#calmccarthy

Scanning the room for the third time in the last hour you look over the rowdy, mostly drunk patrons of the bar you'd been frequenting for the past month or so, idly tapping the side of your glass as your eyes settled on a particular man. You mostly came here to scope out poor, unsuspecting dudes who would confidently empty their wallets thinking there was no way in hell you could beat them in a game of pool, only for you to do exactly that without letting them shoot a single shot and then collect your prize money whilst your defeated opponent grumbled something under their breath. Rinse and repeat, though tonight seemed to be panning out a little differently. More often than not it was the same guys, a couple of regulars and the occasional newcomers that would let their arrogance get the best of them allowing you to clean them out before they even knew it, but it would seem you had some competition. Cal, as the people who murmured in disdain before handing him their money had called him, was gathering a couple of twenty dollar bills from the pool table to join the plenty of others he had already collected tonight, folding them and stuffing them into his pocket. He sets his pool cue down before picking up his cream cowboy hat from one of the adjacent pool tables, then places it on his head and fishes a pack of Marlboros from his pocket before heading to one of the doors that leads out back. You couldn't tell if it was the irritation that someone was trying to beat you at your own game on your stomping grounds, or if it was the fact that the bastard was handsome as hell too, but you needed to beat him. 

Sliding off of the bar stool you'd made yourself comfortable on you adjusted the skirt of your dress that had hiked up a little from sitting down, then retrieved a pool cue and headed to the nearest available pool table, the one that your mystery man had just left. You didn't have to wait too long, Cal returning through the same door he had left from and immediately looking in the direction of the pool table he had just left, which he had also propped his cue up against. He notices you leaning up against it and locks eyes with you prompting you to give him the sweetest smile you can manage, beckoning him over with your hand. When he reaches you there's a grin playing on his lips, and you try not to let yourself be distracted by how much more appealing he is up close. He's wearing a black shirt that's unbuttoned just enough to expose some dark curls of chest hair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal some of the tattoos decorating his forearm, which sit prettily against some of the veins running up his arm too. His grey beard which mostly darkens above his top lip also didn't do you any favours when it came to focusing on the glorious win you were determined to secure. This guy was totally your type.

“Hope I didn't leave you waiting too long, darlin',” he drawls, the accent alone enough to sabotage your entire idea.

“Not at all, I was hoping you're up for a game of nine-ball. Say, fifty dollars to whoever wins?”

He playfully places his hand over his heart and exhales, “A woman after my own heart. You're on, I could never say no to some nine-ball.”

And you knew he couldn't either. In the time that you'd been observing the room, it was practically all he had played. He clearly had a preference for it and you'd need him to feel as though he had this in the bag. He rounds the table to where he'd left his cue and then chalks it whilst you rack the balls, lifting it and setting it aside afterwards. Cal positions his cue ball on the table and then passes you yours, both of you leaning down and then taking your shot to determine who goes first. Whether you got the first go or not didn't matter too much since you planned on letting him win this first game anyway. You needed him to feel confident in a rematch, to get him to a point where he felt as though he could double his winnings without so much as breaking a sweat. Yours was closest to the top rail meaning you got to start, so Cal removed his cue ball and set it aside.

“How long have you been playing for, Cal?” you ask as you lean down and position the cue, you couldn't deny that a part of you was curious about him.

“Oh, a good long while now, probably since before you were born,” he chuckles, which you pretend to find equally as funny. “How 'bout you?”

You take your shot before responding, pocketing the lowest ball.

“Four years give or take,” you reply as you move to a different side of the table and line up your shot, pocketing the second ball.

“That how long you've been playing in bars too?”

You look up at him as you try to calculate your angle, your hand resting on the surround of the pool table.

“Nope. I started in college, mostly playing at stupid frat parties. Eventually, it just wasn't challenging enough for me.”

He ran his hand over his beard as you spoke, the way his eyes were roaming over you as you leaned down to take your next shot making you feel hot all over, but you kept your composure. It was on your fifth shot that you decided it would be best to screw up, positioning the cue so that the ball would only just graze the pocket but ultimately roll back. Cal sucks his teeth as the ball rolls before coming to a stop, uncrossing his arms and making his way to your side. He places his hand on the small of your back and leans in close as if to comfort you, though the taunt that follows does anything but that.

“Well, ain't that just a damn shame. Bad luck, sweetheart.”

He softly patted where he was resting his hand a few times, and you were hoping he didn't hear the way your breath caught in your throat when he removed his hand and turned his attention back to the game. There was no denying that the man was skilled as he pocketed each remaining ball without missing a beat, maintaining eye contact with you as he leaned over and bit down on his bottom lip in concentration whilst lining up his final shot. When he'd cleared the table he straightened his back as an amused sound rumbled from his throat, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sauntered over to you expectantly.

“So, how 'bout that fifty dollars we agreed on, hon?” He reminds you proudly, the statement practically dripping with pride.

He may be one hell of a fine-looking man, but you still couldn't wait to crush him.

“Actually, I have a proposal,” you reply, the response catching Cal by surprise causing him to tilt his head.

“Go on.” He prompted, urging you to elaborate.

“I want a rematch, but this time we play for a hundred dollars.”

It was a no-brainer. Why not double your money by beating the cocky, young woman that doesn't know when to stop and can't even make it past the fifth ball?

“Are you sure? I mean you ain't half bad, but I don't want a pretty lady such as yourself goin' home empty-handed tonight. It ain't too late to cut your losses, doll,” he insists feigning concern, but there's an eagerness in his eyes that implies otherwise.

Great, not only did he pity you but now he was somehow simultaneously complimenting you and brandishing you with pet names all while stroking his ego. And yet, every little term of endearment he threw your way made it feel like the room was spinning, his eyes burning into you from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat leaving you flustered under his gaze.

“Why, too scared to put your money where your mouth is?” you taunt, knowing that would be more than enough to get him to agree to your deal.

He grins and swipes the chalk from the side of the pool table to freshen up his cue, “Oh you're on, a hundred dollars it is milady.”

After chalking up your cue as well you both position your respective balls and lean down to line up your shots, with you putting a lot more focus into it this time. You needed to go first. If you let Cal take the first shot the man would clean you out without giving you a single opportunity to play, hell you'd seen enough of that tonight to know that was exactly how it would go down. With everything riding on that very moment, you take your shots and watch to see whose cue ball ends up closer to the top rail, waiting with bated breath as they roll softly along the felt of the pool table. Yours was closest, meaning you got to take the first shot. You tried to hide your enthusiasm to not raise too much suspicion, but you were pleased that everything was going according to plan.

“Alright sweetheart, you're up.” Cal enthused, taking a seat on a nearby stool and resting the pool cue between his legs while holding it against his chest.

Cal watched closely as you pocketed every single ball flawlessly, not faltering once even when it came to the trickiest of shots. You would glance up to meet his eye now and again only to be met with the sight of him biting down on his bottom lip and a small smile playing on his lips, though his expression was hard to discern. You expected him to be irritated, and part of him probably was which was to be expected when you know you're about to be a hundred dollars down, but instead, he almost looked, impressed. When you pocketed the nine-ball you straightened your back and took slow steps towards Cal, the slightly staggered look on his face only making your victory that much more satisfying. He stands from the stool and chuckles a little in disbelief, a small sigh leaving his lips before he speaks.

“Even if you did play me for a damn fool I gotta give it to you. You sure as shit showed me,” he praises, taking one hand off the pool cue to outstretch it towards you gesturing for a handshake.

You reach out and shake his hand, desperately trying to ignore how nice the rough callouses on his hand felt against your palm and the way your fingertips grazed over the tattoos adorning his knuckles. It seemed the both of you let the handshake linger a little longer than it ought to, your eyes locking in an unwavering stare as though you were trying to read each other's thoughts. Just as you parted your lips to speak he broke the eye contact and started to fumble through his pocket, retrieving a wad of bills and counting out a hundred before passing it to you. You take it with a triumphant smile and shove it in your pocket, setting the cue on the table and crossing your arms over your chest as you turn back to face him.

“So since I won, do you mind if I make a suggestion?” you start, the drink you'd had at the bar earlier providing you some very needed liquid courage.

“Shoot,” Cal replied, his gaze filled with intrigue.

You stepped towards him, wanting to be close enough that nobody else in the bar would be able to hear the filth your mouth was about to spew. With your faces close together, his gaze appearing to flicker to your lips for a fleeting moment, you whispered.

“Why don't you take me into that bathroom, and you can prove to me that you don't suck at sex as much as you do at pool, hm?”

It was bold, but truth be told you were just speaking what had been on Cal's mind the entire time he watched you effortlessly clean that pool table. Honestly? Finding someone who could actually prove to be a challenge and beat him at his own game turned him on, it was invigorating. And he hadn't exactly shied away from checking out your ass whenever you had to bend over to take a shot from the side of the pool table he was sitting at either. Cal takes his cowboy hat off and sets it on the pool table, placing the free hand not holding his pool cue on your waist and leaning in to whisper into your ear, some of his beard scratching against the side of your face.

“Oh I will, and we'll see how cocky you are when I'm balls deep in that pretty little pussy of yours.” He discreetly pulled you against him as he rasped his dirty promise allowing you to feel the bulge pressing up against your groin, a small grunt escaping his throat as you pressed into his jeans providing him some friction.

“You talk a big game, but can you back it up?” you challenged, only hoping to rile him up even further.

His fingers curl around your wrist as he leads you towards the women’s bathroom, sparing a quick look around the bar to see if anyone would notice before he pushes the door open and leads you inside. Collectively, you scan the stalls for signs of any people and rush into the nearest available stall when it all looks to be clear, with Cal locking the door behind you both. The moment the click of the lock was heard he was on you, pinning your body against the wall of the stall and crashing his lips against yours. You work on unbuckling his belt as he slips his tongue into your mouth, the taste of the tobacco on his tongue and a hint of liquor only making you want him that much more. When his belt comes apart he doesn't hesitate in making quick work of the fly on his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing the waistband down past his hips along with his boxers allowing his cock to spring free. The fabric pools at his ankles as he hikes your skirt up enough to reveal your panties, running a finger through your clothed slit and letting out a pleased hum at the way the material was clinging to your sopping cunt.

“All this just from a game of pool? I think you were made for me,” he remarked on how wet you were, the way his thumb briefly circled over your clit making you squirm a little.

Cal takes hold of your thighs and hastily lifts you causing your arms to instinctively wrap around his neck for support as he traps you between the stall and his own body. Letting one of your legs drop slightly he reaches down to dig his fingers into your panties and push the material aside, feeling a brief prod at your entrance until he lifts his hips, a sharp gasp escaping you as he sinks into your aching hole with ease. A drawn-out groan rumbles from his throat as you take him to the hilt, his breathing heavy as he starts to move in and out of you. He sets a fast, unforgiving pace, pounding into you so deeply that your hands scramble to grasp the top of the stall which was shaking with every thrust of his hips.

“Mm look at you, takin' my cock so good. This what you wanted, baby? Is this why you wanted to impress me?”

You bite down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the cries you were so desperate to release, trying to cling on to what was left of your dignity as he plunged into your cunt over and over until it felt like you were seeing stars, his fingers digging into your thighs with a bruising grip as he fucked into you. There was no hiding it now, if any poor person were to walk in they would see the walls of one of the stalls shaking so hard that you were convinced it was going to break. The needy, unbridled moans that you were struggling to suppress spilling from your mouth and reverberating throughout the bathroom. You feel that familiar sensation building as he mercilessly buries his cock inside you, his mouth smashing against yours and muffling your whimpers whilst his moans also bleed into the earnest kiss.

“Fuck me, you're so tight,” Cal growled out, punctuating his words with a few particularly hard thrusts.

Your legs quiver in his grasp, your whole body overcome with a rush of heat as you grip the top of the stall so hard you're sure your knuckles have turned white. With a shameless cry of his name your orgasm washes over you, all the while he relentlessly fucks you through your release in a desperate attempt to reach his own. It doesn't take long before Cal's hips stutter, removing himself from you and letting one of your legs drop so he can stroke himself as he spills onto your inner thigh with a raspy groan. As you both bask in the ecstasy of your release all you hear is the way your heavy breaths reverberate throughout the bathroom, and the wet rush of his load slowly trickling down your thigh. Trying to regain his composure Cal pulls his jeans back up and starts doing his belt up, his eyes lifting towards you as he does. The tired, but satisfied look on your face as you come down from your high makes his lips curve into a smile.

“Best pool game I ever lost,” he notes a tad breathless, the comment making you snort your laughter.

“Yeah? Well, get used to it, because that's not the last time you're gonna lose to me,” you retort as you reach for the toilet paper and start to clean yourself up.

“Are you challenging me, hon?” he replies amused, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Oh, you bet your ass I am.” You double down knowing you've already beaten him once and that you will surely do it again.

Cal places his hands on your hips after you've smoothed your skirt back down.

“Do I get to fuck you every time I lose? Because in that case, I might have to start losin’ more often,” he crudely quips making you roll your eyes and playfully hit his chest earning a chuckle from him.

“Hey, if that's what happens when you lose, imagine what could happen if you win,” you tease, a brazen lust filling his eyes as he mulls over your words.

He grabs your hand and unlocks the stall door, a newfound motivation to beat you at a game of pool even more so than he had before.

The glass slid towards you, the liquor within it swirling and rippling for a moment before you stilled it with your hand. After grasping your fourth or fifth drink of the night you lifted your head to stare at the man that had captured your interest for the past hour, the undefeated master of pool, judging by the many victories and complete lack of losses he'd had the entire time you'd been watching him, and probably even before you arrived. He was handsome in that rough and rugged type of way, the way he'd lean up after taking a shot with the pool cue and his tongue would pass over his bottom lip, flashing a smile right afterwards that made your stomach flutter. And that cowboy hat? Well, he was totally your thing. You downed the last of your drink, throwing it back before placing it back down onto the counter and sliding off of the barstool. Call it liquid courage, but when you stood to your feet and started to approach him you knew you were only happy for this night to end in one way, and that was beneath him. He just got done with his latest match, his opponent grumbling something incoherent before storming off defeated whilst the man of the hour gathered his prize, a couple of twenty dollar bills sprawled across one edge of the pool table.

"Hey."

He turned to face you, folding the bills and stuffing them into his pocket.

"You looking to play?" He queried with slightly furrowed brows, the apparent confusion written all over his face as you didn't look the type to play pool.

You weren't.

"Oh no, god I'd be hopeless. Especially against the likes of you."

Your first bit of flattery draws a chuckle out of him as he leans back against the pool table, nonchalantly stuffing one hand into his pocket.

"And the name of the man whose emptied the wallets of about five guys in the past hour is?"

"Cal." He says, a smile still lingering on his lips as he took his hat off and rested it on the surround of the pool table.

You knew you were being rather forward, but he didn't seem to be refusing any of your advancements, and it only encouraged you further.

"Well, Cal," you started whilst you took slow steps towards him, "could you show me how to play?"

Despite the innocence in your eyes at your suggestion, your intention was entirely the opposite, and Cal knew it.

"Sure I can hon, just gimme a minute."

You nodded, trying not to seem overly enthusiastic about his acceptance of your impulsive offer. You watched as he set all of the balls into a triangular rack and then lifted it off to set it aside. He rounded the table back to where you stood and then chalked the pool cue, something you'd watched him do a dozen times since he'd caught your eye tonight.

"Who taught you how to play?" You asked out of pure curiosity as he placed the white cue ball down on the table and leaned over.

"My old man. Playing pool's in my blood, feel like I've been doin' it ever since I could walk." He remarked as he gave the cue ball a firm shot, and you watched as it collided with the others, breaking up the formation and scattering them out all over the table.

Cal watched them closely, like he was calculating something, and then walked to one side of the pool table.

"C'mere." He accompanied his demand by patting the wooden edge of the table, and you made your way to the space he indicated for you without the slightest hesitation.

He chalked the pool cue before passing it to you, and you took it from him, holding it rather awkwardly. It was painfully obvious that it wasn't natural to you. Cal made his way behind you, and it was hard to suppress the smug smile teasing at your lips when he carefully placed a hand on the small of your back.

"Show me your dominant hand."

You slightly raised your dominant hand, and his hand pressed over the back of yours, fingers closing around it to guide it to wherever it needed to be. He brought it to a point towards the back of the stick, then pressed it gently against your hip.

"Alright, lean over."

You did just that, bending over and feeling the way he was pressed up behind you as he moved in closer, his arms reaching around you. He peered over your shoulder as he reached for your free hand and placed it on the table.

"Spread your fingers apart."

You put some space between your fingers.

"And you're gonna wanna keep the cue here."

He moved the cue to the space between your thumb and index finger, and then moved his hands to rest on your hips. You hoped the subtle music and general ambience of the bar were enough to disguise the small hitch in your breath as he held you, as he touched you.

"Now just spread your feet apart a little, and relax. If you tighten up your grip you'll screw your shot."

You knew Cal was being serious in his advice, but you couldn't help but allow some of the words to have a double meaning. Especially since his groin was pressing into your backside, and he was practically husking every one of his demands into your ear due to the closeness. You slightly spread your feet apart, steadying yourself to prepare to take the shot, then took it. The cue ball tumbled towards a red one, hitting it at such an angle it ricocheted off the edge of the table and tumbled straight into one of the pockets. Maybe it was just beginner's luck, but the hands of the pro responsible for your newly acquired pool skills were still holding your hips, so you begged to differ.

"Oh shit!" You mumbled with a surprised giggle, and Cal's laughter mixed with your own.

"Atta girl." He praised as he pecked your cheek, his stubble pressing into your skin when he did, and then he leaned off of you.

A little flustered you straightened your back and turned to face him, passing the pool cue back to him. His fingers brushed over yours when he took it from you, and the way his eyes never tore from the gaze of your own keen irises had you weak in the knees.

"Not interrupting a game here am I?" The voice of a stranger interrupted your moment, and Cal turned to look at him with a slight tilt of his head.

"Not at all, you lookin' to play?"

"Sure as hell am." The man replied.

The stranger wandered off to retrieve a pool cue and Cal turned his attention back towards you, reaching past you to take his hat from where he'd laid it on the table and place it on your head, the odd feeling of a far too large cowboy hat sitting on your hair making you snicker.

"You stick around and we can talk some more after this game, how's that sound, doll?" He paired his words with his thumb and index finger taking hold of your chin, and you looked up at him through your lashes, tilting your head back slightly to stop the hat from obscuring your vision.

"Better yet." You drawled as you removed the hat from your head, using your free hand to smooth down your ruffled hair.

You leaned in afterwards till your lips were inches from his ear, the side of your face pressing into his stubble.

"You win this game and we'll go wherever you like, how's that sound?"

A beat passed before you leaned back to look at him, and the sense of pride you felt was instant. His eyes were glazed over with utter lust, and his top teeth were pressed into the underside of his bottom lip, though it was mostly disguised by the scruff of his beard.

"Alright, you're on." He murmured pointedly, moving to the pool table as his opponent returned, and you moved off to the side to spectate.

He never had to try all too hard to pull off a win, but if there was any sort of effort he could put in to secure his already outstanding chances, he was. Cal was making eyes at you occasionally throughout, eyes boring into yours with every perfect shot, and eventually, he'd wiped the table clean. Poor guy never stood a chance, or even took a single shot. Cal chuckled as he pocketed the last ball, turning to his slack-jawed opponent, and holding his hand out with an open palm in a self-congratulatory manner.

"Twenty dollars, right, pal?"

It was arrogant, but he had every right to be. The guy sighed as he reached into his pocket placing a twenty dollar bill into his palm and then walked off, smart enough not to attempt to win his money back in a rematch. Cal stuffed the money into his pocket with the rest of it before sauntering back towards you, and you made no attempt to disguise the admiration in your eyes. Not one bit. He took his cowboy hat back from you as you'd been holding it for him the entire short, almost one player game, and placed it back onto his head.

"So, how 'bout that bet?" Cal reminded with a shit-eating grin, like he was on cloud nine.

You laughed and placed one hand on his chest, running it down his button-up shirt.

"Lead the way, cowboy."

Cal was staying at a motel not too far, and your back was pressed against the inside of the door to his room before you knew it. His hands were all over you, caressing your waist whilst his lips moved against yours, only drawing a hand back once to toss his hat aside, and then it was on you again. He eventually pulled you from the door with the grip he had on your hips, slamming your chest against his whilst he spun you, beginning a slow walk that backed you in the direction of the bed until it hit your calves and sent you falling back onto it. After landing on the sheets you dug your fingers into the waistband of your mini skirt whilst Cal unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall down his shoulders until he shook it off, and then yanked the white tank top he'd worn beneath it over his head. As his top landed on the floor so did your panties, then his hands worked at his belt, undoing it before pulling it through the belt loops of his jeans and slinging it onto the floor to join the rest of the crumpled pile of clothing. Cal was impatient, his fingers quick to unbutton his jeans and let them carelessly fall to gather at his ankles, not even bothering to step out of them. Gazing down at you sprawled on the bed beneath him he slipped his hands beneath the underside of your thighs and pulled you towards him, the sudden jerk of your body and the way your lower half tipped over the edge of the bed before being supported with his own making you laugh.

"Eager much?" You teased as he lifted one of your legs and propped it up on his shoulder, his hand resting just above your knee to keep your leg straightened out against him, and he chuckled.

"Ain't this my reward for being such a damn good player?"

He'd shoved the waistband of his boxers down until it fell with the rest of the garments gathered at his ankles, something you hadn't noticed until you felt him sink into you, the sudden stretch around him eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

"Holy shit." You cursed, your hand instinctively seizing the wrist of the hand he was using to grip your hip.

It just felt like you needed something, anything to hold. Something to dig your nails into, something to ease you through the feel of his slow, intense thrusts. Every now and then, when he'd bury himself inside you and draw all the way back out again, his eyes would screw shut for a moment. His head even tipped back, and the groans that would rumble from his throat rendered the slow, punctuated roll of his hips inefficient. You needed more.

"Fuck Cal, just give it to me baby, please."

When he lifted his head to look back at you there was an eagerness to his eye that made you feel as though you should be bracing yourself. He planted a soft kiss on the inner side of your thigh before coming down closer to you, the way your leg was still propped against him allowing him to angle himself even deeper, the fullness making you whimper.

"You want it, huh?" He rasped.

All you could muster was the frantic nod of your head, the words in your mouth failing with the feel of every move he made, and he smiled. He brought your other leg up onto his shoulder and leaned down until he was practically folding you in half, the angle and the feel of your knees pressing against your chest winding you. Then, heaven. His thrusts were hard, the pace of his hips leaving you a breathless, moaning mess, eyes slightly rolling every time he buried himself inside you, over and over. It was an onslaught, something to which you succumbed to, especially when he crashed his lips against yours. He tasted like caffeine and cigarettes, a wildly fitting combination for the type of man he was. There was no way the thin walls of this motel were containing your cries, so the press of his lips would have to serve as the only way of muffling your earnest, untamed noises, every thrust drawing out a stream of euphonious, needy moans. He leaned back just to let you breathe, lips parting to speak.

"Damn, you sound so fuckin' pretty. You gonna cum, sweetheart?"

All you could do was fall into a string of curses and pleads, every one of your pretty pleases mixed in with your shaky sharp breaths bringing you both closer to release. He only fucked into you harder when he felt you clench around him, your head tipping back as your back arched and you felt the urge to squirm, but his body kept you pinned beneath him. It didn't take much longer for his relentless, undeviating thrusts to grow sloppier, the low, rough grunts flowing from his throat growing louder until he spilt inside of you. He stilled his movements and leaned up enough to allow you to move your legs, to which you languidly rested them on either side of his hips, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. When your shallow breaths eventually evened out he pecked your lips and leaned off of you, breath heavy as he straightened his back. Cal leaned down to slide his boxers back up his legs, then his loose-fitting jeans, and the space beside you dipped as he laid down at the head of the bed with a sigh.

"Well, don't think I ever had a pay-off like that before." He chuckled a little breathlessly.

You snorted your laughter, the flattery prompting you to lean up and crawl to him, his half-lidded eyes fixed on you as you moved to him and settled down on top of him, hands resting at his sides while you rested your chin on his chest.

"Lot more where that came from if you take my number, cowboy."

He grinned at the persistent pet name and used his index finger to pick your chin up from his chest, his thumb soon joining to cup your chin and tilt your head to look at him.

"I think it'd make me the stupidest man in the world if I didn't, course hon. Tell you what, you go get cleaned up and we'll grab a bite to eat."

His thumb dragged lightly across your bottom lip as he spoke, and you hardly had much to dispute when it came to the evening plans he'd sprung upon you.

"Sure." You muttered, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth as you leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips.

You sat up afterwards, turning to make your way off the bed but halting for a moment when you felt a playful hand come down on your ass, the sensation making you let out a surprised gasp.

"Cal!"

He only laughed as you continued to scramble off the bed and spun to face him when you stood to your feet, the light of gratification in his eyes not lost on you.

"Go on, I'm hungry."

You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom, excitement in your step as you did.