#ted garcia

@verybigvag is working on one or maybe its out

@toxicanonymity has one BUT READ WARNINGS I love it lol.

He admires your consummate professionalism at the office, his eyes hungrily grazing over your figure in your work attire as you flit about, capable and sexy, probably not even a thought given to his state of mind when he watches you. Yet you both handle the sexual tension with discipline during the week, despite the attraction of your bodies: fingers accidentally brush together in an exchange of paperwork, secret smiles, not so much as a kiss on the cheek.

He’s been well-behaved and so have you. Now that the weekend is upon you, it’s time to let loose.

Before the end of the day Friday he puts in a call to the local florist. “Red roses,” he says firmly. “A dozen of them.” He gives your address. “No card. She’ll know who they’re from.”

As he’s preparing on Saturday, he reaches for his phone on several occasions, thumb brushing over your name in his contacts. Half a dozen times he almost calls. Just to confirm. Just to hear your voice again. But no – he wants you untouched by schedules and duties.

He shouldn’t be surprised when you ring his doorbell at eight o’clock on the nose. If you only knew how your punctuality is such a turn-on for him. He’s at the front door in three strides. Slow down, he tells himself. You’re a mayor, not a teenager on a first date. But as he opens the door and finds you standing there, all his practiced words freeze on his tongue. His eyes rake over your form, taking in your red dress, your red lips, one of the roses he sent you is in your hair. Your eyes sparkle captivatingly. Ted’s breath catches in his throat.

“Thank you for the roses,” you say demurely. “You know they’re my favorite.”

Ted’s throat is dry but he manages a soft “Of course I know” as he holds the door open for you. He aches to pull you close to him, but he still has some shred of manners left.

“You look stunning,” he says, fingers tracing from your shoulders to the tips of your fingers, and he holds your hands for a moment before bringing you in for a soft and sweet kiss.

You’ve only ever been inside Ted’s home on official business, never to visit. Until now. You admire the decor, neat and stylish with a southwest motif. “Where’s Eric?” you ask, slipping your purse off your shoulder and hanging it up. The smooth sounds of Rose Royce’s “I Wanna Get Next to You” flow from Ted’s surround sound. He offers you a glass of wine, which you gratefully accept.

“He’s out with friends tonight,” Ted says casually, hoping the implication of you having the house to yourselves will catch on. “Hungry?” he asks.

“Starving,” you answer. “Whatever you have on the stove smells amazing.”

The table is already set with two tapered candles, their flames incandescent. A bottle of champagne, one of the more expensive labels, you note, rests in an ice bucket next to two crystal glasses.

“I don’t cook often,” he admits, leading you to the brightly lit kitchen. “But I managed to throw a little something together tonight.”

“You’ve gone all out,” you tell him, humbled and impressed. “I really appreciate this.”

“You,” he murmurs, stepping close enough to feel the warmth of your body, his hands on your hips, “deserve to be spoiled a little.”

“I won’t lie, I like this seduction technique.” You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Seduction technique? I’m just trying to keep from bending you over this countertop..”

“Jesus,” you exhale. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

Ted leans in, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “When it comes to you, I don’t have time for words.” His hands slide to your lower back, pulling you flush against him, just enough so you can feel the hard line of him through his slacks. “Every second I spend not touching you or kissing you feels like a crime.”

You whisper his name, subtly moving against him. He growls in response, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing you in – slow and deliberate – like you’re the only oxygen left in the room. You take the lead, reaching up to kiss him, his lips all too eager to be drawn to yours. Warm, soft, insistent, his tongue breaches past your lips to tease yours.

“We should eat,” he manages, finally pulling away.

You exhale a jittery laugh. “Yes.. I’m actually really hungry.”

“Good. I spent all afternoon making this.” He lets go of you and grabs two plates, topping them with perfectly seared steak, roasted potatoes, and charred asparagus. He pours the wine for both of you. His hand lingers on the back of your chair, fingers grazing your bare shoulder.

“Eat up,” he says. “You’re gonna need your strength.”

He watches avariciously as you cut into your steak, daintily bringing it to your mouth. A near-moan leaves you as you taste the meat and his grip on his fork tenses. He watches the tender movement of your throat as you swallow, lightly licking your lips. God, that’s something he wants to explore later.

He does his best to keep the conversation light and pleasant. You talk about your family back home in Texas, and your adventure each Thanksgiving and Christmas to visit them. His own family is small – just him and his son these past few years. His parents passed. Wife was gone long before you entered his life – he doesn’t dwell on this chapter, just states it as fact.

“This is a damn good steak, Ted,” you tell him, washing it down with a glass of red. You dab at your lips with a napkin. “The flavor is perfect. It tastes like heaven.”

“I can think of something else I’d rather taste,” he murmurs.

“Ted,” you tease. “I thought you’d be more original than that.”

He offers a mild shrug and a mischievous grin. “I’ll take honesty over originality any day.”

“Dinner was delicious,” you compliment him. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Did you imagine I lived off of coffee and takeout?” He smirks, running a napkin over his mouth. “I wanted to impress you for our first official date.”

“Mission accomplished. Consider me impressed.” You smirk back.

He reaches across the table, fingers tracing the bare skin of your wrist. “That was just dinner. You haven’t had dessert yet..”

The subtlety isn’t lost on you. A frisson of excitement runs from your chest to your core, lighting up every nerve along the way. “Oh? And when was the last time you had dessert?”

“Too long,” he admits. His eyes are dark, like a storm rolling in over the brushland. “But I’m a man who likes to make up for lost time.”

He pushes back from the table with one sharp motion, chair scraping against the tiled floor. In one smooth step he’s in front of you, kneeling between your legs, hands gripping your thighs through your dress.

His voice is low, raw. “Need to touch you, taste you, take you apart.”

“Ted,” you gasp, “if you only knew how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that..”

His hands slide up your legs, rough and unyielding, fingers biting into your skin. He leans in closer, lips brushing against the bare flesh of your knee. “Jesus Christ, you’re killing me, sweetheart.” His thumbs trace your inner thighs, sliding higher. “I’ve been waiting goddamn weeks to touch you like this.”

Your breath shudders. “Ted.. you’re teasing me..”

He sees you shiver. The fire in his chest is hot and wild. “You have no idea just how much I’ve had to hold myself back.” His thumbs tease the edge of your underwear, making you gasp. “You think this is me teasing? Baby, this is me being patient.”

Your panties are already damp, pussy drooling, the ache in your womb growing exponentially as he takes his time, drawing out the moment, savoring the way you’re steadily losing your poise. He can smell you – sweet, warm, wet. It nearly breaks him. “Christ, you’re drenched already.” His fingers trace the soaked fabric slowly in a deliberate act of torture. Looking up at you through heavy lashes he murmurs, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want your fingers, and.. and your mouth on me.. please,” you gasp.

As if every second of this has been planned and rehearsed inside his head a hundred times before, his fingers hook into the sides of your panties, dragging them down just enough as you lift your hips to give him access. He leans in close, his breath fanning across your sodden flesh.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, “begging for my mouth..”

Then he kisses you right where you ache, the first touch soft and teasing. When you whimper he gives you more – harder, deeper – and you taste like heaven. Lightning shoots through your veins, hips arched up to give more of yourself, your fingers carding through Ted’s curly locks as you call out his name. He groans against you, every sound you make a victory. Every gasp an anthem. He works you with slow, sure strokes of his tongue, building the heat, stoking it higher and higher. He knows just where to press, how to swirl, when to suck. When you call his name again, loud, shaky, he slips two fingers inside. “That’s it,” he growls between kisses. “Come for me right here.”

You’ve known men who love to please women, and Ted is definitely that man. He keeps you guessing, and in the next moment gives you exactly what you need. And he does it well. His fingers crook inside you just so, rubbing that hidden sweet spot and keeping his lips pursed around your clit. You come apart easily beneath his ministrations, crying out, limbs quaking.

He takes you through the aftershocks, slowly pulling back as he watches you come down. His whole body is hot, lightning crackling under his skin. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice rough, fingers sliding out from you. He brings them to his mouth to taste you once more.

Whimpering at the loss of his touch, you’re breathless, sated, excited. You cradle his head in your hands. “God damn it.. you’re good.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. Still half-wild and half-in control, he looks like a man who could break. “I don’t think you’re ready for how good I can be.” He stands, taking your hands and pulling you up with him.

Kissing him, tasting your own flavor on his lips, you stumble as one towards his bedroom, undressing each other along the way. On the bed he kicks free from his jeans, his shirt long forgotten somewhere in the hall. Left only in his black boxers which do nothing to hide how hard he is for you, he watches as you slowly peel off that red dress, like a rose casting off its ruby-red petals.

“Jesus,” Ted murmurs, pulling you on top of him on the bed. You’re straddling him in nothing but your bra and panties, matching red silk to go with your dress. “I could die with a smile on my face just seeing you like this..”

“Don’t say that,” you playfully chide him. “There’s no procedure in place for what happens to the mayoral seat if you die.”

“Ever the civil servant,” he teases you before his mouth closes over yours. You help him open the front clasp of your bra. His eyes darken as he takes in the soft curves of your breasts, your nipples taut. Then his mouth is on you, hot, slow, worshipping. One hand cradles your breast while his lips close over the tight peak, sucking gently, then harder as you arch into him with a moan.

“That’s my girl,” he mutters, switching sides and teasing you with teeth and tongue, lips and fingers, teasing you into a frenzy until you beg him for more. His hand slides over your stomach, dipping beneath the edge of your red silk panties. Finding you still slick and aching, he slides two fingers over your folds, slow and teasing.

“Ted!” you moan his name wantonly. He kisses you hard, deep, desperate as his fingers move faster, curling just right, feeling you clench around him. When you come, shaking and moaning his name like a prayer, he slides his fingers out of your slick channel and tears your panties clean off.

You whisper his name like a prayer, now bare before him, your gaze dark and lust-filled, chest heaving with exertion. Ted takes a moment just to look. His gaze slides over your naked body, slow and hungry. God help him, you’re so beautiful laid out beneath him. “You’re a vision,” he whispers.

“Let me see you,” you whisper, reaching up to pull down his boxers. Licking your lips you peel the material down his thighs. His length springs free, thick, flushed, already leaking for you. Just over seven inches, it’s an impressive cock.

“Touch me,” Ted growls, “or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

You wrap your hand around him, gently stroking upwards, feeling the thickness of him in your soft palm. “Can I taste you?”

Every muscle in Ted’s body tenses and he groans as you stroke him. “Please,” he whispers, his breath catching, as your thumb teases the head of his length. You lean down onto his lap, tongue flicking out to capture the bead of moisture from his slit, swirling your tongue.

“Look at me,” he softly orders. “Eyes on me while you’re sucking my cock.”

When your eyes meet his from beneath heavy lashes as your mouth closes around him, he’s done for. He guides your head, his hand on the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair, a deep groan or breathy oh fuck leaves him with each slow drag of your tongue, each gag of your constricting throat.

When you pull away, releasing him with a lewd pop, your eyes are dull and hazy, lips shiny with spit and precome. “I want to ride you,” you tell him. “I come easier when I’m on top.”

“Then get on me, baby,” he says with a low, dark chuckle. “Ride me how you want.”

“Is this okay?” you whisper, straddling him. “I’m on birth control..”

“Only if you’re sure.” He cups your face. “I’m clean – I’ve been tested recently, but sweetheart, if you’d rather use a condom–”

“I trust you,” you whisper, leaning into his palm. “I know you.” Indeed, you know his schedule from top to bottom. He doesn’t have much time for romps in the hay with people you don’t know about. “You’ve been lonely, just like me.”

He’s barely able to keep a coherent thought, the heat of your center just grazing his cock. “So damn lonely,” he agrees. “C’mon, let me feel you..”

Lining him up with you, you settle down on his length. “So big,” you whisper. It’s a snug fit, but you’re already so wet. His hands on your hips, he helps lower you down, savoring the sweet whimpers as he breaches you, filling you. ”You’re so tight,” he rasps, lifting his head to watch himself disappear inside you little by little. “Good girl.. take all of me.. every inch..”

God, he fills you up like no one else ever has. The sweet sting of the stretch of him inside you is alleviated by his hands – a sweep of his thumb across your pearl, circling and teasing, until he’s fully sheathed. Ted stills inside you, buried to the hilt. “Jesus, you feel so good,” he chokes out. His hands find yours, lacing your fingers together as he slowly sits up, bringing you chest to chest. Skin on skin. Heart to heart.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs, and when your heavy-lidded gaze meets his he begins to move, slow at first. Deep. Rolling his hips in a way that makes you gasp, clinging tighter to him.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes against your lips. “But I need you.. all of you.”

You gasp, your hips rolling against his, matching his rhythm. It’s bordering on too much when he delves in deep, splitting you open. You’re too full of him, but Ted takes it slow, rocking in an easy tempo.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your neck. “Take it..” His hands grip you tight, supporting and guiding, as the mattress creaks beneath you. You moan his name, fingers digging into his broad shoulders, head tossed back as you ride him a little harder. His head drops to your shoulder as you take charge. “You take my cock so well, beautiful,” he murmurs, pistoning up to meet your hips, smiling against your skin when you cry out.

“You feel so good!” you gasp, cradling his head. “I’m so close.. I’m so close!”

He lifts his head, wishing he could drown in your eyes. “Look at me,” he growls, cupping your throat to force you to keep his gaze. “I want to see what you look like when you come for me..”

With his name on your lips you come apart, walls fluttering then squeezing him as you cry out in pleasure, seeing stars. “Sweetheart,” he utters, voice broken, ragged, raw. “I need to come inside you.. please.”

“Yes,” you gasp softly, trembling with aftershocks as he keeps fucking you through it. “Want it.. want it all inside me.”

Ted’s control shatters as he presses you back down on the bed, driving into you faster and harder, chasing his own pleasure. With a low growl he buries himself deep and comes inside of you, pulse after pulse of heat filling you as your breaths tangle between desperate kisses.

He holds you tight, both of you sweaty and breathless, listening to the sound of your heartbeats slowing in tandem. He presses soft kisses to your lips, your neck, the ridge of your collar bone, while waiting for the world to come back into focus.

“You okay?” he murmurs against your skin. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you reply softly, your mind practically mush in the serene afterglow. “Ted, that was–” you exhale roughly, your body still thrumming with pleasure.

“Yeah.. I know..” He presses one more kiss to the tip of your nose before gently pulling out. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You can’t help ogling his naked figure as he retreats to the bathroom. Tight ass, toned thighs, and a paunch when he turns to the side to wash at the sink. His cock is no longer at attention, but you still feel the way he was buried inside you moments ago, reaching places no one else ever had.

“Enjoying the view?” he says with a smirk as he brings back a damp cloth.

“More than you know,” you smirk up at him, spreading your legs when he parts them for you.

Gently, tenderly, he cleans you up. After, you cuddle with him, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart.

“Stay the night,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

“Are you sure?”

He nods. “Never been more sure of anything. Stay. Sleep here. Wake up with me.”

You look up, meeting his melted chocolate gaze. “How could I possibly refuse?”

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto 👑

The bar set steady as soft chatter filled the air; the dim lights provided a relaxed air as you sat silently— patiently waiting as your eyes fixated on the digital clock hanging by the name brand beer signs. 11:58. Just 2 more minutes and yet it seems time stopped for you alone, almost stuck in a state of a never ending impending but you knew you were being dramatic. Even when you fixated on your phone screen not much seemed to change as time set at 11:59. So close. You'd been practically on edge for the last 10 or so minutes leading to midnight.

It's not like everything you change for you— like you haven't consumed alcohol before. It wasn't often but you did feel like a rebel every time you'd managed to get a hold of a wine cooler or a twisted tea. Maybe it was the legality of it that made it feel different this time. Even the hesitancy in your walk felt like you were pulling 2 tons but you'd eventually made it as the clock set at 12:01. Mild disappointment set in how the time passed the moment you stopped paying attention but it didn't matter now.

Eagerly, you pull the shiny plastic card as you wave the bartender over. At first he gives you a suspicious look till you triumphantly flash the I.D card before he can ask any questions. The young man simply scoffs before nodding and starts on your requested drink; even making a comment how he'll put it on your father's tab.

With that he set the Cosmopolitan gently in front of you, the martini glass filled nearly to the brim with a pastel pink liquid that shifted to a lighter hue at the base of the glass. It was something so ordinary yet you needed that moment to let it set in— even taking a quick picture for the occasion. Distraction enough for an older gentleman sitting at a booth just a few feet away to set his gaze on you freely. Ted Garcia.

For a while the major found himself in pleasant conversation with your father [the local public defendant] but the moment he excused himself to the men's room— his sights set on you like a starved dog.

He traded the outline of your curves as you leaned forward on the bar stool, peaking at whatever inch of revealed skin he could take in from your position. It didn't take him long to salivate at the showcase of your thighs. The way your shorts tightened at the thickest part of your legs— it was enough for him to rise off the booth and stock over with his corrupt purpose— with the most convenient of excuses.

“Happy birthday kiddo,”

You almost jumped at the interruption, holding the glass stem tightly to prevent spillage as you pull it away from your mouth. Slowly the warmth of thick fingers trace your shoulder, creeping down your arm till a palm rested just above your elbow,

“Sorry sweetheart, I thought you knew I was here.” His fingertips gently caressed at your skin, arm now firmly draped around you— As if to keep too close.

“I was distracted Mr. Major but thank you.” You briefly roll your eyes before continuing, “I'm just trying to soak it in…I think…”

“Oh? Do you feel any different?” The question was sincere, as for many, It was a milestone.

To celebrate another coming of age, legal use of substances, and whatever debauchery was found on the course but not for you. It wasn't your style. That's what most adults seemed to like about you. Reasonably respectful, well behaved but still had your moments of teenage crudeness and mishaps. Nothing like sneaking out, no parties, and little to no friends oddly enough but it didn't harp on you too much.

You'd just turned 17 and It was already the start of senior year when you and your father moved to Eddington. Everyone had their routine, their groups, so it made sense you never found your place. There was a list of reasons why the move was necessary. Especially it being a court mandated position so that counted first and foremost— Even if it was to your dismay, arriving what seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by desert for miles. Despite the distance you felt trapped but oddly enough that's when you met the town's major. He was so polite in welcoming you both, helping y'all get settled in, giving a town tour. It was mostly for your dad after all; Eddington first public defender. It was a big deal apparently that Mr. Garcia just had to get acquainted.

Yet it still seemed to be there for you too. He was nice enough, always with advice and small talk that you grew conformable. Enough to confide in when you didn't go to your own dad. He was there in many ways and you were truly grateful and so was he. Ted would never forget the first time he laid eyes on you. The conversation was short between y'all at first— you were oddly shy, not too talkative either. Worse of all, he thought it was cute and that's when he knew then he was in trouble.

He was the adult, the major, he knew better after last time— but it felt different this time. Nothing inappropriate happened, at first. It was just talking but he kept talking. You always seemed to be there; a blessing and a curse. He thought if he had to interact it would be a responsible figure in your life. Someone to admire and look up too.

It only took a few short months for the sentiment to become literal. Now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stuck with his boxers tenting at night and a heavy cock underneath. Cold showers only worked for about a week till he gave in and fucked his fist to visions of you— in every way possible, making every noise possible, and taking him all the ways he thought possible.

Ted told himself it was fine, he wasn't doing anything illegal. It would be legal if something happened— He said whatever he could to sleep better at night. It only became worse when you started being more receptive to his conversations. Ted opened up to you— not about everything but enough where you were sweet to him. Genuine sympathy when you heard how his wife left; it didn't feel performative. You didn't feel the need to kiss up to him like everyone else because you thought he was good and Ted appreciated that.

Maybe that's why he kept talking to you, to keep this vile of friendship. Many interpreted it as a mentorship; especially your father but it strained on Ted most nights. Even being here with you now was eating at whatever composure he had left, but all to be this close. Close enough to smell your perfume.

“I'm not sure. I don't feel any different.” There was a small air of disappointment in your voice. Like you expected more and he oddly understood.

“Yeah, don't let it get to you. I still remember my 21st—”

“back then when y'all rode horseback and wrote by candle light?” You bat your eyelash innocently, as if you didn't so coldly and sarcastically imply his old age.

Ted simply stared back into your dark eyes for a moment as he let out a snort and continued on with his story that led further into more tales of his youthful misadventures.

The sun settled high in the sky that was the perfect shade of blue, and for once a few clouds scattered above. The heat was a welcoming 87°F that warmed your skin, just right for a day in the pool. Luckily everyone else thought so too, your friends already soaking in the pool, your dad handling the grill like always and a small group of his coworkers you'd felt comfortable enough to invite; who all were nice enough to bring extra food and snacks that your party was now a potluck— but you weren't complaining.

The group wasn't big enough to be 15 people with you included and that's how you liked it. No oversized parties and event centers like your dad had tried suggesting. Being the daughter of the town's only public defender brought more attention than expected so you took every opportunity to minimize it as much as possible; Today was the exception however.

The back yard was framed with bouquets of balloons and flag streamers, plastic table clothes and tassels. All matched in aesthetic and colors of golds, whites and translucent materials. It was a flattering site as found your way inside— where the decorations continued and led to a bright corner. Two balloons in the form of 21 floated softly in the air behind a table of sweets. You could help but smile to yourself; the work put in was apparent, it must have taken hours and it wasn’t your dad’s style. He always tried but the color coordination, the way everything actually matched, the little details that felt almost deliberate— it was so thought out. Like someone had stood in this exact spot and pictured how it would look when you walked in. Even the light shined on everything just right from where you stood.

Who knows how long you spent admiring the display till a soft knock against the doorframe pulled you from it. Loud enough to announce presence without interrupting the peace.

You turned slightly, and there he was. Ted lingered just inside the kitchen entry way; one hand still resting against the frame and In the other, he held a clear glass vase. Inside was a bundle of white lilies, bloomed wide and clean. Their petals almost glowing against the room’s gold accents. For a second, you didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

Oddly you missed the way his eyes didn’t quite stay where they should have. It was quick enough that anyone else might’ve missed it. You were in your swim outfit, water dried into a faint shimmer along your skin, and hair slightly damp and pushed back like you hadn’t bothered fixing it after the pool.

His jaw shifted, like he caught himself a moment too late then his eyes snapped back up.

“Uh—” he cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the vase slightly. “I was hoping I'd run into you.”

“Well you found me.” Your brows lifted as a small smile tugged at your mouth,

The pause stretched for another beat. Not awkward, but something felt a twinge off to you but you let the moment pass.

“More decorations?” You nodded toward the flowers,

He glanced down like he’d almost forgotten he was holding them. “Yeah- no, I just—” Ted hesitated for a moment before resetting. “Happy birthday.”

He stepped forward now, closing the distance enough to offer them properly. Up close, the lilies smelled faintly clean without being overpowering.

“They’re—” he hesitated again, “They’re for you,” he added, holding them out just enough to make the intention clear.

Your gaze dropped back to the flowers. They were beautiful. Simple, but not in a lazy way.

“You got me flowers?” you asked, softer now.

You took the vase carefully, fingers brushing against his for a second longer than necessary.

“They’re perfect,” you said, softer now.

That seemed to settle something in him.

“Thought you might want something that wasn’t… balloons,” he added, gesturing vaguely around the room.

You huffed a quiet laugh, glancing back at the decorations. “Hey, don’t disrespect the balloons. They’re doing a lot for me right now.”

That earned a small smile from him— quick, but real.

“Well so much for the flowers,” he retorted.

“I didn’t mean it like that—” You let out a small huff, close enough to be a laugh, “I love them more, promise!”

You moved to set the vase down on the table beside the sweets, adjusting it slightly so it caught the light just right. The white petals stood out immediately, clean against all the gold and shimmer.

When you turned back, he was still there— Watching. Not in a way that felt invasive; just a little too focused.

Your head tilted slightly. “What?”

His expression shifted, like he’d been caught somewhere mid-thought. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

The silence set in for a moment then, a quiet tension that almost surprised both of you.

“You just—” he stopped, exhaling lightly through his nose before trying again. “You look… nice.”

The understatement of it made your smile widen, just a little.

“Nice?” you repeated.

He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, gaze flicking away for a second. “Didn’t mean it like—” He trailed off, then gave up on correcting it. “You know what I mean.”

“I think I do.” The air shifted warmer now, but heavier too. Not uncomfortable however,

From outside there was a loud splash that echoed through the open windows, followed by your name being shouted in a chorus of voices.

You glanced toward the sound, then back at him.

“They’re gonna come drag me out there if I don’t go willingly.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding once. “Probably.”

You lingered a second longer anyway.

“Walk me out?” you asked casually,

“Yeah.” He didn’t hesitate this time.

As you passed him, heading for the door, your shoulder lightly brushed his arm. He followed just behind you, the faint scent of lilies trailing in the air as you both stepped back out into the sun.

There was a faint breeze as the once lively yard now lay still. The sun fully set for over an hour ago, and some time after the party came to a close. Many take leftovers, misshapen cake slices, farewell birthday wishes for you and thanks for Garcia's willingness to host.

The last guests to leave were your own friends, saying final goodbyes and hugs; afterwards leaving just you, Ted and your father left with an expected mess but it was unanimously decided it was tomorrow's problem as the men settled inside as you opted for a steaming shower.

At some point Ted stood alone as your dad managed to succumb to sleep on the leather couch till the creak of the bathroom door pulled his attention.

“God I feel so much better.” Your statement wasn't directed at Ted in particular; it was simply there to fill the dead noise

“It looked like it,” he replied, almost amused but paused as you stood outside the bathroom; a towel secured tightly around you, another smaller one working through the ends of your damp hair. The house felt heavier in a way that settled into the walls. The hum of the AC, the distant creak of the couch where your dad had passed out as Ted stood like he hadn’t quite decided what to do with himself— Or with you.

Steam seemed to frame you and you're tantalizing; the towel was barely enough to what was underneath. Half of your bosom visible, the thickest part of your thighs showcased, and the bottom of your rear was enough for him to stare. You had glanced over, catching the way he was already looking.

Your brow lifted slightly, a hint of something playful slipping in. “What?”

He blinked, finally pulled out of his lustful headspace. “Nothing.”

“Mm.” You didn’t buy it, but you let it go— for now.

You moved past him, bare feet quiet against the floor as you headed toward the guest room.

“So,” you started, like this was normal, like you weren’t standing in nothing but a towel with him trailing after you. “Successful party.”

“I'd hoped so,” he said, “You seemed happy.”

“I was.” You glanced back at him over your shoulder, “Probably one of the best I've had.”

Something in his expression shifted softly at that. Like the praise landed heavier than expected.

“Wasn’t just me,” he said.

“Sure,” you hummed, unconvinced.

You reached the guest room, pushing the door open with your shoulder. The light flicked on, casting everything in a low glow. You stepped in moving toward the overnight bag you had been set down earlier.

Ted stopped just short of the doorway this time, leaning slightly against the frame— Watching.

You could feel it again. The attention was more noticeable now in the quiet, in the absence of everything else and it lingered a second too long.

Your hands paused briefly at the zipper of your bag.

Then, you started without looking at him, “You can come in you know.”

There was a small shift behind you. “Didn’t want to assume.”

You huffed a quiet laugh under your breath as you started to sift through it, deliberately unhurried. The towel shifted slightly with the movement— nothing dramatic, but enough to draw attention. Enough that you were aware of it and aware of him noticing.

“You should probably—” he started, then stopped.

“Probably what?”

His jaw tightened slightly, like he was choosing his words a little too carefully. “Get—”

The ear piercing sound of a ringtone cut in, interrupted at whatever poor attempt of conversation being had. Ted didn’t move as you reached for your phone at the other end of the bed; reaching far enough for you to lightly flashed Ted, giving him a taste of where your legs met your ass.

What was worse was that he didn't look away either, not fully. Like he was trying to be respectful and failing just enough. Unaware you scoff at your phone screen, tossing the device back on the bed as the noise ceases.

“God he will not leave me alone today.” You mumbled, pulling Ted back into reality.

“Uh- sorry who?” He questioned

“You remember Issac?” You brought him up like it was an inconvenience,

“Yeah…?” Oh he remembers alright. The way he tried to publicly possess you. The way used to catch his hand on your ass, arms around you and the not so family friendly kissing he'd tried to initiate in public. It made his jaw clench, more so out of jealousy than worry.

You turned back to your bag, fingers moving a little slower now— “I had like dozens of messages today from him. What a jack ass.”

“And he’s still texting you?”

“Relentlessly,” you said, finally glancing back at him. “All day—”

Ted’s brows pulled together slightly. “On your birthday?”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, turning back to your bag again. “Very charming.”

“What’s he saying?”

You hesitated just long enough to make it feel intentional then continued a little more offhand. “Just… stuff.”

“Stuff?” he echoed again, clearly not satisfied.

You glanced at him, catching the way he was watching you now more directly than before.

“You really wanna know?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said with no hesitation this time.

You held his gaze for a second longer, then looked away again, like it didn’t matter.

“Just telling me how he could he can fuck me, make my first time amazing.” you said lightly, like it was nothing. Like it didn’t land heavily on Ted's cock but you could feel it shift immediately.

He didn’t respond right away and when you finally looked back, something in his expression had changed. His jaw set a little tighter, his gaze a little more fixed.

“And you ignored it,” it wasn't a question.

“Obviously.” You reached for something else in your bag, deliberately calm. “I was busy.”

“With your party,” he added.

“With my party.” you repeated, amused as another pause set in.

“You gonna answer him?”

You shook your head, “Nope.”

“Why not?”

That made you glance back at him again, eyebrow lifting slightly. “You asking out of curiosity or…?”

He didn’t take the out. “Just asking.”

You studied him for a second. The way he was standing still near the door but not leaving. The way his attention hadn’t drifted once.

Then you turned fully, tilting your head slightly like you were considering whether to say more.

“I don't like him like that anymore. He's an asshat…plus— I mean, it’s not like I’m clueless,” you added, a little quieter. “I know enough.” You added a small shrug.

Ted exhaled slowly through his nose as his gaze flicked away for the first time in a while. Looking down, then back up again like he caught himself.

“Right,” he said but it didn’t sound dismissive. If anything, it sounded like he was trying very hard to stay neutral and not quite succeeding.

You let the silence stretch again, watching him this time. “Besides,” you added almost absentmindedly. “I’ve got alternatives.”

That did it. His eyes snapped back to yours, sharper this time.

“Alternatives,” he repeated.

You gave a small innocent nod. “Yeah, a girl’s got options.”

Ted’s brows drew together, then shot up as the meaning hit. “You—?”

“Mmm.” You let the corner of your mouth curl. “5 inches, silicone, suction-cup base. Keeps me company when idiots text.”

He exhaled a laugh that sounded more like relief. “Jesus.”

“Don’t look so shocked, Garcia. It’s the twenty-first century.” You stepped closer, making sure your voice drops “I’ve gotten pretty good with it, too. Know exactly where to angle it, how fast—”

“Okay.” He held up a hand, color and heat rising high on his cheeks. “Getting an image I don’t need in my head right now.”

“But you’re blushing,” you teased. “Means you’re imagining it.”

His gaze flicked away for a moment before it was back on you. Eyes dark and a little too eager for your comfort. “I’m imagining how much better the real thing would feel for you.”

The room seemed to tilt at that. He stepped back in a hurry as you swallowed on nothing

“That came out wrong, Im sor—”

“That an offer?” you cut in before ted could finish, toeing an inch closer but that was enough for Ted to step away from you. It was more so for his sake, to hold on to whatever responsibility he had left to not fuck you into that mattress right now.

Slowly his shoulders lifted with a breath that looked like it hurt. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I want to get burned.” You stopped for a moment before continuing. “Or maybe I just want you to stop pretending you’re not thinking about it.”

His gaze dropped to the towel, to the curve of flesh pressing against the cotton, then snapped back to your eyes. “You’re twenty-one. You’re—”

“I’m old enough to know I don’t want Isaac or any other idiot texting me.” You reached out, fingertips brushing the waistband of his jeans, just above the belt.

The sound he made was half-laugh, half-groan. He was reaching his limit. “Your dad’s thirty feet away.”

“And snoring like a chainsaw.” You tilted your head. “Lock the door if you want. Or don’t. Either way, I’m not asking for promises, I'm just curious…and I would rather be you then anyone else.”

Everything was still, the only thing heard was the hum of the AC and the fan spinning above. Then without notice his hand shot behind him and he leaned back, shoving the door closed and the click of the lock cracked through the room like a starter pistol. He didn’t move after that, not until you took his wrist and guided his palm to the tuck of the towel. His fingers curled instinctively, knuckles grazing the hollow between your breasts.

“Take it off,” you whispered.

He swallowed as he tugged at the fabric. The towel unraveled, cotton revealing your skin and pooling at your feet. Cool air swept around you, biting at your warm skin but heat flared everywhere his eyes landed— nipples tightening, thighs pressing together on instinct.

Ted exhaled through his teeth. “Christ.”

You stepped in, palms sliding up his chest, pushing the fabric up his torso. “Fair’s fair.”

He quickly yanked the tee underneath over his head and your hands went straight to the buckle of his belt; the clink of metal seemed deafening. When you popped the button and dragged the zipper, his cock strained against navy cotton, thick and visibly throbbing. You traced the ridge carefully with your thumb, making Ted hiss between his teeth.

“Grip it,” he muttered.

You did, fingers curling around fabric and shaft, giving one slow stroke. A bead of moisture soaked through, feeling slick under your thumb. You cautiously rubbed circles there until his hips jerked.

“Enough,” he growled, shoving jeans and boxer-briefs down in one rough shove. His cock sprang free— heavy, darker at the tip, veins pronounced.

You felt your stomach flip with anticipation. Ted kicked the denim away, then cupped your jaw to pull you in for a kiss with no preamble. Just his tongue sliding against yours so hungrily and a little desperate. You couldn't help moan into it, pressing your naked body to his; the skin on his chest rasping your nipples.

Ted walked you back until your knees hit the mattress, the old quilt cool against your shoulder blades. He parted your thighs slowly, mouth finding the hollow below your ear— tongue hot, tasting till he dragged his mouth down, stubble rasping over delicate skin. Ted paused to circle a nipple with the flat of his tongue before drawing it in, sucking sharp enough your back bowed. A whimper escaped you high and shocked at how quickly the need coiled low in your belly.

His hand slid down, over your rib, over your belly— until fingertips brushed the soft patch of hair. He paused again, his breath shaking. “You sure?”

You answered by rolling your hips up, sliding along the rough denim still covering him. The friction dragged a groan from both of you. “I want everything. Want you inside me when I come the first time.”

The words cracked what little control he had left. Ted fumbled his belt, jeans, shoving them down far enough to free himself. He was thick, flushed, and another bead of moisture at the tip swelled. You wrapped fingers around him, savoring the heat, the pulse, the way his hips jerked instinctively into your grip.

Ted muttered a curse, forehead dropping to yours as his forearms bracing so not all his weight crushed you. Slowly his tip nudged, sliding through slick, puffy folds.

“Look at me,” his voice raw as your eyes met blown wide eyes.

He hesitated before his hips pushed forward, his length sinking in slowly. There was a burn at the stretch— the pinch of muscle surrendering. You exhaled through it, nails digging crescents into his shoulders until he seated fully, hips flush to yours. For a heartbeat neither moved, just the throb of his cock inside you— tighting around him. Then you tilted your hips experimentally; Ted hissed, pulled back before sinking again then dragging over every nerve that mattered.

Pleasure built surprisingly fast, coiling tighter each time he rocked. You hooked a leg around his waist, causing him to graze that spot inside that made your breath stutter. His name spilled from you, half prayer and half curse. Ted sped up slowly, rhythm getting ragged; sweat slicking his chest against yours and the wet slap of skin filling the room.

A steady hand slipped between you, Ted's hand clawing down till his thumb found your clit, pressing tight circles exactly right— like he’d memorized you already. The room narrowed to that point of pressure, to the slide of him filling you over and over.

“Let go,” he growled against your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

The coil snapped— pleasure crashed through you sharp and blinding. Your inner muscles clamped around his cock as he kept thrust in, prolonging it until your breath hitched and thighs trembled. You pulled Ted close to muffle your cries against his neck.

Two strokes later he followed, burying himself deep with a low groan, hips jerking as he came. His cock pulsing as he spilled into your flesh, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

Your name was the last thing he said before his arms gave out and he rolled, taking you with him so you landed sprawled across his chest, still joined, hearts hammering together.

Aftershocks rippled through you; he stayed inside, thumb lazily stroking your back. When breathing slowed, he pressed a kiss to your temple. Oddly soft and almost shy compared to what they’d just done.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured, a tired half-chuckled.

You hummed, pressing closer. “Best one yet.”