#stack moore x oc

It wasn’t supposed to happen, that night hadn’t meant to end the way it did and yet it constantly replayed in his head. He had already grown too attached before she even stepped foot in his house. He’d stay up waiting for her FaceTime calls, always checked his phone to see if she texted him, stalked her socials for any new pictures she’d posted.

Elias was down bad and he knew it, then that night happened and now he was borderline obsessed.

His thoughts were filled with nothing but her.

Daisy had a hold on him and she didn’t even know it.

-

Stack had made sure to double and even triple check with Daisy, to make sure she was absolutely positive that he could post the video of the two of them.

She told him yes every time.

So he sat at his desktop and edited it. He stared at the thumbnail, her pretty face smiling shyly at him and a part of him almost didn’t want to post it, he felt possessive.

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he prepared to post a snippet on Twitter but then he stops, watches the clip, eyes wide with lust and jealousy.

The mouse hovered over the delete button, heart racing in a way that meant that he cared about this way too much, which meant the way he felt about her was deeper than he thought.

Stack groaned out loud, like it physically pained him to do it. He needed the content seeing as he hadn’t posted in weeks and Daisy was practically giving him the easy way out. No need to schedule a meet up with another creator, no need for contracts, no need for managers to get involved. Nothing.

“I’m doing too much.” He mumbled to himself before finally posting it.

-

The days that followed after that had been hectic, the video had gone viral. It was the most views Stack had ever gotten. Comments flooded his Twitter account every second of the day.

“Damn this was intense.”

“We need more videos with her.”

“Are you guys dating?”

“Yeah this is your best video yet.”

“Have kept this video on repeat.”

People speculated about the two and yet they both ignored it. He read the comments, people saying that they looked like they were in love.

Something about that bothered him, whether it was because it was true or because it wasn’t. He didn’t know.

Stack had tried to stay off the internet after that. He couldn’t deal with the assumptions because in all honesty, he didn’t know what this meant for the both of them.

It wasn’t like he was scared to ask, he was more scared of what’ll happen afterwards. Whether good or bad, a part of him didn’t feel like he was ready for it.

-

Daisy tried to return back to her normal life but she felt restless. She couldn’t stop thinking about Elias even if she tried. He showed up in her dreams and in places she thought were only reserved for her alone.

She had only known love in the form of family, pets and friends. Her past lovers hadn’t ever been able to pull that out of her despite how badly she wanted it. Daisy wanted nothing more than to be in love and to feel it in a romantic sense and yet, it never happened.

Daisy didn’t want to admit she liked Elias or maybe she didn’t want to admit that she liked him more than she thought she did. Her body craved to be around him, it missed him even when he was near and it was driving her insane.

They spent more time together, even without meaning to. He’d show up at her house unannounced with food and wine.

She’d show up in his vlogs and whenever he went live.

-

“Y’all Daisy making me watch this lame ass anime called Saiki” Stack chopped onions on the wooden cutting board, camera capturing his broad shoulders and right behind him, Daisy sitting on his kitchen island. It was a random Saturday, Stack dragged her out of her house and forced her to keep him company while he meal prepped for the week.

“It’s not lame! And you like it, clearly. You always talking about it.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

Stack turned his head to look at her, “yeah so that I can have a reason to keep talking to you.”

Daisy lowered her head, face turning a light pink. “Shut up.” She mumbled and Stack couldn’t help but laugh.

-

“Daisy, I’m not wearing that shit.” He glared at her as she held up the sexy Santa costume in her hand.

“Why not? I think they’d like to see you in it, no?”

Stack rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. “If you wanna see me half naked, you could just ask mama.”

Daisy sucked in a breath. “Stack shut up.” She turned away from him and the camera, face hot from embarrassment.

He smirked in triumph before grabbing the costume. “Matter fact, yeah. I’m putting this on. Come on.”

Daisy’s eyes widened in fear. “Okay. No. It was a joke.”

“Nah I’m not playing. Come on.”

“I’m going home.”

“No you’re not.” Stack laughed, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the cash register. The sales clerk tried her hardest to keep a poker face as she rang up the silly costume, meanwhile Daisy was on the verge of passing out.

“You’re not seriously wearing that, right?” Daisy huffed as they both left the store.

“I am. Ima save it for a special occasion. You gon walk in and just see me in this.”

“Oh hell no. I’m never coming over again.” Stack cackled as he watched her walk ahead towards the car.

-

“Chat she’s forcing me to buy her shit.” Stack complained to the camera as they walked around the mall.

“Um no. You broke my favorite mug so you owe me.” Daisy shrugged.

A slick smirk sat on the corner of Stack’s mouth. “You right. I owe you.”

“Exactly” Daisy commented. He watched her smile for a little too long before turning his head back to the camera.

“She a little too happy to be spending my money.”

Daisy giggled and rolled her eyes. “You offered. I just simply complied… now let’s go get my nails done.” She wiggled her fingers in front of his face before walking ahead.

Stack chuckled, amused and enamored with how much more confident she was around him and the camera. His continence constantly tempted with every slick comment she threw at him.

Back at his house, Stack had the camera propped up while he prepped to make dinner. His eyes skimmed the comments, everybody asking about Daisy and her fresh set.

“Daisy, come here mama. They wanna see what you got.” He called out to her. She popped up at his side with her cheeks tinted a light pink. Still not used to him calling her that randomly.

“Um okay.” She giggled shyly as Stack angled the camera towards her hands that showed her acrylic nails painted a soft pink with white polka dots.

“Show em ya toes.” He mumbled. His body too close to hers.

Daisy sat on the kitchen counter while Stack grabbed his camera and pointed them at her feet. “They match my nails.” She squealed.

Stack smiled before grabbing her foot. He placed a kiss on top of it before turning his head back to the camera. “They cute right?”

“Staaackkkk” Daisy whined, trying to remove her foot from his grip but he was too strong. He just laughed while her face burned in embarrassment.

“What? You gon act brand new like I don’t be kissing ya feet?”

The chat had erupted, everybody wondering when the two were finally going to admit that they were dating.

“Shut up.” Daisy mumbled and Stack shook his head.

-

By the start of the week the news was already announcing the huge snow storm that was set to hit Chicago starting Friday. Schools were already canceling classes and jobs were sending out memos to let everyone know they’ll be working remote.

Daisy had barely payed attention to the warnings that were constantly being sent to her phone. Her mom reminding her to get groceries, her best friend telling her to close her windows, her co workers all texting in the group chat about the amount of money they’ve spent on toiletries and other necessities.

All of it flew right past her head, as her mind was wrapped up on one thing only. Elias Moore.

That’s why when he showed up at her door, face serious in a way she’s never seen before, and told her to pack a bag and go with him, she did so absentmindedly.

Daisy wasn’t a stranger to Stack’s weird shenanigans, sometimes he’d hold her hostage and make her go with him on a five hour drive just for some donuts he was craving. Other times, he’d lie and say he was sick and needed her to take care of him just so she’d go over his house and stay the night. He’d wrap his arms around her tightly, even in his sleep. It was nights like that, that had Daisy wondering what exactly they were doing. This was past a friendship and yet the two hadn’t kissed or touched since that day.

Daisy sat in his passenger seat, confused but quiet. Stack noticed her energy but said nothing. He’d already made up his mind on how the evening was going to go and so with that, he drove in silence. Soft r&b played throughout his car speakers but the tension in the car couldn’t be soothed.

Stack remained equanimous the whole ride. They drove past the city, past his apartment and everything that looked like civilization. The sun cleared a path for them to follow, warming up the roads one last time before the storm eventually came through.

“You good?” It was the first words he’d say to her in the last two hours.

“Um yea.” She answered, her voice small and unconvincing. “Where are we going?”

Stack smirked slightly, stealing a quick look before focusing back on the road. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

She nodded her head, choosing to drop the subject because she knew Stack wouldn’t cave if she persisted for answers.

By the time they arrived, Daisy had fell asleep and woke up to the sound of gravel under the wheels. They were in the middle of the woods, her eyes drifted to a huge cabin that sat next to a small guest house.

“Uh… Elias? What are we doing here?” She got out of the car slowly, watching as he made his way to the trunk to pull out their bags.

“I told you. It’s a surprise.” He had a small smile sitting on his lips as he walked to the guest house, motioning for her to follow.

The sun had already set and her stomach growled as they took a tour of the place.

“Hungry?” Stack asked her.

“Yeah. Anything to eat in here?”

They made their way to the kitchen. The fridge was already stocked with snacks and fruits.

“Grab something from here then head upstairs to your room to get ready. I’ll be making dinner in the cabin.”

Daisy’s eyes widened in confusion. “What are you talking about? Get ready for what?”

“You’ll see. I left you some clothes upstairs to change into. Meet me in the cabin when you’re done.” He leaned down, kissed her forehead and then walked outside, leaving her with even more questions than she already had.

The room was comfortable, soft white walls and fresh sheets. On the bed sat two large boxes that she immediately recognized.

“What the fuck?” She whispered to herself as she opened the first black box. There sat a silk, dark red, long sleeve dress. The front had a low cut, designed to show off your chest with a small Versace clip right in the middle.

She scoffed in disbelief.

Daisy had been obsessing over this dress for weeks. So much so that she kept trying to justify the ridiculous price. Stack had told her to just pull the trigger, buy herself something she truly wanted for once but Daisy kept going back and forth it until one day it was sold out.

She anxiously typed her email to join the waitlist for the restock, frustrated with herself for not getting it sooner. Eventually she let it go, decided it wasn’t meant to be.

But Stack seemed to know Daisy more than she knew herself and so while he still was trying to convince her to buy the dress, he had already went and purchased it.

Daisy grabbed her toiletries bag, the smile she held on her face refused to go away even while she freshened up. The butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t settle while she tried to convince herself that this was nothing more than another one of Stacks stupid videos or silly little prank.

But it definitely didn’t feel like that. This felt different.

She did her makeup to the sounds of D’Angelo, trying to calm her nerves that were practically eating her alive.

Daisy held the dress in her hands, shaking her head slightly at the audacity of that man before stepping into it, and then sliding on the heels that he also bought to match. Her hair was already done, soft curls surrounding her head, freshly dyed a honey blonde.

Her hands shook and her steps slightly faltered as she walked down the stairs. It had been close to two hours since she last heard anything from Stack and so with a deep breath, she stepped outside and quickly walked to the main cabin.

The snow had already started falling, creating a thick layer of white on the ground, but Daisy’s focus was far from that.

She opened the door and immediately was engulfed by the smell of food. The cabin was warm, filled with light green walls and mahogany wood.

On the floor were rose pedals that she followed to the living room. On the TV played reruns of pictures that the two of them had taken, one in particular being the morning they woke up after that night. Daisy smiled, her eyes roaming around the room that had multiple bouquets of her favorite flower. Lillies.

“Oh my God” she whispered, leaning down to smell them. “Elias!”

She called out to him, following the red path that led to the dining room. Stack stood by the table, small smile sitting on his lips. Two plates full of vodka pasta and a glass of red wine awaited her.

“You look… gorgeous.” His eyes trailed her from the top of her head down to the tip of her toes. “Wow.” He breathed out. “Um…I ain’t know what to make you. I bought a bunch of groceries and then panicked when it came down to figuring something out.” His eyes nervously darted between the food and her.

Daisy’s face was flushed, biting her lip to keep her smile from spreading. “You’re lucky you’re a good cook. I’ll let it slide.”

Stack shook his head with a slight chuckle. He walked over to her side and slid the chair back for her before returning back to his seat.

Daisy’s fingers slightly shook and her breathing kept skipping. She didn’t know what to say or do and so she sat in the silence, waiting for Stack to lead.

“I um— I wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, properly wine and dine you but the snow storm ruined everything and to be honest… I just couldn’t wait another day.”

“Couldn’t wait another day for what?” Daisy’s eyebrows furrowed. She tried to look normal, play it off as if she was prepared for whatever was happening but Stack saw right through her.

“We should eat first. Don’t want the food to get cold.” He smiled like he was hiding secrets behind it. Daisy just simply nodded before picking up her fork and digging in.

They made small talk, about the weather, her job and his new camera that he just bought. She scolded him for buying the dress, he rolled his eyes and pretended like he actually took her threats seriously.

By the time the pasta was done and they were three cups of wine in, the air in the dining room suddenly became suffocating. The tension eased itself into their space, tightening at even the slightest change of breath from either of them. Stack stared at her with the weight of a thousand unsaid words and a shiver ran down her spine while she tried to maintain eye contact.

“Elias… w-what is this all about?” She chewed on her bottom lip, picking at the bit of skin she felt.

He cleared his throat and then stood up. Stack began grabbing the dirty dishes and placing them in the dishwasher, letting her question hang on for longer than she could handle. He poured them one more glass of wine though he already felt slightly light headed and a bit tipsy but his mind was clear. He knew what he was doing.

Stack walked over to Daisy’s side of the table and extended his hand. He felt her hands trembling as she placed it on top of his.

“Cold?”

“No” she mumbled, embarrassed at how nervous she was.

He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “You’re okay, you know that right? You’re safe with me. Always.”

Daisy nodded, not trusting her mouth to produce a correct sentence.

Stack took a sip of his drink before setting it down and grabbing her other hand. They were close enough to where she could see the way his eyebrow slightly twitched and he could see her pulse thumping from her neck.

“Elias.” She whispered, not being able to take the suspense.

“For the past few weeks I’ve been going fucking crazy tryna figure out a way to tell you how I feel. Shit. I even asked my brother what I should do and I rarely listen to that nigga.” He chuckled slightly. “I ain’t realize how scared I was to say how I feel about you, out loud, up until this moment right now.”

“I ain’t realize that me going crazy to plan this perfect moment with you was a sign of how nervous I was - am.”

Their eyes locked. Stack took a deep breath, steadying himself like his brother taught him too. He still held her hands, a bit tighter now.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush because I’ve never done that with you… Daisy I’m in love with you and I have been for a while.”

Daisy stood frozen in a state of disbelief.

“I can’t get you out my head no matter how much I try. Not that I’m even trying to anyways.” Stack pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “It’s like an obsession that I have with you and I’m tired of running from it. Tired of acting like this ain’t something special. Like you don’t mean more to me than you already know… I want you. Wholeheartedly. I want it all. You hearing me Daisy?”

“Y—yes” She managed to whisper. “I— I’m in love with you too, Elias.”

-

The snow outside had gotten more aggressive. It packed on, building thick inches of white on the ground. The news officially sent out warnings for everybody to stay inside and to remain warm.

Daisy tightened her arms around Stacks neck, back arching off of the bed as beads of sweat rolled down the smooth of her skin.

“Say it. Let me hear you say it again.” Stack thrusted slowly into her tight walls, making sure he was balls deep before pulling out and doing it again.

Daisy’s legs shook as she whimpered into his ear. “I love you, Elias. I love you.”

He groaned in response, hips now moving a bit faster just so he could watch her tremble under him. His thumb drew circles around her clit, making her cream around his dick.

“Oh my—fuck.” She moaned, turning her head to the side and biting her lip. The pleasure was too much to handle.

“Nah. Don’t hide from me. Let me see you. Keep your eyes on me mama.” He grabbed her jaw, turning her head to face him. Her eyes were watery and wide, full of lust and adoration. “Mhmm just like. Good girl baby.”

His thrusts picked up speed while this thumb remained at a steady pace. “Look at how good you’re taking me.” Stack leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers before their lips met in a soft kiss that didn’t match the way he was fucking her. “So fucking perfect.”

“E—Elias. I’m gonna … cum. Fuck!” Daisy’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she let out a scream. Her squirt drenched Stack but he kept going.

“I want another one. You gon give it to me? You gon make daddy proud?”

Daisy nodded, completely dazed and covered in goosebumps.

“Nah I wanna hear you. Let me hear that voice I love so much baby.” He leaned back but remained close enough to keep kissing her. Thumb still playing with her button while his hips continued moving. “Talk to me. Come on, you can do it.”

“Yesssssssss. Yesss daddy.” Daisy sobbed. Her body shook, already overstimulated but Stack was nowhere near done.

She came again before her body could even process what was going on. She twisted away from Stack but he held her in place, still giving her the same deep strokes that had her seeing stars.

Daisy cried, finger nails leaving fresh scratches on his back. “I can’t. I can’t Elias. I can’t.” She tried to run but Stack wouldn’t allow it.

“Yes you can. You not giving up on me right baby?” His dick still slid in and out of her stretched hole, his thumb still moving on her clit. “Show daddy how messy you can get.”

Daisy’s mouth hung open in a silent scream, clear liquid painting Stack until he was practically covered in it.

She panted under him, hands still gripping his back while her body tried to settle down. Stack placed kisses around her face and down the sweaty crevices of her neck. He made his way to her perked nipples, placing one his mouth while his hands soothed past the smooth of her skin.

“Elias.” Daisy whispered. “Baby.”

He hummed, looking up at her eyes that were already drooping from exhaustion. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Stack laid sideways, pulling her to his chest and bringing her leg to sit on top of his waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, whimpering at the feel of his dick rubbing against her swollen folds.

Stack’s eyes remained connected to hers as he slowly slid inside of her abyss that was still so wet and warm.

They moaned into each other’s mouths, their eyes connected while he sensually thrusted into her. Stack held the back of her head, keeping her face close to his.

“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned, gripping her hair to keep him from falling over the edge.

Daisy’s eyes kept rolling back every time he was fully inside of her. His dick kissed her g spot with every move he made, making her legs twitch continuously. “Shiiiiiit” she sobbed, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks.

“What’s my name? Hm?” Stack grabbed her face, bringing them closer together.

“Daddyyyyyyy”

“Mhmm say it again. Louder.” His pace never changed and Daisy’s body shook with the need to cum again.

“Daddy, daddy fuck please!”

He leaned in and kissed her. “You’re mine Daisy, you listening to me? Ima make you cum till you can’t even do so much as look at another nigga.”

Her jaw dropped, breaths coming out in short gasps.

“So fucking perfect. I can’t get enough.” Stack groaned, moving faster as he felt the build up. “You stuck with me, you know that? I ain’t letting you go.”

“Yesssss, yess I know baby. Fuck! I—I love you. I’m all yours.”

Stack whimpered at the sound of her voice breaking. She couldn’t stop crying, body arched and shaking from being overstimulated.

“Cum in me please. I’m all yours. All yours please.” Daisy begged, as her body finally snapped.

“All mine. All fucking mine. Take all this nut baby. Good girl” Stack gripped her hips as he emptied himself inside of her. His face was buried in her neck, moaning her name over and over again.

Daisy came right after, her juices flowing out of her like a faucet. She cried out his name. Her hands grabbed onto his chest in hopes to bring herself back down to earth

They stayed glued together, Stack still inside of her and Daisy still twitching. He rubbed her back, enjoying the feel of her warm skin touching him.

He placed a barely there kiss to her shoulder. “I love you.” He whispered.

Daisy smiled, all 32 shining in the dark room. “I love you too.”

-

Tag list

Elias then rips the door open, and the sight before you makes you feel sick.

A dead man, right in front of the door’s threshold, with blood pooling from his neck’s bitten arteries.

Then you see her—

Mary.

But now, she has crimson coating her lips down to the low collar of her dress. She has countless bullet holes in her body, yet she still stands as strong as a statue. Elijah stands a few feet in front of her alongside Sammie; the twin heaves and a mixture of frustration and anger is radiating from him.

Mary snaps her head in your direction and smirks as if nothing had even happened. You notice the glowing of her eyes, making you shrink even more behind Elias—if that’s even possible.

She does a double take between you and the Moore’s before speaking. “We gon’ kill every last one of ya,” she then sprints out of Club Juke faster than a jackrabbit.

The joint is empty, save for Annie, the Chows, Pearline, and Delta Slim, who run over to the scene.

“What the hell happened?” Annie exclaims. Sammie stutters out the events that occurred, but you find yourself tuning it out.

Mary had killed a man. But not with a weapon—no knife, no gun—but with her own teeth. That glow—that agility even after being shot up more than a hunted deer in the woods.

“We?”…She said "we?” Annie mutters. The thought makes you shiver.

More of those evil souls, with glowering gazes and monster-like movements.

How many were there? Were they just as strong as Mary? Stronger, even?

Your mind was going a mile a minute, as you pondered the endless possibilities of what these people things may have in store.

As if he could read your thoughts, Elias fully turns to you and grabs your upper arms. “Nobody gon hurt’chu, I’ll make sure o’ it,” he murmurs tenderly; he’s still firm and sure.

Elias has kept you towards the back of the joint, sitting pretty on the stage while everyone clambers about. You tried to explain to him that you weren’t some little girl who needed to be guarded, but Elias wasn’t hearing a word. His overprotectiveness both made your eyes roll and your heart flutter in your chest.

After sitting there long enough to make your butt hurt, you faintly hear a voice coming from outside the joint. You see Elias and Elijah share a look, before heading to the doors. Sammie almost immediately follows, holding onto Pearline’s hand; Slim, Grace, Bo and Annie reluctantly follow along.

The doors open and you hear Elijah talking to whoever resides on the other end of the threshold. You decide that sitting down isn’t in your best interest.

You’re getting up to stretch your legs—not because you can’t fight the urge to be nosy.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

The closer you get to the door, the more you start to pick up on the voice of the unknown individual.

You can tell it’s a man by the riveting baritone waves of sound. For some reason, his voice resonates within you. The familiarity of his tone nestles deeply between your bones and echoes inside of your skull, all you can feel now is pure, and utter confusion.

After finally getting close enough to peer out the door through the small herd of bodies, your breath catches in your throat. Your heart begins to pound wildly, and you press a hand to your frame in hopes of taming it.

The way that his eyes dart to you makes you feel as if he had a sixth sense dedicated to you. You knew that face all too well.

You almost missed the way that the pupils of his bright blue eyes flickered from a radiant red, back to their normal black shade.

Keyword: almost.

What you didn’t miss, however, was how his shirt, suspenders, and his chain were all caked in blood.

Fuck—was he one of them?

Your thoughts are interrupted once he speaks, “Mo ghrá..” He murmurs. The group parts like the red sea, making it so that you could see him clearly. You’d be lying if you said that hearing his sweet, breathy tone didn’t make your knees weak.

“My love..”

“Remmick..” You murmur, your voice not louder than a whisper in the wind. Your gaze is set on the Irish man, and you miss the confused, yet almost pained look written on Elias’ face.

Remmick’s grin grows tenfold, “I-I knew we’d cross paths again, darlin’.” Your face feels as if it were on fire as everyone looks between both you and Remmick, as if the two of you had grown two heads.

“Chaill mé thú, mo chuisle,” he murmurs, yet it sounds so much louder amongst the silence.

“I missed you, my pulse,”

You shake your head frantically, “No—no, you—you were gone, Remmick.”

Remmick tilts his head at you slightly and furrows his brows, “An-and I missed ya every damn day, darlin’. Believe me when I say that.” He puts his hands out as if he were trying to calm a startled animal.

You lip quivers and your eyes start to burn, your vision grows blurry, but you quickly blink your tears away.

“You’re the one I came for,” he chuckles breathily. “Yeah—yeah, you, a-and...” Remmick pauses once Sammie steps beside you, “Sammie,” he drags out sinisterly, his eyes shining red yet again.

You can’t help but shift and bring yourself in front of Sammie, almost as a way to protect the younger boy.

“I sensed you—I sensed you both. I want to see my people again.” It’s like Remmick was boring into your soul as he spoke. “I’m trapped here…But your gifts can bring them to me.”

Your gaze shifts to Elias, who stands next to his brother as they both keep a hand on their respective weapons. Remmick claps his hands together, diverting your attention back to him.

He did it on purpose.

“Y’all give ‘em to me, now,” Remmick’s tone feigns innocence, “Just give me a lil’ Sammie, and my lass—we’ll let y’all live.” His pleading sounds more threatening if anything. Elias tightens his grip on his dagger and looks at you both wearily and fiercely. It’s sure as hell not because his life was just threatened, and Remmick seems to take note of this.

Remmick cocks a brow at Elias and smirks, “Oh…You ‘n her?” He trails off, pointing his finger between you and Elias. He averts his attention back to you and chortles, “You done replaced me, baby?”

You furrow your brows with a sudden wave of anger, “No–don’t give me that. You were gone for years! Y-you left me!” Your voice grows, your agitation wraps around your words and seeps into the night sky.

“Yet my undead heart still beats for you, and you only.” He speaks slowly and squints his eyes at you, almost in disbelief at your defiance. His smile quickly returns to his face, but instead of making you feel warm, and fuzzy as it once did, it makes you feel nervous, and even scared.

“Y’know what? That’s alright, darlin’. Yeah…I hope he been lovin’ you the way you needed,” he pauses and damn near giggles. “‘Cause ole’ Rem is back now, baby. ‘N once I getcha, I ain’t fixin’ to leave ya, ever again.”

“That’s enough,” Elijah grumbles, before stepping in front of you. Your chest feels tight, and you hide yourself within the back of the group as they all stand next to Elijah, before you eventually walk back to the end of the juke joint.

“They belong to us—they belong with us,” you hear Slim state firmly.

“‘N I ain’t gonna let that happen.” Elijah spit.

There’s a tremble in your step as you inch closer to the wooden platform. You can practically feel Elias’ anger radiating all the way from the barn’s opening to where you sat—a jittering mess.

Would Elias think of you differently now?

In all honesty, you know you did no wrong. I mean, did he expect you to only keep yourself company while he was off doing God knows what with dozens of women every day in Chicago for seven whole years?

It’s not like you shared a bed with Remmick; the thought had crossed your mind once or twice, but no matter what, your heart still belonged to Elias.

A part of you truly wishes that you could’ve pushed your feelings aside to allow Remmick to love you in ways nobody had. He was one of the kindest spirits you’ve ever encountered, and you had always fancied his promises of eternal love and life.

You couldn’t stray too far from Elias, despite how hard you tried, your soul wouldn’t allow it.

The commotion dies down, but the sound of heavy, quick footsteps does not—unfortunately for you. You don’t even know why you’re worried, but your heart’s restless beating doesn’t falter for a minute.

You look up at him and his face shows more than just mild irritation. You can’t tell if Elias is mad at you—for whatever reason—or at the fact that his first night back in the Delta was ruined…Maybe it’s both?

“Y’told me I was the only man you been with? What–so you was lyin’ t’me?” Elias wastes no time in interrogating you. You can see the group looking your way behind Elias, but once they meet your gaze, they disperse. Elias clears his throat once he notices your attention diverted.

You scoff, “No, ‘Lias! When I said I only been with you, I meant it!”

“So what was that? He over here callin’ you baby ‘n shit for no reason, then?” He throws his hands up in disbelief, letting them then slap the sides of his thigh.

“Okay–yes I dated him! But me ‘n him didn’t do nun, believe me when I tell ya, Elias.” You say with a sigh of irritation.

Elias’ face darkens, you can both see and sense the new-found tension pulsing. “So..He ain’t ever touch this body of yours? That’s whatcha sayin?” He inches closer to you, making you stand up on the stage to somewhat match his height.

You look down at him slightly as your faces remain close together, “I ain’t a liar,” you whisper.

And with that, Elias grabs you by your waist, hoisting you off of the stage and over his shoulder. You paw at his back as you let out a squeal, which sounds more like a screech.

Nobody seems to acknowledge the pair of you heading back to the very same room you were in earlier in the night, or at least they choose not to speak on it.

Nobody but Elijah.

He saw the grip that Elias had on you as he walked, his stride oozing both confidence and exasperation.

‘One track mind, that boy’, he thinks to himself.

As much as Elijah wanted to scold his brother for fooling around at a time like this, he thinks that maybe it’d be best if Elias got some weight lifted off of his shoulders. Maybe then he’d be more willing to come up with a plan with the group rather than going outside and trying to fight some haint and his army.

So, Elijah glares at his twin brother’s back before shifting his focus onto his gun in need of loading.

You watch as Elias kicks the door shut, before suddenly, you’re laying on your back once again. You gasp at his abruptness, but Elias doesn’t utter a word.

“Elias,” you sound as if you’re begging, but you don’t exactly know what it is that you’re begging for.

He lowers himself down, resting on one knee as he pushes your dress up, similarly to how he did a few hours prior.

“Baby,” you whisper, trying to push his head away from in-between your legs.

“This ain’t f’you, it’s f’me,” Elias finally utters. “I wanna taste what he couldn’t have.”

And with that, Elias plunges his warm, hot tongue inside of you; he doesn’t tease, which is unlike how he behaved with you earlier.

Elias’ filthy actions are unabated, and your efforts in pushing him away by his shoulders never cease.

‘This ain’t f’you, it’s f’me’

Elias’ words echo throughout your damn-near empty mind.

And he wasn’t lying, because no matter how much you cry out to him for mercy and even forgiveness, he doesn’t let up.

You’re breathless as he continues to fuck your cunt with his tongue. You beg him for a second to regain your bearings, but you know that even if he’d attempt to stop, you wouldn’t let him.

“Mmf—‘Lias, please!” You mewl. “Please—please, please! Have m-mercy!”

The way his finger swirls around your sensitive bud sends your body into what feels like shock. You don’t even notice you’re crying until you feel the hot tears trail down your puffy cheeks.

You sniffle and babble weakly, and Elias chuckles. His rhythm feels ingrained into your brain; the way his tongue flutters in and out quickly as his finger pad rolls even quicker.

The heat between your legs is ever-growing, as well as the pulsing ache that ripples throughout your core. Your back muscles arch instinctively off of the table; you think your bellybutton might just touch one of the twinkling stars in the dark night sky.

It doesn’t take long for you to start reaching your climax, you couldn’t even hold it if you tried due to Elias’ earlier endeavors.

“‘Lias please—I can’t! I—” You hiccup through your sobs, “I can’t take no more!”

You squeeze your eyes shut so tight you start to see colors circulating through the darkness. You sniffle and cry feebly as you lie helplessly on the table.

“That right?” Elias questions you, and it’s the first words that he’s spoken to you in minutes.

You nod your head up and down vigorously as you continue to cry, and then

Elias stops.

You let out a broken gasp once the warmness of Elias’ face is replaced with an icy chill that you didn’t even think you’d feel in Mississippi.

“No! Nonono—‘Lias please, m’beggin’ ya!” Another sob rips violently through your chest, which feels like it’s been caved in.

Elias peers at you, his expression unreadable, “Thought’cha couldn’t take it?” You try to speak but all Elias can make out are jumbled words and sharp inhales. Elias sits you up, and for a second, you think he’s going to walk out.

But then he sits on the edge of the table and slides you onto his lap.

More specifically: one of his thighs.

You look at him teary-eyed as another droplet trickled down your face. He notices this, and slightly sticks his glistening tongue out, licking the teardrop clean from your face. He does it with little force—such little bite compared to how he obnoxiously slurped against you minutes before. You barely felt his tongue, but his breath fanning over the side of your face made you heat right up.

Elias kisses your neck, lightly, but still present. “I ain’t givin’ you nun else,” he murmurs as he trails up to your chin.

“Why?” You whisper meekly. “What’d I do, ‘Lias? Talk t’me.” Despite your given situation, you still spoke to him with such tenderness.

If he wasn’t trying to prove a point, Elias maybe would’ve even swooned, which is so unlike him.

You make him feel like a different man entirely. You don’t throw yourself at him like the other women he’s encountered—the ones that give themself away for cheap. Despite how shy you were around him, you still held yourself with so much confidence, never arrogance.

It made Elias want to chase you.

He would’ve if he hadn’t been away.

He would’ve if there wasn’t underlying fear in his heart. Fear that you moved on with someone else, someone different than him.

Or maybe you wouldn’t even want him.

God, that’s why he can’t even begin to describe the pure rage that surged through his heart once Remmick started speaking to you.

Such familiarity in his tone and even his eyes, he spoke about you like you were his.

Elias missed so much—missed so many birthdays and life-changing moments.

But that man—Remmick, he experienced who knows how many.

Elias Moore isn’t scared of much, but he’s scared of losing you. And that’s enough to kill him.

“If y’want it, take it.” Elias ordered.

You stare at him for a beat, beady eyes flickering left and right, mouth agape, and hands finding their place on Elias’ shoulders.

You roll your hips on his thigh, and he tightens the hold he has around your back. Your head feels so fuzzy, like it was filled to the brim with the purest pearly feathers. But Elias’ very presence kept you grounded in ways you didn’t know he could.

You roll yourself against his thigh again, finding your own rhythm. Elias didn’t press; didn’t make you go faster, didn’t force you to release.

He wanted you to take what you wanted from him.

Because he’d give you everything you’d ever want and more.

He knows this, and you’re starting to learn it.

You heave through your nose as you ride him, your hands wrap around his neck, if they’re clammy, he doesn’t mention it.

With a surge of confidence flowing through your veins, you clamber into Elias’ lap, grinding down on his growing erection.

“Mmn—hah, you feel so good, ‘Lias,” you whimper, your voice picking up in pitch.

You swear you hear something from outside, but you can’t find a reason as to why you should worry about that when you’re on top of the man you love—grinding on him so filthily.

Elias groans softly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to see the effect that you have on him. “Fuck baby..Yeah that’s it.”

Your clit bumps against Elias’ zipper, and you let out a throaty moan. His hands come down to slap your ass as you continue to press down on him. You feel his toned muscles underneath his shirt as your hands glide up and down his torso.

Elias’ belt buckle feels cold against your lower stomach; it’s such a stark difference from the warm pressure that resonates within you.

Your legs are sore and twitchy and your hip muscles start to tighten, you whimper at the slowed pace you have to push through.

“I gotcha, don’t you worry,” Elias pants, before quickly rocking you back and forth on his slacks. His tip prods at your inner thigh, you notice that he’s leaked through his pants. Neither of you seem to care.

His grip on you tightens, as he starts to bounce you onto his clothed cock, then rolling your hips into a circle.

“‘M so close—please don’t stop,” you rasp as a new wave of tears streams down your cheeks.

“I know—I know, honey, let go f’me.”

Your plans to stifle your moans are out of the window now as your bottom half starts to tingle in ways you’ve never felt before.

“W-wait! ‘Lias! I-I gotta pee!” you gasp in horror. “M’sorry! ‘M’so sorry!”

Elias’ eyes light up, and he bites his bottom lip as he bucks his hips up into you. “C’mon, sugar. ‘S’all right, gimme whatcha never gave him.” He smiles at you genuinely. Only Elias could grin at you so sweetly while thrusting through your’s and his clothing.

You pat at his chest desperately, “No! ‘Lias please! Y’aint listenin’!” You weep.

“Nah—‘M listenin’ baby, ‘n it sounds like this pussy’s ready to cum.”

Your jaw drops as you slam yourself against Elias’ cock, riding your high as your voice gives out. Your ears ring, and you can barely even hear your own cries.

“F—uck!” The yell rips from your throat.

Elias just watches you in awe, no doubt cumming in his pants at the sight of you.

His lap is soaked and his laughter makes you pinch your eyes open. Speaking of: your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you look at the mess you’ve made.

“Oh God—‘Lias ‘m sorry. I tried to hold it, I swear!” You frown at him, but Elias is beaming, his rosy cheeks are nearly touching his bottom lashes.

“Wh-what? Why’re ya smilin’? Elias I just-“

“Y’just squirted on me, sugar,” Elias marvels.

You pause, cocking your head to the side and furrowing your brows, like you’re trying to decipher his words.

“I-I ain’t ever done that before…Is it good?” You ask softly.

“Best thing I’ve ever seen in m’life,” Elias says through cheerful laughter.

You readjust your dress and roll your foot in your heels, making sure they’re snug. Just in case you need to run from something

“What’d we miss?” Elias boasts, receiving a sharp glare from Annie.

“Well, if you two weren’t foolin’ ‘round, you’d already know that we’re up against vampires.” Annie scolds the both of you; you can see Elias’ poorly-hidden smirk in the corner of your eye, making you bite down a grin. It quickly leaves your face once you notice Bo’s absence.

“They gotta be killed one by one.”

Delta Slim pipes up, “‘N how the hell we do that?”

“Sunlight—a wooden stake to the heart.”

“Why tonight?” Elijah asks angrily.

Sammie takes a step forward, “‘Cause of me.” You frown at him, but before you’re able to speak, he continues. “My daddy told me—he said the devil was comin’ on account of my music.”

“Now, Sammie, that is not true—“ you say with conviction.

“I had a gal once—vampire. She was light skinneded, too.” Slim smiles as you look at the twins in confusion. “Gal bit me everywhere but my neck,” he chuckles.

Then, his smile fades and is replaced with something far more serious. “Sammie…You don’t worry about a thing, hear?”

Sammie’s posture shows his guilt and his fear taking a hold of him. Slim holds his gaze as he speaks, “Devil done came for me plenty of times. If he come knockin’ tonight…He gonna have to go through his old friend Delta Slim ‘fore he get to you. That go for everybody in here—you too.” He says as he turns to you. You smile sweetly at him despite the shake in your knees.

Unfortunately, it’s not from your intimacy with Elias.

Everyone looks at one another, solidifying Slim’s words of protection.

You keep your place next to Elias as everyone disperses. “‘Lias..” You whisper. He turns to you as you speak. “W-what if they get me—what if he gets me? I-I don’t wanna turn—“ Your voice rises as panic takes over your features.

His warm hand goes up to cup your face, stretching from your ear to the side of your neck. “Lemme tell y’sum, sugar,” he murmurs. “Nobody is takin’ ya away from me. Not him, not anybody—ever. Understand?”

You inhale deeply as you nod your head up and down timidly. His thumb presses to the side of your eye, wiping the tear that you didn’t even know had fallen.

Looking into his eyes feels as if you’re in a trance, and you think back to the electrifying moment you had when you were dancing on stage for him.

A scream rips through the building and interrupts your thoughts. “Sammie! Smoke! Stack!” The voice—who you figure out is Pearline—yells.

Everyone gathers to where Pearline stands, and there lies a man pooled in his own blood.

“Well, this had to have been Mary, right?” Grace asks apprehensively.

“Nah. She ran straight out. You saw them.” Sammie says breathlessly.

“Well who bit him then?” You and Grace ask simultaneously.

Elias turns to his brother, “We gotta get him out before he wakes up.”

The twins quickly drag the man to the door, heaving him through the dirt and gravel. You peer out from inside the joint with Sammie, almost as if you both were on look-out.

“C’mon.” Elijah beckons Elias as he starts to head inside, but he stays still.

Elias holds his hand out, motioning for Elijah to stop. “You don’t hear that?” You can’t see his front, but you know for certain that he’s scrunching his face up. You look at Sammie as you both listen to the sounds intertwined with the wind.

That’s when you hear it

Hear him.

“Leave where I was born,” you faintly hear Remmick singing.

“They playin’ music,” Sammie mutters.

“I cut a stout blackthorn.” Thunder rumbles and shines in the sky as he sings.

It leaves a bad feeling in your chest.

For to banish

Ghosts and goblins

You see a circle being formed, full of those vampires, but Remmick’s eyes are clearest as he stands in the middle of the forming ring.

A brand-new pair of brogues

To rattle over the bogs

His song seeps deep within your bones—words flowing through your rib-cage.

And frighten all the dogs

“Hey—hey.” Elijah taps Elias on his chest as he alerts him with a lowered tone. “Let’s get back inside.”

On the rocky road

To Dublin

‘C’mon.” Elijah ushers his brother inside.

One, two, three, four, five

Sammie side-steps Elijah as you reach out for Elias.

And with that: the door is slammed shut, the man is left outside, and Remmick begins to plague your mind.

Everyone looks around at one another without speaking.

“We all gonna eat this clove of garlic,” Annie says with persistence.

“No can do,” Elias shakes his head as he speaks.

“‘N why the hell not?” Annie nearly snarls at the brown-eyed man and his careless attitude.

Elias smirks, “Y’see now..Garlic don’t mix well w’pussy, aint that right Smo—“

You smack his chest with force, “Elias Samuel Moore!” You exclaim. Slim chokes out a laugh, and Grace turns her head, no doubt hiding a smile.

Annie sighs frustratedly, and Elijah doesn’t speak a word. His eyes just flicker between the group; you think he’s in his soldier-mode.

“..I don’t much like the taste of it,” Pearline peeps, glancing around wearily.

Annie snaps her head in Pearline’s direction, “Ain’t nobody saying y’all gotta like it.” She scoffs as she chews on the garlic clove, handing the jar over to Elijah. “We just gotta figure out if any of us left is one of them.”

Elijah passes the jar to Grace, who quickly grabs the garlic. “You ain’t get nun of the pickled ones?” She quirks a brow, voice somewhat muffled from the mouthful of garlic. Elias snorts beside you, and you nudge his arm in return.

Grace carefully hands the half-filled jar to you. You stick your thumb and index finger into the jar, plucking a clove out and handing the rest to Elias.

You grimace at the taste that floods your mouth, and now you do wish that Annie got the pickled ones. You turn your head to Elias, who almost looks apprehensive about eating one, but as soon as he meets your eyes, he flicks it into his mouth.

You blink at him before sticking your tongue out, showing him that you’re finished. It takes him a second to do the same; handing the jar to Pearline while still facing you.

“This is ridiculous,” Pearline blurts with annoyance. And without missing a beat, Elijah pulls his gun out and aims it directly at the girl’s head. You gasp, and Elias holds your arm, keeping you from doing anything you’ll regret. “Pearline.” You plead.

“Smoke—put the gun down,” Sammie nearly squeaks.

“Shut up.” Elias demands without even looking at his cousin. “Eat, or I’ll shoot.”

“Put the gun down Smoke, she ain’t no damn vampire,” Sammie contends.

“How the hell you know that?” Elijah deadpans.

“Just eat the damn garlic girl,” Grace warned.

You know Elias isn’t going to try and stop his brother, after all, Elijah’s just trying to protect his family in the best way he knows how. You admire it, but it also scares you knowing he’s damn-near just as reckless as Elias.

Elijah turns the safety off on his gun with a click, making Sammie panic, and everyone else observes in disbelief. Sammie butts in again, and his interruption unfortunately gets him hit in the nose with the butt of Elijah’s gun. He holds his nose in pain, and you cast a sympathetic glance in his direction, though he isn’t able to see it.

Elijah looks at Sammie for the first time, “Tryin’ to keep ya alive boy, you ain’t t’question me.” His southern drawl makes it all the more menacing as Sammie groans beside him.

You wait with baited breath, hoping that Pearline will just listen and pick from the jar in Elias’ hand.

“You a evil man,” She shakes her head and huffs. Pearline grabs the glass and pulls a piece out, almost sizing up Elijah. “No wonder the devil come f’us.” She chews reluctantly before giving the garlic to Slim.

He eats the clove and a tense wave of silence washes over the room. Suddenly, Slim covers his mouth and backs up coughing. Elijah points the gun in Slim’s direction as Annie inches behind him, and you’re no different with Elias as you grip Grace’s wrist.

“Slim—what’s goin’ on man,” Elijah says with simple directness.

Slim’s throat rumbles as he starts to thrash around, groaning and mumbling unintelligiblely.

“What’s goin’ on, Slim?” Elijah asks again, his voice raising into a yell as he now wields a thick wooden dagger. Slim pounds on his chest wildly and you continue to cower alongside Grace.

Slim’s head is down as he puts his arms out in a pleading manner, “I drank too much,” he grumbles. “That goddamn beer from Chicago—my nerves all fucked up, Smoke,” Slim rasps, gesturing to his face.

“Oh—fuck,” you sigh with relief, letting go of Grace; she still has concern written all over her face.

Everyone calms their racing hearts once Slim straightens up. “I’m fine,” he reassures. “See?” He holds his arms out almost triumphantly.

“You sure that was blood?” Annie asks Elijah, and you look at him, waiting for some sort of answer as to what Annie’s implying.

The group watches Elijah go over to the near-forgotten puddle of blood and gather it on his fingertips. He sniffs it, and you can’t help but recoil—and Elias can’t help but snicker it seems. Everyone waits for Elijah to speak, but he doesn’t. No surprise there, though But he does grab a seemingly empty beer bottle from under a table.

You hear the door rattle, and you quickly turn your body towards the noise. Elias walks in front of you just as quickly.

There’s banging on the door as someone shouts, “Hey—hey, Smoke, let me in, man.” Elijah looks up from his crouched position. “Smoke? Stack? Let me in!”

His muffled voice grows more desperate, as well as his knocking. “Smoke, I swear I paid my tab, man.” He pants. “That’s what this about?”

The knocking grows more frantic by the second, and you’re almost worried that the door’s hinges may falter.

“Stack! Hey, Stack! Whatever y’all need, man!” The man pleads. “Smoke! Some weird shit goin’ on our here, Smoke!” He begs helplessly.

The twins share a quick glance before inching towards the door. “Smoke, let me in! Smoke, let me in!” He hollers as he bangs on the door ferociously.

Elijah rips the door open, gun in hand, with Elias standing beside him with his dagger. Soon as the door opens though, the man is tackled to the ground.

He was tackled by Cornbread.

“What the—oh shit,” Smoke exclaims from his spot in the doorway as he now aims at the rustling heap on the ground.

“Get off me!” The man screams as Cornbread rips the skin from the side of his face clean off.

“Close the door, c’mon!” Annie yells over the loud squelching noise. But before everyone can clamber behind the door, Grace rushes to the frame.

“Wait!” She pants. “Bo.”

That’s when you see none other than Bo Chow, strolling up to the joint as if a man wasn’t being murdered a few feet away from him.

“Hey, baby,” he greets Grace, not even sparing a glance to anyone else. “Come on outside, I got the car started. Let’s go—c’mon.” He nods his head towards the parked car.

You place your hand on Grace’s upper arm as she examines Cornbread on top of the flailing man, your touch serving as an anchor for her.

“What is it, Grace?” Bo tilts his head at her, gathering her attention once more.

Her voice breaks as she speaks, “He’s killin’ him.” And that’s when Bo finally acknowledges the horrific scene in front of him.

“Oh, ya talkin’ ‘bout that?” He’s almost smirking at her. “Don’t worry ‘bout Cornbread—he’s just a lil hungry, ‘s all. Let’s go.” Cornbread growls before standing up.

Grace gasps as Bo presses her, “C’mon!” Cornbread snarls next to him. “C’mon ‘n go! I got the car all warmed up.” He grins and puts his hands on his hips before sighing once he notices Grace’s hesitation.

“Don’t do it, Grace,” you whisper to her, hoping to refrain her from going with him.

Bo strolls up to the door, “Or…” He puts his hand on the other side of the frame. “You let me back in there, and I’ll come in—we can grab our things..” He pauses.

You then notice his irises changing to a sinister silver color.

It wasn’t human.

“Don’t listen to him,” both you and Annie say firmly.

“Grace, we’re gonna find a way out of this, I promise.” Elijah declares, not lowering his gun from Bo’s chest for even a second.

“It’ll be okay,” Elias reassures her.

“I am your way out.” You flinch once you hear Remmick’s voice.

He walks up next to Bo as Elijah tightens the grip he has on his gun. “This world already left you for dead. Won’t let ya build. Won’t let ya fellowship.” He gestures with his hands.

“We will do just that,” he softens his voice—like he’s bargaining. “Together. Forever.” He tilts his head, feigning innocence.

Bo speaks up, “It’s better this way, baby. So why don’t ya go ahead—invite us in.” His smile is long-gone.

Remmick steps forward, “Y’should listen to ‘em, Grace. Or listen t’me. ‘Cause I know everything he knows now. And I want ya to let us in there.” His eyes shine red yet again, and a shiver crawls up your spine like a spider’s legs.

“Or we gon’ go to the grocery store—we gon’ pay little Lisa a visit.”

Grace yells as both you and Annie hold her back; she sobs as everyone holds her frantically. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Oh, yeah, Grace. I know everything now.” He smirks at her, beginning to speak Taishanese.

You have no idea what he’s saying, but you know for certain it’s nothing good with the way Grace crumbles in your arms and Remmick’s voice is now sweetly saccharine.

Then, you hear footsteps coming from the right, and you see Mary’s heels before you see her.

“You ain’t safe here. No matter how many guns, or how much money…They gon’ take it from ya when they want.” Remmick’s teeth are on display as he speaks.

“Ya built sum here tonight ‘n it was beautiful. But it was built…On a lie.” This catches both Elijah and Elias’ attention.

“Hogwood, well he’s the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan. That’s his motherfuckin’ nephew.” He points to a man who has his arms around a woman, both covered in dried up blood. Speaking of blood: you feel yours run cold once you hear Remmick’s declaration.

You should’ve known it was too good to be true. Of course the twins were well known in the Delta, but being able to get a place like this so soon? You’re not surprised it came with a price.

If only Elias had told you sooner.

“‘N they was always gon’ kill you. I just happened to show up at the right place at the right time.”

Mary comes up from behind Remmick, standing next to him and gazing at Elias. “He’s tellin’ the truth, Stack. I can see his memories.”

Elias’ shoulders tense up as soon as she speaks to him, and you’re no different.

“Stack, that ain’t Mary.” Slim says wearily.

“This wasn’t no juke joint,” Mary smiles cockily, “No club. This here’s a…Slaughterhouse.”

“It’s a goddamn killin’ floor.” The white man from before says.

The woman in his arm finally speaks, “But what Uncle Hogwood don’t know is we’re gonna start ourselves a new clan—based on love.” She laughs, putting her hands in the air.

“Now that we got numbers, we’ll probably go over to that bigot ‘n rectify him, too.” Remmick sighs blissfully.

“Why can’t y’all just leave,” Annie begs.

“‘Cause we’re not leavin’ without y’all. We’re family—even you, sugar.” Mary chirps, turning her head towards you. Elias’ jaw tightens. “I know it sound crazy, but after we kill y’all..We gon’ have heaven right here on Earth.” The gaggle of vampires behind her let out hums of agreement.

The man that Cornbread killed groans from his position on the ground. Remmick chuckles and waves to him.

Mary steps forward, her sights set on Elias. “Hey—hey, look at me,” she smiles.

“The Mary I know ain’t fellowshipping with no goddamn devil,” you squint at her; as much as you didn’t like Mary, you weren’t dumb.

“Fuck you, it is me!” Mary barks. “‘N I’m talkin’ to Stack right now, sugar…So I’mma kindly ask you to shut the fuck up.”

As soon as the words leave her stained lips, you reach for the dagger in the holster under your dress.

“No—no.” Elias grabs you, tucking you into his chest and holding your arms close to you.

“We was never gonna be free. We been runnin’ around everywhere, lookin’ for freedom. You know damn well you was never gonna find it.” Mary chides.

“Until this—this is the way. Together. Forever.” Mary leers at Elias. “I ain’t doin’ this without ya. There is no me without ya.”

You freeze, hearing Mary’s declaration of love for Elias. She spoke to him like you weren’t even there.

And what makes matters worse?

Elias’ response determines everyone’s fate.

If he goes, there’s a chance they may leave you all alone, and you know for a fact: Elias is the type to sacrifice himself for his family.

That alone terrifies you.

Elijah and Annie close the door, you turn around in hopes of consoling Elias, but before you can get a word out, he brings you into his arms.

“Nobody’s takin’ ya away f’me, ‘n nobody’s takin’ me from ya.”

You just pray that he keeps his word.

There was fire in her walk she shied away from seven years ago, confidence lining every step like she trained for the runway. Her once fidgety and buzzing nature bloomed into aura that was enchanting  and firmly claimed her femininity. She traded the bulky sweaters and ankle length skirts she used to hide her body in for a coral slip dress clung to her gently, not flashy, not loud, still authentically her but more mature. Her full lips painted with a deep berry color. Her doe eyes lined with kohl eyeliner and fluttery lashes. Her coily hair flowed just about near her mid-back which…god it suited her so well. Her body was even curvier than he remembered caressing in the latest of nights, her breasts more fuller and her ass had more jiggle, could make the holiest of man commit every sin if it meant getting a taste of what she had.

And grace. Lord, she moved with grace. Like the pain hadn’t stolen it,  the judgment hadn’t crushed it, and his absence hadn’t shriveled it up and tossed it behind her.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

Stack leaned back, drink sweating in his hand. Annie laughed nearby, brushing past him on her way to the bar, Smoke at her hip. Sammie and Pearline were on the dance floor somewhere. Lottie’s soft eyes flickered toward the floor then up again as she weaved through the crowd. Nervous, maybe but not scared. Not how she used to be. 

Not after what he did to her.

“Damn,” Stack muttered under his breath.

The blonde beside him curled a hand around his bicep. “You say somethin’, baby?”

He blinked. Barely registered her. Just set the drink down with a clink and stood up.

“Yeah. I'm gettin’ another round.”

He moved through the crowd like a slow storm, eyes locked, body drumming with anticipation. And when Lottie looked up and saw him—really saw him—her breath hitched in that way she always had when he was close. Her lips parted, her chin tilted stubborn, but he caught it…the ache, the longing, right there under her skin.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft yet steel like iron.

She didn’t hug him. Didn’t reach. Didn’t touch. Hell, she didn’t have to. He felt her touch through her intense stare with those big beautiful brown eyes he always got lost in.

“Hey, Lottie,” he said, low and rough, like her name lived under his tongue.

They stood like that a beat too long, taking each other in. Like they were trying to get used to seeing each other again after all the years that passed by.

Then he gestured toward the bar. “Can I get you somethin’?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “White wine. Nothin’ too heavy.”

He nodded, waved the bartender over. She perched on a stool beside him, legs crossed delicately, back straight, every movement elegant but not rigid. He watched her watch the room. It occurred to him then that she didn’t belong here. Not in the way others didn’t. She simply...transcended it.

“Didn’t see you at the openin’ last night,” he murmured, sliding her the glass.

She took it gently. “Wasn’t ready last night.”

He gave her a half smile. “What changed?”

“I got tired of hiding from ghosts.” She shrugs.

His chest ached. That definitely struck a nerve.

He sipped his glass of scotch slow. “You ain’t no ghost, Lottie.”

“True, but you were.”

The silence that fell between them hurt. It was thick and suffocating.

“I read your book,” he said finally, voice low.

Her lips parted, eyes flickering toward him. “Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

Her laugh was soft and surprised. “You said you hated poetry.”

He leaned in, close, elbow brushing hers. “I didn’t hate it. It just didn’t have your soul in it before.”

Her smile was small, fragile even.

“I ain’t ever known anybody who wrote like that,” he continued. “Felt like you carved those pages outta my own fuckin’ chest.”

“I didn’t write it for you.” She states plainly.

“I know.”

“I just…knew if I didn’t release any of this pain, I’d never heal.”

His throat tightened.

She shifted, hands brushing down the smooth curve of her waist like she didn’t know what else to do with herself.  “My mama threw my writings in the fireplace,” she said after a moment. “Daddy tried sending the deacon to ‘pray the demons out of me.’”

Stack’s jaw clenched.

“I ain’t seen ‘em for a few years now,” she said quietly.  “Guess when your baby girl writes about cunnilingus and religious trauma, it don’t fit with the gospel of shame they taught me.”

Stack frowned, taking another sip from his glass allowing the burn to trickle down his throat. “You didn’t deserve none of that.”

“I needed it,” she said. “All of it. Losing you, the silence, the judgment, the isolation. It gave me the confidence to stop livin’ for other people and start livin’ for Charlotte.”

He nodded, proud of her but regretful in his part of her growth.

“You ever tell your family about us?” he asked quietly after a brief pause.

She tensed up, taking a generous sip of wine but nodded.

“After you left… I didn’t have a reason to hide anymore. They knew somethin’ was up anyways ‘cause I was cryin’ nonstop the first two weeks after you left. I ended up leavin’ the house a few weeks later. I just felt..suffocated. Like every time I walked through the door, I could hear their voices…not talking, just judging me and lookin’ at me like I was damaged goods. And telling me who I was supposed to be, what loving you meant, and what God would think.”

He said nothing.  

Lottie took a slow breath. “They said it was God’s will that you left. That your kind of man only brings ruin and I should be grateful I was spared.”

“My kind of man,” he echoed, bitter.

She took another sip of wine. “They meant the man who fucked me on a picnic blanket mid-day near the bayou and came inside me in his busted ass buick before even making me his girl. That kind.”

Stack choked on his drink, not expecting the vulgarity out of her. 

“You were mine,” he said, his voice hushed and raw.

“No. You fucked me and then left me,” she cuts him off, pointing a finger at him. “That’s not a proclamation of love, that’s a fling with a timestamp.”

“I had to leave.” He argued.

“No, you didn’t,” She snapped. “You wanted to.”

Stack exhaled. “I wanted to keep you safe. Away from the shit me and Smoke were drownin’ in.”

“You should’ve let me choose that.” Her eyes narrowed, pierced right through him.

“And then what?” he asked, tone sharp, but low. “You get caught up in mob shit, end up bleedin’ in a trunk some night in Chicago ‘cause I wanted to feel loved? Nah, I’d rather be the villain than the reason you bled out.”

She leaned closer now, barely a breath away. Taking in the warmth of his cologne that haunted her for years. Her voice turned cold with fury laced in heartbreak. “I’d rather bleed beside you than ache in a room full of people who only love the molded idea of me.”

That shut him up.

Lottie traced the rim of her glass, then continued. “Anyway, I left their house. Annie helped me out with some jobs and I got my own place. Started reading everything I was never allowed to read, wore what I wanted, wrote what I wanted and I stopped asking for forgiveness for loving you.”

His jaw clenched. “Lottie-”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

He closed his mouth.

“I found my own rhythm but it didn’t come from them. And it damn sure didn’t come from you either. You leavin’…it hurt me so bad I thought I was dyin’ from a broken beart. But it cracked me open and I gained a spine from it. I found my freedom.” Her voice didn’t raise, It was calm, measured, still kind.

He watched her, awe carved into the lines of his face.

“I ain’t surprised,” he said.

She looked up.

“You always had that strength in you, Lottie. You was just scared to embrace it.”

“No. I had love. You just didn’t believe you were worth basking in it.”

That hit him harder than any bullet could. She always knew how to see through him like he was made of glass.

“I believed you were too good for the world I was walkin’ into,” he confessed.

“You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“I see that now.”

She didn’t respond. Didn’t have to. 

He finished the last of his drink and placed his glass down again. “Dance with me?”

Lottie hesitated, then stood determined. “Only if you hold me right.”

He nodded. “Always will.”

Stack pulled her in. Slow. Soft. The music was fitting perfectly for their vibe, Sade being spun by the DJ this time. Her fingers slid over his shoulders. His arms wrapped around her waist, strong and sure, and the moment she laid her cheek against his chest, something inside him cracked.

He pressed a soft kiss to her hair.

“I saw your tattoo,” she whispered against his chest. “The one inside your forearm.”

“You like it?”

“It’s my name. You don’t think that’s a little…”

“Permanent?”

She looked up. “Stupid.”

“I got the flower too,” he said, smiling boyishly. “Hibiscus. ’Cause I remember how much you loved ‘em. You always said roses are too cliche.”

She looked down, her voice caught in her throat. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything’.”

They moved slow, her body molded to his but still holding back, like her soul wasn’t sure whether to run or be reborn. They were silent again. As the song played on, she sighed into his shoulder.

“I missed you, Elias,” she whispered.

“I missed you too, Lottie. More than you can imagine.”

“Still flirtin’ with them white girls, huh?”

 “Ain’t none of em’ ever made me feel like a goddamn boy again. The only woman I want got her name on my skin.”

Her lip trembled, but she smirked. “And I thought I was the poetic one.”

He chuckled. Then, quietly he says “I loved ya, even back then.”

“You never said it.”

He nodded. “’Cause it scared the hell outta me.”

She looked up. “Why?”

“Because when we had our time together, sex or not you always looked at me like I was something sacred to keep. And I ain’t never been that. Not once…and I knew I’d ruin it.”

Her cheeks flushed. Her voice was still soft but steady.

“Yeah?” She said, ”And yet you still had the nerve to lick the blood off my pussy after you popped my cherry in your car that night on Valentine’s Day.”

His body tensed, eyes darkening and teeth clenching as if he was automatically transferred back to that moment remembering her moans, her taste, her touch, the feeling….

“Lottie..”

“Lottie, what?” her voice laced in a sarcastic tone. “You can’t rewrite history like that shit ain’t happen.” She stared up at him, voice quiet but sharp enough to slice him raw.

His grip found her hip, a firm warning. “You sayin’ shit like that’s gon’ get you-”

A soft smirk played on her full glossed lips. “Get me what, Stack? got a problem? fix it.”

And with that, she broke away from his hold, walking with an extra sway in her hips exhibiting temptation. She didn’t have to look back to know he was following her trail.

♡

The door clicked shut behind them softly.

Cool air in the closet kissed Lottie’s flushed skin. The hum of music outside was muffled by thick walls and the thudding of her heart. Her back was to him. 

Stack stood behind her with his hands at his sides, breath heavy.  The space between them was fragile, like a wand bubble too full to last in the air. 

“I ain’t ever been good with words,” he said softly. “Not like you.”

She turned then. Slowly. Her chest rose and fell fast, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. She looked up at him with those big, beautiful brown eyes. “You didn’t have to be good with ‘em. You just had to use ‘em.”

He stepped forward, cautiously to see if she would back up..but she didn’t. She instead moved towards him, closing the gap between them. 

“I love you.” He breathed, the words held a weight on his heart for seven long years.

The pause after was heavy, her hands flattening against his chest like she needed to hold the words still between them as if they were going to disappear.

 He leaned in, kissed her forehead, then her nose. “I never stopped.”

“I needed you to say it back then,” she murmured.

“I know.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hated you for so long.” She sighed, a single tear falling down her face which Stack gently wiped away from her cheek with his thumb. 

“You got every right to,” he murmured. “You never looked at me like I was wrong—even if I was—you always looked at me like I was someone worth lovin’ and…fuck Lottie I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Lottie lifted her hand to place against his cheek, prompting him to turn his head and lay a gentle kiss on her palm.

“You’re still it for me,” he said. “You always were. Even when I was drownin’ in my demons, gettin’ my hands bloody, even when I was fuckin’ around just to feel anythin’ but empty…I’d see your name in a bookstore or your beautiful face on a billboard and it’s like my whole world goes quiet and calm.”

Her lip trembled as she took every single word into her soul. As much as she wanted to believe he was bullshitting, just saying things just to say. The way he gazed at her like she held the sun, moon and all constellations in the sky made her heart flip. 

“You know…I wrote those poems for myself.” she whispered. “But a part of me really wanted you to read them.”

Stack brushed a few wild curls away from her face. “Once I found your books, I keep readin’ em’ over and over. Whatever place Smoke and I ended up in, I’d sit and read. It’d help me sleep.”

“If I known that I would’ve sent you an autographed copy.” she dryly joked. “Shouldn’t have made me suffer in silence. You either.”

“I didn’t think I deserved a woman like you.” 

“Then be the man who does.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. 

Her hand left his cheek to slide down to his forearm, fingers trailing the brown skin until it met the ink that decorated it. His sleeve was rolled up enough for her to see its full design. Her name—Charlotte— carved in delicate cursive with a blooming hibiscus twined through each letter. The petals shaded in vibrant pink and red hues that he remembered she loved best. 

She traced over the tattoo softly with her fingers.

“When’d you get this?” she asked.

“Six months after I left,” he murmured. “I couldn’t get you out of my head. Needed a reason to keep goin’.”

She sniffled a little.

“You not leavin’ again?” she asked, silently praying this wasn’t a single night of nostalgia.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere Lottie.” Stack took her hands into his, squeezing in reassurance.

“Promise?” she pressed, voice cracking.

“Wherever you go, I go.” His voice filled with emotion as he pulled her close, lips a few breaths apart from hers.

She let out a shaky breath as her body melted into his. Their lips met soft and delicate. His kiss poured all the words he left unsaid for seven years and Lottie didn’t dare pull away. Her hands slid up into his short, slicked back curls, fingers tugging gently earning a few quiet groans from him which sent a throb in between her legs as his lips deepened against hers, slow and coaxing. He kissed her like he was eager to relearn every inch of her mouth, tongue tracing hers, exploring the taste he deprived himself of for too long. 

Her breath hitched every time he pressed himself closer to her body, his hand ghosting the curve of her waist, sliding over her hips to grip her thigh.

She gasped into his mouth when he lifted her.

“Elias..” she murmured against his lips.

“I got you,” he whispered, something told her that statement had several meanings…all which made her heart warm.

He pressed Lottie carefully against the closet wall, the coolness from the heat combined with heat of his body on hers felt almost erotic. Her legs were cradling his hips all while Stack kissed her neck. Every brush of his warm, wet lips against her neck, every nip and gentle suck against her pulse point brought back memories her body stored. Lottie tilted her head back, lashes fluttering, every breath she took was shaky between her full parted lips as he licked the spot beneath her ear that made her whimper even years later.

“I’m surprised you remember that.” she whispered.

“I told you I remember everything about you, baby.” Stack mused. His hands slid underneath her dress, warm against the back of her curvy thighs, trailing higher where her thighs met her ass. 

“No fair…you’re teasin’.” She moaned as his palms kneaded her flesh.

“Ain’t no fun without a lil’ teasin’” he chuckles, kissing her pouting lips. He gave her ass a firm squeeze and a sharp smack that made her squeak, and his grin widened against her lips.

“You still mad at me?” Stack murmured, kissing under her ear, letting his lips linger on the sensitive skin.

“Maybe.” Lottie’s breath hitched when she felt his teeth nibble on her lobe.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I should make up for that, huh?” His tongue traced the curve of her throat, his teeth scraping gentle against the skin under her jaw before placing wet, open mouthed kisses there. 

She let out a hum of agreement, tilting her head back to give him more access. He didn’t rush when he slid his hands under her dress. He took his time pushing it up, revealing smooth thick thighs that trembled slightly. He dropped to his knees. Kissed her belly, then the sensitive spot on her hip, and hooked his fingers into her lace panties.

“Can I see her, baby?” he whispered. Lottie complied, resting one leg on the shelf nearby and the other on his shoulder, letting him pull her panties down and off, her thighs parting on instinct. 

He stared in awe. She was glistening. A small but neatly trimmed triangle of dark curls framed the mound of her swollen pussy. He saw the twitch of her heat and the slow throb of her clit peeking out between the puffy lips of dark pink.

“Damn, Lottie…”

She tried to close her legs in embarrassment but he was quicker than her, hands holding her thighs apart firmly. 

“You wet like that from kissin’ me, hm?” he teased, lips ghosting over her inner thighs.

“I-Shut up..”

He chuckled knowingly, grabbing her ass to pull her forward until her back arched off the wall. 

“Don’t hide her from me,” he murmured. “You know I love this pussy..I missed her.”

She gasped as he leaned in, burying his face in between her thighs. One of her hands flying to the wall and the other clinging to his hair. He didn’t go straight for her pussy. He teased her inner thighs with slow, wet kisses, nuzzling her folds with his nose, dragging his lips up her mound and down again. When he blew cool air over her clit, she shivered.

“Eliaaas,” she whined. “You’re teasing..”

“You said I owed you,” he smirked. “This how I pay my debts.”

Stack’s tongue traced her slit slowly, teasing the sensitive flesh before flattening against her clit in slow and greedy circles.

“O-oh, god…”

He moaned against her, tongue working her open, mouth sucking on her clit not too hard but not too soft..just the way she liked it, lips locking around it while his tongue flicked back and forth.

“Mmmnh! E-El-Elias…oh-“

“I missed this lil’ button,” he said with a wicked grin, tongue flicking right over her clit, then down again. “She so fuckin’ pretty… always so damn sweet for me.”

Her thighs shook. She arched into his face.

His voice was filthy now, soaked in lust.  “You always liked it when I talked to her, huh? She likes it too. She pulsin’ on my tongue, baby. She know who I am.”

He used two fingers to spread her open, licking deeper now, tongue darting in and out of her hole before flicking up to her clit again, stroking slow circles. She rolled her hips into his face, crying out softly with every pass of his tongue.

She cried out, the sound raw and needy, hips jerking against his mouth. “Fuuuuck, baby, don’t stop—don’t stop—”

“Not stoppin’ till you cum all over my fuckin’ face,” he growled, tongue and fingers moving faster.  “Let her give it to me, come on, baby girl, let it go.”

And she did.

Her body tensed, thighs clenching around his head, pussy spasming around his fingers. She moaned his name in a high-pitched cry, eyes squeezed shut as her orgasm rolled through her like a wave, long and hard and aching. He held her steady through it, fingers still pumping in and out of her pussy. He lapped at her, slow and deliberate now, sucking and kissing the oversensitive flesh until she whimpered and pulled back.

“Too much,” she pants tapping his shoulder, voice shaking.  “Oh god too much…”

He pulled back, lips and chin glistening, looking drunk on her.

“I ain’t even started yet,” he murmured, licking his lips, standing back up to full height.

He kissed her again, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue, and she whimpered into him. 

He pulled her dress off completely, tossed it to the floor next to her clutch and took a slow, full step back.

“Lemme see you, Lottie.”

She stood in front of him, completely bare, brown honey skin glowing under the closet’s dim overhead light. Her breasts full and soft, nipples dark and hardened peaks. 

He reached out, ran his fingers down her torso.

“You so fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed, thumbs brushing over her nipples. “Shit…I shoulda worshipped you better back then.”

He bent his head, kissing along her throat, her collarbone, down to her breasts. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, circled it with his tongue, then bit down just enough to make her gasp.

She grabs his shirt at the hem, helping him pull it over his head.

Then she kissed his chest. His neck. His jaw. Soft little nips and whispers of her breath across his skin. Her hands unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, pushed them down until he was bare, his shaft was heavy, thick and hard, standing proudly between them.

Her eyes dropped and her breath hitched.

“I forgot how big you were,” she whispered, prompting a smirk to appear on his lips.

“Still yours,” he said. He took her hand and wrapped it around him. “Still remember what to do with it, baby?”

She stroked him slowly,her hand barely able to wrap around him fully, thumb circling the slit at the tip where precum beaded, eyes locked to his.

“Like this?” she asked, voice sugary sweet, tone soft but knowing.

He groaned, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “Fuuuck, baby…”

“You look like you missed me.”

“I did.”

She pumped him slower, watching his jaw clench.

“I think you should say it.”

“I missed you,” he breathed. “I missed this hand, this mouth, this pussy—fuck, baby, I missed everything…”

“I think you should prove it..” she purred, her hand leaving his length to bring up to his view, her fingers shining with precum that she eased into her mouth while keeping eye contact with him. 

Stack growled, picking her up with ease earning a gasp from Lottie  and laid her on the bench against the wall. He stroked himself once, lining up with her soaked entrance with the head. 

“You still my sweet lil’ Lottie?” he asked, lips ghosting down her neck, warm lips dragging along the line of her jaw, lightly tapping the head of his cock on her clit. 

She whimpered, legs wrapping around his waist. “You know I am.”

He took that as an invitation to push in. 

The stretch was divine.

Lottie’s breath was caught sharp in her chest the moment she felt him sink inside. She reached for him instinctively, arms curling tight around his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into his brown skin, face buried in his neck as inch after inch filled her up. Her pussy fluttered, drawing him deeper with every soft gasp that escaped her lips.

“Mmmnnh fuck Elias…’s too much..” she whimpered and he shushed her gently.

“Shhh…just breathe, baby…I got you.” he whispered in her ear, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other gripping the plush meat of her thigh. He moved slow, letting her feel the full press of him, allowing her body to adjust. 

When he was buried to the hilt, pelvis flush against hers, he paused and exhaled. 

She was warm, slippery, and tight and so damn soft. Like her pussy spent the last seven years waiting to mold perfectly back around for him. Her walls fluttered, squeezing him in slow little pulses that made his jaw lock.

“Damn,” he groaned into her neck. “You still tight like you ain’t let nobody else in here.”

“s’cause I didn’t..” She blinked up at him, flushed and panting.

He froze, throbbing inside her.

“You bein’ serious?”

Her fingers trailed up the back of his neck, nails softly brushing against the small curls there.

“You’re the only man that ever touched me, Elias…the only one.” She whispered.

That struck something vulnerable in him.

Stack kissed her hard, lips crushing, open mouthed, tongues entangling as he started to move. He started with long, deep strokes at first, the drag of him inside her was slow and greedy, savoring in the way Lottie’s pussy clung to him like a vice. Her nails dug into his back, the stretch still intense, toeing the line between pleasure and pressure but it was perfect.

“Mmm..Mmmnnh—fuck..” she gasped, head lolling back. “God you feel so good.”

He grunted, pulling both her thighs over his shoulders, thrusting deeper to hit those sensitive spots at a different angle. “Look at you,” he rasped, brown eyes trained on her face, the way she shivered and moaned underneath him. “You so pretty like this...that’s my good girl.”

“‘m your good girl.” she whimpered back, voice shaky.

“That’s right. My sweet lil Lottie.”

Her pussy clenched and his breath got caught in his throat.

“Yeah?” he murmured, hips grinding slow and tight. “Still like when daddy calls you that, hm?”

“Y-yes…” she moaned soft and high, choked by the pleasure blooming hot between her thighs, her hands on his shoulders, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts. “I love it.”

“Rub that button for me, baby.” he instructed her. “Give her some love.”

Lottie placed a hand in between her legs, rubbing tight, quick circles on her clit, just the way he used to teach her. She moaned high and sweet as she came for him again, Stack kissing her through her orgasm.

“Let me see you ride it, baby.” he growled, pulling out and sat on the bench with his thighs spread. 

“C’mere, mama.”

Lottie climbed into his lap, knees bracketing his hips, her thighs trembling with anticipation. She reached between them and guided his cock back to her soaked entrance, rubbing the thick head against her clit at first, teasing herself with little circles until Stack grunted and grabbed her hips. 

“Teasin’ ass.”

She smiled knowingly, and then she sank down on him slow, eyes fluttering as she took all of him. 

“Ohhh…fuck…” she moaned, bottoming out, thighs tensing around him. 

Stack’s head fell back against the wall, jaw clenched. “That’s it,” he groaned, gripping her ass, guiding her up and down his length. “Bounce on it, baby. ’s all yours.”

She rolled her hips, beginning to ride him slow at first then picking up the pace. Her body moving like a slow dance, glistening under the closet light. Her breasts bounced with roll of her hips, he reached up to cup them in his large hands, fingers pinching her nipples lightly. Her hands braced his shoulders and he watched her like she was straight out of his favorite dream. Lips parted, eyes glazed over with lust, lashes fluttering against the tops of her cheeks, her signature scent of orange blossom, vanilla marshmallow and a hint of amber flooding his senses. Her pussy was soaked, dripping down over his thighs, making slick and obscene sounds as she moved. 

“You been practicin’?” he teased, hands sliding over her ass to squeeze.

She moaned, a little laugh escaping in the process. “N-no…just remember what you like.”

He laid a sharp smack to her ass, prompting her to cry out and bounce harder. 

“I like all of you, baby girl.” he leaned up to catch a nipple between his lips, suckling on the swollen nub until she gasped. “Every inch. Every moan. Every fuckin’ part of you.”

He gripped her hips tightly, beginning to thrust up into her as she dropped down, slamming into that sweet spot inside her over and over. Her moans turned into cries, breathy little sobs of pleasure.

“You sound so pretty, Lottie.” Stack growled. “You love daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

“Y-yes yes, baby…’s so good.” Lottie keened, head falling against his neck pressing wet kisses to his throat. He kissed her jaw, then lowered his lips to her collarbone, tongue flicking in between the valley of her breasts.

“Gon’ cum again for me, baby?” he panted, watching as her face twisted up into that beautiful, broken expression.

“Mhm..mhm-oh God yes! Please please don’t stop-“ she babbled senselessly.

He reached in between them to rub fast little circles over her swollen clit with his thumb, her thighs locking up. 

“I got you, baby.” he promised. “Cum for me. Let go.”

And just like that, her body shook. She moaned, loud and high pitched and ragged, thighs shaking as her orgasm hit. Her pussy gushed between them, soaking his lap and drenching his thighs. He caught her mouth in a sloppy kiss, hands rubbing her back while she sobbed softly into his neck. 

“That’s it, baby.” he praised softly. “Did so good for me.”

He moved again, flipping her gently, laying her back across the bench now, folding her thighs to her chest and slid back into her in one fluid motion, groaning at the feel. He started to fuck her slow, hard, deep, each thrust making her cry out, overstimulated and limp underneath him, tears sliding down her cheeks from the corners of her eyes,

“I know, baby…I know it’s a lot,” he cooed, kissing her jaw, her cheek, her lips. “But I need it. I need you one more time okay?”

He pulled all the way out, leaving only the tip inside, then slid back in slowly, dragging a moan from her throat. Then again, faster this time. He pounded into her now, whispering filth against her lips.

“Look at this pussy…she suckin’ me in like she missed me.”

“You milkin’ me girl goddamn..”

“Used to dream about the fuckin’ pussy baby.”

She was a mess now, drooling, sobbing, her words slurring. Lottie bit into his shoulder, nails raking down his back, and every moan she let out made his balls tighten.

“You gon’ give daddy one more?” Stack cooed into her ear, pressing his thumb against her clit.

She nodded frantically, feeling another orgasm burn through her core. “Y-yes! I-i’m close-“

“Give it to me, Lottie. Let her sing for me, baby.”

She sobbed, pressing her forehead to his, lips trembling as she came for the final time. He kissed her hard, tongue claiming her mouth as she milked him.

“I love you, Charlotte.” he moaned. “Always fuckin’ loved you.”

She whimpered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “I love you too,” she sobbed. “Don’t stop..don’t stop baby.”

“Shhh…” Stack soothed her pleas, fucking up into her in a steady gentle rhythm helping her ride out the aftershocks, now chasing his own edge. “You take me so good baby. You feel so good…I’m gonna…fuck-“

His head dropped to her shoulder. He groaned loudly against her damp skin, shooting warm thick ropes inside her with a few airy moans, cock pulsing as he filled her up.

They stayed still for a moment, skin to skin, the sounds of their heavy pants filling the closet. She peppered soft kisses to his temples, his eyes fluttering closed as he let her ground him back to reality.

“So…still think you don’t deserve me?” she asks after fully catching her breath.

He chuckled, still breathless. “You were always too good for me, Lottie. I’m just still glad you wanted me anyway.”

Her fingers threaded through his curls. “I never stopped…even when I was cursing your name.”

He lifted his head to fully look at her, eyes all round and soft, twinkling with love. He pressed a few soft pecks to her lips and brushed her now messy curls from her glowy face.

They remained in their little bubble of oblivion until they heard three hard knocks on the closet door, causing them to jump.

“Y’all better be decent in 15 minutes before I spray your nasty asses down with this fucking lysol.” Smoke boomed from outside the door. “This ain’t the type of establishment you were advertisin’ to me when we bought this joint, Stack. It was nice seein’ you Lottie…”

The couple remained quiet until they heard his heavy footsteps walking away to break out into a short fit of laughter.

“You think he heard?” Lottie managed to say in between giggles.

“Yeah,” Stack groaned. “He gon’ be on my ass about that.”

She leaned into him again, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Worth it?”

He looked down at her, seeing her eyes glimmer the way he remembered. “Yeah,” he said with a smile, show casing the gold of his grills. “One hundred percent.”

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Paris hadn’t meant to squirt. It wasn’t part of the plan. Wasn’t something she’d even thought about—definitely not something she wanted to happen right then, straddling Stack on his couch, hoodie bunched around her ribs, thighs bare, sweat clinging to the back of her knees. The living room was bathed in the low blue flicker of the TV screen, muted sound rolling under their heavy breathing. The city outside was quiet, but inside, it was just breath, heat, and the slick glide of his fingers working her open, slow and deliberate, like he had nothing but time and all the intention in the world.

His focus had been lethal. Chin tucked, mouth parted, eyes locked on her like her body was a puzzle he meant to master. Two fingers curled inside her, firm and precise, dragging against that spot that made her toes curl. His thumb moved over her clit in lazy, expert circles, the kind of touch that was too calm for the chaos it stirred up in her belly. Paris had tried to hold it in—bit her lip, rolled her hips slow, tried not to let that tension climb too fast. But Stack had known. He always knew. He watched her like her body spoke its own language, and he was fluent.

Then his voice dropped, low and ragged, his mouth right against her ear.

"You always make that sound when you close in. Like you don’t wanna give it up, but you can’t help it."

And just like that, she broke.

Her thighs snapped shut around his wrist. Her breath hitched, her eyes flew open. The coil inside her snapped, and something in her chest and spine buckled with it. It wasn’t just a climax. It was a release. A rush. A wet, heat-slick explosion that soaked her thighs, his hand, the couch cushion beneath them. Her mouth dropped open on a soundless gasp, her head thrown back, arms shaking.

Stack froze.

His wrist was still flexed inside her, fingers pulsing in place. His shirt clung wet to his chest. His forearm glistened. His face?

He looked down.

Then up.

Then back down again.

And grinned like he just found proof of God.

"Yo."

Paris whimpered, slapped both hands over her face. "Don’t start."

"Nah, don’t you start. Did you just squirt on me?"

"I swear to God, Stack, shut up—"

He leaned back slowly, grinning wider, taking stock of his soaked arm like it was the finest piece of art he’d ever seen. "You squirted, Paris. You squirted. On me. And you thought I wasn’t gon’ notice?"

She groaned, sinking further into the cushion. "It’s not like I planned it! It just—it doesn’t happen all the time—"

"Well, it’s happening again. You done unlocked a superpower, and I’m not lettin’ it go." His voice dropped lower, more reverent now. "You opened the floodgates, mama. I’m tryna drown."

He said it with awe. Like she’d just revealed some rare, beautiful truth that had changed the way he viewed the world.

That was three days ago.

Since then, Stack had been relentless. He brought it up like small talk. Like asking about the weather. Called her Waterworks with a crooked grin, even in public. Whispered in her ear while she stood at the sink, grabbed her waist from behind like her thighs held secrets. He texted her late night: emojis, inside jokes, a photo of his sheets captioned “need replacements, thx to you.” One text just read: Next time, I’m bringing a poncho.

Paris had tried to act unfazed. Told herself he’d get over it. That it was a one-time thing. A fluke.

But Stack wasn’t moving on.

Not when the image of her coming apart like that—wet and messy, wild and loud—was burned behind his eyelids. Not when it haunted his dreams, kept him hard half the night. Not when his hands kept twitching like they were searching for that same reaction.

Today, he was on a mission. Focused. Hungry. Intent.

He was going to make her squirt again.

And this time, he was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

It started slow. Like he didn’t have a whole plan mapped out in his head. Like he wasn’t already halfway to obsessed. But Stack had a tell, his jaw tight, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, that fixed stare like he was watching a fuse burn down. And Paris saw it. Felt it. Even in the way he touched her, like he wasn’t just reaching for pleasure, he was chasing a memory he wasn’t ready to let go of.

Stack wasn’t even trying to play it cool anymore. He’d done that for three days. Three long, torturous days of pretending he didn’t have her squirt seared into the back of his skull like a tattoo. That first splash had haunted him, woken him up at night with his dick hard, had him zoning out in the middle of conversations, had him texting her the most ridiculous shit just to get a reaction. Tonight, the mask was off. He was all focus. All intention. All hunger.

Paris knew something was up the second he pulled her onto his lap.

They were in his bedroom, light low, air thick with the kind of anticipation that sat on skin like sweat. The TV was on mute in the background, flickering like a ghost. His blunt sat forgotten in the ashtray, burning slow and curling upward. Some sultry R&B track hummed from his speaker, soft drums, a voice that sounded like fucking, and the second her knees touched the mattress, she knew.

Stack’s hands were already sliding up the backs of her thighs, thumbs digging into that sweet spot just beneath the curve of her ass. She was in his hoodie, no shorts, skin warm from the inside out. She straddled him again, like before. But this time, he didn’t waste a second. There was no warm-up. No hesitation.

His mouth crashed into hers with a hunger that pulled sound from her throat. A deep, claiming kiss that left no space for breath, no room for protest. His hands roamed like he owned her—under her shirt, over her ribs, down her spine—touching her like he’d been waiting to get back to this exact moment. And maybe he had.

He kissed like a man who fought for his spot in her life, messy, rough, unforgiving. She moaned into it, wrapped her arms around his neck, and let herself be consumed.

Then he shifted. Pressed her down onto the mattress with careful force, settling between her thighs like he belonged there. His shirt was off. Clothes peeled away like afterthoughts, tossed to the floor without care. The foreplay had been silent, wordless, just hands and heat. But now that he had her laid out beneath him, something in his expression changed.

“Hold on,” he muttered, eyes narrowed in concentration, shifting his hips like he was dialing in a code. “I’m tryna remember the exact angle. The science behind this shit.”

Paris raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious right now?”

"Hell yeah, I saw it on Twitter."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then he pushed in, slow, thick, all of him, and whatever snark she had died in a choked gasp. Her back arched. He sank deep, deep enough to make her thighs quake. A low groan rumbled from his chest, that familiar growl of satisfaction when he got her right where he wanted.

He didn’t speak. Just started driving into her hard and fast, hips snapping, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment to lose his mind. Every thrust was deep and punishing, the kind that made the bed creak and her voice pitch up into a broken moan. He adjusted his angle with sharp precision, his grip tightening, rhythm relentless, until—

There.

Her breath caught. Her eyes flew open. Her mouth dropped on a moan that clawed from her belly. Her hands flew to his arms, nails biting down, thighs shaking around his hips.

And then it happened.

Wet.

Not slick. Not creamy. But a gush.

A flood that spread between them, hot and immediate.

Stack stopped mid-thrust. Froze.

His eyes went wide. He looked down. Then up at her.

Then back down again.

He blinked once. Twice.

Paris felt the wet. Felt the tension in his body. Felt the weight of his stare. “Don’t,” she said quickly, already covering her face. “Don’t start—”

His voice was reverent. Like he was witnessing a miracle. 

“I swear to God, Elias—”

“You squirted again.”

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s a thing, Paris. It’s the thing. It’s the only thing now.”

She groaned, buried her face deeper into her palms. “I hate you.”

“You love me. And you just baptized me.”

She laughed, because she couldn’t help it, and tried to squirm away, but his hands locked tight around her hips, keeping her in place like she was something sacred.

His eyes were gleaming. Unhinged with joy. “I need to see that again.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but his hips started rolling again, deeper this time, more focused. His hands gripped tighter, like she might vanish. And Paris knew, clear as anything, she was fucked.

He’d found his favorite toy.

And he was ready to break it open again.

Paris never stood a chance. Not with the way he was looking at her, like she held a secret he was born to uncover. Stack’s grin was all heat, crooked and dangerous, the kind that belonged to a man who’d found his new favorite obsession. That first squirt hadn’t satisfied him. It just rewired his brain. Now he needed to see it in every angle, every position, every fucking time. It wasn’t just desire, it was devotion disguised as filth, reverence wrapped up in raunch. And she? She was the altar.

He sat back on his knees, wiping his soaked fingers down his abs like war paint, grinning down at her like she was dessert. The way her chest was rising and falling, still gasping from the last orgasm, only made him harder. Made him hungrier. He leaned forward and kissed her neck, slow and messy, before pulling back and murmuring, “Flip over.”

Paris blinked up at him, still breathless, lashes damp. “What?”

“Doggy,” he said, tapping her thigh like it was a command. “C’mon. I wanna see it from the back. Bet this ass throw it back while you squirt too.”

She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile. Obeying, she dragged herself onto her elbows and knees, arching her back slow, spine dipping just right. Her ass lifted high, round and soft, and Stack let out a low hiss through his teeth, jaw tight as he ran both hands over the curve of her hips. He slid his palms up and down her sides, thumbs pressing into her dimples, dragging her back toward him with a grip that said mine.

“Look at this,” he muttered like he was seeing her for the first time. “Gon’ be a fuckin’ waterfall.”

He lined up, not bothering with teasing. Not when he was already leaking, already aching, already past the point of patience. He pushed in deep in one thrust, no warning, no easing in. She choked on a moan, hands grabbing at the sheets, her elbows buckling. Stack groaned low in his throat, and then he was moving, no slow grind, just hard, deep strokes.Like he was trying to fuck every drop out of her.

Paris was gasping, fingers clawing for something to hold on to, eyes squeezed shut. Every stroke jolted her forward, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls. The bed rocked under them, and her ass bounced with every thrust, slick sounds filling the room like music. Her body shook beneath him, tension winding tight in her belly again, too soon, too fast, and too much.

Stack grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked gently but firmly, leaned over her back until his chest grazed hers. “You feel that? You feel what you do to me? Gimme that mess again, baby. I want it on my fuckin’ thighs. I want it everywhere.”

“Elias—” she moaned, broken, teetering, but he didn’t let up.

He adjusted, got one knee up on the bed for better leverage, changing the angle until he found it again, that swollen, tender spot that made her twitch every time he hit it. That sacred, liquid switch inside her that answered to no one but him. He slammed into it over and over, the sound of his pelvis crashing into her ass loud and obscene, the rhythm brutal, relentless. Her pussy gripped him like it was trying to pull him in deeper, wetter with every thrust. Paris shook violently, eyes blown wide, mouth falling open in a scream that caught in her throat. Her body trembled under him, ass arching, legs quaking as her orgasm slammed through her like a freight train, shaking, sobbing, her slick flooding out around him as she came, again and again, like her body didn’t know how to stop.

A full-body release, a gush so hot and violent it sprayed down his thighs, coating his skin, soaking the sheets.

Stack pulled out with a growl, dick glistening, watching it all drip with wide, reverent eyes. “God damn,” he muttered, running his fingers through the mess and licking them clean. “You tryin’ to baptize me again?”

Paris collapsed forward, trembling, face buried in the sheets.

He smacked her ass once, not hard, just enough to make it jiggle. “Don’t run now. We not done. I need that mouth on me next. But first…”

He slid down the bed, open-mouthed kisses trailing along her spine, slow and wet, leaving a path of heat down to the base of her back. Each kiss was possessive, a mark in the making. When he reached the swell of her ass, he paused, spread her cheeks apart with both hands, and exhaled like he was facing down divinity. His breath kissed her soaked folds before his tongue did, a slow, deliberate drag from clit to entrance that made her jerk and moan. He buried his face there like it was the only source of air, groaning low as the taste hit his tongue. He spread her wider with both thumbs, grinding his mouth into her pussy like he was trying to wear her out from the inside. His tongue flicked fast, desperate, messy, his beard already soaked, chin slick with her arousal. No teasing. No warmup. Just straight, filthy hunger, like he was starving and she was the only thing that could save him.

He moaned into her, beard drenched within seconds, licking and sucking like he was trying to drown himself in her. She was still on her hands and knees, back arched, legs spread just enough to let him get deep and messy. His tongue didn’t stay on her clit, it was on a journey. He flicked and circled it with maddening precision, then dragged his tongue down to her entrance and pushed in, slow at first, then deeper, tongue-fucking her until her knees shook and her moans turned into gasps. Paris whimpered, her voice cracking, head dropping between her arms. He growled and spread her wider, thumbs gripping into the meat of her ass.

But he wasn’t done.

His tongue kept moving, tracing her from that fluttering entrance down to her tightest point, licking her asshole like it was part of the meal. He lapped at her there with the same filthy reverence, groaning like he could taste her nerves. Her whole body jerked, helpless, pussy clenching around nothing. And just when she thought he was done, he dragged his mouth back up in one long, wet sweep and locked onto her clit again, sucking it hard, lips sealed around it, tongue fluttering fast.

Paris cried out, voice wrecked, her face still smashed into the mattress, fingers digging into the headboard like she could keep from falling apart.

“Stack—fuck—please—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even look up. One hand stayed firm on her hip, the other slipping underneath to rub her clit in tight, obscene circles. His tongue pressed deep, chasing that spongy, swollen spot that made her gush before.

And just like that—another wave.

A violent, hot gush that soaked his chin, hit his throat, dripped down his chest.

Stack pulled back only long enough to catch his breath, tongue still out, eyes blown wide with hunger. “You leaking like a broke faucet. Shit got my beard drippin’. I should bottle this and sell it.”

Paris tried to crawl away, overwhelmed and trembling, but he growled and grabbed her hips, dragging her right back.

“Nah, baby. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He licked his lips, face glistening, looking up at her like a man who just tasted heaven and wasn’t ready to leave.

Stack was on one now. Completely gone. Eyes glassy, beard soaked, brain short-circuited by every sound, every squirt, every tremble Paris gave him. She had no idea what she’d awakened in him days ago, but now it was alive and ravenous, possessive, hungry, competitive. Somewhere between the way she gripped the sheets and the way her slick painted his chest, he decided to set a personal goal. One that had everything to do with pride and nothing to do with mercy.

“I’ma see if I can do it three times before you tap out,” he muttered, voice low and rough like gravel, throat thick with lust.

Paris lifted her head just barely from the sheets, already shaking, her body twitching from aftershocks. “I’ma knock your ass out if you keep talkin’ like that while my pussy malfunctionin’.”

He laughed, the sound dark and shameless. “Say that shit again while it’s squirting on my chest.”

Then he moved, fast, deliberate, flipping her over like she was weightless. Flat on her back now, legs spread wide and knees hooked up by his arms. She was open, exposed, soaked. Her inner thighs shimmered with slick, her pussy swollen and pulsing like it had its own heartbeat.

Stack didn’t waste time. Two fingers plunged into her again, slick and smooth, curling upward until he hit the spot that made her legs kick. His thumb circled her clit, slow at first, teasing, while his head dipped lower. He drove them in nearly to the base, not stopping until his knuckles kissed her heat, making sure she felt every inch of pressure, every calculated stroke.

He didn’t just eat her. He feasted. Devoured. Like he needed it to live. His tongue flattened, dragged slow over her clit, then flicked it in tight, rhythmic bursts. He groaned into her like her taste alone was enough to unravel him. His fingers fucked her with purpose, slow, then faster, then pushing and pulsing like a lockpick trying to crack her open again. She was already unraveling.

“Elias, fuck, you doin’ too much,” she whimpered, fists tangled in the sheets.

He grinned against her pussy, lips wet. “Nah, baby.”

Paris was trembling all over, muscles twitching, belly tensing. Her moans got louder, breathless. She couldn’t keep still. Her hands kept reaching out, pulling at him, pushing, grabbing anything she could find.

And then he did it. Twisted his fingers just right, angled his thumb against her clit, and sucked her with deep, wet focus.

“Stack, you, fuck, if I squirt again I’m gonna—”

“Go ‘head and scream, mama,” he growled. “Let the neighbors hear the weather.”

And just like that, she screamed.

Her back arched. Her hips bucked off the bed. Her pussy let go in a violent rush that sprayed his chest, face, hands. Stack let out a deep groan, dropping his head as the warmth coated him.

“God damn,” he hissed, licking his lips. “You tryin’ to drown me for real.”

She sobbed, legs shaking, thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut. He pried them open.

“Nah. You said I’m doin’ too much?” he said, eyes blazing. “We not even halfway done. One more. I need one more.”

She shook her head, but her body betrayed her. Already pulsing. Already clenching around his fingers.

Stack leaned in again, mouth dragging down to her entrance. He kissed her slit, tongue laving slowly, then looked up at her, eyes dark with intent. Without another word, he rose onto his knees, grabbed her thighs, and lined himself up.

He pushed into her slow but deep, burying himself inch by inch until his pelvis met her soaked folds with a wet slap. Paris gasped, hands flying to his arms, nails digging in.

Her pussy clenched around him immediately, slick and hot, and Stack’s eyes rolled back just a little.

Then he moved. Every thrust knocked the breath out of her lungs, the pressure inside her building like a scream with nowhere to go.

Paris was a mess, sweat-slick, moaning, body jolting with every stroke. Her legs wrapped around him without thought, like her body couldn’t bear to let him go.

“Don’t hold back on me,” he grunted, one hand sliding under her ass, angling her up as he drove deeper. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

She sobbed his name, high-pitched and broken.

Her whole body tensed, locked, and then released.

A third gush exploded between them, spraying across his stomach and thighs, soaking the sheets beneath her. Her scream tore through the room, raw and desperate.

Stack groaned deep, still stroking through it, watching her fall apart under him.

“God damn,” he muttered, hips slowing only slightly. “Look at that fuckin’ mess.”

Paris collapsed back, twitching, eyes fluttering shut.

He leaned down, kissed her inner thigh, then her mound, then up her stomach in a slow trail.

“Three times,” he whispered, dick still hard inside her. “Told you.”

She couldn’t even speak. Could barely breathe.

He pulled out slow, watching the way her slick clung to him, how wet and ruined she looked beneath him.

Paris was laid out like a woman who’d just seen God and lived to tell about it. If she could talk. Her body was limp across the soaked sheets, one thigh still twitching in little, involuntary aftershocks, hair stuck to her damp cheeks, and her chest rising and falling like she’d just outrun a wildfire. Her voice? Gone. Not a whisper left. All she could manage were small, broken sighs and the occasional breathless whimper that barely counted as sound. Her eyes stayed shut, her limbs loose, melted into the mattress like the bed had swallowed her whole.

Stack lay next to her, just as sweaty, his beard glistening, his entire chest shining with the mess they’d made. A grin was stretched across his face like he’d just hit the damn jackpot and knew no one else could ever take it from him. He turned his head, eyes moving slowly over her wrecked body with lazy satisfaction, one arm draped across his stomach, the other resting on the bed beside her.

“You good?”

Paris didn’t even open her eyes. Her voice came out low and hoarse. “No. I’m mad at you.”

He laughed, deep and warm and smug as hell. “You squirted seven times, Paris. That’s a biblical event. You should be proud. That was some Moses-parting-the-sea type shit.”

“My thighs won’t stop twitchin’. I need electrolytes.”

“I need another round.”

She cracked an eye open, rolled her head toward him, and smacked his chest with a palm that barely had strength behind it. “You’re sick. That’s what you are.”

He shrugged like she’d just complimented him. “You’re hydrated.”

Then he turned on his side, propping himself up on one elbow, brushing a finger across her cheek like he hadn’t just turned her body into a flood zone. His eyes danced, full of mischief and filthy affection.

“Niagara.”

She groaned, covering her face with one hand. “Stop calling me that.”

“I’m just sayin’. We might need to get FEMA involved. This pussy got natural disaster potential.”

“Elias.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

She peeked at him from between her fingers. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I’m too tired to argue.”

“Which means I’m right.”

She shoved him again, but this time it was softer. Her lips curled despite herself, cheeks glowing with the kind of flush that came from being completely and unapologetically ruined.

Stack leaned in, kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her nose, then finally her lips. Soft now. Gentle. Like the storm had passed but he still needed to worship the wreckage.

“You’re insane,” she whispered against his mouth.

He smiled, that grin still smug, still soft around the edges now that the fire had cooled.

“I’ma make you do that shit again tomorrow. And the next day. Forever.”

His voice caught her ear first. The strike of a gavel. Resonant and commanding. A voice that commanded silence without raising it, without excess or fanfare. Just with power and roughness that suggested he knew to back up every word with action. 

He was not even loud. Evie doubted another soul meandering the shelves or working in the back corner of her neighborhood’s local bookstore even heard it. 

But Evie? Thanks to forgetting to charge her AirPods before a perfectly-curated self-care Saturday, she stopped retaining the summary in the navy blue and floral print hardback in her hands. Her brain and ears strained to find more of that sound. 

Feel more of how it settled around her. More of how his low register seemed to send vibrations directly toward her soul, determined to fill it with security and ease. She would’ve never thought a voice so gruff could still carry such tenderness. It was layered beneath harshness, a vocal hardened shell but it peeked out… just enough. And that made Evie stop. 

Even without AirPods, Evie blocked out most of the outside world’s noise. Not much made her stop. But he did.

Damn. We crucifyin’ niggas for gettin’ the birthday right, but the party wrong now? Streets gettin’ strict.”

And he made her eyes lift. 

Even before Evangeline Harris found them, she knew they had to be brothers. Just similar enough as if they were pieces of the same cloth that were treated differently. 

She imagined neither of them ever had to ask for something twice, not sounding like that. The first voice demanded authority, swift compliance without complaint. And the second sounded like he, at least, let a person believe they had options before the smoothest voice to ever land in their ear talked them into whatever he actually wanted. 

Honey smooth, the kind of voice you wanted to hear under dim lights with low sensual music in a secluded back corner booth of a bar. His voice was silk, designed to slide along her skin like it already knew the roadmap.

Evie tried to juggle far too potential purchases with her cold brew and cell phone as she glanced up. 

Identical twin brothers. 

Sexy as fuck identical twin brothers, she could not help but acknowledge. And they strode through the store as if they owned the world and every room on it. Every measured step exuded power as they brought the pair closer to where she stood, tucked away in the corner of the mystery section. 

“Only gon’ take 10 minutes. Zu-Zu’s turnin’ 5… not 50. Can’t be that many op… tions.” 

Her eyes followed them, even though she knew she should look away, as they turned the corner into the section opposite hers. The vast and vibrant children’s corner. 

One with many, many options. 

“Exactly.” That austere voice held the smallest hint of smug amusement at being right, his tone that signaled he was right more often than not. 

She should’ve gone back to minding her business. That was the proper thing. So that’s what she tried to do. But it seemed impossible to hold. To force her attention away from them for too long. She’d read a sentence or two, examine another title, before her eyes found the glittering path right back to them. 

And in those stolen glances, Evie examined two of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. 

She eyed him as he merely rolled his eyes, watching his brother approach the shelves with a renewed cocky grin and focus. His brother paced the length of each wall with intentional ease. Quick as if someone replaced the shaggy colorful block rug with coals for him to stand on. 

But if that were the task, she imagined he’d be an expert. He was neither careless nor clumsy. Just quick and light on his feet as one hand slid into the pocket of his perfectly-tailored grey slacks. 

Fuck boy, she decided quickly. But he’d give you the ride of your life before he ruined it, at least. Might be worth it?

She took a sip of her drink as she weighed the cost-benefit analysis of lusting after a fuckboy. 

She did have to admire their intention. Both of them. The obvious care in what they showed the world. 

His hands pulled at the sleeves of his burgundy cardigan, the fabric marked with white lines and splashes of vibrant crimson across it and stitched along the border. His gold chain sat heavy against the white t-shirt beneath it as he lifted his hand to slide his shades off before tucking them in his pocket. Several gold and silver link bracelets shifted down one arm, a very expensive watch settled on the other. 

Rich. She could see it in their clothes even though she could not see a single label. Quiet wealth. And they had it. But it was more than dollars in a bank account. Whatever these two did? It came with money and power. And it oozed out of every pore of their skin. 

Have finer identical twins ever walked the face of this Earth? 

And these two were just here… on her block… on a random Saturday unprovoked? 

She forced herself to shift, turning to grab a different book, as she had not moved in a bit. It was time to move on, she knew. Continue about her day and finish her errands and plans. And yet, something asked her to stay. Gut, intuition, she was not quite sure. But it suggested, in her soul, that this was exactly where she needed to be. Her track record of ignoring her gut was not too good. So she chose to listen this time. 

And then she set her sights toward his brother. He did not appreciate movement as much as his twin. He preferred to plant himself like a massive, strong, gorgeously-built tree instead. And as immovable as one posted against the archway of the reading corner, his eyes trained on the door of the store with military precision. 

Private security? Defense contracting? Former military for sure. Only a soldier could have posture that good, she reasoned. And only a soldier would be eyeing the door like he’s ready to shoot the first threat walking through it. 

The way his eyes darted between the exits, assessing. How his set frown didn’t change, not once, his amusement only showing in his eyes or a shake of the head. 

His style offered the same intentionality, just a touch more understated. His muted slacks and matching shacket signaled he wanted to look put together but not be noticed or remembered. Someone who preferred for eyes not to linger too long. 

And here she was… lingering. But fuck… he was gorgeous. The blue face of his watch caught her eye as he raised it to check the time, the only pop of color on his frame. 

“Shit can’t be that hard. Most of em got cartoon animals n shit on em anyway.” 

Evie didn’t expect the snicker that bubbled up at that, one just too loud to pass off as anything else. Just loud enough for his eyes to find hers. 

And stop her entire world in its tracks.

***

They noticed her quickly, just moments after turning the corner toward the children’s section, tucked away in a corner, nose buried in the front cover of a book with 10 others precariously balancing in her arms. 

Smoke was a bit better at stealthy recon than him or her but Stack managed as he eyed her stolen glances in their direction. It was not intrusive or rude, more fueled by curiosity.

Staring was as unusual as a penny to the Twins. They grew accustomed, long ago, to the heads that turned when they walked down the street, the double take or that confused “loading” stare as Elias called it when someone met one of them and then the other. Identical twins, by nature, attracted attention. But when you looked like Elijah “Smoke” and Elias “Stack” Moore? It attracted even more. 

Most people’s attention wasn’t worth it. But one giggle from a stranger across an aisle and he imagined he’d sell his soul to hear that sound again. To be the cause of that sound. It reminded him of running through the woods chasing Elijah when they were kids or the first bite of a cinnamon roll from Alexander’s Bakery up the block on his occasional slow Sunday morning. It was a burst of unfettered joy. 

It was soft. And softness was not something he nor Smoke felt often. Even when he found a woman to keep him company till sunrise, he wasn’t cruel. But he never offered softness. It wasn’t what they were there for. And nothing in their world or about them attracted it. Because they weren’t crafted for it. 

But he found himself craving more of this particular softness and warmth. Noting how Smoke’s shoulders shifted at the sound, instinctively falling out of their tight position. As if her laugh had found its way into his soul. 

He caught Smoke’s eye for a millisecond before yours, the briefest but most important conversation of their lives passing through a connection no one else could see or understand like a thread. 

An understanding. They wanted her. Both of them. 

He held her gaze for a stretch longer than a stranger should, than common decency allowed. Too long to be a mistake. Too long for her not to feel what he felt. The burn, the heat of an explosion around her. 

He expected her to look away as she bit her lip, her eyes dancing with lust and something uncertain. A confusion as to why the moment packed so much. Expected her to be the first to retreat from his intensity, most women were. But not her. Even as his eyes commanded her to look away, run away from the danger that set its eyes on her.

But she stayed, eyeing him with equal curiosity. Because it felt good. His intensity and laser heat. 

She offered him a soft smile before turning back to her book, Evie forcing herself to look away. Because how did a mere moment manage to make her feel all of that? 

“Just give a nigga a minute.” 

Evie’s eyes consumed the same sentence about six times as she tried not to watch him pace the corner set of shelves as if standing in one spot was illegal. His brother barely moved an inch since they arrived, as if his back was integral to the building’s structural integrity. 

His hand went to his beard, rubbing the coarse, thick hair slightly with this almost paternalistic amusement in his eyes. A look that said he knew he wasn’t going to find a thing. In a minute or two or 10. But he also knew he would never surrender or admit defeat. 

The older one, no doubt. 

She didn’t need to look up to get an answer. Because all she heard rise above the soft alternative R&B music playing in the background was a grunt of disapproval. 

A pause.

“The Humble Pie? Really, nigga?” 

“Ain’t like she gon’ learn humility from any of us,” he argued. 

“Next best teacher’s a pie then? Ain’t even got emotions.” 

As the youngest of three, Evie knew that unique mixture of exasperation and amusement could only be triggered by the eldest sibling.

Evie did not work there or any bookstore for that matter. But she spent enough time in the children’s corner to know the selection. Surely the owner, a close friend, wouldn’t mind if she helped a customer or two… right? 

Because while this was an amusing tale all on its own, it would not get this poor child a decent birthday gift. And perhaps, with her intervention, this story would get just a bit more interesting. 

We’re doing our civic duty… really… 

She didn’t have a plan, a realization that hit her after her feet started to move, after they were already committed to the destination. Evie knew she needed a plan. There were two of them and one of her and she had not thought this through one bit. But her gut demanded she move and she promised to listen. 

Evie sized them up. His sexy but decidedly deep frown lines did not scream approachability. His’ smile was as tempting as sin on a Friday night. Inviting but she could not ignore the hint of danger there. 

But she didn’t stop. And when she caught his eye by chance as her meandering feet drew her closer, something in his smile shifted to be a hair less dangerous. His brother’s posture slacked a touch. For the first time since they entered the store, something in them softened. Something suggesting they’d be amenable to the right interruption. 

To her. 

“Can I help y’all find something specific?” 

Two sets of eyes descended upon her, taking the moment as her question settled to devour her as her body weight sank into her right hip, her hands shifting the books to the side. 

Now standing in front of them, neither brother bothered to hide how their eyes swept her frame. Stack’s eyes roamed, noting the rich oxblood athleisure set and cropped black quarterzip that showed off her thick hourglass figure. Her plump ass begged for him to palm it, squeeze it. He wondered how it would ripple if he smacked it. And he imagined he’d die a happy man between those plush pillowy thighs. 

Smoke’s eyes took the same journey, lingering for a moment on the lethal tip of your nails. A sharp, freshly manicured, stiletto with rich phthalo green and gold swirls dancing across them in odd patterns. Eye-catching, beautiful. Intentional. And made him wonder how they’d feel digging into the hard flesh of his back with those thighs wrapped around his waist. 

The things we could do to you. Elias always said Elijah lacked imagination but as he looked at her, he found his imagination conjured up endless ways he wanted to take this soft girl. 

He noticed the satin pink scrunchie around her wrist that her keys dangled from. None a standard silver or gold. Instead, they were printed in color or bright patterns. The heavy-laden black Canvas bag handing from your arm had a big bouquet of flowers and paintbrushes printed across it. 

His eyes noted the specks of random shades of blue and white along the back of her hands. 

Paint. An artist? 

“You work here?” 

His gruff baritone almost made her falter, his eyes meeting hers almost made her faint. An intensity all the same but tuned to a different frequency. This was steady. Not a giant explosion that made your heart race and head spin and made everything fall away, but a steady rolling heat that made it all still for a moment. A wide and encompassing fire, consuming everything in its path to reach her. 

But what their heat shared? That challenge. This warning daring Evie not to linger, to run inside and hide before he consumed her too. But Evie refused to falter or tuck her tail. She just kept her eyes trained on him, her smile unbothered as if to let him know she’d happily get swept up in his flames. 

“No. Though if you knew how much time I spend here, you’d think so,” she grinned as she tugged a loc of silky pressed hair behind her ear. “Just a good samaritan who heard an argument about the merits of a pie as an effective teacher brewing? And by the look in his eye,” she gestured toward Smoke before turning to his brother, “You were gonna to lose.” 

“Damn right,” he affirmed. 

“And saving you means I don’t pick up another book for myself. So it’s purely selfish really. But I didn't mean to overstep or intrude so apologies if-” 

“Don’t apologize.” 

Evie’s jaw clamped shut, his command setting off this tingling sensation in her that was… not appropriate to feel toward a stranger. 

“We do. ‘Preciate you.” He paused for a moment as if waiting for her to fill in the blank. 

“Oh, you can just call me Evie.” 

“Smoke n Stack,” he gestured toward his brother. 

Definitely not the names the mama gave them. But Smoke and Stack. It has a ring to it. 

So she nodded as if those were normal names.

And for the first time since Evie saw them, he moved. It almost startled her even as she watched him do it. 

Smoke noticed her overburdened hands before she even approached them. A full canvas bag, a tall stack of books in her hands. How she kept shifting them to find less uncomfortable ways to hold everything. 

He covered the short space separating you, across a shaggy carpet with vibrant splashes of colors across it. Her brain short-circuited the moment he was at arm's length, a deep breath escaping as she felt his presence surround her. Steady, secure, and anchoring. 

If he could tell the effect he had on her, he did not show it as he slid the books from the nook of her arm. They were already in his hand before she registered what he did. 

“Oh, no. Thanks but I got em. You don’t have to do that.” 

“Your arm’s tired.” 

Simple. As if intervention had been his only recourse. 

Evie shook her head, holding out her hand with an expectant look. But he ignored it, which made her scoff. His brother merely watched the exchange with a snicker on his lips as if he knew she lost the moment his brother set his sights on those books.

“My arm’s fine. I can hold a few books.” 

“You were shiftin’ em when you were over there. Came over here, moved em to your hip. But you keep shiftin’ em cause the stack is too tall and too heavy to comfortably hold for long. Why you ain’t get a basket?” 

She heard the chastisement in his tone, something that should’ve offended her. But instead she found it… sexy. Or rather, perhaps it was sexy because there was a curiosity hidden in there. A genuine desire to understand why her brain made one choice over another. 

“I’m only getting one book. Didn’t need a basket for one book.” 

“You got nine books here.” 

“Yea but that’s my rule when I stop by. 1 book. So theoretically, I’ll narrow it down before I go check out.” 

“Theoretically, how often does that happen?” Stack asked. 

“Sometimes…” 

Silence. 

“Every so often.” 

Stack raised an eyebrow, his steps bringing him a few paces closer to her as the pair wore her down with nothing more than a look and patience. 

Evie folded like a lawn chair with both of them so close, doubling the intensity swirling around her. And Evie was not even sure which one she was folding for as they both examined her until she revealed her secret addiction to purchasing books.  

“Okay fineeeeeee, jeez Sherlock 1 and 2,” she raised her hands in surrender, a very bashful and guilty grin on her face. “Maybe I’ve never left this particular establishment with only one book.” 

Stack let out a belly laugh at the playful way she folded her arms and muttered the last part more quietly. But it died off slightly when he noticed Smoke. How his lips seemed to tug into a rare smile, one Stack had not seen grace his features in far too long. How he loosened, in his own Smoke way, with this stranger nearby. Likeshe was a balm for his spirit that his mind didn’t know or understand just yet. 

His shoulders were not pinned up to his ears, his back not tight with tension. His eyes left the exits and entrances to scan for attacks. In fact, Elias didn’t think he saw his eyes leave hers since they found them.  

“But if I had gotten the first book I grabbed, I wouldn’t be saving a girl from learning humility from a pie so maybe I’ll treat myself to two books today? I’ve clearly earned it,” she joked. 

The pair glanced at each other, noting that if they had something to say about it, she’d never know a financial limitation again. They’d buy her the whole damn store, hell every book in Chicago if it kept that earnest smile on her face. 

“Speaking of, who are we shopping for?” 

She forced herself to return to the task, if only to get their eyes off of her. To stop the way they examined her. As if every word she spoke peeled back a layer she had not realized she revealed. 

“Our niece. Turnin’ five on Monday, party’s later today. Got her a dollhouse but it won’t get her till her birthday. Can’t show up empty handed but our cousin’s wife'll cuss us out six ways to Sunday if we bring another toy in that damn house. But-” 

“Nigga ain’t bought a children’s book in his life.” 

Evie’s heart melted before she bowed her head to laugh at his brother’s very dry delivery of his shade. 

“That’s so sweet. She’s lucky to have two great uncles like you two.” She offered, her words filled with sincerity. “And two funny ones," she added. "The options can definitely be overwhelming and they hit on a lot of the same themes. But I got a couple ideas…” 

Stack shifted out of her way and moved to stand by Smoke as they switched places with her. This time, the Twins watched her. With focused attention, they watched as her stiletto tips tapped lightly against her thigh as she paced. And then she locked in with a focus Smoke only recognized in himself, like she lost herself in it. 

And that focus filled her hands with thin, vibrantly colorful books with Black girls on the cover or by Black authors. 

“She probably has some of these so you may wanna trim this down. Like Hair Love is a staple on most Black girls’ shelves these days. But I added some other ones that are similar or by Black authors. Oh my god, The Year We Learned to Fly! I love this one.” 

Evie’s hand flew to her heart as the other reached for the book with such enthusiasm, the men would’ve thought she found a stack behind one of those books. Or the book itself would imbue the reader with wings. But no, this was just her. 

And they liked that more than men like them should’ve. 

“I got this for my nephews a couple years ago. It’s really cute, they loved it. All about history and freedom. It’s a solid one to add.” 

Evie turned back to the shelves to continue looking. 

“Brandon, the owner, keeps a pretty great selection for kids, I think? It’s really robust and diverse, all ages and reading levels. Most of the authors or illustrators are Black, people of color, or from Chicago, which I love because you get a story and touch of home. Which is kinda nice right?” 

The smile she threw over her shoulder in their direction made both of their hearts’ swell. 

Stack couldn’t imagine their luck. She was the most exquisite creature he’d ever laid eyes on. And they stumbled across her in a random bookstore? He would thank God for this miracle every day. 

“Just if your cousin is ever in the neighborhood and wants to stop by. There are a lot of great Black-owned businesses in this neighborhood too. And he does some great programming for kids in the summer since he built out this space for them.” 

Baby girl is a talker. 

And Stack couldn’t help but hang on every word. So much so that he had no words to offer himself, which was rare. Nor did he notice how the excess words did not send his stoic twin racing to the car for reprieve. No one found small talk more intolerable than Elijah.

He himself didn’t even understand why he was still standing there. This amount of talking from anyone but the man sharing his face would have sent him reeling into the still frigid Chicago fall in annoyance. But at this moment? He imagined nothing would convince him to leave this conversation.

Because Evie was pure light, a light that seemed utterly immune to the darkness surrounding them. The darkness that repelled most the world. It didn’t seem to repeal her. It didn’t diminish her authenticity, her color. Even if he said nothing, she was still her. Unbothered, confident. She almost floated as if joy kept her inches off the ground. She was unafraid, which Smoke found he respected. Unafraid to be witty and at ease enough to be playful with two admittedly intimidating strangers. 

And that intrigued him. That challenged him. He was not used to it. Used to women contorting themselves to be mysterious or ultra sexy or whatever they believed would appeal to one of them. But she just showed up, not trying to impress. Just trying to be her. 

So her words, even perhaps a bit in excess like his brother, were not noise to tune out like everyone else’s. Her words invited them into something passionate. Something colorful that could, just maybe, siphon away some of the darkness he surrounded his heart with. 

And that kept him planted, rooted in this spontaneous moment of light instead of shutting her down to finish and check something off their to-do list. Because every sentence, every moment in her presence mattered. It revealed more about her. In her words, expression, and the way she moved.

“You know, Zu-Zu would love this.” 

His finger gestured at the setting, his eyes finally doing more than a security sweep of the library nook filled with plush pillows and child-sized stools. But what truly caught his eye was the mural painted along the three walls around them. 

The walls and columns featured detailed paintings of Black children in blend of fantastical settings and Chicago landmarks. A feeling he couldn't place stirred in his spirit as he took it in. Familiar but ancient and forgotten. And it nearly explored in his heart at the set of twins to his left riding twin dragons across the DuSable Bridge. He lingered there for a moment, the edges slowly transforming into a feeling more like grief before he moved on. Stopping that particular emotion in its tracks. 

His eyes moved on to a young boy with dreads and a girl with box braids in a sword fight on a pirate ship on Lake Michigan. 

A young girl sitting on a log reading to the most attentive woodland animals he’d ever seen. 

And at the center, as you walked under the arch, one black girl nestled reading in the curvature of the moon, a crown of curls cascading down into the night’s sky. The glittering lights of Chicago’s skyline beneath her.

“Yea… She’d love that.” the other chimed in, also truly taking in the art surrounding them for the first time.

Evie’s hands stilled on the page of another option when she heard their words. She waited with bated breath to see if they said anything else about her pride and joy without giving away that she was the artist.

Stack spun around, whistling as he took in the section with the two twins. 

“This is dope. Could be us, Smoke. Red dragon’s mine tho. Gotta think of a name. You know, when we watched Game of Thrones, I told you. With some dragons?? We’d be sittin’ on the Iron Throne by lunch.” 

“N I’d spend all my time after lunch figurin’ out how to fix the property damage you n a dragon caused? I’m good.” 

Evie chuckled as she watched them bicker. But even as he poked fun at his brother’s vision of their Westeros takeover, Evie still noticed an amusement in his eye. A desire to entertain him and how the artwork sparked something in him, something imaginative and youthful. But this was what she had intended with the piece. Not just for children to see themselves but for adults to be reminded that imagination is forever.

“Smoke and Stack, first of their name, rulers of the Seven Kingdoms isn’t too shabby? Has a ring to it? Might be worth the headache of a lil property damage?"

"Not you too."

"See?? Shawty gets it. ignore him. No vision."

"Can't entertain him too much, ma. Or else he'll never let it go."

“You two are something else,” she laughed. “Oh... any special interests? Just realized I should’ve asked.” 

Smoke couldn't help but appreciate how committed she was to getting them the right things. Not just books to check a box and ensure she had something. But a genuine interest in ensuring the books would be well received and loved.

“Music. Gon’ be a damn rockstar, that one.” 

“Okayyyy, we love to see it. Future singer or musician? Or both?” 

“Both.” 

She reminded Stack of himself, how her feet did not stop moving once she started. How he could see the wheels churning and processing as she listened and moved. But it did not feel restless or without care. He knew why he moved so much. It was the byproduct of the chase. He was always chasing, always dreaming of the next thing. 

But she just seemed to enjoy moving her body. Not restless. Not anxious or unsure. She just seemed to prefer not to linger in one place too long if she did not have to. 

“That’s really dope. I’m so jealous of musically inclined people. Like God just gave you that voice? Unprovoked?? It’s really unfair,” Evie groaned, more to herself than the men standing behind her.

“Meanwhile, all he gave me was bad eyesight,” she muttered with a laugh as she pushed the gold plated wireframed glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. 

That ain’t all he gave you. Stack shared a look with Smoke as they both took in her round ass as she turned away from them again to go to a section marked for special interests. 

Smoke tried to tear his eyes away but fuck… he was an ass man if one ever existed. And hers was perfection.

“Okay, grabbed a couple options. I remember seeing this set of Black music history books in our music classroom. Grabbed one on jazz and one on R&B? The kids loved them all though. Which gave me hope for the future generations because when all the kids’ favorite artists are Ice Spice, you get concerned.”

“You a teacher?” Smoke inquired. He was usually never off.

Observant. 

“Yea I’ve been told I wear it on my sleeve,” she grinned. “I was an art teacher at an elementary school nearby for… oh god,” she paused. “Six years? Been out of the classroom for a while though. About two years.” 

“Thank God we wandered in when we did, Smoke. Stumbled on an expert.” Stack mused, his hands sliding into his pockets as his strides brought him closer to her. “What do you do now? Runnin’ the whole school?” 

She waved her hand dismissively with a laugh. “I could never. No, I’m just an artist full time now. Kinda nice to put the teacher hat back on though so thank you. Haven’t tapped back into that side in a minute.” 

Smoke noted how she grew silent for a moment, her eyes filled with nostalgia as she took in the vibrantly illustrated pages. Not loss or even sadness, really. Just reminiscing a past and profession well loved. 

She cleared her throat as if her moment of reflection was a crime. 

“Well… I believe you’ve got some good options here. Narrowed it down for you if nothing else. But I do fear these will be pretty irrelevant when that dollhouse arrives… you know that right?” 

Evie offered with a teasing tone, her smile brightening at how both of them grinned at her. Well, Smoke’s lip twitched. But for him, that seemed similar to showing all his teeth. 

“Very aware. But showin’ up empty handed costs more.”

“Smart girl,” she remarked. 

“She knows it too.” 

Evie tilted her head before amending her previous statement. 

“Wise girl.” At Smoke’s raised eyebrow, she added. “If she already knows her worth, means she won’t forget it.” 

The distinction settled in Elijah's ear like a confirmation. Affirming a girl’s worth without second thought, elevating her power to demand better from them even at five. And for the first time in his life, he wondered if love at first sight was real. Because he did not know how else to describe the energy that coursed through his veins. This charged frenzy that made him want to claim her as theirs. As his.

That made him want to gather this world and lay all of its splendor at her feet. 

Evie held out the titles to him, Stack’s hand brushing against hers as he took them. Chaste by anyone’s definition but the feel of his skin against hers was anything but to them. His hand did not move because he could not tear it away as he felt that spark. Did not want to either. Wanted to feel everything this world had to offer in her touch, wanted to slow down enough to feel this. 

Feel her. 

And the look in his eye suggested he could stand there with her, his skin softly pressed against hers for hours. 

“Is that my Evie-E?” 

A jovial voice interrupted, ripping through the moment like a cannon. Brandon, the owner and a friend, waved at her to catch her attention as he walked with a box to the counter. 

She cleared her throat, taking a step back from him. Both of them. Because whatever this was they were doing to her? Evie felt it the strongest when they were both near. Every look, every touch, every advance toward her was charged. 

“W-We should…” For the first time since she met them, Evie’s words failed her. 

“After you,” he gestured with a slight bow, taking the pressure off of her to put a bow on their interaction or find the right thing to say. 

She let out a heavy exhale as she walked past them toward the register, both men falling in step behind her. They did not hate the swish in her hips that accompanied every step along the way. 

“Heyyyyy B.”

Neither man wanted to admit how the increased sweetness in her voice as she approached the counter made something frustrating swell. Who was this man to you? But Smoke steady himself long enough to notice the wedding band on the man’s hand, that instinct to eliminate a threat to what he wanted subsided. 

“How’s my favorite customer and Chicago’s greatest artist?” He emphasized the artist with a wink, her head falling back in laughter. 

“You’re so dumb.” 

“Taking a break ahead of the big night?” 

She let out a huge exhale. “Yea, yea. Should have everything done by Monday. Needed a break though, head was about to explode so today’s all about relaxation. A lil self-care Saturday.” 

He paused, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as if he knew you had done more than relax. 

“Relaxing or volunteering in my store?” 

“What’s the difference when I got you…” Evie paused as her hand disappeared into her tote bag before pulling out a small neatly packaged to-go box, the Twins too familiar with the green satin ribbon and sticker wrapped around it. 

“If that’s a cinnamon roll from Alexander’s, I’ll divorce Shae in a heartbeat.” 

The man almost melted into a puddle. 

“Damn I should’ve gone this mornin’.” Stack looked utterly dismayed at his own forgetfulness. “Sure we gotta fly out tomorrow?” He added to his brother who merely huffed. 

Evie flipped around, surprised. While it was a very quaint neighborhood bakery, their cinnamon rolls had become something of legend. Because she had a full plate the next day, she even splurged and got herself an extra for tomorrow. Though it would take every bit of willpower not to succumb to eating it when she got home. 

“Every Sunday.” 

She nodded. “Every Saturday. Convinced she’s putting crack in em or something.” 

Evie studied him for a moment before reaching into her bag and pulling out another pristine unopened box, her extra, and held it out to him. 

“Nah, sweetheart. Can’t take that.” 

“I insist. Traditions are important. Can’t have you not getting one this weekend… What kind of Monday could that lead to?? The consequences could be ghastly.”

She glanced over to Brandon in horror, a hand on her chest, who played into her drama. “She’s right. I’d take the cinnamon roll.”

She nodded in a matter of fact sort of way. “I’d listen to him.”

Evie did not know why she was insisting. But she found that she genuinely wanted him to have it. Not particularly for any other reason than she knew it would bring more joy to his day than her. 

When he still didn’t reach for it, she added, “You should have it, really. I already had one… This was for tomorrow anyway and I can go get another one before I start working. Besides, you said you’re headed to a five year old’s birthday party?” 

He nodded. 

“Trust me when I say... You need the sugar high far more than me.” She smiled. “Enjoy it. Please. For me?”

She didn’t even register that she had moved this time, taking a step closer to him. The for me accompanied a head tilt and sweet big brown eyes that let Stack know he and Smoke, two powerful fearless men, were in big trouble.

How would they ever say no to her?

Stack took it in his hands, his eyes studying it like it was holy. Like she had given him more than a sweet treat and burst of joy for his day. Like she was offering him a piece of herself. Without wanting a thing in return. Just because it would make him happy.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” 

His voice dipped, a need to emphasize his sincerity. Her breath caught.

“O-Of course.” 

“She’s amazing. You’re amazing…” Brandon whispered as he continued to hold tight to his own box as if it was the holy grail. 

“Very aware." She teasingly rolled her eyes. “But if you don’t ring them up, all my tedious labor working for you for free will be in vain.” 

Smoke stepped forward, shifting Evie’s body away from Brandon’s register and the front door and closer to his brother who leaned against the second counter behind her. She had not even realized how they framed her, centering her between their bodies and heat as if it were the safest place to be. 

Not intrusive. Nor unwelcome. They were too close for strangers but Evie found that her body demanded more. To be even closer, to be trapped within their flames again. She shouldn’t have but she didn’t even think to move a muscle. 

“My bad. How yall doin? Find everythin’ you need?” 

The music was slightly louder in this part of the store, the front register packed with punny trinkets and planners. Magnets and bookmarks and the like. Elijah couldn’t help but watch her hand picking up a few of them and chuckling before setting them back down with a shake of her head. As if a voice inside reminded her she did not need another funny magnet or bookmark. 

“Thanks to her.” He tilted his head in her direction, sliding their books and hers across the counter. 

She had not even noticed Stack pass them off to him. 

“Oh those are mine, B. Mind ringing em up for me after them?” 

“Nah. We got it.” 

Stack’s voice floated to her ear, void of the flippantness of a meaningless gesture, the kind you accidentally blurt out. No, this one held authority. Even if he was not the one holding the wallet or heavy-looking credit card. And that man seemed utterly unfazed by his brother adding her reckless shopping habits to his tab.

She shook her head, laughing as if he were doing a bit. “Oh no, I got it. Gotta winnow it down and all that anyway. Thanks for the offer though and reminder that perhaps chivalry isn’t dead yet.” 

“Now you don’t need to. We got it. A thank you for the help n breakfast.” 

She tried to find the tease. The joke hidden in his words but she quickly understood he was quite serious. And that opposite his brother, he just preferred to command with a smile.

“I can’t let you do that.” 

“Good thin’ we ain’t ask. Ring em up,” he instructed Brandon, the man’s hands moving toward her stack without a second thought. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t just ring them up cause he said! What about what I said??” Evie’s tone signaled bewilderment and amusement at how she had lost control of this interaction. But then she wondered if she ever had control to begin with. She lowered her voice to Brandon, a lethal whisper. “You’ve known me for five years, you don’t know these two from Adam’s house cat.” 

This is what happens when we don’t have a plan…

She turned toward Stack, bewildered. “It’s really not necessary.” 

“We know." A pause. "N you should know…”

She felt him close the space between them, felt his chest a mere inch from her back as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Ain’t too fond of repeatin’ myself.” 

Her legs almost crumpled beneath her like paper as she felt his breath tickling the skin of her neck. His cologne wrapped around her like a caress too delicious and too erotic to feel in public. Something she had never felt before, even in her past relationship. It pulled her body closer to him, made her sway and beg to be in his skin. 

B-” the words failed.

Why were you resisting? Did you even know why? The voice in her head screamed at her to, respectfully, shut the hell up.

Smoke let out a soft grunt as if her show of resistance was exhausting to him. As if he could tell Evie had no intention of surrender. Just like them.

Smoke silently reached and grabbed the top book off her stack. He flipped it in his hands to check the price before sliding it toward her on the wooden register.

“I don’t know what that means yet but I feel like I should be offended,” she muttered under her breath with an eye more to Brandon than the other two, Elijah’s lips turning into a real but small smile.

He didn’t hate the sound of “yet.” As if she already were anticipating another opportunity to understand them, their intricacies and habits.

“Ring that one up for her. We’ll do the rest. One book.”

“Well, I think the men have spoken.” Brandon immediately started ringing up the entire set. “And friend, I’d listen.”

Unluckily for Evie, as she tried to force her heart rate back to an acceptable resting pace, she failed to see it. That glint in a friend’s eye when they’re about to change your life. By getting in your business and meddling. Hard.

“Shae's so excited for the festival. She wanted me to tell you she’s invited everyone we know on Saturday. But we’re gonna come for a bit of opening night too. Are you excited?”

Evie froze. Felt the two men beside her internalize those words. Watched them file it away with everything else they had learned.

She narrowed her eyes at him, answering without much enthusiasm.

“I am.”

Polite enough. Because she knew she did not need to offer much. Because even after just a 10-minute interaction in a bookstore, she knew what was coming next. And she knew by the mischievous joy in his eyes, that Brandon would sing like a canary.

“Festival?”

“Yea! Starting Friday night.” Brandon took a step back, glancing around before grabbing a glossy postcard further down. He handed it to Stack, who was closer to him. “As much as this girl loves to talk, the one topic she sucks at is about herself. She’s the featured artist this year,” he tapped the larger name.

E.V. Harris. He flipped it around and held it up in his hand for his brother. Smoke’s eyes flickering down it before down at her.

She chewed her lip as both men glanced at her. There was almost disappointment in their eyes.

“‘Just an artist’ really undersells it, ma.” Smoke shook his head. “Told you that book wasn’t shit. See what that pie is teachin’ people?”

“I wasn’t influenced by a pie!” Evie called out with an exasperated laugh. “It just didn’t really come up in our conversation or… this one,” she cut your eyes toward Brandon. “But it’s just the local community art festival in the city. Nothing much.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers but his response was a simple, “Brandon?” As if they had not gotten the whole truth out of her. And wouldn’t.

“Well, I think that was a really weird way to say she’s the featured emerging artist at the largest art festival in Chicago. Being their featured emerging artist means she’ll be too booked for her volunteer gig in my store. Good thing you found her when you did,” he mused.

While everyone on the opposite side of the counter was wise to his tricks, two of them were silently giving gratitude to him and God for it.

Evangeline was trying to determine if and how she could curse his entire lineage.

“And if you want a teaser, bet she didn’t mention she’s the artistic genius behind the mural above the children’s section. Where you all were standing and talking about children and books and books children might like, I presume? I’m sure that came up in conversation, Evie?”

“And I’m sure they just asked about the festival,” she sucked her teeth in annoyance, the man winking at her

Smoke’s hand stilled just a bit too high above the card reader to not be intentional. Just for a moment before he paid then turned to her.

He took a deliberate step toward her as Brandon giftwrapped their purchase and put hers in a standard bag. She felt her breath hitch as he reduced the already minimal space between them to nothing. Something in her instinctively started to back up but she only ran into a hard chest thanks to his brother behind her.

Trapped. Their attention squarely on her. Centered. In the most erotic and sensual bubble of her life. Evie could’ve cowered as he towered over her, studying her like there would be a pop quiz to follow.

“You painted that?”

She chewed on her lip, unsure why she became almost too bashful and nervous to admit it. Unsure why admitting it to him, someone who already complimented it, felt like revealing something vulnerable and intimate.

“Yea... One of my first paid gigs, actually. Reason the festival’s even a possibility honestly.”

“It’s beautiful.”

No extra prose or hyperbole. Simple. But it didn’t land that way. Instead, it felt like something similar to quiet worship. Not just in the adoration in his tone but in how he looked at her. As if the mural she spent months painstakingly sketching and painting revealed everything he needed to know about Evie’s soul and spirit. And that made her feel as if the compliment was not just directed at her art.

It took her too long to realize his words still hung between them without response. But she was paralyzed by his praise. By his admiration. It meant more than most people’s for some reason.

What are words?!

“T-Thank you.”

“Seems like we got plans Friday night, huh Smoke? See more of whatchu got.”

She was already concerned her legs would not hold her up and here he comes… that panty dropping voice in her other ear.

“O-Oh you don’t have t-”

Smoke leaned forward as if he needed to ensure she could hear him. His voice low.

“You gon’ learn we don’t do nothin’ we don’t want to, darlin'. N to stop questionin’ that.”

His words were definitive.

Well damn.

“W-Well I know not everyone’s interested in p-paintings o-or art like that…”

Smoke glanced at his brother for a moment before his hand went to grab their gift bag.

“Never been into art at all, to be honest. Not my interest. Think we’ll be interested in yours tho. See you Friday night.”

He offered one last glance, as if he had to commit her to memory before leaving. And with that, he turned and walked toward the door without another word.

“See you Friday, sweetheart. Thank you,” Stack lifted up the box before shifting to follow after his brother.

However, he did stop long enough to add “Brandon,” He leaned over to dap the man up. “Preciate you, brah. Think we gon' owe you.”

“What does that mean?” She called after him.

But he merely winked and continued out the door.

Evie watched them leave, both men pausing to offer one last look through the windows at her before they hopped into the back seat of a slick black SUV.

When the car pulled off, she finally slumped against the counter, a shaky laugh escaping.

“What… the hell was that?” She asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know but something better than every damn book I got in here,” he snickered, his eyes still wide. “I almost asked if I should give you some privacy in my own store. Idk the festival might be date night Friday cause this’ll be a show all on its own.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen Friday night for Shae to forgive you cancelling. She’s been looking forward to that concert for a month.”

“Oh yea? See you Friday night,” he offered in a very poor imitation of Smoke’s deep and rough register. “See… when he said it, you damn near exploded. In my highly flammable store. This is the greatest thing to ever happen to me. Can’t wait for Friday.”

“Brandon…” she groaned, her head falling forward.

And yet, Evie was also, now for different reasons, wishing Friday would come just a tad bit sooner too.

***

A/N: Very excited about a new thing!! This is unfortunately replacing what Say It (that little smut one shot) was going to be because I realized... I really hate writing in reader pov lol and transparently, I really wanted them to meet her at the same time. See yourself in our OC, our sweet artist Evie (face claim tbd) and enjoy this very loose ride haha been wanting to write a MFM with Smoke and Stack since Sinners came out and just couldn't get it together lol finally had some creative energy and needed some joy lol so this is that for me.