#tucko

Nie som psychológ, ani pedagóg. Som však empatický človek, ktorý vidí obe strany mince. S odstupom času sa pozerám na moje detstvo a rozmýšľam, ako to vidí malé dieťa, ako som to videl ja.

Deti sú plné úprimnosti, sú zraniteľné a formované okolím, v ktorom žijú. Práve ich úprimnosť a spontánnosť vie byť silnou zbraňou, mečom, ktorého hrot vie pretnúť city iného dieťaťa.

Určite vás v žiadnom detskom kolektíve neprekvapia pomenovania ako „Tučko”, „Okuliarnik”, „Pehaňa” alebo „Žalobaba”. Prezývky, ktoré dokážu raniť malú dušičku. Už tu sa formuje osobnosť, na jednej strane dominancia podporovaná kolektívom, na strane druhej - utláčaný jedinec.

Nespomínam si na prezývky, ktoré sme v predškolskej dochádzke používali my. Určite boli, napríklad ako vyššie uvedené. Predpokladám, že väčšina z nás si na náš „nickname”, keď sme mali 3-5 rokov, nepamätá.

Máme však už svoje deti, tie si práve týmto obdobím prechádzajú, chceme ich chrániť. Nechceme, aby v nich náhodou niečo vyvolalo zárodok čohosi nepríjemného, zanechalo stopy. Aj keď, tu by som to tak tragicky ešte nevidel. Pokiaľ sa niečo nevymyká z rámcov, nechajme tomu, podľa môjho názoru, voľný priebeh.

11: Collarbone Kiss

{Future!Tucko AU/Canon, Setting: Tucker’s home in Tübingen, Germany}

Maeko opened only one eye first, thinking the serene silence of the dimly lit room and the warmth of the oversized quilt draped over her sprawled-out limbs might entice her back into sleep. After a few minutes, when it became apparent that more sleep had eluded her, Maeko sat up slowly, rolling her shoulders and wiggling her toes–silently, so as not to wake Tucker who, upon regarding him, appeared to have rotated a full forty-five degrees on the bed during the night and who looked serene beneath a mop of unwashed hair. Maeko smirked at the tableau and was careful not to disturb it as she pressed two bare feet against the floor and stood.

xxiii | to yours going down on mine under the table during dinner.

Their day had been full of adventure; they’d visited museums, historical sites and art galleries, they’d spoken to strangers and played with stray dogs, and they’d swam under a waterfall. After all of that, they were tuckered out. Upon returning to their lavish hotel room—the first time they’d splurged on anything—Tucker suggested they grab some food. He was perfectly happy ordering room service and lazing around in his pajamas, but Maeko had other plans. She wanted to go out to eat, and ordered him to dress up; “Posh, but not too posh.” Tucker agreed, putting on some trousers and a plain shirt. He didn’t stand a chance against Maeko, who was in a skimpy black number, tight at the top and loose around the bottom. He shook his head, telling her there was no way he’d be able to focus on anything other than her, but she insisted. “One full day of fun, buddy-boy.”

The restaurant she chose was just down the street; a dimly lit Italian place with a simple and sophisticated menu full of fattening pastas and a million different wines. Tucker ordered two bottles, their food coming soon after. They ate and drank, laughing as they recalled small details of their day. Tucker found it impossible to tear his eyes away from her; the way her hair fell over her shoulders, the black that lined her eyes, the plunging neckline on her dress… He moved in closer, pushing the stray locks off her shoulder blade and leaving a chaste kiss against her neck. She laughed lightly, leaning into the touch, her hand squeezing his knee. Their waiter stopped by, clearing his throat to grab their attention. They ordered some desert and another bottle of wine, having finished off their own respectively.

Tucker turned into Maeko once more as their interruption left, a goofy grin on his face. “Where were we?” he whispered, kissing the soft skin just behind her ear. She guided his hand up her thigh slowly and his eyes went wide when he discovered she wasn’t wearing any panties. His eyes met hers and he took notice of her erratic breathing, sly grin and expectant, daring gaze. Kissing her firmly, he slid underneath the table—covered completely by a tablecloth, thank heavens—and she laughed breathily, squirming in her seat. After only a second, Maeko spoke up, “Oh, yes, thank you—no, he’s just… in the loo.” He heard her pour wine into her glass and Tucker laughed silently, running his hands up her thighs, pushing the lacy black fabric out of his way. He gripped her calf, spreading her legs apart, his lips ghosting across her soft flesh.

The anticipation was killing her, that much was clear, even from underneath the table. Her hands were gripping the bunched fabric of her dress, knuckles white. He ran a finger along her cunt, nipping at her inner thigh when he found it slick with her arousal. With a flat, firm tongue, he pressed against her clit, rolling it against the sensitive bead rhythmically. He sucked on her soft, warm flesh while teasing her entrance with his index finger, drinking her juices like they held the elixir of life. She grabbed his hair roughly, rocking her hips against him a few times before stopping, a small huff coming from her. She pulled the tablecloth up and he met her eyes, half-lidded and on fire, grinning as he tongued at her entrance. She whimpered, eyes darting around the room hesitantly.

Tucker covered her clit with his mouth again, entering her gently. He used two fingers to press against the upper wall of her pussy, feeling the small, rigid area just inside. She gasped loudly, eyes slipping shut and head falling back momentarily. He lapped at her cunt, pulling against the tiny spot inside her at a steady, measured pace. “Fuck,” she breathed, releasing his hair and grabbing the glass of wine in front of her, taking a big swallow as she opened her legs even farther, slouching into the back of the bench. He hummed against her, sucking the bead into his mouth while running his tongue over it steadily. She moaned quietly, covering her mouth with her hand as her hips bucked into him erratically. He didn’t dare stop, cramping fingers and aching knees be damned. He wanted her to explode.