#whew!!!

Four and a half years. That was how long the house had felt like a museum after her husband passed. Everything was still, untouched, and preserved in a way that made the silence feel sacred yet unbearable.

She kept herself busy and remained polite to the neighbors. She kept herself busy, but inevitably she missed being touched, kissed, and desired. The intimacy of it all is what she needed.

She sealed those doors shut and thought they would never open again, but then the construction crew arrived. He arrived. A man she heard them call Smoke. A broad-shouldered foreman, low-cut fade, work boots, and a voice that carried across the street even when he wasn’t trying. The kind of man you couldn’t help but notice.

Annie didn’t mean to notice him. She willed herself not to, but she hadn’t felt her pulse skip like that in years. She hadn’t looked at anyone with curiosity in practically five years.

Watching him became an accident first that turned into a habit and then into a secret.

She would stand at the kitchen window with her raspberry leaf tea, pretending to study the weather, the mail truck, or the neighbor’s Great Dane when she was really observing Smoke. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his calloused hands, the way he carried lumber with ease, and especially the way he wiped sweat from the back of his neck with slow, effortless confidence.

Annie felt silly. Ridiculously restless and alive in a way that made her feel guilty and hopeful at the same time. Her chest ached with it like thawing after a long winter.

One morning, while she rinsed dishes just to occupy her trembling hands, she made the mistake of looking again. She caught him mid-break, leaning against the truck, sunlight cutting across his shoulders.

And this time, he was already looking at her. Not the typical glance but a direct, deliberate, slow sweep of his eyes from her window to her face. He wouldn’t look away, so Annie went still, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and throat.

Smoke's lips curved into a knowing smile as he dipped his head in a slight nod, as though he had been waiting for her to look back at him.

Annie’s heart didn’t just skip this time; it woke up.

Annie almost didn’t answer the knock.

She was in the middle of forcing herself not to look out the window again, telling her heart it was just nerves and curiosity. Nothing is as dangerous as interest.

But the knock came again, firmer this time, shaking the quiet house that had been hers alone for four years and change.

She wiped her hands on her sweater and opened the door. Smoke stood on her porch. Up close, he was even taller than he looked from the window, shoulders broad beneath a worn white t-shirt, safety vest unzipped, boots speckled with dried earth.

“Afternoon,” he said, voice deep enough to hum across her skin.

Annie’s breath stuttered slightly, but it was enough for him to catch, and he lifted a brow.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am. We got some utility questions—water line, maybe electrical. Lotta old houses on this block, yours included.”

It wasn’t rude or even flirty. It was just…direct. Like he didn’t have the patience for anything halfway.

Annie nodded and stepped aside.

“Oh—yes, um. Come in. Let me…let me see if I can find the paperwork my husband—”

Her voice caught, not so much in a dramatic way but enough for the sentence to break like a thin stick.

Smoke’s eyes flicked up sharp, noticing the slight change in her body language.

“Your husband,” he echoed gently. “He around?”

“No,” Annie said softly. “He…passed. A while ago.”

Smoke straightened a fraction, the subtle way men do when they adjust their energy out of respect. His voice shifted, the edge smoothing into something warmer. “My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Annie nodded. “It’s been four and a half years. I’m…managing.”

Smoke nodded once, not out of pity, but acknowledgment. He was no stranger to death.

“Still,” he murmured. “That kind of thing don’t ever get easy.”

She swallowed. “No. It don’t.”

A reverent beat passed before he stepped inside. His presence filled the hallway instantly, grounding and heavy. Annie became acutely aware of her fuzzy socks, her unkempt coils, and the way her heartbeat sped up with each step he took.

Smoke glanced around, observing. “You here by yourself most days?” he asked, his tone seemingly casual, but she knew better.

“Yes,” she answered before she could think of a polite deflection. “It’s just me now.”

Smoke hummed low in his chest. “Mmhmm. I figured.”

She blinked. “…Figured?”

He met her eyes finally, kobicha on cafe noir, and there was no teasing or arrogance in his gaze, no playful smirk like the one he tossed at her from the street.

“You got that quiet look about you,” he said softly. “The kind folks get when the house stay empty too long.”

Something in Annie’s throat tightened unexpectedly, but before she could respond, he walked farther in, boots thudding lightly on the hardwood, tool bag dropping beside his foot.

“Show me wherever you keep the paperwork,” he said gently. “I’ll handle the rest.”

His tone wasn’t commanding, yet she still felt like it wasn’t optional either. In an odd way, it made her feel safe.

Annie nodded and led him toward the kitchen. She reached for the high drawer where her husband once kept every manual and warranty, but her hand trembled.

Smoke’s voice came from right behind her. “You okay?”

He was so close that she froze. He wasn’t touching her, but he was close enough that she felt the heat of him and the weight of his attention.

“I’m fine,” she assured. “Just…old memories.”

Smoke exhaled through his nose, slow and steady. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

She looked back at him and steadily held her gaze in a reserved way that strong men do when they decide you deserve it. With a faint smirk that shouldn’t have made her pulse trip the way it did, he added, “Besides…you got new memories to make now.”

Her thighs clenched involuntarily, and she bit down on her tongue to stifle the desperate noise that almost escaped.

Smoke followed her into the kitchen with that slow, heavy-footed walk of a man who never had to do too much to command a room. Annie could still feel him behind her. Especially the warmth from the weight of his attention as she sifted through the drawer for the utility folder.

She found it, pulled it out, and set it on the counter, fingers tapping across it. Smoke didn’t reach for it. He reached for her instead, stepping close enough that she felt the faint puffs of his breath against the side of her neck.

“You always this jumpy?”

Annie’s fingers tightened on the folder. “I ain't jumpy,” she lied.

“Mmhmm.” He leaned a hip into the counter, arms crossing over his chest. “Funny, ’Cause you stay flinchin’ every time I get close by you.”

She turned to glare at him, but the second she faced him fully, she made the mistake of looking into eyes too observant to fool. He studied her face for a few seconds, then his curious eyes dropped to her mouth, then to the hollow of her throat, then right back to her eyes, like he’d mapped the whole thing in one breath.

Annie swallowed hard, and Smoke’s lips curved at her tell.

“There it go,” he acknowledged. “That look you get.”

“What look?”

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “The window look.”

Her stomach dropped. “What—what do you mean?”

“Nah, don’t be shy now.” He let out a low laugh. “You been watchin’ me since the first day we pulled up.”

Annie’s entire body went still. Oop, she was caught. Her fault for not being subtle.

Smoke stepped closer, slow enough to give her time to back away if she wanted, and she didn’t.

“You think I don’t see you?” he continued, voice dipping warm and deep. “Kitchen light on every morning. Curtains just barely pulled back. You stand in the same spot, acting like you just makin’ tea.”

Her cheeks burned, blush hidden by her cocoa-colored skin.

“And I been letting you watch,” he admitted softly, “’Cause I like the way you look at me.”

That sentence knocked all the air out of her chest.

Smoke reached into his back pocket, pulled out a small black notebook, the kind foremen keep for measurements and supply lists. He flipped it open with one hand. “Since you like lookin’ so much…let’s make sure it leads to something.”

He clicked his pen, set the notebook on the counter, and slid it toward her. Annie just stared at it.

“Write,” he instructed.

“…Write what?”

“Three things.” He explained, his voice unhurried. “Three fantasies. Whatever’s been sittin’ in that pretty head while you watch me work.”

She inhaled sharply, willing herself not to panic. “I—I don’t—Smoke, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” he said simply. “And you will.”

Her pulse fluttered. “You being—”

“Direct,” he finished. “Not pushy. Just finally answerin’ the call your body been makin’ for weeks now.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, lips closing when he leaned in, nose grazing her cheek teasingly.

“Annie,” he sighed deeply, voice like gravel and heat. “I know want when I see it. You ain’t hidin’ nothin’ from me, woman.”

Her knees damn near gave out, giving SWV a run for their money right in her kitchen.

Smoke nodded toward the notebook again. “Three fantasies,” he repeated softly. “You write ’em down, and I’ll stop by on Friday.”

Her eyes widened. “W-Why Friday?”

He smirked. “’Cause that’s the first day I’m free long enough to make one of ’em come true.”

Annie’s breath hitched so sharply she almost choked on it.

Smoke’s fingers brushed her wrist lightly, barely there, but enough to center her. “Look at me.”

She did. He held her gaze with quiet certainty, no pressure, no rush, just a man giving her a choice she didn’t expect to want that badly.

“If you don’t want this, baby,” he said, voice gentle and firm, “Tell me now. I’ll walk out that door, fix what needs fixin’, and you’ll never feel me cross a line.”

Annie lowered her eyes to the notebook, blinking rapidly at the three lines he numbered neatly.

“Don’t censor yourself,” he encouraged. “I ain’t scared of what you want.”

She believed him, and the pen grazed the page. The first fantasy came out shaky. The second, a little bolder. The third…she hesitated.

Smoke stepped closer; his chest grazed her back. “You stuck?”

Annie nodded once.

Smoke leaned in, his voice a comforting rumble in her ear. “Last one’s always the truth,” he said. “The one you ain’t never told nobody. The one you think you shouldn’t want.”

She sighed deeply and nodded again.

“Write that, baby.”

Her hand moved before her brain caught up, blue ink scratching softly against paper.

When she finished the third, she stared at the notebook like it might burst into flames. Then, slowly, she folded the page over twice, palms damp, the words suddenly too real, too intimate, too exposed.

Smoke held out his hand. “Give it here.”

She swallowed and placed the folded paper into his palm. Her fingertips brushed calloused skin, warm and rough, and a jolt of heat shot up her arm.

He didn’t move to open it yet. Instead, he slipped the paper into the chest pocket of his vest, tapping it once with two fingers. “I’ll read it later.”

Annie blinked. “…Later?”

Smoke nodded, lips curving into a wicked little half-smile. “You ain’t ready to watch my face while I read it.”

Finally, she whispered as her nerves eased. “…Friday?”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Friday.”

He grabbed his tool bag, flung it over his shoulder, and paused in the kitchen doorway. His gaze drifted to his pocket, where her folded fantasy lay.

“I got a feelin’ number three gonna be something I always wanted to try too.”

Smoke walked to the front door, and the cool late afternoon air rushed in when he opened it. He gave one last look at her, eyes warm, voice low and commanding. “Lock up behind me, Annie.”

Then he made his exit, leaving her breathless as her mind raced, and she knew that somewhere on his walk back across the street, he touched his pocket again, just to make sure the paper was still there.

The folded paper sat heavy in Smoke’s vest pocket all morning. He’d felt it there through every task. Through measurements, shouted instructions, the scrape of metal, and the grind of machinery. It was ridiculous, really. A single piece of paper shouldn’t have been able to pull his focus like that…but it did. Because Annie wrote it.

Despite the anticipation, Smoke waited until his lunch break to read it. He leaned against the side of the truck, pulled off his gloves, and finally slipped the paper free. He unfolded it carefully, smoothing the creases with his thumb like the words deserved patience.

The first line made his mouth twitch. The second made his jaw tighten, and the third line made him still. Brown eyes darkening with desire and blood rushing too fast to his dick, he had to take a steadying breath.

His eyes tracked the line once, twice and even a third time to make sure he was reading it correctly. A slow breath left him through his nose; the corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.

“Oh,” he chuckled quietly. “So that’s what we doin’ first.”

“Do what first?”

Smoke didn’t even look up as Bo leaned against the next truck over, hard hat tilted back, eyes sharp and curious. He’d worked with Smoke long enough to know something was different.

“You been smilin’ all day,” Bo said. “You never smile at work. You barely crack a smile at birthdays.”

Smoke folded the paper back up, slid it into his pocket like it was something precious, then reached for his water bottle.

“Mind your business, Chow,” he said calmly.

Bo squinted at him. “Nah, see, now it’s my business. You smiling, you quiet, you ain’t cussed anybody out yet. Something’s wrong.”

Smoke took a longer drink, eyes fixed on the street across the way, on Annie’s house, still and quiet in the distance.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he assured. “Something’s just… planned.”

Bo followed his gaze, looked at the house, and then back at Smoke.

“Oh,” Bo muttered slowly. “That house.”

Smoke shot him a look, and Bo raised both hands. “Say less. I see how you be staring. I just ain’t know she was the reason you finally decided to be pleasant.”

Smoke scoffed. “Pleasant is a stretch, Chow.”

Bo grinned. “So what she got you smilin’ like that for?”

Smoke adjusted his vest, fingers brushing the pocket again, voice dropping just a notch. “She finally told me what she wants.”

Bo raised both eyebrows. “And?”

Smoke's lips curled into a smug grin. “And I know exactly how I’m gonna give it to her.”

Bo chuckled as he shook his head. “Man, you dangerous.”

Smoke didn’t deny it. He never did.

The lunch horn sounded off loudly and sharply, so Smoke pushed himself off the truck and put on his gloves, mentally rearranging his Friday plans.

Bo called after him, “Hey! You comin’ back all calm and smilin’ like this, I’m tellin’ HR you in love.”

Smoke didn’t look back. “Tell HR to mind they business too.” As he walked back to work, he tapped his pocket once more just to make sure the paper was still there. Friday was already decided, and Annie didn’t even know what she was in for.

— Friday afternoon —

Annie had been pacing for ten minutes. She’d checked the clock twice and the window once, then told herself to stop hovering like an inexperienced teenager waiting on a crush. Still, when the firm knock came, her heart jumped like it recognized the sound before her brain could catch up.

She opened the door, and Smoke stood there like he’d always belonged on her porch. Unwrinkled white tank top, work boots, vest slung over one shoulder, clean fingernails, determination in his posture, and no uncertainty in his eyes. Just calm anticipation and that same soothing presence that had followed her since the first time he caught her watching.

“Hi,” she greeted warmly.

He didn’t smile right away, just looked at her and assessed her microexpressions, then nodded once.

“Hey,” he said calmly. “I’m here for the throat training.”

Annie laughed in surprise. She had no idea he would pick the third option. Her thighs clenched, and her mouth opened and then closed. Then she laughed again, a soft, breathless noise of nervousness.

“You—you can’t just say that at my door.”

Smoke’s lips finally curved, small and knowing.

“Why not?” he asked. “You wrote it. And I’m down for it.”

Heat rushed up her neck and all the way to her cheeks.

He stepped inside without crowding but close enough to feel. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the quiet house around them.

Smoke locked the door before he set his vest down carefully, like he was already moving with intention.

“Before we get started,” he said, voice lowering, “we gonna talk.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Smoke turned fully toward her now, hands relaxed at his sides, expression serious in a way that made her feel safe instead of nervous.

“I read what you wrote,” he continued. “All of it. And I chose throat training ’cause I know what it really means.”

Her pulse fluttered, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It ain’t about impressing me,” he said quietly. “It’s about trust. Control. You lettin’ go because you safe to do so.”

She swallowed around the nervous lump in her throat and nodded.

Smoke stepped closer. “You okay with me leadin’?” he asked. “You okay with me correctin’ you if I need to?” “And you okay with me takin’ care of you after, no matter how far we go?”

Her voice came out steadier than they both expected. “Yes.”

“You pick a safe word?”

“Yes. It’s bayou.”

He nodded in agreement. “Bayou.”

He fired off more rules. “Since your mouth gon’ be preoccupied, you need to use your fingers and tap me anywhere. Twice to slow down and three times to stop completely. Okay?”

He watched her face closely, searching for hesitation. There wasn’t any just heated anticipation.

“And Annie,” he added softly, “Don’t hide from me. You puttin’ all your trust in me, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

She met his eyes. “I trust you.”

Something warm settled in his gaze. A mix of approval, pride, and protectiveness.

“Good,” he affirmed. “Then we on the same page.”

Smoke watched her for a long second after she uttered those three words.

I trust you.

The conviction and absolute surrender in her voice shifted something in him. It changed his certainty into hunger. The kind that settled in the chest and stayed.

Without warning, he finally closed the distance. One hand came up to her jaw, firm and sure, thumb pressing just beneath her chin as he kissed her deep, stealing the breath right out of her lungs like he’d been waiting all week to do exactly that. There was no more hesitation. No more permission being asked.

Her knees buckled and her fingers clutched at his t-shirt as her heart raced and sweet heat bloomed between her thighs.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed his close forehead to hers, breath warm and voice deep with arousal.

“Mmhmm,” he said quietly. “You mine now.”

She inhaled sharply at his claim.

“Mine to cherish,” he continued, thumb brushing her lower lip deliberately. “And mine to ruin.”

The words landed like a spark to dry tinder. She didn’t feel owned. She felt chosen. Seen. Desired. Smoke awakened something in her she hadn’t been since before grief taught her how deep numbness can dig.

Smoke straightened just enough to offer his hand again, this time with a promise in his eyes instead of a question. “Come on, Annie,” he encouraged softly. “I got you.”

She took his hand, and the nerves disappeared with each step they took upstairs.

Once they stepped into her bedroom, Smoke shut the door.

He stared at her while he removed his boots and socks. “Clothes off.”

She removed her shirt and bra, then her shorts and panties, revealing her busty chest and voluptuous figure.

He made a small sound of approval. “Beautiful.” All the blood rushed to Smoke’s dick, bringing him to full hardness.

Once she was fully bare, he gave another command. “On your knees.”

She dropped to her knees on her bedroom floor and settled her palms against her thick thighs.

He stepped closer until he was in front of her. “Good girl.”

The praise not only warmed her chest but also grounded her. It made her feel alive.

Slowly he began to remove the rest of his clothes. He started with his white tee, revealing a toned chest and abs out of this world. Annie bit her lip. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down along with his briefs, kicking them aside. Annie couldn’t help but gasp at his impressive size. Her mouth watered hungrily, and the anticipation turned sharper.

He cupped her face as he bent over. “You comfortable?”

She nuzzled into his hands, soft lips brushing his wrist with a light kiss, “Yes, Smoke.”

“Good,” he hummed approvingly as he straightened up. “Get it nice and wet.”

Annie nodded in response, extending her neck to catch the tip of Smoke’s dick. Smoke adjusted his stance, bending his knees slightly so she didn’t have to strain her neck as much and nudging the head of his dick against her bottom lip before gently pressing past her lips. She instantly sealed her lips around Smoke’s dick, the tight suction causing him to close his eyes, tip his head back, and release a deep groan. He stayed there for a bit and allowed her to explore his length and adjust to his girth.

Smoke hissed as he began to thrust forward until half of his dick was encased in wet heat. Annie took it with relative ease; Smoke couldn’t even tell she hadn’t given head in years. Still the voluptuous woman struggled a bit with the man's girth. Smoke pushed further until the crown of his dick hit the back of her mouth, causing Annie to gag just the tiniest bit.

“There you go,” he encouraged sweetly. “Think you can take me deeper?”

She nodded, eyes glinting with excitement and unshed tears.

He chuckled softly, “You sure? You already gagging, baby.”

Too eager to please Smoke and showcase her skills, Annie bobbed her head faster as if her true calling on earth was to suck the stress out of Smoke’s body right through his dick as fast as she could.

“Fuuuck…” The surprised sound ripped out of him, guttural and borderline desperate. His hand slid into her hair, fingers gripping her curls as he fucked her face, slowly at first, but when he searched her face for signs of discomfort, he only found hunger and satisfaction, so he sped up his pace. “Look how pretty you look swallowing my dick.”

The closer his tip reached the back of her throat the more instructions and praises fell from his lips.

“Breathe through your nose, baby.”

“That’s it.”

“You doing so good, Annie.”

Every few minutes his eyes flicked between her face and hands, making sure her fingers were nowhere near safe wording and that she was comfortable. One hand was settled against her thigh, and the other was braced against his knee, completely locked in as she took him deeper down her throat, drool pooling at the sides of her mouth, breaths coming in shorter and sharper.

“Relax your jaw just a little bit more. Let me in.”

“Mmhmm. There you go.”

“You doing exactly what I said. Good girl.”

His control was slipping fast. “Fuck—listen to those pretty sounds. You like choking on my dick, don’t you?”

She nodded as hot tears spilled from her eyes and spit dripped down her chin, grip tightening on his knee.

“Look at you being a star pupil,” he praised, thumbs swiping the tears from her cheeks. “Those pretty lips refusing to let my dick go. Such a good. fuckin’. girl.”

Annie hummed around him, hollowing her cheeks, watching the way his eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved. Every time he moaned a praise, she took him deeper, pushing him closer to the edge.

“Oh shit,” he blurted, inhaling sharply as he felt his orgasm approaching. “Stop, stop. I don’t wanna come yet.” He quickly pulled out of her mouth and stroked his spit-glistening dick while he yanked her up with his free hand, not ever bothering to wipe away the drool before pulling her into a sloppy kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head to deepen the kiss, tongue swirling against his.

He broke the kiss and gripped her chin, making her look up into his eyes. “You were so good for me. You did such a good job, baby.”

She beamed at him, chest swelling with pride and satisfaction. Before she could thank him, he released her chin and gently pushed her down onto the bed.

“Lay back and spread your legs for me.” He instructed as he kneeled at the foot of the bed, grip loose around her ankles.

Before she could settle comfortably against the duvet, his mouth closed around her clit. Tongue hot, wet, and relentless as it flicked and swirled like he’d been starved for weeks, like he’d been dreaming of the exact taste.

Her back arched, and a cry spilled out before she could catch it. “Sm—Smoke—”

He groaned against her, the vibration surging through every nerve. His hands pinned her thighs open as his tongue plunged into her entrance, lapping at the wetness.

“Shit—oh my god,” she gasped, clutching at the sheets, her whole body trembling.

He pulled back just long enough to growl, full lips glistening with her slick, “Good girl…you taste so good, Annie.”

Then he dove back in, his tongue circling her throbbing clit with maddening precision, his name on her lips turning into broken moans. The pressure built fast, almost unbearably so.

“Smoke—fuck, I’m—”

He moaned into her, skilled tongue applying more pressure, and the orgasm ripped through her. She jerked, her body convulsing as a pleasurable scream tore out of her throat. He continued to lick her through it, grip tightening on her thighs while she thrashed against the bed and whimpered his name over and over. He placed a tender kiss against her sensitive clit once her breathing eased.

He climbed up the bed, slotting himself in between her legs, muttering filthy praises against her lips as he kissed her hungrily. She moaned at the sweet taste of her wetness on his tongue and deepened the kiss.

He lined himself up and sank into her carefully, teeth gritting at her tight warmth. She broke the kiss and gasped, the pressure deeper than she remembered.

His forehead dropped to hers, and he cursed, “Shit—every time I think I’m back in control here, you go unraveling me.”

Her nails dragged down his muscled back. “Smoke—oh my—”

“Say it again,” he demanded, taking slower breaths as he began to fuck her deep and sharp.

“Smoke!” she repeated, moans growing louder with each thrust. She knew her throat would be raw and voice hoarse in the morning, but she didn’t care. She was living in the present.

He shuddered, lips crashing to hers again as the room filled with the wet slap of skin and sounds of pleasure.

“I can feel that tight pussy stretching. Open up for me, baby.”

“So good, Smoke,” she gasped, clutching his giant arms and spreading her legs wider to grant him better access. 

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he cooed, eyes following the cream dripping down his length. “You got my dick soaked. You claimin’ me with that wet-ass pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she rasped.

“Mmhmm.”

“You feel so good inside me, Smoke.”

“Yeah? You like the way I fuck you?”

“Mmm, I love the way you fuck me,” she emphasized, pretty brown eyes glazed over with lust. “Please don’t stop, Smoke.”

“Goddamn, baby. Keep talkin’ like that and see what happen.”

The sound of skin meeting skin rang louder, and her cries mixed with his groans.

“Fuuuck—Annie,” he growled, voice cracking, “you feel too fuckin’ good.”

Her fingers tugged at the sheets, hips rolling up to meet every thrust. “Smoke—yes—don’t stop. I—I’m gonna come.”

His grip tightened on her hips, pulling her into him harder and faster until they were both huffing and puffing like they’d been ripped apart and stitched back together all at once.

“Be my good girl and come on this dick.”

Her orgasm built faster this time, her moans pitching higher while his groans got rougher, both of them teetering right at the edge, but he wasn’t coming until she climaxed again.

“Smoke—”

“Annie—”

“I—I—Oh my—“

“Mmhmm, I feel it,” he grunted, his snapping sharper and sharper. “Show me how good you can be with that come.”

The second orgasm hit Annie like a lightning strike, violent and consuming. Her body seized, and her moans of bliss followed. Smoke couldn’t get enough of how responsive her body was.

“Good girl. So goddamn pretty when you come on this dick.”

“I want you to come, Smoke.” she managed to get the words out in between sharp breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He pulled out and helped her up. “On your knees.”

She sat back on her legs as he stood up on the bed. She didn’t even hesitate as she gripped the base of his dick and took the tip between her lips.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed as he cupped the back of her head, “Make me come.”

Smoke let out a curse, which escalated into an intense growl as Annie stroked his length with both hands, sucking hard and fast, determined to push him over the edge. She took him as far as she could, bobbing her head up and down, her hands alternating between stroking his length and massaging his balls.

“Fuckfuckfuck—I’m about to come,” he warned as he held her head in place and shot his load down her throat. She never took her eyes off of him as she swallowed every drop he gave her. He cursed as she licked the sensitive tip, and he pulled away from her, admiring her passionately for a few seconds before dropping to his knees and tilting them both back against the pillows.

The room returned to its hushed atmosphere. Not the kind of silence that felt empty but the kind that was thick with shared breath and the echo of what had just happened. Annie lay back against the pillows, chest rising and falling, limbs loose, and body humming like it had finally been allowed to rest.

Smoke was just as blissed out beside her. He shifted onto his side and reached for her without urgency, palm warm as it settled against her stomach like he was anchoring her to the bed and to him. His thumb traced slow, absent circles against her soft skin as he checked in quietly. “You still with me?”

She smiled without opening her eyes. “Yes. I’m here.”

“Good,” he exhaled slowly. “You scared me for a second.”

“You?” she asked softly as she turned toward him. “Scared?”

Smoke huffed a low laugh, shaking his head. “I came in here thinkin’ I was the one in control.” His gaze dropped to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “Didn’t expect you to get under my skin like that.”

Annie traced the muscle of Smoke's forearm with her fingertips. “You kept checkin’ on me,” she recalled. “Even when I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess that wasn’t just for you.”

They lay there for a moment, breaths syncing without effort.

“You did good,” he praised, prouder than ever. “You trusted me.”

She swallowed, emotion tightening her throat, and pressed her forehead into his chest. Smoke wrapped his arms around her immediately; one hand cradled the back of her head, the other steady at her back as he rocked them slightly.

“Breathe, baby,” he instructed automatically, like it was habit now. “I got you.”

She obeyed. It was practically second nature now.

“You okay everywhere?” he questioned. “Any soreness at all?”

“I feel…alive,” she confessed. “And safe.”

Smoke’s expression was a mix of pride and relief. “That’s good, baby,” he acknowledged. “That’s exactly how this was supposed to end.”

I want to say this AU takes place 20 years after the events of the game, which would put Nevermore at 54 and Robert at 51 (which is not that old, all things considered, but they’re somewhat seasoned at this point).

Nevermore and Robert teach their own courses at a college Mandy opened (and is the dean of) in the hopes of making future generations of heroes well-rounded.

Nevermore teaches courses about managing one’s own powers and being in tune with their workings, and Robert teaches classes in hero ethics and the uses of tech to support even the most super-powered heroes on missions.

Unfortunately for Robert, hero ethics is a core credit every student needs to graduate, so he gets a lot of first years fresh out of high school who are bored out of their minds (and Nevermore’s classes are specialized and geared towards upperclassmen, so she laughs at him 🤣).

So far, I’ve imagined that other former SDN folks who’ve moved on to become renowned professors at this university are Coupé (Nevermore’s a vocal fan of her class, The Art of Clandestine Encounters) and Phenomeman (He teaches a lot about interplanetary affairs and cultural awareness across solar systems).

And also, as a touch of angst, it’s assumed Chase has passed at this point, and the track field is named in his honor.

And THAT WAS A WHOLE LOT OF YAPPING BUT HERE WE GO ONTO THE FIRST CHILD!!! 🙌

Gianna, Flambae’s niece (Picrew Link)

Is it cheating to start with an adaptation of a character that technically exists? The fact that Chad has a niece was all I needed to know before I took it and ran with it.

Let’s assume she was 5 during the events of Dispatch. After graduating high school, Gianna wasn’t in a rush to go to college, but upon seeing her childhood friends decide to pursue secondary education (with the encouragement of a second-generation Z-Team scholarship offered by Mandy) Gianna got back into the learning game… a semester before everyone else so she could still say she was there first.

Ariana, Prism’s daughter (Picrew Link)

Like her mother, Ariana wants to pursue a life of fame. Rather than sing, she took to the internet with the hopes of becoming the next biggest makeup guru. She calls her fans Arianators, and when her friends reminded her that there was already another famous Ariana who called her fans that, Ariana simply said that she was planning on “reclaiming it as her own”.

Hannah, Waterboy’s daughter (Picrew Link)

After navigating a tumultuous childhood of slippery fingers, being bullied for her nerdy tendencies, and suffocating under her father’s (though good-intentioned) overprotective nature, Hannah hopes to start fresh on campus and become the best hero she can be… through very rigorous study. Good thing she lives in an era where textbooks can be downloaded to waterproof tablets!

Bastion “Baz” Gibb, Malevola’s son (Picrew Link)

Baz is an athlete! He plays for the school’s football team. He was originally banking on getting a scholarship for his performance in the sport, but when Mandy offered him the full ride, he started to feel a little less pressure in each game. He still does his best, but now he can play solely out of love for the sport, and not an obligation to be the best. Malevola also promised to hand down her sword to him when he graduates college, so secondary schooling in general was a non-negotiable. 🤣

Deena, Coupé and Punch Up’s daughter (Picrew Link)

Most people assume Deena is most like her mother, and though that may be true, it definitely leaves room for surprise when she breaks into a full-blown Irish accent when she grows frustrated. Deena is unafraid to tell the truth, no matter how blunt, but at the end of the day she has her friends’ best interest at heart. She also pretty much always intended to go to Mandy’s school because her mom teaches there. Deena is obviously not allowed to take that class, however, but still sits in from time to time out of enjoyment of the subject.

Victoria, Sonar’s daughter (Picrew Link)

What do you mean that’s not a bat? Shhhhhh! For the purposes of this, that is most certainly a bat. (Bat picrews are next to impossible to find… 😔)

Anyways, Victoria is her father’s daughter in name, but almost his polar opposite besides that. Victor urged her to go to Harvard and begin a family legacy at the Ivy League, but when she was offered the full ride to Mandy’s school, she decided to forge her own path and go to the same institution as her friends. Victoria wants to join a sorority and hopes to break away from her father’s shadow.

Matt, Invisigal’s son (Picrew Link)

Oh, Matt… Matt inhereted his mom’s affinity for trouble. He definitely revived Courtney’s insecurity that their invisibility powers being inherently villainous, but Mandy promised to set him straight and offered him a scholarship along with the rest of his friends. Matt tends to get along the most with Baz. Rumor has it, they may have even had a fling at one point, but you didn’t hear that from me… He sometimes can even be seen wearing Baz’s varsity jacket