Ms.Sagitterrorist

She can't help the giggles that pour out of her when that hand had lifted and came down, hard, against one cheek, gripping it up whilst pulling her impossibly closer.

"Oh my God!"

She gawks at him, at a loss for words, all while he's got a dangerous smirk on his lips. Her heartbeat only quickens.

"Your ass getting fatter," he tells her.

She kisses her teeth, still feigning irritation. It's a strong battle, but she's determined to win. "No, it's not!"

"Yes it is, c'mon, show me!"

"What?"

She's barely able to pull away to see his face. The only answer she gets is no answer as he begins to sway to the music, mouthing the words. It's a dancehall tune, one she's definitely heard before.

Just as she recognizes it, she's spun around, her back now pressed against his front. That's all of the convincing she needs.

Ask her and she'll admit it faster than the question is posed: Ámerei cannot twerk. She hasn't gotten the rythym down for a tic-toc, she can't bubble, and she hasn't even gained the confidence to attempt the puppy-tail.

Then, she'll follow all of that up with the promise that she can definitely whine, because as a second-gen Jamaican American, that's the least she can do.

The liquid-courage helps, loosening up her waistline to make her movements smooth and fluid. The music is a perfect tempo for her to pull out all the moves that she knows, and she can't be more carefree.

Onyankopon doesn't complain, only leaning back to catch more of what she throws on him. Even delivering a couple of lazy smacks to her ass.

It seems like the music only gets louder. She's got her tongue out, looking back at him as she pelts waist. And when she notices the stiff, rigid feeling in his jeans, it only pushes her to keep going.

In fact, she makes sure to drag out each roll of her hips, just to feel every bit of it. The grip on her waist tightens, it gets more possessive. Feeling an ounce more courageous, she switches it up, throwing everything that she has back on it.

There's a hand on her neck before she can even do it a third time. Gently, she's pulled up to lean back on his chest. His mouth is at her ear again.

"What you dancing so hard for?"

She giggles, unable to stop herself as she circles her hips against him. "You seem to be enjoying it!"

No answer. For a minute, she's lost to the music again, doing whatever she wants on him without fear of embarrassment.

"That's not my dick," he says in her ear.

She slows to a stop before turning in his hold to face him once again. There's an unreadable look on his face, and confusion on hers. Before she can ask—

"Your friends looking for you."

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𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 ᝰ @uzmacchiato @crylynnluv

Late night had settled over Elias’s condo. Leon Thomas drifted from the speakers, lulling the room into a comfortable silence. Dim purple lighting washed over your soft brown skin, making it that much more alluring.

Somewhere nearby, a window was left cracked open and a gentle breeze blew through the curtains across your damp skin, raising goose bumps that sent chills over your body. The air carried the rich, woodsy scent of Elias’s cologne mixed with cooling sweat and the intimate evidence of what you two had been doing for hours. 

Stack shifted so that he was between your legs again. His warm, bare chest rested against yours as his eyes wandered over your features, hands on either side of your head. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, your jaw, down your throat. It had only been 15 minutes, and he was already ready for more of you.

“One more baby? Lemme have you again.” His southern drawl came out sweet and enticing. You traced your fingers down his spine as he continued placing tantalizing kisses across your exposed flesh.

“What we doin’ Stack?” 

He hummed against your skin in confusion, never stopping his torrent of kisses.

“I’m spending more nights at your place now than my own and we been doin’ this for a hot minute now. We spend most of our time together anyway.”

Stack made his way back to your lips now, leaving a soft one at the corner of your mouth. 

“What you gettin’ at, sweetness?” He pulled away to look at you fully now. 

“I just mean… is this all? We just gon’ keep hookin’ up and calling each other friends even though we both know it’s more?”

He held your gaze but his expression was unchanged. 

“You know you special to me. Ain’t nobody else got me like this.” His hands were roaming your thighs and hips now. His kisses made their way down your tummy, ending with a lingering one above your navel. “We know what it is, why we gotta go and complicate it?”

Before you could answer, the conversation died how it always did. With him between your legs and you too lost in pleasure to continue pressing. But truth be told, you were tired of being his favorite option instead of the only one.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By the time the weekend came you’d made your decision. You had spent enough time waiting around on Elias to finally claim you. Your mama taught you at a young age that you should never beg a man for anything. What one won’t do, another will. And it was for this reason that you finally said yes to Malik’s offer to take you out for dinner and drinks. He worked in the building next to you and had been chasing you for a while now. You had turned him down more than a few times hoping that Stack would finally put a label on things. But after your previous conversation with him, it was clear that wasn’t happening any time soon. So, today when Malik asked what you were doing that night while y’all ate lunch together, you told him the truth. 

Nothing special. 

You made your way to your car after work and settled your belongings in the passenger seat. Like clockwork, your phone lit up with a photo of Elias as it began to ring. You stared at the screen for a moment before opting out of answering. Friday nights had been you and Stack’s thing for months now. You would pick the take-out and he’d pick it up after work along with a bottle—or two— of wine for your movie night. It had become so routine that he never even considered you wouldn’t be attending.

By the time you got home your phone was ringing again. With a deep sigh, you answered this time.

“You a hard lady to get a hold of. Y’know, I was startin’ to think you were avoidin’ me.” He chuckled to himself. He was currently at the liquor store perusing different kinds of wine, hoping to find something you guys hadn’t tried before. “What you in the mood for tonight? White or red?” 

You fidgeted with the sleeve of your shirt uncomfortably as you thought about how to respond. You didn’t necessarily want to lie to him, but you sure as hell weren’t gonna tell him the truth either. Your answer landed somewhere in the middle of those two options.

“I actually got plans tonight. Some of my girls wanna check out this new spot downtown.” Biting down on your lip nervously, you waited for his response. The other end of the line went so silent you almost thought he hung up. 

“Stack?”

Stack was stunned silent. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t spent a Friday night with you. Even if you didn’t come to his place, usually he would just come to yours. The sudden change in routine made him deeply uncomfortable. But alas, he reluctantly quipped,

“Since when you busy on Friday’s? You seein’ somebody else or somethin’?” He was teasing but when you didn’t laugh, he leaned in closer. The silence was not comforting.

“Since tonight. My girls wanna see me, and it’s been a minute since I’ve been out.” You replied simply, suddenly growing irritated that he was prompting you to explain yourself. Stack swallowed and shifted awkwardly on his feet, nodding as if you could see him. He wanted to continue pressing the topic, ask the specific name of this new spot that was more interesting than him or his club. But his pride got the best of him.

“Aight…ladies’ night. Handle your business then, baby girl. Don’t have too much fun without me. Let me know when you make it in the house safe.” 

You promised you would before quickly ending the call. The refusal did not sit well with Stack. He had recovered smoothly from your rejection in the moment, but now that the call was over, he was stuck staring at the same bottle of Moscato he had been holding for the past five minutes. It wasn’t like you to say no to him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As much as he hated to admit it, Stack didn’t really have back up plans. He always reserved Friday nights for you no matter who else he was seeing. He sat on his couch for a while, sipping the wine he’d picked for the two of you earlier. He scrolled through his recent messages debating who he should hit up, if anyone. Honestly, his roster had been thinning out the more attached he became to you. They just weren’t like you. They didn’t laugh like you or smell like you, and the more time he spent with you the more intoxicating your presence became to him. 

Truth be told, he was disappointed. Stack kept a line up. There was no shortage of women in his life— he could have anyone he wanted within a single text or call. But you were his favorite. There wasn’t anyone else he wanted to lay up with and kiss on but you. With other women, he usually just skipped to the main event. Minimal foreplay, surface level conversation. Nothing like what he had with you.

Stack’s train of thought was interrupted by his phone ringing. He snatched it from the cushion next to him, nearly dropping it as he tried to answer. A disappointed groan made its way from his mouth when he realized it was just one of his homeboys. Not you. He’d never admit it, but he was hoping that maybe you would change your mind and decide to stay in with him after all— even though he’d never ask.

“Yo” He answered boredly.

“Aye, Stack. What you on tonight? Lil’ Ms. Fine as hell over there?”

Stack chuckled and shook his head. It was no secret that you were the finest woman on his roster, and again, his absolute favorite. You were the only woman he had a silent claim over.

“Naw, she’s with her girls. Said somethin’ about a new spot openin’ up downtown, I don’t know.” he felt his annoyance bubbling to the surface again as he reiterated your words. He had no right to feel possessive over your time, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah we gon’ head over there too. You tryna pop out?” 

Stack fixed his mouth to say no. He was aware that it was probably clingy to follow you to the exact place you told him you would be—on the one night you’d taken space from him. Still, the idea that he could feign bumping into you, and that maybe through a turn of events you would end up ending the night with him after all, got the best of him. And there was still something ugly and jealous tugging at him about the way you never answered when he asked if there was someone else.

“Yeah I’ll meet y’all over there. Gimme like 45.” He ended the call with his homeboy and went straight to his closet.

Girls night, huh? He tutted to himself as he scanned his clothing, looking for something to wear. Unfortunately for you, he was about to crash your party.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Any time Elias Moore stepped into the building, he was the main attraction. The SmokeStack twins were known by people clear across the Mississipi delta— and in other places too. Tall tales and fables alike had been whispered through the grapevine for years now. Stories about men who’d encountered the twins but never lived to tell the tale. Gossip about the havoc they wreaked in Chicago prior to returning to their little hometown… mysteriously, with enough money to open a club of their own. 

Stack didn’t do lines. Upon arriving to the club, hushed whispers and watchful eyes oriented toward him immediately. There was a confident swagger in his walk as he headed straight to the front of the line, like he always did. He slipped a crisp $50 bill to the bouncer out of respect before dapping him up. Then, he made his way inside. No fuss, no muss. 

Vibrant neon lighting flashed across the club, highlighting its lively crowd. Music thumped through the floors and radiated into Stack’s chest. The crowd parted instinctively for him as he found his way through the room. Women stared lustfully, admiring his confident walk and the million-dollar smile he’d flash if you were lucky enough. Stack was fly, it was no secret. He only wore the best and he was always iced out. 

“How you doin’, daddy?” a tall, slim woman cooed as Stack brushed past her. His gaze raked over her, and he nodded in acknowledgement as he made his way into his section. If he wasn’t VIP, he wasn’t attending. 

“Stacks-A-Billion! You made it. My nigga finally got from up under that girl and graced us with his presence.” Donte clapped Stack on his back and pulled him into a brotherly hug. The other men at the table did the same, greeting him one by one like he was a don. 

The night was smooth at first. Real smooth. Stack was in the middle of chopping it up with one of his old flings who he’d cut loose when his eyes caught a familiar face. There you were. He froze completely as he took you in.

You were wearing all black. Leather shorts that sat on your hips low and hugged them just right and a lace-up sleeveless biker top. Black heels adorned your feet, and you were wearing your signature gold jewelry. The corner of his lips twitched upward into a smile involuntarily and he licked them as he took in your appearance.

However, the smile quickly dropped from his face when he realized that your girlfriends were nowhere to be found. Instead— you were with some tall guy. Stack looked hard and long to ensure he wasn’t imagining things. 

Nope. No girlfriends. This was definitely a date. 

Immediately, Stack tuned out the woman that had been talking to him. The music in the club dulled to a thumping pulse, and suddenly he had tunnel vision. He couldn’t help the possessive ugly feeling that arose deep in his chest as he watched the man’s hand brush the small of your back when he leaned in to whisper something to you.

You didn’t see him for several minutes. But when you did— your eyes locked with his. You were caught. Completely and totally caught red-handed in the act. Stack stayed where he was, but he held the piercing stare long enough that you wished you could disappear. Then, he turned back to his boys as if nothing had happened.

It stayed like that for a short while. Stack kept mingling, talking to people who approached him. He managed to make it through half of another drink before he became so consumed with a silent possessive rage that he turned from his boys mid-conversation and headed straight over to you. The crowd parted for him like the red sea.

“ ’Scuse me patna, I need to talk to her for a second.”

Malik looked startled, he hadn’t seen him approach. He looked like he wanted to say no, looking between the two of you as the tension rose. Apparently, he waited two seconds too long, because Stack increased his proximity to the man with one large step, a cold stare closed the rest of the distance between them. 

“I ain’t askin’, I’m tellin’ you. Don’t get hurt boy.” He snarked; tone laced with southern venom. And with that, Malik scrammed.

Stack grabbed your bicep, gentle enough not to hurt you— but with enough force that you knew now was not the time to test him. He guided you to the backdoor of the club and slammed it open. The cold air kissed your hot skin and instinctively made you flinch.

“Let go of me, Elias” you snapped, snatching your arm away once it was just the two of you. He turned toward you with a look that made it hard to pinpoint his emotions.

“Who the fuck is that?” He snapped back. You looked away towards the busy street and crossed your arms defensively. The distant sound of impatient drivers filled the silence.

“A friend.”

He sucked his teeth and responded, “Don’t gimme that shit girl, a friend? I just watched how that nigga was lookin’ at you, and it ain’t nothin’ holy or friendship-like on his mind.” Stack was trying to remain as calm as he could given the situation.

“We grabbed food and decided to stop by for a drink, that’s all” you sighed. You rubbed your temples out of frustration. Why the hell was he even here? Stack’s eyebrows lifted at your confession. He stepped closer and cocked his head to the side.

“Fuck you mean y’all just had dinner? That’s what we doin’ now? You goin’ on two-part dates with random niggas?” Now his voice was starting to raise. He looked away in an effort to find his composure, but he felt his heart beating fast with panic. This was the second part of the date?

“I’m not your girlfriend, Elias! I can see who I want, why do you care anyway.” Your voice rang out sharp and shrill against the brick walls of the alley.

Instantly, his head snapped back towards you. He stepped closer. One step, then another, until your back was against the cold brick wall behind you. One of his palms came up beside your head and he leaned in close enough that you could tell what liquor he’d been sipping on. His eyes flicked from your eyes down to your lips, and back again. Almost like he was trying to make sure they were the same as they were the last time he’d tasted them— untouched by anyone else.

“If you ain’t mine…why you lyin’ to me ‘bout who you with, baby?”

And for that, you did not have an answer. You simply looked at him blankly. After a long hard stare, you scoffed and pushed him by his chest away from you, refusing to give him an answer that he already had. You turned around to make your way back inside to find your date. He was probably scared shitless.

“Tell ol’ boy don’t get caught alone in no dark alleys.” Stack’s voice rang out sharp from the alley as you walked away. You rolled your eyes hard.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A week went by after your encounter with Stack at the club. You’d sent texts, called a few times. He was radio silent. He had stopped randomly popping up at your place with tokens of his affection, and he hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to you himself. Your last text which read, “How long are you gonna do this? Say something” had been delivered nearly 12 hours earlier and he still hadn’t responded.

You were in the middle of sulking and smashing a bag of hot Cheetos when your phone pinged. A soft gasp escaped you and you quickly picked it up.

Lias ❤️‍🔥: You ain’t mine right? Lose my number.

Your heart sank as you re-read the message. So he gets to keep a revolving door of women, but you go on one date now you’re the bad guy? Furiously, you typed out your next response. Your jaw dropped when you pressed send and the message went green.

He blocked me you gasped to yourself.

A few hours went by, and it never came. You kept waiting for it— a slick little follow up, the way he always did when he knew he had gone just a little too far. The response sat final in the text thread. You stared at it until your screen went black. You guys had fights in the past but never like this. Stack had never shut the door completely before, really he had never fully opened it either. But this time felt different.

Fine.

From that moment, it was on. You started answering Malik’s calls on the second ring, you let him take you out to dinner, and when he asked you if he could see you two nights in a row you said yes. One night, he kissed you outside the restaurant after the date. He waited to see if you’d pull away, instead you leaned in deeper. The kiss felt nothing like Stack’s. But the attention was real and constant, and it was better than the half-ass relationship Stack had been giving you. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Four days. That’s how long Stack lasted before he tried to fill the void you left behind. 

The woman’s name was Tasha, she was real thick and real bold too. He met her at his club, she was staring him down like she heard all the rumors about him and wanted to know if they were true. This night, she’d been looking extra hard, and Stack was always aware of watchful eyes. 

He took her back to his place with full intent on giving her what she was looking for. Another easy and forgettable night with a face he probably wouldn’t remember in a few months unless they gave him a reason to.

The night started off easy enough once they made it back to his place. Tasha started kissing on him while he was preparing drinks, talking about all the things she wanted to do to him. Her perfume was too sweet and sharp in a way that made him miss the signature fragrance you always wore. Stack wandered over to the couch and sat down, legs spread wide. Tasha was on him immediately, she straddled him without waiting for an invitation, rolling her hips real slow like she already knew what he liked.

Out of habit, he rested his hands on her waist. His fingers didn’t dig in or stroke, wander to her ass, he just sat there looking bored. Tasha continued to pepper kisses across his jaw and he allowed it. But when she made her way to his lips— he turned his head sharply. 

The woman’s body tensed and she pulled away with a frown.

“You good?”

“I’m straight.”

Hesitantly Tasha got back into her groove, dragging her nails down his chest. The silence stretched and he could feel her getting frustrated in the way her body tensed. Still, he kept the same bored expression.

“You sure you good? Cause you actin’ real bored for a man who invited me over.”

Finally, Stack looked at Tasha. She was pretty. Nice body, pretty smile. There wasn’t anything wrong with her, but still Stack didn’t feel a pull low in his belly or any urge to flip her under him. There was no interest in hearing what she sounded like when she came or moaned his name. He just kept thinking about you. How your thighs slotted perfectly over his and how your mouth always tasted like whatever chapstick you’d chosen that day.

“Yeah, you right. I think you should go.” He mumbled, gently lifting Tasha off him by her hips. She didn’t move from where he placed her on the couch. She continued to sit, staring at him in blatant disbelief.

“You serious right now?”

Stack stretched and reached over, grabbing the remote. He clicked a button and the television came on, filling the silence of the room.

“Yeah.”

If looks could kill Stack would’ve been six feet under. 

Tasha rose from the couch hastily, snatching her bag from the coffee table before leaving. The door slammed behind her harder than it needed to and the echo of it sounded through the apartment. Still unphased, Stack let out a heavy sigh as he started flicking through different movies on Netflix. He kept the tv on, letting it consume the silence. Quiet had never bothered him before you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Smoke stopped by to check on Stack two days later. Ever since they were in the womb, he knew when something was wrong with his twin. He didn’t knock when he stopped by, he always came in unannounced. Smoke walked into the kitchen and dropped the greasy takeout bag on the counter. He looked his twin over like he was diagnosing how bad the heartbreak was— and he’d never seen it this bad. Not even with Mary.

“You look like shit. Y’ain’t been sleepin’, have you?”

Stack was sitting motionlessly, halfway watching a basketball game with no idea of who was in the lead.

“I’m fine, what you got to eat?”

Smoke nodded his head silently as he started unpacking the food. But he didn’t leave the topic alone just yet.

“Y’all still on that silent treatment?” Now it was Stack’s turn to ignore the question, that was all the confirmation his brother needed. “Once you start catchin’ feelings, nobody else taste the same. Y’know that right?”

At this, Elias shot his twin a look that said leave it be. 

“Ain’t nobody catchin’ feelings.”

“You put that fine ass stallion out the other day ‘cause she wasn’t the one you wanted in yo lap.” Smoke’s voice stayed flat, bored almost. “That sound like not catchin’ feelings to you?”

The temperature in the room stayed the same despite the heaviness of Elijah’s words. As much as Elias wanted to curse at his brother and tell him he was wrong, he was right. Still, he mumbled an annoyed “whatever” and sat across from him at the table, fighting back a smirk when he noticed his favorite Indian food.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Bad news came the next Tuesday. The gym had put a hurting on Stack, and he was making his way from his car to his front door when Smoke pulled up. Evening was settling over the city, and his shirt was still clinging to his back with sweat from his work out.

“I got bad news.” Smoke said simply. Stack wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt as he slowly approached his brother’s car. If it warranted an in person visit, it was more than bad.

“What.”

“Saw ya girl at the comic bookstore on 5th street. She was with ol’ boy from the club, tall nigga.”

Stack went totally still and the towel in his hand stopped moving over his neck. 

“She still dealin’ with dude?” 

Shrugging once, Smoke held his hands up.  “Look like it to me. They was walkin’ out together and he was holdin’ a bag for her. Looked real comfortable if y’ask me.” He took in his twin’s ragged appearance before adding, “If you love that girl don’t wait too much longer. He got plans for her. I can tell.” That was all. He didn’t comment further, ask what his brother planned to do, or offer further advice. He delivered the last sentence and held Stack’s stare for a second longer than necessary before leaving.

When the conversation with his twin ended, Stack stood in his living room for a long while thinking hard. It was one thing for y’all to be at the club, but a bookstore date? Nah. That’s too close to home. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you going on real dates with this man. Smiling at whatever stupid thing he said, letting him touch you. The uncomfortability of it all settled deeper under his skin the longer he pictured it like a petulant sunburn. You weren’t even trying to hide that you were dealing with this guy anymore. You were just out here, dating in the open like he’d never put his mouth between your legs and made you shake.

Autopilot mode was the only way to describe Stack’s thought process once he entered the shower. The night at the club kept replaying behind his eyelids. The way you looked at him when he caught you. How you went back to Malik instead of staying, instead of going home with him. And especially— how you kept seeing this man even after Stack had told you to lose his number. Pride and jealousy wrenched together in his gut until he couldn’t tell which hurt worse.

When the water from the shower was cut off, he had already made his decision. The only way through this was to make you his. Quickly, he got dressed. Grey sweatpants a black t shirt, and the chain you always played with when you sat in his lap. He was out the door before the water had even fully dried on his skin.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By the time Stack was halfway to your place he was fully dry and his thoughts had unfogged enough for his good sense to be activated. He couldn’t come over empty handed. He shook his head at the thought of coming to your place and agitating you without having food to soothe you after. Only a fool would do something so stupid. So, like a good boy, he stopped and ordered your favorite food and grabbed your preferred wine and some flowers for good measure. His elders always taught him you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. 

The bags sat in the passenger seat of the car and Stack kept looking over at the flowers like they might disappear if he didn’t check. By the time he pulled up at your place he had rehearsed what he wanted to say a million times over in his head. He was coming to fix things, and he brought things you liked because some part of him thought it might make a difference. He knocked on your door in that familiar rhythm only he used. You knew it was him without checking the peep hole.

When you swung the door open, your attitude was on full display. There he was, bags in one hand and flowers in the other. The familiar scent of his soap clung to his skin and his hair was still damp. The second he laid his eyes on you his expression softened and he forgot everything he planned to say. Except for,

“You datin’ niggas now?” His voice was pained and tight. Your gaze dropped to the items he was holding and drifted back up to his face. Grudingly, you stepped to the side and allowed him to come in.

He watched with greedy eyes as you sauntered into the kitchen to grab wine glasses, hips switching and jiggling your ass as you walked.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is a man who told me to lose his number actin’ brand new?” You grumbled, avoiding eye contact. Stack shut the door behind him with a quiet click. The bags were set down with more care than his voice had. Suddenly, the space felt a lot smaller than it did before. Stack crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes moved over your face like he was looking for something.

“You out here goin’ on dates, my patnas tellin’ me you still spendin’ time with ol’ boy after I caught y’all at the club.” Your expression remained unchanged as you uncorked the wine and began pouring the glasses. “Why you bein’ like this?”

When you still didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow in annoyance, he increased his proximity. You felt the solid heat of him against your back. He wasn’t touching you— yet. Just letting you feel the warmth of him against you. Then, he brushed his lips against the back of your neck and said, 

“Tell me baby. Why you doin’ me like this, hm? Like I ain’t never stroked you so deep you cried for me ‘cause it felt so good… like this lil body don’t react every time I touch it.” As if on cue he pressed his lips against the side of your neck and you let out a soft involuntary sound, leaning back into him instinctively.

“You made the rules stack. Don’t get mad when I finally start playin’ by ‘em. And you damn sure don’t just get to show up with food and these sorry ass flowers like that fixes everything.”

He pressed his back against your chest fully now and mumbled, “Look at me.” When you didn’t, he gently turned you in his arms by your waist. His voice was barely above a whisper when it came out. “I don’t wanna see you with nobody else. I don’t wanna think about somebody else knowin’ how sweet those pretty lil moans sound when you get like that. So I need you to tell me it still belong to me.”

The audacity of this man was astonishing honestly. You stared at him unblinking. The raw honesty in his voice almost had you until you remembered that last nasty text he’d sent. Then your eyes sharpened.

“I’m not yours. You never claimed me.”

“I’m claimin’ you now” he replied simply, as if it was obvious.

“No” you shook your head firmly. “You only sayin’ that because somebody else wants me. You comin’ over here today doesn’t change that.” His hands came to rest on either side of you on the counter, trapping you in between his arms. 

“I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I mean it. I’m done pretending I don’t”

When he leaned in, you instinctively leaned back. You held his gaze for a moment and he respected the distance. It lasted for only a second. Once his thumb brushed over the exposed skin of your belly, you allowed him to catch your waist and pull you in. Initially the kiss was pride and anger. Teeth and tongue, both looking for dominance. 

The second time your lips joined, it was slow enough for him to slide his tongue against yours in a tantalizing rhythm. A small sound escaped your lips without permission, and Stack’s breathing changed when he heard it. By the time you went in for a third kiss, you were on top of the counter and he was fully between your legs spreading them wider. His hands were roaming under your shirt like he’d been starving for the feel of you.  

“You still mad, I know.” he said the words in between needy kisses. “But I know you missed me just as much as I missed you.” He voice had dropped several octaves and it was rough with lust. Your pulse quickened against his lips as he kissed your throat and he squeezed your hips to show he noticed.

“Fuck you, Stack”

“Oh I’m bout to, baby. Don’t even worry that pretty lil head.”

With that, he lifted you from the counter and you reflexively wrapped your legs around his waist. Straight to the bedroom you went.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Clothes hit the floor in random pieces until they were all gone. Stack made himself comfortable between your legs and gazed over your features as if he was still deciding how nice he was gonna be to you. Whatever he saw made his pupils become more dilated with lust— most likely your stubborn unwillingness to secede.  When he kissed you his tongue moved slow and thorough like he was trying to make you forget every bit of the argument you two had.

A hand drifted between your legs and he groaned against your lips when he found that you were already wet for him. His eyes flicked down to your sex and back to your face, watching your expression closely as he slid his middle and ring finger inside you. A satisfied grin made its way across his features when your lips parted and your lashes fluttered against your cheekbones.

“This pussy gon’ tell me it missed me even if you don’t.” he cooed as he continued his torment, curling his fingers just right against that spongy spot inside you. Your thighs twitched and a shaky breath passed your lips. Your hips chased his fingers and he drank in every little pleasured expression greedily. He paid close attention every time your expression changed.

“Tell me it’s mine” he murmured. When you shook your head stubbornly, he used his other hand to push your—his— t-shirt under your collarbones and just above your breasts. He latched a hot mouth to your areola, drawing a surprised cry from you as he suckled your nipple gently into his mouth. Your refusal to give in to him ignited something. A third finger joined the others and pressed harder, thumb circling your clit with precision until your thighs started shaking.

“Say it baby, stop playin’ with me. This pussy loves me just as much as I love you.”

A small squeak escaped you as your hips chased his hand desperately. You’d been craving his touch just as much as he’d been craving your presence in his bed at night. Still, in all your stubbornness, you uttered,

“Make me”

When the words he desired never passed your lips, he withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth, holding your eye contact steadily as he tasted your essence. Hungrily, you tugged at his sweats. Stack drew his teeth between his bottom lip when his length sprung free, hard, thick, and leaking pre-cum. You nearly drooled at the sight, not having seen it in two weeks. Before you could touch him, he shifted you onto your back. And before you knew it, your calves were pinned on either side of your hips.

Stack dropped his forehead to yours as he gently dragged the head of his dick between your folds, nudging your clit intentionally each time. He waited until your expression grew needy with want before gently pushing past your entrance. He stretched you slowly, head dropping further into your neck the further he sank into you. When he was buried inside you, he let out a deep exhale. Like he’d been homesick and was finally home.

“Fuck— I missed bein’ this deep inside you. You feel that baby?” He lifted his head now, longingly staring into your irises. “That’s me puttin’ it back where it belong. Go on dates if you want, keep lettin’ that nigga buy you books. But this right here still answer to me. Say it.”

Instead of answering you whimpered and the sound make his stomach tighten. He adjusted his angle so that the head of his dick massaged intensely into that swollen bundle of nerves that only he seemed to find so easily. Your eyes flew open and a high-pitched moan flew past your lips. His breathing hitched as he watched the way your lips trembled. Something real close to satisfaction settled over his features.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Whenever I kiss that lil spot just right you start shakin’ for me. Keep them pretty eyes on me. Wanna see what you look like when you finally stop fightin’ it.”

And true to his word, he stayed right on that spot. Your walls started fluttering around him and he noticed the change immediately. He slowed his strokes, deliberately dragging them out to hear you moan real pretty for him. When your first orgasm hit, your mouth fell open and your eyes went glassy. Stack drew his bottom lip between his teeth as the sight and kept grinding through it, relishing in the way your expression grew desperately needy.

“That’s one. Still ain’t said it though.”

You were still riding through the aftershocks of your first orgasm when he hooked both your legs over his arms and folded you deeper into the mattress. The new angle forced a high-pitched sound he hadn’t heard before from your lips and his eyebrows rose in both enjoyment and surprise.

“Stack— wait. Too much” you stuttered through deep breaths.

“Nah. You said make you, right?” He ground against that small bundle nerves in slow circles and your face twisted with ecstasy. Stack’s own expression tightened with hunger as he watched you. “So I’m gon’ make you. Say it belong to me.”

Unwilling to relent, you shook your head even as waves of pleasure crashed through your core. He saw the refusal sitting behind your eyes and his strokes got meaner, more precise and deliberate. Your stomach clenched again and your thighs trembled against his arms. He felt every little flutter and took pleasure in knowing the words he desired were an orgasm away.

“Say it, baby.”

“It’s yours Elias, it’s yours.” You cried as your second orgasm rose slowly but intensely. His eyes closed and the words fell over him like a prayer. The confession hit him harder than expected. When he opened them again, he was completely focused and he drove deeper.

“Again” he mumbled against your lips.

“It’s yours” you whimpered brokenly. He leaned down and brushed his lips over yours. Not really kissing, just letting you feel the soft heat of his mouth against yours while he kept up that focused rhythm between your legs. Every time the head of his dick dragged over that spot, your pussy clenched and fluttered around him.

“Stack—” you stuttered, voice still shaking. “It feel… it feel so good when you dig in me like that. Right there, please, I think I’m gon cum again”

He moaned softly against your lips, a low intimate sound that was pulled deep from his chest. He kept repeating that same motion, intentionally grinding into that little spot over and over again in relentless strokes. He watched your face the whole time. His eyes tracked the way your brows furrowed and how your lips parted every time he pushed inside you a little deeper. The orgasm started pulling out of you in long, drawn out waves. Those little sounds that Stack had missed so dearly kept spilling past your lips as you creamed around him in messy gushes. His jaw went tight when he felt it.

Right as the orgasmic wave hit its peak, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His were dark with need.

“Open”

You opened your mouth without hesitating, and he let a string of saliva drop from his lips onto your tongue. The second it landed you swallowed and your orgasm intensified hard. Your pussy clenched around him in intense, rhythmic pulses and another rush of cream squelched around his dick. The wet sounds got obscenely loud and Stack’s gaze stayed locked on your face. He admired the way your expression cracked even further, like the sight of it was doing something to him.

“That’s it, good girl baby.” He groaned against your mouth. “Take it just like that. Let me feel how wet you get when I stroke it real deep like this. Tell me again. Who it belong to?”

“You” you sobbed, completely fucked out at this point. “It’s yours, Stack. I promise.”

Something in his expression softened and he kissed you deep and slow while he continued fucking you through the aftershocks, never fully letting the overstimulation fade.

“I got you, mama. This stays mine. These legs stay open for me… this soft lil pussy only gon’ get wet like this for me. Promise me.”

“Yes, anything. You can have whatever you want. This pussy’s yours” your voice was still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Fuck— gon’ make me cum talkin’ to me like that girl” he growled. Only when you had promised yourself to him several times over and your body was trembling non-stop did he bury himself as deep as you’d take him. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he came, and a low, primal sound left his chest while his dick pulsed hard inside you. He watched your pretty face the whole time, like he needed to see you were taking it.

After, he stayed inside you, still breathing hard. One hand stroked over your hip where it met your belly like he still couldn’t believe you’d given yourself to him like this. His pupils were still dilated and searching your face.

“You mine. That ain’t changin’” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. Just a fact he decided to force into existence. You didn’t answer. You were still shaking and your adrenaline was still pumping. The anger hadn’t fully subsided yet but something warm and tender was taking its place. He kissed you again, slower and deeper this time, and still didn’t pull out.

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His hand shifts to hook a thumb between her lips and push down.

"Open."

The hinge of her jaw slackens with ease.

"Stick that pretty tongue out."

She does exactly what he says, and within that second, the fat head of his dick is slapping against her taste buds.

"Mhm, look real good like this."

He can already imagine himself bursting on her tongue. He glances up from her mouth to see the stars in her glistening eyes.

"Should bust all over you right now," he rasps. "You want that?"

She nods eagerly, tongue sticking out of her mouth like a panting dog. The fruity hue of the muscle is too similar to the inside of her pussy.

"Suck it outta me, then. The fuck?"

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