. She sucks her teeth, and her knee bounces. I feel her looking at me as I take time to tweak my build. After matchmaking starts, we stare at the screen, and she adjusts herself, lying down until her feet press against my thigh. 

Her toes wiggle, and her heels knead into my leg. She flashes me a look before smirking. “Just try to keep up.”

~

My eyes shoot open. Through paper-thin walls, I can hear mattress springs bouncing, a headboard bumping into the wall, and husky breaths, mixed with moans. Todd’s voice is muffled, but not by much.

“Take it. Just like that. Fuck, you feel good.”

Tania winces, breaths growing more desperate with each exhale. The sound of their bodies meeting gets louder, and Tania’s moans follow.

“Jeez, babe, you’re so loud,” Todd laughs smugly. “Keep it down. Devin’s still sleeping.”

Unfortunately, that’s no longer the case. 

“I want him to hear how good you fuck me,” she responds. 

My attention veers towards my clock. 6:30 in the morning. Who wakes up and decides the first thing they need is sex? After a moment of thought, I realize it actually doesn’t sound too bad. Alas, with no partner, I don’t have that luxury.

“Get on your back. I wanna ride you, babe,” Tania says needily.

I hear bodies shuffling on the sheets, and Todd groans when Tania mounts him—or at least that’s what I imagine happening. I look down at my pants, trying to ignore the bulge. It’d be easy to write it off as morning wood, but it’s hard to say if that’s the case or if listening to them truly gets me hotter than I’d like to admit. 

Maybe it’s the mood. Maybe it’s how pent-up I’ve been. Maybe I’m still thinking of what Tania looks like when she comes. Whatever the case, I don’t even make an attempt to grab my headphones or block out the noise.

Instead, I pull my shorts down and take my cock into my hands. I hump into my closed fist and close my eyes, listening to the sound of Tania’s ass bouncing against Todd's thighs. She’s riding him hard. My grip tightens around me, and I breathe harder, grunting to myself.

I imagine Tania on top of me. She’d probably be tighter than my hands. Definitely more wet. She could use me however she wants to. Those lips would grip around me as she slams from tip to base, and I would cup her ass to guide her up and down.

Breathing gets harder, and I curse to myself quietly, biting my lip, knocking at the door of release. I grip harder, stroke faster, and it’s agony as I push myself towards the edge. Switching it up doesn’t make a difference. Even changing my position. I’m so close, but can’t quite get there. My dick is red and throbbing, desperate to come.

Whatever it is, that’s stopping me. I try to shake it off. All my focus goes onto Tania’s high-pitched moans, and the feeling of my hand around my dick.

No good.

I put my shorts back on and walk out of the room. It’s too late to go back to sleep. Maybe I’ll try to knock out some of the shows and movies on my watchlist backlog. Put on some coffee. Yeah, that’ll do. 

I walk down the hall, thinking of how shameless Todd and Tania are to keep their door open while they fuck. I’m tempted to passive-aggressively tell them to keep it down, but my feet come to a stop at the doorway. Gulping hard, I keep my eyes on the floorboards by the door frame. Gritting my teeth and ignoring the throbbing in my pants, my mind races. I think of Tania’s offer in the bathroom days ago. Was it a blank check that I could cash in at any time? 

My pulse quickens, and the temptation to walk in and ask to join only grows. I dare to look up, and both Todd and Tania are facing away from the door. She’s on all fours, face pressed into her pillow, and Todd holds her waist, thrusting hard. Each deep stroke earns a moan from Tania, and I hear Todd’s grunts get louder. 

Todd pulls her hair, and her back arches as she turns to look at him. That devilish smile with eye contact would melt me on the spot if I were in Todd’s place. I’d probably come rightg there. Her eyes flit towards me—even if only for a moment—before returning to Todd. 

I see her grin widen, but only before a final few thrusts from Todd send Tania’s eyes rolling back. Returning to my senses, I shuffle away, getting out of there before I get myself into more trouble. My first stop is the kitchen, and I start a pot of coffee before taking a seat on the couch. 

A final few grunts and groans from Todd and Tania are all I need to hear to know they’re done. Tania’s moans fizzle out into impish giggles, and I hear a set of footsteps. Pursing my chapped lips, licking them, I pray that it’s Todd, but in my peripherals, I see dark hair and a loose band tee hanging off Tania’s shoulders. 

Her arms are up, and she yawns. I glance over, wondering what panties she’s got on today. To my surprise, none right now. I spot a trail of fluid dripping down her thigh—likely a mix of her and Todd. When she looks at me, I snap my head back to the TV. “There any coffee?”

“Should be ready in a bit,” I answer without looking, tensing when Tania sits next to me, bumping her knee against mine. 

“I put him right back to sleep,” Tania says, smiling with a flushed face, grinning in triumph. “Sorry, were we too loud?”

“That’s kind of an understatement,” I say, forcing a laugh, trying to ignore her propping her heels up on the couch. One of her legs breaks into my orbit, resting atop my thigh, and my breath hitches as I follow her knee to the soaked lips between her legs. 

She drapes a hand over her mound, but it isn’t for modesty. Her fingers swirl over her clit, breathing harder and she looks at my lips.

“Wow,” I say, trying (in vain) to tear my eyes away. “Todd wasn’t enough for you?”

“Oh, he’s the best,” Tania says, grinning. “No one puts it down like he does, but it’s just so hot when someone’s watching. I just…don’t know what to do with myself when I get like this.”

“Watching?” I ask, heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not—”

“The floorboards creak when we walk, Devin. You stopped to watch. I saw you.”

“I—”

“And the other night too, we got wings? You were watching me play with myself, didn’t you?”

“You had the door open, to be fair—”

“Yeah, but you made a point to stop and watch.” Tania’s smile widens. She leans closer to me, and a husky breath tickles against my ear. “Did you wish you were in bed with me?”

“Why were you calling my name out that night?”

Tania sighs, but her fingers flick faster against her bud. “It was an invitation. But I can’t tell if you’re scared or dense.”

“Try loyal.” I focus on the TV. “You’re Todd’s girlfriend. It's not right to think about you like that.”

Her finger turns my chin until I’m facing her again. “But looking’s okay, right? Do you think I can’t tell every time you sneak a peek? Do you think I don’t walk around like that on purpose? Yeah, the house is hot, but I love the attention, especially when guys are as easy to tease as you.”

“What do you want?” I mutter.

Her smile fades,and her eyes sharpen. “I want you to admit to admit you wanna fuck me.”

“That’s my best friend. I can’t do that to him.”

“I can,” Tania says, putting her hand on my knee. Her thumb strokes my leg, and she grins again when she hears my breath stop. Her fingers follow the thin fabric up my shorts until they rub along the elastic of my boxers.

She stares deeply into my eyes, and a moan escapes. A loud one.

“Quiet,” I whisper.

She closes the distance between us, rubbing my nose with hers, and her lips are mere inches away. “I’ll give you two ways to quiet me down. One: you can kiss me. Or two: you can shove your dick down my throat.”

Tania rubs faster, bucking her hips into her hand, moaning louder. I peer up towards the stairs and don’t hear a sound from Todd. Another moan escapes, and I’ve had enough.

The warmth of her mouth as she locks her lips around me is intoxicating. Shit. That feels so good. Tanya stares up at me, grinning around my dick, and she bobs her head a few times before lifting off and licking her lips. She pulls my hands to her hair. “That’s better.”

She takes me into her mouth again, sucking the soul out of me. I start humping into her face, feeling her nose poke against my body. With every time I bottom out into her, no matter how hard or fast I go, she doesn’t gag. Not even once. It’s a testament of her skill, but I have to admit it’s so satisfying to see myself disappear into her mouth.

Tania lifts off to breathe, and she pushes me back onto the couch, climbing over my lap to straddle me. She uses her hand to wipe the mess off her thigh, and I groan as she strokes along my length. “Cum makes for the best lube.”

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” I ask, staring at her wet lips hovering over my tip. Tania takes me into her hand, guiding me to her entrance, and slamming down.

After a sharp gasp and a few heavy breath, she looks at me, pressing her lips against my neck and nibbling it, whispering against my skin. “Just try to keep up.”

Tania slides along my length, and she feels way better than my imagination suggested. So wet, gripping me tightly. I feel every ridge as she bounces from tip to base. Her ass drops down on me with a slam at the end of every stroke, and she pulls my hands under her shirt to grip her breasts.

They fit perfectly in my palm, and I find myself thrusting up into her, groaning in agony. My grip tightens, and I bite the inside of my cheek, doing everything I can to hold on.

Her lower lips kiss my base, and she grinds back and forth, her voice low and breath full of strain. “Don’t come just yet. I wanna finish all over your dick.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, not to get her to stop, but because I’m still in denial that this is happening. After she slips my shirt off and tosses it aside, my hands travel to her back, and I thrust up, grinding my hips to her rhythm, staring up at her in awe.

Tania smirks, licking her lips, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Haven’t you been wanting this for a while?”

“Maybe,” I admit, looking away, only for her to guide me to look at her again.

A deep moan parts her lips, and I see her eyes glaze over as she finds a good rhythm to rock against me. “Shit, that’s good. Tell me what you’d wanna do to me.”

“I want to…pound you hard.”

“What else?”

“I’d want your ankles on my shoulders.”

“Mmm, so you can deep?”

“I’d want you to moan for me.”

“Fuck…” Tania loses her composure. Her tempo slows down as she lifts herself and drops back down onto me.

“I’d want you to moan so loud. I wouldn’t care who hears. It would just be their bodies slamming into each other until you come around my cock.”

“God…” She closes her eyes, grinning widely, her nails graze against my shoulders, scratching harder the more I push into her.

“I wanna breed you. Fill you up,” I push out through grunts. “And on the days when it’s just Todd working, I’d spend every possible waking minute fucking you.”

There’s something in Tania's smile: Smugness? Elation? Depravity? “Yeah? You wouldn’t let me rest?”

After I shake my head, her nails dig deeper into my skin. “Good…I…wouldn't want you to—”

Her hips buck, and her head tucks forward, pressing against my chest. Her breath is hot and heavy, getting sharper with each exhale. “Fuck, you're gonna make me come.” 

I hold strong, wrapping my arms tighter around her, pushing my hips up as far as they’ll go to press her sweet spot. She pulses around me, tightening, and I give her shallow strokes to sync with the waves coursing through her. 

Tania climbs off of me, and her back crashes onto the couch cushions. As she pants struggling for air, she grabs my hands and pulls me between her parted legs, stroking me to spread her wetness along my length. 

“What are you—”

“When we’re playing games, don’t you get tired of playing the supporting roles all the time?”

“We’re talking about gaming again?” I say with a grin. My hands reach under her shirt, finding her waist, grinding my shaft along her soaked slit.

“So, I’m letting you take the lead,” Tania flashes a smile, leaning closer. “Do all those things you said you wanted to do to me.” 

After she nods, I grab my base and push into her. I don't bother easing in. She showed me she can take it.

Tania grabs the back of her knees. I love the way her stomach squishes as she practically folds herself in half. 
My hands wrap around her ankles, resting them on my shoulders, and I curse to myself when I feel her stroke my face with her toes. 

“What are you waiting for? Come on. Make me moan—” 

I give her what she asks for, not pulling any punches. I go as hard as I can. As fast as my body will let me. Back and forth, in and out. As deep as possible. The moans I get in response aren’t the ones she uses to goad me on; there’s something raw about these. Animalistic. Her nails claw into my back, and I wince, thrusting deeper. 

Those moans are music to my ears, but I put a palm over her mouth to muffle them. I see a smile curl her eyes up, and she tears my hand off of her lips, sneering up at me.

“I thought you said you don’t care who hears.”

“Yeah, but Todd is upstairs.” Tania feels too good for me to stop to slow down, but she does nothing to hold herself back. If anything, she’s louder, slowly losing herself (and I’m in a similar boat, ready to burst). 

For every sharp moan she lets out, my eyes flit to the stairs, and I’m listening for the floorboards. It’s breaking my concentration, and I press my lips against hers. I feel her grin against my lips, and she threads fingers through my hair, holding down against her. Tania’s tongue breaches past my lips, and I say goodbye to any chance at forming a coherent thought.

She breaks away first, panting for breath, and her lips trace along my jawline, biting my earlobe. “Come on. Breed me like you said you would…Do it. Deep inside.” 

My eyes slam shut, and it doesn’t take much more. A few final thrusts, and I can feel her gripping along my entire length. Tania clenches around me, and I push as deep as I can, firing rope after rope of weeks’ worth of pent-up desire for her, splattering her walls until I'm overflowing from her slit.

Tania gets off with me and smiles, grabbing my cheek until my head limply follows. “Let’s play again sometime.”

“We’re talking about gaming, right?”

She taps my nose and leans in for one last deep kiss, forcing her tongue into my mouth. I melt against her, and she giggles when she pulls away and I try to follow. “I think you know what I mean.”

After a wink and a wave, she walks back upstairs, and I stare at my load dripping down her leg. I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. Looking around, I pull up my shorts and grab my shirt off the ground. 

I walk over to the kitchen, grab a mug, and my attention snaps to the door when I hear footsteps. It’s Todd, his hair disheveled, with a dumb smile on his face. He yawns.

“Hey buddy. Didn’t realize you were up already.”

“Kinda hard to sleep through whatever you and Tania were doing,” I say with pursed lips.

“Ah, right. Sorry about that.”

“Hey, can you level with me?”

“Yeah.”

“You know how Tania’s roommates’ boyfriends messaged her about wanting to sleep with her?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Todd says, stifling a laugh. 

“Say she did take them up on their offer. You’d be pretty upset…right?”

“Nah, not really,” Todd says nonchalantly. “If anything, it just vindicates that I have good taste.”

“Huh. Interesting.” I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a sip, enjoying the warmth it gives me.

“Have you seen my princess mug?” Todd asks, looking through the cabinet.

“It’s still in the sink. I didn’t do dishes last night. Sorry.”

“All good. I’ll just use Tania’s.” Todd reaches for a mug and holds it out towards me, grinning as I feel his cup. He takes a sip, flashing his eyebrows, and I recognize Tania’s handwriting on the mug: 

Hotwife 
in 
Training

Synopsis: Mornings suck, but coffee always helps Ryan wake up. Well, coffee and his boyfriend, Dane.

Written for July's prompt 07! 

~ 

There's nothing like coffee to help Ryan get up in the morning.

Ryan walks into the kitchen, drawn in by the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. He watches as Dane stirs in some creamer, spinning the mug until the handle faces Ryan. He takes a sip, and smile forms as a warmth hits his stomach. “You know just how I like it.”

“Obviously. It’s not like we’ve been dating for a year or anything,” Dane says, the corner of his lips turning upwards. “Two scoops of sugar and creamer until your coffee is this gross beige color.”

“It’s not gross! It tastes so good!” Ryan insists. “It's a copycat recipe of those fancy drinks at Bundts and Brews.”

“Every item on that establishment should include an insulin pen on the side,” Dane shudders, looking down to his coffee cup next to Ryan’s. “I don’t know. Maybe it's just not for me. It feels wrong if I’m not drinking my coffee black.”

“I think it’s kind of fitting for you, actually,” Ryan says.

“Because I’m plain? Or bitter?” Dane asks with a grimace, almost afraid he asked.

“Both,” Brian says smirking, reaching up to tussle his boyfriend‘s hair. “But you’re sweet to me, and that’s what matters. That's why you always make coffee for me every morning.”

“You wouldn’t need coffee every morning if you got more sleep at night,” Dane chides. 

“And whose fault is that?” Ryan asks, poking his boyfriend in the chest. He gets up on his tiptoes to kiss Dane.

“Sorry,” Dane says, fighting a smile, playfully gripping Ryan's ass. “Yours. For being so thick.”

“I’m not complaining. You can fuck me until the sun comes up as long as you have coffee for me, I’m a happy camper.”

“Speaking of coffee, you need to get out the door soon! You're gonna be late for class again. Your professor is always on your ass,” Dane says before pulling Ryan in for a kiss.

There's nothing like coffee or a kiss from Dane to help Ryan get up in the morning.

“Come on. Don't kiss me like that.”

“It’s a regular kiss!” Dane says, eyes flitting away innocently. “It's a kiss good morning. Nothing more than that.”

“Who adds tongue to a good morning kiss?”

“Who adds an exorbitant amount of creamer to their coffee?” Dane shoots back, putting his hands on Ryan’s waist, pulling the blonde closer to bring him for another kiss. This one’s deeper, and Ryan’s breath hitches as he moans into Dane's mouth.

“I’m getting mixed signals. You’re telling me to go, but you’re kissing me like you want me to stay,” Ryan says. “Why don’t we email our professors to say we can’t make it in today?”

“Come on,” Dane says. “You have some peer reviews to do, and I have a presentation to give.”

Ryan rubs his hand over Dane’s crotch, looking at his boyfriend. “You can’t give a presentation like this. How about I take care of that for you?”

He carefully undoes Dane‘s pants and pulls them down. Ryan kneels, resting his hands on the front of Dane’s thighs and swallows as much of his boyfriend as he can. His lips reach the base, and he bobs his head, slurping along Dane‘s hardness.

“Fuck,” Dane says, resting his hands gently on Ryan’s head, easing it along his dick. The sight of Ryan’s cheeks hollowing out only heightens his arousal.

Ryan pulls Dane out, slapping his dick against his cheek on the top of his tongue before kissing along the bottom of the shaft. He smirks, locking his lips around the tip and stroking the shaft, twisting his wrists, speeding up as Dane’s groans get louder.

Dane brings Ryan up to his feet and sets him on the table. He bunches Ryan’s hoodie up and kisses against his stomach while his other hand unbuttons his pants. Dark, sharp eyes look up towards Ryan. “Take these off.”

Ryan smiles, lifting his hips to push his pants down to kick them off, and he moans loudly when he feels his tip against the back of Dane's mouth. He loves the sounds of struggle as Dane bobs his head. There's something about those throat noises that stirs something inside him. Ryan sits back, grinning to himself, bucking his hips to hump into Dane's mouth. “God, that’s so good.”

Dane stands up, and they jerk each other off, pressing their lips against the other. Tongues meet, and it’s a race to see who can stroke faster or who can make the other come first.

“I love you,” Dane says, voice low, and Ryan’s answer comes in the form of a sweet peck before the kiss inevitably deepens. 

Dane opens his mouth to speak, but he pauses, cursing to himself. He spits in his palm and strokes Ryan faster, gliding more easily. “I really want you. Let me grab a condom.”

“No time,” Ryan says grinning, when Dane raises an eyebrow.  “What? You said I’ll be late.”

“It won’t take long,” Dane's breath sharpens when Ryan grips tighter. Another hand joins the mix, thumb stroking Dane's tip until it leaks clear fluid. Dane's lips part when Ryan brings his thumb up, pressing against Dane’s tongue. His lips wrap around Ryan’s thumb, and he licks it clean.

“I need you now,” Ryan demands, planting his palms on the table and bending forward. He widens his stance, pressing his ass out towards Dane, grinning when he feels spit-slicked fingers ease into his hole.

Ryan throws himself back onto Dane's fingers; groaning when a third slips inside. His fingers paw at the wood of the table, scratching along the grain, cursing to himself when Dane presses against his button. “God, baby. You don’t have to worry about me. Just fuck me.”

Dane leans closer, pressing his hardness against Ryan's bare ass cheek. He bites his lip, wrapping his hand around his boyfriend, stroking him slowly, matching the pace of his fingers. “Don't pretend like you need long.”

He strokes faster, and Ryan’s grip on the table tightens. He lays on the table, looking back at Dane, heat filling his insides. When looks at his boyfriend‘s expression, Dane looks so concentrated. Ryan can tell from the angled brows, tongue peeking out between his lips, and that slight smile:

Ryan’s legs weaken, shaking, and he gets on his tiptoes, arching his back and pushing back onto Dane's fingers until he takes all of him. His eyes slam shut, and he whimpers, feeling heat gather at his base. It spreads like wildfire the more Dane strokes along Ryan's length. Ryan hastily grabs Dane's wrist; holding it in place, breathing harder when he feels Dane's fist tighten around his base. “Babe, please. I wanna come on your cock.”

Dane keeps his fist still, but keeps his grip as strong as ever. His fingers flick against Ryan’s sensitive spot, hammering against it. 

“Not fair,” Ryan whines, and his forehead presses against cold wood as he feels heat seep from his tip. He looks down at the mess on the table before his attention goes up to Dane. His quivering lips and eyes beg Dane to give him what he wants.

“We just cleaned the table yesterday,” Dane says, admiring the mess Ryan left. He leans down, level to Ryan, kissing his temple. “Is that it for you?”

Ryan shakes his head. “I think I can still come.”

“Good, because I’m not done with you,” Dane says. He eases his fingers out of Ryan and spits on his hand, coating his dick with saliva. He lines himself up and eases in, moving slowly, giving Ryan an inch at a time until his hips crash into Ryan’s ass with a plap.

Dane’s hand smears across the cum-covered table and he spreads pearly white all over Ryan’s hardness. His hand slides easier, aided by Ryan’s cum, and the blonde releases crying out of pleasure.

Every time Ryan moves, there's something to stimulate him. Every shift forward pumps him into Dane's hand; every thrust back bottoms him out on Dane's hardness. He’s in heaven, but focuses on slamming back, eager for Dane's dick. Ryan looks up at his boyfriend. “No need to go so soft. You know I can take it.”

“I know,” Dane says, clumping Ryan’s hoodie, using it to pull him onto his dick. “I had you moaning against and biting your pillow last night.”

“I can’t help it,” Ryan says. "You just make me feel so good.”

Dane goes faster, and his body claps loudly against Ryan with every collision.

“F-fuck, baby,” Ryan says, voice shaky. “You're throbbing.”

“Because you grip me so tight,” Dane says, grunting. He pulls Ryan up until their bodies are parallel. He wraps his arm around Ryan’s stomach, thrusting harder, pushing deeper. “You're taking it so well. I’m surprised you haven’t popped yet.”

“I’m just holding back,” Ryan forces out between labored breaths. “I want to llast for you.”

“Why?” Dane asks, nibbling the edge of Ryan’s ear, moving his hand faster along Ryan's shaft. “Come. You deserve to come.”

Dane's voice tickles Ryan, and he shortcircuits when he feels Dane's tongue against his ear. It does something indescribable, and his brain nearly shuts off. All he can feel is the tightening in his core, and Dane's dick pushing deep against his sweet spot. “Shit, shit, shit—”

The pleasure becomes too much to bear, and the moment Ryan is sure he’ll come, Dane lets go of his dick. Ryan's breaths are desperate and short, and denial pulls his mouth into a frown. His dick twitches, sending out a thick rope anyway, reaching at least halfway across the table

Dane spits in his palm before stroking Ryan again. He goes as fast as possible, thrusting the same speed, clapping against his boyfriend‘s ass. “C'mon, baby. come for me.”

The twist in Dane's wrist melts all coherent thoughts in Ryan’s head. He explodes, expelling white hot spurts  across the table as he whines until his wines and whimpers form into husky groans.

When he’s sure Ryan is spent, Dane grabs Ryan’s hips, thrusting hard, and not letting up. His eager breaths are broken up by the curses he mumbles, and he speeds up as he throbs inside Ryan’s hole. “Fuck, babe I’m so close.”

Dane's hands rest on Ryan’s ass. He tries to push out, but Ryan reaches back gripping Dane's thighs, “Inside. I need you to come inside.”

Dane nods, and his face contorts as he empties himself inside Ryan. He nearly collapses, barely catching himself on the table and slowly slips out, dick trickling, watching how he leaks out of Ryan.

The two hold their pants up and Dane grabs a cloth to wipe the table down. He hugs Ryan tightly, kissing his lips sweetly, motioning towards the door. “Okay, get out of here. You really will be late if you don’t leave right now.”

Ryan tips his mug back, chugging what’s left of his coffee and runs out the door after grabbing his keys and putting his shoes on. “Love you!”

There's nothing like coffee, a kiss from Dane, or a good quickie to help Ryan get up in the morning.

Synopsis: Nia wants to dye her hair, so I suggest a color. It’s an easy color to match, so this one recommendation branches off into a few more. 

Written for image 17 for the July contest!

~

“I think I wanna dye my hair,” Nia tells me out of nowhere when we’re browsing our phones.

I put my phone down and raise my eyebrow, smiling. “Where is this coming from?”

“My parents never let me dye my hair when I was living at home. I thought it would be nice to finally do it,” she says. “Help me think of a color.”

We look through Instagram, Pinterest, TikTok, anywhere that might have some good inspiration. Green is an immediate no for her. She’s open to something subtle: a deep blue that looks more like an undertone to augment her natural black, but I encourage Nia to do something bolder to match her personality.

“What if you did the rings like that one Olympic figure skater?”

“Tempting, but I’m not sure I’d be able to rock the septum piercing too,” Nia says, jokingly staring at the picture I show her. “It’s great on her, but that’s so not me.”

My phone calls my attention again, and I scroll for more options. One catches my eye, and my eyebrows flash, so I flip my phone over again to show Nia. “This. This is it.”

“Are you sure?” Nia asks with an unsure expression and a tilted head. “This isn’t too out there?”

“This color would look so good on you.”

~

Nia schedules an appointment to get her hair done—professionally. The prospect of us doing it at home sounds like a fun bonding experience, but we’d rather not risk botching it.

I hear the door open, and Nia walks in with a hood over her head, with the strings tied as tightly as possible (triple-knotted, even). I’m always drawn to her eyes, but right now her frown was the most prominent part of her face. I rush to her. “What’s wrong?”

She looks away with pursed lips and mutters. “I was getting stares on the bus ride back, so I put my hood on to feel less awkward.”

“It’s almost more awkward to wear your hood like this.“ Reaching for the knot, I undo it gently and giggle. My eyes flutter over to a loose tuft of hair, and Nia pulls her hood down over her face.

“I’m having second thoughts already. I went down a rabbit hole of wigs, and I found one that looks like the right length, so I think I’ll probably get one of those—”

“Hey, stop,” I say with a frown, cradling her head through the hood and peeling away fabric until I can see her eyes. Nia meets my gaze, and I reassure her with a smile. “I’m sure it looks fine. Can I see it?”

Slowly, she pulls her hood down, and at last, I get a look at bright pink hair.

I must have taken too long to respond, because she looks at me with panic in her eyes. A frown returns to her face. “See? I told you it looks bad!”

“No,” I correct. My cheeks hurt from smiling, and I pet the top of her head. “It looks so good!”

“Really?”

“I told you that that color would look nice on you,” I say proudly, nodding with crossed arms. “I have good instincts for this kind of stuff.”

“If you say so,” Nia accepts, cheeks the same color as her hair. She combs through her locks with her fingers. 

I lean in to whisper. “I can’t wait to give it a tug next time we fuck.”

“When will that—” she yelps when I grab her hand to guide her to the bedroom. “Already? I take it the pink is really doing it for you?”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for you to get home all day. I’ve been super horny waiting for you to get home, so you better be ready to get spoiled.”

Nia giggles, not finding it in her to complain.

“By any chance did you get it dyed down there too?” I ask.

“Sorry, no.”

“Damn.”

~

My day at the office seems to go by at a snail's pace. My eyes veer towards the clock almost any chance I get, and sometimes, it feels like time is going backwards rather than forward. Nia has a day off today, so she’s shopping with some friends, and I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out. My fingers type away, and I grumble grievances to myself. 

A ping from my phone instantly lightens my mood. It’s a text from Nia, and she sends me a picture of a lacy lingerie top. It’s dusty rose with plenty of sheer paneling for her nipples to show through. I grip my phone tighter, pulling it closer to my face, feeling my jaw fall slack. I type a small response, but my fingers keep fumbling before I can finally hit send:

Wow

Please tell me you will get it. It’d look so good on you 😍 

Minutes fly by, and I’m waiting for a text saying that Nia bought it. I beg to no one in particular, but I snap up when my phone dings again.

I don’t know. It’s a little scandalous😳 

A picture follows, and I bite my lip. It’s a selfie of her in the dressing room. Her bright smile sits right on top of the frame, and an arm across her nipples rests along the bottom. I’m obsessed, and I know better than to ask for a full-body picture (even if it’s tempting). I

Please get it. I will send the money if that’s what it takes!!

I was going to already, baby 😊

There’s a matching pair of panties, apparently 

I can’t see? 🫣

I didn’t take them into the dressing room cause I know my size here, but you’ll just have to wait until later to see them 😋

Have a good day at work 😉

~

I get home. The apartment is quiet, and I look everywhere for Nia. I find her asleep in bed with her phone in her hands. Her nap likely went longer than she intended, but she’s so peaceful that I can’t stand the idea of waking her. Without turning on the lights, I navigate the dark room best I can, wincing when I stub my toe on the dresser. 

Nia stirs in bed and sits up. “Oh baby, you’re home? Sorry.”

“Did you wanna go back to sleep?” I ask her

She shakes her head, yawning. After I turn on the light, she shields her eyes and rubs them. “Can I give you a haul?” 

“Always,” I say, throwing my clothes into the hamper. It’s too hot for a shirt, so I stay in my sports bra, but I swap my skirt for a comfy pair of pajama shorts. Taking my spot on the bed, I watch as Nia puts her shopping bags on the bed. 

She shows me her blind boxes, a recent hobby of hers, and it’s all good fun. She stares at the options, silently wishing for her pick, and we groan in unison when we get the ugliest one. Still, it’s kind of cute; there’s a charm to it. Nia mutters to herself, “Just my luck.”

The next is an outfit is one from one of her staple stores. Some good picks from the clearance section (she has the best luck digging through everything there). Nia runs off into the bathroom, closing the door.

I call out to her. “I’ve literally seen you naked. Like…last night, actually! Why are you so shy all of a sudden?”

Nia hushes me through the door. “It’s all part of the reveal! Give me my rom-com dress-up montage moment!”

I pout to myself, smiling, tempted to look through the other bags, but she’s right. Some patience would do me good, even if I’ve waited all day to see her in that set she bought earlier.

The door opens, and Nia strikes a few poses. She gives me a wink, and I cheer from my spot on the bed. A quick twirl gives me the view from every angle: cut-off jean shorts and a bright yellow tank top, tied in the back. 

I nod, staring at the way the denim hugs her ass. Drool drips from the corner of my mouth when I see how the shorts dig into her sides, and I get a glimpse of her navel.

“What do you think?”

“Great. I hear they’re calling this the perfect summer fit.”

“Guess how much it was!”

“Thirty. After tax.”

“Lower.”

“Twenty.”

“Fifteen!” Nia says, proudly flexing her arms. “I’ve still got my touch. Ten dollars for the shorts and a top for five bucks? Not bad at all.”

“Impressive,” I say, eyeing the other bags. 

“Just some makeup.” Nia walks over to dig through a striped bag. 

“Eyeshadow palette?”

“I wish! The one I was looking for was out of stock, so I settled on this lipstick.”

I giggle. “It matches your hair, so I know for a fact that that would look good on you.”

“I knew you would say that,” Nia says, smirking and rolling her eyes with fake annoyance. “I was actually thinking it would look better on you.”

I raise my eyebrow. I try not to laugh too hard, but I can’t help but smile. “That’s really not my thing; you know that. But I’ll humor you and give it a try.”

“Close your eyes, then.” Nia doesn’t stutter. 

“Huh? We’re doing lipstick, not eyeshadow or lashes. Aren’t I fine to keep my eyes open?” I pucker my lips, blowing playful kisses, and she catches each one in her palm, which warms my cheeks.

“Please?”

I agree silently, closing my eyes, puckering my lips, awaiting to feel the tip of the fresh lipstick. Her happy humming brings a smile to my face, and I hear her lips pop before gentle hands hold my head. Nia leans closer to kiss my forehead, and my eyes flit open to look up at her. 

She’s staring at the lip print, admiring her handiwork. Nia nods, stroking her chin. “Looks like I was right. This does look good on you.” 

“So that’s what you meant,” I tell her, laughing, but it dies down when she turns my head so she can plant a kiss on my temple. Her lips are careful and gentle. 

Her mouth travels to my cheeks, and she leaves a smooch right on the cheekbone. Nia has me turn to get the other side of my face (symmetry, you know). She tilts my head up, and our eyes lock. My lips quiver, and I lean in, quietly begging for a kiss, but she denies me, leaving it on my chin instead. She moves past my cheeks, and I turn my head away, baring my neck to her. Nia’s lips find my jawline, leaving a trail of pecks, and she presses those sweet lips against my neck, drawing a moan from me.

I know better than to rush her. I have no reason to, either. Her lips feel nice no matter where she puts them, so I let her do what she pleases. It’s harder and harder to stifle my moans with every kiss, and a few sprinkles along my collarbone ignite a fire deep in the pit of my stomach. Muscle memory spreads my legs, and when I stare at her fingers, imagining them on me, I know she’s only thinking of all the unkissed spots on my body.

Nia changes that promptly, leaving a kiss on each shoulder. It quickly becomes a game, or a dance. I offer a part of my body, and she kisses it tenderly, keeping her eyes locked on mine. She drapes my hand over her shoulder, as if pulling me in for a waltz, and I give her the reins. My breath hitches with each point of contact along my skin:

My bicep.

My forearm.

My wrist.

She grabs my hand with a light touch—as if handling porcelain or glass. Nia’s fingers trace my knuckles, and her lips press against the back of my hand and over the knuckles of my fingers. 

Nia places my palm against her cheek. Holding my hand to her, she nuzzles into me, smiling sweetly. Releasing a hitched breath, my heart nearly stops when her lips pucker against my skin, but she pulls away.

I don’t mean to whine, but it comes out anyway, much to my embarrassment. I look away, but a hand on my chin guides me to look at her again, and those alluring lips entrance me. 

She breaks into my orbit, kissing my chest, letting her lips linger on the top of my breasts. Each careful peck gets closer to the edge of my sports bra. 

I curse quietly when she peels fabric away, kissing just under it before withdrawing her lips. My brows furrow at her impish grin. Her lips have my attention again as she applies a fresh coat of lipstick. I only noticed just now how glossy it is. It makes her lips look so inviting: so plump, so moist, and I want so badly to feel them on mine.

Impatience gets the best of me, and I lean in closer, but a finger against my lips pushes me back. Nia stretches my other arm out, leaving a trail of kisses, making her way down to my fingers again. She stares at my digits, parting her lips, and I feel the warmth of her breath against my fingertips. 

Those hypnotizing lips part, and she reaches her tongue out to lick the tip of my pointer finger. 

I gulp, tempted to feel the warmth of her mouth, but my eyes widen when she gently pushes me back onto the bed, pinning my wrists on either side of my head before loosening her grip. A hand strokes my cheek, and I only realize then just how shameless I am to be smiling so widely. 

I squirm in place when careful thumbs push up my bra, and she kisses where the elastic dug into my skin. It’s agonizing how badly I want her to remove everything. I need her tongue on me, but I stay strong, not ready to beg. Not just yet. 

Kisses travel lower still. Soft lips planted on my stomach and navel have my head in a frenzy. So not fair.

Nia sits up, kneeling, and throws her head back in a hearty laugh. I push myself up. Admiring how bright her smile is. Her eyes glimmer too, and for a moment the warmth in my heart matches the one in my core. There’s something different in the look in her eyes, and her voice is low and charged. “You’re so cute when you get this worked up.”

“I’m n-not,” I stammer, but her smile only widens when she can see right through my sorry attempt at masking my arousal. Surely it’s written all over my face or in the way I tense up, completely at her mercy, quietly anticipating her next moves. 

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure you forgot about your last surprise.”

I gulp, looking towards her shopping bags, recognizing the logo from the lingerie store. 

Before I can reach over, she shakes her head, smiling at my efforts. With a shrug, she explains, “You won’t find it in there. I have it hidden.”

Glancing around the room, I think of the places she could hide it: her top drawer, the closet, under the pillow, even. There’s probably more that I can’t think of; I blame the fog she has my head in. 

“I’ll give you one hint,” Nia offers, reaching behind her back to undo the tie on her tank top.

I nod, pursing my lips to lick them, reaching over to pull her tank top off over her head. Staring is inevitable, and I’m taking in the sight of her in person. The bra looks stunning on her. I throw the tank top to the ground and cup her breasts, feeling her nipples poke through sheer fabric.

It’s impossible to contain my hunger, and my lips find her neck, kissing it sweetly until I get the impulse to bite. I’m gentle at first, nibbling lightly at her skin. It’s not until her hand on the back of my head, holding me against her neck, that I get the courage to bite harder. The moan from her lips spurs me to keep going. I indulge myself in more squeezes of Nia’s breasts, and she grins.

“You’re really loving this bra on me, aren’t you?” Nia asks, and I only smile nervously in response. She leans closer, grinning when she denies my lips again, and whispers in my ear. “Don’t forget: it’s a matching set.”

She guides my fingers under her shorts, and prods my fingers lower. They pass over a thin, elastic band, a stain bow, lacy embroidery, sheer paneling, and exposed wetness snaps my face up to look at Nia. Nia bites her lip, delight curling her eyes up. “Crotchless.” 

My fingers clumsily undo the button of her shorts, and I peel them down by her belt loops. Nia turns around, arching her back, pressing her ass into my face playfully, looking at me over her shoulder. She grins, putting more space between her knees to let me get a good look. Her lips are glistening, almost as glossy as the ones that have been kissing me all night. 

I pounce, and she quickly rolls over onto her back, sweet giggles leaving her lips as she reaches towards one of my hands to guide it between her parted legs. A sharp exhale pushes past the gap in my lips when I push past her panties to get a feel of her wetness at last. 

She bites her lip, nodding, and I give her two fingers, enjoying the sweet moans that tickle my ear. Nia’s hips roll to my touch. Words are soft, barely escaping through bated breath to tease me again, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
 
“You have no idea how badly I want to,” I tell her, shuddering. Thoughts fizzle out of my head when I feel just how wet and tight she is. My fingers ease deeper, and with every knuckle deeper I go, the more she closes and pulses around me. I press against her favorite spot on the front of her walls. My fingers curl, and her head cranes up towards me.

“Go ahead,” she coos. “Do it. No more teasing. No more games. I want you, baby, and I know you want me too.”

Nia moans when I press harder against her spot, but I moan harder when our lips finally crash. Those lips are as soft as I imagine, and my lips part to take her eager tongue.

She smiles for me, and her breaths pick up as my fingers curl. Her hips lift off the bed, grinding into my hand. “I don’t know who’s wanted this more: you or me.”

“Definitely me,” I say, pressing my mouth harder against hers. She winces when my teeth nibble at her bottom lip, sucking it gently, and she reciprocates, biting back until I moan for her. She keeps one hand wrapped around my waist, tracing the small of my back while the other clutches at the sheets.

Fabric clumps in her fist, and shallow breaths barely escape as her hips buck into my palm. She curses, and the resolve she had while teasing me slips away as she slowly loses control.

I feel Nia close around me, and my fingers don’t let up as I hammer them against her sensitive spot. I pull away from the kiss, and she whines in response, her fingers desperately reaching for me, as I ease myself down between her legs. I need to taste her, so I lean down to indulge myself, letting my tongue flick wildly to match the pace of my fingers.

“Fuck—” she cries out, and her fingers grab my hair, holding my head down into her. Her hips roll into my face, bucking wildly out of control when her climax overcomes her. Tremors grow into violent quakes. Her legs are as shaky as her breath, and when she comes down from her pleasure, she’s desperate for air, panting, staring at me with her disheveled pink hair and a woozy look in her eyes. 

She stares down at me, tugging me up towards her by my arms and hugging me tightly, needily bringing my lips to hers. Breaking the kiss, she grins, nuzzling the tip of her nose against mine. “Did you like that picture I sent you?”

“Of course,” I admit embarrassedly. “That’s all I could think about through the morning, and it’s the reason I took my lunch in my car.”

“Yeah?” She teases, reaching a hand down my pajama shorts. She kneads me over my panties, and slow strokes along the fabric soak up my dampness. Coyly, she suggests, “For a nap?”

“Obviously, I was playing with myself,” I admit, breaking eye contact. My eyes shut when her finger passes over my clit, but the fabric between us feels like a nuisance. 

“You weren’t afraid that you’d get caught?”

“I was just too horny to care at the time,” I say, whining, grinding my hips against her hand. “Why did you have to send me that in the middle of the day?”

“To make you want me more,” she tells me. “And I’d like to say it worked. What do you think?”

“Definitely…I came at least twice.” A flush warms my cheeks. “Just staring at your picture, moaning to myself, wishing I could’ve been in that dressing room with you. Fuck—Nia, please get the strap and fuck me, already.”

Nia withdraws my hands, and she quickly removes my panties and shorts at the same time, rolling me onto my back. She draws shallow breaths from me, kissing down my stomach, and I stare at the trail of pink lip prints she leaves behind. The lower she goes, the longer her lips press into my skin; each kiss lasts longer than the last, and it’s absolute agony when she lifts away from me again. 

“Nia,” I whine, my head fighting frustration and an incapacitating level of arousal.

She grins, going for the bedside table, and I raise a brow when she comes to the bed without a harness and strap-on. Instead, she has a wand vibrator, and the bulbous head buzzes when she powers it on. One of her hands pushes my leg back, holding it behind my knee, and I pull my other knee towards me, exclaiming when the toy’s intensity reaches my dripping wet heat. “This is good, too, right?” 

“Ye-yeah,” I stammer, hardly thinking straight. Whatever simmering heat had been building ramps up into a boil, and I’m ready to overflow. 

She holds the handle, leaning down, placing herself on the other end of the wand. Nia leans down to kiss me. It’s a deep kiss, and I need her lips more than anything. When her hips grind against the toy, she pushes it harder against my clit, and my legs shake already. “Wow, you look like you’re gonna come already.” 

“It’s just so…intense,” I tell her, reaching up to bite her lip before shoving my tongue into her mouth. 

“That’s nothing,” Nia says, turning up the speed, and my vision blurs. \

Everything’s shaking. The room. Nia. The view of lip prints sprinkled all over my body. I make out the form of a wide, bright smile.

“If you can hold on and not come until I do,” Nia starts, voice dripping with mischief. “I’ll strap you until you ruin our sheets.” 

I’m too far gone already, clutching at the sheets, trying to pull away from the wand, but she has me pinned. It feels too good to stop, but I want Nia to fuck me. My body has a mind of its own, and I’m bucking into the wand’s head, breathing hard.

“I know you can do it,” Nia tells me, nodding, thumb stroking my cheek. “Can’t you?”

“I—” my voice trembles, and the words that follow blend together. “I can’t stop…fuck me. I wanna come—” 

All I can see is white as I spill over, and it’s only when I come back down to earth that I can feel Nia grinding on top of me, coming with me as her lips needily crash against mine. Heat pulses through me, and I can’t tell if it’s me shaking, Nia, or both of us. She rips the toy from between us and hurriedly switches it off, collapsing next to me. 

“Who came first?” I ask.

“Don’t know.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“I think it means we’re too tired to cook,” Nia says, grinning. “Takeout?”

I offer a closed fist, and her knuckles collide with mine. “Yes, please.” 

Nia snuggles up to me, and we browse her phone for dinner options. The room feels way hotter than when I walked in.

“I’m gonna need a shower, I think,” I tell Nia.

Mindlessly, her fingers walk along my skin, finding every lip mark she’d left. Her eyes flit up towards mine. “Are you sure? This lipstick looks so good on you, and I’d hate to see you wash it off so soon.” 

Synopsis: Noblewoman Rosaline is assigned a knight to escort her on her travels. While trained for combat, the knight doesn’t appear to be weathered for conversation. 

Writing for image 06 for the July contest! 

~

“Papa!” Rosaline says, storming into the duke’s chamber. “I’ve been told you won’t be accompanying me to cousin Sandra's wedding?”

“I’m not sure how you deduced that, but I will most certainly be going to the wedding,” the duke corrects, looking at Rosaline over his spectacles. “But I will most likely follow days after. Closer to the ceremony. I have business here at the fiefdom that I need sorted out.”

“You know I hate traveling without you. The trip is far more boring without you to chat with.”

The duke laughs heartily. “As if I would leave you alone. You know I will send you with a knight to accompany you. Is that not suitable?”

Rosaline grimaces. “Suitable, yes, but hardly preferable. Every knight you’ve assigned to escort me on my travels thus far has been absolutely deplorable. We must have the captain do something about his vetting process.”

“You know many of them come from nobility, right?” the duke says, frowning. 

“Then why is it that they don’t act like it?” Rosaline asks, frustratedly throwing her arms into the air, pacing in front of the duke's desk. “I seem to recall there was a code of chivalry, and I’ve yet to see anyone put it in practice. I dare say these knights have been your poor attempt at matchmaking. It’s as if you don’t know your own daughter or the type of company I’d like to keep.”

“Oh, I know my daughter,” the duke says, smiling with a raised brow. “You’ve been at my side for twenty-five years.”

“And it will be thirty-five at this rate, if your proposed suitors are as barbaric as your choices past. If they keep this up, I’ll be a spinster, and you’ll be without anyone to succeed you.”

The duke sucks his teeth, wagging a finger. “While tradition seems to insist that a man should head the fiefdom, I have no doubt in my mind that my daughter would be a strong leader.”

“That’s all good and well, but it would be nice to have a love match, rather than a political one,” Rosaline says, speaking through the corner of your mouth. “Surely, that’s not just a fairytale, and it’s something I could expect to experience.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that this knight will be the one for you,” Rosaline’s father assures with a warm smile. 

Rosaline rolls her eyes. “You say that nearly every time, but I do hope that you are correct in this instance.”

A whinnying just outside the window catches both of their attention, and the duke grins, motioning outside. “It appears the knight is here. Why don’t you go out there and introduce yourself?”

Rosaline bows politely and walks away, but her father clearing her throat stops her in place.

“Perhaps approach this one with a bit more…tact. While knights are trained in combat, few have faced anything as sharp as your tongue.”

“I love you too, Papa,” Rosaline says, smiling, making her way outside.

~

“Good morrow—” Rosaline starts, taking a step back when she sees the knight flinch and collapse to the ground. He turns to face her, looking up at her from his spot on the ground. “...brave knight.”

Rosaline can’t get a read on his expression, as his visor is down. She imagines he’s dumbfounded by her beauty as he makes no effort to speak. “I take it you are the one to escort me to my cousin's wedding.”

The feather at the top of the knight’s helmet shakes with his enthusiastic nod.

“Or are you just an opportunist, looking to win the hand of a duke’s daughter?” Rosaline muses aloud. As Rosaline walks closer, the knight ceases his nodding and backs up. 

“From how easily you frightened when I greeted you earlier, as well as how spotless your plate armor is, I’m inclined to say that you’ve not seen a lick of combat on the battlefield. Am I to believe you’re brave enough to protect me on the journey?”

The knight scurries to his knees and bows his head humbly.

Rosaline scoffs. “You're not much of a talker, which is a good change of pace. Perhaps father was right: you may be just the knight for me. May I know my companion’s name, at the very least?”

She grimaces when he stays still as a statue. “If that is the case, perhaps I will assign you a name. I dub thee… Sir Mortar, as you are drab, boring, and I dare say thick—in the skull, I mean. It is also like talking to a brick wall with you, so I deem this a very fitting name.”

Sir Mortar bows his head lower before standing, dutifully waiting by his stabled horse. 

“I will return with my belongings,” Rosaline announces. “Do mind the garden. The bumblebees are out, and I'd hate for you to fall in battle.” 

~ 

Rosaline wishes so hard that her father could accompany her for this journey instead of Sir Mortar. Conversation is terribly one-sided. Had she not been a noblewoman, Rosaline would’ve believed she was being blatantly ignored. While she would much rather have this than a brutish idiot or lustful lecher, this feels a very different kind of miserable.

“Is your family of rank, Sir Mortar?” Rosaline asks. She pets the mane of her horse, and the whinny she gets in response is more than her knight has offered. 

“...”

“Has it always been your dream to become a knight, or is this perhaps your last feasible option after a failure to enter a trade?”

“...”

It's not for a lack of trying. While Rosaline knows very little of what it takes to become a knight, she knows some terms from the few things that past travel companions have brought up—unsolicited, of course. “Do you have any accolades of merit?”

“...”

“Are there any proficiencies you have, or are there weapons you favor?”

“...”

She sighs. “Have you always been this talkative?”

Sir Mortar makes a sound reminiscent of a laugh, but he makes no effort to look back towards Rosaline.

Rosaline’s stomach grumbles, and she frowns, watching the low angle of the sun. The sky is vivid orange, and the light catches every edge of Sir Mortar’s plating. His silhouette is quite impressive, and this sight fools Rosaline into believing—even if only for a moment—that a romance could bud between them. 

“Sir Mortar,” she addresses, pausing in vain, knowing well he has no words for her. “I hunger. Perhaps we can make a camp for the night.”

He bows his head and snaps his horse’s reins, guiding her towards the forest. The deeper they travel, the less light reaches them, and it’s for the best. It’s safer this way. Less likely to be spotted, and ruffians are less likely to rob them. 

Sir Mortar ties their horses to nearby trees. His first priority is to feed them a generous amount of oats. He’s quite gentle with his mare, pushing his visor against the horse’s forehead and stroking its mane. It’s endearing.

“Were you a stableboy before you became a knight? Perhaps a page or squire that was promoted when your knight died of old age? Are you your town’s best prospect?”

The last question spurs Sir Mortar’s attention, and his head turns to face Rosaline, even if only for a moment

“I see. So you’re as green as the grass in the meadows we’ve been traveling by,” Rosaline says. Her words seep with sarcasm. “Oh, good. I know for certain that I am in good hands.”

Sir Mortar builds two tents—one for each of them—and sets up a cot for Rosaline. Rosaline smiles. The only benefit of traveling without her father is that she may indulge in one of her true loves: sleeping out in the wild close to nature.

Her father typically insists that they spend their nights in inns during the midpoints of their journey. They’re part of the fiefdom, paying taxes to him, so why not utilize the perks of nobility? Rosaline doesn’t share that belief. Despite her rank, there’s a oneness she feels with the working people, even if she herself has lived a pampered life. She makes sure to give gratitude to all of her servants, all of the chefs at the castle, and all of her father's staff.

In contrast, she seldom has gratitude for the knights assigned to accompany her. They tend to see her as a means to jump rank, and the concept of that is so tiring.

“I have a taste for fish.”

Sir Mortar nods, undoing his fishing rod from his horse, but he tenses when Rosaline pulls it from his grasp.

“You will accompany me to the lake, as I know a favorable spot for fishing,” Rosaline says with an air of authority. She looks over her shoulder towards the knight when she doesn’t feel the metal clanks of his footsteps following her. The knight stands there in place, dumbfounded. Rosaline raises a brow. “If you are surprised that I would prefer to keep your company, then you are in good company because I am equally baffled by the fact that being away from you would somehow be more boring than being with you.”

Sir Mortar picks up his pace until he matches Rosaline's stride, walking at her side. 

“Or are you perhaps surprised that a noblewoman has a taste for fish from the river?” Rosaline suggests, and Sir Mortar returns to not answering. She sighs, shaking her head. “If that’s the case, then perhaps you would do well to not judge a book by its cover. The trout here is quite good, especially when cooked well. You can cook, yes?“

The knight nods.

“Thank goodness,” Rosaline mutters.

~

Rosaline watches the knight prepare the fish. They caught three decently sized trout, and Sir Mortar uses his sword to fillet them carefully. She chimes in. “I dare say this may be the most slicing your sword has done since you took upon the mantle.”

Mortar looks to her briefly, staring before returning his attention to the fish. The cuts look meaty, and Rosaline’s mouth starts to water. The knight expertly starts a fire much quicker than Rosaline imagines, and the searing of the fish in a cast-iron pan is music to her ears.

Rosaline licks her lips, waiting patiently, resting her chin in her hands. Sir Mortar uses his utensils to carefully flip the fish, plating them on wooden plates. He hands Rosaline a bowl and spoon and motions to the fish, bowing his head.

She takes the first bite. Her eyes widen, and her eyebrows flash. “Quite good, Sir Mortar. You’d have a future as a chef should you decide to leave the chivalric service.”

After scarfing down the first two fillets, that should have been satisfactory. The other pieces, lingering on the plate, call her name. Her eyes veer up towards Sir Mortor, who waves a finger, pointing at the fish between them and flicking it to motion for Rosaline’s bowl.

“Most knights would deem me unladylike for me to have more than them at dinner time,” Rosaline says, rolling her eyes before looking towards her knight. “Surely, you won’t tell my father?”

Sir Mortar shakes his head.

It’s a relief that Rosaline does not have to put on airs. While she still knows next to nothing about Sir Mortar, he doesn’t seem to be a stickler for propriety. Her brows furrow, and she clears her throat, swallowing the last bite of fish. “Sir Mortar, pardon if I’ve not made this connection before, but is it possible that you’re mute?”

There’s a pause, and he shakes his head again.

“That’s a relief, I suppose. I feel a little bit better knowing that you can defend yourself verbally. You simply choose not to,” Rosaline says, tilting her head up haughtily. “I take it you are shy, then? Seeing as I’ve not even seen your face this entire day, and you refuse to eat in front of me as well.”

Rosaline scoffs to herself, shaking her head. “I suppose it’s possible you’ve got an ugly face. Should that be the case, perhaps it’s best that your visor stays down.”

Metal clinks and Rosaline looks over. Without seeing her companion’s expression. She only has half the information she needs, but his body language suggests at least some sort of hurt in the way he fiddles with the fabric of his gloves.

“I apologize for that last comment. I’m positive you’re quite average,” Rosaline offers. She sighs, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes soften when she looks towards Sir Mortar. “Do you hate this? Accompanying me on this journey? It’s no secret that I’m not the easiest person to deal with. Certainly, I’m no poster child for what a noblewoman should be.”

Sir Mortar shakes his head frantically and waves Rosaline off with his hands.

“Duty can be so suffocating. We’re born with a set of expectations on us.” She pauses to look over at the knight, admiring the clean, dentless plating of his armor. “I’m sure you know it just as well as I do: no matter what plans we have for life, life often has its own plans for us, and it’s our duty to answer the call, whether or not it’s pleasant.”

The knight nods solemnly.

Rosaline looks at the fire and yawns. She offers a playful smile, hoping no malice accompanies her words. “This riveting conversation has tired me out. I will retire for the night, lest I say anything hurtful again—or worse: unnecessarily sentimental.”

Her lips form into a slight smile, and she looks at the plate of fish. “Please do eat before you get some sleep. It’s quite good.”

Rosaline walks into her tent, but she peeks out through a sliver of closed fabric. “It’s in your best interest to stay out of my tent. Surely, you understand one hand on me, and my father will have you quartered in the town square.”

Sir Mortor nods promptly before briefly moving to sit in front of her tent’s entrance with his back to it. It’s his duty to protect Rosaline, so he does so, making himself the last line of defense. Should anyone dare to harm her, he stands in the way. 

She hears the knight take a deep breath, and one final peek shows long, flowing brown hair as Sir Mortor lifts his helmet. Rosaline’s curiosity nearly has her storm out in front of the knight to finally get a look at his face to see what he’s been hiding this whole time, but she’s caused enough trouble for the knight who’s been nothing but accommodating all day.

She lies down in her cot and sleep finds her easily.

~

The coos of morning doves wake Rosaline, and she rubs her eyes, yawning. Walking out of her tent to stretch your arms up, Rebecca is a little stiff, but there’s nothing quite so refreshing like the morning air and the smell of fresh dew.

She looks over towards her companion’s tent, and he seems to be fast asleep. Light snores, audible from the outside. How careless. He should’ve been up long before Rosaline rose, but it’s also possible he had assumed she was the type of pampered woman to sleep in and laze throughout the day.

She walks to their extinguished fire, rendered a pile of ash, and she laughs at herself, spotting the sword in its scabbard. What a dangerous thing to leave lying around. It does Sir Mortor no good here, should he have needed it late last night. They could’ve been slaying in their sleep

She looks around when curiosity strikes. Rosaline’s always wondered how heavy a sword is, and she bends down to pick it up. Rosaline holds it by the scabbard and walks over to a patch of open grass. She needs room to swing, after all.

She slides the sword out with a shrrrring and stares at her reflection in the blade, dropping the scabbard to the ground. It falls with a thud. Her hands wrap around the handle, gripping it tightly, and she carefully brings the sword upright. It’s not as heavy as she imagines, but the weight distribution makes it awkward. The strain on her forearm is almost immediate.

Wielding this in battle would be more strenuous than recollections make it seem. With a gulp and a deep breath, Rosaline lifts the weapon and winds back, letting the blade sit behind her. With all her might, she swings forward, and when the sword’s point hits the apex of her swing, she hears quick footsteps and clanking metal.

“Lady Rosaline! Be careful!”

Rosaline’s eyes widen at a feminine voice, and she startles as she sees Sir Mortar run in her direction. Her hands slip, and she loses control as the blade swings down. She loses her footing, and she shuts her eyes as their bodies collide.

They crash to the ground together, and Sir Mortar breaks Rosaline’s fall, yelping as the air is pushed from the knight’s lungs. Rosaline dares to open her eyes, following the sound of metal rolling. She’s almost scared to look out at the damage she’s caused, and she tenses when she sees Sir Mortar’s helmet, just meters away. Her grip on the sword loosens as she follows the blade down to the point of impact. Terrified she’ll see blood, relief finds her when the tip of the sword is buried deep into moist soil, narrowly missing Sir Mortar’s body.

Her attention falls to the knight’s face, and Rosaline’s jaw drops. “You’re…you’re…”

“A woman?” the knight suggests, looking away, lips pursing in shame.

“You’re…so beautiful.”

“You don’t have to go that far, Lady Rosaline,” she says. “I cannot possibly compare to a radiant beauty like yours.”

Rosaline would usually roll her eyes at such flattery, but her heart is racing as she listens to the sound of her knight’s voice. Under no circumstances would he ever have guessed that the knight she’d been traveling with all day yesterday was a woman.

“Your staring worries me,” the knight says, grinning. “I am of no authority to advise you on politeness, but I admit I’m a little flustered when you look at me like that.”

“I apologize,” Rosaline says, getting to her feet. She offers a hand, helping her knight up. “I have a multitude of questions.”

“Naturally.”

“I’m still unaware of your name,” Rosaline says, crossing her arms. “So I’d like you to rectify that immediately.”

“That’s not a question, Lady Rosaline,” the knight says, smile fading when Rosaline scowls. “While Sir Mortar is as scathing as it is clever, my name is Brynn. A woman knight is not a Sir, but a Dame instead.”

“Dame Brynn, then,” Rosaline says, liking the way the name feels passing through her lips. “Is it as I said earlier, where you were promoted to knight? Or were you always in training?”

Bryn laughs nervously. “It is as you said last night. Sometimes, duty finds us. I was not a squire or page. Instead, I was just a stablehand. My family cared for the horses of the knight from our small town. He was injured while riding one day, lost feeling in his legs, so he was deemed unfit for combat. Our village is small, and the options for a male would be fifty-five—which is far too old for someone to be sent into a battle—or five, who would grow out of his first set of armor before we could put it on.”

“I knew women could become knights, though this is my first time meeting one. Was the training arduous?”

“Absolutely. Dressed in full gear, there are days I would dry heave from the heat alone, and the constant swinging and aiming and guarding didn’t make anything better.”

“You’ve not seen the battlefield?”

“Correct, considering we are in a time of peace, for which I am thankful,” Brynn admits sheepishly. “I’ve talked to other knights, veterans from campaigns past, and they make the war to be a hellish time that I was not made for.”

“Why not rescind your title, then?” Rosaline asks.

Brynn shrugs. “Walking through the town, you get to know and see everyone who lives there. They have their own lives. I think of the extreme sadness should their livelihoods be threatened. I wield my sword so that I may protect the people who’ve made me smile, day after day.”

“That’s an admirable answer,” Rosaline says, satisfied. “I apologize for taking your sword. It was not my place.”

“I expected your swordsmanship to be at least half as good as your fishing,” Brynn says. “It appears I was mistaken.”

“Why did you keep your identity a secret from me?” Rosaline asks. “Did my father have you do that?”

“I worried you’d deem me incompetent or unfit to accompany you once you learned I was a woman,” Brynn answers. “It’s a rarity that those who acquaint me truly take me seriously lest I can knock them down to their rear.”

“I know now that you are quite skilled. Your cooking is excellent, though I may be a better fisher,” Rosaline teases, “Even if only marginally.”

Brynn walks over to her sword and picks it up, sheathing it and carrying it back to the campsite. “Come on. Shall we pack up and get ready for the day’s travels?”

“With much distance we covered yesterday, we are ahead of pace, so we can afford to lay around at least for a little bit. I gave you quite the rude awakening this morning, so it’s only fair that I’d let you rest for longer.”

“I’ve had enough slumber for the night, Lady Rosaline.”

“Then shall we swim?” Rosaline laughs at Brynn’s unsure expression. “Together, of course.”

“Together?” Brynn repeats, stammering. “W-would that not be improper?”

“It could be improper if you were a man, Dame Brynn,” Rosaline starts, “but you are no man, so I see no problem.”

~ 

Rosaline runs up to the water's edge. She hears chuckles behind her, coming from Dame Brynn. Turning over her shoulder, Rosaline beckons the knight closer. She starts stripping, slipping her sleeves off her shoulders and pushing her dress down to her ankles. After carefully untying her undergarments, abandoning them with her dress, Rosaline prances towards the lake.

Brynn shields her eyes and looks away, though Rosaline believes she sees the knight peek between parted fingers. “Lady Rosaline, surely this is indecent. Your father would have me put in the stocks if he discovered that I allowed his daughter to bare herself to the world.”

“This isn’t the world. It’s just you and me,” Rosaline assures. She runs back towards Brynn. “Now, tell me how to remove your armor. I’m not so familiar with this process.”

“Are you so set on asking me to join you?” Brynn asks, flashing a shaky smile. 

“I am ordering you to join me, if you find it allowable.”

“A lady asking her knight for permission?” Brynn laughs. “That is certainly amusing.”

“My knight?” Rosaline teases.

“At least for now,” Brynn corrects abashedly.

Rosaline looks at Brynn until the other looks away, blushing. She smiles, tracing a finger along Brynn’s vambrace. “We shall see.”

She moves behind the knight, fiddling with buckles, flashing an accomplished smile when she’s able to undo one. “Surely there are dozens of these buckles to secure all of your armor. Is that not a hindrance for intimacy?” 

Brynn laughs nervously. “You’ll find that many knights are celibate for that reason alone.”

“Are you?”

“I find many men would prefer their maiden without the chivalric getup.”

“And women?”

Brynn’s cheeks turn bright red, and she stammers an incomprehensible response, babbling nonsense.

The two stand in charged silence as Rosaline works more buckles off and portions of Brynn’s armor fall to the ground. Rosaline muses, “Admittedly, I do have an admiration of one in armor, though historically, the one inside it tends to be a nuisance.”

“I apologize, Lady Rosaline.”

“I’m not referring to you. I find that you are a singular exception,” Rosaline says, wagging a finger. She works faster, taking more and more off of Brynn. “I’m quite interested in what you’re hiding underneath all of this plating.”

When the last of the armor pieces is removed, Brynn pulls off her inner gambeson. Rosaline watches with wide eyes when she takes in the sight of Brynn’s shoulders and back. Her fingers dare to trace skin, and she feels the density of the knight’s muscles. 

Rosaline’s finger traces down Brynn’s arms, hooking one of her fingers. She walks them towards the lake, eyes not brave enough to meet Brynn’s gaze. “Shall we?”

Brynn follows timidly, and a light tug on Rosaline’s hand slows their pace. “I'm not the strongest swimmer, Lady Rosaline.”

“This lake is not terribly deep, and there’s no current to pull you under. It's perfectly safe.”

“If I might make a correction, it’d be more accurate to say that I do not know how to swim,” Brynn clarifies. Shame angles her brows down.

“Then I shall protect you,” she says proudly, and a second hand joins her first to pull Brynn even harder.

Brynn pouts, but when her toes meet crisp water, she gives in, even if only by a little. With a smile, she says, “I should be the one protecting you.”

They travel deeper into the lake, slowly, a single step at a time. Brynn's eyes nervously track the top of the waterline in relation to how high it rises along her body. She tenses, shuddering, but Rosaline tightens the grip on her hands, offering a sweet smile. “Keep your attention on me. Don’t worry about the water.”

Rosaline takes a sharp breath when the waterline hits her chest, and she allows herself to take a lingering glance at Brynn's breasts: goosebumps all around from the cool lake, and stiffening peaks dipping just below the water’s surface.

She feels Brynn tremble, attempting to pull away or turn heel to go back to land, but Rosaline pulls her closer still, until their chests press against each other. Her arms encircle Brynn, and when the knight's chin meets the water, she turns away, fear written all over her half-closed eyelids.

“It’s okay,” Rosaline assures with a smile. She tightens her grip on the woman, and they rest their chins on the other's shoulders. Her hand finds the small of Brynn's back. “Kick your feet up. I won’t let you sink.”

Brynn nods. She pushes her toes off the lake's floor, tensing and holding Rosaline even tighter. Rosaline smiles, seeing Brynn's brown hair floating along the water’s surface, splayed every which way, following each strand to the beautiful woman they’re connected to.

There’s a small hum from Brynn. It feels like a tiny celebration for a little victory. Brynn nuzzles her cheek against Rosaline’s shoulder, looking up at the noblewoman. “I’m doing it. I’m really swimming.”

“Not yet, I fear. If I were to let go, you may be just in danger of drowning as ever,” Rosaline says with a laugh. She's a skilled swimmer herself, but right this second, she feels like she’s floating because of the arms that grip her so tightly. “Dame Brynn.”

Brynn’s eyes glimmer, catching the morning sun. “Yes, Lady Rosaline?”

“I would very much like to kiss you,” Rosaline admits, eyes bouncing between Brynn’s eyes and lips. “Will I be forced to order you to accept my affection?”

“I’d be honored to kiss you, Lady Rosaline, but I fear I may be just as good as it at it as I am swimming," Brynn admits with a blush. “I’ve not had my first kiss.”

“And you believe I have?” Rosaline teases, flashing a grin. She nuzzles her lips closer, and her breath tickles Brynn’s neck. “I am a maiden through and through.”

“Surely your first time should be with someone more worthy?”

“You’re the first I’ve met who I would consider suitable,” Rosaline tells Brynn. “Sometimes duty causes us to rise to the occasion. Will you? Or will you let the moment pass?”

There’s a fiery resolve in Brynn’s eyes. She presses her lips swiftly against Rosaline’s. The kiss is impossibly sweet. Lips softer than Rosaline can imagine. They break away, finally, lips quivering, as if silently begging the other for more.

The two do nothing to deprive themselves further. 

Rosaline brings Brynn in for another kiss, and Brynn’s breath is stolen. She brings her feet down to the lake’s floor, the tips of her toes digging against packed sand so she can regain her footing.

Brynn’s hands move down to Rosaline’s waist, and she walks them a few paces back so the water is not as deep. She can focus fully on Rosaline this way. She pulls away to breathe. “If you’ve not had your first kiss, am I right to assume you’ve never been touched?”

“Not by another,” Rosaline says with uncharacteristic shyness. She brings her lips to Brynn’s ears, whispering impishly, “My hands have been a constant companion for as long as I have been made aware of the pleasure they can bring me.”

“Then you must tell me how you like it,” Brynn says, hastily pulling Rosaline for another kiss. Needy lips are hungry, and not just because they skipped breakfast.

“Dame Brynn, how audacious of you to order a noblewoman.” Rosaline grins.

“It’s not an order,” Brynn says, eyes enamored by Rosaline’s lips. She leans closer, indulging her lips against Rosaline’s neck. Her lips quiver. “It’s a desperate plea. I want so badly to touch you and to pleasure you.”

“All this because of a kiss?” Rosaline teases, guiding Brynn’s hand between her legs.

“Your radiance has been at the front of my mind since I laid eyes on you yesterday. I don’t let my eyes linger too long, lest lust consume me. After I retired to my tent, I was up for hours, tossing and turning, wishing I could be by your side. I touched myself, imagining what your moans must sound like,” Brynn admits. 

“My, my. You may be closer to the other knight than I thought,” Rosaline says with a smirk, tilting her head away to invite more kisses on her neck. “But I will allow it because it is you.”

Rosaline puts her fingers over Brynn’s, rubbing her clit. “Just like that…follow that pace.”

She moans, gripping Brynn tightly. Her hips grind against the knight’s fingers, and her hands travel higher, threading through beautiful, brown hair. The warmth spreading through her contrasts the brisk waters. “Yes…that's it…”

Brynn’s lips rest on Rosaline's, kissing deeper. The longer they linger, lips part, and muffled moans bounce between them when tongues meet. She pulls away, and her mouth travels to Rosaline’s cheeks, making their way down her neck. Her mouth rests in the valley between Rosaline’s breasts, and she kisses sweetly, allowing her lips to scale the supple summits until her tongue flicks against a pointed peak. 

“Yes,” Rosaline coos, grinning wide. “You’re as good with your mouth as you are at cooking. Should you reject your alternative career as my personal cook, I’d happily allow you to accompany me every night.”

Brynn sucks and licks Rosaline’s nipples, flicking the tip of her tongue as a nub stiffens between her lips. Her mouth locks around it, and she tugs with a gentle nibble, spurring a sharp groan from Rosaline. 

Eager not to take this idly, Rosaline shifts her knee between Brynn’s legs. She presses it to the knight’s mound, feeling Brynn buck in response. A satisfied smile stretches across Rosaline’s face when she hears Brynn moan.

“Faster,” Rosaline begs, smiling wider when Brynn’s fingers speed up. Her breaths grow in frequency, each one more shallow than the last. She leans into kiss her knight, holding her in place. Sweet moans follow from the two of them.

Bryn’s fingers travel lower, finding Rosaline’s entrance and parting the lower lips until the digits breach past them. Rosaline grips Brynn’s hair tighter, kiss deepening, until her core is overflowing with warmth. Brynn presses at an engorged spot deep inside Rosaline, fingers rubbing rigid walls. Her thumb continues to circle the stiffening, sensitive bud.

The two spots of pleasure stimulated at once have Rosaline’s mind melting. Even if they were not submerged, she knows she’d be soaked from Brynn’s touch. “Dame Brynn, do not dare stop.”

Brynn peeks an eye open, grinning against Rosaline’s mouth. Her fingers slow, drawing whines from the noblewoman. Her lips part, and she winces when her bottom lip is tugged between eager teeth.

“That is an order,” Rosaline says sharply, grinding your hips into Brynn‘s hand, moaning in delight when Brynn returns to her pace from before, increasing the pressure on both her sensitive parts. “Yes…yes….yes.”

Sharp cries muffle into Brynn’s mouth, and Rosaline melts into a deep kiss when Brynn’s tongue is offered to her. Rosaline‘s core tightens, and she’s putty in Brynn’s palm, closing around her fingers, gasping at every little touch. A blissful smile floods her expression, and her body relaxes. She looks into Brynn’s eyes, then to her lips, before kissing her sweetly. “I believe it is your turn now.”

After unsheathing her fingers from Rosaline’s warmth, Brynn wraps her arms around Rosaline‘s waist, holding her tightly. Her hips hump against Rosaline’s thigh, and her husky breath only grows in desperation. Shallow exhales leave her lips when she meets Rosaline‘s eyes.

“There’s no need to hold back. It is only us here,” Rosaline assures. Her hands reach between their bodies to cup both of Brynn’s breasts, and she squeezes them tenderly, flicking her thumbs over hardened nubs. Her lips find Brynn’s neck, and she peppers soft kisses along the exposed skin. “Let me hear your sweet moans.”

Brynn’s hips grow more erratic, losing her rhythm as she humps harder. Her nails dig into the small of Rosaline’s back, and the blonde winces.

“Be careful, Dame Brynn, lest this be the first time you draw blood,” Rosaline says with a smile. When Brynn attempts to mutter incomprehensible apologies, Rosaline shakes her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I want you to come.”

Brynn needs no further encouragement. She grips Rosaline tighter, greedily holding her against her skin, stealing kisses out of desperation. There’s hardly enough breath to indulge in sweet pleas, but her voice rises, cracking and whining.

She grinds herself along Rosaline’s thigh, moving frantically, feeling a spasm tight within her core. Growing heat fills her body, stretching through every limb, and tension subsides. If she were to let go, Brynn is sure she would float. Happy sobs slip through her lips as she nuzzles her face in Rosaline’s shoulder. “Lady Rosaline…”

Rosaline hugs the woman tightly. They stand in place, eyes closed, enjoying each other’s embrace. There’s only the sounds of their bated breath, exhausted pants, augmented by branches blowing and birds chirping. She weaves a hand into Brynn’s and offers a smile, guiding her back towards their abandoned clothes.

“Are we to head back to the campsite now?” Brynn asks with brows furrowed.

“Your dedication to duty is admirable, Dame Brynn, but I implore you to take time for yourself and relax, for once,” Rosaline answers. 

Rosaline takes a seat on the grass and pats the spot next to her. Lying down and bringing Brynn with her, she leans in, closing their distance and kissing Brynn sweetly. Blades of grass tickle from head to toe, and a gentle breeze over damp skin covers her in goosebumps. She smirks. “Your affinity for horses showed yesterday, and I saw you’re quite the skilled rider. I would love a lesson from you sometime in the future.”

“When we are dry and dressed, I’m happy to, once we return to the campsite.”

“That’s far too long for me to wait. After a day of travel with me, you should be well acquainted with my impatience,” Rosaline licks her lips and points to her mouth as she lies flat. “Your saddle is right here. Mount me so I may pleasure you properly.”

“Lady Rosaline,” Brynn says, blushing, but her embarrassment does nothing to stop her from straddling and hovering over Rosaline’s mouth. She shudders when she feels hands atop her thighs, pressing into her flesh eagerly.

“Pray, tell me the meaning of your name, Dame Brynn.”

“Brynn can mean ‘hill’ or ‘mound.’ It is a namesake of the Earth and land.”

“Lower yourself and allow me to taste your mound, then,” Rosaline says boldly, pulling Brynn down to her mouth. Her lips lap drenched skin. There’s a taste of fresh lake water mixed with Brynn‘s natural flavor. She traces her lips along the entire length of Brynn’s opening, moaning against the knight's lower lips. Her hands travel up to the sweet hills on Brynn’s chest. She squeezes them gently at first, but Brynn’s hands over hers encourage her to squeeze tighter.

Brynn grants Rosaline mercy, still propping herself up, but Rosaline doesn’t want mercy. She pulls Brynn down until all her weight is supported on Rosaline’s face. They lock eyes, and Rosaline can’t get enough of that sultry expression: eyes lidded in pleasure, lips parted in agony, and a sweet smile forming the closer to release Brynn gets.

Rosaline’s fingers knead supple breasts, reveling in the flesh’s firmness and the stiffness pressing against her palm. Her own eyes roll back when Brynn runs her fingers through blonde hair, tugging it as a means to stay grounded. Legs quake on either side of Rosaline’s face, and Rosaline only licks faster, flicking her tongue against the eager bud, lapping faster. Brynn’s pace is as untamed as a wild mare.

Brynn grinds her face against Rosaline’s tongue, scooting her hips back and forth, building a sporadic rhythm as her hips jerk out of her control. She calls out Rosaline’s name, and Rosaline thinks of how her name has never been said so sweetly. Flocks leave the safety of the trees when Brynn lets out a loud cry that echoes through the forest. Greedily, she presses her hips down, grinding into Rosaline’s face, not letting up until every drop of ecstasy is milked out. 

As the pleasure subsides, Brynn’s whines fall into whimpers, and she pushes off of Rosaline, begging for mercy and collapsing on top of the noblewoman. She grins embarrassedly, wanting to hide her face, but the redness is so cute on Brynn.

“Do you yield, Dame Brynn?” Rosaline teases, and the knight nods.

“You have felled me twice over, and I’ve only gotten you once. It appears you are the victor.” Brynn smiles as she rests her head atop Rosaline’s chest. “Would it be presumptuous to request a rematch in the future?”

“Have you fully accepted your position as my knight?”

“I am quite satisfied being anything of yours. Your partner. Your knight. Your love. That is all acceptable, as long as I am yours,” Brynn offers. 

“Then you are not permitted to leave my side,” Rosaline says, smiling, kissing Brynn on the forehead.

Synopsis: Cassidy isn’t having the best time at her and Macy’s housewarming party. It’s Macy’s idea to slip away upstairs so Cassidy can calm her nerves.

Written for image 12 for the July contest!

~

Cassidy smooths out her dress, fiddling with some fabric. She fixates on a stubborn wrinkle that won't seem to go away. A face-framing curl tickles her face, and she shakes her head until the sensation subsides. After a sigh, Cassidy mutters, “I don’t know about this.”

“Is it the dress?” Macy asks, raising a brow and pursing her lips. She takes a step back, admiring her partner.  

“It's everything, actually,” Cassidy says, grimacing. “I don't like that my arms are out. They’re so…bare.”

“I can get you a shawl if you'd like,” Macy suggests, shrugging.

“From glam to grandma? No thanks,” Cassidy jokes. She looks at herself in the mirror, turning side to side, looking at each cheek. “You promise I look good?”

Macy stands next to Cassidy, making eye contact through her reflection. She turns, getting up on her tiptoes and kisses Cassidy’s forehead. “Absolutely. You look gorgeous.”

“Fine, then. Let's do this.” Cassidy gulps hard, opening the door, and their first guest comes in. One of Macy’s co-workers. She greets him with a smile and walks him to the closet so he can hang his coat. 

They make small talk, and once he walks away, he clears his throat, pausing before speaking. Cassidy’s heart nearly stops, and she feels the corners of her lips tug down. The man speaks at last, “That dress looks stunning on you. Is it designer?”

With a grin, Cassidy answers, “Clearance rack, actually.”

“Never would have guessed. Thanks for having me. You and Macy will have to give me the full tour later tonight.” The man motions to the casserole dish in his hands. “I’ll set this on the table. Do give this a try if you get the chance. My grandma’s au gratin recipe is to die for!” 

 “Sure thing,” Cassidy promises with a smile. The entire night is filled with pleasantries. Plenty of talking with people she’s never met, but that’s the beauty of a housewarming party; it’s an excellent way to get to know people. She flinches, feeling a hand on her back, and relief finds her when it’s just Macy.

Macy rubs Cassidy’s shoulders. “How are you doing? Did you eat anything at all?”

Not too hungry. We can share a light snack, if you’d like—” Cassidy looks away, spotting slight disappointment in Macy’s expression. She rubs her arms. “Just feeling…self-conscious.”

“Do you want to take a breather outside?” Macy asks, motioning towards the door. 

“No, I'm fine,” Cassidy insists. She looks around, tensing up when she sees a few sets of eyes on her. “Okay, maybe we can slip away for a little bit?”

“Anything you need, love,” Macy says. She takes Cassidy by the hand and walks up the stairs, giving polite waves as they pass by guests.

Cassidy breathes easier when no one's around, and she walks faster, taking the lead in the hallway and opening the door to the drawing room. She takes a seat on the bench, and Macy joins her. Her fingers trace white ivory, and she pokes out the first few notes of Heart and Soul, wincing when she hits the wrong key.

“Still on edge?” Macy asks, already knowing the answer. She grips Cassidy’s thigh. “Not bad for our first time hosting. We've only lived here a month or so, right? And I feel like it's all coming together. All my visions for the different rooms are coming together!” 

“Oh, the guests have been loving your decor choices,” Cassidy says proudly, eyeing a skull on the windowsill. “You've got good taste.”

“I know I do.” Macy's squeezes Cassidy's thigh tighter, leaning over for a quick peck on her cheek. She brings Cassidy’s head down to rest on her shoulder. “A lot of the guests are talking about you.”

“That doesn't make me feel much better,” Cassidy says, offering a shaky smile. She reaches down to unbuckle her heels and wiggles her toes, rubbing them against her insoles. 

“Good things, only. I mean it! They say the dress looks great on you, and that you’re positively glowing tonight.”

“I don’t feel like it.” Whatever’s left of Cassidy’s smile falls into a frown. Cassidy clears her throat, and she shrugs, looking down at her hands as they trace over the piano’s black keys, occasionally pressing them softly. “I just worry that I'm not passing well enough. Every time I try to speak, the muscles in my throat tighten, and it feels harder and harder to push into the higher registers. It feels like drowning. Like one little misstep, one wrong syllable or pitch, and they’ll know.”

“That's the last thing on everyone's mind,” Macy says, motioning to Cassidy from head to toe. “You think they look at you and say, ‘Oh yeah, that’s a man?’ They’ve gotta be delusional if they think that.”

“To be fair, that’s been my default fear for a while now.” Cassidy frowns.

“Maybe I’m crazy, but maybe, just maybe, whenever you’re getting stares, they’re all thinking what I’m thinking,” Macy starts, moving her hand atop Cassidy’s. “That you are just so absolutely beautiful.”

Cassidy shrugs, but she smiles at last. She stands in front of Macy, leaning against the piano, taking a seat on the keys. A dissonant, sharp chord plays, and it matches the flurry of thoughts in her head. With a laugh, she says, “I just want to know when it gets easier. Really feeling like a woman, I mean.”

“Looking the part is part of the equation,” Macy says, poking at a key, keeping her attention on the higher octaves. She adds a few more keys, and a pleasant chord blooms sweetly, drawing a smile from Cassidy. “But the most important thing is probably reminding yourself that you don’t have to convince anyone else.”

“I've been at it all my life, and nothing about it is easy,” Macy says glumly, grimacing. “But I've learned that there’s not really a rubric, and there are no real parameters or metrics you have to meet. Confidence helps, but I know personally that that’ll only get you so far.”

Macy smiles. “When you first came out to me, and you talked about wanting to transition, it kind of flipped my worldview upside down. You were worried if we’d still be a couple, and I knew for a fact that I’d love you as you are. The whole time I'd been worrying if I was woman enough for you, and to know you were fighting the same battle—with extra difficulty modifiers—I felt seen. Embracing and navigating womanhood felt like something we could do together.”

“For what it's worth, I appreciate all the sagely advice you've given me,” Cassidy says, grinning. “And the fact that we can share clothes now.”

“I’ve always stolen your hoodies!” Macy jokes.

“That’s different,” Cassidy says, stifling laughter. “I thought that would go away after I started transitioning, but I like that that’s one of the few things to stay the same between us.” 

Macy finds the slit in Cassidy's dress. Looking up at her girlfriend. She hikes the fabric up, and curled fingers tease the top of Cassidy’s stocking. Biting her lip, Macy tells her, “You really do look so good today. I love this dress on you. You pull it off in a way I don't think I could have.”

“You're just saying that so you can get it off of me,” Cassidy smirks. “But you'll have to wait until later tonight after everyone's gone.” 

Macy whines. “That's not fair at all! Everyone's down there mingling; I'm sure they won't notice If we're gone for a bit. Surely we have a little bit of time for some fun?”

“I mean…” Cassidy pauses when Macy starts to peel a stocking down, and she pulls her knee up. Macy’s stares at newly bared skin, and she leans in to kiss Cassidy’s knee, holding the top of her thigh. She dares to let her lips find the inside of Cassidy’s thigh. “Fine…a little won’t hurt. It’ll be like…a light snack. A preview for later.” 

Cassidy’s breath hitches and she pulls her leg towards her. “I don’t want to take too much off.” 

Macy nods, resting her hands on Cassidy’s hips and gently guiding her to turn around. “I’ll just take off what I need to.” 

Her fingers travel up, under Cassidy’s white dress, and trace the elastic of Cassidy's panties. She pulls them down slowly, kissing Cassidy’s plump ass, spurring a giggle from Cassidy. Macy gives plenty of attention to each cheek, squeezing whichever one her lips aren’t on. Her thumbs spread firm Cassidy’s cheeks apart, and a tight hole puckers in response.

A grin stretches across Macy’s mouth, and she licks her lips. She leans forward, letting the tip of her tongue circle Cassidy's hole. She traces it slowly, drawing sharp gasps from her girlfriend. 

Cassidy grips the wood on top of the piano, threatening to scratch it, when Macy’s tongue speeds up. “Fuck.”

Macy prods her tongue in, breaching past Cassidy’s entrance. She grins, feeling Cassidy widen to accept her. Moans escape, muffling against Cassidy’s ass while her hands follow every voluptuous curve. Kissing the tight hole sweetly, she breaks away, smacking her lips. “You’re so tasty.”

Macy spits in her palm before bringing her hand up to Cassidy’s flaccid dick. She feels Cassidy twitch the longer she rubs, and loves the way Cassidy groans for her. “How’s that, baby? Do you like that?”

Cassidy nods, slowly stiffening against Macy’s hand. “My tip is so sensitive…”

“Should I stop, then?”

“N-no,” Cassidy says sharply, shaking her head violently. The corners of her lips curl up. “It makes my head all fuzzy.”

“Then I want you to just focus on how good I make you feel, okay?” Macy says, returning her mouth to Cassidy's needy hole. She licks wildly, lapping along the entrance, easing her tongue in and out.

Cassidy's knees shake, and there’s a giggle behind her bated breath. “Your tongue feels so good. Are you sure you don’t have a strap tucked away somewhere in this room?”

“Sorry, love. I didn’t think this far ahead,” Macy says with a pout. “Can I give you my fingers instead?”

“Please.” Cassidy’s back arches, and she holds herself open, spreading her cheeks. She gasps, feeling two fingertips press against her entrance. Whimpers slip out as she looks back towards Macy. “Two fingers already?”

“I know you can take it,” Macy says, grinning. “Can’t you? Aren’t you my good girl?”

“Yes, I am,” Cassidy responds promptly, nodding, resting her head against the top of the piano. She moans sharply when Macy’s fingers ease inside her. Cassidy pulses and leaks into Macy’s palm when fingers find her swollen button.

Macy stares at the milky pool in her palm. There’s the urge to lick up every drop and savor that sweet taste, but instead, she rubs it along Cassidy's length. She grins when her girlfriend is inconsolable, struggling to support herself with trembling legs as Macy’s hand strokes slowly.

“You’re teasing me,” Cassidy whines.

“Well, you don’t always want me to play with it like that,” Macy says. “That’s why you have to tell Mommy what you want, so I can make you feel good.” 

Macy traces her fingertips along Cassidy’s hardness. It’s a feather-light touch. The hitched breaths she pulls from Cassidy are music to her ears. Macy sharpens her tone, “Tell Mommy what you need. Use your words.”

“I need you to milk me, Mommy.” Cassidy moans louder when Macy’s hand grips around her. She throbs, shuddering when she leaks more as Macy tugs slowly. 

Macy doesn’t let a drop go to waste, gathering pre-cum with her hand and spreading it along Cassidy. She moves her fingers in and out, feeling Cassidy's walls tighten around her. “Do you love Mommy's fingers?”

“Yes, Mommy.”
“I think you’re ready for a third finger,” Macy says, grinning to herself, burying every inch of her fingers into Cassidy’s crevice.

“I can’t,” Cassidy whimpers. Half-lidded eyes look towards Macy.

“Can you try for Mommy?” Macy asks, smile widening. Her third fingertip dances around Cassidy’s hole, and she feels her girlfriend pucker. “You don’t have to. Mommy will be proud of you either way, but it’d make me so, so happy if you could do this for me.”

A renewed enthusiasm seeps into her breathy response. “Okay, Mommy, I’ll try.”

Cassidy's breath sharpens, and she braces her face against the top of the piano. Her back arches, inviting more. Her legs shake as the third finger prods in to join the other two. 

“Is that too much? Mommy can stop,” Macy offers, looking up at Cassidy.

Cassidy shakes her head. She grabs Macy’s wrist, holding her hand in place as she backs into it. Elongated breaths leave her lips when she takes the rest of that last finger. She begs Macy, “ Please don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” Macy says with a grin. There’s a generous pool of pre-cum gathering in her palm, and she slowly strokes it against Cassidy’s throbbing member. Her three fingers press and flick against Cassidy’s button. Macy’s other hand strokes slowly, twisting along hardness. “Mommy loves the sounds you make. I can feel you’re trying to hold back.”

“Mommy makes me feel so good,” Cassidy says through quivering lips. “But I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

“Mommy's a little glad you needed to get away from everyone,” Macy says, leaning closer to kiss Cassidy's ass hungrily. She builds the courage to take a gentle bite. “You looked so pretty tonight. Turn around for me, baby.”

Macy slowly withdraws her fingers, drawing shudders from Cassidy's needy mouth. She turns her girlfriend around and reaches between Cassidy's legs. Her fingers trace the clenching hole, and she presses back in. Cassidy grips Macy’s shoulders, and Macy’s eyes flit down to Cassidy’s hardness. “It’s twitching for Mommy. Do you want Mommy to suck it?”

Cassidy's eyes glisten. “Can you?”

“Of course,” Macy says, blowing gently through puckered lips, watching how Cassidy shudders as each breath passes over her, spurring throbs. She leans closer, not letting her lips quite touch Cassidy. “All you have to do is tell me you want it.”

“Suck it…”

Macy traces her fingers along the side of Cassidy's shaft. She looks up, brows angled in discontent. “Say ‘please.’”

“Please, suck me,” Cassidy begs.

Macy’s eye twitches, and she sighs, forcing Cassidy’s lips to quiver. “Please, what?”

“Please, Mommy. I need your mouth on me,” Cassidy says through needy whimpers. “I want to feel good…”

“Much better.” Macy brushes her hair behind her shoulders before taking Cassidy into her mouth. She times her movements, syncing them with her fingers. As her fingers press deep against Cassidy's sensitive spot, Macy brings her lips to Cassidy's hilt.

Her hand wraps around Cassidy's base, stroking up to meet her lips, and the fingers in Cassidy's ass speed up, easing in and out of the tight hole. Macy grins, feeling walls close around her fingers. 

“Mommy makes me feel so good,” Cassidy whines. “I’m so close…I’m so close.”

The hand around Cassidy reaches up, and Macy inserts fingers into her girlfriend's mouth, pressing against her tongue. Hooked fingers gently guide Cassidy to look down toward Macy. Macy ignores Cassidy’s twitching as she lifts off, and her tongue traces the tip’s ridges. Macy shakes her head. “You’re not gonna come until Mommy says so. Do you understand?”

“Mommy, please.” Cassidy whimpers helplessly, hips bucking into the open air. “I want to come…please, Mommy. Suck it some more. I need your mouth…”
 
“I can do that, baby, but you better not come in Mommy's mouth,” Macy says sternly before locking her lips around Cassidy. She pulls away again—to Cassidy’s agony—and licks along the bottom of the shaft. “Otherwise, Mommy will be upset. Is that what you want?”

Cassidy shakes her head. “But…what if it’s an accident?”

Macy closes her eyes, bobbing her head slowly, drawing husky breaths from Cassidy. She pulls away, smacking her lips. “You should know better than that. If you come in Mommy’s mouth, she’ll have to punish you.”

“W-what’s the punishment?” Cassidy asks boldly, out of breath. Her head flails back when Macy swallows her whole, and her fingers slam on a clump of keys. The notes clash, just like her thoughts

“Oh, I bet you wanna find out for yourself, don’t you? It’s a little surprise,” Macy says, licking her lips before taking Cassidy with ease, sucking fervently from base to tip. She shows no mercy. “Naughty girl. You want Mommy to punish you, don’t you?”

Cassidy’s hips jerk, and she covers her flushed face with her hands, but it doesn’t hide that wide grin. Her core spasms, and pleasure has her ready to collapse. Eager fingers find their way into Macy’s raven hair. “I need to finish in Mommy’s mouth now. I want her mouth. I want her to punish me.”

Macy sucks harder, staring deep into Cassidy‘s eyes. Her fingers press against that swollen spot deep inside her girlfriend, and she slurps loudly, feeling spit drip down her chin. She nods, closing her eyes, and her head bobs repeatedly as she gets lost in the motion. Her voice is muffled around Cassidy, “Come. Come for Mommy.”

Her cheeks hollow out, and she feels Cassidy pulse in her mouth. Rope after rope rests on her tongue, and her eyes widen as she’s taken aback by the sheer amount of cum that shoots out. When she’s sure Cassidy is completely drained, Macy backs away, pleased to see there’s not a single drop dripping from the woman’s hip.

“So bad, filling Mommy's mouth like that,” Macy says, with pursed lips. 

Cassidy’s eyes glaze over. Her brows furrow as she sticks her lower lip out. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

Macy looks at Cassidy with sultry, half-lidded eyes as she stands, guiding Cassidy down to the bench. She pets the top of Cassidy's head, eventually wrapping a hand around the neat bun of blonde hair, tugging it back until Cassidy is looking up at her. She speaks the best she can with her mouth still pooling her girlfriend’s cum. “Time for your punishment.”

Cassidy's smile reaches all the way up to her eyes, and that desperate look on her face flips a switch in Macy’s mind. Her lips quiver, eyes fixated on Macy’s mouth. “What is it, Mommy? What do I have to do?”

Cassidy reaches up, desperately clumping Macy’s black dress and staring up with pleading eyes. “I’ll do anything for you, Mommy. Please. I’m sorry I was bad.”

Macy uses her thumb to tug Cassidy’s lower lip down. “Open wide for me, baby.”

She lets milky white drip down into Cassidy's mouth. Cassidy catches it as best she can, though some is off the mark, falling onto her lips, dripping down her chin. Macy helps gather the mess into Cassidy's mouth, grinning. She tells Cassidy, “Don’t spill.”

Holding Cassidy's head tenderly, Macy leans in for a deep kiss. She pushes the rest of the cum into Cassidy's mouth, and she straddles Cassidy's lap, grinding her hips.

The kiss deepens, and Cassidy moans against Macy’s mouth. Macy grins, eyeing the sweet, slippery, stringy mess keeping their lips connected. “You taste so good, baby. Thank you for sharing with Mommy.”

Macy uses her tongue to pool what sweet cum remains, letting it drip through puckered lips into Cassidy's mouth. One more loving peck seals the deal. Her smile widens. “Now mommy wants you to swallow all of that delicious cum. Swallow it all down for Mommy, okay? If you do that, Mommy will forgive you for coming in her mouth.”

Macy’s hand cups Cassidy's jaw, and she eases it up, closing her mouth, watching Cassidy's eyes roll back as she gulps hard. She treats her girlfriend to another sweet peck, but greed gets the best of her, and she pushes her tongue past Cassidy’s lips, eager to taste what flavor lingers. 

“And just like that, there’s no mess,” Macy says confidently, grinning. “Good job, baby.”

Cassidy laughs, cheeks tinted bright red. “Thank goodness too. I was actually worried I’d ruin the dress, and I’d have to change. Then there’d be no question why we disappeared.”

“I think I ruined your bun a little bit,” Macy says, flashing an apologetic smile. She undoes Cassidy’s hair, holding the hair tie between her teeth, and she gathers blonde hair, twisting and looping, doing her best to re-create Cassidy's look from earlier. “Close enough?”

Cassidy smooths out her dress again, and with clenched, excited fists, she drags Macy to the door. “I think I’m ready now.”

A laugh escapes Macy’s lips. “You’re telling me you just needed to get laid? And now you’re fine?”

“You have that effect on me,” Cassidy teases, “But you know that I overthink. It’s hard to do that after coming that hard, though.”

“If you need to call an early night, or your social battery runs out, feel free to bow out at any time,” Macy assures. “I don’t mind socializing for you, and if anything, we can finish cleaning up in the morning.”

“I think I’ll be fine. As long as I have you,” Cassie says, shaking her head, weaving her fingers into Macy’s. “How’s the food been tonight? Potluck style was definitely the move. Everything looks so good, but I haven’t really tried anything.”

“I’m actually heading down to see if there’s any more of the au gratin left. It’s really freaking good.”

“I could go for something sweet, actually,” Cassidy says, smiling. “Were there any good desserts?”

Macy gets up to whisper. “If you can wait until tonight, you can have as much of me until you get your fill.”

Synopsis: As technology continues to strive higher, so does the cost of living. Colt and Felicity make ends meet, but they dream of something better. Of course, few things in life are guaranteed.

Written for image 04 for the July contest!

~

Colt focuses on this target, keeping his hand on the gun in this holster. In one swift movement, He pulls it out and lines up the sight. A deep breath calms him.

The door opens suddenly, and it pulls his attention away. He fires anyway, and the bullet zips through the air with a fwiiip. The shot is slightly off target, and the glass bottle down the alley is still intact, not so much as a crack or dent.

“With a shot like that, I’m not even sure why I have you on my security team.” Austra, the club owner, stands at the back door with her arms crossed. “They make upgrades for that, you know? Plugs right into the dome. Bullets track whatever you’re looking at. Real high-tech stuff.”

“I’m all natural,” Colt says, tapping his biceps with a half-smirk. “No augments on me. Don’t need ‘em.”

“That’s up for debate, with that marksmanship,” Austra mutters. “You just can’t afford it.”

“As if the money you pay me would even give me a down payment on an upgrade,” Colt retorts, rolling his eyes.

“Be lucky you even have this job. If Fel didn’t vouch for you, you’d still be on the streets pushing bootleg, second-rate porno,” Austra says, and Colt bites back any cheeky remarks. “A word of advice: unless you have a shot, don’t even think about pulling that trigger.”

“That bottle would’ve been in pieces if you didn’t startle me.”

“Your girl’s about to be off the clock. You two get on and get home safe, now,” Austra’s voice chills, quieting down to a whisper when Colt walks by. “That’s precious cargo you’re bringing home.”

“She’s more than just her body,” Colt spits with a scowl.

“That body pays your bills. And keeps me in business,” Austra’s tone is sharp, and Colt just ignores her. 

Colt puts his gun back in his holster and walks back into the club. The music pounds at his eardrums. He works his way back to the dressing room and knocks on the door, keeping his back to the girls.

“Heeeey Colt.” There’s a chorus of voices behind him, sing-song, and he smirks when he feels familiar arms wrap around his waist and kiss his cheek.

“Hey, baby,” Felicity says. “Sorry for the wait.”

He glances at her makeup. Some of her mascara is running, and her lipstick is smudged across her cheek. Colt licks his thumb, wiping her clean, and she smiles at him. “Good night?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” Felicity opens her purse. Colt whistles at a stack of bills.

The two perk up when Austra clears her throat, holding a hand out. “My cut, Fel.”

“I left it on your desk already,” Felicity says. 

“Better not be short again, or I’ll put you on the dayshift.” Austra hides her threat behind a calculated smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Felicity says. She grabs Colt's hand and makes her way towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

Colt kisses her forehead before he puts her helmet on, buckling the strap and tightening it against her chin. He grips the motorcycle’s handlebars, and Felicity holds him tighter than usual. A smile forms, and the ride home is silent, save for the gentle whir of the bike's electric motor.

~

After walking into the apartment, Felicity’s first instinct is to plop onto the couch and count her the night’s spoils. With a grin, she asks, “Wanna do takeout? My treat?”

“We should be saving,” Colt grumbles, resisting temptation.

“You always say that.”

“We should always be saving.”

“Spoilsport,” Felicity says with a grin. “I heard they drew the lotto numbers tonight. Did you win?”

“Fuck no,” Colt answers, defeat sprinkled across his voice. 

“Good thing you don’t play every pay period,” Felicity muses. “I did a private dance for a guy early on in the shift, and he’s the one he told me about the lottery drawing. Talkative fellow, that one. I think he’s lonely. But he kept listing things he’d do if he won big.”

“Anything good?” Colt asks, smiling to himself.

“He says he’d pay whatever it took to have me all to himself for a night,” Felicity explains. “All the lapdances he could want. No waiting. No lines.” 

“He’s got good taste.” Colt smirks. “What would you spend the money on if we won the jackpot?”

“Hmm,” Felicity smiles, staring at the window, thinking to herself. “Never gonna happen. Now with our luck.”

“Yeah, but what if?”

Felicity purses her lips, and her eyebrows furrow. “I don’t know. I just wish we didn’t have to live…here.”

“Like you’d want to move into a different apartment complex?” Colt asks. “A nicer area with one of those fancy penthouse suites?”

“Not even that,” Felicity says, flipping through bills, starting over when she loses count. “I’ve never loved living in the city. It’s taken too much from us. Our money. Our resources. Any chance to improve our lives. If we didn’t owe money to Austra, we could be working anywhere else, and building an actual savings together.”

“I hear that,” Colt shoots back with a frown, pulling some food out of the cupboard and fridge. “Would be nice to eat stuff that’s not hot dogs and microwave rice. At least it feeds both of us for less than eight bucks, but this isn’t any way to live.”

“As long as I’ve got you, that’s all I need,” Felicity says somberly, holding Colt from behind. She nuzzles her face into his back, breathing deeply. “Made a decent amount tonight. Most in a while.”

“Great job, Fel,” Colt says. “You did a couple dances?”

“And then some,” Felicity says, less than thrilled. “Augments are such a big thing. I’ve heard they have really good modules for…down there. It’s supposed to feel like the real thing.”

“But there’ll always be a market for the all-natural,” Colt tells her. “Probably what makes you so popular?”

“I’m sure it’s a factor,” Felicity smirks.

“You’re great on the pole,” Colt adds. “None of the other girls have the moves quite like you do, and I’m sure plenty of the audience are suckers for your purple hair.”

“It’d break their heart if I told them it’s just a cheap box dye.” Felicity laughs, letting her hands find Colt’s belt. 

“What are you doing?” Colt asks, watching Felicity kneel in front of him. “I figured you’d be hungry.”

“I am,” Felicity assures, grinning wide. She licks along his shaft, pouting when he slowly pushes her away, and pulls his pants up. 

“You didn’t have your share of that at work?” Colt looks away, scratching the back of his head. 

“That’s work,” Felicity tells him, rubbing over his crotch, obsessed with how the bulge twitches at her touch. “This is play.”

“You’ve gotta be tired. My job is mostly sitting around and making conversation with the patrons. Folks know better than to start trouble at Austra’s.” Colt sets her on the table and kneels to pull her pants down, kissing her thighs, working his way up towards her heat. He kisses her through the fabric of her panties, and her breath hitches. 

Felicity holds him away, pressing on his forehead with her palm, and she’s met with a curious expression. She doesn’t look Colt in the eye. “Just so you know…some of the guys who wanted the private dances…I did more than that. I could…wash first if you want to eat me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Colt says confidently, staring at her until she dares to look into his eyes. His lips linger against the dampening cotton, kissing it softly, before he removes it slowly. “As long as they didn’t hurt you, I don’t care.”

“They were fine,” Felicity mutters, looking away. She loosens her grip on his head, moaning slowly when he pulls her panties aside.

“Besides, I don’t feel like waiting for you to shower,” he says, dipping his fingers into her and kissing the inside of her thighs as she pries them open for him. “Tell me about them.”

“My first guy was one of the regulars, but he asked for a blowjob again,” Felicity explains. “Sweet guy, really. He’s on the smaller side, so it was fine.”

“He into humiliation stuff?” Colt asks, pressing his fingers against Felicity’s walls. He grins, knowing she wants to respond, but her mind is on his fingers. 

She shakes her head, her answer broken up by deep breaths. “He loves when I take my time, so I worshiped it, and he loved it. He kept his hands off of me, and his fingers dug into the seat while he came in my mouth. After the fact, he told me how hard it is for him; girls hardly give him a second look when they see what he’s packing, so he had nothing but thanks for me.”

Felicity grins when Colt’s lips finally lock around her clit, and she feels his tongue at last. “I told him to consider an augment down there. He can pick basically whatever size. They even have options for textures and firmness, but he seems insistent on not. Said he loves the way I make him feel.”

“Another reason why you’re popular,” Colt says, slurping her clit, and licking up her juices. He pauses to pull her panties off completely, and his free hand eases her down to the table, sneaking under layers of her clothing. A quick grasp of her breast pulls a moan from her. 

“Second guy loves my tits. Holding them. Squeezing them. Pinching my nipples. He paid extra to let him suck on them while he jerked off.”

“You’d probably make a killing with him if you were lactating,” Colt says, laughing before focusing all of his attention on Felicity. His tongue speeds up, and each long lap along her length ends in a flurry of flicks on her clit. Back and forth. Sensual circles, around and around.

“Fuck,” she groans, back arching off the table. She’s grinding into his face, gripping his hair, keeping him against her. “You always know what I want.”

“I know that you’re close, too.” Colt grins. 

Felicity shakes her head, but her smile fades. She cries out his name, hips rolling to the tempo of his flattened tongue as it presses hard against her. Colt doesn’t let up, flicking his fingers against her sweet spot until she’s writhing on top of the table. He grants her reprieve at last, slowing his digits and lifting off of her to wipe his mouth clean. She rolls her eyes, staring at the juices dripping down his chin and looks away, fighting a grin. “Fuck off.”

Colt stands, hugging her tightly, kissing her lips. “Want me to get started on dinner?”

She shakes her head, eyes flitting up towards him abashedly. “Can you take me to the bedroom?”

“Greedy tonight, aren’t you?” He teases. Colt scoops her up, stretching her across his forearms, and she wraps an arm around his neck, holding him tightly, keeping her face close to his.

Her words are soft. “I just really, really want you right now.”

He cradles the back of her head, guarding it from the door frame. “Did something happen at work that’s got you extra worked up?”

Felicity scrunches her nose. “A little bit? It was one of my customers’ first time getting the extra packages, and he was a little more…eager than others have been. Usually, they let me take control while I suck their dick, but he pushed me down onto him. Hardly let me get enough air.”

“You should’ve called out. I could’ve intervened. That’s what I’m there for: to keep you and the other girls safe.”

“He’s nothing I can’t handle,” Felicity assures, grinning as he lowers her onto the bed. “And I made sure he paid a little extra.”

“How’d he take it?” Colt asks, smirking.

“He rolled his eyes, but once I made it nice and sloppy for him, he stopped complaining.”

“I know you’re good with that mouth.” Colt grins as Felicity works his pants off and starts stroking him, licking him along his length. He gulps hard as she swallows him, sucking him slow. He gives her the reins; after a guy like that, that’s what she needs: full control. Complete agency. “Did you…do anything more than that?”

The corners of her lips turned up into a smile around him, and she locks her lips around his tip, sucking it, licking her tongue over the ridges of his head. After a few slurps, she lets up, flashing a grin. “Are you sure you wanna hear about it? I don’t want you getting too jealous.”

“Give me some credit. I’ve been better lately,” Colt mutters, controlling his hips, not letting himself push further into her mouth. “Fuck…”

“Sometimes I like when you get possessive,” Felicity says, twirling a stray lock of her hair. “You remind me why you’re the one who gets to bring me to bed every night.”

“Is that what you need now? Rough reclaiming?”

She shakes her head. “Slow and sweet, if that’s okay.”

“Anything you want.”

Felicity sits up on the bed, turning around on all fours. She strips the rest of her clothes, putting her face into the sheets, looking back up at Colt over her shoulder. “He had me like this. Held my waist hard. His fingers are practically digging into me as he slammed in from behind, pulling my hair, hooking my mouth with his dirty fingers.”

“Did it feel good like that?”

“He actually made me come! Not like he cared about that. Not much of a conversationalist, but it feels like he might’ve been cheated on in his last relationship or maybe his current one is just too vanilla for him.” Felicity reaches between her legs to grab Colt, stroking him slowly. “He called me all kinds of names: Whore. Slut. Skank.” 

Colt’s gentle hold on her body brings her back up, parallel to him. Soft kisses on her back leave goosebumps in their wake. “You know you’re not any of those things, right?”

Felicity nods, turning your head towards him. Parted lips beg for contact, and she melts into a deep kiss. She moans, feeling him prod into her from behind, but she reaches back, pressing a palm against his stomach, pushing him away. “Wait.”

She turns around, lying back and scoots up on the bed, pulling Colt into the space between her parted legs. “I want to face you.”

“Of course.” Colt lines himself up, but doesn’t dare push past her entrance until she’s ready. His breath hitches when she takes hold of him, swiping his tip along her slit.

“Tease me like that,” she tells him, grinning. Felicity moves a hand down to slowly rub her clit, but Colt pulls her hand away, licking his thumb, letting it twirl around her bud. 

“Let me.” Colt’s voice is low. He sucks his teeth when she rolls her hips into him, letting him dip into her witness. Her warmth invites him deeper, but he holds strong, tracing himself along the length of her lower lips. He keeps the pace of his thumb steady—consistent—drawing more eager moans from Felicity. 

“You’re so good to me,” Felicity coos, head digging against the mattress. Her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling as wide as ever. Even still, she’s present, just trying to soak up every sensation. “More…”

Colt doesn’t go much deeper, and he keeps his strokes shallow. Her hands linger on his waist, moving lower to grab his ass, and she pulls him closer, beckoning him for even more.

“I like when you tease me,” she says, giggling, leaning up to kiss him. “Some clients just wanna rush into it, usually. No foreplay. No sweet talk.”

“Even the most advanced self-lubricating suction-adjustable augment doesn’t compare to how you feel,” Colt says, flashing a smile. “But it’s different when you’re at work. They only care what you can do for them. Here, I want you to feel good.”

“And I always do with you,” Felicity says sweetly, gripping his ass tighter, keeping him buried inside her. She feels him twitch. She rolls into him, grinding her clit on his hardness. “Fuck you’re so hard. Move more, please.”

He deepens his strokes, breaths growing more desperate. Colt leans down to kiss her, and one of her hands moves to his hair, tugging it to hold him down. A grin finds his face, and he kisses her more hungrily than before. Felicity breaks away, lips quivering, and she hooks her legs around the back of his thighs, pulling him deeper inside. Strain renders her words into quiet pleas. 

Colt nods, grinning, pushing harder with every thrust. Their breaths follow his tempo, and each hitched exhale is cut short by a needy kiss. “I love you so much, Fel.”

“Tell me again,” she coos sweetly, peering through the gap in her eyelids.

“I love you.”

“Again…” Felicity’s voice is shaky, and she whimpers.

“I love you.”

“Now show me how much,” she tells him. “Give it to me.”

He works his arms under her, cradling her head, staring deep into her eyes before pressing his lips into hers. His hips grow eager, grinding against her clit. Felicity’s palms press flat on his back, fingers curling until her knuckles knock against his skin with every slam of his hilt at her entrance. 

“Like that…just like that…” It’s harder for Felicity to breathe, and words melt away, her air being spent on groans instead. She buries her face into his shoulder, muffling whimpers against his skin. Light tremors find every part of her body. “Fuck. Make me cum. I want you to make me come.”

Her face twists like she’s holding back, and a few gentle pets on the back of her head have her smiling again. Bliss spreads through her body, loosening the tension, and pleasure pulses through her. Her cries erupt, higher and higher, and her limbs coil tighter around Colt. There’s a sad shake to her voice, and she nearly breaks into a sob. “I love you so much.”

“You okay?” Colt asks with a smile, pushing Felicity’s bangs off her face to kiss her forehead before returning to her lips. “Need a break?”

Felicity nods, and she shudders when he pulls out, watching a white spurt leak down his length. She sits up, nearly spent, and takes him into her mouth, licking up every drop to savor his taste. 

“Jeez, that was almost inside, sorry.” Colt bites his lip, pushing Felicity off once his base touches her lips. After withdrawing himself, he admires the spit trail connecting him to her mouth. “I’ll grab a condom. No more chances.”

Felicity rolls him onto his back and straddles him, grinding her soaked against his hardness. She groans, using her hand to press him against her stomach, feeling him pulse against her palm. Her thumb rubs his tip gently, and each twitch makes her smile. 

She gulps hard, eyes bravely meeting Colt’s. “The guy from earlier…the last client of the night? The one who was fucking me from behind? I made him use a condom.”

“Of course, you did.” Colt grins with an eyebrow raised. “You always have them use protection.”

“That’s actually a policy from Austra. The last thing she wants is one of her girls away on maternity leave. As if she’d pay us for that, anyway.”

“I’m sure the guys would pay a premium to do it raw.”

“Oh, they offer all the time,” Felicity says. “They throw out numbers that make my jaw drop.”

“Why not do it, then?” Colt asks. There’s a genuine curiosity in his voice. He looks up at Felicity, searching your face for an answer. He holds her waist, pressing his hardness against her dripping wet entrance. “I’m sure it’d be fine. Especially if you’re good about tracking your cycle.”

“That’s why today, I definitely had to have him wrap it up,” Felicity says, smiling nervously. “Today would’ve been risky for sure.”

“You wanted to, didn’t you?” Colt says, biting his lip, reaching up to take a handful of her breast. “You wanted to feel him fill you up?”

“No, not at all, actually,” she admits bashfully. “Or at least…not with him.”

Colt pauses, ceasing his movement, laughing. “What do you mean?”

“We could, um—” Felicity rubs her hand along him, pulling a sharp breath from his lips. “—skip out on the condom today.”

“You said it’d be risky.”

“I did…”

“Do you want me that badly, huh?” Coltjokes, “but if I get close, you have to get off. Deal?”

“That’s the thing,” Felicity starts, shame dropping her shoulders. “I want you to come inside today.”

“Fel…”

“I’ve been thinking for a while…about how nice it could be if we had a family. I know at first, you weren’t super keen on the idea—”

“I’ve changed my mind. I’d love that with you,” Colt clarifies. “But I don’t know. Isn’t this timing a little off? Is this really the place for us to raise a kid?”

“As if we’d be the first couple in this apartment complex to have one. The neighbors will get used to the crying,” Felicity says, holding Colt’s head to angle his face towards her. “Doesn’t it sound nice? A little Colt running around?”

“I always imagined myself with a daughter, actually,” Colt says, lips parting for a kiss. When their lips meet, he nods, helping lift her up until she’s just above his tip. “You’re sure?”

“I want this,” Felicity says, kissing his cheek, rubbing the other with her hand. Her eyes are warm. “As long as you do too.”

“Of course.” Colt nods, wiping his eyes dry. He breathes sharply through gritted teeth as Felicity lowers herself. His eyes dart open, and he looks up towards her, smiling. “You look stunning.”

“I look the same as I do every day.”

“It’s different, now.”

“Maybe you can tell how much I want this with you, or you’re thinking really far ahead. Thinking of what kind of future waits for us?” Felicity suggests, increasing the speed of her hips.

“Something like that,” Colt says, thoughts melting away when her lips meet his.

Felicity eases him down onto the bed. She plants her hands on his chest, and he weaves his fingers into hers, kissing her knuckles, staring up at her tenderly. With a grin, she tells him, “Just relax, baby. You just have one job tonight, and that’s to fill me up. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

She scoots back and forth on top of him, rocking to build a rhythm that works. Through shaky breaths, she smiles. “Sorry. It feels good like this. I’m sure this doesn’t do too much for you.”

“It does everything for me to see your face like that.” Colt smirks. “You can hardly hold back.”

She tries to look away, but he reaches up to turn her face towards her before pulling her down, desperately needing a taste of her lips. Again, he offers his tongue, and her hips roll against him. Breaths escape when their lips break apart, but they can hardly keep their mouths off of each other. Greedily, she tells him, “Keep going. I’m so close.”

Cole’s out of breath. “I need to see you come on this dick.”

Her knuckles paw at his chest, and her hips slowly lose control. The angle does everything she needs. Her clit grinds against his hardness, and she can push him against her sweet spot, rocking back and forth, ebbing and flowing. “Colt…”

A hand on her nape holds her down, and he pulls away to kiss her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Soft kisses that deepen, pressing harder against her skin. His words tickle. “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

She whimpers, tucking her head into his chest, and he holds her there, kissing the top of her head, thrusting up to meet her. Felicity works past the strain in her voice, and she looks up to meet Colt’s gaze, expression dripping with agony. “So good.”

“You look so beautiful when you’re coming.”

Felicity’s body gives out, and she rests on top of Colt, shoulders shaking. Bliss puts a twinkle in her eyes, but there's an ounce of disappointment in her half smile, as if there was certainly more, and that she couldn’t keep up. 

Colt helps her out, wrapping his arms around her waist, bucking up into her sweet spot. Her smile widens, and her breaths pick back up. Desperation shortens each breath. Her cries are sharp. “Fuck.” 

She climbs off, legs shaking, and rolls onto her back, covering her face with her palms. “Sorry. Need a bit of a break after that one.”

“We can stop,” Colt says. “It’s okay.”

Her hands reach for him, and she shakes her head abruptly, furrowing her brows. “You didn’t do your job yet.”

To see her like this is always a treat. Felicity’s hands clumsily angle him against her, and she gasps when he eases in. Colt strokes her hair again, looking down at her eyes, more fiery than usual. “Gentle and slow again?”

“No,” Felicity pouts, grabbing Colt by the back of his neck and pulling his face down so that she can whisper in his ear. “Fuck me like I’m yours, and only yours. Give it to me hard. I need you deep inside me so you can fill me up. Faster.”

She grabs the back of her knees, pulling them towards her, and Colt pins her legs against her body with each forceful thrust. His lips stay glued to hers, and they’re both reduced to muffled moans and eager grunts. Their bodies clap with every clash. Felicity wraps her arms around his neck, holding his shoulders, whining against his lips.

“Fuck me. Breed me. Colt—”

Staggered breaths fill the room. Colt wraps his arms tighter around her. He drives deeper, strokes as shallow as his breath. He scoots his knees up, resting on either side of her body, and the extra leverage helps him slam his hips down into her. Felicity tightens around him. Thoughts don’t come easily. His mind is spinning. His eyes peek open, and he catches the elation in Felicity’s smile. “Fel, I can’t hold back anymore—”

“Good,” she says, grinning. Her legs cross behind the small of his back, and she pulls his head face down to her, kissing him deeply, shoving her tongue into his mouth. “Don’t stop. Let it all out inside. Don’t waste a single drop. I need it all.”

Her words are the permission he needs, and a final few strokes have him emptying himself into her, spurting and spraying. Filling her up until his sensitive tip begs him for reprieve. Even still, he’s in no hurry to pull out. Slow strokes of Felicity’s fingertips gently tracing his back keep him in place, and he smiles at Felicity, kissing her sweat-laden forehead. Her words are a whisper, “I love you, Fel.”

“I love you too.” Felicity leans up to kiss him before collapsing onto the bed. “Holy hell, can I get more of that? All night, please.”

“You need rest.”

“I need more of you. Besides, we work evenings. Plenty of time to sleep during the day.”

“You need to eat. Pretty sure you skipped your break today.”

“Fine,” Felicity compromises with a pout. 

Colt grins, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise.”

“Are you buying a lottery ticket tomorrow?” she jokes. 

“Nothing like that. Sure shots, only.”

~

The next day is a blur for Felicity. She wakes up groggily to an empty bed. Colt’s been up, and he’s packing their clothes, muttering about a “little vacation.” It's awfully sudden, but he seems excited. A trip would be nice. 

They work their shifts, and it’s like any other. Solid time on stage (with good tips to match), a spike in private dances (which is always a good chunk of change), but it’s low maintenance: not too much sex. Mostly blow jobs. Only one wardrobe malfunction, thankfully. The few times Felicity sees Colt, he’s uncharacteristically pale, staring at nothing in particular. Felicity knows that look. He’s deep in thought.

After the night is over, he tells her to start his motorcycle and keep it running, so she does. The longer she waits, the more uneasy she feels, but her shoulders feel lighter when she sees Colt walk through the door. She spies a briefcase in his hands with a few loose bills sticking out of the sides. Her eyes narrow.

“So where is our vacation?” Felicity asks as Colt puts on his helmet. She takes her place behind him after he secures the briefcase to the back of the bike and holds him around his waist.

“You mentioned one getting out of the city, right?”

“That was more of a pipe dream.”

“We’re gonna make it a reality today.” Colt grins, giving the bike a rev. “I told Austra that we wanna get out of here. She seemed oddly receptive. Even gave me the briefcase full of money. Said we’d need it if we had any chance of staying above water.”

“We’ll just leave everything behind?” Felicity asks. A smile forms. That doesn’t sound half bad. “Where will we go?”

“I heard there are communities outside of the city. Way out there. When you get past the desert, there are areas untouched by the corporations. People there live off the land. They’re good to each other. It’s an honest life. Quiet. Away from all the lights. No subscriptions. No fees. Just people living as they were meant to. Off the grid,” Colt beams.

Felicity’s eyes mist over, and she smiles, leaning her head against Colt’s back. The rose-colored glasses wash away as neon cyan and magenta lights whiz by, blending together into vivid trails. “Seems too good to be true. Austra’s not one to be that generous.” 

“Right,” Colt agrees. He pauses. “You think I shouldn’t have taken it?”

“It’s a gamble with her,” Felicity says, fingers nervously fiddling with the leather of Colt’s jacket. “Just keep driving. Do you know where to go?”

“Everyone who talks about it says it’s to the east. The road out of the checkpoint should take you right to it…eventually.”

They can see the checkpoint in the distance, and freedom feels within grasp. The idea that Felicity never has to work at the club ever again feels like shackles being removed. The closer they get to the town’s gate, the more traffic slows down. It’s bumper-to-bumper, zipping into one lane. 

There’s a rhythmic beeping in their orbit. A consistent cadence. Never getting louder or softer. Felicity looks back at the briefcase, eyebrows furrowing. “Colt, I have a bad feeling.”

“They’re doing searches at the checkpoint,” Colt mutters, tapping his foot anxiously. Felicity can feel him tense up when they spot just how many cop cars there are. “Just be cool.”

At last, they’re next. The officer looks at both of them over his sunglasses. “Helmets off, folks. I need both of you to step off of the vehicle.”

“You can see everything we got,” Colt jokes, pointing behind Felicity, but his smile fades. He grimaces, eyeing a drone flying through the air, scanning both his and Felicity's faces. 

The officer tells them to wait, but walks away to talk to some of the other cops. They exchange looks, and at one point, their officer nudges towards Felicity and Colt with a jerk of his head. A few calls are made over the radio, and an eerie silence follows. 

Felicity’s eyes widen when several officers draw their rifles to aim at her and Colt.

“Colton Henderson, you are ordered to step away from the vehicle. You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—”

The whirring of helicopter blades muffles the officer’s voice. It circles them in the sky, like a buzzard, and a spotlight shines down to blind the couple. Colt winces from the sudden brightness, shielding his eyes and shaking his head. He laughs. “Surely, there’s a misunderstanding. I haven’t done anything.”

The officer continues, not lowering his gun, “You’re under arrest under suspicion of theft of an undisclosed sum of money and the kidnapping of an employee from the gentlemen's club, Austra's.”

“Ah, I should’ve known better. Grab the handlebars,” Colt mutters to Felicity before stepping off. He walks to the back of the bike and lifts up the briefcase. He projects his voice, “This what you’re looking for?”

Felicity springs up to hug him tightly, whispering into his shoulder. “Tell me you didn’t steal it.”

“I didn’t. I swear. I already get Austra’s angle. She’s gonna frame me, lock me up, and you’ll run back to her and work until you can make bail for me,” Colt says, masking his regret with a smile. He winces when the spotlight focuses on them again. “We won’t give her the satisfaction.”

“Step away from the vehicle. Any further resistance, and we will escalate.”

“They’re after me, not you,” he says, looking into her eyes. There’s a sadness in his eyes as he reaches between their body, grabbing the gun in his holster. “Do you trust me?”

Felicity tightens her grip around him, her eyes widening. “Colt. Colt, no. What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna open the case, and the air from the helicopter should suck the money up. Everyone will be distracted, and that’s your best chance. You just gotta make it three miles out, and they’ve got no jurisdiction over you. Gun it on the throttle, okay? You have a full tank, so use it all to get out of here.”

“But…but…” Felicity’s eyes dart all over his expression. His usual confidence is gone, and there’s a bittersweetness to his smile. “What about you?”

Colt pulls her in for a kiss, and she hears the click of the latch on the briefcase. A whirlwind of dollar bills flies into the air. They spin and fall slowly—like confetti—and Felicity zooms away. Bullets fly past her, and she can see his silhouette still standing in one of the side mirrors. 

There’s a distant gunshot, and the helicopter blades spin sporadically, breaking the steady rhythm from before. The helicopter spins out of control, and a bright flash follows a loud crash. 
She assumes the worst, but she’s granted momentary relief when she sees Colt’s figure push up to his feet and run away. 

The sounds dampen. All Felicity can hear is her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She fights tears that threaten to break past the dam, but she keeps her eyes forward. She has to trust that he’ll get to her. She tells herself whatever she needs to get where she needs to.

Keep going.

Faster.

Don’t stop.

~

“Mama? Why are you crying?”

Felicity wipes her eyes, barely even noticing the dampness on her cheek. After a sniffle, she says, “Sorry, Rumi. I was just…thinking.”

Felicity continues brushing her daughter’s hair. It’s smooth and black, just like hers, but those bright blue eyes—full of concern—that look up at her? That’s Colt, for sure. She kisses the top of Rumi’s head. “Your hair is getting so long now.”

“I’m still waiting for it to turn purple,” Rumi says, kicking her feet in front of her.

Felicity laughs, wrapping her arms around Rumi, peppering her face with kisses. “Now, why would you expect that?”

“Some of my friends say that when you first came to the commune, you had bright purple hair, so I thought mine would be like yours.”

“That’s just fake color, love,” Felicity says. “I used to dye it when I lived in the city with your dad. There, they make hair dye so that you can change your hair to any color you want.”

“Do you think we could go to the city someday?” Rumi looks over, out the window, towards the motorcycle leaning against the wall. It’s gathered years’ worth of dust, overgrowth tangling through the crevices. “Maybe we could take Dad’s bike there?”

“I’m not sure it runs anymore. I’m sorry, love. The city only brings back bad memories for me. I don’t think I have it in me to go.” Felicity forces a smile. “It’s better here. The air is fresh. The sunlight isn’t shrouded by tall buildings. The food is natural. Here, I’ve got everything I could ever want.”

There’s silence when she pulls Rumi in for another hug. Her arms linger, and the sadness falls over her when Felicity looks towards the motorcycle. 

“Do you ever miss him?” Rumi asks.

“Only every day,” Felicity says. She taps her daughter on the tip of her nose. “All we got left of him is his bike and those beautiful eyes of yours.”

“You don’t have any pictures of him?”

Felicity’s eyes sadden, looking towards her old phone sitting on the bedside table. It’s an overpriced paperweight nowadays. They’re well out of reach for the cell towers, and all of the images were on cloud storage, not saved locally. “Nope, nothing at all.”

“That’s not true,” Rumi assures, turning around in Felicity’s lap and leaning against her. She looks up, smiling. “You have stories, don’t you?”

Felicity smiles, stroking the back of Rumi’s head. “You’re right. I do have stories.”

“Then I want to hear more stories about Dad. I want to know the things he did to make you smile, or memories that make you happy,” Rumi requests, waiting patiently.

“Oh love, I have far too many stories like that. Where would I ever begin?”

“From the beginning!” Rumi suggests cheekily. That half-grin of hers is very much her father’s.

Felicity focuses on the way her daughter’s eyes catch the sunlight from the window. She brushes the girl's hair away from her forehead, kissing it just as Colt would for her. A deep breath calms her. “Sounds like a plan, love.”

Synopsis: Catherine knows better than to consider porn educational, but it is good for one thing: sparking her curiosity. Her interests escalate on her journey for the (Un)Holy Grail: a truly mind-blowing pleasure that’ll make her see God (metaphorically). 

Written for image 09 for the July contest!

~

Everyone has their vices.

It’s not that Catherine has an unhealthy relationship with porn. It’s more so that curiosity gets the best of her. And if something looks good enough in a video, it becomes a new fixation. A craving that won’t go away until she’s given it a try herself.

Catherine’s been on a binge of solo videos lately. One creator she’s been into loves playing with herself, and Catherine loves watching her even more. She’s gorgeous. Great tits with lovely brown nipples. Maybe it’s the camera she’s using, or maybe it’s just her, but Catherine can never get enough of the close-up videos. To see that swollen clit get rubbed or those perfect puffy lips grip the creator’s fingers or toys? Excellent. Few things compare.

Catherine often plays along with the videos, using her own dildos, matching the speed and intensity she sees. She can close her eyes, and the moans and wet sounds bring her closer; Catherine has a hard time getting to the end of the video before her body spasms, out of control. 

The fixation doesn’t stop there. Just watching is one thing, but the more toys the creator shows off, the more Catherine wants to expand her own collection. Before bed, she’s browsing the online LoveMeKnot store, opening her eyes to a wide variety of shapes and sizes she wouldn’t fathom connected to a person. Catherine treats herself to a few–nothing too crazy–but surely larger and thicker than anything in her current arsenal.

Unboxing them is the most fun she’s had in a while. The sound of a box cutter slicing through packing tape and the crack of blister packaging is the perfect prelude to wrapping her hands around her new toys. Wow. There’s a good firmness to them, and the textures are fun. 

What’s left to do besides slather them in lube and take them for a ride? 

A tentacle-shaped dildo ends up being the most forgiving for Catherine. The tip is narrow enough to be laughable, but Catherine learns quickly what the learning curve is like. The deeper she pushes the toy, the wider it gets, and the more she feels the stretch of her muscles to accommodate it. Catherine can barely get it halfway in, but it pushes an orgasm out of her anyway, that half doing more than enough. If I have any hopes of taking all of the whole thing, she would need practice, and with nothing but time in the evening, that’s all right with her.

Learning to relax is the best thing Catherine does for herself. Rather than pressure herself into taking the whole toy, she learns just to enjoy being filled. It’s the journey that makes it worth it, not the destination. Catherine puts on a video to watch, easing her new toy into herself, and in no time, she feels the base press against her lower lips. It feels like an accomplishment.

She makes the mistake of turning on her camera to see what she looks like taking something so huge. Catherine’s impressed with herself, and she’s insatiable when she sees the way her toys bulge out her stomach. Someone needs to see this work of art, and posting online is my best bet.

The high she gets when posting is like no other. Every notification for likes or comments is a boost of dopamine. The upvotes accumulate. The fact that anyone is interested in seeing her privates is a compliment on its own, so she must be doing something right.

Catherine usually ignores the DM requests, as they’re hardly anything of value. A simple “hi” or “hello” usually gets deleted. Unsolicited dick pics get blocked. One message from a guy named Gabe catches her attention. Curiosity is the worst.

You have such a beautiful body. Are you interested in a cum tribute?

What's that??

She's almost scared she asked. He’s typing for a while, but Gabe eventually sends her an explanation: he films himself masturbating to a video or picture of her, and the goal is to show how hard he comes.

Any other day, Catherine probably would’ve said no, but after checking his, it looks like that’s apparently his thing. It helps that he has a nice dick, so she throws caution to the wind. Damn that curiosity of hers. She sends a response:

Sure, but I’m not taking anything new for you, so just use something from my profile

Perfectly understandable 🙂thank you

Catherine doesn’t get another response. Not right away. Minutes pass, and she decides waiting does her no good. She pulls up her old reliable favorite profile and checks for any new content. Nothing yet, but last week’s video was pretty hot, so you press play again, wondering how many times she’s watched this particular video.

Playback pauses when a push notification alerts her of a new message from Gabe. It’s just a link. While that URL looks like a flurry of nonsense, she recognizes the site name; it’s popular for amateurs to upload their own pictures and videos.

Without a second thought, she clicks the link and presses play. It’s only a minute and seven seconds. Doesn’t seem terribly long, but she wonders how long he’s been playing before he watched her video.

Gabe’s kneeling with his phone on the bed, positioned under his dick. He strokes himself, jerking slowly, and there’s the slightest shake to whatever he’s using to record himself. His breaths are low and labored. Catherine raises the volume, surprised by just how vocal he is. “God, you’re so hot. I love the way you take that toy.”

It’s vaguely flattering, knowing that a stranger is jerking off to her. While that’s generally the understanding when posting explicit material, a video like this is certainly different from a comment. Visual proof. Not even just the aftermath, either. The gradual increase of his speed and the growing strain in his voice. Between breaths, his thoughts just slip out. It’s not performative, either. Every moan is for her.

“I wish I could fuck you like that…so sexy. I love the way you moan.” 

His words of praise stir something inside Catherine, and she grabs a toy, finding something roughly the size of his dick. She thrusts it into herself, matching the speed of his hand. On paper, when he proposed this, Catherine didn’t quite get it, but after being halfway through the video, she sees the appeal (at least for her).

Gabe's voice grows desperate. Catherine loves how shamelessly he pants for her. He doesn’t grunt or growl to make himself out to be some dom-type alpha male. There’s a vulnerability there; just as she bared herself to the internet, he’s doing the same, but for her, specifically.

Catherine can hear the bliss in his voice. She imagines he must be smiling behind the camera. His shut eyes twitching as he focuses on the video of her. He curses, milking a few more hurried strokes out. The first spurt splashes across her body on his screen. The second is more forceful, shooting far above his phone and soiling his sheets. He groans and groans, fucking his fist until he’s completely spent, dribbling the last few drops onto his phone screen. Catherine can hear his exhaustion, and in the pants that follow, there’s the tiniest muttering at the very end of the clip:

“Thank you.”

She puts the video on loop, letting it play, pounding yourself with her dildo. Catherine closes her eyes; hearing his moans is enough for her. Her free hand reaches down to play with her clit, and she rubs it rapidly until she clamps down around her toy, squeezing it like a vice.

With a big grin on her face, and her head still spinning, she types a response to him:

Wow, wow wow!!! 😍I’m OBSESSED 

Please do that to ANY of my content. Would love to see more 

Sure 🙂

~

It becomes a regular thing. A playful back and forth between Catherine and Gabe. She’ll post something new, and he’ll treat her to a tribute. It’s a fun little dynamic, but eventually, Catherine wants just a little bit more.

Fancy a video chat?

Absolutely 🙂

Catherine’s heart is pounding when she presses the call button. Gabe answers almost right away, and she panics, pulling the sheet over her chest, seeing he’s still dressed (at least from what she can tell).

“Oh,” he says, cheeks tinted a bright pink. “I didn’t realize you wanted to start right away.”

“Sorry, nerves,” Catherine says, offering a smile. “First time doing this kind of thing. It’s different from doing it purely for the camera. Now there’s someone actively on the other side of it.”

“I get that,” he assures, smiling back. “There’s no need to rush. I figure you can watch me, and just do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“That’s a great idea,” Catherine answers. Her eyes are fixated on the screen, watching as Gabe props his phone up. 

Gabe pulls his shirt off, and Catherine’s salivating at his stocky build. He’s not too toned; there’s still some pudge to him, and she likes that. His body deserves attention, yes, but what keeps her entranced is the thick hardness at full-mast between his legs. When he starts stroking, Catherine pulls her phone closer to her face, wishing she could get a taste of him.

“You’re a handsome man, Gabe,” Catherine says. “Nice to have put a face to those moans after all this time.”

“You’re quite the looker yourself,” he shoots back, grinning. “You crop your face out of your videos and pictures, so I feel very lucky to see how pretty you are.”

He whistles when Catherine puts her phone up, camera facing her. She brings a few dildos into frame. Giving each a slow stroke along their lengths. “Which would you like to see me use today?” 

Gabe strokes his chin. “That thick one…the one with the knot at the base. That’s been a favorite of mine when you use it in your stuff. That pop when you get to the end or pull it out slowly? Too good…”

Catherine nods, putting the others aside. She adds some lube, but honestly, she’s plenty wet from just watching Gabe. A gasp leaves her mouth as the tip spreads her lower lips apart. Gabe’s eyes widen, and he leans forward, speeding his hand up. His enthusiasm spurs Catherine to take more; every inch that drives into her is a wish it was Gabe instead. She can absolutely go faster than this, but her walls hug the toy tighter than usual. The extra thrill of being watched in real time is just too exciting. Her thighs shake when the bulbous end of her dildo waits at her entrance. 

“That’s it…” Gabe tells her, nodding and biting his lip. “I know you can do it.”

A little extra force behind her wrist and a deep breath helps her take the knot, and she closes tightly around it when it finally breaches through. Her head crashes against the bed, and her voice is husky. “Fuck…”

“So pretty,” Gabe says, licking his lips. He strokes harder. 

“I wish you were here,” Catherine says, smiling. “Fucking me deep like this.”

“I’m not that big,” Gabe chuckles.

“Too modest for your own good.” Catherine shakes her head, moving her hand down to her bud that begs for attention. “I need that body against mine. Grinding against my clit with every stroke.” 

Gabe’s hand speeds up, and so do his breaths. He grins, watching Catherine drive the toy in and out of herself. “I’d give it to you so slow. Long strokes. Tip to base, until you’re begging me to go faster.”

Catherine whines, her hand speeding up. “Don’t make me beg…I already need you so badly.”

“How badly?”

“I’d let you do it raw.”

“Yeah?” Gabe smiles. “You on the pill?”

She shakes her head. “When I get this horny, I don’t even think about any of that stuff.”

“I’ll cover you like I always do,” he says, voice growing desperate. “I wanna see my cum all over your skin.”

“No way,” Catherine says, smirking. “I need that huge load inside of me. You’re gonna fuck it deep into me. I wanna feel you throbbing. A toy can’t do that.”

Gabe can barely speak through his breaths, and Catherine isn’t doing much better. There’s nothing but moaning and wet sounds between the two, except maybe a stray curse to break it up. Catherine can feel it coming deep inside of her. The strain on Gabe's face suggests he’s in the same boat.

There’s a tightness in her stomach and the slightest shift in angle presses the toy into her favorite spot. She stares at his tip, watching it leak—some beads clear, some of them milky. “Oh, God, I’m so close…keep fucking me.”

He huffs, humping his hips into his closed fist, and Catherine can only imagine the kind of power behind those thrusts. She pictures him slamming against her, those thick thighs crashing into her ass.

Her vision blurs, but she forces her eyes open. She wants to see Gabe come for her. Catherine speeds her hands up to bring her the rest of the way home, and timing couldn’t be better as she watches thick ropes spray out of Gabe’s dick.

They moan together, riding every wave of pleasure until they fall slack in their respective beds. Catherine grabs her phone, blushing. “That…was really great.”

“It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ statement attached to that,” Gabe jokes, wiping sweat from his brow.

“What would it take to make this happen for real? In person?” Catherine asks, too shy to meet Gabe’s eyes.

He smirks, raising a brow, tilting his head. “I’m sure that’s the leftover horniness talking.”

Catherine shrugs. “I mean, I’m happy to do this more often, on top of our usual stuff, but if you ever have some business in Seattle, I’d be happy to put you up for a night or two.”

“Funny timing,” Gabe says, laughing. “I have a friend getting married this year in Seattle.”

“I don’t think your friend would take kindly to your plus one being some girl from the Internet.”

“Probably not. But I’m happy to stay an extra few days if it means getting to see you. Tentative for a few months from now?”

“Tentative for a few months from now.“

~

Days from now, Catherine will meet Gabe in person, and they’re going to jump each other’s bones. It’s the Wednesday before the weekend Gabe is supposed to fly in. Hump day with no one to hump. She perks up, getting a message from him. Speak of the devil. 

Please tell me you’re home.

Eager McBeaver can’t wait until the weekend, huh? 😉 I can call you soon, if you’d like, but I need a few minutes so I can get comfy.

Don’t get too comfortable. Open your front door instead.

You’re joking 🥹

Surprise. I couldn’t wait until after the wedding, so I booked an earlier flight 🙂

Catherine can’t rush his door fast enough. She lets Gabe in, and she pulls him into the house to kiss him, practically jumping into his arms. He walks her to the couch, and clothes fly off. She breaks away, scolding him with a finger against the tip of his nose. “I wish you would’ve told me beforehand. My wax appointment isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Cancel it,” Gabe tells her, running his fingers through her hair as she tugs her underwear off. 

With a smirk, Catherine works on getting him out of those pants; that bulge is begging to be let out. She looks up at him, kissing his tip, licking along its ridges. “How long do I have you before you have to get to official wedding business?”

“Two days,” he answers with a smile before kneeling to plunge his face between her legs.

That’s two days that they have to squeeze in as much sex as they can.

~

The day of the rehearsal dinner, Catherine barely hears from Gabe, but that’s to be expected. She planned for this, spacing out spicy pictures to send him every few hours. He’d respond with hearts and wish he didn’t have any wedding party duties, or he would’ve been over in a heartbeat.

He sprinkles a few selfies of the day, and Catherine gets a glimpse of his weekend. Picking up tux rentals, getting some last-minute supplies for the suite, candleholders—since they weren’t told until the day before that they needed them.

Catherine loves his smile, and she feels at least a little bit guilty that he's spending the extra few days with her instead of with all of his friends. Her eyebrows flash when she sees one of the men in the background of one of his pictures. She responds to his picture:

Who is the blonde in the back? One of the other groomsmen?

Sort of. Mike’s technically on the bride’s side. Not sure what that would be. Bridesman? Bridesbutler? Haha

Why? Are you asking me to send him your way?

Only if he’s single

He is, actually!

I’m just kidding!!

He’s in between relationships at the moment. He’s been kind of down this whole time, and he could use the pick-me-up

You won’t be jealous? 🤨

Oh, I LOVE to share, and a woman like you deserves all the attention 😍 

Maybe after the wedding, you can both head over to my place?

I’ll run it by him and see what he thinks 😉

Curiosity is gonna get Catherine in trouble.

~

The doorbell rings, and Catherine answers, greeted by two dashing men in matching suits.

“Special delivery,” Gabe says with a smile.

“From the hunk factory, it seems,” Catherine quips playfully, looking between the two of them. “Was there a two-for-one special going on?”

“Only for the pretty customers,” Mike cuts in. 

“Oh, sorry, you may be in the wrong house, then,” Catherine jokes, earning an eye roll from Gabe.

“Hush,” he tells her before leaning to kiss her. The boys walk in, and their shoes are off before the door even closes.

Catherine can tell how much Gabe missed her by how deeply he kisses her. She swears that hungry mouth wasn’t fed at the wedding reception. She takes his tongue happily, feeling hands on her ass, moving to her waist to squeeze her sides. “So what are we doing tonight, boys? A night in Paris?”

The idea of getting fucked from behind while sucking dick sends Catherine into a frenzy. She grabs each man by the tie, switching between their mouths, giving attention—whoever needs it more (though neither of their appetites hold a candle to her own.

Gabe guides Catherine’s hand to Mike’s crotch. “I’ll leave it up to you. You call the shots tonight.”

Her eyes widen when she feels just how big that bulge is. Catherine quickly takes off his belt and pants, and she can hear Gabe doing the same. “Wow. How is a dick like this not in a very, very committed relationship?”

“She was a little intimidated by anal,” Mike explains, smiling.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. At all.” Catherine grins. She pulls the tie of her robe off and drops it to the floor.

“I love the ink,” Mike says, eyes looking at all of Catherine’s tattoos. 

“They had me on the chair for like…eight hours,” Catherine says. Her grimace forms into a smile. “So I’m no stranger to a long session.”

“That’s the spirit.” Gabe grabs her by the face, gently guiding her lips towards his. They don’t linger there for long, moving to her neck. He works his way down, giving attention to her breasts, and he kneels in front of her. His tongue finds her bud, and he stares up at her, flicking wildly.

Catherine's knees weaken, and she supports herself, holding Gabe by his hair, gasping when she feels a finger trace over her tight ring. 

Mike holds her from behind, hardness pressing into her cheeks, and she turns over her shoulder to kiss him. Those needy lips make her melt as much as Gabe does, and parted lips release a moan when a digit breaches past her hole.

“Shit,” she says when Gabe puts two fingers into her slit. Mike eases in, another knuckle deeper, and the two men’s fingers in tandem combined with Gabe’s mouth have her mind melting.

Catherine tries to reach back and stroke Mike off, but she can hardly concentrate. Gabe pulls one of her knees over his shoulder, and while Catherine feels like she could tip over at any moment, he holds her steadily, keeping his thumb nestled in the crease between her stomach and thighs. She groans. “Oh, you boys are spoiling me, tonight.”

Gabe's tongue speeds up, pressing hard against her clit. His fingers rub her favorite spot, slowly ramping up the tempo to draw more bated breaths from Catherine. He’s smiling against her; Catherine spots the glimmer in his eyes. Gabe thinks she’s close.

And he’s not wrong.

Her grip on Gabe's hair tightens, and his breath hitches against her, sitting hot over her sex. It only encourages him to speed up, and the constant strokes from Mike’s finger push her over the edge. Catherine's holes tighten around the sets of fingers that are inside her. If not for the strong holds of the men holding her up, she would’ve collapsed moments ago.

The last of her shaky breaths escape, and Catherine finally gets a moment to regain her composure. Gabe stands up, and Catherine helps him out of the rest of his clothes, kissing him before doing the same to Mike. They’re both fully hard, and she takes one in each hand, loving how they throb in her grip.

Two sets of lips find themselves on Catherine. They take turns with her mouth while the other kisses her cheeks and neck. It’s so much attention at once; she doesn’t know who to focus on, but the boys are anything but selfish, patiently waiting for their turn with her mouth.

It’s so tempting for Catherine to get her knees and suck them both off. Two loads splattered across her face sounds like an excellent time.

Mike takes his place behind her and his hardness presses between her ass cheeks. Her hole puckers, and she reaches back to line him up, turning towards him to beg. “Fuck, give it to me now.”

Her back arches away from him as he prods in, and she lets out an elated gasp. She’s definitely had thicker toys, but there’s nothing quite like a real cock. The heat and each tiny spasm as he moves in and out has her grinning.

Gabe’s mouth on her breasts, licking and sucking her nipples, draws more sweet moans. His fingers find her entrance, rubbing along it before running rapid circles on her clits.

Catherine whines, shaking her head. “I need you inside me, too.”

Gabe grins. “Are you sure you can take both of us at once?”

She nods, spitting on her hands and stroking his dick. “Please…put it in…fuck me…”

It’s that curiosity clouding her judgment again. She guides Gabe towards her neglected hole and moans when he pushes in, bottoming out immediately. 

Maybe this was ambitious. Her toys prepared her for their length and girth, but she’s never used both holes at once. The pleasure is dizzying, and her cheeks hurt from smiling. Every hard thrust from one pushes her into the other. There isn’t a moment where her holes get a break.

Catherine feels like she’s floating, and when she sharpens her vision, she sees Gabe lifting up one of her knees, hooking them with her elbows, one by one. Those muscles aren’t just for show. Gabe has help, too; Mike’s arms hold her tightly around her stomach, gripping around her as he pounds in and out of her ass. What may be punishment for some feels like a blessing for Catherine.

She wraps her arms around Gabe’s neck, kissing him deeply, breaking to whisper, “I love that dick so much.”

“Which one?” Gabe asks with a smirk, and Catherine turns around to grab Mike by the back of his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. 

There’s a stagger to the rhythms. When Mike delves in, Gabe eases out. When eagerness gets the best of them– not that Catherine minds at all– sometimes they fall into sync, damn near, sending her into a different plane of existence. She wonders if they can feel each other when they’re both buried deep inside of her.

No amount of porn could’ve prepared her for how good this feels. Stretched and pounded. Repeatedly. Until all Catherine could think of was how sweet this orgasm would be. Her toes curl. The only thing keeping her grounded is her nails digging into Gabe's back. A spasm builds in her core, intensifying until it spills out in waves, quaking through her whole body. Her throat is hoarse from strained moans, but she forces out desperate pleas: “Fill me up! I wanna be leaking cum from my holes—” 

Her eyes roll back, and the ceiling has her attention when two sets of lips—one on each side of her neck—nibble until their owners’ moans tickle her skin. The pulsing of her holes around them constricts them further,  until she feels them twitch and throb at last. 

They give her the greatest gift of all, two giant loads shot deep into her. Warmth blooms and fills her. Each rope that coats her walls forces out a near airless moan until her voice gives out and her lips curl up in ecstasy. 

Her vision flashes white, and for a moment, she swears she stops breathing. 

~

When Catherine comes to, she's sitting in the middle of a bench, surrounded by cloaked women on either side of me. Whatever place this is feels like an office. The halos floating above the heads of the women draw her attention, and she purses her lips.

“Um,” Catherine starts. “Hello?”

“Greetings, Catherine. Be not afraid,” a woman greets after clearing her throat. “I know this is all rather sudden, but do ask if you have any questions about your transition?” 

“Transition? Transition to what?” Catherine asks. She eyes some binders on the coffee table, all embossed with her name on them. With a grimace, she opens one, surprised to see an album filled with pictures of her. 

“To the afterlife, of course!” Her answer is more nonchalant than I'd like. Pointing to the binders, she chuckles. “They say in the movies your life flashes before your eyes, but that's too much for the brain. Please. Be our guest and flip through at your leisure.”

Catherine’s brows furrow, and a blush crosses her face when she opens a rather vivid album filled with her various sexcapades, the very last few images being fresh in her mind.  “Am I being punished? For porn addiction? Sexual indulgence? Premarital sex…with multiple partners at once? Or…uh…sodomy, perhaps?”

“No! No, no,” the angel says nervously, glancing down at the album and pulling at her cloak. “Or, not…necessarily? We're currently auditing your life, and we should have your afterlife assignment within the next business day—which is all relative. The sun always shines here, so there's not really a ‘day,’ per se—”

“Where's Gabe? And Mike?” 

“Your companions? They're still on the mortal plane.” The angel snaps her fingers and a screen powers on. The two panicked men fan a limp and unresponsive Catherine. Yup, definitely her. Cum leaking down her legs. Same tattoos and all. Gabe searches her jugular for a pulse, and Mike's ear is pressed against her chest. “What a way to go out, am I right, ladies?”

Nods of approval all around, as well as hushed whispers of amazement. 

Catherine stands up to stretch, faces the pearly gates, then walks in the opposite direction. “Thanks for the hospitality, but no need to rush on that audit! Don't count me out yet.”

“Wait, Catherine! That's not how this—” 

“Bye!”

~

“I think she's stirring!” Mike says.

“Catherine?” Gabe asks, waving a hand in front of her face. “Jesus, don't scare us like that. Are you okay?”

She opens her eyes, and concern is written over Gabe and Mike’s eyes. They breathe easier when her gaze flits between the two of them. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Catherine assures. They help her sit up, and Mike hands her a bottle of water, which she chugs in a single gulp. Catherine grabs the boys and pulls them down to the couch with her. All smiles, she peppers them both with a few eager kisses on the cheek. “I think I died and went to heaven.” 

Synopsis: Amy is just going through the motions these days when it comes to her craft. An encounter with two men at a convention changes her perspective and inspires her to change things up. 

Written for image 08 for the July contest!

~

There’s nothing better than finding something you love. 

Amy remembers her very first 12-pack of Crayola crayons. The unmistakable smell of wax is ingrained into her very psyche. Vibrant violet, bright blue, radiant red. With simple colors, you can only do so much, but when you’re young, it feels infinite.

Amy remembers her very first 120-pack of Crayola crayons. The one that includes a sharpener. Far more options—almost too many to choose from. Colors that are close, but not identical. Close to what she needs. Amy learned very quickly how to blend.

Amy remembers her first drawing tablet. She cried tears of joy, thanking her parents, giving them both a kiss on the cheek. It was barely compatible with Windows XP, but her dad got it working on the old family computer. 120 colors pales in comparison to a digital color space. She drew and drew and drew and drew. Anything and everything. Her favorite characters from TV shows. Scenes outside of her bedroom window. Original characters. She only got better with more time and practice.

Amy remembers posting her art for the first time. 10 likes. That’s amazing. She’s used to her parents and the friends she has, but 10 feels like a milestone. Making a point to keep up with it, Amy posts regularly and watches that number of likes climb as she gets better. Not every piece is good. Not every comment is nice. Still, she works past it, never letting feedback or metrics get her down; it’s a chance to improve, after all. 

Amy remembers the first time she saw Not-Safe-For-Work art. She blushed, averting her eyes, covering her screen, trying to tear her attention back to studying for finals. At first, she thought the drawing was indecent, but the longer she looked, the more she was intrigued. It reignited her interest in art; she had to brush up on new things. Anatomy. Expressions. Relearning color theory and how it relates to skin tones. She woke up one day to her phone buzzing constantly. Amy was nervous about posting it, but her first spicy drawing did well—extremely well. She got the 10 likes she wanted, but this was nothing short of going viral.

Amy remembers how much money her first commission was worth. She thought there was an extra decimal or something. The email came with a very polite note. No hard deadline; the ideal first client. After a few draft reviews and learning about a new kink, Amy delivered, and that was her first taste of adult money. From there, business boomed. Opening more slots for commissions basically fished money in, and she still had plenty of time making art for herself. Her days were spent drawing and drawing and drawing, and the prospect of the next piece or project helped her blitz through her current one. 

There’s nothing better than finding something you love, but there’s nothing worse than a slump. 

~

Amy remembers this being fun. She walks around the show floor for ExotiCon, and it’s filled with NSFW creators of all types. Attendees. Exhibitors. Panel speakers. Artists. Performers. Livestreamers. 

She sits in the back row during one of the panels. For the third time today, she heard, “If you do something you love, you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” It’s such bullshit. It’s not that easy. Amy loves art, but she hasn’t felt the butterflies for it in ages.

Looking down at her lap, she stares at her convention badge. Her username on all of her socials with an oversimplified title: art teacher. Artist felt disingenuous when she registered, and has-been felt too bleak. She hadn’t made a piece for herself in a while. Commissions and payments from online tutorials she posted keep her afloat, but money is no issue. She doesn’t do art for the money. Not anymore. She’s comfortable.

Amy walks away to peruse the Artists’ Alley, and someone bumps into her, nearly knocking her goodies out of her hands. Looking up with mild annoyance, she sees two guys, both towering over her, but that’s not exactly impressive, considering her height. 

“Sorry,” one guy apologizes quickly.

The other stares at Amy with widened eyes, glimmering with…something. Is that admiration? His eyes look to her badge, and his hands ball excitedly as he tugs at the sleeve of his friend's shirt. “There’s no way. It’s xiamushiii!”

“Who?” the first man says, confusedly looking between his friend and Amy. She’s not offended; Amy considers herself niche at best in the grand scheme of the NSFW world. The taller fellow doesn’t strike her as the type that would be into her art, anyway. He nervously meets Amy’s eyes, offering a shy smile. “Sorry, Danny here can get a little intense. I’m Roland.”

Amy stares at his rather large outstretched hand and takes it, shaking it politely. “Amy.”

Danny looks through his phone, and Amy sees her Twitter profile, grimacing when she reads the large [HIATUS] text next to her name. “Look at how many followers she has! She’s like, super talented.”

Eyebrows flash as they scroll through her media tab, and Amy actually feels flattered. Danny gets up close, just inside her orbit. He keeps enough distance to stop Amy from calling security. “Are you doing anything later? You must be super busy at your booth.”

“No booth this year,” Amy says disappointedly. She offers the best smile she can. “Just an attendee looking to see what’s new in the industry. Why do you ask?”

“We’d love to pick your brain.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking of all the times I took the lump sum of money instead of the dinner with Jay-Z scenario,” Roland jokes. “This could be helpful for us, really. If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Amy walks closer between the two of them, grabbing their badges, looking up between the two of them. She chuckles. “Are you guys artists?”

“Sort of! The performing kind,” Danny clarifies, and now that she’s closer, she definitely recognizes him from one of the panels: NUTworking: Play with your Peers to Reach a Wider Audience.

She smiles. “Sure, why not? Pick somewhere fun.”

~

Amy remembers being that young. 

Interesting characters, these two. They have a knack for picking catchy performer names: DannyDanger and RolandRaw. They’re conventionally attractive, for sure. Good bodies. Roland is a little taller, which helps, Amy imagines. Danny does most of the talking. He’s very much into the creative process, and his eyes light up as he talks about projects he’s done, shoots he has lined up, or the ups and downs of video editing. Amy can only smile, even if bittersweetly.

Amy remembers having that kind of passion

She looks at the table, cluttered with half-finished drinks. It was Danny’s idea to go to one of those karaoke places. A private room where you can order food, drinks, and sing whatever your heart desires (as long as they have it in the catalog). The trio rests their vocal cords, and Amy helps herself to another chicken wing. The soy garlic here is pretty good. She could probably finish the plate if the boys would let her.

Their perspective is eye-opening. Roland is a little newer to the game in some ways, trying to get his footing still, but they both have the heart for it. They ask good questions, to her surprise, and Amy offers what sagely advice she can. It’s endearing how their eyes light up when something just…clicks for them.

After taking a sip of beer, Amy sits back, crossing her legs. “So you two, you’re like, together?”

They look at each other, and it’s hard to say which laughs harder. Danny grips Roland’s knee, giving him a playful shove, and Roland wipes a stray tear from his eye. Danny speaks first, “You got it all wrong. I have a girlfriend; we’re open, and we both make content. Roland, here, has actually done a few scenes with her, but scheduling has been rough recently, so I convinced him to come out to the convention so we could build more connections.” 

Circling the rim of her bottle, Amy traces it with her finger, slowly. She smiles, gazing sharply into Roland’s eyes. “Is that what this is? Building a connection?” 

“Oh, I…no, not that kind,” Roland stammers, embarrassedly looking away. “Unless you’re open to it?” 

“I’m not not open to it,” Amy starts, looking up to the ceiling. “But unfortunately I fear my talents lie elsewhere.” 

“Camera shy?” Danny offers. 

She shakes her head. “Actually, for some of my art, I use pictures I’ve taken of myself as a reference image. It’s great for figuring out perspective, poses, and the like. But I’ve never posted anything of me, outside of a proof-of-life selfie to assure my followers that I’m still kicking.”

Amy laughs, looking into her drink. “Power to you guys for keeping up with it. Those days when I was making my best work feel like so long ago, but you both seem to keep looking forward to the next best thing.” 

“It’s just temporary, right?” Danny asks, concern growing in your face. “You’re not retiring any time soon, are you? You’ll be back.”

“I don’t know.” Amy shrugs. “Maybe not in the same capacity. I keep up with commissions because the money’s good, and tutorials are so easy to knock out. But it feels so…stale. A lot of the same. I don’t…know if I have it anymore. I feel burnt out. Past my prime.”

“Washed?” Roland cuts in, grunting when he’s hit in the rib.

“Dude.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Is that what the kids say nowadays? Washed?” Amy laughs. “It just feels like I’ve hit a wall, and I came to the convention for some fresh perspective.” 

“You said you use yourself as reference images, right?” Roland suggests. “Maybe you just need new material to work off of?” 

Surprisingly enough, that’s what flips the switch for Amy. She downs the rest of her beer, and the glass clinks on the table when she sets the bottle down. It’s her turn to ask, “Are you boys doing anything later?” 

Roland shakes his head, and Danny thinks to himself before answering, “My girlfriend booked a gig to pose for a lighting workshop, so I probably won’t see her until later. Why do you ask?”

“Lock the door,” Amy tells them, nudging her head towards it, raising the volume on the TV. “Why don’t we do a little bit of…networking?” 

Roland nearly trips on his way to the door, and when Amy hears the distinct click, she grins. 

“I think you’re right. Some fresh perspective would do me some good,” Amy starts, opening her phone to her camera. She hands it to Roland. “Take as many pictures and videos as you want.” 

Roland nods. Danny moves closer, grabbing the bottom of Amy’s shirt, but she holds his hands still, smiling towards him.

“Since you guys are the pros here, and I’m still navigating this all, how about I set a ground rule? I’ll take anything off. Everything, even, but to make it fair, you both have to do the same. Deal?” Amy offers. She smiles as Danny nearly rips his shirt off, and Roland does the same. “So eager. Oh, well. A promise is a promise.”

It becomes a back and forth. Pants come off next. Tight-fighting trunks bear quite the inviting bulge. Amy turns around, wiggling her ass before pulling her jeans down to flash a thong towards the boys. They only grin, and she sees her phone camera’s flash every now and then. She’s feeling herself, striking a few poses for Roland, grinning with the click of the camera’s shutter. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to get into selling lewds?” Danny asks, walking closer to admire her rear. “You don’t even have to get naked, really. That’s such a nice ass.” 

“Depending on what kind of stuff Roland is taking, I may just have to consider it.” With another playful shake, Amy looks at them over her glasses. “Wanna give it a slap?” 

“Can we?” Roland cuts in, almost too keen on the idea. 

“Only if I get to give you two a spanking first,” Amy teases. Her eyebrows flash when they turn around, peeking at her over their shoulders, waiting patiently. She puts a hand at the top of their boxers, pulling the back just far enough to bare their bright buts. Giving each a squeeze, she looks up at the two. “Firm.”

Danny smirks with a lewd motion, humping the air. “We get a lot of exercise.” 

“I see.” Amy admires their muscles, eyes flitting between them. She coils an arm back and gives each of them a slap on the closest cheek. Roland first. Then Danny. There’s barely any jiggle, but there’s a distinct ripple through their skin. Her hips gyrate as she turns around slowly. “Your turn.” 

There’s a sharp clash of palm against flesh, and Amy gasps. Still, that’s barely anything. She grins, looking at Roland. “So gentle? I’m sure you can do harder than that.” 

Timidly, he charges his hand back again, and his second try certainly has more force behind it. 

“Harder.”

Another spank follows, as if fighting against her taunting. 

“More.” Amy looks over, and Roland is chewing on the inside of his cheek in mild frustration. He walks closer, and Amy can’t resist pressing her ass against his crotch. Shit. She can feel the outline of his dick, and there’s some serious temptation to pull his boxers down. Shaking it off, she prods him further, looking into his eyes. “C’mon. Give me a good one.” 

At last, a strike hard enough to leave a mark. When Roland flashes the phone screen towards Amy, and she smiles. “You sure have a thing for camera angles. You’re positive you wouldn’t make it in the art world?” 

“I can’t draw for shit,” Roland admits, shaking his head.

“Are your hands good for other things?” Amy asks coyly, with a tilt of her hand. Throwing them a bone, she reaches behind her back, unclasping her bra, letting it fall into her lap. Jaws drop, eyeing her pierced nipples. Like clockwork. “It’s a trade secret. Barely anyone knows I have them pierced. Guess that makes you guys pretty special, huh?” 

Danny grabs a handful of her rear, kneading it. His hand wanders, fingers poking under the side of Amy’s thong. She allows it, and from the look he gives her, he knows better than to try and remove it without her saying so. With a grin, he asks, “What do we have to do to feel how wet you are?”

She takes a seat, spreading her legs, and two sets of eyes stare at the tiny black fabric that stops them from taking a proper look. Feigning innocence, she tilts her head and taps her lip. “I haven’t decided just how far I want to go with you two tonight, but I can be…persuaded.” 

Her eyes are locked onto Danny’s bulge, and a finger beckons the two boys closer to her. Amy looks up, wrapping her arms around them to steal another quick grope of their asses. Fingers trail along to the front of their boxers, and a light tug draws some rather sultry noises from the two. She bites her lips, running her palms over the front of their underwear. “Why don’t you show me what you two are working with?” 

They’re so ready to strip. Boxers get pushed down to their ankles, and they each step closer, sure to keep just enough distance for Amy’s sake. She looks between the two of them. “So pretty. Both of them. Can I hold them?”

“Do whatever you want,” Danny says, grinning, and Roland quickly nods in agreement. 

Amy puts a hand under each one, loving the weight they have. Meaty. Thick. Juicy-looking, too. A bright light shines from her phone, in Roland’s hand. It’s pointed at her, and the constant gleam means he’s recording. 

It should make Amy feel bashful or shy, but it does the opposite. It emboldens her to lean down and kiss Danny’s dick. Her fingers wrap around him, just a bit tighter, and she places another sweet kiss, further down, closer to his base. Amy winces when she looks up towards Roland. The light is blinding, and she can’t make out his expression, but she can feel the way he tenses and hears the way he moans when she does the same for him. Two kisses, letting her lips linger on his hardness. She grins, flashing a peace sign towards the camera. 

Amy can’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun. With two sizable dicks as her canvas, she marks them. Her lips are the perfect brush, decorating them with black lip marks from her dark lipstick. She takes her hands down, lifting her hips to slide her thong down. It hangs at her ankles, and she kicks it aside to join her pile of clothes. “Well?” 

Roland kneels at her waist level, pointing the camera towards where her legs meet. She keeps them open for him, grinning at just how much he’s salivating for her. A cool breeze sends a shudder down her back when it catches her glistening wetness. 

She looks at Roland, raising a brow. “How much would you want to do tonight?”

“God,” Roland whispers to himself. “I’d want to do everything with you. If you’ll let me.”

“That depends on how badly you want it,” Amy proposes. She takes the phone from his hand, scrolling through the camera roll. Patting the seat next to her, she encourages Roland to sit, and he does, even if rather timidly. Pointing at the lipstick marks on Danny’s shaft, she grabs Roland’s thighs. Her voice falls down to a whisper’s level. “See those? I want you to kiss the same spots.”

Roland’s eyes snap to her, and he gulps. Hard. “But..I’ve never…”

“You’ve never done content with another guy before?” Amy coos, turning her attention to Danny. “How about you?”

“A few times, yeah,” Danny explains. “Did a few threesomes with my girlfriend, but I also had one guy ask to do content with just the two of us. It’s a job, at the end of the day, but I had fun.”

“See? It’s not so bad. Think of it as a way to reach a wider audience,” Amy says, pressing her lips against Roland’s neck. Her breath tickles. “The deal from earlier stands, by the way. Anything you do to Danny, I’ll do to you. What do you think?”

“Maybe,” Roland says. From his expression, he’s talking himself into it. He’s open but may need a bit of a push, and Amy is happy to help.

“I know it’s a little different,” She starts holding her arm out in front of him. Close your eyes and kiss my arm. He’s very good at following directions, and the light peck peck on her skin tickles. “It’s just like that. I’m not asking you to hold him; I can do that for you. I just want you to lean in and give it a kiss.”

“Okay.” The word barely leaves Roland’s lips. He wets them and leans in towards Danny. Before he can close the distance any further, Amy holds his face, turning it towards her.

“Here’s an early reward for being such a good sport.” It happens so fast: a deep kiss. One that Amy melts into. She presses harder, and Roland happily accepts her tongue. Guiding his hands onto her breasts, he indulges in a firm squeeze, flicking his thumb over her nipple and the barbells around it. When she pulls away from his mouth, Roland’s breath hitches. “You don’t have to kiss Danny quite that passionately. Just a little peck on his dick. I know you can do it.”

He nods eagerly. The sweetness of her voice runs goosebumps down his spine. What is she doing to him? The hand on his thigh squeezes him, and it gives him the courage to kiss Danny’s shaft. Roland looks towards Amy for approval, and she smiles widely, pointing at the next lipstick mark: the one closer to Danny’s base. Roland is braver this time, barely even hesitating.

“I’m so proud of you,” Amy says, smile widening. “Can we do a little bit more?”

When Roland hesitantly nods, her eyes curl into crescents. “Just follow what I do.”

Amy kneels on the ground, and Roland takes his place next to her. She opens her mouth wide and grabs Danny, slapping that thick dick onto her flattened tongue. She aims Danny towards Roland, and unsure eyes look at her before he opens his mouth. Her tone is a little sharper; maybe it’s impatience, but she tells Roland, “Come on. Stick your tongue out just like I did.”

He does as told, tensing when velvety skin meets his taste buds. It’s salty like dried sweat, and Roland makes a mistake of meeting Danny's eyes. He jerks away, looking towards Amy, but he relaxes when she leans to kiss him again.

“Now this will be a big jump, but I really, really think you can do it, and I think it would be so hot if you do,” Amy says with a smile. She puts her mouth onto Danny, locking her lips around him, and takes his entire length with ease. Amy moans around him, bobbing her head, letting it go on for who knows how long. She loses track of time. It’s fun to suck dick, and she hopes Roland will agree.

A gentle hold on the back of Roland’s neck brings her lips to him. His tongue is a bit more hesitant to enter her mouth, but she offers him hers, and she feels the shudder when their tongues meet. She wonders if he can taste Denny’s dick on her tongue.

She left the kiss last longer, deepening it, pulling his lips against hers. He’s good with his mouth, but she wants him to use it on Danny instead.

Her hand travels up to his hair, tugging slightly, and a sharp exhale escapes. She pulls Danny to the gap between their lips, sliding his tip between them. Amy takes him into her mouth first, slurping and sucking before popping Danny out, leaving him covered with her spit. Her gaze cycles between Roland and Danny’s dick, and Roland knows what he has to do.

His lips find Danny’s tip, and he takes what he can. Amy doesn’t expect he’ll have an easy time right away, especially considering Danny’s size. Roland gives it an honest try, maybe squeezing half of Danny’s dick inside his mouth. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Amy guides Roland's hand to Danny’s base, wrapping the fingers around the other's throbbing hardness. She instructs him softly, “Just do whatever you like being done to yourself, and I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

She looks up at Danny. “Are you doing alright up there? I’m sorry I’m giving all the attention to Roland.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Danny assures, grunting. “Feels like he’s a fast learner.”

Amy gets down onto the ground in front of Roland. The floor is dirty, sure, but she has some momentum going. This situation is a little too hot to resist. She spits in her hand, wrapping it around him before stroking along his shaft. Noticing Roland pause, she stops her hand, wagging a finger towards him. “Don’t stop yet. I’ll suck you as long as you’re sucking him.”

He nods, bobbing his head, daring to take even more of Danny inside his mouth. Fuck, that’s hot. Amy licks her lips before kissing Roland's tip. She licks along the ridge of his head, but knows it’d be cruel to tease him for much longer. Her lips wrap around him, and she takes all of him, from tip to base, with one bob of her head

His breath hitches, and she keeps going, having fun with Roland. From the differing sounds coming from the boys’ mouths, Amy imagines she’s the better dicksucker between the two of them, but it makes sense. She’s had the most time to practice.

“Okay, boys. One more game. Winner takes all,” Amy suggests. “Last person to finish gets to stick their dick in me. Any position. Down?”

“Definitely,” Danny says.

Amy offers Roland a smile. “You have a chance, you know? Just keep sucking and stroking and make it messy. Go fast. Do what I’m doing to you, and you’ll make him come in no time.”

She wiggles her ass in the air looking up. “I’ll be waiting to offer you your victory prize.”

Roland pauses to take a breath and focuses on what Amy does, hoping to mirror it perfectly. Easier said than done. She can throat him with ease, and there’s so much of Danny that doesn’t fit in Roland’s mouth. When he starts twitching in Amy’s mouth, he starts to panic, doing what he can to step his game up.

She notices, taking her mouth off him, focusing on rubbing along his hardness, adding a twist to her wrist. She leans up to whisper into his ear. “Is this as bad as you thought?” 

“Mm-mm,” he says, muffled around Danny’s dick.

“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” Amy says, smile growing sinister. “You’re having so much fun sucking dick, aren’t you?”

Roland nods his head, and Amy’s hand guides him deeper along Danny until we can feel the other man deep in his throat. He looks up at Danny, whose eyes are closed as he grips onto his seat.

“See how good you’re doing? You’re sucking like a true cock slut,” Amy says, speeding her hand up along him. “Think of how much you wanna fuck me. Make him come in, and I’ll let you put it inside. You’re so close….”

Giving Roland a break from her mouth wasn’t mercy enough. The words edge him closer to release, and when she put her lips around him again, he’s just as much in danger of finishing as he was before. Amy stops pulling punches, sucking him harder, twisting along the length, and Roland can’t keep up at all, slowing down on Danny.

His cries are muffled around Danny, and he drains himself into Amy’s mouth. She locks her lips to suck with all her might, eager to swallow every drop. She doesn’t waste anything, and flashes a clean tongue towards Roland. She pouts. “That’s such a shame. I really thought you could do it. I guess you have to watch.”

Amy makes conversation with Danny, but Roland doesn’t catch any of it. His mind is still in the haze from how good Amy’s mouth is. He’s not sure what to think about how much he enjoyed sucking Danny’s dick. He was so sure that he was straight, but this had him thinking twice.

Danny positions Amy into doggy, and the clap of their bodies crashing snaps Roland out of it. He massages his temples, finding a place on the other side of Amy, who collapses into his lap from the force of Danny’s strokes.

She looks up at Roland, smiling, pushing back sweaty-drenched hair and reaching back for the hands tight around her waist. “Your friend really knows how to lay it down. It’s really good.”

Amy’s moans get louder with each time Danny thrusts into her. Roland grabs the microphone with no real intention to sing, but a random five-digit code plays something he doesn’t know. He presses play, and the instrumental track starts the song. It’s not even in English, but he’s not looking at the screen, anyway. He’s watching Amy get railed.

She grabs Roland’s thighs and her breath feels so nice on his dick. Peering up at him, she flashes a crooked smile. “Do you want my mouth again?”

“I’m not hard enough to go again,” Roland says, biting his lip, “but I won’t say now.” 

His flaccid dick feels great in Amy’s mouth. It’s fun to play with like this. There’s so much give when she sucks —like a stress ball for her mouth. The lingering taste of cum and sweat excites Amy to no end. She massages him with her tongue, letting it flick along the bottom of his shaft, and he twitches inside her mouth, stiffening slightly. Moans escape his mouth, “F-fuck—-”

Amy whimpers around his dick every time Danny bottoms out into her. She arches her back, staying nice and still so the man behind her can do his thing. Danny starts groaning and slows his pace, but Amy plunges back onto him, throwing her ass back to milk him. He grins, adding more power behind every rough stroke, holding her tighter, nails digging in her flesh. Looking up at Roland, now that he’s as hard as before, Amy grins. Teasing strokes, aided by her spit, draw more throaty groans from him. “Do you wanna stick it in?”

He nods with parted lips, throat dry, heart pounding, lungs barely passing enough air to his head. Roland bites his lips when Amy swallows him up, bobbing her head in tandem with her twisting hand. She leaves so much slobber over his dick. 

“One condition,” Amy says, pointing towards Denny with her thumb. “He gets to come first.”

That’s fine with Roland. Danny looks like he’s about to finish, anyway. Roland imagines Amy’s back splattered with cum. The artist becomes the work of art.

“He’s gonna fill me up, and you’re gonna fuck his load deeper into me,” Amy clarifies. Moans break up her words as she smiles, slamming back onto Danny’s dick. “Or is that too much for you?”

“I’ll do it,” Roland says, desperately, gritting his teeth, trying to hold back. He doesn’t want to just finish in her mouth again. He needs to feel around his dick.

Danny tightens his hold on Amy's waist, huffing hard, pushing deeper. She throws back down to him, grabbing his ass to hold him deep inside her. She looks up at him. “That’s right. Fill me up.”

Her eyes widen when Danny groans. He throbs inside of her, pulsing to empty into her hole. Amy’s attention switches to Roland. “Ready for me?”

Danny pulls out of her, and she straddles Roland, watching cum leak from her slit onto Roland‘s dick. Amy uses her hand to spread it along him, grinning at his breathy moans. She lowers herself until he fills her completely. Roland’s throbbing already. They groan together when she starts moving. “Doesn’t cum make the best lube? Think of how easily you slid inside.”

Roland nods, grabbing her breast, squeezing them, letting his thumb graze her pierced nipples. His hips buck into Amy, and he looks up at her, strain wrinkling his expression. “You…feel so good… so tight, too.”

“You like fucking your friend’s load into me?” Amy asks, and Roland blushes, smiling slightly. “Nothing sexier than a guy who’s willing to fuck a cum-filled hole, especially when it’s not his own.”

Roland smiles nervously. He can’t deny that it feels great. He wonders just how much longer he can last. He grabs Amy’s waist, and she leans in to pepper his neck with lip marks. 

A gentle bite earns a sharp wince. Her lips find his, and he’s in heaven when she forces her tongue past his lips. She breaks from the sloppy kiss, admiring the spit trails tethering their lips. “Can you add to the mess?”

Roland isn’t thinking straight at all, but he musters a nod. Amy plants her hands on his shoulders, lifting her hips, lowering them, and speeding up, assuring she wants to do everything for him. He’s more incomprehensible with every forceful drop of her hips, and his head digs into the wall as his hips jerk, emptying his balls into Amy.

She smiles, looking down as she lifts herself off, leaking onto Roland’s thigh. Amy gathers some with her fingertip, examining it closely. “Not bad for being your second round, but I can’t tell if this is your cum or Danny’s.”

“Maybe a mix of both?” she suggests before locking eyes and slipping her finger between her mouth, sucking it clean. “Do you wanna taste?”

Roland stares up at her with unsure eyes. His lips quiver, watching as her finger reaches down to catch what cum leaks out of her. “Umm…”

“Your cum’s really tasty, if it’s any consolation, but I understand if this is a bit too much for you,” Amy assures. With a grin, she taps his nose after licking her finger clean again. “You’ll get there. If you had fun sucking dick, swallowing cum is the next step. You’re gonna get addicted.” 

She walks to her pile of clothes and carefully puts everything on, fastening every buckle, button, and clasp. She turns to her new connections, giving them a wave. “Well, it’s been a fun time, boys. Roland was right. I just needed some…fresh inspiration. I’m off to my hotel room because I am swimming in ideas now. Maybe I’ll catch you guys on the show floor tomorrow? I’ll be around.” 

Amy remembers just how easy it is to pull from real experiences when her imagination isn’t working the best. Maybe that was her problem all along: she just needed to get laid. There are so many ideas she has now. Almost too many to choose from. She’s already thinking of poses, colors, acts that she wants to depict. Does it have to be just a single image? Maybe something long-form? A comic could be better for the scenario she’s thinking of. 

Amy remembers the mania that comes with a burst of inspiration. Gears are turning. She mindlessly calls an Uber. Why didn’t she bring her laptop and tablet with her? She could’ve been starting right now. Her hand is restless, needing the feel of her stylus. The best she can do for now is a rough sketch on a rudimentary drawing app using her finger. A few compositions come to mind right away. Yeah…kind of like that. 

There’s nothing better than those first really good ideas you get after your creativity’s been at an all-time low.

Synopsis: Katie is at least somewhat into her roommate, Gavin, but she has a suspicion that he’s somewhat into her feet. There’s nothing wrong with that, but she learns he’s fun to tease. The Game’s Afoot!

Written for image 16 for the July contest!

~

Gavin is a fine roommate; Katie can’t complain. Since her sister moved out, he’s one of the only subletters who has been able to keep up with the rent, so he’s easily lasted the longest so far. He’s friendly, washes his own dishes, and isn’t super possessive about the food he makes, so more often than not, they end up cooking for each other.

Katie does wish Gavin was more talkative. He keeps his volume at a respectable level or just uses his earbuds to not be disruptive, but he’s always watching something. It could be news, sports, maybe a streamer in the background. 

He lets Katie use his Netflix account and whatever numerous streaming services he has (almost everything, really), so she’s been able to save some money by not paying for her own subscriptions. She’ll ask if he wants to watch something together, and he usually declines, but it’s a fun time whenever he humors her; it’s fascinating to see him get invested in rom-coms and period pieces. 

Curiosity struck when the Wi-Fi statement came out, one month. Katie checked to see the bandwidth breakdown, looking through the different categories. Most of it was video streaming (a fifty-fifty split between him and Katie, honestly). The next category was cloud services, which is almost unavoidable in this day and age. One category made her blush: porn. She figured that would be mostly her, but when she expanded to see what kind of sites were visited, Katie saw some names she didn’t recognize. Everyone watches porn, and everyone’s into different things. Gavin sure has his curiosities. There were a few foot sites. Okay, maybe more than a few. 

Is Gavin into feet? Like, into into them?

~

Curiosity gets the best of Katie again, and she pays closer attention to Gavin’s reaction when she’s nearby. Collectively, they love doom scrolling in the living room. Nothing quite like it after a long day. If one of them laughs a little too hard, the other would look up, and they share videos or compare feeds. It’s a good time. All casual. Truly, he’s a good roommate. When he wants to open up, that is. 

One day, Katie sits in the recliner with her feet above the ottoman, ankles crossed, and she notices Gavin glance over every time she shifts or wiggles my toes. He looks, then quickly flits his eyes back to the screen. Every time, without fail. Sometimes he clears his throat or looks away to hide the very distinct blush on his cheeks.

Interesting.

~

Part of it is curiosity; part of it is boredom. After work, Katie trudges into the apartment, takes off her shoes, sets her bag on the countertop, and plops onto the couch. She stretches across it, despite Gavin sitting on one end. Resting her feet in his lap, she can’t help but notice his initial annoyance, only to be replaced with a fluster.

“Long day?” he asks. Gavin tries to look Katie in the eyes, but she could see them wander towards her ankle socks.

“Yeah, definitely. I feel like I put in more steps than usual today. It was really busy on the floor, and all the walkies were in use, so I really had to go back to the nurses' station to talk to the team,” Katie rambles. His thigh tenses under her heel, and she swears she heard his breath stop, even if only for a moment. “I could really go for a massage. Do you know a place?”

“There’s this place I pass on the way to work. It’s on the strip mall on McKenzie Boulevard, Gavin says. He types on his phone, trying to find the name of the place online. “It looks like it’s closed on Wednesdays, so maybe you can book an appointment tomorrow?”

“I work tomorrow,” Katie grumbles. She stretches to relieve tension, and she groans loudly. It doesn’t do much to help the throbbing of her feet, but the sound she makes stirs something in Gavin. Katie tilts her head against the back of the couch, looking at him, trying my hardest not to smile too hard. “Would you mind?”

“I-I’ve never…” Gavin stammers.

“Just do your best,” Katie tells him, giving her toes a wiggle. She smiles through pursed lips and flashes a smile. “I’m kind of desperate.”

Gavin’s hands tremble when he puts them around Katie‘s feet. His touch is incredibly light, almost to the point of tickling; Katie has to keep strong lest she bursts out laughing. He carefully removes her socks, and Katie can’t help but feel like he’s treating her like fine porcelain. It’s charming.

“Gavin?” Katie starts, looking at him. His eyes are laser-focused on her feet, but he snaps out of it, looking her way, unable to muster a response. He shifts his legs, and Katie spots a growing bulge in his pants, even if only slightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he tells her. His thumb digs into Katie’s heel, and she winces. “Is that too hard?”

“No, it feels good,” Katie assures, nodding, hoping it will ease his worries. “It’s so sore from today, so it’s probably gonna hurt at least a little bit.”

Gavin continues working her heel, eventually moving his way up to Katie’s arch. Concentration furrows his brows, and Katie starts to regret not asking for this sooner. Once he starts finding knots up near her toes, that’s when a moan slips out.

“Are you absolutely sure you’ve never done this before?” Katie asks, smiling to herself. 

“Never,” he tells Katie, offering a humble smile. “I’ve had partners that just…really don’t like having their feet touched. You promise this is okay?”

“Oh, I’m definitely not complaining. Feel free to go as long as you can. I’m kind of in heaven right now,” Katie says contentedly. 

So is Gavin, apparently. It’s been a while since Katie has had someone look at her the way he does, even if all of his attention is on her feet. He’s attentive to every knot, and repeats the same process on the opposite foot.

When Katie gets her fill, feeling immensely better than when she walked into the apartment, she recoils her feet away, and Gavin almost looks hurt. “That was awesome. You really got a knack for that. Am I allowed to ask for more massages if I have a bad day?”

“I guess,” Gavin says, trying not to appear too eager. “Anytime. Just let me know when.”

Katie walks away but stops when a notification steals her attention. In the corner of her eye, she sees Gavin staring at her bare feet. When she chuckles, making eye contact, he looks away embarrassedly, playing a video on his phone.

~

That should’ve been enough for Katie, but truthfully, she enjoys teasing Gavin. She makes sure not to be mean about it, but he’s admittedly a little cute when he’s flustered. Katie has always been the type to wear socks at all times—even walking around the house—but she stops completely. The extra air is actually pleasant, and the extra attention makes her grin.

Gavin isn’t sneaky, like, at all, but Katie pretends not to notice.

“Gavin,” Katie starts, and he looks over. She stares at the tips of her fingers. “Do you think you can spot me some money? I kind of wanna get my nails done.”

Katie’s focused on her fingernails, but she knows her toes are stealing the show. It really has been too long since he’s gotten a good mani-pedi. “They shorted me on my last check by a few hours. I’m kind of bummed. I was thinking of squeezing an appointment tonight before the salon closes tonight.”

“Rent is due soon,” Gavin tells her, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing his wallet. He flips through the bills in his wallet. Hesitantly, he asks with concerned brows. “How much do you need?”

“Um, like…a hundred?” Katie asks, smiling nervously. When Gavin’s eyes widen, she jumps in to reassure him. “That’s after tax and tip! They’re pricey at the place I go to, but they always do a good job.”

When Gavin stops flipping through cash, Katie figures it’s a no-go, but her jaw drops when he hands her his debit card. She stares at the card, then looks up at Gavin. He sighs, looking away. “Do you want it or not? I don’t have enough cash.”

“You can just send the money to me,” Katie says, grabbing his card and looking at it. “I don’t need the physical card.” 

Gavin shrugs. “Not like you can go overboard with it. It’ll decline if you even step foot into a steakhouse.”

“What if we share an entree?” Katie suggests. 

“No eating out. I’m cooking tonight,” Gavin tells her. 

Katie makes it to the salon with ample time to score the last appointment of the night. Good thing, too. There’s no need for anyone to rush. Pulling out her phone, she snaps a picture of her feet and sends it to Gavin:

Katie sent an attachment.

He responds immediately, but without substance, only confusion:

???

Oh, wise and noble mani-pedi sponsor, please select a color for my toes. 

Gavin types for a while, those three dots appearing and disappearing constantly. Katie wonders what he’ll gravitate to. Some light research on the internet suggests bright red is popular. French tips, too, or even just a solid coat of flat white. His response takes her by surprise.

Don’t you have that emo/scene/throwback night this weekend with your friends? Choose something bright and neon, I guess? Idk

You remember that??

It’s on the calendar. 

~

“What do you think? Am I fuckable?” Katie asks, showing off her outfit to Gavin. Fishnets, denim shorts that she squeezed into (worth it for how good it makes her ass look), and a band tee that corroborates her elder emo status. 

Gavin looks up from his phone, and his eyes veer down to her toes painted, bright cyan, magenta, and yellow. His eyebrows flash when he takes in the entire getup. “Uh, I guess so.” 

“Should I do the knee-high Converse? Or the Doc Martin sandals?” Katie holds up both options. The question is rhetorical; she knows what he’ll pick. There was no way he could resist her toes being out on display. Gavin points to the latter option, and they fall to the floor with a thud (sorry, downstairs neighbors). With an innocent smile, she asks him, “Can you help me put them on?” 

Gavin stares for a moment, but gives in after rolling his eyes. He kneels by the sandals, cradling each foot as he helps slip them in. With careful precision, he secures the straps at her ankles. 

“Thanks, Gavin. Are you sure I can’t convince you to come out with us? It could be fun,” Katie offers with a smile. It’s genuine. No teasing this time. 

“I think I’m good,” Gavin tells her. “It’s not really my scene.”

“Was that joke on purpose?”

“No, shut up,” he grumbles, putting his palm in his face. “Let me know if you and the girls need to be picked up or something.”

“You know the club is only a ten-minute walk from here, right?”

“Yeah, but what if your feet get tired?”

Katie grins, scrunching her nose. “I have someone who can massage my feet when I get back.”

~

The night was awesome; they played so many throwbacks. Katie’s eardrums are still ringing. She knocks on Gavin’s bedroom door, and when he doesn’t respond, she jiggles the knob, slowly opening it, barely making out his sleepy silhouette from whatever hallway light reaches his bed. “Gavin, are you awake?”

“Barely,” he says groggily. “Do you need a ride? Hold up. I’ll be right there.”

“Gavin, I’m literally standing in your doorway. We got home safe. The girls are sleeping in my bed, and the Uber upcharges are kind of insane right now, so they’re gonna stay the night.”

He sits up, rubbing his eyes, padding his bed. “Come on, sleep here. I’ll take the couch.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Katie says, smiling, walking closer to the bed. The heavy soles of her sandals are heavy against the wood floor. Gavin rolls over to make space for her, and she collapses onto the bed, face first. She kicks her feet. “Can you take my sandals off?”

“Yeah, I got you.” Gavin’s sleepy voice does more for Katie than she’s ready to admit. He unbuckles her shoes and lets them fall to the ground. His thumb finds knots he figured would be there. All over her arch. Near her toes. Plenty of love for the heel.

Katie smiles to herself. “I didn’t even have to ask for the massage. I’m impressed.”

She rests her head on her crossed arms, and with how well Gavin is doing, she could see herself falling asleep like this. Katie hums happily to herself, though something makes her ask a question that she knows she shouldn’t: “Gavin? How long have you been into feet?”

“What?” he says, laughing. Katie expects him to be more defensive or embarrassed, but he sounds more confused than anything.

“You’re always down to give me a foot massage,” Katie starts, looking at him over her shoulder. “You also helped pick the polish for my toes. You literally stare at them whenever I’m walking around barefoot.”

“I’m going to address those one by one,” Gavin says, smiling. “You ask for massages, like, all the time. You work hard enough, so it’d be messed up if I told you no. You’re the one who asked me what color to paint them, so I gave you some good options for tonight. And for the last part it’s…uh, never mind.”

What Katie teases, sitting up. She crosses her legs and presses a pointed foot into Gavin‘s chest. “What? Can’t deny it?”

“I mean you do have pretty feet,” Gavin admits, “but it’s not so much that I’m into feet. I’m just into…you.”

“What?” It’s Katie's turn to be confused. “Are you serious?”

“Is that crazy to say? Yeah, I’m serious.” Gavin laughs. “Wait, do I strike you as a guy with a foot fetish?”

“I don’t know,” Katie says, a little embarrassed. “I saw stuff in our internet history.”

Gavin blushes, explaining from the corner of his mouth, “I got…curious. More people are open to talking about it these days, so I wanted to see what the hype was about. It's not what I'd usually go for, but I fell down a rabbit hole that night.” 

“So you're not interested in foot stuff at all?” Katie asks.

“I never said that.” Gavin looks away. “It just seems like something that…couples do, so I’m not in any hurry to try it.” 

Katie smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Now, why do you say that?”

He shrugs, staring at her hand while doing nothing to move it off him. “Isn’t it weird? I wouldn’t want to hook up with a girl, ask for some foot action, and be labeled Foot Guy Gavin in all of her group chats.”

“Then maybe you’re dating the wrong kind of girl?” Katie suggests, nudging his arm with her elbow. “I don’t think it’s weird at all.”

“Well, I'd consider you pretty open-minded,” Gavin says.

“Yeah, but aren’t we sort of like a couple?” Katie says lightheartedly. “We…live together, eat together. You do silly things for me like give me foot massages and help me with my shoes when I don’t want to do it myself.” 

“That’s different.”

“You paid for my nails?”

“That was one time.”

“I don’t know, I could get used to that,” she says playfully, and Gavin finally cracks a smile. “What do you say? We could give it a try.”

“Being a couple? Or a foot job?” Gavin jokes, watching as Katie threads her fingers into his.

She leans in to kiss his cheek, and he blushes in response, eyes not quite meeting hers. “How about I let you decide?”

Slowly, Gavin moves his hand onto her waist, and he stares at her lips. When she nods, he lowers her onto the bed, his face moving towards her. “Mystery third option?”

“Sure,” Katie says, smiling up towards Gavin. As he moves closer still, she closes her eyes, puckering her lips, and that first kiss is so gentle. Very much what she would expect from him. Sweet and slow. Tender, too. She’s always thought of him as a type of guy who needs a little push, so she gives it to him, kissing harder, and he follows suit. A fast learner; she likes that.

One of his arms wraps under the small of her back, bringing him up towards her, and the other hand undoes the button of her denim shorts. Breaking away from the kiss, he moves his lips to her neck, speaking against her skin. “I’m surprised you came home tonight, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

“You asked if you looked fuckable, so I assumed you’re going guy hunting tonight.”

“I had my eyes set on someone,” Katie says, enjoying the worry wrinkling Gavin’s forehead, “but he insisted on not going to the club when I invited him.”

“That’s the kind of guy you want to be with?” Gavin asks, offering a nervous smile. His lips linger on her neck, and soft kisses have Katie gasping through moans.

“He’s good to me, otherwise. Just…really bad at taking hints.”

Gavin pulls her shorts off, and her panties come with it. He sits up to remove his shirt, and Katie does the same. To say he worships her is generous. As he moves his head lower, Gavin leaves a trail of kisses, making frequent stops. Her lips—plenty for her lips. Her collarbone. Breasts—he loves her breasts, squeezing them gently, only kneading harder when she begs for it.

His tongue on her nipple stiffens it in his mouth, and when he locks his lips around it to flick against it, Katie holds him there, loving how it feels. She parts her legs, reaching down to rub her foot against his crotch. His mouth pauses for a moment, but he continues his downward journey. He leaves plenty of kisses for her stomach, and his light lips tickle, stirring a heat deep inside her.

Katie can hardly wait. Once his lips kiss the inside of her thighs, he inches higher, switching between legs. She needs that mouth on her soon. Her fingers tangle into his hair, tugging him towards her, and his eyes flit up. If his mouth wasn’t buried between her legs, she’s sure she would’ve seen a smirk.

Gavin took his time making his way to her pussy, but he doesn’t waste a single second longer getting right into it. A flattened tongue licks slowly along her soaked lips. That eye contact is dangerous. Katie presses her foot harder against his crotch. He’s so hard already, just from eating her out. Seeing him so focused on her is a good change of pace from his usual nonchalance.

“Take your pants off,” Katie says between moans, rolling her hips up into his face.

“What?” Gavin stops to look down at her foot pressing against his dick.

“Does it feel bad?”

He pauses, looking away, muttering, “...no.”

“Then let me do my thing, and you can keep you doing your thing.”

Gavin doesn’t say anything, but he pulls down his shorts and boxers. He’s a good size. Katie could definitely see herself riding it, but she imagines that would have to wait for a different day. He moves back down to put his mouth back on her. He licks faster this time, focusing on circling her clit with his tongue. Teasing her entrance with the tips of his fingers, tracing it along the length of Katie’s entrance drives her crazy. Sometimes he pauses, and Katie thinks he’ll press them inside of her, but he doesn’t, just letting his fingers travel along her again.

Katie spreads her toes, letting Gavin’s dick rest between her big toe and the next one over, squeezing them gently and moving along his length. “How’s that?”

“Oh, that’s… different.”

“Bad?’

“No, keep going,” he tells her, giving plenty of attention to her clit. 

Katie moans loudly. Gavin licks her harder, kissing and sucking her clit. He’s such a messy eater; his chin is dripping with a mix of his spit and her juices. He breathes deeper, throbbing between Katie's toes, and his hips start moving, humping into her sole.

She strokes him a little faster, best she can, and Gavin’s fingers speed up to meet her pace. His fingers hammer against her sweet spot, and the repeated taps have her pushing her hips into his face. Sweet moans leave her left lips, muffled by a palm over her mouth.

He shushes her, grinning for breath, and even that minuscule moment when he took his mouth off of her is agony. She begs for his tongue again, and his eyes narrow smugly. “Not too loud, Katie. I don’t want you to wake your friends.”

When he puts his hand back over her mouth, she parts her lips, taking two of his fingers in to suck them. Her ankle is getting tired, so she stops moving her foot, but Gavin doesn’t mind, perfectly happy to grind into her. She likes his eager grunting and his moans against her pussy when he licks her.

His tongue speeds up, and her fingers match the tempo. Katie‘s legs clench, squeezing around his face, and she tries to keep them apart, but his other hand holds her thigh against his cheek. One more kiss along against the inside of her leg is the final bit of mercy he offers before he goes all out.

He presses against her sweet spot, rubbing and petting the rigid walls, increasing pressure. The faster he licks and sucks on her clit, the more Katie is thankful that his hand muffles her moans. Gavin’s clamps over her mouth, keeps her quiet and contained. She barely has any control over her body. It twists and bucks, greedily taking whatever pleasure Gavin gives her.

When Katie’s body slows, she pants, pulling Gavin’s hand away, kissing his palm. She sits up, despite her daze, and guides Gavin to sit next ot her. Leaning over, falling into the crook of his shoulder, looking at him with the widest grin. Kissing his jawline, she reaches down for his dick, stroking it, loving his groans, knowing they’re all for her. “Your turn?” 

Gavin nods. “Do you…think you can still use your feet?”

Katie taps his nose, kissing it before scooting back to put some space for her legs between them. “Of course.”

She angles her toes to trace along his length, watching the way he twitches. Eyeing a bead of pre-cum leak out, she smiles, rubbing it in with her sole. Gavin grabs the sheets, entranced by the feeling. Katie gets an idea. “Gavin, do you have some lube handy?” 

He doesn’t even respond before darting over to his bedside table, digging through the drawer. “Y-yeah…should be some here. Somewhere.” 

Gavin peeks over, but Katie waits patiently, surprised that the bottle he hands her is almost empty. He looks at her, offering a nervous smile. She slathers him in lube, and she strokes him, loving how much more easily her hand glides over him. His voice deepens, and every breath that follows is labored. 

Katie grips tighter around him, squeezing his base while another hand travels his length. His hands move up to grab her head, and he leans in to kiss her. The desperation behind those lips tells her all she needs to know. He wants her so badly.

She sits back, supporting herself on an elbow, and presses her feet against his lubed-up cock. He shudders at the brief contact, but she sandwiches him between her soles, rubbing along him. His moans are so sexy; she never would have guessed. Gavin sounds so needy, especially when she uses her toes to stroke his dick. 

“Fuck…” Gavin cries out, muffled when Katie puts her sole in his face. His eyes shoot open, and he holds her against him, worshiping the bottom of her foot. Desperate kisses. Light licks that tickle her foot’s entire length. Eager lips to suck every toe. He’s quieter this way, so Katie doesn’t complain. It even…feels a little nice.

His breath tickles her foot as he breathes harder against her. Without her second foot to build pressure, she resorts to her method before, stroking him between her big and index toes. She must be doing fine, because Gavin grins wide. The lube certainly helps. She works her way to moving faster. 

Disappointment riddles Gavin’s face when Katie takes her foot from his face. Katie grabs him by the nape and pulls him in for a deep kiss. She means for it to be a quick peck, but he holds her in place, deepening the kiss, moaning sweetly when he takes her tongue into his mouth. She gives him a knowing look, and he looks away nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Okay, I guess I am into feet. A little bit. But I swear it’s because it’s yours.”

Katie laughs. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Seeing you like this is hot. If it makes you feel any better, I can share a fetish of my own.”

While she rubs his throbbing cock with her feet, Gavin spitballs a few guesses. Restraints. Blindfolds. Water sports. All good guesses, but not really Katie‘s thing. “Cum. I love cum. I love the mess. I love seeing it shoot out. Hearing guys groan when they finish. So I think I found a way we can both have some fun.”

Gavin waits patiently for Katie’s suggestion, a smile forming across his face.

“You’re gonna cover these pretty little feet, okay?” Katie starts, leaning to kiss him again. “You’re gonna moan for me. You’re gonna tell me how good I’m doing and how good it feels. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he agrees breathily. A sharper breath escapes whenever he twitches against Katie‘s toes. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good.”

His fist ball up the fabric of the sheets, and his eyes shut as he grits his teeth. Deep breaths build, the time between them getting shorter each time. “Holy shit, Katie.”

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” Katie asks, mischief written all over her face. When he nods, she slows her feet, delighted by the way he humps between them, holding them together with his hands. “You must really want it, don’t you?”

“Please,” he begs, eyes darting open to plead with her. He whimpers, and it’s just so, so cute.

Katie grabs his hands holding them onto the bed, insistent that she does everything. “If I were mean, I’d tease you more to make you wait. Make you beg for it. But you did such a good job earlier eating me out and I’m feeling generous.”

She presses her arch against his shaft, while the other foot strokes along his length. Her thighs squeeze to put as much pressure on his dick as she can. Sharp, labored breaths grow more desperate as he stares at the way she works him.

“You’re almost there…I can feel it. The way you throb. You’re leaking so much. I want you to make a mess. I need that hot cum all over my feet,” Katie coos for him.

His head crashes against his mattress, and his hips buck up. “I’m so close. Please. Please, don’t stop.”

“That’s it, Gavin,” Katie says, biting her lip, staring into his eyes. His chest heaves, and every breath is so loud for her. He grits his teeth to hold back, but as soon as he starts humping harder between her soles, they both know it’s over for him. She grins, putting the nail in the coffin, telling him, “Give it all to me.”

Gavin pushes out a deep groan, but it’s nothing compared to the load he expels. A spurt sprays high, only to splash along his stomach. Katie’s legs burn from exertion, but she moves them faster anyway, jerking her feet to milk every last bit of cum. Rope after rope leaks out to drip onto her toes, and it’s hot to the touch.

“Shit,” Gavin says, panting. He looks like he’s seeing stars and that’s a compliment on its own.

“Wow. Looks like a pretty intense come,” Katie says, wiggling her toes, feeling him seep between them. She looks around for something to wipe herself clean, settling for today’s shirt. “Is it always that much?”

“Is that bad that a bad thing?” Gavin asks, smiling nervously.

Katie shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’ll be having lots of fun with you.” 

When Gavin grabs his clothes to put them on, Katie snatches them from him. Giving him a look. “No cuddles? Some boyfriend you are.”

“I thought you were teasing me when you asked how I felt about being a couple,” he admits.

“Nope. Fully serious.”

“Okay, but what do I get out of this?” 

Katie scoffs, motioning to herself, laughing. “Look at me. I’m a total looker.” 

“Hmm, fair,” Gavin teases, kissing her lips to pull a giggle from her. “Is that it, though? Come on, you gotta upsell it.”

“Fine…you can massage my feet whenever they’re sore. You get the privilege of buckling my shoes for me. You can also pay for my nails,” Katie says, rubbing the tip of her nose against Gavin’s. “Sweet deal, isn’t it?” 

He grins, tightening his hold around Katie. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Synopsis: My roommate, Sachi, never understood the concept of personal space, but I never minded. She was always as close as can be, pressed against my body, but I always wondered if there was room for us to be closer. 

Written for image 05 for the July contest! 

~ 

I thought Sachi and I would always be together. 

Chance led us to rooming together freshman year in college, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. We've had more late-night conversations than some friends have shared in two lifetimes. 

Sachi was always a snuggle bug, but insisted on being little spoon. Every time. Not very equitable. I asked her what her deal was, and she told me that there’s nothing quite like being held. I asked for a chance to try, and she turned to look at me like I had horns.

“What? You want me to be the guy? No way!” she said. I responded with a playful shove. We giggled at least until the sun rose. Even if we had class that day, those moments spent with her were priceless.

~ 

One night, when we were cuddling, I kept burying my face in the back of her hair. 

Sachi giggled. “What are you doing?”

“Your hair is so soft,” I said, unable to fight the smile that tightened my cheeks. I jokingly took a whiff, taking in her scent. “Plus, you smell nice.”

“I think it’s the shampoo I started using,” Sachi said. “Feel free to use it if you want. I don’t mind. My parents always send me the bulk bottles from home, so there’s plenty to go around.”

I did use her shampoo on occasion. She'd always joke that I was taking too long in the shower, but there was no way I could admit I was touching myself to the smell of her shampoo.

~ 

“What kind of husband would you want?” Sachi asked one day to start a conversation while her feet tangled with mine. I only raised a brow in response. She continued, “I want a funny guy, but he can’t be funnier than me, and I want him to be, like, obsessed with me.”

“And you need him to hold you every night?” I joked.

“Exactly. You get me. This is why we’re best friends. What about you, though? What’s your type? Tell meeee.”

“I don’t really see myself marrying a man,” I admitted, unsure of how Sachi would react.

She stared at me blankly. “But who will you live with when you’re all successful with a big house? Can I live with you? Is that on the table?”

I pulled Sachi closer, grinning wide. “I’d love that, actually.”

“And I’d be able to bring my husband?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“Come on, I’ll make sure he’s well-behaved!” Sachi broke out of my arms and poked my sides, pestering me until I gave in, bursting into laughter. I knew days like this wouldn’t last forever.

~ 

When Sachi was stressed, it was more common for her to want to sleep in my bed with me. Whether she needed a breather after a long day of studying, she had a bad exam, or she was up late, finishing a paper at 2 in the morning. This time around, midterms had Sachi panicking for her grade. I stirred slightly,  just to feel her crawling into my bed, wiggling her way into my hold.

“Is this all right?” Sachi would ask, her voice sad. I could feel the stress drip away when I held her.

The way her voice crumbled broke me.

Right then, I knew I wanted to be there for her. Right then, I knew I wanted to always be together with her. Right then, I realized that I loved her. 

“Always,” I assured, “There’ll always a place for you in my bed.” 

There would always be a place in my heart as well, but I couldn’t tell her that part.

~ 

On the last day of college, the night before we’d move out and part ways, I laid in bed, staring at stacked boxes. Two piles of our belongings, going to different places for the first time in four years.

Sachi walked up, wearing the only clothes not sealed up. A worn-out, loose-fitting pajama shirt, and a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass. She smiled, looking at me, asking, “One more time? For old time’s sake.”

I was glad she offered, because I was too scared to ask. It was just like always, with Sachi crawling into her spot and me holding her against me until her back was pressed firmly against my torso. We laid in silence, save for the sounds of our staggered breath. She breathed out when I breathed in, as if I was taking in her air. I would miss this.

“Four years living here you haven’t brought a single guy over,” Sachi teased. “Pretty sad, huh?”

“I guess I’ve got no game,” I giggled, playing along.

“I’d probably be jealous if you did, though,” Sachi grumbled. 

I didn’t know how to respond. My heart raced, and I prayed that she couldn't feel it through her back. My hands clenched, and my knuckles dragged across thinned-out cotton. “Really?”

“This is my spot,” she said possessively. “You said there was always a place for me in your bed.”

“Right,” I agreed. Her hair tickled my nose, and I took a deep breath, savoring the familiar smell of her shampoo. “Can…I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to for a while and I haven’t figured out a way how.”

Sachi paused. “I have something to say too. Can I start?”

“Yeah.” Anticipation quickened my pulse.

“I’m gonna miss my best friend,” Sachi started, and the words stung. “I'm gonna be so lonely when I’m so far from you.”

I bit back tears. “Is it too late to change your mind? You can always find a job somewhere here.”

“It's a good gig. A friend of my parents had an opening at her office. Way too good to pass up,” she assured. “But what was it that you wanted to say?” 

‘Best friend’ isn’t a bad title to have by any means, but it made me feel like there is no way she wanted more. I originally wanted to pour out my heart, and tell Sachi how I really felt about her, but my confidence was shattered, and the moment passed. “I’m scared for when you live alone. You're a terrible cook.”

I forced out to laugh and she joined in. 

My fingers clutched at the fabric of her shirt. They found a hole, and Sachi shivered. 

“Your hands are so cold. We’re already in the blanket!” she lamented, grinning. There was a pause, and she glanced over, meeting my eyes for a brief second. Grabbing my wrists, she guided my hands under her shirt, against her stomach. “Better?”

“A bit,” I answered. Her body was warm to the touch. Even though she shivered, she got used to it, and my hands felt warmer in no time. “You sure this is okay?”

My fingertips traced over her stomach, feeling the slightest clenching of her core, circling her navel. I felt ridges of muscles I only ever dreamed of. One hand veered lower. Her breath hitched.

A firm grasp on my hand kept it in place, just short of reaching the elastic of her shorts. She didn’t say anything, just breathing more heavily. 

“Sorry,” I muttered, and when I tried to recol my hands away, she stopped me, keeping them around her. “That’s probably not something best friends do.”

“It felt nice, Mae,” Sachi said. Her breathing didn't get any easier. Her voice quieted. “I just…I've never…and I don't want things to change…”

I held her tighter and pressed my forehead against her nape. “Then we’ll stay just like this. Nothing more. Okay?” 

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have done that,” I told her, though I was telling myself as much as I was telling her. “We should get some sleep.”

But we didn't. We spent the night talking about anything. Everything. Silence would fall. Laughter would erupt. And before we knew it, the sun rose.

I thought Sachi and I would always be together, but when her parents called to say they were downstairs. I knew our time together was over.

~ 

When her name showed up on my phone, I scurried for to answer the call. We texted every day, but a phone call was rare. I took every opportunity I could, even if the call was only thirty seconds. Even if it was just her saying hi. I would answer every time. “Hey, Sachi. Are you all moved in?”

“Yep, my parents and I finished unpacking just a bit ago. They left for their hotel room.”

“I hope they fed you. I don’t trust you unattended with that stove yet,” I joked, laughing harder when I heard Sachi sigh. Looking at the time, I asked her, “It’s about time for bed, isn’t it? Big day tomorrow. First day at your new job.”

“Yeah,” Sachi responded, with sadness in her voice. “I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“I think I spoiled you by letting you sleep with me whenever nerves got the best of you,” I teased, hoping to cheer her up. “I guess you miss me already.”

“Yeah.” 

She didn’t say anything past that. And the line stays dead for longer than I wanted. She was probably trying to stay strong. I heard a sound somewhere between a laugh and sniffle.

“It’s stupid,” she said, “but I have you on speakerphone with my phone behind my head.”

“That’s as close as we can get to old times,” I told her. I was glad she couldn’t see the bittersweetness in my smile.

“Yeah.”

“Want me to stay on the line and talk with you?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m driving on the way to work, so I hope you can fall asleep within… twenty minutes. Sound doable?”

“Mhm.”

I rambled about my job. Nothing interesting, and I’m sure Sachi agreed. What better way to put her to sleep than something boring? It worked better than I thought. Only a few minutes in, she stopped responding. “Sachi? You there?” 

Light snores sounded, and it was music to my ears. I could’ve hung up, but I left the line on until I parked. Even when it was time to clock in, I sat in the car for a little longer. My record would be fine; I’m usually obnoxiously early. A few more minutes wouldn’t matter.

I stared at her contact picture: a selfie of us with me cropped out. She came to support me at Pride during junior year, sporting heart-shaped face paint on her cheeks with a Bi Flag color scheme. She shyly explained she thought the color scheme was the cutest. I took her word for it.

“Sachi, I’m at work now, so I’m probably gonna get going. But I know you’ll be fine, tomorrow,” I said, “I…love you, Sachi.”

She shifted in bed. Rustles crunched loudly over the phone. A deep breath. Words followed, between snores. “Love…you…too.” 

I knew she didn’t mean it how I wanted, but I didn’t care. I would hold onto the sound of her saying them, and it got me through the day.

~ 

I stopped listening to music on my drives to work. Instead, I’d talk with Sachi until she fell asleep. 

One day, Sachi sent me a cryptic text: a link to an itinerary: NRT to LAX. Something called Golden Week gave her almost a week of time off, and she was using it to see me. I couldn’t believe it. 

When I picked her up, we locked eyes at the airport. She dropped her roller and ran towards me, into my arms. I picked her up, twirled her around, and in a panic, we rushed back for her luggage.

“What do you want for your first meal back in the States?” I asked, grinning as she stared out the window. “Sushi? Ramen?”

“How about a burger?” Sachi suggested. “100% all-American beef. Two patties. Cheese. The works.”

“No pickles,” we said in unison. Thank God for drive-through’s. Sachi didn’t care for a sit-down place. The fancy burger joints were always a tad too pretentious with their tongue and cheek names and appetizers. 

We got to my place, and she instantly changed into house clothes, despite me offering to do some sightseeing.

“I’ve seen the sights,” Sachi told me. She sat next to me on the sofa, without an inch of space between us, chowing down on her burger. “I came to spend the week with my best friend.”

We did what we did best: talk. With almost a year of being separated, we accumulated stories. Our daily conversations left us with less, but even if we talked about nothing of value, this was the best day I’ve had in a long time.

All good things come to an end.

It was time to sleep, despite neither of us wanting to. We imagined it would’ve been like our last day of college, but jet lag was getting to Sachi. Her eyes were heavy as she started nodding off on the couch. 

The Queen-sized bed I slept in now felt luxurious compared to the twin-sized mattresses from college. We could each stretch out with room to spare, each on our own side of the bed.

But obviously, that wasn't what happened. 

When I climbed into bed, she practically dove onto the mattress, scurrying into my arms, backing up into me. Like muscle memory, my arms wrapped around her, and I pulled her tightly. There was a hard pull and twist in my chest. I was so happy that I could’ve cried.

“You have no idea how glad I am to be here,” Sachi said, backing up into me. 

“Me too.” 

There was only silence at first. Not uncomfortable at all, until it stretched longer than it ever had. “Mae?”

“Yes?” 

“That night before I started working in Tokyo… did you say that you…loved me?”

I laughed nervously. “I didn’t think you were awake.”

“I wasn’t…or, not really…” Sachi's head turned, as if trying to look back at me, but she kept her eyes forward. “I thought it was a dream.”

“That explains why you sounded so sleepy when you said it back,” I said. Each word was getting harder to push out.

“How did you mean it?” Sachi asked, after a lengthy pause.

“Like…as a best friend,” I answered, biting my lip. It was a lie. 

I almost ruined things once already. I couldn’t bear thought of doing that again lest I tear us part for good, this time. Yet it felt wrong to hold it back. I couldn’t bury my feelings forever, even if that’s what it would take for things to always be like this. 

Her breathing changed. I couldn’t tell what it meant. Relief? Disappointment? Somewhere in between? There was the sound of her lips parting, as if she meant to speak.

I cut her off. “Wait—when I said it, I meant it as more.”

Silence. Silence that lasted too long. It could’ve been seconds. It could’ve been minutes. Sachi didn’t look towards me. My hands felt numb, barely making out the rhythm of her breaths rippling through her body. That silence was damning.

“How long have you felt like this?” Sachi asked me. 

For me, ot all blended together. That’s what the rose-colored glasses made it seem like. “Midterms. Sophomore year.”

“Why did you… never tell me?” Sachi sounded betrayed. 
Hurt. 

For the first time in our lives, she scooted away out of my arms.

“I wanted to! The night before we moved out,” I pleaded defensively. Tears welled. A tightness in my throat choked words back. “But you said that we were just best friends.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sachi said, voice shaken. She turned around to face me, and frustration was written all over her face.

“Sachi, I’m sorry…”

“If best friends can cuddle like we always did,” Sachi started, scooting closer until our legs were tangled. There was still an arm's length between us, but her hands found my waist. “then why can’t they fall in love, too?”

I was stunned, and in my silence, she moved closer still, tucking her head under my chin, burying her face in my shirt. I nearly sobbed when I smelt her shampoo again. Stifling sobs, I said, “What about your daydreams about your perfect office romance? And your husband who’s supposed to be funny, but not as funny as you?”

“You know I watch too much TV,” Sachi said, looking up at me with a grin. “Do you remember the summer we went to Pride?”

“Of course I do. Your contact picture is a selfie we took that day,” I said. “I always think about how grateful I was that you were there for me.”

“You were there for me, too,” Sachi explained. “When we were getting our face painted—”

“You picked the Bisexual Flag because you thought the colors were the prettiest.”

“I was just saying that,” Sachi said nervously. “I do like both. Mostly boys. Girls sometimes. Well, to be honest, it's mostly just one specific girl.”

When she looked up into my eyes, my heart stopped. I opened my mouth to response, but I had no idea if the words came out. Sachi nodded when I pointed to myself.

“I love you, Mae.”

“I love you, Sachi.” It felt amazing to say it finally in the way that I meant without the fear of being rejected or breaking things forever.

“Do you ever regret not telling me when we were still in school?” Sachi asked.

"You said it was too late for you to change your mind to move all the way to Japan.”

“I would’ve changed my mind if you told me you loved me,” she admitted, fingers grazing the back of my head, stroking my hair. 

“Then, I guess I do regret it,” I said to her.

She kissed me sweetly. It was a quick peck, but it was endearing how her face scrunched in excitement. Her hands balled into fists, shaking in triumph, and her face flushed pink when she stared at my lips. I could see on her face that she wanted more; I did too. For such a big change, all at once, we had to start small and work our way up. There would be time for everything else later.

Even if she'd be leaving again at the end of the week. 

Sachi turned around and pressed her back into my body. I squeezed her tighter than I had before, and she gripped my arms around her, not wanting to let go.

“I have regrets too. I wish I was more honest about my sexuality. I…wish I didn’t have so many hangups about what friends should and shouldn't do with each other, because I was perfectly fine cuddling and not everyone does that—at least as often as we did. I wish I didn’t convince myself that what I felt for you was anything short of love, and there’s one more thing…” Sachi paused, laughing. She pressed my hand flat against her stomach and guided it down until my nail traced under her shorts. Her breast hitched. I could hear a smile in that sharp exhale. “I regret not letting you touch me that night.”

“Really?” I asked, licking my lips. Regaining my confidence, I let my fingers travel lower.

“Sometimes, I still think about what if I’d let you that night. How different things would be. There was always a chance that I never went to Japan, and we could’ve been together. Still, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, completely insatiable. I close my eyes and think of you holding me. Touching me. Feeling me. I pretend my fingers are yours, and play with myself until I come too many times to count. All the time, I beat myself up for not letting you touch me.”

“Do you want me to make up for last time?”

“Yes, please.”

My fingers threaded through coarse hair, finding her slit, tracing along her entrance. I brushed Sachi's hair away from the back of her neck, kissing it softly along each vertebrae, working my way to the side. My fingers continued as slow as ever, teasing her. I whispered against her skin, “How’s that?”

“Keep going,” she told me. Her ass backed up into my hips, rolling to the rhythm of my fingers, hoping to meet and grind against them. “That’s so nice.”

I dipped two fingers into her right away; she accommodated me with ease. I took my time. I gave her more of me, little by little. One knuckle at a time, loving the way her walls hugged me.

Sachi gasped when I withdrew my fingers. Her nails scratched gently against my forearm in protest, holding onto it for your life. “Not fair. Why did you stop?”

Her breath sharpened when I rubbed her clit. Slow strokes grew faster and the space between each labored breath shrank. One of her hands, shaking from excitement, held my free hand up to her breast. “Squeeze it…mmm…just like that…pinch my nipples.”

She felt better than I ever imagined. Everything about her soft breasts and puffy peaks. Her walls were so tight and wet. I brought my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean. God, she tasted amazing. My fingers returned to their rightful spot, circling her clit even faster than before. 

Her breaths grew more ragged with each exhale. She held me tightly, and her body rocked against me to my rhythm. Her voice came out as a whimper, “Mae…”

She called my name over and over again. I used to think her snores for the sweetest thing to come out of her mouth, but this was better. It only made me rub faster and press harder on her swollen bud. Strain found her voice, and moans muffled through pursed lips. Her body spasmed in my arms, and in the brief moment she froze, her whimpers found a high-pitched apex. 

“Oh my god,” she repeated, aftershocks quaking through her. Every involuntary shake only widened her smile, and she turned around to hide her face in my chest. Through a satisfied laugh, Sachi looked up at me, pink cheeks pressed against my pajama shirt. “Way better than my imagination. Sometimes, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, so horny, and I have to touch myself. It gets so bad that sometimes, it’s the only way I can fall back asleep.”

“I take it you’re ready for bed, then?” I teased. 

Sachi covered her face with her hand, peeking through gaps in her fingers. “Is it greedy if I say I want more?”

“I do too,” I admitted shyly. “I’ve wanted this for a while.” 

She grabbed my face, scooting up until our lips met. This kiss was deeper than the last. It lingered, and part of me wanted to stay just like this. Sachi broke it first, pleading to me with her eyes. “Please, Mae. I want more.”

I rolled over to my bedside table, and Sachi followed, crawling on her stomach towards me. Her eyes widened when I opened the drawer, and she took a gander at my collection. Straps of different sizes. Harnesses. Vibrators. Dildos. Wands. “Pick your poison.”

“I don’t know where to start. I’ve got, like, a simple bullet at home, but all this?” Sachi tapped her lip with a finger. “I trust your judgement. Just whatever you think will show me a good time.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” I said, laughing when she blushed. Her eyes followed my hands as they pulled out a harness and a sizable strap-on. Sachi focused on every movement: every adjustment, every buckle securing, and every strap tightening. I giggled. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been strapped before?”

“My sex friends have mostly been guys,” Sachi explained. Her eyes found mine as she licked the tip of my toy. She smiled before her lips wrapped around it. 

I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do that, but I had to admit the view was nice. That sultry look in those half-lidded eyes. My hand found that long, silky raven hair, smoothing it down until I held the back of her head before guiding her farther down. Her grin reached up to her eyes, and when I humped into her mouth. With a nervous smile, I said, “I hope I can measure up to them.”

“You’ll do fine. Besides,” Sachi assured when she took her mouth off of me, and sized up the strap-on with two hands along the shaft. “With them, it was just sex. With you…it’ll be different.” 

She pulled my shirt off, and I did the same for her, trying not to stare at her panties: magenta lace, accented by a dark navy. It was a good color on her. 

“Mae?” 

“Sorry,” I muttered, pulling her panties off. Her fair skin contrasted the galaxy print of my sheets, and I needed a moment to really take in all her beauty. “Sorry, wow. You’re…you’re beautiful, Sachi.”

Sachi reached up to stroke my face slowly. With a giggle, she said, “I’m also desperate to feel you.”

Her hands found the back of my neck, pulling me down with her as she laid back. She spread her legs, making space for me, but I rolled her onto her side to face away from me. Lifting her top leg up, I guided the tip of my strap towards her slit, and her spit on the toy helped it slide right in. 

“Ever done it like this?” I asked, and I kissed the back of her neck when she shook her head. When my arms wrapped around her body, I grinned, telling her, “I figured it would be fitting for us.”

I built a rhythm, rolling my hips to drive into Sachi, and it wasn’t long until she was backing up into me, grinding her ass against my hips when she bottomed out on me. Her moans split up every thrust. 

Sachi weaved her fingers between mine. My name came sweetly from her lips, over and over, as we rocked into each other. She reached back for my head, tugging my hair, pulling me towards her. Our lips crashed; she pressed so hard into my lips, as if she'd been waiting for this for far too long. 

I heard strain build behind her breaths, and winced, grinning when I bit gently into her bottom lip. After a husky breath of my own, I asked her, “You okay?” 

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, staring at my lips. Sachi pulled me back towards her, kisses breaking up her sentences. “You know how we used to stay up all night? Until the birds were chirping?” 

“Mhm,” I cooed in her ear, grinning against her neck as I placed soft kisses along it. “Why? Do you want me to fuck you until morning?”

Sachi only laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing differently? This is so different. So slow…but it's still so good.” 

“If I was one for fast-paced, I think we would've been doing this before sophomore year was over with,” I joked, tracing my hands along her body. One trailed down her stomach, over her navel, and the other up to her breast. I knew her weak spots from before, and they'd only help her feel even better. 

Her legs shook. I thrusted harder, but kept my same pace. Whatever heat was building in Sachi, it was hitting its limit. Pouty, pursed lips parted when my fingers slid around and over her clit. Stiffened nipples pressed against my palm as I squeezed her. 

“Don't stop…” Sachi begged me, lips reaching for mine. Needy kisses broke her words up. “Mae… you're gonna make me come…” 

The words stopped, but her body told me everything. Soft tremors turned to violent quakes reaching every corner of her body. Fast fingers against her clit shut her eyes. Sachi didn't even need my entire length; shadow strokes as she ground back into me spilled her over. She reached a hand back to my ass, pulling me into her. 

When her body slowed at last, I pulled out, and she rolled onto her back, limbs falling limply to the bed. Short of breath, she still leaned in to kiss me. Slow, but so, so sweet. “Wow…I…do you need me to go down on your something? Just let me know. You earned it.” 

“I don't think you've got it in you, Sachi,” I teased her, rolling over to kiss her forehead. “Rest a little, first.”

“It feels like a waste. I came all this way to spend time with you,” Sachi said with a pout. 

I smiled, peppering her face with smooches until she gave in. “I'm…gonna miss you when you leave. This bed will feel way too big without you in it. I know it's greedy, but I wish you didn't have to go.” 

Sachi looked at me, her smile filled with warmth. “What if I said I wanted to move in with you? Didn't you say I could move in with you when you were successful with a big house?”

“My career's barely started. This is just an apartment, barely bigger than our dorm room,” I joked. I didn't want to get my hopes up. Every day this week would count. I'd make sure of it. “Plus, you have your job all the way in Japan."

“About that…” Sachi started, looking away nervously. “I've been talking with management, and…they're open to me working remotely.”

My eyes widened. “Really?” 

Sachi nodded. “It's one of the few surprises I had planned for you when I came to visit.” 

“I don't know how you're going to top this,” I said, fighting back happy tears. 

“Turn around,” she told me. 

When I did, her arms wrapping around me took me by surprise. A firm grip made me realize I wasn't dreaming. This was real. The love of my life was back in my space, and she knew how I feel—even better, she returned those same feelings. 

Sachi was right. There was no better feeling than being held. 

“Don’t get used to this,” Sachi said. “Though I think I see the appeal.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

“I can squeeze your boobies.” A flurry of mischievous laughter followed. Sachi nuzzled my neck, and I don’t remember saying another word. She held me close to her, and my eyes were impossibly heavy. 

I wanted to tell her I loved her. I wanted to turn her around and take my rightful, tenured position of big spoon. I wanted to talk and talk all night. I wanted to laugh with her like old times. 

But that could all wait. At last, we had all the time in the world now.

Synopsis: Jess’s day is soured when her ex-boyfriend, Cole, is working on her current boyfriend’s car. So what if he’s good with fixing cars? That’s all he’s good for. Mostly.

Written for image 01 for the July contest!

~

Even if work today was about normal, there’s nothing quite like belting your heart out to throwbacks while driving. Even the most vein-popping, anger-inducing road rage can’t stand a chance if Jess has her tunes.

The music cuts, and she glances at her car’s screen to see a call from her boyfriend, Hayden. She answers. “Hey, what’s up? Are you driving already?”

“No, but two things, actually. My car’s AC is crapping out, and there’s no way I’m driving it without a coolant flush. Is it cool if I take your car to work tonight?” Hayden asks. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jes answers. She looks at the time. “Will I make it home in time?”

“I think it’ll be fine. I’ve never known you to drive just the speed limit,” Hayden teases.

“Touché,” she says plainly. “What’s the other thing?”

“I have Cole coming here later. He’ll probably be here by the time you get to the house,” Hayden adds. ”I…hope that’s okay.”

Cole was Jess’s last ex. The relationship was okay at best. The sex was phenomenal, actually, but everything else sort of fell short. He was late to most—if not all—outings they went on, usually running late from work or oversleeping.

Eventually, Jess had enough. She broke things off with him, and while she expected him to at least put up a fight or beg for her back, Cole just had a sort of sad look on his face, nodding and understanding. Jess shouldn’t have any hard feelings (it’s been years, after all), but that last reaction kind of solidified that Cole was just a flaky sort of person.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jess says finally. She laughs, admittedly a little annoyed. “I’d be surprised if he even makes it there before you have to leave.”

“Give him some credit. You guys dated, like, four years ago. I’m sure it’s changed at least a little bit. Plus, he gave me a good deal,” Hayden says with a laugh. “Anyways, I’ll see you when you get home, yeah?”

“Yep, I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too, Jess.”

When even was the last time she saw Cole? She hopes it won’t be awkward.

~

As Jess slows to a stop in front of her house, she sees a familiar figure. Cole’s bulkier than she remembers. A backwards cap covers his messy blonde hair, and he doesn’t even look up, initially. It’s not until Jess reverses into the driveway that she sees him wave through the backup camera. Typical. Of course he wouldn’t dare to make proper eye contact. Whatever. It’s what she expects.

Her attention shifts to her side mirror, and she sees Hayden leaning against his car, waving at her. The sour taste in her mouth is replaced by a light flutter in her chest. She’s happy to see Hayden, and it seems the feeling is mutual. 

Jess gets out of her car and walks over to Hayden. She makes a point not to even look Cole’s way, and in her peripherals, it’s not like he shifts anyway, far too focused on the open hood of Hayden's car.

Tight arms wrap around her, and Hayden lifts her in the air with ease. She kicks her legs behind her excitedly, peppering her boyfriend’s face with kisses. Cole was never quite this affectionate, and ultimately, Jess is glad she was able to find what she was looking for in a partner who genuinely cares about her.

Hayden skillfully lowers her and turns her around, spinning her against his car. It’s warm to the touch but not terrible. All she can think of is the way Hayden's hands find her waist and his mouth settles on her neck, kissing her sweetly. It tickles, and she grins.

“Babe, stop,” she says, laughing, glancing sideways. “Cole’s right there.”

“Let him watch, then,” Hayden whispers. Light nibbles against Jess’s ear, leaving her shuddering. With a grin, he adds, “I’m sure he doesn’t mind, right?”

Cole looks over with a rather displeased face. Wrinkled brows. Something reminiscent of a scowl. Eyes preparing to roll. “Do whatever you want.”

Hayden doesn’t need to be told twice. He hikes Jess’s skirt up, grabbing her ass, and his hips press against her. Jess can feel his growing hardness, and her skirt does little to dampen the feeling. A breeze hits over the side of her ass, and if Cole were to look over, he’d get quite the show. Jess pulls her skirt up higher still, smirking. 

There’s a slit of space between the hood and Hayden's car, and Jess sees eyes looking straight at her. When she meets the gaze, Cole flits away, wiping his nose, and she swears there’s the slightest pink tint to his cheeks.

Jess pulls Hayden in for a kiss and shoves her tongue into his mouth. She can feel him grinning as she moans against him.

“Wow, you must’ve missed me,” Hayden says. His hand reaches under Jess’s crop top to cut her breasts under her bra. Fuck, that’s nice. He kneads roughly, and his thumb traces over Jess’s nipples.

With his thigh wedged between hers, she grinds against him, feeling the fabric of her panties dampen. Her breath hitches when she feels a hand slide in underneath her underwear, and Hayden's fingers rub along her lower lips.

She’d love more of his touch, but just wants one thing even more: a taste of his dick. Jess squats down and untucks Hayden's tank top and works him out of his pants. They don’t come off completely, just enough so that the top half of his dick sticks out above his boxers.

Jess looks at him in delight, licking the ridge of his tip, and swallowing as much as she can without having to pull his pants down further.

The clang of a wrench against concrete pulls her attention to Cole.

“Sorry,” he says nervously, taking care to not look in their direction. He wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm. “I know I said to do whatever you want, but if you guys are gonna shake the car like that, maybe you can take it inside or something? Just a thought.”

“Looks like someone can’t take the heat,” Hayden jokes. He fixes his pants and grabs Jess’s hand, guiding her towards the garage door. “Come on.”

“Don’t you need to get going soon?” Jess asks with a grin. “I don’t want you to be late.”

“I need you before I go,” he says, locking eyes with Cole before he shuts the door. Hayden doesn’t even go further in the house, but Jess doesn’t mind that. She needs him too. She flips up the front of her skirt and fishes her panties to the side as Hayden wiggles out of his pants again.

“Is there enough time to eat me out, maybe?” Jess asks with an innocent smile. 

“I wish,” Hayden says, lips pursing. He aims himself towards her needy slit. “First thing in the morning, when I get back home, I got you.”

Jess shudders when she feels his throbbing tip press her entrance. Hayden tries to force himself in, and her grip on his shirt tightens before she presses on his abdomen. “Wait. Wet it a bit?”

Hayden spits into his palm, rubbing the meager amount on the head of his dick, and tries again, but Jess shakes her head.

“Let me,” she says. Spit pools in her mouth before she lets it drip onto her palm. She spreads it along Hayden, slicking him up. When he pushes inside, it’s like night and day. Much better. Hayden hooks one of her knees up with his elbow, and pounds her. Every stroke pushes her into the washing machine, and hollow metal clangs to his rhythm. Her moans climb, each one louder than the last. “Ah~ Ahhh~”

Jess wishes she could see the look on Cole’s face. Would he be annoyed? Aroused, maybe? If he weren’t outside, working on Hadyen’s car and instead in the other room, she imagines he’d whip his dick out and jerk off to the sounds of her moans. He must miss it. 

“Let him hear it. I love those moans. They’re all for me,” Hayden says. He speeds up. “Fuck. I’m gonna come soon—”

“Wait, babe, not yet,” Jess whines, reaching down to quickly rub her clit as fast as possible without straining her wrist. It’s not enough, not by a long shot. Hayden pulls out, and a violent spurt splashes onto Jess’s thighs while the rest dribbles to the ground. With a laugh, she jokes, “I guess we don’t have to worry about you being late.”

“Sorry,” Hayden says with a nervous laugh. “That pussy just feels so good.”

“You’ll get me tomorrow morning,” Jess says, fighting a frown, looking at Hayden’s outstretched hands. She hands him the keys. Before he has a chance to walk away, she tugs at his wrist. “Hey!”

Jess pouts, pointing at her lips, and Hayden laughs, leaning in to give her a sweet peck. 

“Sorry, babe,” Hayden says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” Jess stands in place, crossing her arms. “I love you.” 

Hayden pauses, looking at her over his shoulder. He smiles. “Love you too, Jess.” 

“Could’ve wiped me down,” Jess grumbles when the door shuts, removing her underwear carefully to wipe her thigh clean. She sighs, cleaning the soiled spots on the floor before walking upstairs and tossing the dirty panties into the hamper. Digging through her top drawer, she looks for one of her older ones, stretching it out in front of her amusedly. 

She walks outside, and Cole is pacing in front of Hayden’s car, gulping down a bottle of water while looking at his phone. He nearly flinches when he sees her, almost choking, and Jess looks at the water dripping down his chin as he coughs. Wasteful. 

“Hayden paying you by the job or by the hour?” Jess says, miraculously still not as sharp as she intended. “How would he feel if his mechanic was on his phone watching Reels?” 

“Nice to see you too, Jess,” Cole says, flipping his phone screen towards her. It’s a video, narrated by an older Midwestern man, featuring a car that looks as old as Hayden’s. “A part’s stuck, and I’m trying to figure out how to get it off.” 

Jess doesn’t have anything snarky to say (yet), so she grabs a folding chair and theatrically sets it up in the driveway. She pushes out a deep breath. “Whew. Gonna need a breather after that one.” 

Cole raises the volume on his video, eyes cycling between his phone screen and under the hood. 

Jess’s brows furrow. She bounces her knee, hoping the wind will blow her skirt up, and she can tease Cole for looking. “Yeah, Hayden just can’t keep his hands off me. With him, it’s just sex, sex sex. I’m surprised I can walk.”

“Uh, congrats?” Cole says, grabbing his socket wrench. There are a few clicks of the ratchet, followed by an elongated grunt from Cole. He breaths sharply through pursed lips, and the strain in his voice feels so…familiar. A harsher breath exits when a creak sounds. “Fucking finally.” 

Nope. She needs to snap out of it. 

“I bet you miss it,” Jess sneers, looking down her nose at Cole. He looks at her, only to raise his brow, before turning his attention back to what he’s doing. Clicks from a ratchet sound again, and it’s all white noise. She clenches her fists and walks over. “Why do you have to be like that?” 

“Like what?” Cole asks with worried brows, searching her face for anything to clue him into her grievances. 

“So nonchalant. Pretending you don’t care. Pretending like it’s not weird that we’re seeing each other after all these years,” Jess rants. 

“I’m here to fix Hayden’s car, not catch up with you,” he says, and his mouth curls down into the slightest frown. 

“Right,” Jess snaps, “You’ve always cared more about working than the people who matter.”

“Jessica!” Saddened eyes look up towards her. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t know that mattered to you, still.” 

“Not like I got any real closure,” Jess says, turning away. Her eyes start to burn. “I wanted to break up, back then, and you just said, ‘okay, fine.’ Was that supposed to make me feel good?” 

“I hoped it would,” Cole admits, putting his tools down and removing his gloves. “You’d given me countless chances, and I let you down one each time. I figured I was all out of tries. I didn’t feel like I was worth your trouble. 

“I was a bad partner. That’s…a full sentence on its own. There’s plenty of reasons why, but I didn’t show up when it mattered. I wasn’t in a good place back then, and I know I should’ve tried harder.” 

“You should’ve,” Jess says, crossing her arms and chewing the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure if you put half as much effort as you do into being a mechanic, you’d make some girl happy. Not me, though.”

“We’ve run our course,” Cole says, grinning, “But I’m not really dating nowadays. Too many moving parts.” 

“Couldn’t you say the same about this kind of stuff?” Jess asks, pointing at the pile of parts scattered across the driveway.

“I guess, but I feel like cars are easy. They have manuals! There’s only so many ways you can fix something, and eventually something’s gotta work,” Cole explains. He flashes a smile, staring blankly at the engine. “With people, there are just an infinite number of ways to fuck up, and there’s not even a solid solution to all of them.” 

“Yeah,” Jess agrees. She punches his arm lightly. “Honestly, I’m surprised you do as well as you do. I feel like you need to have really good attention to detail for this.” 

“I notice things!” Cole insists. “You…definitely did not come from that sorry excuse for a quickie inside.” 

“Wha–what?!” Jess stammers defensively. 

“I know your moans,” Cole says with a smirk. “You were putting on a show. And I don’t know if it was for Hayden or me.” 

“Whatever,” Jess says, with nothing else to say. She motions to the car. “So, think you can fix it?”

“Definitely. But I’ll need some parts, I think. I texted Hayden about it, and I’ll be back tomorrow,” Cole says, starting to pack his tools. His eyes flit towards Jess. “Hayden. He’s good to you, right?”

“Better than you were,” Jess says, and Cole only shakes his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Just…attention to detail, I guess.”

“If this is about him not making me come, it’s really not that big of a deal,” Jess says, more defensive than she means to be.

“Do you ride in Hayden’s car often?” Cole asks, and he gulps hard when Jess shakes her head. He reaches in his pocket and puts his hand out. “I, um…found this under the passenger seat.”

Jess stares at a beige hair tie. “Okay?”

“I know it’s been ages since we’ve dated, but I’ve only known you to wear black hairties,” Cole starts. “This yours?”

“No…”

“This Hayden’s?”

“No.”

“I wish that were it. I found condom wrappers deep in his trash bag. A pair of panties shoved between the cushions. Handprints on the backseat windows.” Cole frowns. “I’m sorry, Jess.” 

Jess’s lips quiver. “You’re joking, right?”

“I wish,” Cole says, opening the back door to climb in. He motions for Jess to follow and points to the pile of things he’d gathered. “Guy code probably dictates I should’ve gotten rid of all of this, but as someone fluent in ‘Jess Deserves Better,’ I can’t leave you in the dark about this.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Jess mutters. Grimacing, she puts her face in her palms. “I can’t even think of when he’d do this. We’re always together.”

“Not when you guys are at work,” Cole suggests, perking up. “Who knows? Maybe he’s cheating right now.”

“That is so not helping,” Jess says, glaring at Cole. Her eyes widen. “In my car? He’s gonna cheat on me with some hussy in my car?”

“I…should go,” Cole says, mouth flattening into a line, but Jess holds him by the wrist. He narrows his eyes.

“Whip. It. Out.” 

“Um, what?”

“Your dick!” Jess clarifies. “Pull down your pants and whip it out!” 

“I’m…not so sure this is the greatest idea,” Cole says. “I know you’re upset, but we shouldn’t do anything hasty—” 

A kiss brings his thoughts to a halt. Jess starts softly. Nothing too charged. It’s just a kiss. Cole can back out if he wants to. Except he doesn’t. His hands find her arms, and he presses harder. She can feel the quiver on his lips. 

“Jess…” he says, pulling away. With the sun lower, he catches a warm twinkle in her eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Jess nods, grabbing him by the back of the neck, putting her mouth near his ear. Soft kisses draw shudders from Cole. “I need to be fucked.”

“I thought Hayden had it covered earlier,” Cole jokes. “You said you could barely walk.”

She stops his teasing by pressing her lips against his again. There it is. Cole stops holding back, kissing deeper. He eases her down onto the seat, and Jess can’t help but think of how many times Hayden had done that to whoever he’d brought into this car. Seething with rage, she pulls Cole down to her, and a building hardness grinds between her legs. 

Jess pulls Cole’s shirt up by the hem, over his head. Whoa. His choice of clothes hides his muscles well. Definitely more built than he was years ago, and it looks good on him. She leans up to kiss his chest, and his chain hangs, swinging against her face. Reaching for his belt, his strong hands pin her wrists by her head as he kisses her deeper. 

Her lips part, and she whimpers, begging for his tongue. He gives it to her, and his hand cradles the back of her head, petting her hair softly. Cole looks into her eyes, and Jess tries to keep eye contact brief (even if she fails). Orange light glows softly along one side of his face, and a corner of his mouth curls up.

“To be honest,” he starts, hand wandering up under Jess’s crop top. He whispers against her neck, and the words leave goosebumps where she wants kisses instead. “I did miss this.”

“I have a fun surprise for you then,” Jess says, flipping her skirt up. 

Cole’s jaw drops as he stares at her panties. “Those…”

“Used to be your favorite.” She smiles, leaning up to kiss him. “I…put them on, just to tease you in case you saw them. But right now? I…need you to take them off.”

Cole kneels on the floor of the car’s back seat, shaky hands moving down to hook Jess’s panties. His hulking frame barely fits, and he mutters, “So freaking tight…”

“So am I,” Jess’s teases, lifting her hips. She grins when Cole’s fingers, rugged from work, graze her skin. It’s all coming back to her. In her mind, it’s four years ago, and this is just another spontaneous romp for them. One of the things that kept them together. “What are you gonna do about it—”

Jess brings a hand to her mouth to stifle a moan that slips out, and his tongue, lapping away down the length of her slit, sends jolts up her body. He’s always been fine at giving head, but this is different. “Fuck, did you get better at this or something?”

“Told you I missed this,” Cole says, muffled by her pussy as he licks up her juices. “I miss the way you taste.” 

She thinks of her brief quickie with Hayden earlier in the house. Jess really wanted to feel his mouth, and she wished he spent what little time they had doing that instead of giving her a few meager pumps before blowing his load. Scowling, she hopes whatever girl Hayden is banging gets an even shorter end of the stick. Cole sates her craving, though, and his tongue works wonders.

The tip of his tongue runs circles around her clit, and she whines when he stops. Jess looks down, and Cole is sucking his middle two fingers before teasing her entrance. He slides them in, and she gasps, legs quivering, feeling those thick digits ease in. “I miss how tightly you squeeze around my fingers.”

His tongue speeds up, and his fingers press rapidly against her sensitive, swollen spot on her walls. Breathing gets harder for Jess, and she clutches the seat, grinding into Cole’s face. The wet sounds coming from her pussy as he stirs inside her is way louder than they are with Hayden. “And I miss how messy it gets when you come on my fingers.” 

Jess offers a nervous smile, twirling a stray strand of hair. A noise escapes, resembling a laugh. “I don’t…really do that anymore.”

“Yeah?” Cole says, taking it as a challenge. “Why don’t I show Hayden how it’s done, then?”

He pulls out his phone and flips the camera towards Jess. His tongue flattens against her bud, and he licks her slowly, eyes locked onto hers. “Show him how pretty you are when you get your pussy eaten.”

She presses the red button to start a recording. Is this really what she looks like? From the way her body is bent, her tummy segments into rolls. Her mouth is wide open from pleasure, and her eyes are rolling back the more Cole hooks his fingers against her. 

“Just like that,” Cole tells her, voice low. His hands speed up, and his fingers stiffen pressing repeatedly against her sweet spot. 

There’s a basin inside Jess that she hasn’t felt quite this full in a while, and she breathes harder for it, trying to hold back. Jess’s hands shake, and Cole sucks his teeth in mock disappointment, grinning. “Hold the camera steady, Jess. Tell him how good it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good when he eats me out.” Each word is harder to push out, not because of remorse, because of how hard it is to think straight when Cole uses his fingers like this.

“You ready for the waterworks?” Cole asks. “Just like old times. I know you remember these fingers.”

Not a single word is a lie. Even though Cole’s mouth has improved, his fingers are just as good as she remembers. Jess has always loved the way he talks her through it. It’s like he knows just what to say to push her further along. 

“That’s it,” he says. “I know you’re close. I can hardly move my fingers from how tight you’re getting.”

Even still, he presses harder against her sweet spot. For a brief moment, Jess is blinded by pleasure. In that split second, she doesn’t even know what kind of noise she’s making. It’s probably shrill, filling entire car, echoing off the windows. She gushes, expelling violence spurts of clear fluid, and it splashes the front of Cole’s phone, droplets obscuring and blurring the lens.

Cole laughs, wiping his phone on his jeans before stopping the recording. His voice returns to normal, and he gets up to kiss Jess. “That should be fine right? You can send this to him and get your payback.”

Jess’s eyebrows are angry. Her eyes have a fire Cole hasn't seen in a long time. “I’m pretty sure I said earlier that I needed to be fucked, so get those pants off and fuck me like you used to.”

Cole starts undoing his belt, pulling his pants down. Jess’s patience runs thin; she pulls him to sit in the middle of the backseat, and straddles him, lifting her hips. She forces her hips down and the two groan together, holding each other tightly. She kisses him, only breaking to push out breathy moans. 

“Fuck, I miss that dick.” Jess bounces up and down, walls clenching around his length. His hands on her ass guide her, moving her body easily when her legs start to give.

He thrusts into her, holding her in place wrapping tightly around her body. He pushes her top up and pulls her bra down two free, her breast. Licking his lips, he gives each nipple ample attention, switching back and forth until her hand holds him down against one. 

“Why'd you stop recording?” Jess asks.

Cole grins. “I didn’t know you wanted me to keep going.”

“I had a great idea.” Jess rests her arms around Cole's shoulders while she bounces. “That asshole didn’t have the decency to eat me out earlier, and he promised to do it in the morning. Wonder how much he’d wanna do it when he sees me getting fucked.”

Cole props his phone up against the door. Their hurried movements shake the camera, and there’s barely enough light to show what’s happening, but their skin bumping against each other is context enough.

Everything in this car reminds her of what Hayden did to her. The hair tie. The torn condom wrappers. Handprints on the windows, more apparent now that the windows are fogged. 

Everything makes her see red all over again. She bounces harder, slowly losing herself with every deep press of Cole's cock against her sensitive spot. Jess breathes sharply through gritted teeth, cursing out loud, “Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna come on that dick—”

Cole keeps his grasp on her, holding the back of her head towards him. Between kisses, he says, “Tell me how much you miss this dick.”

“I miss it so much,” she whines, face forming into a sultry smile. 

“Show him how good you look riding this dick.” He holds her head gently, turning it towards the camera. Cole's lips find her cheek, moving down to her neck. Whispering agaisnt her skin, goosebumps gather. “Sooo beautiful.”

“I want you to fill me up,” Jess moans, and her eyes shut. Her head collapses onto Cole's shoulders. She grinds against him, barely able to bounce up and down, but Cole squeezes his hand between their bodies, fiddling with her clit to bring her the rest of the way there. Groans escape, and even if Hayden doesn’t fuck her quite the same way, he should know these moans and what they mean:

Right now, she’s Cole's. And with the last few bounces, Jess moans through heavy breaths. “Fucking fill me up.”

Cole coils his arms around her waist, and his hips buck wildly into her as he unloads rope after rope of pent-up cum. It feels neverending. Jess's walls tighten around him, contractions meeting every throbbing pulse. He goes until he can’t anymore, and Jessica climbs off of him, squatting in front of the phone, watching the way his cum drips out of her, onto the car‘s backseat.

She flicks off the camera. “Fuck you, asshole. Hope you like the taste of my ex’s cum.” 

Jess cuts the recording, and she falls back onto the seat. With arms crossed, her shoulders shake to the tempo of a breakdown ready to happen at any second. “I can’t believe he did that to me. I guess I’m no better.”

“Should we, uh, clean that up?” Cole offers, timidly pointing at puddles of squirt and spurts of semen all over the upholstery. 

“Just leave it. It’s what he deserves,” Jess says. She lays her head on Cole’s shoulders. “Any clue how I'm supposed to fix the situation?"

“Probably not what we just did,” Cole says, hoping to draw a laugh from Jess. It works. Well enough, at least. 

“A bit late for that. You're literally leaking from me,” Jess says with a smile, “I know two wrongs don’t make a right, but I think he and I were doomed as soon as you told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jess says, sniffling, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. “Showed me what kind of guy he really is, so I appreciate it. Even if it really sucks.”

“If you ever need anything—”

“What?” Jessica scoffs. “Like sex?”

“No,” Cole says sternly, resting his head on top of Jess’s. “Just a shoulder to cry on. Or someone to talk to.”

“Don’t think for a second, thatthis means we’re getting back together.”

Cole smiles. It’s not a smile asking for pity or sympathy. It’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth. “I know. I meant as a friend.”

“One hell of a way for a friendship to start,” Jess jokes, and she sits up, searching for her clothes from all around the car. She looks over at Cole's phone. “Do you think it’d be a bad idea to send them those videos?”

“If I had to guess, that’s probably a bit extreme,” Cole offers.

“You’re right,” Jess says, smoothing her shirt down her torso. “What if we just sell his hubcaps?”

“Jess.”

“Kidding. How much do you think we could get for them?”

“Jess!” Cole shakes his head as he puts all his clothes on. The two climb out together. “What if we…sign up him for those fake STI test results?”

“Oh, you’re good.” Jess laughs. She stares as Cole collects parts off the driveway and settles them in the garage before letting the hood close with a slam. “How much are you charging Hayden anyway?”

“Market value,” Cole says, “I didn’t charge him for labor, so I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

“How do you think he'd react if he found out his mechanic was fucking his girlfriend?”

“I’m hoping he never finds out, actually.” Cole looks at Jess with serious eyes. He walks his toolbox over his car in the trunk. “I’m serious, though. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Can you cut his brake lines?”

“Jess, c'mon.” 

“I know, I know. I appreciate it.” Cole opens his front door and Jess calls out. “I know today was weird, but I really am glad to know you’re doing okay!”

“Likewise!” Cole answers before climbing into the driver seat and shutting the door behind him. His engine powers on with a startling boom, and it’s kind of obnoxious. The exhaust has a low rumble to it, but there’s no way he could live in this neighborhood without someone throwing a fit.

Jess walks up to the window and knocks, laughing when Cole reaches over to crank his windows down. “Oh my God, you don’t have power windows?”

He taps on the side of his door. “This is a classic.”

She rolls her eyes. “So I know we agreed to be friends, but are we just friends friends or are we the type of friends that do…stuff?”

Cole laughs, shaking his head, but he smiles. “I prefer the former, at least for now, until you and Hayden break up. Then, we can figure that out.”

Jess watches him drive off until that obnoxious roar is nothing but a rattle in the distance and his taillights twinkle into nothing. After she stares long enough, she turns around to walk back into the house, glancing at Hayden‘s car. She gives it a kick, wincing when it hurts more than it helps her feel better.

She has a lot of feelings right now that she doesn't know how to sort. Cole was right; she wishes there were manuals to navigating difficult situations like this. Oh, what she would give for a nice long drive to sing her heart out. Ii

Synopsis: Melanie and Eric are one hell of a team when they’re scheduled at the same time, but she wonders if there are…other ways they’d work well together. 

Written for image 15 for the July contest!

~

The store needs help. With two call-outs this morning (one with a stomach flu, the other with strep), Melanie is drowning in orders. It’s not even the usual daily rush! From overheard chatter, Melanie puts together that there’s a convention in town. Her manager is doing what she can, jumping in where possible, while juggling calls to see if anyone is willing to pick up hours or come in early, but from her bleak expression, it’s not looking good. 

Ding.

Whenever that door opens, Melanie only feels dread. Her eyes flit towards the door, counting heads. That’s the bare minimum of drinks she’ll need to make, and God forbid they have more family members in the car. As the group walks closer, she steels her expression, throws on her best Customer Service smile, and the script begins—

“Welcome to Bundts and Brews. What can I get started for you today?” Melanie listens attentively, taking every detail down. A large double-blended cookies-and-cream coffee with whip and mocha drizzle (delicious but they may be waiting a bit), a medium dirty chai latte (easy enough), a large iced mocha, milk subbed for almond for lactose intolerance whip okay (what the hell??), and a small black coffee (thank God). 

Melanie tears each ticket as it prints out, sticking it on the counter, and stares at the backlog of stuff that needs to be started. She’s glad the roaster and steamer are near the register; multitasking is easier this way. 

After a deep breath, Melanie tackles the drinks one by one. A healthy mix of the oldest first, with easier beverages that can be done in tandem. Minding her milks and ensuring she’s not steaming too long, she builds a flow, and it gets easier in time. Completed drinks get their stickers, and she slides them over to the manager, who calls out the orders from the counter.

Ding.

Just one man, thankfully. Order pick-up, too. Perfect. A larger bundt cake with two-dozen mini bundts. The manager handles him at the register, and she calls out, not looking. “Melanie, can you get his order in the back? It should be bagged up already.”

Come on. It breaks Melanie’s flow, but she grabs it before handing it to the customer with a manufactured, corporate-approved smile. She returns to her drinks, and she’s maybe halfway done, on her way to get to the drinks from the family that just came in. Things are quieting down.

Ding.

Dammit, Melanie jinxed it. She groans, looking up briefly, but she perks up, seeing a familiar face. Eric walks behind the counter, clocks in at the register, and ties his apron behind his back. Melanie playfully bumps him with her shoulder, starting the blender for one of her drinks. “I thought you were closing today.”

“I am. Long day for me, I guess,” Eric says with a grin. “The cavalry is here.” 

Thank goodness, too. Eric is better at bar than Melanie, so he picks up where she left off, while she takes orders, offering help when she can. 

There’s a crash from the kitchen, and some distant cursing. The manager grimaces, looking towards Eric and Melanie. “I’m gonna check that out. You guys got this?” 

Melanie nods. As far as two-person teams at this store, it doesn’t get much better than this. Eric is in the zone, hyperfocused on pushing out drinks, and Melanie’s voice booms in the store, calling orders out. Customers are out the door faster. As the chaos from the kitchen only seems to pick up, it slows down in the lobby, at last. 

When the last customer is out the door, there’s a split-second eerie silence, broken up by a loud high-five. Eric cheers to himself, nudging Melanie. “Great job. I don’t know how you yell basically your whole shift? My throat gets scratchy after about two hours.”

“Practice, I guess?” Melanie offers.

“Training your throat is crazy work,” Eric teases, chuckling to himself.

“Shut up!” Melanie says, hitting him gently on the arm. “You know I didn’t mean it like that at all.”

Truthfully, she did mean it like that, at least a little bit. Melanie almost exclusively opens, while Eric is one of the only consistent closers at the store. That leaves little time for their shifts to overlap (though it does happen on occasion), and it’s for the best. Constant jokes. Teasing. Tiny touches when their hands brush. 

“Just fuck him already,” one of the mid-shift workers always jokes when he catches Melanie staring too long at Eric from a distance. Melanie convinces herself that the sexual tension is fake; it’s just banter between the two. 

But days like this, when it’s them alone at the front of the store, she’s not so sure. Eric’s wiping down the countertops, grunting as he puts more effort, and a heat builds in Melanie’s core. God, she wishes she could hear him make those sounds for her. When Eric washes his hands at the sink, Melanie stands next to him, letting their hips touch.

She clears her throat, gathering all of the courage in her body for a gamble. “You know, my throat is good for that kind of stuff too.” 

“Yeah?” Eric stares at her plump lips, and there’s the tiniest grin at the corners of his mouth, and when Melanie nods in response, he leans in. Melanie closes her eyes, letting him close the distance, and footsteps from the kitchen have them standing up straight before their lips can meet properly.

Eric tries not to laugh at the manager’s face, covered in flour, but Melanie speaks first. “Uh, is everything okay back there?” 

The manager shakes her head before releasing a muffled scream into her palms. “I’m going to the other stores or Costco—whatever’s faster, at this point—for more flour and paper towels. It’s a mess back there.”

She looks at Melanie. “You’re in charge.”

“I’m literally older than her,” Eric says out.

“You’re literally less responsible,” the manager shoots back. “You didn’t leave any notes to restock on the paper towels last night!” 

“Ah, fair enough.” Eric laughs nervously. 

The two wish the manager good luck, and Melanie looks up at Eric, ignoring the heat across her cheeks. She licks her lips, fiddling with the stitch of her apron’s pocket, and flashes a smile towards him. “So….uh, where were we?”

“Oh, I think…” Eric scoots closer, checking first that they’re still alone, before pressing his lips softly against Melanie’s. She expected chapped and rough, but his lips are soft. He’s more gentle than she’d expect. Slow, too. Before she can deepen it, Eric pulls away, grinning. “...we were talking about your throat. And how good it is. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly?” Melanie scoffs, feigning offense. She closes in and catches a smile on Eric’s face before she takes another kiss. Her hand rubs the front of his apron, and she feels the outline of his member. There’s a twitch under layers of fabric, and Melanie backs away, eyes flitting up towards Eric’s, grinning. “I can prove it.” 

He smirks, raising an eyebrow, looking all around them. “Right now?”

“No manager. No one else up front. No customers. No cameras?” Melanie shrugs. Her hand doesn’t let up, and she gets a good idea of just how big Eric is; she’s happy to know her suspicions are correct. “I’m always down if you want to find out, but if it’s not now, the very earliest it could be is after your shift tonight. I get it if—”

“Okay,” Eric says after a gulp. “If you’re as good as you say, you won’t need long.”

“What’s that say about you?” Melanie jokes, getting down on her knees as Eric undoes his pants, pushing them down. An unmistakable hardness pokes up behind the apron, and Melanie grins as she lifts it to lick along his shaft. Looking up at Eric, his expression is priceless. He usually has the upper hand in their conversations, keeping his cool, but now? He’s completely at her mercy. 

She kisses along the sides of his hardness, loving the feel of his veins against her plump lips. Melanie almost forgets where she is, and the idea of sucking cock on the clock gets her imagination running. With an opportunity like this, with no one to interrupt them, this is as good a time as any. 

Her lips wrap around his tip, sucking gently, and his tip pulses in her mouth, tickled by her slow touches. She sucks, allowing more of him into her mouth as she takes a hold of his ass. His muscles clench under her grasp, and she lets her lips travel down his shaft. Quiet curses from Eric encourage Melanie to suck harder, and she bobs her head, pulling a groan from Eric’s lips. 

Melanie bragged earlier about her throat skills, but has yet to show him any. She breathes slowly through her nose before plunging him deep into her mouth. No gagging, no tarnishing of her perfect record. It’s her favorite party trick to show off, despite not getting to utilize it as often as she’d like. 

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding,” Eric says, groaning. He leans forward, clutching the countertop. He looks down at Melanie, and the way she looks at him could make him melt on the spot. With some encouragement, he pushes into her mouth, thrusting back and forth. God. Too much of this, and he pulls out, panting harder than Melanie does. 

Her hand strokes along him lazily, and she traces her lips along the side of his dick, slurping up what spit she’d left behind. With a grin, Melanie takes Eric into her mouth again, instantly going as deep as she can, then inching down for the rest. Grabbing him by the balls, squeezing them gently, she feels him throb in her mouth. 

Ding.

Fuck. While Eric fumbles for his pants, Melanie holds his hands to stop him. She backs up, under the counter, and she makes out one set of footsteps heading towards the register. It’s not the manager; she would’ve gone straight to the back. Melanie makes no point of stopping, stroking and twisting Eric’s cock while swallowing him up.

“H-hey,” Eric starts, stuttering through the usual greeting. “Welcome to Bundts and Brews. What can I get started for you today?”

Melanie’s grip on Eric’s sack tightens, and his gasp goes unnoticed by the customer. The countertop shrouds most of his face, so she can’t see every reaction, but she can see his mouth twisting in desperation. His cheek hollows when he bites the inside.

“How are the bundt cakes? Have you tried them?” the customer asks. 

“Oh, they’re—” Eric’s nails threaten to dig into the countertop from how tightly he grips it. “—really good. Not too sweet, which I like.”

Melanie wishes she could say the same about the pre-cum that leaks out of Eric’s tip. That taste is addictive. Sweet enough to drive her wild and wish for more. She slurps him up as Eric starts to pump into her mouth. Her tongue massages his tip and she strokes along him, hand gliding from all her slobber. She’s always been a bit sloppy, going overboard when giving head, but she has yet to hear a complaint. 

Eric winces, biting a lip to contain his moan, and his knees shake. He’s pulsing inside, and despite his efforts to hold back, a generous amount of pre-cum pools on Melanie’s tongue, and she swallows it down without an issue. “Yeah, we can do a vanilla bundt cake for you. Extra glaze….yeah…we can make that happen. Total is $17.38.”

Melanie takes him out of her mouth and strokes him as fast as she can. She stares at his tip and the way it throbs. Eric does well to keep his composure; he goes through the rest of the checkout process, chatting the customer up, even starting on his drink. 

His hand is shaky when he writes the customer’s name on the cup, and he finally lets out a groan when the milk steamer is loud enough to hide his voice. Eric backs up, just enough to take a look at Melanie, and she flashes a smile, lapping at his leaking tip. 

A few more strokes do him in, and he pushes forward, spurting out thick ropes across Melanie’s face. She grins, nuzzling her face against him, letting him cover her cheeks and chin as she feels him throb in her hand, milking out every drop.

When the customer walks away after asking for the bathroom code, this is Melanie’s best chance to scurry to her feet. Before she can walk off, Eric grabs her wrist, staring in disbelief at the mess he’d left on her face. “Wow…” 

Melanie breaks eye contact, blushing. “I’m gonna go get the customer’s bundt cake.”

“Extra glaze,” Eric calls out, and Melanie rolls her eyes, unable to stop the smile that crosses her face. 

The kitchen is shambles. Staff are yelling at each other, running around for the mop, and in the midst of the mayhem, they hardly notice Melanie walk in. She searches for a paper towel and grimaces when the dispenser is empty. Right. That’s why the manager is gone. 

It is what it is. She grabs a vanilla bundt cake and a nearby piping bag, adding some extra icing to the top of the cake before putting it securely in a plastic takeout container. Melanie’s brows furrow when she walks back to the front and the customer is waiting at the counter, sipping her macchiato. 

She should feel dirty. Ashamed. Yet, there's a thrill she can't explain. 

“Your bundt cake, ma’am?” Melanie holds the container out towards the customer, initially content not to make eye contact. Heat rushes to her cheeks, resting behind hot cum, still dripping down her face. This moment lasts forever, and she makes the mistake of looking up, to meet the customer’s widened eyes. Self-consciousness tears her gaze away, and she mutters, “The piping bag exploded, so I guess both the cake and I got more than we signed up for this morning.” 

The customer laughs, taking the cake, thanking her, and walks out. Melanie darts her head towards Eric, and he grins, handing her a wad of napkins.

“Grabbed these from the cafe,” Eric says. He smiles. “I’m surprised you had me come on your face.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That I look like the swallowing type?”

“Uh…” Eric pauses, feeling bad instantly, but Melanie kisses his cheek once her face is wiped dry. 

“Kidding. How about next time, then?” 

“Next time?” Eric repeats with a grin. 

Melanie smirks in response, pointing towards a crowd walking towards the door. “Look alive. Looks like lunch rush is about to start. Ready?”

“Always,” Eric answers, tightening his apron. 

~

The manager comes back, hours later, almost more annoyed than when she left. While mostly muttering unrepeatable complaints about the other stores, she has nothing but nice things to say to Eric and Melanie, thankfully. With minimal mess on bar, and the mid-shift staff well into the groove, she lets Melanie clock out at last (not that she minds the extra half hour of pay). 

“Eric, go ahead and take a 30,” the manager says, reading the schedule. 

“I’d prefer to save it for tonight,” Eric offers.

“You’ll get that one too. You did me a solid by coming in when you did. It’s cool, get outta here. Get some fresh air,” the manager tells him. “Also, can you start the dishes when you come back?”

“Got it,” Eric says, already untying his apron as he walks to the door. 

Melanie walks up beside him, bumping him to throw him just off course, and he looks at her, smiling. “Wanna…grab something to eat? Since you have some time.”

His smile fades, and he yawns. “I’d love to, but I think I need to take a nap in my car.”

While that should’ve been the end of it, Melanie tries her luck one last time. “Need company?” 

“You need the nap too?” Eric offers with a chuckle, reaching over towards Melanie’s hand. His finger hooks hers, and she follows him, enjoying the bump of their arms. 

Melanie’s stomach flutters when his doors unlock. “I promised I’d swallow next time, didn’t I—” 

Eric quiets her with a kiss, and she feels like she’s floating when his arms wrap around her tightly. Her head spins when he pulls away, and they work their way into the backseat. Eric’s voice is low as his eyes look into hers. “It felt so good earlier.”

“Ready for more, then?” Melanie offers with a giggle.

“I had a different idea,” Eric says, working his way to the floor of his car. His hands flip up the front of her uniform skirt, and she lifts her hips towards him playfully. He leans in, kissing through her panties, spurring a shudder from Melanie. A finger pulls the gusset aside, and he kisses her lower lips, sweetly, before taking a taste of her. He grins. “Mmmm.” 

Wow. He sure knows what he’s doing. Eric’s tongue laps eagerly, and Melanie spreads her legs as a means to ask for more. Moans fill the car—hers mostly, though his are muffled against her pussy as he keeps licking. A finger inside arches Melanie’s back off the seat, and his lips locked around her clit as he sucks has her writhing. She clutches the upholstery of his car, humping into his face, and she puts a hand on the top of his head, clutching his hair, pulling him into her wetness. 

He adds a second finger, and Melanie is near inconsolable. She wants him so badly, and her sharp moans grow more frequent. Melanie’s glad for a lot of things. She’s glad his windows are tinted. She’s glad Eric usually parks far from the other cars. She’s glad he found a shady spot, too. She’s glad the car isn’t too hot.

Thought that last part slowly becomes less true. The longer he heats her out, the hotter she feels, especially deep down in her stomach. Melanie pulls her shirt off before sweat has a chance to soak through it, and when Eric adds a third finger, her eyes widen. “FUCK!”

It’s a tight fit, and she clenches tightly around Eric’s fingers, but she loves it. They wiggle inside her, pressing against an engorged spot deep inside her, and his tongue laps wildly at her bud. Her breaths build up, truncated and frequent, and her vision starts to blur. She can blame the heat in the car, but the pleasure is dizzying. 

Pressure increases from his flattened tongue, and her head slams against leather as her eyes shut. Her core tightens, and she feels herself contract around his fingers. Her mouth is agape, though not a sound comes out as she rides wave after wave of pleasure. Melanie pants, brows wrinkled in disbelief, and she uses what energy she has to undo Eric’s pants. 

Melanie hooks her panties off, rubbing her pussy, watching Eric undress. She’s so wet, unless all of that slick is from him. Perhaps she’s like him: messy when it comes to giving head. That hardness from earlier steals her attention. 

Eric takes his place on top of Melanie, and he guides himself against her slit. The graze of his tip against her clit causes a moan by itself, but she grips his arms as he works his way in. The sloppy mess down below helps him slide in, and he bottoms out immediately. 

He doesn’t go too fast, which works out. It lets Melanie feel every inch as he drives his dick deep inside her. Melanie grips him with every thrust, and she feels so empty when he’s not inside her. Eric never teases her for long, putting her whimpers to an end with every deep press of his hips.

The kiss that follows takes Melanie’s breath away. The humid air building in the car doesn’t help, but she can taste herself on Eric’s tongue. He grunts, grinding his hips against her, and she holds his face down to hers.

“You tasted so good,” Eric says when his lips pull away for a breath, and he closes the gap immediately, pressing his tongue against her mouth. 

“Better than a bundt cake?” Melanie jokes, and her smile disappears when sharp moans exit, one for each of his hard thrusts. 

“See, I can only do a bundt cake every couple of months,” Eric admits, sitting up to throw his shirt aside. “But I’d love to taste you every day.”

Melanie fights a blush. “You’re sure you won’t get tired of it?”

Eric shakes his head. He nearly growls, “You looked so hot when your face was dripping with my cum.” 

“Have you ever iced the bundt cakes in the back before?” Melanie asks. 

“Uh, no?” Eric answers, raising a brow. His hips don’t give up as he’s pressing deep, rubbing his tip against her sweet spot. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re doing a pretty good job at piping me,” Melanie giggles, eyes curling into happy crescents.

“You and your jokes,” he says through a grown. He kisses down her chest, teasing her nipples with his tongue while giving the other breast a squeeze.

“Those jokes must not be that bad if you’re balls deep inside of me,” Melanie teases. Her eyes roll back when he only fucks her harder. “God, that’s good. I’m glad we finally got to do this.”

“Me too,” Eric says, breaths growing farther apart. His strokes slow down, but it doesn’t stop him from going as deep. “Fuck, I wanna glaze you all over again.”

He pulls out, jerking himself on top of Melanie. She can’t quite tell if he’s aiming for her chest or stomach, but she gets a better idea, reaching down to grab his dick—one hand tightly gripping his base while the other strokes along his length. 

“Did you know there’s multiple ways to ice a bundt cake?”

“Is this a set up for another one of your jokes?” Eric asks, reaching down to put his fingers inside of Melanie again.

“Nope. One of them is like earlier, where I aimed all over my face so a little bit of everywhere gets covered. It takes longer that way, but it ends up looking the nicest.” Her hands slow down, and Eric groans in protest, humping into her closed fist. “The other way is much more fun, but…it’s messy.”

“What is it?” Eric asks, and Melanie‘s convinced he’s only half listening, thinking with his dick. She throws him a bone, aiming his cock back towards her entrance and raising her hips to meet him. He gasps when his tip meets her soaked slit. 

“You basically fill the cake right in the middle until it overflows along all the side,” Melanie explains. She grabs his waist, pulling him deep inside, and he collapses down on top of her. Their mouths meet, and she tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, flashing a grin. “I want you to do that second one to me.”

“Wait,” Eric says. Those hips don’t stop, and his lips find her neck, kissing it and taking gentle bites while his hand rests on her ass, pulling her up towards him. “You're sure?”

When Melanie nods, that’s all Eric needs. He slams his hips into hers, repeatedly grinding against her sweet spot, and with one last deep delve, she feel every single throb and twitch of his dick.

“Holy fuck, that’s so much,” she cries, bucking her hips up into him. Melanie uses every bit of hardness she can before he softens inside of her, grinding her clit against him. Eric winces, his tip likely getting sensitive, but Melanie wraps her  limbs around him as her hips slowly lose control. She whines, “Just hold on a little longer. I’m sorry.”

Cries fill the car as Melanie grips him hard, body spasming under him, and her moans fizzle into whimpers when his lips find hers. The two collapse, panting, covered in sweat. Eric pushes himself out and sits up, letting Melanie‘s legs rest across his lap.

Her eye twitches when she feels a glob leak out of her. “Is it always that much?”

“I guess so.” Eric stares with a shrug. He watches at the way Melanie's pussy throbs, overflowing with his cum. It drips out, onto her legs, and onto the seat. Flinching when his alarm blares, he sighs to himself. “Shit. I kind of needed that nap.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted time eating me out,” Melanie says with a smirk.

“Was it really a waste? You looked like you were enjoying it.”

“Shut up,” Melanie says, rolling her eyes. She grabs her shirt and panties, quickly putting them on.

“Melanie,” Eric starts, face a little unsure. “A lot of this today has been spontaneous but—”

“You don’t want things to get too serious,” Melanie says, feeling a tightness in her chest. She should have suspected. “I get it. It’s all good. I’m down for something casual, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I’m saying it’d be nice if we didn’t just have to rush everything you know? Like earlier, you had to rush off for the customer's order, and right now, I’ve gotta leave for work.” He sighs. “I don’t know. I’m more so the type that loves to just chill naked after sex. Nice and slow. No obligations after. I…like the intimacy. Call me mushy but—”

“I’d like that too, actually,” Melanie admits, looking up at him. “We could do something more structured. Just let me know when you’re free.”

“Do you think I could grab some food for us after I get off work tonight? And come over to your place?” 

Melanie laughs. “You know I almost only do opening shifts, right? I eat dinner early and pass out way before you usually do.”

“Of course,” Eric says confidently, “but I saw the schedule. You’re not working tomorrow. That’s why I offered.”

“It’s a date, then,” Melanie agrees, pulling Eric in to kiss his cheek. “Sure you won’t be too tired?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he assures. “I have a good way of staying up.”

“Coffee?”

“How excited I am to see you again.” 

Melanie sighs, half ready to roll her eyes. Maybe they’re meant for each other, after all. Pursing her lips to hide a budding smile, she shoves him playfully after he puts his uniform shirt back on. “Whatever.” 

Written for image 07 from the June prompts! 

Other tales: Prompt 15 | Prompt 19

~

“Safaa has a tradition of visitation for her late lover's place of burial every year,” Vatro, the bard, starts, strumming a string of his lute at a steady cadence. “I hear you had quite the encounter this year. Do tell, and spare not a single detail!”

“You speak of tradition, Vatro,” Safaa says grinning, “but is it not commonplace for the most sultry stories to be delivered by one of your songs?”

The bard bows courteously, giving his lute a strum. Eyes are on him, and he smiles. “If you insist.” 

~

Kane was the love of Safaa’s life. Forced together on a quest one day, they couldn’t be any more different, but two things bound them together: insane chemistry with a libido to match.

They were notorious in the Adventurer’s Guild for taking their sweet time back to the hall to claim the rewards for their completed quests. Making camp on their journeys back was a love they shared—as was making love under the stars, long after their bonfire had snuffed out.

When Kane was felled by a dragon, Sadie was completely distraught. Her soulmate was gone, and a few men she’d used to get over him never measured up or held a candle to his passion for her. It was just empty, shallow sex that left her missing her beloved more every day. 

Truly, he was the only one for Safaa. 

On the anniversaries of Kane’s death, she would spend the day near his grave. A basket would be filled with their favorite foods. She would talk to him about her life: the kind of quests she’d finished recently (as well as the bountiful rewards), the companions she’d met, the new grimoires she’d acquired.

When she was illuminated by nothing but the candles she lit and slivers of moonlight through the tree, Safaa would look around. She required solitude. Time alone with her late lover. Safaa knelt on the blanket, spreading her legs wide. Her fingers would find their way between her thighs, and she’d grind against her hands and close her eyes, imagining she was riding Kane all over again. That hand of hers was her constant companion when she missed him (which was more often than not), but she never came harder than when she was fucking herself with her fingers above his grave. 

Maybe it was the eerie tranquility in the dead of night. Maybe it was the way the hair on her nape never quite relaxed, knowing someone could be leering from the shadows. Maybe it was the thrill of being caught and reprimanded. Punished, even. 

When the sun set this year, Safaa didn’t take her usual position. Safaa pulled out her latest grimoire, a tome dedicated to necromancy. There was a spell for everything, and with her creativity, a good night awaited. She could reanimate his body, fill it with vigor to restore it to his prime, and trap the blood in his member until he was harder than he’d ever been.

She recited her incantation with her eyes closed and a wide grin. Safaa could hear the sounds of the Earth splitting open. When she opened her eyes, the being that stood before her wasn’t her late husband, but a demonic presence, skin a deep, muted blue, towering above her, staring at her with malicious intent.

“I’ve been summoned,” he told her. “Mortal, what business do you have with me—Ag’run,  Archduke of Lust, Subjugator over all things Sex–that I should arise from my ring of Hell?” 

“You’re not my husband,” Safaa said, eyes widening, clutching the fabric at her chest. “What have you done with him?”

“Your beloved cannot be brought back by near necromancy alone. A soul costs a soul, and if you were not prepared to pay the price, you don’t deserve to reap the benefits,” Ag’run said. “The spells you performed are misleading. I am sorry to disappoint.”

Safaa tried not to stare at the way his vile member hung between his legs. Whatever creature or demon he was, he was quite large, surpassing Kane in both length and girth.

“The mortal body is temporary, but lust is eternal. As am I,” Ag’run said cryptically. “I am an empty vessel which you can pour your lust into while your hunger is sated. My appetite is bottomless. I can grant you a night like which you’ve never known, if you so wish to experience it.”

“I do,” Sadie mouthed, overcome by a sense of deep heat between her legs. The phrase took her back to her wedding with Kane, though right now, she accepted a very different kind of union with Ag’run.

“A mortal such as you has not known the power of Ag’run. I do not believe in gentle, and all those who summon me must know the gravity of the situation. To give in to my temptation, and join me in debauchery, you must submit to me in totality.” His voice boomed, and his eyes never wavered. “Do you?”

“I…I do.” Sadie stared at the way his member swung as he walked, and she even closed the distance, crawling to him on all fours.  

“Pay tribute with your mouth before I decide if you deserve to be filled by Ag’run,” he commanded, looking down at the woman.

Safaa could barely fit her hand around his member. She stroked the best she could and lowered herself to suck on the dangling dick as if suckling milk from a teat. The taste on his skin was vile but erotic, and the more she played with him, the larger he grew, exciting Safaa immensely.

The demon grabbed Safaa by her locks, holding her still, and he thrusted to the back of her throat. She was astounded by how much more length he had left, untouched by her lips, but he made sure to change that, forcing himself deeper until it drew tears. Safaa’s breathing became difficult. “That is indeed such a skilled mouth. Many would yield, facing my adversity, but you’ve exceeded my expectations.”

Ag’run removed himself from her mouth, giving her a chance to breathe. Safaa stared up at him as the tears dried on her cheeks. Her words came out as a silent prayer. “Use me. Use my mouth.”

“A thing for punishment, eh?” Ag’run grinned, grabbing her head tighter still, pulling her forward and back in along his hardness. Safaa let her head flail, relinquishing control to his rugged hands. Ag’run’s grip did not let up, not that she minded. Just as he was an empty vessel for her to displace desires upon, she too was empty, as she had not been properly filled in years.

He breached into the back of her throat, slamming repeatedly. Safaa looked up, meeting his cruel eyes that practically sneered at her, not as a plea for mercy, but instead for more. She was dripping wet.

“Was your beloved quite as endowed as I?” 

“Uh-uh,” Safaa muffled, shaking her head around his cock. He granted my throat some rest instead, bulging his massive member through the sides of my cheeks. She had no idea the skin had so much give, but she had never once been used quite like this.

Her lips locked around his dick while both her hands stroked along, twisting in the opposite directions, gliding from her residual slobber. The demon groaned, humping into her, and the three points of contact seemed to work wonders for him. 

The vicious cock filled her mouth within an exorbitant amount of seed—much more than her mouth could handle. Yet she was insistent on not spilling a single drop. Breathing grew difficult. She gulped down what she could, even if more thick cum took its place. Every desperate gulp swallowed down as much as she could, and she sucked him and slurped him, stroking along his length until not a drop remained.

To her surprise, that release did nothing to abate his hardness. He was still raring to go, throbbing. With Kane, they were used to taking things at their own pace. Long breaks between romantic romps. They were in no hurry.

But urgency dripped between her legs. Safaa squeezed her thighs together to snuff out the desire—to no avail.

She stumbled, falling back, catching herself on her elbow, staring at his demonhood, frozen in place not by fear, but desire. Safaa’s smile widened. Was she always this depraved?

Her ankle felt so tiny in the beast’s grip. He yanked her leg, and she fell onto her back, surprised still when he lifted her higher, holding her upside down by an ankle. When her dress flipped down, revealing her lack of undergarments, he licked his lips.

His other hand gripped her by the ass, and he lifted Safaa up higher still, until her dripping wet heat was inches from his mouth. Ag’run’s breath tickled the inside of her thigh, and she anticipated sweet kisses as Kane would, but he instead bit down on her flesh. His teeth were not sharp enough to break skin without ample force, but he toed the line, testing her willpower and resilience. Winces turned to sharp moans. She did nothing to resist, only allowing him to do with her what he pleased.

Safaa gasped when he pressed his mouth against her, lapping wildly. Maybe it’s the blood rushing to her head, but thoughts race around her mind. So good. It’d been too long.

His ravenous appetite has him eating her from the inside out. Ag’run’s tongue wiggles into her, and the familiar warmth and pressure of a tongue reminds her of Kane, even if he never had this level of enthusiasm. The demon’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly while a hand works its way up to her ass, parting her cheeks and letting a finger wander and trace her rim. 

She can feel him poking through the fabric of her dress, and she pushes it up so that her face is no longer obstructed. Safaa leaned her face against him, feeling how hot he is against her cheek. Her mouth felt unoccupied, and she wanted another taste of him. Her lips teased his tip, and her tongue licked along the ridges of his thick cock.

Any attempts at teasing were put to rest when a hand on the back of her neck pushed her mouth onto his cock until her lips kissed his hilt. Ag’run humped into her head while his tongue worked her clit and slit. What a messy eater he was; Safaa felt his saliva dripping down her skin. 

Safaa crossed her ankles behind the demon’s head, and this spurred him to thrust harder, easing her down to the ground atop her blanket. 

He spit on her pussy, rubbing it rapidly with his hand, glancing towards Safaa before plunging deep into her mouth. She felt her face drive deeper and deeper into the softened dirt. When his mouth returned to her entrance, sucking her clit while finger worked their way into her, it was agony. An unmatched arousal from having her face fucked above her late husband’s grave. 

She hoped he would forgive her. 

Kane was only a memory as her thoughts filled with Ag’run’s skilled tongue, and her hips bucked into him, out of control as she succumbed to the pleasure, unravelling beneath him. His hips followed, and he was deep into her throat, pulsing against the stretch of her esophagus. A groan signified another massive load, and Safaa, pushed him out of her, lest she drown and choke from his cum. She stroked him with both hands, aiming his head at her with her tongue presented to him. Violent spurts painted her face, coated her tongue, and shot to the back of her throat. 

What a mess he made, and Safaa was intoxicated by the feeling of his heat scattered all over her face. She basked in the afterglow of her climax, barely feeling the Ag’run worked his ways between her legs, pulling them up towards him.

Blood rushed to her head again, and with every slap of that thick appendage against her eager, wet slit, she cried out, begging for it. Every time she reached for it to stroke or angle it into her, Ag’run would swipe her hand away. 

Just the thick tip parting her lips was enough to make her expel a breathy groan, and when he thrusted all the way in, Safaa nearly screamed. A hand wrapped her mouth, muffling her moans, and Ag’run leered down, smug at her reaction. “Silence, my princess. Or you’ll wake the dead.” 

Ironic. Safaa meant to wake Kane, but she awoke something else instead. Not just a demon, but a deep-seated desire and need to be fucked mercilessly. This was a stark contrast to the lovemaking she’d known with Kane. 

Where she’d known tenderness, Ag’run gave her the pounding of a lifetime. Tip to hilt, digging deep into her. While she was used to fingers stroking her skin gently, she sucked on his, lapping her juices off of those demonic digits. His other hand gripped her calf as he drove his hips into her. 

He was so thick, and every grind of his tip into her sweet spot made the stars in the night sky twinkle harder. The candles she’d lit earlier had long extinguished. The moonlight wrapped around each of Ag’run’s muscles, and all she could make out was the vague silhouette of him thrusting in and out of her. 

His fingers, coated with Safaa’s spit, slid and rubbed along her clit, pushing her to come, tightening around him. His thrusts slowed down, not to give her reprieve, but because her grip fought against him, despite her need for more.

As he grinned, he groaned, looking down at Saffa. “Shall I soil that pretty little dress of yours?”

Safaa shook her head, reaching up towards Ag’run but his sizable hands pinned her wrists down above her head. That strong grip kept her hands in place, and all she could do was grind against him. Moans broke her thoughts into smaller, digestible phrases. “Please…fill me…Ag’run…please…I need it…your cum.”

She gasped at his absence, whining when his first thick rope coated her plump pussy lips. It was so hot against her skin, and she disappointment welled tears in her eyes that dried quickly when he thrusted back in, slamming until he expelled the rest of his essence into her. 

Safaa panted, grinning at the way her hole leaked inhuman amounts of cum. Ag’run withdrew himself from her, and let her legs drop to the ground. Her heart ached, desiring something tender, but she knew better than to expect it from Ag’run. He faded from view as abruptly as he was summoned. 

While Safaa did not have the warmth of her beloved, even the cold marble against her cheek gave her solace. Her bent knees widened, and her fingers found the slick mess between them, driving the cum deeper, scooping it out, and repeat. Moans climbed as she played with herself, slowly (the way Kane always did). Ag’run’s gifts he'd left for her, dripping down her face and between her legs, left her needing more. Safaa turned towards the headstone, nuzzling against the blanket, reminiscing all the nights she and Kane had spent together on it.  “Kane, my love, I don't know if you saw any of that, but your wife had such an incredible time just now…if you were here, I just know you would clean me up so well…Just know I'll always be yours…” 

She groans, humping into her hand, letting the load soak her fingers. She grins until her mouth parts, pushing out a guttural groan. Her free hand scoops cum from her cheeks against her lips, and she licks them clean. Chanting Kane's name, she comes with the lingering taste of cum on her tongue. “I love you…I love you…”

~

“I’m surprised that the demon did not cause you to forget about your former lover,” Vatro says.

“Can’t a woman have two loves?” Safaa asks with a grin. “Kane will always have my heart, though Ag’run now knows my bed.”

“Perhaps you will see him sometime in the future? Before your next visit to Kane’s grave?” Vatro suggests. 

“Perhaps tonight, even.” Safaa smirks before drinking a sip of wine.