Who The Fuck Knows

boyd pushed you onto your knees in front of him so that you were level with his boxers. they were plaid, the kind that come in a pack of three from walmart. you didn’t even want to think about how long he’d had them. the bottom of his button-up shirt was open, letting you see the way the pudge of his tummy stuck out over the waistband, with a faint trail of hair leading up towards his navel. boyd looked down at you, “go on then,” he urged, crossing his arms impatiently.

you shot him a glare before resigning yourself to the task at hand, pulling down his boxers and freeing his cock. you took his length in your hand and pumped it, he was a pretty average size, uncircumcised, with a bush of dark auburn curls at the base. boyd was not interested in your stalling, “cmon kid, put it in your mouth. show your stepdad some love,” he goaded, putting a hand on your head and pushing you towards his cock.

you slapped his hand off of you. “god, you’re such a pig,” you huffed, leaning forward to take the tip in your mouth. he groaned as soon as your lips wrapped around him, letting his hand fall back to rest on your head, much to your irritation. he didn’t taste bad per say, but he was salty, you could tell he hadn’t showered since he had come home from work.

you brought your mouth up and down his length, using your hand to hold what you couldn’t fit. when his foreskin retracted, you traced your tongue over his tip, making him buck his hips into you. he was definitely sensitive, you could tell by the way his breaths got shallow and shaky when you focused on the tip, or how his thighs would tense when you took him extra deep into your throat.

“that’s a good girl,” he moaned, petting your hair, “give my balls some attention too, will ya?”

you rolled your eyes, god he was annoying. you took one hand and used it to cup his balls, lifting them up slightly towards his shaft as you continued to suck him. “mmm, just like that,” boyd hummed. you maintained that for a while before switching to jerking his cock in your hand and licking his balls, gently wrapping your mouth around them.

“fuck darlin’, i knew you were made f’me. should’ve had you doin’ this sooner,” he breathed out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and holding it tightly.

you returned to sucking him, trying to ignore the almost painful grip he had on your hair. you started going faster, taking him deeper into your mouth. boyd thrusted between your lips in time with your movements, “keep going, yeah, shit!—” he pressed your head down onto his cock, coming down your throat without warning. you gagged, not prepared for it. thankfully he released you, letting you pull off of him and swallow the bitter fluid.

you wiped away the tears that had begun to form when you gagged, “a warning would’ve been nice,” you hissed.

your mom had a history of choosing bad boyfriends, you had always told her as much, but her most recent one was on another level entirely. even though he only came into your life after you were a fully grown adult and despite not even actually being married to your mom, boyd insisted that you referred to him your stepdad. he said that it, “made him feel like he was a part of the family.”

the longer he had been seeing your mom, the weirder things got between you two. at first it was just small things, like boyd staring at you a little too long when you walked around the house, or touching you when he really didn’t need to. when you two were alone in the kitchen he liked to stand between you and wherever you needed to go so that you’d have to squeeze by him, rubbing your ass against his cargo shorts.

as time went on, things began to escalate. boyd started “accidentally” barging into the bathroom while you were showering, or opening your door without knocking, clearly trying to catch you in a compromising position. he began to steal your used panties from your hamper while you were gone, only to return them to your room covered in pearly white stains.

when other people were around boyd kept himself under control, but he had no qualms about letting you see how much of a depraved pervert he was, he wasn’t ever trying to hide it. it’s not as if you didn’t find him attractive, there was something about him in all of his sleaziness that turned you on despite yourself, but he was your mom’s boyfriend, your “stepdad” for god’s sake. there was absolutely no reason he should be pulling these stunts.

you told him as much one day that you two were in the house alone, but he didn’t care. he reached out to hold your cheek in his hand patronizingly, “sweetheart, i don’t really give a damn about what’s right or wrong. heaven forbid a man shows some love to his stepdaughter.” he chuckled as if it was something trivial and silly.

you slapped his hand away, grimacing, “what the hell is wrong with you? i’m going to tell my mom.” you turned to walk away but boyd grabbed your shoulder, spinning you back around to face him.

“i don’t think so,” boyd squeezed your shoulder harshly, making you wince, “who do you think she’s gonna believe? her loving boyfriend, or her kid who seems to have had it out for all of the men she’s ever been with?” he cockily raised his eyebrows. you hated it but he was right, all it would do was cause more tension in the already strained relationship you had with your mother.

boyd licked his lips, relishing in your defeated expression. “all i’ve done since i came into this house is help you and your mother. i mean, my job picking up roadkill pays for more of this place than hers does, so—” he paused to look you up and down, “i think it’s time that you show a little gratitude to your stepdad.”

you just stood there aghast for a moment, your mouth ajar. boyd stared at you expectantly, but when he saw you clearly weren’t taking the hint, he pulled off his belt, pushing his shorts down his thighs so that he stood there in his plaid boxers. he then used the hand on your shoulder to push you down onto your knees in front of him, “go on then,” he urged.

from that day onwards, things were never normal between you two. sure, when your mom was around he acted like he always did, a slightly strange and offputting but nice enough guy, though when you were alone with him it was a different story. boyd went out of his way to make sure that you would have more moments alone together, which is why his visits to your bedroom began.

it happened quite often, at least a few times a week. boyd would wait until everyone else fell asleep to quietly slink into your bedroom, entering without so much as a knock. sometimes you were asleep, sometimes his entrance woke you up, it didn’t matter to him; either way, he was going to do what he came here to do.

boyd would silently slip under your sheets and nestle up behind you, feeling over your body in the dark to pull down your sleep shorts and panties. he didn’t care to work you open with his fingers first, he’d just spit on his hand and use that to lubricate his cock. then he’d push into you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

his breath would tickle your ear in puffs as he thrust into you, a hand wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, or lifting up your thigh to allow him better access. he never lasted long like this, and he didn’t have any interest in helping you orgasm either. after only a few minutes of lazily pumping into you, he’d come with a grunt, his cock pulsing against your walls.

The invitation came from an old friend and made Titus’ eyes light up when he read it. Titus had said they had met each other in boarding school, two kids from the same cult trying to find their identity away from home. They hadn’t seen each other in over a decade and hadn’t heard from each other in years. The invitation was for a wedding, his daughter’s, and an offer to stay for the festivities that followed. You had asked him if that was normal, inviting non-family members to participate in hunts, and he just shrugged. It’s up to the family, and at one point, they had considered themselves brothers.

You enjoyed the ceremony. The bride was gorgeous in a fairy pink wedding gown that made her look ethereal. At the reception, Titus spent most of his time reconnecting with his friend. You stayed at his elbow, playing the part of the pretty young thing on the arm of a billionaire. A role you had slipped into pretty well considering the unsavory acts you had to commit every now and again. Titus never let you hunt by yourself, never wanted his perfect girl’s perfect nails to get chipped in the ugly act of stabbing a man to death. So you were there to watch. To cheer him on. To stroke his ego after taking someone’s life. And sometimes to stroke something else. 

As the sun descended into the horizon, you noticed the mood of the event begin to change. More general guests left and all that remained were the people participating in the hunt. And the daughter’s blissfully unaware wife. The father made an announcement and gathered you all in a room. You sat at the candle-lit table and watched as the game box was placed in front of the newest member of the family. She giggled at the absurdity of the concept, but ultimately relented and drew a card. Everyone waited with bated breath as she slipped the card into her hands. A small grin formed on her lips, but no one returned it when she read it. Hide and Seek. A ripple of energy crossed the table and the daughter let out a little noise of despair. She went misty eyed and, before the wife could ask any questions, the father took over the conversation. He explained the rules, that she had to last until sunrise without getting caught. Simple enough. The wife was given a five minute head start. When she was out of the room, the father addressed the remaining members with a grin. “Showtime.”

You and Titus walked around the lawn. A sort of patrol along a pathway around to the house. As ambitious as he was, Titus didn’t really want to be the one to kill the wife this time. Not his family, not his ritual. He was just there for fun. You walked over the grass and watched Titus, his broad frame outlined by the moonlight. The same light that glinted off the axe he had chosen as his weapon. You had scoffed when he plucked it from the wall. There were guns and crossbows, actual weapons, but Titus loved going melee and the axe was the only thing that closely resembled the pickaxe he usually donned during special hunts. He twirled it in his hand as he walked, throwing it into the ground occasionally and picking it up.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” You mumbled as Titus threw the blade into the soft earth with increased force. “Please don’t throw your back out.” Titus laughed, though to him it might’ve been a scoff, and shook his head as he ripped the blade from the lawn.

“M’not that old.” He chuckled. You gave an unsure hum.

“Debatable. You got an AARP envelope last week.”

“It was to gauge interest.” Titus corrected, shooting you a sarcastic look with his big brown shark eyes. “I’m not interested.”

“You opened it.” Titus let out an exasperated sigh. He stopped walking and turned to face you. 

“You didn’t seem so worried about me throwing out my back last night,” His voice dropped and a small smirk crept onto his lips. He leaned down so his nose brushed against yours, eyes open and locked on your. “What I can remember is you screaming ‘Please, Titus, more’ over and over again. Almost slipped a damn disc with how hard I was fucking you.” You inhaled sharply as heat crept into your cheeks at the intensity of his eyes and words. Titus raised a thumb to swipe over your lips. “F’you want me to take it easier, that works for me.” He gently tossed the axe to the ground and used his newly-freed hand to cup your pussy. “Not sure she’d be a fan, though.” You gasped at his touch and Titus took the opportunity to shove his thumb past your lips. You sucked around it, and he tilted his head back, lips curling into an open-mouthed smile. “Oh, got nothin’ to say about that?” He mocked, brows pulling up in faux sympathy. You hummed around his finger while you ran your tongue along the bottom of it.

Titus suppressed a shiver and walked you back until your back hit the brick wall of the house. He pushed your thighs open with his own and rested his knee against the house. A rumble emerged from his chest when he settled you down on the meat of his leg. You rolled your hips against him, keeping eye contact as the warmth of your cunt dragged along the expensive fabric of his pants. You pulled him into a kiss, devouring his mouth in wide, sloppy movements of your lips. He sighed sharply through his nose and his fingers found your hips. He began to help you move and you felt his dick twitch to life beneath you. Once you got a slow rhythm of riding his thigh, Titus allowed his hands to wander. One slipped up underneath the hem of your shirt. His thumb rubbed circles over your nipple through the lace of your bra and his fingers splayed in the indents of your ribs. The other wrapped around your throat, pressing lightly at your pulse point. Your heartbeat fluttered beneath his grip. It didn’t take long for him to get hard and the prominent ridge caught on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your system. Titus continued eating your face, tilting your neck so he could get a new angle. Arousal simmered in your abdomen and you let out a content moan. You loved moments like these. Not actual sex, but helping each other feel good. The edges of your mind grew fuzzier as Titus squeezed your neck tighter. His lips kissed over your jaw and suckled at the spot on your neck that made you rut against him harder. He groaned directly into your ear and you whimpered in response. 

A gunshot made you both jump away from each other. It wasn’t close enough to be intended for you, but it did remind you what you were in the middle of. You looked at Titus, hair slightly ruffled and lips red and swollen. There was a small stain on the fabric of his leg, right at the end of his obvious erection where pre-cum had soaked through his boxers. 

The drive to the precinct was shorter than you thought it would be by a whole ten minutes. Wonderful! You could drop off your husband’s lunch he forgot and still have some extra time for your own lunch break before you had to head back to work. That was the plan, anyway. But you should have known better because once Sammy Bryant’s eyes landed on his wife, all bets were out the window. 

You walked into the precinct and told the receptionist you were there to see Sammy, but he didn’t have to call. Your husband was already waiting around the corner. When he saw you through the glass partition, he was already sporting a semi. You wore your work uniform, something nondescript and not flashy. But it doesn’t matter, because Sammy believed you would be the sexiest thing to ever exist even if you wore the most hideous outfit. You caught sight of him and waved him over with a smile, holding up his lunchbox. Sammy crossed the room and gratefully accepted it. 

“You couldn’t just order something?” You said, feigning annoyance. Your expression softened when Sammy gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“And ignore all the hard work you put into makin’ me food?” He pouted. “Unlikely.” It was true. You adored cooking for him, rich homestyle meals with heart. Paired with the mainly sedentary lifestyle switch to detective, maybe it had caused Sammy to fill out a bit. But you were absolutely not one to complain. You loved the way he filled out his shirts and the pudge that peeked over his stomach. You especially loved the way the roundness of him fit perfectly into the curve of your back when he was pounding into you from behind. He looked especially good today, wearing an old band t-shirt and jeans because of his special assignment. The short sleeves meant you could see the freckles climbing up his arms. Sammy caught you staring at his chest and puffed it out a bit. He noticed the way your eyes darkened. The same way they did when he crawled over you at night. He fought down a smirk and grabbed your hand in his, enjoying the way your fingers interlocked around his. His eyes flashed to the receptionist to make sure he wasn’t paying attention. He leaned in close to your ear. “I gotta talk to you ‘bout somethin’.” he murmured. Worry crumpled your eyebrows and you nodded seriously. Sammy motioned for you to follow him. He slipped you back into the main holding area into an interrogation room. The hallway was empty, but he closed and locked the door anyway. 

“What’s wrong-” you barely got the words out before Sammy’s lips were greedily sucking at yours. He moaned into your kiss and gripped your ass roughly. You let out a squeak of surprise and your hands flew up. “What’re you doing?” You gasped between his onslaught.

“Just…” He gave another passionate lap at your bottom lip before breaking the kiss for a moment. “Thanking my wife for taking time out of her day to make me happy. Gotta return the favor.” You didn’t realize he was walking you back until your knees hit the edge of the cold metal interrogation table. He lifted you up effortlessly. That was another thing you enjoyed. Since he was a little bigger, he could throw you around more. You giggled as your ass landed firmly on the table and Sammy’s mouth was back on yours. You allowed your legs to open to make room for him and your ankles interlocked behind his back. Your fingers fiddled with the edge of his t-shirt and you ran your hands up his bare stomach, rubbing circles with your thumb. You felt the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh and you allowed the tip of your finger to dip beneath the waistband of his jeans. You continued to kiss him for a few minutes and once your lips were kiss-bitten and your lungs were struggling for air, you pushed him gently away from you by the waist. “While I appreciate the appreciation, you should probably get back to work.” You moved to get down, but Sammy’s large hands held you down by the hips. You gave him a look and he stared back at you, chest still rapidly moving and pupils blown.

“M’not done yet.” He told you. His voice was rough and commanding. You weren’t going to be able to argue with him. His palms splayed over your thighs and he tugged you harshly against him. 

“You can’t fuck me on the interrogation table, Sammy,” you protested, albeit very weakly. He could. And he might. But he shook his head.

“Not going to,” He promised. He held your gaze as he sank onto his knees. Arousal hooked behind your intestines when you realized what he was doing. 

“Sammy.” You sighed, lolling your head to the side. He ignored you, pushing the skirt of your uniform up and pulling your underwear to the side. Sammy licked his lips to prepare himself. The heat of his mouth made you whimper as he made out with your cunt. His tongue slipped through your folds and circled around your clit. One of his hands moved from your thigh to your stomach, softly pushing you back until you gave in and laid flat on the table. It then found your hand and interlocked your fingers together. Sammy ate you out like a man starved. He had forgotten his lunch, afterall, and he needed a treat. 

“So fuckin’ good, baby,” He moaned directly against your core and the vibration sent tingles up your spine. “Just tastes so amazing. Can’t help myself.” You let out a whimper when he inserted two of his thick fingers into you, stretching against the walls of your pussy. Your slick was making obscene noises, and you hoped that the room was soundproof. The assault of his fingers and his tongue built your fuzzy orgasm faster than you expected. You came with a shaky sigh of Sammy’s name, squeezing his hand and clamping your thighs over his ears. You rode out your orgasm literally, rolling your hips against Sammy’s face until you were panting and shaking around him. As you came down, Sammy pulled back, peppering the insides of your thighs with gentle kisses. He stood up and pulled you flush against your chest. He gave you a proud little smile and you wanted to smack him. It was then that you noticed a little blinking red light in the corner of the ceiling. Horror drained from your brain and settled in your tailbone. 

“Is…” you swallowed. “Is that a camera?”

“Yea,” Sammy shrugged. Unbothered bastard. “I’ll get the footage and delete it, no worries.” You gave him a searing look. 

he taps the bluetooth with his thumb, speaker crackling to life.

“hey, baby,” he says easily.

there’s a pause on the other end—just long enough for sammy to know something’s up. the kind of pause she makes when she’s gearing herself up for something that feels silly to her but makes his whole chest soften.

“hi,” she says finally, voice soft, lilting. “um… are you busy?”

nate immediately cuts his eyes toward the dash. sammy doesn’t flinch.

“not too busy. nate and i just wrapped a walkthrough downtown. why?”

“you, um…” she hesitates. he hears it, that wobble. that crack that says she already talked herself out of this twice before she even dialed. “you remember that deli we used to go to near our old place in central alameda?”

sammy meets nate’s eye and says without hesitation:

“yeah. we’re close to there actually.”

nate mouths no we’re not? then gives up and just gestures out the dashboard at downtown hollywood forty minutes away from central alameda.

“i was maybe…” her voice drops to this tragic, adorable little near-whisper, “…maybe wanting that spicy italian? the one on the marble rye? with the extra pepperoncinis?”

sammy’s already flicking the blinker on to switch lanes.

“yeah, baby. got it.”

“and maybe the iced tea?” she adds quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. “no, actually, can it be both? the lemonade and the tea? like an arnold palmer? and if they have the cake of the day i kinda want that too. but it’s okay if they don’t, i swear i’ll survive, i just—”

her voice does that thing, trembles right at the edge of a tear or maybe just her hormones spiraling.

“actually never mind. this is crazy. you’re working. i’m sorry, just forget i called, i love you—be safe—”

click.

sammy sighs, but there’s a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. he’s already turning onto the freeway ramp.

nate blinks once. twice. then slowly says:

“jesus. even i can’t say no to her when she asked like that.”

sammy huffs out a dry laugh.

“so you see my problem.”

“how many midnight snack runs has she sent you on?”

“none.”

nate blinks harder.

“none?”

“she hasn’t even asked me to fill her damn water bottle,” sammy mutters. “not once. not a single midnight craving. hasn’t asked for anything.”

“oh.” nate exhales slowly, understanding dawning. “so when she does—”

“exactly.”

they drive a beat in silence, traffic parting just enough to give them a smooth path toward central alameda.

“we’re really going forty minutes out of the way to a deli.”

“yeah,” sammy says simply. “yeah, we are.”

“i can’t even give you shit. you were with me when mariella made me go demand a banana split from that ice cream shop during a rain storm at 9:58 p.m. they were out of cherries. she cried. i still don’t think she’s forgiven me.”

sammy grins. nate leans forward, elbows on knees.

“since you’re already buying lunch…”

“for her, not you.”

“i’ll take a turkey pesto. your girl has good taste.”

sammy snorts and rolls his eyes.

“you’re such a simp, man.”

“yeah,” sammy smirks, already dialing the deli, “but i get to go home to her.”

nate huffs a laugh but he’s already smiling too, tapping his phone open.