“Steve’s Her Daddy Now”

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You didn’t wake suddenly. There was no gasping for air, no cold sweats. It was slow. The fade to black at the end of an episode, leaving you on a cliffhanger. But you knew what was coming after the nightmare ended.  You’d seen it clear as day. That gun. All you were left with was a slow, coiling feeling in your gut that you were hyper-aware of. 

Reluctantly, you blinked your eyes open, only to be greeted by the dark open space of your room, images still flashing even then. For a moment, you wondered if you were alone. But then you heard the heavy breathing next to you, and the slightest amount of tension released. Your boyfriend was fine, and fast asleep next to you. And that was rare. You closed your eyes again, praying it would go away. That you could just bury yourself deeper under your blanket and drift back to sleep. But it didn’t work. All that played in your head was that gun. Pointed at Gator. The slow-motion as the man pulled that trigger. In your own home. Your throat felt dry, and your stomach continued to twist. You threw your eyes open again, a frustrated exhale falling from your nose. Maybe it was the wide open space in front of you. Even though you could feel Gator’s presence behind you, you couldn’t see it, and that was making you paranoid. It was like…bad chi or something. The problem was, Gator was the lightest sleeper you’d ever met, and with the late nights and early mornings, you knew he barely got the chance to even try. Slow as you possibly could, you turned yourself around. Still, the bed shook. Once you successfully turned over to the other side, you watched with baited breath. But Gator didn’t stir. Not once. You had to smile, as you watched his figure rising up and down with each deep breath he took. He was ok. Better than ok, he was finally, truly, resting. So why was your body still reeling like he wasn’t? You wanted so badly to pull him close and breathe his scent in just so you could prove that to yourself. But you weren’t the type of couple to do that and you couldn’t wake him up.

You tried to shut your eyes again and basked in the warmth of Gator’s body next to yours, pretending that sleep would come to you. But you sensed the air, and the distant calling of birds, and knew that no such thing would be happening. Especially when you heard the buzz from the nightstand, indicating it was time for Gator to wake up. You kept your eyes closed as you heard him stir beside you. Even though the relationship was still somewhat new, having a boyfriend that was constantly waking up at the crack of dawn for work, you’d gotten used to sleeping through his departure. And right now, as you felt him flip over, pause for a moment and then press the lightest peck on your forehead, you were almost glad to not be.

Most of the time, Gator wasn’t great at the physical affection — the cuddling, casual hand holding, and kisses were all so alien to him, considering where he’d grown up. You knew that it felt like giving a piece of himself away. That’s why a moment like that, and the naturalness with which he did it, warmed everything inside you. You listened quietly as his feet hit the ground and he padded out of the room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, holding back a smile the whole time. He trudged through the house, footsteps far too heavy, but the moment he stepped back into your room he was softer, movements more careful. Still way too loud but you appreciated that he was trying. 

It was when the sunlight began leaking through the windows minutes later that you finally decided to sit up, the warmth of your blanket slipping away as you glanced to where Gator was slicking his hair back. You stared at him, there — all done up in his uniform, the gun sitting on his thigh. You couldn’t believe he had to go out and face this shit everyday. Specifically because the most dangerous part of his job, was the man he worked beside. It came to you again, and you took a deep breath to try and push the worries back. It was just a stupid nightmare. Not real. Not real. Not real. 

“You’re awake?” The sound of Gator’s voice snapped you back into reality as he walked over to you. 

You just hummed, rubbing at your eyes to get out of your still half-dreaming state. “Want me to make you some food before you go?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” You could already spot the panic behind his eyes, and you knew he was dreading the day ahead. You were too. “You sure? You should have breakfast.” You tried, desperate to keep him here — safe — for as long as you could. 

“I’m fine. Already late. ’S the weekend, you should sleep.” He muttered, eyes flying over the room to check he had everything. In his mind, he was already at Roy’s feet, responding to whatever orders were given. 

You sighed defeatedly, leaning back on the headboard. “Alright.” But you couldn’t resist, balling a fist into his shirt, and pulling him close. 

“What are you-“ You cut him off with a hard kiss to his lips. When he tried to pull away, you only pulled him back for another and another and another. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s feelin’ clingy today.”

Usually, you would roll your eyes and shove him away lightly, but today you only whispered. “Promise me you’ll be safe.” He nodded, dumbfounded by your seriousness but too preoccupied to question it. You didn’t take your eyes off him as he stepped out of the room, and as you heard the front door open you sprung to your feet, tracking every step from there to his cruiser through the window. Your eyes didn’t leave the street until the car was a tiny speck in your vision. 

It was just a stupid dream. 

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You’d spent the entire day doing everything you could to forget. By the end of the day, you had deep cleaned your house, reorganized the pantry, and finished about five pages in some mindful coloring you’d scrounged up from the back of your closet. You weren’t feeling very mindful every time you would flinch at random sounds you heard or jump to check any notifications on your phone, wondering if it was Gator. You even called him at lunch, “just to check in.” He’d only laughed and told you to hold tight until he got home. That was hard when it felt like you were falling apart at the seams. 

After an eternity, night finally came. Gator promised he would be home in time for dinner but it was nearing nine and he hadn’t been able to answer your messages. You sat at the dining table, staring down the lasagna you’d made just for him, which was definitely going cold. 

The knock on the door hit like a hard smack. 

That’s how it started. In the dream. Some guy knocking furiously at that door again and again. Gator telling you to hide as he stalked towards the noise. The slam as it came off it’s hinges, and before you knew it, the gun at his face. Your throat felt dry at the thought. 

“Baby, it’s me. I forgot my keys.” 

At the sound of Gator’s voice, all the tension in your body released and you sped for the door. You’d barely opened it halfway before you were dragging him inside, and pouncing on him, lips tracing across his cheeks and neck. He caught you instantly, wrapping your legs around his waist and stumbling to the nearest wall. “What is with you today?”

“You hungry?” You asked, cutting straight to the chase. He shook his head. “You tired?”

And he immediately picked up what you were putting down. “Not for you, mama.” He smirked, guiding you back to your room.

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This was the part that you hated most. The awkward after. Especially after today, all you wanted to do was just be wrapped up in his arms, or better yet, wrap your arms around him. Just something solid. But instead, the two of you lay next to each other, catching your breaths as you stared up at the ceiling. You felt the mattress dip as he turned over to face you.

“You’re bein’ loud.” He muttered, and you turned over to him then, genuinely offended. 

“What? I haven’t said anything.”

“Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours is doing all the talking. Somethin’s been bothering you all day.” His eyes scanned over your face slowly, like he was genuinely worried. 

“It’s nothing Gator.”

He responded with a drawn out, “Mhmmmm,” and you wanted to be mad but he learned that from you. Just as you were about to turn back to the ceiling, he reached for your arm, keeping you still. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” He was so quiet when asked, that you had to give in. 

“I…had a nightmare.” You felt your cheeks getting warm as you said it. All this over something that happened in your mind. “There was this guy and I- He killed you, Gator. It just had me spiralling a little bit.”

His eyebrows furrowed and you could tell it was taking everything in him not to laugh. But he was resisting. “That’s what you were scared about?” “Yes- I mean- Yes.” You caught yourself before you admitted it, not wanting to push his boundaries. Gator, on the other hand had no such idea in mind. 

“What?” He leaned a little closer. You shook your head. “No come on, you were going to say somethin’ else.” 

You sighed. He was your boyfriend, right? The whole point was to be honest. But you were certainly going to avoid eye contact as you said it. “When it happened, the first thing I wanted to do was like, hold you.” 

This time, he did laugh. “Hold me?”

You were in too deep to back out now right. “I just worry about you, sometimes, Gator. You have a dangerous job and if something happened to you… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You mumbled. “It feels nice to y’know, be in your arms or have you in mine. Know you’re still here.” You cringed as you said the words, but they were true. Your eyes stayed focused on where your fingers were twisting the bedsheets, much like the way your stomach was twisting as you waited for his response. 

It came moments later; a small exhale and a whispered, “Ok.” 

“What?” You glanced up, eyes going wide as you realized he was being serious. 

“I said ok.” He adjusted himself so that he was laying on his back, arms outstretched.

“I don’t want to pressure you into any-”

“Baby, shut the fuck up, and get in my arms.” You didn’t have to be told twice, you settled your head on his chest and swung a leg over his, while his arms came to wrap around you. And god, it felt so nice to hear the steady thump of his heartbeat, breathe in his aftershave, feel enveloped in his warmth. 

Still, his body seemed stiff. “Are you sure this is ok?” 

“I want to do this.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter. “I’m just…” His chest rose and fell underneath you as you took a deep breath. “I’m not used to it.” 

Your heart split in two hearing that. “I’m sorry baby.”  

He didn’t respond to that. “But let’s get somethin' straight…you ain’t holdin’ me, I’m holdin’ you.” 

You chuckled, your hand running gently down his front. “Sure, Gator.” 

Soon enough, his muscles were loosening a little, and his breath slowed down. He buried his nose in your hair, snuggling closer. “Your hair smells nice.” He mumbled. That, in Gator speak, was akin to “I like this.” And he must have, because bit by bit, he started initiating contact more — an arm around you when you made breakfast in the morning, or keeping his hand on your thigh while driving. Little things. But those little things were big to a man who had never known them before. And you were glad, more than anything, to give him a place where he could feel safe. 

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The way your bag hit the chair was different than normal, Travis’ eyes lifted from his book, watching as the slouchy shoulder bag folded into the plastic chair with more carelessness than it usually did, the pins scratching against the backrest. He looked up at you, the careless way you had thrown your hair up, your glasses sliding down your nose, trying to hide the lack of makeup, and the new presence of blue-ish, half-circles under your eyes. Your eyelids themselves were red, not as if you had only just stopped crying, but in a way that betrayed that you had cried recently. Your uniform was covered with a baggy grey sweatshirt, and your earphones dangled from your ears. That was the first thing that Travis had spoken to you about when you’d been put together on a night shift for the first time. The fact that you both still wore wired earphones. Travis had thought it was some kind of fate taking place, but then again, he thought everything he had in common with you had to be fate. 

The main thing he noticed, however, was that you hadn’t looked at him. He could be making it up, projecting something onto you, but he swore, whenever you entered the office and saw that it was him you were working with, your smile brightened just a little more. But there was no smile today as you unpacked your dinner, placing it into the fridge with hands that were usually more delicate. He folded the corner of the page he was reading, so as to not lose his place, and leaned forward, trying to catch your eyes as they pointedly averted him. 

“Hey.” He said, his voice was gentle, as if you were a wild animal he was trying not to startle. He noticed you glance in his direction and pull out one of your earphones, leaving it to dangle against your chest.

“Hey.” You mumbled, your voice cracked on the word, and you had to clear your throat as Travis watched you pull out a chair and sink into it. Your forearms rested against the desk, and your eyes locked onto your hands as you began to pick at the skin around your nails, leaving the flesh raw and tender. Travis’ eyes widened slightly when he saw the reddened skin, but chose not to comment. 

“Everythin’ okay?” He asked, his own fingers fidgeting with the pocket at his thigh, fastening and unfastening the popper as he waited for your response. It was strange to see you like this, Travis was used to your cheerful demeanor, as if you were sunshine personified. It was something he had instantly fallen for, your kindness. On your third shift together, you found a mouse crawling around one of the hallways, and had taken it upon yourself to care for it for the night, feeding it, giving it water, before releasing it into the nearby woodland on your way home that morning. He had watched your thumb gently stroke the creature’s fur, how you had used your own sweater as a bed for it, and felt his chest leap and his stomach lurch. He was pretty sure that that was the night he fell in love with you, and every shift since then had made it worse, or better. He couldn't decide. But seeing you so deflated, staring down at your hands and staying silent instead of telling him about whatever side quest you’d completed that day, it made his stomach twist for an entirely different reason.

“Mhm.” You hummed, giving him a half-hearted nod, not looking up from your hands as you picked at a stubborn piece of skin by your thumb. Travis watched you for a moment before slowly lifting his hand, and placing it over yours. His skin was warm, a little clammy but not uncomfortable. The feeling of his skin against yours sent a tingle through your arm as his fingers gently pried yours away from your other hand. You let go of your thumb and sat back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest. Travis’s chest panged at the loss of contact, but he sat back again too, still watching you as you refused to meet his gaze.

“You can talk to me. Y’know?” He prompted, his voice tender, not at his usual excitable tone. “I mean, y’dont have to, but I’m a pretty good listener.” He continued, not taking his eyes off you. “S’what the big ears are for.” He gestured upwards towards his ear before shaking his head at his cheap attempt at a self-depricating joke. The short burst of air that you exhaled lightened his eyes a little, relieved that it was good for something. “My therapist keeps sayin’ I should stop talkin’ so bad about myself really.”

“And how’s that going for you?” You muttered, not lifting your eyes from where you were staring at your shoe. Travis smiled when you engaged with him, feeling one step closer to figuring out what had you so distant. 

“Oh yeah, really well.” He answered, his tone taking a sarcastic edge. This time when you exhaled sharply, the corner of your mouth lifted ever so slightly. Progress. A moment of silence settled between you, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you chewed on your bottom lip, clearly in the midst of an internal debate, for once, he didn’t involve himself, he just sat with you in the silence as you figured it out yourself. 

“I don’t know,” You started, leaning forward to reposition yourself in your chair before leaning back against the backrest again. “I was out with some people last night, and it was just…” You shook your head, glancing to your side before your head tilted, bringing your eyes back down to your shoe. “I was always… left out.” Travis’ eyebrows furrowed slightly as you talked, managing to keep his mouth shut for you to explain what had been plaguing your mind all day. “I was always walking behind everyone else, and no one asked me anything, it was like I wasn't even there. And… I don’t know, I just…” You paused, rubbing at your eye under your glasses. Travis watched, his heart pulsing at the quiver in your voice, the dejected tone that your whole body was projecting. “It just felt like they were all friends and I was just… there.” You said, gesturing with your hands as you continued to stare at your foot. “And the whole night I was just thinking, like… I’ve never been anyone’s best friend.” You said, pausing as the familiar well of emotion bubbled in your chest, biting on the inside of your cheek to stop the tears from spilling over. “I’ve had best friends, but I've never had anyone consider me as theirs… y’know?” You cleared your throat, shifting in your chair and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

Travis didn’t say anything, his eyes dropped to your bag, recalling all the times you’d left your phone out during your shift and it would never buzz, or all the times he asked you what you were going to do after work and you’d just shrugged. His eyes lifted as you wiped your nose on the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “I don't know. I’m just in my head a little.” You shrugged, the movement broke Travis’ heart, as if you were trying to play it off, as if it didn’t really matter. He could see it in your face, hear it in your voice that even now, talking to him, you felt like you were bothering him. As if your presence was an inconvenience. He nodded even though you weren’t looking, not wanting to interrupt if you felt like saying more. “Like, if I were to get married I wouldn’t have any bridesmaids… or anyone to come to a bachelorette party or anything.” You mumbled, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands and wiping your nose again as the tears betrayed your instincts and fell over, splashing onto your cheeks. “And I- I just feel like a little kid again wondering why no one wants to be my friend. Why I was always paired with the teacher, or why the other kids only played games where they could run away from me.” The words spilled out of you like an unstoppable damn, like now the sticks were falling away piece by piece. You dropped your elbows to your knees and buried your face in your hands. Travis was out of his seat quicker than he had ever moved in his life, rounding the desk and dropping to his knees by your side. His hand hesitantly lay on your shaking shoulder as you quietly cried, unsure as to whether contact would make things better or worse. It felt so unnatural to see you in this state. You were the one who brought the sunlight into every room you entered, you were the one who could pull him out of his head by giving him silly, random facts that you had found out that day. His hand held onto your shoulder firmer when you didn’t move away. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Your whispered statement had him swallowing hard around a lump in his throat. How could the kindest, most wonderful, brightest person he knew, feel this way about themselves? His thumb pressed into your shoulder softly, massaging slowly as he tried to ground you, to bring you back into the moment, hoping to help you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey,” He said gently, his hand sliding up from your shoulder to brush his fingers against your jaw. You lifted your head, and his eyes flicked over your face, over your tired, bloodshot eyes, over your damp cheeks, the way your hair was falling out of the bun you had haphazardly thrown it into. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He said softly, watching your eyes roll and your mouth open to protest. His hand moved up to the side of your neck, his palm against your skin, cutting off whatever you were about to say, and making you take in a sharp breath instead. “You are the coolest person I’ve ever met.” He said, a sincerity bleeding into his tone that you had never heard from him before. “Seriously,” he laughed softly when you tried to turn away, “who else do I know that’ll sit and listen to me talk for hours, and hours, and hours, and-”

“Travis.”

He smiled, but it was something softer than his usual cheeky grin as his eyes wandered over your face again. “You’re kind, and you’re like, super smart. And you bite back at me when I’m getting on your nerves.” He said, his thumb absent-mindedly trailing along your jaw as his eyes flicked between yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you complain, and there’s like… a lot of shit you could complain about here.” His smile returned as you let out another amused exhale, this time while ducking your head, the corners of your mouth lifting, his eyes dropped to your smile, not for the first time, but there was something new about this smile, something easier. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He repeated, his voice dipping a little lower as he caught your eyes again. “You’re the best of the best. Anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.” 

You swallowed thickly, your eyes playing a game of connect-the-dots with his moles as you looked over his face, finally landing on his eyes. “You don’t think I’m weird?” You asked, your voice sounding smaller and more timid than you’d like.

“Obviously I think you’re weird, that's the best thing about you.” He replied, almost having the wind knocked out of his chest by your laugh. It was a sound he had never gotten used to, melodic and loud, and perfect. His eyes dropped to your mouth, he couldn’t help it when you had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, this time though, you caught him. Travis looked back up into your eyes, his cheeks flushing with being caught staring at your lips, but he didn’t look away. His hand stayed against your neck. All the air rushed out of his lungs when your eyes dropped to his mouth too, his tongue instinctively running over his bottom lip. He tentatively leaned in, acting on the impulse he had had since he met you, he watched your eyes darting between his eyes and his mouth and decided it was now or never. His lips met yours faster than you were expecting, you inhaled sharply from the shock, and for one split second, Travis thought he had gotten it all wrong. 

But then you melted into him, your eyes fluttered closed, your lips slotted between his, and your hand came to rest on his shoulder. He sighed in half-relief, half-pleasure as his hand slid around the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your loosely-tied hair. His lips were softer than they had looked, and he moved them gently, his nose pressing against your cheek as he kissed you. After a moment, he remembered where he was, and pulled back a few inches, still staying closer than co-workers should, but enough that it could be explained if a manager or customer were to turn up. He watched your eyes flicker open, and your teeth catch your lower lip as his hand dropped from your neck back to his thigh. 

“Um… Are you free on Friday?” He asked, his voice still nervous as if you hadn’t kissed him back. You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear as your eyes flicked to the monitor screens to check for anyone who might have turned up. “Great… I’ll, uh… It's a date.” He nodded, as if confirming that this was real to himself, before clearing his throat and stepping back, scratching the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now he had landed a date with the coolest girl he’d ever met.

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He’s been complaining about pain for weeks, because as much as Gator likes to talk a big game about how he’s a “man” and “men aren’t pussy enough to feel pain,” when that boy is in pain, he will make it the problem of everyone within a 50 mile radius of him. You would find it annoying but how can you when you remember why he acts like that? It does make you irritated, though, that he won’t just visit the doctor like you keep saying!! It’s gotten to the point where every time he tries to eat something, or even drink water, he’s cursing even more than he regularly does and that movement puts him in further pain, and you see him turning red in the face. 

Finally, after almost a month of begging, you manage to drag him to the dentist where they immediately say he has to get them out as soon as possible. Gator gets all pouty and insists that they’re just “trynna squeeze us for a pretty penny,” but he’s literally struggling to form the words because of the pain. Eventually, when you bat your eyes and hit him with that sweet “Please baby,” he relents. How can he not listen to that pretty face?

They tell him all about the procedure, his grip on your hand slowly tightening with all the words they spout, like “general anesthesia,” “no hard foods” and worst of all; “NO SEX FOR A WEEK?!” The entire office goes deathly still at the noise of his shout. over the next week, he promises you he’ll book the surgery tomorrow. Every. Single. Day. Until finally, you get fed up and do it yourself, since you’re honestly the one that knows where his medical information is anyway. When he finds out, he almost has a heart attack. It takes you an hour to get him to tell you the truth. 

“'m just…not sure i want y’ to see me all drugged up like that.” You reassure him you’d never judge what he was like in that state but offer that someone else take him, but he shakes his head, defeatedly whispering that there is no one else. 

The day of the surgery, Gator’s practically shaking as he says goodbye to you. You promise everything’s going to be just fine and press a few kisses to his forehead for extra comfort. You can tell he holds onto those as he goes into surgery.

And when he does get out?

Oh, he is a mess — high out of his mind, barely able to form a coherent sentence on the way home. you wish you could take out your phone and film it, but you know he’d kill you if you ever did. You also don’t want to when he starts looking at the blood and telling you it was probably his dad again, tears pooling in his eyes. You grab his hand, squeezing onto it as hard as you can because you can’t do much else while you’re driving. 

When you finally get home, Gator is exhausted, so you drag him to bed  as best you can, tucking him in like a child. you don’t mind. You realize more and more everyday how much he didn’t get simple pleasures like this when he was little. Before you can stand up properly, he’s grabbing your hand and pulling you close to his face, his eyes full of this dead serious look. For a moment, he looks stone cold sober as he whispers, “I love you.” 

When he’s fully sobered up by the end of the next day, he thanks you again and again for taking care of him. He tries to thank you in other ways but you distract him with some ice cream and drag him next to you on the couch. As he digs straight into the tub, no bowl, he looks at you sheepishly as he asks, “Didn’t say anythin’ embarrassing, did i?” 

“How much do you remember?” You ask, the smile all too obvious on your face. 

“I remember one thing.” He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his mouth to press a peck to your palm. He doesn’t say it again, but the way he holds onto you for the rest of the night — the way no one else let him — tells you anyway. 

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But he just grins at you, leaning in, moving himself up and over you, flicking his thumbs over your nipples as he presses a kiss to your lips. You notice he pointedly doesn’t answer, but when his lips meet yours, you find you don’t really care either. Because in addition to, apparently, being very skilled with his hands, he’s goddamn superb with his mouth and that’s a fucking fact. You’d probably tell everyone you could if you talked about that kind of thing with people一his tongue swipes against your lips, begging entrance, and you let him in一ok, maybe you’ll start.

He kisses you slow, deep, his tongue moving against yours as you moan just from the feeling of him licking into you, his hands still at your chest, circling your perked nipples, massaging them in opposite directions, making you arch up against him because he certainly was not lying, you can attest to that now.

And it’s not that you weren’t aware一he’s just that your previous handful of hookups had been so quick and rushed that it was basically just kissing, then you climbing on top of him or bending over something for quick and dirty sex. For the first time you actually had the privacy of your bedroom, and he was actually taking his time with you.

“T-Travis,” you mumbled against his lips as he pulled back, and he let his face remain close to yours, the tip of his nose and his lips brushing over yours as he spoke.

“Can I try something for you?” he asks.

You attempt to focus on him, though he’s so close that it’s not that easy to do. “What?” you ask, searching his face.

“Want to try to getcha to come real hard, babe,” he says, kissing you again, sucking your upper lip between his. “Getcha to come on me, if I can.”

You study him, his breath warm on your cheek as he tilts his head, questioning, hoping you’ll say yes.

“You want me to一squirt on you?” you force the word out, because that was not what you’d expected him to ask, though you’re not… opposed.

But Teacake only gives you a shy little grin that turns impish the longer you look. “Like I said一I’m real good with my hands, babe, I promise.”

His earnestness makes you laugh a little, not derisively, but in genuine amusement, happiness.

“Um, yeah. Ok,” you say, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair, wrapping your fingers around the strands as you tug him back down to kiss you. He meets your lips and kisses you, soft, sweet, for just a moment before he pulls away from you, moving down between your legs. He kneels between them, and you look down your body as you take him in. Strong thighs and a thick waist, his half-hard cock bobbing a little each time he moves, and his hands coming to rest on your knees. His broad chest isn't quite heaving, but you can tell how excited he is just at the prospect of what he’s about to do.

Dragging his palms down your thighs, Teacake moves himself further down the bed, coming to rest on his front, your legs framing him as he bullies his way between them, shoulders pushing your legs up a little as he presses close in to you; your heels come down to dig into his back, and he leans up and over you to lay a tender kiss on your mound, right where your slit begins, and as his lips linger there, they part and his tongue eases itself down into your folds, finding your clit一you tense and lift your hips into his face, and he just rolls with it, moving with you, undulating his tongue against you as you reach down again, taking a fistful of his hair and holding onto it.

Travis hums quietly against you, drawing your clit gently between his lips, sucking softly on it as he moves one of his hands up, the backs of his fingers tracing over your thigh so you know what he’s doing. You shiver at the glancing touches he’s giving you, until finally his fingers slide against your lips, moving between them to feel for your slit. You whimper when he does, one of his fingertips moving into you, but he doesn’t commit fully to it yet一instead, he just turns his hand and rubs at it, feeling you squeezing down on nothing from the outside.

“Travis,” you whine, and you feel him huff a little bit of a laugh through his nose, but he doesn’t pull away and he doesn’t stop or slow down. He just traces his tongue over your clit before finally, with a touch of urgency now, curls his middle finger inside of you, both of you reveling at the feeling of it; he closes his eyes at the way you tighten down on him, and you arch up off the bed just a little at the intrusion, longing for more fucking immediately. You clench down on his fingers, squeezing him, and he interprets what you want, he must, because he pulls his finger out of you, angles his ring finger beside it, and pushes back in, and you nearly cry out because it feels so goddamn good. He’s not moving too fast, too deep, too hard; he’s for the perfect angle and has them curled just right inside of you that when the pads of his fingers brush your g-spot, you gasp aloud, desperate, hands fisting the sheets now because there’s nothing else you can think to do with them. Just hold the fuck on as he fingers your tight cunt.

“C’mon,” he says. “I know you got it in ya.”

“Travis,” you whimper, lifting your head to look down at him as he pulls away from your clit and instead works on your pussy, rubbing you inside, not hard but firm, focusing intently on your spot. You feel your pussy twitch around him, your whole cunt throbbing. You reach a hand down to rub at your clit, and Travis kisses your wrist as you do, watching your touch yourself as he does too.

“God damn, that’s a sight,” he mutters, and you just lift your other hand from the sheet to curl into your own hair, then fall back to grip the pillow, holding onto it as you roll your hips, riding Teacake’s fingers as he keeps stroking your g-spot.

“Feels一really good,” you breathe, feeling a rush of heat and wetness between your legs as your whole body shudders. You’re getting close to your orgasm because you’re touching your clit, but it doesn’t deter Teacake at all一he just starts fingering you now, properly, making sure to rub at your g-spot on every instroke, but he’s giving you firm pressure, the heel of his hand slamming into you in a way that might hurt if you weren’t so keyed up with pleasure already. Every time his fingers enter you again, every time they curl exactly right into your spot, every time your fingers circle your clit, you feel your body heat rise, your mouth dry, your eyes leak from the corners, and he pulls back a little, just a little, as your thighs start to shake.

“That’s it,” he encourages you. “Come on, babe, show me what you got.”

“Oh my god,” you half-shout一and then actually shout, because you’d felt close for a moment and then all of a sudden you were coming一no build up, no precipice, no leading to the edge. No, out of nowhere you were right there, and you watch, tears of absolute pleasure dripping down your temples as you come, hard, so hard Travis had to pull his fingers out of you, and as he does, you feel your body release, feel yourself let go一feel yourself squirt, the stream landing on Travis and your bed and your legs, your heels digging into his back so hard he can’t move away as you came all over him.

A wrecked sob leaves your lips as you finish, your cunt absolutely soaked, drenched and spasming, and you open your eyes to see Travis, beaming, his face covered in your come.

“Toldja,” he says, lifting his hand to show you his wet fingers, like that wasn’t incredibly lewd and adorably insane.

He straightens up, his chest wet with you too, the dark hair covering it glistening. You feel your pussy clench again, the sight of it almost primal, and you push your tits together, looking down at his cock一now fully erect.

“Your turn,” you say, and he smiles impossibly wider, standing over you on his knees, taking his cock in hand.

You lick your lips, letting your tongue peek out onto your lower lip as he strokes himself, thumb curling over the head of his prick each time he nears it.

“Come on, big boy,” you say, half-joking; you see Teacake smirk a little at the name too. “Get me back.”

“Oh, I’m gonna,” he says. “Gonna getcha right back. I’ll show you.”

His hand moves over himself faster as you play with your nipples a little, fingers sliding over them. Teacake watches, eyes flicking from your hands to your mouth, to your eyes, and when he meets them he smiles down at you, before lowering his gaze back to himself, watching his hand move over his cock, smearing precome now, his tip leaking.

“Gonna,” he says, and you mewl out an “Mhm…” to egg him on.

“Gonna,” he utters, leaning forward, his free hand coming to rest on the wall above your head; he angles his cock down toward your chest and holds your gaze, looking right into your eyes. He keeps stroking, his hand moving quickly over himself, streaking your arousal all over himself as he does, his hand still a little wet with your fluids一and then he’s coming too, thick ropes of his spend landing on your tits, your fingers. You rub it into your hard nipples, and he lets his eyes dip down to watch you, groaning as he finishes, groaning as you circle the hard nubs with your fingers, rubbing his spunk into your skin.

With a sigh, he lowers himself back down to sit on you一you maybe, accidentally, loose a rather undignified Oof as his weight settles onto you, but you’d never admit to it一and then he trails a finger over a line of his come that caught your collarbone.

“I think you won,” he says.

You look at your tits as good as you can一mostly dry, really一and then up to his, where his face and chest still have your release clinging to his skin. Even so, you say, “I think we both won.”

He clambers off of you, lying beside you, pressing himself against you一the feeling of it is filthy, debaucherous, knowing what you’re both covered in一and kisses your lips before he whispers against them, echoing you for emphasis. “We both won.”