𝖎𝖙'𝖘 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊

He doesn’t know the guy well. Really, this is all a huge imposition. But Caleb seems nice enough — and it’s good politics to get along with your roommate at the beginning of the year. So he raps his knuckles against the wood, and only waits a few seconds before stepping inside. In the large lounge chair against the window the other young man sits, hair messy, bags under his eyes, and slightly flushed in the face.

Just enough to show the heat of the room on his face, as his eyes flick up. “Hey,” he smiles, whispers.

“Hey.” Gideon says back. Lets his eyes fall to the small bundle wrapped in blankets tucked in the crook of his arm, as the tiny breaths go up and down under the fabric. The tiniest fingers are wrapped around his pinky, and an equally tiny face is squished and resting against the heat of his chest. Gideon shrugs off his backpack to start taking out the prints Caleb asked to deliver, scanning the space.

Sure enough, there’s no one else in the small room. He heard the rumours. Caleb’s barely a few weeks older than him, freshly eighteen. Something, something, custody battle. He heard it wasn’t much of a battle. There’s no more signs of the mom’s belongings. She ran. He clears his voice. “Uh… here’s the packet from aeronautics, and this one is math. I also took notes so if you need them…” The rest goes unsaid, when the baby coos and Caleb’s smile grows about ten times softer.

His eyes barely flick over a second, before he pats the empty bed with his free hand. “Thanks. I really, really appreciate it. I’ll be here another couple hours, so I’m gonna try to get a start on ‘em.” Despite what should be a miserable situation, the exhaustion and responsibility, Caleb looks at you like you’re his whole world. When he lifts you up against his shoulder, you make a noise, but sink back into a blissful sleep.

No clue about the mess you’ve brought to those around you.

He can’t help it. The thought is out before he can think it over. “What are you gonna do with her?”

Gideon bites his tongue, and clings a bit harder onto the strap of his bag. It’s rude, he knows that. It just didn’t come out right. The softer brunet’s eyes shift, and a slight curl comes to his lips. Disbelief. Fuck, he offended him. He quickly tacks on a bit more. “I mean, I just mean- you can’t really- get your piloting degree with a newborn baby.”

“I can. I will.” There’s a flickering light in his eyes as he says it. Somehow, between this look and the previous one, the other was better. Caleb looks like he’s daring him to say another stupid thing. His words are paired with the soft shaking of your body against him. You’ve yet to make a single peep. He thought babies were more annoying. Maybe you’re one of the better ones.

After making sure you’re still sleeping, nudging his nose against your small head and wispy hair, Caleb continues. “I’ve got no choice but to.”

His large hand brushes over your tiny, little skull; and Gideon remembers thinking he could never do what his roommate was doing. Caleb’s got nothing to prove, and yet, he’s carrying it all with more dignity than anyone could expect from an eighteen-year old.

It doesn’t make sense to him, as he repositions his bag strap. Makes no sense at all. Still, he’s sort of jealous. 

+

The hangar is flooded with bright light.

Each time the gates push open with a metallic clang, the entire bay rattles with noise. That familiar rhythmic clattering indicates another successful landing, preceding the loud whirring, the yelling, the cold gusts of wind that almost knock you over when you’re not ready for it.

You get used to the commotion.

Gideon’s gonna find it harder than some to leave it all behind, he thinks.

He instinctively finds his hand searching for the dog tag dangling between his pecs. The cool metal has become the same heat as his body, even where it once felt so foreign. Apt, he thinks.

“Gideon senpai! You grab the fasteners?” a younger man asks as he claps him on the shoulder while running past him. The younger’s ill-fitting uniform drowns out his shoulders, leather squeaking with his movements. Everyone here looks so young now. Gideon packs the armoured ropes onto the trolley, and waves him ahead as the hangar gates open again, and the last of the jets starts driving inside under the deafening noise of the motors.

The stink of kerosine hangs in the air. He sighs, before scratching at the shorter hair at the base of his head. It tingles in the base of his skull. 

Guilty conscience.

He lets his tongue push against the back of his teeth, before speaking anyway. “You go ‘head! I’ll catch up to you all.”

Far back behind all the action, shrouded in the cold, dark end of the oversized room— a small shape’s perched onto one of the supply boxes. You’re almost unmoving except for the slight shake in your legs as you wave them left and right ever so slightly, and the occasional blink. You’re entirely unfit in the environment. Despite that, your normally soft, warm looks have been exchanged for a colder gaze that scares most of the young men away after a few seconds of trying.

And they’ve been trying, that’s for sure. It’s probably why you look so fed up and annoyed in the first place.

Gideon finds himself picking up his heels before he can reason through it. His heavy brow raises, as he regards you with a slightly awkward expression. He’d rather be caught dead than admit it, but he feels … sort of responsible for keeping an eye out. Or rather, he wouldn’t feel good if he didn’t. Still, it’s not like you need it. You have your guard dog ready to bite.

“Hey, you.” He relaxes his expression as best he can. “He’ll be back any second.” Your normally kind face doesn’t drop the scowl, but at least the tension in between your brows loosens. It’s weird. He looks over his shoulder. It’ll be some time still before it’s safe to get out onto the deck. Watch some of the jets take off. Well, you’re probably not all that invested to watch, anyway. “You sure you don’t need anything? A sweater, or something?”

You only shake your head, and lift your shoulders like you’re showing off the massively oversized, branded jacket that’s been clearly draped around you. Right. It’s not like him to leave you in harm's way. Gideon’s lips press together tight as he nods, pulling up his nose, then wiping it with the back of his hand. “Caleb told me you’re coming to the goodbye party?” He doesn’t mention that he can’t really see you enjoying yourself.

It’s loud, and full of the same guys that you’ve just spent rejecting. Too many drinks. Too much testosterone in one place — and guys who’re still pumped full of it. Your familiarity with time on the base doesn’t make them any more palatable.

You grin. “I was asked not to come. But I’m going to, anyway. I don’t always have to listen to everything he says.” Your lashes point skyward when you look at him, clicking your tongue and pouting your lips— it almost makes him feel a bit ill. A hot, guilty conscious that he can’t fight back however hard he tries. He babysat you, for fuck’s sake. “Maybe we should teach him a lesson.” When you don’t get a response, you tilt your head to the side so that your hair waterfalls around your shoulder. 

The smile breaking out on your face is infectious. “You’re allowed to laugh at my jokes, you know.”

You’ve become so pretty.

He does laugh, and not because you prompt him to. “It’s hard to tell what’s a joke when it comes to you two. I’m never sure what’s serious and what isn’t.”

“Hah hah.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Who knows where they’d have to go looking for you, if you ever genuinely laughed at my jokes. I’d have no choice but to tell my dad all about it.” He pauses, searching your face for the humour; it comes late, and only when you softly smack his arm and start giggling again. “I’m just fucking with you. Seriously, Gid.” You hop off the crate and dust off your tiny, little skirt, tugging the bottom before spinning around on your heel and starting to walk towards the front. When he checks, Caleb’s plane has made it back safe and sound, and his colleagues are already helping dismount the vehicle.

You snicker, fluttering those lashes his way again. “I won't tell, if you don’t.”

“About what?” he asks. He knows it's a mistake the second your eyes crinkle into glittering moons, and your smile gleams a little too indulgent.

“‘Bout your dirty, little crush.”

He lets a sharp, whistling breath out before catching up to you with a few large steps. “Don’t start… with that again. And not so loud. Really…” He can tell by the curl of your lips that you know exactly why. The hangar closes and drowns everything in yellow light, flickering on the lenses of his glasses, where he stays back a few steps. You rush to meet his long-time friend halfway.

With a sweet, little squeak, your entire presence seems to light up the path behind you. “Daddy!”

Caleb’s arms swing open long before you crash into them and he spins you around a few times. Then he presses a dozen kisses to the top of your head. “Sorry for taking a while, baby. You’re not too cold?”

It’s not the first time Gideon’s seen this. Not second, or third either. The way your confident, bratty self melts away like snow in the sun the second you get into his orbit. What’s left is sickeningly sweet, syrupy kicking of your feet and a pout that could make the strongest man fold. In these moments, you resemble a much younger you, unaffected by the world around you. Honest.

You shake your head, a giddy, almost childlike grin painted on your face as you bury your nose into his chest, and cling onto him tighter when he loosens the loop of his arms to drop you back to the floor. “Nuh uh. Your jacket’s always so warm. I like it.” Caleb’s eyes slide up over your crown to meet Gideon’s, who simply sticks a hand up in acknowledgement.

He doesn’t quite smile. But Gideon can see a vague inclination of acknowledgement, before he nuzzles into your hair like he’s sniffing out every smell on you. He’ll have to sniff a while, at this rate.

You only look back when he hums, and tilt your head into your father’s pecks to blink up at him. “Gid held me company.” You bat your lashes. Like they have some magical ability to smooth over the coarse edges of the conversation. It does seem to work on Caleb. For a while. The taller brunet wraps his arm around your shoulder nice and tight to tuck you right into his side.

“That’s nice of him.” His smile widens when you hum. “Isn’t it cute how my uni friends are all still crazy about you? It’s been two decades, and they’re still like this.” Something knocks on Gideon’s consciousness again. “I remember bringing you around when you were a baby. You’d think a bunch of cocky twenty-year olds wouldn’t care about getting to babysit you, but they’d fight about it.” 

Gideon remembers. It wasn’t ever weird though. If someone would’ve asked back then, he’d have said they were all eager to get a pat on the back for being good guys for a while. Back then, he thought Caleb was thankful for the help.

It seems to have changed, somewhere along the way.

Two pairs of matching eyes seem to read him like a book through the skin. His oldest friend continues. “Funny. You must still be Gideon’s little girl, the way he looks out for you…” 

Though his voice remains that picture-perfect, jovial tone — there’s a distinct hostility that never used to be there when you were younger. Caleb’s staring at him as if he’s an ant under a magnifying glass. Pressure builds in the bottom of his gut. It makes the hair on his arms stand on end.

It’s only when you grab Caleb’s hand to slide it into your pocket next to your own that the tension releases. “Daddy. You’re so hostile for no reason. Gideon’s been your friend since I was a baby. Wouldn’t it be kind of weird if he wasn’t fond of me?”

The darker-haired man looks away, when Caleb dips to let you place a kiss on his cheek, making an exaggerated kissy noise. “You know you’ll always be my favorite.”

“Good.” Your dad simply hums in agreement, and paints his signature smile back on. If he didn’t just experience it, there’d be no one to believe the tension that was in the air a second earlier. Caleb points his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re all gonna go get some food. If you come along, it’s my treat.”

+

Caleb’s drawing the attention more than normal, when he picks you up and tosses you a few feet into the air, before ever so gracefully catching you. He doesn’t need to do much to catch the attention of the other students, anyway. It just happens. He’s heard some of the girls say something about being tall, handsome and reliable; and sure, Gideon can’t exactly refute the discussions.

The brunet doesn’t care about the eyes on him, either way. He can’t accuse his friend of doing it on purpose. When you raise your arms again, Caleb only giggles, nuzzles your face against his, and then tosses you up another time. Your arms and legs spread out like a starfish, like you have no doubt that you’ll be caught. Sure enough, you land safely in his arms. It makes you squeak out giggles, before you’re put down on the grass and run back to the group. A few of the girls pat the spots next to them, flinching when you trip and send grass flying over the picnic blanket.

You simply peek your head back up, and look at your dad for confirmation.

The only times he sees you cry is when you’re forced to be away from your daddy for too long.

Instead of paying the onlookers much mind, Gideon resorts to sliding the chips and drinks closer into the girls’ reach.

“She’s gotten so damn big,” Julie slides her bag aside to exchange it for one of the energy drinks, and plops down between Tara and Caleb, cooing at you for a second. “Cutie.”

Tara’s pretty face turns to greet her friend, then clicks her tongue. “What are you gonna do with her when we have to go to the overnight training, though?” Tara asks, scanning the group’s faces. “Getting a babysitter?”

It is instinctive, the way Gideon’s brow crinkles. Takes a tense breath in, and makes a face at Tara. In her defence, she simply looks back at him, complete confusion clear from her expression. The wind plays through the leaves of the tree above them, and in the distance, the sounds from campus rattle on like normal.

It’s only slight, but Gideon can read his roommate’s face plenty well by now. Under the picture-perfect smile he puts on, there’s a hidden layer of- irritation? Disgust? He can’t place it. It filters through the air, but only slightly, so faint you can barely taste it. “I can’t really get her a babysitter,” Caleb smiles, his eyes crinkling with the motion.

It’s what he always says when this comes up. It’s why Gideon’s had to blow off his own plans plenty of times this year, as a contingency. And it’s always with a lot of huffing and hemming from Caleb’s side.

He takes one of the apple slices, gently snaps it into a smaller piece and hands you it. You sit down half into his lap to lay your head against him, and let Caleb’s hand come to rest on your head like it has become second nature. “She doesn’t like other adults she doesn’t know all that much. It’s dangerous, ‘n besides, you never know what weirdos might do with your children.”

I don’t trust any of you all, is what Gideon hears.

Fair enough, but to accuse your own friends of something like that?

He’s ready to defend Tara’s innocent question, but to his own surprise, the girls barely blink an eye. Julie waves her hand though, at Gideon, and Tyler, and some of the other guys of the group. “I get what you’re sayin’, but I meant one of these ones here who already took the exam last week.”

“Hell, I’d offer to watch the little tyke, but I can’t. Can’t you trust your friends with ‘er?” She motions to take you for a moment, but Caleb simply waves it off, instead picking you and your apple slices up to sit you into his neck. You’re contented, dappled light falling on your chubby cheeks and little twin tails.

Gideon watches as Caleb’s eyes fall to his friends one by one, scanning each of them up and down with a blank stare. Like he’s looking through them, straight to their cores. It’s an unsettling, distant sort of feeling- sets his hair on end on his neck for no reason at all.

He wonders for a second if he’d be the same if he had a little daughter like you, so protective and unyielding. Maybe if his crush on Tara ever goes anywhere—

Tara continues, though her voice sounds a bit far away. Gideon’s not really listening anymore, in favour of looking at the shape of her pretty face. Yearning, more than looking. “Yeah, but the concern’s real, honestly. Did you know that like- 90% of sexual assaults happen by someone you know?”

“What does that have to do with anything?! We’re talking about babysitting.”

“It’s relevant! Just saying-”

Caleb’s not listening either.

It’s that empty, icy cold stare that meets Gideon’s eyes when he looks over.

It has him keeping his own mouth shut, despite probably having the time. He rubs his hands uncomfortably on his pant legs, before picking up his own textbooks again, thumbing through them pages. He doesn’t take his eyes off the page for a while after the topic’s come and gone.

+

Bitter, dry alcohol is the only taste that sticks to his tongue like this. Scrapes it against his teeth in an attempt to get it out, wants to hang the muscle and wring it out.

The music can’t overpower the feeling that’s been sitting in his gut, as he slowly takes another sip of his overpriced drink. Gin gives him a headache, but it had seemed like a good idea at the start of the night. The goodbye party’s now a few hours into what is quickly starting to unravel into a mistake for most of his past college buddies, and a show for everyone else. Gideon has resigned himself to watching the room from the sideline.

The room, and you.

You’re always pretty.

But tonight, you stand out exceptionally badly, between the middle aged men. Split dress and high heels and that trailing, dangling fucking necklace that lands precisely between your tits—

And you’re sitting in your daddy’s lap like you’re still an overgrown toddler that can’t stand to be a few feet away from him. Gideon tries so damn hard not to think about it.

The way you’re pressed up against his chest, the way you two are basically face to face as you chat under the noise of the others- occasionally leaning in to whisper into his ear, Caleb’s hand on your thigh to keep you right in place where you are.

How you coyly giggle and occasionally lean your head against his cheek and he strokes your back over and over, how it softens you like candle wax against his heat. You’ve been smiling for hours, in between the drinking and slow dancing and teasing. And then you dropped yourself into his lap and haven’t moved since. You’re curled up against him like you want to return to that time where it was appropriate to be laced right against his heartbeat, between his lungs and his ribs.

He doesn’t have a daughter.

He doesn’t know jack shit about raising kids, never had his own despite the wish. Fuck- it’s none of his business, really. He never wanted it to be.

All he knows is what it feels like. 

+

Gideon’s hands are sweaty around the heat of the steering wheel. The AC’s blasting the both of you, and makes your hair dance as you wave your hands around your features. The AC is not enough to get the heat from under his collar and flush off his face. This fucking summer. You’ve been parked for a while, but you’ve made no attempt at getting out of his car.

Instead of finding himself gazing at you yet again- he’s gotta stop doing that, really- he gets out himself. Pops the side door to start unloading your bags, glancing up at the tall building before him. The high windows gleam under the summer sun. “No more dorm life.” You’re twirling a strand of hair around your finger, distractedly. But you still hum, and eventually, turn over your shoulder to meet his gaze. “It’ll probably feel weird, right? Moving back in with your dad?”

“Not really,” you honestly reply. “Daddy visited me in my dorms whenever he could make it work. It kinda felt like I never left.” A soft smile comes to your face, and Gideon can’t say if it’s one of fondness, or slight annoyance at the lack of space. He’d be annoyed if he’d be coddled like you are by Caleb. You tut your lips as you glance up at your apartment too, watch the plants spill out over the balcony railing.

“You comin’?” he eventually asks, watching you slide your shoes back on from where you’d kicked ‘em off as soon as you sat down. The bags start slipping from his fingers, he jerks them back up. “Need a hand?”

“No, that’s ok.” You hop out of the passenger seat and smile. “Thank you for dropping me off, Gid. You’re always so nice to me.” You dig your foot into the dirt a few times, before watching him bring your bags around the front. Gideon’s too acutely aware of every motion you make, every twitch of your lips, the rolled eyes; all of it.

He doesn’t watch you, instead busying himself with the work. It’s the one thing he feels sorta useful for. Using his physique to be of service, even despite the age difference, and pay no mind to anything else. That’s what he wants to do, at the very least. You’re magnetic, and his eyes keep following even when he wills them not to. It’s creepy.

He clears his voice. “You said Caleb had a surprise for your homecoming, right?” From his periphery, he’s still able to watch you, though blurry. Your eyes glitter like you already know too much, but you still hum, cheerfully hoisting your purse higher onto your shoulder as you take one of the many bags yourself.

“Mhm.”

He makes quick work of depositing your bags at the door. You pout, exaggerated and girlish, pick at your outfit. Silence falls again, and not for the first time, Gideon can’t help but feel like you’re lingering.

The soft wind blows your hair like billowing curtains around your neck, and when he stares back at you from where he’s standing, he really can’t help it. There’s an ethereal sort of tension that surrounds you whenever he looks. It’s fucking pathetic. He’s a grown man, and you’re his best friend’s daughter. Everything about it is the definition of fucked up. Which is why he doesn’t react when you beckon him over to the car. Your hand raises, and you make a ‘come here’ motion again, and laugh— and Gideon fists his now empty, useless hands into his pant pockets.

He swallows, hesitates at the edge of the shadow of the building. You’re cute. Oversized shirt and short shorts, your eyes flick up at him too coyly. The shirt looks familiar, and it’s only now he realises it’s probably Caleb’s. He wouldn’t stand for you wearing another man’s shirt into his house, if he knows the guy. It only confirms it again, how wrong it would be for him to act.

Morally. 

His internal struggle is clearly visible on his face, because you’re laughing now. Giggling, with mirth that fills the courtyard and takes his breath away. You beckon him again, more intensely. “Gideon, come over here.”

Despite knowing better, he finds himself relenting just enough to approach you where you prop yourself against the car. His voice is softer, leaning one hand against the roof so you’re trapped on one side. Enough space to let you escape, if you wanted to. He takes a deep breath. “When’s your dad coming home?”

“Hm- don’t know?” You purse your lips.

Your eyes look like gleaming crystals under the reflected, blue sky. After a few deathly quiet seconds where he can only hear the wind, and his heartbeat, your hand moves to pinch the bottom of his shirt. You lean your face up toward him. “Really, thank you.”

The cherry shine on your lips calls for him. 

It’s stupid.

His muscles flex under your touch. He leans down, cups your cheek, and even knowing better— he kisses you until you lean into him and squeeze a hand around his forearm. 

Thousands of butterflies erupt in his stomach and chest and make the warm, wooly feeling inside him even worse. Your lips meet his and slot against him, and there’s a moment of hesitation before your tongue’s against his and he can taste all of you. You smile into the kiss. When you pull back, the heat of the car has transferred to your face. He trails a thumb over your lip, before nodding. “Don’t tell your dad I did that.”

It wouldn’t be good if he ever found out. Gideon has every intention of never spilling a word about it, too; his stupid fucking immature crush-

The balcony door slams, and an ice-cold shiver takes over his entire shape. 

He doesn’t get the chance to spiral about what he’s done before you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a hug, and then quickly escape it again before you laugh. “Oh, daddy’s home already…” Gideon’s heart’s banging louder than it has any business to. Like it’ll bounce out of his chest any second. Your eyes glitter with the amusement they always seem to carry, but for once, it’s not the comforting sight he’s so used to.

No, you’re the opposite.

You resemble a small predatory animal ready to pounce.

He supposed that makes him big, sluggish, wounded prey.

Your lips curl, and you simply give him a sweet wave before tip-toeing towards the automatic doors. Cheshire grin, your nails looking more like claws now than the delicate pattern he’d seen earlier. The look is so convincing that for a second, he feels the blood from in between your teeth running down his throat. “I’ll see you.”

Gideon’s hair stands on end. He casts a quick look up to your shared apartment, of what he can see down here, anyway.

“Uh… yeah…”

He picks up his feet from where they’ve been cemented to the gravel, swallows, and clenches his car keys in his hand. “See you.”

+

You drop your shoes by the entrance, shaking off the stickiness of the outside air - and get shoved to the wall with a hash thump that scares you into dropping your purse.

He smells good.

He always smells so fucking good. Manly, familiar, a little musky but never too much. You want to stick your face into his scent.

Instead, heat’s around your throat.

Caleb’s hand is just tight enough to make your breathing cumbersome, as you look up at him with big eyes. Big eyes that instantly fill with tears. Intentional or not, you cry when he gets mad at you. You knew what your whole charade would get you, but still. You’ve earned the overgrown brat title. His fingers splay out on your tender, vulnerable skin, as he gets right into your face so you’re basically nose to nose.

Breathes deeply from the scent of you too, before drawing out the words. “Baby. My pretty girl. Is this funny to you? Hm?” His much bigger body’s caging you in, and even should he let you go, there wouldn’t be anywhere to run in here. So you put up with the nervous pattering of your heart to stare back at him. Bite your lip, as his eyes follow the motion. 

He lets out an unamused chuckle, before he drags his fingers up your throat to your face, and grabs it between his thumb and other fingers. “You don’t get enough attention from daddy, s’that it? I’m not good enough to you, you need to get it from some other man?” You can feel his heartbeat through the skin and muscle, where you place your hands on his chest. “I should fuck him up so bad he never wants to lay an eye on you again. Should’ve done it a while ago, huh? Don’t you think?” 

Your pout comes naturally, digging your nails into the skin of his pecks. The puffs of his breaths land on your face, and the air that’s been used up from your lungs is pushed back between you two until it becomes hard to breathe. You’re not going anywhere, though. “Gideon’s your friend,” you whisper, and watch him look around your face wildly.

The pressure of his hand on your throat is only aided by the way his other hand settles on your hip, then your ass and he grabs you there like he’s afraid to let go. When he looks like he’ll say no more until you continue, you lick your lips. Coy. “You’re scaring me, daddy.”

The softness of your voice makes him grin without humour. “You know that hate it,” his face angles to the side, “when he looks at you like that.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t believe you let my friend kiss you.”

You can’t help but giggle a bit at his displeased hum.

“What are you giggling at?” It’s the way in which he’s already growing tender-hearted at your posturing. He brushes his thumb over your lips, before pinching it, pulling the offensive piece of skin before he lets go. “You like this sort of thing?”

“It’s not so bad to see you all jealous like this, no,” you chant back, blinking up at him when he pulls back enough to watch you. A calculated, searching look that won’t give up until he finds what he needs. It’s always been like that. “But I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It was an accident, daddy. Are you really mad?” 

You pout, and nestle your body up against his. “Daddy?”

Dark, sunset eyes glare into the deepest parts of your soul. His chest flexes under your hand, and you drag your fingers down the fabric until they land at his stomach. Caleb stares for a while longer, basically baring teeth, before he speaks. But then you bite your lip again. Lean up to nudge your nose against his, and his lips to slot over yours. Ever so innocently, you give him a peck on mouth before pulling back.

“You’re such a spoiled brat,” he sighs. “Spoiled rotten. Give daddy a proper kiss. A good one.”

Your mouth corners jerk up. “Can I?” You don’t wait for his approval before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling his face down to a more comfortable height, and push your mouth up against his. Gently at first. Lips that meet his warmth, teasing, languid pecks that turn into a smile when he grunts your name in irritation -the tease is half the fun with daddy- and then, you hum.

Let the feeling of daddy’s mouth on yours take over you, like it always does. His warm lips open yours, prying the soft tissue open for access to your tongue— his favorite place. One of them, at least. His tongue slides over yours to coach you into him, tangling and kissing and tasting his spit as you let out a noise. He tastes so good, all the time. Entirely like a taste of your own wishes, and his hard, strong body against you.

“Ah, daddy-”

You pull away for a breath, but he instantly is back. “Nuh uh, more. More.” Your lashes flutter like you’re getting paid for it now, wrapping your fingers into his collar to playfully tug at the edge. He kisses you so deeply, takes over your entire mouth to lead you around by your bratty, little mouth. And tongues against you over and over, melting you into him, as the sound of smacking of your tangling tongues fill the room. “My pretty-,” he hums, “so fucking pretty-,” and takes a handful of your hair to hold so he can tilt your face up to meet him better, “baby.”

You pant, and mewl when he slides one arm under your butt so he can lift you up against his body. Picks you and walks you straight out of the hall, kneading your doughy skin where he can reach. “You’re so frustrating, baby girl. You do it to get me upset, hm?” In between kisses to your face, cheeks, nose, brows, he drops you to the floor to let you catch a breath. Your hands reach for his muscular arms, but before you can properly find your footing, he slides his hand between your legs to pick one up and flip you over into the couch.

Your head back into the plush, hair sliding off the side, you’re unable to talk as he climbs on over you to pin you under the weight of his bigger body— and his dark eyes take you in. “Ain’t that right, baby? You just wanna get daddy mad, playing around with other men like that.” He’s taking up every bit of free space you have, by placing his forearms either side of your head, letting your legs dangle over the edge.

Fuck, he’s so hot. And big, and needy, and all yours- yours and yours alone. Always has been. You can’t help but let out a little noise that hangs in the air too honestly, pathetic and tiny and girlish. “Daddy~” Your heart hammers in your chest like it’ll explode out in a gruesome mess of blood and flesh. “I just- like it when you need me this bad. Hng- Ah- Wanna have all of you. Just you.”

Caleb blushes too. The confession has him closing his eyes and nudging matching noses, to slide his big hands along the sides of your body. Gripping your ass, your thighs in his big hands, and then palms your tits to squeeze them too. Daddy’s touch spreads through you, and you arch your chest into him more. Lean up to capture his mouth again. You’re not done with him. How can you be? 

He groans, long and low, and starts peeling the layers of clothing off you as you kiss. Hot fingertips drag down your center, cupping your needy, little cunt through the fabric. “You’re so fucking cute, baby girl. You drive me crazy.” Then he’s talking off your panties first, bra second. They're tossed on the floor as your favorite person in the world yanks you down the couch so your pussy’s exposed to him, and his fingers rub the wet slit up and down. “Pretty, little pussy. This is the only pussy for me, baby- agh, so hot and wet- fuck.”

You are. You’re dripping, your legs shaky and you open them up for the width of his hand. He’s just so big, and perched over you like he is, he doesn’t bother to entertain you before he pushes two long fingers inside. The heat and the weight of him on top of you feels better than anything else you could ask for. You reach down to hang on to his wrist, and moan. “Hm- ahh, agh, daddy. You feel so good inside. You always feel so good inside- w-want more. Want more, please.”

He drags his face down your neck with a few pants that mirror yours, and hums, sweetly whispering your name so you’ll look up at him through teary lashes. “That feel good? You like daddy this much?”

“Like you the most! Always- agh, aghh.” He pushes a coarse thumb onto your clit until you squirm against him, slick running down your legs and ass. You’re creating a mess under you already. Caleb doesn’t care. He’s too focused on the string of spit between your mouths and the way you’re clenching around his fingers. Panting, moaning, you throw your head back so he’s got all the access to your throat. “More, please. Daddy~ more~~”

He chuckles against your thumping arteries, bites down the skin. It makes you shiver, and your hands shoot up to claw at his shoulders instead. “Yeah, more? Do you even know what you’re asking for, baby doll?” Fuck. His hand feels like it’s exposing the liquid, hot core inside you, pulling your sanity out through your cunt. Fingers fucking in and out of you again and again, squeezing that puffy bud. It makes your vision blurry, as tears run down your temples. “You really want more? What do you want, tell me. You know I’ll give you everything you ask for. Anything you want, baby,” he mockingly coos.

Your entire body is glowing hot. Like a burning ember, you singe through the paperthin veil. “I want you inside, please! Want you, your cock, I want it so bad. Thought about it the whole way here, daddy, please.” Caleb’s hair is stuck to his forehead. He angles his fingers so he’s reaching so, so much deeper than you can, relentlessly fucking thick fingers in and out. Hot slick squelches and the friction is making your clit thump. Feels so good. So, so good.

You’re running your mouth, the taste of him still on your teeth. “Fuck me like you did in my bed last week, and in my shower.” He squares his shoulders as he climbs back over you, picks your ankles up in one hand and tosses you further into the couch to make room for him.

Panting like a dog, he greedily licks his lips, and pushes your legs back apart. “Open up, there you go. So good, baby. That feel good? You like daddy’s fingers in your little pussy?” More pressure, more rubbing, faster and harder and even deeper- you fuck back into his hand and feel the roughness of his palm rub over your puffy lips— and it feels too good for fucking words.

No one fucks you like daddy does. You never want to have sex with anyone else ever again, it’s true. “Yes, feels- good. So good.” Your eyes sting, as you’re watching him. Drag your fingers down his hot chest, the muscles flexing under you. You grab hold of his dogtags to pull him to you. Need to taste every bit of him everywhere. “I’ve missed you so much, daddy. Just- wanna— agh, please, want your big daddy cock so bad. I need it, need it, need it.”

“Who fingerfucks you this good? Who?” he breathes into your mouth. You mewl.

“Daddy does! Only daddy!”

It doesn’t take long for the tight coil in your belly to start pulling, tighter and tighter and tighter. Daddy’s scent is around you, his taste is on you, you’re feeling him sweat against you and he’s making you drench the sofa under your ass because of your wet, wet pussy around his fingers. He hums. “Gideon can’t fuck you like this, only me. No one else.” He kisses you when you pout your lips, licks into your mouth until you can’t breathe. “You’re mine. All mine, only mine. You try to mess with someone else again, I’ll fucking kill him. I promise.”

He pushes on your clit and rubs it so good that your back curls, your tits are rubbing up against his clothed chest- you moan and squirm and try to hold it, but eventually the building feeling bursts and explodes all over your body. Flexes all your muscles and ends in your toes, and your orgasm washes all over you as you cling to his shoulders. “Agh- aghh, daddy, daddy, love you. Promise? You promise you will? Please, please, please- I love you, daddy. Aghhh-love you.”

You’re barely down from your spotty vision before he pulls his fingers out of you and spanks your pussy. Your lower half jerks with the sting. Then he turns you around and repositions you to make room for him in between your legs. Your belly’s still all tingly as it rubs over the coarse hairs of the couch. “You love me too?”

Daddy’s too busy peeling his shirt over his broad shoulders to pay you much mind. He shoves both his pants and boxers down his legs to grab his cock. The only one deserving of filling you up and making you whole. You pat his thigh with your foot, and pout, pushing your cheek into the plush pillows. “Say it.”

Caleb’s handsome face breaks into a smile as he watches you look over your shoulder, and your needy expression grows more teary. “Say what, baby?”

It’s not fucking fair. He traces your spine with his free hand, as the other slowly pumps his hot, flushed pink cock. It always looks almost too heavy and big to fit. You know it does, though. Daddy’s cock is the perfect ache to fill you up. When you whine and moan, he grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, then pulls you up so he can line you up with his cock. Drooling, hot and perfect against you. You’re whimpering despite yourself. Your poor pussy always misses daddy when he leaves.

“Daddy.”

“Mhm?”

“Tell me you love only me. I’m all you think of, right? You can’t think of anyone else? Just your little girl?” Your pouty, needy expression is automatic. You know you are whining. A whiny, needy brat who always gets what she wants. It’s all you can do to fight back against the way it overtakes you. He’s trained you to be absolutely reliant on you. “You can’t love anyone else? You’ll scare everyone away from me forever and ever and ever. Can I keep being your little girl, please?”

The hot head of his cock is pushed inside you, a few inches at once, it fills you up to the brim. Your eyes squeeze shut against the teary onslaught of emotion, and he grips your ankles to pull you into him more. Caleb’s touch slides down to trail all over your limbs, when he pushes in more. Pushes inside until you’re all the way full and his hips connect with yours, and presses his lips to your head. “Always, baby. You’re always going to be all mine.”

Silvery tears slip out when he pulls back, and your pussy clings on to keep him inside. It makes your whole body ache, the most delicious pain. “Ahg, ahn, hm- I- Love you, daddy.”

Caleb’s cheek rests on your cheek, as the weight of his body covers you entirely, and you feel like you’re drowning in him. His entire world becomes your own. And he hums, and breathes of you, fills you, takes every inch for himself. How dad and daughter should be. “I love you more, baby. Love you so, so, so so so much.” You grew up just right to be daddy’s perfect princess.

His brat, his doll. Tooth-achingly sweet.

It’s only ever been the two of you, against the world.

He tangles hands with yours where he pins them down on the couch and pistons his hips in and out of you with a bruising force. “I already know you don’t love anyone else like you love me.”

His and his alone. “You always take it so well.”