What a beautiful curse this is

You look over, eyes peaking out the window and seeing the faint powder blue of dawn. A sigh rags out of your mouth, your lips returning to his neck and preening with his hands groping at your ass. A giggle escapes, and you place your hands upon his cheeks, giving him one last deep kiss before moving out of the bed.

Bro groans, watching you sit up with your legs swung over the edge. Your bare body was traced over, again and again as you stretched your arms up. “Hungry? How do you like your eggs, big guy?”

Instead of answering, he sits up, maneuvering his way to you and dragging you back towards him. “C’mon. Why don’t we sleep in, hm?”

“Gotta clean up today.” You sigh, already making your way out of the covers.

The man has the audacity to grumble, begrudgingly agreeing before leaving the bed to get dressed. 

You teasingly slip his shirt over your head, slipping out with a cheeky wink behind you as he gives you a sleazy smile back, his eyes trailing down to the sight of your bare legs taking you out of the room.

The apartment you lived in was not big by any means. Your son’s room was a mix of yours, with a pullout mattress on the underside of your bed, but now he likes to sleep in his own room. Which originally you had set up for him as a nursery. One bad dream made him sleep in your room for a long time. But you had to make sure he was able to be by himself once in a while.

You’re halfway done making some coffee when the sound of the bathroom door opens up. At first you think nothing of it. Until you realize there’s no footsteps coming up behind you.

You turn and peek into the hallway where you swear Bro was coming out of. You’re not sure what to say when you watch his face morph into something new. Originally, you saw confusion appear when his attention turned to the side. Then in realizing he’s opening the door to your son’s room, you ask yourself something at the same time. ‘Did Bro Santa not know I had a kid?’

You have to remind yourself that this wasn’t going to turn into anything. Or at least it wasn’t meant to. If you kept seeing him, then telling him about your son would be honest. If it was just a one night stand though, then why bother sharing?

Instead of just making contact, you went back to your stove, turning off the stoveheads and scratching at your brow. Well this was awkward. But not as awkward as the unexpecting hostility this man bestows once he’s in full view of the kitchen.

“You got a kid?”

You don’t turn to him right away, plating a pancake onto a plate before finally giving him your attention. You cross your arms, licking your lips at the same time.

“I…do. He just wasn’t here tonight.”

“And you didn’t think I needed to know that?” He scoffs. Whatever softness he had prior, it’s gone now. In fact with his headband now on him, he looks downright furious.

“Look, I wasn’t anticipating this to be more than a one night thing alright? I thought you knew, some of the regulars do.” You explain. “Besides, it’s not like I’m pushing anything-”

“Right now, maybe.” Bro growls. “What happens in the future. You’re gonna find me, tell me you’re havin’ another and it’s mine?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Fuckin’ woah, dude. It’s not fucking like that.”

“Like hell it ain’t!” He marches forward, slamming his hand on the wall. “You expect me to believe that? That why you don’t want your ex around? Probably got your money from him and booked it here huh?”

You walk away, unbelieving of the bullshit you’re hearing. “What the fuck is your deal, Bro? It’s nothing like that!”

For the most part, Bro was right about the money. You stole a hot amount before taking off with your newborn. It definitely wasn’t going to be given willingly. You needed out, so you got the fuck out.

“You don’t even know what I’ve been through, asshole.” 

“I’m sure that’s your game, princessa. You act all cute, all sad, just to run a man’s pockets and call it a fuckin day-”

You snap your finger, spinning around and pointing at him with anger in your eyes. “Watch your fuckin mouth, Santa. I’m not one to fuck around. I’m not some whore.”

“Sure was moanin’ like one on my-”

“Don’t. Don’t you fuckin’ forget you were begging to have me.”

This escalated too quickly. You practically felt your head spin. The fact of the matter was, this was a dude with some baggage, and you already had too fucking much to deal with. “You act like I was asking you to step the fuck up. You barely know me, and you're definitely not someone I want around my kid.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Uh, hello?” You scoff. “Mr. Underground? You talk to everyone and everybody that sells around the area. You do work on the low and get paid under the table, I know how guys like you work. You beg, barter, and steal and find someone to drain out of their help before leaving them when they’re no use to you. Fucking been there, done that-”

Bro gives you another sleazy grin, his eyes unmatching the sentiment. “Guess I don’t recognize sloppy seconds the way you assume shit so easily."

Your face falls, eyes blinking away tears. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. And maybe it’s because you can’t help but think that he’s right. Weren’t you? 

“You can fuckin leave.” You grit out.

You pass him, not even caring how he follows you to the hallway. He’s still trying to rile you up.

“Someone like me huh? What does that mean, tell me. Someone like me has to fucking fight every fucking day to live. We’re on the ground, babygirl. You’re not gonna-” 

The door to your room slams right before he finishes his sentence. You hear him let out a frustrating ‘ooooh’ as you rip his shirt over your head. Your eyes are welling with tears, ones that you can’t fight now. You enter your closet, muttering swears up and down, left and right, all while you dress into your normal clothes.

He waits at the hall, opening his mouth to speak when you come out, only you ball up his shirt and chuck it at him. “Get the fuck out of here, Santa. I don’t even wanna look at you.”

“Mira- Hey-!” He grabs at your arms, his shirt now hanging around his neck before you pull away. 

“Get off of me!”

“Just listen for a sec-”

You fight back, tugging your arms back and pushing at him until you get him to the door. Finally you get him past the threshold, but a sob rips through you before you could stop. Bro looks at you, this time with genuine concern. 

“Do me a favor, and forget this happened.” is the final thing you say before you slam the door a second time in Bro Santa’s face.

Your son was a shy thing. Which is something you didn’t really concern yourself with in the beginning when it was just you and him. Although, in reconnecting with your sister, that was a whole other story.

It broke your heart to see him not interacting with his cousins for so long. They would come over just to spend the majority of the time coaxing him over.

It took a minute, but he warmed up.

He’s five years-old, still not speaking as much as you would have hoped he would. But he was very independent.

You didn’t need to help him dress anymore. Or brush his teeth. Sure you supervised it, and helped when he needed it. You just weren’t expecting the change so fast.

After your sister left, you had your son empty his overnight bag. Made him put his dirty clothes away and everything. At first he was tapping his foot, irritated. You put a stop to that with a snap of your fingers.

Leading him to the laundry room, you watch him put the clothes in while you put in the detergent.

“Eventually you’ll have to wash them all by yourself, Dear.” You give him a knowing smile, already laughing before his tired eyes squint at you.

His pacifier is still in his mouth, the one you bought with his cash since it was a really good brand. You tried really hard to get him to lay off of it but man, that did nothing. He wouldn’t drop it for the world.

First you tried hiding it. He bawled his eyes out on the living room floor.

Then you tried squeezing it with lemon juice. He got on the stepper and washed it himself in the sink.

Then you tried bribing him.

It was then he finally put his foot down. “Mine. Mama’s gift. Mine.”

You had to call it quits eventually.

“Fine, baby. But you gotta let go of it at some point.”

Dear didn’t acknowledge anything you had said right there. So you dropped it.

“What? You wanna wear stinky clothes for the rest of your life?” You ask him. 

Dear ponders for a second, not quite thinking out your question. You can tell. After a bit longer, he shakes his head, and has the audacity to point at you and nod.

“Me? Me what?” You already knew what he was gonna do. Sure enough, he points to the washer. His eyes closed and his head nodding up and down. “Oh! So I’m just your cleaning lady aren’t I?”

The boy giggles, his hands covering his mouth before he squeals as you lift him into your arms. “I think you outta learn a thing or two about being a grown up. But you’re lucky you're a baby. And adorable. I’ll let you pass this time.”

You don’t even think he’s heard a word you said as you dig your fingers into his sides, light and feathery. You carry him to the living room, tossing him carefully on the sofa and giggling with him as he puts up a pillow to cover his belly.

“You think that’s gonna do anything?” You cackle, making your way over. “You stinky brat-”

The two of you laugh, fighting at each other, one trying to attack the other trying to escape. In the midst of the chaos, there’s three stiff knocks from the door.

You pause, looking over. You definitely weren’t expecting any guests. Your sister would have announced herself by now too.

No one else knows where you would be…

For the first time since you ran those five years ago, you feel your skin turn ice cold. You swear you can hear the blood rushing down your face. The whole time, Dear’s laughter is still just dying down. He finally looks at you, sitting up and patting your arm.

Concern etches in his face when your eyes snap to his, unknowing that your fear is written all over you.

“Dear…Uh…”

You can’t even get the words out. You had a plan in case something ever happened. Though now, your brian is complete mush.

You look at Dear, and his eyes are filled with worry.

“Baby why don’t you go play with some toys in your room…okay?”

Dear blinks at you, tilting his head in confusion.  He looks to the door, a muffled voice coming through but you’re so out of it you don’t hear it. “Please, baby?”

It’s the final push before your son semi runs to his room, turning to look at you from his doorway before disappearing from your view. You know you’ll have to make sure he’s alright. That you're both safe. And then later you can just relax the rest of the night away with your little boy and the next day will be fine. Same as yesterday and the day before that when he had fun with his older cousins.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and make your way to the kitchen.

A knife gets ripped out of the holder, and you move to the doorway quietly. You look through the peephole, seeing nothing at first. But then you hear movement from below the doorway. You wait, and watch. 

You dread whatever comes out in front of you. Maybe you’d see the familiar dual toned haired maniac you spent so long avoiding. You hope not. Anyone but him. 

‘Please.’ You think. ‘Please. Not him.’

The view of a shadow tightens your grip on the handle of the kitchen knife. 

You’re in such a state of fear you don’t realize it’s gone after standing there for a few minutes longer.

Finally, with whatever strength you can muster, you grip onto the door handle and twist it open. With a steady hand, you push the blade forward. 

The empty air puzzles you. 

Unsure of what to do in this situation, you peek from side to side, not seeing even a single sight of a person anywhere. You look to the ground, blinking at the sudden basket that’s at the foot of your home’s threshold.

Inside, there are certain self care items, sweets, tea bags, and…toys?

You take a closer inspection and sure enough, there’s tiny race cars and a rubix cube in the same bag.

You hum, looking at either side of the hallway again.

There was no doorman, no guard, nothing to tell you who might’ve entered the building. The apartments were sparse, some empty due to them not being fixable, some were just too pricey for others to live in. So you don’t think it could have been one of your neighbors. Especially since these things seem to be…personalized?

You recognize one of the packaging from the bag as a cream you keep in your bathroom. As for the tea bags, they look like the ones that you had in your mug that morning when you kicked Bro out…

You groan, closing the door finally and sliding your back down to the floor. You turn the bag upside down, looking at the contents in disdain. There’s a small, folded up piece of paper that flops out on the bottom. You open it, reading it over and over again. 

‘The moment I messed up, I realized how I couldn’t be without you. My heart aches with you gone. The days are longer, my patience has gone shorter, and I can only think of ways I’d cherish you back by my side. That night of love is something I’ll forever play in my mind. Over and over. The way you call my name. In pleasure, in anger, in general. A prayer to my ego.’

‘Oh so you’re a romantic now?’ You think to yourself, scoffing out loud. Instead of digging through the pile, you swipe the paper up and put it in your pocket. Stuffing the spilled items back into the bag and leaving it on the sofa. If Bro can come up with some sappy bullshit like this, surely he can just say sorry to your face… but you don’t think you want that.

After the small check in with Dear, who thankfully kept his door shut tight until you let him know it was just you, you tucked him in after brushing your teeth together. The moment you realized his breathing evened out, you left him be.

You were just getting to clean everything around the house, doing a last one-over before bed. The bag you left on the sofa was unpacked, but the items were put in a small box. That way if you caught Bro at the door you’d just give them back. At least that’s what you told yourself.

But you didn’t go right back to work the next few nights. You didn’t have to. You made more than your weekly goal the evening you kicked Bro out, so you can spend some time with Dear when he comes back from his weekend with his aunt. For the most part, it was calm. However, the gifts never stopped coming.

At first it was little things. More selfcare items, artificial flowers, sweets that Dear absolutely indulged in no matter how often you tried to hide them, and more kid’s toys. His rubix cube was still his favorite. 

You had to sit down with him and explain that he couldn’t keep these. These were from a stranger and he can’t be accepting gifts from people he doesn’t know.

Sure he tried to argue, but it just ended in him calling you a ‘mean mama’ and hiding in his room for the rest of the day. 

His tapping got worse. It went from his feet tapping on the floor, to his hands banging on the surfaces of the table tops.

The cherry on top was the fact that Dear was now running to the door. As though Bro was his new toy shop. He kind of was but that did not help you whatsoever.

Eventually, he got to the door before you did. 

Bro looked up from where he was leaving another bag, this time an actual gift bag. You wished you could say that’s what caught your attention but it was actually his uniform.

The familiar black and grey pattern caught your eye. You couldn’t believe it. 

Bro joined the Cleaners.

“Hey…” He muttered. He stands to his full height, eyes not leaving yours until you leaped forward, taking your son by his shoulder.

“Dear.” You hissed. “I already told you about answering the door!”

Normally you tried to refrain from raising your voice with Dear. But when you just had a heart attack a few days ago, you’d rather be stern and hard on him now so he’s not turning this into a habit later.

Dear whines, tugging on your pants and pointing up at Bro. You look up, about to tell him off but your voice dies down when you notice the shadow that barely looms over his face. It’s almost as if he’s seen a ghost.

He’s staring down at your son, which automatically makes you want to tug him back behind you. You can see Bro’s fist tightening around the hold of the bag..

Dear, ever the little rascal, ignores your tugging and reaches out of the door to grasp Bro’s hand. Though Dear’s hand is rather small so it takes the middle three fingers and he pulls him inside.

You huff. Thinking he’s gonna go straight for the gift bag but he doesn’t. He just slams the door shut and runs off into the hallway towards his room.

You gap in his direction, gritting his name out like he was caught with his hand in the cookie batter and apologize to Bro. As softly as you allow yourself to be.

Bro shifts, looking around for a short second before finally landing his eyes at you. “Can we…talk? Please?”

“There’s nothing to say, Santa.”

“No, there is. Please. I want to apologize.”

The waver in his voice almost has you agree. Almost. “Why should I listen?”

You try to be an understanding person most of the time. But you gave this guy the time of day, and he spat in your face without even getting to know you like he said he wanted to. He hit you in all the places you hid away and you didn’t even get the satisfaction of tearing him a new one because you were just so hurt.

It was humiliating.

You were never one to cry about stupid things like this. You were stronger than that. You’ve been called worse than that.

“You shouldn’t. I wouldn’t blame you for not hearing me out. Pero, dejame hablarte. Just a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair. For real this time…”

For whatever reason, your heart bunches in a knot. You decided then and there, you really didn’t care what he had to apologize for. You just wanted to hear if his reason was even good enough to consider.

“You’re gambling right now, Bro. What do you need to say?”

The Cleaner licks his lips. His hands shake as they interlock with one another in front of him.

“Where can I start?”

You think about it for a minute. There’s a few options. Why get so aggressive so fast? Why think you were the kind of girl to shift that responsibilities? Why you?

“Why did you go snooping around?”

Bro nods. You can see the cogs turning in his head before he talks. His voice is grave. “To keep this very long story short…I grew up learning it’s important to know where everything is in your environment. When it came to…spending nights with people in general, they were usually at my place so I never worried. This was the first time I willingly went somewhere else out of my comfort zone.”

You nod. “So you tried to nice n' comfy. So comfy you were able to call me a whore-”

“And that was wrong.” He nods. Bro turns his body, leaning closer to you and giving you his full attention. The fidgeting settled it seems. “What I did, what I worked with- we met lots of…beautiful women-”

“This is a great start-” you begin to cut him off, scoffing to the side with your arms crossed tighter over your chest.

“It’s context,” he promises. “And you know, everything was just sex…no emotion, no love… sex and only that. While I regret the way I went about it with you, I don't regret doing it. Then some people, not just women, would use that on us. Either there’s a kid we suddenly knew of, or some pimp sicced a guy on one of ours that wasn’t so open and used it as blackmail…So I came at you the only way I ever knew.”

You don’t say anything. Just stare at the table in front of you. The bag’s contents peeking out interest you more than looking him in the eye. Because you know if you do you’ll fold. And you’re still in the lead.

“That doesn’t really explain why you thought I was that kind of girl.”

“I…I was protecting myself…Feelings that I noticed I had way before I realized this was just going to be a one night thing. No tengo derecho a comportarme así. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I just acted.”

Bro reaches out tentatively. You pull your hand back. His hand slowly lowers, resting on the table.

Silently, it’s a sign. You’re not open to his affection.

“Can I ask something too?”

The audacity. Despite it, you nod.

“What did you mean…’someone like me’? I know probably from the shit that went around but…tell me what you thought I did.”

You let out some air, leaned back in your seat now. Laughing through a sigh of your nose, you put your gaze to the ceiling. “It’s not what I think you do. It’s what I recognize. You deal. Wherever you can. When you’re out, you run packages through the tunnels.”

Your head picks up, a sad smirk upon your face as the brows on Bro’s face furrow in confusion. 

“Tunnels older than our great grandparents. Passing cities undetected. Sometimes you hear things and you feel you’re going crazy. Sometimes you talk to yourself and the walls will respond. And most importantly,” You make eye contact. “You meet the devil in the crossroads of those tunnels. And he gives you more. And more. And suddenly you realize you can’t stay away from them for long.”

There is a long, painful, silence. The two of you stare at each other and suddenly there’s an understanding. ‘You’re like me.’ the two of you think respectively.

The air shifts. It’s not like it’s any lighter than before but it’s more bearable.

“Who’s his father?”

You shut your eyes. As though that question confirms your worst nightmares. It may not be him that found you, but it’s too close. Way too close to home. You told yourself you wouldn’t mess with guys with this life. The ones that do anything for money.

Because that’s what you did.

Once upon a time you were in those tunnels. You were alone talking to those walls. And the Devil heard you ask for a friend. A companion. And he answered with a name.

“You’re old boss.” 

You don’t say anything when Dear pokes his head back into the room, unaware of the tension brewing amongst you two. You just smile like everything is ok. Like there wasn’t an issue. Although to Bro, it is rather amusing to see you snap into Mama mode.

You lightly scold him for bringing in a ‘stranger’ to the house. Even if he now knows he’s “mom’s friend.”

Bro doesn’t know what to do with himself. But he is a polite person when he wants to be. So he stretches his hand. Albeit nervously, but Dear reaches out as well.

“Nice to meet you, kid. You can call me, Bro.”

Dear pulls his hand away, shyly digging his face back into your chest as you giggle. You bounce him in your lap, and try to ignore the stare Bro gives you. Dear finally pulls out the rubix cube Bro left for him in the bag. It was solved. You assumed that was why he invited him in so excitingly.

Right after praising the 5-year-old, he whispers something that only really means something to you.

“He’s got Kori’s hair.” 

You sigh. “I know.”

The dual tone wasn’t yours. You thought it was some kind of curse bestowed upon you. But after holding Dear in your arms, you realized it was far from the truth. You once loved his father. And that was something you’d hold dearly in your heart. People change and there is no fixing what isn’t meant to be fixed. But he left you with the only piece of him you’ll ever need. Your son.

And you’ll be damned if you ever let the same thing happen to Dear. You’ll give him a life of fulfillment. Of kindness. With or without help.

Bro reaches his hand out again, a silent ask of a treaty. You hesitate, slowly putting your pinky around his. And that’s good enough for him.

“He’s got his mama’s looks at least.”

“Oh, shut up.”

You try not to go after men like him. The kind that’ll do anything for cash. The kind that’ll do almost anything for a price.

Givers were odd. And so was he.

He always had a lot of money. Sometimes over tipping. Like that’s what got your attention.

Sure you were working for good money, but you weren’t working like that.

Other times, you noticed he’d be talking to newer people. ‘Cleaners’ you think they were called. You’re ex hated them. Butting their noses where they didn’t belong. That’s when you found out it wasn’t just drugs he was moving around. It was people. Givers. 

You didn’t like thinking back to that time. Open your eyes to see what you should avoid. Like the man of the hour. The final warning to not get close to him was the first time he sat at the bar on your first day of bartending.

“I don’t want to deal with fuckin’ kids, man. Pain in the ass.”

He was sat with a friend of his, probably someone from the underground scene. You did notice him hanging around them. Sometimes you wondered if they knew about a certain group you were trying to avoid.

You had a 5 year-old to worry about. So that was that.

The only one’s aware you were even a mother were the regulars. Like…regulars. Friends of the owner type regulars. Like Bro. Yet, that didn’t seem to stop him.

“Let me get a whiskey, princess.”

You ignore his pet name when you snap back to reality, taking a decently filled bottle from behind you and looking at him with a small smile.

“Something new, huh? On the rocks?”

You wait for him to say something. Anything. Instead he holds your stare. 

It’s then you really take in his face. How his hair is tied back in a low ponytail, his goatee is well taken care of and trimmed to be as short as possible. His bandana hides the majority of his forehead, but you can see how he’s furrowing where his brows would be.

You play his game for a moment longer, setting the glass down. “Got something on my face?”

Bro gives you a smirk, his mouth the only thing moving. “I’ve been trying to get you to look at me for a while. Figured we’d get to know each other. But, you don’t seem to want anything to do with me.”

His hands interlace with each other, resting on the bar. You look down at them. They’re large, a ring on each middle finger, one around his thumb. “I’m hurt, chula.”

“You want the drink or not, Santa?” It comes out light, but he knows he’s testing you. You're irritated tonight. And he feels like he knows why.

“I want the drink, sweetheart. Give the glass a little kiss for me would you?”

You scoff, pouring his drinking out of the chilled bottle into an empty glass. No ice. The final touch was you putting the glass onto the table, some of the whiskey slipping out.

“Hey.” He tuts. “Come on, bonita. Talk to me.”

You roll your eyes, shoveling up ice from the ice bucket below the bar, and tossing it in his glass. “Sorry. Rough night.” You say sarcastically, uncaring on how full that glass is now.

“You really haven't gotten laid in a while have you?”

You grimace at his words. He’s not wrong.

It’s the way he says it so knowingly that irks you. “What the fuck is it to you?” You bite. “If that’s your way to get in my pants, just take your fuckin drink and find a hooker. There’s a ton around here.”

“I don’t want that.” He grins, the frown disappearing. “I’m tryin’ to get to know you. Been wanting to.”

You roll your eyes.

Night after night, he comes in and sits right the fuck in front of you. You greet him normally, and end the interaction the same way.

“Bite me.”

Until finally he steps his game up. He waits for you.

You walk out, letting your co-workers do the last of the closing shift. You barely made it across the street from the bar to head home when you caught his eye. He was leaned against the wall, talking to some blonde guy with a scar on his left eye. The stranger gives Bro a knowing smile, tapping him on the arm before walking off.

The giver grins at you. That wicked, crooked smile that matches his lax energy. You don’t see how or why he’s attractive to you right now. But your eyes keep raking up and down his body.

“You look a little tense, nena. Need some hands?”

With a tired sigh, you give Bro a small glare. “Trying to get in my bed, Santa?”

“Or get you in mine. But that can wait. Maybe let me take you out?” You scoff, ignoring his presence as he walks besides you.

“What the fuck are you even doing here? That’s how I know something’s weird about you, you left the bar like…an hour ago.”

“Just made some solid cash. That’s all.” He at least sounds sincere. “Come on. Celebrate with me.” 

Bro cautiously steps towards you, his hands out of his pockets but also away from his body. As though he’s telling you he’s unarmed. You trust him for now.

“I’ve been dying to get to know you since I laid eyes on you.”

Okay maybe not. You snort, “Please. I got a lot on my plate already. So why the hell are you trying so hard?.”

“Why else would I have waited this long to get your attention?”

“All this to get to third base? You’re a dog.” Part of you stills when you hear those words leave you. You’re usually not this abrasive right off the bat. Then again, Bro has been trying to get under your skin– maybe even your sheets, for a while. So why is it when he steps right into your bubble, you let him lean to your ear. 

Bro has no shame. Growling with a sick smile and nothing innocent shining against his teeth. “You wanna throw this dog a bone here? If I’m that bad, I’ll leave you alone.”

His hand slides around your waist, and you put your hands against his chest as he pulls you in.

“What do ya say? You’re free this weekend aren’t ya?”

This was such a bad idea. You tell yourself you’re just looking for a way to let off some steam. Just looking for some fun.

Here you are, right against the door of the inside of your apartment. You know your kid is at your sisters, so this is your only chance.

Somehow, in the middle of your makeout, you find the strength to push back. You giggle, wiping at your chin and lead him to the living room. You push him down, immediately following him with your knees trapping him from either side of his lap. Lips press together, hands roam all over.

“Knew you wanted me, all you had to do was admit it.” Bro whispers, in between the little gaps of your kissing.

“God you’re such a fucking snark.”

With that, you stand in front of him, pulling your shirt of and shimmying off your jeans. He sits up, his own blue short short sleeve slipping off. His white tank top hugs his body, stretching against his chest and you notice a silver chain hangs just below his collarbone. 

You're left in your underwear now, you're quick to try and fall to your knees but he stops you almost instantly.

“Hold on, baby. Hold on.” Bro’s fingers trail up the soft skin of your thighs. Sending you a tickling sensation. You reach out. Your fingers gliding on the tops of his shoulder while his mouth presses open mouth kisses on your tummy.

You whimper, the sensation of his tongue on you making you feel butterflies just under the layers of flesh. This was new.

You were used to the quickness, the borderline bdsming, the rush. This had you really pause and think.

After months of carefulness, after making sure there was no way for your past to catch up to you, you couldn’t have thought this was safe. You bring a random man- well…as random as he gets, home. You go all in, ripping your clothes off for some relief and you're just…not even second guessing this. Why would you, anyways?

This was temporary. This was just sex.

‘Just sex…’ You think to yourself. ‘Just…sex…’

“Why are you being…” You feel the words slip away from you, the same time Bro’s hands grip at the back of your ass. Fondling you as his kisses began to rise. He pulls you onto his lap, one arm wrapping around your waist while his hand was firmly places right under your panties.

His lips met your chest, lips wrapping around a nipple and looking up at you with complete desire.

You feel your face grow warm, unable to form any sounds other than cooing eager pleas.

“This feels nice.”

‘What a stupid thing to say.’ You think.

“Good.” Bro responds. “Want you to feel nice.”

His words are slightly muffled, his tongue staying out of his mouth to swirl over your areola. You look away, eyes finding anything else to gaze upon. Your heart sinks a bit when you see the little blanket peeking out the toy chest but before you can even think anything to yourself, you squeal with surprise.

You look down with a mad pout, raising your hand to smack Bro for biting you. He lets go, reaching up to stop your hand and presses your lips flat against his.

Your muffled moan is angry, your eyes closing to get lost in the feeling. Your hips grind down on his bulge that’s just waiting to burst out his zipper. Every grind, you hear him groan and it feeds your ego like no other. He whimpers at some point, the second you begin to twist your hips right as you find that spot on your clit with a gasp. You dig into that spot with another roll of your hips, stopping only when he taps your thigh gently.

The second you pull away you’re both huffing into each other's faces. 

“That fuckin’ hurt.”

“Aw, need me to kiss it better?”

You scoff, lowering yourself to your knees and fiddling with his belt to release him from his confinements.

“You’re such a pain.” You mutter. Your hand wraps around this length right as he raises his hips to lower his pants, scooting the front of his boxers down just enough to spring it free.

You pause, staring at this…monster.

The head is red and angry, the base of it is buried under thick black curls, and the girth…

You gulp. Taking in a deep breath before hovering your mouth over the tip. Slowly, you bring his cock to your mouth, taking in as much as possible. Your hands reach up and grip his thighs. Trying to breathe through your nose.

You only began moving when his fingers gently start to brush your hair away. 

Every thrust into your mouth, had you gurgling a new sound of ecstasy. You were getting more and more cock drunk with every. Single. Push.

You manage to take him halfway, your eyes glancing up at him with a plead.

“Come on, mami. You can take it.” He groans, one hand reaching up to push his shirt back, the other holding the back of your head to keep you in place. “Right there. Hold it there.”

You have to breathe through your nose in shallow breaths. Otherwise you might-

In thinking about it too much, you painfully gag, tapping his thigh fast to warn him and he lets you go.

Your head rips away from him. Panting and swallowing whatever residue stayed in your mouth. Your eyes were teary, rose runny and you're sure your lips were swollen.

And you loved it.

Eyes looking up at Bro, you give him a drunken smile. You brace yourself on his knees again, lapping up his tip and shaking your head onto his cock. 

The groan he makes as his head tips back has your back arching, wanting to give him more. But in the back of your mind, you had a small idea.

You watch him nearing his peak. Waited till he started panting and you grated your teeth just light enough for him to feel it.

Bro hisses, his hand snapping to grasp under your jaw.

Your eyes widen in fake shock, and falters at the look of pure irritation that reads on this man's face.

“You wanna play stupid games? I got a stupid prize for you.” He growls. “Come on. Do it again, I dare you.”

You blink, his cock still twitches every now and then. With a sly crack of a smile, you bare your teeth out again. 

Suddenly, you squeal, feeling yourself getting manhandled to your back on the sofa. The sound of light tearing snaps you out of your haze and you look down. He tore your good pair of panties.

They weren’t lace, or fancy, but they were comfortable dammit. And comfort doesn’t come around on the ground.

“Hey! You fucking jack-ass!”

You let out another squeal, feeling a sting to your most sensitive bits.

It’s not long before his mouth is pressed against you, sucking in your clit, fingers curled deep inside of you while you thrash in overstimulation. 

He’s already dragging out your second orgasm so far. And you just need a small break. 

“Please…!” You whine. “Please! Oh my fucking- you’re gonna make me…make me…!”

You listen to him hum, egging you on, nodding with your shaking legs before your body convulses in small but strong jolts of pleasure.

You arch your back, hands closed in fists you hit against his head in vain. He’s not letting up but he is laughing into you. Finally, he pulls away, his long tongue lapping at the slit of your pussy one last time.

“Yeah I think you’re ready now.”

Dazed, you don’t even know what he says as he helps you onto his lap. 

You only understand you’re being held up, your knees on either side of his waist before feeling the head of his cock prod at your entrance.

“Come on baby,” You manage to hear. “Let’s go. Ride me.”

You nod, eyes fucked out and hands bracing on his shoulders.

Slowly, you lower yourself onto him. Wincing and whimpering in mild discomfort. You try to just get it all in to adjust sooner but Bro stops you.

“Despacito, chula. Don’t be hurting yourself now.”

“Wan’ it.” You drool out. “Want your cock. I wan’ it.”

Bro pulls you towards him. His lips hover yours while he whispers. “Andale, pues. You want it? You want me?”

“Yes!” You hiss, fully sitting on his lap now, him hilting into you. Your mouth is hung wide open. A new sound rips from your throat, echoing out with a dying breath. “Oh fuck, you’re fuckin’ huge-!”

Bro gives you a grunt, laughing when he finds his composure. It’s still broken, feeling your walls fluttering around him. “And I thought I had you prepped enough. You’re fucking strangling me.”

With every thrust, you’re apologizing. With every grunt, you’re moaning. There’s no winning here. You’re just ready for the sweet release awaiting you, and there’s a feeling in your chest you’re sure is going to make you pass out..

Your walls squeeze around him, sucking him in. Eventually you feel yourself tiring out, but that idea leaves you as soon as you feel his arms wrap around your waist.

You shout, arms wrapping around his neck, and biting into his shoulder to try and quiet down. He’s pistoning in and out of you, lifting you up as though you were just some fleshlight.

You plead, and beg, and finally find your words.

“I’m gonna- oh fuck I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonnacumgonnacumgonnacum!”

Bro lets out a deep sigh, like he was holding his breath. His voice is ragged, rough, and super close to your ear. “Cum for me. Let go. Let me feel you fuckin’ cum for me!”

You feel that knot tighten in your belly.

“Squeeze me tighter…tighter! Fuck!”

Bro practically roars his release out, triggering yours not long after. Somehow that enhances his sensitivity.

After shooting ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you, the tightness of your cunt has him throwing his head back and hissing in slight discomfort. Or oversimulation would be the better term.

“That’s it, chula.” 

Bro brings a hand up, cupping it under your jaw. He makes you look at him. You’re fucked out expression having him grinning from ear to ear.

“Y’alright?”

You give him a lopsided smile. Giving him a drawn out ‘uh huh.’

“Think you can take me again? Or you wanna take a little break?”

God this guy’s ruining you.