Lesbian Miguel O'Hara Fan

Sundays are meant for resetting before the week starts. They are meant to prepare your mind and body for the weight of the world that is going to crush you within the next twenty-four hours.

In the O’Hara house though, Sundays are meant for lazing around and loving. Through tender touches in the morning, and breakfast in bed, Miguel wants to make sure that you feel loved through and through. In his fifty-five years of life, he has learned all the right ways to keep his partner happy.

When he woke up on this particular Sunday, he saw you sleeping beside him, curled up in the blankets with your hair splayed on the pillow like a halo.

“My angel..” he whispered, tenderly touching your cheek with his knuckles.

He shuffled downstairs, already deciding how to surprise you. Through apples cut into little turtles, carefully cutting a mango, and making the fluffiest omelet his hands had ever crafted. He smiled at his work before making a mug of green tea for you in the mug he bought for you to have here. Another touch that you were the one he cherished.

His venture back upstairs had him feeling like an old maid, his hands full as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, stopping again to admire you while more sunshine filtered into the room. If he was not holding the tray so tight, everything would have fallen off of it. Carefully, he set the tray down on the nightstand, shaking you awake gently.

“My sweet angel… let’s wake up, hmm?” He cooed, watching as your eyes fluttered open, your long lashes touching against your browbone.

You rubbed your eyes, the smell of breakfast causing you to wake up a little faster as you reached for the plate, “Thank you so much. You didn’t hav-” Miguel cut you off by placing a mango chunk against your lips, shaking his head.

Oh, how he loved you so.

The morning passed with lazy kisses and snuggles before he stretched, releasing a loud groan as he did so, the paper he was reading in bed tossed somewhere on the bedroom floor. He knew that you both had to do at least something so he encouraged you to get out of bed with him. Both of you got ready and the whole time, he was admiring you. He watched how you curled your lashes, and how your mouth hung open while you applied your mascara. He did not think you needed any cosmetics but he loved how makeup brought you joy. He buttoned up his shirt, thankful for this moment with you before he planted a kiss on your lips, holding onto your waist as you both walked out of your joint bathroom.

The middle of the afternoon called for grocery shopping. Grocery shopping with you was something he never thought he would enjoy. Seeing your eyes sparkle as you picked up a new type of jam or exclaimed your excitement for raspberries being on sale, made his heart soar. He followed behind you or either had his hand resting on your lower back, comfortable with the minimal display of affection. Together, even the simplest of tasks felt like the most romantic.

Hours passed and when you were about to fall onto the couch, craving a morsel of quiet, Miguel jingled his keys from the opposite side of the apartment. The little sound of metal making your heart flutter. It was time for the weekly ritual.

Miguel escorted you out to the Cadillac convertible that you both loved dearly. Every Sunday night, he took you for a drive. It never got old. In fact, the first time he took you out on a drive, he realized that he loved you the first time. His right hand was placed on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. Miguel’s eyes could barely focus on the road ahead, blinded by your grace as the wind blew your hair back. He could not tell what was brighter- your smile or the sun.

Music filled the silence between you, him, and the world that moved by you while he drove. He still felt nervous around you, after all this time. He would still think he was not good enough for you or that you did not actually love him. But whenever he looked at you, he knew that he was just in his head. He saw how you looked at him and how you would be the person to fill his heart again.

When he pulled up to a stop light, he pushed his sunglasses back up over his nose bump, letting out a contented sigh.

“I am bewitched by you.” He gave a suave smile, causing you to laugh.

“Bewitched? That is a very strong word.” You shrugged, mildly caught off guard by his seemingly passionate declaration. He just looked at you and shook his head, turning up the music as a signal he had nothing else to say.

When the two of you pulled back into the parking area of your home, he looked over at you, his glasses pushed up to keep his hair back.

 “Mama,” he started, “You bewitch me. I am madly in love with you. More than you ever will know. And I need to express this to you more. You make me feel like a.. a.. you make me feel whole.” He managed to get out, his palms sweaty. Even though he’s spoken more heartfelt words to you in the past, this time just felt like he was doing it all over again. And when you kissed him and wrapped your arms around his neck, oh, he felt like he did the first time you and him kissed.

Miguel could not contain himself by the time you both got inside. His hands ran up your body, shedding off your little brown sundress, the buttons falling onto the floor.

“That was a vintage piece!” You exclaimed, and he just rolled his eyes and kissed down your bare neck, nipping at the gold necklace he had purchased for you shortly after becoming a couple. 

He lifted you with ease, carrying you to your shared bedroom. You stripped down the rest of the way before he lifted you, gently setting you down on the bed before he undressed himself. Your eyes admired every inch of his exposed body, a sense of pride and love rushing through you. You watched as he sunk down onto his knees, taking off your kitten heels and kissing up your ankles to your lower thighs. The last sun rays were filtering in, mixing in with the bedside lamp you had left on earlier before you both went out, making his skin glow.

He looked up at you with warm eyes as he spread your thighs apart, not caring his knees were going to be aching by the time he was finished with you. He rested his head against your thigh, arms hooking around you and pulling your hips closer. His tongue traced up the center of your pussy, his eyes closing as through each taste of you, the more he got lost in his head. His mouth worked slowly and skillfully, his fingers now spreading you apart to give him better access. He spit against you, relishing in the sound of your gasp before he let his tongue savor you again. Your thighs clamped against the sides of his head while you ran your fingers through his hair. Your back arched off the bed before he shifted, sucking against your clit and using the hand that was spreading you open for him to press down on your stomach to hold you in place.

His lips shined with your slick as he pulled away, admiring your spent state. You motioned for him to come onto the bed, scooting up. The bed dipped slightly from his weight joining you, his knees digging into the mattress. He adjusted the pillows behind you, making sure you were comfortable before you moved onto your knees in front of him, eyes focused on his thick cock.

“You are so pretty.. and you treat me like a queen..” You trailed off, taking him into your mouth. Miguel gasped, his head leaning back as he basked in the feeling.

“Mmm.. fuck. Just like that, oh.. right there, you feel so amazing.” He whined, his hands holding onto your head gently. His hips moved forward and he nearly came when he felt you match his rhythm, your nose now pressed into the thick patch of hair on his groin, your eyes looking right up at him. He felt his heart pound in his chest, his eyes squeezing shut before you pulled away from him, leaving him to chase his high.

With a chuckle, he pressed you against the bed, his fingers slipping inside you briefly to prepare you. He replaced his fingers with his cock, a slew of obscenities leaving his lips as his hips met yours. His thrusts were slow and passionate, his fingers lacing with yours as he leaned forward to press kisses against your breasts before finding your lips. He adjusted, pulling your hips up a little more, allowing him to press into you from a different angle. As his movements got more sloppy, he hit all the right spots for you, your moans echoing off of the walls as the headboard slammed against the wall. He released into you, his hair sticking onto his forehead, his body glowing from sweat.

“You’re gorgeous.” He whispered, looking down at you, moving hair out of your face before he rested his head against your chest. His eyes closed, whining as he pulled away from you. Both of you basked in the emotions and love, a comfortable silence settling within the space.

“I'm saving up to buy a house.” Miguel wasn't expecting that and you notice his surprised face, “What, were you expecting some sob story?”

“No! Not at all.”

You shrug, “I get it. Buying a house isn't exciting.”

“I think buying a house is admirable. Why a house?”

“To get away from my family.”

Miguel’s stomach twists, “Not a big family person?”

“I am.” He mentally releases a sigh of relief, “It's just I like peace and quiet. Can't get that with them breathing down my neck every five minutes.”

You step down from the mini-stage, and he watches you run your hands along your body, starting from your neck, fingertips grazing across your long, silky black hair, over your breasts, passing by your exposed navel before touching your thighs. He gulps, shifting from his erection to focus back on the conversation.

“Do they even know what you do?”

“They know of my part-time job at the mall. When I go out at night, I tell them I have a nighttime job at an office.” You smirk, “As you can see, I'm a good liar.”

He chuckles, “You are.” You strut towards him, turning so your back faces him. His eyes go down to your ass, seeing your plump cheeks in front of him as they grind on his lap. “Why a house? If you wanted to get away from your family, people usually start with an apartment.”

“That’s true. But I want a forever home. Some place where I know I'm here for life.” He barely sees your face, but he notices your mind goes elsewhere. Similar to how you looked back at your dressing room a few weeks ago.

“I understand. It's a nice goal to strive for.”

You turn, flashing him a wide smile. “Thanks.”

You sit on his lap, rolling your hips as you slide your hands up and down his chest. Miguel clenches his hands to resist the urge to touch you. “Now, Mr. Scientist, why did you become one?”

“A geneticist, you mean?”

“Duh.” You continue to roll your hips at the sensual beat.

“Well, I'm good at it.” He states, “And I enjoy it so why not pick a profession you're good at?”

“You have a point.” You get up on your knees, your breasts completely in his face. Your hands run all over his hair, nails creating scratches along his scalp. Miguel shudders, almost letting out a moan. It doesn't help when you lean against his ear to whisper, “That means you're smart, right?”

“Very.”

You lock eyes and he darts down to your full lips, wondering if you were going to kiss him again. Instead, you lean back to create some distance and he hides his disappointment. You two haven't done anything further besides the hand job and the kiss. Which was also because of the rule of no sex inside the club. Miguel did think the start of…whatever they had was going a little fast so he didn't complain.

“I like my men smart.” You state, continuing to trace up and down his chest. He tries not to smile at that, watching you intently. “Shows me you're putting that brain to good use.”

“Of course.”

You giggle, getting off of him completely. “Times up, big guy.”

Miguel stands, not believing how fast time goes when he’s with you. But he hands you your money and watches you tuck it into your bra.

“Thanks. For the talk.”

“You know you don't have to keep thanking me every time we do this.”

“I want to.”

Miguel’s routine was simple. He’d get up early, around five in the morning, do his daily workout, shower, get dressed to go to work, deal with his coworkers and insufferable boss, before going back home to unwind and do it all over again. Occasionally, he’d spend time with his family and check up on friends. Now, he was doing all of that and seeing you.

The days you two agreed on gave him some wiggle room. He knew if he saw you at the club every night would wear him down. Affect his performance at his job. But he was able to manage. Seeing you made his days better, even if they were worse earlier. When he didn’t see you, he was anticipating the time of when he could. Thinking about what conversation topics to bring up. How much money he should pay you this time.

It helped distract the current hell of his life. Because every time he went to work, he had to witness Dana and Tyler together. In front of him.

She's been at the company a lot since the break-up. Almost every day, every hour. Miguel wonders if she works anymore since she spends all her time with Tyler.

Even his coworkers look down on him at the fact he allowed another man to steal his woman. Miguel wanted to explain that he didn’t allow it, it just happened. The fact that Dana went to someone else and left him.

“Is there any more coffee?”

Miguel glanced over to see said ex with a mug in her hand. She stood awkwardly beside him, shyly tucking strands of her brown hair behind her ear. He quickly slid his coffee cup away, giving her access to the pot. “Go ahead, it’s still fresh.”

“Thanks.” As she poured her coffee, Miguel stood there, watching the liquid slowly fill up halfway. On cue, he handed her exactly four creams and two sugars, muscle memory of his time with her kicking in. “Ah, you remembered.”

“It’s easy to.”

Dana shoots him a smile and he doesn’t want to admit that it still warmed him up a little inside. “How have you been?”

Horrible. Miserable. Angry.

“Fine. You?”

“I’ve been good.” She takes a sip, “I’m glad everything’s calmed down now.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow, “Really? Why’s that?”

“You know, the announcement was a big shock and everyone asking me if I’m okay-”

“Right.” He pours himself a cup, realizing there’s not enough coffee to fill it exactly the way he likes. Plus, brewing another pot takes about five minutes. “I can understand how that can be a lot.”

“I’m so glad you do!” She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tries to not focus on the extra heat it gave off. “You always understood me.”

“And…Tyler doesn’t?”

“He does!” Dana goes to correct herself, “I’m also saying you do too.”

“Is that the reason why you're with Tyler instead of me?”

She shakes her head, “No, Miguel you know why we're…” Dana rolls her hands as if he knows what she's talking about, “You got busy with work and you know we barely went anywhere. It was always you and not me.”

“That’s a lie.” The grip on his mug got tighter, “I thought I treated you well. I took you out. Bought you gifts. You had my full undivided attention.”

“When we were together, yes, but not recently. It's like you weren't there.”

Miguel didn’t know what to say, his mind going through all the memories they’d had together. Did he neglect her and didn't know it? He let her know he loved her. And he knew that she knew. Was he mistaken?

“It's ok.” Dana squeezed his shoulder, “I've moved on now. You should too.”

She thanked him for the coffee, leaving him in the break room to brew another pot. Miguel wants to blame his father, the biological one whose original identity was sprung on him the day Dana broke up with him. Told by his mother, who thought she was doing him a service. Probably would've been better off if he didn't know.

Would that have made a difference? The main thing he could say was his boss stole Dana from him, not his dad.

He didn't want his talk with Dana to ruin his day. He was supposed to have a family dinner later, with his mom and Gabriel. How they've been more intimate since the passing of his other father. The crazy bastard that Miguel thought they were better off without. And were. To a certain degree.

Hence why everyone was quiet at the table, being the only sound filling the dining room were the clinks of forks amongst the plates. His mind raced as he replayed his conversation with Dana, wondering what he should've said to her.

“Wow, this pasta is good, mami.” Gabriel broke the ice, Miguel not missing his eye glance in an effort to talk to their mother.

“Thank you.” She grins, “I got that recipe from the neighbor down the street and then I put my little spin on it.” Miguel holds in a sigh, his plate looking much better than the conversation. “How was your day, Gabri?”

“Good! I managed to grab a few clients today.” Gabriel boasts about his freelancing job, quickly darting his head to his brother, before going back to their mother. “And yours?”

“Pleasant. I've been thinking about doing some redecorating here. Those home improvement shows have been catching up to me.” She laughs with her son while Miguel prefers to be anywhere else right now. Preferably with you. “What about yours, Miguel?”

He shoots up at his name and his conversation with Dana returns, “It was okay. Still busy with that spider project. Saw Dana-” Miguel slips and drops his fork at the mistake.

“You saw that whore?”

He recognizes the switch in Conchata's tone, “She's not-”

“Whatever she is, why does she have the right to speak to you? After what she did? And with that man out of all people?”

Gabriel snorts, “Right like Miguel’s boss? Complete gold digger, if you ask me.” Miguel and his mother look at each other, knowing what they know now.

“I'd rather we don't talk about her anymore like it just happened.”

“It did just happen!”

“It’s been over a month, ma.” Miguel quickly stands up, “It’s over. We should move on.” The words feel foreign when they escape from his lips. Unsure if he wants to do that himself. “Thanks for dinner.”

He grabs his jacket, ignoring the protests from his brother and mother while walking out. Miguel’s stomach churns, knowing he’s made a mistake participating in the dinner. How he preferred to seclude himself at his apartment. But he hardly makes it out the door when Gabriel stops him.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Miguel turns to leave but is stopped by him again, “No, you’re not. You barely spoke tonight.”

“When have I ever spoken that much recently?”

“Right…” Gabriel lets out a nervous laugh. Even he knows the unspoken tension between his older brother and mother. It got worse since the Dana issue but Miguel’s sure it’s been that way since the death of his father.

“I just had a long day.” He says, feeling the complications from his day crashing down on him.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Miguel’s lips flatten, shaking his head. Gabriel takes the hint and finally lets him go.

When he was seeing you twice a week at the club, he also got to know the employees. During your dance on Tuesdays, he often sat at the bar. While he counted twelve dancers, the most notable ones were you, Black Cat, MJ, and Pixie. He watched the patrons request a dance from either one of you, dollar bills rolled up in their hands like they had money to spend.

Surprisingly, he saw Jessica a lot.

He thought it was a coincidence but she primarily hung around the bar, which had a good look at the main club area, the large stage with the pole in the center. Enough to draw a huge crowd and coat the floor in a sea of money. Miguel wondered if he should try to get to know your other coworkers since he was trying to get to know you too. So why not start with the owner?

“Why decide to own a club?”

Jessica purses her lips at Miguel, “Man, just because Silk told you her life story does not mean you get to know about mine.”

“Oh.” He blinks, “Wait a minute, how do you know that?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” She turns to tend to some other customers at the end of the bar while he ponders how many questions he’s asked you. Ben, who was cleaning some glasses, leans over to Miguel.

“She just had a baby. You wanna see?”

“Uh, sure.” He pulls out his phone and shows him a picture of Jess's baby boy. He looked to be a year old, dressed in a bear onesie, practically the spitting image of her. “He’s adorable.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Benny, you better not be showing strangers pictures of my baby.” Jess glares at him, hand on her hip as he quickly puts the phone away.

“Miguel’s not really a stranger, he's been here every week.”

“And you think that automatically makes him my best friend?”

Miguel takes a sip of his water, clearing his throat to remind them he's right there. “You have a cute baby.”

“Thanks.” Pride takes over on Jess’ face, “He came out of me.”

“Even when she was pregnant, I knew she was going to make a cute baby.” Pixie chimed in, practically throwing herself at the bar after finishing another lap dance. The glitter from her brown skin decorating the bar. Miguel saw why that was her stage name due to her pink, pixie haircut. “Can I get some water?”

Ben gave Pixie a wink when Jess came up to her, “No, you didn't.”

“I did. Silk agreed too. That’s why she's my homegirl.” Miguel figured you two were close when he sees the two of you conversing when not performing. Although he's rarely heard you talk about her during the private sessions. Pixie's eyes turn to him as she sips on her water, her dark pink lipstick staining the straw.

“She's right, you do look like a puppy.”

He looks around, “I'm sorry?”

“Silk. She mentions how adorable you look. Like ‘Jess's baby’ adorable.”

“He’s a contender,” Jessica adds while pouring shots.

Miguel’s cheeks get dark at the compliment, “D-Does she talk about me?”

“All the time.” Pixie chuckles, “It's cute. And you're much better than her other regular.”

“Other regular?”

Jess groans out loud. “Do not bring him up. I am this close to banning his ass.”

“But you don't because you said he brings in money.” Ben chimes in, clearly knowing his boss so well.

“She never brings him up,” Miguel states, but why would she? He should've known that other people would want to see you as much as he does.

“For good reason,” Pixie finishes the rest of her drink before fully facing Miguel, “He sucks. He gets handsy but not enough to disrespect the rules. And he's rough. I've seen him kinda handle Silk almost like she's a doll.”

His stomach twists at the idea of a man like that being rough with you. The complete opposite of how he would handle you.

“We have Noir in the room though to make sure he doesn’t do too much.” Jess brings up, “But we end up getting five g’s from it so everybody wins.”

“And complimentary drinks.” Pixie grabs a shot with the rest of the patrons before downing it.

Miguel’s face twists. “He sounds rich.”

“I'd hope he is considering how much he says it.” Jessica rolls her eyes.

Your presence finally graces the bar when you hug Pixie from behind. You two locked eyes in a silent greeting earlier in the night before you took the stage. And he likes how your face lights up when you see him.

“What'd I miss?”

“Tell your man to stop playing twenty-one questions.” Jessica swiftly changes the conversation. He notices you don't even deny it, not getting offended.

“You got a problem with people being curious?”

“I don't as long as they pay more.”

That reminds Miguel to hand you the money for your dance. He admitted to you that he didn't like throwing money, but you told him to cut that mindset out so others wouldn't think he's all high and mighty. The two of you compromised him throwing some money and giving you the rest before he left. Hence why you poked your hip out towards him, letting him slide the money under your waistband.

“Ignore her.” Pixie backs him up, “He is so sweet, I get you completely.”

“I'm still here…” Miguel mutters under his glass while you two giggle.

He doesn't bring up his concerns about your other regular the same night. He sits with it, almost losing sleep at the thought of you being manhandled. You tended to hide your emotions around him and he wasn’t sure what was going to happen if he brought it up to you.

But he decides to tell you about it in your private room. Not willingly. He pretended to watch you dance while staying quiet, brows filled with thought. His ears drown out the beat of the music as he ponders. You plop down on his lap, snapping him out of it.

“My dance boring you, big guy?”

Miguel shook his head, “N-No! I'm sorry, I am watching.”

“Bull.” You fold your arms, “What you thinking about? Your face tells me everything I need to know.” He hesitates, running his sweaty palms along his pants. Miguel wasn’t sure if you'd get mad if he brings it up.

“It's nothing.” He gazes up at you, swallowing.

You squint at him, not believing him. “I told you I'm not your therapist.”

“I know.”

“So I don't care if you're not telling me anything.”

“I'm aware.”

You stand and he expects you to start dancing again. But you don't. Instead, you stare him down. Face full of seriousness, not wanting to continue to your dance until he told you. Miguel thought it was odd, given the fact you told him you didn't care.

“You might get mad at me.”

You squint, “What's wrong?”

“I…didn't know you had another regular.” He wants to look away, afraid that showing his true affection would scare you away. But he doesn’t and notices your form relax.

“Really? You know regulars are a thing, right?”

“I know, but the others were telling me that he gets rough and-” He pauses, not wanting to make the conversation worse.

“Honey, it's fine.” You placate yourself on his lap again. It was much smoother the second time, a sincere emotion in your eyes. “It's part of the job. And you know I wouldn't let anyone touch me like that.”

Miguel leans into your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently tracing it. “I don't like the idea of someone potentially hurting you.”

“Aww, you're worried about me?” He nods and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Funny how a guy who doesn't touch me is worried about me.”

Miguel tugs at his pant legs. “I want to.”

“Then why don't you?” You slide your hands down his arms then to his hands, resting on top of them, “You haven't touched me since…” You don't say another word but he knows what you're referring to.

“I didn't want to lose control.”

“I don't bite.” He allows you to pick up his hands, placing them on your wonderful thighs. Miguel voluntarily squeezes the soft flesh while holding back a groan. “See? Doesn't that feel nice?”

“Yes.” He takes a deep breath when you guide him up to your stomach. It's warm to the touch when he experiences the small fat, and how it highlights fairly well against his large hands. Miguel freezes when you pull his hands up to your covered breasts. His pants getting tighter at the feel of you. God, he should be embarrassed.

“I know what your favorite part of me is.” Miguel lowers his head but you don't tolerate that, putting his head back up with the lift of your finger. “You wanna see them?”

He stutters, “C-Can you do that? Are…are you allowed to?”

“Tell me you've never been to a strip club without saying it.” You shake your head as you laugh. And he feels his face getting hot at the offer. “So? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

You reach behind to unclasp your flashy, bikini top, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Miguel held in a breath as he saw your breasts in their glory. He creates a map of their appearance, admiring how your nipples fit perfectly along your areolas. Miniature bumps decorated around them. His first thought was to run his tongue across them and taste your wonderful skin. He inadvertently licked his lips.

“Ooh, don't do that…”

Miguel shifted, noticing how your low tone didn't match the meaning of your words, “I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You lean forward and he wonders if you're going to kiss him. “Do that again.”

He licks his lips and you bite your own, vocalizing how much you like that. You grab his hands and place them on top of your breasts again -squeezing them to make sure he knows what you feel like. All while you rolled your hips along his erection. Miguel's breath came out shaky, holding himself back. You felt amazing. So perfect underneath his palms. He felt drops of cum leak out of his aching tip.

“We should stop…”

With his luck you stop your movements, “What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No. I…” He sighs and removes his hands, “I want to respect the rules.”

“Hand jobs are fine, I told you this.”

Miguel shook his head, “No, not that.”

“Then…?” He runs his hand through his hair, his appearance becoming a bit unkempt. He didn’t want to explain. At least not yet.

“I need to go.”

He knew you were confused as you backed up, allowing him to make his leave. Not before he picked up your top and handed it to you. As well as your money. Miguel fixed his pants to make sure his erection wasn't prominent before saying goodbye to you.

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