A year after Alejandro healed he immediately visited Miguel, a month after that he found you, scratch that, he searched you. A month it took for him to befriend you again, the first time you met each other was when both of you are working for Graver, he was a sicario, and you were a HUMINT agent, not much in common, but your social butterfly skill has taken him under your control, at least that's what he made you think.

Two months of being friends, sort of, lines blurred once or twice, but you held it back because why would you want to repeat history. But Alejandro has a way of making you melt, turning you into a puddle of whining and whimpering. Your bare back against his chest, he is still fully clothed and has every control of you, he had you completely naked in just a few seconds, his three fingers are thrusting in and out deep inside your pussy. Your legs are tangling with his, making it impossible for you to close the juncture between your thighs. He really love to torture you.

Three months of being friends with benefits, usually he'd come to your place at night, fucked you until you forgot the time, at the end he'll drape the blanket over you, if you want more kisses then you'd have to ask, and then Alejandro finally have a smoke. Sometimes he'd stay for breakfast, using the kitchen like it's his, and your guts tell you that this is his tactics. Or he'd knock on your door at the most random time to give you the fast food he ordered for you, Alejandro didn't order for himself, he'd rather watch you eat. He took pride in knowing your favorites.

By the seventh month both of you are in a steady and established relationship, though it happened after you confronted him, a one sided arguments, a day of cold shoulders, and making up. You had demanded him to ask you 'the' question, Alejandro asked you to be his partner, quietly and almost like he'd rather die than asking, you said no, the look on his face is scaring you, so you immediately told him that you want to be his girlfriend, Alejandro sighed and he asked you to be his girlfriend eventually. It took his whole pride and ego.

Two months into your relationship, it was stiff, but that's just Alejandro. Sex is frequent, but everything out of that is not much, he isn't one to talk about his feelings, you know it. Alejandro likes to spend his time with you, not to talk, just to watch you, your reaction, your moves. And that's the problem, he never talk about his feelings or his opinion, every date feels one sided, like he's forced to be here with you, even though in the first place he was the one seeking you.

At the third month you've had enough, you confront him again, and of course Alejandro dismissed you. You told him that you are confused, this relationship isn't going anywhere. You told him that you knew you shouldn't have engaged in everything he does, Alejandro asked why you did it if you knew it'll end like this, you can't answer him. So you suggested a break up, all he needs to do is step out of your apartment, after all Alejandro doesn't have anything of his inside your place.

“Give it time," he said, too calm, too composed, his eyes dead set on yours to show you that he is serious about it. You shake your head, you told him, "if you’re not willing to open up to me, then there is no other way. I’ve shared every side of me with you, and I still don’t know any of yours."

“That’s not who I am," he shake his head, and the argument ended just like that. Alejandro didn't stay after that, he didn't even look back as he walk away from your door. And for a few days it stays that way, he didn't come back, he didn't call, he didn't seek you anymore. And life gets easier on you, you knew you made the right choice.

Your boss hasn't been sending you as much work as before, the projects that used to pile on your desk stop coming altogether, just two or three manila folders instead of eight you usually got. The colleague you despised has transfered to a different location, and the office feels less tense, less exhaustion. You sleep better knowing you don't have to think about projects and deadlines, if anything you thought of reconnecting with your friends.

That was until you opened your front door when you heard a familiar and rhythmic knock, you didn't open it fully, because you just know. It's Alejandro, "better?" he murmured softly, a ghost of smirk on his face. You look at him in disbelief, "you can't just show up like this," you said, anxiety is bubbling in your stomach, his foot stepping in between the door and the threshold as you pushed it.

"I just did... Let me in," he whispered your name softly, he leans closer to you, you pushed the door again but his foot won't budge. "A minute, cariño," he murmured softly, too softly, too uncanny, Alejandro would never call you with pet names. But still, you let him in, he got inside and close the door behind him, his hand reaching back to lock the door without looking away from you.

Alejandro stepped onto your space, his right hand pulling you close by your waist as he kiss your lips slowly, you closed your eyes, lips still not moving to his rhythm, then his right hand travel up to your nape, his fingers gripping your hair harshly, as if forcing you to kiss him back.

The rest of the night is a blur, you didn't know how many times you've come for him, but now you are laying on the dinner table with Alejandro in between your thighs. You are completely naked, while of course, his shirt is still intact, though his slacks is somewhere by the front door, the sleeves of his shirt is folded up, giving you a good view of his forearms.

Alejandro continues to thrust into you, not too slow, not too fast, edging you, he always love to torture you, nothing ever changed. His fingers is pinching your clit, his left hand is gripping your hips so harsh to bruise it. You can't deny the fact that you missed his fat cock, it fills you up like no one else does, curved just right.

The whole affair of will, inheritance,and shares ended a week ago, and if not because of Dr. Gonzo, you wouldn't be here.

In a villa in Hawaii, somewhere you forgot the name of, with Dr. Gonzo writhing under you, one hand gripping your bare hip, the other holding up a blunt. His cock nestled deep inside you, raw and hard, as you continue to grind lazily on him.

Because of Dr. Gonzo, you earned half of the money your father owned, two villas, this one and the other in Italy. And you've paid him, more than you should, but still, maybe it's the adrenaline of winning so much more assets than your siblings, or maybe the fact that you're so down bad for this man who knew the law and it's loopholes like the back of his hand.

Or maybe it's because he secured half the money and two villas for you. Because it's a beautiful villa, you remembered coming here during holidays, but now it's just you and Dr. Gonzo in the living room. The ceiling is high and so are you, the sun is shining through the wide windows, casting it directly onto your form.

“Look at you," he murmured calmly, just as high as you are. One hand reaching up to pinch your nipple, "keep going," he groaned, throwing his head back. Suddenly he throws the blunt away and put both hands on your hips, pushing you up to make some room for himself, then he began to thrust upward.

“There, right there, that’s it!” he snapped, that manic look returned to his face, the sweat began to show in his forehead and chest, you wish you did a reverse cowgirl, but this is good enough. So you tilt your head back, letting him do all the move, his balls slapping your ass, feeling the thickness of his cock, the veins, gasping when your clit touched his pelvis.

“You can do more with this," he said sharply, his movement became faster than before, “You should do more with this." You hate it when he becomes so manic, when he spiral, and you know it should end here, you know that better than anyone.

"Come, come on it! Now!" He barked, his hips jolting up again and again, you whimpered desperately as he pulled you down to sit on his cock completely, his big and sweaty balls nestled between your ass cheeks, it was the best orgasm you've had a in a while, and the thought of actually letting him go, turning back into strangers, just scares you.

He kept grinding upward, his grown pubic hair giving your folds a rug burn, but it was the best thing you've felt in a while. “God, that was beautiful," he sighed, smiling at you, it was a rare sight to see, but you've got tired of him by now. "You need to go, after this, just... Take your time," you murmured softly to him, still catching your breath.

His eyebrows scrunched, his eyes widened, oh God, “why are you pushing me out?” He asked, clearly offended, he shakes his head, refusing to believe what you've said. “No, you don’t want that yet, this is the best part.”

Suddenly he lift you up from his cock, and pushing you down to lay on the couch, you knew you shouldn't have invited him to this villa. “This is mine too, don’t you get that?” He asked, he licked his lips and looks at you in the eye intensely, before suddenly diving forward for your folds.

You gasped as he suckle on your clit, then using his broad tongue to lick you whole. Then he make out with your folds, it was amazing, and it happened as fast as it ends, he pulled away to look at you and point his finger to your face, “I helped you win this... So im staying, you’ll thank me later.”

And again, how did you get here?

It has been seven days since your father died, and by this time the mansion is full of the lawyers your siblings hired, aunts and uncles demanding their debt to be paid, cousins asking about the timelines and procedures, when will the whole inheritance thing is shared.

But today is the eighth day, you've had enough of it, and that's how you find yourself in a bar with your friend, talking about anything and nothing. Until you mentioned about the will and the inheritance, and the chaos your father death has bring, you look at your friend as they snapped their finger in front of your face, "Dr. Gonzo," they said excitedly.

The rest was just your friend explaining about the said Dr. Gonzo, like how he knew about law and it's loopholes like the back of his own hand, rather than pretending loopholes doesn't exist like most lawyers. They scribble some numbers on a napkin, add some doodles, but they didn't mention anything about the intensity of Dr. Gonzo.

Which it is something you discovered the day you meet him, you've called him in the morning and invite him to the mansion at 3.00. Yet the maid had found him at 2.30 smoking in the back garden, this is your first impression of him, and clearly he does not care about that.

He is a tall and huge man with a messy, curly, mop of hair and a mustache, his skin slick with faint sweat, his taste in fashion is questionable. "So you're the one," he said, his voice low and gravelly, stepping closer just enough to make you feel uncomfortable. "Nice place, shame about the timing... Go on, explain," he said, this time you can smell his breath, clearly he didn't have a chance to brush his teeth before meeting you.

So you began to explain, a week ago father died, bla bla bla, lawyers, will, inheritance, money, assets, land, whatever it was you remembered. "You waited a week before deciding to do something, why?" He asked eventually, curiously, staring at you intensely.

"Because you thought it would settle down," he said, exhaling, maybe this time you should step back from him, but you can't, something in his gaze holds you back. "Give it some time, but it doesn't, it gets worse, doesn't it? They've got better lawyers, much expensive too, probably," he shrugged, then continues, "that's okay, expensive doesn't mean effective... You're not effective."

"And that's a problem, because this is a mess, and you don't actually care about the money," he murmured softly this time, a brief pause, you could see the sweat gliding down from his temple to his soft chin, "no, that's not right... You care about the money, you just don't have the balls to admit it."

It was noon when you heard a familiar rhythm of knocking from the front door of your apartment, knock, knock knock. All morning you were hoping Harold won't be showing up today of all week, because you had your boyfriend, Noah, over at your apartment. You sighed as you pull away from Noah's embrace on the couch to open the door, "Harold," you murmured softly as you saw him, a bag of groceries in his arm.

"You outta formula?.. Bought them anyway, found the one she likes," he said, offering the bag of groceries to you. "Why didn't you tell me you're coming?" you asked him, leaning closer so Noah doesn't hear you talking, "when did i ever call?" he asked you back. He's got a point, because it is a silent agreement between the two of you. He'd buy groceries for you some other day, you'd accepted it.

Before you can say anything else, Noah show up behind you, "hey man, I'm Noah, her new boyfriend," he said as he gave a tight smile to Harold. "Yeah, figured," said Harold, keeping his eyes on you the whole time, "can i see her for a minute?" he asked you, talking about your baby girl, "just wanna say hi to my girl," he said more softly this time, so you open the door fully to let him in.

After you close the door you follow Harold, making his way to your bedroom, he didn't need to ask for permission or ask which door was it. "Hey there, sweetheart," he murmured softly as he saw the baby inside the crib, he didn't hesitate to pick up your baby and make her comfortable in his arms, she coos softly to him, looking up at him with her little doe eyes that looks exactly like yours, "i know, angel, daddy missed you too."

You lean against the threshold of your bedroom door, for a moment you didn't care about Noah waiting on the couch, or maybe he went to the kitchen. For now you are content with watching Harold and your baby in his arms, “you get bigger every damn week, huh?” He asked softly, using one hand to hold her chubby arms, “your mama feedin’ you good."

Never in years you thought about having a baby with the Harold Longbaugh, but here you are. Seeing him holding your baby girl makes you forget of all the crimes he did, the crime records that keeps adding up each day, and you still wonder how this man isn't ended up in jail right now. He never cheat on you, never stopped caring and being tender in his own way, the groceries and bills are the proof. Maybe in another life there's a better version you're having with him, where Harold have a proper and clean job, you're his Mrs. Longbaugh, and there's no Noah.

Harold looks at you, his eyes scanning your facial features, "she got your eyes, and nose, lucky her," he said softly, swaying gently for your baby girl. “You got some other guy sittin’ in the kitchen, while I’m in here talkin’ to a seven-month-old,” he said more quietly this time, "Harold," you said, hoping it'll stop him. Your baby girl coos again, stealing his attention, “… don’t laugh at me, angel. I know," he lean closer to kiss the baby's forehead, lingering to smell her scent, “I’d do better for you, y’know.”

Your guts tells you that he mean it to both of you. He looks around the room, you noticed his eyes are turning glassy, “you still got that busted lamp,” he murmured softly, rocking your baby girl in attempt to make her sleep, "told you i could fix it," he offered as he stepped closer to the crib, you shake your head and said that it's okay and that he didn't need to. “You never let me fix nothin’," he murmured sarcastically, his arms extending to gently lay the baby back on the crib.

“You just keep bein’ little for a while,” he murmured softly as he settles the baby in her crib, tucking the blanket around her little chubby form so gently, “daddy’ll handle the ugly stuff.” She's never like this with you or other people, but with Harold she's so calm, he smells like gun powder and sweat, and you didn't know how he got her to sleep in just a few seconds. As if mocking the late nights you stayed up to rock her to sleep, the sleep that never really comes.

It all started back when both of you are still dating, your parents didn't quite like him because of the age gap between the two of you, you were barely out of highschool when he was in his twenties. But that doesn't stop you from seeing him on the rooftop of a shitty motel near your house, “c’mere a second," he murmured softly as he pulled you closer to him, both of you are sitting near the edge of the rooftop, “… look at you,” he said before he kiss your lips gently, softly, always so careful to you.

"You're so damn beautiful, made me feel stupid... You're my angel, y'know that?" he asked you softly, made you laugh with the serious look on his face, "you're so cheesy, Harold," you said as you lean onto his shoulder, he shrugged, "i know how it sounds. Still true, though.”

Some other day you'd be sitting on the roof of his car, a can of shared cherry diet coke between you two, he claimed he'd drink it with you but he never really touched the can. But then it crumbled as fast as it happens, so sweet for a second then it's all gone. Like when he promise to pick you up at seven and he showed up at eight, making you wait for an entire hour, "i know, i know," he said as he saw the look on your face, “i said I’d be here at eight,” he said, reaching for your hand, only for you to swat his hand away, "you said you'd pick me up at seven."

“Things got complicated," he said, always the same sentence, "it's jobs. People need things done, I do ‘em,” the same reason to cover the things he did, and to lighten the mood he'll say, "i ain't out there robbin’ grandmas,” and he'll tap your nose with his pointer finger. He knows you knew it, but he didn't want to talk to you about it, why he did it, his motivation, all the crimes he did behind your back.

Or you'd get a call from him at midnight, “i gotta go away a little while,” he said from the other end, sounding out of breath, “shit... just few days, maybe a week.” And when you'd ask him where he is hiding, he'll said, “can’t tell you where, but i promise I'll be back, angel, promise.”

Even when you got your own job, apartment, a life, he's still doing whatever he is doing behind your back, whatever it is that gets him injured. It's two AM and both of you are standing in the kitchen, he is leaning against the kitchen counter, spreading his legs so he can be at your height level as you clean the cut near his lips, "you got gentle hands," he murmured softly, his eyes focused on your lips, then nose, then eyes. He lift his arms to wrap it around your waist, "you'd make a good wife, my wife," he murmured softly, you chuckled dryly and told him to stop, "yeah, i know that scared you... Scared me too."

You'd find a gun in his jacket, and he told you not to talk about it, he'll say stuff like, “It’s just insurance," as if it'll assure you that it is, “you think I wanna carry that thing around?” He asked more softly to convince you. Then you'll argue with him to leave the life he is living, the chase and thrill he's looking for, the cuts and bruise. He shakes his head and told you he's doing this for Parker, or he'd told you to stay out of this, claiming that he didn't want you to be tainted, to know the dirty things he's done.

You'll get emotional from it, crying, making him forget his train of thoughts, “… come here," he said softly, you shake your head, looking away from him because you know he can't bare to see you crying “no, c’mere," he said, stepping closer to pull you in for a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist in the most comfortable way, "im sorry... You didn’t deserve that."

He'd end every argument and fight with sex, he'll kiss you slow, saying sorry the whole time, it'll last longer than quickies with him. He'd promise you he'll never talk to you like that, promise to buy your favorite chocolates and coke. It was always raw, he had told you to trust his pull out game, and maybe you did trust him back then. He'd come on your clit, then he'd stroke his cock with his right hand, using his tip to spread his cum all over your folds.

But reality comes again and this time it's not going anywhere, you told him that you want it done, the two years of destructive relationship that you had with him. “You’re mad right now, that’s all," he said as crowd you, hands steady on your waist to keep you close, “we fight, yeah? Everybody fights.”

You pushed your points, the gun you found in his jacket, the fake id you saw in his wallet, or the paper with list of names and numbers. He sighed, "yeah, i know," he muttered, his hands still holding onto your waist firmly. But that wasn't enough, you told him that you hate when he disappeared all of a sudden, hate when he'd call in the middle of the night just to tell you that he won't be able to see you for a few days, didn't like that he shows up so early to make you clean his cuts and wounds.

You are a breath of fresh air in the thick, suffocatingly cold fluorescent air of the police department, at least that's what people thought of you. As a records clerk you talk a lot to other detectives, supervisor, patrol officers, and they seemed to like to linger around when they are dropping off reports or searching for any.

And one of them that stood out the most to you was Lamar Dickey, in every quiet way, unlike the others. When the others would try to flirt with you, Lamar would talk to you without wasting words, and he actually listen to you. His eyes, intense but tired, would focus on your eyes and drift to your nose, then lips once a while.

And then you'd notice the way his eyes would study your desk when he is requesting a file, the fake flowers you got from your colleague, the chipped mug to hold your favorite pens and highlighters, the log book always in the middle of your desk. Maybe it's the way he looks at you with such intensity and actually listen to everything you say, but it made you feel something in your stomach, maybe butterflies or whatever your body does when he shows up.

You remembered your second day at work, the first time Lamar talks to you, he looks like he'd rather be out of the bullpen, “hey, i need the Carter file. ’92, you got it?” He asked, it sounded a little bit too rehearsed was your first thought, but you smile politely at him and got up from your chair to search for the file. After Lamar left, your colleague told you that he is the straightforward, punchy, and too honest guy.

And they were right, a few hours later Lamar returned with the Carter file in his hand, he put it down slowly on your desk, his eyes focused on yours, “date’s right, but the tag’s wrong. Thought you’d wanna know,” he murmured softly, his expression entirely too flat.

The rest of the weeks goes like that, detective would playfully tease you and told you to take your time to search the files, patrol officers would talk to you about the heroic stuff they did during patrol, and Lamar would ask for what he needs, without bullshit, while using the time to study you intensely.

But out of all, Lamar was the first one to have the courage to actually asked you out, or not, invited you was maybe the right word, which happened just a few hours ago. “You get off at six, right?" He asked, as if he didn't get off at the same time, “There’s a place couple blocks down, it's quiet, if you want to come with me," he said softly this time, the sentence slipping out as if it had been practiced in private.

And here you are now in a niche jazz club, sitting on a corner booth, it was awkward and new, but Lamar was two glass down and he looks at you like you are the center of his universe. "They watch you at the station," he started, "talked about you," his lips curl into an almost smile as he huffed a laugh, barely noticeable under the dim light, "that's the problem, you gave them ideas."

Night goes on and you'll have to go back home eventually and feed your furry child, so you told him about it, he didn't immediately answer and lean forward against the table, “you in a hurry, or...?” He asked softly, showing you a rare smile on his face. "Obviously," you said, smirking at him.

You ended up in the backseat of his car, legs spread open as he settles in between, his belt unbuckled and slacks and boxer pulled down just enough to free his half hard cock. He leans down, his lips kissing and licking under your ear, to your neck, his hands moved to cup your clothed ass, lifting you up slightly so it'll be easier for him to fuck you.

“…Everybody there wants you,” he croaked out as he insert his cock into you, slowly and gently, like he is savoring the feeling rather than actually caring about you, “you don’t seem to notice, though." He began to move his hip slowly, gasping once a while, his lips would continue it's assault on your jaw and neck.

“You don’t look at me the same way," he stated, his hips moving slightly faster, "you're just so beautiful," he murmured softly, pulling away to look into your eyes, his movement suddenly became frantic, matching with how you thrust upward, meeting his in the middle. “And they don’t get this version of you,” he murmured as he leans his forehead against yours, "i do, i got it... And only i got it, right?"

Sophie is your bestie, but that doesn't mean you can tell her everything, and not to mention Mambrú hit on her a lot more rather than he did with you. B and Katya is not even an option, while Nikola is too young and too close with Mambrú and B, so Damir is your next best option to vent.

After a month of working for Aid Across Borders, safe to say you've developed a feeling for Mambrú, you saw it coming when he first hit on you with you, you told Damir about it. Then he told you not to have feelings for anyone, especially Mambrú, because that was just a way for Mambrú to cope with everything that's happening here, but still, your hopeless romantic ass just couldn't help it.

Like now, everyone is eating lunch, whatever they have left from last week ration, Sophie is content with eating her meal and looking at map in her left hand, B and Mambrú with Nikola between them, saying something about his ball, Katya away from the group doing her stuff, Damir sitting a few inches away from you. Observing your coworkers suddenly gives you weird theory, you looked at Damir and whispered his name, he turn to look at you, "what?" He asked with equally quiet voice.

"I have a theory, about Mambrú," you murmured softly, leaning a bit closer to Damir, "okay, tell me about your Mambrúlogy," he whispered playfully, leaning a bit closer to you. "I think that he tends to go for white girls. I mean… Look at his track record, Katya, and then there's Sophie,” you whispered conspiratorially, and before you can continue, suddenly Damir laughs so loud all attention is suddenly on both of you.

Your eyes widened as you slap his arm, "shut up, shut up, shut up, Damir," you whispered, your hand gripping onto his arm. B chuckled dryly, "oh, great. We’re all dying to know. Please, lovers, enlighten the group,” he said with his hands gesturing to you and Damir, you shake your head, "we're not lovers," you bursts out to B, "and it's nothing," you added meekly.

“That’s not ‘nothing.’ Come on, say it. We’ve got time before everything goes wrong again,” Mambrú said, his eyes intensely trained on you. Damir shakes his head, “no, no, it's a stupid theory. It’s completely stupid, you’ll regret hearing it, I promise," he told B and Mambrú. You look at Damir and slap his arm once more, "i hate you, Damir, that was not funny," you whispered seriously to him, he snickered and told you it was the most ridiculous theory ever.

Maybe at the time you were just too deep into your own misery, that you didn't notice Mambrú's gaze on you for the rest of the lunch time.

After dinner, this is the time where the night feels endless, and everyone is dreading tomorrow. To keep yourself busy, you decided to sort through ration, or whatever's left in the back of the Jeep. Check the date, if it's expired you'll toss them to a nearby empty crate, if it's still good then you'll stack it again. The task is repetitive, and it gives you time to actually stop thinking of Mambrú, at least that was until the man himself show beside you.

He began helping you through the ration, for a second you read the dates longer than before, why does he needs to be here? Why can't he gives you a time to not think about him? It's like the he decided ridicule you again and again. “So…" he started, his voice low and gravelly, the one that makes you squirm underneath, "you and Damir, that’s what that was?” he asked you. You didn't say anything, your brain just stopped functioning, even your hands stopped moving.

“… Forget it. That’s a stupid question,” he murmured softly this time, shaking his head, continue through the ration again. But something in you tells to reassure him, the need to make sure he knows that you and Damir were nothing at all, you turned to look at him, "no, were nothing, me and Damir... We're just friends, really."

He shoots you a look that clearly says, 'are you for real?' You shrugged your shoulders and pressed your points, "were just friends, really..." Trying to downplay the frantic beating of your heart. But nothing happened, you really thought he'll confess his feelings for you, or maybe kiss you, like in the romance book you've read to kill time.

"Is that so?" He asked, turning to look at you as he leans against the Jeep, “workplace relationships, always ends well,” he said sarcastically, shrugged his shoulder, turning back to the ration. "Why would you say that?" you asked him quietly, he gives an awkward smirk and shake his head, “I'm just saying.”

And just a few inches away from you and Mambrú, it seems like B have been paying attention too hard, “radio says we’ve got a problem, but hey, don’t rush. I’m sure your unresolved tension will fix it,” B called out sarcastically, and before you can do anything, Mambrú was already making a move, "coming, B."

A few days after that you noticed a change in Mambrú's demeanor, he stopped spending more time playing around with Sophie and Katya, even the usual personal insult he and Katya throw to each other is gone. What made you nervous is that he began to initiate more conversation with you, it's not supposed to be like this, because this is not the scenario you had in mind, WHY CAN'T HE LET YOU THINK ABOUT HIM IN PEACE?

The breaking point was after you spent s whole day sharing ration to the village with Damir accompanying you, you are tired, you haven't had enough sleep, you are hungry, you just need some time. But when you are leaning against the Jeep, battling wether you should take a bath now or tonight, Mambrú came over to you while smoking his cigarette, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with him, Damir," he murmured as he leans beside you against the Jeep, giving you a small distance.

"... You like that? His company?" He asked softly, exhaling the smoke away from you. At this point you are just so tired, confused, and upset, "why does it bother you so much?” You turned to face him, his eyes looking at the distance of what's left of a village, “I don’t get it,” he shakes his head, tossing th cigarette to the ground and crush it under his boot, “you’ve got options and you pick him?”

“What options, exactly?" You asked him, your eyebrows scrunched, at this point you don't even care if he is seeing a different version of you. "Me," he said, with a barely there smirk on his face, as if he just did something so out of this world. “You don’t get to call yourself an option when you’ve never even tried," you said sharper this time, stepping away to give him a distance, “… You never said you wanted me," you said softly.

He looks at you seriously, “I’m here, aren’t I?” And that was your last straw, you gasped and laughed dryly, “you stand there, say nothing, then act surprised I don’t read your mind?!” You asked him incredulously, "what are you? Five?!"

The smirk on his lips is gone, he is facing you but is avoiding eye contact, “I don’t say things... I’m not good at that," he murmured softly, you sighed and pinch the bridge of your nose, "im not Katya and don't treat me like you treated her," you told him, “If you mean something, say it properly... If you want me then earn me," you said softly, cringing internally, but you need him to understand that communication goes both ways.

That was afternoon, but now is dark, you and Mambrú is inside the Jeep. It's been the second time both of you are at it, your head low on the seat while your ass is up for him, “been wanting you for so long," he murmured gravelly, leaning down to press his broad chest against your back, “you make it hard, tch- shit... You know that?” He continues to thrust his hip onto you, his big cock lodges itself comfortably inside you, at this point you are sure you can remember every veins and ridge of him.

His hips thrusts faster now, meeting yours in the middle as you grind back against him, whining and whimpering under him, he bit your earlobe as his left hand dive under you to play with your clit, his right hand gripping your hips tightly to bruise it. You gasped as you feel the wave of orgasm crushing over you, his thrusts turning frantic before he finally stills, grinding onto you again and again, spurting his semen back home.

Two weeks after graduating highschool, now you are in a limbo of working part time at the Marchetti's, pizza restaurant in Scarborough, and writing essay for the University of Southern Maine. The option your parents gave to you, somewhere near and not too far, so you can always come home.

It was eight in the morning and the house is quiet, safe for the sound of your mom, Judy, singing to herself as she wash the dishes. You get out of your bedroom and went to the kitchen, immediately heading to the pantry to raid. "Well, good morning, Bugs," she said without looking up, "sleep good?" She asked affectionately, not bothered at all by the fact that you wake up late.

"Good, im going to Marchetti's at twelve," you said, leaning against the counter, biting a stale peep in your hand. Your job at Marchetti's isn't much, you'd clock in and wash the dishes, restocking ingredients, sometimes sneaking a bite of pepperoni, just for quality control. Then you'd assemble the pizza boxes, and more boxes for the sides.

If it wasn't for your father, you probably won't get this job. After all Marchetti's a family owned, but thanks to your father who is a good friend of the owner, a sun kissed Italian man well into his sixties, everybody call him Papa or Papa Nino.

This time you're alone in the kitchen, usually Gianni would be here with you, but apparently he was sick and is sleeping upstairs. And today it bothered you so much because you have the feeling of being watched. Which is something you've never really felt before, sometimes you're scared of the dark corners in the kitchen, but the feeling never linger, this time it did.

It reminds you of the Elswick case your father, Tom, is currently working on. He is knee deep into it and he have met and experience odd things lately. Suddenly the bell rings and a man comes in, wearing all black attire. You walk over to the counter, "Welcome to Marchetti's, what can i get for you?" You asked him.

His hair is jet black yet very thin, he looks at you, his head hunched down as he maintain eye contact, "you're the daughter, right? Nichols kid," he mumbled, his lips didn't move around much, though it looks like he is smirking shyly. "Your dad and me, we're the same, you know? Twins, same birthday, May 26th," he mumbled.

You didn't know him, you knew about the Elswick case, but Tom never explain much to you. When he was figuring things out with Judy in the kitchen, he let you be near, let you listen to him and Judy brainstorming, but never in. He never once slipped, all you know is that the victim is Summer Elswick, she has a boyfriend named Grady, and a shady ex named Gifford.

"... It must be a coincidence," you said quietly, feeling uncomfortable, your right hand under the counter gripping Nino's baseball bat that he kept there, just in case he always said. The man shakes his head rapidly with little to no movement, "Geminis, were a twins, basically."

"Hey, what's taking so long?" Nino shouted as he walk over to the counter, "can i help you?... Bro?" He asked to the man, the man shakes his head again, "... Im talking to her," he said. Nino sighed like he always did thousand of times, "you're at a counter. Counter means you order, or you go," Nino's voice stayed even, easy.

"Go back to the kitchen," Nino whispered to you, he tilt his head once. So you did without hesitation, as you walk you could hear the man insisting he still needs to talk to you, and Nino defend you.

After your shift, Nino insisted he drive you back home, using the long route too, he said that it's okay if you didn't want to go to work tomorrow, he'll let it slide after what had happened, the man gives him creeps. He walk with you until the front door and wait until Judy opened the door, he told a brief story of what had happened and drive back home.

7.34, your dad is back home, after a long day of investigation the Elswick case. "Hey, baby," he said as he comes into the kitchen, he kissed Judy's forehead, then he turned to look at you, "hey, how's it going, Bugs?" He asked softly, he comes over to the dining table and lean down to kiss your head. "Fine..." You said, putting down your phone, knowing that you'll have to talk about what happened at work eventually.

"Nino said some guy came and ask her weird stuff," Judy said as she turned off the stove, you sighed as you look away. Tom looks at you with worries all over his face, "what happened, Bunny?" He asked softly, you shrugged your shoulders, getting ready to tell them everything, because you know your dad wants the full detail, and he will ask questions if he's not satisfied.

Even before you began talking, Tom took out his notepad and pen, "go on," he said, Judy came and bringing two plates and put it in front of each of you, then she went back to the kitchen to retrieve her's, chicken parm with balsamic salad on the side. It looks delicious, but you didn't have the urge to eat it.

So you tell him about what happened once Judy joined the table. Started when you were lingering in the kitchen and the feeling you had, then the man comes in, Tom asked you how the man looks like. Thin jet black hair, like he just dyed it you said, Tom write a few things down and ask, "how'd you know he just dyed it?" He asked, you shrugged your shoulders and told him about the black residue near his neck.

Tom nodded his head, "atta girl," he waits for you to continue. You told him about what he said, the same birthday, twin, Geminis, whatever it is you remembered. He put his notepad down, "you're not going to work tomorrow," he insisted, Judy nodded her head, "yeah, Nino said the same thing, babe."

That night, three of you cuddle on the couch, it was packing, but Judy insisted. Suddenly you remembered being a kid again, you remember that your parents seemed older than your friends parents. Judy was in her early thirties when she had you, Tom was in late thirties. But they're affectionate, and they always show that they love you, through words and action.

So you didn't go to work, you had read Tom's book about crime, after all you had decided to be a defense attorney. You remembered the first time you told Tom and Judy about it, Judy was okay with it, but not Tom. It took you a few times to convince him that you're so sure about it.

That night Tom comes home, looking like he had seen a ghost, tie loosened. "I think I met the guy you were talking about, Bugs," he said as he shakes his head. Judy looks a him with confusement, "that creep?" she asked, Tom nodded his head, "Eli Phillips."

"So who is he?" You asked, Tom looks at you for a moment, debating whether he should tell you or not. "No... He's tied to the case... Not literally," he said, he noticed the disappointment look on your face when he didn't tell you the details, "sorry Bugs, not now... I'd rather you don't know anything about this case."

"But im a future defense attorney," you pressed, "I should know at least a thing or two about cases like this, dad." Tom shakes his head, he looks at Judy, then back at you, "i know, but not this one, Bugs," he said, he leans down and kiss your head and ruffles your hair.

That was two weeks ago, the case finally ended, not in a normal way. Tom finally tell you everything about the case, "let this be a lesson for you, future attorney," he had told you after telling everything, down to the details. And Tom earned his medal of valor, including the twenty grand, which he used to rent a cozy cabin for a week long vacation. But of course he saved some to buy a new car.

You're just sitting on the couch, staring at the TV displaying a picture of Van Gogh's, something, you didn't know the name of it. Judy joined to sit beside you, leaning her head on your shoulder. "What are you thinking, Bugs?" She asked softly, "nothing much," you told her, "i just never thought that Allen would be like that... He was so kind to me."

Before Judy can say anything else Tom joined to sit beside you, "the grill is ready, we can catch some fish," he said, "or buy some," he smirks lightly. "You okay, Bugs?" He looks at you, you nodded your head, "yeah, of course."

Boyfriend Harold always makes promises but always break them. He'd make up by giving you your favorite snacks, he didn't even say sorry or anything. he'll make up a reason and said he won't do it again next time or say "I said I was busy, why are you making this a thing?"

Boyfriend Harold will ignore you before he disappear for a few days, when he shows up again he would spend all his time with you. He'd show up in your front door, "missed you," he said with that tiredness. "What? You're not happy to see me?" he asked, once you caves in he'll initiate sex, cuddles and kisses, as if he didn't just give you a cold shoulder.

Boyfriend Harold will stalk you if you didn't answer your phone on the fifth ring. He'd call again as he is on the way to your apartment, he knocked and nobody answer. The next location would be your favorite cafe, if you're not there then at your favorite club, with your friends. Once he got in he would walk around the dancefloor trying to search you. After he spotted you, he'll walk closer and wrap his arms around your waist, "having fun?"

Boyfriend Harold will give you silent treatment after you did something to make him mad. Even if you're clinging onto him, crying, if he's still mad at you nothing can change his mind. Once he's had enough he'll ask if you've learned your lesson, and make you promise that you won't do it again.

Boyfriend Fenster understand all your moods, including your bad mood, when you'd talk to him with sharp words, cancel plans last minute when he already showed up, he just shrugged his shoulders and try to find a way to pamper you. He'd say sorry, for whatever it is he does to bother you, he just wants to see that look on your face when you had enough of distance, and he'll fix it with cuddles.

Boyfriend Fenster loves that you are fluent in his language, sometimes he'd test you by talking about something important between his mumbles, and you understand him. He loves it even more when he was about to explain something to someone, and you intervene to tell that someone about what he wants to say, and you're always right. It always turns him on.

Boyfriend Fenster likes it when you make him beg, even for simple things. Like when he asked you to make his comfort food, you told him that you didn't want to because you've got a recipe you want to try. So he begged, mumbles of pleases and promises of something good in return. It thrilled him if you insisting on saying no, he'll look at you with his puppy eyes and get on his knees for you.

Boyfriend Fenster likes to be in control in bed, but he won't stop you if you take over. Like when you decided what position you want, commanding him to move like this and like that, faster, harder. Especially when you took his hand and moved it somewhere on your body, on your neck, it gives him the feeling that you trust him enough for it.

Boyfriend Fenster gets jealous if he finds out you were masturbating, when he moved in with you he throw out the vibrator you kept in the drawer. You can't be mad at him because he looks cute when he insisted that you won't be needing any toys to pleasure yourself, use him.

Boyfriend Fenster likes to keep his eyes on you at any functions. Gathering with your family, he was talking to your brother and cousins. They didn't quite understand what he's talking about, but they include him anyway. And his eyes kept drifting towards you and the people around you, just in case.