Screaming into the Void

it wasn't a dig at you but the big comment irked you, it's not like you had invited this guy to come talk to you. "i don't know, guess he thought i must've not had a boyfriend to be lettin me wonder off to the bar alone." you huffed irritated as you sat at the bar top table near the wall. craig whistled lowly as he took his turn at the pool game. pope scowl had gone from slight jealousy to pissed, he's coming close caging you. "so what? you saying i'm a bad boyfriend hm'?". you're not looking at him, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. he lets out a huff, maybe he was being too harsh. he tries to lift your face up by your chin, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips, you couldn't refuse a kiss from him.

except his lips never touch yours, you had turned your head and was met with your soft cheek. when you glared back up at him, you were done for. sweet bf pope was long gone, no, this was the side of pope he rarely showed around you. he pulled away snatching his pool stick, trying to finish the game he had started with craig. you sat there scowling and glaring, pope would look over every few moments, your arms and legs crossed as you hurriedly finished your drink. as your walking past him to get another drink, pope finally snaps. he's got you by the inside of your elbow, dragging you toward the exit even as your whining at him. "andrew, what the fuck– let go of me– mph!" he's not saying a word as he lifted you up into his car and slamming the door shut.

the entire car ride home is silent, he's fuming. a little bit of brattiness from you was typical but rejecting his kiss and not denying the bad boyfriend question? this was a new level. you're not even half way into the house when he's picked you up the waist, "andy! put me down!" he's tossing you onto the bed as he slams the bedroom door shut. he's standing so still, seething, watching you clamor up the bed. he walks to the foot of the bed yanking you down by the ankles, climbing ontop and caging your hips down as he pins you down. he's grabbing your face, gripping your face till your lips are pouting and cheeks squished as you try to fight him off. "i'm a bad boyfriend huh? spoiling you with everything you want but when i don't want other guys trying to take what's mine, then it's a problem? such a fucking brat, gotta teach you a lesson huh?"

your face is smushed into the mattress, hair sticking to your teary cheeks and drolly lips . your clothes are torn and discarded on the floor as andrew has you pinned down, ass up. his hips smacking into yours at a brutal pace as broken whines and cries pour out of you. he hasn't stopped for one moment, your cunt crying around the stretch of his cock. he's buried in you so deeply that every thrust has his balls kissing your clit in a wet smack. one of his hands his gripping your hip, fingers digging into the soft as the other holds the nape of your neck down. his body is curved against yours as he pulls you up, kiss your shoulder and throat. "m' such a bad boyfriend huh? ruining this pretty pussy with my cock and making you cry? i should just stop, can't have you weeping like this?"

the broken moan and sob as you shake your head escapes past your lips. he had denied to many orgasms and the thought of him stopping now would be worse then death. "n-no! no! pl-please, andrew d-don't wanna s-stop, m'sorry i-i was a brat... i-i won't do it again please andrew m'sorry please"

“In here, honey.” You said from the dining room, which faced into the main hallway. He turned around with a tired smile playing on his lips. You were at the dining table, laptop in front of you and notebooks, pens, and papers strewn across the large slab of cherry wood.

“What do we got here?” He teased, rounding the table to get to you. As soon as he approached you, his cold lips met your bare shoulder, causing you to jump a little.

“Mikey,” you yelped, back straightening quickly. He laughed into your skin, pressing more kisses along your shoulders and neck. His arms went around you, hands resting against either side of your elbows on the edge of the table.

“C’mon, baby, I’ll draw us a bath.” He mumbled, mouth by your ear.

“Can’t. I have to study.” You exhaled, bringing a hand to rub the tense part of your neck. His head lifted, looking up at your laptop, which had YouTube open. You tilted your head to look at him hovering over your shoulder and he smirked.

“Is this studying?”

“I was taking a break.” You rolled your eyes and reached your hand out to ruffle his hair. He leaned into you as you did so. “How was work?” You asked, more softly as you placed a kiss on the peak of his cheekbone.

His face, warmed by your touch, blushed and he kissed your cheek back. When his eyes met yours, he caught your lips in his, quickly and hungrily. His head pushed into you as you went with it, pushing back against him and letting your hand find the back of his head. As you pulled away, his lips trailed yours but you refused.

“Baby, that’s not an answer.” You mumbled, lips nearly touching his, and leaned your head back against his shoulder. He crowded into you with a smile and he placed a kiss on your chest.

“I can tell you about it in the bath.” He teased, mouth trailing up your neck but not quite kissing. He left a quick suck at the underside of your jaw, where you so graciously let him through the tilt of your head.

“I have a study guide to finish.” You breathed, looking up at him. “Should order food or somethin’.”

“Mmm,” he shook his head, “After a bath.”

“What’d you eat today, Robby?” You asked, hands going to grab your phone. His hand moved to run up and down your bicep as you did so.

He kissed the top of your head and you felt the vibration of his voice as he mumbled, “Power bar and coffee.”

“Those power bars taste like shit.” You complained as you turned on your phone, searching for any food app. “What do you want to eat?”

His head returned to the side of your face and he smiled mischievously, “I think you know what I want.”

You ignored him, “We could do pizza? Or Thai food, that sounds good.”

He nudged his head towards the hallway, “C’mon, come take a bath with me.” He grinned, brushing his head against yours, “Can you spare twenty minutes for this old man?”

“Uh, uh.” You shook your head at him and put down your phone, “I know you, Robby. Besides, this is, like, thirty percent of my grade.”

“What’s your GPA again? Three point nine, nine, nine…” He trailed off as he started kissing down your neck again. The heat of his breath made you lean back into him and begin to question if you really cared about your history class. You let your eyes close and indulged in the squeeze of his hand on your arm and the hair on his beard sweeping down your neck. When he reached your collarbone, you surrendered, exhaling like you needed it and shoulders dropping from being so wound up. “There’s my girl.”

“Robby.” You tried to protest, but it came out more like a plea. Your face met his and his nose brushed on yours. Eyes struggling to keep open, you watched his eyes roam around you and muttered, “It’s a lot of work.”

“You did too much already.” He said selfishly, knowing damn well you barely finished half of it. He knew your procrastination methods, but he also knew when you were overwhelmed. “Come take it out on me.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

You got up from the chair, stretching your back as you stood. His hands couldn’t stay off of you, from your arms trailing to grasp the small of your back. You reached your arms around his neck and rested against him. The soreness of your sides became tender as his hands pressed into you.

“We can do the bubbles this time.” He whispered into your hairline, planting a kiss on your forehead. You beamed, smiling as he led you to the hallway and towards the bathroom.

In the bath, you rested against Robby’s chest and had your eyes closed. His hands rubbed circles up and down your arms under the warm water. The heat felt like heaven on your skin, comfortable and destressing, not to mention the solidity of Robby behind you. He pressed kisses behind your ear and you felt every bit of his face on your neck. You played with the bubbled soap under your fingers, allowing yourself to drift off.

“You’re lucky you’re so persuasive.” You said, leaning your head back into his shoulder. Opening your eyes, you tilted your head towards Robby, who was looking down at you with a smile on his face.

He hummed, nodding his head at you, “When is your test, anyway?”

“Tomorrow.” You responded, placing a kiss onto the left side of his neck.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed at himself, throwing his head back. “Should’ve led with that.”

“S’okay,” you grinned, kissing along his beard and up to his cheek, “I’m here anyway.”

He leaned his head down to plant a heavy kiss on your lips.

The night ended like most nights did, on the big leather chair in the living room. It was worn, but classy, and felt like it belonged exactly where it was, among Robby’s half-read books and your own trinkets— ceramic turtle from the beach, tiny stuffed bear Paul Revere.

The glow from his lamp was the only thing lighting the room, warm and making everything feel hazy. Half-eaten Pad Thai, plastic containers, and empty glasses sat on the coffee table before you. It was quiet, other than the occasional car passing on the street and the flipping of pages.

In a t-shirt that was older than you and brand new underwear bought on one of the many Robby-funded shopping sprees, you curled up on Robby’s lap, flipping through your notebook. Glasses on the bridge of his nose, he had a random biography in one hand, the other hand was rubbing the middle of your back. Sure, there was an entire couch beside you, but Robby and the chair was your space.

Every so often, Robby was unable to flip the page in his book and you did it for him. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, mumbling nonsense under your breath as you reviewed your notes. Neither of you ever really spoke, touch was enough to communicate.

At some point, you didn’t really care about your final, eyes grew drowsy and you allowed yourself to embrace the warmth of Robby against you. You folded up your notebook and slid it onto the coffee table, noting to yourself to get it in the morning. He closed up his book and wrapped his arms around you.

You fell into the same rhythm as every other night: He’d kiss you on the forehead and stroke a hand through your hair when it started getting late. Then, he’d insist it was time for bed with a sweet hum.

Bright lights flash in your eye as you maneuver the crowded bar, squeezing your torso in between sweaty bodies. Your hands double fist some cocktails, raising them up high over the crowd to avoid spills.

You finally make it to the booth, setting yours and Trinity's fruity drinks down. You wiggle yourself back into your seat, hips adjusting against the cushiony fabric.

Halfway through your first sip, you finally pick your eyes up and see a new addition across the booth. Familiar broad shoulders, scruffy cheeks, and sloped nose take up real estate in your line of vision. Your heart stops.

Your lips go limp around your straw when your eyes meet, cheeks heating up as you place the frilly glass back on the table. You anxiously move two strands of hair behind your ears, averting your gaze immediately away from him.

"Hi," Robby mutters, quiet, but you know it's to you. "You look nice."

You can't help the smile that creeps up your lips, a small 'thanks' leaving them. You dart your eyes to see his own sly smile, knowing eyes and red cheeks communicating to you everything he can't say.

You're beautiful, that top is incredible, I want to sit next to you.

The red, silky fabric wrapping around your torso, and pushing up your tits, is his favorite. You wore it on your second date, paired with the same slinky skirt adorning your hips now.

The last time you wore this outfit, it ended up on Robby's floor until morning, the sun illuminating all of the previous night's decisions. His eyes scan you now, taking his sweet time raking his brown irises down your curves.

You shift in your seat, heart racing at his pointed gaze. Trinity clocks you squirming, darting her eyes to Robby, openly eye fucking you in a booth full of coworkers. She ducks her head behind her drink to hide her gagging, and you kick her shin under the table.

"Bitch!" She whisper yells, and you stifle a laugh with your hand.

Dana stumbles in, then, ripping her messenger bag off her shoulders, her short blonde hair falling loose around her face.

"God, I need a drink," she groans, and Trinity laughs.

"What the hell happened to you?" She asks, checking her phone. "It's only been an hour and a half since our shift ended."

"It's called: 'trying to get your twenty year old to get off her phone and go to sleep'," she says into her sweatshirt sleeve.

"Oh fuck no," Trinity replies, taking a sip of her drink.

"Yeah," she groans, picking her head up and resting her chin in her hand. "She’s been having nightmares too, since she’s been home from school, makes it even harder."

You pout your lips, heart twisting for the young lady.

"Poor thing," you sympathize, and she nods, rolling her eyes.

"Have you tried an oil diffuser?" A voice calls from across the booth.

All eyes turned to Robby, such an out of character comment from the chief attending. It's silent for a moment as the table processes this information. His cheeks turn pink, an embarrassed smile on his lips.

"An oil diffuser, Robinavitch?" Dana asks, eyes wide open now. "Like, essential oils and shit?"

He nods, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I know, I know," he addresses the crazed looks. "My therapist recommended it. Lavender has helped with my nightmares."

Again, absolutely dumbfounded looks. Not from you, though, because you know he wouldn't have really followed through with this advice if you hadn't intervened.

Dana’s face twists in all kinds of different directions, ultimately landing in consideration. She tilts her head side to side, as if shaking the idea around in her brain.

"Hm," she says, "I might just have to try it. At this point, I'm desperate."

"Okay, Papa Robinavitch," Trinity snaps her fingers at him, and you want to kick her shin under the table.

He reddens even deeper at this, and you ache to kiss it away. You just sink your teeth into your bottom lip, stifling your lovesick grin.

"God," he laughs. "That ship has sailed, trust me."

Your blood runs cold at this, your entire body tensing at his words. Trinity feels this, your thigh going rigid against hers. She gives you a quick glance, assessing the situation before proceeding.

"Really?" Dana asks, doing the work for Trin. "You don't have any more paternal insight in there?"

He shrugs, playing with the label on his beer.

"I don't know, I guess I might. I've helped some friends over the years, always thought I might have some one day, but…I don't know," he shakes his hand, his thought trailing into nothing. "I think it's over for me, so it doesn't really matter."

Your heart pounds in your chest at his words, feeling like it might burst out of your chest at any moment. He's…helped friends? With their own children? You can't recall any of his current ones that have any, except for maybe Dana.

Though, you think maybe you'd call their connection a trauma bond before a friendship. The thought of him, rocking a baby in his big arms makes your heart swell. It's a bird, fluttering against the cage of your chest and desperate to break free.

Then, his last words fully process. I think it's over for me. Confusion and hurt barrel through you, knocking the wind out of you.

Though you'd never discussed it specifically, things are going really well with Robby. It's low key, due to the nature of your positions, but it's definitely more than just sex. You've always wanted kids, and you feel foolish for automatically assuming Robby felt the same.

"Well, Charlie Chaplin had kids in his 70s. You're fine," Dana remarks, and you have to bite back a laugh at Robby's horrified expression.

"I'm not as old as Charlie Chaplin!" He exclaims, eyes wide.

This earns a laugh from the table, Trinity clapping her hands in glee. Your world is tilted on its axis, and smile is small, meek in the delight of the rest of the table. Trinity wraps a hand around your wrist, squeezing gently.

"Exactly!" She says. "You got plenty of time, what, like, 5 years?"

His eyes narrow into slits, and he points at her with his beer.

"You," he starts, "better watch it."

She shrugs, eyeing the picked over label on his bottle.

"That looks good," she nods towards the glass. "I'm gonna go get one of my own."

You slurp down the rest of your fruity drink, your head starting to spin with alcohol and heartache- the perfect combo. You wiggle your way out of the booth, following Dana towards the bar.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go get another one, too," you mutter, standing up and smoothing out your shorts.

You turn around, asking the table if anyone needs anything. You're answered by the shaking of heads, passive 'nos' leaving the lips of your colleagues.

Before you walk away, your eyes find Robby, though his are focused on your ass. A boost of confidence blooms deep in your stomach, the tiny garment stretched delicately over your backside. They're your special pair, working on every man you've ever dated.

Robby is no different.

His eyes scan back up your frame, meeting yours with a smirk. It's explosive, your heart pounding in your chest, though your stomach is churning. You can't resist his wide, brown eyes, the way they twinkle in the flashing lights burning your cheeks.

Trinity clears her throat, making her own way out of the booth now as she sidles up behind you, covering the most vulnerable parts of you.

"Let's go get that drink, huh, babes?" She asks, and you catch her glare at Robby in your peripheral.

Your cheeks are positively on fire as she scurries you toward the bar, putting in two orders of the same drinks you just finished.

You let your head flop down on the bar, buried in your forearms and let out a long groan.

"Trin!!" You whine, and she rubs a soothing circle on your back.

"Babe, what was up with that?" She asks, gently. "Was it the kids thing? It's okay if you don't want them, I'm sure he wouldn't mind, I mean, he even said-"

"No," you croak, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you lift your head up. "It's not that I don't want them. Quite the opposite, actually."

"Okay…" Trinity trails off, brows furrowed. "So…what's the problem? Was he not just subtly bragging about how good of a father he'd be?"

Your stomach blooms at the thought of that first little piece, when he'd shared such a vulnerable tip to help McKay. You envy Trinity's naivete, you really do.

"Because," you start, "he punctuated that sentence with 'I think it's over for me'," the tears finally spill past your lash line, mascara streaking down your cheek.

"Yeah, I did hear that," Trinity mumbles, "I was just hoping I'd heard it wrong."

"Am I just..not an option? I mean, has this really been just sex this whole time?" You press your fingertips into your temples, massaging gently,

"Babe, I think the only person that can answer that question is him," she looks back at the table, and you can't resist looking too.

He's already looking at you when you look over, and his brows furrow in confusion at your tears. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, reverberating through your ears at the concern lacing his gaze.

He gives you a thumbs up, mouthing you ok? Your heart aches, and you're unable to stop the tears from spilling. You swipe a finger underneath each eye, a band aid in a broken dam, and turn away from him.

"Ugh!" You groan, tilting your head back to stop the onslaught of tears. "I think I'm just gonna go home, Trin. I can talk to him in the morning."

"That's okay," she mutters, and you're thankful for her understanding.

She leads you back to the table, where you grab your bag and lip gloss.

"You're leaving?" Robby's gruff voice asks, and you duck your burning face, nodding your head in response.

"How are you gettin' home?" He asks, tone a bit more strict now.

"I'm going to Uber," you nearly whisper, and it's met with an uproar from the table.

"Sweetheart," Dana pipes up. "That's not safe, you sure there's not anyone else who can take you home?"

Your eyes flicker down to the floor again, desperate to avoid the gaze of the man who's only nursed his beer tonight, drinking lots of water in between.

"I'll take ya," Robby says, scooting out of the booth himself.

He leaves a $100 bill on the table, 'for both of our drinks', he murmurs in your ear as he guides you toward the door.

"You didn't have to do that," you turn your head and mumble into his chest, and you can feel it shake in laughter behind you.

"Course I did," he responds, reaching over your head to open the door.

The car ride home is quiet, sobering. Robby offers you his water bottle resting in the cup holder, and you graciously accept, nearly downing it on the 20 minute ride home.

The silence is palpable, nearly tangible as you stare straight ahead. His headlights illuminate a suburban road, lit up by streetlights and bright neon 'CLOSED' signs hanging from local shops.

Just before his street, you pass a park. It's never struck you as important, until tonight. You stare at the small swings and twisty slide, and the hurt from earlier starts to creep back in, a demon unwelcome in your paralysis.

When he turns down his street, he reaches over the center console to take your hand. You let him, forehead pressed against the window.

"You okay, sweet love?" He asks, and you just nod.

He leaves it until he turns into the driveway, putting his truck in park and running to your side. He opens your door, a bright smile on his face, despite the sad pout on yours.

He helps you out of the tall vehicle, and you can't help but let yourself be maneuvered by him, waltzing up to his back door completely physically attached.

You burst through the front door together, and you can't help the giggles that spill out of your mouth as Robby trips over the door mat.

"Michael!" You squeal, pressing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Sorry, sweet love," he mumbles, steadying his gait and resting his hands on your waist.

A familiar heat settles in your stomach, now that you're alone with him. His effect on you is unmistakable, one look from his big brown eyes and your knees turn to soup.

He leans in, brushing his lips over yours as if to confirm you're okay, and you give him a light nod in encouragement. He kisses you, slow and sweet and deep. You sigh, melting into it, into him.

His large hand splays over the small of your back, holding you close to him as you press your chest into his. He groans against you, always in love with the way your curves squeeze into him, or so he says.

Your hands find his stubbly jaw, fondling the rigid bone there as he continues to work your mouth open, dipping his tongue in ever so slightly.

You grant him access, opening your mouth for him to take full advantage of. He massages his tongue over yours, the taste of him settling low into your belly, flowing through your veins.

He scoops two strong arms under you and lifts, carrying you to his fluffy couch. He his down, your legs still wrapped around him, and pulls you close.

His hands are grabbing at your ass, rocking yourself over his hips in a deliciously tantalizing way. Your breath speeds up as you slightly pull back, panting against his mouth.

"Michael," you whine, and the reality of what you're doing hits you like a train.

You freeze in his arms, blood running cold at the earlier memories of the night.

I think it's over for me.

He looks up at you with concern, skilled hands maneuvering your face, neck, and body to look for any signs of damage.

"What is it?" He asks frantically. "Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. He tries to catch them with his thumb, but it's futile. He frowns, eyes softening at your helpless state.

"Not-not physically," you answer his question meekly, and he cocks his head to the side like a dog.

"What is it, sweet love?" He caresses your neck, cradling your jaw so you can't look away.

"I think it's over for me?" You repeat shakily, and his eyes shift. They flit around the room as he tries to recall the words, the context.

You watch it dawn on him, illuminating his sad face, lips rounding in a small 'o'.

"That's what's got you so upset, sweet love?" He asks, and you nod sheepishly.

"You wouldn't want to have kids with me?" You croak, and he brings your forehead to his.

"Hey…" he starts, and you can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I know this is totally unfair. I completely assumed that'd be something you'd want, we haven't discussed it, hell, we haven't even been official for very long, I just- you said that, and it just made me realize that maybe we want different things, and-"

He kisses you, blessedly stopping your ranting. You let yourself melt into it, going limp in his arms, sinking into his lap. You feel his cock twitch beneath you, growing hard under your weight.

"Baby," he grumbles against your lips, gripping your jaw and pulling you away from him.

You whine at the separation, eyes nearly crossed as they train on the string of spit connecting your mouths. His cock grows even firmer below you, and you shift your hips on him just slightly.

"It's not that I wouldn't want that, of course I do," he rubs the pointy tip of his nose against yours.

You perk up in his arms, and he presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

"You do?" You ask, emotion flipping like a pancake in your stomach.

"Of course," he repeats. "How could I not? You're beautiful…" he trails off, placing a kiss to your lips, "kind…" a kiss to your cheek, "smart…" a sloppy string of kisses down your neck, "absolutely incredible," he murmurs against your neck. "Who wouldn't want you?"

"You'd be surprised," you mention, and he shakes his head against your skin.

"They're idiots," he kisses your neck again. "I am too, but I'm just an idiot for you."

"Ewww! That's cheesy," you push his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your torso to his chest.

"You love it," he murmurs against your lips.

"I love you," you respond, and he pauses.

You don't freak, though, you don't panic. You just wait.

"I love you, too. I honestly just can't believe you'd choose me. That you'd want kids with me, that's why I said that," he tells you, and your heart clutches.

"What?" You ask, brows furrowing in concern. "How could you say that?"

He shrugs, averting his gaze and shaking his head.

"Like I just said, sweet love," he starts, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're so beautiful and sweet, wouldn't wanna spoil your lineage with me."

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you rest your hands on his broad shoulders.

"Michael, I don't want you to think that for another second," you say, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "I love you. I'd be honored to carry your child," you ghost your lips over his, and he shudders.

"JesusfuckingChrist" He breathes, a pathetic chuckle escaping his lips. "You can't say that to me, honey."

"Aw," you whine, your nails scraping the nape of his neck, his sweet spot. "But I want you to get me pregnant so bad. You don't?" You challenge, and you know he'll take the bait.

He wastes no time, lifting you off the couch, your legs still wrapped around his waist as he carries you to his room. You pepper kisses down his neck as he maneuvers you two through his house.

He kicks the door open, plopping you on his bed before taking off his shirt. You prop yourself up on your forearms, taking in the sight before you. The curve of his tummy, his tattoos stretching over his biceps.

"You want my baby?" He asks, undoing his belt as slow as can be. "You wanna get rid of your birth control so I can properly knock you up?"

You nod, at a complete loss for words.

"Me too, honey, I'll set that up for you, I'll give you one, how's that sound?" He asks, settling between your legs in nothing but his boxers.

You whine, closing your legs around him in response. He chuckles, holding your legs up with his strong hands.

"I asked you a question, sweet love," he swats your inner thigh, and you moan. "How does that sound?" He repeats, slowly.

"It sounds so good, Michael," you wail, "please, put a baby in me."

This does it for him, and he collapses onto you. He slots his lips over yours, hand creeping under the fabric of your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach.

He makes a strangled noise as he creeps his hand all the way up, cupping your tits over your bra.

"Fuuuck," he drags out, jiggling them in his hands.

You whine at his actions, your skin prickling at his touch. He reaches around and frees them, his mouth immediately attaching to your nipples.

"Do you fucking know," he starts, lips sucking and tongue swirling, "how gorgeous you're going to look when these are fucking big and swollen and leaky?" He massages your skin, and you arch into his touch.

"Michael!" You gasp at the vileness of his words. He chuckles against you, and your breath hitches.

He kisses his way down your stomach, running his tongue over the waistband of your skirt.

"You know how much I fucking love this skirt, too," he mumbles against your skin, sliding the fabric down. "Fucking tease."

"I love you, Michael," you whine, and he looks up at you from in between your legs.

"I love you too, baby," he responds, throwing your legs over his shoulders. "'m gonna make you feel really good, don't worry."

He attaches his lips to your clothed cunt, tongue darting out to collect the wetness pooling the fabric.

Your brain short circuits, eyes squeezing shut and head falling back as he makes out with your panties. You grind your hips into his face, and he coos.

"You poor thing, let me take these off, hm?" He asks, sliding your panties down your legs, flinging them off your ankles.

He licks his lips as he rakes his nails up and down your legs, kisses his way up your thighs. Your stomach burns in pleasure, your center pulsing around nothing.

"Please, Michael," you sob.

Thankfully, he relents, pressing a sweet kiss to your clit. You jump, a sweet yelp escaping your lips. His lips wrap around your button, sucking hard.

You smack a hand down on the mattress, a whine strangling from your throat.

"Michael!" You moan, and he tuts.

"I know, honey, gotta be patient if you want me to fuck you," he murmurs, and you whine.

He laps at your center, circling his tongue around your hole and bringing the wetness up to your clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue back and forth. Pleasure roars a fire in your tummy, only burning brighter when he slips a finger in.

"That's it, pretty girl," he mumbles against your clit, the vibrations making you preen. "Gotta stretch you out before you can take me, hm?"

He adds another finger when you nod, mewls spilling from your lips. The coil in your belly winds tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Michael, it feels so good," you writhe under his touch, and he rests a firm hand on your hip bone to calm your movements.

"I know, sweet love, y'getting close?" He asks against your clit, sucking and kissing and licking.

"Mmhm!" You whine, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging.

He grunts against you, and you feel the bed shift with his own thrusts against the mattress. This only spurs your oncoming orgasm, heat burning white hot in your belly.

"You got it," he encourages, picking up the speed of his fingers. "Come and then I'm gonna fuck you, put a baby in you."

This unravels you, the spring bursting within your stomach. Warmth blooms in your stomach as you rock your hips against his face, riding out your high. Your orgasm trembles through you, rocking through you like a tsunami.

He shushes you against your pussy, pressing sweet kisses to your clit as you settle, pulling his fingers out slowly.

You whine at the loss of contact, and he tuts condescendingly.

"Don't worry, sweet love," he coos, bringing his wet fingers to your lips. "Open," he instructs, and your lips wrap around his digits.

Your salty taste coats your tongue, which swirls around his fingers, cleaning him off completely.

"Fuuuuck," he groans under his breath, removing his hand so he can take his own boxers off.

His large cock springs free, as intimidating as ever, no matter how many times you've taken him. He chuckles, lining himself up with your entrance. He runs the head along your slit, gathering your wetness at your clit, tapping a few times.

You whine at the splashing sounds it emanates, heat creeping up your cheeks. There's not a lot of time to feel embarrassed, though, as he quickly runs himself back to your entrance.

"You ready?" He asks, and you nod.

"'m ready," you tell him, knowing the nod wouldn't be enough.

"Good girl," he groans, sliding his head into you. Your breath catches in your throat, a gasp escaping your lips at the intrusion. "Such a good fucking girl, gonna get my fucking babies."

He continues to slide in until his hips are flush with your ass. A long, pitchy whine spills from your lips, your hands grabbing frantically for any piece of him you can find.

He lurches at the contact, and you know he's still not entirely used to the closeness you crave. It freaked him out, when you first started dating, how just holding him could recharge you after a long day.

After some time, though, he's grown semi-used to it, still not quite used to the worship you afford his body. His bashfulness makes your heart warm every time, even when he's balls deep inside of you.

"Can't wait to have your baby, Michael," you murmur, your eyes gleaming as he starts to move.

You gasp as he pulls out, so far that just the tip lingers inside you. His brow furrows, head falling back as he groans.

He pushes all the way back in one go, punching a scream out of your chest.

"God, you're perfect," he purrs, teeth digging into your ear lobe. "Gonna be such a pretty mama, aren't you? All round and swollen with my baby."

You cry out at his words, wiggling your hips to get as much of him as you can.

"Hey, hey," he coos, pressing his hands down on your hips. "You have all of me, you do, just be patient."

You keen at his words, surrendering yourself to the pleasure he's engulfing you in.

"I love you," you cry, and his face softens.

"I love you too, angel," he replies, moving his hips faster.

"Gonna give you all of me in a minute, hm? How's that sound? You want my cum?" He asks, and you nod frantically.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he husks. "I'm gonna love you a bit more, treat you really good, then, one day, we're gonna get rid of that IUD, baby. I'm gonna get you so fucking pregnant, fuck!" He groans, thrusts growing sloppy as his balls slap against your ass.

Your body feels like it's on fire, legs shaking at the stimulation.

"Michael! Please come in me, please," you beg, thrashing against the mattress.

"I'm gonna, baby, it's okay, gonna give you my babies, don't even worry about it," he comforts you, and you dig your nails into his arms.

You dissolve into pleasure for a second time, waves of fire rippling through you. You throw your head back on the pillow, and he attaches his mouth to your neck as his own release falls upon him.

You feel him twitch inside you, his thrusts slowing down the more you milk him.

"Fuck! Fuck, so fucking good sweet love," he grunts against you.

You wiggle your hips against his, the smallest friction on your clit enough to overstimulate. You shiver, and he grips your arms, pulling you close to him.

He pants, heavy breaths exhaling against your neck. Your chest heaves, and he moves with your breathing.

A soothing comfort dawns on the two of you, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. He buries his face in your neck, pressing light kisses to the soft skin.

Your fingers come up to the back of his head, playing with the dark hair there.

"So good, Michael, make me feel so good," you whisper, and he shudders against you.

"I love you," he murmurs, and you kiss his head, saying it back.

"Give me a second," he husks against you. "I'm gonna clean you up, just gotta remember how to walk again."

You both laugh at this, and you've never felt more confident in any of your relationships. This is new, it's uncertain, but there's a finality to it, a certainty that settles deep within you, blooming like a fresh spring flower.