#stack x annie

———————

Last year turned out so much differently from what you imagined, you went through grief, and heartbreak, got fired from your job, and were evicted from your apartment, and didn't want to tell your family about it. It was rough but you were still standing, still breathing.

You sat quietly in the driver’s seat of your car, with your hands on the steering wheel firmly grasped. Your deep brown eyes roamed over the house that stood tall—-one story of deep blue, square windows covered by red, and blue curtains, and the porch, brick steps leading up to the front door.

“Just until you get back on your feet, that's all,” You mumbled softly, unease in your voice.

The Moore twins adored you deeply, and how could they say no to you?

You’ve contacted the twins via FaceTime and shared the unfortunate news from last year. They offered their assistance, but the initial move was to live with them.

The economy was unforgivably horrid, inflation, and not to mention the job market as well. Thankfully, you saved up enough money.

This choice wasn't desperation, but a necessity.

Elijah Moore & Elias Moore, better known by their monikers Smoke & Stack. There was an deep southern edge to the men, bittersweet, and dangerous.

Smoke served as silent chaos, while Stack served as rampant. The human form of yin and yang, raging waters, and slick oil spills.

You've known the men all your life, from building sand castles on the sandbox in the neighborhood park, to running home before the street lights flickered on summer warm nights.

They simply served you as a protective duo as they were bodyguards in your life, as if they were shadows, damn near following your every move.

The men swiftly kept people at bay, ensuring that all types of men stayed at a distance.

Honestly, the men were too scared to come near you simply because of Smoke & Stack.

You've dated one or two men in your dating life, and that was it. Smoke and Stack remained the only men in your life, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Finally, after completing every decision in your mind. You hopped out of the car, and slammed the door just before locking it with the remote button, triggering the double chirps behind you.

You approached the front door with its intricate wooden carvings, the screen door creaked open, and you knocked timidly. Hearing the soft thud of footsteps across brown hardwood, and the creak of the hinges.

Revealing Smoke before you, as he stood shirtless, buff from the gym, with grey sweatpants, his lips curved into a smile of warmth toward you. A little flutter in your heart, and that safety, sudden love you felt from him.

“What’s up, Y/n?” Smoke greeted, voice like velvet, and southern thick like molasses.

“Hey Elijah, thanks for this,” You greeted; smiling softly. Stepping through the threshold, as he pushed the door with ease.

You exhaled softly, as if a weight lifted off your shoulders, before sauntering into his arms, as his arms wrapped around your waist protectively, yet tenderly and laying your head against his bare chest. Weed, critus, and cinnamon wafting through your nose.

“You good?” He asked, his voice steady, and gentle with you. As if he matched the pace of your mental, body, and spirit. His cheek rested against your head, his hand rubbed the small of your back, in soothing circles.

You hummed back, preferring silence, and Smoke didn’t force you to elaborate; one reply was sufficient for him. Audible enough for him to hear you, soft as if your voice would break.

Smoke didn't budge.

He didn't push, or judge.

He listened, and paid attention.

“I missed you, Eli.” You added, your tone was loving and, steady. Smoke hummed lightly, smiling against your forehead, “I missed you more,” he says, loving.

“I’m sorry—” But Smoke didn't allow you to finish, he didn't want you to feel any type of way about your decision.

“Ain't no need or reason to apologize. You’re gettin’ back on your feet, and starin’ off good. We'll help you get there if you want us to,” Smoke reassured, his tone gentle, yet held a seriousness.

Elijah Moore, the man you are.

Stack emerged from the laundry room, a red basket of clothes, as his gaze flickered toward you, and he froze in his path that led to his bedroom. He dropped the basket onto the brown hardwood, grinning happily at the sight of you. His dimples deepened in his cheeks.

“Sup girl, you good?” Stack greeted kindly, his voice gravelly like concrete.

Smoke’s arms released you, as your gaze flicked to Stack, and your arms released him, you sauntered toward Stack, into his arms, hugging you tight, as he picked you up, spun you around in the air. “Hey, Elias, I'm good.” you exclaimed softly, smiling. Before setting you down, his eyes locked with yours, soft. Warm.

“Mhm, we missed the hell outta you, Y/n.” He hummed sweetly, smirking against your skin.

Stack didn't push, or budge either. One answer was sufficient, and he wouldn't want you to relive anything unpleasant by speaking.

A heavy mind doesn't need any more to claim. The twins knew that through, and through by their personal baggage, and trauma alone.

Right before pulling away from Stack, your eyes darted between the twins in curiosity. “I missed y'all too. It's been a while.”

“Make yo’ self at home, mi casa, su casa.” Smoke chimed in, his hand gestured to the living room around them.

Stack’s gaze narrowed at his brother, tilting his head to the side. “When you learn Spanish, nigga? This is our damn house, and both our names on that lease.” He shot back, rolling his eyes at his brother.

Smoke’s palm slid from his forehead to his chin, sighing lowly, almost bothered. “Nigga, it’s a expression.” He shot back, his palm swatting at his arm with a loud smack, while Stack winced, rubbing the spot.

Your palm clasped over your mouth, muffling your laughter, as your hand clutched the fabric of your t-shirt, trying to suppress the pain in your stomach. Tickling you, as you cleared your throat briefly.

“So, umm..what are the rules around the house?” You asked, scratching the nape of your neck.

Stack, and Smoke exchanged looks, and their gazes fell upon you, nervously bitting your lip.

“We take care of the bills, our clothes, the house, and the rent, if you want to—” Before Stack spoke, you inhaled sharply. “I don't have enough yet,”

Smoke shot a glare at his brother, “She ain't gotta pay rent, man. We handle that alone with our business, ‘member?”

Their line of work was their own, while Stack worked in his popular strip club called Brown Sugar, music production, and sold drugs on the side with his brother, Smoke operated in the management aspect, production, and a high-end beverage business of his own, importing all over the world.

SmokeStack Inc.

“There’s a extra room down the hall, walk straight through the door, with your first initial on it, there's a bed, with fresh sheets, and a television that's yours.” Stack mentioned with a smirk.

Stack carried your television inside their home before moving in, and when you told him about the news. That man worked fast.

“Thanks, guys!” You exclaimed, grinning at the twins.

Without hesitation, you spun around on your heels, with your bag in your grip, and sauntered through the halls, as you stepped inside, gently plopped down on the bed. Your eyes flickered toward your television and Roku remote settling atop the dresser, the scent of fresh linen, and lavender.

It was the start of a new chapter.

The twins exhaled softly, before glancing at each other.

“Whatchu smilin’ for?”

“We gon’ tell her, right?”

“We will.”

————-

Weeks sped by like a swift jackrabbit; you maintained your job while the twins managed theirs. The men prepared meals—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—while you assisted with your own household tasks, worked at your new job.

The twins handled their usual responsibilities, such as paying bills, washing their dishes, managing the mortgage, tending to the yard, and doing their laundry.

This time, your early mornings were different. You woke up not alone, but to the aroma of pancakes, French toast or waffles to your liking and eggs, accompanied by the sounds of old school music from Smoke or new age songs from Stack, coming from their speakers as they enjoyed long hot showers.

Brotherly bickering here, and there, from the living room to one of their bedrooms.

You consistently sat between the twins on the couch, with Smoke to your right and Stack to your left, watching movies and TV shows, or anime as you provided critiques, and ratings.

You played video games with them, or claimed Stack was cheating in Mortal Kombat, Call of Duty, Mario Kart, Halo and the classic various games that you couldn't remember the names of.

You would enjoy your favorite tv series, and the twins would inquire about them; Smoke was initially puzzled, while Stack particularly liked the action-packed ones with weapons and gore.

It felt nice to be around the twins, again. Their presence, humor, and brotherly moments between them. It brought back memories of your childhood with them, safe.

Yet, you noticed the house shifted into a different energy. Softer. Warmer. As if the energy was going back, and forth between the two men, you couldn't figure out what it was.

You've gotten closer to the twins each day, a smile here, and playful banter there, which came unexpectedly, and conversations have gotten longer. Lingering gazes.

Smoke wanted to talk with Stack about their feelings for you, when Stack wanted just tell you instead. Debating whether to go his way, or Stack’s way.

Stack sauntered through the house hallways holding a bowl of purple grapes, munching on them as he tossed some into his mouth. His gaze flickered toward his brother, then back to you, sprawled across the couch with your eyes glued to the screen, a game controller in hand, your tongue pressed against your cheek in focus.

Fingers hammered each button, thumbs circling the joysticks. “Shit..” you grumbled quietly, rolling your eyes at the video game noises.

You’ve been trying to beat the new Mario game for months now, and Stack hasn’t told you any short cuts or ways to beat it, you’ve been asking but there were no answers. He would rather drag it out, and tease you about it.

Stack chuckled lightly, grinning at your concentration, finding it absolutely adorable. A smile curled across his handsome face, "Elias, can't you tell me how to beat this game?" You asked, rolling your eyes. He shook his head with a teasing smirk, "Nope." he says, popping the p.

Smoke's head peering in the corner. That wasn't the first time Stack smiled because of you, and Smoke caught it. “Whatchu’ smilin’ for?” His gaze followed Stack’s, directed toward you. Smoke cracked a smile as well, it was like you brought light to their lives.

Smoke’s hand swatted at Stack’s arm, his younger brother hisses in pain. “What?”

“Nigga, bring yo’ ass in here.” Smoke whispered yelled, his hand motioned for him to come in his room.

Stack sucked his teeth lowly, irritation prickling at him. Rolling his eyes. Tightened lip expression, jaw clenched slightly.

He strolled into his brother’s room, while closing the door behind himself. Leaning heavily against the wooden door, his gaze fixed on Smoke, brow raised. “You plan on confessin’ to her befo’ me?” Stack shot back, his face grimacing. Bringing the heat.

“You ain’t never been the one to wait. Befo’ I do, I got a head start!” Smoke chuckled, while speeding off.

“What?” Stack blinked twice.

Stack swung the door open, but his big brother was fast. Smoke pulled Stack by the nape of his neck, hooked his arm around his neck, and threw Stack toward his bed.

Stack thrashed across the mattress, and Smoke ran off, chuckling behind him. Stack smacked his lips, hopped off the bed, and ran out of the bedroom, racing through the halls.

Your head snapped in their direction, as the twins bumped into each other by accident, and panting heavily. You paused the game immediately, while raising a brow. “Are y'all okay?”

The twins nodded quickly just right after grabbing cold water bottles from the fridge, while Stack cleared his throat. Gathering the right words to speak, as his brother did the same. Patient. Catching their breath.

“I got sum’ to say,” The twins said in unison, voices dropped to a dangerous, rasper octave.

Their voices alone made your breath hitch, your pussy throb, and your heart thump against your ribs, dropped the game controller, as it hit the brown hardwood. “W-what is it?” you asked softly, as your eyes darted between the men. Nervous. Almost anxious.

You've always had feelings for both men, but never confessed your feelings for them. It was difficult when there were two men, and you didn't give a damn about what people said, or thought. It was just the whole relationship thing you had to think about. How would it work?

“I’ve been in love wit you—”

“I’ve been in love wit you—”

Their gazes flickered to each other, as their eyes squinted lightly. But you decide to take the lead on this one. “I feel the same way about you, and Elias. I can finish for you, don't worry.” You explained, with a faint smirk.

A weight lifting off your shoulders, light like a feather, and a gentle posture. But you felt something shift in the air between the twins, and you, something more sudden, and deeper.

“We ain't done talkin’ yet..” Stack spoke, his voice deepened with a faint head shake.

Smoke stepped toward you, as his eyes flickered at you, attentive to the way your breath hitched, and grinning faintly. “

“How long have you felt that?”

“I’ve always felt this way about you, and Elias. It's just the dating part, you know? How would it work?” You asked, head tilting. Voice a bit softer.

Stack circled you, halting you behind you, as he leaned into your ear, “We can agree on sharin’ you, fuckin’ you good at the same time if you want to, flowers, gifts, dates, vacations, anniversaries, whatever you want is yours..” He reassured, humming cockliy.

Heat raised in your bones, as their hearts skipped beats, after beats. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Can’t y’all fuck me right now? No more cute shit.”

Without hesitation. Stack scooped you up in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder, you chuckled softly, and he gave your ass a playful smack. “Ours?” Stack added, as Smoke rolled his eyes and spoke, “Sharin’ is carin’ nigga,”

The men carried you through the hallways, and walked toward the one that led to your bedroom, just after stepping inside, Stack gently laid you atop the blankets, leaning into you, crashing his lips into yours, breathing your nose, as he kissed you with hunger, moaning, mouths parts for a slow tongue fight.

Smoke interrupted by pushing his brother to the side roughly, propelled Stack backwards, as his hand pressed against the wall for balance, his gaze, deadly, and narrowing. Rolling his eyes at him, until his palm swatted at Smoke’s arm. “The fuck we just say?”

Smoke stood at the edge of the bed, standing over you, as your face warmed up. “No, it’s my turn though.”

You chimed in fast, “No fighting..” and Stack gently plopped down on the bed, behind you.

His fingers lifted your chin gently, leaning in close. His lips crashed into yours, hungrily like a famished man in the desert. You moaned shakily in the kiss, breathing through your nose, mouths parted gradually, tongues lapped, twirled lazily.

Stack’s face grimaced at the sight of you, and Smoke. His hand gripped the back of your neck, snatching your lips away from Smoke. “She mine too, nigga.” Stack shot back, his voice possessive, yet dangerous. Tilting his head, bringing your lips against his, kissing you like you were his, claiming you.

“Clothes off, baby.” Smoke commanded, his rasp seeped through, his fingers tugged at your tank top. In a trace, You broke the kiss with Stack, while Stack’s gaze narrowed at Smoke, who rolled his eyes. He knew what he was doing, though. Your body felt like it was on fire, raising in your bones. Panting for oxygen.

“Y-yeah..” You panted, your voice was low, almost trembling from nervousness.

You’ve never done this before, especially with the two men who are twins. Very fine twins.

You slipped off your tank top, and your shorts, and your panties fell off around your ankles. While the men sat in between you on the bed, sweatpants, boxers slipped off, and were tossed across the floor as if it was nothing. Their dicks were thick, dark in the same shade, hung heavy near their thighs. Same thick size.

You practically drooled at the sight of them, as Smoke, and Stack caught you, his thumb swiped at the corner of your lip. His lips curled into a devilish grin, his hand cupped your jaw, lifting your gaze toward his. “Careful now, baby. Can I fuck that pretty mouth?” Smoke asked, you gasped softly at his large hand cradling your face. “Y-yes,” you replied back.

“Lemme taste you first.” Stack chimed in, his voice low, and gradual. Your face warmed up at what he said, inviting you in. You nodded quickly, “Yeah, taste me.” you told him, biting your lip.

Without hesitation, Stack flipped you on your stomach, your ass faced Stack while your mouth faced Smoke, his hand cupped your jaw, while Stack’s hands clasped your hips still, anchoring you between the men. “We gon’ fuck you until you can’t move,” Smoke hummed, smirking. Your hand gripped Smoke’s length, eliciting a low groan from him, as Stack lifted your hips, while you kissed Smoke’s tip. Warm. Thick. His head sliding between your thighs, he caught the sight of your folds twitching, glistening wet. “Damn..”

His mouth wrapped around your clit, suckling roughly as your mouth fell open, pushing his fingers inside. Stack started off slow, punishing, and teasing. Smoke lifted your chin toward his gaze, his brow raised. “Focus” he commanded, that southern drawl with a rasp made your pussy clench around Stack’s fingers, gushing on the spot. “Yo’ nasty lil pussy..” Stack teased, pumping deeper. Elicit high pitched moans. “Shit..” you wouldn't dare say his name while in front of Smoke.

Your hips bounced atop Stack’s face while you splattered, and he indulged in the mess with spit, and his tongue. Pleasure. Body shaking. “Fuck..fuck…”Smoke’s hand snaked the nape of your neck, pushing you down on him. Your mouth took every inch in, full. Spit trickling to his balls, as the vibrations rumble through his body. “Fuck..keep goin’ work for it.” and you obliged, cheeks hollowing around him. You worked for it, indeed.

Smoke thrust his hips forcefully, then drove his dick deep, while your hand stroking his length quickly, nearly making you gag, as your mouth was glorious, warm, and wet. He wanted to ruin it. “That nasty mouth..” he mumbled, teeth sank in. Stack worked diligently, tongue fucking your pussy, clit pinched. Your breath was unsteady, fast, as your head bopped faster, the pace of your hand—slow. You panted heavily, letting out a long moan. “So good..” you mumbled. “Don't talk wit’ yo’ mouth full..” Smoke teased softly. You felt like you were in heaven. The men in between you were falling in love all over again.

Stack lapped your juices up, with his head frantically moving from side to side like a man dying of thirst. “You takin’ us like a damn champ..” Stack moaned drunkenly. Biting your bruised clit. The bed creaked underneath. “You workin’ for it, baby..” Smoke praised, growling. Stack smacked your ass with disapproval, before his fingers curled inside. You gasp so hard on his dick, and Smoke moaned raspily. His dick jumped in your throat, as you choked. “Damn right..” Stack chimed in, his thumb swiped over your clit.

You made sure that you sucked Smoke off right, while Stack finger fucked your pussy. It was all so right with them. Tears falling down your face, a babbling wet mess. Stack’s tongue dragging from your folds to your asshole, spitting on it, before his wet muscle frantically swirling around. “That’s our girl….” Smoke mewled. Eyes rolled back, it was so overwhelming in a good way. “So fuckin’ beauitful..” Stack added, the pad of his thumb flickered your clit back, and forth.

Your breath came in soft pants and whimpers, thighs pressing together as a thick line of your wetness trickled down your folds, as he opened his mouth, the slightest drop on his tastebuds, trickling down his tongue. Burying his face, swallowing every drop. Smoke's hand gripping your hair tight to dove you deeper. Swallowing him whole. His head fell back. "She taste that good?" Smoke asked, suppressing a groan.

Stack nodded, hummed on your pussy, as if he was okay. His thumb grazed over your throbbing clit, in teasing, slow circles. “You gon' cum?” Stack groaned with a grin, “Such a pretty, perfect pussy..” His palm smacked it as you yelped.

"fuckk..yes.." You babbled, bopping your head still. Unable to respond. Smoke pushed his hips at a faster pace, matching the slap of his spit-soaked balls against your chin, and the tight grip of your hand wrapped around his base, stroking fast. “Dick got yo’ tongue, baby?” Smoke asked, he watch spit trickled down with precum. Sticky. “Use that mouth..” Smoke says, fisting your hair. Lines of thick spit, and cum connected between his pubic hair, and your lips. Stack’s hands cupped your ass so hard that you whined, as he spread them apart. Waves crashing over you, bopping your head still.

The tip of Stack's tongue swirling around the puckered hole of your tight ass, sending shivers through your core. The sound of you choking on his dick, whining and a shaky moan. “So fucking..nasty..” Still panting for air, as he thrusts down your throat, sounds of the their breathing, and wet sound of your lips, the slick warmth of Stack's fingers, your pussy was swollen, and wet. “Mhmm.” Your thoughts were tangled together. His lips wrapped around your puffy, swollen folds with a loud slurp.

His warm cum spilled forward into your mouth, your cheeks filled up before swallowing every drop of him, his hands released your hair. While you came hard on Stack's mouth, he suckled, and swallowed with quickness. You lifted yourself off Smoke's dick for air, as he watched your reaction. "What a beautiful sight.." Stack rasped, his hand gripped your jaw. Tongue kissing you deep, moaning with you.

Smoke hoisted you upright, posture straight. His hands clasped your waist, as Stack pressed his chest against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder, "Let us see you take it?" Stack groaned against you, buzzing vibrations. His hands rested over your stomach before, his teeth sank into your neck, leaving a hickey on your deep brown skin. “Yeah, watch me.” You mumbled, your tongue gliding over your lip. Smoke took in the sight of you. Heat pooling around you, Stack watched your legs spread, beads of sweat clung to your back.

"Elijah..Elias..please.."

Smoke angling his dick toward your wet pussy, his tip nudged your wet swollen folds apart, as a "Ouuuu! Elijahh!" rippled from your neck, as he sank his fat dick deep in you, every inch stretching you open. "Look at him.." he growled raspily. Deeper. Softer. Stack's hand latched around your jaw, forcing your half lidded gaze toward Smoke, his gaze was seductive, and possessive. "There you go, you feel that? You takin' me in.." He talked you through it. Your pussy clenched tighter, his veins pulsating inside.

This sweet torture? His voice, and that monster that hung between his legs, you took him in. “Such a good girl,” Smoke groaned, grunting at every stretch of you. Stack watched your reaction, gasping softly, as your hands rested on his shoulders, fingers dug deep. Smoke lifted you, and slamming you down onto him, allowing you to ride him, breathlessy moaning. “Elijah!” Your ass pushed up to meet each thrust——merciless, and deep, you left fresh marks on his brown skin.

“I love it when you say my name, can I hear more?” Smoke praised, pushing upwards to hit your G-spot. You cried out, your voice raspy, and you bounced—quick, ruthless. “You like this, Eli?” You whispered, tongue trailing along the shell of his ear, biting him. His eyelids closed shut, biting his bottom lip, surpress a moan. Your ass clapped against him, fucking him. Smoke responded by grunting through it, fucking you right back—like a bully. He wasn't gonna show it but the little sounds he made were proving enough. “Damn, girl,” he said dreamily, nodding to your command.

Your thighs burned in exhaustion from bouncing yet you kept going, as his pace quickened, his hips slamming violently. The impact rippled a feral scream from you, arching your back, Smoke bruised your insides, bruised your pussy from the inside, out. “Elijah! Ahhh! Shit!”Your stomach pooled with heat, those knots in the pit begging to untighten. Tighter. Tighter. “You wanted this? To be fucked like a slut huh?” he shot back while panting. He fucked you through it, your legs shaking between his waist, almost wrapping around.

“Yess! Fuckkk!” You slurred, your hips shaking yet you bounced. Your chin rested on his shoulder, falling forward as he moved your hips for you. “You can have us whenevea’, like this. We’re yours, Y/N.” his words were sweetly sexy. Your ears almost ring as if you couldn't barely make out what he saying, yet you nodded, whimpering. “You, and him..are all mine..” Your toes curl, pussy fluttering, your mouth waters on his skin, parting open. He didn't mind it, as his fingers slipped inside your mouth, your tongue swirling around them. Your mouth closed, humming.

“Cum..with..me..Eli..”

“You want that?”

“Fuckk..fill..me..up..”

With that, Elijah finished with a final, punishing stroke as his thick, warm ropes of cum shot inside you, filling you completely as the man bit your shoulder to hush himself from moaning, you screamed greedily, wildly as his dick twitched. Gradually pulling out, as your body shook.

“You two are so good to me..” You whined loudly, speaking with love for them, and they felt it.

Smoke tumbled over the edge of the edge, panting heavily, raspily, his head lying on the soft edge, eyes closing as Stack gradually rolled over, his knees pressed into the mattress. His face softened at you, as your gaze met his, needing him.

“You still ready for me, sweetheart?” Stack asked softly, and you nodded quickly with a lazy grin. He leaned in close, kissing you lovingly.

“All fours for me, baby..” Stack says, his fingers trailing along your chin. He flipped you on your hands, and knees, just before his hands clasped your waist tight. “Elias! Deeper!” He pushed his dick inside from the back, thrusting deep, and fast, violently. Your back arched just to feel the curve hit that spot, hips bucking into him. Stack darkly chuckling. “Can’t help yo’self? Fucking me back just to prove it to me?” Stack groaned lowly, his hand on the small of your back, pushing you down just to swivel his hips.

Stack drilling into you from behind, with his hand delivered a light smack across your ass that left a handprint, every thrust pushing you forward into the mattress, almost stumbling over until he caught you. “I got you, i'm right here..” he cooed, kissing the shell of your ear. Pussy clung to his dick. Swelling. “You ours. Ours to fuck. Our woman. Look at you, all greedy..” Stack snarled, teeth in your neck as if he were a vampire. Your feeble, raspy moans echoing mixing with Stack’s low groans, as he fucked you harder, and harder, pausing his pace just to fuck you deeper, as if he wanted to fuck you open. Hugging you tight as if you were to let go, kissing your skin lovingly.

“That pussy got a good grip to it.” Stack grunted, his pace unforgiving. He marked your asscheeks with his nails, and you hissed through it. You loved it though. “This pussy belong to us?” He asked, more demanding. A wet slap echoed in the air, loud, and obscene. “Yes! Yes! You & Elijah! I swear!” moaning as if you were dying from pleasure.

Your vision blurred by wet tears, your words turned gibberish, a tremor in your thighs spreads through your body. Your fingers went numb, tiny prickles spread across your hands gripping the sheets, turning pale. “You hear that? This pussy loves me..” He cooed, his hand smacking your ass again. “Say it back..”Your head tipped back from the immense pleasure, moaning the twins' names, a string of profanities, gibberish all at once.

The sensation was overwhelming, your breasts cupped by Smoke’s hands, nipples pinched by his fingers but them his fingers rubbed your cilt lazily. “T-this pussy..l-loves you..” Back arched lowly, ass in the air. Drooling over the pillow. You screamed out their names in between, jumbled together, you break apart. “I—” There was no point in announcing. Your pussy gushed hard all over on Stack’s dick—repeatedly after every punishing stroke, he moaned raspily with you. He shot his thick ropes of cum inside, as you were filled—fully, by both of them.

“Just like that..” You hummed, twitching as you blinked away tears, relishing in the feel of him.

Elias pulled out slowly as you slumped onto the bed, breathing heavily. You turned to face the men, your body tingling with pleasure and your core throbbing, while your chest rose and fell. The twins hovered over you, heads hovered over your face. Concern on their features.

“You good?” The men asked in unison, while one twin said, “I'm gon’ ran her a bath,” as Stack dashed away into your bathroom, and the faucet squeaked in the air.

“You need anythin’ else?”

“No. T-thank you, baby..” You said, as a faint grin spread across your face.

When you referred to baby, you were talking about Smoke & Stack, and they picked up on it fast.

“No problem!” Smoke & Stack both answered right back sweetly.

That alone made your heart flutter.

During the warm bath, you cleaned yourself up while the twins cleaned up the mess—fresh linen scented sheets, fresh clothes for you first, and them. The fan above the ceiling spun in lazy circles to keep the stuffy smell away, and some air freshener.

The men prepared an incredible dinner for you because they knew you would be hungry afterward. Without explicitly saying so, you applied lotion to your body and got dressed for bed.

You thanked the men, kissed them on the cheek, as the men kissed your temples, your face felt warmed, and then sat down with them at the dinner table.

You ate your favorite foods, shared jokes, and laughed together, you also sipped your beverage.

You concluded the night with Smoke & Stack, a mutual connection where they shared with you. Everything felt perfect, and you were content, just as they were with you. You wouldn't want to change a thing.

“We love you, Y/N.”

“Aww, I love y'all too!”

Annie had been up for a while. She’d learned that mornings with a toddler were something you just had to move through.

Her son, Carter, was glued to her side, quite literally. One small arm was hooked around her leg as she moved through the apartment, the other hand clutching the hem of her shirt. His curls were still flattened from sleep, cheeks warm and puffy, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. He hadn’t said a word yet, just soft little sighs, his forehead pressing into her thigh whenever she stopped walking.

“Okay, baby,” Annie murmured gently, adjusting her pace so she didn’t jostle him. “We gotta get you ready, alright?”

He answered by tightening his grip.

Mornings were always like this with him. It typically took him a solid hour to fully arrive in his own body. Before that, he was clingy, constantly needing reassurance. Annie never rushed him. She’d scoop him up when her leg got tired, balance him on her hip while she moved around, humming softly under her breath.

She had a mental checklist running as she crossed the living room for the third time. She had to make sure his diaper bag was packed with extra clothes, his favorite sippy cup, snacks, and his dinosaur toy with the missing arm, because God forbid she forgot that.

The plan was simple. Derrick was supposed to pick him up mid-morning and take him over to his mother’s house. Annie had been told not to worry about anything and that it was all handled. He’d even said it sweetly this time, and promised they’d go out that night for dinner. Like a couple, even if they weren’t really that anymore.

She tried not to think too hard about how easily she’d believed him.

Her son stirred in her arms, blinking slowly as she set him down on the couch to change him. He didn’t protest, just watched her with sleepy concentration, fingers curling and uncurling around the edge of the cushion.

“You wanna help Mommy?” she asked softly.

That did it. His eyes brightened just a little. He reached out immediately, grabbing at the clean diaper she held up, nearly dropping it in his excitement.

“Good job,” Annie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest despite everything. “You’re such a big helper.”

He babbled something lowly, the closest thing to words he’d manage for another forty minutes, and Annie laughed quietly. No matter how tired she was moments like this always softened her. When she finished, he clapped once, proud of himself, then immediately leaned forward and rested his head against her shoulder.

Afterward, she moved to the bedroom, him trailing behind her now, one hand still holding onto her pajama pants. She opened the drawer with his clothes, picking through carefully. She wanted him to be comfortable while he was away.

“Okay,” she said softly, holding up two shirts. “Blue or red?”

Carter stared at both with the seriousness of a man making a life-altering decision. Finally, he poked the blue one.

“Bwue,” Carter whispered.

As she dressed him, he grew a little more alert, his movements less sluggish, his eyes following her hands. He reached out to tug at the zipper of his jacket when she grabbed it, insisting on pulling it up himself. It took longer than expected. The zipper got stuck halfway, and he frowned, lip trembling slightly.

“Hey, hey,” Annie soothed, kneeling in front of him. “You’re doing great. Let Mommy help a little.”

Together, they finished it and he beamed like he’d just accomplished something monumental.

She packed the bag next, laying everything out on the bed to double-check. Her phone sat nearby, face down, but it wasnt' like there were any new messages or missed calls. She convinced herself it was still early.

In the kitchen, she poured him some juice and set out a small bowl of fruit. He sat at the table, swinging his legs, quieter than usual but awake now, watching her with that same focused expression. Every so often, he’d hold up a piece of fruit like he was offering it to her.

“Thank you,” she said every time, taking pretend bites, making exaggerated chewing motions just to make him smile. And he did.

Annie leaned against the counter for a moment, watching him. Her heart felt full and heavy all at once. Then she glanced at the clock.

She picked up her phone and sent a simple text to Derrick letting him know that they were ready to go. Then set it back down, forcing herself not to stare at it.

The rest of the morning continued on. She managed to get the rest of Carter's routine done quickly.

The diaper bag sat by the door, zipped and ready. Her son’s little jacket was folded neatly on top of it, shoes lined up underneath like he might step into them any second. Annie had even put his favorite hat in the front pocket. Everything was done. There was nothing left for her to prep, adjust, or double-check. So she waited.

At first, she told herself not to get irritated. She came up with the same excuse she’d used a dozen times before. She sat on the couch with Carter curled into her side and a cartoon playing in the background.

Carter eventually slid off the couch and started pushing one of his toy cars across the floor, making soft engine noises under his breath. Annie kept glancing at her phone, trying not to let the irritation take over her.

An hour crept by, then another. The light outside shifted from soft morning gray to something brighter. Her irritation grew in layers, settling heavy in her chest. She called him once, then again. Straight to voicemail both times.

At that point, it wasn’t even about dinner anymore. Annie honestly didn’t care about whatever Valentine’s plans he’d half-promised. She could’ve swallowed that disappointment like she always did. What pissed her off was him not showing up for his son. Again. Making promises he didn’t keep. Leaving her to explain absences to a two-year-old who didn’t understand why his daddy hadn’t come yet.

Her son toddled over with his shoes in his hands, holding them up to her proudly.

“Thank you, baby,” she said, forcing a smile as she took them. “But we're not gonna put these on yet.”

She tried calling one more time. Voicemail.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.

She wasn’t even surprised anymore, just tired. Tired of hoping he’d be different this time. Tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt when experience had taught her better. Still, some small, stupid part of her wanted to know why. So she opened Instagram.

She didn’t even have to scroll far. His name was at the top with that glowing multicolored ring glowing around his profile picture. Her thumb hovered for half a second before she tapped it.

The first video loaded, and her stomach dropped instantly. There he was, smiling wide, holding a bouquet of flowers out toward the camera. The angle shifted, and the woman stepped into frame. It was the same woman he’d sworn up and down Annie didn’t have to worry about. The one who was “just a friend.” The one who “wasn’t even his type.”

Before she could even process that, the next story played. It was a photo of them together with her arms around his neck and his hand on her waist. Their faces pressed close in a kiss. The words Happy Valentine’s Day sat across the bottom in fancy lettering.

Annie stared at the screen, feeling played with. This wasn't the first time he made her look stupid in public, but all she ever asked for was the bare minimum in private. Yet she never got that either.

She let the phone drop into her lap and looked down at her son, who was humming softly, completely unaware. He leaned into her, trusting her, safe with her.

“That’s crazy,” she whispered, more to herself than anything.

He hadn’t just ditched her, he’d ditched Carter too. And then had the nerve to post it like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Annie exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. Her jaw clenched as she locked her phone and set it face down on the table.

She decided to spend the rest of the day cleaning because it gave her something to do. She wiped down counters, swept the floor twice, and folded laundry. Every task was just a way to burn off the frustration buzzing under her skin.

Carter followed her from room to room, dragging toys behind him, occasionally stopping to “help” by handing her random objects that had nothing to do with what she was doing.

“Thank you,” she told him every time, accepting a sock when she was wiping the table, or a spoon when she was folding towels.

They ate dinner together and she listened to him talk about his dinosaurs and monster trucks. She laughed when he laughed. And answered the random questions he thought of.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around, Annie was exhausted. She gave her son a bath, wrapped him in his towel, carried him into the bedroom with his head resting heavy against her shoulder. He was sleepy now, eyes fluttering as she changed him into pajamas.

She sat in the rocking chair with him tucked against her chest, his head heavy on her shoulder. The room smelled like baby soap and clean laundry. The soft glow of the nightlight painted everything warm and calm, a sharp contrast to how she felt inside. She rocked him slowly, humming without realizing she was doing it.

As he drifted off, she realized she hadn't updated her best friends since that morning. They did their normal check-ins but that was all. She didn't really want to get into it while her son was awake, and her frustration was heavy.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand, but hesitated. They were probably too busy now, she told herself. It was Valentine’s Day, after all. Smoke had been seeing someone new. And Stack was always with someone.

She almost put the phone back down. But she didn’t. She opened FaceTime and clicked the group call before she could overthink it.

The phone rang once, twice, then the screen filled in.

Smoke was the only one to answer the call. His face appeared close to the camera, eyebrows already drawn together like he could sense something was off before she even spoke. The lighting around him was dim, streetlights sliding across his features as if he were moving.

“Annie?” he said, voice low. “What’s wrong?”

Before she could respond, Stack leaned into frame from the side, his face popping up suddenly. “There she go. What’s up, mama?”

Annie smiled faintly despite herself. “Hey,” she whispered, keeping her voice soft. She adjusted her grip on her son, his little breaths puffing against her collarbone. She angled the phone so they wouldn’t see his face too clearly, just in case the light bothered him.

Smoke smiled softly. “He sleep?”

“Just about,” she said. “Don’t let Stack yell.”

“I ain’t gone yell,” Stack scoffed, already smiling. “So what’s goin’ on? You sound off.”

“I am,” she admitted quietly. “But also I'm tired.”

Smoke’s jaw tightened. “What happened?”

Annie exhaled slowly, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I was supposed to go out tonight with Derrick.”

“See, that’s where you lost me,” Stack said, leaning back like the words physically offended him. “I don’t understand how we still circlin’ back to that man. Annie.”

Smoke nodded along, lips pressed into a thin line. “I been sayin’ that.”

Stack kept going. “Like, I love you, but that nigga is only ever consistent in disappointment. It's been three years, Annie. Three. And he still pullin’ the same shit like y’all don’t share a whole kid? That man allergic to responsibility or somethin’?”

Annie pressed her lips together trying not to show how she felt about being scolded.

“I’m just sayin’. I don’t get it. He always got excuses, always got plans that don’t involve y’all, and you still out here givin’ him grace like he deserve it.,” Stack said, undeterred. “Smoke, back me up.”

“I'm bout to,” Smoke said calmly. “You deserve better than somebody who only shows up when it’s convenient to them.”

Annie adjusted Carter gently, rubbing slow circles into his back until his breathing evened out again. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Because we’re not together anymore. Like for real this time.”

Stack paused. “What you mean for real?”

“I mean it’s done-done,” Annie said. “Whatever small chance he had is gone.”

Smoke’s eyes sharpened. “What he do?”

She took a breath. “He was supposed to pick up Carter this morning and take him to his mom’s so we could go out. Just eat, talk, whatever.”

“And let me guess,” Stack said. “He never showed.”

“No call or text. He didn’t even answer the phone. So I went on Instagram to do a little digging,” Annie continued, her voice flattening out. “And he reposted a video of him giving flowers to the same girl he told me I would never have to worry about. And then the next slide was them kissing.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Stack scoffed. “Which girl?”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“No, Imma do that,” Stack insisted. “Which one?”

She sighed. “The one from the gym. The one he swore was ‘just a friend.’”

Smoke shook his head slowly. “I knew it.”

Stack threw his head back. "That’s foul."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“That’s a different level of disrespect,” Smoke said finally, voice low.

Stack scoffed. “And on Valentine’s Day after ditchin’ Carter? Nah. Nah. I’m finna be in jail.”

Annie huffed out another quiet laugh, pressing her lips to her son’s hair to muffle it. “Relax.”

“I’m serious though,” Stack said. “That man don’t deserve access to you, your time, or your peace.”

Smoke nodded. “I’m proud of you for being done.”

She let that sit for a second. “Yeah. Me too.”

They talked a little longer, just to ease the tension. Annie told them she was exhausted, and once Carter was fully asleep she planned on pouring herself a glass of wine and rewatching Scandal.

Smoke smiled. “Text us if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” Annie said softly.

“Love you,” Stack added.

“Love you,” Smoke echoed.

“Love y’all,” Annie whispered back.

She ended the call and set her phone on the nightstand, the room falling quiet again. Her son sighed in his sleep, his grip on her shirt loosening.

It took Annie a little longer than usual to get Carter fully down, but eventually he settled. She stood by the crib for a moment after laying him down, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, one small hand tucked under his cheek. She adjusted the blanket, brushed a kiss over his forehead, and eased back without making a sound.

Annie sank into the couch, kicked her legs up, and pressed play on Scandal. Olivia Pope’s voice filled the room, and Annie let herself sink into it. This was her ritual. Wine, TV, and pretending her life was simple for forty-five minutes at a time.

She made it halfway through the episode before a knock on her door came.

Annie frowned, pausing the show. Nobody ever knocked this late unless something was wrong. She glanced at the time to see it was just after eight. Her first thought was Carter, instinctively, but the apartment was still quiet.

She stood slowly, wine glass still in her hand.

“Who is it?” she called, already walking toward the door.

No vocal answer, only another firm knock.

Her confusion deepened. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She hadn’t ordered food. Her friends knew better than to pop up unannounced. Still, she reached the door and unlocked it without really thinking twice.

Then she opened it and there stood Smoke and Stack. They each held a massive bouquet of flowers in their hands with small gift bags hanging from their fingers. The second they saw her, though, both of them froze.

She was wearing these tiny barely there shorts that stopped right under her butt, and a soft crop-top bra she’d forgotten she hadn’t changed out of.

Smoke's eyes flicked down and then back up just as fast, jaw tightening like he’d caught himself doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His first instinct was concern for her. But his second instinct was not as appropriate. So he schooled his face back to neutral and controlled, even as his gaze lingered a beat too long before settling back on her eyes.

Stack, on the other hand, did not bother pretending.

He looked her up and down slowly, brows lifting. “Well damn,” he said lightly. “We interruptin’ somethin’, or…?”

Annie groaned, already mortified. “Oh my God. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Clearly,” Stack said, grinning.

Smoke cleared his throat. “Sorry. We should’ve texted you before."

“No,” Annie said quickly, stepping back. “It’s fine. Carter’s asleep now.”

She moved aside to let them in, holding the door open as she turned to walk further back into the apartment.

Her back was to them now and they could see the way her shorts rode up just enough with her movement to make the view impossible to ignore.

Stack tilted his head, eyes tracking automatically. He let out a low whistle under his breath. “Damn,” he murmured, not even trying to hide it.

Smoke said nothing. He just narrowed his eyes slightly, gaze locked in, appreciating the curve. Something warm and dangerous settled in his chest all the same.

Annie didn’t hear them. She was already walking toward the couch, setting her wine down and gesturing vaguely toward the space. “What are y'all even doing here?”

Stack shut the door behind them, still smirking. “You really thought we were gonna let you spend Valentine’s Day alone?”

Smoke followed her inside, setting the flowers gently on the table. “We wanted to bring you a proper good time.”

Annie stared at them, then at the flowers, then back at them again. Her annoyance softened into something else entirely.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said quietly.

Stack shrugged. “We wanted to.”

Smoke nodded once. “You deserve better than whatever that nigga was gonna do.”

Annie laughed softly, shaking her head, but she didn’t tell them to leave.

They all moved into the kitchen. Annie set the flowers down on the counter first, then reached under the sink for vases. She found one tall and clear and another shorter with a faint tint of green and filled them at the faucet.

Smoke and Stack slid onto the bar stools across from the counter, elbows resting on the cool stone as they watched her move around her own kitchen. Annie trimmed the stems and started to arrange the flowers. She felt their eyes on her.

“So,” she said eventually, glancing back at them. “Y’all gonna tell me why you’re really here?”

Stack shrugged, easy. “We told you already.”

“That wasn’t a real answer,” Annie said, dropping the last bouquet into place.

Stack exchanged a look with Smoke, then leaned back on his stool. “Because your day was trash,” he said simply. “And you deserved at least one good thing to happen.”

Smoke nodded once. “Simple.”

Annie paused for a second, hands stilling in the water. She didn’t say anything while she trimmed the stems, but her movements slowed.

“That’s really sweet. Surprisingly,” she said quietly.

“Don’t get all emotional,” Stack teased. “We allergic.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head, and went back to arranging the flowers. As she worked, she leaned forward again, forearms resting on the counter, weight settling into her hips. Unfortunately for them, it put her in a position that made it very hard to focus on anything above her waist.

Stack shifted on his stool, dragging his eyes back up her body. Smoke stared a beat too long before forcing himself to look at her face.

“You need to relax some, mama,” Stack added. “Like, actually relax.”

Annie snorted. “Relax? That’s funny.”

Smoke leaned his elbows onto the counter. “When’s the last time you actually did?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Before I had a kid, probably.”

Stack clicked his tongue. “That don’t count.”

Annie smiled faintly. “The only time I really relax is when Carter’s asleep. That’s it.”

Smoke tilted his head slightly. “Which he is now, right?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“We got you,” Stack cut in, grin tugging at his mouth.

Annie frowned. “Got me how?”

Smoke leaned forward then, forearms on the counter. “I called your aunt to take Carter.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You did what?”

“She said she’d be happy to keep him for the whole weekend and that she missed him anyway,” Smoke continued evenly.

Annie stared at him like he’d just spoken another language. “No, y’all didn’t.”

Stack grinned. “We did.”

Annie laughed, shaking her head. “Y’all are playing. You have to be.”

Smoke didn’t smile. “We’re not,” he said.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Okay, but even if you did, I can’t just do that. It’s too late. And he's already sleeping.”

“That boy can sleep through anything,” Stack said. “It's okay, just go get him.”

Annie leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Smoke straightened in his seat. His voice dropped, losing the softness it had before. “Go get Carter, Annie.”

She looked at him, really looked at him, and something in her chest tightened. Smoke held her gaze without blinking. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed. She swallowed. Stack watched the shift happen with interest, eyebrows lifting just a little.

“…Okay,” Annie said finally, voice quieter than before.

She turned and walked out of the kitchen, heart beating faster than it had any right to. She didn’t question it. Just went to get her son like she’d been told to.

Behind her, Stack let out a low laugh. On the other side, Smoke didn’t respond. His eyes followed Annie down the hall.

Annie moved quietly.

Carter’s door was still cracked, a thin line of warm light spilling into the hall. She eased it open the rest of the way and paused, watching him for a second. He was usually a dead sleeper once he was out. But tonight, his body shifted as soon as she crossed the room, like he felt her before she touched him.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered.

He let out a soft whine, brows knitting together, legs pulling in closer. Annie winced a little. “I know, I know,” she murmured, reaching for his favorite blanket from the corner of the crib. The worn one with the frayed edges he refused to sleep without.

She scooped him up carefully, pressing him into her chest. He fussed, face turning into her shoulder, tiny hands clutching at her top. His eyes fluttered, half-opening, confused and glassy.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, rocking him gently. “Mommy got you.”

He whimpered again, rubbing at his eyes with slow, clumsy movements. Annie kissed his temple. Of all nights for him not to sleep through a transition.

She carried him back toward the kitchen, keeping her steps slow and steady. As soon as she rounded the corner, Smoke and Stack were on their feet.

Stack reacted first, instincts kicking in. “Hey, hey, lil’ man,” he said softly, arms reaching out automatically.

“Stack—” Annie said quickly, keeping her voice low. “Don’t. If you rile him up, he’s not goin’ back down.”

Stack stopped mid-reach, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. “My bad,” he whispered, backing up a step.

Carter lifted his head slightly at the sound of Stack’s voice, eyes squinting as he tried to focus. His lower lip trembled.

Smoke turned and headed straight for the kitchen counter, grabbing a bottle from the drying rack like he’d done it a hundred times before. Which, honestly, he had. He poured the formula with practiced ease.

“Go get his bag,” Smoke said gently, glancing over his shoulder. “I got this.”

Annie hesitated. “It’s in the living room.”

“Okay so grab it,” Smoke replied.

She nodded and shifted Carter higher on her hip, but Smoke shook his head. “I got him.”

Before she could argue, he stepped closer, hands steady as he took Carter from her. Carter fussed at first, whining louder, but Smoke immediately settled him against his chest, one hand firm on his back, the other supporting his head.

“Hey,” Smoke murmured, low and soothing. “You good.”

Carter settled almost instantly. Annie watched it happen like it always amazed her, no matter how many times she’d seen it. Smoke always had that effect on him.

When she came back, Smoke was rocking gently in place, bottle warming under the faucet. Carter’s eyes were half-closed again, his body melting into Smoke’s chest, blanket clutched tight in one small fist.

Stack leaned against the counter, watching them with a strange mix of fondness and irritation. “You know,” he said quietly, “we really been doin’ his daddy’s job.”

Annie swallowed. “I know.”

Derrick was around when it benefited him. When he wanted Annie’s attention, her forgiveness, her body. But when it came to Carter? Diapers. Feedings. Bedtime. Doctor appointments. Long nights and early mornings? That was all Smoke and Stack.

Smoke handed Carter the bottle, angling it just right. Carter latched immediately, eyes fluttering shut, comforted.

Smoke glanced at Annie. “You good?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” he said. “Let’s move before he wake back up.”

Stack grabbed the diaper bag without being asked, slinging it over his shoulder.

He led the way out to his car, unlocking it while Smoke adjusted Carter’s blanket and kept the bottle steady. Stack popped the back door open and pulled the car seat forward. He and Smoke had long ago stopped explaining why there was always a car seat in their cars. It just was. Carter was with them enough that it made sense.

Smoke eased Carter into the seat keeping his movements slow. Carter barely stirred, lashes fluttering once before settling again, bottle still between his lips. Smoke secured the straps gently, checking them twice out of habit, then tucked the blanket back around him.

Annie watched from the sidewalk, arms folded loosely around herself. It wasn't exactly cold, but with her lack of clothes, she was a bit chilled.

Stack circled around to her side and opened the passenger door before she could reach for it. “Careful,” he murmured automatically, hand hovering at her lower back as she stepped in.

She glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

He just nodded, shutting the door softly and heading for the driver’s seat.

Smoke climbed into the back, settling in beside Carter. Once they were all in, Stack started the car queuing up a quiet instrumental playlist, something soft and ambient that filled the car.

The drive to her aunt’s house wasn’t long, but it felt timeless somehow. The city outside the windows hummed faintly, traffic lights blinking, storefronts passing by in a blur. Inside the car, everything stayed hushed.

Annie scrolled through her phone, thumbs moving quickly as she replied to a few group chats. Her girls were blowing her phone up checking in and venting about their own Valentine’s nights. She kept everything vague not wanting to go into detail at the moment.

Smoke leaned back against the seat, one arm resting near Carter, his phone in his other hand. His screen glowed faintly as he skimmed emails, replying to a few, switching between apps with ease.

Stack drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes steady on the road. Every so often, he glanced in the rearview mirror to check on Carter, then shifted his gaze to Annie in the passenger seat. She caught him once and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she whispered.

“Nothin’,” he mouthed back, smirking.

The car settled into a comfortable rhythm. No one felt the need to fill the silence. Carter slept on, breathing soft and even. Annie rested her head back against the seat, letting herself relax just a little.

The road stretched ahead of them, and for once, Annie let herself believe that tonight might actually turn out okay.

They pulled up in front of her aunt’s house just after eight. The porch light was already on, glowing warm against the dark, and the neighborhood was quiet. Stack eased the car to the curb carefully, engine idling low, instrumental music still humming faintly through the speakers.

Annie reached for the door handle out of habit.

“Uh-uh,” Stack said immediately, glancing over at her. “Stay your ass in the car.”

She frowned. “Why?”

He looked her up and down pointedly. “You ain’t got no clothes on.”

Annie rolled her eyes, tugging at the hem of her shorts like that was gonna suddenly fix the situation. “I’ll be quick.”

“No,” Stack said, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “You’ll be seated.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you half naked,” he shot back. “Sit still.”

Despite herself, Annie stayed put.

Stack climbed out, moving quietly as he opened the back door. Smoke shifted closer to Carter, helping Stack ease him out of the car seat without jostling him. Carter stirred just a little, face scrunching, but Stack wrapped the blanket tighter around him and murmured something low and soothing.

“I got him,” Stack said quietly, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

He shut the door softly and headed up the walkway toward the house. Annie watched him go through the windshield, arms hugging herself tighter now that the car felt emptier. The music continued playing softly, but it felt distant.

Smoke turned slightly in his seat so he could see her properly.

“You okay?” he asked.

Annie exhaled through her nose, eyes drifting back to the house. She thought about lying. Saying she was fine, brushing it off the way she usually did. But something about the quiet, about Smoke’s steady presence, made that feel pointless.

“I think so,” she said after a beat. “Honestly.”

Smoke studied her, like he was listening for what she wasn’t saying.

“I mean,” she continued, shrugging one shoulder, “it’s happened so many times now at some point, you just get tired of being mad.”

She glanced down at her phone, then back up. “I think I’m really over the relationship part. Like there’s nothing left there.”

Smoke nodded slowly. “That don’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

She gave a small, humorless laugh. “Yeah, it hurt. But it's not as bad. All of this was just confirmation that I should've opened my eyes sooner.”

He leaned back against the seat, one arm resting along the back, gaze steady. “You don’t owe him anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Annie said quietly. “I just hate that Carter keeps being the one affected.”

Smoke’s jaw tightened. “That part pisses me off.”

She looked back at him then. “I know.”

The front door opened, and Stack reappeared a minute later, moving carefully back down the steps. He opened the driver’s door and slid in, shutting it quietly behind him.

“All good,” he said under his breath. “He didn’t even wake up.”

Annie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you.”

Stack glanced at her, eyes lingering for a second. “Anytime.”

He started the car, pulling away from the curb smoothly. As they drove off, Annie leaned her head back against the seat again, eyes closing briefly.

On the drive back to Annie’s apartment, Stack glanced over at her from the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually near the gearshift. The city lights blurred past the windows, music low in the background.

“You hungry?” he asked. “We can grab somethin’ real quick.”

Annie shook her head, leaning back against the seat. “No, I’m good. I ate a while ago.”

There was a brief lull, just the hum of the road and the bass of the song. Then Annie tilted her head, curiosity creeping in. “So why y’all not with y’all girlfriends tonight?”

Stack let out a short laugh, almost offended by the word. “That wasn’t my girlfriend,” he said quickly. “She mad at me though.”

Smoke lifted a brow but didn’t say anything, staring straight ahead.

“She found out I fucked one of her friends,” Stack continued, like he was explaining a minor inconvenience. “But that was like two years ago.”

Annie snorted before she could stop herself. “Two years ago?”

“Exactly,” Stack said, nodding emphatically. “And look, I might be a player, but I ain’t that dogged out. I don’t sleep with two women at the same time, at least not when they know each other.”

That finally pulled a real laugh out of Annie, her head tipping back. Smoke scoffed under his breath, a sharp sound full of judgment.

“What?” Stack shot back. “I’m just sayin’.”

Annie looked back at Smoke next. “What about you?” she asked. “Why you not with yours?”

Smoke’s jaw tightened. He shrugged. “Wasn’t feelin’ her anymore.”

There was no extra explanation or emotion attached. Annie hummed softly, letting it go.

A few minutes passed before boredom got the better of her. She leaned forward and started rummaging through the center console and glove compartment.

“Hey—” Stack protested halfheartedly, swatting at her hand. “Don’t be goin’ through my shit.”

Annie ignored him, pulling out items one by one. First was a roll of money, that she examined and put back. Then she found it, a box of condoms. She held it up between two fingers, examining it like evidence.

“Oh,” she said, dragging the word out. “I can tell you be doin’ them women dirty.”

“Man, give me that,” Stack said, reaching over to snatch it.

Annie laughed and pulled it back, stretching her arm toward the backseat. “Uh-uh. Don’t get shy now.”

Stack leaned across the console, trying to grab it again, his focus clearly no longer on driving. “Annie, quit playin’.”

They were half laughing, half tussling now, hands swatting at each other, the car drifting just slightly in its lane.

That’s when Smoke’s voice cut through the air, rough and sharp. “Aye. Quit all that shit and watch the road.”

The playfulness died instantly. Stack straightened up, both hands back on the wheel, eyes forward, the car steady again.

Annie’s hand drifted back to the console, fingers brushing the small bag of weed left in there. She stared at it for a second, then, almost to herself, murmured, “I kinda wanna try it.”

She thought it stayed in her head. It didn’t.

Smoke leaned forward to look at her better. “You sure?” he asked. “That’s some strong shit. I don’t know if that’s the best idea for your first time.”

Annie blinked, realizing she’d said it out loud. Then she straightened a little, chin lifting. “I can handle it,” she said. “I’m a big girl.”

Stack let out a quiet laugh under his breath.

“And,” Annie added, voice sharper now, some leftover frustration bleeding through, “I feel like I can get what I want today. I done had to deal with a trifling ass nigga who don’t take care of his baby. I deserve somethin’.”

Stack’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, catching Smoke’s reflection. Smoke met his gaze for half a second, just long enough to communicate through their eyes.

Stack cleared his throat. “Aight,” he said, casual but decided. “We’ll let you try it.”

Annie’s eyes lit up, surprised and a little pleased. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Stack said. He glanced in the mirror at Smoke. “You got papers?”

Smoke shook his head. “Nah.”

“Figures,” Stack muttered, already easing the car toward the right lane. He spotted the glow of a gas station sign up ahead, bright against the dark. “We’ll stop real quick.”

The car pulled into the lot, tires crunching softly as they rolled to a stop under the harsh white lights. The moment felt oddly charged.

Smoke pushed his door open and stepped out into the cool night air, the gas station lights buzzing overhead. Annie watched him through the windshield as he walked inside, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. He was back out in less than two minutes, a small pack of papers tucked between his fingers as he slid back into the backseat and shut the door quietly.

“Got ‘em,” he said, passing them forward.

Stack pulled off the main road and turned down a side street a block away from the station. He parked, put the car in neutral, and leaned back in his seat with a sigh.

From the backseat, Smoke leaned forward and handed Stack the grinder and rolling tray. Between the two of them, Stack was always the one who rolled. Smoke’s hands were steady enough for most things, but when it came to that, the tremor always gave him away.

Stack took the items and set them on his lap, already in his zone. But before he cracked the grinder open, he reached over and tapped the screen on the dash.

“Hold up,” he said. “I gotta turn this shit off.”

The soft instrumental music cut abruptly. A second later, bass-heavy music filled the car, loud enough to vibrate the seats.

Smoke sucked his teeth immediately. “Man, what the fuck is this?”

Stack didn’t even look up. “What?”

“Ain’t nobody tryna hear all that while they tryna smoke and relax,” Smoke said, irritation clear in his voice.

Stack finally glanced back at him through the rearview mirror, eyebrow raised. “Nigga, this my car. I can do what the fuck I want.”

He turned slightly toward Annie in the passenger seat. “Annie don’t mind, do you?”

Annie barely reacted. She just shrugged, eyes forward. “I don’t care,” she said flatly. She wasn’t in the mood to referee their usual back-and-forth.

“See?” Stack said, smug, turning back around. “Problem solved.”

Smoke muttered something under his breath and leaned back, crossing his arms, but he let it go. Stack grinned to himself and finally got to work, breaking everything down with practiced ease while the rap played on.

The music was still playing while Stack worked, his fingers moving slow and careful, grinding, tapping ash away, lining everything up just right. Annie leaned back in her seat, one leg tucked under the other, finally starting to feel the edge come off the day. Then her phone buzzed.

The vibration against her thigh felt loud as hell in the quiet car. She flipped the phone over without thinking, the screen lighting up her face for half a second. One glance at the name made her roll her eyes so hard it almost hurt. She turned the phone face-down in her lap like it offended her personally.

Stack clocked it anyway. He always noticed little shit like that. He glanced over without stopping what he was doing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked casually.

Annie exhaled through her nose. “He texted me.”

Smoke shifted in the backseat, eyes lifting from his phone instantly. He didn’t say anything, just watched her reflection in the window, reading her tone.

“Derrick?” Stack asked, already knowing the answer.

“Unfortunately,” Annie said.

She shook her head, then went quiet. She straightened up slightly.

“Can I play a song?” she asked suddenly.

Stack didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, go ahead.” He reached over and handed her his phone without looking.

Annie unlocked it, thumbs moving fast and sure as she pulled up the search. Smoke leaned forward just enough to see what she was doing, curious despite himself.

The beat switched instantly to something louder, bouncier, and way more aggressive than what had been on before.

Smoke flinched a little at the sudden change, brows knitting. “What the—”

And then Sexyy Red came in clear as day: fuck my baby dad—

Stack burst out laughing immediately, head dropping as he shook it, still rolling like nothing in the world could stop him. “Nahhh,” he said, amused. “This is crazy.”

Annie leaned back in her seat, a slow smile spreading across her face for the first time all night. “It's exactly how I feel,” she said, nodding along to the beat.

Smoke huffed, rubbing a hand over his mouth, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk there too.

Stack glanced at her again, grin still on his face. “I respect it,” he said. “Sometimes the music gotta say what you can’t.”

Stack was just sealing the edge when the song switched on its own, the bass hitting harder than before. Glorilla’s Lick or Sum filled the car, and Annie’s head snapped up instantly.

“Oh, this my shit,” she said, already moving.

She turned in her seat, one knee up on the leather, shoulders rolling as she caught the beat. By the time Glorilla started rapping, Annie was fully locked in, mouthing every word like she’d been waiting all day for this exact moment. She started dancing in her seat, hips swaying, hands moving, confidence back in her body like it never left.

Stack glanced over and chuckled, nodding his head along while still focused on finishing the roll. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I see you.”

Annie ran through the first verse smooth, relaxed, just vibing. But when the second verse came in, something in her snapped. She leaned forward, voice louder now, rapping with her chest:

“I call that nigga bruh, his mammy ain’t my mammy. And stop callin’ me sis, I’m tryna fuck yo’ baby daddy. Get head from his cousin too, I keep it in the family—”

Stack’s eyebrows shot up, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“He fold me like a pretzel, I’m his Auntie Annie—”

She leaned forward just a little more, bracing her hands on her thighs and started twerking right there in the seat.

“Ayeeee,” Stack hyped immediately, laughing. “Talk your shit!”

Smoke, however, was not laughing.

He leaned forward from the backseat, reaching between them to turn the music down a notch. “Hold up,” he said, voice calm but pointed. “What you mean ‘keep it in the family’?”

Annie stopped for half a second, then slowly turned her head to look at him like he’d just asked the dumbest question of the year. Stack stopped rolling just long enough to smirk, eyes flicking between them, clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Well?” Smoke pressed, eyebrow raised. “You was rapping that part real hard.”

Annie sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes, and didn’t answer him at all. She just reached over, turned the volume right back up, and faced forward again.

“That’s what I thought,” Stack muttered under his breath, laughing.

The beat kicked back in, louder now, and Annie took that as her cue to go even harder. She lifted slightly off the seat and really started moving, hips snapping to the rhythm.

Stack leaned over toward the glove box, trying to grab the lighter without taking his eyes completely off what he was doing…or her. Right as his fingers closed around it, Annie threw it back one more time.

“Aye, chill,” Stack said quickly, laughing but serious, steadying his hands. “Before you make me drop this shit.”

Annie glanced back at him over her shoulder, smirking. “My bad,” she said, not slowing down at all.

Smoke leaned back into his seat, jaw tight, eyes lingering a second longer than he meant to before he looked away. The music kept playing, the joint finally finished, and the air in the car felt thick with energy that nobody was ready to name yet.

The song faded out and melted into a slower, smoother, old-school, laid-back 90s rap with a warm bassline.

Smoke finally relaxed into the seat, shoulders dropping as he started bobbing his head. His jaw unclenched, eyes half-lidded, one hand resting on his thigh like he didn’t have a care in the world for once. Stack caught the rhythm too, rapping softly under his breath, voice low and easy like muscle memory.

He brought the joint up, flicked the lighter, and the tip glowed. Stack took a slow, practiced pull, cheeks hollowing just slightly before he leaned back and let the smoke spill out his mouth in a controlled exhale. He took another hit right after, eyes closing for half a second like he was savoring it.

Annie watched all of it. She didn’t even mean to stare, but something about the way Stack smoked made her body feel warm. The glow of the lights reflected faintly in his eyes when he opened them again, and she swallowed without realizing she had.

Stack passed the joint back to Smoke, twisting around in his seat to hand it to him. Annie looked away just in time, pretending to be invested in the streetlights, pretending she hadn’t noticed how Smoke was sitting back there legs spread, taking up space like he always did.

Smoke brought the joint to his lips and inhaled, slower than Stack. He held it for a beat, then exhaled through his nose, smoke curling around his face. He took another hit, then another, the music humming underneath it all.

When he leaned forward, Annie felt it before she heard it.

“Annie,” Smoke said, calm but firm.

She reached her hand back automatically, fingers extended, palm up, ready to take it.

“Uh-uh.”

His voice cut through her movement.

“Annie,” he said again, lower this time. “Look at me.”

She paused, hand still hovering in the air. For a split second she thought about ignoring him, but something in the way he said it made her stomach flip. Still she didn’t turn.

Smoke’s tone changed just slightly. It was rougher.

“Turn around.”

It went straight to her core.

Annie pulled her hand back slowly and twisted in her seat, turning her body so she was facing him. The music kept playing, but it felt so far away now. Smoke’s dark, focused, eyes were on her. He held the joint between his fingers, watching her like he was making sure she was paying attention. Annie’s breath caught a little as she met his gaze, her pulse suddenly loud in her ears, waiting to see what he was going to say, or do, next.

Smoke didn’t look away from her. Not even for a second.

“Open up,” he said quietly.

Annie exhaled through her nose and gave a small sigh before doing what he said, lips parting as she leaned back slightly in her seat. Smoke brought the joint up, careful, guiding it to her mouth like he had all the time in the world. The paper brushed her lips before settling there.

“Go slow baby,” he added.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shorts as she nodded faintly, eyes still on his. The closeness, the eye contact, the way his voice stayed low. It was already doing something to her. Her head felt light before she’d even really done anything.

“Pull,” Smoke said.

She did, tentative at first, then a little deeper, trying to remember what she’d seen other people do. The smoke filled her mouth and chest. Her pulse started thudding in her ears, her body humming like someone had turned a dial she didn’t know existed. Before she could think too much about it, Smoke pulled the joint away from her lips.

“Hold it,” he said.

Annie’s eyes widened just a bit. She nodded again, cheeks puffing slightly as she tried to keep it in. Her chest burned, her throat tickled, and she lifted a hand like she might wave it off.

Stack watched from the front seat, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth. “Nah,” he said casually. “Hold that shit.”

Annie shot him a look but kept trying, shoulders tensing as she fought the urge to cough. Her eyes watered, and she shook her head a little like she was trying to power through it.

Smoke watched her closely, then finally said, “Alright. Let it out.”

She bent forward as she exhaled, coughing immediately, hand flying to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to catch her breath.

Stack chuckled softly. “There it is.”

Smoke, though, leaned in just a little. “You did good,” he said, calm and approving.

Heat rushed through her, unexpectedly, settling low in her stomach as she kept coughing, laughing a little between breaths because she didn’t know what else to do with herself. Her body felt warm, loose, tingly in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“Good job, mama,” Stack added, voice easy, still amused.

Annie leaned back in her seat, chest still rising and falling faster than normal, mind hazy. She stared out the windshield for a second, trying to get her bearings. Nothing about this felt how she expected it to. She didn’t know what was going on with her.

They did another round. Smoke handed the joint back without a word, and Annie took it on her own, mimicking what she’d just been shown. She brought it to her lips, inhaled carefully, held it like she was supposed to, then let it out in a thinner stream of smoke. No coughing this time. Just a soft exhale.

“Okay,” Stack murmured, impressed. “Look at you.”

The car stayed quiet after that. The kind of quiet that settles in when everyone’s too wrapped up in their own thoughts to fill the space. The 90s rap kept playing almost hypnotically.

Annie leaned back into the seat, head feeling light, body warm and loose. Her mind, though, was moving fast. All she could really think about was who she was sitting with. Her best friends.

The boys who had been there for everything. From the first day she moved to Clarksdale and didn’t know a soul, to high school dances she went to alone because she didn’t have a date. From late nights crying over homework in college to the kind of grief that hollowed her out when her mom died. They’d been there when she became a mother, when Derrick disappointed her for the first time…and the fiftieth. They knew her. All of her.

And through all of that—every hug, every late-night talk, every shared bed when things got too heavy—she hadn’t so much as kissed either of them. Not once. The thought made her chest tighten.

They went for a third round, Stack passing the joint back again. Annie reached for it instinctively, wanting another pull, wanting to chase the way her body felt right now. Smoke stopped her with two fingers, gentle but firm.

“Nah,” he said. “You good.”

She looked at him, brows knitting slightly, lips parting like she might argue, but something in his tone told her not to. So she dropped her hand back into her lap. Instead, she just watched.

Smoke leaned back in the middle seat, long legs stretched out, head tipped slightly to the side as he took his hit. The glow lit his face for a second, sharp and handsome in a way she’d never really let herself notice before. Stack was up front, one hand on the wheel, the other bringing the joint to his mouth, jaw flexing as he inhaled.

Annie’s eyes felt heavy, tracking their movements without meaning to. She shifted, leaning her shoulder against the door, pressing her cheek briefly to the cool glass. Her thoughts drifted to somewhere she usually kept locked up.

Her body hummed again, not just from the weed this time. From the sudden realization that things felt different now, and she didn’t know how to put them back the way they were.

The music kept playing. The smoke curled through the car.

Annie’s head felt thick and light all at once, like her thoughts were wrapped in cotton but still loud enough to echo. The weed had softened her edges, loosened the careful filter she usually kept locked in place. There was one thought sitting front and center, refusing to be ignored, and the longer the car stayed quiet, the heavier it got on her chest. So she said it before she could overthink herself out of it.

“Have y’all ever wanted to do something,” she started, voice low, almost unsure, “that you know is wrong, but it feels right?”

Stack laughed first. “Hell yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. “That’s damn near my whole personality.”

Annie cracked a small smile despite herself.

Smoke was quieter. He took a second, then shrugged one shoulder. “I do what I want,” he said simply. “If it make sense to me, I’m doing it.”

Both answers were exactly who they were. Stack reckless and honest about it. Smoke controlled, unapologetic. And somehow that made her nerves spike instead of settle. She went quiet after that.

Stack noticed immediately. He glanced over from the driver’s seat, eyes narrowing just a little as he really looked at her. “What’s up?” he asked. “What you thinking about?”

Annie shifted, fingers twisting together in her lap. Her heart started beating faster, and suddenly she was very aware of how close they all were in that car. How small the space felt. How loud the silence was.

“I—” she started, then stopped. Swallowed. “Never mind.”

“Nah,” Stack said, softer now. “What was you tryna do?”

Smoke leaned forward slightly from the backseat, forearms resting on his thighs. He didn’t say anything, just watched her, waiting.

Annie’s shoulders lifted with a small breath, and when she spoke again her voice was barely above a mumble. “I don’t wanna ruin our friendship.”

The effect was instant.

Stack’s joking expression faded, replaced with something more curious. “Ruin it how?” he asked.

Smoke straightened just a little, eyes sharpening. “What you mean by that, Annie?”

She shook her head, embarrassed now, heat creeping up her neck. “I shouldn’t have said nothing,” she muttered. “It’s just the weed. I’m tripping.”

“Annie,” Stack said, not letting it go. “You not just talking to talk.”

Smoke nodded once. “You don’t get nervous like that for nothing.”

She pressed her lips together, staring out the window. In her head, she could hear all the reasons she shouldn’t say another word. They were her best friends. Her safe place. The people she trusted more than anyone. They weren’t supposed to look at each other differently. They weren’t supposed to think about lines being crossed.

“I just—” she tried again, then sighed, frustrated. “Y’all my people. I don’t wanna mess that up.”

Stack exchanged a quick look with Smoke through the mirror, something unspoken passing between them. Intrigue? Interest? Definitely not discomfort.

“Ain’t nobody said you messed up nothing,” Stack said carefully.

Smoke’s voice was calm. “But you gotta tell us what you talking about.”

Annie sat there for a long moment, staring at the dash like it might give her an out. Her fingers twisted together again, and she let out a quiet breath that sounded more like a release than a sigh.

Smoke and Stack sat there waiting, trying not to rush her.

Finally, Annie shook her head a little and laughed under her breath, nervous and self-aware. “Y’all not gonna let this go, huh?”

“Nope,” Stack said easily. “You already halfway in it.”

Smoke nodded once. “You safe. Just talk.”

That did something to her. The weed, the music, the years of trust, it all blurred together. Annie swallowed, heart thumping hard, and finally looked at them.

“When we were younger,” she started slowly, “like teenagers,” her voice dipped, almost embarrassed, “I used to have these dreams.”

Stack’s brows lifted. “Dreams?”

Smoke leaned back slightly but didn’t look away. “About what?”

She hesitated again, then forced herself through it. “About y’all.”

“Us?” Stack repeated.

Annie nodded, eyes dropping to her lap. “Yeah. Sometimes it was all three of us. Sometimes it was just me and you,” she glanced briefly at Stack, then at Smoke, “or me and you.”

“They were real vivid,” she went on, words coming easier now that she’d started. “Like too real. I’d wake up and feel stupid for even thinking about it.” She let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I never said anything because I knew what it meant.”

Smoke’s voice was low. “What did it mean to you?”

Annie finally looked up, eyes glassy but steady. “That I wanted y’all, bad. I had the biggest crush on both of you, and I didn’t know what to do with it.”

Stack blinked, stunned.

“I loved y’all so much,” she continued quickly, like she was afraid she’d lose her nerve. “As my friends, my people. Y’all took care of me. Protected me. Showed up for me every time. And I was scared if I said anything, I’d ruin everything. So I buried it and pretended it wasn’t there.”

Her voice softened. “Those dreams were just where it came out.”

Stack leaned back in his seat slowly, running a hand over his face. “Annie…” he muttered, half shocked.

Smoke exhaled through his nose, eyes dark, thoughtful. “You had no idea, did you?”

She frowned. “No idea about what?”

The twins exchanged another loaded look.

Stack let out a low laugh, not amused, more incredulous. “That shit crazy,” he said. “We thought we was the only ones.”

Annie’s head snapped up. “What?”

Smoke shifted forward, elbows on his knees now. “We felt the same way.”

Her breath caught.

“Since high school too,” Smoke added calmly, like he was stating a fact. “You just never crossed that line, so neither did we.”

Stack shook his head, a grin pulling at his mouth despite himself. “I used to have wet dreams about you all the damn time,” he said, blunt as ever. “Religiously.”

“Stack—” Annie gasped, half shocked, half flustered.

“I’m just being real,” he said, shrugging. “Thought about you nonstop.”

Smoke didn’t smile, but his voice was honest. “I’d sit around daydreaming for hours. But you were our friend first.”

Annie felt like the ground had shifted under her. All those years she thought she was alone in it. All that restraint. All that quiet wanting.

“So all this time we were all just sitting on the same feelings,” she whispered.

Stack snorted. “Basically.”

Smoke held her gaze. “Nobody wanted to be the one to mess it up.”

The realization settled heavy and electric in her chest. Years of unspoken truth all colliding in the small, smoke-filled car. Annie leaned back against the door, heart racing.

“So what do we do now?” Annie's voice came out smaller than she meant it to.

“That’s up to you,” Smoke said. “Whatever you want.”

Her heart picked up speed. She shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt saying all of this out loud. “And if we do something,” she asked carefully, “we still gon’ be friends?”

Stack answered immediately, no hesitation. “Always,” he said, firm. “That ain’t never changing.”

Smoke nodded once. “We not going nowhere.”

Something in her chest loosened at that. Years of fear, of holding herself back, softened just enough for her to breathe. She stared down at her hands for a second, then looked up again, eyes flicking between them.

The music changed.

Beyoncé’s sultry voice slid into the space like it belonged there all along. The timing felt unreal, like the universe had leaned in too. The air in the car thickened instantly. Nobody spoke. Nobody laughed it off.

Annie swallowed.

“Okay,” she whispered.

The word felt like a door opening.

Stack shifted in his seat, movements suddenly more deliberate. “Lean your seat back,” he said softly.

Annie hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to, because everything suddenly felt real. This wasn’t a dream or a passing thought anymore. They were her best friends. The boys who knew her heart. The ones who had held her up when she was breaking.

Stack noticed her pause. Without saying another word, he leaned over from the driver’s seat, close enough that she could feel his heat, smell his cologne mixed with smoke. One hand braced against the seat as the other reached past her shoulder and eased the lever back. The seat reclined slowly.

Annie sucked in a breath as the angle shifted, her body sinking back, her pulse loud in her ears. Stack lingered for half a second longer than necessary, close enough that she could feel his presence before he pulled back into his seat.

Smoke watched the entire thing from the back, eyes dark, jaw set, hands resting on his thighs like he was holding himself in check.

Annie lay back, the leather of the seat cool against her heated skin. Her breathing was already uneven, shallow little puffs that fogged the air in front of her lips. The music wrapped around them, a velvet blanket of sound, but all she could hear was the rush of blood in her own ears.

Stack’s voice cut through the haze, a rumble that vibrated right through the seat into her bones.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.”

His hand settled on her thigh, just above the knee. His palm was warm, calloused from work, and it covered her completely. He didn’t push, didn’t force. He just rested it there, and began to rub slow circles with his thumb along the inner seam of her shorts. The cotton was thin, and she could feel every ridge of his fingerprint bleeding through. A shiver raced up her spine.

From the backseat, Smoke leaned forward. He moved silently until his face was inches from hers. The scent of him filled her space. His breath fanned across her cheek.

“Just relax,” he whispered, the words so soft they were almost lost under Beyoncé’s croon. “We got you.”

Annie’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. Relax. How could she? Every nerve was a live wire, sparking under her skin. But it was their voices that anchored her. She let out a shaky exhale and shifted her body.

It was an awkward angle in the car, but she managed. Pushing with her feet against the floorboard, she turned her hips toward Stack in the driver’s seat, letting her legs fall open just a fraction. At the same time, she let her head loll toward the window, bringing her face even closer to Smoke, who was now hovering right there in the space between the seats.

“Yeah,” Stack murmured, his hand sliding higher up her thigh, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her shorts. “That’s it. Let’s see what’s got these niggas going crazy.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent a jolt straight to her core. Annie whimpered, a small, broken sound.

Smoke’s eyes searched her face. In the glow of a streetlight, she saw the concern there etched right beside the hunger. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gravel-rough.

She nodded, barely trusting her own voice. “Yes.”

He didn’t wait. He closed the last inch of space and his lips were on hers. It was sure and deep claim. His mouth moved over hers with a confidence that stole the air from her lungs. One of his hands came up to cradle the side of her face, his thumb stroking her jawline, holding her gently but firmly in place.

Annie melted into it. Her hands, which had been clutching at nothing, came up to fist in the fabric of his shirt. She kissed him back, opening for him, and a low moan vibrated in her throat.

That was all the distraction Stack needed.

While Smoke consumed her mouth, Stack’s focus dropped entirely to her shorts. The cotton was soft, worn from years of wear, and frustratingly simple. He hooked his thick fingers into the waistband, right at her hip.

“Lift up for me, Annie,” he said, his voice a distracted murmur as he leaned further across the center console.

Dazed by Smoke’s kiss, Annie obeyed instinctively, arching her hips off the seat just enough.

Stack pulled and the shorts slid down her thighs, catching for a moment on the curve of her hips before continuing. The cooler air of the car hit her bare skin, and she gasped into Smoke’s mouth. She was exposed from the waist down. Her panties the only barrier left.

Smoke took advantage of her gasp. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tangling with hers. It was wet and hot. Annie moaned again, louder this time, the sound swallowed by him. Her body arched, pressing her chest against his, one hand moving from his shirt to the back of his head.

Stack’s breath hitched. He was staring, his gaze a physical weight on her. One of his hands returned to her thigh, this time skin on skin, his rough palm smoothing up the length of her leg, from knee to the crease of her hip. His touch was gentle yet hungry.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, the word full of awe and heat.

He leaned in, his broad shoulders blocking the dim light from the dashboard, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee. Annie jerked at the contact, a new wave of sensation crashing over her. Smoke held her through it, his kiss turning slower, sucking on her tongue until her toes curled.

Stack’s mouth began a slow, torturous ascent up her inner thigh. Each open-mouthed kiss, each scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin, was a brand. Annie was trembling, caught between two points of pressure.

Her moans became constant, and muffled against Smoke’s lips.

Stack’s fingers finally found the edge of her panties. He didn’t rip them away. He traced the lace trim with a single fingertip, following the line from her hip, across the dampening fabric at the apex of her thighs, to the other side.

“So fucking pretty,” he growled, his voice thick. “You always been so fucking pretty, Annie.”

Smoke pulled back from the kiss just enough to breathe. Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling in ragged pants. He watched her face, her eyes glazed and desperate, her lips swollen and wet from his.

“They never treated you right, huh?” Smoke asked, his voice a dark whisper.

The question felt like a blade twisting in a wound she’d ignored. She shook her head, a tiny, frantic movement. “No,” she choked out.

“We will,” Smoke promised. He kissed her again, softer this time, a brush of lips before he trailed his mouth down her jaw, to her throat, where he sucked lightly on the frantic pulse there.

Emboldened, Stack finally slipped his fingers under the elastic of her panties. He tugged them down, joining the shorts pooled on the floor. Now, she was completely bare to him, spread open in the passenger seat of his car.

The cold air was a shock, followed immediately by the scorching heat of his gaze. He didn’t touch her yet, not where she was aching and empty. He just looked, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Smoke,” Stack said, his voice strained.

Smoke understood. He pulled back from Annie’s neck, his own eyes dark with need. He looked from Annie’s wrecked expression down to where Stack was poised, and gave a single, sharp nod.

“Look at me, Annie,” Smoke commanded softly.

Her eyes, which had squeezed shut, flew open to meet his. He held her gaze, his own intense, unwavering.

“Keep looking at me,” he whispered.

At the same moment, Stack lowered his head. The first touch of his tongue was a lightning strike.

Annie cried out, a sharp, shattered sound that echoed in the enclosed space. Her back bowed off the seat, her hands flying to grip the headrest behind her. It was too much. The slick, hot stroke of his tongue parting her folds, the rough scratch of his goatee against her tender skin.

“Oh, God…Stack!” she sobbed, her eyes wide, locked on Smoke’s.

“I got you,” Smoke murmured, repeating his earlier promise. He captured one of her hands from the headrest and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, then her palm, never breaking eye contact. “Just feel it. Let him take care of you.”

And Stack was taking care of her. With a focused, devastating precision that spoke of a deep, long-held want, he ate her out like a man starved. His tongue was broad and flat, laving over her clit before spearing deep inside her, tasting her, learning her. He groaned against her, the vibration shooting through her entire body, making her thighs quiver violently.

“Ssshhh-iiit,” Annie hissed, her head thrashing against the headrest even as her eyes remained glued to Smoke’s. Tears of overwhelming sensation pricked at the corners of her eyes.

“I know,” Smoke said, his own breath coming fast. He leaned in and kissed her again, swallowing her whimpers. His free hand came down to cup her breast through her top.

Annie was unraveling, completely split between two sensations. The wet, rhythmic suction of Stack’s mouth between her legs, building a coil of tension so tight it was painful, and the possessive dominance of Smoke’s kiss and touch. The music was a distant throb now, secondary to the wet, hungry sounds filling the car.

“Smoke…I’m…I can’t…” she babbled, her hips beginning to jerk involuntarily against Stack’s face.

Stack responded by sliding two thick fingers inside her alongside his tongue, curling them just right.

Annie screamed. It was a raw sound of pleasure. Her vision whited out. The coil snapped, and a wave of release crashed through her. Her back arched so sharply it lifted her off the seat. Smoke held her gaze through it all, his eyes burning with an intense heat, while Stack gently worked her through it.

When the tremors finally began to subside, Annie collapsed back against the seat gasping for air like she’d been drowning. Stack lifted his head, his chin glistening in the low light.

Smoke finally released her hand and brushed the hair from her forehead. “There she is,” he murmured, a faint, proud smile touching his lips.

Annie could only blink, her mind blissfully empty, her body humming. Stack wiped his mouth with his thumb , his eyes never leaving her sated, sprawled form.

“We just getting started, mama,” he stated, his voice husky with satisfaction.

He didn’t give her a second to recover, to even catch the breath she was desperately gasping for. The moment her hips settled back against the leather, he dove in again.

Annie’s gasp was punched out of her. One hand flew out hitting and then gripping the door handle. The other hand clawed at Smoke’s shirt, fisting in the fabric, anchoring herself to his solid presence as another wave began to build from where Stack’s mouth was working her.

Smoke watched her face twist in pleasure, a dark hunger flashing in his eyes. His gaze dropped to her chest, to the rapid rise and fall of her breasts under the thin crop top. He’d wondered what they felt like for years. In stolen glances when she’d bend over, in hugs that lasted a beat too long, he’d imagined the weight, the feel.

“My turn,” he murmured, the words more a growl than speech.

He didn’t bother with finesse. He hooked his fingers into the neckline of her top and pulled it down in one rough motion.

Annie’s full and heavy breasts spilled free, the nipples already peaked from arousal. A shocked cry escaped her as the cooler air hit the wet heat of Smoke’s mouth a second before he captured one.

“Oh, fuck, Smoke,” she choked out.

He groaned against her skin, the sound vibrating through her ribcage. He’d been right. They were perfect. More than perfect. They filled his hands, soft flesh spilling between his fingers as he palmed and squeezed, worshipping the weight of them before his mouth descended with a pace that bordered on desperation. He sucked, tongue circling her nipple, then grazing it with his teeth in a way that made her back bow off the seat.

Annie was coming apart between them. The dual assault was too good. Her thick thighs, still trembling, instinctively tried to clamp together in an attempt to contain the overwhelming sensations.

Stack wouldn’t allow it. With a grunt, he released his grip on her hip and wrapped a powerful hand around her right thigh. He lifted it up and over his shoulder without breaking rhythm, his mouth still stuck to her core. The new angle was more exposing, and Annie let out a gasp.

One of her hands was pressed at the back of Smoke’s head, holding him to her breast. The other plunged into Stack’s low-cut fade, her fingers gripping hard, not to push him away, but to pull him closer, to press him into her as he licked and sucked.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, her voice ragged and raw. “Right there, just like that.” She tugged Smoke’s head. “Harder…”

She was telling them how she wanted it and it unleashed something primal in both men.

Smoke obeyed instantly, sucking her nipple deep into the heat of his mouth, biting down with just enough pressure to make her gasp, then soothing it with a flat, lapping tongue. Stack redoubled his efforts, his tongue focusing on her clit while his fingers were still buried inside her, stroking a spot that made her see stars.

The second climax tore through her with even less warning than the first. She convulsed, a silent scream locked in her throat, her body seizing as ecstasy flew through her. Her grip on their heads was the only thing grounding her to the earth.

Stack rode her through it, gentling only when her thighs began to shake violently against his ears. Finally, he pulled back, breathing like he’d run a marathon. He rested his forehead against her inner thigh, his own body hard with unreleased tension.

He turned his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the quivering muscle. Then he looked up at her.

Annie was beautiful. Her crop top was shoved down around her waist, her breasts glistening from Smoke’s attention. Her chest heaved, rising and falling with desperate, ragged breaths.

Stack’s eyes drank her in. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across his wet lips.

“Damn, Annie,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. He shook his head slightly. “I’m in trouble.”

He leaned forward, bracing one arm on the center console, his face inches from her heated core. He didn’t touch her again, just let her feel the heat of his breath on her oversensitive flesh.

“‘Cause I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop,” he finished, the smirk turning into a full, wolfish grin as he watched her chest continue to move up and down, heavy and spent.

She firmly pushed against Stack’s broad shoulder, causing him to lean back into the driver’s seat. She sat up properly, her body humming.

Without a word, she turned, knees on the passenger seat, and began to climb into the back. The space was cramped. Smoke watched her come, his eyes darkened. He didn’t speak, just slid over to the far side. He reached forward, his arm brushing past her hip, and shoved the passenger seat back upright, then pushed it all the way forward until it clicked against the dashboard. The move made the area more open.

“Stack,” Annie said, no trace of the earlier breathlessness. “Come back here.”

He was moving before she finished the sentence. He clambered over the center console and they all moved around until they were in good positions.

They settled with Annie in the middle. One of her thick thighs was thrown across Smoke’s lap, opening her completely to him. The rest of her body leaned back, her spine and shoulders supported by Stack’s solid chest behind her. His arms coming around her waist.

Annie reached up, her hand finding the back of Stack’s head. She pulled him down to her. Their lips met, and this kiss was different. It was hungry, messy, and profoundly nasty. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, mixed with the faint ghost of weed. The intimacy of it made her moan into his mouth. She licked into him trying to get a taste.

While her mouth warred with Stack’s, Smoke’s hands were on her. One large palm splayed across her lower belly, holding her steady. The other hand found her folds. There was no teasing, he knew what she needed. Two fingers slid into her with a smooth, deep stroke, curling upward immediately.

Annie broke the kiss with a cry, her head falling back against Stack’s shoulder. Her hips bucked instinctively, driving his fingers deeper, seeking more fullness.

“That’s it,” Smoke growled in her ear. He began a relentless rhythm, pumping his fingers in and out, the heel of his hand grinding against her clit with every inward thrust. The sound was wet and loud in the quiet of the car now that the music seemed to have faded.

Annie was mindlessly riding his hand. “Give it to me,” she chanted, the words slurred with pleasure. “C’mon, give it to me, please…”

Stack trailed his mouth down her throat sucking marks into the sensitive skin. His hands roamed over her body, one kneading the breast Smoke had neglected, the other sliding down her stomach to join the fray. He didn’t mess with Smoke’s work. Instead, he found her clit, his thumb applying a circling pressure that matched perfectly with Smoke's strokes.

Annie was struggling. Her leg hooked over Smoke trembled violently. She was close again.

It was Stack who spoke, his voice ragged against her ear, each word punctuated by a sharp nip to her lobe. “You can have whatever you want.”

Smoke echoed him, his fingers never slowing, crooking hard inside her. “Whatever you want. It’s yours, just say it.”

“I want to come,” she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut. “Both of y'all make me come.”

It was all they needed to hear.

The climax that ripped through her from their fingers left her vision spotted and her lungs screaming for air. The tremors transitioned into deep, full-body shudders.

She sat up, pulling herself from them. Her chest heaved, her skin glowed with a slight sheen of sweat, and her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, traveled down.

Stack, leaning back against the door panel now, wore only his black basketball shorts. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the outline of his erection. And beside her, Smoke was in the same situation with his grey sweatpants.

“I want it,” her voice slightly raspy. “Now.”

Her hand moved first to Smoke. She palmed him through the soft fabric of his sweats, feeling the solid, hot length of him, the jump of his flesh under her touch. A low groan rumbled in his chest. She hooked her fingers into his waistband, helping him as he shoved the pants and his boxers down his hips in one frantic motion. His dick sprang free, thick and veined, the tip already glistening.

Her gaze snapped to Stack. “Take ‘em off.”

The demand in her tone had Stack moving instantly. He pushed his shorts and briefs down, kicking them aside. Freed, his dick stood proud and heavy against his stomach, a clear bead of pre-cum at the slit.

Smoke shifted, scooting back until his shoulders were against the car door, one leg bent on the seat, the other braced on the floor. Annie pivoted, turning her body to face Stack fully. She put one knee up on the seat beside Smoke’s thigh, the other foot planted firmly on the floorboard. The position put an arch in her back, presenting her ass right to Smoke.

A large, calloused hand came down on her cheek in a sharp, stinging smack that echoed in the car. The pain was a delicious spark that melted instantly into heat. Annie gasped, her eyes fluttering shut for a second before locking back on Stack.

He had mirrored Smoke, moving to lean against the opposite door. His dick was right at her eye level, so close she could feel the heat radiating from it. He was fully hard, the shaft dark and thick, veins prominent, the head flushed and leaking.

Annie leaned forward, closing the small distance. She didn’t take him in her mouth immediately. Instead, she pressed her lips to the very tip in a soft, closed-mouth kiss. Stack’s whole body jerked, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. “Fuck, Annie…”

She opened her mouth and let her tongue out. Starting at the very base, where coarse hair met smooth skin, she dragged a slow, flat lick all the way up the underside of his shaft, over the throbbing head, collecting the salty-bitter pre-cum. She savored the taste of him.

Her hands found his muscular thighs, gripping them for stability as she took a breath and then took him into her mouth.

She went slowly, letting her lips stretch around his girth, using her tongue to cushion him as she descended. She went as far as she could, until she felt him nudge the back of her throat, her eyes watering slightly. She held there for a heartbeat, humming around him, feeling him pulse against her tongue, before pulling back with a wet, sucking pop.

She looked over her shoulder at Smoke, her lips slick and swollen. Reaching back with one hand, she grabbed her own ass cheek, pulling herself open for him. Her voice was a desperate whisper.

“Put it in.”

Smoke needed no further invitation. One hand gripped her hip, the other guided himself. The broad, blunt head of his dick pressed against her entrance. She was still slick and stretched from his fingers and her orgasms. With a single thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside her to the hilt.

Annie cried out, but the sound was muffled around Stack. The feeling of being filled so completely stole her breath. Smoke was big, stretching her in a way she’d never known she craved.

He didn’t wait for her to properly adjust. He set a punishing pace from the start, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, each drive rocking her entire body forward. The car creaked softly with the rhythm.

Driven by the force of his thrusts, Annie opened her eyes, her gaze locking with Stack’s hungry one. She leaned forward again and took him back into her mouth, and this time, there was no hesitation.

She bobbed her head in a counter-rhythm to Smoke’s pounding, taking Stack deep, using her hand to work the base she couldn’t reach. She hollowed her cheeks, sucked hard, her tongue swirling around the head every time she pulled back. Saliva dripped down her chin and onto his balls. The wet, sloppy sounds of her sucking mixed with the slick, rhythmic slap of skin against skin from behind.

“Shit, girl. Just like that,” Stack grunted, his head thrown back against the window, his hands fisting in her hair, not forcing, but holding on for dear life as his hips began to jerk up to meet her mouth.

The deep, filling stretch of Smoke thrusting into her and the heavy weight of Stack on her tongue overwhelmed every sense. She moaned around Stack’s dick, the vibration making him curse violently.

Smoke’s grip on her hips was iron-tight, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, losing any semblance of control.

“You feel that?” he gritted out, his voice strained. “You takin' my shit so fuckin’ good, Annie.”

The praise only pushed her higher. She redoubled her efforts on Stack, sucking him like her life depended on it, while pushing her hips back to meet Smoke’s every thrust, taking him deeper, accepting all of him.

Her release came like a rolling wave. It seized her as Smoke hammered into that deep, curved spot, and she convulsed around him with a choked, guttural cry that vibrated around Stack’s length in her mouth.

But even as the aftershocks trembled through her, leaving her muscles weak, the men were far from finished. Their rhythm didn’t falter. If anything, it intensified.

Smoke was a force behind her. He plowed through her tightening walls with a single-minded focus, his thick, curved dick a relentless press, rubbing over that spot with every deep, bottoming-out thrust. The slap of his hips against her ass was a rapid, wet drum beat. He brought down on her ass cheek again in a sharp, stinging smack.

“Work it out, baby,” he grunted, his voice ragged at her ear. “Work this nut outta me.”

In front of her, Stack was unraveling. His eyes were glazed, locked on the obscene sight of her lips stretched around him, her cheeks hollowed, spit-slick and desperate. His dick was long, and she couldn’t quite take him all the way without triggering her gag reflex, but she was trying, bobbing as best she could while being rocked by Smoke’s thrusts. To feel more of him, she slid a hand up under his shirt, her palm flattening against the hardness of his abdomen, feeling the muscles there clench and jump with every ragged breath he took.

She made eye contact with him then, her own eyes still a little heavy from her high. She sucked him with a frantic, hungry energy, using everything she had.

But Smoke shifted his angle, driving up into her with a new force. The sensation was too much. A sharp, overwhelmed cry was torn from her, and she had to pull off Stack with a wet, gasping pop. She rested her forehead against his lower stomach, her hands gripping his thighs, her body shaking as Smoke continued to pound into her, each thrust bringing out a broken moan from her lips.

Stack looked down at the crown of her head a dark, possessive fire blazed in his eyes. He tutted softly, the sound dripping with control.

“Uhn uhn,” his voice rough. “Don’t stop now. Suck my shit.”

His hands, which had been braced against the door, came up and buried themselves in her hair in a firm, controlling hold. He guided her head back to his waiting dick and pushed himself back between her lips.

This time, he didn’t let her set the pace. He began to fuck her mouth, his hips pumping up to meet the downward push of his hands. He set a ruthless, quick tempo, forcing her head down until the head of his dick hit the back of her throat, then dragging her back up. Down again, deeper, until her nose was buried in the coarse hair at his base.

Annie gagged, her throat convulsing around him. The sounds were wet choking, strained gulps for air through her nose. She was completely at his mercy, used for his pleasure, and a shocking, submissive thrill shot through her core, making her clench violently around Smoke.

And Stack praised her for it.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groaned, his head falling back, his thrusts into her mouth becoming more erratic. “Take it all. Fuck, look at you. You got such a good fuckin’ mouth on you, baby. Shit…”

His words washed over her.

Smoke felt her internal spasms, heard the choked sounds she made for Stack. It drove him to the edge. His thrusts became shorter, harder.

“I'm finna come,” he warned, his voice a broken growl. “Finna fill this pretty pussy up, you hear me?”

In front of her, Stack was losing control. He could feel the sign of heat gathering. The sight of her was sending her over the edge. But he wasn’t going to come down her throat by accident. He wanted her to take it.

With a guttural groan, his hands in her hair tightened. He pulled her off him in one sharp motion, her lips making a wet, protesting pop as they left his shaft. He held her head still, her face just inches from his throbbing, spit soaked dick. Her eyes were glazed over and her breath came out in ragged pants.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice thick and strained. “I’m gonna nut in it. And you better not let none spill on my fuckin’ seats.”

He released her hair with one hand, wrapping his fist around his own length. He was already leaking, the head swollen. He began to pump himself in quick strokes, his eyes locked on her parted lips.

Every deep, driving thrust from Smoke sent a shockwave through her, making her shoulders hitch, her fingers dug into Stack’s thighs. Her eyes rolled back for a second before fluttering, trying to find focus on him.

“You want it?” Stack gritted out, his strokes speeding up, his balls drawing tight. “You want my nut, Annie?”

A broken, desperate moan tore from her throat, more vibration than word. “Yesss…”

It was all he needed. Her mouth opened wider, and she stuck her tongue out in offering. The gesture shattered the last of his restraint.

With a choked curse, he aimed. The first hot, thick rope hit her tongue, painting it white. The second splashed across her palate. He kept pumping, emptying himself into her mouth, his release pulsing out in steady, heavy spurts. Annie’s eyes squeezed shut, but she held still, her throat working as she swallowed every drop.

When he was done, Stack's body slumped back against the door. He released his grip on himself and let his hand fall to gently pet the back of her head, his fingers smoothing over her sweat-damp curls. He breathed heavily, watching her as she finished swallowing, licking her lips clean.

Behind her, Smoke was chasing his own finish. The visual of Stack coming in her mouth, the feel of her walls fluttering wildly around him, had him hurtling toward the edge. His thrusts became frantic, shallow, and losing all rhythm.

“Annie, turn around,” he grunted, his voice barely recognizable.

He pulled out of her with a wet sound, his dick glistening and painfully hard. Still on her knees, she shuffled her body around on the seat, presenting her ass to Stack, and turning her face up toward Smoke.

She did the same thing. Opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

Smoke didn’t need to be asked twice. He gave himself two rough pumps, and with a deep groan, he came. His release was a violent burst, shooting across her tongue, dripping from her chin. She swallowed messily, some of it escaping to trail down her neck.

From his side, Stack watched the display, a lazy, possessive smirk on his face. His hand came down on the ass now presented to him, delivering a firm, appreciative smack that made her jump and moan around the taste of Smoke in her mouth.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the car were their ragged, syncing breaths, and the low, lingering thrum of the forgotten music. Annie slowly repositioned herself so she was properly sitting between them again.

The windows were fogged just enough to blur the streetlights outside, turning everything into soft streaks of gold and white. She felt loose in a way she hadn’t in a long time, like something tight inside her had finally unclenched.

Smoke sat beside her, shoulders against the door, head tipped back, eyes closed. His breathing was heavy but controlled, like he was grounding himself again, pulling himself back into his body. One hand rested on his thigh, the other braced against the seat, knuckles still tense.

Stack was turned slightly toward them, one arm stretched along the back of the seat, the other hanging loose at his side. He let out a quiet laugh under his breath, more disbelief than humor, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened but wasn’t mad about it either.

Annie shifted slightly, the leather cool against her skin now, and let out a long exhale. “Damn,” she murmured, voice hoarse but light.

Stack huffed. “That’s one way to put it.”

Smoke opened his eyes and looked at her then. “You good?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah. I’m— yeah.” She paused, searching for the word, then laughed softly. “I needed that.”

The tension that had lived between them for years felt gone, burned off and released into the air. What was left wasn’t awkward or heavy. It was calm.

Stack shifted, reaching for a jacket and tossing it toward Annie without comment. She caught it easily wrapping herself in it.

For the first time that night, Annie felt fully present in her body and her life. She glanced between them, her best friends, her people, and smiled to herself. She was glad they’d finally let the tension go.

He turned the corner onto their street, boots crunching on gravel, mind already running through timelines and budgets.

Then he opened the door.

And stopped.

Her shoes.

Sitting by the edge of the sitting room rug, neat and small and impossibly delicate against their worn floorboards.

His heart kicked once, hard, against his ribs.

She was here.

But—why? They weren’t supposed to see her for another few days. She’d said she needed a little space to process. They’d agreed to let her set the pace.

So why was she here?

The papers slipped from his fingers.

A few sheets fluttered to the ground, but he didn’t notice. Didn’t care.

His eyes stayed locked on those shoes.

Then he heard it.

Movement. Soft. Muffled. Coming from down the hall.

His pulse quickened.

“Stack.”

His voice came out low. Tight.

No answer.

The apartment was dim—curtains drawn, the air still and warm like someone had been here a while.

“What the hell did you do?” he said, louder this time.

A beat.

Then the bedroom door at the end of the hall cracked open.

Stack stepped out, closing it almost imperceptibly behind him. His shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up, expression carefully neutral—but his eyes? His eyes were bright. Too bright.

Smoke’s stomach dropped.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Stack leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, that infuriating calm settling over him like a mask.

“She’s fine.”

“That ain’t what I asked.”

Stack’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. Close enough to make Smoke’s blood heat.

“She’s in my room.”

The words landed like a fist.

Smoke took a step forward, slow and controlled, but everything inside him was screaming.

“Do not play with me,” he said, voice dropping dangerously low.

Stack didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Just watched him with that lazy, knowing look that made Smoke want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

“You askin’ if I touched her?” Stack’s voice was soft. Almost playful.

Smoke’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

Stack’s grin widened, just a fraction. “Or you just mad I had her here before you?”

That did it.

Smoke closed the distance between them in two strides, stopping just short of crowding his brother against the wall.

“Stack—”

“Relax, big bro.” Stack’s tone was light, but his eyes were serious now. Steady. “Woman like that? You take your time.”

He let the words hang for a second—long enough for Smoke’s mind to race through every worst-case scenario.

Then Stack sighed, straightened up.

“She came by upset. About some money situation.”

Smoke’s brow furrowed. “What money situation?”

Stack waved a hand vaguely. “Something botherin’ her. She needed to talk.”

“About what?”

“Does it matter?” Stack’s voice was calm. Easy. “Point is she came here. To us.”

Smoke’s eyes narrowed, but he let it go. For now.

“And?” he pressed.

“And I listened.” Stack’s voice softened. “We talked. She was tired. I told her to rest. She fell asleep.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Smoke searched his brother’s face, looking for the lie. The smirk. The gotcha.

He didn’t find it.

Stack held his gaze, unflinching. “I held her,” he admitted quietly. “That’s all. Nothing more.”

The jealousy still burned—hot and bitter in Smoke’s chest—but it shifted. Twisted into something else.

Relief.

Frustration.

And underneath it all, a raw, aching want.

Because Stack had gotten to hold her. Had been here when she needed someone. Had been the one she came to.

And Smoke?

Smoke had been out chasing land and futures while his woman was in their apartment, upset and vulnerable, falling asleep in his brother’s bed.

“You should’ve—” Smoke started, but the words died in his throat.

Because what was he supposed to say? You should’ve called me? They didn’t have a phone. You should’ve turned her away? Like hell Stack was going to do that.

Stack must’ve seen it on his face because his expression gentled.

“She came to us, Smoke. What was I supposed to do?”

Smoke didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Stack stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. “See for yourself.”

Smoke hesitated—just for a second—then moved past him.

He pushed the door open slow, careful not to make a sound.

And there she was.

Annie.

Asleep in Stack’s bed, curled into the red silk sheets and pale fur like she’d been there a hundred times before. Her hair had slipped loose from her braids, dark coils spilling across the pillow. One arm tucked beneath her cheek, the other draped across her stomach.

She looked soft. Peaceful. Safe.

And she was beautiful.

So beautiful it hurt to look at her.

Smoke’s chest tightened, something cracking open inside him that he didn’t have words for.

She came back.

She chose to be here.

With them.

He stood there, frozen in the doorway, just watching her breathe.

Behind him, Stack’s voice came quiet. “That look like somebody who scared?”

Smoke swallowed hard.

“That look like somebody who wanna walk?” Stack pressed, softer now.

No.

It didn’t.

It looked like somebody who belonged.

Smoke stepped back, pulling the door almost closed again—just enough to give her privacy but not enough to shut her away completely.

Stack was leaning against the wall, arms still crossed, watching him with an expression Smoke couldn’t quite read.

For half a second, neither of them spoke. The only sound was Annie’s soft breathing through the cracked door.

Stack tipped his head toward the kitchen.

“Come on. We ain’t talkin’ out here.”

Once settled, Smoke raised a brow. Stack knew to start talkin’.

“She came here lookin’ for answers.”

Smoke’s nostrils flared. His brother needed to say more words.  “Answers to what, nigga?”

“Her books round town,” Stack said plainly. “I put money on ‘em.”

Smoke stared at him like he was torn between choking him or finally driving out that demon he swore lived in his brother.

“You went ‘round town… puttin’ money on her books.”

Stack nodded while struggling to light a cigarette. “She ain’t like it.”

Stack exhaled. “Said the whole town knew her business. Made her feel—” He paused. “Small.”

Smoke’s knuckles went white on the chair.

“We said we’d go slow,” Smoke said finally, voice rough.

“And we are,” Stack replied. “We was gon’ do it anyways.” 

“You should’ve—”

“What?” Stack cut in, not unkind. “Let her be out there nickel and dimin’? When she got men claimin’ her?”

Smoke’s jaw worked.

Stack pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them. “I did what you would’ve done,” he said quietly. “I took care of her.”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?

Stack had done exactly what Smoke would’ve done.

“She’s in your bed,” Smoke said, the words coming out sharper than he meant.

Stack’s brow arched. “And?”

Smoke turned away, dragging a hand over his face. “Forget it.”

“Nah.” Stack grabbed his arm, firm but not rough. “Say what you need to say.”

Smoke turned back, eyes hard. “You got to be here. You got to hold her. You got to be the one she came to.”

Stack’s expression softened with understanding.

“And you mad you missed it.”

“I ain’t—” Smoke stopped. Exhaled hard through his nose. He nodded. 

The admission sat heavy between them.

“We need rules,” Smoke continued, voice steadying. “For how we move with her.”

“She comes first,” Smoke said firmly. “Always. Her comfort. Her say-so. Her pace. What she needs comes before what we want.”

“Ain’t disagreed.”

“And no more goin’ behind my back,” Smoke added, eyes locking on his brother. “Not with her. Not with anything that touches her life.”

Stack’s jaw ticked. “I ain’t goin’ behind you. I moved us forward. But I hear you.”

“We let her lead,” Smoke continued. “She reaches, we respond. But we not takin’ what ain’t offered.”

Stack’s jaw worked but he nodded.

“And we make sure she knows—” Smoke’s voice dropped. “—she’s ours. Not mine. Not yours. Ours.”

“Ours,” Stack repeated.

Another beat of silence.

Then Smoke stood. “We good?”

“Getting there.”

Smoke moved around the table. Stack stood.

They clasped hands, pulled into a brief embrace.

“We in this together,” Stack said quietly.

“All the way.”

“Stack.”

He turned.

“You need a boot in ya ass for pullin’ this shit,” Smoke said. “But I’m glad you was here when she needed somebody.”

Stack’s throat tightened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Stack nodded once, then headed down the hall to check on Annie.

Smoke stayed in the kitchen, hands braced on the table.

They could do this. They could make this work.

They just had to be smarter.

-

Down the hall, behind Stack's closed door, Annie stirred.

Annie woke slow, the kind of slow that came with afternoon naps—heavy limbs, foggy thoughts, the disorienting sense of being somewhere unfamiliar.

Her eyes opened to red.

Red silk beneath her cheek. Red curtains filtering late sun into something warm and amber. The scent of tobacco and cedar and something distinctly male wrapped around her like a second blanket.

For a second, she couldn't place where she was.

Then it came back in pieces.

The walk here. The anxiety twisting in her stomach. Stack opening the door, that easy grin, those warm hands guiding her inside. Talking. Crying, maybe? She wasn't sure. Everything felt blurred at the edges.

And then—his bed. The silk. The fur.

Stack's room.

Annie sat up slowly, the slip she now wore sliding further down one shoulder. She tugged it back up with fumbling fingers, heart starting to pick up speed.

How long had she been asleep?

The light coming through the window was different—softer, lower. Evening, maybe? Or close to it.

Oh God.

But then—

Voices.

Low. Muffled. Coming from somewhere beyond the door.

She froze.

The twins.

She couldn't make out the words, but she recognized the cadence. Stack's voice, easy and unbothered. And then Smoke's—deeper, tighter, with an edge that made her stomach flip.

Were they arguing?

About her?

Annie's chest tightened.

Of course they were. She'd shown up unannounced, invaded their space, fallen asleep in one of their beds. This was exactly the kind of messy, complicated situation she'd been trying to avoid.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her breathing.

You shouldn't have come here.

You shouldn't have—

The voices rose slightly. Not quite shouting, but sharper. Tension bleeding through the walls.

Annie stood, legs unsteady, and padded quietly toward the door.

She shouldn't listen. She knew she shouldn't.

But her hand was already on the doorknob, easing it open just a crack.

"—two of us," Smoke's voice, rough and low.

A pause.

"One of her."

Annie's breath caught.

The words hit her like a physical thing.

Two of us. One of her.

And suddenly she wasn't standing at Stack's door anymore.

She was outside the tea house on Parkway, three weeks ago, staring at a folded note with those exact words running through her mind.

~-~-~ 

The note had arrived three days ago.

Simple. Direct. Written in Smoke's careful hand:

Tea house on Parkway. Thursday, 2pm. We need to speak with you. —E. Moore

Annie had read it seventeen times.

Turned it over looking for more. Found nothing.

We.

Her stomach had been in knots ever since.

She'd thought about not going. Thought about sending a polite refusal, claiming she was busy, that she had other plans. But curiosity—and something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name—had won out.

So here she was, walking into the tea house at exactly 2pm, palms damp, heart racing, trying to look like a woman who wasn't about to walk into something that might change everything.

The tea house sat tucked between the tailor's shop and the print mill, small and dim in that intentional way—curtains half-drawn, tables far enough apart that conversations stayed private. Annie had been there before. Always alone. Always with a book or her thoughts.

Not today.

Today, she walked in and saw them both.

Stack leaned back in his chair near the window, one arm draped over the back of the seat beside him, grin already pulling at his mouth like he'd been waiting for her to notice him first. Smoke sat across from him, still as stone, hands folded on the table, eyes tracking her the second the door chimed.

Her stomach dropped.

So this is it.

She'd suspected something was off for weeks now—the way they both seemed to show up wherever she was. Stack at the market with some excuse about needing herbs he definitely didn't need. Smoke at the post office, mailing letters that never seemed to have a destination. Each of them lingering a little too long, smiling a little too easy, saying things that walked the line between friendly and something else.

She thought they were competing.

Thought maybe she'd gotten herself into something messy without meaning to—two brothers, both of them dangerous in their own right, both of them clearly interested. She'd been careful not to choose, not to lead either one on too much. Tried to keep it light, harmless.

But if they'd called her here—together—then this was about to be something else entirely.

Maybe they were going to make her choose.

Maybe one of them was stepping back.

Maybe this was about to get ugly.

Her feet wanted to turn around. Her pride wouldn't let her.

So she lifted her chin, smoothed her skirt, and walked over like she'd been expecting this all along.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," she said, voice steady even though her pulse was doing double-time.

Stack's grin widened. "There she is."

Smoke didn't smile. Just pulled out the chair between them with one hand, slow and deliberate.

"Fancy a seat Annie?"

It wasn't a question.

She sat.

The chair was warm from the sun through the window, but the heat she felt had nothing to do with that. She folded her hands in her lap, looked between them, and tried to read the room.

Stack looked relaxed—too relaxed. Like he was enjoying himself.

Smoke looked… contained. Controlled. But there was something underneath it, something tight in his jaw that made her nervous.

The waitress came by, set down a pot of tea and three cups without a word. She'd been paid already—Annie could tell by the way she didn't linger.

Smoke poured.

One cup. Two. Three.

Slid hers across the table with the kind of care that made her chest tighten.

"Thank you," she murmured.

He nodded once.

Stack leaned forward, elbows on the table, still grinning like he had a secret.

"You look real pretty today, Annie."

"Thank you, Elias." She took a sip of tea to buy herself time. It was too hot. Burned her tongue. She didn't let it show.

"Appreciate you comin'," Stack continued, easy as Sunday morning.

Her fingers tightened around the cup. She glanced at Smoke, then back at Stack.

"Your note said it was important."

"It is," Smoke confirmed, voice low.

The air felt thick. Heavy.

Annie set the cup down carefully, like if she moved too fast something would shatter.

"Look," she started, voice quiet but firm, "I know y'all both been interested… and I appreciate the attention, really, I do. But I don't want no trouble between y'all. You're brothers, and if this is about me getting in the way or if one of y'all is—"

She took a breath, forced herself to say it.

"If y'all are about to fight over me, or if you need me to step back so things don't get ugly between y'all, I understand. I'll—"

"Stop," Smoke said.

Not loud. Not harsh.

Just stop.

She did.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed now, watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"You think we fightin' over you?"

She troubled her lip.  "I mean… ain't you?"

Stack laughed.

Not mean—just genuinely amused, like she'd said something adorable.

Annie's stomach twisted, the heat of embarrassment filling her chest. 

Of course.

Of course they weren't fighting over her.

Why would they? She was just— she wasn’t nobody special, just a girl who'd been foolish enough to think two men like them would actually—

"Baby," Stack said, shaking his head, grin softening, "we not fightin' over you."

"Right." Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to. She looked down at her tea, throat tight. "I just—I shouldn't have assumed. That was silly of me. I'll just—"

She started to stand.

Smoke's hand shot out—not grabbing, just there, palm flat on the table between them. A wall.

"Sit. Down."

His voice was quiet. Firm.

She sat.

He leaned forward now, and the weight of his attention made her breath catch.

"You think we called you here to tell you we don't want you?"

She couldn't look at him. "I just thought—"

"You thought wrong," he cut in, not unkind but absolute. "And you need to stop thinkin' we playin' some game where you ain't the prize."

Her eyes snapped up to his.

Stack was watching her too now, that easy grin gone, replaced by something more serious. More real.

"We not fightin' over you, Annie," he said quietly. "'Cause there ain't no fight."

Smoke's jaw ticked. "We both want you."

The words hung in the air.

Annie blinked. "… both…?"

"Together," Stack finished.

The world tilted.

She stared at him. Then at Smoke. Then back at Stack.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Stack tilted his head, like he was explaining something simple. "We want you. Both of us. At the same time."

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"Are y'all—" She lowered her voice, glanced around even though no one was close enough to hear. "Are y'all some kind of… weird sex freaks or something? You lookin’ for your next victim?"

Stack barked out a laugh. Smoke's mouth twitched—almost a smile.

"Is this a prank?" she hissed, heat climbing up her neck. "Did somebody put y'all up to this? Because if Mary sent y'all to mess with me, I swear—"

"Annie." Smoke leaned forward now, forearms on the table, and the weight of his attention pinned her in place. "Ain't nobody playin' with you."

"We serious," Stack added, softer now. "Dead serious."

She shook her head, pulse hammering. "I don't… I don't understand."

"You understand just fine," Smoke said evenly. "You just don't wanna say it out loud yet."

Her breath caught.

Stack's expression softened into something gentler, more earnest. "You been workin’ both of us, baby. Talkin’ touchin’ smilin’. Flirtin’. Separately. For months now. You know that."

"I wasn't—"

"You were," Smoke cut in. "And we let you. Because we wanted to see if you felt it too."

"Felt what?" 

"This," Stack said simply, gesturing between the three of them. "The pull. The fit. You know it's there, Annie. You just scared to name it."

She opened her mouth to argue—but the words died in her throat.

Because he was right.

She had been flirting. With both of them. And every time one of them smiled at her, every time Smoke's hand lingered on her arm or Stack's voice dropped low and warm in her ear, she'd felt it.

That pull.

That dangerous, confusing, thrilling want.

But wanting two men at the same time? That wasn't something people did. Not out loud. Not in this society, not in the South. 

"I ain't never heard of nothing like that before," she whispered.

"We innovators.”  Stack claimed, leaning in. "It's ain’t about what people will say. It's about how you feel."

Smoke's voice was quieter, steadier. "We know you feel something for me. For Stack. For both of us."

He held her gaze, unflinching.

"You don't have to choose."

Her chest tightened.

"You can just have both of us," Stack finished, voice warm as honey.

The room felt too small. Too warm. Too full of them—their presence, their certainty, the way they looked at her like they'd already made up their minds and were just waiting for her to catch up.

"This is insane," she breathed.

"Maybe," Smoke allowed. "But it's true."

Stack reached across the table—not to touch her, just close enough that she could feel the heat of his hand near hers.

"We ain't gon' force nothin' on you, Annie. That ain't how we move."

"But if you want us," Smoke added, voice dropping lower, "we need you to be serious. We don't play games."

"It can't be a mistake," Stack said. "Can't be curiosity you walk away from when it gets hard."

She looked between them, heart pounding so hard she thought they could probably hear it.

"So what are you saying?"

Smoke leaned back, eyes never leaving hers.

"We saying think about it. Really think about it. Not what your aunty would say, not what the church folk would whisper. What you want."

Stack nodded. "And if you decide you want this—want us—you come see us."

"You know where we stay," Smoke finished.

Then, without waiting for her response, they both stood.

Stack dropped a few bills on the table—more than enough to cover the tea and then some.

Smoke adjusted his hat, eyes still on her.

"Take your time, angel," he murmured.

And then they walked out.

Just like that.

Left her sitting there with a cooling cup of tea and a heart that felt like it might beat right out of her chest.

Annie sat frozen, staring at the door they'd just walked through.

Her hands trembled around the teacup.

What the hell just happened?

-

The week that followed was the longest of Stack's life.

And he'd lived through some shit.

He paced the apartment like a caged animal—wearing grooves in the floorboards between the kitchen and the sitting room, checking the window every five minutes like Annie might materialize out of thin air.

Smoke pretended to be calm.

Sat at the table with his ledgers, pen moving across paper in that steady, controlled way of his. But Stack knew better. His brother had been on the same page for twenty minutes. Just staring at numbers that probably didn't even register anymore.

"You think she comin'?" Stack asked for the third time that morning.

Smoke didn't look up. "She'll come."

"But what if she don't?"

"She will."

"How you know?"

"I know."

Stack huffed, dragging a hand over his face. "I'm goin' out."

"You went out yesterday. Twice."

"Well I'm goin' again."

Smoke finally looked up, one brow raised. "You gon’ walk past her place again? See if she's home?"

Stack's jaw ticked. "I wasn't—"

"You were," Smoke said flatly. "And you need to stop that shit. We said we'd give her space."

"I am givin' her space. I'm just… checkin'."

"You hoverin’."

Stack dropped into the chair across from him with a groan, head falling back. "I can't just sit here, man. What if she thinks we was playin'? What if she thinks we don't actually want her?"

"Then she'd be wrong."

"But what if—"

"Stack." Smoke set his pen down, finally giving him his full attention. "She'll come. Or she won't. Either way, we ain't chasin' her down."

Stack stared at the ceiling, leg bouncing under the table. "And if she don't?"

Smoke was quiet for a long moment.

"Then we were wrong about her," he said finally. "And we move on."

But neither of them believed that.

They couldn't.

Because Annie wasn't just some woman they'd taken a passing interest in. She was it. The kind of woman they'd talked about in theory but never thought they'd actually find.

Smart. Beautiful. Strong enough to handle them both but soft enough to let them take care of her.

If she walked away?

Stack didn't know what the hell they'd do.

"I'm finna check the window," he muttered, already halfway out of his chair.

Smoke sighed but didn't stop him.

Stack crossed to the front window, pulled the curtain back just enough to see down the walkway.

Empty.

Same as it had been ten minutes ago.

He was about to let the curtain drop when—

Movement.

A figure, far down the path. Walking slow. Deliberate.

Stack's heart jumped into his throat.

He leaned closer, squinting against the late afternoon sun.

Dark hair. Light dress. That careful, measured walk — hips that swung — that was all Annie— like she was trying to decide with every step whether she was making a mistake.

"Smoke."

His voice came out strangled.

"What?" Smoke didn't look up.

"Smoke. Smoke." Stack's hand shot out, smacking his brother's chest repeatedly.

Smoke grabbed his wrist, annoyed. "What the hell—"

"She here."

Smoke went still.

Then his head whipped toward the window so fast Stack heard his neck crack.

They both stared.

Sure enough—Annie, walking up the path toward their building. Slow but steady. Chin up. Shoulders back.

Coming to them.

"Holy shit," Stack breathed.

Smoke stood, chair scraping loud against the floor.

For a second, neither of them moved. Just watched her get closer, like if they blinked she might disappear.

Then Stack's instincts kicked in.

He lunged for the door.

Smoke grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him back. "No."

"Fuck you mean no? She's here!"

"And we gon’ let her come to the door like we got some sense," Smoke hissed. "Not run down there like a couple of fools."

Stack tried to shake him off. "Man, let me go—"

"We can't scare her."

That stopped him.

Stack turned, met his brother's eyes.

Smoke's expression was serious. Intense.

"We gotta be calm," he said quietly. "It's two of us and one of her. We come at her too hard, too fast, she'll bolt."

Stack swallowed. Nodded.

"We meet her outside. At the walkway. Before she gets to the door."

"Why?"

"Because she nervous," Smoke said. "And if she gets all the way up here and has to knock, she might talk herself out of it."

Stack's chest tightened. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

They moved to the door together, Smoke opening it slow, both of them stepping out onto the landing.

Annie was halfway up the path now.

Close enough that Stack could see her face.

She looked nervous. Determined. Beautiful.

His heart was doing something stupid in his chest.

They started down the stairs, boots quiet on the wood.

Annie saw them and stopped.

For one horrible second, Stack thought she was going to turn around.

But then Smoke lifted one hand—not a wave, just an acknowledgment—and kept walking.

Stack followed.

They met her at the bottom of the stairs, where the walkway met the building.

Close enough to see the rise and fall of her chest. The way her hands were clasped tight in front of her.

Nobody spoke for a beat.

Then Annie lifted her chin, eyes moving between them.

"I thought about it," she said quietly.

Stack's throat was dry. "Yeah?"

"For a whole week, I thought about it."

Smoke's expression didn't change, but Stack saw the way his jaw flexed.

Annie took a breath.

"And I don't… I don't know if this is gonna work. I don't know if I can do this. But…"

She looked at Smoke. Then at Stack.

"I wanna try."

The words hit Stack like a punch to the chest.

She wanna try.

She came.

She's here.

He couldn't help the grin that split his face. Wide. Relieved. Like the sun breaking through clouds.

"Yeah?" His voice cracked slightly on the word.

Annie nodded, mouth twitching into something close to a smile despite her nerves.

Smoke stepped forward then—slow, measured—and extended his hand.

Formal. Respectful.

Annie looked down at it, then up at his face. After a beat, she placed her hand in his.

He held it gently, thumb brushing once across her knuckles.

"Appreciate you comin'," he said, voice low and sure. "Means more than you know."

When he released her, Stack was already there.

He took her hand next, but unlike his brother's measured approach, he couldn't help himself—he lifted it to his lips and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For givin' us a chance."

Annie's cheeks warmed, but she didn't pull away.

"I'm scared," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"We know," Stack said.

"But we got you," Smoke added, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

She let out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sob.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated, stronger this time. "So… what now?"

Smoke glanced at Stack.

Stack grinned. "Now we take it slow."

"Real slow," Smoke confirmed. "We ain't rushin' you. We ain't pushin'. You set the pace."

Annie looked between them, searching their faces for something—doubt, maybe. A sign this was all some elaborate game.

She didn't find it.

"I wanna try," she said again, like she needed to hear herself say it. "With both of y'all."

"Then that's what we doin'," Stack said simply.

Smoke nodded. "Whatever you need. However long it takes."

Annie's shoulders relaxed, just slightly.

She opened her mouth, started to ask something, then stopped. Bit her lip.

"When can I see—"

She cut herself off, like she'd just realized how eager that sounded. 

Stack's grin softened into something warmer. More tender.

"Whenever you want," he said. "You tell us when. We'll be here."

"Always," Smoke added quietly.

She nodded slowly, processing.

Then she smiled—small, tentative, but real.

"Okay."

They walked her back down the path, both of them flanking her like she was something precious that needed protecting. Neither willing to let her out of their sight until she was safely on her way.

At the end of the walkway, she turned back.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For… for this. For lettin' me think. For not rushin' me."

"Ain't no thanks needed," Stack said.

Smoke's eyes stayed on her, steady and sure. "You're ours now, Annie. You just don't know it yet."

Her breath caught.

Then she turned and walked away, head high, steps more confident than when she'd arrived.

Stack and Smoke stood there, shoulder to shoulder, watching her go.

Neither spoke until she disappeared around the bend.

Then Stack let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"We can't scare her," he said quietly, more to himself than his brother.

"No," Smoke agreed. "We gotta be careful. Patient."

"Two of us, one of her."

"Mhm."

Stack turned to face him. "You think this is it for us? Like… really it?"

Smoke didn't hesitate.

"Without question."

They stood there a moment longer, the weight of what just happened settling between them.

The boys had shared women before—that was nothing new.

But that was just for fun. Nothing serious.

It was only spoken of once, years ago, over whiskey and the kind of honesty that only came late at night—if they ever wanted to love a woman, settle down, build a family, they'd do it together.

"You think that's normal?" Stack had asked back then.

Smoke had shrugged. "Fuck normal. We just gotta find the right lady, Stack. We only need one."

And now?

Now they'd found her.

They just had to make sure they didn't lose her.

—

And that had been three weeks ago.

Three weeks of careful courtship. Of learning to trust this impossible thing between them.

Which was why, when the money situation had upset her, she'd known exactly where to go.

To them.

Annie blinked, pulled back to the present by the continued murmur of voices.

"Can't be fightin' over moments," Smoke continued.

Stack's response was quieter, but she caught it: "We ain't."

"You had her first."

The words landed like ice water down her spine.

Annie's hand tightened on the doorframe.

Had her first?

Like she was something to be claimed. Passed between them. A prize one of them had won while the other was away.

Her stomach turned.

This was what she'd been afraid of. What she'd known, deep down, might happen if she let herself get pulled into their orbit.

They were going to fight over her. Compete. Reduce her to something they could divvy up between them like property.

Heat flooded her face—not embarrassment this time, but anger.

She wasn't a toy.

Wasn't some—

Stack's voice cut through, quieter but firm: "Wasn't planned."

"Don't matter."

"Does to me."

A pause. Then Smoke again, voice strained: "We do this wrong—"

"We lose her," Stack finished. "I know."

Annie's breath hitched.

We lose her.

Not I lose her.

We.

"So we don't do it wrong," Stack said, quieter now.

Another pause.

Then Smoke: "She comes first."

"Always."

"Her pace. Her rules."

"Agreed."

Annie pressed her forehead against the doorframe, the anger draining out of her as quickly as it had come, replaced by something else.

Something that felt dangerously close to hope.

They weren't fighting over her.

They were trying to figure out how to not fight over her.

How to do this right.

How to keep her.

She heard more murmuring—too low to catch—and then footsteps.

Moving away from the door.

Toward the front of the apartment.

Annie stepped back from the door, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

She needed to pull herself together.

Needed to—

The door opened.

But it wasn't Smoke.

It was Stack.

He stopped short when he saw her standing there, eyes widening slightly.

"Hey," he said softly. "You up."

Annie nodded, suddenly hyperaware of how she must look—hair wild from sleep, slip crooked, eyes probably red.

"How long was I out?" she asked, voice rough.

"Couple hours." Stack stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. "You needed it."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "I ain’t mean to just… take up your space."

"You ain’t gotta apologize" His voice was gentle. "You was upset. You needed rest. I'm glad you felt safe enough to sleep."

The words made her chest ache.

Safe.

Yeah. She had felt safe.

She was starting to feel too safe with them.

Stack crossed to his dresser, pulling open a drawer. "You hungry?"

"I—" Annie's stomach answered for her, a quiet growl that made Stack grin.

"That's a yes." He pulled out a shirt—one of his, soft and worn—and held it out to her. "Put this on. Ain't lettin' you walk around in just that. Smoke’ll lose his damn mind.”

She took it, fingers brushing his. "Thank you."

He nodded toward the door. "He out there. Probably pacin' a hole in the floor waitin' to see you."

Annie's heart jumped. "He's… he's not mad I'm here?"

Stack's expression softened. "Mad? Baby, he's been out there stressed since he got home and saw your shoes."

"Why?"

"'Cause you came back," Stack said simply. "And he wasn't here when you did."

Oh.

Oh.

That's what "you had her first" meant.

Not possession.

Jealousy.

He'd missed her.

Stack gestured toward the hall. "Go on. Put him out his misery."

Annie pulled the shirt on over her slip—it swallowed her, hem falling to mid-thigh—and took a shaky breath.

"Stack?"

He looked up.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For earlier. For listenin'."

His smile was soft. Warm. "Anytime, mama. I’m steppin’ out.”

Then he shooed her toward the door with a gentle hand. "Go. Before he comes in here and drags you out himself."

Annie stepped into the hallway.

And there he was.

Smoke.

Standing near the kitchen, back to her, shoulders tense.

Like he was bracing himself for something.

"Elijah?" Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to.

He turned.

Fast.

And the look on his face—

Relief. Want. Something raw and unguarded that made her breath catch.

"Annie."

Just her name. But the way he said it—like he'd been holding it in his chest for hours and finally had permission to let it out.

Smoke just looked at her for a long, loaded moment.

She took a step toward him.

And he closed the distance.

____

A/N This was a chonker. And still so much more to come. This was huge for me. HUGE. Having to create the origin story, think about the elements I placed in other fics and reverse engineering it. Winter brings out the writer in me (say thank you to Canada). We are finally finally getting a glimpse of how this trio came to be. And even then, I think there will now be a prequel lol.

I unfortunately thrive off of external validation, so your comments/perspective and reblogs encourage me to keep writing! Can't wait to hear your thoughts 🥺

-----

This work of art is part of "The Moore Kind" universe. Where Smoke, Annie, and Stack exist as a Trio. If you'd like to learn more about them, check out my masterlist below 😘

____

My other works can be found in My Masterlist. Thanks for reading!

___

All Fic Taglist - Interested in my future works? Let me know if you'd like me to add you to my tag list. (Also lmk if you want me to remove you. No hard feelings I promise.)

@chaneajoyyy @pyraomen @browngirldominion @sarcastic-sunshines @rolemodelshit @bbymuthaaa @boonoonoonus @joysofmyworld @twistedsistas-stuff @blackctrl

The sun was high in the sky, sweeping over the flat plains of the Mississippi Delta. The air permeated with the scent of soil as Annie worked her garden slowly. She wasn't in a rush to do anything. It was the first Monday of the month, so as usual, she had no customers to tend to. Her shop was closed, and her mind was empty enough to just feel at peace in her garden, alone and with her plants.

She hummed a soft tune, some crooning blues song she had a tendency to hear pouring from the horn of her phonograph. She swayed her hips as her garden hoe ruffled the ground beneath her, cutting at weeds.

She was at peace—calm for the first time in a week.

Annie heard the truck even before it turned onto her property. He always had a tendency of pushing that gas way too hard when coming down the main road. He said he like to lived life on the edge—that he liked feeling the breeze on his face—but the woman didn't understand it. He was so loud that everybody and they mama would’ve been able to hear the man coming if Annie didn't live deep in the woods.

"Now, you lookin' too delicious to be out here playin' in the dirt," she heard his voice whistle from the other side of the yard. It was sickly sweet, tempting with an edge of greed. The sound of it sent shivers down her since, but she kept her head down to hide the slow grin he brought out of her. His feet landed slyly atop gravel as he trekked her way.

"You see anybody else out here to do it," she threw in his direction, hoe still knocking at the ground, tone strong and sharp. The question made his grin strengthen, the toothpick between his lips being dragged away by sly fingers.

"I would assist ya'," he started slow, purposely leaving openness in his tone, "if you let me." She could practically hear the smile through his words, but she didn't let them settle into her body like they had a tendency to do.

“So pretty boys like manual labor now,” she questioned, finally meeting his gaze. She scoffed as he attempted to cut her with his eyes and bring her down to her knees. It was something he did easily with any other woman in Clarksdale or Chicago or wherever else in the world he'd tried it—but Annie wasn’t like the women he’d dealt with before.

“I don’t mind gettin’ dirty. Not for you,” he admitted, golds shining at her from the height of the sun. He played with the toothpick between his plush lips, looking her up and down now. Annie could tell he was trying to be honest, but a player will always be a player in her book. “Why you stay dodgin’ me, baby?” Annie chuckled at that question—at how puzzled the man was to not be needed by a woman. It was quite comical.

"Every woman in the Delta den' had yo' ass, Stack” Annie condemned, leveling him with her intimidating eyes, but he just laughed away the unease she gave him. He saw their interactions as a game—a game he needed to win. Whether it be by being slick-mouthed or sweet, he was wedded to the idea of making the woman his. But Annie tutted at his smirk, rolling her eyes and pursing her lips. “You couldn't handle me even if I let you try, baby.” Her voice carried a comical lilt that was blooming somewhere in her chest.

She knew this routine. A man would chase her down just because they got a whiff of her unbothered nature. They'd talk about how they just wanted one chance, one night, one fling. And after that chance, they'd be stuck to her like glue.

It was inevitable. It came with being the type of woman she was.

It wasn't magic. Wasn't passion. Wasn't lust.

It was just Annie.

And she knew Elias Moore would fall down that same pattern.

The man laughed boastfully, not believing a single word she had to say. Her name was often thrown around town. Not because she was loose or had been kept by many men, but because she was just that damn magnetizing.

Part of the reason why he wanted a chance with her was to see what all the talk was about and to prove that he could have whatever woman he wanted. Even her.

"Well, what about that time in there on yo' couch," he sharply threw the woman’s way. His tone with agitating—prideful and arrogant in a way she didn't appreciate. It was one time. A moment of weakness when she was in between men because all of them had lost their mind's and thought she belonged to them. As weak as she may have felt about it, Annie was in control in every way; She always was.

The woman stopped working her hoe and slipped into the memory, both of them becoming intoxicated in what had occurred just a few nights before.

Stack sat on his haunches, knees pressed into the hardwood floor as Annie parted her thighs above him. She sat on the couch, spread out like the royalty she was, and he was destined to worship her. Her dress fanned out between her parted thighs, and she smoothly raised her right eyebrow at the man. A signal to worship.

Throwing the dress up over her legs, Stack admired the way her thighs perfectly guided him to her heated arousal. Annie was dripping through her panties, but her face remained calm—like Stack wasn’t even there, like she didn’t need anything he was about to give her, like she could send word to any man in the Delta and he’d come running.

Because Lord knows that's true.

It presented him with a challenge: make her scream and beg like no man had made her before. The only downside in his plan was that he was unaware that it was a losing battle; Because when his tongue fell upon her wet clit, throbbing and sweet against his lips, Stack was the one that ended up moaning incessantly, wanting more than his fill of her.

"That wasn't shit,” she growled in his direction, setting the heel of the hoe against the ground and leaning against the gardening tool. “You ate my pussy,” she confirmed, pretending to be indifferent with a shrug of her shoulders. “That's what you supposed to do.”

She rolled her neck at him, pouting in confusion at his appalled face. Elias' brows scrunched up, eyes dragging toward the side. She could see the words forming in his head, the idea he thought would poke holes in her statement.

"And what you supposed to do?"

Stack grinned wide, dimples breaking through his skin as he thought he’d gotten her, but Annie matched his grin with ease. She stepped forward, hoe punctuating her strides as she moved with a calculated purpose. Her eyes remained on his the entire time, unwavering. As she came to stand directly in front of the man, she dragged her attention down the length of his body. She purposely teased. She lingered too long near the seat of his pants.

Stack let her watch, let her analyze. She was like him in many ways—the closest match he'd ever met—but something about her gaze made him deliciously nervous. Her smile made unease settle within him, but he still wouldn’t allow his resolve to falter.

Her mouth finally opened as she focused back on his face, his dimples, his eyes. Her lips guided her words to his ears.

"I’m supposed to sit back,” she smiled softly, eyes burning, “and watch you beg for more.”

Stack sat beneath, knees aching in glorious recognition, mustache becoming drenched in her arousal, tongue lapping at her sweet, tangy essence. She was better than any woman he’d had before. Than any food he’d every tasted. And while he was a real cooze indulger, something about Annie on his lips was doing him in.

He hadn’t even had the full thing yet—just a few kisses and prolonged hugs here and there—but he was setting it up in his mind to make her his main girl. The one he came to when the nights were cold and the body needed to be warmed.

He could feel his soul caving to her, needing more of what she had to give. The taste of her on his tongue wasn’t enough. The scent of her against his face wasn’t enough. The feeling of her cumming deliciously by the hard work of his tongue wasn’t enough.

“Where you goin’,” Stack inhaled a deep breath trying to get himself back together after making the woman reach her orgasm no less than ten seconds ago. She had already pulled her panties back up her thighs and let her dress brush the floor again as she sauntered over to the front door.

“I’m assistin’ you on your way out,” she informed, one hand on her hip, the other gripping the door knob as she held it open.

“Quit playin,” the man laughed heartily. He palmed himself through his pants as he stood. He licked his lips, trailing his eyes over her soft curves, but when he reached her face, he realized how serious the woman was. He attempted to tuck his face into her neck, to kiss her pulse point and ease the crease between her brows. But he scoffed when Annie jerked her body back. “So you don’t want none of this dick?” He was utterly puzzled. Beyond confused. No woman had ever turned him down like this. No woman had ever allowed him to eat her out and then not beg for more.

“No, I don’t, Elias,” she rolled her eyes, looking at him like he was wasting her time even though her body was still buzzing with the remnants of the orgasm he’d given her. He definitely knew what he was doing in the cooze eating department, but that was besides the point. She’d gotten her nut, and that was all she needed. A quick li'l something while she was in between men. “Now get out my damn house,” she instructed once again, patience hanging on by a thread.

“I ain’t beg you for shit,” Stack growled, jaw tightening at her taunting words, but Annie just smiled that cunning smile. Her hand raised up, perfumed wrist wafting past his nose. The scent of elderberry and gardenia engulfed his senses, causing his eyes to glimmer at her. Her soft palm connected with his jaw, thumb gliding over his bottom lip.

“Oh, baby,” she chuckled. She leaned impossibly closer, lips brushing his ear. Her next words caused his breath to hitch. “I know you remember groanin’ my name while yo’ face was in it.”

“God, Annie,” the man moaned, gliding his tongue against her folds. He held her legs back, pushing them to their limit as he tried to get as deep in her as possible. He was panting in her pussy, sweat drenching his face as he cowered under her. “Please,” he groaned while nipping at her skin softly, “I need more.”

“And I need you to finish your fuckin’ job,” she demanded. Her voice was heavy with pleasure. The man was working her body good, fucking her cooze like he’d had the thing mapped out and studied. No man had been able to make her feel this good on the first try, and the way he was moaning into her made an idea pop into her head. Maybe I should keep him, she thought, immediately blocking that from her mind cause she didn’t need everything Elias came with. A hand cradled the back of Stack’s head as Annie began to ride his face to oblivion.

“Mhm,” she moaned, head tossed back on the cushion of her couch. Her eyes screwed shut as the thought kept popping up. She needed a better distraction, and his mouth wasn’t one of them. “You like the taste of this pussy don’t you?” The question wasn’t meant to give her something else to ponder, but it forced Stack’s breath to quicken. He grabbed ahold of her ass cheeks before speaking.

“Fuck, yes,” Elias pulled back enough to be able to moan against her. The vibrations crawled through Annie’s body, causing her back to arch off the couch. “Please, Annie. Fuck!” His hands clawed at her thighs and ass. His lower body scooted as close to the couch as possible as he devoured her.

He clung to her in ecstasy—her name spilling from his lips over and over again.

“Ain’t my fault I like to say yo’ name,” Stack grinned away the truth, looking at Annie from top to bottom. The woman tilted her head, eyes remaining on his as her chest brushed against him.

“I know you don’t be sayin’ them other heffas names like you say mine,” she postulated, shaking her head at the back and forth of their conversation. It was true. Elias never ran behind other women like he ran behind her, and she had only let him eat her out once. The man wouldn’t leave her alone—he’d show up at her shop, on the front doorstep of her home, somewhere out in town when he couldn’t find her otherwise—but she didn’t exactly dislike the attention. “You don’t remember half of them girls’ names anyway,” she added, knowing it to be a fact. And with that, Annie turned away and back towards her garden. She had weeds to excavate and a day to enjoy without the lustful eye of Stack on her.

But the man stayed watching from afar, toothpick between his fingers, smile on his lips, light in his eyes.

“You real different,” he started, sighing out a longing breath. Annie looked up at him again, raising her eyebrows questioningly like he meant something malicious behind it. But he caught it quick, easing her thoughts by providing her with an explanation. “Not in a bad way,” he started with a grin. “I like how different you is. It makes me what you more.”

“Well, you ain’t gettin’ more,” she responded smoothly, ignoring his presence as she worked. She refused to look at him. Refused to engage.

But the man just stood there, watching her pull out weeds and clip herbs like the professional she was. Annie could feel his eyes trailing down the line of her back, and heat rose where she could feel them. Turning toward him with an exasperated sigh, Annie grumbled what she felt he needed to hear.

“How many times I gotta tell you that you can’t handle me?” The question landed thickly between them, causing Stack’s smile to drop for just a second before he recovered. “The second you get a chance to really have this, you gon’ be stuck to my ass worser than you are now, and I don’t need no turned out nigga tryin’ to ruin my peace.” Annie took her solitude and tranquility seriously. With a job that involved burdening herself with other people’s lives and problems, she had to have a life of her own that made sense. Something quiet and practical, and Stack was anything but that. “You already annoyin’ me, and you ain’t even got shit yet,” she added as evidence, hoping it would shut him down, but of course it didn’t do much to ward the man off.

“So you sayin’ that cooze gon’ turn me out? Elias Moore of all people?” He looked at her with a squinted eye and an amused gaze, but Annie just kept working away at her garden, wanting the conversation to be over.

“I just said that, didn’t I?”

The man bursted out laughing, back hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, heaving and gasping hard. He’d never been hooked on a woman like she was insinuating. He didn’t run behind folks. He didn’t chase. But beneath his laughter, something grew strong in his chest. She was telling the truth about his persistence lately.

Before she let him eat her out, he was always easing his way toward her, smiling all bright, asking for hugs and li’l kisses to get himself on her good side. And when they finally got to business, Elias was hooked on that shit like he’d gotten the opportunity to taste all of her.

Despite all of that truth though, Stack rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“No offense, baby," he began, voice lilting. "Your foreplay blows my mind, and that cooze taste like straight honey, but ain’t no woman ever turned me out.” Annie shook her head, bending over to pick up some roots and weeds. She could still sense his eyes on her, and while it made a shiver run down her spine, she didn't let it show one bit.

“You gon’ learn yo’ lesson eventually,” Annie spoke as she stood back up to full height, chucking the weeds into her wheelbarrow, “but it ain’t gon’ be from me.” She whispered the words under her breath, aware that the man was straining to hear every word like they gave him life.

Stack cleared his throat, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, here I am, baby," he cooed, voice softening at the edges. "Practice what you preach then.”

Annie stopped her movements, her back to him before she turned around smoothly. She curled her finger, an indication for the man to come closer, and he swiftly obeyed. Stack walked toward her, legs striding slowly as his grin curled into something nasty.

“You change your mind, mama,” he wondered aloud. The toothpick between his lips lifted with his grin. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as Annie looked at him like fresh meat. She came real close to his face again, breath coasting across his soft lips. Then she dragged that toothpick from between them.

“Elias,” she whispered between them, lips just barely touching his. The man swallowed thickly, leaning in to capture her mouth.

But Annie pulled away.

“Get the hell off my property.”

He stumbled—confused and taken aback. He'd never let a woman talk as recklessly as Annie talked to him. He'd never been turned down so harshly. But he brushed his shoulders off, yanking his toothpick from between her nimble fingers with attitude.

"I know you want me, woman," Stack countered gruffly. He started back towards the front yard, mind already running with ways to get Annie on his side. As much as he didn't realize it, he needed her. The little bit of her body and amusement that he'd been given had him obsessed.

He was ready to work for her in whatever way he needed to.

~~~~~

For almost a week, the two ducked and dodged each other—well, Annie was doing most of the ducking and dodging. She’d had enough of Stack and how he couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

He’d been randomly popping up at her home, knocking ceaselessly on the door until she opened it to shoe him away. He always ended up leaving as told, telling the woman he just wanted to see her pretty face. He had also been following her around town, lingering near the walls of her favorite stores, insisting that he pay for her items.

One day, while in town at Chow’s Grocery, Annie riffled through troughs of peaches, attempting to find the most ripe ones. As she rose the fruit to her nose to find the sweetest, she noticed a different scent making its way into the room: a scent she knew well followed by the laugh of the cunning, sly man.

The woman was swift to hid behind a shelf of preservatives while he talked to Bo. His tone was playful, edging on something more serious as the pair slipped into a back closet to talk more freely. Their voices became muffled behind the door, and Annie attempted to make her escape quick and unnoticed.

It wasn’t that she was afraid to see Stack—or to be seen by him. She just didn’t want to deal with the headache of shutting him down again. Elias Moore was persistent, something she appreciated about him very well, but every time he got to talking in her face and started whispering low and slow, she was brought back to the feeling of his lips on hers.

As much as she wanted to deny it, Elias was something sweet. Sweeter than any peach over in that trough. He talked sweet—like honey was falling into the space between them; He whistled sweet—vocal chords singing like an angel on high; And Lord knows he can fuck real sweet—bringing Annie to her peak of pleasure where the richest sugar flowed from between her parted legs.

She hated when she got to reminiscing like this. When she moved her body a certain way and could still feel him on his knees. When she heard that laugh somewhere across a room or behind a storage closet door and could feel a shiver run up her back in memory.

“Will that be all,” Grace asked as she rang the woman up. She was chuckling under her breath from what she’d just witnessed, finding it beyond hilarious the idea of Annie Laveau and Stack Moore.

“Yes, this is all,” Annie confirmed, sitting the rest of her items on the counter. Her mind was distant, having a hard time tuning in to the world around her when she could still her Stack’s sweet voice edged with something wicked just one room over. But then Grace’s laugh got louder, bolder, and heat rose to Annie’s face in embarrassment. She focused her eyes on the other woman, raising her eyebrow in question. “What’s so damn funny?”

“You,” Grace laughed, holding her stomach in hilarity. She didn’t mean any harm. She knew Stack well, knew Annie better, but the shock of seeing it all play out in front of her had hit the woman in a way she hadn’t expected. “You in here hidin’ behind shelves like Stack won’t come sniffin’ you out,” Grave cackled loudly, prompting Annie to shush her. Her eyes darted to the door, ears trying to pick up on any sign that he was coming. “Seriously, Anne,” Grace giggled, “even if you only gave that man one li’l whiff, he ain’t ever gon’ give you peace.”

“Stop ‘fore he come back out here,” Annie waved her hands in front of her friend’s face. Grace was very aware of the brewing situation between Annie and Stack. She’d seen things grow between them, knowing that neither of them were the relationship or settling down type. But even in her laughter, Grace saw something there that could be lasting—if they both just got out of their own way. Annie was too stubborn, and Stack was too suave; And they both thought they were better off without having a permanent relationship.

Annie kept looking towards the door Bo and Stack had retreated to, praying that her friend would hurry with ringing up her items so she could get the hell out of dodge.

But of course, fate has its way of playing games.

“Well, well, well,” she heard the voice croon behind her, and by the sound of it, the feeling of eyes along her backside, and the chuckling of her friend in front of her, Annie knew exactly who it was.

“Elias Moore,” she spoke, not really a greeting but an acknowledgment.

“Annie Laveau,” he smiled, face seeming different than usual. There seemed to be less of an act in his demeanor. He wasn’t making his eyes shine on purpose—though they still glimmered when he looked at her—and his posture was more inviting, more friendly and less like he was trying to get her to jump his bones. “You lookin’ good as always.” The compliment sent shocks through her, and her breathe quickened.

“Thank you kindly,” she whispered, feeling heat rise to her face.

“How much, Grace,” he pointed towards Annie’s bags of groceries, already pulling out his wallet. He stepped forward, gait wide and strong in a way that distracted her. Before Annie could stop him, let him know that she could manage herself, he was already paying for her things and helping to carry them toward the door.

Annie sent a scowl Grace’s way for holding her up when she could’ve been long gone before he even knew she was there, but her friend just laughed, sending a teasing wave as Annie followed Stack out the store.

“I don’t need your help, Elias,” Annie grumbled as he sat her bags in the backseat of his truck, holding the passenger door open for her to get in.

“I’ll be damned if I let you walk home in this hot ass sun with all these bags,” he condemned, leaving no room for her to retaliate. They stood facing each other, Annie’s face saying she wanted to curse him clean out, Stack’s face saying he wanted to kiss the scowl off her lips. “Come on now,” he whispered between them, low and easy so she knew he wasn't demanding anything from her. The tone still gave her room to decline if she wanted, though he hoped she wouldn't.

Annie looked down at the hand he held out to her, palm up and waiting for hers to join him.

With a reluctant sigh, she grabbed ahold of his hand, and he helped her into the cab of the truck, fingers tangling around hers unnecessarily. She sent him a look, head low and eyes forward, but he just grinned, trotting over to his side of the truck.

They rode mostly in silence. Stack was whistling a short tune—high and sweet—while looking over at Annie every now and then. He’d tap his foot and bob his head, before dragging his attention her way, and almost every time, he’d catch her gaze on him already, inquisitive and eager at the same time.

“Remind me of why you don’t want me again,” the man prompted playfully. He could feel the way she looked at him. It was edged with the same desire he had for her, but she just wouldn’t give in and he didn’t understand it. They matched each other—almost too much. They were similar in the way they sought out relationships: nothing more than little flings here and there. They both gravitated to each other no matter how hard she tried to deny it.

Annie huffed, shaking her head and crossing her arms under her heavy chest. She pulled her eyes back to the road, hoping to get home soon.

“Elias,” she cooed, using his given name smoothly. “I already told you. Once you get with me, you ain’t ever goin’ away, and I ain’t a woman to be kept.”

Stack scoffed, refusing to let defeat bloom in his chest. He gripped the wheel, facing the road again as he asked a question he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear answered.

“So you tell that to every nigga you get with?” It came out sharp, punctuated with unearned and unexpected jealousy that surprised them both. Annie quirked an eyebrow, looking at the man like he’d lost his ever-loving mind.

“Only the ones that ain’t got no sense,” she spat, turning her head toward him but keeping her body straight ahead. She didn’t want to appear inviting no matter how hard her heart thrummed for him. That bite in his tone, the jealousy neither of them ever thought would appear, set her body aflame.

“Well,” Elias began, voiced clipped from shock. He cleared his throat, pulling out the silly tone they both knew well. Vulnerability made him feel exposed, and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Annie to see that—he just didn’t trust himself. So he put on that suave voice, easily sending chills through her body. “It ain’t my fault that I wanna learn them lessons you be tellin’ me about,” he chuckled sweetly, smiling wide and gleaming. “That li’l Louisiana accent of yours make things sound too good to my ear.”

“Mhm,” Annie hummed, shaking her head at how fast he had managed to shift the energy again. It was a feat, and his ability to do it impressed her.

The rest of the ride returned to comfortable silence.

Elias helped Annie with putting her things away. He sat jars into her shelves, herbs onto the countertop, and when they were both finished, he stood there, not knowing whether she’d make him leave or not.

“What’s your favorite meal,” she asked, throat bobbing with nerves. She stuffed the anxiety down to appear tall in her disposition, and from the outside, she seemed completely in control of her emotions, confident and steady. Stack visibly shuttered though, alarmed that she had asked such a personal question. They’d been very surface-level. He’d tease her, and he’d leave. They’d kiss, and he’d leave. He’d eat her pussy, and he’d leave.

It was routine and what the woman had wanted, just enough to tug at that line between the intensity of desire and the need to fully give in to temptation. But here she was asking him his favorite meal.

“Um,” he replied, thinking back in his mind. Elias didn’t cook, didn’t know how to, and when he did eat good, it was either at a dinner in town or over at some random woman’s home. Annie watched him rack his brain before his eyes perked up. “I like them smothered pork chops down at Ms. Mabel’s diner,” he informed, quirking his eyebrow at her. Annie looked offended for him. Mabel’s was no where near good dining. To her, the food lacked flavor and lacked love. There was no heart in it whatsoever.

“I can make it better than Mabel,” she informed curtly, huffing in disbelief and diverting her eyes. She walked toward the front door, holding it open like she always did when it came time for him to leave, and the man immediately fell in line with her authority. “Come over Sunday night,” she demanded with slick ease, “I’ll have you a nice dinner waitin’.”

Slow yet loud, a grin flooded his face.

~~~~~

Annie moved toward the front door, crushed red velvet dress cinching her waist as it dragged helplessly against the floorboards. Her phonograph was churning out slow Blues. Her kitchen perfumed with the scent of gravy and onions. The entire house sat on edge as she put her hand on that door knob, turning it to greet the man.

Stack wore a clean cut three-piece suit: red in color, lapels sharp, handkerchief standing at attention. She couldn’t help but to admire how well the man cleaned up. Elias never went out looking halfway decent, but he was shining like a star right there on her front porch, grin plastered across his face at the realization of them matching.

He stepped inside without any direct permission, eager to seek out the pot on the stove that held his dinner. But as he crossed the threshold of her home, his body immediately gravitated toward Annie, the waiting pot long forgotten.

“Damn, baby,” he groaned, pushing Annie’s body against the now-closed front door. The wood bit into her skin as Stack leaned into her neck. He took a deep breath of her, letting her honeyed scent fill his lungs and the sound of her soft whimpers flood his ears. “You look so good,” he commented, planting a kiss on her jaw. “You smell so good,” he added, kissing down her neck. “And, God, do you taste good,” he completed, licking a long stripe from the top of Annie's left titty to her collarbone.

“Elias,” she moaned, hips bucking against him at his greedy assault. Her hands tangled in the fabric of his suit jacket, trying desperately to hold on as he tasted her. It was always like this. She’d try to put on a brave face, but then he’d get to tasting on her, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in.

“I just can't get enough of you,” he swooned. The man lifted Annie into the air, her legs circling his hips as he moved toward the bedroom. Annie was dazed out of her mind, confused and thrown aback, but as they approached the back of the house, she began tapping his shoulder.

“Put me down, Stack,” she tried to convince unsuccessfully, not even wanting it herself. The man kept walking, grunting as he hoisted her up higher on his hips. “I made you dinner,” she reminded, looking back toward the kitchen as he ventured deeper into her house. “The least we could do is eat first.”

“That food’ll be there when I’m done wit’ you,” Stack commanded as he kicked her bedroom door in. The overwhelming scent of Annie flooded his lungs. “I’m too ready for you to teach me how to behave because apparently I don't know no better.” Sitting her on the edge of the bed, Annie looked up at him, eyes big and round yet somehow cutting through him at the same time.

She took in his attire, humming lightly at the way his suit fit so well. Her hands then joined her pursuit. Running her fingers along his thighs and across the bulge forming in his pants, Annie pulled deep groans from the man’s chest.

"I ain't say you was gettin' none of me tonight," she teased, licking her lips as she grabbed at the man's thighs, fingers fighting the urge to travel toward his belt buckle. She wanted it as bad as she was trying to convince herself against it.

Stack laughed lowly, looking down at her like she was the only sight he ever wanted to see.

"We both know what yo' plan was," he bantered, thinking back to how she'd invited him over, cheeks heating up in delight because she knew he'd obey her demand. There was no way in Hell this wouldn't have been the outcome. His fingers lifted her chin, forcing Annie's eyes on his. "While I'm thankful for the dinner and will be enjoyin' it later,” the man began, leaning into her face, breath drifting across her lips, “I got other things I'm wantin' to eat right now.”

Leaning down, Elias picked Annie up by her hips, throwing her back onto the bed. The woman let out a shocked gasp, looking around as she processed how she ended up in this position. She didn’t too much mind being picked up, but she didn’t want Stack thinking he controlled any situation with her in it. She lowered her eyes as the man removed his tie. He threw it onto a chair in the corner of the room before proceeding to remove his vest and unbutton his shirt.

“What makes you think you finna just be throwin’ me around, Elias,” Annie condemned, dragging her eyes over his sturdy chest and down his abs. The man was thick in all the right places, and she was ready to put that thickness to use.

“You liked it didn’t you,” the man chuckled his question, folding his shirt and vest and leaving it with his tie and suit jacket. As he began unbuckling his belt, he felt Annie’s hands halting him.

“Let me,” she whispered seductively, crawling toward the end of the bed. She settled on her haunches, thick thighs cushioning her body as she pulled his belt from the loops. The movements were slow yet tantalizing. One hand moved down the length of the man’s thigh, pulling a shiver from his body that he tried his best to keep at bay. Annie was always good with her hands. Always good with teasing him.

He’d been waiting forever it seemed to have her satisfy him, and he didn’t even know what he was in for.

“Don’t say I ain’t warn you,” Annie growled as she held his dick in her plush hands. Stack’s breath hitched for just a second as he fought to compose himself from the easy way she handled him, but when he felt her lips begin to kiss down the side of his length, the moan he let out was obscene.

When her lips wrapped around him for the first time, Stack felt his body levitating. It was like his feet were having a hard time staying planted to the ground. Annie’s hand gripped onto the front of his thighs as she sucked his dick with no help of her hands. The sound of her mouth around him was crude. The height of his moans was worse.

He could feel her tongue dragging along the underside of his length, stroking him each time she guided her mouth down to his base and back up to the top again. There, she swirled her tongue around him, moaning at how good he tasted—sweet and tangy.

Having him down her throat and watching the way his eyes fluttered back as he fought to keep his composure was making a smug smile appear on Annie’s face. She had never let him have her like this, and she could see the effects taking place already. Her hands had to practically hold the man up as his limbs turned to straight jello.

Elias was on the edge of something he’d never felt before. Months of being captivated by Annie, not even knowing how she could have him ready to melt, and he was for damn sure melting.

“Hol’ up,” he attempted to pause her assault as Annie began swallowing his dick like she never wanted to let go. He put a hand behind her head, gripping the hair at the base of her neck to slow her down, but it had the opposite effect. Moaning against him exuberantly, Annie’s body sprung into action, taking him in a way she hadn’t before.

Stack was close to the end, damn near ready to bust down her throat. He needed her to stop, but it felt too good to put in any more effort to halt her. He’d never felt so light yet grounded at the same time. It was like magic to him, a glorious sensation that gave rise to feelings he’d never experienced. He creeped closer and closer to his orgasm as Annie’s throat widened for him, her jaw slacking.

And just as he was about to cum—

She stopped.

“What the hell, woman,” Stack grumbled, blinking quickly in confusion—appalled. As he looked down at her, he found Annie with a smug grin on her face that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

“You looked like you was ‘bout to see God,” she giggled, rising up on her knees so that her face was eye level with his. She nearly moaned at the way his eye twitched. He looked worn out in the best way already—delicate and beautiful with an edge that wanted to run the whole show, but Annie reached between them. Her hands stroked his dick, covered in her spit. She leaned into his ear, cadence slow. “I need you to stay right here with me for a few minutes longer,” she moaned into his flushed, tawny skin. Her tongue tracked the length of his neck. Her lips met the shell of his ear. “I wanna finish you off proper.”

“Ain’t no ‘few minutes’ left in me,” the man shook his head. He’d closed his eyes when Annie started to whisper into his skin. It felt like she was speaking another language, putting a spell on him to make him bound to her in every way. But he wasn’t ready to admit that he had felt that way about her since they first met.

“You can wait a li’l longer, baby,” she cooed, working his entire length before settling at his tip. She stroked short and confident, making Stack shake from her control alone. The pressure was ridiculous. He was constricted by her hand, and he had no choice but to fall right in line with her command.

“Please, mama,” Elias moaned, holding Annie at her waist and pulling her in. His dick landed at the base of her stomach, heavy and still held up in her eager hand.

As she looked over his face, she went quicker, faster, and harder. Her empty hand held his jaw, keeping him in place as his head threatened to slip back. She liked watching the emotion pass across his face. The light would hit his golds with each moan, and his eyes would shine with something close to submission. Big, round, and drenched in tears he wasn’t ready to release just yet, the man’s eyes betrayed him. They showed his real emotions, and they proved that Annie was right.

He was being turned out right before her, and she’d barely done anything to him yet.

“Annie,” he choked, sobbing at how good her soft hands felt, and all the woman could do was grin filthily.

“Elias,” she moaned into his ear, holding a hand against his back as he shook violently. He responded with a small whimper of an acknowledgment, and it made her smile deepen. “Go on and cum for me, baby.”

The instructions were clear, short, and concise, but Stack didn’t need much direction anyway. He’d been holding back longer than he ever had, just wanting for her to let him have it, and when she did, he thought that was the end of him.

His eyes clouded over, and behind them, all he saw was bright flashes of light. His ears rang, sharp and incongruous—yet beautiful. His body locked into place. He wasn’t sure what was happening around him, all he knew was that he’d had the best damn orgasm of his life at the hands of a woman who told him to be careful with her.

He couldn’t even process the truth of that as he let his climax simmer in his body.

When he successfully returned to Earth, Stack found himself on his back—broad shoulders cushioned against the mattress, clothes piled up in a chair, body swimming with pleasure as he watched the woman above him.

“Elias,” Annie crooned sweetly, shedding her clothes like she had all day to tease him. She stood near the edge of the bed, attention locked on the man as she pulled her dress down her body. It slipped over her shoulders, skirting over her hips and down her thighs. She wanted him to watch as more of her skin was revealed, and with one call of his name, Stack’s eyes were wide open and glazed over.

“Damn, mama,” he groaned, leaning over to touch her. He propped his body up with his elbow, and as his fingers inched closer to Annie’s exposed thigh, she swatted him away.

“I gotta ease you into it,” she urged with a giggle, forcing his hands above his head and out of her reach. His muscles flexed against her palms, responding to the sound of her voice.

“Woman, I’ve touched you before,” he reminded, appalled at the insinuation. “I know what I’m doin’.”

“Oh, I know you do,” she huffed, smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as her panties landed at her feet, bra meeting them. “But still.”

Climbing onto his lap, Annie straddled Stack, knees sinking into the bed, wet heat meeting his already hardening dick. He had recovered quickly from his orgasm, and he was ready for her again. He took in the sight of Annie on top of him: Dark brown skin glimmering in the low light, hair fluffy and unruly near her edges, sweat blooming across her body.

She looked beautiful and unlike anything he could have ever imagined. Annie was all woman, and with the amount of people Stack had been with in his lifetime, Annie was the only one to have him this wrecked while barely having touched him.

He breathed deeply as she settled her body against his comfortably. He could feel her pussy dripping onto him, beckoning him to fill her, but something told him to just indulge in this moment. In the feeling of her pressed against him. In the heat their bodies created simply from touching. The simplicity of it was intoxicating, and he couldn’t get over how easily they fit together.

Elias grabbed Annie’s right hand, tangling his fingers with hers as he breathed through the waves she was giving him. They throbbed against each other, bodies thrumming in time.

Annie watched the man with a soft smile. She’d never seen Stack in such peace. He was quiet. His face was still. His body was still humming softly and loving every second of it without acting with haste and demanding more of her.

She placed her other hand on his jaw, asking lightly for the man to open his eyes, and when he obeyed, Annie began kissing his upper body.

Along his collarbone, she laid her hot lips against cool skin. She took her time—sometimes kissing gently, sometimes sucking a mark into his neck as a reminder. A reminder that he was hers now. A reminder that his body would never forget this feeling even if she refused to give it to him again.

“Annie,” he moaned when she sucked a little too deep, biting his flushed skin to add a new sensation into her assault. His hand that was tangled in hers reached to grab anywhere he could reach. He held onto her thigh, body shaking lightly at the feeling of her lips on his neck and her cooze fluttering against him. It was too much and not enough at the same time. He felt drunk off the little bit she’d given him, yet he desperately needed more.

The way his voice tore at the edges had her body ready to fold in on itself. She wanted him just as bad as he needed her, but she didn’t want to let him have it just because he moaned real pretty.

She wanted him to beg. To understand that he had already lost a part of the man he was. To realize that she had changed him completely.

Annie started moving her hips first, slow yet effective. She forced her cunt against his length, dragging her body against his just so she could see the way his jaw slackened in pleasure. His eyes rolled back to look up at her again, and they glossed over in that way Annie adored. It pulled a chuckle from her and made her grind down harder just so she could see more of that look.

Elias whimpered, still holding onto her hand and thigh, trying to remain grounded but losing his footing the harder she went.

Her pussy was warm, and her arousal made her glide so easily.

“Anne,” he whined, hips raising up just an inch before falling back to the bed. “I can’t take it.” His breath was heavy, chest caving in as he took large breaths. “Please,” he cried, well-groomed nails piercing her soft brown skin. “I’ll do anything,” he added. “I swear, mama.”

Leaning over his upper body, Annie braced herself on her palms, placing them both beside his head as she landed a kiss to his forehead. Then the top of his nose. Then his lips.

Elias felt like the life was being sucked out of him, but he was happy with it happening this way, with him underneath a woman—Annie at that. She wasn’t even fucking him fully yet, but he couldn’t get ahold of his bearings. He was finally starting to understand why she had niggas wrapped around her finger. He was started to understand that he was quickly becoming one of them.

That he may have been one of them for a long time.

“The fuck you doin’ to me, woman,” he groaned when his head started to feel like he was drowning in her. He grabbed at her ass, not controlling her movements but steadying himself and her. They were both shaking, moaning uncontrollably.

“I’m easin’ you into it, baby,” she laughed around a moan, just ending up whining against his lips as her clit rubbed against his tip.

If she were being truthful, Annie was just as concerned about herself as she was about him. Elias was thick—thicker than anyone she’d had before. And he was long—real long. She needed to make sure she was ready for all that dick, that her body was prepared to be filled to the brim and fucked silly.

Stack scoffed underneath her, becoming restless at the teasing but loving it all the same.

“That’s what you call this?” The question was raw, the man’s throat scratchy with need.

And all Annie could do was nod.

She nodded against his chest as she leaned into him, groaning against his skin. She was having a hard time fighting it herself. The sound of Elias’ moans in her ear had her ready to throw in the towel. The need for him to fill her came quick like a flash flood of arousal and desire running through her, and before she knew it, Annie was reaching behind her and lining the man up with her entrance.

They cried when they finally felt it: That stretch; That ache of needing each other but refusing to give in; That pull of heartstrings knowing that they were going to be tethered to each other when all of this was over.

There was no way in Hell Elias was going to let up off of Annie now that he got a chance to feel all of her. Eating her cooze was one thing. Seeing her on her knees was another. But this?

This was something he was going to hold onto with every bit of him.

Annie moaned into the man’s neck as Elias took over. His hands on her ass forced her hips into a roll now. It wasn’t the slow, teasing pace she’d set before, it was fast, punishing, punctuated with his need to please the woman and to feel her pussy throb around him.

“This what you been keepin’ from me,” he grumbled into her hair, meeting her hips with a thrust of his own. He stayed on tempo, face scrunched in pleasure as he talked them through it. “You been holdin’ out on me, knowin’ it’d be this good? Baby,” he laughed in disbelief, holding her tight, “I ain’t lettin’ you go nowhere now.”

Annie whimpered, starting to fuck him back now that she felt more in control of her body. She couldn’t deny any of the things he’d said, especially that last part. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to let him go either. No one had ever been able to fuck her like this on the first go, but knowing how well he’d eaten her pussy, there should have been no question that Stack was good at what he did.

“Stack,” she moaned, grabbing at his biceps as his strokes quickened in need.

“Nah,” the man replied, shaking his head against hers. He pulled her chin out from his neck, looking her in the eyes. Both of their faces were flushed, eyes wet around the edges. He smiled at her when she made her eyes softer on purpose. “Say me name right,” he declared, wanting only to hear her crying his given name.

“Elias,” she cooed, no laugh, no giggle, no condemnation in sight—just pure pleasure.

They allowed themselves to fall into each other—Elias admitting to himself that she was right all along; Annie admitting to herself that he wasn't the only one that was going to end up sprung when the night was over.

Moaning loud and without reservation, they came one after the other. Annie was first, letting her body succumb to a pleasure she hadn't anticipated. Elias held her close as she broke apart in his arms, and she wasn't even ashamed of the way she cried out for him. Stack was next, cumming just as hard as she had with just as much gusto. He exhaled her name into the dense air of the room, loving the way it echoed around them.

“Fuck, yes,” Annie hummed softly, breath heavy in her chest. The feeling of him inside her bones was overwhelming in the best way.

She was on her hands and knees now, taking the place he had been in before. Her face was in the pillows, back arched as he fucked her from behind, nails grabbing at the bedsheets like they were the only thing keeping her tethered to Earth.

Elias was dripping in sweat, body caving to how good she felt. Her ass was connecting with his pelvis, the sound loud and reckless in his ears and hers. He groaned with each thrust of his hips, unable to keep the sound contained.

Annie was barely fucking him back now, but she still tried her best, grinding back against him in passion.

“Baby,” she struggled out, throat tightening around the cry. Her hips stopped working, locking up at the pleasure. She just needed a second to breathe, to get her body and mind back together from the emotions he was pulling out of her. “Wait a second.” The orgasm was coming fast just like his had earlier. She tried to pull away, to climb up the bed and calm herself down again, but Elias was wholly against it.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he groaned when she started to move forward. His hands gripped her hips roughly to keep her stuck in place, and he speed up his movements, fucking her into the bed.

Annie’s arch broke, making Stack collapse on top of her.

“I ain’t,” she cried into the pillows. She needed him just like this. Just this hard. Just this unrelenting. She reached behind her to touch his thigh, needing to feel their connection deeper. “You ain’t either,” she breathed softly, letting him melt into her as she slowly slipped away again.

“I’m not, mama,” Stack groaned too soft, tears building in the back of his throat. His strokes turned broken, falling out of the steady rhythm they had perfected. He leaned his face into the back of her neck, breathing in her scent, and sighing at the warmth of her wrapped tight around him. “I promise,” he purred, low and whispering.

The reassurance broke them both open again.

~~~~~

Annie and Stack couldn’t deny the intensity of what they had brewing between them. After that night together, tangled into the sheets of the woman’s bed, clothes long forgotten and heads swimming in pleasure, they were almost always connected in one way or another. People 'round town came to recognize that the pair belonged to each other. They could see it in small actions: How Stack's eyes perked up when he heard Annie's name; how Annie always stood back and let Elias open the door for her; how you couldn't see one without seeing the other half the time.

Stack swore he could feel her soul breathing inside his and vice versa. He said it was her “witchcraft,” that she’d put a root on him when he wasn’t paying attention and now they had become one. But he didn’t fully believe that himself—he just needed an excuse for how much he needed her in his body, full and breathing.

Annie tried her best to pretend that what she felt wasn’t real, but she knew better. Her ancestors told her better. She would pray at her altar, ask them questions about where her life was heading, and in each answer, Elias was there—someway, somehow.

They were glued at the hip, connected forever in a way they couldn’t have imagined, but it was like fate. Destined from the beginning.

The lesson Annie tried to teach Stack had completely backfired. In her attempts to warn him, she had fully miscalculated the hold he’d have on her. But even in the blunder and missteps, she couldn't be upset with how things had turned out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: ooooowweeeee 9,400 words mhmmmm

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

This winter has been unforgiving and vicious, the cold wind feels like glass cutting through you. Stack hates the cold, always complaining about it and meanwhile— Annie loves it. She loves how the world slows down in the winter, how the snow falls and covers everything or how Christmas brought people together.

Despite not believing in the religious aspect of it— she loves the thought of family gathering, giving a gift and baking.

Annie sits on the rickety, wooden stool in her shack— counting the herbs she has and writing down what she needs on her small notepad. Today has been a slow day for her, something she doesn’t mind— business always slows for her once the winter arrives.

Just as Annie finishes counting everything, her attention is drawn away from that and to someone twisting the knob to the door— trying to get inside. She grabs her blade and walks over, Stack fumbles through the door— fussing about it being difficult.

“I need to get this damn door fixed, it’s—“

He’s interrupted by a blade to the throat before Annie realizes it was him.

“Annie, watch what you doing with that damn blade.” Stack fusses even more.

Annie lets out a sigh of relief and rolls her eyes, pulling the blade back.

She walks back over to her stool and sits down.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming home today?”

He grins, walking over to her— gold tooth flashing and holding a black box with a bow on it.

“It was just a spur of the moment thing.”

He grabs her hand, kissing it and handing her the box.

“I got something for you.”

She takes the box with a puzzled look on her face, wondering what he bought. She carefully unravels the white bow and pulls the lid off of the box— there’s a beautiful cream colored sweater in it. It’s beautifully made with a bow on the front.

Annie’s heart felt like it turned to mush, a soft smile came upon her face. There’s something about Stack buying this that made her very emotional.

Her teary eyes met his as she rubs the sweater, taking it in.

“It’s so beautiful.. where did you get this?”

He smiles, not just at her reaction— but also taking in how beautiful she looks.

“It was at a shop in Chicago, I figured you might like it for her.”

He puts his hand on her pregnant belly and she feels her heart skip a beat.

“I love it— but Stack, a boy won’t be able to wear this.”

He rubs her belly, watching his hand move against the fabric of her dress.

“It ain’t a boy. I can feel that it’s a girl, you even dreamt about it.”

Annie puts the box on the table behind her.

“Dreams can mean anything.”

“Yeah, well this one will come true.” He adds.

After ten years of marriage this year, this is Annie’s and Stack’s first baby. They tried for a long time off and on again with no luck, they just started to figure that they would never have one. Right when they stopped focusing on it, it unexpectedly happened.

Annie places her hand on top of his, looking at him.

Stack leans down, placing a kiss on her lips— a kiss that tastes like beer, tobacco, and an apology on the way.

He walks over to the window, looking outside— unable to see anything but his own reflection, given the darkness outside and the fireplace lighting the room.

“Annie.. I might be gone on Christmas.”

Annie sighs, feeling the disappointment immediately overtake her.

“Elias..”

Stack keeps staring out the window, not daring to look at her face. He can’t handle seeing her upset, especially not while carrying his baby— if he turns around, he’ll cave and Smoke will be irate.

“Baby—“

“I don’t have a choice, there’s some stuff that we need to take care of.”

Annie nods, trying not to get emotional and cry.

Stack hesitantly turns around, looking at her and walking over to continue the conversation.

He tries to grab her hand, but she yanks away— walking over to her shelves with herbs.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.”

Annie scoffs as she looks at the mason jars.

“I’m not being like anything, Elias.”

He sighs, rubbing his face.

“I don’t have a choice.”

Annie lets out a mocking chuckle.

“Don’t have a choice—“

“Whatever, you say.”

Stack starts to feel a little annoyed, because in his mind he’s just trying to be honest and tell her.

Annie grabs a mason jar off the shelf and two candles, walking back to her table and refusing to look at him.

“You can’t outrun this.” She reminds him.

Stack’s brows furrow at her statement, shocked to hear her say that.

“The fuck does that mean?”

Annie glances up at him with a straight face.

“You scared. You been up and down that road more in these last nine months than you ever have been before. I told you I was pregnant and you immediately got busy with Smoke.—“

“Just admit it.”

Stack sucks his teeth, not trying to give in to what she says.

“Woman, ain’t nobody scared—“

“I just been busy.” He replies, almost like he is trying to convince himself and not her.

She nods, chuckling at him— because she knows the truth and it is so obvious that he’s scared about becoming a father.

Annie looks at him, holding her hand out.

“Hand me your mojo bag.”

Stack grabs his pocket knife, cutting a hole in his jacket and pulling it out— handing it to her.

Annie begins to work on his bag, While Stack pulls out his pipe— lighting it and inhaling.

Despite the hard conversations with him, Annie grew more in love with him as the days went by. Sure, he was hardheaded and joked a lot— but that’s what she loves about him. Meanwhile, he loves her seriousness and how she can lead him. She’s strong and he can’t get enough of it.

Stack sits on her other stool, watching the fireplace blaze. The flames crackling and overtaking the wood with it.

Annie finishes his bag and hands it to him as he’s exhaling smoke.

“Are you going to wear it or do I have to stitch it inside your clothes again?”

“You’ll probably have to stitch it.” He confesses.

Annie sets the bag on the table, walking over to him.

“Why can’t you just stay?”

He stares at her, pipe in his mouth— unsure what to say.

“I’ll just be gone a little while, baby.” He responds, turning his head to blow the smoke away from her.

“Elias, I want us to get more time together before the baby comes— stay here.”

His expression softens and he sets his pipe down.

He leans his head into her chest, taking in her sweet scent and her comfort.

“You tellin or you askin?”

“I’m tellin.” She responds.

She wraps her arms around him, holding him.

He looks up at her, standing up and kissing her— slow and full of passion.

“I love you.” He mutters.

She gives a half grin.

“I love you too, Elias.”

He grabs her hand, leading her towards the door.

“Come on, so we can get home.”

He helps Annie put her coat on and puts out the fire. He walks her to the car before coming back to lock the door.

They get home and immediately get in the bed, his head on her chest and hand on her belly.

Annie wakes up to it still being dark outside— Stack peacefully asleep beside her, arm draped over her belly. She gets up slowly, trying not to wake him.

The hardwood floors creak underneath her as she waddles into the other room. She lays on the couch, trying to get comfortable— lately she can’t sleep good in the bed. She covers herself with the quilt that’s on the couch and closes her eyes, hoping to get some sleep.

Hours pass by, the sunlight shining in the house and the house smelling like hotcakes and bacon.

Annie wakes up, finally feeling well rested. She sits up on the couch, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

After a few minutes, she’s finally able to get off of the couch and walks to the kitchen.

Stack humming— making breakfast in his white tank with his plaid pajama pants.

“Goodmorning.” Annie says, still waking up.

Stack turns around, smiling seeing Annie stand there. His beautiful wife, belly round and stretching her nightgown.

“Mornin, baby. I made us breakfast.”

He walks over, giving her a kiss and putting his hand on her belly.

“How did my girls sleep?”

Annie jokingly rolls her eyes at him. She finds it amusing that he thinks her dream is accurate, but doesn’t believe in the mojo bag— despite how many close calls he’s had with almost dying.

“We slept fine in the bed, but great on the couch.”

Stack pulls out a chair from the kitchen table, so Annie can sit. He plates up the food and brings the plates over to the table, sitting down.

“Thank you for making breakfast.”

“Baby, you don’t have to thank me. I’ll do anything to make things easier on you.” Stack responds.

They both dig into their food, which admittedly was extremely delicious.

Annie looks at Stack, hesitating to ask this question.

“When the baby gets here, will you be done with whatever you and Smoke are doing in Chicago?”

Stack nods, drinking his water.

“Mhmm, just like I promised you. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what.”

Annie twirls her fork, watching the syrup fall down it onto the plate.

“Soon, there will be three of us.”

Stack smiles, thinking about what his new reality will look like in a few weeks.

“Yeah, there will be. Ain’t that something?”

“Years of trying with no luck— then the one night we get a little too drunk, you let me stick my pecker in your mouth and fuck the shit outta you, you get pregnant.”

Annie stares at him, mouth open and trying not to laugh at his comment.

Stack laughs, getting up to take the plates to the sink— placing a kiss on Annie’s forehead as he walks over.

“Maybe, it’ll happen more often after the baby is born.” Annie suggests, teasing him.

He turns around, looking her up and down like he could take her up on the offer right now.

He sets the plates on the counter and walks over to her, getting her to stand up.

Wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her close.

“Oh, you’re a good woman.”

He leans in kissing her, his hand gliding down to her ass— gripping it.

“Mmhm. You’re so good to me.” He groans in between kissing her.

He pushes her up against the kitchen table. His kisses trailing off from her lips and onto her face and neck.

The sun from the window shining directly onto them, warming their skin.

“You carryin my baby—“

“Looking so sexy.”

Annie lets out a soft moan into his ear, taking her hand and rubbing it around his growing bulge.

He swirls his tongue on her neck and has her lift up a little to sit on the kitchen table. He pushes the stuff on the table out of the way.

Annie kisses him again fiercely, like she’s been needing him for a while now.

She pulls the strings to his pajama pants, as he forces her nightgown up her thighs.

His dick hard and ready for her.

“You ready fa me?” He whispers in her ear.

She nods.

He rubs his tip up and down her slit, teasing her.

“Elias..” She throws her head back, moaning.

He groans, pushing it in slowly— taking his time stretching her.

“Shit.” He murmurs.

He watches as every inch of him slides into her, filling her with more than she can handle.

She grips the table, toes curled and moaning.

He bottoms out, letting himself sit there for a moment— looking at her to make sure she’s okay.

He grips her thighs, slowly thrusting in and out of her— his head resting in the crook of her neck.

He moans as he starts gaining a good rhythm.

“Fuck.. Elias.” She whines.

The moment is very short lived, there’s a knock at the door.

They both look at each other, wondering who it is— but right now, Annie doesn’t care.

“Elias, don’t stop.”

He likes hearing that, he brings his focus back to her and continues thrusting.

This time they’re pounding on the door.

“It’s me, Smoke! Open up.”

Stack sighs, dropping his head onto her chest.

“Baby, I gotta get the door— but I’m gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna give it to you real good next time.”

Annie sighs, completely annoyed.

Stack pulls out and adjusts his pants, while Annie gets off the table and fixes her nightgown.

Stack gets the door and Smoke walks in, like he owns the room.

“The hell took you so long?”

“Mornin, Annie.” He nods.

“We were asleep.” Stack replies.

Smoke notices how Stack’s pajama pants were not properly pulled up and he sees all the stuff on the kitchen table is pushed to one side. He makes a face, disgusted at what they were doing.

“Where the fuck were you? I waited at the spot.”

Stack walks over to the couch, rubbing his face.

“I’m not going this time.”

Annie stands across the room, watching.

“The hell do you mean you're not going?” Smoke questions.

“Smoke, I got a wife and a baby on the way. I can’t keep leaving.” Stack reminds him.

Annie walks back into the bedroom, letting them continue their conversation. She sits on the bed, admittedly feeling guilty about wanting Stack to be home more. She knows that he and his brother run a business, but she needs him home— getting ready for the baby.

She sits there a few more minutes, listening to their heated argument.

Smoke roars, “you gone let that witch come between us?”

Annie stands up, walking back into the room— hoping she heard Smoke wrong.

“Witch?” She asks, shoulders pulled back.

“Aw, shit.” Stack mumbles.

Smoke points at Annie, gesturing for her to go into the other room.

“Woman, don’t start— I’m talking to my brother.”

Stacks eyes widen, not liking Smoke’s tone or response.

“You talkin to my wife.”

Smoke glances at Annie, like she’s been up to something.

“What you been telling him to make him want out?”

Annie standing there, hand on her hip.

“You fool. I didn’t tell him anything, clearly you don’t know your brother—“

“My bad, business partner that well.”

“You filing his head up with that Louisiana Bayou bullshit as well, got him wearing mojo bags— like, a damn fool.”

Annie’s brows raise, but she finds it comical. She walks closer to them.

She starts speaking and it’s like wind was shifting inside and out of the house, feels like a storm is brewing.

“I work every root my mama and grandma taught me to keep you two safe and you stand here completely healthy, saying it ain’t real?”

Stack listens to Annie, not because he fears her— but he trusts her.

“Don’t insult her like that—“

“He ain’t mean it, baby.” Stack says, glancing at Annie.

Annie laughs, shaking her head.

“No, that’s just fine— he can insult it all he wants. He’s only insulting me and what I do, because he doesn’t have the balls to insult his wife.”

Smoke bucks up, almost like he wants to charge Annie. Stack puts his hand out, blocking him from doing so.

“I dare you to get buck with mine, go ahead and do it.” Stack challenges.

Smoke stops, but Annie clearly struck a nerve.

“You walk yo ass up in here and think that you command shit for me and my husband? Right idea, wrong people. You go to your house and make sure your shit is in order.”

“Fuck you!” Smoke barks.

“Well, since it’s fuck me— then make sure Pearline doesn’t come to me again asking for advice when she’s pregnant by Sammie for the second time. Maybe it should be fuck her instead.”

Stack surprised that Annie took it that far.

“Annie!” He whispers, trying to stop her.

Smoke has a scowl on his face.

“The fuck did you just say to me, woman?”

Smoke pushes Stack away, trying to make his way over to Annie and get in her face.

Before he can even take two steps— they hear a gun cock back. Stack has his gun pointed at Smoke.

“I love you, big brother— but I’ll kill you right here, if you think that you’re gonna go get in her face.”

Stack points at Annie.

“That’s mine. My wife and my baby, you disrespect her and you disrespect me. So, I kindly ask that you apologize— then we can keep talking on the porch.”

Smoke huffs, glancing at both Annie and Smoke— gritting his teeth in defeat.

“I’m sorry.”

Stack nods, accepting his apology and putting his gun down.

“That’s more like it, now let’s go outside.”

Stack opens the front door, pushing Smoke out onto the porch.

Annie walks back into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and taking a few deep breaths. She is not the biggest fan of Smoke, it always feels like Stack can’t be his own man.

After a few minutes, there’s footsteps coming towards to door.

“Annie..” Stack says, looking disappointed and guilty.

“You gotta go?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

He nods, putting his head down as tears fill his eyes.

“I’m sorry about this, I just—“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll be just fine.” Annie interrupts him.

Stack leaves the room, so she can have some space and so he can get dressed.

Annie sits there, fidgeting with her ring and turning it around on her finger. The ring that had contributed to her life for the last ten years, felt like it was slowly fading away. All the memories, the love and the patience— leaving them with nothing. She doesn’t want to be bitter, but she just can’t help it.

Stack walks in, peeping at Annie.

“Baby, if you don’t mind— can you touch up my mustache and touch up the part in my hair?”

Annie looks at him, nodding and biting her tongue.

“I like the way you do it.” He adds.

She follows him into the other room, he pulls out a stool he can sit on. She grabs the pouch with the stuff needed in it and comes behind him.

Pulling out the scissors, a fine tooth comb, pomade, a blade, and shaving cream.

She walks over squatting in front of him, eyeing his mustache.

“How much you want off?”

“Just a little.” He grins.

“You want a fresh shave too?”

“Please.”

Annie grabs her two towels, wrapping one around his chest and shoulders. She lathers his face up in shaving cream and grabs the blade.

“You know the drill, don’t move.” She demands.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She slides the blade across his skin— slow and with precision. His skin stretched with one hand and the other guiding the blade.

“I told Smoke that I was finished after this trip, that’s why he was yelling.” He confesses.

Annie continues to shave him, watching the blade glide.

“Is that so?”

“I’m just ready to be done.. I don’t want to leave your side anymore— I don’t want to lose time with you and her.”

Annie glances up at him, feeling a sense of relief at him saying that.

Stack puts his hand on her belly, rubbing it.

“I won’t miss another moment with y’all.”

Annie finishes shaving his face and touches up his part for him. Something that she loves to do, she loves making sure that her man looks good.

Stack puts the rest of his clothes on and walks over to Annie— grabbing her hand to hold it.

“I know, that I’ve been gone a lot and that you been alone..—“

“Truth is, Annie. I’m terrified of being a father. I want to be the best and I don’t know what that looks like, because I didn’t see it growing up. I don’t want to mess up.. I don’t want to mess her up.” His voice cracks.

“Elias.. you don’t have to worry about that. You will be good at this and she’s gonna be so lucky to have a daddy like you.”

Annie wraps her arms around him, staring into his brown eyes.

She kisses him, so in love with him and the softness about him.

The kiss deepens, becoming hot and passionate— their tongues wrestling together.

He pulls away, pressing his head against hers.

“Woman, I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you keep me going.”

Annie’s eyes water.

“I love you too, Elias. You’re one of the best things to happen to me since I’ve come to the Delta.”

“But, she’s number one.” Annie holds her belly.

Stack’s eyes become glassy again.

“I’ll be back in two weeks, then I’m home for good. I’ll be back, right in time for her arrival.”

He walks over grabbing his wallet and heading to the door, about to open it.

“Baby, did you stitch the bag in?”

“I thought you ain’t believe in it?” Annie questions.

Stack opens the door, looking back.

“I believe in you.”

He walks out, shutting it behind him.

Every time he left Annie felt worried sick, hoping they’d stay safe. She’d lose her mind if anything happened to him.

1 week later.

Time had felt like it was going slow, moving like molasses. The only thing that occupied Annie was her shack and the people that came by.

Smoke and Stack are in Chicago and Smoke is trying to strike another business deal.

Smoke paces around their hotel room, while Stack lays on his bed inhaling from his pipe.

“This deal is good, Stack. It’s good money.”

Stack exhales, not entertaining Smoke’s ideas

“I bet it is.”

Smoke is getting irritated.

“I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you need to focus.”

Stack gives him a look.

“Focus? —“

“I have a pregnant wife at home, that I left to help you with this bullshit!” His voice raises.

Smoke’s brows furrow.

“Bullshit? It wasn’t bullshit when all that money was coming in.”

Stack rolls his eyes.

“The money is fine, but I’ve grown out of this kind of life. I have a child coming, I can’t keep this up.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow to get back home to my woman, with or without you.”

Ever since Stack told Smoke that he was ready to be out there’s been a rift between the two. Stack is starting to get more and more annoyed as the trip goes on. All he can think of is getting back to Annie and preparing for the baby.

Smoke wants to focus on bringing in more money, but Stack says that they have more than enough.

Meanwhile, Annie just got home from getting some rice from Bo’s store. She had been craving some sweet rice and bacon, so that’s what she decided that she’d have for dinner.

While she waited on the rice to finish cooking, she wrote down what to make for thanksgiving. This year they had agreed to host, Stack wanted to back out since Annie would be ready to give birth or already had the baby—but Annie said no.

She wrote down everything she could think of— Turkey, Dressing, Sweet potatoes, bread, Greens, Creamed Corn, and Cranberry Sauce.

She is going to have her hands full, trying to make enough for everyone—but she didn’t mind. This year they would have quite a few people coming over— The chows, Pearline and Smoke, Mary, Cornbread and his family, Slim, Uncle Jed and his wife. They were going to have a full house.

Annie’s rice finally finished— she sat down at the table eating her food and reading the paper.

The baby kicks, surprising her.

Annie smiles and places her hand on her belly, hoping to feel another kick.

“Your papa is going to be excited to hear about this.”

Annie finishes up eating— cleaning the dishes and wiping down the table.

She finds herself looking out the window in front of the sink— dreaming of what their life will look like once the baby gets here. She’s excited to see him spend time with the baby and step in the papa role.

Annie walks into the baby's room, staring at the crib and rocking chair. Stack got both of them very early into Annie’s pregnancy, he couldn’t wait to see them set up.

Annie sits down in the rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth— wind creaking underneath. She puts her hand on her belly, feeling the baby kick again.

“Your papa is excited to see you. He’s convinced you’re a girl, won’t even consider you being a boy. We settled on the name Amaya for you.”

“Lord, I hope that you’re more like me than you are him.” Annie chuckles.

Even though so much still had to be done— the baby’s room feels lived in. They’re real and on their way, a weird thing to think about.

Annie sat for a few more minutes, before she got up and made her way into the bedroom for bed.

Annie changed into her cream color nightgown and went to bed.

The next morning, Annie wakes up to what feels like contractions. It wasn’t uncomfortable for her, but noticeable. There are no other changes that she could notice. She got up, keeping it in the back of her mind— but not letting it worry her too much.

She goes into the kitchen and makes breakfast— pancakes, eggs and some fried tomatoes. It wasn’t what she’d normally eat, but it was what she wanted.

She ate and notices that the contractions had stopped, easing her worry. She decided to call Stack and let him know what had been going on, she found the paper with the hotel number on it and made her way to the phone. She picked it up, rotating the dial until she finished the number— it rang and rang, but no answer. She figured she’d call again later.

Stack and Smoke were already on the road heading back, tension between them was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

While Annie is cleaning the contractions start again, this time they hurt.

Annie’s nervous because she’s worried she’ll have to do this by herself.

As the night goes on, Annie lays on the couch trying to get comfortable— but she feels her water break.

Her heart races as she gets up, checking her nightgown.

Panic sets in as she realizes that Stack isn’t here and that he would miss the birth. She fills a bucket with water, grabs three towels and her scissors— despite her nervousness, she is ready.

Hours go by and Annie’s contractions are closer and closer together, her nightgown drenched in sweat and the pain unbearable. She lays on the bed— nightgown pulled up, legs trembling as she’s breathing through the pain.

She starts feeling pressure, like she needs to go the bathroom— a pressure that’s intense and won’t go away.

Annie gets up and gets on all fours to push, in her mind a more comfortable way.

She starts pushing, counting to ten in her head— using all her might and strength. Her screams and cries fill the house as she tries so hard to continue pushing.

“I’m never doing this again.” She mumbles to herself, sweat rolling off of her forehead.

She braces herself and starts pushing again, begging for strength. The ten seconds feeling like an eternity.

She reaches her hand back and can feel the baby’s head, she adjusts— placing the towel underneath her.

A few deep breaths and her hand gripping the sheets, she pushes again.

A sting followed with a gush of liquid and relief, her baby was in her hands.

Screams emerge from the baby, giving Annie a wave of relief.

She has given birth to a healthy baby girl. Chubby cheeks, head full of hair, and looks just like Stack.

Annie cuts the cords and wipes the baby off, taking in her little miracle. She really did it, she’s given birth— all by herself to a beautiful baby.

Annie holds the baby, placing kisses on her forehead.

“Your papa is gonna be mad that you didn’t wait.” She whispers.

A few hours later, almost near sunrise— Stack is being dropped off by Smoke. He unlocks the door, walking in and sees candles lit— he figured Annie was awake. He sets his keys down, slipping off his shoes.

“Annie?” He calls out, as he walks to the bedroom.

He walks into the bedroom, seeing an empty bed— but when he looked further he saw blood and fluid on the sheets.

His heart sank.

“Annie, baby?” He shouts walking throughout the house and opening doors.

He gets to the baby’s room, opening the door to see Annie in the rocking chair with a candle lit.

“Shh..” Annie whispers tearfully.

He walks over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead and looking her over.

“Baby, why is there blood on the—“

Annie points at the crib, watching Stack’s expression.

He walks over, seeing Amaya wrapped up and sleeping peacefully.

He looks at her, filled with shock— his eyes becoming glassy.

“.. I missed it?”

Annie walks over to him, grabbing his hand to comfort him.

“Elias.”

“Don’t get upset. It was unexpected, but she’s here now and she’s perfect.”

He glances once more at her in the crib, tears wetting his face.

“You want to hold her?” Annie asks.

He nods, wiping his face and watching Annie pick her up.

Annie holds the baby out, placing her into his arms.

“Meet your daughter, Amaya Moore.” Annie grins.

“It is a girl, just like I predicted—“

“My babygirl.” His voice cracked.

Annie rubs his back, in awe of how he already was with her.

He looks over at Annie, heart full.

“You did so good, mama. I’m so proud of you.”

He gives her a gentle kiss on the lips, a kiss full of praise.

He rubs Amaya’s head.

“Papa’s here.”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗