Jayden

You loved teaching your kids, but you also loved going home at the end of the day and spent the rest of your evening away from doodled brainrot memes on the students assignments and cuddling up in Rylands arms instead. Ugh, five days of chaperoning eighth graders through the science museum, various history exhibits and activities that tired them out enough so they wouldn't destroy the whole hostel when you came back for dinner.

All of this without your boyfriend cheering you up with his stupid science puns, even when you two weren't allowed to sleep in the same room. Sometimes you did it anway, giggling like you were highschoolers breaking the rules- as if you weren't two adults. Well, you weren't so sure when it came to Grace.

The memory made you smile as you laid alone in your tiny hostel room, staring up at the ceiling. The only thing that kept you sane throughout this trip was thinking about Grace, how his hands felt on your hips, the soft and almost shy way he kissed you before making slow and sensual love to you while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Your thighs clenched together, and you smiled at Rylands good night message on your phone, knowing he was already tucked in for bed. You shot back that you missed him with a kiss emoji, before you rolled over, hugging your pillow to your chest.

Friday couldn't come fast enough.

☆

By the time you sat in the bus back to town, you were practically vibrating with need and excitement. So much so that the loud chattering and bickering of your students in the seats behind you didn't even faze you one bit. Not even the grating voice of Mr. History could bring you out of your good mood.

You didn't even send Ryland a text that you were coming over as soon as you arrived. He thought you'd be too tired after dealing with young teenagers for a week straight and just wanted to come home to spend a peaceful night alone, so this would be the perfect surpise! You did want to unwind, but why not do it with your beloved boyfriend? Some gourmet ramen (50ct ramen packets topped with a softboiled egg), catching up on new teacher gossip from school while you were away and loving, hot, sloppy sex just to fall asleep in Rylands arms right after and being able to sleep in the next day. There really wasn't anything better than that, no matter in which order those things happened.

You had worn that little black dress he loved, the one with the plunge neckline and a hem that barely brushed your thighs under a jacket and paired with some ugly pants, just so your students wouldn't tease you for looking like a stripper. You had a reputation to uphold after all, and you didn't need to be the next hot topic in the teachers lounge because parents were mad the teacher of their children was appearently dressing like a whore.

You slipped out of the jacket and pants when you arrived at Rylands apartment complex, swapping your converse for heals and your chapstick for lipstick. You packed everything into your bag, brushing your hair with your fingers to make it sit nicely as you looked into the elevator mirror, pushing down the hem of your dress so you wouldn't accidentally reveal your little secret to an unknown neighbor- you had left your panties in your suitcase. You weren't wearing anything underneath the dress, not even a bra, just another little surpise for Ryland.

God, you felt like such a slut walking down the hallway on his floor, and it seemed to stretch endlessly before you finally reached his door.

Your heart was pounding in anticipation to see his face when he would open the door, so you didn't waste any more time and knocked firmly, listening to shuffling and footsteps behind the wood, before it finally creaked open.

Instantly, you threw your arms around his neck and fell into him, your bag forgotten at your feet. "Surprise!" you giggled, squeezing him tightly. Fuck, he smelled good. Judging by his damp hair, he was fresh out the shower, a towel with bleach spots hanging around his neck. Ryan didn't bleach his hair, so it was probably used in a science project at school and he thought it was too wasteful to throw it out.

"I missed you so much-" you said as you pulled back so you could look at him, only for your brain to short-circuit.

Your jaw hung open as you took him in, he somehow looked equally shocked. Rylands beard was darker and longer than a week ago, though he usually shaved it before it got too thick. You always wanted to see him grow out his stubble, and shit, you knew he'd look damn good with it.

He wasn't wearing his glasses, which you blamed on him being fresh out of the shower, and he wasn't wearing his usual science pun shirts and heart briefs, but a white shirt with faint grease stains that just wouldn't wash out, the sleeves so short they strained over his plump biceps and jeans that were ripped at the knees hung low on his hips.

You didn't even know he had clothes like that. This wasn't how you had left Ryland behind, but you weren't about to complain one bit.

"Ryland" you breathed as your eyes trailed over him with appreciation and he opened his mouth to speak, but you pressed a finger to his lips "No, let me have this" you shushed, getting back to admiring him. Your hand came up to cup his face, your thumb brushing through his tamed but dark beard, a low and genuine moan escaping your lips "Fuck, look at you. This beard is so sexy. Why didn't you tell me you wanted to grow it out? I've been waiting for you to do that" you smiled, biting your lips as you looked up at a starstruck Grace, who had no idea where to place his hands.

Your hand wandered over his broad shoulders down his arms, squeezing his biceps that seemed even fuller than before, thick veins curling underneath his skin. You whined at the firmness of his muscles "Fuck, did you work out while I was away? My god..." you sighed, your thighs pressing together. You could almost feel the slick running down your thighs.

He blinked, his mouth opening to speak, but you didn't let him, you just couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

You pressed your body against his, your breasts flattening against his chest, and you kissed him hard, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He tasted different than you remembered, like coffee and something else, something smoky you couldn't quite put your finger on, but you didn't care. Your brain was flooded with lust, with the sheer relief of finally touching him after five long days, and you wanted more.

For a moment, you felt him lean heavily into it before he broke the kiss, his rough hands coming up to your shoulders, not pushing you away but holding you at arm's length. His voice was a little lower than usual, but not enough for you to actually notice. The only thing you noticed was how wet you were getting, and how your fingers tingled with the urge to rip that tight shirt off him and lick his pecs. You were practically vibrating up and down as he held you firmly.

"Uh, sweetheart, I think you've got the wrong guy-" he finally spoke ever since you arrived, but you wouldn't have any of that. You playfully rolled your eyes, jabbing his chest "Oh, you really want to do that?" you interrupted, laughing.

He tilted his head in confusion. "You really want to roleplay now?" you grinned, tugging him closer by his belt. Roleplaying wasn't that unusual with Grace. He was a little nerd after all, and not only when it came to astrophysic and science. He probably wanted to surpise you, just like you wanted to surpise him. The thought made your heart melt.

"And who are you supposed to be?" you purred, walking over his stomach and chest with your middle and pointer finger, feeling something twitch through the denim against your core. "Some strong 'n sexy mechanic who needs to look under the hood of my car? Because I think it might be leaking something..." you bit your lip, grasping his wrists to bring his hands to your thighs, guiding them upwards to bunch up the hem of your dress and let him feel your bare ass. His eyes grew wide. "Maybe you should take a look."

Colt stared down at you, the woman in his arms, his brother's girlfriend.

He had seen you around the apartment complex a few times, as well as on the few pictures Ryland had put up in his apartment, though they were massively outweighed by nerdy sci-fi and space flight posters.

This was terribly wrong, and he knew he should stop this. Right fucking now. He had been dumped by Jody many months ago and he hadn't felt the tender touch of a woman since forever, and it should stay that way for now- especially since you were his brothers girlfriend for christs sake!

But you were so plumb and soft under his hands, it was almost ridiculous how his little brother managed to bag a girl like you. You were so damn pretty and eager, and he'd be a liar if he said your moaning while touching his beard didn't sent a jolt straight to his dick. And fuck, it had been a long week of stunts that left him bruised, sore and he was reminded too much of the stunts he filmed for Jodys first movie. He was starving for some affection that took his mind off of things. So what was the harm in letting you think he was Ryland? Just this once, it would never happen again. No one had no know.

"Yeah" he finally said, his voice dropping into a low, playful growl. "I think I need to check under that hood real good." He swept you up, one arm around your ass and practically throwing you over his shoulder as if you didn't weigh as much as you did. You shrieked then, surprised by his strength, giggling as he groped your ass while he carried you towards the bedroom, your heels slipping off your feet in the process, laying abandoned in the hallway.

He threw you onto the bed, something he had never done before quite like this, and you gasped before giggling, the smug grin he gave you as he crawled over you making your heart skip a beat.

His beard was rough against your cheeks as he kissed down your jaw and throat, mouthing at your cleavage with a wet tongue. "Mhm, such a naughty girl, showing up at my door with no panties on" he murmured, his hands sliding under your dress, pushing it up your thighs.

"Don't act like you don't like it" you whimpered with a teasing smirk, rubbing your bare pussy against the denim on his thigh, arching into his touch. He chuckled them "You know all my weaknesses, baby" and then he pulled your dress over your head in one swift movement, your breasts spilling out, your stomach soft and round, your thighs already slick with arousal that quickly soaked his pants the longer you pressed yourself against them.

He let out a low whistle. "My god, look at you. So beautiful. All these sweet curves- gonna make you feel so good, baby"

He dove down, his mouth closing over your nipple, sucking hard while his hand kneaded your other breast. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his drying hair. He was acting very different today, aside from his looks. He was more agressive, usually Ryland took his sweet time with you, but you loved the change of pace that was going on right now, the way how hungrily he groaned as he explored your body with his lips like he had missed you since forever.

His beard scratched your skin and it sent shivers down your spine, your hand pulling his hair as he moved lower, kissing down your belly, his tongue dipping into your navel, his breath hot against your skin.

"Open your legs for me, baby" he almost begged and you obeyed, spreading yourself wide for him. He settled between your thighs, and when his tongue first lapped at your clit, you screamed. He was relentless, licking and sucking on your pussy like his life depended on it, his beard rubbing against your inner thighs and stoking the fire in your gut. "God, you taste so fucking sweet. You're dripping for me. You like my beard, don't you? You like feeling it on your pussy?" he taunted you then- and the alarm bells in your heads should have gone off in that moment. Ryland never cursed, not even while you had sex. But the way his voice vibrated into your cunt cleared your mind of any thoughts alltogether.

"Yes, yes, yes!" you chanted, your hips bucking against his face with a whine. His mouth worked your clit in relentless tight circles and deep sucks, and you came hard, your body going ridgid and your thighs crushing his head as he kept licking you through your orgasm, his free hand pressing down on your lower belly to keep you still and pressed tightly to his face, until you were gasping and trembling in his grip from overstimulation.

He softly made out with your pussy to bring you back to earth, your legs falling limp onto the matress. You were panting, a fucked out smile on your face as you let out a breathless laugh "Wow..."

Colt smirked up at you from between your legs and you clenched around nothing at the sight "Don't fall asleep on me, baby. We're not done yet" he said, crawling up to kiss you, his beard slick with your wetness, his cock pressing against your thigh.

He manhandled you onto your stomach without another word, and you heard his belt buckle clink open and heavy jeans hitting the floor.

He pulled your hips up and soon after, the head of his cock was teasing your entrance.

"Fucking shit, you're really doing this. You stupid fucking idiot" Colt muttered to himself, quiet enough that you didn't hear him over your pathetic whines and wriggling back against his cock.

He pushed in, slow at first, letting you feel every inch, and you gasped at how thick he was, somehow thicker than you remembered, stretching you in a way that made your toes curl and your body arch into him, your face squished against the pillows.

Colt bottomed out with a hearty groan, his hips flush against your ass. He stayed like this for a moment, soaking up the feeling of having a warm, tight pussy wrapped around him. His head hung between his arms, trying to shove the guilt aside bubbling up in his chest.

He snapped out of it as you desperately tried to get him to move, pressing your hips back against his to feel his tip barely kissing your cervix. He smiled then, sighing softly before he started to move, thrusting into your wet heat that opened up for him eagerly. You moaned loudly, biting into the pillow, your eyes rolling back.

Fuck, it was almost unfair that Ryland kept you all to himself like that.

A broken moan left him as he heard the wet slap of your pussy as he pounded you into the matress, the sloppy suction of your cunt making his head spin. Fuck, you really were into his brother. Not even Jody got this wet when he fucked her, but you were practically dripping all over the sheets.

Colt leaned over you, his mouth beside your ear, his heaving breaths kissing the shell of your ear "You love this, huh? Being fucked by me. Tell me how much you love it."

You whined, a shudder running down your spine "I love it" you breathed "I love your cock, Ryland. Love the way you fill me up. Please, don't stop!" you cried, gushing over his length.

"Wouldn't ever dream of stopping, sweetheart" he rasped, fucking you hard and fast, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, his hands gripping your hips so tight you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. Colt could have cried from happiness every time he slipped all the way inside you.

Ryland had never been so rough with you before, punching the air out of your lungs with every harsh thrust that made you feel him all the way in your throat. "Oh. My. God. Uh. Fuck!" you moaned, the sentence chopped up by his relentless pounding until you weren't able to form a proper word anymore.

His thrusts pushed your face into the pillow and you just let him use you like this, your moans muffled by the fabric.

You were used to sensual, loving sex with Ryland. You didn't even know he had it in him to make your legs shake like this, your hands helplessly clawing at the bedsheets as if it would prevent you from coming apart at the seams. You were drooling, wheezing out pathetic moans, your pussy quivering around his dick.

That made Colt almost topple over you, laughing out a whine "Fuck, you feel so good" he almost sobbed, letting out a whimper that sent heat straight to your core. He reached around and found your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts, and it didn't take long for you to cum again, your walls clenching around him, a strangled cry escaping your lips.

He didn't give you any time to recover, flipping you onto your back again. "Someone is eager today, huh?" you rasped, your voice raw from all your screaming. A lot of things didn't seem right today, though his appearance was the least of your concerns. He was about to fuck the third orgasm out of you without even cumming once himself- which was very odd, but how could you really think about that when he was already slipping back into your cunt, hooking your legs over his shoulder.

"Can't help it when you look this amazing" he said, kissing the insides of your plush thighs before bending your legs forward as much as your flexibility allowed, his eyes stopping at your face. He smiled then, his blue eyes glowing "Wow...you're so pretty" he smiled in awe and you mimicked the expression, even though your mind was hazy with pleasure. "It's crazy" he chuckled as if he couldn't believe it, almost as if he forgot he was still balls deep inside you.

Your head rolled to the side with a flattered grin, but Colt wouldn't have that. He pushed forward, delivering toe curling pressure to your cervix and you mewled.

"Look at me" he commanded then, albeit a bit breathless and soft, and you mustered all your strength to listen and turn your head, staring into those eyes you thought were Rylands "I want to see your face when you come on my cock." he whispered, underlining his words by setting a brutal pace.

You cried out, reaching up a shaking hand to pull him down into a sloppy kiss, the tendons in your legs straining as he bent over to lock his lips with yours, his mouth opening to let your tongue slip inside to taste him like you pleased. Your hand fisted in his hair as he thrusted deep, grinding his hips against yours.

You felt him throbbing against your sweetspot, signaling that he was close, and you were able to push him back long enough for you to slip your legs from his shoulders to rest upon his hips, your ankles locking behind his back. Your other hand found your clit to rub it in frantic circles, and you quickly felt another orgasm building, coiling low in your belly. "I'm gonna cum again" you whimpered against his lips. "Cum inside me, Ryland. Please, please, please!"

He growled, as if he could will himself to resist this sweet temptation, your syrupy words making his balls draw tight. It was one thing sleeping with his brothers girlfriend, with neither knowing that it was him, but it was another to cum inside your own brothers girlfriend without protection.

You shattered then, your body violently convulsing around him, and fuck, fuck! Please be on birth control, please be on birth control-!

His nose scrunched up and he groaned, burying his face in your neck as he spilled inside you, pumping you full of his hot, thick cum. You smiled in bliss, sucking a bruise into his neck while his hips stilled.

His head was tucked in your neck, his panting breath hitting your sweaty skin. You mouthed softly at his shoulder, your eyes fluttering open, fuzzy pleasure blurring your vision as you basked in the afterglow. Oh, you had missed this, missed being with your boyfriend, missed being this close to Ry-

"RYLAND!?" you shrieked as you saw a horrified Grace stand by your bed, his eyes wide and shocked, and his mouth agape in a speechless gasp.

You looked at the man who was still inside you and shoved him off firmly, making him almost roll down the bed as you scooted towards the headboard, covering your naked body with a thin blanket. You looked between the stranger and Ryland, and for a moment you questioned yourself if you had hit your head, because you could have sworn you saw double.

"What the fuck!" you squealed, covering your mouth with your hand. The whole time you thought you were having sex with Ryland, when in reality you let his stranger who looked like him see you bare and vulnerable. You didn't even use protection, god damn it!

"What the actual fuck!?" Ryland yelled, making you flinch. He never raised his voice like this, never cursed, but it wasn't directed at you. He looked to the other man, a snarl on his face "Colt, what the fuck did you do, you bastard!?" he practically growled and threw himself at his twin brother, it had to be his twin, holding him by the collar of the shirt he had left on. Colt held up his hands, pleading "Ry, please, calm down! She came in here, thought I was you and jumped on me. I tried to tell her I wasn't you, but she wouldn't listen!" he tried to explain himself quickly.

"You tried!?" Rylands eyes were blazing with fury "You didn't try hard enough! She's my girlfriend, you absolute fucking dick! You did this on purpose!" he said with a shaking voice.

Your head was spinning, this was crazy! Why did Grace never mention he had a twin in the first place!? "Ryland, I'm so sorry" you started, tears welling in your eyes. "I didn't know. I thought it was you. I swear, I thought-" but he interrupted your pitiful hiccups.

"You thought what? That my beard would magically get three shades darker? That I'd bleach my hair because I was, i don't know, feeling edgy?!" he threw his hands into the air, ruffling his already messy hair, turning around with a heavy sigh as he couldn't bear to look at you "I can't believe this."

Your heart ached in your chest and you chewed on your bottom lip, suffocated by the silence. Colt went to put on his boxers so he wasn't so bare in front of you two "Listen, Ry. It was a mistake, and I'm really sorry. But we can't undo what happened, so-"

"Shut up, Colt." Ryland snapped, turning his glare to his brother. "You don't get to talk."

You got to your feet, the sheet clutched around you, your legs shaking. "Ryland, please. I love you. This doesn't change that. I was just so excited to see you and, and i really thought it was you. Im so, so sorry" you stepped toward him, reaching out, but he took a step back.

"You just let my brother fuck you" he said, his voice breaking. "How am I supposed to feel about that?"

Colt cleared his throat "She came like three times, maybe you could feel happy for her" he muttered, instantly regretting his words "I said shut up!" Rylands face was red as he yelled at his brother yet again.

There was a long, tense silence. You looked between the two identical men, both exactly your type- visually at least. You loved Ryland more than anything, you really did, but despite that, despite the guilt you felt- a dangerous thought crept into your mind. A thought that made you wet again, even though you felt just as sick about it.

"What if...what if we don't let this ruin us?" you said quietly, your voice hesitant. Both of them turned to look at you. "I know it's a crazy thing to say, but we could...maybe, you know..." you looked at Ryland, as if he would continue your sentence for you. "Maybe we could do it...all three? Together?" The words got stuck in your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all. You hoped Grace wouldn't just leave alltogether now.

Ryland stared at you, his expression unreadable. Colt raised an eyebrow, a slight smile spreading across his face "You want your girl to feel good, right? And I'd be grateful if you had a little bit of mercy left for your bother" he sighed dramatically, grasping his chest as if he was wounded like in his stunts "It's been months since I last had such a pretty thing under my hands, I'm dying of thirst over here, Ry"

Grace ignored his brother and took a deep breath, then another. His eyes searched yours through his gold rimmed glasses "You promise this doesn't change anything? That you're still mine?"

You nodded quickly "I promise. I'm yours, Ryland. Only yours" you said and brought your hands to his face, kissing him softly. He leaned into it, and when you pulled back, he hesitated for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "Only if I get to decide what he can and can't do. And if he touches you wrong, I'm stopping this" he muttered against your lips.

Colt couldn't believe that Grace was actually considering it, but he wasn't about to complain one bit! "Wouldn't dream of it, bro" Colt said from behind you, his hands sliding underneath the sheet wrapped around your body to let it slip down your form and pool onto the floor.

Before your world turned into a blurred mess of heat and pleasure, Ryland made sure his brother knew the rules. He forbid him to be inside you, Colt had enough of that for one day- or ever. But he was allowed to kiss your body, make you cum with his tounge or fingers, stick his cock down your throat and grope your tits. Everything else was just for Ryland and Ryland alone, just how it should be, and how it would continue to be after this was over.

The brothers threw you onto the bed, and Colt quickly went in to suck and lick your body, his coarse beard scraping against your heated skin. They tossed and turned you on the bed like a ragdoll to each get a taste of your skin, covering as much ground as possible with their lips and hands.

They handled you onto your knees, where Grace knocked your knees apart, spreading your ass cheeks to watch your pussy flutter, desperate to be full. He rubbed your clit from behind, to which your mouth fell open in a moan, but it was quickly cut off by Colt shoving his dick between your lips. "Open wide for me, baby" he grinned and you did, squealing around him when Rylands familiar thickness pushed into you, sliding into your wet, ready pussy with a groan.

Colts hand wrapped around the back of your head, really just to hold you, as Rylands thrust made you stumble forward slightly, right onto Colts cock. He whined as he looked down at you, watching your eyes tear up from all the sensations you were experiencing.

Grace fucked you like you knew he would, with long, deep but slow strokes that let you feel every vein on his cock, covering the length with your slick arousal and pushing out Colts remaining cum, to which Ryland smiled to himself. There really was only place for one twin in your pussy, and he was making sure it would always be his.

You gagged softly around Colt as a particulary deep thrust from Grace made you want to gasp, completely forgetting you had a mouth full of meat that made it hard to breathe it the first place. The additional tightness made Colt throw his head back "Yeah, take it" he grunted. "You like being the center of attention, don't you? Two cocks for one greedy little girl, so naughty"

Ryland shushed him, stroking your back "Don't shame her, she's allowed to be as greedy as she wants. She deserves it" he muttered in awe, his hips speeding up just a little to watch your back arch. "You're so beautiful like this." he whispered then, and he felt you clench around him tightly. God he had missed you so much, even though it had only been five days. He hadn't imagined that your arrival back would result in this, but he was happy regardless to get to take you, to see you drowning in pleasure.

You mumbled something around Colts dick, to which he pulled out with a wet pop, slowy petting your cheek "What was that, sweetheart?" he asked, panting. You could tell he had been close.

You coughed before you turned to look over your shoulder at Grace "I love you, Ryland" you whined, and it made his heart soar in his chest. He smiled at you, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose "I love you too, baby. Now, be a good girl and show Colt how good you can swallow"

Colt nearly bursted right then and there "Fuck, for someone who doesn't swear, you've got a filthy mouth, bro" he rasped, his dick slipping back between your lips. You sucked harder, faster, wanting to bring him over the edge, and at the same time you pushed back against Grace, meeting his thrusts. The rhythm built and you braced yourself against Colts thigh with one hand to steady yourself as Ryland picked up the pace, your needy moans vibrating around his cock.

He came pretty quickly after that with a gutteral moan, his cum hot and thick, easing the ache of your raw throat. He watched you swallow everything with ease, just like Grace had said, and he smiled down at you in bliss.

Colt fell against the headboard, enjoying watching the show of your arms being too weak to hold yourself up, so you collapsed onto the bed, your head buried in your arms, mewling and squealing as Grace fucked you, no other man on your mind. He should have stopped this before landing in bed with you, but maybe it had been the slight jealousy he felt towards his little brother, that was younger than him by just a few minutes.

Grace had always been the loser twin, the one that was bullied for being a nerd, the one who couldn't throw hands for the life of him, and the one who rather stuck his nose into a book than to socialize and pick up a few girls, not that they had been particularly interested in him anyway.

And now, look at him. He had a pretty girl, and he did a damn good job at keeping her, something Colt had been struggling with lately. Guess Ryland was something of a late bloomer, while Colt had been a college whore and now failed to make meaningful connections. He smiled to himself. At least his brother was happy now, even though his life started as anything but. Good for him.

Grace couldn't help but cum inside you, spilling into your pussy, your sweet moans egging him on. He slipped out of you, though you hadn't cum yourself. And you were fine with that- being used for the twins pleasure, your pussy began to feel sore anyway. But Ryland wouldn't have that.

He turned your trembling form on your back so you were laying against Colts sweaty chest, while he settled between your legs, pulling them apart and revealing the sticky mess between your thighs. He looked up at you, kissing up your thighs with wet smacks "I need you to come on my face" he muttered, his mouth inching dangerously closer to where you needed him most. "Want to know how you taste stuffed with my cum"

He buried his face between your legs, his tongue cleaning up the mess he had left, his tongue curling around your clit. You screamed, your back arching away from Colt, who quickly held you down by your tits, roughly kneading the soft flesh while his lips suctioned at your neck.

"Who is making you feel good right now, sweetheart?" Colt whispered into your ear, to which you mewled, your hand pulling at Rylands hair "R-Ryland!" you babbled, your hips bucking against his nose, and you felt the coldness of his glasses on your mound, while he smiled against your cunt as he heard you stutter his name so sweetly.

"Ryland! Always makes me feel so good, love him so much, he's so good to me, just want him" you rambled on in a breathy sob, all the different sensations over your body throwing you toward another orgasm.

Grace licked you through it, his tongue firm against your clit, and you came again, and again, until you were a trembling and sobbing mess in Colts arms.

Ryland climbed up your tired body to kiss you, slow and deep, letting you taste the mixture of your arousal and the their cum on his tongue "Say it again." he muttered against your lips. "I only want you" you whispered. "Only you"

Colt helped Ryland clean you up, handling your fucked out body with care. They cleaned up between your thighs carefully, gave you a little massage, made sure you drank something and you were out like a light in minutes. Grace made himself comfortable beside you while Colt got dressed and ready to leave.

But before he was out the door, he turned back to his brother, just staring for a moment, the silence stretching. "Im happy for you, you know. You're very lucky to have her, and she is very lucky to have you" he muttered.

Ryland stared at his brother for a long while before he smiled softly, knodding in gratitude.

"I know"

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

I just recently watched The Fall Guy and read a threesome fic like this one on ao3 and i was obsessed! I love the idea that Colt and Ryland are twins who grew up seperately with their mom and dad! And what can i say, i wanna fuck both

It's 2:37 in the morning, like usual, I gotta go to bed in this heatwave and hope that the hype around Ryland hasn't already died out lmao

You had been irritated ever since your boss told you what your next job would entail. When he had called you into his office yesterday to inform you, you had nearly stormed back out.  

“You’re kidding.” You narrowed your eyes and your fingers dug into the orange upholstery of the chair you were sitting in.

Tiger—a large man with the kind of arrogance needed to christen himself with such a moniker—looked unimpressed at your demanding tone. “Don’t go buggin’ out now, baby. ‘S nothing personal, the job just needs to be done.”

But it was personal, you were sure of it. Ever since you had turned Tiger down, he had been handing you only less than desirable work. You stared irritated at the cigar hanging half out of his mouth, and you hoped that some of its ash would fall onto his too-tight leather pants.

“I’m too good for this shit, and you know it,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shrugged. “Someone needs to do it.”

“Make Nail do it. Or Petrol, or hell, I’m sure Skinny would love the opportunity.” God, what stupid fucking handles these men could come up with. It’s not like it actually protects their identity—get two drinks in them and they’ll freely hand out their government name to any woman unlucky enough to be around them.

“Baby,” Tiger sighed, rolling his eyes. He had given you that name himself in a desperate attempt to get you into his bed. Like a sucky nickname would ever actually make you suck his dick. “Close the shades and listen.”

You hated the way he used slang. As if a couple of up-to-date phrases would make people look away from his bald spot or his saggy cheeks.

“The men gotta do some other stuff. Figured you’d love the opportunity, being a strong modern woman and all that.” Some malice seeped through his voice at the end of the sentence, and you wanted to throw the framed painting of Tiger stroking an actual tiger at his head. “C’mon baby, it’s an easy gig. Just find out whether these two private dicks got their nose in my business, and if they do, bump them off. That’s it.”

You sighed, knowing that you didn’t have an actual choice, anyway. While Tiger’s business wasn’t one the largest out there, he had enough leverage over you to make it so that you would stick around until the bitter end—whatever that would entail. Plus, killing people was kind of the only thing you were good at, ever since you shot your first victim at the age of seventeen.

“Knew you’d see my way.” Tiger pulled a manila folder from his desk, throwing it into your lap. “Here’s all we got on them.”

You opened the folder and looked up, unimpressed. “It’s empty.”

“Can’t make it too easy for you, now can I, babygirl?” You wanted to retch. “Stakeout’s part of the gig. If you wanna have fun with it, have fun, but just make it quick.”

You nodded, stuffing the folder into your purse, and got up. “I at least gotta know their names.”

“Jackson Healy and Holland April.”

It was Holland March. You genuinely didn’t know whether Tiger had been trying to fuck with you or just was that stupid.

Ever since you got the job, you had been doing your research, finding out whatever you could about those two possibly soon-to-be-dead bastards.

Jackson Healy, 53 years old, former enforcer-for-hire turned private eye. Divorced, two-bedroom apartment, owner of two handguns according to the DROS. (Even though you never relied on those records—trusting either paperwork or law enforcement was a sure way to get a bullet between your eyes.) His only known associate came in the form of his business partner:

Holland March, 36 years old, a semi-reliable private eye who worked alone until last year when he and Healy joined together and started The Nice Guys Agency. Widowed, teenage daughter, rental house, one registered handgun.

You had looked away quickly when you noticed the young blonde girl walking up the driveway and letting herself into the house. You didn’t like messing with people who had kids, especially considering the girl had already lost her mother, but business was business. Maybe you’d slip the girl—Holly—some cash once you had killed her father.

Right now, the two self-declared ‘Nice Guys’ were hunting for information in a shady strip club. It was a rundown building, with windows covered by black shades and a neon pink sign reading ‘Tinseltown’ mounted over the entrance. On either side of the name was a glowing breast equipped with a nipple tassel, lighting up rhythmically.   

The sun was slowly setting behind the club, and the ultraviolet color palette painted the scene, turning it almost romantic. Then some man lurched out of the front door of the club, hurling on the sidewalk before stumbling back inside, and you let your eyes fall closed with a groan.  

Either the two detectives were perverts and in the process of getting their rocks off while on duty, or they had actually found something interesting in the club. You didn’t care which one it was, you just wanted to not continue waiting here for them, so you made a decision: it was time for some close-up investigating.

You exited your car, stretched your stiff limbs, and then started striding over to the club. Steps confident, head held high. You were aware that establishments like Tinseltown weren’t the safest for women, but you were carrying two guns, and the ability to knock a man to the floor in less than three seconds.

The smell that greeted you when walking into the club was a delightful mixture of sweat, alcohol, and lube, so potent it stung your eyes. The air was filled with upbeat music and low chatter, interrupted by the occasional whistle or shout by one of the many men crowded around the stages and throughout the room. The overhead lights were so dim that most of the room was only visible because of the many glowing neon signs scattered along the walls or standing throughout the space. When you took a couple of steps forward, the floor was sticky under your boots, making you almost turn back around. The chestnut knee-high platform boots were one of your most treasured possessions, and no job in the world was worth ruining them over.

While you didn’t make bad money, there was not much you could do with it. You had your apartment—nicely furnished with everything you might need—and otherwise you invested in your wardrobe. Without a family to support, or a big social life outside of your job, there was not much else to do with the money, so clothes it was.

Lacy tops, suede suits, tight skirts, boots, sandals—whatever you wanted, you got. You didn’t have to work in a stuffy office, so there was no dress code to follow, and you could wear whatever you wanted. That was not just comfortable for you, but it also made it very easy for you to go undercover in places; however, sometimes it worked a little too well.

With your high-waisted tight sitting jeans shorts and orange blouse knotted over your navel, you fit in a little too well in the strip club. Then again, you were sure that any woman unlucky enough to stumble into this joint would get the same kind of looks you were currently receiving, after all while your clothes were on the shorter side, anyone with half a brain should understand that you weren’t one of the workers here.

But to the kind of men frequenting this place, a pretty girl was a pretty girl—whether she wore a bikini or a winter coat—therefore flesh to be consumed.

“Heya dolly,” a slurred voice came from your right. A man was leering up at you from the red leather couch he was half sprawled over it. His eyes were glazed and teeth stained yellow. “Don’t you look pretty?”

“If you say so.” You shrugged, eyes searching the many faces for your two targets. You thought you spotted one of them near the bar, but when you tried to get a closer look, a hand wrapped itself around your wrist.

“Now, wait a second.” The man hiccupped, and you wrinkled your nose at the smell permeating from him. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

You sighed, “Not really.” You tried to shake him off. It would be easy for you to knock his drunk ass to the floor, and while you certainly weren’t above hurting men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves—in fact that might be one of your favorite parts of your life—you didn’t want to risk drawing too much attention on you.

“Just… c’mon, baby. Gimme a chance.”

You froze, now focusing on the man who seemed to perk up at your sudden attention.

“Baby?”

The man frowned but quickly shook it off, grinning widely. “Yeah, baby. You like that? You wanna be my baby, hm?”

“Oh, god.” You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off.”

Secretly, you were relieved, though. Tiger liked to sometimes send one of his men after you, just to ‘check in’. It was condescending, irritating, and on several occasions almost screwed up gigs for you. Plus, if he had men stationed here, it would mean that the club was one of his, or at least one he operated out of, and that thought didn’t sit right with you.

Sure, Tiger and his men did bad shit, you weren’t stupid, you knew that. Hell, you regularly killed people, a lot of whom didn’t really deserve it. But looking around you at the girls hanging off the poles or strutting around the room, with glassy eyes and worn-out smiles, you felt something burn in your chest. That wasn’t the look of women who were living out their dream lives, or at least who found some enjoyment in their work—those were the slumped shoulders and weary faces of women pushed to their limit.

And with a couple of those, the term ‘women’ might be an exaggeration; girls seemed more fitting.

The man was still holding on to your wrist, looking more hopeful by the second, as if ‘fuck off’ wasn’t enough of a hint. You twisted your hand in his grasp and were about to break his fingers—fuck the extra attention, he was starting to piss you off—when another voice spoke up from behind you.

“Hey man, she doesn’t seem interested.”

You turned, surprised, and came face to face with none other than Holland March. He wore a nice-looking maroon suit with a mustard-yellow tie, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He was looking at the grip the other man had on you, and while he didn’t have a very threatening aura, he stood close enough to signal that he wouldn’t leave before he was satisfied.

The other man did a quick once-over of March and then scoffed, “Fuck off.”

Funny, that's what I just said, too. Is what you wanted to say, but you bit back the retort, a plan forming in your head.

Every man loved a Damsel in Distress, whether because they want to put her in the aforementioned ‘Distress’ or because they want to save her from it didn’t really matter, as long as a woman was looking at them doe-eyed and trembling, they got their kicks from it. And if March was the kind of man who’d rather protect than threaten, then that was only the better for you; he was handsome after all, there was no reason in denying that.  

“You fuck off,” March retorted, sounding genuinely offended.

“What’s your issue, pal? Just wanna relax for a bit and spend some time with this pretty thing,” he said, voice thick with annoyance and intoxication. He got off the couch, swaying a bit. March was a tall man, but the other man stood a couple of inches taller.

“I’m not your pal, pal. And she’s not an object,” March said, and his words landed somewhere they shouldn’t for you. Then he went and pushed the man. 

That came as a surprise not just to the man who stumbled over his feet, tripping over the flank of the couch, but also to you. He still held you, so when he went down, he took you with him.

You hit the ground hard. Half catching yourself on the cushions of the couch, which, considering the kind of establishment you were in, wasn’t that much of a relief. At least the hold on your wrist was finally broken.

“Oh, fuck,” March yelped, threw his cigarette in the closest ashtray, and knelt down next to you, hands fluttering over your back. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t—that didn’t go the way I hoped.”

While you did feel a twinge of annoyance, mainly because you were sure you had to burn these clothes now, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re fine. Got him off me at least.”

At that, you both looked up to where the man stood up from behind the couch. His gaze landed on you before he scoffed, muttering something about ‘teasing sluts’ before trailing over to the bar.

“That’s not—hey,” March yelled after the man before turning back to you with a dopey smile. “If you want, I’ll get someone to beat him up.”

“You’ll get someone to beat him up?”

“Yeah, I know someone. Actually, wait here a second, I’ll do that now.” March stood up, but you stopped him before he could walk away.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I—” you noticed you were still perched on the ground.

“Here.” March offered his hand, and you took it, getting up.

“Thank you.” You brushed off the crumbs from your clothes, trying not to shudder with disgust. “Seriously, though, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know,” he said and nodded as if trying to convince you of just how serious he was being. “Any time, any day. Just give me a call and I’ll be there.”

You laughed. “I don’t have your number.”

Yes, you did.

He started frantically searching his pockets but came up empty. “I swear I had one here. Healy always tells me to…” he mumbled, more to himself than you, before looking up with wide, regretful eyes. “I’ll ask Healy for a card quickly. Healy is my partner—business partner! He is my business partner.”

“Nothing wrong with the one kind, too.” You grinned.

“Of course!” March basically tripped over himself to agree with you. “Nothing wrong with it. Love is… love is beautiful, no matter who with whom, right?”

You nodded. Fuck, he was endearing.

“But we are private detectives. Worked with the DOJ last year. Well, kinda, but… anyway, lemme just get that card for you.”

You stopped him again. While you were certain he’d come back to you as quickly as humanly possible, you didn’t want Healy to get involved right now. From your prior research, it became clear that Healy was the more serious and reliable one of the two—if one of them was going to spill their secrets, it wasn’t going to be him.

“Do you have a pen?” You asked.

March started patting his jacket before taking out a silver pen.

“Perfect, just write your number on my arm,” you said, holding out your right arm toward him.

March first turned a shade paler and then three shades darker. A rosy flush spread over his cheeks. “You want me to… yeah, yeah, that works. It’s actually perfect!”

He gently took hold of your elbow with his left hand, holding it steady while he started to write with his other hand . His hand was warm on your arm, and he was lightly moving his thumb back and forth, seemingly subconsciously. He had large hands, and you—you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

“Your skin is so soft,” March whispered and then flinched, smudging some of his writing. “Oh, Jesus, that wasn’t—” He grimaced. “Sorry, I’m not usually this…”

“You’re fine.” You smiled, and then, as if just getting an idea, bit your lip, looking away coyly.

“What?” March asked. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you to make up for all of this?”

“No, it’s nothing.” You almost started dragging your foot across the floor, but then figured that’d be a bit overkill. “Really, it’s—whatever.”

“No, c’mon. Now you've gotta tell me.” He was grinning widely now.

Hook, line and sinker. It’s so easy.

“I, um, well, the reason why I’m even in here is that my car kind of broke down,” you said. “And I was just going to ask to use a phone to call… well, someone—I wouldn’t even know who to call, to be honest. But it’s already getting late and it’ll be dark soon, so maybe you could—”

“Yes!” he said, nodding vigorously. “This is not a good place for a woman to be stuck, believe me. I’ll do what I can to help.”

“That’s really kind, thank you.” You smiled bashfully up at him, and he practically started swooning.

“Oh, it’s—it’s nothing, really.” He waved you off and then held out his hand as if to say, ‘Lead the way’.

When the sweaty evening air hit your face, you took a deep breath. LA air was passable on its best days, and while today definitely wasn’t one of those, everything beat the stench of desperation wafting out of the men present in Tinseltown—present company mostly excluded.

You walked over to your car, March hot on your heels.

“This really isn’t the best place to get stuck for a beautiful woman. I mean, this whole side of town, honestly.”

“I should pick a better one next time, I know.”

“Probably. I mean, it worked out great this time, but who knows who’ll be around if it happens again.”

You hold out your arm. “I figured you’d be, now that I have your number.”

He chuckled. “I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t have to under those circumstances. But, sure, call me and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You turned and winked at him. He winked right back, and you had the sudden urge to grab him by the tie and pull him closer.

But luckily, at that moment you reached your car, and now had to focus on the bigger issue, which was that you had to fake a car emergency with him right there, watching you closely. You opened the hood of your car, and he stepped up next to you.

“Can I be honest for a second?” March asked, looking between the car and you.

“Sure.”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” he admitted and patted the hood lightly.

Perfect, you thought.

“You can’t be any worse than me.” You noticed a square shape in the pocket of his pants. “You got a cigarette?”

He pulled the packet out of his pocket, and while he was occupied, you quickly pulled one of the wires from its place, tearing it. Fuck, I hope I didn’t just ruin my car.

“Here.” He handed you a cigarette, also taking one for himself. He lit up his first and then motioned for you to get closer to him so that he could light yours. You inhaled, relishing the slight burn of the nicotine.

“Alright,” March said, and clapped his hands. “Let’s see what we can do here.”

────────

Nothing; you couldn’t do anything there, and neither could he, as it turned out. March even dragged Healy out of the club to take a look at your car, but when he saw the torn wire, he just shook his head and explained to you with narrowed eyes that in whatever way that happened, it couldn’t simply be reversed.

Healy had left to call AAA and hadn’t returned yet, which left you and March sitting in your car, talking. Sure, you had ruined your car for it, but this was the ideal situation you had hoped for.

“—and then we just handed over the por—the film, and our job was done.” March looked proud detailing the gig that had led him and Healy to start their own business. It all sounded rather chaotic, and more like they had a bunch of dumb luck instead of actual investigative prowess, but who were you to judge?

“Wow, that sounds dangerous.” Your voice was thickly sweet, and you almost couldn’t believe that March was buying the act—Healy certainly hadn’t. But March was eating up every one of your honeyed words; you could almost see his ego growing by the second.

The worst part, however, was that it worked in reverse, too. With every heavy-handed but delightful brag, all the little grins, and his seemingly real and well-intended attentiveness for your safety, you could feel yourself melt into the seat of your car. Every now and then you had to pinch yourself to remind yourself that it wasn’t unlikely that you had to kill him soon.

“Ah,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal and then continued talking in a voice that made it clear that actually it really was, “Sure, but we’re professionals.”

With that, he shot you a grin that made you glad you were already sitting. You needed to get back to your original topic, and quickly!

“Is that what you were doing in there?” You tilted your head toward the club. “Working on a case?”

He nodded, brushing nonexistent dust off his jacket. “Been working on this case for quite a while.”

“What’s it about?”

The answer to his question would either lead him to your bed or his coffin, and you tried not to show how that affected you.  

“I probably shouldn’t talk about it,” he said, chuckling.

“Oh, come on. Who am I gonna tell?”

“Alright,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There is this semi-successful gang running business through this side of the town. At first, it was just drugs and booze, that sorta thing. Then last month we were approached by a woman who swore up and down that her daughter had been taken, and guess who some of the last known associates of the girl were?”

Your stomach turned a bit, and you looked away from March’s eyes to gaze out at the night sky. Before you could answer him, he continued talking, which you were more than okay with. 

Yeah, take a fucking guess with whom, baby.

“The Stripes—that’s the name of the gang.” God, I hate that fucking name. “Apparently, she hung around them quite a lot. Healy and I then did some of our own investigating, and it seems like The Stripes progressed from drugs to ladies rather quickly. Turns out she’s not the only young pretty girl gone missing in the last couple of months.”

“Yeah, but it’s LA,” you said weakly, not knowing what you were trying to prove, and to whom.

“Sure, but four of the seven girls had ties to at least one member of The Stripes that we know of. Now, we’re mainly trying to find the girls and get them home safe. If we take down the gang while we’re at it, that’s a bonus, of course, but mainly there are a lot of mothers missing their daughters,” March said.

The atmosphere in the car was heavy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Shame was gnawing at your insides, to the point where you were sure that if you were to open your mouth, you were going to start spewing blood all over his nice suit.

He seemed to notice the tense mood as well and shrugged playfully. “And grateful people pay well, so there’s that.”

You could only nod, lips pressed together.

“Oh, shit,” March groaned. “That was probably a lot for you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just… you asked, and most of the time there are only two people who I talk with about this stuff, and they love all the horrible parts.” He grimaced, hand coming to pat your shoulder. “You good, sweetheart? Deep breaths, that’s it. You don’t gotta worry though, me and Healy will get this under control. Just maybe avoid this side of town for a while, yeah?”

Headlights suddenly blinded you. It was AAA pulling up in a truck, and you gritted your jaw. Get it the fuck together; it’s a job, nothing more.

You turned to him, trying to ignore how good his hand on your shoulder felt. “Why are you here, though? At the club, I mean.”

March looked surprised at the sudden shift in your mood, but went along with it happily enough. “Oh, that’s one of theirs. You see that orange wriggle over there on the side of the club? That’s their calling card. An S for Stripes but also a tiger’s tail. Creative bunch, those guys.” He chuckled again, but you couldn’t join him, gaze frozen on the all too familiar signal.

This seedy, bottom of the barrel club, where the women looked dead and the men all too ready to indulge in that, was part of the same group of associates as you were. Well, kind of. Sure, you were a contractor but then again, Tiger had given you a name, a contract that couldn’t possibly be legal in any way, and tried to make you get the tattoo all members of the gang shared—and when was the last time you worked for anyone outside of The Stripes?

The next couple of minutes happened, but you couldn’t really say what transpired. March talked with the mechanic while you stood quietly next to him, eyes continuously trailing back to Tinseltown. While your car was getting hooked up, March led you to the passenger side of the tow truck, a soothing hand on your back.

“I mean it, I can give you a ride home. Don’t need to get into any cars with strangers if you don’t wanna.”

“You’re a stranger,” you mumbled.

“Well, not really.” He pointed to your arm. “You got my number.” He said it in a way that made it clear that he wasn’t just joking, you could call him if you needed anything. That fact only made you feel more nauseous. Because as you got in the truck, and watched March close the door for you, you knew two things for sure: firstly, The Stripes were partaking in the kind of illicit behavior where it was almost impossible to turn a blind eye to, and secondly, you now knew for sure that you had to kill March and Healy. 

Lars is so into little kisses and smooches from you. They make him feel so loved!

It doesn’t burn when your skin touches his, not like it does with most people. With you, it feels like a pleasant lingering sensation that keeps you with him throughout the day.

He’s come to wait for your smooches before he leaves for work in a morning and when he comes home, hoping you’ll give him little kisses on the nose and cheek and lips. Just leaning toward you with that wide, sparkly eyed look and then grinning for the rest of the day while he feels the gentle tingle your lips leave behind on his skin. He sleeps better for it, too.

Tonight when he comes home, you’ve cooked a romantic dinner, waiting for him in your favorite outfit (which includes one of his sweaters — he loves to share clothes with you), and when he walks through the door you’re kissing him before he has a chance to say hello, crushing your lips to his a little more heated than usual.

‘Woah, missed me today?’ he breathes, a little dizzy at the welcome home you gave him. ‘You made dinner?’

‘Your favorite, it’ll be ready soon,’ you smile up at him, sliding off his woolly hat and hanging it on the peg for him while he smoothes his hair back.

When his coat and snow boots are off, and the little plastic bag with his work shoes inside is placed carefully by the door ready for tomorrow, he turns to tell you he’ll go freshen up before dinner but-

He’s greeted with your lips again, softly caressing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

He warms up instantly, heat flooding to his cheeks as your arms wrap around his middle and then your hands slip beneath his sweater. He’s cold there too compared to your warm hands.

‘Lars you’re freezing,’ you utter between kisses. ‘Let me warm you up, come on.’

You sink your your knees and carefully push up his layers; sweater, shirt, white undershirt, pink undershirt — to reveal his deliciously pale, soft belly.

‘May I?’ you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

Lars clamps his eyes shut. He’s seen something like this in one of those dirty movies Kurt recommends. It makes his heart hammer and his face burn.

‘Y-yeah,’ he whimpers, fingers curling into tight fists by his sides as you carefully press your plump, warm lips to every inch of his exposed skin, leaving a damp trail of kisses behind. He can feel every single one, all at once.

It feels so good, so tender and loving and intimate, he wonders for a moment if he might pass out from overwhelm. In the haze, one hand grips onto your hair, and you groan, just a little. It’s quiet and you hope he didn’t hear it. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have him grab you like that in this exact position for… other reasons. You know the time will come.

Grounded by the feel of your hair wrapped around his fingers, he manages to stay upright long enough for you to finish up by pressing your cheek to his belly with a loving sigh, and embracing him tightly.

‘Dinner should be ready now,’ you say from your place at his feet, sounding breathless.

Lars feels breathless too and is thankful it’s not just him.

As you stand to disappear into the kitchenette, he finally opens his eyes. There’s a single candle burning on the little table, and a cold beer ready and open for him.

His bottom lip wobbles as he takes his seat, while you fetch the plates from the kitchen and place them down.

Lars wipes at his eyes. ‘Thank you, this is-’ he tries, but you don’t push him.

‘Are you feeling warmer?’ you ask instead, sitting opposite, and Lars smiles broadly across at you.

‘Yeah. That was uh- it felt really good.’ He swallows the last couple of words down, ashamed. ‘Do you think…’ he glances out of the window, skittish and whispering, ‘do you think Karin saw us? I mean, she might think we-’

You chuckle. ‘Do you care?’

He relaxes a little at that. ‘No, I don’t suppose I do.’

‘Hey, after dinner, how about we watch a movie and make out a little,’ you coo, biting your lip as you watch his cheeks flush again. ‘We can close the curtains so I can kiss you wherever you want me to.’

Lars can’t look at you right now, completely flustered and consumed with desire he’d usually burn off at the woodpile, but he nods eagerly, gripping his fork so tight it hurts as he lifts it to his mouth. He moans softly at how delicious the first mouthful of his dinner tastes.

the sun made it's way through the slats of your bedroom blinds in the morning time of your special day. your eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the light. you turned on your side to where your husband slept, but you were met with an empty space. your brows furrowed slightly as you sat up, looking around the room. your eyes stopped on something at the bottom of the bed - a pink flower, with a little sticky note on the stem. you picked the flower up with the delicacy it called for, and read the note attached to it.

"happy birthday, lovebug. come downstairs when you wake up :)"

you smiled gently and pulled yourself up out of bed. you kicked your feet into a pair of slippers and made your way down the stairs to find your husband.

you found lars in the kitchen, surrounded by balloons in your favourite colours, a large gold foil '21' balloon behind him. across the table was breakfast from your favourite place. you also noticed a series of dishes on the counter and the distinct smell of vanilla honey air freshener, suggesting that he'd tried and failed to make something for you himself before he went out and bought you breakfast instead.

lars was stood in a cozy sweater, the one you loved most, with a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands and a sweet smile on his face as he saw you enter the room.

"there's my girl... happy birthday, bug." he spoke softly to you, not wanting to be too noisy in case you weren't fully awake yet.

you smiled brightly, your heart melting at the sight of the effort he'd put into making your day special. you made your way over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm as you leaned up on your toes to kiss his cheek. he still had to lean down slightly for you. a rosy tint crept over his cheeks and nose at the feeling of your lips. it'd been a long road, but lars was getting better at accepting your touch more often. he was okay with soft kisses and gentle touching, and cuddling at night became a must for him faster than you'd have expected. you still had a long way to go with him, but you were much further than you used to be with him.

"thank you, my love. you did all this?"

lars nodded with a slight nervousness.

"is this- do you like it? i hoped you would..."

his nerves made you melt. god, he was such a sweetheart.

"i love it. this was so sweet of you, lars, thank you."

he smiled happily at your response. he held the flowers out to you, which you carefully accepted.

"i already cut the stems and everything for you. they just need water."

you motioned for him to lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before moving to grab a vase for your flowers. you placed them in the water and set them on the table in the sun. they looked so beautiful there, but lars was too distracted by how beautiful his wife was. slightly messy bed hair, cute pj's and slippers, he was obsessed with what god had blessed his life with. he worshipped you more than god.

he watched as you sat at the table, looking lovingly at your pretty flowers, and before he could convince himself it'd hurt, he was on his knees looking up at you. your eyes left the flowers and met his own in slight confusion.

"what're you doing down there?"

"i... i wanna worship you... give you a birthday treat... is- is that okay...?" he asked with the nerves of a lost puppy. he was so cute.

"wh... are you sure, baby? i don't wanna hurt you if it's too much..." you expressed your concern gently, not pushing him away if that's what he wanted, but ensuring he knew you weren't expectant of anything that'd cross his boundaries. he smiled slightly, that cute little curve of his mouth, and nodded.

"i want to..."