You still smelled the same. Woodsy. Just like the Redwood trees you’d both seen in 2008. Carol remembered it well as she chewed on her nail in the middle of your home. The two of you had woken up early, gotten ready and walked out as far as you could to find the biggest tree. It was hard; there were so many, and Carol felt hopeless.

Stopping in front of a tree with your dorky binoculars – Carol remembered fondly, you stared up at the tops of the trees. Your gasp had been cute.

“This is the biggest one!”

“Yeah, maybe. They should really put a sign or something.”

“Right?” You laughed and pulled Carol closer by the sleeve.

Carol had been looking right at you. The way your hair framed your face, your gorgeous lashes and even your boots were somehow cute. You’d turned to her in your stupid little vest with the brightest smile she’d ever seen and declared.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Carol tried to think of that moment every time she looked at you. That had been the happiest you’d ever been. Not this false elation that overtook you by force. Her fists clench at the thought, if only she hadn’t helped that man on that day — she should have been there for you on the day of the Joining.

She was just that type of person, she guessed. Maybe she deserved it, too.

“Is something wrong, Carol?”

She could feel you, that inescapable warmth, because the Hive knew exactly how to love her. They had taken your memories and broken them down into pieces. Dissected like frogs in a biology classroom. It was all to make her cave, to fall into your arms and plead to join.

Carol refused. She knew you would’ve too if you could have. You two were different.

“Nope. Nothing’s wrong.”

It felt weird being cold towards you. Your eyes glance at the alcohol cabinet, and it feels so fucking you that Carol scoffs.

“What, concerned about my drinking? Wanna breathalyze me?”

“No,” you say slowly, eyes flitting back and forth as if searching hers for something. “We–I, was just wondering if you’d had anything to drink. Would you like me to make you something?”

Carol stands suddenly, rounding the counter and stomping right in front of you. You’d always been taller than her, and she had to look up at you with that quivering lip and those watery eyes. She’s quiet. Blue eyes scan your face over and over again.

“Don’t act like my wife,” she forces out in a tight voice with her fists clenched. “I know you’re manipulating me, so don’t act so, so fucking human!”

You look so sad and rejected that Carol wants to take it back. She almost does, her lips parting before she remembers who and what you are. She looked away, teeth chattering as she clenched her jaw.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” you whisper with an ache in your voice.

The move to touch her would normally be sweet, but Carol holds a hand up and stares flatly at you. She tries to think of the Redwoods, of the cabin you stayed at, of the memories from before. Carol sidesteps you, then storms off.

She comes back to you three drinks deep. Shy and wanting. Carol notices how you move to steady her as she stands in front of you, your warm hand molding to her waist the same way you used to do in line at coffee shops.

Her want for you is just barely surmountable, and she dives forward to kiss you because, god, she remembers how you used to hold her. How you used to kiss her. Make love to her.

Whether it’s the alien virus or you, you kiss the same. Lips gliding against Carol’s, you kiss like a starved woman who’s desperate for her first meal. Carol’s hands cup your face as she moans into it. Your hands find her hips and pull her close against your body. Feeling every mold and curve of you drives her a little crazy. She already had you mapped out from head to toe in her mind, but to feel you like this? Well, nothing compared.

Her voice is garbled and wet when she pulls away, her fingers digging just a little into your skin as she stares imploringly into your eyes.

“Act like her,” Carol rasps. “Please.”

The shift is instantaneous. Your moans are sweet and ripe, plucked at just the right moment to make Carol’s clit pulse. Carol takes control. She needed to feel it solidly in her hands, the same way she could feel your skin under her fingertips. She guides you to the bedroom, refusing to make prolonged eye contact, but rather intent on kissing and losing herself in your scent as she drags her lips and nose across the expanse of your neck.

You collapse onto the bed with a soft grunt, hands coming up to steady her as she follows you onto the plush bed. The two of you are all hands, all lips, all physical. Carol dominates the way she used to; she tries to grasp those memories of being on top of you, caressing your thighs, and biting your neck.

In the now, she pins your wrists to the pillows and sucks on your bottom lip. She slots her leg between yours, and you whimper. Carol pants above you, grinding her thigh against you as she watches your face for every movement and twitch. It was so real, you were so real.

She has to let go of your hands. Carol opts to feel your chest, thumb rubbing over your nipples in her cotton shirt; you were still so undeniably hers, it was impossible to think about wanting or touching someone else.

Carol feels your leg press up, your eyes seeking hers as she grinds down against your thigh with shaky hips. Her moan is stilted, almost reluctant. Both hips work in tandem, dry humping over sweatpants and leggings. The friction was delicious.

You don’t cry out, only gasping and grabbing her head and tugging her down, down, till her lips meet your tits. Carol suckled and groaned, tasting your sweet skin and feeling your body writhe under hers. Shaky hands come to Carol’s waist, grasping the hem of her thick ribbed tank top to pull it upwards.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

“I-I missed you, too,” and she says your name in a watery voice. “God, I missed this.”

Your wife knows it’s not you, but when everything feels just like it did in 2008, in 2015, in 2025 — it was almost impossible to say no. Not when she could have you again and again. You could stay with her somehow, tethered together like ships in the harbor.

“Make me cum,” you sigh out.

Carol ignores the pang in her chest at hearing you say, ‘me.’ She ignores it as she kisses down your stomach and tugs off your bottoms to reveal smooth legs. Her arms, toned, part your legs easily, and Carol’s mouth waters at the sight of your soaked cunt.

Her tongue flattens against your clit, driving upwards as you keen and grasp onto the now shorter blonde locks of your wife. Yes, you were acting just like you, and it brought tears to Carol’s eyes as she devoured you as if it was the last time she’d ever do it.

That wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

Carol loses herself in you, remembering how your nails would scratch against her scalp and how your lips would part into an ‘O’ as your thighs locked around her head. She can’t help herself, a hand sliding up to slip two fingers inside you. She curls them upwards, blue eyes flicking to yours as she watches your face contort into pure ecstasy.

It was satisfying to make you feel like this, to feel your slick coat her fingers as she pumped them in and out of you the way she knew you liked it. She’d finger-fuck you all day; in fact, she used to.

“Talk to me,” Carol demands over the soft squelching of your pussy.

“I love it, feels so good,” your hands seek any part of her, resulting in your hands gripping her hair at the root.

It stung in a way that made Carol moan. Your hips bucked up, toes curling as your moans became stilted and breathy. Every touch, every sound, every fucking little thing was just like how it used to be; Carol only went at it harder.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this? Can you remember how I used to,” she pauses, licking her lips as you stare at her with a pleading expression. “How I used to make love to you?”

She needed you to say it. 

“I remember,” and your hand strokes her cheek.

Carol makes you cum a minute after you say those words, tongue lapping and circling your clit until you’re creaming whilst writhing. It was both immensely satisfying and devastating. You could see the turmoil on her face, and you wanted to make her happy.

Pushing your wife onto your back, you look up at her with an affectionate expression. She’s breathless, working her jaw and asking, “what’re you doing? I was–”

“Let me take care of you.”

“This isn’t about me,” she tries to sit up, but your palm to her chest guides her back down. “She would never act this way.”

“But she would. Remember your last birthday? Remember how we,” and you’re quick to correct yourself. “I tied you up with my scarf? You’d loved it, then.”

Carol looks guilty. Of course you knew that, the Hive, whatever. Your hand turns her gaze back to yours, and your eyes are so pouty with your lips downturned that Carol feels she’d do anything you want.

She’d always been weak for your eyes.

“Okay,” Carol's whisper is tight.

It’s like a switch flips inside you. Carol watches your eyelids lower just the slightest. You sit naked on your knees, slipping her sweatpants off along with her boxers — dark blue plaid. Touching her feels religious, holy. Your hands roam over her body, up her thighs and down her arms.

No one says anything. Your eyes do the talking, rather dancing, as they flit. Back and forth, back and forth, eventually remaining on each other’s eyes as your hand slowly touched her. Instantly, your fingers are soaked as you rub her clit in slow circles.

Carol’s teeth sink into her lip, and she tries to let go. You were still in there, touching her, loving her. One by one, her muscles relax, and she loses herself in the sensation of your fingers expertly working in and out of her. Your hands are the culmination of many nights together.

Her breathing picks up as you guide her to release.

“I love you, Carol. You look so perfect like this, you feel so good,” you croon into the still air.

She moans, your thumb making quick circles as she pulls you closer to connect your lips. You can tell she’s close, the way her thighs shake, and she practically begs to feel your tongues glide against each other.

“Keep fucking me, please,” she says.

“I’d never stop.”

“Oh fuck,” she groans, arms winding against you and pulling your bare body against hers. “Oh god, ‘m gonna cum!”

Carol cumming is like a star bursting. She winds up tight, and then explodes with a cry of your name. Her head thrown back with her legs shaking. Only you could make her feel just like this.

She comes to moments later, feeling your soft caresses against her skin as you move to be next to her. Carol’s hazy, and her hands are desperate to feel you close. This was her lately, clingy. She hated it. Carol would not consider herself a clingy person, other than when she was with you.

But this was different. Because you weren’t you.

“I love you,” Carol says almost automatically, pausing after the words are spoken. “If you’re still in there.”

“We love you, too,” you say, smiling and squeezing her cheek. “We are always here.”

You’d always campaigned for her novel ideas. Carol and you had become fast friends in college; her edge met your softness the way the sun melted into the water at sunset. It was a mere draft back then, a hopeless idea as she lounged on your dorm bed and read her work aloud.

What had it been called again? Your aged mind struggled to remember as you stirred two cups of coffee. 

“So, do you think it’s good or what?”

Carol lay strewn across your bed and looked at you with those beautiful bright blue eyes. You can’t help but feel a little entranced by them, seduced even.

“What? I think it’s amazing,” you shake the pages in her face. “This is art!”

She blushed and looked away, snatching the pages from you as her lips quirked up into a small smile. Carol set them aside, and sat up in her navy blue hoodie. Her lashes dusted her cheeks every time she blinked; your cheeks felt hot as you watched her.

“If you say it’s good,” she says.

“It is.”

Carol had been different then. Haunted by her trauma. Memories of tearful nights come to mind, of ones where she let you hold her as a quivering lip spilled about the camp, the fear, the pain. Even in the present day, it makes your lips tug down in a frown. She had been so sad.

Shaking your head and gathering the two steaming cups, you make your way out of the kitchen. 

Your wife had always known how to drink; you reckon she honed her abilities for adulthood in college. She taught you how to take your first tequila shot, eyes wide and teeth pearly, as she instructed diligently.

“Salt, then shot, then lime. You can’t possibly mess it up. It’s easy,” she goads in a packed bar.

“Do you think I need more salt?”

“Oh my god,” she exhaled, and promptly downed her shot before watching you with intense eyes.

You followed suit, and the mutual grins that broke out between you were priceless. She hadn’t even come out to you yet, but something stirred you when she grabbed your hand and squeezed with lowered lids.

Kissing came shortly, and you collapsed on your dorm bed with Carol pinning you to it like she knew what she wanted. For the first time, she did.

Carol was still too shy to do anything other than kiss. You laugh to yourself as you remember how she tried to pretend she had blacked out before the kiss, and therefore didn’t remember it. She’d had bad lies, but that one had been especially egregious.

So you’d kiss in the quiet mornings before classes—you’d always been infinitely thankful for the single room. Maybe she’d read an excerpt or two to you before you had to leave for your own classes; a domestic routine that initially came from close friends began to feel like something very hot and warm. Love, you now knew.

Your bare feet pad to the bedroom, walking past various paintings and photos. Carol at her first book signing. Your wedding photo. Carol and you on your first vacation.

Italy. It had been fall, a few years ago now. You could still smell that salty sea air.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

The hotel was more than luxurious; the air felt expensive as you traversed the large room. Thank god for Wycaro. 

“It’s nice,” Carol’s hands brush over the comforter of the bed. “Can’t believe it costs an arm and a leg to make you happy.”

“Raban’s arm and leg, you mean.”

Carol laughs, a rare rough sound escaping her as she walks over to you and envelops your waist in the privacy of the room. She kisses you the way you like to be kissed, the way she knows you love it. Her tongue slips past your parted lips to trace yours, and you both pull away with cloudy, horny, eyes.

She’d had you all over the hotel room by that evening. 

The door to your expansive bedroom opens, and you’re welcomed to the sight of a topless Carol sitting upright. The sheets pooled around her waist, giving you the mere illusion of more, and it made your mouth water. She caught you staring.

“What, do I look good or something?”

“You know you always look good,” you murmur whilst handing her a mug of coffee. 

Carol smirks at you, nudging your hip with her foot before patting the space next to her. You eagerly snuggle up close, head resting in the crook of her neck. Her arm wraps around your waist in a way that makes you feel wanted, desired. She tightens her grip.

“Wanna just do whatever today? Fuck it, I don’t know, go for a picnic or something,” she says in a sigh.

“I’d love to. Remember those prosciutto sandwiches we had in Italy?”

“God, if you could make those,” she whistles and shakes her head.

You laugh in agreement. Those sandwiches were unique to that memory. There was no recreating.

“Well, whatever, we’ll bring a bottle of wine and bread and call it a day,” you fill the silence with a shrug and another kiss to her cheek.

“Now that’s true Italian,” she murmurs in a low voice, nose rubbing against your cheek. “Sounds like a plan.”

Shirtless with his face buried in the pillow was exactly how Alex liked to sleep; his retainers on lock as drool spilled past his open mouth onto the soft cotton pillow below. It was the only way Alex knew how to sleep. He’d gotten used to the cool sheets, the lack of warmth and the absence of a warm body. He claimed he didn’t need it; it didn’t bother him. Really, it didn’t.

“¡Papá!”

He feels the impact first, feels his son throw his whole weight onto the bed with a joyful laugh. He cracks an eye open. 7:53 A.M. Fuck, Alex had slept in, and Jaime was still in his dinosaur pajamas. Alex inhaled sharply, his hair mussed as he rolled onto his elbows and looked at his son, who stared back at him with a toothy grin.

“¿Tenemos escuela hoy?” Do we have school today?

“Sí,” Yes, he affirms, left hand rubbing his eye as he sat up fully in bed. Jaime bounced where he sat, onesie-covered feet stuck out as his hands played with each other. Alex felt a smile grace his lips as he admired Jaime’s eager movements. “Go pick out an outfit, I’ll make you some breakfast.”

Jaime sticks his fist out, cheeks blown out as he nods, “I wanna wear my Cars shirt.”

Alex grins, fist-bumping him back. Their special ritual.

“Go for it, mijo,” and Jaime’s off the bed and bounding into the hall. His feet pad all the way down to his room, the door slamming as he goes to change. Alex shakes his head, running his hands through his hair before leaning back in bed with his eyes closed.

He felt tranquil. A little overwhelmed–well, more than a little. Work kept him slammed, and he knew he’d be late in picking up Jaime from school once again. A distant memory comes to him, a drunken night with his friends, Angel and Sebastian.

“¿Por qué no le pagas a un niñero?” Why don’t you pay for a babysitter?

He’d said something about wanting to spend as much time with Jaime as possible back then, but he knew deep down it was beginning to be too much. He prided himself on being a single parent; he’d been handling this shit on his own for as long as he remembered.

A crash echoes through the small family home, and Alex brushes the covers away and sprints to his son’s room with wide eyes. As he enters, he finds Jaime standing with his hands clasped behind his back, holding his Cars shirt and rocking on his feet while his dresser lies on its front, clothes spilling out and around it. Alex gives Jaime a look, confused, with a bit of disbelief.

“¡Se cayó! Trataba de agarrar mi camisa y se cayó…” It fell! I tried to grab my shirt, and it fell…

Alex sighs, squatting to rub his son’s back. Jaime looks at him with those wide, innocent brown eyes, and Alex knows he deserves more, deserves someone constant. Alex tugs him into a hug, and then changes his shirt with the practiced ease only a father could have. He righted the dresser, letting it stand on its four legs while Jaime wiggled his tiny feet into a pair of jeans. 

Breakfast is messy and hectic as both boys rush to get themselves ready. Jaime stands by the door with his backpack on, and Alex has to pause to swipe a bit of egg from his son’s mouth. He checks the time, 8:00 A.M. Damn. They were going to be late. 

It’s only when they’re midway through the kiss and ride that Jaime exclaims out of nowhere, “I forgot my lunch, ¡Papá!”

A stream of defeat courses through his entire body. Alex’s head drops back against the headrest. God, he really needed a babysitter.

-

“Looking for a babysitter for a five-year-old boy. Loves dinosaurs and video games, not a picky eater. Must have CPR and first aid training. Hoping for open availability, but I am willing to work with you! Pay is $30 an hour, and I am open to negotiating your salary.”

The ad finds you on the worn couch of your tiny apartment. The wine glass teeters and tips in your hand like a seesaw as you scroll through the listing. You had the credentials to back it up—years of experience, the right training and were desperate enough to do anything for a few extra bucks. The ad finds you well, and you take a mouthful of wine before clicking on the profile.

The father’s name is Alex, and the profile is mostly bare-bones. He did have a profile picture, and you felt your lips quirk into a smirk as you eyed it. A mature face, not worn, but a working man’s face. Dark hair that cascaded down in black strands that framed him, with dark eyes to match. He was sexy, as far as fathers went. While looks can be deceiving, you also figured there was no way Alex could be so bad. 

Besides, you could handle a five-year-old boy. You guide your mouse to the “message” button and click with a harsh tap. The page directs you to a private message, where you type your response with dashing fingers.

You: Hello! I’m interested in the listing you posted. Do you have availability for an interview?

Not expecting a response right away, your gaze shifts back to your wine as you refill it from the bottle on the floor. You adjust your blanket, cozying yourself further into the couch as a ding sounds out through the air. You raise a brow as you scan the message.

Alex: Hi! That’s great, I just read through your profile. You seem like a good fit. Does Friday work for you? You could also meet Jaime to see how you two get along. 

You: That sounds great, Alex. Friday works for me, I’ll see you then.

He sends his details, and you agree to meet at noon.

You had to be professional. This wasn’t a date, but damn, if you weren’t excited. The laptop is slammed shut, and your wine glass is drained. You’d ace this interview, make some extra money and move on with a beaming grin. The hot dad was a mere perk.

This job needed to change everything. You were sick of the hum-drum of the day-to-day. You felt listless. Off course. Those thoughts are pushed away; you weren’t ready to deal with them yet. Heading to bed, you lie awake with only a day in mind. Friday.

It comes quicker than you think.

Dressed in a smart outfit with a hint of cute, you knock on the front door. Flared yoga pants, pink ones—of course, and a brown tank top that hugged you just right. There are voices behind the door, and you can hear scrambling before it swings wide open. Alex stands there, hair loose and a bit in his face as he greets you. His son was there next to him, hand clinging to his leg as he peered at you from behind his father.

“Hi,” Alex says, eyeing you with a hint of warmth and a mix of want. It makes you smirk back at him, and the blush is obvious as it grows from being caught staring. “I’m Alex.”

He extends a warm hand, and you take it, offering a kind smile with bright eyes. You really needed this job. His hand has calluses, and it makes you shiver. You tell him your name, and then glance at the little boy now standing on his own, unattached from his father’s leg.

“You wanna introduce yourself, hm?” Alex pats his son on the back, enough to push him forward, and the boy steps up to jut his chin towards the sky.

“I’m Jaime,” he declares, before stepping back like a dutiful soldier in line. 

Alex laughs, glancing at you, but you’re unfazed as you squat and offer to shake his little hand. Jaime laughed and shook your hand; you stood back up and looked between the two of them.

“It’s great to meet you both,” Alex and Jaime step aside to let you in, and you enter their home. 

It was warm. Not only was their house quite large, but it was also filled with a multitude of things. It was lived in. Toys strewn everywhere, large gaming and sound systems, a marble kitchen and a thriving backyard. You felt a bit of jealousy as you took it all in, but pushed it aside as Alex led you to sit down on the couch.

“Do you like video games?” Jaime queries, following the adults into the living room.

“Yeah, I do,” you chirp with a smile. “What do you like to play?”

Maybe you could get in his good graces with that.

“Anything Papá has! I love video games.”

“Anything age-appropriate,” Alex adds before taking a seat on the couch. “Why don’t you go play upstairs for a little?”

Jaime pouts, swinging his leg around before nodding and conceding at Alex’s look.

The boy scampers up the stairs, and then it’s just the two of you. Your fingers curl in on themselves to form fists on top of your knees. With your back straight, you watched as Alex eyed you before a gentle smile graced his lips.

“So, I guess we’ll just get right to it. Jaime needs a babysitter for when I’m at work, my schedule is pretty sporadic, but I usually work at least three days a week,” Alex explains, his hands fidgeting with each other. “I was hoping you’d be able to handle maybe some pick-ups and just general caretaking while I’m out of the house.”

“I can definitely do that!” You hand him your resume, to which he glances at you with an appreciative smile; your heart flutters in your chest as he takes the paper.

Alex skims it first, nodding and reading quietly. He looks back up and laughs as his hand comes up to brush some strands away from his face. Almost nervous, he fingers a piece, twirling the hair around his finger before clearing his throat.

“You’re perfect, really. I’m down to pay you whatever you want,” his eyes dip down to your chest for just a glance, but you catch it, and it makes confidence thrum through your veins.

“I mean, I’m not gonna say no. I’m pretty happy with the standard pay, but if you were gonna raise it…?”

Alex smirks, sitting up straighter and shrugging like it was no big deal. By the looks of his house, he had no trouble in that department, “how about we raise it to $40? You can also eat from our fridge or cook for yourself and Jaime, it’s no big deal.”

You try not to squeal at the price, nodding with a barely suppressed grin at his words. A high pay rate and even more perks? It might be a dream, should you pinch yourself? You don’t, but you’re in a haze as Alex stands; you mimic him and begin to walk, the two of you heading to the front door. Your feet drag a bit. Being in Alex’s presence felt nice.

“This is honestly the first time Jaime’s ever been babysat. I’m hoping he’ll be okay, but,” the pause is long as he trails off.

Alex’s anxiety is obvious; his eyes look all around, unable to keep himself from spilling his guts. Your hand settles on his bicep, and you smile with warmth and understanding. You didn't have kids, but you knew this had to be hard for them.

“I’m sure he will be. He has a great father, and I’m pretty great too,” Alex laughs at your joke and doesn’t shy away from your touch. You squeeze, for comfort and to greedily feel the hard muscle under his skin. “Jaime’s in good hands. I promise!”

The father looks straight into your eyes, reading your expression and gauging your intentions. He seems to find what he’s looking for as you pull your hand away, and Alex grins as he opens the front door.

“I believe you, I think you’re exactly what we’ve been looking for,” and you wonder if he’s feeling the same connection you were.

It’s not lost on you what he means. Maybe you were exactly what he’s been looking for, whatever that is. A babysitter, you guess, but maybe there was room for more. Hell, you wanted more. This meeting had left you curious. No one else seemed to be in the picture.

“I’ll see you Monday. Take care, get home safe,” Alex says in a low tone, waving. 

You watch as Jaime rushes to cling to his father’s leg and downright screams. You didn’t even notice him come back down, but his scream is more than enough to let you know he was there.

“Bye! See you soon!”

You laugh, almost tripping as you make your way down to the sidewalk. The two boys keep waving as you give an embarrassed look, then open the door to your Toyota to drive off. Alex lingers in the doorway as Jaime runs in while you get yourself sorted, and he continues to linger even as you drive off. 

The weekend is spent lounging and dreaming of Alex, literally and figuratively. He haunts you a little. You two text sporadically, and it’s not crossing boundaries by any means, but it feels comfortable. It scares you.

Monday arrives, and you’re pulling up to the household with a cup of coffee in hand. You exit your car and knock, hearing Jaime’s delightful squeals behind the oak wood. 

Alex opens the door a bit frazzled, and he’s quick to say, “I burnt the pancakes. Jaime’s covered in flour—he knocked over the bowl, and I really gotta go.”

You nod, face serious as he steps aside to let you in. 

“Keep getting ready. I’ll handle breakfast,” your thumbs-up is swift; you and Alex splitting off to handle Jaime and handle himself, respectively. 

Jaime’s standing on his toes in the kitchen, peering into the bowl of leftover pancake mix. You assess the situation, and despite the burnt crust caked onto the pan, the mess was salvageable. 

“Hi! I got flour all over me,” he announces as you stand in the doorway. Your hands come to rest on your hips, the purse set aside. “Will you help me?”

“Of course I will,” you answer with a smile.

Flour is shaken out of Jaime’s dark hair; it matched his father’s, and you brush off the flour as best you can from his shirt and pants. Thankfully, the damage wasn’t too bad. With a rag and some soap, Jaime looks good as new as you scoop him up.

“Okay, you’re gonna be a good boy and wait at the table while I make your pancakes, ‘kay?”

“Okay, hi, Papá!” Jaime waves to Alex, who grabs a water bottle off the kitchen island while crossing the room.

Your heart races as Alex’s eyes linger on the picturesque scene. You, in all your glory with yoga pants and a sweater, looking so at ease with Jaime’s now clean cherubic face. It made his heart almost stop in his chest, a tease of what could be. Alex gulps, and his fingers tighten on the bottle as he manages a weak smile.

“Hi Jaime, I’m leaving now,” to which Jaime lets out a loud, long whine. Alex turns to you, eyes brimming with appreciation. “Thanks so much, you got it from here? I’ll be back around five to six. You know, dinnertime. Oh, and the spare key’s under the mat.”

“Gotcha,” Jaime squirms and waves along with you. “Have a good day at work, Alex.”

You set Jaime down and approach Alex, hand coming to swipe a speck of flour off the front of his button-up. Alex jerks his face away, warming up as your fingers brush his chest. Your smile is cheeky and knowing as you step back.

“You had a little something,” and then you’re clapping your hands at Jaime like nothing had even happened. “Who’s ready for pancakes?”

“Me!” Jaime exclaims, arms flying into the air as he jumps up and down. 

Alex stands dumbly in the kitchen before nodding and waving. His cheeks were pink, eyes unable to stop themselves from roving over your joyful form as you mixed pancake batter. Alex draws close, ruffling Jaime's hair and looking at you with wide brown eyes.

“Bye,” he tells Jaime, and then turns to you. 

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel it. No, you see it. He’s off in seconds, jogging out the front door and shutting it with a click. The bowl of pancake batter sits against your hip as you mix, eyes lingering on the empty space left behind by his absence.

You swiftly use the rest of the batter to make the pancakes, Jaime’s excited chatter behind you as you face away from him. You get to know him by asking him about school and what he’s learning. He’s chomping on a fluffy pancake as he says, “I like you! You make good pancakes.”

“Do you? And how are you gonna feel when I make you eat your vegetables, hm?”

“What?!” His brows are raised as he shovels another piece of pancake into his mouth. “No way!”

“Yes way,” you smirk at him and cross your arms. “Broccoli, asparagus, carrots and more.”

Jaime’s gives a whiny cry, but when your fingers dig into his stomach to tickle him, it’s quickly snuffed out. You were right. You knew how to handle him. The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, Jaime’s face is wiped clean and you toss the napkin into the trash.

The little boy slings his backpack over his shoulders, and you’re about to use the spare key to lock the door when your gaze turns in scrutiny to Jaime’s figure. Something was missing. You look intently and scan Jaime with a watchful eye. It clicks.

“Did you forget your lunch?”

The boy’s eyes are wide, before he hurriedly nods and runs inside whilst shouting, “one second!”

You wonder if every day will be as easy as this. As comfortable as this. The door is locked, and both of you are on your way to his elementary school.

Time is spent running errands while Jaime is at school. You picked up a few things for dinner, and you were sure Alex wouldn’t mind. By the time three o’clock rolls around, you’re in the pick-up lane waiting with your fingers drumming on the wheel. 

Jaime comes bounding out with his too big backpack hanging off his shoulders. The second you see him, you’re stepping out of the car with your wind-blown hair and sunglasses perched on your nose. Your arm wave is dramatic and big, and Jaime sees you immediately.

He sprints over while calling your name, and you laugh and round the car to open the door for him. He greets you with an excited “hello,” and your smile is warm as you buckle him in.

“Hi Jaime, how was school?”

“Good! Papá packed my lunch so it was yummy,” he says matter-of-factly, nodding with pride. 

“Ooh, and what did he pack for you?”

Jaime launches into a lengthy discussion of his lunch, what the other kids ate, and how he was absolutely thrilled to find a Mazapan in his lunch today. You grin as you drive at the idea of Alex taking care to put a treat in his son’s lunch. A reminder that he knew him, loved him. 

“Sounds delicious! Are you hungry enough for a snack when you get home?”

“Hmm,” Jaime says with a pensive look on his face, before asking with a tilt of his head. “Can you make me a quesadilla? Con crema?” With sour cream?

It makes you giggle. Alex had said something about Jaime having a preference for all things cheesy. You had been thinking mac and cheese, but a quesadilla “con crema” made even you feel hungry at the thought. You glance back at Jaime with a confident nod.

“I’ll make you the best quesadilla in the world.”

Jaime’s question is full of disbelief and excitement, “really?!”

Yes, really. You park in the garage and get to work in the kitchen as soon as you enter the home. It feels normal to be here, cooking and cleaning. Once post-lunch is served, you lounge on the couch and watch Bluey while Jaime eats his quesadilla. Homework is taken care of just after his snack, and it’s not long before it’s about time for Alex to come home.

-

Alex is beyond exhausted when he comes home. His shoulder sagged low on his frame as he inserted his key in the door, and he could hear the quiet chattering of you and Jaime. He feels himself perk up a little at the thought of seeing you and his son, of course.

Jaime’s already in his pajamas, and he lets out a sharp yell of joy as he comes tumbling into Alex’s arms. Alex is quick to hoist him up, spinning him around and rubbing his knuckles into the soft, dark hair. You merely sit there with a smile on your face, watching and waiting.

“Was waiting for you to tuck me in,” Jaime says with a finger twirling his father’s hair before pulling the hood of his dinosaur onesie up and over the crown of his head.

“Ah, well, you know I tuck you in the best. Head on upstairs. I’ll meet you there in a little while,” and Jaime listens as Alex sets him on the ground and watches the little boy run up the stairs.

You stand then, drawing so close that Alex can smell your perfume. Vanilla. Sugary. Sweet. He distracts himself by pulling out his wallet and thumbing through bills. Alex glanced at you, and then he offered a small smile.

“Thanks for stepping in today. You were a huge help.”

“It’s no problem,” you answer smoothly, truth lacing your words. “He’s a sweet kid, I think we get along.”

Alex says nothing to that; he’d have to get the details from Jaime. But if you were anything like this morning, with the gracious ease of handling him, he expected no issues. He hands you the few bills, and you count them after a cheeky look his way. Alex smirks, moles winking as he tilts his head.

“Did I short you?”

“Not at all. Thank you.”

The two of you linger. Alex has the sudden urge to pull you by the waist and kiss you senseless, till your lips tingled and all you could do was fall into his arms. But he didn’t, doesn’t. God, you were his kid’s babysitter; he shouldn’t be thinking like this.

And yet you whisper goodnight in that soothing, low tone, hand brushing against his shoulder with the confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted, who knew she could handle anything thrown her way. Did Alex have that same confidence? He wasn’t sure. 

Alex closes the door behind you and makes his way up the stairs to Jaime’s bedroom. It was a little messy, as kids' rooms are, but Alex could see the intention in every toy that lay strewn around. He sidesteps a few Legos (frankly, those were about to be the reason for his demise), and he picks up a stuffed bear that Jaime’s mother gifted him when he was young. A sour taste forms in his mouth at the idea of her, but he pushes it aside. 

Jaime sits patiently, legs already covered by the blanket, to which he kicks his feet as Alex approaches. The father sits on the edge of the bed, his large hand caressing the boy's soft cheek. Jaime leans closer, then lies back to begin their evening ritual.

“¿Querías una cuenta?” Did you want a story?

“No,” Jaime replies. “¿Te gusta la niñera?” Do you like the babysitter?

Alex swallows a thick glob of spit and nods. Jaime seems relieved, pulling the bear from Alex’s hands and snuggling further into his pillow. He sighs, eyes closing, before murmuring in content and satisfaction.

“A mí me gusta ella.” I like her.

It makes his heart sing. His chest pounds, and he’s filled with overwhelming gratitude at the fact that his family would be okay. Jaime would be okay, he’d be okay and maybe somehow the two of them could factor you into their life in a way that was real. In the way that you were theirs. Maybe it was too soon to think like that, but seeing you that morning holding Jaime like you were destined to be there, well, it made something inside Alex twist with want. Twist with a deep want that nearly consumed him.

“Well, I’m glad. You’ll be spending a lot of time with her, so try to be a good boy, okay?”

“Yes, papá. Te amo.” I love you.

“Te amo muchísimo,” I love you a lot.

Alex kisses his son’s forehead, smoothing down his dark hair and tucking him in tight like a stuffed burrito. Jaime squirms and then relaxes into the comforter, and Alex lingers in the pale moonlight for a small moment. He waits till he sees that telltale breathing, slow and deep breaths puffing and deflating Jaime’s tiny chest. 

The door is closed behind him. Alex leans against the hardwood and closes his eyes. He sees you —your smile, the way you looked at him just before leaving, ambling off into the night and collapsing into bed. Alex dreams of family picnics and soft kisses.

-

The boys welcome you. You fall into a routine with Jaime and Alex, arriving early before Alex has to leave for work to prepare breakfast and leaving late when Alex gets home. It’s easy, in a way, and you’re learning something new every day.

Jaime prefers Mexican food, like the infamous tamarind candy Pelon Pelo Rico — and he hates anything mushy. He preferred to pick his own clothes, often taking style tips from Alex as he selected from an assortment of beanies and cute (see: nerdy) t-shirts. He liked chocolate milk before bed, and he liked the “stories with the funny voices!”

What thrilled you even more than getting to know Jaime was getting to know Alex. 

He took his coffee with as little sugar as possible, and while he was no grand chef, he knew how to make his favorite dishes — and then some. He tended to work out before you arrived, face dripping sweat as he answered the door and gave a lopsided grin. He always showered before dinner and always greeted Jaime with a big kiss. He didn’t shy away from affection.

It was safe to say you were used to the family. You fit in well, Alex had once said before handing you your salary. You’re the best babysitter ever, Jaime exclaimed once you let him have dessert before bed.

You smile, relaxing further into the plush couch in Alex’s home. Stuart Little 2, because Jaime insisted on watching the second one before the first, blared on the TV. It was quiet, a white rat scurrying around as Jaime laughed along with him. The click of the door unlocking barely registers to you, and you’re only alerted to Alex’s presence when Jaime screams and leaps off the couch.

Alex draws closer, a small smile on his lips and Jaime in his arms, “what’re you guys up to?”

He looks at you as Jaime replies. You try not to feel shy in your comfy t-shirt and yoga pants, but Alex’s eyes rake over you appreciatively. It makes your cheeks burn, and you squirm in place.

“Watching Stuart Little 2!”

“Have you even seen the first one?”

“No,” Jaime drags out the word as he says it, before giggling and shrugging. “But I like it!”

Alex gives you a look, and the two of you start cracking up together. He sets Jaime down, who worms his way next to your side on the couch. Jaime pats the spot next to him and looks expectantly at his father. Alex seems to hesitate before taking a seat and squishing Jaime between the two of you. You press play, and it feels so right to be here at this moment with them. You didn’t want to leave.

He makes no motion to dismiss you. Your greedy eyes watch as he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top of his collared shirt. The flash of skin leaves you hot. 

It’s not long before you feel the slumped body of Jaime against your arm. The movie’s still going, hitting its climax as Jaime dozed off. Alex takes a sidelong glance at you, and you turn to look at him. He whispers to you.

“Had a long day?”

“Not too bad,” you hum. “I think I tired him out by running outside for a little.”

“That’s exactly what I do on my days off. Just chase him around till he’s falling over and begging me to stop.”

You smile warmly. He was so sweet, “you’re a good father. You work hard, you care for Jaime… he’s so lucky to have you in his life.”

Alex’s eyes grow glassy. Your eyes search his face, and you want to lean closer so badly. He was right there, willing and wanting. It was clear to you now. He breaks contact first, voice rough as he murmurs your name and thanks. You figure it’s time to get going, despite your desperation for just one more moment alone with Alex.

Jaime’s fingers cling to your shirt as you begin to stand and peel him off of you. A sleepy murmur comes out, your name, and Alex swallows before asking with a nervous, shaky voice.

“Did you want to tuck him in tonight? I-I know it’s not a part of your job capabilities, but–”

“It’s no problem. He’s already clinging to me, might as well,” and you’re scooping him up.

Jaime’s pudgy cheek rests against your shoulder as you both walk up to Jaime’s room. This was absolutely crossing a line; you knew it was. As Alex opened the door for you, you couldn’t say no. You snuggled Jaime closer before laying him down in bed.

You step back, turning and brushing past Alex. You feel his warmth for just a brief moment. It makes your knees weak. The two of you are silent as you head downstairs, the tension palpable. Alex stops in front of you once you reach the door, and he’s looking at you with those soft brown eyes that make you melt.

It’s unclear who leans in first, no, who dives in first. It’s desperate and hungry, your lips tingling as you kiss him with desperation. Your hands are grappling with his shoulders, and his hands find your waist. Alex’s lips are soft and warm against your own and you press yourself closer to feel him for just a second longer.

You pull away first, forcing yourself off of him and just barely managing to hold back. Swallowing, you look at him through your lashes. This was so unprofessional, and yet it felt so right. You didn’t want to stop. 

“I,” Alex starts and swallows before continuing. “I didn’t mean, like, I’m sorry if that was too much or something.”

“No! No, it wasn’t. It was nice, actually.”

He nods, pulling out his wallet. His cheeks were burning, and you could see his eyes darting from you to the money. He looks at you, then holds out the cash.

“Good. That’s good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” Alex’s voice practically shakes as he voices his thoughts.

You take the cash, your fingers brushing, before the feeling dissipates when you pull away. Alex can’t help but smile at you when you smile at him, the joy of the earlier kiss unable to be pushed down any longer. Your quip is inevitable.

“For the record, you’re a really good kisser.”

It’s like the tension washes away, and Alex looks comfortable again. Despite his shyness, he laughs and shakes his head at you.

“You’re a really good kisser, too,” he replies before opening the door. “Goodnight.”

He says your name so softly, with such tenderness and mirth. Your voice is caught in your throat, but you manage a raspy, “goodnight,” before walking out and down the steps of his home. A distinct feeling of sadness lingers as you walk farther away towards your car. You almost felt like you could cry. Oh, how you wanted to be with them. Be with him.

After that night, everything changed. You don’t realize it right away, pushing away the kiss to do your job, but you have been integrated. Yes, you had been absolutely worked into their schedule. Alex and Jaime worked around you like butter —smooth and flexible — as you began to show up earlier. You’d begun to hang around early, making coffee for Alex and staying late cooking dinner for the two of them. 

You tried to follow boundaries, but as you stood in the kitchen listening to Jaime laugh as Alex did his usual funny impressions, it began to feel like home. 

There was an even more profound truth that settled in your chest. Well, technically two. You loved Jaime; that was easy to admit. You loved his joy for life, his particularities, the way he said your name so sweetly and how he always buried his face in your hugs. Alex has always had to tear him away from you. You certainly loved Jaime.

Thoughts weighed heavily on your mind. Thoughts that might get you fired. That might completely ruin everything you had grown to know because you loved Alex. It was obvious when he’d turn to you and your heart would beat rabbit fast in your chest, when he’d brush past you and you swore you felt sparks. Like igniting a flame, he’d struck your match. 

You can’t focus after this newfound fact. It was impossible to focus, knowing now that you loved Alex; that you loved when he’d greet you with a hug, with one of those glamorous smiles aimed right at you.

The morning passes by with the sun shining and wind blowing, arriving early and having coffee with Alex as Jaime ambles around upstairs. You talk about Jaime, the weather, how dreadful Alex’s meetings are and more. He stands, and you almost think he’s going to kiss you when he leans forward with a smile to whisper your name and a goodbye.

Jaime is dropped off earlier than usual, his time and his mind occupied by the impending field trip to the zoo. He babbled the whole car ride to the school, and as you arrived in the kiss and ride lane, he leaped out of the car and hugged you tight.

“Bye! See you!”

You notice how other children hug their mothers and fathers, just as Jaime hugged you. Crushing, all-encompassing and full of love. Your eyes water, and you hug back just as fiercely. His head tucks into the curve of your shoulder, and it’s just the two of you for this sweet moment. 

His teacher calls, and you’re keenly aware that you are familiar now. Teachers waved, parents nodding their heads as if to say, “I get you.” It wasn’t so much strange as unfamiliar. You weren’t accustomed to being viewed as parent-lite, but it wasn’t unwelcome. As you settle back into the car after Jaime boards the bus, you wonder if parenting classes are in your future. If Jaime were in your future.

The passenger seat is empty, and your head bangs against the seat as you realize you forgot your purse. It was surely at Alex’s home, and you’d have to double back as quickly as you could. License, cash, lip gloss and more. You sigh and pull out of the drop-off lane to retrieve your things.

It’s alarming as you drive forward towards the grand house. What was Alex’s car doing here? A sudden spike of anxiety rises in your chest, and your hands grow sweaty as you grip the wheel. Should you just enter? 

You sit for ten minutes. Then, you decide you have nothing to lose and you’re sure nothing would happen if you two were left alone for a few minutes, right? You strut up to the door, head held high, and use the spare key before entering.

It’s not what you expect, no, it’s not what you expect at all. It’s quiet when you open the door and quiet while you cross the living room. A creak sounds out, and Alex steps down the steps, a towel hung low on his waist after he stepped out of the shower. You can’t help the jaw drop, your eyes taking in the flash of skin before you’re turning around and squeaking.

“I-I’m sorry! I saw your car, but I had no idea—”

Alex says your name slowly and even, as if approaching a spooked animal. He then laughs and rubs his head with pink cheeks. You turn, looking over your shoulder with a guilty face and eyes darting around everywhere.

The two of you look at each other, and he has the nerve to step forward like you’re not totally embarrassed and about to run out the door without your purse. This was dangerous. You couldn’t be around the man you loved when he’s like this!

“I just came to get my purse. I am so sorry for interrupting. This is so…”

“So, what?” His voice is curious, and he swallows before stepping closer. You back up, nearly stumbling over one of Jaime’s stuffed toys that lay abandoned. “Are you okay? Don’t sweat it, you’ve seen me without a shirt on.”

You know he’s teasing because he’s so light with it. You gulp, nodding because he was right, but was also so desperately wrong. It comes up like vomit, the words spilling past your lips before you can even think to stop them.

“It’s not that,” you blurt, eyes wide and afraid as you search his face. “It’s more than that.”

Alex is quiet while the two of you look at each other. His fists clench, and he steps forward. You feel prompted to speak, to explain, to do anything other than just stand there like an idiot. 

“Alex,” you start, throat dry. “I love Jaime. I love his laugh, his smile, and the way he loves to play games like ‘dragon slayer’ and Minecraft, because you were the one who showed him the ropes. I’ve grown to love Jaime.”

His eyes grow watery. They grow warm and milky brown; Alex takes a shuddering breath, and his hand comes to your cheek. It’s mush in his palm, and you’re weak at the knees as you murmur. The fear overtakes you, but your heart is stronger.

“I love you,” you admit.

Alex’s lips are on your instantly, right hand cupping your cheek, and left hand dragging you closer by your hip. It’s warm, and you moan as his lips drag against yours, creating heat from the friction of skin. He’s panting as your arms loop around his neck.

“I love you, too,” he groans and squeezes your ass hard. “God, I love you. I’ve been loving you.”

Your whimper is hot and whiny as you rejoin in a lip lock. The make-out is sweet, and your hands pull at his skin as they roam over his exposed torso. Alex is everywhere and everything; his body envelops you, and you grow warm when your hand skims over his chest. 

He pulls away, a string of spit connecting the two of you, before purring, “we should head to the bedroom. Don’t wanna do this on the couch, wanna do it right, you know?”

Nodding in agreement, he wraps an arm around your waist before guiding you up the stairs. You’re both all over each other, and you barely have the time to register that you’re in Alex’s bedroom when he’s crawling on top of you and lying like a weighted blanket.

Your lips reconnect with ferocity, nipping and lips dragging as you tug him closer by his shoulders. His hands skirt over the plush of your thighs and crave a path up your side till sloping over the mounds of your breasts. His fingers flex, squeezing the soft skin over your shirt and making you moan with an arched back.

“Fuck, tits are so pretty, you look so good,” Alex murmurs with a throaty voice, already half-chub in his boxers as he massaged your chest.

All you can do is squirm pathetically. You writhe side to side, hips bucking up and down as you mewled his name. It came out sharp at the first squeeze, then whiny at the second—by the third, you were moaning openly as Alex thumbed your nipples over the fabric of your shirt and bra.

“Lemme take it off,” you whisper before scooting back in a hurry.

The shirt comes off, and you’re clad in a lacy black bra that leaves Alex reeling. His eyes trace over the intricate fabric before he’s nodding in a trance, “yeah, yeah.”

Your smirk is grand as your nimble hands wind behind your back and unclasp the bra. It clatters to the floor as you toss it from the bed, settling yourself to lie back as Alex slowly makes his way back on top of you. 

He’s gentler now, almost afraid, as he brings a hand to your chest to squeeze the fat of your breast. A shuddering breath escapes you, the rough pads of his fingers drifting over the sensitive skin.

“I have to tell you something,” he murmurs with a tweak of your perky nipple. “I haven’t done this in a while, I might be…”

“What, bad?”

You cup his cheek and drag him closer till your noses brush in an Eskimo kiss. It’s quiet as you stare into his eyes, fingers clenching just the slightest as your breaths mingle together. You’re the first to speak.

“I love you, Alex. I don’t feel afraid, I just feel like I really want to do this with you. It doesn’t have to be fucking,” your voice quiets. “We could make love, if you want.”

He’s nodding immediately, his spark back as his lips curve into a wicked smile.

“Who said I didn’t want to fuck?”

Alex punctuates his words with a grind between your spread legs. Your moan is barely concealed, and the two of you fall into a hard rhythm of push-pull, Alex pressing his thick bulge against the heat of your clothed pussy.

You manage to pause him, too caught up in the feel of his heavy dick dragging through your folds. Grasping onto his hips, you wrench them away with a desperate gasp.

“I can’t, need to take this off,” you murmur hotly as Alex pulls back enough to watch you peel off your yoga pants. 

Alex’s gaze is transfixed on the heat between your legs, throat dry as he takes off his own cotton shirt. He unbuckles his belt like a tease, each loop undone slowly with his eyes tracing over the entirety of your body with a hungry gaze.

You’re both looking at each other, and you can’t help but eye the now freed bulge in his boxers. Saliva pools in your mouth, and your crawl is slow as you draw near. 

“I wanna taste you,” Alex utters in a broken, needy voice.

“You will.”

You sit on your knees, Alex opposite you. Your hand starts at his knee before trailing upwards, little hairs catching on your palm before you’re palming him over his tight boxers. 

He shudders, eyes slipping closed while a soft whine bubbled out of him. He was throbbing, so warm as you squeezed him over the fabric. Snapping the fabric against his hip, you rouse him to open his eyes and motion towards his underwear.

“Take it off.”

“B-But—“

“Shh,” you croon into his ear. “Just let me make you feel good, and then I’ll let you have what you want. Okay?”

His reply is spoken in short bursts as he stands, his hands hastily coming to his waistband to tug the underwear down and off his legs. He kicks it away, and his dick bobs and brushes against his navel. Alex looks away with a shy look on his face, but you don’t feel afraid as you wrap your hand around him.

Alex’s hips buck, a hiss forced out as you smear the drooling pre-cum all around his flushed head. His hand rests on the top of your head, and your lips pucker as you kiss his slit.

“Oh fuck, I haven’t—ohgod, your mouth is, fuuuck.”

Your tongue is quick to lap at his tip, lips parting to suck on the heated skin—the taste of salty pre on your tongue as you lave it all around his dick.

The pads of Alex’s fingers massage your scalp, knuckling the soft strands of your hair as you take him into your mouth, inch by inch. It’s heady and your lips curl around your teeth as you slide down to the base.

A keening moan bursts from Alex when you swallow him down your throat, your warm mouth constricting and gurgling as you bob up and down.

“Yesyesyes, mmf, I love your mouth. Oh my, fuck!”

Your eyes watch him as you move faster, hand coming up to play with his balls as spit dribbled down your chin. His cock throbs on your tongue, and your moan makes him even more vocal as the vibrations course through his body.

He’s pulling you off with haste. Both of you are gasping—well, you’re heaving for air as you bat your pretty lashes at him. His dick twitches, and Alex is tugging his lip between his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut to pull him back from the edge.

Pouting, you protest with a pawing hand.

“Wanted you to cum in my mouth,” you plead with your thumb grazing his nipple.

“I-I didn’t want to, not yet. Wanna make you feel good, like I said,” he’s pushing you back against the covers, thumb hooking in the waistband of your panties to tug them down. “This pretty pussy’s been waiting for me.”

He was right, eyes rapt with attention as sticky strings connected your soaking hole and underwear. Alex’s hips shift against the sheets, pressing himself against the covers with a quiet groan; his eyes never leave between your legs.

Squirming and needy, you press your foot against his shoulder with a gentle plea, “c’mon, wanna feel your tongue.”

“Yeah? You want me to eat you out?”

Alex plants slow kisses on your inner thighs, nipping at the flesh and getting closer to where you wanted him most. His breath grazes over your sensitive clit, and it takes everything in you not to force Alex’s head into your folds.

You settle with worming your fingers in his hair. It was soft, and you couldn’t help but card your fingers through it as you looked down at him.

He looks up at you, eyes lowered and hazy, before leaning in and suckling on your clit. Your cry is instantaneous, already worked up from sucking him off.

Alex eats you out like he’s starving, and in a way, he is. He hasn’t had pussy like this in so long, god, had it been years? He wasn’t sure, but he was drunk off your taste within minutes as his pink tongue wormed its way through your folds and licked your arousal.

Your fingers flex in his air, jerking and moving around as Alex lapped at you. He drew circles on your clit with his pink muscle, before diving with his nose buried against your nub and tongue working you open.

“Oh, Alex! Ah, ah—I love it, love you, ohhh,” your words die out with a keening whine.

You’re closer than you’d like to admit as Alex continues his ministrations. He was sloppy with it, hips humping the bed and groans echoing as he devoured you whole.

“That’s it, grind on my tongue. Fuck my face,” he urges darkly, voice hoarse as you pull him closer and start to work your hips against his mouth.

It builds and builds in your stomach, an inferno of lust coiled in your belly. You’re so close. Alex licks from your whole to your clit with the flat of his tongue, and that inferno heats till it explodes in a fiery ball of pleasure.

Your moan is stilted, drawn out and guttural as your back arches and you hump Alex’s mouth to ride out through your orgasm.

Alex nuzzles your thigh, planting kiss after kiss. He pulls back and skims you before sitting back with a goofy smirk.

“You lied,” you lament with a pant. “You’re really fucking good.”

He fucking giggles and shifts with anticipation.

“You ready?”

He looks so handsome like this. Built shoulders, moles dotting his skin. You nod, stars in your eyes as you spread your legs in invitation. Alex is languid as he moves closer to you, hand gripping the base of his dick and biting his lip.

Alex rubs his tip against you, your hole drooling as he makes a mess of the two of you. Your breaths are labored as you watch him, and you force out a, “hurry up!”

The man smirks, pausing before sinking in. Head thrown back, your moan is grand as Alex bullies himself into you. He’s mumbling praises, eyes watching your walls spread for him until his hips are flush with yours.

You scratch at his back, legs locking around his hips with a vice grip.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. I knew you would be, but,” he thrusts hard, the motion jerking you upwards as you cried out. “You’re so much fucking better than I imagined, you know? I’ve thought about you since I saw you.”

“Y-You have? You always seemed so–ooh, so professional,” you drawl in a steamy voice.

“Yes, ngh, yes! Had to be, couldn’t just fuck the babysitter on the first day.”

There’s an audible sound of skin on skin, and all you can do is take him until he leaves you completely spent. Alex is moaning in your ear as he leans over you, tendrils of his hair grazing your forehead and cheeks as he fucked you with vigor.

He angles his hips up, battering against that spongy spot deep inside that makes your eyes roll back. You’re wordless, hands grappling to hold his face and pull him closer, deep eye contact ensuing as he fucked into you.

“I love you,” you say in a daze, eyes bouncing around in your skull as you were fucked dumb, that heated coil returns so hot you could feel it all the way into your toes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” he declares with a breathless whisper.

He fucks you harder at the shared revelation, and your eyes tear up in ecstasy as you mumble a jumbled, “gonna cum, Alex, gonna cum for you.”

“Fuck, fuck, me too. Ohmygod, can I—”

“Yes, cum inside me. Want you to fill me up, please!”

You both come undone within seconds, the feeling of Alex flooding your womb with his cum triggering your orgasm to roll over you in a wave. You go numb, toes tingling as you mewl out for Alex. 

There’s a mix of breaths that wind down, the smell of sex in the air as Alex collapses next to you. You’re rolling to nuzzle yourself into his neck as if you couldn’t stand to not feel his skin for a mere second.

You’re both quiet for a few minutes. Once you’re calm enough, you manage to whisper.

“That was, well, I never expected that to happen.”

“Really?” Alex’s fingers drum on your bare hip. “Well, maybe not today, but after that kiss?”

He turns to smile at you with a goofy grin.

“It was inevitable, wasn’t it?”

-

The smell of pancakes wafts into your dreams. It’s enough to rouse you as you sniff, burying your face in Alex’s pillow. Your hand pats around on the empty bed, searching for that hard muscle you’d grown accustomed to in the past six months you’d been living with them. The sheets are cold and you know he’s gone.

Cooking? You wonder in silence, opening your bleary eyes and sitting up. The sheets are tossed aside, and you throw on Alex’s shirt and some shorts with eagerness. You couldn’t wait to see Jaime, see Alex.

Donning your slippers, you make your way out of the bedroom and down the steps—the sounds become clearer and the grin has already shaped itself on your face.

The picture is perfect. You take it all in at the bottom of the steps, eyes scanning the scene. Alex stands shirtless, flipping pancakes with ease. Two mugs of coffee are set to the side, steaming and alluring.

Music plays from the speaker, an upbeat tune filling the kitchen.

Jaime sits at the counter, rolling a toy car over the marble counter. His toys lay tossed around, and you maneuver around them on your tiptoes before placing your hands on Jaime’s shoulders. He jumps, before calling out your name in joy.

Alex turns then, his smile easy as he watches you kiss the chubby cheeks of his son. You peer at him before standing and rounding the island to stand next to Alex.

He lowers the burner and then slinks his arms around your waist. You bite your lip, almost shy, as he looks at you in reverence. Then, he’s leaning down and kissing you in such a sugary fashion that your skin prickles with goosebumps.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you croon. “Pancakes for breakfast?”

“The big man called. I had to answer.”

He motions over to Jaime, who grins before slamming two trucks into each other. It makes the two of you laugh, and you reach to rub Alex’s back. Alex turns back to the pancakes, and you realize that this was right where you wanted to be. 

You had found your place.