a little egg

She remembers very distinctly one New Year, when she was nineteen, that Steve and Cindy had hired a crew to host karaoke. And when Steve had enough to drink, he became quite the mic hog. His voice is good, she remembered that. Remembered clinging onto a Smirnoff Ice purchased specifically for her and Jenny, watching in awe as Steve sang Missing You by John Waite. He sounded great. And she remembers feeling extremely affectionate towards him. 

He’s basically melted into the backseat of the Nissan Altima driven by an older gentleman named John. Chloe buckled Steve in, rolled his window down and was playing with his hair. 

“Fun night?” John asks. 

“Mhm,” Steve giggles, looking over at Chloe. “This is my girlfriend. Isn’t she pretty?”

John looks in the review mirror, “Very. How’d an old fart like you score such a pretty young thing?”

“She’s my daughter’s best friend,” Steve blabs, smiling ear to ear, “I hired her as my secretary and now she’s my girlfriend.”

John’s eyes widen and he cackles. 

Then Steve blurts out, “You remember taxi cab confessions?”

“No,” Chloe admits as John says he does. 

“You’re too young, that’s right,” Steve giggles. “Do you think I’m a dirty old man?”

“Of course not,” Chloe assures him. 

John snorts. 

Steve points to him as he looks at Chloe, “He laughed ‘cause I am. I’m a pervert.” 

Chloe giggles and shakes her head, "You're not a pervert. John, I made the move. I initiated all of this.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” John chuckles, “As long as you’re both happy.”

“I’ve never been happier,” Steve hiccups, tilting his head as he looks at Chloe. His cheek is bunched up against his shoulder and he looks so adorable. His hair is all messy, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes all glassy. Chloe wants him bad. 

“Same here,” Chloe tells him, caressing his pretty face. 

“I’m still a dirty old pervert,” Steve says matter of factly. 

John laughs and Chloe just shakes her head. Once John pulls up to the house, he whistles, “So this is how you got the hot young girl.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, “I’d like him if he was broke, I promise.”

Steve sits up, “Well good, ‘cause once my wife finds out, she’ll take aaaaaalllllll my money.”

John starts cackling hard, Chloe flushes bright red. Drunk Steve is a way too honest Steve. Which is good for her right now, but she has to remember it so he isn’t confessing everything to his fucking family. 

She helps him get out of the backseat, goes to say thank you to John. He smiles wide, “Best ride I’ve given. You two have a good night.”

Chloe helps Steve up to the front door, grabbing his keys and unlocking the door. She gets him to his bedroom, onto his bed. But he sits up. 

“I’m not sleepy,” he tells her. 

“Okay,” Chloe nods, “Let me get us some water. We can hang out and talk.”

“Can we kiss?” Steve asks as she gets to the door. 

Chloe turns and smiles at him, “We can kiss all you want, daddy.”

“That’s why I like you so much,” Steve hums, leaning forward as he gazes at her. “The way you look at me.”

Chloe flushes, feels tingles run throughout her whole body. She bites her lip and looks at him, thinks he looks so gorgeous and lovely and she feels so at home. So comfortable and warm. 

“I’ll be right back, daddy,” Chloe tells him, turning towards the living room so she can walk into the kitchen. 

When she comes back, Steve’s stripped down to his briefs. She sets the two glasses of water on his nightstand and tells him, “I’m gonna go change into my pajamas.”

Steve furrows his brows, “No, don’t go.”

“I’ll be right back,” she promises.

“No,” he whines, “take a shirt of mine.”

She can’t say no to that. She sits on the bed, starts undoing her heels. Steve watches, mouth ajar. He breathes heavily. Chloe looks at him curiously, “Do you like feet?”

“I like yours,” he admits. 

Chloe bites her lip, “Well you might need to rub them. They hurt.”

She stands up and peels her skintight dress off. He watches, looks utterly in awe. Which makes Chloe feel amazing. She walks towards his closet, grabs a t-shirt from the stack folded and pulls it on. Steve’s a good 7 inches taller than her. So it’s big on her. She wanders back into the bedroom and lounges on the bed.

“Did you have fun tonight, daddy?” 

“I like when you call me that. Which is probably bad,” he admits, grabbing her ankles and pulling her feet into his lap. 

“I like calling you that, so it’s not bad,” she reassures him. 

He begins rubbing her feet, “You know it’s bad that I like you. I shouldn’t.”

“But you do,” she says, eyes fluttering shut. “So it can’t be bad.”

“It is,” he says, “I’m married. I don’t know if you figured that out but I am.”

“I’m aware,” Chloe giggles, then she sits up, tugging her feet from his lap in the process. “But do you like being married?”

“No,” he confesses, “I did. But I made some bad decisions and now, she hates me. She won’t forgive me. But it’s too late, I begged her to stay and now I have to stay, too.”

Chloe grabs his hands, holds them as she asks, "What did you do?” 

Steve closes one eye, contorts his face all silly and swallows hard, “Bad stuff. I made a really horrible mistake. And now she hates me.”

“What was the mistake?” she prods, “Why does Cindy hate you?”

He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, “I… I was using, uh, cocaine… like a lot. Like bad, like all the time, every day. It was kind of the,” he hiccups, “the normal thing to do. All the guys at the dealership were doing it. I was a salesman before my dad gave me the place.”

“Okay,” Chloe nods, “So Cindy hates you because you used to do cocaine.”

“It’s worse. I did something else really bad,” he whispers, “I’m kinda doing it again. Now.”

“You cheated,” Chloe says. 

Steve nods, “I did. With the babysitter.” 

Oh. 

“Well,” Steve clears his throat, “The coke was like… it was before. I,” he hiccups again, “I did it when I was twenty seven. All the time. And then I stopped when she had Jordan. But… I started again.”

“You relapsed and then slept with the babysitter?” Chloe clarifies.

“Uh-huh,” he swallows, “She was.. she was nineteen. I was thirty eight.” 

So she’s not the first giant age gap. Alright. She feels a lot less special, suddenly. 

“Cindy went ballistic,” he mumbles, lays on his back and looks up at the ceiling. “She caught us in the laundry room. She chased Megan around the house with a fucking knife.”

Chloe scoots a little closer. It’s hard to think Steve’s the asshole, when she’s seen how Cindy treats him. And when she’s shoved herself in the same position that babysitter was in. She wonders if Cindy would chase her around with a knife. She doubts it. 

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says, because she doesn’t know what to say. 

He sighs, “We went through marriage counseling but… one thing she said stuck out to me.”

“What?” Chloe asks.

Steve licks his lips and recites, “‘I never wanted to be with you and then you went and did that to me.’” 

Chloe furrows her brows, “What? Why would she marry you if she never wanted to be with you?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes, “I think about it all the time. You know, my best friend introduced us. I thought we had fallen in love. I thought she loved me. I thought… I thought something totally different.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Chloe says.

“I should probably call Robin. I haven’t talked to her in a while…” Steve says, “Maybe she’d tell me now.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why she thought Cindy and I were gonna work,” Steve explains. 

Chloe lays next to him, puts her hand on his hairy chest. “She never told you that?”

“She was always vague, just said, she thought we’d match or something,” Steve says, “Have you met Robin?” 

“Isn’t she your lesbian best friend?” Chloe asks.

“Mhm,” he giggles, “I met her at the ice cream shop. Well, we went to school together but I thought she was a total geek. Then I got to know her. Then I liked her. Then she told me she was gay.”

“I’m bisexual,” Chloe tells him.

“All you kids are,” he chuckles. 

Chloe rolls her eyes, “Oh my god.”

He grabs her and pulls her on top of him, “You’re a good kid, though.”

“I’m not a kid,” she says.

“You’re very right about that. I apologize,” he grabs her hips and squeezes, “I’m just teasing. Since I’m an old man and all.”

“You’re not old,” Chloe assures him, “You’re distinguished. And sexy.”

Steve laughs, looks at her, his eyes all soft. “Seriously, though… why the hell are you interested in me?” 

Chloe bites her lip, “It’s my turn to confess something.”

“Probably not as bad,” he purses his lips.

She blushes and admits, "I've had a crush on you since I met you, Mr. Harrington.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes closed, lips tweaked up. 

“I have!” she insists, hands on his hairy chest. 

Steve hums as he looks back at her, “Well, the timing is right, now, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I wouldn’t have liked you back,” Steve says, “I mean, I didn’t even notice you in that way until you started working for me…”

Chloe giggles, “I had many fantasies.”

“Oh, shut up,” he groans, “It’s bad enough right now. This is very scandalous, ya know.”

Chloe leans down and kisses against his jaw, “Isn’t that what’s so sexy about it?”

“Mhm,” he hums, grabbing a handful of her ass. She grinds down against him, connecting their lips. He moans into it, pushing her down against him. Chloe deepens the kiss, cradles his jaw in her hand.

She pulls back and looks at him, “I’ve always found you so sexy, Mr. Harrington. I always wanted you to notice me.”

“Fuck,” he closes his eyes, brows furrowed in the neediest way. “I’m gonna be honest with you, there’s no way I’m getting hard tonight.”

Chloe pouts, grinds down against him, “Why not?”

Steve opens his eyes and smiles, “‘Cause I’m an old man. And I’ve had a lot to drink.”

She giggles, rolls off of him and cuddles up to him, “Let’s put on a movie.”

They do, and Steve’s out like a light five minutes in.

—

When Chloe wakes up, it’s because she feels Steve’s hand on her hip and his erection pressed against her ass. His lips are on her ear, and he’s whining. 

Her whole body suddenly buzzes with arousal. She inhales sharply, grinds her ass back against him and moans at the sound of his deep but breathy laughter against her ear. 

“Good morning,” he purrs, “you’ve been teasing me. Glad you’re finally awake.”

“H-huh?” Chloe gasps. 

“Yeah, you’ve been grinding up against me for like thirty fucking minutes,” Steve growls, “Been trying to wake you up.”

Chloe giggles, “I had no idea…”

Steve bites her earlobe and tugs, then he purrs, “What were you dreaming about?”

She has no idea, but she lies for the sake of this, “A really sexy older man, fucking me so deep…”

“Fuck,” he gasps, squeezes her hip and pulls her against him as he thrusts forward. “Such a dirty little girl.”

Chloe pulls her shirt up, exposing her breasts so she can toy with her nipples. Once she does that, Steve sinks his hand into the front of her panties. His fingers dance against her pussy lips, spreading them as his middle finger finds her clit immediately. It’s quite impressive. She moans, but his fingers lower and he laughs once he feels how soaking wet she is. 

“Must’ve been a nice dream,” he quips, circling his finger around her entrance, gathering the wetness before spreading it up through her folds. Gets his finger on her clit and tells her, “Describe it to me.”

Now, Chloe doesn’t know what she was dreaming about but she’s going to totally make it up. She leans her head back, gasps softly before she starts, “You were teasing me… kissing all over my body, everywhere except where I wanted it most…”

“Like this?” Steve asks, before kissing down the side of her neck, pushes her on her back and gets himself between her legs. He kisses at her cleavage, licks along the curve and then gives a kiss to her perked nipple. Then he keeps kissing lower, along her stomach and her hips. Drags his tongue along her hipbone, which sends shocks down her spine. She pants out a moan, chest heaving as his tongue lowers. Right above the elastic of her panties, then he starts pulling them down. He ignores her pussy, spreads her legs and starts planting kisses between her pussy and thigh. 

“Fuck,” Chloe exhales shakily. 

He licks, sucks and kisses. Moves to the other side. Repeats. Chloe’s back arches, she looks down at him between her legs and his eyes meet hers. His brows are so strong, they’re furrowed in a way that reads as passion to Chloe. And now she knows she’s not the first young girl he’s been with, but she still feels special. Because she wants to. 

“Like this?” he repeats, looking at her for approval.

“Uh-huh… just like that,” she pants out. “But then you… but then you gave me what I wanted.”

“Oh, I did?” Steve asks with a brow raised, “Feel like I probably teased you some more.”

“No…” she whines, “You’re so nice in my dreams, you always give me what I want.”

Steve licks against her pussy then, broad and firm. Then he pulls up, “You dream about me a lot?” 

“Yeah,” she confesses, “Ever since I met you.”

“Chloe,” he scolds, like he doesn’t like the reminder she’s liked him that long but then he asks, “Am I better in real life?”

She erupts in giggles, because he’s so much older and yet he’s asking for approval. 

His face contorts suspiciously, “That’s not promising.”

Chloe runs her fingers through his hair, “Even better than I could’ve imagined, daddy.”

He looks up at her, kind of melts, he smiles and puts his hand on her hip. She pulls him up, needs to kiss him. He kisses her back, but asks against her lips, “Promise?”

“Best I’ve ever had,” she promises, tugs on his hair and licks into his mouth. 

He moves his hands to cup her breasts as he makes out with her and Chloe’s head is spinning. Steve’s the most mature guy she’s been with, but he doesn’t seem like he’s so much older. He wants her like he’s young, kisses her like he is. She was sure there had to be an age cap to making out but Steve’s proving her wrong. Cus he kisses her like they’re horny teenagers. Yet, he’s old enough to be her dad. 

His thumbs graze her nipples in circles, and Steve doesn’t pinch her like men usually do. She appreciates it because she’s never liked that. 

It should be gross to kiss in the morning, before they’ve brushed their teeth but Chloe doesn’t mind. She’s more self conscious about herself but Steve doesn’t taste gross at all. She actually loves the way his mouth and tongue taste. 

He starts pushing his briefs down, and then starts pulling Chloe’s underwear down. They struggle together to get them all the way off, then Chloe spreads her legs as Steve lines his cock up with her entrance. She gasps as he slides in, still not used to the stretch. But she’s getting better. Steve grabs her thigh, squeezing her flesh as he groans lowly. 

Her eyes slowly roll back before closing as her back arches towards him.

She hears him laugh softly and he asks, “S’that good, babygirl?”

Chloe gasps and nods slowly, “Yeah…”

His fingertips skate down her sides and he moans softly before he tells her, “You’re so pretty. I love your body.”

She had her suspicions but it’s nice to hear. Chloe smiles wide, moans breathily in reply, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he laughs softly.

Steve’s hands continue to move up and down her body, until they settle on her jaw and he leans down to connect their lips again. His hips roll into her repeatedly, deep and slow. The drag against her walls makes her feel on a whole other planet. It’s intoxicating, better than alcohol, better than drugs. Chloe feels addicted to Steve, though obsessed might be a better adjective. 

And she was honest, she’s been fantasizing about Steve from the moment she met him but the real thing is even better than she could’ve imagined. She wants it all the time, forever. 

Their kiss deepens as his thrusts get a little harder, a little deeper. He fills her so wonderfully. He pulls away from the kiss, sits upright as he starts pounding into her faster. The sound of their skin meeting fills her ears, Chloe opens her eyes and looks up at the Adonis before her. His usually kempt hair is loose, dropping against his forehead. His brows are furrowed as his eyes train on where he and Chloe connect. Her eyes lower, down his strong nose and she realizes how much she likes his nose. Then she looks at his lips, parted slightly as his tongue licks against the corner of them. So pink and plump. She gets the smallest glimpse of his pretty teeth. She likes his jaw, prominent with stubble scattered across it. The moles that speckle his cheek and down his neck. And then lower, to his chest. Hairy. The hairiest chest she’s seen on a partner. And she fucking loves it. Likes the trail of hair running all the way down to his cock. She watches as his cock sinks in and out of her, eyebrows raising and mouth falling open from the sight.

It spills out of her then, “Daddy… oh, fuck yes, daddy!” 

Her eyes jump back up towards his face, seeing the smile spreading on his lips and he says, “Take me so well, babygirl. Such a good girl for me.”

Chloe whines, body moving with the force of Steve’s thrusts. And Steve keeps talking.

“So tight for me, fuckin’ milking my cock, huh, babygirl?” 

She nods, “Feels so good…”

His hand moves up from her hip, to her throat. He holds it perfectly, just the right amount of pressure as his eyes meet hers. 

“You’d let me do whatever I want to you, right, babygirl?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Chloe nods, wide eyed at this perfect man. She’s soaking around him, his words amplify her arousal by millions. 

“Open that pretty mouth for daddy,” he instructs and Chloe feels her body erupt in chills. She squeezes around his cock and obeys. 

Blinking up at him, she parts her lips and sticks her tongue out. Anticipating what he’s going to do. 

Steve spits in her mouth and looks down at her, looking rather feral. She lets it sit in there for a bit, swirls it around and savors it for just a second. Then she swallows and opens her mouth again, to show him.

He whines out then, “Fu-u-uck….” 

His hips jerk forward, filling her to the hilt and he squeezes her throat just a bit. Chloe’s eyes cross before rolling back. Steve fucks into her hard and relentless. Moans flow out of her with every thrust, high pitched and loud. He lets go of her throat, just to grab hold of her hips as he pounds into her. 

She feels that familiar feeling building in the pit of her stomach, warmth spreading all over her whole body as Steve repeatedly slams into her g-spot at the perfect rhythm. It’s like he knows her body better than she does. Knows exactly what button to push and when. 

And clearly he does, clearly he recognizes the look on her face because he asks, “Are you gonna cum for daddy? I want you to cum for me, babygirl. That’s right, cum all over my cock.”

“Daddy,” she pathetically cries out. She can barely form thoughts let alone words. 

“Mhm,” he goads, “Cum for daddy.”

Steve’s words push her over the edge, her hands finding the sheets for some kind of leverage as her orgasm crashes over her. It’s rough, forceful and brutal but in the most beautiful way. She’s sure she’s never came this hard in her whole life. It hits like a ton of bricks and doesn’t slow down. Neither does Steve, he does exactly what she needs and it’s dragged out for what feels like hours. Chloe cries, back arching, legs shaking, head thrown back against the pillows as it rips through her. 

She’s still feeling it in waves as Steve’s thrusts slow, it’s the longest she’s experienced. She keeps crying out and shaking from it. He leans down and kisses against her jaw, up to her ear, “That’s it, babygirl. That’s it…” 

Steve waits until she’s come down mostly, before he picks up his thrusts again. And she’s sensitive, but she wants him to cum. She weakly rolls her hips up to meet his, whimpering out a repetitive chant, “Daddy… daddy… daddy…”

And then Steve pulls back, “Let daddy cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

She’d never say no to that, she smiles big as she nods at him. Steve’s pulling out of her, and Chloe moves to sit up. He leans back, stroking himself until Chloe wraps her lips around his cock. She blinks up at him and sucks, feeling as his climax hits him. She swallows it down easily, even after a night of drinking, it still tastes so sweet and lovely. 

Steve collapses on the bed next to her, pulls her to him and squeezes her tight as he catches his breath. That’s another thing she likes about him. He doesn’t act like she doesn’t exist the moments following his orgasm. Quite the opposite, he seems to need closeness. He clings to her, panting hard. She rubs his hairy chest, kissing against his jaw and she lets him hold her. 

—

Chloe sits on the counter, it’s much later in the day. They finally decided to get out of bed, and now they’re in the kitchen. Steve is cooking. He’s making pasta, specifically because Chloe said she was craving it. 

“You’re like, the best boyfriend,” she tells him.

“Like, huh?” he teases, looking at her as he smiles. Steve gets these crinkles next to his eye whenever he smiles, Chloe’s genuinely obsessed with it. She’s honestly stunned he’s stayed in Hawkins, selling cars. When he could’ve moved to New York and been a model. He’s that pretty. People say that about her too, yet here she is. 

“Okay, fine, you are the best boyfriend, ever,” Chloe corrects herself and grins at him. 

Steve purses his lips as he nods, as if to say yeah, that’s better. 

“Am I like, the best girlfriend?” Chloe teases. 

He snorts, cutting up basil and she watches the way his big hands look while he does it. She wants to have sex again, she initiated earlier in bed but Steve laughed at her and she would’ve felt bad but he told her he’s an old man and he needs more time before he can go again. She wonders if it’s been long enough now. 

“You’re a very good girlfriend,” he says, “but you know, that’s a complicated question.”

“Better than Megan?” 

Steve turns to her, “How do you know about her?”

Chloe blinks. Oh. He doesn’t remember telling her about it. 

“Daddy, you told me last night,” she says, tilting her head. “I guess you were really drunk. Sorry, I thought you remembered.”

“Oh, fuck,” he sets the knife down. Pinches the bridge of his nose, “You cannot tell Jennifer.”

Chloe snorts, “There’s a lot I can’t tell her.”

Steve looks at her. All serious. Points his finger at her, “I mean it. She can’t ever know that. She loved Megan. Asked about her for years after. She’d hate me so much if she knew.”

“More than if she knew you were fucking me?” Chloe challenges. 

He scoffs then, licks his teeth and admits, “This is a fucking horrible idea. There’s no way out of this.”

Chloe pouts, “I wasn’t trying to… ruin the mood… I think she’d be mad at first but she’d come around to it.”

“Chloe, I’m married. Even if I decided to leave my wife for you, she’d take everything I have. I can’t imagine a judge taking my side if I left my wife for my daughter's best friend. Like… there’s just…” Steve sighs. “I’ve made a horrible fucking mistake. Again. Holy shit.”

She jumps off the counter, walks up to Steve and blinks up at him, “You think I’m a mistake?”

“God, no! That’s not what I meant,” he replies quickly, looking at her in a panic. “Not you. I just… yeah, this is gonna ruin my life but…”

“I’m worth it?” she tilts her head. 

Steve licks his lips, he looks down at her. “I can’t stop myself.” 

She grins at that, flutters her eyelashes at him. It’s nice to hear that, it makes her feel powerful. He looks at her, pensively. She can’t read it. But his eyes are pretty. And that’s kind of all she can care about. But Chloe can’t grasp the concept of this ruining his life. How could it? She’d be with him if he had nothing. She doesn’t care. 

He turns away then starts plating their dinner. She bounces on her feet, feels awkward. So she asks, “Is there a good wine pairing for this?”

Steve sighs, doesn’t answer immediately but says after a while, “Pinot Noir. There’s a bottle in the fridge.”

She goes to retrieve it, scoots past him to grab two wine glasses. Chloe fills them and brings them to the table, sits at her spot and waits for Steve to bring the plates. He does. Sits across from her. He looks at her, still with that pensive look. 

Then he asks, “You get by with your looks a lot huh?”

Chloe tilts her head, “What do you mean?” 

“You get what you want because you’re so pretty,” he explains. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess? You mean like, people buy stuff for me because of how I look?”

He nods slowly, “Something like that.” 

Chloe doesn’t understand what he’s getting at. But she lets it go. They eat in silence for a bit. Before she tells him, “This is so good. Thank you for cooking. I did mean it, you’re the best boyfriend I’ve had.”

Steve exhales through his nose, “You’ve had bad boyfriends.”

“Mostly,” she tells him. “None of them could cook. Or clean. Or keep a job.”

“Tell me about your first boyfriend,” Steve says before sipping from his wine glass.

Chloe giggles, “Riley. Third grade.”

“No, like a real boyfriend,” Steve says. “My first real girlfriend was Nancy Wheeler. When I was in my junior year.”

“You didn’t have a girlfriend before you were sixteen?” Chloe tilts her head.

“Dozens. But Nancy was serious. I hadn’t liked someone the way I liked her. I mean a boyfriend like that,” he explains. 

Chloe smiles, she’s met Nancy. She sometimes comes to parties. She’s a fancy journalist. Chloe didn’t know they dated. But it explains why Cindy hates Nancy. Calls her pretentious. 

“Daniel. I was a freshman, he was a senior,” Chloe starts to explain.

“A trend,” Steve chuckles. 

“He was my first real boyfriend I guess. He took my virginity,” Chloe says and Steve makes a displeased face but she knows it’s not out of jealousy. “We only lasted six months.” 

He nods slowly, “Who was the most special?”

“You.”

He blushes as he smiles and Chloe melts. 

“Before me,” he says.

Chloe groans, “I guess Brody. He was the only one I lived with. But I felt like I was his mom. I had to wake him up for work and do his laundry.”

“Is that the kind of stuff your mom did?” Steve asks.

It isn’t. So Chloe shakes her head, “Mom wasn’t around much. Her boyfriends were more important.”

Then he asks, “Do you have any siblings?”

“Nope,” she says, popping the p. “Only child.”

Steve smiles small, “Me, too.”

“Did your mom do your laundry and wake you up for school?” Chloe asks.

He shakes his head, twirls pasta on his fork and takes a bite. He chews and swallows before he answers, “My parents weren’t around too much. Busy with work and stuff.” 

Oh. She feels like he gets it then. Chloe had felt like her own parent until she met Jennifer and started spending so much time at the Harrington’s. She remembers thinking that Steve was a good dad. Involved in Jennifer’s life. A cool parent but a parent. She remembers having to get back before curfew. She remembers her senior year, when Steve and Cindy paid for Chloe to get back to school clothes.

So she brings it up.

“Do you remember when you paid for my school stuff?”

He looks up at her, “What?”

“Yeah, my senior year. You paid for me to get new clothes and supplies,” she says, “It was like so shit, my mom started dating this like, guy who sold yachts and he took her on this like long ass trip. So I stayed here and when Jenny was getting her supplies for school, you told her I could get mine too.”

Steve licks his lips, sets his fork down and takes a big gulp of his wine. Then he says, “I don’t remember that.”

She nods slowly, “Well… you did. And I really appreciated it.”

It’s awkward for a beat. Then as if Steve wants to change the subject he asks, “Has Adam asked you out again?”

Chloe laughs, “Yeah. I told him I can’t because it’s a huge HR violation and I want to keep my job.”

Steve shakes his head, laughing, “That’s a good girl.”

“I told you I wanna be your secretary forever and I meant it,” Chloe says as she finishes her dinner. 

They do the dishes together. Once they finish, he lifts her up and sets her on the counter, caresses her face before leaning in to kiss her. They have one more night together before Cindy and Jenny come home. She knows that’s what he’s thinking about when he grabs her waist as he deepens the kiss. 

Deep down, she’s scared of losing him. Though she knows he isn’t hers fully. But they have this, the physical thing. And she’s going to hold onto it. 

Chloe wraps her legs around his waist, arms around his neck as she kisses him back deeply. It feels so good and comfortable, despite the contention. And Chloe thinks back to when he admitted he can’t stop himself, repeats it in her head as Steve tugs his shirt over her head and pulls down her underwear. 

She pulls his shirt off of him, then works to shove his pajama bottoms and briefs down. They work together, Chloe leaning backwards with her feet on the counter. He slips his cock inside her for the second time today, sucking on her top lip as he sinks in. She moans, holding onto his shoulders while he sheathes deep inside her. 

He pulls back from the kiss just to tell her, “So fucking tight… feels so good.”

Chloe giggles, holds his jaw while he rolls his hips. The giggle is interrupted by a moan as he prods against her g-spot. It’s almost like he was made for her, the way they fit like this. The way it’s perfect.

He caresses her face again, making eye contact as he thrusts slowly. In and out. They gasp and moan together. She wants to tell him she loves him, but she won’t. Because she isn’t sure she knows what that means but she knows it will scare him away. All she can do is tell him with her eyes. Hope he gets it.

And maybe he does, because he says, “So good for me, babygirl.”

She loves the pet name, melts whenever he says it. Chloe doesn’t feel a whole lot of guilt, small tinges of it here and there but she knows Steve feels it way worse. Until they’re like this, then it seems to dissipate. 

His hands move down her body, dance against the inside of her thighs and she leans back more. The push and pull is delicious. Steve’s so sexy, sensual in a way Chloe’s never seen. It’s like he’s aware that his simple touch excites her belief. It makes her feel like she’s older. 

“Daddy,” she whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as Steve’s thrusts gain speed. 

Then his hand moves up, he presses his thumb to her clit. Moves it in slow circles as he pumps in and out of her. The combination of stimulation makes Chloe’s eyes cross before fluttering shut. 

She hears the excitement in Steve’s voice as he asks, “You like that?”

All she can do is nod. 

It’s bliss, takes over her body. He leans down, kisses her forehead and works his thumb faster, firmer as he thrusts a little harder. He keeps working, until she’s a whining, whimpering mess for him.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

His voice sounds in awe as he replies, “So good for me. So easy for me…”

She really is, Chloe’s orgasm finds her easily. Faster than anyone’s been able to do. Washes over her like a big wave of warm, salty water as she cries out. Steve pulls her hips down the counter an inch, burying himself deep inside her as he presses his mouth against her ear.

“That’s a good girl, that’s a good girl,” he babbles out, “Just like that.”

His hips still, then jerk forward in a stuttered motion and she feels as he fills her up. She wraps her arms around him tightly, the pair of them moaning in unison as their climaxes crash through them. 

“Is it about your sister?” You implore.

He looks down at the floor, “She asked me not to tell you and Dad.”

“If she could be in trouble, then you need to tell me what’s going on, hun,” you place your hands on his shoulders.

“There’s these girls at school. They’re,” he trails off, sighing in defeat, “they’re harassing her.”

“What do you mean harassing her? What’s going on?” You reply urgently.

He quiets significantly, mumbling something under his breath.

“What?” You ask sharply, nerves starting to get the best of you.

“They say things about our family,” he swallows harshly, and you can tell it’s not the full truth.

You raise your eyebrows, “Like what?”

“That she’s gonna end up like you,” he mumbles.

Your frown, “What does that mean?”

He winces, refusing to look you in the eye as he says, “That she’ll end up a whore.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat, unsure of how to respond.

Hawkins was still considered a small town, despite the fact that it grew tremendously after quarantine lifted and the dust had settled, and ugly words spread like wildfire in tight spaces.

You were used to the displeased looks from the baseball moms when you showed up to support Steve with all six of your children in tow. You could handle it because their judgment of your family was mostly silent - not quite daring to speak their thoughts on the amount of kids you had out loud. Sure, there were sometimes snide comments spoken in hushed tones, but typically it was never directed straight to your face.

It’s why you never told Steve, who would surely lose his mind if he knew about the dirty glances you received while sitting in the stands.

But to be called a whore? That was definitely new. It makes your stomach curdle because no one deserved to be called that, and you ached at the fact that you couldn’t protect your own girl from the cruel words.

“She knows that’s not true,” he rushes out, “and I called them out on their bullshit because it’s not okay to label you or her, or anyone that.”

He’s angry now, upset for you and your girl, and for the lack of respect being thrown your way. It’s made clear by the way he curses, which he doesn’t tend to do - especially when he knows the littles are definitely listening in.

“She got mad at me for intervening. She said she could take care of it on her own, but she’s honestly starting to scare me,” he admits.

He then goes on to list reasons for why he’s concerned about her, and you feel like the world’s worst mother for not noticing sooner that your baby was struggling.

“When she comes home, she locks herself in her room and barely comes out. And when she says she has to stay late at school she’s really just hiding in the library and crying. I caught her there once after a student council meeting. She’s pretending she has all this homework to do, but I know it’s not the truth,” he rushes the words out, desperate to unleash the secret he’s been keeping.

“She’s gonna be so pissed at me, but I had to tell you,” he trips over his words, clearly on the verge of crying from holding something so heavy in.

“I’m so sorry you were carrying that, hun. You did the right thing by letting me know,” you assure him, wrapping him up in a tight hug.

You press a swift kiss to his forehead, “I have to call your Dad.”

He nods solemnly, turning to walk back into the living room where your younger babes are looking on with curiosity, though it’s mixed with distress because they can feel the tension starting to bloom throughout the house.

“Steve?” You breathe out frantically, phone clutched tightly against your ear.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He responds immediately.

You pick anxiously at one of your nail beds, “I’m sorry for calling. I know you’re in the middle of a game right now.”

Steve shakes his head on the other end of the line, “No need to apologize, honey. You know you can call me for anything.”

“Steve, she’s not home yet," you stumble over the words that have you scared out of your mind.

He knows instantly that you’re talking about your teenager, “Where is she supposed to be?”

“She said she was staying late at school to study, but,” you falter, breaking off as a sob rips from your throat.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, “Honey, I need you to listen to me. She’s a smart girl, you know that. Definitely doesn’t get it from me.”

You let out a choked laugh, “Yes she does.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree then, honey,” he teases, effectively calming you down within seconds.

“I love you,” you confide, thankful for his constant steadiness.

Steve smiles, grateful to hear your regular cadence returning, “I love you, baby. What else should I know before I go look for her?”

You proceed to loosely tell him what your son told you, voice trembling as you leave out one crucial element; the derogatory name being tossed around.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, honey,” Steve gently calls you out.

“It’s silly. Don’t worry about it right now, please. Just, find our girl?” You beg, fingers curling tightly around the counter you're leaning against.

Steve relents, but only because he knows he needs to hustle before it gets dark outside, “I’m gonna find her, honey. Don’t worry, I’ll bring her home.”

Steve whips off his baseball hat, running a hand through his hair as he jogs over to the assistant coach.

“I gotta run, family emergency,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument or questions.

“Take care of whatever you have to do, man,” his coworker nods, grabbing the clipboard of notes that’s in Steve’s hands before turning back towards the game.

Steve’s heart thumps aggressively in his chest. It’s an alarming rate that only picks up as he jumps in his truck and starts to drive the grounds of the high school - though he tries his best to keep it at bay because he knows his girl well. He has an inkling she wouldn’t have gone far, so it doesn’t shock him when he finds her, minutes later, on a bench by the football field.

The place is deserted, practices wrapped up as the sun starts to slide down the horizon. Steve thinks his heart shatters a bit when he steps out of his car and gets a full look at her. Her knees tucked into her chest, head pressed firmly against them - like she’s hiding herself from the world, from him.

The gravel under his feet crunches with each step he takes towards her - knowing it must alert her to his presence, but she refuses to move. He comes to a stop in front of her and squats down to a crouch, matching her eye level.

“You wanna talk about it?” He questions softly, and he notices the way her shoulders relax a bit - loosening when she realizes it’s him.

“He told Mom, didn’t he?” She bites out, referring to her older brother.

“Can you blame him?” He replies quietly.

“Yes,” she snaps, “I told him I was fine."

“You call this being fine, sweetheart? You’re hanging out on a bench by yourself, nearly an hour past the time you told Mom you’d be home, and you shut your phone off so you wouldn’t have to answer her,” he states the grievances without contempt, simply troubled at what’s going on in her mind.

She lifts her head slightly, and her eyes that look just like his are rimmed red. That damn color makes him ache something awful because it means she’s been crying.

“I’m fine,” she insists, though she can’t fool him, and when he raises his eyebrows at her she finally gives in.

“It’s girl drama. That’s all,” she shrugs, trying to play off the bigger issue at hand.

“Teenage girls can be ruthless. Trust me, I know. I have experience,” he tries to reassure her.

She rolls her eyes, but caves, “How so?”

“You wanna know how many times my heart was stomped all over before Mom gave me a chance? No girl wanted to date the washed up King of Hawkins High when I graduated,” he confesses.

“I still can’t believe people actually called you that,” she remarks.

“You and me both,” he agrees, moving to take a seat next to her, “Please, tell me what’s going on. I wanna help.”

“Dad, it’s not that simple,” she shakes her head.

“C’mon, try me,” he presses.

He waits patiently as she collects herself, letting her legs unwind - sitting up straight to turn and look at him, reflecting his stare.

“They’re calling Mom a whore,” she replies, decidedly blunt.

Steve rears back like he’s been slapped, “What?”

His mind starts to turn, calculating the way you were being dodgy about something over the phone. It’s the missing piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

“They say things like only a whore has so many kids, and that,” she stops, biting her lip - hating what she has to tell him next.

“And that what?” Steve asks, doubting he wants to hear the answer.

“That surely we can’t all be yours, and they keep calling me,” her lower lip trembles as she breaks off once again.

Steve remains silent as he waits for her to finish, feeling a palpable anger starting to consume him.

The tears spill over, rolling down her cheeks, “They keep calling me Whore Harrington.”

Fury now rolls off of him in heated waves. It takes a lot to make Steve furious, but going after his wife or children is the easiest way to make him lethal. He grits his teeth, willing himself to not explode in a fit of fire in front of his girl.

“I’ll handle it. I’ll go straight to Principal Higgins’ office first thing tomorrow morning, and we’ll get this addressed,” Steve declares.

“I don’t want you to do that. It’ll only make things worse!” she cries, tugging him to sit back down.

Steve didn’t even realize that he stood up, was too blinded by the white hot rage settling over him at the fact that anyone dared to talk to her like that.

“It’s clear this is hurting you. I’ve gotta do something to stop it,” he wraps an arm around her shoulder, tucking her in close to his side.

She lets his arm linger, but she’s distraught now, “Dad, you can’t! Please don’t do that.”

“You’re my little girl, and it’s my job to protect you,” he retorts calmly.

She throws his arm off her, storming to her feet, “Dad, I’m sixteen! I'm not your little girl anymore!”

A look of instant regret washes over her face as the callous words slip out, and she starts to mutter apologies - though the words have already taken root.

Steve’s taken aback by her yelling, feeling like he’s just had the wind knocked out of him. The words were like acid, burning him from the inside out. He wants to argue, wants to bellow back that she’s been his little girl since the moment he first held her as a baby with adoration spilling from his seams, but the only thing he can think to do is agree.

“You’re right,” he finally replies.

She furrows her brows in confusion, “What?”

“You’re not little anymore. You’re becoming an intelligent and compassionate young adult that I’m incredibly proud to call my daughter. But that’s the thing, sweetheart. You're always going to be mine. You may not be little anymore, but you’ll always be my girl. I know you’re growing up, but you better believe I’m always going to fight like hell for you,” he concludes, moving to stand in front of her.

Her face twists, crumpling as she starts to cry again. She collapses into his arms, and he’ll hold her for as long as she wants - ready to help her pick up the pieces that she didn’t realize she needed picking up.

“I was embarrassed,” she whimpers.

“Of us?” Steve probs.

“No, I love our family. I promise, I do. There’s so many of us, but you and Mom never make any of us feel left out. You always make us feel like we each have a place,” she sniffles.

Steve’s heart swells because really, that’s all he can ask for. That his kids know that he loves them fiercely, that they each matter, that they all individually take up a unique space in his heart.

He knew six would never be easy, but he also knew that just because it wasn’t easy didn’t mean it was wrong. Knew that he would devote his life to making sure each of them felt equally cared for.

“What made you embarrassed then?” He implores, catching some of her lingering tears that are slowing.

“Because I thought I could do this by myself. You and Mom have so much going on already, and I didn’t want to add anything to your plate. I knew Mom would blame herself, and I knew you would worry,” she reveals, pushing herself back to run her sleeve under her nose.

Steve fumbles around in his pockets and finds a napkin in his jacket. It’s crumpled, but she accepts it anyways. He watches as she composes herself, wanting nothing more than to be able to shield her from the growing pains of life.

“Listen to me. Having all of you? We knew what that meant. That was our choice, not yours. Which means it’s not your responsibility to make our life easier. It’s not your responsibility to take care of us. You’re our responsibility, not the other way around. Your only job is to let Mom and I love you,” he ducks his head to meet her eyes.

She nods her head in understanding before melting back into his embrace.

“Can you do that for us? Let us be your parents. Let us take care of you,” he requests.

“Okay,” she utters weakly.

Steve rubs his hands comfortingly over her shoulders before pulling away to make sure he communicates clearly, “I won’t make a scene and storm into the principal's office tomorrow. I don’t want to be the dad that embarrasses you like that. But we also can’t ignore this, or it’ll never get better. I’d like to walk in there, with you, to help give you the confidence you need to speak up for yourself. Does that sound like a deal?”

She nods, “Yeah, that sounds better.”

“Good. Now let’s go home, Mom’s probably freaking out since I haven’t called her,” he slips his cellphone out to message you.

“Do you think she’s mad at me?” She asks, fidgeting with her fingers at the thought.

Steve opens the passenger door for her, “Your Mom? Absolutely not. I’m sure she’s just ready to hold you.”

Which was true.

When they returned home, you hugged your baby so tight that she started complaining about not being able to breathe. And when she started to cry again and apologize for icing you out, you simply kissed the crown of her head - assuring her that all you cared about was her safety.

Your girl didn't want to leave your side for the rest of the evening, so she’s currently asleep on the couch - tucked in between you and Steve with her head on your lap.

“You’ve been quiet,” Steve murmurs to you.

Your eyes flick over to him, before looking back at your daughter, “I don’t want to wake her.”

Steve chuckles softly, “Babe, do you remember how she slept through that firework show a few summers ago? You’re not gonna wake this kid up.”

You comb a hand through her hair and shrug your shoulders, “Still.”

Steve reaches over to place a hand on your knee, “What’s upsetting you, honey?”

The tears slip down your cheeks before you even have the chance to hold them back, “This is my fault.”

He makes a sound of disagreement, “She got good at pretending. You couldn’t have known.”

“It’s not that,” you admit weakly, rubbing the heels of your hands against your eyes.

“What is it then?” He replies quietly.

“When we had her, I said two was enough,” you whisper.

Steve’s eyes widen in realization, “Honey, I'm the one that wanted six kids.”

“I know, but I swore two was the perfect number. And then the twins,” you trail off, biting your lip at the shame you suddenly feel for even thinking about a life without the rest of your babes.

“Were a happy accident,” he finishes the statement for you.

“The best accident,” you laugh gently, thinking about the time you both came home drunk from a wedding and got a little too eager to have the house alone for the night.

Steve grabs your free hand and brings it to his lips, echoing the sentiment, “The best.”

“And then I was sure that four was it,” you mumble.

“But Max and Lucas started having kids,” he prompts, remembering how he took one look at you holding their first baby girl and pictured you holding your oldest boy for the first time all those years ago.

“And I felt so much love having their babies in my arms that it reminded me of how much I loved ours,” you glance down at your girl again, who’s lost in the world of her dreams, and you struggle to control the tears gliding down your face.

“What if I was just being selfish, Steve? She’s hurt because of me. Because I wanted more. God, you know how people look at us when we’re outside of Hawkins, like we’ve lost our minds for having six. But now even in our own hometown we can’t get away from the judgement. I can’t help but feel like we’ve given them something that’s only going to hold them back in the long run,” you disclose as conflicting emotions swell within you.

Steve shifts as best he can, careful not to disturb your girl as he lifts his hand from your leg to swipe tenderly at the droplets that cascade down your face.

“You’re the least selfish person I know, honey. You give everything you have to them. And you’re not the only one who wanted more. I wanted more too. I don’t think we were being selfish,” he promises.

“But how do you know that?” You beg, needing to soothe the agony building inside you.

“Because our hearts didn’t divide each time we had another. Our hearts grew to fit them all in there. We never thought for a moment that we would struggle with one more. We always looked at that pregnancy test and thought it was the greatest damn gift we’ve ever gotten. Even after seeing it five separate times,” he grins, thumb working over your jaw.

You exhale deeply, “You’re right, I know you are. I just hate not being able to protect them from what people are going to say about us.”

“People are always going to have their opinions, honey. There’s a lot of sacrifices that have to be made for our family, more than most have to deal with. But you know what? There’s also a whole lot more love too,” he concludes firmly.

You let his words linger in the air, settling over you with ease - knowing in your heart that none of your kids were ever a mistake.

“I agree with Dad,” a voice mumbles below you.

You and Steve both look down to see your eldest girl rub the sleep from her eyes and scooch herself up. She leans against you, wrapping her arms around your middle.

“Were you listening the whole time?” You ask, slipping your own arms around her back.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You and Dad are loud,” she grumbles, snuggling closer to you.

Steve barks a laugh at that, reaching over to brush some hair out of her face, “Louder than those fireworks, huh?”

She hums in agreement before saying, “I would never change the life we have, even if it’s harder than most.”

You swallow thickly, “Even though those girls are being awful towards you?”

She tucks her head under your chin, “Yeah, because you and Dad are the best. I honestly think they just hear things from the baseball moms who are totally jealous of you.”

Steve tilts his head in confusion, “The baseball moms?”

“They’re rude to Mom at your games sometimes. I think it’s because they can’t handle the fact that she got to marry you,” she tells him.

Steve furrows his brows, eyes searching yours. You mouth the word later and he gives you a look that clearly means I’m holding you to that.

“You think they’re jealous of me for being with Dad?” You run a hand up and down her back soothingly.

“Completely. He obviously sets the example of what it means to be a good husband and father,” she answers, and Steve feels a pinch of gratitude for her thoughtful words about him.

She turns her head to look at him, “I really am sorry, by the way. For saying I wasn’t your little girl anymore.”

Your eyebrows raise, and he sheepishly mouths later like you did just seconds ago.

“I appreciate that, sweetheart,” he smiles at her.

The three of you fall quiet, only for the stillness to be broken by your oldest boy walking in, and you could sense he wanted a chance to clear the air with his sister.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, taking a seat on the couch across from you.

Your girl already knows he’s addressing her, “Hi.”

He scratches the back of his neck, “I’m sorry I went behind your back, but I’m not sorry for why I told Mom.”

She sighs heavily, “I’m still kinda upset with you.”

He glances down, “I figured you would be.”

“But,” she grips onto you tighter, gaining the strength to say her next words, “I get it. I wouldn’t have said anything to them. And you were just trying to help me.”

“You’re my sister. We’re supposed to help each other out,” he affirms.

They continue talking, allowing you and Steve to silently communicate just how much you love them dearly, how you’ll be eternally grateful that your teenagers somehow turned out everything you could have asked for them to be and more.

You’re about ready to stand up from your chair in Principal Higgins’ office after discussing the next steps to solve the situation your girl has been dealing with, when the door suddenly bursts open. Surprise floods you when you see your oldest enter the room with a grumpy looking teacher trailing behind him.

Your eyes rake over him, and you immediately feel yourself getting infuriated when you see he has a split lip with blood dribbling down his chin.

“Why is he bleeding?” You snap at the teacher, narrowing your eyes in accusation.

Steve places a hand on your thigh from his spot next to you, giving your leg a gentle squeeze - serving as a mute reminder that it’s not always the teacher’s fault for something, which was a thing he knew all too well about from working at the middle school.

It gives you a moment to think more rationally, trying to steady yourself and not overreact, but that's your boy, and it’s clear he’s been hit.

“Why are you bleeding?” You redirect the question towards him.

You walk over to him, grabbing his chin to inspect the deep cut that travels the edge of his bottom lip.

“I’m okay, Mom,” he insists.

“Caught him in the middle of a fist fight,” the teacher cuts in.

“What?” Steve asks in bewilderment, and your eldest girl has the same expression of shock written all over her face.

“He started it too,” the man tags on.

“Why would you do that?” Your voice turns stern.

Your boy swallows thickly, glancing around the room nervously before admitting, “Ryan Matthews saw you and Dad come in. He started saying things about you.”

You feel bile rising at the thought of him hearing more horrific words about you, and Steve must be feeling the same way with how his hands clutch around the handles of the chair he’s in - making his knuckles turn a stark white.

“And I told him if he didn’t keep my family’s name out of his mouth that I’d shut it for him,” he trails off, insinuating that he indeed punched the kid for continuing to talk about you.

The office falls silent, and Steve has to suppress a wicked grin that’s threatening to take over his lips. Principal Higgins runs a hand over his withered face, probably considering to himself why he hasn’t retired yet.

“Why don’t both the Harrington kids take a break from school today. We can reconvene on repercussions at another time,” he looks at Steve with his mouth set in a hard line.

Steve nods, “That sounds fair, sir.”

“But Dad,” your boy protests.

Steve ignores him and starts to usher you all out, calling over his shoulder, “See you later, Jeremy.”

Soon enough, the four of you are hightailing it to Steve’s truck in the front parking lot.

“Do you think I’ll get suspended?” Your son cards a hand through his hair, stressed at the thought.

“We’ll figure it out if you are. Besides, I work for the district buddy, I’ve got some strings I can pull,” Steve shrugs.

“Steve,” you chide, narrowing your eyes at his bluntness.

“What? He’s a good kid, babe. And he was standing up for you. Plus, he’s already been accepted into college. If he does get suspended we’ll talk with his guidance counselor later this week,” Steve justifies, hauling the passenger door of his truck open for you.

You freeze, folding your arms across your chest, “Steve, you can’t use your job as leverage for this. What he did was wrong, even if he had the right intent.”

“I’m also standing right here,” your boy interjects.

You turn to face him, “Hun, I love you, but you know violence isn’t the answer. You could have seriously gotten hurt.”

“It would’ve been worth it,” he states.

Steve’s eyes shine at that, “I’m proud of you.”

You roll your eyes, agitated that Steve’s encouraging the unacceptable behavior.

“But,” Steve stresses, “as proud as I am that you were defending her, Mom is right.”

“When am I not?” You mutter under your breath.

“I feel like this isn’t a conversation I’m supposed to be a part of. I’m gonna wait in the car,” your girl speaks up, sliding into the back seat.

“Honey,” Steve starts, reaching for you, and the brief touch of his fingers skimming your lower back makes you burst into tears.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” your boy says.

You swipe angrily at your eyes, frustrated with yourself for making him feel like he’s caused you to cry, “I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt. This whole thing has me sick to my stomach, and I feel useless for not being able to help you or your sister.”

“Mom, it’s not your fault,” he tells you.

You suck in a sharp breath, “I know, but it still doesn’t erase the fact that I don’t want you risking your future by throwing punches for me.”

His shoulders hunch in defeat, “I didn’t think about it like that."

“I know you didn’t. You acted on instinct because it’s what Dad would do. He would do anything to protect our family, and I love that you’ve learned that from him. But I’m your mom, and my purpose is to keep you safe. I can’t do that if you’re trying to fight battles for me that aren’t yours to bear,” you explain.

Steve remains quiet, recognizing it’s a similar speech to the one he had to give your girl less than twenty four hours ago.

“You didn’t hear what he said about you,” he refutes, frowning at the thought.

“If it’s anything like what you told me yesterday, then I can take a guess, hun. I know it’s not fair. I’m so sorry you felt like you needed to handle it, but you are not supposed to be taking hits for me,” you emphasize the words, making sure he knows how serious you are.

He unclenches his teeth from the tension he’s been holding onto, “I understand.”

“Good,” you nod, and he moves to hug you.

When his arms wrap around you he mutters, “I really am sorry.”

“There’s no more need to apologize. Just, please don’t ever do that again,” you reply.

When he pulls away, Steve clasps a hand on the back of your boy's head in affection, before jutting his jaw in the direction of the car - indicating he wants a moment alone with you.

He gets the hint, and when the door closes behind him, Steve turns to you - grasping onto your hips, tugging you so you’re flush against him.

“You were kinda pissed at me for a second there, weren't you honey?” He teases, thumbs tenderly rubbing against the curve of your hipbones.

“You were acting like it was okay for our seventeen year old to take a swing at another kid,” you deadpan, but you ultimately thaw in his embrace - always finding it hard to stay upset with him.

“I reinforced that you were right,” he defends himself, nose nudging yours sweetly.

“Yeah, after I called you out on it,” you toss back.

“C’mon, aren’t you just a tiny bit proud of him?” He goads, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Maybe, but he still shouldn’t have gotten into a fight,” you confide.

“Agreed, but you’re an amazing mom, honey. I don’t blame him for trying to knock someone out in your honor,” he muses.

“Steve,” you reprimand, hitting his chest playfully.

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Forgive me, honey?”

“You’re gonna have to work harder than that,” you hum, pretending like you have to think it over.

“Oh, I can do that,” he smirks, mouthing slightly at your jaw.

“Are we leaving anytime soon? Or are you two gonna start being gross? If you are, I can walk home,” your girl calls when she rolls down the window.

Steve complains about her interruption, which makes laughter bubble up inside of you.

“She got all that attitude from you, babe,” you pat his chest, giving him a quick peck to the cheek before hopping into the truck.

There were still things to work out, decisions to be made, conversations to be had, but for now, you were just relieved that the car ride home was calmer - softer around the edges, all while Steve held your hand and your babes teased the two of you for being lovesick.

And they may not always say it out loud, but they were thankful for parents who thought carrying the weight of the world for their children was far more important than letting them try to take care of the heavy on their own.

Divider credits to @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist If Interested!

While in my writers block era for this series, I answered a few asks… here are the links in case you missed and wanted to read!

4th of July blurb

Who the kiddos look more like

Which aunt and uncles the kids click with most

Reader having a dream about Billy and Steve comforts her

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The streets of Hawkins were desolate. It was the beginning of summer, so you figured that everyone was either at the pool or swanning off on vacation. But this was also only your second week in town, you had nobody to call to come and help you or even ask what to do. You didn’t even have the number of a local garage. 

As you stepped out of your car and slammed the door behind you, you could hear the hum of an engine from far down the road. You pried your fingers at the edge of the hood, trying to pop it open to no prevail. 

The hum of the engine grew closer, now accompanied with the sounds of the stereo pouring out from the windows. You glanced over your shoulder to see a maroon car driving toward you, then slowing down as it reached closer. Your palm curved above your brow to shield the sun from your eyes, squinting to gauge a look at the car as it stopped across the street from you. 

“Are you alright over there?” A voice called out from the car as you made eye contact with the man sitting in the driver's seat. 

Upon first glance, he kind of took your breath away. His muscular arm was hanging out of the open window, his polo shirt being swallowed by his bicep. His smile was kind, the kind of smile that made you return one without even realising.

You didn’t bother looking left or right before crossing, as there were no damn cars for miles. You simply strode over, your hips swaying with confidence as your eyes set on him. You leant down slightly to gauge a better look, resting your palm on the hood of his car.

There was a girl sitting in the passenger seat, with a short blonde bob and wide eyes. The two of them were wearing green vests, you assumed they must be on their way to or from work. 

“My car just totally died on me,” You huffed a small laugh as you turned to point at the dead vehicle behind you. “Don’t suppose either of you are a car mechanic?”

“No, unfortunately not.” The handsome man beneath you chuckled softly. You nodded softly as you straightened, patting your hand on the hood of his car before taking a few steps backward.

“No worries. Thanks for stopping, anyway.” You lifted your hand in a wave, peering your head down to wave at the girl in the passenger seat before making your way back across the street to lean against your car to wait until a miracle happened. 

You heard the two of them whispering, turning slightly heated which made you glance back over your shoulder just as the man leant back out of the window. “I can drop you home, if you want? Where do you live?”

“Uh, giving my address to two strangers? I may be new to town but I’m not naive.” You spoke playfully, your arms snaking across your chest as your head tilted slightly as you looked down at him. Your comment earned a loud laugh from the girl causing a small smile break against your own lips. 

The man nodded softly, his hand raising to his chest. “I’m Steve, and this is Robin,” He pointed his thumb to her, and she toothily grinned up at you and gave you a small wave. “There. Not strangers anymore. Can I give you a ride now?” 

A small laugh snorted from your nose as you nodded softly, offering the two of them your own name in return. You glanced over your shoulder at your car behind you, ultimately deciding it would be fine there until morning. You cleared your throat as you told him your address, pulling open the back door and slipped in. 

“So, you said you’re new to town?” Robin turned herself to face you in the front seat, her blue eyes twinkling as she smiled softly at you. 

You nodded softly, glancing out of the window beside you as Steve drove off before turning your attention back to Robin. “Yeah, I just moved like a week and a half ago. I don't really know anyone, I don’t start my new job until September.”

“Oh that’s so cool! What’s your new job?” Robin turned back to face forward, pulling down the mirror in front of her and digging in the glove compartment of the car, digging around for some chapstick. You thought to yourself that it was cute, he kept his girlfriends’ things in his car ready for her. 

“I’m gonna be teaching at the middle school. I did my four years at college at the University in Indianapolis, then I was teaching in Chicago for four years but an old professor at Indy referred me for this job in Hawkins so, here I am.” You looked between the two of them in the rearview mirror, flashing them both a bright smile.

You saw Robin’s brows knit together as she caught your eye in the mirror. “Wait, how old are you?”

“Robin.” Steve interjected, speaking through his teeth as he threw a look over his shoulder at her. The normalcy of it gave you the feeling that he has to tell her off quite a lot. 

Robin’s head jerked back slightly at Steve’s reaction, glancing back at you over her shoulder with an apologetic look. “Sorry–” 

“No, no, you’re good,” You spoke with a laugh and a small shake of your head, “I’m twenty eight.” 

“Oh damn–” Robin started, her eyes widening complimentarily. Her lips parted as if she wasn’t finished with her sentence, but of course, she was interrupted again. 

“Robin.” Steve warned again, more sternly this time. His eyes found yours in the mirror, giving you an apologetic look which only made you smile wider. 

The car pulled to a stop outside your house after a few more minutes of Steve and Robin telling you that they worked at Family Video, and if you ever wanted a free movie they could totally slip you one. 

You thanked the two of them as you opened the car door, waving at them as you shut it behind you. As you began to walk toward your house, you heard the familiar whisper-shouting between the two of them that you’d heard when you’d approached them. 

“Hey,” Steve called out to you as he got out of his car, briefly glancing each way before jogging toward you. “Let me, uh– walk you to your door.” 

“It’s like, two o’clock in the afternoon.” You laughed softly, glancing up at the taller man and trying your hardest to fight the smile that was growing across your lips for the man whose girlfriend was sitting just a few metres away. 

He beamed down at you with a small shrug of his shoulder, casual like he did this all the time. “Think of it as part of the welcome package. We’ll save you on the side of the road and make sure you get home safe.” 

You laughed gently at his words, fishing in your back pocket for your house key before turning to look up at Steve. “It was really kind of you and your girlfriend to drop me off, I’ll definitely be coming in for a movie one night this week.” 

“Woah– Girlfriend? Rob– Ha, no. No, no, she’s not– We’re not– No, I’m single. I’m not seeing anyone.” Steve stuttered over his words, his hands resting comfortably on his hips as he looked down at you, exhaling a short breath before you both shared a short laugh. 

“Oh. Well, in that case,” You glanced over to Robin who was totally watching the entire interaction, quickly looking away when she noticed your gaze. Your teeth sank into your lower lip, biting back a smirk as your lashes fluttered up at Steve. “Seeing as I don’t know anyone in town, would you wanna come over later? I can make us some dinner, you can give me the rundown of Hawkins. It’s the least I can do, return the favour for you rescuing me and all.” 

Steve’s jaw fell slack, his eyes widening gently at your proposal. It wasn’t until you cocked your head at him slightly that he fell back to reality, quickly nodding down at you. “Yeah, yeah. Totally. How’s uh– Eight o’clock?”

“Perfect, I’ll see you then.” You nodded softly before pushing your key into the door, throwing Robin a wave over your shoulder and ducking into your house. 

As this was your second week in Hawkins, your house didn’t entirely feel like home yet. You’d unpacked everything for the most part, considering you had endless amounts of time on your hands as you didn’t start your new job until September, but there was still something missing. 

This place was a lot different to your apartment in Chicago. There, you’d lived in a five floor walk up with practically only three rooms, and no central heating in the winter. But here, you’d managed to score a cute one storied house on a quiet street where you even had a backyard. 

Leaving all of your friends there was hard, especially moving to a place where you knew absolutely nobody. You figured that meeting people here would be difficult, a lot of people your age nowadays are settling down with kids. So, you thought, what's the harm in trying to make a friend? 

There’s no harm in inviting over the hot, single guy who you caught trying not to stare at your chest when you bent down to his car window? You’d have some dinner, listen to some music, and maybe end the evening doing whatever it is that two hot, single people do. 

By seven thirty, you’d already started on the pasta sauce, simmering the tomatoes and tossing in chopped garlic and onions, pouring in a splash of white wine. Your dining table was perfectly laid with two bowls, two wine glasses and water glasses, and a set of fresh flowers that you’d picked up yesterday. 

You were applying the finishing touches to your makeup, laying your pink lip gloss over your lips before flattening your hands over your skirt in the mirror. You went with the safe option, one of your favourite sundresses, hugging your figure perfectly. You fixed the strap of your dress to hide the strap of your bra, the bra that was matching the laced underwear you’d chosen for the occasion. Not for any particular reason at all. 

The ring of your doorbell carried through the house, hitting your ears as you gave yourself one final look over in the mirror. You placed your lip gloss back in its place, shutting the door behind you as you made your way to the front door. 

As you pulled it open, Steve was standing only a few feet in front of you, his face covered by a huge bouquet of beautiful flowers. Once he’d heard the door open, he was quick to pull it down to his chest. 

“Hey,” He beamed down at you over the red roses and pink lilies, offering them out to you with a slightly cheesed grin. “I uh– picked these up for you. You know, as a welcome to Hawkins.” 

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks at his gesture, trying to think back to the last time a guy had ever bought you flowers. “Thanks, honey. That’s so sweet, come on in.” You took the flowers from his hand before extending the door open, taking a step back for him to enter. 

“God, it smells amazing in here,” Steve said as he glanced around your place. His eyes settled on the archway through to his kitchen before looking back at you as you closed the door behind him. “Where can I put my shoes?” 

“Oh, anywhere you like,” You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at his manners, a smile warming across your lips as you watched him toe off his sneakers. “Can I get you a drink, Steve? I’ve got beer, a bottle of chardonnay, or just some water?”

Steve followed you into the kitchen, leaning his hand against the island as he watched you grab a vase from beneath the sink and fill it up with water. “Oh, whatever's open, I’m easy.”  

Your head slinked over your shoulder to glance at him at his choice of words, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth as you turned off the tap. He hitched a small laugh, his lips parting as if he couldn’t find the words before you grabbed the flowers to unwrap them. 

“Alright then, chardonnay it is.” You said as you placed the vase of flowers on the window sill in front of the sink, a perfect home where they’d get plenty of light. 

The dinner was done shortly after you’d poured the first glass. Steve was insistent on helping you dish up or carry in the bowl of pasta or the side salad you’d prepared to go with it, but you were quick to brush him off, reassuring him that this was a thank you for his help earlier. 

Steve was nothing like you’d expected. Of course, he was gorgeous – like, really, really gorgeous, but you were pleasantly surprised by him. You weren’t sure what to expect, perhaps a pretty face with not much going on behind those gorgeous hazel eyes. Simply a nice view to look at whilst you enjoyed your dinner. 

But he was anything but. He was really interested in you, asking you about what your class was like in Chicago and what your favourite things about teaching were, what was the funniest thing that had happened in one of your classrooms. He asked you where you’d learnt to cook so well, even respectfully asking more questions when you’d told him your grandmother had taught you when you were young. 

He was also surprisingly funny, and his laugh was like music to your ears. And when he’d smile at you over his glass of wine, huffing a laugh into it as his eyes met yours, you could feel the faint fluttering of your heart in your chest. 

The two of you talked about your favourite movies, your favourite books, your favourite music. He’d told you about his first job at an ice cream parlour where he’d had to dress like a sailor, then how the mall had burned down. He’d told you about his first ever girlfriend who broke his heart in the bathroom at a Halloween party. By the time the bottle of chardonnay was finished, it felt like you’d known each other for years. 

“So, you’re working at Family Video right now? Do you like it?” You asked as you leant back in your seat, the bottom of your glass resting on your knee that was crossed over the other. 

He started by nodding, before humming gently as it turned into a small shrug. “Yeah, I guess. I like working with Robin, of course, but it’s hard figuring out exactly what I want to do next. So, rewinding and sorting through tapes is fine for now.” He offered you a small smile, taking a small sip from his glass. 

“Robin,” You stated as you leant forward, resting your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand as you met his eyes over the table. He nodded at you softly before you continued. “She’s cute. How come she isn’t your girlfriend?”

A small laugh huffed through his lips as he lifted a hand to brush the hair behind his ear, offering you a small shrug as he pondered his words. “She’s my best friend, that’s all there is between us. Trust me.” 

“I do.” Your voice fell past your lips like honey, the sweetness of it causing Steve’s lips to curve into a small smirk. 

He leant forward to place his glass on the table, leaning his arm flat on the table cloth as you watched his eyes trail across your face and slowly graze across your shoulders, and then your chest. “What about you?” He asked, pulling his eyes back up to yours. “Did you leave any boyfriends back in Chicago?”

You gently shook your head to the side, your teeth pulling your bottom lip between them before lifting your empty glass from your knee back onto the table. “No, no boyfriends. Just me, all alone.” 

Steve’s head tilted to the side slightly, his brows knitting together briefly before speaking. His voice had dropped a few octaves, croaky as it left his lips. “You don’t have to be alone, not when I’m here.” 

Your hand raised from beneath your chin to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, running your tongue across your lower lip as you smiled at Steve. “How about I get another bottle of wine, and I’ll show you that Bowie record? It’s uh– in my room.” 

“God– yeah. Yes, can I help you clean up?” Steve had already stood up, reaching out to grab the plates from the table when you laughed softly with a small shake of your head. 

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll get it later,” You lifted from your chair, leaning over the table to grab his empty glass and your own. You wandered back into the kitchen, pulling the fridge open to grab the bottle. 

When you turned back around, Steve was leaning in the archway waiting for you. He leant easily, resting his weight on his shoulder like he’d done so a hundred times before. As you made your way closer, his arm lifted from his side for you to lead the way. 

Once the door to your bedroom clicked shut behind you, you turned to watch Steve as his eyes trailed over the details of your room. You watched his smile widen at the picture on your dresser of you with your friends from Chicago, a small laugh escaping you when he noticed you watching him and retreated to the edge of your bed like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. 

As you sat beside him, the mattress creaked beneath the weight of you both. You handed his glass back to him, using your spare hand to twist open the next bottle of the night. 

You could feel his eyes trailing across your collarbones and your shoulders as you leant closer to pour the liquid into his glass, pouring some in your own before turning to place the bottle on the bedside table. 

“So,” Steve cleared his throat gently, adjusting himself to face you properly as you turned back to face him. “Do you like Bowie?”

You couldn’t help the small smile breaking across your lips at the nerves that were now radiating from Steve, the eagerness he’d shown you five minutes before now hidden away behind his eyes. 

“Yeah, I like Bowie,” You nodded softly. Your spare hand came up to push your hair over your shoulder, letting your arm rest on your knee to softly brush your fingertips against Steve’s thigh. “Do you like Bowie, Steve?”

His eyes trailed from the shoulder that you just revealed to him, down your arm to the gentle brush of your touch through his denim. He nodded gently, you watched his throat swallow thickly before he spoke. “Like a lot of his earlier stuff, yeah. And the new stuff – I like it all.”

“What else do you like?” Your voice left your lips in a sultry tone, your head cocking to the side as your eyelashes fluttered up to him, taking in how the hazel in his eye twinkled as his gaze met your own. 

A small huff of air blew out past his lips, pulling his eyes from your own to glance across your room as he thought. “Oh, uh– Prince, Queen. What else? Some of Elton John’s stuff–” 

“Think we already covered all of that, honey.” You said softly, pulling your glass up to your lips to take a small sip. 

Maybe you’d read the situation wrong. Maybe Steve wasn’t as interested in you as you thought. Maybe it was just a bit of harmless flirting over dinner. And if you hadn’t shared a bottle and a half of wine, you probably wouldn’t be itching to find out. 

Your fingers laced around the stem of your glass, turning around to place it next to the bottle on your nightstand. Once you turned back to him, you leant back into the mattress on your hands, your chest protruding as your eyes explored his features. 

“Did I– read this wrong?” You asked gently, causing Steve to pull his eyes from your seemingly very interesting dresser to finally look back at you, watching his gaze as his eyes wandered across your chest. You took in a short breath, before speaking quietly. “Don’t you want to kiss me, Steve?”

His eyes widened gently at your words, his tongue parting his lips to trail across his lower lip. He shifted his body toward you, leaning to the side to place his glass on the floor before speaking gently. “Fuck, yes. Yeah, I wanna kiss you.” 

“What are you waiting for then?” You spoke with a soft laugh, your leg falling off the edge of the bed to give him space, pushing yourself up from leaning back to bring your hand to his chest. 

A small smirk crept against his lips as his eyes fell to your own. His hand lifted from his lap, the tips of his fingers brushing against the apple of your cheek before pushing through your hair, holding you steady as he leant in. 

As his lips found yours, your hand slipped over the fabric of his t-shirt to wrap your fingers around his collar, pulling him closer into you. His lips tenderly pressed into your upper, both of you working with each other like you’d done this a thousand times before. 

His fingers curled through your hair at the nape of your neck, his other hand finding your waist to hold you steady as your tongue pressed at the seam of his mouth. His lips parted for you, a soft sigh escaping him as you coaxed your tongue against his own. 

Your other hand lifted to join at his collar, pulling the fabric around his shoulders together, urging to pull his shirt over his head. You pulled your lips back from his, your smirk widening at the soft groan that escaped him as he leant forward to chase your lips. You pressed a small peck against him, then another, before pulling his shirt over his head. 

His hands pulled from you to work with you in discarding it, his chest heaving slightly as you tossed it to the floor beside you. You took your lower lip between your teeth as your eyes dropped down. 

God, he was somehow even more beautiful with his shirt off. The moles and freckles that you’d been staring at over dinner trailed across his shoulders, his chest and his stomach, living happily beneath a coarse span of hair across his chest. You trailed your fingertips across his chest, your eyes following the trail of it that led beneath his tight denim jeans, and the bulge that was now evident. 

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” Your voice left at a whisper, your eyes glued to the curve of his stomach as he sat upright, your smile widening as it flinched under your touch as the tip of your index finger inched through the hair against it. 

“You’re a goddamn dream.” He whispered as his hand found your cheek again, his thumb gently tapping against your chin causing your gaze to pull away from his body. When you looked up at him, he was leaning back into you. 

A small sigh fell from your lips against his as the plump of his lips moved with your own. Your fingertips found the button of his jeans, and you pulled your lips back to dip your head to watch as your other hand came to assist you in locating the zip. 

“I wanna make you feel good, honey,” You mumbled gently as you lifted your gaze back up to him. You lifted yourself from the mattress and shifted to the floor, kneeling in front of him. Once his jeans were unzipped, you splayed your palms against his thighs, gently dragging them back and forth. “Can I do that for you?”

Steve’s throat bobbed as he nodded, his eyes glassing over as he watched you drop to your knees before him. His hands wrapped around the waist of the denim, lifting himself up as he pulled them down his thighs. “God, fuck. Yes – yes, please.”

A small giggle fell past your lips at his eagerness, assisting him in pulling his jeans over his knees and down his legs before your hands settled at his thighs again. You leant forward, peppering soft kisses against the span of his stomach. 

Your palms slipped up his thighs as your lips fell just above the band of his boxers. Your hand cupped over his bulge, your fingers curling around him through the thin fabric. Steve gasped softly under your touch, his stomach that is now damp from your wet kisses heaving with anticipation. 

As your fingers curved around the band, you tugged it down slowly. Steve’s cock fell against his stomach as you freed it, a small gasp falling past your lips at the sight of him. His heavy, thick length that was already leaking for you. 

You hummed softly as your spare hand pushed his underwear down his thighs, the other slipping around his base. As your fingers curled around him, a low groan fell past his lips. You watched intently as you circled your wrist, your hand working up and down his length.

“Fuck.” He murmured as he watched you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his, your lips parting as you leant forward. Your tongue parted your lips, slowly circling his meaty tip, collecting his precum on the tip of your tongue. 

Steve’s hand slinked through your hair as you took him between your lips, suckling on his tip before sinking down further. You could only manage a few inches before pulling your head back up, your fist picking up its pace as saliva pooled in your mouth. You angled yourself above him, your spit drooling from your mouth as your hand continued working at his base. 

“So fucking big, baby,” You mumbled as your lips dragged down the side of his length, your tongue working against the silky skin. “Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

Your jaw twinged as your mouth sank down on him again, attempting to take of much of him as you could. Steve’s moans were hitting your ears and driving straight through you, straight between your legs. Your lips sank lower with each bob of your head, breathing out through your nose as your fist worked what you couldn’t reach. 

“I’m– Fuck,” Steve whined from above you, his head tilting to the side as his hands came to brush your hair out of your face. You could feel his hips rutting upward beneath you, desperate to match your pace. “I’m fucking close, baby.”

Your hand slipped off of his length, steadying on his thigh as your nose hit the coarse hair that laid at the base of his cock. A loud string of moans escaped his moans as his hips thrusted up, holding you steady as he fucked your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with ease. 

You let him have his way with you, using your mouth until you felt his hips stuttering. You pulled your lips up his length, a mixture of his arousal and your saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth as your hand resumed its action. “Come on, honey. Are you gonna come for me?”

Steve nodded tightly, his chest heaving as his hips fucked into your hand. Your tongue swirled around his tip, eager to collect everything you were coaxing out of him. Your eyes fluttered up to watch him as you pulled your lips back to speak. “Such a good boy, Steve.”

His head threw back with your words, and when you felt his cock twitching in your hand you were quick to resume your mouth around him. Sinking down on him and using your fist to work him through his orgasm. 

You moaned around him as you felt the spurts of his warm, thick come depositing into your mouth, swallowing down everything he gave you. Your spare hand moved to hold his thigh steady as you worked him through it, milking his cock with everything you had. 

Steve’s moans choked past his lips, your name falling with them as you pulled your mouth off of him. The movements of your hand were slower now, your wrist working in lazy circles as you worked him through his climax. 

“Holy shit,” Steve mumbled, almost in disbelief as you let go of his cock. Your eyes fell to your palm, lifting it to your mouth to lick at his spend that had leaked onto your hand. “You’re – Holy shit.” 

A small smirk grew on your lips as you popped one of your fingers out of your mouth, pushing your weight onto his thigh as you lifted yourself up. His thighs parted for you to stand in between, his hands lifting to your waist as his neck craned back to look up at you. 

“You taste good, you know.” Your voice was soft as you looked down at him, your hands resting on either side of his neck as your thumbs gently ran back and forth against his skin. 

Steve’s hands slipped from your waist to the backs of your thighs, your skirt bunching up as his hands lifted beneath it. “Oh, do I?” His large palms inched further, until they found the globes of your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he smirked up at you. 

You nodded softly, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you lifted your fingers to push the hair out of his face. Steve’s hands pushed the fabric of your dress to your waist, slowly inching it further until you nodded softly again, giving him the permission he was seeking.

“Well, then I think it’s only fair that I get to taste you too.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke, inching the material higher until you overtook, your fingers wrapping around the skirt and pulling it over your head. 

As you pulled the dress over your head and dropped it onto the floor beside your feet, Steve’s hands found your waist again. He leant forward, his lips pressing against the skin beneath your bra before mumbling against your skin. “You’re so beautiful. Did you put this on just for me?” 

His fingers trailed down your side, toying with the black lace of your underwear that matched the black lace of your bra. You nodded softly, your hand holding the back of his head against you. “I did, baby. Just for you.” 

With that, you heard him growl gently. His grip tightened on you, pulling you back down onto the mattress beside him. He rolled on top of you with ease, his body hovering over your own as his lips pressed against the span of your neck. 

“So beautiful,” He repeated against your skin. He settled next to you on his side, his eyes landing on your chest as his hand slipped up your waist to snake around your back to unclasp your bra. “Can’t believe you were wearing this all night, just for me.” 

You nodded softly as you lifted your back for him, your eyes not leaving his as your hand lifted to brush your fingers against his temple. He was so gorgeous, so soft that you couldn’t not be touching him, you had to feel him under your touch. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping this would happen.”

The two of you huffed a laugh as he leant forward, brushing his lips against yours as his fingers wrapped around the straps of your bra, pulling them down your shoulder and your arms before moving to the other side and repeating until he pulled the garment off of you completely. 

“Fuck.” Steve mumbled after pulling his lips from yours and glancing down at your bare chest. His hand slipped to cup your breast, kneading the flesh between his fingers as his mouth dropped to press between your tits.

His lips fell to your nipple in an instant, moaning at the feeling of your hardening bud against his tongue as his other hand toyed with the nub between his thumb and index finger. You huffed a pleasured sigh, your chest heaving into him as his tongue ravished you. 

His mouth left you with a small pop, wasting no time to move to the other as his hand switched to toy with the nipple that was now wet with his saliva. Your fingers curled through his hair, holding him against you as your head fell back into the mattress. 

“Fuck, Steve. So good– You feel so good.” You panted as your back arched into his touch, your thighs squeezing together beneath him, beginning to feel desperate for him to touch you. 

Steve’s mouth trailed to the underside of your breast, making sure every inch of you got his attention as his hand slipped to hold onto your hip. His thumb dug into your skin, holding you steady as he began trailing his lips down your sternum, inching closer to where you needed him most. 

As his hot breath hit the curve of your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipped down to the backs of your thighs. His hold was gentle, spreading your legs open for him as he dipped between them to press his lips to your thigh. 

His wet mouth left sloppy kisses on your skin, anticipation building between your legs as you felt Steve hum against your inner thigh. “Bet you’re gonna taste so fucking good, baby.”

You huffed a pleasured sigh as Steve’s lips trailed over your clothed cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. His mouth suckled at the dampened fabric, his grip tightening on your thighs to hold them in place as your body writhed in pleasure. 

“Want you to stay still for me, baby, can you do that?” Steve mumbled against you, pulling his head back to catch your eye. You nodded gently down at him, lifting your hand to run through the strands of his hair that had fallen over his forehead.

Steve’s fingers slipped up your thighs to wrap around the band of your laced underwear, slowly pulling them down. You lifted your hips for him, manoeuvring your legs for him to slip them off of you. 

He leant back slightly, his eyes wandering across your body as you laid bare for him. A low whistle past his lips as his palms found your thighs again, his hands tenderly rubbing the soft skin as he spoke in a low tone. “Look at you, honey. Already so wet for me, huh?”

A small gasp left your lips as you felt Steve’s thumb slip through your folds, his index finger joining to spread apart your slick folds. You lifted your head from the mattress to watch his eyes take in the sight before him, the tip of his finger tracing each inch of you that’s laid before him. 

Just as you part your lips to tell him to move, to do something, anything, you watch as he leans closer, his tongue parting from his lips to pool at your entrance. Collecting your arousal on his tongue and spreading it against you, making sure he doesn’t miss a spot before his lips close around your clit. 

As his tongue flattens against the swollen nub, his middle finger presses against you. Your back arches from the bed as you feel him slipping inside of you, his name falling from your lips and hitting his ears like honey as he slowly, teasingly thrusts his finger into you. 

“That’s it, baby,” He coos against you, the hum from his voice causing a shiver to shock up your spine. The flicker of his tongue picks up its pace, toying with your clit as you writhe above him. “Feel so tight around me, such a tight little cunt. All mine.”

“S–so good, Steve– Fuck.” Is all you can manage as the thrusts of his finger picks up their pace, his ring finger slamming into you and curling up against the spongy spot inside of you that’s already making you see stars. 

Both of your hands flew down your body to latch onto his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your hips began rocking into his touch. His spare hand found your hip, squeezing you for substance as he worked you toward your first climax of the evening. 

The sound of his fingers fucking into you, your cunt squelching around him and the feeling of him groaning into you was enough for you to feel that familiar feeling build in your stomach. 

Your thighs trembled around him, his fingers bullying against your sweet spot as he slipped his hand from your hip to press against your mound. He pulled his lips off of you, his thumb replacing his tongue as his eyes bore into you. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, wanna watch you come,” His voice was rough, hitting you deep in your stomach as the pad of his thumb drew perfect circles against your swollen, throbbing clit. “Need to feel you, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge. Your fingers curled into his hair, needing to hold onto something as the roll of your hips assisted you in finally coming undone. 

Your moans were falling past your lips uncontrollably as you came around his fingers. They continued fucking into you, curling against your sweet spot as Steve coaxed your orgasm out of you. His lips pressed encouraging kisses against your inner thigh as he worked you through it. 

Steve pulled his fingers out of you slowly, his hand leaving your hip to press into the mattress to pull himself back up to you. He laid on his side beside you, bringing his glistening fingers up to his lips to clean your arousal off of him. 

Your chest was heaving as you looked up at him, your breathing sporadic as you lifted your hand to push through the hair on the back of his head. He hummed around his fingers, the sound of him practically sucking them dry made your knees knock together again. 

“You taste so fucking good,” He spoke as he pulled his lips from his mouth, using his pinky finger to brush back the few strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead. He leant down, his lips softly brushing against yours as he whispered against them. “Have you got another one for me?”

You were quick to nod, turning your body to face his own as your hand pressed into his chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips danced against your own, you could taste yourself against his lips and it only made you eager for more. 

It has been a while since you’d been with someone as well endowed as Steve. Your hand slipped further down his chest, aching to feel him in your hand again to get him ready to fuck you – but his hand clamped around your wrist to stop you. 

“Get on your front.” He mumbled against your lips, pulling back slightly to look down at you. A small scoff left your lips, pulling your head back to read his face. His hand slipped to your waist, giving it a small squeeze before he rolled backward and pushed you down against the mattress. 

As you laid on your stomach on the bed, your arms crossed beneath your head to rest on them. You craned your head over your shoulder to watch Steve get up and position himself behind you, a small smirk catching against his lips as he caught you looking at him. 

“You alright down there?” His voice was soft as his hands found your hips, guiding them upward so your ass was in the air. His palms flattened against your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to catch another look at your ruined pussy. 

“I’m on the pill, Steve–” You mumbled softly as your back arched further, your hips swaying gently into his touch. “You can do whatever you want to me.” 

Steve cursed under his breath, and you turned your head away from him, letting yourself relax for a moment to ready yourself for whatever he was giving you next. 

You gasped softly, as a small blow of air hit your pussy. His palms spread you open further, as his tongue reached out to circle your clit teasingly before slowly trailing across your labia, taking his time to explore every inch of you like he hadn’t just minutes before. 

“God.” He mumbled against you as his tongue finally slipped across your dripping hole. His palm rubbing small circles against your ass as he pulled himself back. You whined softly at the loss, before feeling his mouth latch onto you again. 

His tongue slipped inside of you with ease, thrusting in and out of you with fever as your palm flattened against the mattress, collecting the sheets in your fist as you pushed your hips back into his touch. 

“Holy shit– Steve.” You whined into your arm, breathless as his mouth pulled off of you to replace his tongue with his thick fingers. Two of them bullied into you, curling perfectly inside of you as his large palm steadied your ass, holding you open for him. He pulled his hand back, striking down on your cheek with a loud smack.

You gasped under his touch, your walls tightening around him. “That’s it, baby. You gonna give me another one? God, such a tight little cunt, keeps sucking me in.” His words only edged you on, the new angle of his fingers fucking you hitting deeper, and deeper with each thrust. 

You whined in pleasure with each thrust of his fingers, each perfect curl stroking inside of you causing your legs to weaken beneath you. A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt Steve spit against you, landing on your asshole before dripping down your perineum to his fingers. 

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He cooed from above, his fingers picking up their pace as he felt your pussy tightening around him. His palm striked you again, smoothing over the skin before slipping from the flesh of your ass to your hip to steady you as your body weakened under his touch. 

You nodded, unable to find the words as your orgasm washed over you. Steve’s fingers took no mercy, continuing to piston into your cunt as it squelched around him. Pleasured cries left your lips as you released again, a rush of heat barrelling through you as you soaked his fingers and the sheets beneath the two of you. 

“Holy shit, baby,” Steve breathed as his fingers worked you through your orgasm, letting your knees drop and your lower half fall onto the mattress. His fingers slowed down, almost soothing you as he leant down over your body to press gentle kisses against your shoulder. “You’re fucking perfect. Such a good girl.” 

It took a few minutes for you to regain your breath and come back down to reality. Steve had settled on his back beside you, his head nestled into the pillow as his hand rubbed small circles at your lower back. 

“Are you okay, honey?” His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to his tone from moments before. You nodded softly, lifting your upper half up on your elbows to give him a smile as your hand reached out to trail your fingers back and forth against his side. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, then get us some water, okay?” Your voice was still shaky, starting to push yourself up when Steve interjected.

“No, no, I’ll go–” Steve started, shaking his head as he moved to get up but you were quick to flatten your palm against his chest to push him back down. 

You lifted yourself up as you pushed your weight onto him, his hand steadying against your back. “You stay. Don’t move, ’m not done with you yet.” You leant down to brush your lips against his own gently before pushing yourself off the bed. 

The floorboards creaked beneath your feet as you padded across the room, turning your head over your shoulder to catch a glance at Steve as you left the room. He was watching you, a fond smile across his lips which you returned before disappearing into the bathroom. 

After you peed and washed your hands, you were quick to bumble to the kitchen – avoiding the windows as you filled up two glasses of water. Your body was still feeling weak, definitely needing a protein bar before getting back to it, but you knew you could power through. 

But when you crept back into your bedroom, you were met with Steve curled onto his side, happily snoring into your pillow. 

You couldn’t help your pout as you crossed the room, placing the glasses onto your dresser before turning to your bed. You had half a mind to wake him up, but God, did he look so cute when he was asleep. 

Instead, you grabbed the blanket that laid at the end of your bed and crawled into bed beside him. You laid flat on your back, turning your head to watch the way his eyelids were fluttering and the rise and fall of his freckled shoulders as he slept. And with him laying beside you, you weren’t far off either. 

When the sunlight poured into your room the next morning, it woke you up first. The harsh, blinding light cutting over your eyes, realising you were so swept up in last night you didn’t close your curtains. 

Somehow, in both of your slumbers, Steve had tucked you beneath his arm. He was laid flat on his back, one arm resting beneath his head whilst the other wrapped around you, keeping you closer to his side. 

Your hand grazed across the hair on his chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as it tickled your palm. You leant forward, unable to help yourself, and softly began pressing kisses against each mole that graced his skin. 

Your lips pressed to his collarbone, his chest, even down to his stomach before somehow your lips had found his nipple. You couldn’t help yourself, your eyes fluttering up to his face as your lips gently pressed against the nub. 

Steve began stirring above you, his grip on your back tightening. Once you’d established he’d woken, your lips dragged across his chest to the other side, letting your teeth graze against his nipple, causing his eyes to blink open slowly. 

A small, breathy laugh left his lips as his eyes squinted open. His hand slipped from your side and up your back slowly, the sleep in his voice directing straight to your core. “Good morning to you too.” 

“Morning, honey,” You mumbled against his chest, you couldn’t help the small laugh escape you as you pushed yourself up his body to brush your lips against his own gently. “Did you sleep okay?”

He hummed softly, indulging in your kiss lazily as his hand crept to the back of your head, holding you steady as he mumbled against you. “Slept so good. You’re like a furnace, though.”

You snickered softly against his lips, your hand pressing into his chest as you pulled your lips from his slowly. “You were fast asleep when I came back in, I was kinda disappointed.”

His eyes opened fully now, his ears pricking up as you spoke. His hand fell from your hair to the mattress beside you, swallowing thickly as his eyes wandered across your face. “W–what? You were disappointed last night? Was I not–”

“No, honey, you were great. But – y’know.” You hoped he’d understand your insinuation, that you were wanting much more than his fingers last night. When you leant forward to kiss him again, his head turned slightly, causing you to pout up at him. 

He adjusted himself slightly, moving his arm from beneath you to prop himself up on his elbow as he looked down at you. His eyes had darkened, all remnants of sleep had drifted away. His voice was hoarse, serious as he spoke down to you. “What’s your safe word?”

A small smile crept at the corner of your lips, your palm flattening against his chest as your head tilted up at him. “Steve–”

“I’m serious,” He started, his hands found either side of your hips and pulled you on top of him. Your knees fell to either side of him, your palms pressed against his stomach as his hands dragged down your thighs. “If you’re so disappointed, then I think it’s time you prove yourself.” 

Your lips parted slightly as you looked down at him. He looked like a dream, his hair mussed and lips swollen laid beneath you with his head buried into your pillow. His eyes were dark, but the small smirk that was present across his lips grounded you. 

His hand slipped from your thigh to wrap around his cock that was already half hard, his throat tightening as he circled his wrist, his fist waking up his cock just for you. Your eyes trailed from his, your hips inching back to watch his actions. 

“You just gonna sit there?” His voice was tight as his hand picked up its pace, his thumb spreading across his tip to work into his touch, soft sighs passing his lips as he looked up at you. 

You brought your hand up to your mouth, spitting into your palm before lowering it to his length, taking over from his hand. His hips rutted into your touch, a choked moan passing his lips as your hand worked the silky skin of his cock. 

“Steve.” You whined as your wrist circled, your other hand settled against his chest and you leant your upper body down to his. His hand found your hip, squeezing you with encouragement. As you leant in to kiss him, desperate to feel the plush of his swollen lips against your own, his spare palm came up to wrap his fingers around your throat. 

“Sluts like you don’t deserve that,” He spoke with grit, your fist squeezing gently around his cock at his words. His hot breath hit your lips, his eyes deepening into yours as he continued. “Now shut up and make me come.”

You practically moaned at his words, all you could do was nod as you blinked up at him. Your fist picked up its pace, but when his hand left your throat to fall to your hip, he lifted you upward, and you knew what he was wanting. 

“That’s it, good girl.” He cooed as your palm flattened on his chest and your chin tucked into your chest as you glanced between your bodies. You readjusted your hips, watching as you pushed Steve’s fat tip through your folds. 

Your breath hitched as his meaty head notched against your clit, his grip tightening on your hips in response as you began working his cock between your folds. When you lifted your eyes to look up at Steve, his head had rolled back against your pillow, his jaw slack. 

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath which caused Steve to lift his head to look up at you, his smirk drawn proudly across his lips. His hand left your hips, taking hold of his heavy cock and positioning it at your entrance. 

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to make the next move. Your teeth sank into your lower lip at the feeling of his tip pressing against you, urging to stretch you open. 

Steve’s hand found your hip again, giving the flesh a squeeze for good measure before pushing them down, sinking you onto his cock. 

You cried out in pleasure, your head rolling into your shoulder as your cunt stretched around Steve’s thick cock. The feeling of him inside of you was staggering, heat pulsing between your legs at the size of him bottomed out in you. You let yourself lean forward, both of your hands steadying on the headboard as your hips seated on his cock. 

“Fucking slut. Just have to take all of me, huh?” Steve whined from beneath you, his voice clipped as his hands slipped to the flesh of your ass, kneading it in his hands before he lifted you up slightly, urging you to move. 

You nodded, your head tipping forward as you mustered up your strength to start moving your hips. With his assistance, his steady hands guiding you, he guides your hips up and down his length. His eyes were glued to the sight before him, your pussy swallowing his cock as he started fucking his own hips to match the pace he’d set for you, his jaw slack watching your bodies meet perfectly with each thrust. 

“God, look at those fucking tits,” His voice was tight, leaning his head back to watch the bounce of your breasts with each of your thrusts. “Squeezing that cunt on my cock, fuck– Holy fuck.”

Your grip tightened on the headboard as Steve’s cock hit deep within you each time your hips sank down on him, mindless words passing your lips as he fucked you. One of his hands slipped from your hip up to your chest, his palm pawing at your breast as he rolled your hardened bud between his thumb and index finger. 

“I’m– I’m so close, Steve.” You whined with pleasure, your head rolling backward as you felt your walls tightening around his cock. You hadn’t been at it for long, you cursed yourself for not being able to hold on much longer, but after last night you were certain you deserved it. 

Steve grunted from beneath you, his hands settling tightly at the backs of your thighs. He lifted you off his cock, a frustrated swear passing your lips at the loss of him. Once he’d pulled you off of him, he let you fall backwards onto the mattress. 

His hands were quick to find your knees, keeping them open as he lowered himself to press his lips against your stomach. You tensed under his touch, your cunt fluttering around nothing, desperate for him to be back inside of you. 

“Look at you, such a mess.” He muttered against your skin, his palms keeping your legs spread as his lips fluttered against your inner thigh. You knew that he was avoiding where you needed him most, getting you back for your earlier words.  

“I need you, Steve. Need you so fucking badly.” You panted breathlessly, lifting yourself up on your elbows to watch him between your legs. 

He only smirked in response, his middle and ring finger pushing through your soaked folds as he spread them apart. He drew his head back slightly to spit against you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched his saliva drip throughout you, mixing with your arousal. 

“Do you think that you deserve to come, baby?” His breath was hot against your skin, his words burning between your legs as you desperately nodded. 

Steve huffed out a small laugh, his palm flattening over your mound and grazing his thumb ever so teasingly over your slit as his other hand pressed into the mattress to lift himself up to you, lowering to your ear. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me, honey?” He croaked, his lips gently kissing beneath your ear before continuing. “Be a good girl and make daddy come?”

You’re certain you could’ve come just from his words alone. Your hand wrapped around his arm that was lost between your legs, squeezing as you desperately nodded. As your head rolled back in pleasure, your brain was fuzzy, attempting to find the words but they got lost on your tongue. 

Steve pried his hand from between your legs and wrapped his fingers around your jaw, the tips of his fingers pressing into your cheeks to make you look up at him. “Come on, baby. Sluts like you need to use their words.”

He lowered his lips to yours, teasingly brushing his lips against your own. He could feel your body writhing beneath him, your hips rutting desperately for an inch of his touch. “You wouldn’t shut up last night. Look at you now, huh? The only words you need to know now are daddy, and please”

“Please, daddy,” You managed as you looked up at him, inching your chin forward as much as you could despite his grip to brush your lips against his own. “I’ll– I’ll be so good, please. I need you.” 

His lips curved into a proud grin, his grip from your jaw dropping as he finally kissed you properly. His tongue slipping straight into your mouth, eager to taste you on his tongue as his hand slipped between your bodies. 

Your hands slipped to hold the back of his head, mostly to keep him from moving again, needing to feel his lips on yours. You whined against his lips as you felt his hand graze between your legs, your back arching from the breath of contact. 

Just as you pulled your lips off of him to beg him to fuck you, you felt his heavy tip press at your entrance. And before you could prepare yourself, his hand was holding your knee apart for more access as he drilled his hips into yours. 

With each deep thrust, you whined in pleasure against his lips. Your arm snaked around his neck, desperate to hold him close to you as his cock hit places inside of you that you didn’t even realise could be reached.

“Wanna see your face, baby,” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling his lips from yours to look down at you as his hips drilled into you. “Wanna see you when you come for me.”

Your lips parted in pleasure, jaw slack as you nodded up at him. Your nails dragged across his back, scratching across his soft skin as the sound of Steve’s cock filling you up, bullying into your sopping cunt filled up the room around you. 

“Holy shit, I’m so close – Steve, fuck.” Your head rolled into the pillow as your leg lifted to wrap around his waist, your heel digging into him in an attempt to keep him inside of you for as long as possible, not ever wanting to know what it’s like to be without him again. 

“Come on, baby, come for me. Come with me, I’m gonna fill up this tight little cunt. Filthy little slut, milking my cock. Fuck–” Your hips began working with his own, you could feel your orgasm approaching you with each hit Steve buried into your cervix. 

As he felt the walls of your cunt tightening around him, he kept the steady pace of his hips. His head dipped to your jaw, his lips sucking against your skin as his hand braced against your thigh, his moans vibrating into your neck. 

“Oh– Steve, I’m coming, fuck–” You cried into the pillow as your grip on his shoulder tightened, your front arching into his as your cunt tightened around his cock. You couldn’t hold back any longer, finally releasing over him.

Steve’s hips stuttered as he felt you convulsing around him. With a couple more shallow fucks, his hot come spurted deep inside of you. His thick spend painting your walls as he continued thrusting, riding out his orgasm as your body writhed beneath him. 

“I’m a good girl, huh?” You whispered breathlessly as you lifted your head from the pillow, Steve’s own head rising from the nape of your neck to look down at you. “I’m your good girl.” 

Steve nodded softly, his fingers resting beneath your chin as his thumb softly wiped at a slither of drool that had slipped out of the corner of your mouth. He held your chin as he leant down to kiss you, his cock slowly pulling out of you as he whispered against you. “Yeah, baby. Such a good girl for me.” 

Once Steve pulled out of you, he fell next to you on the bed. His hand cupped your jaw as he kissed you tenderly, pulling his lips to press to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek before settling beneath your ear. “Such a good girl, honey.”

You preened under his praise. Your eyes fluttered shut as your arms lifted above your head, leaning back onto your pillow as you let yourself come down from your high. You thought to yourself that this was a perfect start to your morning, maybe you’d drift back off to sleep for an hour, maybe go make some eggs –

But you were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Steve’s finger brushing against your sensitive clit. Your eyes opened, head jolting upward to see Steve back between your legs. Of fucking course. 

He snaked one of his arms around your thigh, resting his head on it like a pillow as he shallowly pushed two of his fingers back inside your pulsing heat, his eyes watching the way your cunt swallowed his fingers. 

“Steve, baby–” You whined, practically huffing a laugh. You remembered what it was like being with a guy in his young twenties, remembered the stamina. 

“Mm,” He hummed, tilting his head to press his lips to the skin of your inner thigh before leaning his head back down. “It’s all dripping out of you, baby. Just making sure it’s all in there. So fucking wet, baby, such a mess. You go take a hot bath, and I’ll change the sheets.” 

Your teeth sank into your lower lip, your hips rocking into his touch. You don’t know what was coming over you, but somehow you could’ve gone again. Your body was craving him. His tongue, his kisses, his fingers, his cock. Whatever you could get, you’d take. 

Just as Steve was lifting his head from the plush of your thigh to ravish you one more time, the alarm clock on your bedside table blared through the room. Steve’s eyes darted toward it, his fingers pulling out of you as he pushed himself up.

He dragged his hand over his face, his voice consumed with panic. “Fuck. Is that the time? Shit, I started work an hour ago–” He cut himself off, his hand resting at your waist. 

He looked at you as if he wanted you to beg him to stay, to tell him to call in sick and stay here with you all day. You pushed yourself up on your hands, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips before speaking. 

“It’s okay, Steve. I don’t want you to get in trouble, go to work,” You spoke softly, your fingers lifting to brush against his cheek as you leant in to kiss him again. “Go.”

He practically groaned against your lips, pushing himself off of the bed and began scurrying around your bedroom to find his clothes that had been long forgotten about. He mumbled under his breath about his vest, that maybe he’d have one in his car. 

You watched him fondly as he hopped around the room scurrying into his boxers and his jeans, messily pulling his shirt over his head before glancing over at you. 

He crossed the room in three swift steps, both of his hands coming up to hold your cheeks as he stole one last kiss goodbye. Your hands lifted to scrunch his shirt, trying your hardest not to pull him back into bed with you, but he pulled away first. 

His forehead leant against your own, his lips curling into a smirk before he pressed one last kiss against you. “I’m so glad that your car broke down.”

Your head rolled back as you laughed, shaking your head before your hands shoved him at his shoulders. He held his hands up to you, laughing along with you as he finally made his way to your bedroom door. 

He stopped in the doorway, spinning on his heels as his fingers brushed through his hair, attempting to style the sleep and sex out of it. “Will, uh– Will you call me?”

You had to bite your lower lip between your teeth to hide your smirk, softly nodding at him as you spoke. “Yeah, honey. I’ll call you tonight.”

Steve’s hand gripped at the edge of the door, you could tell it was taking everything in him to leave and go to work. He simply nodded back at you, flashing you an easy wink before pulling your bedroom door shut. You sat there, listening to his footsteps receding through your house until you heard the front door slam. 

You laid back against your pillows, mind blank as you stared up at your ceiling. The last twelve hours seemed like a dream. But there was one thing that you were certain of. 

The afternoon sun warmed your shoulders as you walked through the glass doors of Munson's Bikes. A small bronze bell above the door jingled and then gave way to the familiar sound of classic rock music coming from somewhere behind the store.

The shop smelled like motor oil, gasoline, and warm metal. Motorcycle parts were scattered across workbenches, helmets hung from hooks along the wall, and dusty rays of sunlight streamed through the front windows, catching tiny flecks of sawdust and grease in the air.

You stepped up to the counter, glancing around. "Hello?" you called. "I'm here to pick up my dad's custom order." no one answered. "Eddie?"

A clatter echoed from the garage before a familiar voice answered. "Hang on."

A second later, Steve Harrington emerged from the back, wiping his hands on an already ruined shop rag.

Your breath caught.

He wore a white tank top streaked with grease, the fabric clinging to his broad shoulders. Dark smudges marked his forearms, and a strand of hair had fallen across his forehead from working. A piece of gum shifted lazily between his teeth as he looked up.

"Oh? Hey." Recognition flashed across his face.

"S-Steve." who owned the loudest bike in Hawkins, yet slowed down when some animals crossed the street.

He smiled, a little crooked. "Eddie's out making a delivery. Huge order." He jerked a thumb toward the garage. "Didn't trust anyone else with the shop, so... congratulations."

You laughed. "You got promoted?"

"Nah." He snorted. "More like tricked into free labor." His grin was enough to make you laugh again. "I was just fixing my bike while I waited."

Your eyes drifted past him toward the open garage.

Steve caught the look. "You...uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "You can wait here if you want. Eddie shouldn't be too long."

"I don't mind."

There was a brief silence. Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other before blurting, "Actually... do you want to see my bike? I mean—you don't have to. It's just... already out there."

You smiled. "I'd love to."

His shoulders relaxed almost instantly. "Cool."

He led you into the garage, weaving around stacks of tires and shelves lined with tools. Near the back sat a beautifully restored vintage motorcycle, its deep black paint gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights.

Steve grabbed a folding chair tucked against the wall. He noticed the thin layer of dust covering the seat. He frowned, grabbed a clean rag from the workbench, and carefully wiped it down before draping the cloth over the chair.

"There," he said. "Didn't really think this through."

"You always prepare seats for your guests?"

He chuckled. "Only the important ones."

He cleared his throat and quickly crouched beside the motorcycle, reaching for a wrench before embarrassing himself further. "So..." He rested a hand against the fuel tank. "Found her behind an old barn a few years ago. She barely ran. Rust everywhere." He gave the bike an affectionate pat. "Everyone told me she wasn't worth fixing."

"But?"

"But I figured she deserved nother chance" His smile softened.

You watched him more than the motorcycle. As he tightened a bolt, the muscles in his forearms flexed beneath streaks of grease. A bead of sweat rolled from his temple, and without thinking, he brushed it away with the back of his wrist before returning to work.

His hands moved with quiet confidence, careful and practiced, as if he knew every bolt and every scratch by heart.

"Steve, I don't think you've looked at me once since you started explaining."

He looked up immediately. "I have."

Your eyebrows lifted. "You have?"

"I've just..." He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "been trying not to make it obvious."

Your cheeks warmed. "So you were trying?"

He stared at you for a second before laughing under his breath. "Guess I wasn't doing a very good job."

"No, not really you admitted with a grin.

Steve continued rambling about carburetors or the engine, completely unaware you weren’t listening. You took two steps forward that made him look up at you, then you kissed him. 

Silence didn’t last long when he spat the gum and crashed his lips into yours. Lips and teeth fighting for dominance, he spun you around until your ass hit the seat of his motorbike. You could feel his hard cock through his jeans pressing into you. 

“Stay right there,” his voice filled with lust. His hand slid between your legs, rubbing your pussy through your shorts. “Already wet? Dirty little thing getting wet just from kissing.” 

You moaned as he yanked your shorts and panties down in one rough pull. The cold metal of the fuel tank pressed against your bare skin. 

“Hop on, baby, and grind that pretty cunt of yours in my bike,” Steve ordered and you followed wholeheartedly. 

You started to grind on the fuel tank, your wetness made everything in smooth motion. The friction sent sparks through you, and only the man standing could give you the desire you wanted. It's so filthy you cannot imagine you're getting turned on by this, “Oh god, Stevee” 

Steve just watched you on the other end of the bike, enjoying the view. You kept grinding as your life depended on it. “Steve, baby, please touch me.” 

Steve being the man he is, obeyed, his tongue dragged straight up your slit in one long, wet stroke, licking from your clit.  You jerked and moaned, fingers curling around the handlebars.  

Steve didn't give you time to adjust. He buried his face between you and started eating your pussy like he was starving, sucking your swollen lips into his mouth before spearing his tongue deep inside yourhole.

“Fuck you taste good.” he inserted his two long thick fingers and started pumping. He curled them against your wall, rubbing that sensitive spot with every thrust of his hand. 

“Aahh shi-t, please don’t stop.” your one hand grabbed his hair to shove him deeper. 

Steve switch between licking your fold and stabbing your inside, mixing it with steady thrust of his fingers. “Don’t you dare close your legs, baby. Keep this pussy open for me.” 

All you could do was receive it all, holding the handlebars enough to keep you in place, chanting his name.  “That’s it, baby” he growled between licks, “Come on my tongue. I want to feel this cunt pulsing while I eat it.” 

"Look at you, spread out on my motorcycle," he said, voice rough. "Pussy dripping all over the seat. I'm gonna fill this cunt up." he said, unbuckling himself. 

"Steve, what if Eddie sees us?"

"Don't worry, he texted me he'll be gone long."

He flipped you onto your back across the tank, and hooked your legs over his shoulders. In one smooth motion he drove inside you, the new angle making you see stars. He fucked you deep and fast, one hand around your throat, the other rubbing your swollen clit.

Steve helped you to take off your top, you and he gently massaged your boobs, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet. 

“Be loud, pretty girl or else I’ll fucking stop fucking you.” Steve grunted while sucking the skin of your neck. 

"You like that? Getting used on my bike like a filthy slut?" he hissed in your ear. "Say it."

"Yes," you gasped. "Fuck me harder."

Your orgasm hit hard, your walls clenching around him as you moaned his name. Steve didn't stop. He flipped you again, this time sitting on the bike and pulling you onto his lap so you faced him. You sank on his cock, riding him while he gripped your hips and thrust up to meet you.

“Ride it, baby, “ he ordered. “Show me how badly you want my cum.”

"Mph! too mu-much" yet you cannot stop yourself bouncing on him.

You rode him hard, tits bouncing with every movement. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you whimper. He reached around and slapped your ass. 

"Next time I'm taking this ass too," he promised, voice dark. "But right now I'm gonna pump this pussy full."

You came again shaking on his cock, Steve followed right after, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you with hot cum. He kept you impaled on him, breathing hard against you neck.

"Not done with you yet," he muttered, already starting to harden inside you again. "Wear my helmet and turn around. Both hands on the handlebars. I'm fucking you from behind until you can't walk straight. "

"princess im home" steve called out from down the hall as he began to take off his shoes.

in an instant you jumped up from where you were on the sofa, discarding your half drunk second glass of wine and scuttling down to find steve.

"there's my girl- woah"

he grunted as you threw yourself into his arms, dropping his bag and wrapping his arms tight around you.

"well hello babygirl" he chuckled into your hair, hands travelling to your ass cheeks to haul you up off the floor.

"missed you so much stevie" you whispered into his neck, just below his ear.

"oh yeah?"

"yeah- been waiting for you all afternoon"

you pulled back from his neck, hands running through his hair as you leant forward to hastily kiss him.

wasting no time, he blindly walked down the halls, finding and kicking open the door to your bedroom.

breaking the kiss, you latched onto steve's neck, sucking and biting desperately as you began to roll your hips in his hold.

"someone's needy"

gently laying you down on the bed, steve climbed over you, peppering kisses up your chest and neck until he reached your face.

"stevieeee" you whined

"shh baby, i'm gonna take care of you"

he carefully removed your matching pyjama set, mumbling about how much he loved it before straightening up and allowing your grabby hands to pull at his own tshirt.

caressing your boobs and toying at your hard nipples with one hand, the other pulled at his belt, removing it and undoing his jeans whilst your shaky hands made a pathetic attempt to help.

“princess, just lay back” steve said with amusement, taking your hands in one of his big ones and holding them above your head.

“please”

“i am” he cooed, letting go of your hands to cup your jaw.

with your hands out of his way, steve made quick work in freeing himself, his large cock springing out, hard and flushed.

lips parting on instinct, your mouth watered as you stared at steve’s dick with wide eyes.

“don’t worry, it’ll be all yours in a minute”

“i-“

you began to talk, mouth open just enough for steve to push his thumb into it and cut you off from whatever whiny comment you were going say.

his other hand came between your legs, parting your thighs easily before dipping his fingers between your folds.

the light touch made you dizzy, so desperate and wet for steve, moaning around his thumb.

his fingertips dragged through your slick, smearing it over your lips before finding your achy, puffy clit.

“steveee”

two fingers plunged into you, burring deep into your warm core, curling up and instantly finding the spot that made you squirm.

steve kept his thumb in your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers whilst his other thumb rubbed over your clit in soft circles.

the coil in your lower stomach tightened uncontrollably quickly, making your thighs tremble and back arch as you came undone on his fingers.

as he eased his fingers from your cunt, he removed his thumb from your mouth, rubbing it over your cheek leaving a shiny strip under your eye.

moaning around his own fingers, he cleaned them off, tasting your orgasm on them, making a show of it for you.

“taste so good- could never get enough”

“stop teasing- i need your cock”

letting go of his fingers with a wet pop, he leaned down to your face, lips brushing over yours.

“what do we say?”

“please”

“good girl”

he crashed his lips into yours, settling between your legs as his hand gripped himself, rubbing his tip up your slit, coating it in your juices.

“please” you whined again against steve’s mouth, so impatient for him.

your breath caught as you felt his head at your entrance, pushing shallowly against the wet opening.

“you know what to do” he groaned and you nodded. “deep breath, baby- yeah there you go”

you inhaled heavily then held as steve pushed in all the way, slowly but smoothly until he was fully buried inside you.

“atta girl, cmon breath for me”

you made a few shaky breaths before it evened out, breathing through the sharp stretch of steve’s cock spilling you open until it faded into agonising pleasure.

“good?”

“so good- feel so full” you slurred out, eyes rolling back.

“so full aren’t you princess” he pushed on your lower stomach making you cry out and your eyes water. “feel that?”

“I- so- ugh”

“so deep you can’t even speak? oh my baby” steve cooed right against your cheek, pressing his lips to the soft skin.

so slowly you almost didn’t notice, steve started to roll his hips in a shallow circle, just grazing your walls with each thrust.

“that okay princess?”

“mhmmm”

he got more confident, his hips gradually speeding up and hitting deeper and deeper as your whines and mewls got louder and louder.

your hands were in his hair, then around his neck, then gripping his shoulders before your nails scratched down his back. under your fingers, you felt his muscles flex with each thrust of his hips.

he settled into a brutal pace eventually, forcing his cock into you so deep you felt him in your lungs, hot sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins

“you feel so good baby, so fucking wet. you been thinking about this all day?”

you nodded frantically, messily attempting to kiss his lips in which your missed and just ended up licking over his jaw.

“missed me so much you needed me to come home and fuck you stupid”

“yeaaaah- don’t stop”

“wouldn’t fucking dream of it” his hands cradled your face, dropping his forehead to yours.

“stevie- m so close”

“fuck- cum for me baby girl, wanna feel you squeezing me”

the band snapped and you cried out, throwing your head backwards and arching your back, your chest pressing against steve’s.

“oh yeaaah- gonna- fuck- cum. take it princess, be a good girl and take my cum”

“Remember that Fourth we spent in the city when the car broke down on the way back from the parade?” your dad said, laughing as he adjusted the grill lid. “You spent two hours under the hood while I tried to keep the kids entertained. We ended up watching the fireworks from the side of the highway with a cooler full of warm beer.”

Steve chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “I remember. You kept saying it was character-building. I think we were both just trying not to admit we were lost and out of gas.”

Your mother laughed from the doorway. “You two were always getting into some kind of mess together. Steve, you were the one who convinced Mark to buy that beat-up boat in the first place back in college. He came home talking about how you were going to fix it up and take it out on the lake every weekend. I thought he was crazy until you actually did it.”

Steve glanced at you briefly before answering, his expression carrying that familiar undercurrent of conflict. “Mark was the one with the vision. I just had the tools and too much free time. We spent an entire summer sanding and painting that thing. Your dad was determined it was going to be the best boat on the water.”

Your father grinned, flipping a burger. “And it was, for a while. Until that storm took half the dock with it. Steve was the one who stayed up all night helping me secure what was left. Wouldn’t let me do it alone even though he had work the next day.”

You set the bowl down and joined them, listening as the stories unfolded. Hearing the depth of their history made the pull you felt toward Steve feel even more complicated. They had built something solid over decades: college adventures, early adulthood struggles, the kind of loyalty that survived marriages, kids, and life’s ordinary disappointments. Your father spoke about Steve with the easy affection of someone who had seen every version of him and still chose the friendship.

Steve caught your eye again while your mother was inside refilling drinks. His voice stayed casual for the others, but the words carried extra weight when he looked at you. “Your dad was there for me when my own family was falling apart. I don’t think I would have made it through some of those years without him dragging me up here every summer. It gave me something steady to hold onto.”

Your father returned with a fresh platter. “He’s being modest. I was the one who needed the steady friend. Steve never judged when things got hard. He just showed up. That’s rare.”

The warmth in your father’s voice made Steve’s shoulders tighten almost imperceptibly. You saw the conflict flash across his face, the gratitude for that long friendship mixing with the guilt of the feelings he was trying so hard to contain. He changed the subject gently, asking your mother about the fireworks display schedule, but the moment stayed with you.

By late afternoon the boat was loaded with supplies for a short family outing before the evening festivities. Your parents insisted on coming along, turning the trip into another round of shared memories. Your father steered while your mother pointed out spots along the shoreline.

“This cove right here,” your dad said, slowing the boat. “Steve and I used to bring dates out here when we were younger. Thought we were smooth until one of them realized we were using the same lines on both of them.”

Your mother swatted his arm playfully. “I heard about those stories later. Steve was the charming one, wasn’t he? Always the one who could make people laugh and feel comfortable.”

Steve sat beside you on the bench seat, his knee brushing yours when the boat rocked. The contact was small but deliberate enough that neither of you moved away immediately. He answered your father with a half-smile that didn’t quite hide the tension underneath.

“I had my moments. But your dad was the one with the real stories. He could talk anyone into anything back then. I was usually the one bailing us out when the plan went sideways.”

You listened as they traded stories about late-night drives, broken-down cars, and the time they almost got kicked out of a bar for singing too loudly after a college football game. The details painted a picture of two young men who had been each other’s anchor through the messy years of becoming adults. Steve’s voice softened when he spoke about how your father had been the first person he called after his divorce finalized.

“Mark didn’t try to fix it or tell me what I should have done differently,” Steve said quietly. “He just listened. Then he told me to come up here for a week and not think about anything else. That week turned into a month. It helped more than he probably knows.”

Your father looked back at him with genuine affection. “You’d have done the same for me. That’s what friends do. We show up when it counts.”

The words landed heavily on Steve. You saw it in the way his hand flexed against his thigh, in the quick glance he gave you that held both longing and apology. The history they shared made every charged moment between you feel like a risk not just to the two of you, but to something much larger.

When the boat returned to the dock, the sun was lower and the air carried the first hints of evening coolness. Preparations for the bonfire shifted into high gear. Neighbors from nearby cabins joined for the casual gathering, bringing chairs and coolers. Music played from a speaker someone had set up near the fire pit, mostly classic rock and 80s tracks that fit the holiday mood.

As dusk fell and the fire crackled, the group settled in with plates of food and drinks. Your parents were deep in conversation with a couple from down the shore when the playlist shifted. The unmistakable opening synths and beat of “I Want Your Sex” by George Michael suddenly filled the air, the volume just high enough to carry across the gathering.

Your father burst out laughing first, nearly spilling his drink. “Oh no—who put this on? This was my college anthem for about two weeks before I realized how ridiculous it sounded blasting it in broad daylight. George Michael really went for it with this one.”

Your mother covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Mark, you used to play this on repeat in the car on road trips. I thought you were being ironic until you started singing along at the top of your lungs. The lyrics are so… direct.”

The neighbors joined in the laughter, one of them turning the volume up a notch as a joke. The song’s chorus hit clearly across the bonfire: “I want your sex… I want your sex…” The explicit, repetitive lines floated through the warm night air while everyone chuckled and made exaggerated comments about 80s music and bad taste.

Your father grinned and started half-singing along in a deliberately over-the-top way. “There’s things that you guess and things that you know… There’s boys you can trust and girls that you don’t…” He laughed harder at himself. “God, I can’t believe we thought this was smooth back then.”

Your mother wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “It’s so blunt! ‘I’ve been so cold, I swear I’ve been so cold…’ Who writes a song like that and expects people to play it at family barbecues decades later?”

The group kept laughing and trading jokes about the song’s shameless energy, someone even doing a mock dance move to the beat. The chorus repeated again, louder this time: “I want your sex… I want your sex…” The words hung in the air with their unmistakable meaning, turning the whole moment into a mix of nostalgia and secondhand embarrassment for everyone present.

Across the fire, Steve stood frozen for a second with a paper plate in one hand and a bottle in the other. His eyes met yours and the charged awkwardness passed between you like electricity. The song’s directness felt too close to the tension you had both been carrying all day: the wanting that neither of you had named out loud, the restraint that was getting harder to maintain. Every repetition of the chorus seemed to highlight it, making the air between you feel thicker even as the group laughed obliviously around you.

Steve coughed once, the sound strained, and set his plate down with more force than necessary. He tried to laugh along with your father’s singing, but the sound came out tight. His gaze flicked back to you for half a second, and you could see the conflict flickering there, the same pull you felt, now underscored by lyrics that felt far too on-the-nose in this family setting. You looked away quickly, fighting your own embarrassed smile while heat crept up your neck. The song continued playing, the beat pulsing through the gathering, and every time the chorus returned, “I want your sex”, you and Steve exchanged another quick, mortified glance that carried something heavier underneath the humor.

Your father noticed Steve’s reaction and clapped him on the shoulder, still chuckling. “Come on, Steve, you remember this one? We blasted it on the way to that concert. Thought we were so cool back then. Sing along, man—it’s harmless fun now.”

Steve managed a tight smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Hard to forget. Though I think it hits different now than it did back then.” His voice was steady, but you caught the way his eyes lingered on you for one extra beat before he looked away again, jaw tight with the effort of keeping his expression neutral. The charged undercurrent between you two made the family laughter feel almost surreal, like everyone else was in on a different joke while the real tension simmered just beneath the surface.

The song finally faded into the next track, and the group moved on with more stories and jokes about 80s music. But the moment stayed with you and Steve, the awkward hilarity of it mixing with the deeper awareness that the lyrics had brushed right up against everything you were both trying so carefully not to act on.

Later, as the fireworks began over the lake, the crowd spread out along the shore and dock. Your parents stayed near the bonfire with the neighbors, leaving you and Steve to find a spot a little farther down the dock for a clearer view. The first bursts of color lit up the sky, reflecting on the water in brilliant reds and blues.

Steve stood close behind you as the show intensified. When a particularly loud explosion made you flinch, his hands came to rest lightly on your upper arms, steadying you. The touch was protective at first, but it stayed longer than necessary. His chest was close enough to your back that you could feel the warmth of him through his shirt. Neither of you spoke for several long seconds, the fireworks providing cover for the way his thumbs brushed once, slowly, against your skin before stilling again.

“These get louder every year,” he said quietly near your ear, voice rougher than usual. His hands remained on your arms, not pulling you closer but not letting go either. The contact sent warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the summer air.

You nodded, leaning back just slightly so your shoulder brushed his chest. “I don’t mind them. It’s the waiting between the big ones that feels endless sometimes.”

Steve’s fingers flexed gently against your arms. “Yeah. The waiting is the hardest part.” He didn’t elaborate, but the words carried the weight of everything else between you, the restraint, the history with your father, the growing difficulty of keeping distance.

Another burst lit the sky, and this time his right hand slid down to rest at your waist, anchoring you as the sound echoed across the water. The touch was firm but careful, his palm warm through the thin fabric of your top. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he held himself back even while allowing this small escalation. His breath stirred your hair when he spoke again.

“Your dad and I used to watch these from the same dock when we were younger. He’d always have some story about how the fireworks reminded him of something bigger—new beginnings or whatever. I never told him how much I needed those nights back then. How much it helped just having him there without needing to explain anything.”

You turned your head slightly, close enough that your cheek nearly brushed his jaw. “He still talks about those times like they saved him too. You were important to each other in ways that went beyond the fun stuff.”

Steve’s hand at your waist tightened fractionally before relaxing again. “That’s what makes all of this harder. I owe him more than I can ever repay. And here I am, standing here with his daughter, feeling things I have no right to feel while he’s twenty feet away laughing with the neighbors.”

The honesty in his voice made your chest ache. You covered his hand with yours briefly, the contact hidden by the darkness and the continuing fireworks. “I know. I feel it too—the guilt. But I also feel this. Being close to you like this. It doesn’t go away just because we know it should.”

Steve exhaled slowly, his forehead dipping closer to the side of your head for a moment before he straightened. His hand stayed at your waist through the next several bursts of color, thumb tracing one small, unconscious circle against your side. When the grand finale began, lighting up the entire sky in rapid succession, he pulled you back against him more fully, not quite an embrace, but close enough that your back rested against his chest. His arms came around you loosely, hands settling at your waist on either side, holding you steady as the explosions peaked.

Neither of you moved when the last sparks faded and the crowd began clapping and cheering. Steve’s arms remained where they were for several heartbeats longer than necessary. You felt the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the way his fingers pressed just slightly into your sides before he finally let go and stepped back.

“We should head back before your parents wonder where we disappeared to,” he said, voice low and controlled even though his eyes held everything he wasn’t saying.

You nodded, turning to face him. The space between you felt smaller than it had all day. “Steve… tonight was a lot.”

He gave you a small, conflicted smile. “It was. I keep telling myself to be careful. To remember every reason this stays complicated. But then moments like this happen and the reasons get harder to hold onto.”

The walk back to the bonfire was quiet, the night air cooling around you. Your parents were still laughing with the neighbors when you rejoined the group. Your father waved you both over with a grin.

“There you are. Thought you two got lost watching the show. Steve, you remember that one year the fireworks were so loud the dog next door tried to climb into the boat with us?”

Steve laughed, the sound genuine but his eyes still carrying the weight of the evening. “How could I forget? We spent twenty minutes trying to coax it out while it shook like a leaf.”

The group stayed together a while longer, sharing more stories and food as the fire burned lower. Your mother pulled you aside at one point to ask about college plans, but her eyes flicked between you and Steve with a warm, oblivious fondness that only added to the tangle of emotions.

-

Later, when most of the neighbors had left and your parents had gone inside to clean up, you and Steve found yourselves back on the dock. The water was calm now, the sky dark except for the lingering scent of smoke from the bonfire.

Steve sat beside you, leaving a careful but smaller distance than before. “I meant what I said earlier. About your dad being there for me. Those years after everything fell apart with my ex… he never made me feel like I had to have it all figured out. He just kept inviting me up here. Kept treating me like family even when I didn’t feel like much of one.”

You listened, the water lapping below. “He loves you like a brother. That’s clear every time he talks about you.”

Steve nodded, staring out at the dark lake. “And that’s why I’m still fighting this so hard. I don’t want to be the guy who takes something good and turns it into a mess. But being near you tonight—standing there during the fireworks, feeling you against me—it made everything I’ve been trying to suppress feel a little more impossible to ignore.”

His hand rested on the dock between you again. This time you let your fingers brush against his, the contact light but deliberate. Steve didn’t pull away. Instead he turned his hand so your palms touched, fingers loosely intertwining for a moment before separating again.

“I don’t have answers,” you said softly. “Only that every time we get close like this, it feels less like something wrong and more like something that’s been waiting to happen.”

Steve was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice carried both longing and resolve. “I’m not ready to cross the line completely. Not yet. But I’m also not sure how much longer I can keep pretending the line is as solid as it used to be. Tonight blurred it a little more. The history with your dad, the way your parents look at us like we’re just two people who belong together in their world… it all makes the wanting sharper.”

You stayed on the dock until the fire had burned down to embers and the house was quiet. The conversation continued in fragments: more about the past, about the fears that kept Steve holding back, about the quiet pull that refused to fade despite every reason to let it go. No decisions were made. No lines were fully crossed. But the space between you felt smaller, the restraint thinner, and the shared understanding deeper than it had been before the fireworks lit up the sky.

When Steve finally walked you back toward the house, his hand brushed the small of your back once in the darkness, a fleeting touch that said everything words couldn’t yet. He stopped at the door to your room, his expression open and conflicted in the low light of the hallway.

“Get some sleep,” he said quietly. “We’ll figure out what this is becoming. One careful step at a time.”

You watched him head down the hall to the guest room, the events of the day replaying in your mind: the stories of loyalty between him and your father, the extended awkward charge of the song and its lyrics, the way his hands had felt steady and warm during the fireworks. The line was still there, but it had shifted. And both of you knew it.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁

“Steve?” you called, and because he was reading and you knew it wrapped him up, it took him a minute to respond. You tapped the pads of your fingers on the vanity around the bathroom sink while you waited for him to finish the sentence (or, more likely, paragraph since it took longer than just a few moments).

“Yes, babe?” he asked. You heard the bedframe creak a little as he very obviously got up to come talk to you.

“What day is it?” you asked.

You heard his shuffling footsteps over the bedroom carpet, and then the quiet slaps as he crossed the wood laminate of the hall.

“Uh, Tuesday,” he said, peering around the doorjamb of the bathroom, one hand wrapped around it, just his arm and face visible as he popped his head in.

“No, I mean一the date.”

You kept your eyes on yourself even as Steve stepped fully into the bathroom, because you were clearly distressed about something, eyes darting all over your own face in the mirror.

“The 6th,” he said, moving behind you, studying you in the mirror as his hands moved to hold your shoulders. “Are you ok? What’s wrong? You’re dripping water everywhere.”

It was one of your pet peeves一the bathroom being sloppy and waterlogged一and he’d learned to wipe up after himself whenever he shaved. So you allowing the aftermath of your face-washing to spatter the sink with water was… well, not concerning but strange.

“I’m, um,” you said, almost wondering if you were just overreacting, if you shouldn’t say anything and make Steve worry too. But all you could think about was that night a handful of weeks ago when you’d acted out your brilliant idea to pretend not to know each other and pretend to meet each other and pretend to cheat on each other and you’d come out with the brilliant question “Does your wife let you fuck her without a condom?” and even though Steve had said no and you were Steve’s wife, you still let him fuck you without a condom.

You didn’t think it could happen this fast. Didn’t think it would一what?一take? Jesus Christ.

“Babe,” Steve said, rubbing at your shoulders now, his brow knitted together just like yours, and now he was concerned, because you were something, and you weren’t telling him what. “Babe, what is it?”

“I’m一I was supposed to get my period last week,” you said.

His hands stopped moving.

“Ok,” Steve said. “Ok, well一you’ve一been late before. Work’s been really stressing you out lately, right?”

“Not this much,” you said. “I’ve never been this late. Not a whole week. If it happens it’s just a couple days.” You looked up at him in the mirror.

And you could see there, somewhere behind the fear and the nerves, was a spark of joy. Steve had always wanted a family一a big one一but you weren’t sure that you had the finances or the organization to figure out the finances you weren’t sure you had. But the choice may have been made for you.

“Do you have a test?” he asked.

You grabbed the hand towel to dry your face, though it had mostly drip-dried by now. You covered your face with the towel, rubbing at your cheeks with both hands, your eyes especially. You weren’t crying, but you were emotional about this. You weren’t ready. Steve was. Were you? Was he, really? Were you (collectively) ready for this? You were. Maybe. What if you were but Steve wasn’t? What if Steve was but you weren’t? What if you both were but couldn’t swing it with money? Babies were expensive. Doctors, hospitals, time off work一that all cost you money.

“You’re going a mile a minute,” Steve said, spinning you around to face him, your backside against the sink now.

He always knew. He could read you without even seeing your face.

You lowered the towel. “No, I don’t have a test.” Why would you have a test? This wasn’t something you’d planned for.

“Ok,” Steve said, rubbing your arms again, lower, off your shoulders. “Well一we can’t do anything about it now. It’s late.”

You nodded. He was right. Everything was closed; it was almost 11PM.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Steve said, wrapping his arms around you, hugging you close. You let him, your hands still clinging to the towel pressed to his chest. He kissed your temple, lips tickling the shell of your ear as he kissed you there too. “I’ll go tomorrow morning to get one. Ok?”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t. This was something you had wanted to discuss with him, to decide to do, to have doctor’s appointments together and figure out your fertile window and when you were ovulating and tell people you were trying and now all of that was taken away because you’d made a split-second decision to let him come inside of you and you just didn’t think it could happen that fast. You just didn’t think.

“Sweetheart,” Steve said, his voice soft and tender and calling you the name he only used when he knew you needed the gentleness. “This is good. Right? This is great.”

You looked up at him. “Yeah?”

Steve’s expression stayed mostly stoic, but you could tell he was holding himself back from smiling. He wasn’t worried about any of the things you were, probably hadn’t thought of any of them. He was just happy. He was letting himself be happy.

“Yes,” Steve said, lowering his mouth to yours, kissing you, lips lingering. Your fingers dug into his shirt around the towel you still held, and after a moment he stepped back, tossed the towel onto the countertop, turned the light off, and led you to bed.

&&

True to his word, Steve was out and back from the pharmacy before you even opened your eyes. You heard him puttering around in the kitchen, smelled the coffee he was brewing, and when you rolled out of bed and crossed the hall to step into the bathroom, you saw the box on the counter, where he’d thrown the towel the night before.

You stared it down as you brushed your teeth and swished mouthwash, but you were about to burst so you decided you’d put it off for as long as you could. You glanced at the door to make sure it was locked一something you had never worried about before, but right now wanted, because you needed to be alone for this.

You pulled the pregnancy test out of the box and read the instructions three times, standing in the middle of your bathroom, before you just bit the bullet. You reached under the sink for another little paper cup you used for mouthwash, sat on the toilet, and then perched the now filled cup on the edge of the sink with the test in it, angled to the side like a jaunty reminder of how your life might be about to change. You stared at it, then removed it after you’d estimated the time the instructions had told you passed.

You balanced the test on the empty box, washed your hands, and peeked at the test, but there were no results showing yet一it had been like, thirty seconds.

Suddenly, you realized一you didn’t want to be alone for this. You shouldn’t be. It was stupid to be.

“Steve,” you called, a note of panic in your voice because you didn’t want him to miss any part of this (except the peeing in a cup part, that was fine).

This time, he didn’t respond verbally; you just heard his footsteps treading down the hall as you unlocked the bathroom door and opened it just as he arrived.

His eyes landed on you, then flicked to the test, then back to you, but you shook your head一then realized that may not indicate what you wanted it to.

Speaking quickly, you said, “I just did it. We have to wait”一you checked the instructions一“a few minutes.”

“Ok,” Steve said, looking over your shoulder at the test again, before bringing his gaze back to your face. His eyes softened when he looked at you. “Whatever it says, it’s ok. Either way. It’s not good or bad, it just一is what it is.”

You swallowed. “Will you be upset if it’s not?”

“No,” Steve said. “No, absolutely I would not be upset. This一isn’t just about me. I want what you want.”

You nodded. “Ok.” You paused. “I don’t know what I want.”

Steve didn’t hesitate even a second一he pulled you to him, your cheek against his chest, and kissed the top of your head before resting his chin on it as he spoke. “We’ll figure it out together. Everything we do from here on out, we’ll figure out together. Like we always have. Right?”

“Right,” you said, and let him hold you as you counted the seconds and breathed in the scent of him, coffee and sleep and a little touch of the cigarette that he’d probably smoked on the way to the shop that you’d be scolding him to quit if the test turned out the way you hoped it did.

Oh. You hoped it did. That was… a development.

When you got to roughly 200, you pulled away from him and picked up the test, holding it between your chest and his. 

You looked down at the test, saw the lines there. You heard Steve take in a breath, then closed your eyes and tilted your head up, turning your face toward his like he was the sun and you were a flower. And when you opened your eyes, he was glowing just like a summer sky and the smile sneaking onto your lips matched his.