Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Come and sit in my lap.”

you looked over to Derek, who was sitting in his big and comfortable chair beside you. You raised your eyebrows.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Derek grinned at you, patted one of his thighs. “Come sit in my lap.”

you looked away from him, towards the double doors at the other end of the hall that should be opening any minute now to let in the members of the council.

“Derek, no. The council will be here soon.”

“So?”

“So, it’s unprofessional, and you have to focus. And, since I’m your advisor, it would probably be a good idea if I did too.”

“I’m the CEO . I can have you in my lap during a meeting if I want.” There was a slight whine to Derek’s words. you glanced back over at him and breathed a little sigh. The man was practically pouting at you.

“Fine.” You knew there was no denying Derek when he really wanted something. You stood, and before you could actually make a move to seat himself properly in Derek’s lap he grabbed you and pulled you on top of him. you gave a small cry of surprise, founding yourself seated across him sideways, one of Derek’s arms around your legs, the other around your waist.

“There we go,” Derek breathed in satisfaction. He kissed at you’s ear, then ran parted lips over your jawline. you shivered a little.

“Derek, now isn’t a good time.”

“The council’s not here yet,” he argued.

“Yeah, but- mm…” Derek had quelled your protest by putting his lips to yours. You opened your mouth to accept his tongue, letting out a quiet moan. You were very glad that the table wasn’t made of transparent glass. What was happening wouldn’t be overly obvious to anyone unless they would bent down on purpose, and people made sure not to look at you for too long unless they wanted to end up fired like it happened weeks ago to a man you now completely forgotten.

Though, you couldn’t help but be annoyed by it. You wouldn’t be able to take care of your urges till after the meeting, which would make the whole thing seem longer than it really was.

Derek pulled away from your mouth, tilted his head to kiss at your neck above your collar.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Derek, stop it.” Even as you said it, you were leaning your head back to give him better access. You just couldn’t help it. You were willing to give yourself to Derek whenever he wanted you.

Derek laughed lightly against your skin. “Yeah, okay, you.” He tugged on your collar with his teeth, and for some reason that drove you wild with lust. You groaned in frustration, grabbed at Derek’s face.

“Stop. Now I’m not gonna be able to concentrate,” you complained.

Derek lifted his head up and you let his hand fall to your chest. The CEO had a smirk on his face when he looked at you.

“That was the plan,” he told you.

“Bastard.”

“I know I am,” Derek said proudly.

you turned your head when you heard the doors open. You made to stand as council-members began to file in, but Derek’s hold on you tightened.

“No. Stay put.”

“You think they’re gonna take you seriously with me in your lap?” you asked quietly, turning your attention back to Derek.

“If I had some random person in my lap, probably not, but they know who you are,” Derek replied. “Why are you making it seem like it’s a big deal?”

“Because…” you trailed off, unsure of how to explain. Being this close to Derek made it hard for you to think about anything but him, about where you wanted him to put his hands, his mouth. You squirmed a little in a half-hearted attempt to get free. That didn’t help, only made you think of another, more enjoyable way you wanted to be moving on him.

“Hold still. Now you’re just being undignified.”

You know what? Two can play at this game.

you firmly ground your ass down against Derek, put your mouth to his ear. “Whatever you say, CEO. ”

Derek made a growling sound low in his throat, opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by one of the members of the council.

“Mr. Danforth, we’re all here, if you’re ready to begin.”

Derek drew his head up. “Um, yes, I’m ready.” He tightened his hold on you, who was now looking at the council seated in front of you, determined to pay attention.

Your focus didn’t last very long. A minute or so into it, the hand that Derek had around your legs began to creep up your thigh. You glanced at Derek. Despite where his hand was going he seemed intent on the topic being discussed.

You tried to surreptitiously take Derek’s hand and slide it away, but you got your own slapped for it. Then Derek’s hand was back on your thigh.

Shit, Derek, not in front of everyone.

Embarrassed, you wanted to protest out loud, but Derek was in the middle of speaking. He palmed at you through your pants almost absentmindedly. you pressed your knuckles to your mouth to keep in any sound. A surprised little yelp made it through as Derek suddenly squeezed. The man looked to you, feigning surprise.

“you, do you have something to say?” He asked it politely, as one would ask their advisor for their opinion, as if the meeting were the only thing that was going on. Though, you knew that most advisors didn’t have their CEO ’s hand playing between their legs.

“N-nothing. Sorry to interrupt.” You had to school his voice into evenness as Derek squeezed again. You could feel his face going red. “Please continue.”

And, with a little nod, Derek did, seeming to pay no more attention to you. What he was doing with his hand said otherwise. He kept moving his hand through your pants and it took every ounce of self control to not buck into him. You bit at your knuckles, glanced at the council. They were all very pointedly looking at Derek’s face or each other, anywhere but at you. Some even had a slight pinkness to their cheeks.

Dammit, Derek, stop it.

His body was clearly negating that. You had to strain to keep your hips in place. You tried your best to keep any sound from coming out, but a small, needy whimper escaped you.

“Everything alright, you?” Derek asked, looking at you with complete obliviousness.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m-” Derek’s hand slipped under your waistband- “fine.” The word came out weak and breathy.

“You paying attention to what we’re talking about?” His fingers were now working torturously, moving slowly up and down.

“Um...” you felt angry and frustrated with Derek. Why did he feel the need to humiliate you like this in front of the council?

Right. He gets off on humiliating me.

“Uh…” What had Derek said the meeting was going to be about earlier? Granted, he’d told you while he’d been dozing after their usual morning romp. “Market conditions?” Your voice came out higher than usual, and you put your knuckles back in your mouth after you finished speaking. You shifted a little, planning on moving away from Derek’s hand, but your body had other ideas, instead moving into it. You gasped a little. You were sure that his face was the reddest it had ever been.

You were afraid he’d gotten it wrong and Derek was going to use that to humiliate you further, but he just nodded and looked back to the council. They continued their discussion, and you didn’t hear a word of it. All you could pay attention to was the way Derek’s hand moved with agonizing slowness. It set you alight with pleasant, maddening arousal. You dug your teeth into your knuckles, groaned quietly in frustration, hoping Derek wouldn’t call you out on the noise.

Derek rubbed his thumb in the right place. You released a moan into his hand before you could stop yourself or try to lower the volume of it. You squirmed a little in both embarrassment and want - need . You needed more . The councilman who had been speaking faltered for a moment, and you could feel your mortification digging a hole into you, but then the man continued, very clearly ignoring you. You still couldn’t help feeling like everyone in the room was staring at you. Though they were trying their best not to look at him, they knew what Derek was doing with his hand.

Then Derek stopped moving his hand altogether, just held onto you, and it was driving you crazy much faster than the slow movements had. Your breaths came hard as he fought with himself to not move. Sweat beaded at your temples.

After a minute or so, one man of the council stood, as if to leave. your chest swelled with relief.

“Um, perhaps we can discuss this later, sir,” he said. “You seem preoccupied.”

Please, Derek, just agree with him. you almost said it out loud.

“No, we’re not done yet. Sit and we’ll continue.”

You whined out of pure desperation, then instantly regretted the sound, though it had come out against your will. Surely everyone had heard it.

“Well, then your, uh, advisor-” the man paused and cleared his throat, looked to the floor for a moment, clearly uncomfortable- “seems preoccupied.”

Derek looked to you, winked at you, and he responded with a glare.

“No, they’re fine.” He began moving his hand again, ever so slowly, and you wanted to cry out of anger and frustration. You hated that Derek was tormenting you like this, wanted for him to dismiss the council so the both of you could do whatever you pleased.

The man sat back down, eliciting a whimper from you. You’ll have to suffer longer now.

Yoh paid absolutely no attention to the rest of the meeting, didn’t even bother trying to. The way Derek was touching you just felt so good. You tried your best to remain still and quiet, but the occasional quiet moan would slip out with a shift of your hips. By the time the meeting was drawing to an end, you were shaking with restraint, face and neck heated scarlet, sweat dripping down the sides of your face.

You let out a huge breath when the last council-member left and the door closed behind them. You sagged against Derek.

“ Ah… Oh gods, Derek, don’t do that!”

Derek bared his cock to open air, he was stroking it faster now with one hand while the other was taking care of you. Clutching at his hand, you were now moaning unashamedly. You wanted to cum, could feel that he was close to it too.

“Don’t do what?”

“What you just-!” you couldn’t finish, pleasure stealing your ability to speak. You became a mewling, writhing mess against Derek. Yes, this was what he wanted.

“Cum, baby. Come on.”

You sobbed with relief as your climax overtook you. Pleasure burned with sweet, hot release through your veins. You arched into Derek when it hit it’s peak, tightening your grip on his hand. The sensation drew the tears you have been holding back from your eyes.

Then it was over and you sagged against him. You wanted to rest against him for a moment, but Derek was pushing you down onto the floor before you could recover.

“Knees,” he ordered.

And before you could really process what was going on or what he was doing, you found yourself kneeling between Derek’s legs with his cock ready to be taken care of. You sucked him ravenously as he wanted it. Derek moaned and threaded his fingers through your hair.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. That’s it.” He applied pressure to your head. “Now choke yourself on it.”

You did so without hesitation, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, though it was difficult with it pressed right against Derek’s pelvis. Your throat calmed after a few moments, and one of Derek’s hands stroked praisingly over your face.

“You want me to bury myself in you like this?”

You bobbed your head up and down in a nod like you were supposed to when Derek asked you such a question. The movement had the CEO gasping and tugging at your hair.

“And are you gonna cum for me again?”

You nodded, pleased with the moan it brought from Derek’s lips. That meant he was doing your job as his lover well.

“Now up. Undress for me nice and slow.”

You did as you were told, standing and beginning to slowly pull your pants but not before glancing back at the door behind you. You bent down and took off the expensive shoes Derek gifted you (one of the many gifts he gave you ever since your relationship started). You kissed and suckled the head of Derek’s cock before taking care of your shirt.

Here you were now, standing naked in front of the CEO , who let his eyes roam over you though he has seen you like this a thousand times.

Derek ran a hand reverently up your body, starting from your thigh and tracing his fingers up over your abdomen towards one of the many hickeys he had left this morning. He rested his palm over the mark, your pounding heart.

“You’re hot,” Derek breathed. “I’m so lucky to have you.” Before you could respond, he grabbed at your waist and yanked you forward. There was enough room on his big chair for you to place your knees on either side of him and straddle him. You were pressed against Derek and he sighed at the pleasure of it, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Derek’s left hand grabbed at your neck, his right brushing fingers over your lips. You knew what he wanted, so you opened your mouth for him, let him put three fingers inside. You closed your eyes as you did it, moaned around his fingers as if you was enjoying it. You swirled your tongue around them and sucked at them, didn’t stop even when Derek pushed them farther into your mouth and choked you.

“ Shit .” He let go of your neck, instead ran his hand over your back, over the once-smooth skin that was now puckered with countless hickeys. He groped at your ass and you moaned again, this one born of need.

Derek pulled his fingers from your mouth once he was satisfied that they were properly coated in saliva.

You gave a satisfied cry as one finger pressed into you, curved your body into it. You wanted Derek so badly it was nearly painful. His mouth was parted in heaving breaths.

Derek dipped his tongue into your mouth, pulled it back, and did so again. You tried to latch onto it with your lips but Derek wouldn’t let you.

“Use your words. What do you want?” He curled your finger inside of you, brushing that spot.

“Ah!” you arched into the touch, opening your eyes to meet Derek’s gaze. Lust burned in the CEO’s eyes. “I-I want you to kiss me.”

“Mm, what else?” He slid in a second finger.

“Want to ride you,” you gasped out. “A-and make you cum.”

Derek circled his fingers to open you up and you closed your eyes again to revel in the sensation. You wiggled yourself backwards onto those fingers. You would have continued letting your pleasure be known, but Derek silenced you with his mouth.

Derek kissed you as he usually did: like he was trying to eat you and suck out your soul. You loved it and tried to kiss back with the same passion, though you knew you could never match it.

Derek pulled his mouth away from yours, brought it down to suck at your throat above the collar. you tilted your head back, and Derek slipped another finger into you.

“ Yes”

“You like that, baby?” Derek rumbled against your neck.

“ Ungh , yeah.”

“More formal,” Derek commanded.

“Yes, CEO .” You gave a small cry as Derek bit at your neck, and part of you loved the pain of it.

“You want my dick?”

“Y-yes, CEO.”

“How badly?”

“So, so badly,” you whined. You rocked yourself on his fingers, a demonstration of what you’d do on his length. “I need it. Please.”

“You need your boss’ dick?”

“Oh gods, yes!”

Derek licked across your jawline and you moaned loudly at the action. You clenched your muscles around Derek’s fingers.

“Please, please, Derek.” He writhed desperately against him “ Please. ”

Derek chuckled against your neck, and you swore you almost climaxed from the sound of it, the vibration of it against you, the scratch of his beard. He nipped at you and you shuddered.

“Derek…” he pleaded.

Derek ceded to your begging and withdrew his fingers. He barely gave you time to take his cock and position it correctly before he was driving you down onto it, so fast that it hurt. You let out a pleased cry as it filled you.

“Oh gods , you!” You yelled, Derek going to grasp at your hips. For a moment neither of you moved, just basked in your connection, your heaving breaths mingling together. you felt Derek’s mouth near yours and you kissed him hard as you began rocking yourself on him. He moaned into your mouth, accepting his tongue when he shoved it inside. You sucked on it gently, using one of your hands to grab at Derek’s hair.

Derek used his hold on your hips to control your pace, forcing you to move slower. you loved and hated it, loved how it let the pleasure simmer inside of you, but hated how it wasn’t the ferocity you were craving. Though, with Derek you’d get that at some point.

Derek pulled away from your mouth, lowering his head to kiss at your collarbone. He moaned against your skin, pressed his lips to you in an honorary way.

“You happy now, darling?” Derek asked. you could feel him smiling.

“More,” you gasped out. You couldn’t hide that he was greedy when it came to sex, and there was no point. Derek was the one who had made you like this.

Derek’s teeth grazed your hardened right nipple and you whimpered, curved your chest into him. Derek complied with your wish, biting down hard on your nipple and working it with his tongue.

“Oh gods, Derek,” you got out breathlessly, the pain of his teeth shooting pleasure all over your body. You tried moving your hips faster, but he tightened his grip till it hurt, fighting against your movements.

“No, you. Slow for now, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Once you agreed, Derek brought his attention to your other nipple to reward you. It felt so good you wanted to cry, a small sob escaping your lips. You clawed at Derek’s chest with one hand, the other still with fingers twined in his hair.

After sucking quite generously on your nipple, Derek brought his head up, kissed you briefly. His grip loosened on your hips.

“I’ll leave the lead to you. Let me see what you want.”

“Yes, Derek.” you were relieved to be allowed to do what you wanted. You put your hands on Derek’s shoulders to steady yourself, used your legs to move over his cock, raising yourself up and then slamming back down. The sound of slapping skin only aroused you more. Derek’s moans sent goosebumps on your arms and sent pleasant tingles through you.

“My cock is good enough to make you cum.”he growled.

“Ah shit! Yeah, baby, right there. Move just like that. Move just like that for me.”

Derek cursed profusely as you moved on him voraciously. You pounded pleasure into his nerves, and it just built in intensity with each movement.

After a minute or so you were reaching your end. Pleasure roped violently through your body and you shouted. You didn’t stop moving though, knew that you weren’t allowed to truly be finished until Derek was. You rode through your climax and past it, the sweetness of it reaching a point that was unbearable. You sobbed, tears in your eyes, your insides throbbing and oversensitive, but still, you kept on.

“Keep going, baby. You’re doing great,” Derek encouraged. “You’re doing so well.”

You slowed your movements, gasping for breath. “I-I can’t, Derek.”

“Yes you can. Faster. I’m almost there. Just a little more, come on.”

You knew you had no choice but to obey him, didn’t want to face the consequences of not, and picked up your pace again.

“That’s it, love. Good job.”

It hurt in an almost delicious way, like forcing yourself to eat something that was too sweet. You wanted it at the same time you didn’t, the feeling of Derek inside of you just too much to handle.

“You’re doing so good. So good. Come on. Come on . Almost there, almost there. Agh! That’s it! Yes! ”

you sobbed loudly at the sensation of Derek finishing inside of you. It was too much for your body to handle. Once it was over you made to move off of him, your legs already trembling in the mid air, but Derek held you there with a grunt.

“No. Stay.”

“But-”

“Stay, just one more second.”

You gave up, sagged against him, resting your head on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. Derek stroked a hand over your sweaty back.

You felt a hand stroking your face.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Anger suddenly hit you at those words. The gall of Derek to ask if he was okay, the audacity.You opened your eyes, planning on snapping at him, but you saw the smile on your face and the anger melted away. You smiled back.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You lifted your head, pecked Derek on the lips. “Better than okay.”

“Good, ’cause I have to fill you in on that meeting.” Derek’s grin turned devilish. “It wasn’t actually about market conditions.”

“Oh, you son of a bitch.” Despite your words, you laughed, and Derek joined in.

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The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Mike stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. Beside him, you laid still, chest rising and falling rhythmically. You were tangled in each other's arms, cocooned in the soft warmth of your shared bed.

Mike blinked away the last remnants of sleep, his gaze landing on your peaceful face. Your hair was tousled, and a faint smile curved your lips. He couldn't help but smile back. The both of you had been through so much together—late-night conversations, laughter, tears, and stolen kisses—and yet, every morning felt like a new beginning.

He shifted closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open. The first thing you saw was Mike, and your smile widened. "Good morning, did you sleep?" you whispered, your voice still thick with sleep.

The nightmares had plagued him ever since the kidnapping of his little brother. The faceless abductor, Garret's terrified eyes, the guilt—it all came rushing back in the dead of night. He'd wake up drenched in sweat, unable to breathe, feeling like he was failing his brother all over again.

You stayed up with him during the nights when the nightmares were too much. You helped him when he woke up screaming, tears streaming down his face.

"Morning," Mike replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Did you sleep well?"

You stretched, your limbs intertwining with his. "Like a baby," you said. "Your presence is my best lullaby."

He chuckled, tracing lazy circles on your back. "I could say the same about you." The room was filled with the soft rustle of sheets as you shifted, getting comfortable. Outside, birds chirped, and the distant hum of traffic reminded you two that the world was waking up too.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, your eyes curious. "What time is it?"

Mike glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Early," he said. "But who needs time when we have this moment?"

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips were warm and inviting, and Mike lost himself in your taste. You kissed slowly, savoring each other, as if you had all the time in the world.

And you really wished you did.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your head on his chest. "I love mornings like this," you murmured. "Just us, no rush, no worries."

Last night he didn’t have to work at the pizzeria and you grasped the opportunity to make up for lost time.

Mike mumbled something incoherent that you almost certainly assumed was a sign of him agreeing with you.

It was your little bubble, where everything else fades away.

You lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, while you shared stories about the fragments of a dream you had tonight and was lucky enough to remember.

"What's on your agenda?" Mike asked.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, let's see. Waking up Abby, breakfast , followed by cuddles, and then maybe pretending to be sick so I don’t have to leave for work."

"Sounds perfect," Mike said. "But what if I add a twist?"

Your eyes sparkled. "What kind of twist?"

He gently rolled you onto your back, hovering slightly above you, his beloved. "Tonight, I had a wonderful dream that I so dearly wish to recreate."

Your smile turned into a subtle smirk, despite the fatigue that gripped you from waking up just minutes ago. You raised an eyebrow, curious. "A dream? Odd, it felt so vivid to me."

"Yes, it was so splendid it seemed impossible to be real."

You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss. Your lips met, hungry and passionate, as if you were making up for all the kisses you hadn't shared during the night while you held each other as if there was no other person in the world.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

You sit at the kitchen table, cradling a warm mug of coffee in your hands. The sun spills through the window, casting a gentle glow on the checkered tablecloth. Across from you, Mike sips his own coffee, his eyes still heavy with sleep. It’s one of those quiet, comfortable moments—the kind that make mornings bearable.

Abby, Mike’s adorable sister, perched on a stool, her pigtails bouncing as she swung her legs.

“You slept well?” You asked while taking a small sip from your cup, tilting your head to the side when you saw the expression on her face.

Abby squinted her eyes, her little forehead wrinkling in concentration. “You know what?” she said, her voice serious. “Your bed creaks a lot at night.”

Mike choked on his coffee, and your coffee goes down the wrong pipe, and you cough, sputtering. You and Mike exchanged wide-eyed glances, both of your faces turning various shades of crimson. The previous night’s activities had indeed been...energetic.

“Uh, Abby,” Mike stammered, “it’s just an old bed. You know, wood settling and all that.”

Abby shook her head, her eyes wide with innocence. “But I sometimes hear it and other times no! You think that a new bed for you two will work?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh.

Mike leaned closer to you, whispering, “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

You grinned. “Big trouble. The mattress we have is too comfortable to loose”

“Abby,” Mike said, leaning toward her, “you’re right. We’ve been having epic pillow fights at night.”

“Pillow fights?” Abby’s eyes sparkled. “Really?” She asked towards you.

“Oh, ehm... yeah” you stammered before recovering. “Mike snores too loudly and I use a pillow to stop him”

Abby claps her hands, her laughter bubbling forth like a mountain spring. Your heart swells; this is parenthood at its finest— the shared conspiracies towards the same member of the family.

Mike glares at you, but his lips twitch. He’s caught between irritation and affection.

Abby gets out of her chair and starts jumping out of excitement. “Can I join your pillow fight club?”

“Of course!” You said. “But only if you promise not to tell anyone about our secret pillow fights.”

Abby put her tiny hand over her heart. “Cross my heart! But seriously, you should get a new mattress.”

You and Mike burst into laughter, your embarrassment now completely forgotten. Abby’s innocence was a balm for your souls.

As you all finished breakfast, Abby skipped off to draw, leaving the two of you alone.

You leaned across the table, your fingers brushing.

“You know,” you whispered, “maybe tomorrow we could check the bed’ slats. The noises might come from them”

Mike grinned. “Isn’t it romantic to you? Our bed serenading us through the night.

You cheeks tainted in red. “Mike, focus! We need a solution. How about we flip the mattress? Maybe it’s just grumpy from being on the same side for years.”

“Fine, let’s flip the mattress. And while we’re at it, we can tighten the screws. But then we’ll have to test to make sure it doesn’t make any more noises” Mike said while nuzzling your neck.

“Deal,” you giggled from the tickled caused by his stubble.

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The sun, in the late afternoon, casts its golden rays through the window of the house. The rooms are bathed in a warm, honey-colored glow. Dust particles float lazily in the air, illuminated by the sunbeams. The light dances across the floor, creating elongated rectangles that stretch from the window to the opposite wall.

A shame you were not capable of enjoying the beautiful display as you embarked on a quest to find your elusive phone. You tiptoed into the room you shared with Mike, who was busy lifting weights from his bench press. Sweat glistened on his forehead as he strained against the iron. He was a security guard after all, he should at least maintain himself in form, even if no one would probably enter that creepy and abandoned place he works at.

Your eyes scanned the room, but the phone remained elusive.

“Hey, Mike,” You called out, feigning innocence. “Have you seen my phone? It’s playing hide-and-seek.”

Mike paused mid-lift, wiping his brow. His eyes narrowed playfully. “Your phone? Nah, it’s probably hiding from you, considering how much you use it”

“You know, Mike,” You said, “you’re not exactly intimidating when you’re always this tired.”

Mike chuckled, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Yeah, well,” he panted, “I’m going for the ‘approachable’ vibe.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Approachable? More like ‘about-to-collapse’.”

Mike set the barbell back on the rack and wiped his face with a towel. “You think I’m weak?”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

You groaned in annoyance as you kept searching for your phone in the room. You needed to answer to some important stuff for work.

Maybe it fell down from your wardrobe? You turned around and bent down on your knees, looking under the creaky bed and finally spotting your phone under it.

A sigh of relief left your lips. Your arm stretched out under the bed, fingers grazing the cool wooden floorboards. Your phone lay just out of reach, teasing you with its silent screen.

“Come on,” You muttered, wiggling your fingers. “Just a little more.”

But just as your fingertips brushed the edge of the phone a pair of arms was wrapped around your waist, and lifted you off the ground.

You yelped in surprise, legs kicking in the air as Mike scooped you up in his arms, bridal style “Mike! What the—”

Your heart races, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. The warmth from his body envelops you, his scent—part musk, part fresh air—fills the room and you cling to him instinctively as you wrap your arms around Mike’s neck.

Your fingers find their way to the back of his neck, where you feel the tension in his muscles. The room spins around you, and you laugh— a genuine, unguarded sound— as he carries you toward the window.

“See?” Mike grunted, pretending not to strain. “Not weak at all.”

His strength surprised you; he might look fatigued, but those biceps were no joke.

"Mike" you protest playfully, "what are you doing?"

He grins down at you, his eyes sparkling. "Taking you to see the sunset," he says, his voice low and intimate.

The warmth of his skin seeps through your shirt as he steps closer to the window, the fading sunlight bathes you both. Despite being so simple, the garden outside looks beautiful under the sunlight.

"Look," he murmurs, tilting your chin upward. The sun kisses the horizon, casting a golden glow on your faces. "Isn't it beautiful?"

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from the view. But it's not just the sunset that steals your breath—it's the way Mike looks at you, as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. The warmth of his love surrounds you, and you know that this memory will stay with you forever.

And in that moment you forget about everything except the warmth of Mike’s arms and the love in his eyes. Bridal style or not, your exactly where you want to be—held close, suspended in love, and ready to face the sunset together.

Abby had heard the laughter from the hallway. She burst into the room, eyes wide with curiosity. “What’s going on here?”

Mike grinned, showing you like a trophy obtained with so much hard work and explaining to her how you told him he is weak.

With you still in his arms, Mike walked closer to the bed from where you previously were. His legs trembled slightly, but he held on. You giggled, and Abby skipped alongside you two, cheering like you all were in a parade.

“Mike,” Abby said, eyes wide, “can you lift me too?”

Mike chuckled. “Give me a second”

Mike gently sets you down. You both caught your breath, laughing and feeling the warmth of shared moments.

Abby joined in and you watched with a grin as Mike lifted her up from the floor, making her laugh joyfully.

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The moon hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the plain and simple field. The abandoned playground stood like a relic from another time—a place where laughter once echoed, but now only silence prevailed.

Mike patrolled the rusted arcade games and cracked tables, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. His duty was to protect this forgotten place, even though he couldn't shake the feeling that something watched him from the shadows.

You had always been intrigued by the mysterious playground. You’ve heard stories—the kind whispered around campfires—about children who vanished here, leaving behind only their laughter and half-buried memories.

Tonight, unable to sleep, you decided to pay Mike a surprise visit. Abby was tucked safely in bed.

You park your car in the gravel lot, the crunch under your tires sounding unusually loud in the still night. The air is cool, tinged with the scent of rain that hasn't yet fallen. Ahead, the silhouette of the abandoned pizzeria looms, its windows dark.

Navigating through the shadows, you feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. Mike's job as a security guard here always seemed eerie to you, surrounded by empty halls and the echoes of machinery long silenced. But tonight, you're here to bring a little warmth to his solitary shift.

You enter the building, your footsteps echoing off the concrete. The stairwell is dimly lit, the walls tagged with graffiti.

Your footsteps crunched on the gravel path as you approached the main hall. The moonlight revealed twisted shapes—a carousel frozen mid-spin. Those animatronics behind the tents looked anything but friendly. The air smelled of damp earth and nostalgia, and you shivered despite the mild night.

Just as you stepped onto the cracked pavement, a beam of light swept across your path. Mike emerged from the shadows, his security uniform slightly disheveled and his eyes widened in surprise. His flashlight illuminated your face, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, despite the visible tiredness on his face

"What brings you here?" Mike said. His voice was a low murmur, gravelly and worn. Each syllable seemed to emerge from the depths of exhaustion, like a shipwreck survivor gasping for air.

You feigned innocence. "Oh, you know, just thought I'd drop by. Abby's asleep, Max is watching her and I couldn't resist exploring this creepy place."

Mike chuckled, a sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. "Exploring, huh? You're brave, but this is a private property, you should not be here”

You stepped closer, your breath mingling in the chilly air. "And what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Security Guard? Are you gonna call the police for an harmless intruder?"

“I'm willing to make an exception for you. Harmless you said? let’s see those hands. Empty pockets, please.”

You show him your empty hands “Clean as a whistle. Are you going to frisk me?”

Mike leans in, his voice low “I might have to. Strictly professional, of course. Turn around, hands against the wall."

Your heart started pounding while you played along, that deep voice that he made with a hint of tiredness was hot

You turned, placing your palms flat against the cool brick wall. Mike steps behind you, his breath warm against your neck.

"Spread your legs a little wider. We wouldn't want anything slipping past my expert frisking skills." He said, voice still low.

You stifled a nervous giggle, your pulse racing. Mike's hands move—firm, yet gentle—up your sides, skimming the edges of your coat.

"I assure you, I'm clean. No hidden weapons, no secret plans." Your voice was now trembling.

You can feel Mike leaning in closer, lips brushing your ear "Good. But I have to be thorough. Safety first, you know."

His hands continue their exploration, tracing the curve of your hips, then sliding down to your thighs. Your skin tingles, and you wonder if Mike can hear your heart pounding.

"Thorough is...appreciated." Your voice is barely audible now.

Mike’s fingers dip into your coat pockets, checking for imaginary things. His touch sends shivers down your spine.

"All clear. But there's one more area I need to inspect." He whispered

He steps closer, pressing against you, and your breath hitches. His lips brush your cheek, teasing.

"Your heart. It's racing. Is that normal during a routine frisk?" He whispered in a husky voice.

Before you can respond, Mike turns you around, his eyes searching yours. The playful game fades, replaced by something more intense.

"You're trouble. But I think I like it." His hand slid down to the flashlight's switch, turning it off. Darkness enveloped you two.

And then, his lips meet yours. The kiss was both sweet and urgent. A kiss that tastes of adventure, stolen moments, and the promise of something beyond a simple game.

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Pushing the door open, Mike shows you  the office he mainly works in, the bank of security monitors bright inside the dark room.

His tired face lights up with a smile as he sees you taking a seat to the chair next to his.

You spend the next hour talking, catching up, sharing a late snack you brought from home. Mike tries to focus on your stories, but his eyes begin to close, his head tilted forward slowly until he struggles to stay shiny and awake.

You suggest he get some rest. "I've got this," you assure him, motioning towards the monitors. "You need more sleep than I do."

Reluctantly, he agrees. He settles into a small cot in the corner of the room, his body visibly tense. "Just wake me if anything happens," he murmurs, his voice already slurring with exhaustion.

You nod, watching as he drifts off, the lines of his face softening. Quietly, you move to his chair, keeping an eye on the screens. The silence, the cameras showing nothing but abandoned spaces and those animatronics behind the tents.

It was normal for Mike to be so sleepy if every night here always plays out the same.

You could have sworn that the giant animatronic bear had moved its eyes towards the camera, but as soon as you blinked, he was no longer watching it.

Tiredness was having an effect on you too

An hour passes slowly. You jump slightly when Mike suddenly gasps, his breath ragged, his eyes wide and filled with the terror of the nightmare that's haunted him for years. Rushing to his side, you find him panting,

"It's okay, Mike, you're safe," you say softly, taking his hand. His grip is tight, almost painful.

"Garret... I saw Garret..." he chokes out, his voice ragged with fear and grief. You remember all too well the stories he's told you about his little brother, Garret, who was kidnapped years ago. It's a wound that never fully healed, one that haunts him in these vivid nightmares.

"Ssh, I'm here, Mike. You're not alone," you reassure him, stroking his hair as his breathing slowly calms. You've been through this many times over the years, yet each time feels just as heart-wrenching.

"I always think I could've saved him... If only I hadn’t been distracted," Mike confesses with tears streaming down his face.

“You did everything you could”, you remind him gently. “It’s not your fault”

"It's okay, it's okay, you're safe," you murmur, pulling him into your arms. His heart races against your chest as you hold him tightly, feeling his muscles tense with every shudder. These moments are heart-wrenching, yet after all these years, you know exactly what to do.

Mike clings to you, his breathing erratic, his grip tightens around you as if holding on for dear life.

"Focus on my voice, Mike," you continue, your tone steady and soothing. "Breathe with me. In... and out... In... and out." You guide him through the breathing exercises you've learned together, a routine that has become second nature on nights like these.

Gradually, his breaths become less shallow, the trembling subsides, and the grip of his fingers loosens around your arm. His face, buried in the crook of your neck, feels wet against your skin-tears, not uncommon on these long nights.

"You're doing great," you reassure him, brushing a hand through his hair, offering the comfort that words alone cannot. This touch, a simple gesture, often helps to anchor him back to the present, away from the nightmares.

Thank you," he says, his voice hoarse but sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do anything without me," you reply, a small, tired smile crossing your lips. "I'm here, always."

He rests his head on your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart-a sound that seems to comfort him as much as your presence. You stay awake a little longer, ensuring he drifts back into a more peaceful sleep, watching over him in the quiet of the night.

As you finally feel his body yield to exhaustion and the steady rhythm of his breathing indicates he's asleep, you allow yourself a moment of rest. Love, you remind yourself, is both a refuge and a strength, in the quiet of the night and beyond

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It was now morning. Soon it will be time to go back to Abby. Mike leaned against you, your fingers intertwined. "I don't know if I'll ever fully heal," he admitted. "But you make it bearable."

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "We'll take it one step at a time. Healing isn't linear, Mike. Some days will be harder than others, but we'll get through them together."

And so you did. Mike still woke up from nightmares, but you were there to help him, to remind him that he wasn't defined by his past.

As the days turned into weeks, Mike found himself laughing more, sleeping a little better. The shadows of the past didn't disappear, but they no longer consumed him. Your love was a lifeline, pulling him back from the abyss.

One night, as you lay tangled in each other's arms, Mike whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" you asked.

"For being my light," he replied. "For helping me find my way out of the darkness."

And you smiled, your eyes filled with tenderness. "Always, Mike. Always."

Chapter Text

The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the ancient trees that surrounded us. The mysterious island had drawn all of you together. You sat cross-legged on a rough-hewn log, your fingers tracing patterns in the dirt as you listened to the crackling sound of the campfire.

Sean sat beside you. His eyes were fixed on the flames, their golden glow reflecting in his eyes. Sean was brilliant, his mind a labyrinth of knowledge and curiosity. You’ve always admired his intelligence, the way he dives headfirst into puzzles and riddles. But lately, there’s something more, a warmth that settles in your chest when he smiles, a flutter when his hand brushes against yours.

He'd been the one to decipher the code that led us here, and now, with his ankle wrapped in makeshift bandages, he leaned heavily against your shoulder. His pain was etched in the lines around his eyes, but he refused to complain. 

Hank, Sean's stepfather, knelt by the fire, tending to the flames. His hands were gnarled from years of hard work, but they moved with a gentle grace as he adjusted the logs. 

When Sean had twisted his ankle on the treacherous path, Hank had popped it back into place without hesitation. They never got along that well, but you could see both of them slowly warming up to each other’s.

Now, he strummed a ukulele, its sweet notes weaving through the night air while he tried to cheer him up. The melody was haunting, a balm for your weary souls. You don’t know if Sean felt the same way, however, as he pressed his face on your shoulder, groaning from embarrassment as you laughed together with Hank.

Gabato, the stranger who'd washed ashore with you, Sean and Hank, sat across from Hank. His skin was bronzed by the sun, and he looked deep in thoughts.

Then there was Kailani, Gabato's daughter. She perched on a moss-covered rock, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders.

She was everything you weren’t: bold, beautiful, and unafraid.

Kailani's fingers brushed Sean's as she reached for a piece of fruit, and your heart clenched.

You and Sean had always been close. He was a mix of handsome and nerdy, the kind of person who could talk no stop about something for hours only to stutter an excuse for annoying who was around him. 

You had been there, by his side, helping him, supporting him. Hank had even mistaken you for a couple at first, which had left both of you blushing and stammering awkward denials. 

Despite your close bond, tonight, you felt out of place, a shadow among these vibrant people.

The conversation around the fire blurred into a background hum as you retreated into your thoughts. You couldn't help but compare yourself to Kailani. She seemed perfect for Sean: adventurous, beautiful, and able to match his curiosity and excitement for the unknown. What did you have to offer in comparison? 

You see the way Sean looks at her: admiration mixed with something deeper.

You glanced down at your entwined hands, a gesture that you two made without even realizing it many times but that you now have become accustomed to it. 

Sean's grip was warm and steady, but you felt the weight of inadequacy. What did you have to offer in this strange company? You weren’t brilliant like Sean or strong like Hank. You couldn't spin tales that made everyone laugh like Gabato or beautiful like Kailani. You were just the quiet observer, the outsider.

Sean deserve someone who could match his intellect, who could share his passion for unraveling mysteries.

His gaze lingered on you face.

“You’re okay?” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly on my hand.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

His eyes narrowed, and you knew he saw through my lie. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back against the log, his expression thoughtful.

“Hmm.” Sean’s voice held a hint of skepticism. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Yes, I know”

Then Sean squeezed your hand, and you looked into his eyes. They held warmth, understanding. You blinked back tears, your heart swelling.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

The night was a velvet shroud, cradling the island in its cool embrace. The fire had dwindled to a mere whisper of its former glory, and the forest rustled with secrets. Everyone else slept, their breaths soft and even, but your mind churned like the restless waves beyond the shore.

You laid on your makeshift bed of leaves and moss, staring up at the canopy of stars. Sean's breathing was steady beside your, his face relaxed in slumber. But you couldn't find rest. The weight of your insecurities pressed down, threatening to suffocate you.

And then, as if sensing your turmoil, Sean stirred. His fingers brushed your cheek, gentle as moonlight. He murmured your name softly, his voice a fragile thread. "Are you awake?"

The night air was cool, carrying whispers of pine and moss. Sean stood up from his position, his expression both nervous and determined. You blinked at him, your heart doing a clumsy pirouette.

“Hey” he said, his voice soft yet resolute. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want to take a walk? Get some fresh air?"

He chose you and not her

You started to get up from your position. “Where?” Your heart was beating faster the more your brain started to understand the intimacy of the situation.

Sean’s eyes sparkled. “Deep into the woods,” he said. “I found a spot earlier where I saw something beautiful that I wanted to show you”

He stood before you, his hand outstretched, inviting you into the unknown.

“But your leg,” you blurted out, noticing his leg free from the bandages you used on him.

He waved off my concern. “It’s fine now. Hank worked his magic. I feel hardly any pain now. Besides, I want to show you something.”

Your heart fluttered. He wanted to share a secret with me. You pushed aside your insecurities and took his hand.

Outside, the forest enveloped you two. The moon peeked through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Sean led you deeper, his steps sure. You stumbled once, but he caught you, his touch warm and steady.

“Where are we going?” You asked again, voice barely audible.

Sean's eyes sparkled, and he pressed a finger to his lips, urging silence. You were like two conspirators, sneaking out for a midnight rendezvous.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, Sean's steps were catlike,each one calculated to avoid twigs and fallen leaves. You tried to mimic his stealth, but your foot caught on a stubborn root, and you stumbled. Sean caught you, his lips curving into a half-smile.

"Graceful," he teased, and you swatted his arm playfully. "You're lucky a giant lizard didn't hear that."

You shuddered, remembering this morning's close encounter. In a way it made Sean remember that close encounter he had with that dinosaur when he was alone in the center of the earth, a story that you loved to hear from him from time to time and that he loved to tell you whenever you asked.

You were so cute to him whenever you showed curiosity towards him.

And now, in the heart of the forest, Sean stopped. His gaze fixed on a cluster of vibrant blue. Butterflies, dozens of them, flitted among the ferns, their wings shimmering like shards of sky.

"Look," he said, his voice hushed. "They're like living gems."

You watched, mesmerized, as the butterflies danced. Their flight was erratic yet purposeful, weaving intricate patterns in the moonlight. One landed on your outstretched palm, its wings brushing your skin. You held it gently, your eyes alight with wonder.

You reached out, your fingertip grazing the butterfly's iridescent wing. "They're breathtaking."

Sean leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "You know what else is breathtaking?" he murmured. "You."

Your heart stuttered. "Me?"

"I've always liked you. More than liked you. Given the place where we ended up thanks to me I thought it would be better to tell you.“

"But Kailani—" You begin, your voice faltering.

His gaze lingering on your face. His fingers brushing yours.

“Is that why you’ve been quiet tonight?” he said softly.

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to look him in the eyes “I just… I feel inadequate sometimes.”

“Inadequate?” Sean’s voice held a mix of confusion and concern.

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah. Like a ghost that nobody notices” His thumb brushed your knuckles. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re amazing, Sean.  You’re smart, funny, and everyone loves you. And then there’s me, just ordinary.”

His laughter was soft, a gentle melody. “Ordinary? You’re extraordinary.”

You scoffed. “Right. I’m not as smart or outgoing as you. I stumble over my words, and I’m not exactly the life of the party.”

“You don’t need to be.” His eyes held mine. “You’re enough. More than enough.”

You leaned into his palm, your heart aching with gratitude. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you listened when I kept rambling about that coded signal my grandfather left. You remember all the time that we spent together trying to decipher it? You always cheered me up when I was about to give up from frustration. You notice the little things like the way I take my coffee, the songs that make me smile. And you make the best hot chocolate on chilly nights.”

“That’s just—”

“No, it’s not ‘just.’ It’s everything.” His lips brushed mine, a soft promise. “You’re my anchor. The one who I want to be with all the time”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I love you, Sean.”

“And I love you.” He ducks to kiss you. It's gentle and sweet and romantic, a kiss that tasted of moonbeams and promises. His mouth moved against yours, gentle yet urgent. It was a kiss that held all the words you needed to hear, the reassurance, the longing, the desire to banish your insecurities. 

He nudges you to walk backwards until your back hits a tree. Your lips remained sealed in this kiss that was tentative at first but grew deeper and more fervent. Sean's hands moved to cradle your face gently, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, fueled by a passionate urgency. The wild world around you completely vanished, leaving you two enveloped in your own cocoon of warmth and longing.

Sean trailed kisses down your neck, and sucked on a sweet spot which caused you to let out the sweetest moans Sean has ever heard. 

"Tonight's all about you” 

Sean loved the way you gasped, the way your fingers curled in his shirt as you pressed yourself into him, hips dragging down onto him.

Your laughter, your scent, the feel of your hand on his upper arm, he had become utterly smitten with you and he knew there was no turning back, nor did he want to. 

Lips seeking skin, tongue flicking out to pull little gasps from your lips. Soft and yielding as he pressed between your legs, pulling them around his waist. His name torn from your lips as he whispered against them, “precious, wonderful, so good,” he moved slowly, taking his time as he told you just how good you felt. 

Loved slowly exploring your body with his, finding new ways to make you gasp his name, new ways that would cause you to arch into him, dragging him closer, his curiosity was insatiable.

As he started pushing in, your eyes filled with tears, of love and euphoria. You whimpered from the intrusion and he just kissed you sweetly to distract you from the pain. Sean noticed the wetness flowing down your cheeks, and kissed them lovingly. 

Heat rose to your cheeks, you moved a hand covering your face, stifling an embarrassed chuckle. Sean tutted, pulling your hand away and pressing his lips against yours, hips never ceasing as he felt you tighten around him.

Gods, he was addicted to your small whimpers, the taste of you, all of you.

He smiled, hand catching your jaw, “ready?” you nodded, the coil in your belly tightening, snapping as he went in harder, faster. 

It ended like this, you first with him losing his rhythm, driving into you until he let out a groan that he suppressed by biting his face in your neck.

“I love you.” He grinned as you responded with giggles, the sound that always made his heart flutter. 

Chapter Text

As the clock struck seven, the office building was nearly deserted, save for a few late workers finishing their tasks. You hurriedly gathered your belongings, eager to join Derek. Tonight, you were leaving together, headed for his luxurious house to spend the night. 

To be able to work together without too many interruptions, of course.

You stand in front of the elevator, waiting for it to arrive at your floor. Your fingers tapping lightly against the sleek, metallic walls. Your colleagues shuffle past, casting furtive glances in your direction. They know, of course. Everyone knows about you and Derek. You don't care.

Derek, the CEO with a reputation that precedes him, is standing close. Too close, some would say. His presence is magnetic, his arrogance almost a physical force that compels attention.

His breath is warm against your ear as he leans in. "You look stunning tonight," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "I can't wait to get you out of that office attire and into something more... comfortable."

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you maintain your composure. You tilt your head slightly, allowing his words to wash over you, a sly smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?" you reply, your voice steady. "And what might that be?"

He chuckles, a rich, indulgent sound that draws the ire of your coworkers even more. "You'll see soon enough. But first, we have to get out of here."

The elevator finally arrives with a soft ding. The doors slide open, and you both step inside, the space feeling intimate and closed off from the rest of the world. Derek wastes no time. As soon as the doors shut, he pulls you close, his hands roaming over your back.

As the elevator doors close behind the last group of employees, you feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation.

His presence beside you is a comforting reminder of your relationship, a bold statement of defiance against societal expectations.

The elevator's ascent was slow, a crawl towards the freedom of the evening. Derek's hand was warm in yours, a silent promise of the night ahead. His thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, a small act that spoke volumes in the silence of the elevator, sending a thrilling current through your body. 

His lips are close to your ear, and you can feel his breath as he whispers sweet nothings that make you blush. 

The few remaining occupants of the elevator shift uncomfortably, their disapproval palpable, but it only adds a rebellious thrill to the moment.

You notice the glances from your coworkers, their eyes narrowed with irritation and perhaps a tinge of envy. The tension in the confined space grows with each passing second. 

Derek seems oblivious, or perhaps he simply doesn't care, his focus entirely on you. He was the son of the president, after all, and his actions bore the mark of someone who knew they were above reproach. 

His voice, low and intimate, carries words meant only for you but loud enough for others to overhear.

"You're irresistible" Derek murmurs, his hand trailing lightly down your arm. "I can't wait to have you all to myself tonight."

You feel a blush creep up your neck at his bold words, aware of the curious stares from your colleagues. The elevator moves slowly, each floor passing in what feels like an eternity. You shift uncomfortably, yet Derek's presence beside you is both a reassurance and a source of mounting desire.

"Do you remember the last time we were alone like this?" Derek continues, his voice a teasing whisper. "The way you looked at me when you thought no one was watching? I couldn't stop thinking about it."

One of your coworkers, an older man that you forgot his name, clears his throat loudly, a pointed attempt to break the spell. Derek glances at him briefly, a faint smirk playing on his lips, before returning his attention to you.

"You drive me crazy" he whispers, his lips grazing your ear. "Just thinking about tonight makes it hard to focus on anything else."

"Remember the party last month?" Derek continues, his voice low and smooth. "When we slipped away for a moment alone in the garden?"

You shift uncomfortably, the blush deepening as you recall that night, your mind torn between embarrassment and a thrill of anticipation. The elevator's soft hum seems to amplify Derek's words, making each syllable resonate in the confined space.

One of your coworkers, Rachel, stands rigidly to the side, her jaw clenched. She's the head of marketing, known for her professionalism and strict adherence to company policy. Yet now, she is forced into silence, her frustration barely concealed. She casts a quick, disapproving glance your way, but there's nothing she can do.

Across from her, James, the senior analyst, adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, a futile attempt to break the tension. He shoots a look at Derek, then at you, but ultimately remains silent, knowing that speaking out would only invite trouble.

Derek, seemingly oblivious or perhaps enjoying the discomfort he's causing, leans in closer. His breath warm against your ear as he kept talking.

Rachel shifts uncomfortably, her patience clearly wearing thin. She opens her mouth, ready to say something, but then catches herself, Her eyes flicking to the floor indicator as if willing the elevator ove faster. She remembers all too well the fate of a former colleague who had hoan hold enough to criticize your relationship with Derek. Derek had fired him the next day after hearing about the incident from you.

James fidgets with his phone, pretending to check emails but clearly more interested in avoiding eye contact. He steals another glance at Derek, his annoyance barely concealed.

The elevator dinged, signaling another floor, another departure. The doors slide open, and your colleagues practically rush out. This wasn't the floor all of the them asked the elevator to bring them to when they first entered, but they were too eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere.

His fingers tightened around your waist, possessive and unyielding. The space grew emptier, until it was just you and Derek, alone in the descending box.

Derek's lips found your neck, and you stifled a giggle. "Smooth move, Mr. CEO," you teased.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. "I can't have anyone disrespecting you, can I? We're just enjoying a moment together. No harm in that, is there?" His lips trailed upward. The world narrowed to the two of you: the CEO and his unapologetically affectionate secretary.

Derek's laughter mingled with yours. You feel a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. Derek's confidence and indifference to their judgment is thrilling.

Derek's arm found its way around your waist, pulling you closer. "Finally alone," he breathed, and you could hear the smile in his voice. The proximity sent your heart racing, and you leaned into him, your body responding to his nearness.

As the elevator descends, you and Derek change knowing glances, the promise of the night ahead hanging in the air between you. The lights flicker, and for a brief moment, the elevator jolts to a halt. You clutch Derek's arm instinctively, and he steadies you with a reassuring squeeze of your hand. The silence is punctuated only by the distant rumble of thunder from the storm raging outside.

The gentle hum of the machinery was a comfort, a prelude to the evening ahead. But as the elevator reached the middle floors, a sudden jolt brought it to an abrupt halt. The lights flickered and went out, plunging you both into darkness, the emergency lighting casting an eerie glow over Derek's features.

Derek immediately pulled out his phone, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. His fingers danced over the screen as he tried to make a call, but the signal bars stubbornly stayed empty. He swore under his breath, frustration already seeping into his voice. Known for his short temper, you could see the annoyance building in his eyes, his jaw tightening with each passing second.

"Dammit, there's no signal in here!" he growled, pacing the small space. "Of all nights, it had to be tonight. This is ridiculous!"

You knew Derek well enough to understand his fits of anger, the way stress gnawed at his patience until he exploded. Tonight was no different, and you could feel the tension rising between the confined walls of the elevator.

Gently, you reached out, placing a hand on his arm to still his pacing. "Derek, it's okay," you said softly, your voice a soot contrasting to his irritation. He glanced at you, the anger in his eyes softening slightly at your touch.

You stepped closer, your hand moving to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. "We'll get out of here soon," you murmured, your lips near his ear. "Just breathe."

Derek sighed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as you continued to stroke his hair. The storm outside raged on, the wind howling against the building, but inside the elevator, you created a bubble of calm. Your touch was gentle, reassuring, and slowly, you felt the tension in his body start to ebb away.

You always knew how to calm him down.He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

"It's what I'm here for," you replied with a small smile, continuing to whisper soothing words. Your fingers traced small circles on his scalp, and you could feel him gradually returning to his usual self, the irascible edge dulled by your presence.

Minutes stretched on, but you didn't stop. The connection between you both deepened in the silence, the storm outside a distant roar compared to the intimacy within the elevator. Derek's breathing steadied, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

The confined space suddenly feels smaller, more intimate. Derek's eyes meet yours, and there's an unspoken understanding between you. His hand finds the small of your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel his warmth against your skin.

"We might be here for a while," Derek murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. There's a playful glint in his eyes, and you can sense the shift in the air. The usual boundaries of your professional relationship blur, leaving only the raw attraction that has always simmered beneath the surface.

You lean into him, your body responding to his touch with a yearning that you've tried to keep in check for all day. The storm outside is a distant reality; inside this elevator, there's only you and Derek. His hands explore your back, tracing patterns that make your breath hitch. You respond in kind, pulling him closer until your lips meet in a searing kiss.

The passion that ignites between you is overwhelming, a rush of emotions that neither of you expected but both desperately need. Derek's hands are firm and confident, guiding you against the elevator wall as the kiss deepens. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of desire and something more profound that you've both been avoiding.

Every touch, every whispered word, fans the flames of your longing. Derek's hands find the hem of your shirt, and you shiver as his fingers brush against your skin, the sensation heightened by the thrill of being caught in this forbidden moment.

You break the kiss only to catch your breath, your eyes meeting Derek's with a mixture of need and uncertainty. His expression mirrors yours, a potent blend of lust and a deeper connection that has always been there, just beneath the surface. He cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

"Any... preferences?" Derek asked, breathing in your scent.

"I like the idea of mirrored walls," You admitted and Derek had to smile.

"You do, do you?" Derek growled.

Your eyes widened for a moment, then you shifted to spread your legs so Derek could easily stand between them, then you put your hands on the metal bar that ran all the way around the elevator.

Derek looked down for a moment, taking in the tight, white-knuckled grip. A smile escaped him.

Leaning in the last way, he captured your mouth in a sweet kiss, one that quickly turned nasty and openmouthed, making Derek groan. He slid his hands from the wall down over your shoulders.

Derek groaned into your mouth as his hands ended up on your ass, fingers tightening with nearly bruising strength. Shifting a little, Derek slid his hands down enough to boost you up against the wall, urging your thighs to slide up and around his waist.

The warm body with all its angles and planes and above all, the heat, made Derek forget where you were. All that mattered was the heat, the weight, the friction of your body against him.

And the noises.

The only sound filling the mirrored space was your harsh breathing, the wet sound of mouth upon mouth as you did your best to devour each other.

Biting into your lower lip before pulling his head back to break your kiss, Derek drew in air as if he'd never get enough to fill his lungs again.

Your gasps filled the small space and Derek turned his head, resting it against your shoulder as your bodies kept up the familiar dance. Derek caught the movement of your reflection of the elevator wall.

Oh, fuck... you looked like something out of a porn flick. Your head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open as you panted for breath. And Derek himself looked like he'd landed the best deal ever.

Which he had.

His fingers reached down to free you from these underwhelming clothes as your own fingers tugged down the zipper on his pants.

You closed again as he pushed himself into you, keeping his hands on your knees to keep you pinned to the wall.

You gasped and moaned as his lips crushed yours and muffled your sounds. 

One of your shoes dropped to the floor as he thrust into you.

The storm outside seems to intensify, the thunder echoing your racing heartbeat. You press yourself closer to Derek, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together. His hands roam your body with a possessive hunger, and you respond with equal fervor, your inhibitions melting away in the heat of the moment.

He switched nipples and pounded into you with more drive, his moans now equaling the volume of your gasps and whimpers.

You pulled him up to kiss him again, a kiss that made his brain spin and his heart race and his libido force his hips to pump even faster.

When the power eventually returns, and the elevator resumes its descent, you find the reality of your surroundings creeping back in.

"Derek" you whispered breathlessly into his ear as the elevator was close to reaching the first floor.

Soon the doors would open and everyone will see the both of you fucking.

"Almost there..." he moaned back, fucking into you hard and deep.

Each of his thrusts was greeted by an answering squeeze deep inside you. Each movement eliciting a noise of approval and desire. 

The intensity of your connection leaves you both breathless, and you lose yourself in the sensations, in the feel of Derek's body against yours, in the sound of his voice whispering your name.

Finally, as the doors of the elevator opened, you both shuddered in mutual satisfaction.

You could barely hear the sound that came from the elevator with your heartbeat going so fast. You clung to Derek more firmly while one of your eyes opened.

You were relieved to see that the lobby was empty.

The connection between you remains, a tangible thread that you know won't be easily broken. Your legs were trembling as you tried your best to put your clothes back on.

In the hallway, Derek kissed you with a fervor that left no room for doubt. The industry might whisper, might gossip, but you were unyielding, a force to be reckoned with. And as his lips claimed yours, you knew that love and power were your greatest allies.

The storm outside is a reminder of the intensity of your emotions, a perfect metaphor for the passion that has finally been unleashed. As you make your way to Derek's car, you exchange a knowing glance, the promise of the night ahead a tantalizing prospect. The boundaries of your relationship have shifted, and you both know that nothing will ever be the same.

The drive to Derek's house is filled with anticipation, the silence between you charged with unspoken desire. When you finally arrive, you can barely contain your excitement. Derek's home, with its luxurious comforts and private spaces, is the perfect setting for the fun to continue.

As you step inside, you turn to Derek, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of anticipation and resolve. "Tonight," you say softly, "let's not hold back."

Derek's smile is all the confirmation you need. "Agreed," he replies, pulling you into another passionate kiss. The storm outside rages on, but inside, you find solace in each other's arms, ready to explore the depths of your connection without fear or hesitation.

Chapter Text

You sit beside Mike in a cramped, overly air-conditioned conference room, its walls adorned with peeling paint and motivational posters that haven't been updated in ages. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over everything, making it feel more like a hospital waiting room than a place for learning. 

The professional at the front drones on, her voice a monotone murmur as she reads verbatim from a bland PowerPoint presentation. Her monotonous drone fills the air, a relentless onslaught of lifeless bullet points on child care, each one more tedious than the last.

You glance at the clock, its ticking a constant reminder of the hours dragging on.

You shift in your chair, trying to get comfortable while feeling the hard plastic dig into your back. 

Mike shifts uncomfortably in his seat next to you, his eyes struggling to stay open. His fatigue is palpable, dark circles mar his eyes, and his hair is tousled in a way that suggests he barely had time to run a comb through it before rushing here. You know he's had a rough night, another sleepless vigil followed by a demanding night shift.

He glances at you with a weary but determined smile, trying to muster some enthusiasm. He leans in closer, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the chill in the room. "Is it just me, or is this the most boring thing ever?" he whispers, his voice low and gruff with fatigue.

You chuckle softly, not wanting to attract the instructor's attention. "Definitely not just you," you reply, sharing a conspiratorial smile. The instructor, a gray-haired woman in an ill-fitting suit, continues to read directly from her PowerPoint slides, oblivious to the whispers and stifled yawns in the room.

Mike shifts his chair even closer to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. "I can't believe we have to sit here twice a week," he murmurs. "I'd rather be doing... well, pretty much anything else."

He's trying so hard to stay awake, but the material is unrelentingly dull.

He had already taken care of Abby since her birth, those were all things that he knew already.

You shuffle closer to him, your chairs scraping softly against the linoleum floor. He leans closer, his arm bushing yours. "How are we supposed to learn anything when she's just reading to us?" His voice a low, gravelly murmur.

You smile at him, appreciating his effort. "Just try to hang in there, Mike. The more you think about it, the slower time seems to go away."

He leans closer to you again, his breath warm against your ear. "I don't know how much longer I can stay awake," he confesses, his voice laced with a tired charm that makes your heart flutter.

You nudge him playfully "Just try to hang in there."

Mike sighs heavily, his eyes blinking slowly. He leans even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "You know, if this were a different kind of class, I'd be finding other ways to stay awake," he murmurs, his voice taking on a playful, flirtatious tone despite his exhaustion.

You can't help but giggle softly. "Oh really? And what would those ways be?"

He smirks, his tired eyes twinkling mischievously. "Maybe we could... practice some hands-on techniques" he suggests, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You're way more interesting than this presentation," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your boredom.

You chuckled softly again, glancing around to make sure no one notices, "Focus, Mike. Stop distracting me."

He chuckles, but it's a weary sound. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's hard when you're sitting right next to me."

You roll your eyes affectionately, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest. 

Before you can respond, the lecturer clears her throat, and you both straighten up, trying to look attentive. Mike stifles a yawn, his hand covering his mouth.

You turn your attention back to the presentation, scribbling notes as the professional continues to drone on.

This course is just another hoop to jump through in the fight for custody of Abby. Jane, their aunt, is contesting custody, not out of love, but for the financial benefits. The thought makes your blood boil, but you push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Mike's voice breaks through your thoughts, softer this time. "I really appreciate you being here with me," he says, his hand finding yours under the table. "I couldn't do this without you."

Your heart swells with affection. "We're in this together," you reply, squeezing his hand. "We'll get through it, boring lectures and all."

An hour passes with agonizing slowness.

The instructor's droning voice seems to meld with the hum of the air conditioning, creating a soporific background noise. Mike continues to fidget, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake. You can see the struggle in his eyes, and it breaks your heart.

This woman was a living sleeping pill and was starting to have an effect on you as well.

Suddenly you feel a weight on your shoulder. You glance over to find Mike fast asleep, his head resting against you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close even in sleep. His soft snores are a gentle, rhythmic sound in your ear. They tickle, and you stifle a laugh.

You glance around the room, hoping no one has noticed. The couple in front of you provides some cover, their heads bent together as they whisper and giggle, clearly paying no more attention to the lecture than you are. 

You adjust your position slightly, trying to make yourself more comfortable while supporting his weight. The last thing you want is to wake him up; he desperately needs the rest.

With one arm pinned by Mike's embrace, you do your best to jot down the key points from the slides, your handwriting growing messier as your hand tires. 

The instructor continues her monotonous lecture, oblivious to the sleeping figure beside you.

Mike stirs, his body slipping precariously towards the edge of his chair. You gasp softly and adjust him, his head lolling against your shoulder. He mumbles something, his arm tightening around your waist. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, your heart swelling with affection for him.

Every so often, Mike shifts or murmurs in his sleep, and you can't help but smile at his vulnerability. Despite the circumstances, there's something endearing about his trust in you, his ability to find solace in your presence even in such an unlikely place.

He looks so peaceful, so vulnerable. Your heart warms at the thought of his trust in you, even in sleep.

You glance around the room from time to time, paranoid that the professional will notice Mike's slumber. 

Your eyes meet those of a woman sitting a few rows away. She's watching you with a smile, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

Panic flares momentarily. 

What if she tells you?

The woman shifts slightly, revealing her own husband, who is slumped in his chair, fast asleep with his mouth open. She rolls her eyes and looks back at you, her expression a mix of resignation and amusement. You relax a bit, realizing she's not going to make a scene.

Time drags on. The instructor moves from one tedious topic to the next, covering everything a child needs with the same lackluster enthusiasm. You find yourself stifling yawns leaning toward Mike’s head without applying too much pressure. 

You know how much this means to Mike, and by extension, to you. Abby deserves to be with someone who genuinely cares for her, not someone who sees her as a paycheck.

A sudden loud snort startles you, and you realize it came from Mike. You glance around quickly, but it seems no one noticed. You stifle a laugh, shaking your head fondly at him. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and unguarded, only makes you love him more.

Two hours later, the session finally comes to an end. The instructor wraps up with a few half-hearted words of encouragement before dismissing everyone. 

You nudge Mike gently, whispering his name. He stirs, blinking groggily as he lifts his head from your shoulder and starts looking around in confusion. "Did I fall asleep?”

You nod, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, but don't worry. I took notes for both of us."

He sighs, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his face. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Mike stretches, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess.

"Ready to go home?" you ask, linking your arm with his.

He nods, a tired but content smile on his face. "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

The drive home is quiet, both of you lost in your thoughts. The fight for Abby's custody is far from over, but moments like these remind you why it's all worth it. You glance over at Mike, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. He's tired, but there's a determination in his eyes that makes you proud to stand by his side.

As you crawl into bed, the exhaustion finally hits you. Mike slides in next to you, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist. You turn to face him, your eyes meeting in the dim light.

"Thank you for today" he says, his voice soft and sincere. "I couldn't do this without you."

You smile, Jeaning in to kiss him. "We're in this together, Mike. For Abby"

“Speaking of which, should we text Vanessa?” You asked him. You had asked her if she could watch over Abby while you were both busy without really giving her a perfect hour of when you will both be free again.

She agreed whole heartily, saying she had no problems at keeping her until night.

“Let’s wait a little longer. I’m sure Abby is having fun with her”

“You’re already tired?” a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The memory of him dozing off, his head resting heavily on your shoulder, played through your mind like a gentle tease.

"Honestly, I can't believe you slept through the whole thing," you chuckled.

"Thanks, you know," he said, his eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief. "Letting me use your shoulder as a pillow saved me from complete boredom."

You laughed, the sound light and easy. "Anytime. Though, I think I deserve a reward for being such a good pillow."

Mike grinned lazily as he moved closer, his hands resting on either side of your hips. "A reward, huh? I think I can manage that."

He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that started slow and tender but quickly grew in intensity. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, your breaths mingling in the heated space between you two.

He broke the kiss. His forehead resting against yours as he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a playful glint. "You know," he began, his voice low and intimate, "I really need to tire myself out if I want to sleep tonight."

A knowing smile spread across your face. "Is that so?" you replied, your tone equally suggestive.

Without further preamble, Mike leaned in, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss once again. His hands cradled your face, his touch both tender and insistent. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you ensconced in this moment of intimacy. His kisses deepened, each one more urgent than the last, as if he was trying to erase the dullness of the evening with the intensity of his passion

You responded eagerly, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The warmth of his body against yours, the rhythm of his breath mingling with your own, created a cocoon of shared desire. Mike's hands began to explore, tracing the contours of your body with a familiarity that still managed to ignite sparks of excitement.

As the kiss broke, Mike's eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race. "I think I'm starting to get tired," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

You laughed softly, a sound of pure contentment. "Then I suppose we should keep going until you're ready to sleep," you teased, pulling him back in for another searing kiss.

He grabbed your thigh and pulled half of you body on the top of his. Your head was laying on his chest alongside your hands.

It would have felt cute and really cuddly if it wasn’t for his leg right between your thighs.

He knew what he was doing.

He pressed harder, making your breath heavier. “hm...Mike..” you breathed heavily.

Air leached outta his nose as he liked what he heard.

His hand slipped down your neck to your lower back. As his hand were giving you chills and making your back arch; his hand slipped inside and grabbed your butt. He squeezed, his grip making his nails dig into your skin, making you flinch.

“Mike please”

“You’re so adorable” Mike whispers as he presses inside.

You let out a mixture between a moan and a laugh, and Mike thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. 

He sets a slow and steady pace, the two of you staring into each other’s eyes as he slowly rocks them back and forth. You wrapped your arms around his neck while you shared kiss after kiss.

Mike can’t help but to speed up his movements a bit, the feeling too good to resist as he brings you that much closer to the edge.

You wrap your legs tight around Mike as he continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and you moans, peppering Mike’s face with kisses as you tell him how good he is and how much you love him. 

When Mike finally falls over the edge, his face is the picture of pure perfection, and you swear you’re staring at an angel as you fall right behind him, holding Mike close as the two of you try and come down from their intense high. You’re breathing hard, both of you covered in sweat, but your smiles are bright, and you share another kiss and whisper “I love you’s”.

In each other's arms, the promise of a restful night seemed almost secondary to the joy of the present moment.

Together, you'll fight for what's right, and no amount of boring lectures or bureaucratic obstacles can stand in your way.

Chapter Text

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon, and you were in Derek's lavish, well- appointed office. The office was a reflection of Derek's personality: imposing and extravagant. You were busy compiling files and documents for Derek, efficiently sorting through the plethora of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the minute.

Derek was feared and respected in equal measure within the industry. His favoritism towards you was no secret, and while it occasionally ruffled feathers among the staff, no one dared to challenge it outright.

You were lost in your work when the door to Derek's office swung open. Startled, you looked up to see Mr. Westwyld. He was a tall man with a perpetual look of mild confusion, as if he was always trying to solve a complex problem in his head.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Westwyld" you greeted him with a professional smile, attempting to mask your surprise and maintain an air of composure.

"Good afternoon," he replied, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for Derek. "I was hoping to speak with Derek about a large commercial event he's been invited to. It's quite important, and I need to brief him on the details."

His graying hair was impeccably combed, and his suit bore the faint creases of a long commute.

"Where's he?"

Underneath the desk, hidden from view, Derek was there, his presence a secret only you were privy to. You felt a slight tickle on your leg and had to stifle a giggle. Derek was evidently annoyed by the interruption but seemed to find amusement in the situation, his fingers danced along your calf.

You could feel his fingers trickling up your bare legs, feeling them encroaching further. 

He's not going to wait.

"He's not here at the moment," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I can take a message for him"

You words almost caught in your throat as Derek's fingers danced higher, his touch more insistent.

Mr. Westwyld looked slightly perturbed but nodded in acceptance. "Alright then. Please tell him that the annual Global Business Summit has extended an invitation to him. It's a significant event, with numerous high-profile attendees. For next week. A gathering of industry bigwigs"

Now, you were frustrated, and Derek could sense it in the knots of your flesh as he caressed your legs, breathing sweet love into you as he began to use his mouth and tongue.

You leaned back in the leather chair from the rush of pleasure. "Ah, t-the annual networking circus," you mused, drops of sweats starting to form on your forehead. "I'm sure Derek will be thrilled."

Mr. Westwyld raised an eyebrow. " Thrilled might be an overstatement. But it's essential for our company's image."

You nestled into the chair and instinctively spread your legs a little wider. You could feel Derek's lips curl into a smile. This was a brand of heaven; one you were enjoying. The waves and waves of pulsing pleasure wrapping around your lower half and making your body hum delightfully.

He brushed his lips against your bare leg down to your knee before proceeding to prep your thighs with light kisses over the still healing marks left by him from nights before.

The clothes and garments that keep your private parts hidden had been missing for more than an hour now, thank god hidden under the desk with him.

It was a little game that you and he made from time to time: you do the boring part of his work while he rewards you for your dedication.

God, this old man in front of you was still talking.

In truth, you barely listened. Your hands disappeared under the table and while your subconscious told you to pay attention, your fingers ran through Derek's mullet, all while he pleasured you in relative silence.

"-it would be a great opportunity for networking and potential partnerships. The details are in this folder." He handed you a thick manila folder.

Your fingers brushing against Mr. Westwyld's while you took the files. "Thank you" the spike of incredible pleasure catching your breath.

You struggled to keep your expression neutral, your body betraying you under Derek's relentless teasing.

Mr Westwyld's eyes lingered for a moment longer, his eyes studying you. "Are you alright? You seem... a bit distracted."

He ran his tongue and expertly flicked the bundle of nerves causing you to dig your other hand into his mullet. Derek began to lick and suck, feeling encouraged by your thighs tightening around his head and begging.

You forced a smile, fighting the urge to squirm as Derek's tongue kept torturing you in the most wonderful ways. A sharp and rather violent ecstasy. "Just a lot on my mind this morning, that's all. But thank you for your concern."

A muffled sound caught his attention, a soft giggle emanating from beneath the desk. His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced back at you.

"What was that?" he asked, suspicion etching his features.

You took the folder and placed it on the desk, your mind racing. 

"I'll make sure he gets it" you assured Mr. Westwyld, avoiding the question he made while trying to maintain your professionalism despite the distracting sensations under the desk.

Derek's hand shot out from beneath the desk, fingers wiggling like a spider. He grabbed your ankle, and you stifled a yelp. Derek's touch was electric, and you struggled to maintain your composure.

Another sharp and semi-stifled moan escaped through your tight lips as you shuffled in the chair again, sliding back into its curve as Derek encroached further, holding your thighs deep into the curve of your rear and squeezing lovingly.

His face was again between your thighs, his facial air tickling you while his mouth did all the work.

Mr. Westwyld seemed satisfied with your response, although he lingered for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on you. "Thank you," he said finally, turning to leave.

You nodded, focusing on maintaining your composure as Derek's mouth and fingers continued their playful but torturous exploration.

As the door closed behind him, you let out a sigh of relief, you felt your eyes beginning to roll a little as you craned your neck, arched your back and let your body shudder in intense harmony. Your hips jolted as you felt the orgasm spread through your body. 

You leaned forward, your face flushed with a mixture of annoyance and amusement while you were panting loudly, muffling the sounds you made with your hands.

"Derek, you're unbearable" you hissed, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

Derek's hands stilled for a moment, then he emerged from under the desk with a mischievous grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You handled that well," he said, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "But you know, I love seeing you squirm."

You glared at him, though your annoyance was tempered by the undeniable attraction you felt. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a straight face when you're doing that?"

Derek laughed, a sound that was both infuriating and intoxicating. "That's the point, love. I like keeping you on your toes."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you love me for it," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You sighed, leaning back in the chair as Derek stood and stretched.

He reached out, pulling you up from his chair and into his arms. Derek leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a silent affirmation of your bond. 

"Here, have fun reading all of this" you laughed while holding up the stack of papers that was now delivered.

Derek waved them away dismissively. "We'll get to that. But first, I want to ask you something important."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?"

"I want you to come with me to the summit" he said, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Me? Derek, don't you think it would be better to bring some of the coworkers to give speeches? Or to inform others about the company's progress?"

Derek shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I don't care about that. I want you to come with me. I need good company. These events always ends up being insufferably boring, and I want someone I can escape with when it gets too dull. You're coming with me"

"Alright, if you're sure."

Derek grinned, standing up and pulling you into his arms, lifting you momentarily to drop you on his desk. "Good, now you have to promise me you'll make sure I don't die of boredom."

You laughed, shaking your head at his 

antics. "Deal."

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

You step out of the sleek limousine, adjusting your clothes. Tonight, you are dressed in an outfit that exudes elegance and confidence. Your attire is a stunning ensemble that strikes a perfect balance between professional and glamorous. Your shoes, polished to a mirror-like shine, carry you with confidence across the marble floor.

Derek steps out behind you, his hand resting possessively on your lower back as he led you through the throng of attendees at the grand commercial event. 

The air buzzes with the hum of conversation, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter.

Derek leans in close to you. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate growl. Before you can respond, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand tightening possessively around your waist, drawing curious glances from the nearby attendees. The kiss is filled with the intensity of your relationship, a public display of your deep connection.

The intensity of his kiss catches you off guard and you pull back slightly, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

"Derek, we should wait until after the event" you whisper, glancing around nervously. He grins, a devil-may-care smile that speaks volumes about his disregard for public opinion. But he respects your wish, for now, and loosens his grip.

"Alright, but just know that I'll be counting down the minutes until I can have you all to myself," he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

He makes use of his vape, winking to you before he saunters off, mingling with potential business partners and industry bigwigs. You watch him go, your heart swelling with a complex mix of affection and admiration. Despite his arrogance and the sometimes abrasive exterior, Derek has a way of making you feel cherished and protected.

With Derek occupied, you decide to explore the venue. The place is magnificent, every corner exuding luxury and sophistication. As you wander through the elegantly decorated halls, you find yourself marveling at the intricate details of the decor, the sumptuous fabrics, and the breathtaking floral arrangements. Lost in the beauty of your surroundings, you barely notice the familiar face that approaches you until it's too late.

And then you hear your name, a voice from the past. Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with someone you once knew. High school memories flood back: the late-night study sessions, the shared laughter, the trust you placed in this person. But time has changed him. He's no longer the awkward teenager you remember; he's become a powerful figure in his industry, a man who commands attention.

He smiles, and it's a practiced smile—the kind that conceals motives. "Long time no see," he says, dripping with faux sweetness.. "I've been following your career. Impressive."

You swallow, the memories of his betrayal resurfacing. How he'd used your kindness to climb the social ladder, leaving you bruised and wary. "Thank you," you reply, your voice steady. "Likewise."

He's dressed impeccably, his attire reflecting his status as an important figure in his industry. "It's been so long. How have you been?"

His face is older, more refined, but unmistakably the same. He is now an influential figure in his industry; and his confident demeanor only adds to your discomfort.

You force a smile, the old wounds aching anew, "I've been well"  you reply, though your voice betrays a hint of discomfort.

He seems oblivious to your uncase, or perhaps he simply doesn't care. He launches into a monologue about his achievements, his rise to power, and the many people he's met along the way. You listen politely but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in memories of the past where his manipulations left you feeling used and discarded.

As he continues to talk, you feel a growing sense of discomfort. The bustling sounds of the event fade into the background as your thoughts swirl. You glance around, hoping to see Derek, to find some escape from this encounter. The room feels smaller, the air heavier.

Before you can respond, a familiar figure appears beside you. Derek, having noticed your absence, has come looking for you. His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene, instantly sensing the tension. 

His eyes locked onto the man with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Derek" you begin, relief flooding through you, but he's already next to you. His presence is a powerful deterrent, and the smug expression of the man in front of you falters as Derek steps forward, his arm protectively encircling your waist.

"Who's this?" Derek says coldly, his tone sharp. He doesn't wait for an answer, his gaze shifting to the man, who suddenly seems less confident.

"Derek, this is..." you start, but Derek cuts you off.

He steps between you and the man, his posture aggressive. "I saw you making my partner uncomfortable."

The man's smile falters, his eyes darting nervously. "I was just catching up with an old friend," he stammers, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Derek's eyes narrow. "It didn't look like a friendly conversation to me."

You feel a surge of emotions, partly grateful for Derek's protection but also anxious about the escalating tension. The man tries to protest, but Derek's voice cuts through like a knife.

"Let me make this clear" Derek says, his voice low and dangerous. "You stay away from my partner. You don't even know what I could do to you with a simple phone call"

The man's face pales, and he stumbles over his words. "I didn't mean any harm. I swear. I was just-"

"Just leaving" Derek finishes for him. "Now"

The man nods quickly muttering a hasty apology before turning and walking away, his shoulders hunched in defeat. 

Derek turns his attention to you.

"Let's go," he says, guiding you away from the encounter. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back, deeply hoping this will truly be the last time you see him.

Derek leads you to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Once you're alone, he pulls you into his arms, his lips seeking yours in a fervent kiss. You respond, but he quickly senses that something is amiss. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours.

"What's wrong? Is it really for that guy?" he asks looking at you with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"You really let that guy get to you, huh?" he begins, his tone dripping with condescension. "Listen, you shouldn't waste your time or energy caring about what others think."

You shift uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. Derek's words, though harsh, have a strange allure. There's a part of you that wants to believe him, to embrace his indifference to others' opinions.

"You see." Derek continues, his voice softening just a fraction, "you're with me now. That makes you more powerful than you've ever been. People are irrelevant now. They don't matter."

He leans closer, his eyes narrowing. "By being by my side, you're now in a whole new level. You have the power to do whatever you want"

You feel a strange sense of reassurance, a flicker of newfound confidence.

"So, next time you see that loser," Derek concludes, standing up and straightening his light green suit. "remember who you are now" 

Derek's words hang in the air, heavy with his characteristic arrogance. Yet, there's an undeniable truth in what he says. "And remember who you're with" he concluded his last sentence with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

A bubble of laughter escaped from your lips , feeling a surge of gratitude and love for the man who stands by your side. As he holds you, you can feel the weight of the past lifting, replaced by a renewed sense of determination and self-worth.

"And who knows," Derek adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he started to walk with you tight against him "maybe we can come up with a plan to sabotage his industry. Just for fun."

"I'd like that," you reply, your spirits lifting as you laughed with him. Together, you and Derek leave the event, the limousine awaits.

As soon as the door closes behind you both, Derek's demeanor shifts. He nonchalantly instructs the driver to take you to his residence. Then, without wasting a moment, he turns to you, his eyes dark with intensity. He pulls you close and starts to kiss you possessively, his lips demanding and urgent.

Between kisses, he whispers fiercely, "You don't need to think of that man when you have me." His words are a mixture of reassurance and possession. "That man made the wrong enemy," he continues, his breath hot against your skin.

His kisses deepen, each one more passionate and fervent than the last. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Only mine."

Each touch, each kiss, erases the dullness of the evening and the discomfort from the man's attention. Derek's presence consumes you, his possessiveness both thrilling and comforting. The limousine glides through the city streets, but inside, it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. Derek's kisses become more urgent, his whispers more fervent.

Each kiss, each whispered word, fills you with a sense of security and belonging. Derek's possessiveness, rather than feeling oppressive, makes you feel cherished and safe. He holds you close, his kisses never ceasing.

By the time you arrive at his residence, your mind is consumed with Derek, all thoughts of the man at the party and the tedious event completely erased. He helps you out of the car, his arm wrapped securely around you, leading you inside with a sense of purpose.

In the privacy of his home, Derek continues to show you how much he desires you, his actions speaking louder than any words. His kisses and whispered promises create a sense of security and belonging, making you feel cherished and protected.

As you rest in his embrace, you know that you're exactly where you belong.

Chapter Text

You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person, comfortable within the confines of your books and thoughts. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls. Jake's reassuring smile beside you was the anchor you desperately needed.

He claps you on the back, urging you forward. “This is your night,” he grins, moving with you toward the center of the room.

You glance around, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The room pulses with life—strangers laughing, dancing, and clinking glasses.

The familiar figure of Clapton Davis caught your eye almost immediately. Clapton, the charismatic and outgoing hipster who seemed to thrive in these environments, was surrounded by a group of friends. He was the type who exudes charm effortlessly with his easy smile and confident demeanor. He was everything you were not, and you had harbored a crush on him for quite a while now.

You often found yourself questioning the small interactions you had with him, recalling the many times Clapton approached you at school, always with some question in mind. 

Sometimes, it was about complex subjects like calculus or chemistry, but often, it was something so basic that it made you wonder. “Hey, can you remind me how to find the area of a rectangle again?” he had asked once, his eyes twinkling with an inexplicable charm. Another time, it was, “Do you know if we have any homework for English?” It was as if he sought you out specifically, bypassing others who might have been more obvious choices for such questions. 

Things so simple that you sometimes wondered if he was doing it just to annoy you. But you always brushed those thoughts away, deeming them too fanciful.

Each interaction left you with a flurry of emotions, part of you thrilled at the attention, and another part skeptical, thinking it was too good to be true.

Jake nudged you gently, breaking your reverie. “Let’s go join them” he suggested, nodding towards the group that included Clapton and two girls you recognized from school, Ione and Riley. Despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach, you trusted Jake and followed him.

The group welcomed you warmly, and you tried your best to engage in the conversation. Your eyes occasionally met Clapton’s, and each time you noticed a peculiar intensity in his gaze. Was he actually staring at you? You dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and focused on the ongoing chatter.

After some time, someone suggested playing truth or dare. The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, and a empty bottle was swiftly produced. The game began, and the tension in the air grew palpable. You watched the bottle spin, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. It finally landed between you and Jake.

“Truth or dare?” He asked you simply.

In a rare moment of bravery, you chose dare. You wanted to show that you could be courageous and, more importantly, you trusted Jake. He pondered for a moment, then a devilish grin spread across his face. 

“I dare you to sit on Clapton’s lap for the rest of the game,” he announced.

That’s it, tonight you’re gonna have to find a way to hide Jake’s dead body without nobody noticing.

Laughter erupted around you, and your heart sank. You shot Jake a death glare so intense that he almost retracted the dare. But before he could, Clapton spoke up. “I’m totally fine with that dare,” he said, his voice steady but there was a noticeable effort to keep his excitement under wraps. 

His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm that he tried to hide behind a casual tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a grin.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you stood up. The room seemed to blur as you walked towards Clapton, ignoring the jealous and envious glares from Ione and Riley. 

As you reach him, Clapton surprises you by pulling you gently but firmly onto his lap. His muscular arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place. The closeness is electrifying, and your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and a thrill you can't quite name. You can feel his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Clapton shifted slightly, making sure you were comfortable. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, unable to find your voice, overwhelmed by the proximity and the fluttering in your stomach.

The game continues, but your attention is solely on the sensation of being so close to Clapton. It feels like you and Clapton are in a world of your own. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart.

His head rests on your shoulder, and he begins to whisper in your ear, his voice a soft murmur that only you can hear. "How are you doing?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words. The unexpected sweetness in his tone makes your heart flutter.

“Good,” you manage to reply, though your voice is shaky.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You settle in, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks. Clapton leans in closer again, his breath warm against your ear “You’re braver than I thought,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His words send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Do you come to parties like this often?" Clapton asks, his tone curious.

“Not really,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “I’m more of a quiet night kind of person.”

"Really? I'm glad you came tonight," he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "It's nice to see you outside of school."

You nod, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Yeah, it's... different."

Some people in the circle leave to get a drink, others join in to participate in the game and Clapton keeps up a steady stream of whispers. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look really good tonight," he whispers, his voice low and intimate.

Your checks flush deeper feeling the intensity of his gaze on you and you manage a soft "thank you" in response. His compliments are so unexpected and genuine that they leave you both flustered and thrilled.

His lips grazing your ear while his hand rests on your hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles that make it hard to focus on anything else.

Every time someone else takes their turn, you’re acutely aware of his presence. His hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional squeeze of reassurance. He asks you questions, some innocent, others more daring, each one making your heart race faster.

“Have you always been this bold?” he asks at one point, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and admiration. You turn slightly to look at him, his face close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Maybe you just bring it out in me,” you reply surprising yourself with your honesty.

His presence is reassuring and his whispered conversations create a private bubble for the two of you amidst the chaos of the party. 

He keeps the conversation light, asking you about your interests, your favorite subjects, and anything that comes to his mind.

"Thanks for all the help with school" he continues, his breath tickling your ear "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning.

"You must be really good at what you do," he says at one point. "I mean, you've helped me so much, and I know I'm not the easiest person to teach.”

You laugh softly: "You're not that bad. Sometimes I wonder if you really need the help, though.”

"Do you remember that time in class when I asked you for help with that really simple math problem?" he asked, his tone conspiratorial.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from smiling too widely "I remember thinking you couldn't possibly be that bad at math”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "I wasn't. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." His admission made your heart flutter, and you found yourself looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection

"Really?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief

"Really," he confirmed, his eyes holding yours with a sincerity that left you breathless. "I guess I just needed a way to get your attention.
I guess I just like spending time with you and hearing you talk.”

His admission sends a flutter through your heart, and you glance at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you. There's a sincerity in his eyes that makes your breath catch.

"I like spending time with you too" you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The game around you fades into the background as you and Clapton continue to talk. He shares stories about his adventures in skateboarding, his mishaps in detention, and his dreams for the future. 

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart, his breath occasionally tickling your neck.

He adjusted his pink hat, then took it off and playfully placed it on your head. “Looks better on you,” he said with a grin. “You can keep it if you want”

Your face remained a permanent shade of red, but despite your initial embarrassment, a sense of exhilaration began to creep in. Clapton’s proximity, his touch, and his words all made you feel a rush of emotions you had never experienced before. Each time he spoke, it was as if the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of you in an intimate bubble.

"Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?" Clapton whispered, his voice dripping with playful insinuation.

You turned your head slightly catching his eyes with yours. "Maybe it's just you," you replied, attempting to match his teasing tone, though your voice was tinged with genuine nervousness.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I don't think so. I've got a feeling it's because of you." His hand gently squeezed your waist, pulling you a fraction closer. His touch was both comforting and thrilling, a juxtaposition that made your heart race.

"You know, I've always thought you were cute when you were deep in thought," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear once again. "But seeing you blush? That's something else entirely”

You felt your cheeks grow even hotter, if that was possible. "I... I didn't know you paid that much attention," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clapton grinned, his eves twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I pay attention to all the important things." He shifted slightly, his thigh pressing against you in a way that made your breath hitch. "Like how you always have that adorable furrow in your brow when you're concentrating on something.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly the tension casing just a bit. "And what else have you noticed?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost grazing your neck. "I've noticed how you always bite your lip when you're nervous. Like right now." His voice was low, intimate, and it made your pulse quicken.

Your instinct was to look away but his gaze held you captive. "Maybe I should stop being so nervous then," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Clapton's eves darkened slightly, a look of genuine affection mingling with his playful demeanor. "I don't mind. It's one of the things I find most endearing about you.”

When the game finally ended and the party began to wind down, Clapton didn't let you go immediately. Instead, he held you a little longer, his eyes searching yours. As people started leaving, he gently pulled you aside, away from the others. 

Jake catches your eye, giving you a thumbs up before you lose sight of him, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Clapton expression was serious, yet there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"I really enjoyed having you here tonight, I like you. A lot." he confessed, his voice sincere.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. The guy you had admired from afar, the one who seemed so out of reach, was standing here, confessing his feelings for you. Overwhelmed, you could only manage a shy smile.

His whispers are constant, each one more daring than the last.

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, his voice barely audible over the music still going. His question catches you off guard, and you can feel your face heating up.

“Maybe,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. The truth is, you’ve thought about it more times than you can count.

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your car. “I think about it too,” he confesses, his voice sending another shiver through you. “A lot.”

“What else have you thought about?” you ask, your voice teasing. You’re starting to feel bolder, encouraged by his openness.

“I’ve thought about what it’d be like to hold your hand” he says, his fingers brushing against yours. “To take you out somewhere nice, just the two of us.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache with a mix of hope and nervousness. “That sounds perfect,” you admit, your voice soft.

“I think we’d have a lot of fun together,” he says, his smile widening. “I’d love to see you outside of school.”

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement building. “I’d like that too.” you say your voice filled with anticipation.

To your surprise Clapton leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle at first, a tentative meeting of lips, it quickly deepened as both of you poured months of unspoken emotions into that kiss and all your fears and insecurities melted away in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, and Clapton's smile mirrored the joy you felt inside.

"Can we try this? You and me?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing that this was what you wanted too. The night had started as a leap out of your comfort zone, but it had ended with a dream come true. And as you walked out of the party with Clapton by your side, you knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

Over the following days and weeks, the dynamic between you and Clapton shifted in the most delightful ways. At school, he would find new reasons to approach you, although now his questions were more genuine and thoughtful. "Can you help me with this physics problem?" he would ask, spending the rest of the time staring at your face lovably without understanding your explanations.

He would wait for you after classes, casually leaning against the lockers, his easy smile lighting up when he saw you.

The whispers and curious glances from others became background noise as you grew more comfortable with Clapton's presence in your life. You spent more time together, studying, talking, and discovering shared interests. You learned that despite his laid-back exterior, he had deep passions and aspirations, and he loved hearing about your dreams and ideas.

He also really loved to take you to his favorite skatepark and hear you cheer his name over and over.

Through every shared moment, every whispered conversation, and every tender kiss, Clapton showed you that stepping out of your comfort zone had been the best decision you ever made. The shy intelligent person you once were found that the risks you took led to the most rewarding outcomes.

Chapter Text

You wake up in Derek's bed, the memories of the passionate night you shared still vividly replaying in your mind. The warmth of his presence lingers on the sheets, but he is nowhere to be found. Wrapping yourself in one of Derek's colorful shirts to cover your naked body, you begin searching for him, a sense of unease gnawing at you.

The mansion is eerily silent, the only sound is your bare feet padding softly on the floor. You navigate through the corridors, passing by different rooms until you find Derek in his office, the sharp tone of his voice cutting through the silence.

He's on the phone, yelling about an assassin who seems to be relentlessly hunting him down. The look on his face is one of extreme anger and paranoia, his eyes darting around as if expecting danger to strike at any moment. His usual composed demeanor is replaced by a stressed and agitated man on the edge.

"Get me someone competent this time!" Derek shouts into the phone, his voice breaking with frustration. "I don't care how much it costs, just get it done!"

You approach him slowly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Derek, it's going to be okay" you whisper, trying to console him in the best way you can. He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation. You've never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so exposed.

"Do you even understand what's happening?" he snaps, his anger momentarily redirected at you.

In his drugged-up and paranoid state, Derek begins to confess. He spills the truth about his elaborate scheme: stealing money to finance his mother's campaign, manipulating her rise to power, and using her connections to secure more business deals for himself. He vents about his problematic relationship with his mother, the constant pressure to succeed, and this beekeeper who seems unstoppable in his quest to see Derek dead. 

You listen intently, your heart aching for the man you've come to love despite his many flaws. His wrath never seems to subside, and at one point, Derek's face twists into a mask of anguish, and his hand trembles as he reaches into the desk drawer. 

Before you can react, he pulls out a revolver, the cold metal glinting in the dim light. Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your throat.

"Derek, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice shaking.

He points the gun at you, his eyes wild, with a mix of anger and fear. "Would you betray me? Would you save yourself and leave me to this fucking beekeeper?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. You see the desperation in his eyes, the stress that has pushed him to this point. Your initial shock quickly transforms into a profound sadness as you realize just how deeply this situation is affecting him.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you hesitantly take a step forward. Derek's hand shakes, but he doesn't lower the gun. You can see the internal struggle playing out on his face, the fear of betrayal mingling with the fear of being alone.

With a trembling breath, you step closer until the barrel of the gun is pressed against your forehead. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine, but you hold your ground. "Derek, I would rather die with you than betray you" you say, your voice breaking with emotion. Tears stream down your face as you look into his eyes, hoping to reach the man you love behind the fear and paranoia.

For a moment, time stands still. The room is filled with a tense silence, the only sound the ragged breaths coming from both of you. Then, something shifts in Derek's expression. His eyes soften, the anger and fear melting away to reveal a deep sorrow.

Slowly, he lowers the gun, his hand shaking violently. "I'm sorry" he whispers, tears glistening in his eyes.

You take the gun from his hand and place it on the desk, then wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. 

You feel his body tremble against yours, the weight of his actions and the stress of his situation bearing down on him. You stroke his back soothingly, whispering words of comfort and love.

"Derek, we need to think clearly," you say softly "You can't stay here. You need to leave. Go somewhere safe and leave no trace behind”

He looks at you, the fear still evident in his eyes. He contemplates the idea, his mind racing with possibilities. Ultimately, he agrees, giving you instructions to arrange a private flight while he secures a new identity for him.

You leave his office to start preparing everything. Using Derek's network of contacts, you manage to secure a private jet. You work swiftly ensuring that no trace of your plans can be detected. 

Meanwhile, Derek makes a call to a trusted associate, arranging for fake documents and a new identity. His usual confidence and arrogance are tempered by the gravity of the situation, and you can see the strain taking its toll on him.

When Derek is ready to go, he asks you to come with him. At first, you think it's because you're the only one who knows where he's headed. You were partially true for that but he added more to justify his sudden request. "Come on, don’t leave me alone in this. Let’s start a new life together. Like it or not you’re in as much trouble as me.”

You've always been there for him. Know him well enough to intervene when needed, when to calm him down and, on top of that, you were hot.

It would be such a shame for him to lose such an incredible person like you for god knows how fucking long.

Your mind races with thoughts of the future. Could you really leave everything behind and start a new life after everything you’ve been through? With Derek out of all people? The idea fills you with both hope and fear.

Mickey was already dead. You stand no chance against this crazy man. Let’s not risk your life and make the fun choice at this point.

You agree to go with him. He asks his contact to prepare a new identity for you as well, and soon you are ready  to leave your old lives behind.

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The departure was imminent. You and Derek were poised for escape, but there was one last crucial task that you wanted to do: erasing all digital traces of presence. The thought of being seen on surveillance tapes, the possibility of anyone tracking your movements, made your heart race. You need to delete the recordings from the hours you and Derek were seen, or everything will be useless.

“I’ll be right back” you whispered to his ear before sprinting inside the still desolated building. 

You approached the door with a practiced calm, though your pulse was anything but steady. The tools in your hand felt heavier than usual. The quiet of the early morning amplifies every sound you make. 

You picked the lock with surprising ease, the years of working alongside Derek giving you more skills than you had ever realized. The door clicked open, and you slipped inside, the dimly lit room casting shadows on the walls.

The computer area was a maze of desks and screens, the soft hum of machinery was the only sound breaking the silence. You moved quickly to the main terminal, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you navigated the system. Each second felt like an eternity, your anxiety mounting as you watched the progress bar inch closer to completion.

A noise behind you made you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced around, but the room was empty. You shook your head, scolding yourself for being paranoid. Still, the feeling that someone was watching you wouldn't go away.

With a final keystroke, the last of the recordings were erased. Relief washed over you, but it was short lived. You couldn't shake the feeling of being followed, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. 

Quick, act fast.

You quickly accessed the airline database, your decent skills with computers coming in handy. You found a cheap flight and replaced the seats of a couple with yours and Derek's names. It was a diversion, a way to throw off anyone who might be tracking you. Hopefully, it would buy you enough time to get away clean.

As you moved to leave, the sound of the door opening loudly made your blood run cold. You dove under a nearby desk, your heart pounding so hard you were sure it could be heard. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway cast long shadows. Footsteps echoed through the space, słow and deliberate. You pressed yourself further into the shadows, barely daring to breathe.

The footsteps grew closer, pausing near the desk where you were hiding. You bit your lip to stifle any sound, your mind racing. Was it this relentless Beekeeper, or just someone else in the wrong place at the wrong time? The uncertainty was maddening.

Minutes felt like hours as you remained hidden, every creak and rustle amplified in the dark. The footsteps eventually moved away but you waited, counting each breath, until you were sure the person had left. Your muscles ached from the tension, but you couldn't afford to relax yet.

You carefully crawled out from under the desk, your movements slow and deliberate. The room was still, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You edged towards the door, every nerve on high alert. The hallway outside was empty, but you knew better than to trust appearances.

Slipping into the corridor, you blended into the growing crowd of people. The airport was starting to come alive with the first travelers of the day, and you moved among them, doing your best to appear inconspicuous. Your heart was still racing, the fear of being caught making every step feel precarious.

You didn't dare to look back, the anxiety gnawing at you. The feeling of being followed persisted, but you pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. The airport was now open, the bustle of activity providing some semblance of cover. You made your way to the rendezvous point, hoping Derek was already there.

The crowd was your shield, the noise and movement giving you a sense of security. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact, adjusting from time to time your sunglasses to keep your hand occupied. Every instinct screaming at you to keep moving. 

The relief you felt upon spotting Derek was overwhelming, his familiar figure hidden carefully among the throng of strangers.

It was strange seeing him dressed all black for once, but you for sure were not complaining. That leather jacket looked good on him.

"Let's go, you whispered, slipping your hand into his. He squeezed it reassuringly, his presence calming your fraved nerves.

As you moved through the airport, the fear began to fade, replaced by a grim determination. Whether the person in the computer room had been the assassin or just a figment of your paranoia, you couldn't be sure. But one thing was certain: you and Derek were in this together, and nothing would stop you from finding a way out.

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The private jet you and Derek are in is a masterpiece of luxury and design. The interior boasts plush leather seats, dark mahogany accents, and soft ambient lighting that creates a warm, intimate atmosphere. The hum of the engines is a distant whisper, making the cabin a serene escape from the chaos left behind.

You sit together in a spacious lounge area, leaning against Derek, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. He sips scotch from the mini-bar, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirls it in his glass. You nestle closer to him, drawing comfort from his presence despite the tension that still lingers in the air.

The seats are wide and comfortable, upholstered in buttery leather. The bar is stocked with top-shelf liquor, and the faint scent of citrus and cedar fills the air, creating an ambiance of calm sophistication,

You trace a finger along the scam of the leather armrest, letting the silence settle before you turn to him, a teasing glint in your eye.

Derek takes another sip of his scotch, his fingers tightening slightly around the glass as if the act of holding it grounds him, you can see the tension in his eyes.

You scrunch your nose playfully, trying to lift his spirits. 

"Honestly, I think our new last name is a bit ugly. And the picture they used for my new ID is awful."

He showed you the information a couple of hours ago but only now had you paid attention to them.

He chuckles, the sound a bit rough, but there's genuine amusement there. "You look good in any picture. But if it makes you feel better, we can take new ones when we're settled.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of warmth at his compliment, but there's a question you need to ask. "Why did you want me to come with you? I mean, really?"

Derek's expression hardens for a moment, his defenses rising. He takes a deep breath, looking away as if considering how much to reveal. “That fucking Beekeeper would have probably tortured you to know where I went" he says, his tone a mix of seriousness and flirtation, "And let's be real, we both know how little it takes to make you beg”

You lightly hit him on the chest, unable to suppress your laughter. "You're such an idiot" you say, shaking your head, but your heart feels lighter.

The momentary levity fades as you notice the stress lines still etched on his face. His eyes, though filled with a of emotions, show a vulnerability you've rarely seen. Determined to soothe him, you climb onto his lap. His eyes immediately move to your face, filled with a mixture of surprise and appreciation.

You stroke his check tenderly your thumb brushing against the stubble. "It's going to be okay. We're in this together, and we'll figure it out one step at the time”

“We have a chance to start over, to build something real." He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty "Do you really believe that we can leave it all behind?"

"I do," you say firmly. "We can make a new life together, free from the past and ready to do whatever we want”

He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. "You always know what to say" he murmurs.

The leather seats creak softly under your combined weight, a subtle reminder of the luxury that envelops you. But in this moment, all that matters is the closeness, the raw need to erase the anxiety and fear that have plagued Derek.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble, a tactile reassurance of his presence, his reality. Derek's eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now reflect a tempest of emotions-vulnerability, longing, and a deep, unyielding need for connection.

As your lips meet again, the kiss deepens, becoming a fervent dance of tongues and breaths, each movement a testament to the desperation to find solace in each other. Your bodies press closer, the heat between you rising, a conflagration of pent-up emotions seeking release. 

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless. He looks a you dead in the eyes and makes his demand crystal clear. “Distract me.”

You felt something poking your butt and a smirk slowly grow on your face.

A leopard never changes its spots, after all.

Your clothes become a barrier, an unnecessary hindrance to the communion you both seek. Piece by piece, they are discarded, falling away like the masks you wear in the outside world. Each touch, each caress, is imbued with a profound intensity, a silent promise of devotion and understanding. Derek's hands roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, his touch both a comfort and a spark to the flames of your desire.

Derek's hand trails languidly up and down your back, each pass a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. His touch is both tender and possessive, a silent affirmation of his need for you. His fingers splay against your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you. You can feel every inch of him, the solid strength of his thighs beneath yours, the muscle of his arms as they wrap around you, holding you as if you are his lifeline.

As you straddle him, your bodies move in a synchronized dance, a rhythm as ancient as time itself. The jet's confined space amplifies every sound, every whispered moan, turning them into a symphony of shared pleasure and solace. Your movements become more urgent, a physical manifestation of your emotional need to become one, to find sanctuary in each other's embrace.

His skin is hot to the touch, a testament to the fire burning between you. He watches you with eyes darkened by desire, his breaths coming in shallow pants.

Your hands find the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease. You can feel the growing hardness beneath the fabric, a clear indication of his arousal. He lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slide his pants and underwear down, freeing him completely. The sight of him, fully exposed, sends a thrill through you, a potent mix of anticipation and longing.

You shift, positioning yourself over him, feeling the heat of his arousal against your inner thigh. His hands find your hips, guiding you as you lower yourself onto him. The initial contact is electric, a spark that ignites into a full-blown inferno as you sink down, taking him fully inside you. A gasp escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and fullness.

For a moment, you remain still, savoring the connection, the feeling of being completely joined with him. Derek's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggles to maintain control. You can see the strain in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches with the effort.

Then you begin to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. The friction is exquisite, every movement a deliberate act of love and desire. You ride him with increasing fervor, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony, a dance as old as time itself.

Derek's hands roam your body, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you. The other hand moves to the small of your back, guiding your movements, urging you on. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders, your breaths mingling as you move together.

The sensations build, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel the tension coiling in your abdomen, a tight knot of anticipation and need. Derek's breathing grows ragged, his hands gripping you tighter, his hips thrusting upward to meet your movements.

With a final, powerful thrust, the tension breaks, and you are both swept away in a wave of ecstasy. Your body trembles, convulsing with the force of your climax, and you cry out, the sound a raw, primal expression of your release. Derek follows moments later, his grip on you tightening as he finds his own release, his body shuddering beneath yours while he fills you up.

As the waves of ecstasy wash over you both, there is a profound sense of release, a catharsis that leaves you trembling in each other's arms.

Your fingers trail down his face, your touch lingering as you lean in. The kiss starts gently, but quickly grows more passionate, fueled by the emotions that have been running high. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. The world outside the jet feels like a distant memory as you focus entirely on the man holding you. 

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are soft yet intense, filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless.

You find a moment of perfect unity. Derek's eyes lock onto yours, and in that gaze, you see everything: his fears, his love, his desperation to hold onto this moment, to you.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the intensity of his stare. Something that wasn’t for once pure lust and desire. 

He found the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his fucked up life.

“Get up” he ordered.

Confused and reluctant, you get up, watching as he starts looking for something in the small space. At first, you think he's succumbing to his paranoia again, searching for hidden listening devices. But then he turns back to you, a small box in his hand.

"I didn't tell you this before" he says, his voice taking on a cocky edge that you’ve known well enough “but with our new identities, we're already married." He opens the box, revealing a beautiful ring. "Thought you might want to wear this."

Your breath catches as you look at the ring, the light catching on the intricate design. He slides it onto your finger, his touch gentle but sure. "Consider it official" he says with a smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.

Of course he did it. 

A married couple might appear more credible to outsiders. People tend to trust couples, assuming they have a stable relationship. This credibility can help you two navigate situations where you’ll need to prove your identities.

Being married can offer legal advantages, as potentially having access to each other’s health insurance.

Pretending to be a married couple would allow you two to share responsibilities convincingly. You could claim joint ownership of property, share household chores, and explain your presence in a new location.

It was all strategic but your heart was still overwhelmed by joy at the fact that you now had this connection with him, now that everyone will consider you two married, together till death separates you.

Your rationality was forgotten on the road as your feelings took over entirely.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look at him sitting down on his seat. "Derek, I-"

You can't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and joy bubbling up inside you while you roll the ring with your thumb. "You'll never change, will you?" you say, shaking your head.

He pulls you back into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "And you love it" he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

"We're in this together," he says again, more firmly this time. "And nothing is going to change that."

You nod, a smile breaking through the tears. "Together."

Derek pulls you into a passionate kiss, scaling the promise of a new beginning.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The next few hours pass in a blur as you and Derek finalize your plans. 

When you landed, it was under the cover of night. The air was crisp, the world around you silent and still. Derek's contact met you, handing over the new documents that would solidify your new identities. You land in a remote location, far from the prying eyes of the media and Derek's enemies. 

A safe house has been arranged, a secluded villa nestled in a quiet coastal town. It's a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed to, but the simplicity brings a sense of peace you didn't know you needed.

Days turn into weeks as you and Derek adjust to your new lives. The fear of being discovered lingers, but the tranquility of your surroundings provides a welcome respite. Derek's paranoia slowly fades away, replaced by a cautious optimism.

Derek was different here, the weight of his past gradually lifting as he embraced the anonymity and simplicity of your new life.

Your relationship with your ‘husband’ deepens in this new environment. The bond you share is strengthened by the trials you've endured together. The more time you spend with him, the more you understand the complexities of his character. Beneath the layers of deceit and manipulation lies a man who has been shaped by circumstances beyond his control, driven by a desire to prove himself and gain his mother's approval.

As the weeks turn into months, you and Derek continue to settle into your new lives. The fear of discovery never completely disappears, but it fades into the background as you focus on building your future together. 

Derek takes on a new project, using his business acumen to help improve local entrepreneurs, while you find fulfillment in volunteering at a community center.

Now, you stand on the balcony of your secluded villa, the cool breeze carrying the scent of salt and the distant melody of the ocean. Derek stands beside you, a glass of scotch in his hand, the moonlight casting a silver glow on his features.

"You know '' Derek begins, his voice carrying a note of disdain, "these people have no idea how to run a business. They stumble around, thinking they can manage with their outdated methods and lack of foresight. It's almost laughable”

You can't help but chuckle, the sound mingling with the rhythmic crash of shaking your head. His arrogance and confidence never disappeared, and it’s always quite endearing. 

"Oh, Derek," you say this time, “you'd learn to appreciate the charm of simplicity with time, don’t worry."

He smirks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Charm? There's nothing charming about inefficiency: Did you see how that baker runs his shop? No marketing strategy, no expansion plans. It's a miracle he's still in business." He makes use of his beloved vape, blowing the smoke in your direction.

"True" you reply leaning against the balcony railing and waving your hand around to get rid of the smoke, "but some people are content with with what they have”

Derek takes a sip of his scotch, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sea meets the sky "Contentment is just another word for complacency. They don't realize how much more they could achieve with a little ambition.” You smile, reaching out to touch his arm. "Not everyone has your drive, Derek. And maybe that's okay”

He turns to you, his expression softening as he places his hand over yours, playing softly with your ring.

Derek sighs deeply, his gaze turning back to the ocean, "Do you remember the first time we came here?" his voice softer now. "How I complained about the lack of five-star service and high-speed internet?" He asks

You laugh, the memory vivid in your mind. "Yes, and I remember how you almost turned the car around when you saw the dirty road leading to the villa. And the face that you made oh my god-”

You couldn’t continue due to your incessant laughs, covering your face with both of your hands to suppress the sounds.

He chuckles as well, a rare sound that warms your heart. "It's amazing how much has changed. I never thought I'd be able to live without the constant hustle and bustle of the city.”

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. "I think we both needed this. A chance to start over, to find out who we are without all the noise."

"I talk about us all the time, you know, to anyone who will listen. The locals must think I'm crazy, always going on about how much I love you.” You laugh again, a bright, joyful sound. "And they probably think I'm just as crazy for putting up with you."

“By the way, you gotta stop doing that” you pointed a finger at his direction with a fake threatening tone “everyone keep saying how lucky I am to have a husband like you”

“Why? We need to let everyone know how happy we are together” he countered with a playful tone. He leaned forward and trapped you in a tight grip in his arms, prepping your face with multiple and chaste kisses as your laughs never stopped.

The light and wholesome moment soon came to an end, the peace and sound of the waves return.

Derek is silent for a moment, then he turns to look at you, his expression serious. "Do you ever regret it? Leaving everything behind, starting fresh?"

You shake your head slowly, "No, Derek. Not for a second. Being here with you, away from all the corruption and lies... it's the best decision I ever made. Even if it's hard sometimes.”

“Thank you” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it under the sound of the waves.

"Always," you reply softly. "I'll always love you, Derek."

You lean in and kiss him, a promise of the future you will build together. As you pull away you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. For the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace.

Your life, though imperfect, stood as a testament to the power of second chances. Both you and your lifelong partner will seize every moment granted by the latter half of your journey.

Chapter Text

You met Mike on an overcast Wednesday afternoon. The rain pelted the windows of the small café where you worked, creating a rhythmic background to the dull hum of conversation and the clinking of cups and saucers. 

He looked out of place when he walked in, his rugged demeanor contrasting sharply with the cozy, quaint atmosphere. He wore a heavy jacket, dark jeans, and an expression that spoke of burdens too heavy for one man to carry alone. 

He ordered a black coffee and sat at a corner table, his eyes scanning the room but seeing nothing.

It wasn't long before you noticed that he came in every day at the same time, always sitting in the same spot. Curiosity got the better of you, and one day, you decided to strike up a conversation. 

You found out that Mike was working nights as a security guard at a place called Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The job, he admitted, wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills, which was all that mattered since he was taking care of his younger sister, Abby, by himself.

There was something about Mike that drew you in maybe it was the way he seemed so protective of Abby, or perhaps it was the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide beneath his tough exterior. Either way, you found yourself looking forward to his visits, and soon, your conversations became the highlight of your day.

Mike's presence had a way of grounding you, his deep voice soothing even when he spoke of mundane things. You began to learn about his past, the weight of responsibility that came with raising Abby alone, and the tragedy that had carved deep lines into his handsome face. Each revelation was like peeling back a layer of armor, revealing the heart of a man who cared deeply, even if he tried to hide it.

You became closer over time. He would come to visit and you'd be there to keep him company while he, in exchange, would offer you a change of breath from the monotonous hours at work.

However, your meetings didn’t just stop at your workplace.

It was a chilly evening when you received Mike's call, his voice laced with evident worry "Abby's got a fever. I don't know what to do. She's burning up." he said

Mike was always so strong, but when it came to Abby, his protective nature made him vulnerable. "I'll be right over” you promised, already grabbing your coat and some medicine from your cabinet

When you arrived at Mike's modest apartment, he was waiting at the door, his expression filled with worry. "Thank you for coming," he said, his voice tense.

"Of course,” you replied, stepping inside. The apartment was small but cozy, filled with signs of Abby's presence with her drawings on the fridge, toys scattered around the living room. You followed Mike to Abby's room, where the little girl lay in bed, her face flushed with fever.

"I brought you this Abby” you said softly, sitting beside her and brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

Abby managed a weak smile. "Thank you" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

You handed her the medicine, helping her take it. "This will help bring your fever down," you assured her.

Mike watched, his expression a mix of gratitude and helplessness. "I've tried everything," he said quietly. "Cold compresses, keeping her hydrated... nothing seems to work."

"Sometimes it just takes a little time" you said gently. "But we'll take care of her together."

For the next few hours, you and Mike worked side by side to make Abby comfortable. You alternated between placing cool washcloths on her forehead and reading her favorite stories to keep her spirits up. Mike fetched water and checked her temperature regularly, his concern never wavering.

As the evening turned into night, Abby finally began to show signs of improvement. Her fever started and she drifted into You and Mike sat to break, in the living room, the tension casing slightly

"Thank you" Mike said, his voice breaking the silence. "I don't know what I'd do without you.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "You're doing a great job, Mike. Abby's lucky to have you."

He shook his head, his expression serious. "No, I'm lucky to have you."

You reached out, taking his hand. "We're in this together. Abby's like family to me now."

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, he seemed to let go of his usual guarded demeanor. You squeezed his hand, feeling a deep connection between you.

As the night went on, you stayed by Abby’s side, keeping a watchful eye on her. Mike eventually fell asleep in the chair beside her bed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. You couldn’t help but admire his dedication and love for his sister.

In the quiet of the night, with Abby’s fever subsiding and Mike resting peacefully, you felt a sense of contentment. This was what family was about: being there for each other in times of need, supporting one another through the challenges of life.

When morning came, Abby woke up feeling much better. She greeted you with a bright smile. “I feel a lot better,” she said, her voice stronger.

You smiled back, relieved. “I’m glad to hear that, Abby.”

Mike stirred, waking up to see Abby’s improved condition, “How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asked, his voice filled with affection

“Much better” Abby replied, reaching out to hug him. “Thanks to you and your friend.”

Mike glanced at you, his eyes conveying more than words ever could. “Thank you,” he said softly, his gratitude overwhelming

As you left Mike’s apartment that morning, a warm sensation spread through your chest. Your bond had grown stronger through the night, and you felt a deep sense of belonging with them.

There was something that happened later on that brought the two of you even closer, his behavior shifted, showed mostly in his actions.

Mike had just finished his grueling night shift at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, and you were wrapping up your own unexpected night shift at the café. One of your coworkers had called in sick, and you’d offered to take their place, not knowing that the night would take such a turn. Exhausted but relieved to finally be done, you stepped out into the cool carly morning air, your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Hey,” Mike’s voice came through the line, a comforting sound amidst the quiet street. “I’m done for the night. How about you?”

“Just finished,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “Want to meet up?”

“I’ll be there in five,” he said without hesitation.

True to his word, Mike arrived a few minutes later, his rugged appearance softened by the warmth in his eyes as he spotted you. “You look tired,” he said, his tone gentle

“Long night” you admitted. “But seeing you makes it better.”

The corner of his lips moved up, a rare and beautiful sight. “Come on, let’s go for a walk. Clear our heads.”

You fell into step beside him, the two of you wandering aimlessly through the quiet streets. The early morning light cast a soft glow over everything, and for a while, you simply talked about anything and everything that came to mind. It was a moment of peace, a chance to forget the night’s horrors and just be together.

“I’ve never seen you so eager to stay awake like that” you remarked, glancing up at him.

“Maybe it’s because of you” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

You decided to walk a little more, trying to shake off the lingering tension. The quiet streets were starting to come to life with carly risers and the first hints of morning activity. You and Mike chatted about everything and nothing, the fatigue making your thoughts more whimsical.

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get home?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Mike pondered for a moment. “Probably make breakfast for Abby. She loves pancakes.”

You smiled, picturing the scene. “I bet she’s going to love that.”

Mike glanced at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “What about you? Any plans for the day?”

“Sleep” you replied with a laugh. “Definitely sleep.”

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “Sounds like a good plan.”

As you walked, you spotted a street lamp up ahead. A playful idea struck you, and you turned to Mike with a grin. “Race you to that pole” you challenged. “First one there wins.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, his fatigue evident but his competitive spirit still alive. “You’re on.”

With a laugh, you took off, your legs carrying you forward as fast as they could. Mike was right behind you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement. The cool morning air rushed past your face, and for a moment, you felt completely free.

You reached the pole first, turning around triumphantly. “I win!” you called out, breathless and exhilarated.

Mike was a few steps behind, slowing down and eventually stopping a few yards away, panting heavily. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Despite his fatigue, he looked up at you, and for the first time, you saw him smile a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his entire face.

Seeing him smile like that made your heart swell with happiness. “I can’t believe you gave up.” you teased, walking back towards him. “Not as tough as you look, huh?”

Mike straightened up, still smiling. “I guess I underestimated you” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Maybe next time you’ll know better.”

But as you shared this moment of joy, you noticed Mike’s expression change, his smile fading into a look of horror. 

You followed his gaze, turning just in time to see the car barreling down the street, heading straight for the sidewalk where you stood. The driver, clearly drunk, seemed to lose control completely.

“Move!” Mike shouted, his voice filled with panic. He lunged forward, grabbing you and pulling you out of the way just in time. The car swerved onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing you both before crashing into a fence with a deafening crash.

You fell to the ground, Mike’s arms still around you, protecting you from the impact. The world seemed to slow down, the sounds of the crash fading into the background as you tried to process what had just happened, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Are you okay?” Mike’s voice broke through the haze, his hands frantically checking you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you managed to say, your voice shaking. “Just... a bit shaken.”

Mike’s face was pale, his eyes wide with fear. “I thought... I thought I lost you” he whispered, pulling you into a tight embrace. You clung to him, the reality of how close you’d come to being hit sinking in.

Before you knew it, an ambulance had arrived, the flashing lights casting an eerie glow over the scene. Paramedics ushered you into the vehicle, insisting on checking you for injuries. Mike climbed in right beside you, refusing to leave your side.

“Sir, you’ll have to wait outside,” one of the paramedics said, but Mike shook his head, his expression resolute

“I’m not leaving” he said firmly, his eyes never leaving you.

The paramedics exchanged a look but relented, allowing Mike to stay. He hovered over you, his concern palpable. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his hands gently checking for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine” you reassured him, though your voice was still shaky. “Thanks to you.”

Mike’s jaw tightened, and you could see the fear lingering in his eyes.

“You could’ve died” he murmured, more to himself than to you. 

He stayed close, his presence a comforting anchor as the paramedics finished their examination. “Just a few scrapes and bruises” they told you. “You’re lucky.

Mike let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Very lucky.”

As the ambulance pulled away, leaving the wreckage behind, you leaned into Mike, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Despite the scare, there was a sense of safety in his arms, a feeling that everything would be okay as long as he was there.

“Want to go home?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike’s grip tightened slightly, his gaze intense. “Just another second...” he replied. “Sure.”

He watched you from his car as you made your way to your own house, turning back to say goodbye to him one last time. The shadows of the evening wrapping around you like a cloak. 

You had no idea how much you had come to mean to him. 

What he saw today made him remember again how it takes a fraction of a second to lose someone forever.

It wasn’t just affection that bound him to you; it was an almost primal urge, an instinct that had rooted itself deep within his soul.

The idea of anyone or anything hurting you or Abby was unbearable, a thought that clawed at his sanity.

He knew it wasn’t entirely rational, this need to protect you and Abby at all costs, but it had become his purpose, his reason.

You were both his light in the darkness, and he would ensure that light never faded.

☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭

︎The cafe was bustling with its usual morning crowd the steady hum of conversation mixing with the slinking of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine. You were behind the counter, trying to keep up with the increasing number of orders. It was a typical day, or so you thought, until a particularly rude customer walked in.

He was tall and imposing, his face set in a a scowl as he approached the counter and, his tone dripping with impatience “I need a large black coffee.”

You forced a polite smile, despite the unease settling in your stomach. “Of course, sir. It will be ready in just a moment”

As you prepared the coffee, the customer tapped his fingers on the counter “Is it always this slow here?” He muttered loud enough for you to hear, his irritation growing

“I’m sorry for the wait” you replied, keeping your tone as calm and professional as possible. “We’re a bit busy this morning”

The customer hufted, rolling his eyes. When you finally handed him his coffee, he reached out and grabbed your arm tightly, his grip painful “Maybe if you moved faster, people wouldn’t have to wait so long” he snarled.

Before you could pour the hot coffee on the face of this asshole and potentially lose your job, you heard a familiar voice behind him, filled with barely restrained anger “Let go”

Mike stood there, his eyes blazing with fury. He had just come in to visit you, and seeing the man manhandle you had flipped a switch. His hand closed over the customer’s wrist, his grip like iron.

“Let go” Mike said, his voice low and dangerous.

The customer looked at him, sneering, but the look in Mike’s eyes made him think twice. He released your arm and backed away, muttering curses under their breath. Mike didn’t let go until the man was out the door, and even then, he staved close by, making sure you were all right.

His presence was intimidating, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive

The entire café had fallen silent, all eyes on the scene that had just unfolded.

You took a shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “Mike, you didn’t have to”

He turned to you, his expression softening as he took your hands in his. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice filled with concern

You nodded, feeling the tension slowly disappear. “I’m fine, really.

Mike sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “I just... I couldn’t stand seeing him treat you like that.”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Mike. He deserved it.”

He still looked troubled, his protective instincts clearly warring with his concern for your well-being “I might have overreacted” he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

“You didn’t.” you assured him. “I appreciate what you did.“

Mike nodded, though you could see the tension still lingering in his eyes. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently. “And nothing did, thanks to you.”

The café slowly returned to its usual bustle, the other customers resuming their conversations and the baristas getting back to their work. You and Mike moved to a corner table, needing a moment to decompress after the confrontation.

“How often does stuff like that happen?” Mike asked, his worry evident.

“Not often” you replied, taking a sip of water. “Most customers are really nice and every now and then, you get someone like that.”

Mike’s jaw tightened. “Next time, just call me. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

“I know you will. But I can handle it. I have to, for my job.”

He sighed, nodding reluctantly.

As the day wore on, you found comfort in Mike’s presence. He stayed with you for the rest of your shift, his protective gaze never starving far. 

When things got busy, he even helped out, taking orders and delivering drinks with a natural ease that impressed your coworkers. They’d heard about the incident and were quietly thankful for his presence, giving you nods of approval and knowing smiles.

Once your shift finally ended. Mike was right there, waiting to walk you home. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. You both strolled along the sidewalk, the tension of the morning slowly dissipating.

“You really didn’t have to stay the whole time,” you said, glancing up at him.

“I wanted to,” Mike replied simply. “I couldn’t leave you after what happened.”

You smiled, touched by his dedication. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

Mike chuckled, a sound that made you feel light inside. “I try.”

His protectiveness extended into the smallest aspects of your life. When you cut your finger while slicing fruits one evening, he was beside you with worry and carefully bandaged your finger in the back of the kitchen. You couldn’t help but smile at his overreaction to such a minor injury.

“Mike, it’s just a little cut,” you teased gently.

“I know,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “But I needs to be treated either way”

Another time, you got caught in a sudden storm. Mike had come to pick you up after your shift, and as you both hurried to his car, he used his jacket to shield you from the rain, despite your protests.

“Mike, you’re going to get soaked!” you exclaimed

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied, his tone unwavering. “You could get sick”

His selfless actions spoke volumes about his feelings for you, even if he didn’t realize it himself.

Mike’s protectiveness was an intrinsic part of who he was. He couldn’t turn it off, even in the most mundane situations. 

You noticed it in the way he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk, subtly placing himself between you and the traffic. 

Or the time when a simple grocery run turned into a mini adventure because he insisted on carrying all the heavy bags, not wanting you to strain yourself.

It was these little things that made you fall deeper in love with him. His actions, though often silent, spoke volumes about the depth of his care and concern for you. He might not have been the most eloquent with words, but his deeds left no doubt about his feelings.

It was a few weeks later that Mike invited you to the pizzeria. He had picked up an extra shift and needed someone to keep him company during the long, lonely hours of the night. Despite the creepy reputation of the place, you agreed, intrigued by the stories Mike had told you and eager to spend more time with him.

When you arrived at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, the first thing you noticed was how different it looked from the outside compared to the cheerful advertisements. The building was old and worn, the paint peeling off the walls, and the sign flickering intermittently: Mike met you at the entrance, his expression softening when he saw you.

“Glad you made it,” he said, his voice low but warm.

Inside, the pizzeria was dark and musty. The animatronics, which were the main attraction during the day, looked creepy in the dim light, their glassy eyes seeming to follow you as you walked past. Mike led you to his office, a small, cramped room filled with monitors and security equipment.

“This is where I spend most of my nights,” he explained, gesturing to the screens. “It’s not much, but it’s got everything everything I need to keep an eye on things.

As the night wore on, you talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories and laughter amidst the unsettling surroundings. It was in those quiet moments, when the only sound was the hum of the monitors, that you felt a connection with Mike that went beyond friendship. 

At Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, things took a darker turn. The animatronics had a sinister reputation, and the atmosphere of the place left you on edge. 

The lights flickered, and strange noises echoed through the halls. Mike insisted you stay in the security office with him, away from the dangers lurking in the night . The tension in the air grew thick.

When the animatronics came too close for comfort, Mike stood his ground, making sure they couldn’t reach you. 

“Just stay close” he said, his eyes never leaving the monitors.

The power went out completely, the animatronics seemed to come alive, their eyes glowing ominously. You clung to Mike, your fear palpable, but he remained calm, guiding you through the darkness with a steady hand.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice a beacon of hope.

Foxy managed to corner you in a narrow hallway. Panic surged through you as the animatronic’s eyes locked onto yours. But then Mike was there, pulling you to safety with seconds to spare.

He led you through the darkened halls, using his knowledge of the pizzeria’s layout to outmaneuver the mechanical threats. When Freddy himself blocked your path, Mike confronted the towering figure.

“Run!” he shouted, distracting Freddy long enough for you to escape. You hesitated when you saw that animatronic approaching him, fearing the worst. The lights flickered back on and a half-cut cable caught your gaze with the sparks that came out of it. Your heart raced as you grabbed the cable and sprinted towards the animatronic, ‘stabbing’ it with the cable and seeing it twitch from the electricity that spread through it’s body before collapsing on the floor. 

You made your way to the exit, the sounds of the animatronics fading behind you.

Outside, the cool morning air greeted you, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Mike emerged moments later, his clothes torn but his spirit unbroken. He pulled you into a tight embrace, relief washing over you both.

As the sun rose, casting a new day in warm light, you and Mike stood together, hand in hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice trembling with fear and relief.

You nodded, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Your eyes roamed over his body in search of any possible injury. 

He was willing to sacrifice himself for you

Mike’s arms around you were a fortress, shielding you from the horrors of the night.

One weekend, you spent the afternoon at Mike’s apartment, playing with Abby. Her laughter filled the room as you engaged in a lively game of hide and seek. Mike watched from the doorway, a rare smile spreading across his face. He was mesmerized by the sight of you and Abby together, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in years

“Mike, you’re staring!” Abby’s voice broke through his reverie, her eyes twinkling with mischief

Mike flushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Just making sure you two are playing fair” he grumbled, his attempt at nonchalance not fooling anyone.

Watching her play, Mike’s eyes softened, filled with a mixture of pride and happiness. You and Abby were snickering together, and Mike felt a surge of contentment.

He couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

The evening was now calm and quiet, with a soft breeze wafting through the open windows. Abby had fallen asleep in her room, her gentle breathing a soothing backdrop to the tranquil night.

You and Mike were sitting on the couch in the living room, the dim light of a lamp casting a warm glow around the room.

the sense of companionship between you felt stronger than ever.

"It's nice to just relax like this," Mike said, his voice low and content. He stretched his legs out, leaning back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah, it is," you agreed, smiling at him. "Today was perfect."

Mike's eyes met yours, and he returned your smile, a genuine warmth in his gaze. "I'm glad you think so. I really enjoyed spending the day with you."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only close friends-or perhaps something more-could share. The flickering shadows on the walls and the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen added to the serene ambiance.

"You know" Mike began, his voice thoughtful, "I don't think I've ever felt this... at ease with someone before."

You looked at him, surprised but touched by his admission. "Really? Not even with anyone from your past?"

Mike shook his head, a shadow crossing his features for a moment. "No, not like this. It's different with you. I feel like I can be myself."

His words made your heart swell with emotion. "I feel the same way, Mike. Being with you just feels... right."

He smiled again, a soft, almost shy smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

You continued to talk, your voices low to avoid waking Abby. The conversation flowed easily, moving from light-hearted topics to deeper, more personal ones. You shared stories from your past, dreams for the future, and everything in between. The bond between you seemed to grow with every word, every shared laugh, and every silent moment of understanding.

The conversation turned to Abby and Mike's dedication to her. "You're such a great brother to Abby," you said sincerely. "She's lucky to have you."

Mike's expression softened. "I just want to make sure she has a good life, better than what I had. She's been through a lot, and I want to protect her from the world."

"And you're doing an amazing job" you assured him. "She's a happy, healthy kid because of you."

Mike looked down at his hands. "I couldn't have done it without you. You've been such a support for both of us."

"Anytime," you replied, feeling a deep sense of connection. "We're in this together, remember?"

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours again. "Yeah, we are."

As the night wore on, you found yourselves growing more comfortable, more relaxed. Mike leaned back on the couch, and you instinctively moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't hesitate, wrapping an arm around you in a gentle, protective embrace.

The simple act of being close to him felt incredibly comforting. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, hear the quiet rhythm of his breathing. It was a moment of perfect peace, the world outside forgotten as you shared this intimate space.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day began to catch up with you. You stifled a yawn, and Mike noticed, a tender smile playing on his lips. "You should get some rest" he said softly.

You nodded, reluctantly pulling away from his comforting embrace. "Yeah, I guess I should."

Mike stood up and offered you a hand, helping you to your feet. "Thank you for spending the day with me. It meant a lot."

A silent understanding passed between you and Mike, unspoken yet profoundly felt. You both moved closer, your bodies naturally gravitating towards one another. The space between you seemed to dissolve, replaced by an electric intimacy that neither of you could ignore.

Mike's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a gentle yet firm grasp. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and desire.

His other hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with emotion, a merging of two souls who had found solace in each other's presence.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into him, every barrier you had ever put up crumbling away. You moved closer, your bodies pressing together, the heat between you intensifying. Mike's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as if he never wanted to let go.

You found yourselves moving towards his bedroom, the path familiar yet new in this context. Every step felt like a dance, a silent symphony of mutual need and affection. By the time you reached his room, there was no turning back. The door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing the moment in privacy

The room was bathed in a gentle glow from a bedside lamp, casting soft shadows on the walls. You both paused for a moment, taking in the gravity of what was about to happen. Mike's eyes met yours, and in that gaze, you saw everything-his love, his desire, his unwavering commitment.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle, giving you one last chance to reconsider.

You nodded, feeling a profound sense of rightness. "I'm sure."

With that, the last of your reservations melted away. Mike's hands moved to your shoulders, slowly sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of his back, feeling the strength and warmth of his body.

As the dawn light casts a gentle glow across the room, you and Mike lie entwined, each movement deliberate and tender. The night had been a journey of exploration and connection, and now, in the quiet morning, the memory of your actions remains vivid and profound.

Your bodies had moved together with an unspoken understanding, each touch and kiss a communication of deep, unrestrained emotion. As the moments unfolded, your hands had traced the contours of each other's bodies, mapping out the planes and curves with a reverence born of newfound intimacy.

Mike's lips had traveled along the line of your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck, each kiss a promise of his affection and desire. His hands, strong yet gentle, had roamed over your body, learning every dip and rise, every sensitive spot that elicited a sigh or a gasp from you. His touch was both exploratory and worshipful, a blend of curiosity and deep-seated reverence.

You had mirrored his actions, your fingers gliding over the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your touch. Your lips had found their way to his chest, your kisses soft and lingering as you explored the terrain of his skin. Every touch, every caress, had been a dance of mutual discovery, a testament to the deep connection growing between you.

He kisses down your chest, leaving little trails of red spots and taking your nipples into his mouth for a minute each causing you to arch off the bed a bit.

But he doesn't linger and is quick to trail down to your thighs, leaving little bites here and there.

As the night deepened, your bodies had come together in a union both physical and emotional. 

He goes slow, deep long strokes that you can feel in your kidney with how deep he goes, but you can't find it in you to complain, not when Mike is looking at you like you hung up the stars in the sky. 

Not when he can feel Mike’s lips on you, kissing you like his life depends on it, like you are his salvation. 

Not when all the sweet words Mike mutters along your skin, like prayers, are going straight to your spine. 

Not when you feel Mike's arms around you, like he's afraid that any wrong move would break you, whispering your name urgently like he's afraid you would disappear.

Mike's movements had been guided by a combination of tenderness and fervent need, each thrust a blend of passion and care. Your bodies had moved in harmony, each responding to the other's cues, creating a rhythm that was both primal and deeply intimate.

The sensations had built to a crescendo, each touch, each kiss, driving you both closer to the edge. Mike's hands had held you close, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze, a silent testament to the depth of his feelings. Your breaths had mingled, your heartbeats synchronized, each moment a step closer to a shared climax.

When the final moment had arrived, it had been a release both physical and emotional. Your bodies had shuddered in unison, the culmination of your passion a powerful testament to the bond you had forged. In the aftermath, as your breaths slowed and your heartbeats steadied, you had remained entwined, the warmth of your connection a comforting blanket against the chill of the early morning.

Now, in the soft light of dawn, you lie together, your bodies still pressed close, a tangible reminder of the night's intimacy. The world outside may hold challenges and uncertainties, but here, in this moment, you find solace in each other's presence. Mike's arms wrap around you, his body fitting perfectly against yours, a symbol of the unity you have discovered.

As you drift towards a peaceful sleep, your last thoughts are of the profound connection you share, the promise of facing the future together, bound by love and mutual respect.

Chapter Text

Mike sat alone in the slimby lit break room of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, moving from one hand to the other the small, worn out box in his hand. He flicked it open and gazed at the cheap simple ring inside. It wasn't much, but it was all he could afford. 

The ring's silver band reflected the harsh fluorescent lights, and Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of inadequacy. Could you truly want to marry someone like him, with a life as complicated and broken as his?

His mind raced filled with doubts and fears. The tragedies of his past, the constant struggle to make ends meet. The responsibility of taking care of Abby weighed heavily on him. 

How could he ask you to share in his burdens as your own? 

He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. Every time he thought he had mustered the courage, those nagging thoughts pulled him back down.

He thought about Garret, his little brother, who has been taken purely because of his mistakes. Mike had failed Garret, and he couldn't shake the fear that he would fail you too. 

The sound of heavy and clunky footsteps echoed from the arcade, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his heart. He closed the box with a snap, shoving it back into his pocket. Maybe it was foolish, maybe you deserve someone better, someone who could give you more than just a cheap ring and a troubled life.

Hours passed, and soon Mike found himself back home. He slipped inside the bed where you were sleeping peacefully, observing how you would wake up instantly every time. 

The mattress creaked under his weight.

The lines of fatigue etched on your face softened, and he marveled at the delicate curve of your cheekbone.

Your brows furrow, creating deep lines across your forehead. The corners of your mouth pull downward, forming a slight grimace and your nose wrinkled as if reacting to an unpleasant sensation. All this while your eyelids remain shut, shielding your eyes from the morning light.

“Hey,” You murmured, your voice a raspy whisper. “You’re back.”

“Missed you,” he confessed, his fingers brushing against your hips.

You shifted closer towards him, snuggling with him and putting your face on his neck. The stubble on his jaw scratched against your skin, but you didn’t seem to mind.

“Just a minute and I’ll take Abby to school” You mumbled against his skin, the gesture and your closeness deleting all the negative thoughts that haunted him the whole night.

“Take all the time that you need” he mumbled, your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. The scent of your hair, the gentle rise and fall of your chest: it all felt like a lifeline. 

‘Today,’ he thought as he was falling asleep with the warmth you provided to his body and heart. 

‘Today, I’ll do it.’

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

Mike had been on edge all day, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. You noticed the slight tremor in his hands and the distant look in his eyes as he tried to make conversation. It wasn't like him to be this distracted, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Despite his tough exterior, you knew Mike well enough to see the vulnerability hidden underneath.

That evening, you both found a rare moment of quiet in the living room. Mike had been fiddling with something in his pocket. The air was thick with unspoken words, and your curiosity grew with each passing second.

Mike took a deep breath and walked over to where you were sitting, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Hey," Mike finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," you replied, your concern deepening as you saw the anxiety etched on his face.

You tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't meet your gaze. Instead, he stared at the floor.

"Mike, what's wrong?" you asked softly leaning closer. You reached out, touching his arm lightly.

His eyes darted around, avoiding your gaze. 

"I've been thinking a lot about us. About our future." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "You know, my life has been one hell of a ride. It's been tough, messy, and full of mistakes. I never imagined it would turn out like this, taking care of Abby on my own, working night shifts just to keep us afloat. But then you came into my life."

He swallowed hard, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away. 

"I know I don't have much to offer. But...I can't imagine my future without you.”

Mike's voice wavered as he tried to continue, but his anxiety got the best of him.

He’d spent years building walls, keeping people at arm’s length. You have chipped away at those walls, brick by brick, until there was nothing left but vulnerability. And now, he feared losing it all.

He reached into his pocket, taking hold of the small box. His hands trembled, and he found himself unable to continue. The weight of his fears and insecurities bore down on him, making it impossible to speak. He felt the familiar grip of panic tightening around his chest. His breath quickened, and he stared at the floor, defeated. The memories of his past failures, especially with Garret, loomed large in his mind. He felt like he was trapped in a cycle of disappointment, unable to break free.

As Mike sat there, unable to find the words, a flood of memories washed over him. He recalled the first time he met you, the way your smile had lit up the room. He remembered the late night conversations where you both shared your dreams and fears, the quiet moments of comfort you provided when he felt like the world was falling apart. He thought about the times you had been there for Abby, treating her with kindness and love, making her laugh when she was down

He remembered the look in your eyes when you told him you believed in him, that you saw the good in him even when he couldn't see it himself. Those memories were a lifeline, pulling him out of the depths of his despair. They reminded him of the strength and resilience he had found through your support.

Just as he seemed completely overwhelmed. Abby burst into the room, her timing impeccable as always, "Hey, can I get some new papers to draw on?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent

You looked at Mike, secing the desperation in his eves. "I'll go get them," you said softly.

As you left the room, Mike slumped back into the couch, the open box now in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. In a swift motion, Abby snatched the box and dashed away from him.

"Abby!" Mike shouted, scrambling to his feet. He chased her through the hallway, his heart pounding not just from the chase but from the fear of losing the ring.

"Abby come on, give it back!" Mike pleaded as he cornered her in her room, trying to keep his voice calm.

Abby giggled, holding the box behind her back. "Why do you want it so bad?"

Mike knelt down to her level, his eyes softening. "It's important. Really important. It's for-" He paused, unsure of how much to reveal.

Abby's expression changed, curiosity turning to concern. "YOU WANNA MARRY-" her scream of pure joy was interrupted by Mike’s hand on her mouth. He shushed her after taking a quick glance in your direction. Mike nodded, swallowing hard "Yes, please don’t say a word."

Abby's face lit up with excitement, she nodded eagerly and Mike decided to trust his little sister and softly moved his hand away. "Really? We’ll be a family now!"

Mike's heart ached at her words. He hugged her tightly drawing strength from her innocent faith in him.

Abby pulled back and gave him a stern look. "I want to help you, pleaseeee! I want to see too!" Mike laughed, a genuine, relieved laugh that seemed to lift some of the weight off his shoulders, "Deal. Tomorrow morning"

☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎

The house was draped in the peaceful silence of the night, the kind that wraps around you like a comforting blanket. You were already tucked into bed, a worn novel in your hands, its pages illuminated by the soft, amber light of the bedside lamp. The quiet creaking of the old house was the only sound until you heard the faint, muffled whispers from down the hall.

Mike was putting Abby to bed, and their voices floated through the hallway, indistinct but filled with a warmth that made you smile. You turned your head slightly, straining to catch snippets of their conversation. You couldn't make out the words, but the gentle tones of their exchange and the occasional giggles of Abby made your heart swell with affection for both of them.

As you lay there, your eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling. The torn poster of Nebraska, which Mike had tried to remove some time ago, caught your attention. Its ragged edges and the remnants of adhesive clinging to the plaster served as a poignant reminder of the past struggles and unresolved pain he carried with him.

This evening they are talking much more than usual, their voices reduced to a barely perceptible murmur. 

You strained your ears, trying to catch every single word. You squint your eyes, as if you could trade your sight for superhuman hearing ability. Every muscle in your body was tense in the effort to grasp those whispered secrets.

You sighed softly, contemplating whether to get up and use the excuse of needing the bathroom to sneak a peek at their conversation.

You debated the idea, curiosity gnawing at you, but ultimately, the warmth of the bed and the soothing comfort of the blankets won out. 

Laziness, or perhaps a desire to give them their privacy, kept you nestled where you were. You turned back to your book, though your mind was no longer on the story.

The door creaked open, and Mike stepped into the room, his expression softening as he saw you lying there. He closed the door quietly, moving with the careful, deliberate grace of someone who had long since learned to tread lightly in the presence of those he loved. He crossed the room and slipped under the covers beside you.

Without a word, he reached out and gently pulled you closer by the waist, his strong arms encircling you and causing you to abandon your book. Your head came to rest on his pillow, just inches away from his face. 

Mike's gaze was intense, almost as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in the curve of your lips, the line of your jaw, the way your hair frames your face. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Is everything okay, Mike?" you asked softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, but his gaze never wavered. The silence between you was charged with unspoken words and emotions.

You reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering on his skin. "You know you can talk to me about anything," you murmured.

Mike simply nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you. It started gently, almost tentatively, but quickly deepened into something more fervent and passionate. His hand found its way into your hair, pulling you even closer as his lips moved against yours with a desperate intensity.

Time seemed to blur as you lost yourself in the sensation of his kiss. The world outside your bedroom ceased to exist and all that mattered was the feel of his body against yours, the warmth of his touch, the way his kiss spoke volumes where words failed him. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his other hand roamed over your back, holding you tightly as if he were afraid to let go.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and you could feel your resolve melting away under the onslaught of his affection. His kiss was filled with everything he couldn't say-his fears, his hopes, his unwavering love for you. It was a silent promise, a plead for a future together that he desperately wanted but was afraid to believe he deserved. 

Eventually, the need for air forced you to break apart, but Mike's hold on you never loosened. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, ragged gasps. His eyes were closed, as if he were savoring the moment, committing every detail to memory.

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask him again if everything was alright, but the look on his face stopped you. His expression was one of pure contentment, his features relaxed in a way you rarely saw.

As exhaustion finally caught up with you both, you snuggled closer into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body and the protective circle of his arms around you lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

Mike lay awake for a while longer, watching you sleep, his mind filled with thoughts of the life you could have together. He thought about the ring hidden in his pocket and the promise it held. 

‘Tomorrow,’ he thought. 

‘Tomorrow, I’ll do it.’

☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎☭︎

You wake up to the faint sound of whispering drifting in from the kitchen. Groggy, you blink against the morning light filtering through the curtains. The whispers grow a little louder interspersed with occasional giggles, you strain to make out the words.

“...what if they choke on it?” Abby’s voice, barely suppressed by her laughter, reaches your ears.

“Shh, keep your voice down” Mike’s urgent whisper follows. You hear the clink of plates being set on the table.

Curiosity gets the better of you. You slide out of bed and quietly pad towards the kitchen, peeking around the corner. There, you see Mike and Abby huddled together, their heads bent in front of the pots.

Abby is already dressed, an unusual sight this early in the morning. Today she has no school. You can’t help but smile at the sibling duo.

They seem to be plotting something.

As you step into the room, they both straighten up abruptly, their faces a picture of innocence.

“Good morning!” Abby chirps, her tone overly cheerful. She flashes you a broad smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Mike, caught mid-turn at the stove, gives you a nervous grin. “Morning,” he says, his voice slightly strained. There’s an edge to his movements, as if he’s trying too hard to appear casual.

You raise an eyebrow, taking in the scene. “What’s going on here? Abby, you’re up early.”

Abby just giggles, glancing at Mike, who is now meticulously flipping pancakes, his back rigid with tension. You can’t shake the feeling that something is definitely up. The more you observe their behavior, the more suspicious you become. Why are they acting so strangely?

“Nothing, just thought I’d help Mike with breakfast” Abby says, her voice a tad too innocent. You sit down at the table, still watching them closely. “Okay,” you say slowly, “this is a nice change of pace.”

Mike brings over a plate stacked with pancakes and sets it in front of you. “Dig in,” he says, his voice wavering slightly. He sits down, but you notice he barely touches his own plate, his eyes darting between you and Abby.

You cut into the fluffy pancake, your suspicion mounting. Mike’s anxiety is almost palpable now, and Abby’s wide-eyed gaze is fixed on you, barely blinking as she watches you chew. 

They both seem way too invested in your breakfast experience.

“So, did you two plan this breakfast together?” you ask, trying to sound casual while you scrutinize their reactions. Abby nods enthusiastically “Yep! We thought it would be a nice surprise for you.”

“That’s sweet,” you say taking another bite. “It’s just... you both are acting a bit strange.”

Mike looks down at his plate awkwardly “We’re just... happy to have breakfast together.”

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his face and the untouched food in his plate. “Mike, you’re not eating.”

“I’m just not that hungry,” he says quickly his eyes flicking nervously to Abby.

“Uh-huh,” you say eyeing him suspiciously “And Abby you’re unusually quiet.”

Abby stifles a giggle, her eyes darting to Mike. “I’m just excited! Aren’t you excited, Mike?”

Mike forces a smile. “Yeah, very excited.”

You can’t help but laugh inwardly at their antics. What on earth are they up to? Your mind begins to wander. 

Did they put something in the food? 

They didn’t poisoned your pancake...right?? 

It’s something stupid to think about but Mike’s tensed behavior and Abby’s incessant staring were way too strange for your taste. You navigated inside your thoughts, searching for any possible reason as to why the Schmidt siblings would possible want you dead.

Why are you even thinking about this option? It’s been minutes since your first bite. If your first hypothesis was correct, right now you would already be in a garbage bag ready to be hidden. You feel perfectly fine.

For now.

Your thoughts get increasingly outlandish. Maybe it’s a prank. Maybe they saw a funny video online about tricking someone with breakfast and decided to try it. You almost chuckle out loud at the absurdity of it all.

Mike keeps stealing glances at you while you eat, his face a mixture of hope and anxiety. Abby, on the other hand, is trying her best to maintain a straight face but failing miserably. Every time you look at her, she bursts into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, what’s going on?” you finally ask, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Mike’s eyes widen slightly. “Nothing’s going on.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? Because it seems like you’re both hiding something.”

Abby bites her lip, trying to suppress another giggle. “We’re not hiding anything. Just enjoy your pancakes.”

You take another bite, savoring the warm, fluffy texture and delicious taste, all the while wondering what on earth they could be hiding.

Then, you bite down on something hard. The yelp of surprise was muffled by your mouth closed but both Mike and Abby turned their head at 90 degrees to stare again at you. One had a pale face while the other was grinning from ear to ear.

Your heart skips a beat. You hide your mouth with one of your hands to discreetly remove the foreign object from your mouth with the other, your fingers trembling slightly. 

It’s a ring. A simple, elegant ring.

Wait, what?

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Mike is out of his chair and kneeling beside you, his face a mix of terror and hope. “Will you marry me?” he blurts out, his voice cracking with emotion.

Abby beams at you, her excitement barely contained. She clasps her hands together, her eyes shining with delight as she watches the scene unfold.

You stare at Mike, your heart pounding, the room around you blurring as tears well up in your eyes. The realization of his nervousness, his stolen glances, and Abby’s strange behavior all click into place.

Mike reaches for your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “I know it’s been tough, and I haven’t always been the best at showing it, but I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

His vulnerability, usually hidden beneath a tough exterior, is laid bare before you. You can see the fear in his eyes, the fear of rejection, but also the unwavering determination to make you happy.

Abby, unable to contain herself any longer, jumps up from her seat and hugs you both. “Say yes! Say yes!” she chants, her joy infectious.

You laugh through your tears, overwhelmed by the love and the absurdity of the moment. “Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in cheers. Abby bouncing around with glee, and Mike pulling you into a tight embrace. The weight of the world lifts off his shoulders as he kisses you, his relief and happiness evident.

As you sit back down, the ring now securely on your finger, Mike finally relaxes, and the three of you share the rest of the pancakes, laughter and love filling the room. The awkwardness and tension of the morning dissolve into a memory you’ll cherish forever.

You can’t help but chuckle at your earlier thoughts. Poison? Really? You mentally scold yourself for letting your imagination run wild, but you also appreciate how deeply this moment has etched itself into your heart.

Mike, still holding your hand, looks at you with a mixture of relief and adoration. “Sorry for the secrecy. I wanted it to be a surprise, and Abby was adamant about helping.”

Abby nods vigorously “I told him it would be perfect! And it was, right?”

You nod, smiling. “It was perfect. I totally didn’t suspected anything.” Mike chuckles, finally taking a bite of his now cold pancake. “Yeah, I probably should have kept my cool better. I was so nervous”

You squeeze his hand. “It was adorable. And perfect.”

The morning continues with laughter and joy. Mike’s initial anxiety melts away, replaced by a profound sense of contentment. He keeps his hand in yours, occasionally glancing at the ring on your finger with a smile that speaks volumes.

Abby chatters excitedly about the planning, her ideas for the wedding, and how she knew all along that you would say yes. Her enthusiasm is contagious, filling the room with warmth and laughter. Mike listens, his eyes filled with affection and gratitude, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the moment.

The ring on your finger feels both familiar and new, a promise of the future you and Mike will share. The morning, with all its quirks and surprises, will be a story you'll both tell for years to come, a perfect blend of love, laughter, and a touch of mischief, thanks to Abby's enthusiastic participation.

Mike stands up, pulling you into another hug. "I love you," he whispers, his voice steady and sure. "Thank you for saving yes.”

You smile, resting your head against his chest. "I love you too, Mike. Always."

Abby, unable to contain her excitement any longer, joins the hug, wrapping her arms around both of you. "We're going to be the best family ever!" she declares, her voice filled with the certainty only a child can have.

She was so right.

Chapter Text

The morning light seeps through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stir, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep, and blink against the light. Your eyes land on Derek, standing at the foot of the bed. He's already dressed, though his choice of outfit is characteristically chaotic: a bright red tie against a loud purple shirt, paired with a teal jacket and trousers. The combination is almost painful to look at, but it's so quintessentially Derek that you can't help but smile.

Before you can even greet him, he's on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His lips find yours in a series of rapid, fervent kisses, moving from your mouth to your cheeks, to your eyelids, and back again.

"Morning, love," he mutters between kisses, his voice a husky rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "Miss me?" he murmurs between kisses, his voice husky and warm. "I couldn't wait for you to wake up."

You try to respond, but his relentless affection makes it difficult to form coherent words. "Derek... I... Good morning," you manage to get out, laughing softly. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you return his kisses.

He grins, his hands roaming over your sides, his body pinning you in place. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with an intensity that makes your heart race. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up despite the haze of sleep. "I think you might be the crazy one, Derek. Especially with that outfit."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You like it? Figured I'd give the locals something to talk about."

You roll your eyes playfully. "They're already talking about you, Derek. You don't need to give them any more reasons."

His expression grows serious, his gaze locking onto yours. "I don't give a fuck about what they think. The only thing that matters to me is you."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere, his touch searing through the thin fabric of your nightgown. 

You're completely at his mercy, but you wouldn't have it any other way. His intensity, his passion, it's all part of who he is - and you love him for it.

"There's always work to be done, especially with these idiots in town. Can't expect anything to get done properly without me, can we?" He chuckles, his breath hot against your ear.

You laugh softly, your hands tracing the lines of his jaw. "Ever the modest one, aren't you?"

He pulls back slightly, his eyes darkening with intensity. "Modesty is for the weak. I get things done. And I'll get you done, too, before I leave."

His words send a shiver down your spine. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that” you managed to say, looking quickly at the watch he had. 

He was already more than 30 minutes late. 

"Derek, I just woke up," you protest weakly, your voice muffled against his lips. "Give me a moment to breathe."

But he ignores your plea, his kisses becoming more fervent. "I can't help it," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You're irresistible." His hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

You gasped from the feeling of his teeth taking a chunk of flesh from your shoulder. His tongue licking ferociously like a starved animal who hasn’t eaten in days.

Finally, he pulls back, looking down at you with a smug satisfaction.
"Right. I've got to go deal with these incompetent fools now," he says, standing up and adjusting his tie. "But don't think for a second that I'm done with you. I'll be back, and we're going to pick up right where we left off."

You watch him as he leaves, a mixture of amusement and affection warming your heart. His arrogance, his confidence, it's all so him. And as much as he frustrates you, you wouldn't trade him for anything.

Once Derek is gone, you take a moment to gather yourself before getting out of bed. The villa you share is a simple, charming place, a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle you once knew. It's nestled in a quiet coastal town, far removed from the chaos of your past. The whitewashed walls and terracotta roof tiles blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape, giving the villa a timeless, rustic charm.

The interior is modest but comfortable, with rustic furniture that speaks of a simpler time. The living room is cozy, with a large stone fireplace and a worn leather sofa that has quickly become your favorite spot to relax. The kitchen is small but functional, with wooden cabinets and a quaint dining table where you and Derek share your meals.

Outside, a small garden blooms with colorful flowers and a lot of weeds that still need to be eliminate. 

Gardening just wasn’t for you. 

The simplicity of this place brings a sense of peace you never knew you needed.

You move through the villa, your footsteps echoing softly on the tiled floors. The tranquility of your surroundings provides a welcome respite from the lingering fear of being discovered. You brew a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, and think about the life you've built here with Derek. 

The town's economy is struggling, and Derek's suggestions are met with a mixture of skepticism and hope. It's a side of him you've always admired, even if his arrogance can sometimes be overwhelming.

You also contributed to the town via the community center where you volunteer. It's a short walk from the villa, through winding streets lined with quaint houses and shops. The people in this town are friendly, their lives intertwined in ways that remind you of the importance of community.

At the community center, you find fulfillment in helping others. Whether it's organizing activities for the children, assisting with educational programs, or simply lending an ear to those in need, the work is rewarding and helps you feel connected to your new home.

The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the quiet coastal town as you exit your new home. The air is filled with the scent of salt and the distant call of seagulls. As you walk down the cobblestone streets, you're greeted by the familiar faces of your neighbors, each offering a friendly wave or a nod of acknowledgment.

A man selling fresh fish waves enthusiastically, yelling that ugly name you still needed to get used to. A group of children playing with a ball pause to wave at you too. 

The community's warmth is palpable, and though you've only been here a short time, their friendliness has made the transition easier. They have accepted you and Derek into their community despite your mysterious arrival.

You make your way to the bakery, a small, charming building with a brightly painted sign hanging above the door. The scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, inviting you inside. You push open the door, the bell above it jingling softly as you enter.

The bakery is empty save for the young man behind the counter. He looks up as you walk in, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly composes himself. "Good morning" he stutters, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. Must be the hot weather outside. 

"How can I help you today?"

He's a young man with a sturdy build, blond hair and a gentle demeanor. Despite his flustered greetings, you've come to enjoy your daily visits to the bakery, often stopping by just to talk with him. He's always polite, though you've noticed he becomes a bit nervous in your presence.

"Hello," you greet him with a warm smile. "I was just coming in to see how things are going. Has my husband been too harsh on you lately?"

The young man shrugs and offers a shy smile. "He can be... intense," he admits, "but he means well. He's helped me a lot with the business, even if his methods are a bit... direct."

You chuckle softly. "That sounds like him. I'm glad to hear the business is doing well, though. What do you recommend today? I'm in the mood for something special."

He brightens at your question, clearly pleased that you've asked for his advice. "Well, we just made a fresh batch of sourdough," he says, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It's perfect with a bit of olive oil or cheese. And if you’re looking for something sweet, we have some new pastries filled with local berries.

You nod, taking in his suggestions. As you look over the selection, you notice the small gestures he makes the way his hands fidget slightly, the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye. 

"I think I'll take a loaf of the sourdough and a few of those berry pastries." you decide. "They sound wonderful."

He begins to gather your order, moving with practiced ease. As he works, you lean against the counter, the atmosphere comfortable and relaxed. "So, any interesting details that are happening in town?" you ask, your tone light. "You always hear all sorts of things, working here.”

He grins, his demeanor relaxing a bit as he engages in the familiar small talk. "Actually, there's been quite a bit of chatter lately," he confides. "Mrs. Turner's cat had kittens, and everyone's talking about who's going to adopt them. And Mr. Fletcher is planning to expand his fishing fleet. It's all anyone can talk about at the market."

You laugh, enjoying the simplicity of the town's concerns. "Sounds like there's never a dull moment around here."

He chuckles, nodding. "It's a small town, but there's always something happening. People love to share their stories.”

“Anything else worth mentioning?”

"I’d you insist" he continues, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "have you heard about the mayor's daughter? She's apparently planning a big surprise for his birthday next week. It's all very hush-hush, but I heard she's organizing a town wide celebration.”

You lean in closer, intrigued. "Really? That sounds exciting. I'll have to keep an ear out for more details."

He nods, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "And then there's old Mr. Howard. He's convinced he saw a ghost near the lighthouse the other night. Says it's the spirit of a sailor who died at sca."

You laugh, shaking your head. "That sounds like he. Always coming up with something just to attract attention”

As you continue to chat, you can't help but notice the way he looks at you - his gaze lingering a bit too long, his smile a bit too warm.

"Do you ever get tired of hearing all the town's secrets?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Not really. It's part of what makes this place feel like home. Besides, it's nice to know what's going on in everyone's lives. Makes you feel connected.”

You nod, understanding.

The small talk is comforting, a reminder of the normalcy you've found in this quiet place.

"So, how's the community center project going?" he asks, handing you your bag of goods. "I heard you're organizing a new reading program."

"It's going well," you reply, smiling. "We've had a lot of interest from the kids. It's nice to see them so excited about books."

"That's great," he says, his smile widening. "You're doing a wonderful job there."

You thank him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his kind words. As you glance around the empty bakery you can't help but notice the care he takes in everything he does the way he arranges the pastries just so, the pride he takes in his work. It's clear that he loves what he does, and you admire that about him.

"Thank you," you said as he handed you the neatly wrapped package.

As you prepare to leave, he looks up, his eyes meeting yours. He calls out, your fake name still sounding odd and almost ugly to your ears.

You turn back to him, curious. "Yes?"

"There's going to be a festival tonight," he says, his voice hopeful. "Just the townspeople, a little gathering by the beach. I was wondering if you'd be there.”

You smile, touched by his invitation. "That sounds lovely. I’ll talk to my grumpy husband I’ll see if we can make it."

He beams, clearly pleased. "Great. It'll be nice to see you there."

With a final smile, you step out of the bakery, the bell jingling softly behind you.

As you walk back towards the villa, your phone rings. It's Derek.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 

Punctual as usual.

Every single day, almost always at the same hour, you expected a call from Derek where you would then hear him whine and complain like a brat about how boring life here is.

You answer, and his voice is instantly recognizable, tinged with a familiar whine. His complains about this place are always hilarious to hear.

You seize the opportunity to steer the conversation towards the festival. "There's a festival at the beach tonight. It's a yearly event where everyone in town gathers. It might be fun, and it could be a good way to blend in more with the locals. What do you think?"

Derek snorts derisively. "A festival? Really? Sounds like a waste of time. I can't imagine anything more dull than watching these people dance around a bonfire or whatever it is they do."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I find it adorable, okay? It's what makes this place unique."

"Unique is one thing," Derek mutters, you hear him making use of his vape with unnecessary vigor. "But some of these traditions are just plain stupid. They're so backward."

"Maybe," you concede, "but it's also about community and heritage."

Derek sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I know, I know. It just drives me crazy sometimes. They could be so much more efficient, more productive."

Sensing his resistance, you decide to use a more persuasive tactic. "Well, I was thinking... if you do come, maybe we could make the evening a bit more interesting afterward. You know, a special reward for making an effort?" Your voice takes on a playful, suggestive tone.

There's a pause on the other end, and you can almost hear the gears turning in Derek's head. When he speaks again, his voice is cocky, laced with a hint of amusement. "A reward, huh? Well, that does change things. Alright, fine. But you better make it worth my while."

You smile, satisfied with his agreement. "You won't regret it. I'll see you at home soon."

"Yeah, yeah. See you then," he mutters before hanging up.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the small coastal town, bathing everything in a warm, inviting light. The townspeople have been busy all day, preparing for the annual summer festival held on the beach. 

As you and Derek walk down the cobblestone path that leads to the shore, you can hear the distant sounds of laughter, music, and the hum of excited conversations.

Derek walks beside you, his posture relaxed yet still exuding an air of entitlement. His eyes hold a glimmer of curiosity that you didn’t dare to highlight to him otherwise he would  just deny it. 

The festival is far from the high-society events you and him used to frequent, but there's something about the simplicity and authenticity of it that intrigues him.

As you reach the beach, you're greeted by a breathtaking sight. The entire stretch of sand has been transformed into a vibrant tapestry of colors and decorations. String lights hang from wooden poles, their soft glow beginning to compete with the fading sunlight. Lanterns of various shapes and sizes are scattered around, casting a warm, flickering light as the evening approaches.

Large, colorful tents have been set up, each housing different activities and stalls. One tent is dedicated to local artisans, displaying handmade crafts and artwork. Another is filled with tables laden with an array of delicious foods, the scents mingling in the air and making your mouth water.

"Quite a setup," Derek remarks, his voice tinged with both amusement and a hint of his characteristic disdain. "A bit... quaint for my usual taste, though."

You smile, nudging him playfully. "Come on, try to enjoy it."

He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's not entirely opposed to the idea. As you walk further onto the beach, you notice a stage set up at one end, with a local band playing lively music. 

The sounds of guitars, drums, and cheerful vocals fill the air, blending with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

As you stroll along, you spot a group of teenagers playing beach volleyball. 

Among them, you recognize the guy who works at the bakery. He's already watching you from afar. When he realizes you've noticed him, you wave at him warmly.

One of his friends, noticing the interaction, nudges him playfully in the arm. The baker, caught off guard, waves back awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck. His nervousness only intensifies when he notices Derek looking in his direction as well, a flicker of territoriality in Derek's eyes.

Just then, you feel Derek's presence beside you, his arm slipping possessively around your waist. His grip is firm, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Seems like you've got an admirer," Derek comments dryly, his tone laced with amusement and a hint of possessiveness.

You laugh, shaking your head. "He's just a kid, Derek. Don't get all worked up."

Derek smirks, his gaze still lingering on the group of teenagers. "Well, he'd better know his place."

You and Derek make your way to one of the food stalls, where the tantalizing smell of grilled seafood draws you in. The stall owner, an elderly woman with a warm smile, offers you a plate of freshly grilled fish and a side of roasted vegetables

"Welcome to our festival," she says, her eyes crinkling with genuine friendliness. "Enjoy the food and the festivities.”

"Thank you," you reply, taking the plate. You hand another to Derek, who accepts it with a nod, his expression inscrutable.

As you find a spot to sit and enjoy your meal, you take in the sight of the beach decorated for the festival. 

Banners with intricate patterns flutter in the breeze, and tables covered with colorful cloths are dotted around, inviting people to sit and relax. 

There's a sense of community and togetherness that's palpable, something that feels warm and adorable.

A middle-aged man with a hearty laugh approaches your table, accompanied by a woman with kind eyes. The man's face lights up with recognition as he sees Derek.

"Never fought to see you here!" the man exclaims. "What brings you to our little festival?"

Derek raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fred. This is my partner, the reason why I’m here" he says, introducing you.

Thank God, Derek gave you the grace of not specifying or the conservation would be over already.

Fred shakes your hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet you. This is my wife, Susan. We run the fish stall with my mother.”

Susan smiles warmly. “We hope you’re enjoving the festival. It’s a tradition that goes back generations in our family.

“Really?” you ask, intrigued. “Tell us more about it.”

Fred and Susan exchange a proud glance before launching into the story. “Well, it all started around fifty years ago.” Fred begins. “This town was just a small fishing village back then. Every summer, the fishermen would come together to celebrate the bounty of the sea. They’d share their catches, tell stories, and enjoy the warm weather.”

Susan nods, picking up the tale. “Over time, it evolved into a community-wide celebration. We have music, food, games, and of course, the traditional bonfire at the end of the night. It’s a way for everyone to come together and appreciate what we have.”

Derek listens, his usual cynicism replaced by genuine interest. “Sounds like a lot of work to put together. But I suppose it’s worth it for the sense of community.”

“It is,” Fred agrees. “And everyone pitches in. It’s what makes our town special.”

Just then, you catch with the corner of your eyes a teenage girl with long hair tied back in a ponytail comes up to the stall, trying to sneak past without drawing attention. 

She’s wearing a scarf around her neck despite the warm weather. 

She is hiding something. The right corner of your lip raised as memories of your past fun times with Derek made you act like this.

But at least the strategies you came up with were more convincing, especially at work. Even though everyone knew that you slept with your boss you still did your best to hide the evidence.

As she ducks behind the counter, Fred and Susan both notice her at the same time.

“Emily!” Susan exclaims, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. “Is everything alright?”

The girl turn around too fast and the poorly wrapped scarf around her neck fell off.

Fred’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of the telltale mark on his daughter’s neck as she adjusts her scarf.

Both parents’ eyes widen in horror as they scream together, their voices echoing across the beach.

They sounded like seagulls.

Emily freezes, her face turning bright red. The elderly woman, Fred’s mother, jumps in shock, brandishing a wooden stick and a pan in her hands as she start to scream along with them.

The commotion attracts the attention of nearby people, who turn to see what’s happening. Emily’s friends giggle from a distance, clearly enjoying her predicament. 

“Who was Emily? I want to know who did this to you? Who disfigured your body? My daughter’s body,” Fred shouted quickly.

Susan, meanwhile, fusses over her daughter, adjusting the scarf to cover the hickey. “You’re too young for this kind of behavior!”

Emily looks mortified, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Mom. Dad, please! Not here, not now!”

The elderly woman, seeing that there’s no real danger, lowers her weapons, but she still looks flustered. “Young people these days,” she mutters, shaking her head.

You can’t help but laugh at the scene, hiding your giggles against Derek’s shoulder. Derek, unable to contain himself, buries his face in your hair, his body shaking with laughter. The ridiculousness of the situation is too much, and you both find yourselves laughing uncontrollably.

He leans in closer to your ear, his warm breath tickles your skin. “Imagine if the wind were to lift your shirt a bit too much,” he whispers, a mischievous glint in his eye. “They would all see my marks. If for one hickey they did all of this, imagine their reaction to all the ones I’ve left on you.’

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but laugh, hiding your face against his shoulder, picturing in your mind the possible expressions of everyone around you. Derek joins in, his laughter vibrating through his chest. The absurdity of the thought, combined with the night’s events, is too much, and you both end up laughing uncontrollably, leaning on each other for support.

As the night deepens, the festival’s energy only grows. People gather around the bonfires, sharing stories and songs, their faces lit by the dancing flames.

You and Derek sat a bit away from the main festivities, a blanket spread out on the cool grass. The flames of the bonfire flickered in the distance, casting a warm glow over the scene. Despite the gaiety surrounding you, a sense of solitude enveloped the two of you, as if the world had receded, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making.

Derek seemed unusually quiet, his gaze fixed on a spot beyond the dancers. You followed his line of sight and saw Susan and Emily, their faces illuminated by the firelight. They were laughing, their bond evident in the way they leaned into each other, sharing a moment of pure joy as Susan applied make up on her neck.

"Derek, what's wrong?" you asked softly, sensing the shift in his mood.

"Nothing," he replied curtly, his voice tinged with irritation. His eyes didn't move from the pair, and you knew better than to take his dismissal at face value.

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "It's okay, you can tell me," you urged gently.

He sighed, a heavy, resigned sound. "It's just... seeing them like that. It makes me think of my mother. How things could have been different."

The admission was a rare glimpse into his vulnerable side, a side he seldom showed. You knew about the strained, complex relationship he had with his mother, the President of the United States. Her ambition, coupled with his illegal activities to fund her campaign, had driven a wedge between them that seemed insurmountable.

"I know it's complicated," you said softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his arm. "But it's okay to feel this way. It doesn't make you weak."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes were hard, reflecting the flickering flames. "She never cared about me. Not really. I was just a means to an end for her," he said bitterly.

He looked back at the mother and daughter, a wistful look in his eyes. "Do you think things could ever change between us?" he asked, almost to himself.

"I think it's possible," you said carefully. "But it will take time. And effort. And maybe, one day, you'll find a way to forgive her, even if she doesn't change."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "Why do you put up with me?" he asked, a trace of vulnerability in his voice.

"Because I love you," you replied simply.

For a moment, the hardness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something softer, more human. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "Thank you," he whispered.

You find yourself leaning against Derek, his arm wrapped around you.

Despite the lively atmosphere, a sense of melancholy settles over you. You sip your drink slowly, the cool liquid doing little to lift your spirits.

You sigh, a deep, resigned sound that catches Derek’s attention. He looks at you, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?” he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer.

“It’s just... everything,” you say softly, your gaze fixed on the happy faces around you. “We’ve started a new life here, but we’re still hiding behind lies. We’re deceiving these people, just like before. I thought things would be different, but it feels like a cycle that never ends.”

Derek snorts. “You’re overthinking it. These people are simple. They wouldn’t understand our world, our reality. We’re doing what we have to do to survive.”

“But it’s not just about survival,” you insist, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s about living honestly, with integrity. We’re living a lie, Derek. How long can we keep this up?”

He scoffs, leaning back on his elbows, his eyes scanning the crowd dismissively. “As long as we need to. They don’t know any better, and it’s not like they’re going to find out. We’re safe here. Just enjoy the moment, will you?”

You look at him, searching for a trace of the man you fell in love with, the one who showed you kindness and affection amidst the chaos. But all you see is the mask he wears, the arrogant exterior he uses to shield himself from the world. You feel a pang of sadness, a longing for something more, something real.

The music changes, a slower, more soulful tune filling the air. Couples draw closer together, their movements more intimate, more connected. You watch them with a mixture of envy and sorrow, your heart aching for the simplicity of their happiness.

Derek shifts beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Come on,” he says, his voice softer now. “Don’t let this place get to you. We have each other, and that’s what matters.”

You nod, leaning into his embrace, though the sadness doesn’t fully dissipate. The lies, the deception-they weigh heavily on your soul, casting a shadow over the new life you’ve tried to build. You wonder if you’ll ever truly escape the past, or if it will always linger, a ghost haunting every step you take.

Derek holds you close, his presence a reminder of both the love and the complications that bind you together. And as you sit there, watching the waves roll in under the moonlight, you silently vow to find a way to break free from the cycle, to seek out a life where you can be honest, where you can be free.

As the festival winds down and the bonfires begin to fade, you and Derek make your way back to the villa. The walk is quiet, the only sounds being the distant waves and the occasional chirp of a night bird. The town has a peaceful, almost magical quality at night, and despite the heavy thoughts earlier, there’s a sense of anticipation growing within you.

When you arrive at the villa, Derek immediately drops his jovial facade. He strides inside, tossing his jacket carelessly onto a chair. You close the door behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet space.

Derek turns to you, his expression shifting from weariness to something more demanding. “Alright,” he says, his voice low and edged with impatience. “I suffered through that tedious festival. You owe me.”

You suppress a chuckle, finding his eagerness almost endearing. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you reply, a playful glint in your eye. “You’ve been very patient tonight.”

Derek’s eyes narrow with a mix of amusement and desire. “Patient, huh? That’s one way to put it. So, let’s not waste time. I’ve been bored out of my mind, and now it’s time to make it worth my while.” His tone is demanding, but instead of feeling offended, you’re excited by his bluntness.

You take a step closer to him, your smile widening. “Fine,” you say, your voice filled with anticipation. “A promise is a promise.”

Derek’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he grabs your arm, pulling you toward the bedroom. “That’s more like it,” he mutters, his grip firm but not painful. “Let’s see if you can make up for the hell I went through tonight.”

You laugh softly, genuinely amused by his impatience.

You let Derek guide you through the dimly lit hallway, the warmth of his hand on your arm sending shivers down your spine. The soft glow of the moon filters through the windows, casting delicate shadows on the walls. Derek’s steps are purposeful, his presence commanding yet oddly comforting.

As you reach the bedroom, he pushes the door open with a deliberate force. The room is a serene contrast to the lively festival, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight. Derek turns to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of frustration and desire. He steps closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You think this is a game?” he asks, his voice a low growl. There’s a challenge in his eyes, a spark that both intimidates and excites you.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice steady. “But I think you like games.”

His lips curl into a smirk as he closes the distance between you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. “You’re right,” he admits, his voice softening slightly. “But let’s see if you can keep up.”

Without warning, he pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that is both demanding and passionate. You respond eagerly, matching his intensity. The world outside the villa fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

His hands move to your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the bed. The anticipation builds as he hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. There’s a moment of stillness, a silent understanding passing between you. Then, with a sudden urgency, he claims your lips again, his hands exploring the curves of your body.

You can feel the tension in his movements, the pent-up frustration from the evening slowly melting away. His touch becomes more insistent, his kisses deeper. You match his fervor, your hands roaming his back, pulling him closer.

Time seems to blur as you lose yourselves in each other. The boundaries between where you end and he begins become indistinct. His impatience gives way to a surprising tenderness, a side of Derek you haven’t seen before. It’s a dance of push and pull, of dominance and surrender, leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

Finally, he pulls back slightly, his breath ragged. He looks at you with a mixture of satisfaction and awe. “You... you surprised me,” he admits, his voice hoarse.

You smile, feeling a sense of triumph and deep connection. “I told you a promise is a promise.”

He chuckles, the sound low and filled with genuine amusement. “I guess you did.” He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “But this is just the beginning.”

As you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of Derek’s embrace, the anticipation between you continues to build. Derek’s hand, resting gently on your side, begins to move with purpose. His fingers trail down your ribcage, grazing your skin lightly, before coming to rest on your hip. You can feel the heat from his touch seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes, igniting a slow burn within you.

You respond instinctively, your own hand tracing the lines of his chest. Your fingers move with deliberate slowness, feeling the firmness of his pectoral muscles beneath your touch. The movement is exploratory, but filled with intention. As your hand descends, you feel the defined ridges of his abdomen, each muscle tense and waiting.

Derek’s other hand slides up your back, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt to touch your bare skin. The contact sends a shiver through you, and you arch slightly into his touch, pressing your body closer to his. His hand continues its upward journey, finally reaching your shoulder, where he gently but firmly pulls you even closer, aligning your bodies perfectly.

Your breath catches as his mouth finds your neck, placing soft, deliberate kisses along the sensitive skin. The sensation is both soothing and electrifying, and you tilt your head to give him better access. His lips are warm and slightly moist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You can feel his breath against your ear, each exhale a reminder of his proximity.

Emboldened by his actions, you let your hand slide lower, exploring the defined V of his lower abdomen. The tension in his body is palpable, a silent testament to his own desire. Your fingers brush the waistband of his pants, and you feel a low rumble of approval from him. Encouraged, you slip your hand beneath the fabric, your touch light but insistent.

Derek’s response is immediate. He shifts his weight, pressing you back into the mattress, his body now hovering over yours. His eyes lock onto yours, a silent question hanging between you. You nod, giving him permission to continue. His hand moves from your hip to the waistband of your pants, fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper. He slides the fabric down, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His movements are deliberate and unhurried, each action a careful exploration of your body. He lowers himself onto you, his weight a comforting presence, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of anticipation through you, and you lift your hips slightly, inviting him closer.

Derek’s hands roam your body, one sliding beneath your back to hold you steady, the other continuing its exploration of your curves. His touch is both firm and gentle, a perfect balance of control and tenderness. He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that is deep and consuming, his tongue exploring the contours of your mouth.

You respond eagerly, your own hands tracing the lines of his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath your fingertips. The kiss deepens, a dance of desire and connection that leaves you both breathless. As you part, his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of hunger and affection.

He shifts his hips, aligning himself with you, and you feel the tip of him pressing against your entrance. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust, and you nod, your body arching towards him in silent invitation. Slowly, he begins to push forward, the sensation of him filling you both intense and exquisite. Your breath catches, and you grip his shoulders, grounding yourself in the moment.

Derek moves with a measured rhythm, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His hands hold you steady, one cradling your hip, the other supporting your back. You can feel the tension building between you, a crescendo of sensation that threatens to overwhelm. Your bodies move in perfect harmony, each thrust a symphony of connection and desire.

As the intensity builds, you find yourself lost in the sensation, your body responding to his with a fervor that surprises even you. The world narrows to just the two of you, each movement a testament to the bond you share. Derek’s breath is hot against your ear, his murmured words of encouragement a backdrop to the symphony of your shared pleasure.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, you both reach the peak, your bodies trembling with the force of your release. Derek collapses onto you, his weight a comforting presence, and you hold him close, your breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The room is filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, a testament to the intensity of your shared experience.

As you lay there, still entwined, you feel a profound sense of connection and contentment. Derek’s fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, a silent promise of more moments like this to come.

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria flickered ominously as you and Mike settled into another long night shift. The pizzeria, once bustling with the laughter and joy of children, now stood as a hollow shell of its former self.

The animatronics, with their clunky movements and eerie songs, were constant reminders of the tragic history buried within these walls, You and Mike had seen it all, from surviving the relentless animatronics to confronting the malevolent William Afton.

Mike, with his tough exterior and deeply rooted vulnerability had become a steadfast companion in these dark times. His tragic past haunted him-losing his brother Garret, the incident at the mall, and the desperate fight for custody of his sister, Abby. 

You shared your own struggles with him, opening up about your financial woes and the dire need to pay for college. Despite the harrowing circumstances, you both found solace in each other's company, forming a bond forged in the fires of survival.

Tonight Mike had brought Abby along, unable to find a babysitter for the evening. 

You glanced at Mike, noticing the weariness etched into his face, and then down at Abby, who clung to her brother's hand with an innocent enthusiasm that seemed out of place in this haunted setting.

"I can't believe the babysitter canceled again," Mike muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "But at least Abby seems excited to be here."

Abby had taken a liking to you over the countless nights you spent with Mike and at their home. She ran up to you, her face lighting up with a wide smile as she gave you a quick hug.

As you stepped inside, the familiar creak of the front door announced your arrival. The main dining area was a haunting sight-tables and chairs arranged meticulously, as if the place was waiting for a birthday party that would never come. 

"Abby, stay close," Mike called out, but she was already lost in her own world, sketching away with a crayon she had pulled from her backpack.

Despite the initial terror, the animatronics never dared to hurt you again after that. They would just perform their songs once in a while with their typical and clunky animations. 

They always managed to scare you and Mike when they would, out of nowhere in the middle of the night, start to move and sing.

The three of you settled in the big room, keeping a watchful eye on Abby as she started drawing. 

You caught glimpses of her movements from the corner of your eye, a smile creeping onto your face as you watched her diligently color a drawing with the small tubes of paint you had gifted her.

It wasn't much, but you wanted to give her something special. She deserved every good thing in the world, you told him, and Mike's e your limited funds. 

Mike had initially protested, saying you didn't need to spend money on gifts, but his expression softened, grateful for your kindness.

“So, what do you think we could do tomorrow?” you asked him, trying to steer the conversation away from boredom and awkwardness.

Mike sighed, rubbing his eyes “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about taking Abby to the park. She’s been cooped up so much, and she needs some normalcy. Maybe we could even get some ice cream after”

You smiled at the thought “That sounds nice. Abby would love that. I’ve been thinking about catching up on some studying. Finals are coming up, and I’m way behind.”

Mike nodded, “Yeah, I get that. Maybe I can help you study. I wasn’t the best student, but I might remember a thing or two.”

The idea of spending more time with Mike, even outside this terrifying place, was comforting. “I’d like that,” you said. Thanks, Mike.”

A silence fell between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the comfortable silence of two people who had been through a lot together and didn’t always need words to fill the space.

With the corner of your eyes you watched Abby moving joyfully with a drawing in her hand. 

You shifted in your seat, thinking about something that had been on your mind for a while. “Mike, how’s Vanessa doing? Have you heard anything new?”

The thought of her being stabbed by her own father was devastating. Mike listened, his gaze distant yet attentive, absorbing every word.

Mike’s face grew somber. “She’s still in a coma. The doctors say there’s no change. It’s hard, you know? Waiting and not knowing if she’ll ever wake up.”

You reached out and placed a hand on his own. “I’m so sorry, Mike. I can’t imagine how tough that must be for you, Vanessa’s strong, though. I believe she’ll pull through.”

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. 

"She will, Mike. And she'll have us there to support her. You're a good person, despite everything you've been through.”

Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I try, you know? But sometimes it feels like the world just keeps throwing more at us. First Garret, then the custody battle for Abby and now this job. It's a lot to handle”

You squeezed his hand gently "I know it's tough, but you're doing an amazing job. Abby looks up to you so much, and she's happy. That's what matters”

Mike gave you a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. It means a lot coming from you.”

It was now or never again.

"Listen, I, uh, I've been meaning to tell you something.. something important.”

He tried to shift the conversation, awkwardly fumbling as he attempted to confess his feelings for you.

You looked at him, your interest piqued. "What is it, Mike?"

Mike's gaze darted away for a moment, his tough exterior momentarıly cracking to reveal the vulnerability bencath. He took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I just..ever since we started working together, things have felt different. You've been there for me and Abby always. I can't even begin to describe w-“

Before he could finish, the familiar clunky movements of the animatronics echoed through the room. The same music you came to hate blasted inside the room.

You really didn’t feel like seeing those giant puppets again. The nightmares that they gave you kept  tormenting you even now.

Your phone buzzed, alerting you that the battery was low. "Hold that thought, Mike. My phone's about to die. I'll just go charge it in the office real quick."

Your gaze remained glued to the floor and your movements grew quicker as you heard the creak of the curtains opening.

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Mike sat alone, staring at the empty chair where you had been. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not seizing the moment. He had wanted to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he cared about you, but now it felt like the chance had passed.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, Mike, get it together,” he muttered to himself. Determined to distract himself, he decided to check on Abby. She had been quiet for a while, and he wanted to make sure she was safe.

Where is she? When did the music stopped? The curtains of the puppet theater were wide open, but there was only the blue rabbit with his instrument in hand.

Fuck.

His steps grew louder as he moved around, hoping to find her soon.

Where is Abby?

Mike stood in the dimly lit hallway, the seric glow of the security cameras casting long shadows that seemed to move on their own. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. 

The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the building settling His heart pounded in his chest, the familiar sense of dread creeping in as he glanced around, trying to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He turned to check one of the cameras, and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement. Freddy and Chica stood at the end of the hallway, their eyes glowing ominously. Mike’s breath caught in his throat. He turned back to face them fully, and they remained still, their mechanical bodies poised as if ready to pounce.

A chill ran down his spine. Slowly, he backed away, keeping his eyes on the faint sound of metal footsteps following him from behind. As he turned to continue down the hallway, he could hear each step he took was echoed by a heavier, more deliberate step.

Mike’s pulse quickened. He reached a junction in the hall and quickly glanced over his shoulder. Freddy and Chica were closer now, their unblinking eyes locked onto him. Panic set in as he realized they were not going to stop. 

They were hunting him.

Desperately, he ducked into a side room, hoping to lose them. He pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily. He could hear the animatronics approaching, their footsteps growing louder. Just as he thought he might have a moment to gather his thoughts, a familiar yet unsettling sound filled the air.

Bonnie’s voice echoed through the hallway, singing a romantic song that was entirely out of the situation. The melody was slow and haunting, the lyrics about love and companionship clashing with the terror that gripped Mike’s heart.

“This isn’t happening,” Mike whispered to himself, trying to steady his nerves.

The song seemed to embolden Freddy and Chica, who now stood at the doorway of the room, blocking his escape. Freddy stepped forward, and Mike knew he had to act fast. He grabbed a nearby chair and swung it at Freddy, the impact sending a shower of sparks flying. Freddy staggered but quickly regained its footing.

Mike darted past Freddy, the chair now a makeshift shield as he tried to fend off Chica. Chica’s cupcake jumped from her hand and lunged at him, mouth snapping dangerously close to his face. Mike shoved the chair into its path, momentarily halting it’s advance. He could hear Bonnie’s song growing louder, the romantic tung becoming more contorted by the second.

He managed to push past Chica and bolted down the hallway. His mind raced, filled with thoughts regarding Abby and you. He needed to find you both and make sure you were safe, he couldn’t let them get to you.

He called out for Abby, his voice echoing through the empty corridors.

“Abby? Where are you?” he called, his heart pounding in his chest.

There was no response, and his anxiety grew. He quickened his pace, checking every room he passed. His mind raced with thoughts of what could happen if he didn’t find her soon.

Finally, he heard a faint sound coming from one of the vents. 

He saw a vent grate hanging loosely from the wall.

He knelt down and peered inside, relief flooding through him when he saw Abby’s face.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a faint reply. “Mike? I’m here.”

Relief washed over him, Abby was safe, at least for now. But he couldn’t linger. He had to to stay hidden and quickly moved on, his mind focused on finding you. He told Abby to stay hidden as he went to search for you.

The building seemed to close in around him as he kept moving, the oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on his shoulders. The sound of Bonnie’s song still echoed faintly, a constant reminder of the danger he faced. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the building made him jump.

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As you left the office, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you. The dimly lit hallway stretched out before you, shadows, dancing cerily along the walls. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you headed towards the storage room to check on some squipment. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant hum of the animatronics.

As you walked, the hairs on the back hoping to get back off your neck stood up. Something wasn't right. You quickened your pace to the office quickly. But as you rounded a corner, you came face to face with Foxy.

The animatronic stood in the middle of the hallway, its eyes glowing with a sinister light. Foxy's hook glinted menacingly in the faint light, and its mechanical jaw clicked as it opened and closed. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a step back, the fear gripping you like a vice.

Before you could react, Foxy lunged at you with a speed that belied its clunky frame. You barely managed to dodge, stumbling and falling to the ground. Foxy's hook slashed through the air where your head had been moments before, the sound of metal slicing through the air sending chills down your spine.

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline surging through your veins. Foxy turned to face you, its eyes locked onto you with an unsettling intensity.

The hallway offered little in the way of weapons or cover, but you spotted a loose metal pipe on the floor. Grabbing it, you held it up defensively.

Foxy advanced, its footsteps heavy and deliberate. You swung the pipe, aiming for its head, but Foxy caught it with its hook, the metal screeching as it bent under the pressure. With a swift motion, Foxy yanked the pipe from your hands and tossed it aside.

Panic set in as you backed away, your mind racing for a plan. Foxy lunged again, and you ducked, narrowly avoiding its grasp. You dashed down the hallway, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Foxy was relentless, its pursuit unyielding.

As you ran, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Foxy closing the distance. 

Your heart sank as you realized there was no way you could outrun it. 

You needed to find a way to slow it down. 

Spotting a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, you pulled the pin and sprayed the extinguisher’s contents directly at its face.

The thick cloud of foam obscured Foxy’s vision, and it stumbled, momentarily disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, you turned and ran again, your legs burning with the effort.

You could hear Foxy behind you, the sound of its mechanical limbs cutting through the foam. You turned another corner and found yourself in a dead-end hallway. 

Desperation clawed at you as you searched for an escape. There was a maintenance closet nearby, and you darted inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

The small, cramped space offered little comfort. The sound of Foxy’s heavy footsteps growing louder with each passing second. Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out. The closet was filled with tools and supplies, but nothing that seemed useful against an animatronic.

Foxy’s silhouette appeared in the small window of the door, its glowing eyes scanning the room. You held your breath, praying it wouldn’t find you. But Foxy wasn’t fooled. With a powerful kick, it shattered the door in seconds and stepped inside.

You grabbed a wrench from a nearby shelf and swung it with all your might. The wrench connected with Foxy’s head, but it barely seemed to faze the animatronic. Foxy grabbed you with its hook, lifting you off the ground and slamming you against the wall. 

Pain shot through your body, and you gasped for breath. Foxy’s grip tightened, and you could feel the cold metal pressing into your skin. 

“Hey! Over here!”

It was Mike. 

He stood at the entrance of the closet, a determined look on his face. He held the wrench that fell from your hand and without hesitation, he charged at Foxy.

“Let go!” Mike shouted, swinging with all his strength, hitting Foxy’s arm. The animatronic released you, turning its attention to Mike. 

You stumbled back, trying to catch your breath as you moved your hand to where the hook was previously.

There is blood on your hand.

Foxy lunged at Mike, its hook slashing through the air. Mike barely managed to dodge, the hook grazing his shoulder and tearing his shirt.

The pain was sharp, but Mike couldn’t afford to slow down. He swung the wrench again, aiming for Foxy’s head. The impact sent Foxy reeling, its mechanical parts whirring and sparking. 

The pain that you felt when you stood up was an electric jolt of surprise and hurt. You grabbed fire extinguisher and joined in to help Mike recover, spraying Foxy with what was left and adding to its confusion.

Working together, you and Mike managed to push Foxy out of the office and lock the door. The animatronic pounded on the door, its mechanical growls echoing through the room. You and Mike leaned against the door, breathing heavily.

You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. Mike leaned against the door, his chest heaving, eyes darting around the room as if expecting Foxy to burst through any second.

For a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist, It was just the two of you, alive and breathing, a small miracle in this place of nightmares. You took a step towards Mike, your legs trembling, and before you could second-guess yourself, you wrapped your arms around him. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, choked with emotion. 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

Mike's arms encircled your waist, pulling you close. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as if he needed the contact as much as you did. 

He buried his face in your shoulder, and you felt his breath warm against your skin. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice rough yet soothing. "I won't let anything happen to you"

The moment stretched, the horrors outside momentarily forgotten as you found solace in each other's embrace. 

But reality soon intruded. 

You pulled back slightly, enough to look into his eyes. "We need a plan."

Mike nodded, his expression hardening with determination. He released you reluctantly, his hand lingering on your waist for a moment before turning to the desk where the security monitors flickered. 

“We need to be more careful, why are they even attacking us?” you said, your voice shaking slightly.

“They probably want Abby. I should have never brought her back here”

“We need to find Abby,” Mike said, his mind already moving to the next task. “She’s hiding in a vent, but we can’t leave her there”

"Let's see where they are," he said, flipping through the camera feeds with practiced efficiency.

The grainy images jumped from one room to another, the animatronics captured in various states of eerie stillness and movement. Freddy's glowing eyes stared into the camera from the main stage, while Chica loomed in the dining area, her beak open in a perpetual grin. Foxy was nowhere to be seen, likely lurking somewhere in the shadows, waiting for his next chance.

Mike's jaw clenched as he scanned the screens. "Okay," he said, pointing to the feed showing the hallway leading back to the main room. "We'll take this route. It's the shortest, and we can keep an eye on the cameras to avoid them."

You nodded, your mind racing through the plan. "If we time it right, we can slip past them. Freddy and Chica seem to be staying put for now. It's Foxy we need to watch out for"

Mike's eyes met yours, and despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you felt a surge of confidence.

He squeezed your shoulder, a silent reassurance, and you took a deep breath, readying yourself for the next harrowing ordeal.

"Let's do this," Mike said, his voice resolute. You nodded, your resolve hardening. With one last check of the cameras, you unlocked the door.

Mike led the way, his jaw set in determination, while you kept a wary eye on the surrounding darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. As you turned a corner, a faint sound reached your ears - a soft, muffled sobbing. 

You glanced at Mike, and he nodded, his expression tight with worry. The sound was coming from a vent near the floor.

Kneeling down, you peered into the vent and saw Abby's tear-streaked face staring back at you. Relief washed over you as you reached out to her. "Abby, it's okay. It's us," you said softly.

Abby crawled out, her small body trembling with fear. Mike scooped her up in his arms, holding her close. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice choked with sobs. "I just wanted you both to be happy."

You exchanged a worried glance with Mike, but there was no time to dwell on it. "Let's get back to the room," Mike said, his voice firm but gentle. You nodded, and together, the three of you made your way back to the room you had separated from earlier.

As you entered, the sight of the cupboard caught your attention immediately. There was a new drawing placed there, the paper stark against the dark wood. You touched Mike's arm, drawing his gaze. "Look," you whispered, pointing to the drawing. You both stepped closer, your apprehension growing with each step.

The drawing was unmistakably Abby's work, created with the bright colors and bold lines characteristic of a child's hand. It depicted two figures, clearly meant to be you and Mike, holding hands. The figure representing Mike had short, brown hair, wearing the security guard uniform. 

The other figure, representing you, had the smile that Abby always liked to draw, wearing the casual outfit she often saw you in.

Surrounding the two figures were numerous hearts. The hearts seemed to pulse with an innocent vibrancy, a child's attempt to depict love and happiness.

However, what drew your eye with a chilling inevitability was the red paint used for the hearts. It was still fresh, glistening under the light, and it started to drip, creating the illusion that the two figures were covered in blood. 

The paint ran down the paper in thin rivulets, staining the bright colors beneath and creating a macabre contrast to the otherwise joyful scene.

You felt a cold chill run down your spine as the realization dawned. 

The animatronics' erratic behavior, their attempts to bring you and Mike together, all stemmed from Abby's innocent wish. She had wanted you and Mike to be happy together and had turned to her 'friends' for help.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as sldded, her small body shaking with sobs. "I just wanted you both to be happy. I thought they could help."

Abby whispered, her voice trembling “I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen.”

The frustration and fear you had been holding in boiled over. “Abby, you could have been hurt! We could have been hurt. Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is?”

Ably flinched at your tone, her eyes filling with tears, “I didn’t know... I’m really sorry.”

Seeing Abby like this made your heart ache. God, this was all too much.

You turned and stormed out of the building, needing a moment to clear your head. The cool night air hit your face, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere inside.

Mike watched you go, he handed back the drawing on the cupboard to Abby before taking hold of Abby’s hand and following you outside.

“Wait here” he told her after closing the gates behind him. Abby nodded, sniffling “Okay, Mike.”

His footsteps echoing softly in the night. He found you standing by the edge of the parking lot, staring out into the darkness. Your shoulders were tense, and he could see the struggle in your eyes as you tried to calm down.

“Hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously while slipping his hands inside of his pockets. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears of frustration and fear spilling over. “No, I’m not okay, Mike. We could have died in there. You could have died. Abby could have died. And for what? A silly drawing”

Mike’s heart ached at seeing you so distressed. “I know. I know it’s scary. But we’re okay. We’re all okay.”

“But what if we’re not next time? What if they decide one day to just kill us?” you shot back, your voice trembling “What if we don’t make it out? I’m so scared, Mike. I’m scared for Abby. I’m scared for you. I’m scared for all of us.”

Mike reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m scared too. But we’re in this together. We’ve always been in this together”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I just...I can’t lose you, Mike. I can’t lose Abby. This place it’s just too much for me”

Mike’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his heart pounding.

“You’re not going to lose us. I promise. There’s something I need to tell you.” 

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I care about you. A lot. More than just a friend. I’ve been wanting for a long time, but I never found the right moment.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, the intensity of his words cutting through your fear. “Mike...”

He continued, his voice filled with emotion. “You mean so much to me. You’re strong, brave, and you make me feel like I can face anything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of a different kind.

Mike took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently wipe away your tears. “We’re going to get through this. Together. I promise.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of relief and comfort. “I just want us all to be safe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he said softly. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you stood there in the cool night air, the weight of the night’s events slowly lifting. The bond between you felt stronger than ever, forged in the fires of fear and survival.

Just then, you heard a small voice behind you. Abby tugged at your sleeve, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you two going to kiss now?"

You exchanged a glance with Mike, both of you blushing furiously. You moved closer to him while he was looking at Abby with a typical older-brother stare and pressed your lips to his in a tender kiss.

He did not expected that.

"That's for saving me."

Mike stood there, extremely flustered from the kiss “th-thanks." He stammered.

Abby giggled with joy, clapping her hands. "Yay! You're together now!"

Mike quickly composed himself, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Alright, how about a race to the car? Whoever gets there first wins!"

Abby's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes! Let's do it!"

Mike started to count. Near the end, he suddenly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from sprinting while Abby ran towards the car without looking behind.

Before you could react, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, his lips conveying all the passion and emotion he had been holding back.

When he finally released you, you stood there, breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing. Now it was your turn to be flustered, staring into Mike's eyes with a mixture of surprise and affection.

"Mike, I..." you began, but he just smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"We should probably catch up with Abby," he said, still holding your hand.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. Together, you walked to the car, hand in hand. Abby's laughter echoed in the distance as she celebrated her victory.

Chapter Text

You and Billy step into the roadside shop, the familiar jingle of the doorbell ringing in your ears. The shop is quite large, with aisles filled with variety of  items. 

It was like entering a maze.

The only other person present is a young cashier behind the counter, absorbed in his phone. He glances up brietly, offering a nod before returning to his screen.

The air smells fainthy of old wood and cleaning supplics.

To blend in and divert any suspicion, you take Billy's hand and lead him down one of the aisles, your laughter and playful demeanor filling the otherwise quiet space. 

“Look at this," you say, picking up a hat from one of the displays. 

It started with a high, rounded top that sits proudly on the head. The edges of the top dipped with a  curve. It had a wide, sweeping brim that cascaded around the hat.

You place it on Billy's head and adjust it, giggling. It made him appear taller. "It fits perfectly," you tease, your voice light and carefree. 

Billy smirks, a shadow of his darker intentions flickering in his eyes as he surveys the layout of the store.

Wandering through the aisles, you make a show of examining various products, occasionally holding up items for Billy's opinion, such as the ridiculous pair of oversized sunglasses that you put on, striking a pose that makes Billy chuckle. "What do you think?" you ask, twirling playfully. 

His laughter, though genuine, hides the calculating thoughts that race through his mind as he notes the position of the exits and the layout of the aisles. 

Your interaction is filled with casual touches and whispered jokes, designed to paint a picture of a couple simply enjoying an impromptu shopping trip.

You passed by the section with bottled drinks. Billy fingers the various brands of alcohol, his gaze lingering on the more expensive ones. "Maybe we should get something nice for tonight," he suggests, a hint of something darker lurking beneath his casual tone. 

You throw yourself to him, tossing your arms around his neck to lean in closer to him. “I like the way you think” and he chuckled, his chest vibrating against your body. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, the familiar smell of alcohol and smoke mingling between you.

As you continue to browse, your eyes land on a glass case filled with firearms. Billy notices your gaze and follows it, "Well, well, well,” he murmurs, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Looks like we hit the jackpot.”

You both approach the glass case, peering inside with a mix of curiosity and excitement. Billy’s fingers trace the outline of a sleek revolver, his eyes studying it with the practiced ease of someone who knows their way around weapons “This one’s a beauty,” he says, his voice low and reverent.

"It's a Smith & Wesson Model 29" you traced your finger along the glass. "It's a classic .44 Magnum revolver. Dirty Harry made it famous, remember?"

Billy nodded, a small smile playing on his lips at your shared interest. "Yeah, it's a powerful piece. Six round cylinder, blued finish, and a wooden grip. As I said, a real beauty."

Your eyes moved to a sleek black pistol. "That's a Glock 19," Billy remarked. "Compact and reliable."

You nodded, adding, "Yeah, it's known for its durability and simplicity. Very easy to use and maintain." You gave him a sidelong glance. "Maybe we should get one for protection. You know, for when you forget our anniversary."

Billy smirked. "Trust me, I've got that date locked in my memory. No need for firepower”

You laughed at his words, your fingers brushing against the glass. “Imagine what we could do with these”

Billy’s eyes meet yours, and a silent understanding passes between you. This could be the answer to his debts, something you’ve both been desperately searching for. 

The plan takes shape in your mind, unspoken but clear.

“We need to be smart about this,” Billy says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Let’s see if we can get a better look at the cameras.”

“I’ll take care of distracting him” you nod your head to point to the guy at the checkout.

You reach the counter, where the cashier is still engrossed in his phone. “Hey, how’s your day going?” you ask, striking up a conversation. The cashier looks up, startled, and offers a hesitant smile.

“Not too bad, he replies, setting his phone down. “Just the usual.”

“Must get pretty lonely here sometimes,” you say, leaning slightly against the counter. The cashier’s eyes flicker with interest, and you know you’ve got his attention. You slip off your wedding ring, discreetly tucking it into the pocket of your leather jacket.

Your arms rested on the counter, your head tilted slightly to the right to show interest.

“So, do you work here often?” you ask the cashier, leaning in a little closer. The cashier, caught off guard by your forwardness, straightens up, clearly interested now.

“Yeah, most days,” he says, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “It’s not too bad. Quiet, like you said.”

“Well, you must be good at it,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer tone. “It’s nice to see a friendly face in a place like this.”

You catch sight of the gun tucked under the counter, realizing just how dangerous this game has become. 

Billy, from a distance, watches with narrowed eyes. His jealousy simmers beneath the surface as he watches you flirt, the tone of your voice making his blood boil. 

He moves quietly, checking the cameras, his movements swift and efficient. But he can’t focus completely, his thoughts constantly drifting back of to you and the cashier.

The sight of you leaning in closer to the cashier, touching his arm, and laughing at what he was saying gnaws at Billy. He perceives the seething fury taking root within, an overwhelming need to assert his claim over you. 

Each smile you give the cashier, each casual touch, feels like a slap to his face. 

He tries to concentrate on the cameras, but his mind is a whirlwind of angry thoughts and vivid images of the cashier making a move on you.

His heart pounds with a mix of anger and desire, each beat a reminder of how much he hates seeing you with another man, even if it’s all part of the plan.

The cashier, emboldened by your attention, smiles more confidently. “I try,” he says, his eyes flicking to your lips briefly. “So, what brings you two here?”

“We’re just passing through,” you say, giving him a playful smile. “Needed to stretch our legs, maybe pick up a few things.”

Billy moves to the other side of the store, he noticed a few security cameras mounted in the corners and made mental notes of their positions. 

He noticed a door marked “Employees Only” at the back and figured it might lead to an office or storage room. He also spotted a small emergency exit near the back, which could be useful for a quick getaway.

The cameras are all over the most valuable stuff. If you and him really want to get what you need, you will get caught.

He can’t stop glancing over, watching you with a mix of frustration and desire.

You’re just wasting time talking to that idiot. It would be much better if you came back to his side to discuss a new plan.

You’re not even glancing over at him to see if there are any possible signals he could be giving you.

Why are you so interested in talking to that prick?

He clenches his jaw, trying to suppress the urge to storm over and put an end to the conversation.

“You seem like an interesting guy.” you continue, leaning even closer. “Do you do anything else besides working here?”

The cashier chuckles nervously, “Not much.”

You nod, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “I get that. It’s hard out there. But you must have some fun, right? Maybe a little adventure now and then?”

Billy clenches his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He imagines the cashier’s hands on you, the way he looks at you with that smug, interested expression. 

It makes his vision blur with anger.

“Adventure, huh?” the cashier says, his interest clearly piqued “Well, I suppose I could use a bit more of that in my life.”

You smile, your hand lingering on his arm. “Everyone needs a little adventure.”

The dam of his patience crumbled, and a torrent of possessive fury washed over him, leaving no room for pretense or patience.

He strides over, his presence a dark storm cloud. The cashier looks up, surprise and fear mingling in his eyes as Billy pulls out his revolver and points it directly at him.

“Don’t even think about it!” Billy yells, his voice shaking with anger. The cashier freezes, his face going pale.

Billy’s eyes flick to you, and for a moment, you see the struggle in his gaze. The raw intensity of his emotions is laid bare, and it sends a thrill through you. 

The cashier takes advantage of the moment of distraction, lunging for his hidden weapon.

Driven by instinct, you swiftly pull the gun concealed by your leather jacket and press it firmly against the cashier’s back. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ you command, your voice steady and teeth clenched.

Gradually, your gaze drifts back to your husband.

His stance is unyielding, his jaw set firmly, and his eyes burn with a fierce storm of emotions.
It’s evident that the anger brewing within him is barely restrained, like a tempest held back by the most delicate of barriers.

He likely recognized his own error, fueling his anger even further than before.

"Billy, what the hell are you doing?" you hiss, your voice a mix of frustration and annoyance. "I had everything under control”

Billy's face contorts with anger. "Under control? It looked like you were just enjoying talking to the guy! I'm not going to stand here and watch him try to take advantage of you."

"Are you serious? I was distracting him so we could get what we need and get out. You just made things a hundred times worse!" You feel your own anger bubbling up, your grip on the situation slipping through your fingers.

As the argument escalates, the cashier sees his chance. His hand darts towards the panic button on the counter, moving with a desperate speed.

Billy notices the movement out of the corner of his eye, his rage reaching a boiling point.

"You son of a bitch," Billy shouts, his voice echoing through the shop. In one swift motion, he brings the back of his gun down hard on the cashier's forehead. The sound of the impact is sickening, a dull thud followed by the man's groan of pain as he crumples to the floor, blood trickling down his face.

For a moment, the shop is eerily silent, the only sound being the cashier's labored breathing. You stand there, stunned, the reality of what just happened settling over you like a heavy fog.

Billy is breathing hard, his eyes wild with a mix of adrenaline and fury.

"You see what you made me do?" he snaps, kicking the unconscious man to vent even more of his anger. "If you hadn't been playing around, this wouldn't have happened!"

"Playing around? I was trying to save us!" you retort. "You're the one who lost control!"

Billy's eyes flash dangerously, but he doesn't respond. 

The shop feels oppressive, the air thick with tension and fear.

"You get the recordings, I'll get the goods," he commands, his voice edged with urgency.

Nodding, you rush to the back of the store where the security system is likely housed. You find a small office, the door ajar. 

Inside, monitors display various angles of the store, showing both live feeds and recorded footage. The setup is relatively simple, a standard digital video recorder with a console for playback and deletion.

Your fingers fly over the controls, navigating the system to locate the recordings from the last 24 hours. You start the deletion process, each second feeling like an eternity. The progress bar slowly moves, and you pray silently that no one will interrupt this crucial task.

Meanwhile, Billy moves methodically through the store, gathering everything that could help settle your debt with the bikers. He takes firearms first, loading them into a duffel bag he found behind the counter. Next, he grabs several bottles of expensive liquor, knowing they can be sold or traded. 

He doesn't stop there, he also collects cash from the register, and grabs valuable electronics and even some jewelry that was on display near the counter. His actions are swift and precise, driven by a combination of desperation and a keen sense of survival.

Back in the office, the deletion process is finally complete. You breathe a sigh of relief as the system confirms that all recordings from the last 24 hours have been erased. You quickly disable the cameras to prevent any future recordings, ensuring there will be no evidence left behind.

With your task done, you return to the main area of the store. Billy is zipping up the duffel bag, his face a mask of grim determination. "Got everything we need?" you ask, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

Billy nods. "We need to move, now."

Together, you make your way to the exit, your footsteps echoing in the now eerily silent store. As you step outside, the cool night air hits you, providing a stark contrast to the tension-filled interior you just left. 

The car is parked nearby, and you both hurry towards it, the weight of your actions pressing heavily on your shoulders.

You slide into the passenger seat, the duffel bag of stolen goods clutched tightly in your lap. Billy starts the engine, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckled intensity. 

The car roars down the desolate road, its engine a low, constant growl that fills the otherwise silent night. 

The stolen goods rattling softly in the backseat serve as a stark reminder of the desperate act you both just committed. 

Hours have passed by this point and the adrenaline from the robbery still courses through your veins, mingling with a complex mix of relief and anxiety. 

Outside, the dark landscape stretches endlessly, broken only by the occasional silhouette of a distant tree or a flickering roadside light.

You glance at Billy, his face a rigid mask of determination and suppressed fury, illuminated only by the faint glow of the dashboard lights. 

His eyes are fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.

Determined to lighten the mood, you reach over and rest a hand on his arm. "We did it, Billy. We got what we needed. This is going to help us a lot," you say, trying to inject some optimism into your voice.

He nods curtly, not taking his eyes off the road. "Yeah, okay."

His brusque response stings, but you try again, your voice bright and hopeful."I mean, we did a good job despite all the shit that happened, don't you think?"

Billy mutters another "okay," his tone clipped and distant. 

Frustration starts to build within you, each unacknowledged attempt at conversation feeling like a brick being added to a wall between you. The silence is oppressive, pressing down on you with every mile that passes.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "Billy, pull over," you demand, your voice edged with urgency.

He glances at you, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Why?" he snaps, clearly exasperated.

"Just do it," you insist. With an angry huff, he swerves the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching on the gravel as he comes to a stop. The engine cuts off, plunging you into a profound silence broken only by the faint sounds of the night.

Billy leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. "What?" he growls, his voice laced with frustration and a simmering anger that hasn't dissipated since the robbery.

You turn to face him fully, searching his eyes for any sign of the man you know beneath the hard exterior. "Are you angry with me for flirting with that guy?" you ask, your voice soft but insistent.

Billy doesn't answer. Instead, he pulls a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with the practiced ease of a habit formed over years. 

The orange glow of the cigarette tip casts fleeting shadows over his face, emphasizing the hard lines of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. He takes a deep drag, the smoke curling around him like a shroud.

"Do you know why I did it?" you press on, refusing to let the silence grow any thicker. "I was trying to distract him. It was part of the plan. I thought you understood that."

Billy exhales a cloud of smoke, his eyes narrowing as he looks away from you, out into the darkness. The silence stretches out, thick and oppressive. 

Frustration bubbles over, and you decide to push him a little further.

“It's a shame how things ended, though," you say, your tone teasing but edged with real frustration. "He was kind of cute."

Billy's head snaps toward you, his eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

Finally he is talking to you.

You raise your hands in a mock gesture of surrender, though your heart pounds in your chest. "I'm just saying, maybe things could have gone differently if you hadn't lost your temper. We might have avoided the whole confrontation."

Billy's jaw clenches even tighter, and he takes another drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling in the confined space of the car. "So now it's my fault?" he mutters, his voice tinged with hurt and anger.

You sigh, your teasing smile fading as the gravity of the situation settles over you. "That's not what I meant, Billy. I just... I want to know why you're so angry with me. We got what we needed. We're okay, for now."

He stares at you for a long moment, the anger in his eyes slowly giving way to something more complex: hurt, betrayal, and a deep-seated fear.

You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently in a gesture of reassurance. "You won't lose me, Billy. We're in this together. But we need to be on the same page. We need to trust each other."

He finally looks back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and determination. "I do trust you," he says, his voice steadier now. "I just... I need to get better at showing it."

You smile, relief flooding through you at his words.

Billy extinguished the cigarette and tossed it out the window. He leans over and kisses you, the taste of smoke still lingering on his lips. The kiss is intense, filled with a renewed sense of connection and understanding. 

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him more fully. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. His grip is firm but not harsh, a silent declaration that you are his and he is yours.

As you rested in his arms, the physical tension between you began to transform into a palpable, almost electric energy, drawing you closer to him with an undeniable pull.

Billy's hands explored your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch igniting a trail of heat across your skin. He traced the curve of your spine, then moved to your sides, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there, eliciting a soft gasp from you. The contact was electrifying, each touch a reminder of the deep connection you shared.

Billy's hands traveled to your hips, his grip tightening as he guided you closer. You could feel the growing urgency in his touch, mirrored by the heat pooling in your own body. You moved together with a practiced ease, your bodies responding instinctively to each other. He shifted beneath you, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly. 

You raised your arms, allowing him to pull it off, and then his hands were on you again, explorin, caressing.

He shifted slightly, his other hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek. His gaze was intense, locking with yours as he leaned in for a kiss, his lips parting yours, his tongue exploring with a gentle insistence. 

Your hands moved up to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jacket as you pulled him closer. The air between you grew warmer, charged with a mixture of urgency and tenderness. 

Billy's hands move to your face, his touch both gentle and possessive, as if he is afraid to let go, afraid to lose this moment. 

Billy's breath hitches as you shift on his lap, your hips finding a rhythm that mirrors the beat of your hearts. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never fully capture.

His hands grip your waist with a possessive strength, guiding your movements with a blend of tenderness and urgency. "You're perfect," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low growl that vibrates through you, adding to the symphony of sensations coursing through your body.

You respond with equal fervor, Your own hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt. 

You tugged at the fabric, pulling it over his head, and he helped you, discarding the garment to the side. His skin was warm under your touch, the contours of his body familiar and comforting. 

You pressed closer, your lips finding his again in a fervent kiss, your bodies aligning perfectly.

Billy's lips left a trail of kisses along your jawline, down your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was deliberate, a silent declaration of his love and desire.

Billy's eyes roamed over you, his gaze filled with a mixture of reverence and desire.

His thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. 

He responded with a growl, his mouth descending to capture one of your nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.

You could feel the hard length of him pressing against you.

Your hands found their way to his belt, your fingers working with a sense of urgency to unbuckle it. You undid his belt, then the button and zipper of his jeans, your hands slipping inside to free him from the confines of the fabric.

Billy groaned as you touched him, his hips lifting slightly to help you slide his jeans and boxers down. You moved with a sense of purpose, your hands and lips exploring every inch of his exposed skin. 

He pulled you closer, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a firm, insistent pull. You helped him, discarding the last barrier between you.

In the confined space of the car, every movement was magnified, every touch more intense. Billy's hands took hold of your hips again, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance. 

You could feel the heat of him, the anticipation building to a fever pitch.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down onto him, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect union of bodies and souls. 

You gasped at the feeling, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

You began to move together, a slow, rhythmic dance of passion and love. Each movement was a testament to your bond, a physical manifestation of the deep connection you shared. 

You could feel every inch of him inside you, every thrust a reminder of his love, his need, his desire. The pace quickened, the urgency between you growing. 

You rode him with a fervent intensity, your hands gripping his shoulders, his hips lifting to meet yours with each thrust. 

The pleasure gradually intensified, building up like a symphony reaching its peak. Each wave of sensation stacked upon the last, growing stronger and more compelling.

He guided you with his rough and large hands, matching your movements with his own.

The tension building, the edge of release drawing closer with each thrust, each touch, each kiss.

When the climax came, it was a shattering wave of pleasure, a culmination of everything you felt for each other. 

You cried out, your body tensing, then releasing in a flood of sensation. Billy followed, his own release a powerful, primal groan, his hands gripping you tightly as he found his own peak.

In the aftermath, you collapsed against him, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. 

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you, a silent promise of protection and love. 

It’s just you and Billy against the world, together, unbreakable, with nothing but the open road and a shared dream of freedom stretching out before you.

Chapter Text

The oppressive heat of the morning hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, as you sat at the kitchen table, fanning yourself lazily with the paper fan Abby had made. 

The paper fan did little to fend off the sweltering temperature, but the bright smile on Abby's face when she'd given it to you was worth every half-hearted breeze it managed to produce. Abby was sprawled on the floor, her crayons scattered around her as she focused intently on her latest drawing, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Mike was in his usual spot, the old armchair that had seen better days, shirtless and looking more like a relic himself. 

His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn't really asleep. He never truly relaxed, not even in the dead of night. 

The faint hum of a fan did little to alleviate the stifling heat that wrapped around the room like a thick, suffocating blanket. 

You watched as beads of sweat formed on Mike's forchead, glistening in the dim light that filtered through the exhaustion and the relentless burden of responsibility. 

His hair, damp with sweat, clung to his forehead, and his arm hung limply over the side of the armchair, fingers twitching slightly in his half-conscious state.

"Mike, you called softly, not wanting to startle him. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

He turned his head slightly, acknowledging your presence.

You rose from your seat, feeling the oppressive heat lift slightly as you moved, and walked over to him. 

You perched yourself on the armrest of his chair, a soft smile playing on your lips. He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and curiosity “It’s too hot to stay in today,” you suggested gently, careful to keep your voice low so Abby wouldn’t overhear.

“What if we go to the beach? Just for the day. It’ll be cooler there, and Abby would love it.” Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

He glanced over at Abby, who was oblivious to your conversation, lost in her own world of colors and imagination. Her small hands moved quickly, creating vibrant shapes and scenes on the paper.

“I need to look for a job,” he whispered back, his voice hoarse and strained. “We can’t afford to waste time.” You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension beneath his skin. 

“You’ve been trying so hard, Mike. You deserve a break. We all do. Just one day won’t hurt. It might even do us some good.”

He sighed, closing his eyes again as if trying to shut out the reality of your words.

You leaned in closer, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead and pressing a gentle kiss there, “Please,” you urged softly. “For Abby,”

He opened his eyes again, and for a moment, you saw the man you fell in love with the one who would do
anything to see his sister smile. 

He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

Your smile widened, and you shifted slightly on the armrest, your body leaning into his, offering comfort and support

“Okay,” he agreed quietly. “But just for today.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, Mike. It’ll be good for all of us, I promise.”

Turning to Abby, you raised your voice just enough to catch her attention. “Abby, how would you like to go to the beach today?

Her cyes lit up, and she dropped her crayon, bounding over to you with an enthusiasm that only children could muster in such heat. “Really? Can we, Mike?“ Mike managed a tired smile, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Yeah, we can. Go get ready.”

As Abby dashed off to gather her things, you and Mike shared a look, a silent understanding passing between you.

You slipped off the armrest and knelt beside Mike’s chair, resting your head on his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Thank you,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “Anything for you,” he murmured. his voice barely audible over the hum of the fan.

You stayed like that for a while, savoring the rare moment of intimacy and quiet, drawing strength from each other. 

Finally, you stood up, offering him a hand. “Come on, let’s get ready. Abby’s probably already packed half the house”

He chuckled, a sound that was both rare and precious. “You’re right. We better make sure she hasn’t packed the kitchen sink”

You both headed to your room to gather your things, the prospect of a day at the beach bringing a lightness to your steps. 

The morning sun had only just begun its climb when you, Mike, and Abby finally piled into the car, the oppressive heat already making its presence known. 

The car’s air conditioning struggled to provide some relief as you navigated through the winding streets, heading toward the free beach you had found online. Abby was bouncing with excitement in the back seat, her small bag of beach toys clutched tightly in her lap.

Mike’s hand rested on your knee as he drove, a silent gesture of reassurance and connection. 

You leaned back, watching the scenery change from urban sprawl to the more relaxed, open roads leading to the coast.

“Are we there yet?” Abby’s voice broke the comfortable silence, her impatience palpable.

“Almost, Abby,” you replied with a smile, turning to look at her. “Just a little bit longer”

Mike glanced at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he squeezed your knee. “Excited, huh?” he said, his voice a mix of amusement and fondness.

Abby nodded vigorously, her eyes wide with anticipation. “I can’t wait to build a sandcastle!”

Finally, you arrived at the beach. It was bustling with activity, families and groups of friends scattered across the sand, umbrellas dotting the landscape like colorful mushrooms. 

The salty sea breeze was a welcome change from the stifling heat of the city, carrying with it the sounds of laughter and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore.

You parked the car, and the three of you made your way to the beach, laden with bags and an unwieldy beach umbrella. The small bar and locker rooms were conveniently located near the entrance, a hive of activity as people changed into their swimwear and bought refreshments.

As soon as you stepped onto the sand, the heat seemed to become more bearable. You could feel the grains beneath your feet, warm but comforting, and the sound of the waves crashing in the distance provided a soothing backdrop. Abby was already racing ahead, her small feet kicking up puffs of sand as she went.

“Let’s set up over there,” you suggested, pointing to a relatively open spot with not too many people around.

Mike nodded, adjusting the bags on his shoulders as you found a place to settle. 

The real challenge began when you and Mike attempted to set up the beach umbrella. 

The pole seemed to have a mind of its own, stubbornly refusing to stay upright.

"Hold it steady!" Mike grunted, trying to dig the base deeper into the sand.

"I am holding it steady! You push it in!" you retorted, sweat dripping down your face.

The two of you must have looked ridiculous, fumbling with the umbrella, your movements increasingly frantic. Abby's laughter was contagious, and soon you were both laughing too, despite the frustration.

“I’m trying!” he shot back, a playful glint in his eye as he fought with the umbrella. “Why do they make these things so complicated?”

You wiggled the top piece, trying to align it just right, but it kept slipping. The sand was too loose, and every attempt to secure the pole seemed to end in failure. 

You both burst into laughter as the umbrella toppled over again, narrowly missing a passerby who gave you a bemused look.

“Sorry!” you called out, trying to stifle your giggles. Mike’s face was red from both the heat and the effort, but he couldn’t stop laughing either. “Okay, let’s try this one more time,” he said, taking a deep breath.

You both crouched down, determined to conquer the stubborn umbrella. Mike dug into the sand with his hands, creating a deeper hole for the pole. “Alright, on three” he said, positioning the bottom piece once more. “One, two, three!”

You pushed the top piece down with all your might, and this time, it stayed. You quickly tightened the screw to secure it in place, and Mike adjusted the angle until the umbrella was finally standing tall and proud.

“Mission accomplished,” Mike declared, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

“Well done, team,” you added, giving Abby a high-five. She beamed at you, her excitement undiminished.

Even though you were in the shade now, you were still heated and sweaty for all the efforts made. Your clothes are all stuck to your body, it was time to take them off.

The locker rooms were nearby, but you opted for the more immediate approach, slipping off your clothes right there on the beach. The feel of the warm breeze against your skin was liberating, and you relished the sensation as you revealed your swimsuit.

You couldn’t help but notice Mike’s eyes on you, his gaze lingering appreciatively. Despite the years you’d been together, there was still something about moments like this that made him flustered. You caught his eyes and smiled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as well.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, stepping closer to him.

Mike’s face turned a shade darker, but he grinned, reaching out to pull you into a gentle embrace. “Always,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. 

His hand slid down to your waist, his touch both familiar and electrifying.

You reached into your bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. “Alright, sunscreen time,” you announced, shaking the bottle.

Abby ran over, holding out her arms and legs for you to cover her in the white lotion. Once she was thoroughly slathered, you turned to Mike, holding up the bottle with a mischievous grin. “Your turn.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, but no tickling.”

“No promises,” you teased, squeezing some sunscreen into your hands and beginning to rub it onto his shoulders. You took your time, your fingers working the lotion into his skin with slow, deliberate movements. 

You could see the tension melting away from his muscles as he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight shiver that ran through him.

You moved your hands in slow circles, working the sunscreen into his broad shoulders and down his arms.

Mike let out a soft laugh, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, sliding your hands down his hairy chest and feeling the hard lines of his muscles under your fingertips. The sunscreen made your touch smooth and slick, and you could feel the heat of his skin beneath the cool lotion.

Your hands wandered lower, applying sunscreen to his stomach and then his back, moving in slow, sensual strokes. You couldn’t help but admire his form, the way his body responded to your touch. 

He shivered slightly, a reaction that sent a thriil through you.

“My turn now,” he said once you’d finished, taking the bottle from you. His hands were firm yet gentle as he applied the sunscreen to your back, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent a pleasant thrill down your spine.

You turned around, facing him, and handed him the bottle. “Don’t forget my front.”

He nodded, his gaze steady and a bit more intense. He started at your shoulders, working his way down slowly. His hands lingered on your collarbones, then moved lower, tracing the curve of your waist. The sensation was both soothing and electric, each touch a reminder of the connection you shared.

His hands smoothed the sunscreen over your stomach, then moved to your sides. He was taking his time, savoring the moment as much as you were. His touch was deliberate, his fingers exploring every inch of your skin with a tenderness that made your heart race.

You could feel his breath against your skin, his lips brushing your neck as he applied the lotion. 

The intimate proximity, the feel of his hands on your body, it was all incredibly sensual. “You’re very thorough,” you teased, your voice barely more than a whisper “I don’t want you to get burned,” he replied, his voice equally soft, laced with desire.

His hands moved to your lower back, then up again, creating a soothing rhythm that made you lean into him.

As he finished, you caught his hand, pulling him closer. “You missed a spot,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing.

“Where?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

“Here,” you whispered, leaning in to press your lips to his. The kiss started slowly, a gentle meeting of lips that quickly deepened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel his heartbeat quicken against your chest. 

You lost yourself in the moment, the world around you fading away as you focused on the warmth and familiarity of his touch.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer still, the kiss deepening as you pressed yourself against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to you as the kiss grew more passionate. It was a rare moment of abandon, the connection between you palpable and intense.

Abby’s voice broke the moment, calling out from where she was adding the finishing touches to the sandcastle. “Come on, guys! Look at what I made!”

You and Mike exchanged a knowing look, a shared understanding passing between you. “Let’s go see,” you said, taking his hand as you walked over to join Abby.

Abby, oblivious to the silent exchange between you and Mike, was already busy digging in the sand, her laughter mingling with the sounds of the beach. You and Mike joined her, the three of you working together to build a sandcastle, a fortress of memories rising from the golden grains beneath your hands.

The rest of the morning was spent basking in the refreshing embrace of the sea. The water was initially cold. Sending a shiver as you waded in, but it quickly became the perfect temperature. You, Mike, and Abby splashed and played, the weight of the world temporarily lifted as you needed each other’s company. 

Yet, despite the fun, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Mike. More than once, you saw him staring into the distance, his brow furrowed in thought. When he did smile, it often felt forced, a mask to hide whatever was churning his mind.

As the afternoon sun climbed higher, you all took a break for a simple lunch and Abby made friends with a group of girls her age, and soon she was off playing near the water, her laughter ringing out across the beach.

With Abby occupied, you decided it was time to address what had been bothering Mike. He lay on his towel, eyes closed, appearing to the casual observer as if he were asleep. 

But you knew better. 

The slight tension in his features gave him away.

You settled down beside him, your hand gently brushing his arm. “Mike,” you said softly, “I know you’re not sleeping”

He opened his eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips before it faded. “Can’t fool you, can I?” 

“Not anymore.” you replied. returning his smile with a reassuring one of your own. “What’s on your mind?”

He sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke volumes. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about Abby and what the future holds. After everything that happened at Freddy’s, I still need to find a job, and I worry about her all the time. What if I can’t provide for her the way she deserves?”

You took his hand, squeezing it gently “Mike, you’re doing the best you can. Abby is happy and healthy, and that’s because of you. I know things are tough right now. but we’ll get through this together. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and lingering anxiety. “I know, but it’s hard not to worry. I want to give her everything she needs, and I feel like I’m falling short.

“You are not falling short,” you insisted, your voice firm yet comforting. “You’re an amazing brother, and you’re doing everything you can. Finding a job will happen, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself too.“

Mike let out another long sigh, his shoulders slumping as he finally allowed himself to relax a little more. “I keep replaying everything that happened at Freddy’s”, he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. “I don’t want that kind of danger anywhere near Abby, Or you.”

“I couldn’t stop it,” a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “Every time I think about going back to work, I remember what happened, and it paralyzes me. I feel like I’m failing her every single day”

You reached up to touch his face, guiding his gaze to meet yours. “Mike, look at me. You are not failing her. Abby looks up to you, she loves you, and she e feels safe because of you. And I love you, too. We’re a family, and we support each other. You’re not alone in this.”

His eyes softened, a flicker of hope breaking through the clouds of doubt. “I just want to give her a good life, you know? I want to be the kind of brother she deserves.”

“You already are,” you assured him, your voice steady and full of conviction. “And for her I’m here, too. We’re in this together, remember?”

He nodded, the tension slowly melting away as he absorbed your words. “I do remember. It’s just... sometimes it feels overwhelming. But hearing you say that helps. A lot”

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection for the man beside you. “That’s what I’m here for. To remind you of the truth when you forget it. And right now, the truth is that you’re doing a great job. We’ll find a new job, and we’ll make things work. One step at a time”

Mike’s face broke into a genuine smile, his eyes shining with gratitude as he leaned in and began covering your face with small, rapid kisses. 

Each kiss was a wordless thank you, a testament to his appreciation and love. You giggled, swatting at him playfully, but the affection behind his actions warmed your heart.

After a moment, he tried to get up, a hint of his usual older brother's behavior creeping back into his eyes, “I need to put some more sunscreen on Abby,” he said, already starting to rise. 

You pushed him back down gently but firmly, using the momentum to get up yourself. “No, you don’t. You stay here and relax. I’ll take care of it.”

He grumbled, a familiar stubbornness in his tone, but he didn’t resist. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, though he didn’t look entirely pleased. Still, he leaned back on the towel, letting out a resigned groan.

You made your way towards Abby, but the moment your feet hit the sand, you realized just how hot it had become. It felt like walking on molten lava. 

The grains were like tiny coals beneath your feet, and you found yourself hopping and skipping, trying to minimize contact with the scorching ground.

It was an ungraceful sprint, and you could hear Mike’s soft laughter from behind you, his amusement clear.

Finally reaching the shore, you let out a relieved breath. 

Abby spotted you and ran over, giving you a quick hug before darting back to her friends, eager to continue their game. 

You knelt down, grabbing the sunscreen from the beach bag, and started applying it to Abby’s back and shoulders, making sure she was well-protected.

One of the girls’ older sisters approached, a friendly smile on her face. “Hey there,” she greeted. “Looks like they’re having a blast.”

“Yeah, they are,” you replied, smiling back. “Thanks for letting Abby join in.” “No problem at all,” she said, watching the children play. “It’s nice to see them all getting along

As you finished applying the sunscreen, the older girl leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, if you and your boyfriend want a few minutes alone, I can keep an eye on Abby for you. She’s in good hands.”

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at her suggestion, surprised by her forwardness. “Oh, um, thanks. That’s really kind of you,” you stammered, caught off guard.

She chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows in a teasing manner. 

“You got lucky. The way he’s looking at you right now...well, let’s just say he’s got that lovesick puppy look” she said with a wink, before turning her attention back to the kids.

You turned your head slightly, your blush deepening as you saw Mike indeed watching you from his towel, his gaze filled with affection and a hint of longing. 

You thanked her again, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect.

As you approached, Mike sat up slightly, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

One of his leg was bent at the knee while the other was extended, his arms spread out behind him to support his upper body, which was slightly elevated from the ground. The pose made his biceps flex, and the definition in his muscles was more pronounced. His tanned skin and hairy chest were glistened with a thin layer of sweat, highlighting the hard lines of his physique.

You approached him, a playful smile on your lips. “I was hoping to come back and find you asleep,” you teased, kneeling beside him.

Mike chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. “The heat’s too much for that,” he admitted. “It’s like trying to sleep in a sauna.”

An idea sparked in your mind, and you began rummaging through your beach bag. Mike watched you curiously, trying to peek at what you were doing but unable to see. “What are you up to?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You turned back to him, holding up a simple bottle of oil you brought for Abby’s stretch marks. “I was thinking,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes, “maybe I could give you a massage. It might help you relax.”

Mike’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he let out a small, skeptical laugh. “A massage? Out here on the beach?”

“Why not?” you replied, uncapping the bottle. “The sound of the waves, the warm sun... it could be perfect. And besides,” you added, your voice softening, “you deserve it. Let me take care of you for a change.”

His skepticism didn’t fade entirely, but a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Alright,” he said, settling back down on the towel. “i guess I can’t say no to that, especially if it means feeling your hands on me.”

You poured some of the oil into your hands while he turned around, warming it up before you began. Starting at his shoulders, you kneaded the tension out of his muscles, your fingers working into the knots. 

Mike let out a low groan, trying to stifle the sound but failing as your hands moved with deliberate pressure and tenderness.

“That feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice a mix of relief and pleasure.

You smiled, continuing to work your way down his back. “Good. Just relax and enjoy it”

As you massaged him, you felt the tightness in his muscles gradually melt away, his body becoming more pliant under your touch. 

You took your time, ensuring that every inch of his back was given attention. When you reached his lower back, you could feel the tension that had built up there from stress and long hours of work.

“You’re really good at this,” Mike said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Where did you learn?”

“I’ve picked up a few tricks over the years, it’s not as difficult as it seems” you replied, moving down to his legs.

He let out another contented sigh. “You always know how to take care of me,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered.

As you finished massaging his back, you felt a sense of satisfaction from seeing him so relaxed. But you weren’t done yet. 

You moved to straddle his hips, your hands sliding over his broad shoulders, your fingers pressing into the tight muscles there. 

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear.

“Feeling good?” you asked, your voice a low, teasing whisper.

Mike shivered beneath you, his hands gripping the towel. “Better than I have in days,” he admitted, his voice rough with suppressed emotion.

You continued your work, your fingers gliding over his skin, kneading and pressing with a mix of firm and gentle touches. 

You could feel the heat of his body under your hands, the way his muscles tensed and then relaxed as you worked your magic. 

The intimate contact sent a thrill through you, each touch deepening the connection between you.

When you shifted slightly, your fingertips brushing the sensitive area just below his ribs, Mike sucked in a breath, a soft groan escaping before he could stop it. 

His reaction sent a flush of satisfaction through you, and you leaned down, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“Like that?” you whispered, a smile playing on your lips.

He nodded, his eyes closed tight, his body shivering with the effort of holding back his responses. “Yeah,” he breathed. “God, yes”

You continued, each touch more deliberate, more focused, as you moved down his back and then to his legs. 

Your hands slid over his thighs, kneading the firm muscles there, and you could feel the tension leaving his body with every stroke. 

When you finally reached his calves, you could see that he was almost completely relaxed, his breathing deep and even.

You paused to apply more oil to your hands, the sun warming your skin as you shifted your position slightly. 

Mike, taking advantage of the momentary pause, reached up and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you down on top of him with a swift, fluid motion.

Surprised, you let out a soft gasp, finding yourself pressed against his chest, your faces inches apart.

“You’ve been teasing me this whole time,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I think it’s only fair I get a little payback.”

Before you could respond, his lips captured yours in a heated kiss, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. The kiss was deep, filled with the pent-up emotions and unspoken desires that had been simmering between you. 

Your hands moved instinctively to his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth of his body beneath you. 

He kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting and teasing. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of the sun and the feel of his skin against yours creating a heady, intoxicating sensation.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, but he didn’t let you go far. His lips moved to your neck, trailing kisses down your throat, each touch sending shivers through your body.

“Mike,” you breathed, your voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. “We’re on the beach...”

“No ones watching,” he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. “I just want you.”

Your own hands now exploring the hard planes of his hairy chest, the feel of his muscles under your fingertips. 

The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you, caught up in a moment of pure, unfiltered passion.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally pulled back, both of you breathing heavily, your hearts pounding in sync. 

Mike looked up at you, his eyes filled with a combination of love, desire, and a hint of playful satisfaction

“Consider that payback for all the teasing,” he said with a smirk, his hands still resting on your hips.

You laughed softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I deserved that,” you admitted, your voice soft and filled with affection.

As you and Mike lay together on the beach, the heat of the sun seemed to pale in comparison to the fire between the two of you. 

The kiss had ignited a flame that neither of you could ignore, and as you looked into each other’s eyes, you knew that the playful teasing and stolen touches were leading to something more profound.

You glanced over to where Abby was still playing with her friends, her laughter a reassuring sound. 

Mike’s hand slipped into yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he stood up. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested.

You nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. 

The two of you walked along the edge of the beach, the sand cool and damp beneath your feet. You moved stealthily, making sure not to draw too much attention. The beach wasn’t too crowded, but you still took care to avoid curious eyes.

Ahead, you spotted the locker rooms of the free beach, a small building that offered a bit of privacy. You exchanged a glance with Mike, and the shared understanding passed between you in an instant. He led you towards the building, and you both slipped inside, the door closing softly behind you.

The locker room was dimly lit, with the faint smell of saltwater and sunscreen lingering in the air. You quickly checked to make sure it was empty before locking the door behind you. The confined and small space felt intimate, the sound of your breathing the only noise breaking the silence.

Mike pulled you close, his hands settling on your hips as he looked down at you with a mixture of desire and affection. “I’ve been wanting this all day,” he murmured.

You smiled up at him, your own desire mirrored in his eyes. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He didn’t waste another moment. 

His lips found yours in a heated kiss, the intensity of it taking your breath away. His hands roamed your body, sliding up your sides, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you. 

You responded with equal fervor, your hands moving over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips.

His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone. 

You tilted your head back, giving him better access as your fingers tangled in his hair.

“I want you,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Mike’s hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the lines of your ribs, sending shivers through your body. He lifted your shirt over your head, discarding it carelessly. 

His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, his hands returning to your bare skin, mapping every inch of you.

You reached for him, your hands finding the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down. 

He helped you, shedding the last of his clothing, and you did the same, the two of you standing naked in the dim light, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat between you.

With a deft yet gentle motion, Mike pinned you against the cool tile wall, the contrast in temperature sending a delicious shock through your system. 

Mike’s hands moved down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, anchoring yourself to him. The new angle brought your bodies flush together, your core pressing against him, the intimacy of the moment intensifying. You could feel the hard lines of his body, the tension in his muscles as he held you securely.

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, filled with a hunger that left you breathless. You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

His hands, calloused yet tender, traced patterns on your skin, exploring with a familiarity that spoke of countless shared moments and intimate secrets. 

You felt the rough texture of his fingertips as they skimmed your thighs, the press of his hips against yours, grounding you in the here and now. 

His mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you gasp with pleasure.

His body covered yours, his weight a comforting presence as he kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a desperation that matched your own.

Your hands roamed his back, feeling the play of muscles under his skin, the strength and power in his movements. He moved against you, his body aligning with yours, and you gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the floor.

“Mike,” you whispered, your voice filled with need.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on you as he positioned himself. The sensation of him entering you was exquisite, a slow, deliberate motion that made you gasp.

"You're everything to me," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with emotion.

He began to move, a slow and steady rhythm that built with intensity.

Each thrust brought a new wave of pleasure, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. 

The sound of your breathing, mingled with soft moans and whispered words of love, filled the small space, creating an intimate symphony that resonated with your deepest emotions.

Mike’s movements grew more urgent, the intensity of his desire mirrored in your own responses. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin, each touch sending shivers through your body.

The pleasure peaked, a wave of sensation that left you trembling, your body arching against his as you cried out his name.

Mike followed you over the edge, his own release a powerful surge that left him shuddering against you, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you as you both came down from the high, the world slowly coming back into focus.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, content to lie there, tangled together in the aftermath. Finally, Mike lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a look of love and satisfaction.

“I love you,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, your heart swelling with the depth of your feelings.

Reluctantly, you began to untangle yourselves, the reality of the world outside the locker room seeping back in. 

You dressed quickly, sharing a few stolen kisses and whispered words as you prepared to rejoin the world.

Emerging from the dim, secluded locker room into the blinding sunlight felt like stepping into an oven. The heat was oppressive, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, making it hard to breathe. 

Both of you resembled waterfalls of sweat, your bodies glistening under the relentless sun. The intensity of your recent activities had left you both panting, each breath a laborious effort.

Your cheeks were so red that they felt like they were on fire.

Mike noticed your struggle. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding you to a nearby bench shaded by a cluster of palm trees. “We need to cool down a bit before going back at the beach.”

You leaned against him, feeling the heat making your limbs feel heavy and sluggish. Despite the discomfort, there was a sense of closeness between you, an intimacy that transcended the physical. 

“A bath in the sea sounds perfect right now,” you murmured, fanning yourself weakly with your hand. The motion did little to alleviate the stifling heat, but it was something.

Mike kissed your forehead, tasting the salty tang of sweat but not caring in the slightest. His touch was tender, a reminder of the depth of his feelings. “Are you sure it’s not too early? We just ate an hour ago,” he asked, his voice tinged with both worry and a hint of his protective nature.

You chuckled, despite the discomfort. “I’m pretty sure we’ve burned off enough calories,” you joked, the words coming out in a breathless whine. “This heat is unbearable.”

“Wait here,” he said before standing up suddenly “I think I saw something that can help.

Before you could ask what he meant, he was already walking away. You tried to get up to follow him, but a sharp pain in your lower back made you wince. 

The aftermath of your earlier passion had left its mark, and you settled back onto the bench, waiting for Mike’s return.

Seeing him relaxed, even playful, was a reminder of why you loved him so deeply.

A few moments later, he reappeared, triumphantly holding a long, flexible tube. The kind people used on the beach to rinse off sticky sand. 

He aimed it at you with a playful grin and released a stream of icy water.

The cold water hit your overheated skin like a shock, and you let out a yelp of surprise, followed by uncontrollable laughter. 

The icy spray was a stark contrast to the sweltering heat, and the sensation was both jarring and exhilarating.

“Mike, no!” you squealed, laughing as you tried to shield yourself.

Mike’s laughter joined yours, a rare sound that made your heart swell with love.

“Stop! It’s freezing!” you cried out, unable to stop giggling. The water, cold and sharp, cut through the oppressive heat, a welcome relief against your overheated skin.

But he didn’t stop. 

He continued to splash you, the icy water quickly cooling your overheated skin. 

Your laughter was infectious, and soon you were both lost in a moment of pure, carefree joy. 

It was a side of Mike you cherished: seeing him let go, having fun, and allowing himself to be happy. For a man who often carried so much on his shoulders, these moments were precious and fleeting.

Finally, he turned the hose on himself, the cold water making him gasp but grin all the same. 

He shook his head like a wet dog, droplets flying everywhere, before turning back to you. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his skin glistening with water, and he looked more handsome than ever.

He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, seeking the shared coolness of your bodies.

“I love seeing you like this,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection. “Happy.”

Mike kissed you deeply, his lips cool and refreshing against yours. 

The kiss was a mix of gratitude and desire, a testament to the bond you shared. “Thank you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

You smiled, your heart overflowing with love. “Always,” you replied, your voice a soft promise. 

It was in these quiet, intimate moments that you truly understood the depth of his feelings, the vulnerability he so rarely showed to the outside world.

The sand was still boiling, but thanks to the quick bath Mike gave you, the thin layer of water that now hugged your feet made the walk back to the beach more bearable.

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the beach. The air was still hot, but the idea of cooling off in the ocean was irresistible. 

You glanced over at Abby, who was engrossed in a sandcastle competition with her new friends.

“Abby, do you want to join us in the water?” you called out, waving to get her attention. She looked up, her face glowing with excitement. “Not yet! We’re almost done. I’ll come soon!”

She replied, already turning back to her masterpiece.

You smiled and turned to Mike 

“Guess it’s just us for now.”

“Looks like it,” he said with a grin. He reached out, taking your hand as you walked towards the water. The cool waves lapped at your feet, a welcome relief from the heat. 

As you waded deeper into the azure waters, the cool embrace of the sea enveloped you, soothing your sun-kissed skin. The gentle waves lapped against you, a serene symphony that calmed your racing thoughts.

Mike dove headfirst into the water. He emerged moments later with a splash, droplets cascading down his face like tiny diamonds. 

He wiped his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the beachgoers, a look of pure contentment settling on his features.

You stood still, savoring the coolness and the rhythmic dance of the sea around you. Your hands dipped into the water, lifting it to your face, the refreshing splash a welcome relief.

Noticing your stillness, Mike swam over, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Why are you just standing there?” he asked, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

“I’m just taking it all in,” you replied evasively, though the truth was more complex.

Mike tilted his head, his eyes searching your face with gentle concern.

“There’s more to it than that,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

You sighed, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “It’s just… well, I’m feeling a bit sore from earlier. Moving around is a bit painful.”

A flush crept up Mike’s cheeks, his eyes widening in realization. “Oh,” he said, clearly flustered. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off with a soft laugh, placing a reassuring hand on his chest. 

“You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault for being, well, that big,” you said with a teasing smile.

Mike broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, his head dropping to your shoulder as he shook with amusement. 

His chest vibrated with each chuckle, the sound both infectious and comforting. “I love you,” he said between laughs, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “I love you so much.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. “I love you too,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Even if you are a bit too much to handle sometimes.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, his eyes twinkling with affection.

Just then, you noticed Abby making her way towards you, her small figure bobbing in the water as she swam with determination. Her face was lit up with joy, and she waved as she got closer.

“Here comes our little mermaid.” Mike said, his voice filled with pride.

Abby reached you, her eyes bright with excitement. "Look at our sandcastle! It's the biggest one yet!" she exclaimed, her energy contagious.

"That sounds amazing, Abby! I can't wait to see it," you said, reaching out to help her float between you and Mike.

The three of you floated together, the water buoying you up, creating a perfect sense of unity. The sound of the waves, the distant laughter of other beachgoers, and the warmth of the setting sun combined to create a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness.

Mike held you close, his arms wrapped around both you and Abby "This is perfect," he said softly, his voice filled with contentment, "Absolutely perfect."

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, "It really is," you agreed, feeling a profound sense of peace.

As you floated there, surrounded by the people you loved most, in that moment, everything truly was perfect.

Chapter Text

The flickering light from the TV cast a dim glow in Derek Danforth's opulent living room. You were sprawled on opposite sides of the long, luxurious couch, he with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers, you in a half-reclined position with one leg bent on the cushion and the other stretched to the floor. The air was thick with boredom, a rare lull in the otherwise frenetic life you both led.

Your mind feels foggy, your limbs heavy, as you sink deeper into the couch. Derek, sprawled on the other end, lazily swirls the remaining beer in his bottle. His eyes, usually sharp with cunning, are now half-lidded, reflecting the same clouded haze that envelops you. The drugs have softened the world, and for a moment, the constant pressure of Derek's cutthroat lifestyle is distant and insignificant.

"Is it just me, or does everything feel incredibly dull?" Derek drawls, his words slurring slightly. His voice cuts through the comfortable silence, tinged with the kind of boredom that only comes with too much money and too much time.

You chuckle softly, nodding in agreement. "You'd think with all the money and power you have, things would be more exciting," you reply, your voice carrying a dreamy quality. The world feels both larger and smaller, possibilities seeming endless yet out of reach.

He snorts, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he props his head on his hand. "Right? Here we are, in the middle of everything, and still bored out of our minds."

"Hey, why don't we head to the bedroom? Find something a bit more fun to do?" you suggest, the monotony starting to wear you down. He makes no effort to hide his gaze as it trails down your legs, unabashed. A noticeable tent forms in his pants.

A slow grin spreading across his face as he raises his hand, gesturing for you to come closer. But just as you start to rise, your phone buzzes, breaking the moment.

You groan in exasperation, rolling your eyes. Derek's curiosity is piqued. "Who is it?" he asks, his voice tinged with irritation and a hint of jealousy.

"It's just another one of those idiots who won't stop messaging me on social media," you reply, rolling your eyes. 

His interest deepens, and he leans forward slightly. "Let's see them," he says, the command clear in his tone.

You crawl towards him on the couch, moving into a sitting position against him while you show your phone to him.

You open your message requests, and together, you start to sift through the chaos. 

The first message that catches your eye is from a persistent guy who begs for money. 

Opening the chat, you see how the messages where sent every day at the same hour.

"Look at this one," you say, holding your phone out for Derek to see. 

“Every. Single. Day. This guy, wakes up, and he knows he has to come at the same fucking hour to bust my balls with those stupid messages,” you said with a tone that mixed amusement and annoyance. 

Derek laughed while his left hand held you tightly around the waist.

"Look at this," you say, showing Derek the message.

Please, can you send me some money? I really need it!

Hey, can you send me $100? I really need it. Promise I'll pay you back!

Hey! I need $3 to buy a new skin in my game. Help a friend out?

My cat needs a new toy. Can you send $7?

"Those are for sure some dumb teenager doing it for laughs with his friends."

"Let's mess with him, reply with something ridiculous.” he says, his eyes gleaming. You start typing something, glad you were capable to entertain Derek. 

Sure, I'll send you a cent for every brain cell you're missing. Should be enough for a candy bar.

Derek laughs harder, his amusement growing. "Perfect. Hit send."

The next chat you had in the list was just a video sent by someone. It was all black and it still needed to be download.

Derek has placed his head on your shoulder, deeply invested on your phone’s screen. One of his legs bouncing up and down while his dirty blonde hair lightly tickled your face.

You clicked on the video and it started to load.

Only 20 seconds long.

A car was moving down a hill, the road engulfed in green-

Oh fuck! Not this video.

Derek hasn’t reacted the slightest. 

Has he really never watched this video online? No friends of his pranked him with this?

He watches intently, and when the screaming monster appears, he jumps, curses, and pushes you slightly on the arm. 

You laugh heartily, resting your head on his shoulder, the shared moment of amusement breaking the tedium.

"You're such an ass," he chuckles, his tone a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“I couldn’t resist! Your reaction was priceless!” With a playful grin you then gently nudge him with the back of your arm. “Look at those pests!”

You come across several messages from people judging your relationship with Derek.

You're only with Derek for his money. Admit it.

"What should we say to these jealous losers?" Derek asks, his tone dripping with disdain.

“Let me handle this” you said confidently, slowly tilting your head to one side, feeling the gentle pull along the opposite side of your neck. 

You rolled your head forward, chin tucking into their chest, and continue the motion to the other side, creating a smooth, circular movement. A series of soft, crunchy sounds followed your actions. The muscles and tendons in their neck elongate and contract with each motion, providing a sense of relief.

Absolutely! Do you think he could buy me a yacht next? I'm running out of closet space for my shoes

Derek laughs, "I'd totally get you a yacht if you asked. Just say the word."

You grin back at him, "I know, but then I'd need a matching island. Can you manage that too, Mr. CEO?"

Derek looks at you with a mocking grin. "So it is true that you’re with me just for the money?"

You play along, nodding exaggeratedly. "Absolutely. I'm just here to drain your bank account and live a life of luxury"

You and Derek burst into uncontrollable laughter, the kind that makes your stomach ache and your cheeks hurt. 

Derek’s eyes are watering as he tries to catch his breath. “I can’t believe what we are doing,” he manages to gasp between fits of laughter.

You clutch your sides, trying to calm down. “People are going to think we’re insane.” Your eyes are watering, and your stomach muscles are starting to ache from the constant convulsions.

Derek wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “If they can’t take a joke, that’s their problem.”

You both take a moment to breathe deeply, the laughter slowly subsiding. “Okay, okay,” you say, finally regaining some composure. 

“Let’s see what other gems people have sent us.”

Derek nods, still grinning. “Bring it on. I’m ready for anything now.”

You're just another pretty face with no brains. Bet your boyfriend gets bored of you quickly.

Your brain almost instantly created a reply for this douche, your fingers dancing on the keyboard of your phone.

Brains? Who needs them when you have a face like mine? Oh wait, I've got both. Lucky me

Derek grins, "And lucky me. Beauty and brains in one package."

You laugh at Derek’s comment, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” you tease, nudging him playfully.

Derek chuckles, “Just speaking the truth. Now, let’s see what else we’ve got here.”

You blocked this person, your fingers now memorized the series of buttons to press as you rapidly exit the chat and scroll through the messages, spotting another one that caught your eye.

You're nothing but Derek's plaything. Hope you enjoy being used.

You and Derek exchange a glance, and then both burst into uncontrollable laughter. The absurdity of the message, combined with the haze of your high, makes it impossible to take seriously.

Derek, still chuckling, says, “Wow, someone really thinks they’re clever, huh? What a joke.”

You giggle, wiping tears from your eyes. “Seriously, do they think we’re going to be offended by this? It’s just sad.”

Derek nods, his grin widening. “Yeah, it’s like, ‘Oh no, someone on the internet doesn’t like us!’ Whatever will we do?”

You both dissolve into laughter again, the ridiculousness of the situation making it even funnier. “I mean, if being your ‘plaything’ means getting to hang out with you, then sign me up,” you say, still giggling.

Derek smirks, “And if being ‘used’ means having a great time together, then I’m guilty as charged.”

“Watch this” you nudged him playfully while you started to type a perfect reply.

I do! He's quite generous with his toys. Ever tried a private jet or a penthouse suite? Didn't think so

The sound of your laughter is infectious, you could feel your cheeks beginning to burn and tighten from the sheer effort of smiling and laughing so hard. 

“I’m just astonished by how people can’t mind their own fucking business”

Your facial muscles protest against the prolonged workout. 

Derek roars with laughter, clearly enjoying the banter.

Despite the discomfort, you can’t stop laughing, and every time you try to catch your breath, something funny happens again, reigniting the laughter.

Derek's curiosity gets the better of him, and he starts fumbling for his own phone, struggling slightly due to his inebriated state. 

“Your phone is always glued to your hands, how you did you even lost it?” You giggled while looking around on the couch.

“it got jealous of how much attention I gave you.”

You help him locate his phone, and he starts scrolling through his own inbox.

"I bet I have some of these idiots messaging me too," he says, struggling because he's a bit high. He mumbles, his fingers clumsy on the screen.

Sure enough, Derek finds a treasure trove of messages from people trying to get his attention. He reads a few aloud, his eyes widening with disbelief and amusement. "Listen to this one," he says, his voice dripping with disdain. 

I desperately need your help to pay my rent. Please, sir

You burst out laughing again. “Oh my god, do people really think that’s going to work?” you say, clutching your stomach.

Derek shakes his head, still chuckling. “Apparently. I mean, come on, at least be creative if you’re going to beg for money.”

You giggle, “Yeah, like, ‘Hey, I need money to fund my dream of becoming a professional couch potato.’”

Derek laughs even harder, nearly dropping his phone and spilling his beer. “Exactly! At least that would be entertaining.”

What do they think I am, a charity?

Together, you navigate his inbox, finding messages from people trying to ingratiate themselves with him or begging for favors. His responses are curt and scornful, reflecting his disdain for those he considers beneath him. Each sarcastic reply and biting remark from Derek sends you both into fits of laughter, the absurdity of the situation providing endless entertainment.

It was absurd the amount of people who texted him for some money.
 
One message catches Derek's attention. A request for money, predictably coming from someone with a flimsy excuse and a generic sob story. Derek's eyes light up with mischief, and he suddenly leaps off the couch with surprising agility.

"I've got an idea!" he exclaims, his voice slightly slurred but full of energy. You watch as he disappears momentarily into another room.

He returns with a wad of cash, a manic grin on his face. "Let's show them what it's like to ask Derek Danforth for money!"

He throws open the large windows overlooking the sprawling city below. You follow eagerly, a mix of excitement and bewilderment coursing through you as you realize what he's about to do.

"Are you serious?" you ask, giggling uncontrollably, the absurdity of the situation heightened by the substances in your system.

"Watch this," he says, still grinning. He holds up his phone, recording himself in selfie mode. "To all you lovely people asking for my money, here you go!" With a dramatic gesture, he begins tossing bills out the window, the wind catching them and scattering them across the cityscape below.

The two of you burst into laughter, your sides aching as you double over, watching the spectacle unfold. Derek can't hold back a huge grin, his laughter infectious and carefree.

"Consider it a donation to the air fund!" He shouts into the camera, tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks. "And to whoever finds it first!"

He sits back on the couch, gesturing with a lazy wave of his hand for you to join him. You slide over, nestling close to him, feeling his warmth as he pulls you tight against his side. His hand rubs your waist gently, a comforting and familiar gesture that makes you feel lightheaded and content, the substances in your system amplifying the sensation.

Derek ends the recording grinning widely. You can feel the vibrations of his laughter as it rumbles through his chest, his amusement infectious.

Sitting there, enveloped by Derek's warmth and the shared hilarity of the moment, you feel a profound sense of camaraderie. The laughter you're sharing becomes a highlight of your evening, a memory you know you'li treasure.

"You know," he says, still chuckling, "this is the most fun l've had in weeks. Maybe we should make this a regular thing."

"Reading and mocking my messages?" you ask, amused by the idea.

"Why not?" he replies with a mischievous grin. "It's better than dealing with all the idiots at work. Let’s see if we missed any important messages while we were having fun.”

You and Derek kept scrolling through the endless messages on your phone, one particularly haughty comment catches your eye. "Look at this one, the final boss" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you read aloud.

It's so unprofessional to sleep with your boss, especially with those photos that you take with him. People like you give hard-working people a bad name.

Derek snorts, his expression a mix of amusement and disdain. 

"Unprofessional, huh? Who does this guy think he is?" He leans closer, his stumble scratching your cheek. "What photo is he even talking about?"

You both rack your brains, trying to recall what could have sparked such a message. Derek's eyes narrow as he tries to remember. "Was it the photo of you sitting on my lap at that party?" he asks, his brow furrowing in thought.

You shake your head, recalling the night in question. Those damn paparazzi. "Nah, it was of two months ago and it one got deleted almost instantly by your mother. Maybe he saw the one where you put me on top of that table and we were making out?"

Derek's eyes light up with mischief, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You still have that photo?"

"Of course I do," you reply, smirking as you scroll through your gallery.

"Send it to me now," he orders, the command clear in his voice. You begin to follow his instructions, but Derek suddenly grabs your phone from your hands, his eyes sparkling with a new idea. "And about this asshole, I have an idea."

"What are you planning?" you ask, intrigued.

"Just follow my lead," Derek says with a devilish smile. He pulls you closer, and you think he's about to take a selfie of the two of you kissing. But as his rough hand cups your chin, guiding you into a kiss, you feel his other hand taking your wrist and placing it on his clothed dick. 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you realize he's lowered his phone just enough to capture the provocative scene.

He snaps the photo, his middle finger prominently displayed alongside your shocked expression. Derek laughs loudly at your reaction, his amusement filling the room. You can't help but join in, the absurdity of the situation breaking any remaining tension.

"You're insane," you say between fits of laughter, leaning against him.

Derek grins, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Insane, but effective. Let's send this to that arrogant prick."

You both wheeze with laughter as you attach the photo to the message and hit send. Without missing a beat, you block the guy permanently, your chuckles filling the room. 

The camaraderie in your shared mischief is palpable, a stark contrast to the dark and twisted world you both inhabit.

Derek then tosses your phone to the other side of the couch. "Hey!" you protest, but your words are cut off as he pulls you into a quick, hungry kiss. 

His lips are demanding, his hands possessive, as if he's claiming you all over again.

Derek shifts, pulling you into his lap so you're straddling him, your knees pressing into the couch on either side of his hips. The new position brings you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body through your clothes. His hands roam your back, pulling you tighter against him as the kiss becomes a battle for dominance.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "So, about that fun you proposed earlier..." His voice is a low growl, sending shivers down your spine. The playful banter and shared mockery have only intensified the chemistry between you.

The room is filled with a charged silence, the soft hum of the city outside barely penetrating the intimate bubble you and Derek have created on the couch. The air between you crackles with a palpable electricity, every breath, every touch, every shared glance a spark that ignites the flames of your desire.

Derek's hands, warm and confident, trail over your skin with a possessive tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your back, exploring you with a reverence that speaks volumes of the depth of his feelings. You respond in kind, your hands mapping the hard planes of his chest, the sinews of his arms, committing every inch of him to memory.

As your lips meet again, the kiss deepens, growing more fervent, more insistent.

Derek's mouth moves with a hunger that mirrors your own, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate ballet. The taste of him- whiskey, smoke, and something uniquely Derek-intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into the vortex of your shared passion.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Derek flips you from his lap, pinning you beneath him on the couch. The shift is so seamless, so graceful, it leaves you breathless. He hovers above you, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something deeper, more profound. The weight of his body presses down on you, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment of intense connection.

"Can you believe the things people send us?" you murmur, a laugh bubbling up even as your breath quickens with anticipation.

Derek grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "People are ridiculous," he agrees, his voice a low rumble. "Jealousy and stupidity seem to be in endless supply."

You giggle, the sound light and carefree, a sharp contrast to the intensity of your physical connection. "All those messages, people thinking they can get to us."

His hands find your legs, lifting them and wrapping them around his waist. 

The movement pulls him closer, your bodies aligning perfectly, the heat between you a tangible force, You cling to him, your arms encircling his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you draw him even nearer.

He shakes his head, lowering his lips to your neck, kissing a line of fire down to your collarbone. "They're jealous because they see what we have and want it for themselves," he says between kisses.

"Let them be jealous," you whisper, arching your back as his mouth continues its journey. "We only need each other."

Derek's gaze locks onto yours, and in that moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. The raw emotion in his eyes is mirrored in your own, a silent exchange that speaks of the depth of your bond. He lowers his head, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, each kiss a brand that sears his presence into your very soul.

The rhythm of your breathing synchronizes, the rise and fall of your chests a harmonious dance. Derek's hands roam your body with a slow, deliberate purpose, exploring every inch of you with a reverent hunger. His touch is both a question and an answer, a promise and a plea, as he seeks to merge not just your bodies but your very beings.

You arch against him, your body responding instinctively to his, every nerve ending aflame with desire. The couch beneath you seems to melt away, leaving you suspended in a world of pure sensation, where nothing exists but the exquisite pleasure of being with him. Your movements are a symphony of passion, each touch, each kiss, each whispered word a note in the melody of your love.

As Derek enters you, the world seems to hold its breath, the moment stretching into eternity. The sensation is overwhelming, a rush of heat and light that engulfs you, binding you together in a way that transcends the physical. You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

The rhythm of your lovemaking is a primal, instinctive dance, a perfect union of flesh and spirit. Every thrust, every caress, every shared breath brings you closer, your bodies melding together in an ecstasy that defies description. The intensity of your connection is almost too much to bear, a bright, burning star that consumes you both in its fiery embrace.

"You know what's funny?" he asks, his voice a husky whisper as he moves within you.

"What?" you manage to gasp out, each word a struggle against the rising tide of pleasure.

"That they think they can touch this," he says, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "As if they could ever come between us."

You laugh, the sound blending with a moan as his movements bring you closer to the edge. "They have no idea."

"Exactly," he agrees, his pace quickening, driving you both higher. "They can't even imagine."

"And those comments about you and me," you say, your breath hitching as a

particularly deep thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, "like they know anything about us."

Derek chuckles, a low, throaty sound that reverberates through your body. "They're just envious. They see us together and want what we have, but they don't understand it. They never will."

You nod, your fingers clutching at his back, your nails leaving crescents in his skin. "They don't know the half of it," you manage, your voice a mix of laughter and breathless need.

Derek's eyes soften, a rare vulnerability shining through. "We've been through so much," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "And look at us now. Stronger than ever."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming emotion of the moment. "I love you," you whisper, your voice trembling with the sincerity of your words.

You arch against him, your body responding instinctively to his, every nerve ending aflame with desire. The couch beneath you seems to melt away, leaving you suspended in a world of pure sensation, where nothing exists but the exquisite pleasure of being with him. Your movements are a symphony of passion, each touch, each kiss, each whispered word a note in the melody of your love.

As you reach the peak of your pleasure, the world around you dissolves into a blinding white light, a symphony of sensation that leaves you trembling in its wake. Derek's name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, a prayer, a benediction, as you shatter in his arms. He follows you moments later, his own release a powerful surge that leaves you both spent and breathless.

For a long moment, you lie there, entangled in each other, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of your shared climax. The room around you is silent, the only sound is the soft, mingled breaths of two souls who have become one. Derek's weight is a comforting presence above you, his warmth seeping into your skin, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that lulls you into a state of blissful contentment.

Slowly, reality begins to seep back in, the edges of the world sharpening into focus. Derek lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a look of tender amazement. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"I love you," he whispers, the words a sacred vow.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions.

Derek smiles, a soft, genuine smile that transforms his usually hardened features. He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss that seals your bond. As he pulls back, you see the promise in his eyes, the unspoken commitment to face whatever comes next together.

The night stretches on, and as you lie there, wrapped in the warmth of Derek's embrace, you know that you've found something truly extraordinary.

Derek's arm is draped over you, his breathing steady and relaxed as he dozes beside you. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, your mind drifting to the aftermath of the evening's antics. The reckless messages, the bold selfie, the outrageous video-all flashing through your mind like a highlight reel of rebellion.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you think about the chaos you and Derek unleashed online. You know that if his mother, President Jessica Danforth, were to discover what the two of you had done, she would be far from pleased. The thought of her disapproving gaze and the inevitable lecture about responsibility and propriety flits through your mind.

But lying here, wrapped in Derek's embrace, you can't bring yourself to regret any of it. There's a thrill in the defiance, a sense of freedom that comes with throwing caution to the wind and living in the moment. The laughter you shared, makes it all worthwhile.

Derek stirs slightly, pulling you closer. You nestle against him, savoring the warmth and the closeness. 

Whatever consequences might come, they seem distant and unimportant in the face of the connection you share with him.

Chapter Text

You had always noticed Mike Schmidt, the quiet, brooding neighbor who lived just a few houses down. Though he was about five years older than you, that gap only fueled the intrigue and admiration you felt toward him. 

Over the years, you often saw him in the mornings when he returned from work, his expression weary but softened when he exchanged a word or two with your father. 

Those fleeting moments were enough to plant a growing crush in your heart, a mix of admiration and something deeper you couldn't quite name.

One crisp morning, as you grabbed your backpack, ready to head out to college, you ran into him. 

Literally. 

You were in such a rush that you barely noticed him until you bumped into his solid frame on the sidewalk.

"Whoa, sorry about that," he chuckled, a warm sound that made your heart race. His hazel eyes, always a bit shadowed with fatigue, brightening just a little at the sight of you. 

His hair was slightly tousled, and there was a shadow of stubble on his chin, which somehow made him even more attractive. 

The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, a reaction you were becoming increasingly familiar with but were still not quite used to.

You felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed by your clumsiness but secretly thrilled to be talking to him. "You're in a hurry, aren't you?"
His voice was deep and warm, like a comforting blanket after a long day.

You laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, running late as usual. What about you? Just getting back from work?"

"Yeah," he replied, scratching the back of his neck in a way you found endearing. His movements were tired yet graceful, revealing the strain of long nights but also a quiet resilience you admired. "Long night, But hey, it's good to finally bump into you —literally."

"You're looking... good." You regretted your choice of words almost immediately, feeling your face flush with embarrassment.

Mike chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting, as if he was genuinely pleased by your compliment. "Thanks. You look great too. College must be treating you well."

"Thanks," you murmured, trying to hide your blush and not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

You stood there, both hesitant yet unwilling to end the conversation. It had been a while since you'd last talked. Life, college, and his busy schedule made these interactions rare. But when they happened, they were the highlight of your week. There was a warmth to his presence, a comforting steadiness that contrasted with the chaos of your daily life.

"So, how's Abby doing?" you asked, shifting the weight of your backpack on your shoulder. You knew how much she meant to him and how hard he fought to keep her happy and safe.

"She's great," Mike said, a genuine smile breaking through his usual guarded demeanor. His eyes softened, a hint of pride and affection in them. "Growing up way too fast, though. She actually asked about you the other day.

The idea that Abby remembered you, even though you'd only met a few times, warmed your heart. You tried to picture her as you remembered-a bright, inquisitive little girl who could light up a room with her laughter. "That's sweet. I should stop by more often."

"Yeah, you should," he replied, a glint in his beautiful hazel eyes that made your heart skip a beat. There was something earnest in his tone, something that suggested he wouldn't mind having you around more often. "She misses having someone around who doesn't mind her endless questions."

"I don't mind at all," you said quickly, realizing how eager you sounded. "In fact, I like talking to her. She's a really smart kid."

"She is," Mike agreed, his expression softening further.

"And you?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. "How are things going with... you know, the custody stuff?"

A shadow crossed his face, and you regretted bringing it up. You watched as his shoulders tensed slightly, and the easy smile slipped a notch. 

"It's... it's been tough. My aunt's not making it any easier," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. There was a pause, a moment of shared understanding of the challenges he faced. You admired his strength, how he continued to push forward despite everything.

Your temper flared at the thought of the obstacles thrown his way. "That woman is just-" You caught yourself, but not before an unsavory word slipped out. 

You covered your mouth, horrified, but Mike just laughed, a sound that was more soothing than you'd anticipated.

"You're not wrong," he said, his laughter fading into a soft smile. "But it's nice to know someone's on my side. You're cute when you're mad, you know that?"

The compliment caught you off guard, heat rushing to your cheeks. You tried to brush it off with a smile, but inside, you were glowing. He noticed, of course, but chose to let it slide.

"Well, I just... I hope things work out for you, Mike. You deserve that."

His gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his eyes. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you and if he could sense the emotions you tried so hard to keep under wraps. 

"Thanks. It means a lot coming from you" Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added, "I need to find a new babysitter for Abby. The last one quit because, well, I can't really afford much right now."

Without thinking, you blurted out, "I could do it!" you offered eagerly, almost too quickly, the words spilling out before you had a chance to reconsider.

The offer hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you worried you'd overstepped. 

But you couldn't help it. The thought of spending more time with him, getting to know him and Abby better, was too enticing to pass up.

Mike studied you, his expression softening. His eyes held a mix of surprise and gratitude, and you noticed how his lips curved up slightly at the edges, almost as if he was trying not to show too much emotion. "You'd really do that?"

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the hammering of your heart. "I mean, I have some free time, and honestly, my college roommate is loud and annoying. Plus, I'd love to help."

He smiled, and it reached his eyes this time. There was a warmth there that seemed to envelop you, drawing you in. "That'd be great. I can't promise much in terms of payment, though."

"Don't worry about it," you said, waving a hand dismissively. "I'd be happy to help. It's not about the money. I'd love to help out, really. I've missed seeing you guys around." 

Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the rush of making the offer and from the hope that he would accept.

The way he looked at you then, with a mixture of gratitude and something else— something hopeful—made you believe this was the start of something more. 

You felt your heart flutter, a thrilling sensation that made you wonder if maybe he felt something too. "You're really something," he said softly, almost to himself.

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as your heart soared. "Just trying to do what I can."

"Well, thanks. Really," he said, his voice earnest. "It's nice to see you again after so long.

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. "Yeah, it's good to see you to, Mike."

As you both parted ways, you couldn't help but glance back over your shoulder Mike was doing the same, and when your eyes met, he waved. You waved back, feeling a flutter of excitement. 

This new arrangement was more than just a job; it was a chance to see him, to learn more about the man who had quietly captured your heart. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something that could change both your lives for the better.

As you walked away, your mind replayed the conversation. You noticed how Mike seemed to pay close attention to your words, how he listened intently as if every word mattered. It was a rare quality, one that made you feel truly seen and heard. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more beneath the surface of his smiles and laughter, if perhaps he harbored feelings that mirrored your own

Mike's presence lingered with you throughout the day, the memory of his rare smile and warm gaze etched into your thoughts. You found yourself imagining the moments you would share while babysitting Abby, the possibility of spending more time with Mike, getting to know him on a deeper level.

As you reached campus with a heart full of excitement and a mind brimming with thoughts of Mike, you headed into the day, eager for what the future might hold.

The first day of babysitting Abby was a mix of nerves and excitement. As you approached Mike's modest home, a cozy littie house with a well-kept garden, you couldn't help but feel a rush of anticipation and a bit of anxiety. You wanted to make a good impression and hoped that Abby would like you as much as you liked her brother.

Abby greeted you at the door, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of shyness. She was a bright, energetic girl with dark hair and a mischievous grin that reminded you so much of Mike. Her presence was immediately infectious, and you felt any lingering anxiety melt away.

"Hi, Abby! I'm here to hang out with you while your brother's at work. How does that sound?" you asked, bending down to her level, hoping to convey friendliness and approachability.

She nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as if she had been eagerly anticipating your arrival. "Okay! Can we play with my toys?" Her excitement was palpable, and it was impossible not to be drawn into her world.

"Of course," you replied, smiling as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside with a surprising amount of strength for such a small person. You were grateful for her enthusiasm, feeling your own spirits lift at the prospect of spending the day with her.

The hours flew by as you played games, read stories, and even painted together. Abby had a vivid imagination, and you found it easy to connect with her. She was talkative, often sharing stories about her day and asking about yours. 

Her innocence and curiosity were refreshing, a welcome escape from the complexities of adult life.

"Do you like my brother?" Abby asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity as you helped her with her coloring book. Her question caught you off guard, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck.

"I think your brother is a really great person," you said carefully, hoping to dodge the deeper implications of her question. You didn't want to make things awkward or too serious.

She giggled, a knowing look in her eyes that made you wonder just how much she picked up on. "He likes you too. He talks about you sometimes" Her words sent a jolt through you, a mix of excitement and hope that you struggled to keep under control.

Your heart skipped a beat at her words. 

Unbeknownst to you, Mike had returned home earlier than expected. He needed to grab some pills he'd forgotten and thought he'd quickly check in on how things were going. As he stepped inside, he heard the sound of Abby's laughter echoing through the house, drawing him toward the living room.

Peeking inside, Mike found you and Abby sprawled on the floor, surrounded by crayons and papers. 

Abby was in the middle of telling a story, using her drawings as illustrations, her eyes alight with creativity. You listened intently, encouraging her with nods and comments, clearly engrossed in her imaginative tale.

For a moment, Mike simply stood there, watching the scene unfold before him. His heart swelled with warmth and admiration as he saw the joy on Abby's face, the ease with which you interacted with her. It was a sight he hadn't realized he longed to see, and it stirred something deep within him.

Seeing you there, so effortlessly connecting with Abby, made him fall even more in love with you. It wasn't just your kindness or the way you made Abby laugh, it was the way you seemed to understand her, to know exactly how to make her feel valued and cherished.

Mike cleared his throat, stepping into the room. "Looks like you two are having fun."

You looked up, surprised but pleased to see him. "Hey, Mike. We're just finishing up Abby's latest masterpiece."

Abby beamed at her brother, waving her drawing triumphantly. "Look what we made!”

He approached, crouching beside you to examine the masterpiece. "I love it.”

Abby beamed, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at her joy. "We make a good duo," you agreed, catching Mike's eye. There was something in his gaze, a warmth and appreciation that made your heart flutter.

"Thanks for today," Mike said, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "It means a lot to see her so happy"

"It was my pleasure," you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. "She's a wonderful kid."

As the days turned into weeks, your bond with both Abby and Mike deepened. You found yourself looking forward to each visit, eager to spend time with Abby and, more secretly, to see Mike. He was kind, patient, and had a dry sense of humor that often caught you off guard and made you laugh until your sides hurt.

Abby quickly became a friend, often sharing her thoughts and ideas with you. "Do you want to see my drawing?" she'd ask, holding up a colorful sketch that she'd made with all the innocence and creativity of a child.

"Wow, Abby, that's amazing!" you'd respond, genuinely impressed by her creativity. "You've got a real talent." Her pride in her work was infectious, and you felt a deep sense of fulfillment knowing you were making a positive impact in her life, fostering her confidence and creativity.

Meanwhile, your interactions with Mike grew more frequent and meaningful. Sometimes, after Abby had gone to bed, you and Mike would sit in the living room, sharing a beer or a cup of tea, discussing everything from music to movies to life's challenges. These moments became the highlight of your day, a chance to unwind and connect on a deeper level.

One evening, as you settled onto the couch after a long day, Mike handed you a steaming mug of tea, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too. Your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, and you felt a warmth spreading through your chest.

"You're really easy to talk to," Mike said, his voice sincere, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. "I don't get that a lot." His admission made your heart swell, knowing that you were someone he felt comfortable with, someone he valued.

"I feel the same way, Mike," you admitted, feeling a warmth in your chest that was becoming all too familiar. "It's nice having someone who gets me and doesn't think I'm weird for my horror movie obsession." 

You wanted him to know that you felt a connection, a shared understanding that was rare and precious.

He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think it's cool. Most people just give me funny looks when I tell them I enjoy those films." His smile was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie and mutual understanding.

"Then they're missing out," you said, a smile playing on your lips, enjoying the banter and the ease with which you could share these moments with him.

You found yourself opening up to Mike in ways you hadn't with anyone else, revealing dreams and fears that you usually kept hidden. 

There was a trust between you, a sense of safety that encouraged honesty and vulnerability.

"I always wanted to be a writer," you confessed one night, surprised by your own admission. The words felt heavy and significant, a part of yourself that you hadn't shared with many people. "But I don't know if I'm good enough."

Mike looked at you thoughtfully, his gaze steady and encouraging, as if he could see the potential within you. "I think you'd be great. You have a way with words, and you see things differently. That's a gift." His words filled you with a warmth that lingered long after the evening had ended, a validation that resonated deeply with you.

You often caught yourself daydreaming about him, replaying conversations and imagining what it might be like to tell him how you really felt.

The movie you've found online and that you were currently watching, an old, obscure horror film, played on his TV. The film was terrible, with laughable special effects and wooden acting, but it provided ample opportunity for humor.

You tried to focus on the movie, but you found yourself constantly distracted by Mike. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the sound of his chuckle, and the way he seemed genuinely relaxed in your presence made you feel special and welcomed.

"There's something about these films that just never gets old," Mike said, his eyes still glued to the screen as a particularly ridiculous scene unfolded. "I mean, look at that monster. It looks like it was made from papier-mâché. Did they really think that scene would be scary?" Mike chuckled, shaking his head. His laughter was contagious, a sound that filled the room with warmth and lightened the weight of the day.

"Right?" you replied, though your focus was more on him than the film. You watched the way his smile lingered, the subtle way his body leaned toward you as if drawn by an invisible force.

You were lost in thought, contemplating the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks. Watching him enjoy himself, knowing that you were part of the reason he could unwind, filled you with a sense of pride and affection that was hard to ignore.

"There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice steady but your heart racing. The words were heavy on your tongue, but you knew it was time to speak your truth.

His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He sensed the seriousness of your tone and straightened, giving you his full attention.

"What's on your mind?" His voice was calm and steady, a reassurance that made the confession feel a little less daunting.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage and pushing past the fear of rejection. "I really like spending time with you, Mike. And not just as a friend. I've felt this way for a while now." The admission hung in the air between you, a truth that couldn't be taken back.

For a moment, Mike looked at you with wide eyes, clearly caught off guard by your confession, His initial surprise was evident, and you could see the conflict playing out in his mind. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to struggle to find the right words.

His thoughts were a jumble of emotions and concerns. The age difference between you, Abby, and his financial struggles weighed heavily on him. He didn't want you to feel tied to him, not because he didn't feel anything for you, but because he knew he couldn't give you everything you deserved.

"... I didn't expect this," he finally said, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I care about you a lot, but... it's complicated. You're younger than me. I have a lot of responsibilities with Abby and work. There's a lot I can't give you, and I don't want you to feel stuck because of me. You deserve better" His words were hesitant, filled with an internal struggle that made your heart ache for him.

You understood his hesitation, could see the conflict in his eyes, but you also saw the way he looked at you, the warmth and affection that couldn't be hidden. It was enough to give you hope, to make you want to show him that you didn't care about the obstacles, only about him.

Gently, you moved closer to him, closing the space between you. His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he seemed frozen, waiting to see what you would do next.

Reaching up, you cupped his cheek with your hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. "I just want to be here with you." Your voice was soft but firm, a quiet promise of your intentions.

Then, slowly, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. It was a gentle, tentative kiss, one that held all the feelings you hadn't been able to put into words. For a moment, Mike seemed surprised, his body tensing at the unexpectedness of it all. But then, he melted into the kiss, his hesitation giving way to something deeper.

His hand found your waist, his fingers tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, closing any remaining distance between you.

The kiss was slow and tender, a shared moment that spoke volumes about what words couldn't convey. 

You felt him relax against you, his internal conflicts momentarily forgotten as you both gave in to the feelings you had been harboring for so long. 

His other hand reached up to gently cradle your head, deepening the kiss as he finally allowed himself to accept what was between you.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and heart racing, you looked into his eyes and saw the worry and doubt had been replaced by something softer and more hopeful.

"Well, that was unexpected," Mike said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was a gentle rumble, carrying a hint of wonder and disbelief.

"In a good way, I hope?" you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper.

"In a very good way," he assured you, his lips curving into a smile that sent a flutter of joy through you.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips as you stayed close, unwilling to let the moment end.

"Me too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "l'm still scared about what this means, but I know I don't want to lose what we have."

You leaned in closer, feeling his breath mingle with yours, and captured his lips in another kiss. This one was softer, more lingering, a gentle exploration of the connection between you. It was a silent affirmation of the feelings you both shared, a testament to the bond that had grown between you over time.

You felt his hands slide up your back, pulling you even closer, while you wrapped your arms around his neck, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of being so close to him, of sharing in this moment of intimacy and understanding.

A soft sound escaped your lips, a quiet sigh of contentment, and you felt him smile against your mouth. There was a playfulness to his touch now, a sense of joy that mirrored your own.

"Shh," he whispered teasingly, pulling back slightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mike's lips moved against yours with a growing urgency, his own quiet moans mingling with yours. He tried to keep quiet, pressing soft kisses against your lips to muffle your own sounds, though the effort only served to heighten the sensation, a delicious tension that wound tighter with each passing moment.

His efforts to remain quiet were punctuated by low, throaty grunts, each one a reminder of the passion that simmered between you.

The quiet of the room was punctuated by soft gasps and whispered names, a symphony of affection that crescendoed in perfect harmony.

With a gentle tug, he guided you onto his lap, his touch firm yet careful, as if handling something both precious and fragile. The movement was fluid, instinctive, a seamless continuation of the magnetic pull that had drawn you together on the porch. Your knees settled on either side of him, bringing you chest to chest, your faces inches apart. The heat of his body seeped through your clothes, a tangible reminder of the passion simmering just beneath the surface.

His hands found their place on your legs, fingers splayed to support and explore, tracing slow, deliberate paths along the fabric that covered your skin. It was as though he sought to memorize every contour, every curve, feeding the curiosity that had lingered in the recesses of his mind for years wondering how it would feel to finally hold you close.

You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was both tender and insistent, a mingling of breath and heartbeat that spoke of shared longing and mutual surrender. The world outside faded further into oblivion, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of exploration and affection.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring with a curiosity that had been held in check for too long. The sensation was intoxicating, a dance of intimacy that spoke of all the moments he had wondered, all the times he had imagined what it would be like to taste you.

Mike's quiet grunts of pleasure were a symphony to your ears. You could sense the tension in him, the effort it took to maintain control even as his own desires threatened to overwhelm him.

His fingers brushed over your back, tracing the line of your spine, before moving to explore the curve of your waist and the strength of your thighs.

You mirrored his exploration, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, feeling the tension and release of muscle beneath your touch. Your fingers traveled to his neck, threading through his hair, drawing him even closer as the kiss became more fervent. It was a symphony of sensation-a blending of warmth, breath, and the gentle hum of shared affection that enveloped you both.

It was as if time itself had slowed, allowing you to savor each second, each heartbeat, as you became one in a language unspoken yet deeply understood.

His hands were slowly gliding all over your hips and lower back now, and they eventually made their way down to rest on your ass.

He squeezed, causing you to grind down against him and you moaned. You started prepping with kisses on his face, his stumble scratching your lips occasionally. Mike groaned in response, his eyes fluttering shut for a minute. You began a slow rhythm of rocking your hips against him, his head falling back to rest on the back of the couch. 

"Good boy," Mike murmured against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble that vibrated through you. It sent a shiver down your spine, your heart swelling in response to the intimacy of the moment.

Mike's hands, confident yet gentle, found their way beneath the hem of your shirt, a silent question hanging in the air as his fingers brushed against bare skin. You nodded, granting permission. The fabric lifted, sliding over your skin with a whisper, leaving you vulnerable and exposed, yet utterly safe in his embrace.

His touch was electrifying, a gentle exploration of the expanse of your chest, the warmth of his hands grounding and exhilarating all at once. 

You leaned up and captured Mike’s lips again in a bruising kiss, moaning into his mouth. His hips bucking up into yours as you quickened the movement of your hips against his.

He was trying to pull you even closer against his body to increase the friction between the two of you as much as possible.

He began peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your chest and collarbones. You sighed, and laced your fingers in his hair, relishing in the feeling of his lips all over you.

He began sucking on one of your nipples, moving one of his hands to play with your other, which earned him a suppressed moan from you and caused you to throw your head back. You tugged on his hair, and it only seemed to make him even more enthusiastic with his movements. 

He suddenly stood up, moving his arms to hold onto you tightly as you gasped, but landed back onto the couch almost instantly. You were now laying on your back and still looking up at him as Mike reached to pull his gray shirt off. 

He was so handsome. 

He began undoing his belt and the button to his jeans, pushing them down his legs. He kicked the jeans off and kneeled down, placing a hand on your thigh and looking at you.

“Can I?” he asked. You didn’t waste a second nodding your head, and you watched as he took his time to pull off your jeans and underwear, throwing them onto the floor beside his own discarded clothes.

Mike didn’t take his eyes off of you for a single second, wanting to admire the sight of you and he moved so that he was now on top of you. He now had you pinned down against the couch cushion, and you felt your own heartbeat inside your eardrums.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his enthusiasm from earlier returning as he deepened the kiss instantly. 

His hand slowly trailed from its place at your side, down your hip before moving it to the space between your thighs. You gasped slightly when you felt his touch on your dick, causing fireworks to set off all throughout your body.

You moaned into his mouth now that Mike was touching you exactly where you needed him and he picked up the pace, pumping you as you began to let out soft moans at his touch. He flicks his finger over your tip, which was now leaking profusely. 

Your hand returned itself to tangle in his hair while your other made its way to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He questioned, and you could’ve swore he was smirking against your lips.

You whined and nodded slightly. You had very little control over your reactions at this point, and Mike was well aware of this. He quickened his pace once again, and you were beginning to squirm underneath him. 

It seemed like he was having a lot of fun at this point, amused by all of the reactions he was dragging out of you. You weren’t sure how this could get any better when he had maneuvered his hand lower, beginning to thrust his middle finger deep into your hole. 

Another loud moan, muffled by your own hand, escaped your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation, clenching your thighs together around his hand.

He pulled his head away and began biting your jaw, sucking hard enough that it will definitely leave a mark tomorrow, but you were too focused on his finger moving inside of you to care. 

Mike then added his ring finger and you whined loudly, tugging on his hair. He let out a groan, and began fucking you faster, causing you to come into his hand, and onto your stomach.

Your back arching off of the couch and your fingers digging into his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

He was only focused on you, and he would do anything to indulge you at the moment. He pulled his fingers out of you after riding out your climax and shifted above you a bit. Your entire body flooded with warmth and you were panting.

Your recovery was cut short by Mike grinding into you, the length of his cock rubbing against you. 

A soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips, signaling his turn.

He pulled back to look at you and his expression was questioning, waiting for an answer before going further with anything.

You whimpered out a small please and that was all it took before he was slowly sinking his cock inside of you.

He threw his head back and groaned, his cock twitching inside of you. You whined at the feeling and bit your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He slowly bottomed out inside of you and kept still, Pausing to admire you, lost in your serene, blissed-out state, like a masterpiece in a moment of pure tranquility before he began thrusting into you.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?” He groaned out, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear.

Your eyes shot open when you heard him, whimpering and quickly nodding your head, you were unable to speak, all you that was coming out of your mouth were the most pathetic whines, whimpers, and pants. Hearing him talk like this made you clench around him, which in turn caused him to slam into you faster.

“All mine, every bit of you,” he declared, his words sending shivers down your spine. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to stifle any more sounds that might escape

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your body bouncing each time he thrusted into you, each time even harder than the last. 

You and Mike were drenched in sweat, looking like you just conquered an epic adventure. 

Your back was continuously arched off of the couch as he kept railing into you.

Your entire body was tingling with pleasure, and you knew you could get addicted to this feeling. 

Mike slamming into you at just the right angle, the feeling of his body moving against yours, and before you knew it, Mike had reached his hand down between your bodies to begin stroking faster and faster, and each time a new sound came from your mouth, devoured from his own mouth. 

You were officially done for after that. It was all too much, but it was so, so good.

“Please cum for me, my sweet boy. C’mon.” Mike gritted out, and that was all you had needed to hear.

You clenched around Mike’s cock and you came, your eyes rolling on the back of your head. All you could do while riding out your orgasam was squirm from the overstimulation, Mike still pounding into you as he was chasing his own orgasm.

Feeling the tightness of your body, he couldn't hold back any longer, his own release spurting deep within you.

Mike, who had been resting on top of you, shifted to lie beside you, the couch barely wide enough to accommodate both of you. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, a mirror to your own breaths as you both began to calm in the quiet aftermath

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, the reality of what had just transpired between you and Mike barely beginning to settle in. It felt surreal, like a dream spun from the depths of your imagination, and yet the solid warmth of Mike beside you was a comforting reminder that it had indeed happened.

As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, you felt a gentle nudge against your cheek. Mike was nuzzling you, his stubble a rough but comforting texture against your skin. The affectionate gesture pulled you back to the present, grounding you in the moment and dispelling any lingering disbelief.

He turned his head slightly, capturing your lips in a quick, tender kiss that spoke of both contentment and lingering desire. When he pulled back, a hint of shyness flickered in his eyes, an endearing contrast to the confidence he had shown just moments before.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper in the quiet room. "Do you want to sleep in the bed with me? The couch isn't exactly comfortable for the night."

His invitation caught you off guard, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lingering heat from earlier. A smile broke across your face, broad and genuine, as you nodded, the simple gesture carrying a weight of unspoken emotion.

"I'd like that," you replied, your voice infused with a joy that you couldn't hide even if you wanted to.

Chapter Text

The weekend had arrived, bringing with it a much-needed break from college lectures and a chance to spend time with Mike Schmidt and his younger sister, Abby. The three of you had spent the day immersed in simple pleasures: watching Abby's favorite movies, preparing meals together, and even an impromptu dance party in the living room, which left Abby giggling uncontrollably.

As night fell, Abby suggested playing a board game. It was a game designed for children, colorful and straightforward, but its appeal lay more in Abby's enthusiasm than in the gameplay itself.

Mike sat back on the couch, his eyes softening as he watched you and Abby playfully argue over the rules of the board game she insisted on playing. His feelings for you had grown quickly over the past few weeks, and he often found himself marveling at how easily you fit into his life. It was a feeling that both comforted and surprised him-this natural blending of your world with his.

Mike's gaze lingered on you, noticing how you engaged with Abb, your smile genuine and warm, It was moments like these that made him realize just how much you meant to him. The thought of spending nights like this more often, with you by his side, filled him with a profound sense of happiness.

Abby seemed to relish the sight of you and Mike together, often teasing you both with exaggerated gestures of affection. 

Whenever you leaned in to kiss Mike or wrap an arm around him, Abby would dramatically roil her eyes, feigning disgust in a way that only a precocious child could. "Ew, you guys are so gross" she'd declare, her face scrunched up, though the playful twinkle in her eye gave her away.

Mike enjoyed playing along with Abby's antics. 

He would sometimes pause mid-kiss, turning to her with mock seriousness, "You're just jealous because he can’t resist my charm."

Abby would respond with an exaggerated gag, making you both laugh. "Ugh, please, spare me!" she'd cry, pretending to shield her eyes.

Abby's competitive spirit shone through as she took an early lead, her laughter infectious as she watched the two of you struggle to catch up. 

Despite the game's child-like simplicity, you and Mike indulged her, enjoying the shared moments of joy and the occasional eye roll when she pulled off a particularly clever move.

Eventually, the day's excitement took its toll on Abby, and she gradually succumbed to sleep, leaning against Mike's side. Her soft snores were a testament to the fun filled day, and you couldn't help but smile at the scene. 

He gently shifted her into his arms, carefully carrying her to her bedroom. The sight of Mike's gentle care warmed your heart, showcasing a side of him that made you admire him even more.

Once Abby was safely tucked into bed, Mike returned to the living room, with a soft sigh, he bent down and kissed you, his lips brushing against yours with affectionate warmth.

"She's out like a light," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

With the game almost cleared away, you caught the hint of reluctance in his demeanor, as if he was fighting the urge to suggest calling it a night. He wanted to savor this rare moment of togetherness, not wanting to seem like the boring type who couldn't keep up.

"Hey," you started, your voice light as you gathered some puzzle pieces into a box, "how about we play a little game while we clean up?"

Mike looked at you, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. "A game? Haven't we had enough of those for one night?" he asked, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of fatigue.

He had been running on the relentless schedule of work and caring for Abby, and the idea of simply wrapping you in his arms and falling asleep was incredibly appealing.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you continued tidying up. "Not that kind of game. I was thinking more of a question game—just you and me. We ask each other questions to get to know each other better. Nothing too serious, just...fun."

Mike hesitated, his instinctive walls coming up. You could see the reluctance in his eyes. He wasn't one to open up easily, even to someone he was dating. The thought of revealing too much too soon probably made him uneasy. But he also didn't want to seem boring or unwilling to engage with you, especially after the perfect day you had spent together. He sighed softly, then gave a small nod, agreeing to your proposal.

"Alright," he said, his voice quiet but warm, "but you go first."

You grinned, pleased that he was willing to play along. You folded up a blanket that had been tossed over the couch.

He sat on the couch and leaned back, stretching his arms with a yawn before picking up some toys scattered there that Abby has hidden in the morning.

“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?"

Mike paused, thinking it over as he picked up the scattered game pieces from the floor. He was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't know," he finally admitted, "I've never really thought about it. I guess.. maybe somewhere quiet. A place where Abby could be happy, where she could run around safely and just be a kid without any worries. Maybe a small town by the coast. She loves the water

You smiled at his answer, not surprised that even his hypothetical dreams were centered around Abby's happiness. "That sounds nice," you said softly, picturing the scene in your mind.

"My turn," Mike said, turning to you as he finished stacking the board games. "What about you? What's something you've always wanted to do but never had the chance to"

The question caught you off guard. You hadn't expected Mike to be so direct, but it was a good kind of surprise. You thought about it for a moment before answering. "I've always wanted to go on a road trip across the country," you admitted. "Just pack up and drive, see where the road takes me. No plans, no schedules, just freedom"

Mike nodded, seeming to understand the appeal. "Your turn, champ," he said, getting comfortable on the couch while he handed you this bag where all of Abby’s toys were.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay alert with a tired smile.

Mike’s head was resting on one of his hands, his eyes half-closed in a relaxed state as he waited for your question.

To break the tension, or perhaps to prolong it, you quickly thought of another question to ask.

"Say something to me in Spanish."

Mike blinked, clearly surprised by the request. You had heard him mumbling to himself in Spanish once before, early one morning when he thought he was alone in the kitchen. You hadn't understood what he had said, but the sound of the language rolling off his tongue had been intoxicating. You had been craving to hear him speak in Spanish again ever since.

Mike raised an eyebrow at your request, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. A small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

Your cheeks were already flushing with anticipation.

He studied you for a moment, clearly amused by your request. Without further hesitation, he leaned a little closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he spoke in fluid, flawless Spanish.

"Eres un chico hermoso y perfecto," he said, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips

The way he said it, with such ease and confidence, sent a shiver down your spine. There was something undeniably hot about hearing him speak in a language you didn't fully understand, the foreign syllables carrying an air of mystery and allure.

"What... what did you just say?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike rubbed his eyes, clearly tired but still amused by your curiosity.

“It’s a secret,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll whisper it to you again...sometime.”

Grinning, you gave a nod and smoothly took the bag from his hands. With a swift motion, you began collecting the scattered toys and papers, turning the cleanup into a playful dance.

You could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he pondered a question to satisfy his curiosity. A slow smile crept across his face, transforming into a sly grin. Leaning in closer, he whispered, “Before we got together, what’s one dirty thought you had about me?”

A rush of heat surged to your cheeks, and you instinctively placed your head on the table, shoulders shaking with a mix of laughter and embarrassment while you held tightly the bag. "Why did I invent these rules?" you groaned, half in regret and half in amusement.

Mike chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. His eyes went to esaminate the rest of the room, satisfied in seeing that there was almost nothing left. "Come on, you can't back out now. Rules are rules."

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head, your cheeks still burning. "Fine," you said, your voice tinged with shyness. "There was this one time... you were fixing something around the house in a tank top. I don’t really remember what you were fixing, I wasn’t paying attention to that, you know? I was just watching you, and I couldn’t stop thinking about— hmph..." You paused, your voice trailing off as you hesitated.

Mike leaned in, clearly eager to hear more. "Thinking what?" he prompted, his tone encouraging.

You laughed nervously, finally relenting. "i kept making scenarios in my head of you pulling me close and kissing me. And more..."

The tension between you was almost palpable, a charged current that seemed to pulse through the room.

“For the record, I knew you were staring." He whispered softly at you before turning his back at you to pick up some shredded paper from the ground

You smiled softly at him, happy to know that the attraction you felt for him was mutual. 

This game you started will end soon.

After moving around to pick up toys and scattered pieces of paper, you started to feel the heat creeping up your neck. You had been so focused on the game and the conversation that you hadn't noticed how warm it had gotten. Tentatively, and feeling a little self-conscious, you decided to take off your shirt to cool down.

You hesitated for a moment before you slowly pulled off your shirt, revealing your bare chest. You felt a little shy, your skin tingling with a mix of nerves and excitement as the cool air hit your exposed skin.

When you finally looked up, you saw Mike staring at you in awe, his gaze fixed on your chest. There was something almost reverent in the way he looked at you, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and you suddenly felt very self-aware.

He caught your eye and winked, a gesture that sent your heart racing. In a fit of playful defiance, you grabbed your shirt and threw it at him, your cheeks burning under his gaze.

Mike raised an arm to shield himself from the attack, laughing quietly as the shirt hit him squarely in the chest. His grin widened, clearly amused by your reaction. "Hey, no fair! Can't blame a guy for appreciating the view.” He protested, but the grin on his face told you he was anything but annoyed.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, feeling both shy and bold at the same time.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes, the room was clean, and there was nothing left to distract you from the simmering tension between you. You turned to Mike, a sudden idea popping into your mind-a bold request that you weren't sure you had the courage to voice, but the thought of his hands on you was too tempting to resist.

"Hey," you began, your voice a little hesitant, "how about a reward for all that cleaning?"

Mike looked at you, intrigued. "What kind of reward are we talking about?" he asked as he leaned in slightly.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you worked up the nerve to ask. "A massage," you finally said, your voice almost a whisper. "On my back. I could use one after all that moving around."

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Sure," he agreed, his voice low and velvety. He rubbed his hands together, warming them up as he asked, "Where would it be more comfortable for you?"

Without overthinking it, you moved closer to him and, in a swift motion, settled yourself onto his lap, your back facing him. He let out a surprised huff, followed by a low grunt as he adjusted to your weight.

"Easy there," he murmured, clearly taken off guard by your boldness. He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on your hips. "You're getting a little too good at this teasing thing."

"Everything okay, old man?" you teased, laughter bubbling up inside you.

"You're lucky I like you," he shot back, grinning as his hands settled on your back.

Settling into Mike's lap, you felt a flutter of excitement mixed with a warmth that spread from your cheeks down to your toes.

You could sense Mike adjusting slightly, finding the right balance to support you as his hands settled onto your shoulders. The touch was gentle at first, exploratory, as if he was reacquainting himself with every curve and line of your back. His fingers pressed into the muscles at the base of your neck, drawing out a sigh from you that was part relief, part pleasure.

"You've got a lot of tension here," Mike murmured, his voice low and intimate, the kind of tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I blame you for that," you teased, your own voice barely above a whisper.

His hands moved with practiced ease, kneading the knots and tightness with a care that was both soothing and intoxicating. Each stroke of his fingers felt deliberate, a careful balance between pressure and gentleness that sent warmth spreading through your body. You couldn't help but lean back slightly, closer against him, feeling the heat of his body seep into yours.

"Comfortable?" Mike asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"Very," you replied, the word coming out more like a contented sigh. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access, the gesture both an invitation and an acknowledgment of trust.

His hands traveled lower, fingers tracing the contours of your spine with a touch that was both firm and featherlight. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips.

Mike's fingers splayed across your lower back, his thumbs working in tandem to soothe the tension from the long day. You could feel the strength in his hands, the surety of his touch, and it made you acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies.

"You're really good at this," you murmured, the words slipping out between soft sighs of pleasure.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I used to give Abby back rubs when she couldn't sleep.” he replied, his voice a deep rumble that resonated in your chest.

You couldn't help but shift slightly, pressing back against him, the motion eliciting a low hum of approval from him that sent your heart racing.

"You're making this very difficult for me to concentrate."

You smiled, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Who said I wanted you to concentrate?"

He laughed softly, a sound that wrapped around you like a favorite blanket, comforting and familiar.

You could feel your heart beating a little faster, your breath coming a little shorter, as if every cell in your body was attuned to the anticipation building between you.

Mike shifted beneath you, adjusting his position slightly, and the movement brought you even closer together, your bodies aligning in a way that was both natural and exhilarating.

You felt a surge of courage that prompted you to turn slightly, shifting so that you could see his face more clearly.

Mike met your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with an emotion that mirrored your own. There was a moment of silence before he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was filled with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. 

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them apart, and when you opened up to him, the kiss deepened into something raw and primal.

But it was the way he moaned against your mouth that sent a thrill of electricity coursing through your veins, the sound low and rough, vibrating through your very core. The moan was muffled, almost swallowed by the intensity of the kiss, but it resonated in the pit of your stomach, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward.

And then he rotated your head slightly, his hand gripping your chin as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving over yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled with the effort to maintain control, and it was intoxicating, the knowledge that he was holding back for you.

His hands slid down to your waist, and he pulled you even closer, your chest flush against his as he guided your movements with ease. You could feel the hardness of him pressing against you.

He broke the kiss only to whisper against your lips, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers cascading down your spine. "My good boy," he breathed, his words a caress that resonated deep within you, leaving you yearning for more.

Mike's own breath was unsteady, mingling with yours in a symphony of shared pleasure.

As he pulled back slightly, his lips still brushing against your skin, he whispered with a husky tenderness that made your heart flutter, "Such a good boy for me.”

His mouth found its way to your neck, pressing kisses.

"Mike...”. you whispered, your voice a breathy plea, filled with a need that you couldn't quite put into words. "Speak to me... in Spanish... please."

The request hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you wondered if he would oblige. But then, his lips were at your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he began to speak, the words flowing from his mouth in a rich, rolling cadence that made your heart skip a beat.

"Eres mi chico bueno," he whispered, his voice rough and filled with a intensity that made your knees weak. "Mi precioso, el más hermoso que he visto. Eres mío."

You didn't need to understand every word to know what he was saying, the intent was clear in the way his voice caressed each syllable, his tone heavy with adoration.

His hand slid up your back, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he bent down to press a kiss to your shoulder, the gesture so tender, so filled with reverence that it made your chest tighten with emotion. You could feel the way his body trembled against yours, the effort to maintain control evident in every movement, every breath.

But it was the way he continued to speak, his voice low and breathy, that sent shivers down your spine, the words a mixture of praise and profanity that made your heart race and your skin flush with heat.

"Me vuelves loco," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "No puedo... resistirme a ti. Eres tan perfecto, tan malditamente perfecto."

"Mi chico perfecto," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. The kiss was tender, filled with a depth of feeling that made your chest tighten with emotion, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body seeking the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

His hands moved to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a possessive hunger that made your knees weak.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you found yourself drowning in the sensation, your body pressing against his in a desperate attempt to get closer, to feel more of him.

"Eres mío," he murmured, his words a promise, a vow that resonated deep within you. "Solo mío."

The declaration sent a thrill of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips, the sound quickly muffled by his kiss. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, as if trying to merge your bodies into one, to erase the space that dared to separate you.

And as his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, pressing kisses and bites along the sensitive skin there, you felt the world around you fade away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a moment of pure, unbridled passion.

Mike shifted, rising from the chair with you in his arms and he carried you to the table with a grace that left you breathless.

The cool surface met your skin as he bent you over the table, a contrast that heightened the warmth of his body pressing against you. His hands roamed with a newfound urgency.

His lips followed the path his hands had charted, pressing kisses that were both gentle and insistent.

You couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips, a sound of pure pleasure that echoed in the quiet room. Mike responded with a deep, resonant grunt, a primal sound that spoke of his own rising desire.

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a playful reprimand. But his own breath was ragged.

Mike's hands found yours, interlocking your fingers as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back in a gesture that spoke of unity and devotion. His breath was warm against your ear, his whispered words a balm that soothed and ignited in equal measure.

His hand finds the front of your sweats, breaking your train of thought, and he smiles when you gasp softly.

"You're hard."

"Have been for a while," is all you say, face hot.

He just nods before kissing you again, hand rubbing against your bulge with his other one still on your rear.

His hands make haste with the strings of your sweatpants, loosening it just enough to reach in and grab your hard cock, releasing it from the confines of the fabric with a satisfied look. He rubs you softly, thumb placing just beneath the head, soaking in your noises.

He wraps his hand around you firmly now, stroking you slowly as he kisses you deep. It’s rather unfortunate that he must silence your pretty sounds but the vibration of your moans against his mouth makes up for the loss. 

Mike was always this way - the pleasurer, rather than the pleased. Trust that he was always happily pleased with his time with you, with your reactions and moans, asking for more, but in general, he just wasn't the type to seek out his own gratification before giving you yours. Part of it riled you up inside, part of it made your heart yearn for him all the more.

He strokes you and you curl into him. It’s as though his fingers are laced with poison. And yet, his lips somehow carry the antidote.

Mike positioned himself in between your thighs, cock of his own throbbing through his jeans. The sight alone has you begging whatever gods may be for some kind of release, not that you’d ever repent for your sinful thoughts when it came to this man. Even if it meant going to something resembling Heaven. You’ve already experienced such a reality and he was right in front of you, rubbing his hardening self against you with no remorse or embarrassment.

Your hands reach down to finally feel him, the way he twitches against your touch, the way he groans just above you.

His hips buck up just slightly, seeking friction, and you chuckle before giving it to him. You buckle his belt and take him out of his jeans and boxers and revel at the sight.

He reaches down to help you. His mouth found yours again as his hands wrap around the both of you, rutting his leaking cock against yours, fucking into his palm.

You follow suit, hips rolling forward as you chase your high. He smirks against your lips before pulling away to look at you, "Eres tan jodidamente hermoso así."

You whine at the praise, face heating up even more - you didn't know that was even possible. 

"I, I want-" You struggle to find the words, too lost in the pleasure of his dick against yours.

Mike kisses you again, understanding you regardless, and chuckles as he lets go of the both of you to help you shimmy off your pants completely.

His fingers find again the curves of your ass and he grins widely, groaning at the sight. The flat surface of his tongue laps up your hole, sopping up the area to make it easier for his thumb. He pushes the digit into your enclosure, slow yet eager.

"Mike," you sigh, eyes shut as you focus desperately on his touch.

Your hands clenched into fists on the cold table.

His tongue finally - thankfully - pushes past the precipice, your hips rising at the feeling. Already, your dick twitches in ecstasy, wanting more, wanting release. You can feel the way his facial hair curls upwards against you.

He spits once at your hole as he pulls away, his chin slick from his preparations. Two fingers pass easily through and leave you to crumble beneath him, scissoring them apart to make room for one more, rolling your head against the table, thrashing about as if you were being tortured. 

He positions himself at your entrance. "Ready?"

You nod with furrowed brows and god, when he pushes the tip slowly past your rim, you swear you could die.

He pushes in steadily, slow but never faltering. He stretches you so well. You groan, a mix of pain and satisfaction flooding your senses. He holds your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the curves to soothe you as he seeks pleasure of his own deep within you.

You feel his dick twitch against your walls. He rolls his hips, aiming for that spot that drives you to madness. The angle allows this easily, your mind going blank as you become solely aware of the feeling of him entering and exiting your hole. He finds his rhythm, keeping his hands on you as he guides himself in and out, loving the way your ass looks as it ripples with every thrust. He moves his hand from your stomach down to your dick, holding it against the skin of his palm, fingers wrapping around you.

He strokes you at a pace mimicking his own movements, and your brain begins to steam, overcome with heat and desire.

"Shit," you grit, finally opening your eyes.

Your hips buck upward and his thumb shifts against your head as a result, sending you over the edge, spilling over his hand and onto your stomach.

Mike groans at the sight of you coming undone beneath him, pace quickening as he longs to join you in your ecstasy before thrusting a final time, moaning low as he spills.

Warmth spreads over you as he keeps himself slotted within. His hand rests on your stomach.

"You good?" He asks with a soft and reassuring cadence, leaning over to kiss your collarbone as his hands rub up and down your sides.

You nod, satisfied. He chuckles softly at your expression, taking it in affectionately. 

As you turned to face him, you saw the exhaustion etched on his face, and your heart softened. He looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep, his eyelids heavy as he tried to keep his gaze focused on you.

"Mike," you whispered, reaching up to gently caress his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "You look like you're about to pass out."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he let out a deep, tired sigh. "I'm so tired," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for the man before you. "Let’s get cleaned up real quickly," you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Mike's eyes opened slightly, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "You're too good to me," he said, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

You shook your head, your smile widening as you helped him to his feet. "No, Mike. We're good for each other."

Later on, as you curled up together in bed, Mike's arms wrapped securely around you, his breath warm against your neck, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together, with love and trust as foundation.

As Mike drifted off to sleep, his body relaxed against yours, you couldn't help but smile to yourself, feeling utterly content.

Chapter Text

The party inside the beautiful villa had been a grand affair, an opulent celebration of Derek Danforth’s mother’s election as President of the United States.

You had grown tired of the stifling heat inside, the air thick with the smell of expensive cigars and the sweet tang of vape pens. The oppressive atmosphere was suffocating, and you needed a break. Slipping away from the main room, you made your way through the sliding glass doors and out onto the patio, grateful for the cool night air that greeted you.

You could still feel the haze of smoke clinging to your clothes, a mixture of cigars and expensive vape clouds that had permeated the air all evening.

The pool lay before you. It was massive, almost the size of a small lake, with perfectly smooth edges that mirrored the elegant design of the villa. At the center of the pool, a small fountain burbled softly, its stream of water arcing gracefully before cascading down into the pool with a gentile splash. 

The smell of the water was strong, an almost overpowering scent of chlorine mixed with something floral, like jasmine or honeysuckle, carried on the breeze. 

You took in the scene around you, the few remaining guests were sprawled out on the lounge chairs or even directly on the grass, passed out from too much alcohol, their expensive outfits now rumpled and askew.

You walked over to the edge of the pool and sat down, dipping your feet into the cool water. The sensation was immediately refreshing, the chill of the water a welcome contrast to the heat of the villa. You let out a long sigh, feeling some of the tension of the evening melt away as you gazed out at the water.

After a few minutes of peaceful solitude, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You turned around and saw Derek, the CEO and your boss, standing there with a curious expression on his face. He was dressed, as usual, in an eccentric ensemble. In one hand, he held a vape pen, the other casually tucked into the pocket of his pants. 

His shirt, a crisp white button-down, was slightly undone at the collar, revealing a hint of tanned skin underneath.

His eyes locked onto yours as he took a slow draw from his vape.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His voice was smooth, laced with a hint of amusement. "Taking a little break here all alone?"

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks at his attention, though you tried to play it off with a casual shrug. "It was getting a bit stuffy inside," you replied, trying to keep your tone steady. "Needed some fresh air." Derek chuckled, taking a slow drag from his vape before exhaling a plume of smoke
into the night air. 

"Smart move. The party's winding down, but it looks like some people couldn't handle their liquor," he said, glancing over at the passed-out bodies on the lawn. "Quite a sight, isn't it?"

You laughed nervously, trying to focus on something other than the way he was looking at you, like he was sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's definitely been... eventful"

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Eventful. That's one way to put it." 

"So," he said after a moment, breaking the silence, "what do you do for fun at these kinds of things? Besides, sit by the pool and look hot, of course."

You laughed, a little flustered by the compliment. "Honestly? I'm not really sure. I'm not usually the one to go all out at parties like this."

He raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Really? So, you're saying you're not into the usual antics?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay your nerves. "I guess I'm more of a low-key kind of person. I like to people-watch, maybe find a quiet corner to relax in."

"People-watch, huh?" He seemed amused by that. "I guess you've had quite the show tonight then."

"Definitely," you agreed, smiling. "There's never a dull moment when people start drinking”

He nodded, his gaze shifting to the passed-out guests around the pool.

He took another drag from his vape, exhaling slowly, the vapor curling around his face before dissipating into the night. "It's a shame, really. Most of these people have no idea how to enjoy themselves. They just drink until they pass out.”

You glanced over at the passed-out guests around the pool, their limbs sprawled out in various awkward positions. "It does seem like they missed the point of the party."

Derek's smile widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "That's the problem with these kinds of parties. People drink to impress, to prove they can keep up, and then they end up like...” He gestured vaguely toward the garden, where a few guests were passed out, one even snoring softly “...that. But you seem to be doing just fine."

You felt your blush deepen, his words and the way he was looking at you sending your heart racing. "I guess I just know my limits."

"Smart," He said while taking a step closer, there was something in the way he was looking at you, a glint in his eye that made your heart skip a beat.

"But where's the fun in that?" 

Derek's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he took another step closer, now standing right beside you. His gaze lingering on your face a little too long.

In a desperate bid to break the intensity of the moment, you glanced around and spotted a table set up near the pool, red cups lined up neatly on either end. A sudden idea struck you, something that might shift the dynamic, give you a moment to breathe, and perhaps, just perhaps, figure out what Derek really wanted.

"Wanna play a game?" you asked, your voice a little too eager, a little too breathless, but you didn't care. You needed a distraction, something to break the spell he had over you.

Derek raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

You pointed to the table. "Beer pong. Or, well, whatever's in those cups."

He followed your gaze and then looked back at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You want to play beer pong? With me?"

You weren't oblivious to his allure, to the sharp edge of attraction that had been simmering between you all night, but you wanted more than that. You wanted to see if there was something real beneath the surface, something beyond the flirtation and the power plays.

You could tell he was used to people trying to win his favor, trying to seduce him for their own gains, but you wanted something different. You wanted to see if he was interested in more than just the thrill of the chase, if there was something real and tangible behind that carefully constructed facade.

He seemed to sense your intention, and for a brief moment, something in his expression softened, as if he were considering the possibility that you might be different, that you might be someone worth spending time with, not just another conquest. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough to make you hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Derek Danforth than what meets the eye.

"Why not?" you challenged, standing up and taking a step closer to him, the playful energy between you two only growing stronger. "Unless you're afraid I might beat you”

Derek laughed, the sound low and rich. "Afraid? Not at all. But I think we should make it more interesting than just a game."

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, his eyes scanning your body with unabashed interest. "What do you have in mind?"

He took a step forward, closing the distance between you until there was barely any space left. "How about this, every time one of us scores a point, the other has to take off a piece of clothing."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your mind reeling at the proposition. But the excitement in his eyes, the challenge in his voice, was impossible to resist. "Deal," you said, your voice a little breathless.

Derek’s grin was wickedly sharp as he sauntered to the table, stepping casually over a passed-out guest without a second thought. 

The table was covered in a haphazard array of red solo cups, each containing a small amount of different kind of alcohol. You picked up one of the cups and sniffed it, trying to guess what was inside. Vodka, maybe? Or gin? You weren't sure, but it was definitely potent. 

"This is going to be interesting," you said, setting the cup back down and taking your position on one side of the table.

Derek took his spot across from you, a confident smirk on his face as he casually rolled up the sleeves of his green suit jacket. "I hope you're ready to lose," he teased, picking up a ping pong ball and twirling it between his fingers.

You lined up your first shot, your hands trembling slightly with the combination of nerves and the anticipation of what was to come. The ball sailed through the air, but your aim was off, and it bounced off the rim of one of Derek's cups before rolling away. A soft groan of frustration escaped you, only to be met with Derek's quiet, knowing laughter from across the table.

"Not your best start," Derek teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he picked up his ball. He rolled it between his fingers, his gaze locked onto yours with a look that made your stomach flip.

With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, Derek sent the ball sailing across the table. It landed squarely in one of your cups, splashing down into the liquid below. He raised an eyebrow at you, his expression smug, and you could tell he was enjoying every moment of this.

With a quick glance at Derek, who was watching you with an expectant grin, you reached down to remove your shoes. Derek groaned loudly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Shoes? Seriously?" he complained, though his tone was more playful than accusatory. "That's cheating, and you know it"

You feigned innocence, batting your eyes at him. "What? I thought we said any article of clothing."

"You're lucky you're cute, or I'd call foul on that move.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach. 

Derek had a way of looking at you that made your thoughts scatter, his intense gaze never leaving you, even as he casually tossed the ball into yet another one of your cups.

"Another point for me," he declared, his grin widening as he watched you. "What's it going to be this time?"

With a sigh, you knew you were running out of options. You reached down, pulling off your socks next and tossing them aside, leaving your feet bare on the cool marble tiles. 

The chill of the ground against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat that was building inside you, both from the alcohol and from Derek's relentless flirting.

Derek watched you closely, his eyes darkening with something you couldn't quite place. "Getting closer," he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "But you've still got a long way to go."

The alcohol in the cups wasn't helping matters. Each time Derek landed a shot, you had to drink the contents of the cup. 

The whiskey was sharp and burned as it went down, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. 

The gin was bitter, almost medicinal, and made you wince with its intensity. 

The rum, though smoother, had a sweetness that clung to your tongue, making your head spin with its potency. 

The alcohol worked its way deeper into your system, loosening your inhibitions and making it harder to keep your wits about you.

You could tell he was enjoying this, the way his eyes gleamed with victory each time you missed, the way his grin grew wider with each piece of clothing you were forced to remove.

Soon, you were left with only your shirt and trousers. The alcohol had started to blur the edges of your thoughts, making you slower, less coordinated. You lined up another shot, determined to at least get him to strip off more than just his shoes. But your aim was off, and the ball bounced harmlessly off the table, rolling away into the grass.

Derek didn't hesitate. With the same effortless grace, he sent the ball flying, and you knew before it even landed that you were in trouble. The ball splashed down into another one of your cups, and Derek's eyes met yours, his grin downright wicked.

"Well?" he prompted, leaning forward slightly as he watched you. "You know the rules."

You hesitated, glancing down at your remaining clothes. With a resigned sigh, you reached for your belt, unbuckling it slowly before slipping it off and letting it fall to the ground. Then, with more reluctance, you unbuttoned your trousers, sliding them down your legs and stepping out of them. The night air was cool against your skin, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through you as you stood there in just your shirt and underwear.

You knew you were losing, but there was a thrill in the way Derek looked at you, in the way he seemed to savor every moment of your slow surrender. 

You focused on the cup in front of you, trying to steady your hand despite the way your heart was racing.

The ball flew through the air, arcing perfectly before landing with a satisfying splash in one of the cups. Derek raised an eyebrow, impressed, as he reached for the bottom of his suit.

"Well, well," he said, slowly taking it off. "I hope you didn't use up all your luck on that shot." he remarked, his voice smooth and teasing. 

You watched, your mouth going dry, as he shrugged off his suit and tossed it aside, showing his slightly unbuttoned white shirt that hugged perfectly his toned frame and revealed part of his hairy chest.

That smug bastard.

He didn't even give you time to recover. With a quick flick of his wrist, he landed another perfect shot, and you knew you were out of options. 

You were down to just your shirt and underwear, with Derek barely having lost more than his shoes and shirt. 

The imbalance was humiliating.

You glanced at Derek, who was watching you with that same intense gaze, and you knew what he was waiting for.

Swallowing your pride with the help of the alcohol, you decided to play into the moment. You stood up straighter, your hands going to the hem of your shirt. Instead of removing it, you tugged it down lower over your hips, covering yourself as best as you could, and then reached for your underwear. 

You slipped them off, tossing them across the table at Derek. Derek's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered, reaching out to catch your underwear mid-air. 

He held them up with a triumphant grin before dropping them over his shoulder, letting them hang there like a trophy, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Now that's what I call a proper forfeit."

You couldn't help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation only heightened by the alcohol buzzing through your veins. "Enjoying yourself?" you teased, though you were acutely aware of how exposed you were now.

"Immensely," Derek replied, his voice a little huskier than before. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on your nearly bare form, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

"I give up," you admitted, raising your hands in defeat. "You win.”

The only consolation was that you did manage to get him to strip off some of his own clothing. His green suit jacket went first, then his shoes, leaving him in just his shirt and pants. But even as you stripped him down, you knew it wasn't enough.

Derek's grin widened, but there was something softer in his eyes as he looked at you. "Are you sure?" he asked, though there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his tone.

"Yeah," you replied, laughing softly as you leaned against the table for support.

He chuckled, stepping around the table to approach you. His presence was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint traces of alcohol on his breath as he stopped in front of you. "I'll take my victory then, with you as my prize." he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

Before you could react, he reached out and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. The sudden contact made your breath hitch, and your hands instinctively went to his chest for balance. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart under your palms.

With a swift motion, Derek lifted you onto the table, his movements fluid and practiced. The cold surface pressed against your thighs, but the sensation was quickly overshadowed by the warmth of Derek's body as he leaned in closer. His lips crashed against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss that took your breath away. All the tension that had been building throughout the game exploded in that
moment, the intensity of his kiss leaving you dizzy. 

You could taste the remnants of the alcohol on his lips, a mix of whiskey and something sweet, mingling with the heady sensation of finally giving in to the attraction that had been simmering between you all night.

Derek's hands roamed over your body, sliding under your shirt. Your mind was a whirlwind of sensations, your senses overwhelmed by the way he made you feel.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You're something else," he murmured, his voice thick with want.

"You're not so bad yourself" you managed to reply, though your voice was breathless, your thoughts scattered by the intensity of his gaze.

Derek's lips curled into a grin, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, harder this time, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between you almost unbearable, and you couldn't help but moan into the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him.

After the intense kiss on the table, Derek pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with yours, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He gently helped you down from the table, his hands lingering on your waist as he did. "What do you say we take this somewhere more private?" he suggested.

But as you both turned to head back into the villa, you realized that the party had left no room unoccupied. Through the large windows, you could see that every bedroom, lounge, and even some hallways were filled with passed out guests or couples who had claimed their spots long before you two had even thought to look.

Looks like privacy's in short supply tonight.

You extended your hand to retrieved the underwear you had playfully tossed at him earlier. Derek raised an eyebrow at your bold move, watching with keen interest as you stepped back, quickly slipping your underwear back on.

Just as you finished adjusting them, a sudden force hit you, and you gasped as Derek pushed you, sending you tumbling backward into the pool. The cold water swallowed you instantly, shocking your heated skin and taking your breath away. You surfaced quickly, spluttering and laughing as you wiped the water from your face, your hair sticking messily to your forehead.

"You jerk!" you called out, laughing even as you cursed him, your voice echoing slightly in the quiet night. Derek's laughter boomed across the poolside, deep and unrestrained, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Derek's grin was wide and unrepentant as he began stripping off the few clothes he had left. His movements were quick and efficient, and before you knew it, he was down to just his boxers. With a playful wink in your direction, he dove into the pool, cutting through the water with the same ease and grace he seemed to approach everything else in life.

He swam towards you rapidly, the cool water parting as he moved, and within moments, his strong arms wrapped around you from behind. You let out a soft gasp as he pulled you close, his chest pressing against your back, maneuvering your body until you were flush against the smooth tile wall of the pool, trapping you between the unyielding surface and his firm, solid presence.

"You look good like this," Derek murmured, his voice a low growl that dripped with desire as his lips hovered just above your ear. "Wet, breathless, and all mine."

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers splaying out across the hard muscles there.

Derek's lips found yours again, and the kiss was everything you had been craving. It was deep, almost bruising in its intensity, filled with the pent-up desire that had been building between you all night. His tongue parted your lips, and you welcomed him eagerly, your own tongue tangling with his as the kiss deepened.

His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he bit down, not gently, but with a force that made you gasp, the pain melding into pleasure so intense it left you dizzy. His kisses were hot and demanding, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he moved lower, his lips finding the sensitive spot just above your collarbone. You gasped, your head tilting back to give him better access, and he took full advantage, his tongue flicking out to taste the water on your skin.

The scent of chlorine filled your senses, sharp and pungent. It mingled with the heady, masculine scent of Derek's cologne. A fragrance that was rich and woody, with undertones of leather and spice. 

His hands continued their exploration till they were groping your butt, pulling you even closer against him. He squeezed, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips, swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, harder, lifting you slightly so that you were almost weightless in the water.

"Derek..” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer, like a plea. You weren't even sure what you were asking for, only that you needed more of him, needed him to touch you, to kiss you, to make you forget everything but the way he made you feel.

He growled again, a deep, primal sound that made your pulse quicken. "I know," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "I know"

Each time his mouth claimed yours, he deepened the kiss with a fervor that left you gasping. His tongue explores the inside of your mouth, tasting, claiming, and savoring the essence of you.

"You're my good slutty boy," he murmured against your skin. His voice was rough, tinged with a possessiveness that both terrified and thrilled you.

The water sloshed around you, the sound of it punctuating the quiet night, a symphony of soft splashes and the labored breaths that escaped both of you as you moved together.

The taste of the alcohol lingered in your mouth. It mingled with something more, a distinctive personal flavor that was uniquely yours.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, as if he was trying to absorb every last drop of you, as if he had decided that he wanted to always taste the essence of the drinks through your mouth from now on, a craving that could only be satisfied by you.

He squeezed your butt again, his fingers digging in just enough to make you arch against him, seeking more, needing more.

His hand moved forward, slipping past the elastic rim of your boxers, digging his hands inside the garment and against your prick. 

They were pulling, squeezing, torturing you in the best way possible.

“Derek...” you gasped, gripping the rounded, concrete edge of the pool. You could feel something jabbing at your butt, rubbing along the cheeks while he started jerking his hips.

He yanked down your boxers, startling an awkward yelp from you as he shoved his fingers in your mouth.

When he pulled out his fingers, his other hand still in your hair, he drove the slick digits down along the submerged line of your buttocks. Without warning, he stuck one of them inside, all the way to the second knuckle.

You jerked. “-Aah – wha –D-Derek...” you gasped brokenly through the burn of Derek’s finger-fucking.

“Only getting started,” Derek ground out, pumping his finger hard into the tight flesh. “I’m gonna fuck you til you scream.” He added, breathy and low.

Derek’s voice grated over the ebbing pain, grinding raw pleasure into you.

A third finger struck at your loosened inner muscles. The overpowering burn forced his eyes shut, and an, “Ah-oh –oh God, oh God...” from your lips.

The fingers drew out of you, and in a few second’s adjustment, something vaster pushed past the outermost rim. You gasped – you almost couldn’t breathe – oh fuck.

“Got a –hnng– a tight ass – fuck,” Derek groaned as he shoved himself in further, grinding his hips against your ass.

Those merciless thrusts pounded you faster, deeper, leaving you gasping desperately for air like a fish out of water. Then the hilt of Derek’s length slammed up against something, and just as you were told, you started screaming.

He fucked you senseless, hard at a wild pace, fucked you until with one long cry you quaked and reeled with blissful tremors. Derek grunted and came inside while you tensed around his cock, filling you up with hot liquid.

As the final waves of pleasure washed over you both, your bodies trembled in the aftermath, still intertwined in the cool water of the pool. The night air was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, mingling with the gentle lapping of water against the tiles.

Derek's strong arms remained around you, holding you close as you both caught your breath.

After a few moments of silence, Derek leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. His voice was low, intimate, filled with a promise that sent a shiver down your spine. "Come home with me," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

“We're not done yet."

There was something irresistible in the way he said it, a quiet command that you had no intention of refusing. 

You nodded slightly, your heart racing again at the thought of what more the night could hold.

As you both slowly untangled yourselves, Derek's hands lingered on you, as if reluctant to let go even for a moment.

Once you were out of the water, the cool night air hit your damp skin, making you shiver slightly. Derek was quick to drape a towel around your shoulders, his usual commanding demeanor softened by an unexpected tenderness. 

He wrapped his own towel around his waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to gather up his clothes, handing you yours as well.

Once you were both dressed, Derek took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. He led you through the quiet villa, the remnants of the party now nothing more than a distant memory.

As you walked, Derek's mind was already working, calculating and planning. 

He had been thinking about you long before tonight, and now, after what you had shared, he knew he wanted to keep you close, much closer. 

Promotion, he thought to himself,
would be the perfect excuse to see you more often, to keep you within reach. 

After all, someone as talented and intriguing as you deserved recognition, didn't they?

Chapter Text

You and Josh have been inseparable for years, ever since you first crossed paths in the virtual realm of "Biotic Wars." Your relationship, which began with playful banter and late-night gaming sessions, has grown into something deeply meaningful. Josh's quirky humor and your mutual love for video games have always been the glue holding you two together.

Today was supposed to be a special gaming day. Both of you had been practicing tirelessly to finally conquer Biotic Wars, a challenge that had eluded you for months. Josh, with his expertise and quick reflexes, often led the charg, while you provided backup with your strategic mind and occasional bursts of brilliance. The game was notorious for its unforgiving difficulty, requiring not just skill but also perfect coordination between players.

As the game loaded, you felt a familiar thrill course through your veins. The virtual world came alive with its intense graphics and pulsating soundtrack. Josh, sitting in his well-worn gaming chair, wore a reassuring grin. "Ready to finally take down these biotic beasts?" he asked you through the headphones, his voice brimming with excitement.

"Absolutely. Let's show them what we're made of" you replied, tightening your grip on the controller.

The battle began with an explosion of colors and sounds as you maneuvered your characters through the treacherous terrain. Josh, as always, took the lead, deftly dispatching enemies with pinpoint accuracy. You followed closely, providing cover and eliminating threats as they appeared. For a while, everything was going smoothly, and you could feel victory within reach.

Then came the final boss. 

You were both in sync, executing strategies and dodging attacks with near-perfect precision. But just as victory seemed assured, a split-second lapse in concentration caused your character to fall into a trap.

"No!" you exclaimed, watching helplessly as your health bar plummeted. Josh fought valiantly to cover for your mistake, but the boss proved too powerful, and soon both your screens flashed the dreaded "Game Over" message.

You sighed heavily, disappointment washing over you. "i'm sorry, Josh," you said, genuinely frustrated. "I messed up. I should have seen that coming."

Josh, ever the optimist, chuckled softly. "Hey, it's all part of the game. It's hard to follow a master, I get it." he added, his voice dripping with playful cockiness.

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone. Despite his jesting, there was no malice behind his words, just an attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh, you think you're so great, huh?" you challenged, grinning at him.

"Well, I did just carry us through most of that level," he replied.

"All right, Mr. Video Game Prodigy," you retorted, your competitive spirit ignited. "How about I challenge you to a game I'm actually good at?"

His interest piqued, Josh agreed immediately, his confidence unshaken. "Bring it on," he said, leaning back on his chair with a smug look. "I'm ready for whatever you've got."

An hour later, he arrived at your place, his energy and excitement palpable. The moment you opened the door, he enveloped you in a warm hug, peppering your face with kisses until you were both laughing uncontrollably.

"Okay, what's this mystery game of yours?" he asked as you led him to your gaming setup.

You handed him the CD case, watching as his confidence wavered slightly upon reading the title.

Friday the 13th: The Game.

The look on his face was priceless.

"You've got to be kidding," he muttered, examining the cover with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"You can back out if you're scared," you teased, knowing full well that Josh would never back down from a challenge.

His expression shifted to a mask of determination, resignation in his eyes. "Scared? Me? Never. Let's do this."

Settling into your chairs, you loaded the game. Friday the 13th was a stark departure from Biotic Wars.

The horror game was designed to be tense and thrilling, with players taking on the roles of camp counselors trying to survive the night while being hunted by the infamous Jason Voorhees.

As the game loaded, the iconic and haunting music filled the room, setting the stage for the tense and terrifying experience that lay ahead. Josh's character, one of the playable camp counselor, appeared on screen, standing alone in the dimly lit forest of Camp Crystal Lake. 

The objective was simple yet daunting: survive the night while being hunted by Jason Voorhees, the relentless killer.

Josh's initial confidence waned slightly as he adjusted to the slower pace and eerie setting of the game. The dim light flickered on the screen, casting shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. 

The game's mechanics, designed to induce fear and suspense, were a stark contrast to the fast-paced action he was used to.

Every sound, every rustle of leaves, seemed to put him on edge.

"You got this," you encouraged, trying to stifle your laughter as you watched him nervously guide his character through the woods.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, his eyes glued to the screen, fingers tense on the controller.

Josh carefully navigated his character through the cabins and open areas, occasionally stopping to collect useful items like health sprays, maps, and weapons. 

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, it was clear he was fully immersed in the experience, jumping at every unexpected noise and shadow.

"Okay, this isn't too bad," he said, trying to maintain his bravado as he directed his character to a nearby cabin, securing the doors and windows.

"Just wait until you hear the music," you teased, knowing full well what was about to happen.

Then it happened.

The screen flickered, and the ominous glitching effect announced Jason's proximity, triggered by his shift ability. 

The sudden distortion, a signature move that allowed Jason to cover ground quickly and catch players off-guard. Josh flinched, his entire body tensing up as Jason seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Whoa!" he yelped, his voice a mixture of surprise and nervous laughter as he instinctively mashed buttons to make his character sprint away from the unseen threat.

As the character's fear level spiked, eerie music blasted through the room, and the screen darkened, mirroring the rising dread of its player.

You burst out laughing, unable to contain your amusement at his reaction. "Run, Josh, run!" you hit rapidly on his arm, tears of laughter in your eyes.

"Why didn't you warn me about that?" he protested, his voice rising an octave as he attempted to escape Jason's clutches.

"Because this is way more fun," you replied between giggles, thoroughly enjoying his startled expressions and frantic button-mashing.

"He's behind you, Josh!" you shouted, adding to the tension with a mischievous grin.

"I know, I know!" he replied, his voice laced with mock panic as he desperately tried to maneuver his character to safety.

Despite his attempts to evade Jason, the chilling music intensified, signaling the killer's approach. 

"No! No!" Josh exclaimed, trying to break free the second he was grabbed by the killer, but it was too late. 

The screen erupted in a blaze of light as his character's head was violently severed, sending it spiraling through the air. His jaw dropped in shock, mirroring the dramatic fall of the counselor's head.

You were laughing so hard that tears streamed down your cheeks, your sides aching from the hilarity of the situation. Josh joined in, his initial fear giving way to the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, that was terrifying," he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I wasn't expecting it to be that intense."

"Welcome to the world of horror games," you teased, still catching your breath from the laughter. "Do you want to go again, or should I show you how it's done?"

Josh handed you the controller with a dramatic flourish. "Please, show me the ropes. I clearly need some pointers."

Taking the controller, you settled into the familiar routine of the game, your confidence evident in your posture and movements. As your character spawned in the same erie campgrounds, you immediately began to strategize, quickly gathering supplies and coordinating your escape plan.

Josh, sitting beside you, was eager to learn the ropes, hoping to match your skill level and make the experience even more fun and collaborative. 

His curiosity about the game was endearing, but you knew it would be a challenge to focus on playing while fielding his barrage of questions.

As the game began, you immediately focused on your objectives, guiding your character through the dark, foreboding campgrounds. 

Your mind instinctively strategizes the best way to survive the night. 

Next to you, Josh leaned in, eyes glued to the screen, a mixture of awe and determination on his face.

"So, what's the first thing you should do when the game starts?" he asked, his voice eager and slightly urgent.

"You want to search cabins for supplies, like maps and weapons," you replied, deftly moving your character toward a nearby cabin.

He nodded, absorbing the information before firing off another question. "What's the best weapon to use against Jason?"

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "The shotgun is the best one, but it only has a bullet loaded. Anything you can find to slow him down will help, like a baseball bat or a wrench."

You hear the ominous music indicating Jason is nearby. Your heart races as you move to the opposite direction, seeing from afar how he hasn't noticed your presence yet.

Josh, oblivious to the tension, continues his questioning.

"What's the best way to escape?"

"There are a few ways: fix the car, call the police, or survive until time runs out," you say, finding a map and showing it to Josh. "There is also the boat but it's way too risky since Jason moves very fast in the water."

Josh nods, scribbling notes mentally.

You entered a cabin and began searching for items, listening intently for any sign of Jason.

Josh's curiosity seemed endless "How do you know which counselor to choose? Which one is better?"

"Counselor stats matter" you replied, still concentrating on your character's actions.

"Each counselor has different stats like speed, stamina, repair skills and stealth. It affects how well they perform certain tasks," you explain, dodging a trap set by Jason to start repairing the phone box.

"What's stamina do?" Josh asks, genuinely curious.

"It's that yellow circle around the mini-map. Stamina affects how long you can run or perform some actions before needing to rest," you reply, keeping an eye on your stamina bar as you sprint inside the cabin to call the police.

"How do you regain stamina?"

"By standing still. It's crucial to manage it well, especially when Jason is chasing you," you say, watching intently as your character called the police.

"All the stats can work for you, but right now if you have someone with high speed you'll definitely will have a much better chance of survival" you explained to him, noticing a red dot on the mini-map.

He was near.

"Speed, huh?" Josh pondered, watching every movement of your finger in the controller. "What exactly does speed do?"

You paused, momentarily distracted by the abourdity of the question. Turning to him, you couldn't help but laugh. "Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement

Josh realized his mistake and burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. "Okay okay, dumb question" he admitted, shaking his head at himself.

The shared laughter was a welcome break from the tension of the game. It was moments like these that reminded you of why you enjoyed spending time with Josh. His ability to find humor in even the most stressful situations and his genuine interest in learning something new, even if it meant asking silly questions.

"You know," you began, the excitement in your voice unmistakable, "one of the things I love most about this game is how well the maps are designed. They're so detailed and true to the movies. It's like you're actually there, experiencing the terror firsthand."

Josh nodded, his interest piqued by your enthusiasm. "Yeah? I didn't realize they were so accurate. That's really cool."

"It is!" you continued, a sparkle in your eyes. "Each map is a nod to the different movies. The developers included all these little details that only true fans would recognize. It makes the game so immersive, like you're living out your own horror movie experience."

He watched you intently, captivated by your passion. You rarely had the chance to dive into these nerdy discussions with others, but with Josh, it felt natural and safe.

"And the counselors," you said, leaning forward in your seat, "they're all inspired by characters from the films. Each one has their own unique stats and strengths, which makes it interesting to figure out who matches your playstyle and I just love how it all comes together."

Josh listened, a soft smile playing on his lips. You could feel his attention solely focused on you, and it made you feel appreciated, like every word you said mattered.

"And the chase," you added, your voice tinged with excitement. "The burst of adrenaline when Jason is right behind you, the music intensifying, your heart pounding—it's such a rush. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I love that feeling of being on the edge, trying to outsmart him and survive."

Josh chuckled, seeing how animated you had become. "I can tell you really love this game. It's amazing to see you light up like this."

You paused, feeling a bit self-conscious now that you had rambled on for so long, but his expression reassured you. There was no judgment, only admiration and affection in his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on and on," you said, a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry," he replied softly, reaching out to take your hand. "I love hearing you talk about things you're passionate about. You know, the way you dive so deeply into something you care about, it's one of the things I adore most about you"

His words warmed your heart, and you squeezed his hand in return, grateful to have someone who appreciated you for who you were. Josh had always supported your interests, and his genuine curiosity about your hobbies made you feel seen and understood.

"Thanks, Josh," you said, meeting his gaze with a smile. "I'm glad I can share this with you."

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm just happy to be here with you, learning about all the things you love. It gives me more reason to play the game and try to keep up with you. You make it look so easy," Josh commented, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

"It just takes practice," you replied.

At one point, Jason burst through a door just as you slipped out a window, narrowly escaping his grasp. You then led him on a merry chase through the forest, conserving your stamina to buy time and regroup with other players.

"Wow, you're way too good at this," Josh said, his eyes fixed on the screen as he watched you lead your character to safety.

"It's all about keeping calm and thinking ahead," you explained, enjoying the chance to showcase your skills in a game you loved.

As the game progressed, you managed to evade Jason long enough for the police to arrive, signaling the end of the round. 

With one final sprint, you guided your character to the safety of the police line, successfully surviving the night.

Josh was beaming, clearly impressed by your performance. "THAT WAS AMAZING."

Raising your hands in the air in victory while your boyfriend hugs you tightly. Both of you were shouting with joy from the success. "I know, I know. It's nice to finally have the upper hand for once."

The rest of the evening was filled with more rounds, tension and horror while Josh's continued flinching and surprised yelps kept the mood light and entertaining. Each round, he improved, guided by your expertise and encouragement.

By the end of the night, as you both settled back into the couch, Josh turned to you, his expression one of genuine affection. "Thanks for introducing me to this. It was nice taking a break from Biotic War, even if I was terrified half the time."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. And hey, you're getting better. We could play this sometime together if you want"

Josh laughed, pulling you close for a hug. "Only if you promise not to laugh at my screams."

"Deal," you agreed, snuggling into his embrace, grateful for the shared experience and the deepened bond it had brought.

You turned your face towards Josh, a victorious smile on your face. "As a reward for winning, I have a couple of requests," you announced playfully.

Josh raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what might those be?" he asked with a smirk.

"First, a kiss," you said, leaning closer.

He obliged happily, pulling you in for a gentle, lingering kiss that melted away the exhaustion of the night. "And second?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Carry me to bed?" you requested, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

Josh groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. "Really? You beat me in one game and now I'm your personal chauffeur?" he teased. "Alright, fine, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

With exaggerated reluctance, he scooped you up into his arms, grumbling under his breath about your apparent weight. He took comically slow, deliberate steps, exaggerating every movement as if he were carrying a ton of bricks. "Why are you so heavy? Did you sneak rocks into your pockets or something?" he joked, pretending to struggle as he navigated the hallway.

Every few steps, he'd stop dramatically to catch his breath, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead. "I might need to call in reinforcements," he quipped, pausing to pretend to call for backup. You couldn't stop laughing, the combination of his theatrics and your helpless position making the journey to the bedroom an epic adventure in itself.

"Almost there," he declared, as if conquering a mountain, taking unnecessarily wide turns and pretending to stumble. You kept giggling, holding on tight as he continued his overly elaborate trek.

Finally, he reached the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed with a mock sigh of relief. "There you go, your majesty," he quipped, wiping his brow in mock exhaustion. "Next time, I'm getting a forklift."

You pulled him closer, your hands looping around his neck as you whispered, "Now, don't think you're getting away. Stay with me."

Josh didn't hesitate, climbing into bed beside you. He wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful calm. Together, you drifted off, surrounded by the comfort of each other's presence.

The sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you slowly stirred awake. You turned, expecting to find Josh next to you, but instead, the bed was empty and slightly cool where he had been lying. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sat up, only to find Josh fully dressed for work.

Josh noticed you were awake and turned with a smile, walking over to the bed. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said warmly, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

You leaned into the kiss, but something gnawed at you, a small feeling of frustration. This had become a familiar scene: Josh up and ready to leave without waking you, never saying goodbye properly. It seemed minor, but it had been building up over time, and today it felt like more than you could brush aside.

"Morning," you replied, trying to keep your voice light but unable to completely mask the tinge of irritation. Josh pulled back, noticing your tone.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a touch of concern in his voice, his brow furrowed as he looked at you.

You hesitated, not wanting to start an argument but feeling the need to voice your thoughts. "Josh, you always leave without saying goodbye. I know you want me to sleep, but it feels like...I don't know, like you're sneaking out," you admitted, looking down at the sheets, feeling a bit shy about bringing it up. Your heart fluttered with nervousness, unsure of how he would respond.

Josh's expression softened as he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing you. He reached out, his hand gentle as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I just thought it was better to let you sleep," he explained, his voice sincere and filled with understanding. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel like I was avoiding a goodbye."

His words were like a balm, soothing the frustration that had been building inside you. "I know you didn't mean it that way," you said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of earnestness, and you could see that he genuinely wanted to make things right. "But I want to feel like I'm part of your morning, too, even if it's just a quick kiss before you go."

He nodded, his eyes earnest and apologetic. "I get it. From now on, I'll make sure to wake you. I didn't know you felt left out."

A small smile tugged at your lips, the tension in the room dissipating "Thank you. I just want to be part of your routine, that's all."

Josh grinned, leaning in for another kiss, this one lingering and soft. "Consider it done," he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, the warmth of his lips on yours was reassuring.

As Josh moved to stand, ready to leave for work, an idea popped into your head. Without fully thinking it through, you reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the bed.

"Hey!" Josh laughed, caught off guard as he tumbled back onto the mattress beside you. 

"What's this?"

Feeling a mix of shyness and boldness, you looked at him, your cheeks warming. "I was thinking...maybe a little extra time together before you go wouldn't hurt," you suggested, your voice soft but inviting.

Josh raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but delighted. "Oh, really? I thought you'd want to go back to sleep," he teased, his voice playful as he shifted closer, his hand finding yours.

"I think I'm already awake enough," you replied, feeling more confident as you met his gaze, the familiar warmth and love reflecting back at you.

He chuckled, pulling you into his arms as you settled against him. "How can I say no to that?"

You found yourself on top of him, your bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time guided by instinct and desire. His touch was gentle, occasionally squeezing your hips and buttocks with a playful possessiveness that made you laugh softly against his lips.

The sound of your laughter mingled with the quiet gasps and sighs, creating a melody of love that filled the room.

Josh's voice broke the comfortable silence. "I really didn't mean to upset you, you know," he said softly, his eyes sincere.

"I know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "I just miss being part of your morning routine. Even a small goodbye would mean a lot to me."

light filtering through the curtains wrapped around you both like a warm embrace, casting a gentle glow that seemed to mirror the feelings swelling in your heart. 

As you leaned in, the first touch of his lips against yours was electric, igniting a spark that raced through your veins. 

His kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration, as if rediscovering the familiar contours and taste that he cherished so much. 

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting and teasing, drawing out a response that was both immediate and fervent. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed you, a blend of passion and tenderness that made you feel cherished and desired. It was as if he were savoring the very essence of you, each kiss a promise and a testament to the love you shared.

Your lips met again. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration, but soon deepened, a dance of tongues that communicated what words could not. 

Josh's hands traveled over your body, fingers grazing your skin with a featherlight touch that sent shivers up your spine. Occasionally, his hands would rest on the curve of your hips, squeezing gently as if to reassure himself that you were real, that this moment was happening.

His touch was both tender and assured, as though he were an artist and you were his masterpiece. He explored with an intimacy that spoke of familiarity and affection, mapping every curve and line with the skill of someone who knew and adored every inch of you.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands as you pulled him closer, deepening the connection.

You let out a soft moan, a sound of pure delight that only encouraged him further.

Your hands moved over his chest, tracing his happy trail and the lines of his muscles.

Lips departed from yours, embarking on a tantalizing journey along your jawline, leaving a trail of electrifying kisses in their wake. The heat of his breath against your skin sent ripples of pleasure coursing through you, drawing you closer to him, as if pulled by some invisible force.

"I want..." Josh started, breathing unevenly, "I really want your tongue..."

You smiled softly with a nod, happy with Josh's request.

"Shift up, then," you suggested, sitting up to allow Josh to move, and he obliged, moving up on the bed to give you more space to home yourself between his thighs. Josh moaned softly as he watched you crawl up between his legs until your face was in line with his cock.

You leaned down to press a kiss against the throbbing, leaking tip,

Josh bit his lip and held his breath as your tongue peeked out between your lips to greet the sensitive head, lapping up the precum that was already collecting at the tip following your incessant teasing.

"You're teasing me," Josh stammered, screwing his eyes shut as you gazed up at him, tongue still running up and along the firm ridges of his length.

He pouted at your cruelty before you winked and wrapped your lips around the head, sinking your hot wet mouth down until your nose was flush with the base of Josh's cock.

He was beyond devastated. He grunted as you swallowed around his length, stuffing your face with his size. The scorching vision that had only ever existed in his imagination was now a breathtaking reality.

You slid your lips off after a pause, gasping for air as a string of saliva kept your lips connected to Josh's meat.

"I like this," you giggled, ducking down to leave open-mouthed kisses along Josh's length from the base, up the side of it, then to the head again, sucking the tip into his mouth once more. You loved the way his thighs shake after doing such things.

Josh shut his eyes again, avoiding your eye contact as you bobbed his head up and down, afraid to come way too soon and disappoint you.

Relentless as ever, your assault left him no respite. His fists clenched the blankets with a vice-like grip, knuckles white with tension.

"Pull off," he shouted, hips twitching when you moved your mouth away from him and looked at his face perplexed.

He sat up on the bed to restore your old position on top of him.

Josh's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your sides before settling on your hips. 

His fingers lingered there, a gentle pressure that pulled you closer until your bodies were perfectly aligned.

Your hips moved together, a slow, deliberate motion that mirrored the rising and falling of your breaths. You felt the heat of his skin against yours, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure coursing through you. 

His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the line of your spine before settling on your shoulders, drawing you down to him.

His lips found your neck, planting a series of soft kisses that made you shiver with delight. You felt his breath against your skin as your bodies moved together

His hands moved down to your thighs, squeezing gently as you rocked together. As the tempo of your movements increased, so did the intensity of the sensations, each one building upon the last until you were both lost in the shared rhythm of your bodies.

His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a reflection of the bond you shared. 

You lost track of time, caught up in the whirlwind of sensation and emotion that surrounded you.

Pressing your forehead to his, you feel the sticky sweat that binds you. Josh's heaving breath mixing with yours as you both come down from the intensity of your releases. 

He followed almost immediately when your hole clenched around him, making you even tighter. He whined loudly and after a few more hard thrusts, he came.

Josh's brown eyes shine bright with pleasure- a contented sigh spilling from you both before you slowly disengage. 

It's filled with lasting touches, long looks and warm smiles.

"Do you want to play a bit of your game before I go?" 

The sound of your intertwined laughter, punctuated by soft gasps and sighs, filled the room.

"Won't you be late for work?" you asked while still panting, sweat starting to drip down your forehead, but you remained tight against his side.

"They never notice my presence anyway," he replied, panting and still trying to regulate his breathing.

You couldn't help but smile at his laid-back attitude, already in the process of reaching for the controller.

Chapter Text

The afternoon stretched lazily before you, the sunlight filtering through your dorm room window as you packed away your books. There were no more classes to attend, and for once, a rare moment of calm settled over you. Just as you were about to take a break, your phone buzzed insistently on the table. You glanced at the screen. 

Mike's name flashing. 

A small smile tugged at your lips as you answered.

"Hey," Mike greeted, though his voice carried the unmistakable edge of stress. "Sorry to bother you, but I really need a favor." There was a pause, and you could almost picture him on the other end, running a hand through his hair, his posture tense as he spoke. "I need someone to pick up Abby and take her to her friend's house. She's got that sleepover she's been excited about. I'd go myself, but I'm buried in stuff for the custody battle, and I can't get away."

You could hear the strain in his voice, the tightness that spoke of too many worries stacked on top of each other. It was the same tone he often used when he felt overwhelmed but didn't want to show it. Without missing a beat, you nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Of course, Mike. I'm on it," you assured him, your voice firm and certain.

"Thanks," he said, his voice softening for a moment, and you could hear the genuine relief in that single word. "You're a lifesaver."

When you arrived at the place, the air was filled with the usual cacophony of children's laughter and the chatter of parents. The building was bright, colorful murals on the walls depicting cartoon animals and cheerful scenes of nature. As you pushed open the doors and walked in, you felt a shift in the atmosphere. 

Heads turned, and a sudden hush seemed to fall over the room. The mothers gathered near the entrance exchanged glances, their conversations tapering off as their eyes followed you with a mix of curiosity and quiet judgment. 

You could almost feel their gaze assessing every detail: the way your clothes hung on you, the youth in your face that contrasted sharply with the tired lines etched into theirs.

You squared your shoulders, doing your best to ignore the prickle of their stares. Dr. Lillian stood by the door, clipboard in hand.

When her gaze landed on you, her brows knit together slightly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Can I help you?" Dr. Lillian asked, her tone professional but with a hint of wariness that suggested she was already trying to place who you were. You offered her a small, polite smile, your hands tucked nervously into your jacket’s pockets.

"I'm here to pick up Abby," you explained, feeling the eyes of the other moms still on you, like they were collectively holding their breath. "I'm, uh, Mike's boyfriend."

For a moment, Dr. Lillian said nothing, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she studied you. It was as if she was weighing your words, trying to reconcile them with whatever expectations she might have had. 

The silence stretched, every second feeling heavier than the last. 

You could feel the judgment radiating from the gathered mothers, a silent chorus of disapproval that buzzed like static at the back of your mind. 

They didn't say anything outright, but their whispered comments and sidelong glances spoke volumes: too young, too out of place, too unfamiliar. You could practically hear their thoughts, each one a prick against your skin.

Dr. Lillian's eyes flicked briefly to the cluster of moms, catching the murmurs that rippled through the group, their mouths hidden behind manicured hands as they leaned into one another with expressions of subtle distaste. The woman’s frown deepened, her skepticism clear as day, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your heartbeat quickening. 

You felt their judgment like a physical weight pressing down on you, your skin prickling under the heat of their stares. It wasn't just that you were younger than Mike, though that certainly added to their curiosity. It was the fact that you were stepping into a role that, in their eyes, you had no business stepping into.

Finally, Dr. Lillian spoke, her voice careful, almost too neutral. "I see," she said, her gaze still locked onto yours. "And Mike couldn't make it today?"

You shook your head, trying to explain. "He's caught up with some important work legal matters. He asked me to come pick her up and take her to her friend's house for a sleepover."

Dr. Lillian regarded you for another long moment, and you could tell she was assessing you, trying to decide if you were trustworthy. But before she could say anything more, a small figure came bounding towards you from the classroom. It was Abby, her face lighting up the second she saw you.

"There he is!" Abby's joyful cry cut through the tension like a knife as she ran up to you, her little arms reaching out for a hug. You crouched down just in time to catch her, scooping her up as she giggled happily.

Her small legs wrapping tightly around your waist. The sheer enthusiasm in her embrace sent a wave of relief washing over you, and you couldn't help but smile at her, ruffling her hair affectionately. 

Abby's joy was infectious, her grin wide and unreserved as she tugged on your hand, dragging you over to where her friend was waiting. "This is my friend!" she exclaimed proudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she introduced you.

Dr. Lillian's expression softened at the sight, her skepticism melting as she observed Abby's unfiltered happiness. It was hard to argue with that kind of unguarded enthusiasm, and for a moment, she seemed to reconsider whatever reservations she might have had. 

Abby was beaming, and the teacher, perhaps sensing the sincerity in her joy, nodded slowly, sending a pointed look at the other mothers whose judgmental whispers were now met with a silent rebuke. 

With that single, subtle gesture, Dr. Lillian dismissed the underlying scrutiny from the room, her posture relaxing slightly as she glanced back at you.

"I see," she said, her tone more sweet now, though the hint of caution still lingered. "Well, Abby seems happy to see you." She turned her attention fully to Abby, offering her a warm smile. "You have fun with your friend, okay?"

Abby nodded enthusiastically, still clutching your hand as she looked up at you with the kind of trust that made your heart swell. Dr. Lillian gave you a final, appraising look, but there was something softer in her gaze now, her approval implied in the way she turned back to her duties, no longer questioning your presence.

Once you dropped Abby at the friend's house, you watched them run inside, giggling and shouting excitedly about their plans. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment that you'd helped make her day.

With Abby safely at her sleepover, you decided to head over to Mike's place to give him the update in person. You knew how much he worried about her, and you figured he'd want to hear directly from you that everything had gone smoothly. Plus, you hadn't heard back from him since his call, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he might appreciate a little company, especially given how stressful things had been lately.

When you arrived at Mike's house and knocked, you heard his footsteps approaching before the door swung open. He looked a little tired as always, his hair slightly tousled and the faint shadows under his eyes betraying the strain of the day. 

But when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, albeit weary, smile. 

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you. A quick, soft peck that still managed to make your heart skip a beat. It was his way of saying thank you, his quiet, unspoken gratitude.

"Thanks for doing that," he said, stepping aside to let you in.

"No problem," you replied, squeezing his hand as you stepped through the doorway. "She's all set at her friend's house. They seemed really excited."

Mike nodded, but as you followed him into the living room, you noticed there, sitting stiffly on the couch, was Mike's aunt. 

Her presence was like a cold wind blowing through the room, her posture rigid and her expression already set into a hard, disapproving line. She barely acknowledged your entrance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced from Mike to you and back again.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," she said, her voice sharp and condescending. She had the kind of tone that suggested she was used to getting her way, her words laced with an undercurrent of disdain that immediately put you on guard. 

"I was just telling Mike how important it is for Abby to have a stable home environment. And it definitely is not-“ She gestured vaguely in your direction, her lip curling in distaste “-whatever this is." 

Mike's jaw tightened, his calm demeanor visibly strained under the weight of his aunt's hostility. 

He stepped closer to you, his hand finding yours in a small, defiant show of solidarity. "This is none of your business," Mike said evenly, though there was a bite to his words that suggested he was holding back more than he let on.

"You're here to talk about Abby, not my personal life."

She scoffed, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. "Your personal life directly affects Abby," she countered, her gaze now fixed firmly on you. "You think it's appropriate for her to be exposed to this? Two men playing house? It's confusing and, frankly, irresponsible. She needs a stable, traditional environment."

You could feel the anger simmering beneath your skin, a hot, bubbling frustration that threatened to spill over. 

You knew what she was really after, it wasn't about Abby's well-being, but about money. You'd seen it in the way she maneuvered through every legal loophole, trying to make Mike's life as difficult as possible.

Mike squeezed your hand, a silent plea for patience, but you could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his aunt's words cut deeper than he'd ever admit. She wasn't just attacking you, she was undermining everything Mike had worked so hard for, all the sacrifices he'd made to be there for Abby. 

“Now that I think about this little arrangement of yours. It's all so convenient, isn't it?" She paused, letting the weight of her words settle like a noose tightening around your neck. "Mike saw how you looked at him, didn't he? How you were desperate for his attention. And he played you like a fiddle, didn't he? Using that puppy-dog crush of yours to get exactly what he wanted."

She wasn't done. Oh, no, she had more to say, and it was clear she was savoring every moment of it.

"He's using you," she sneered, her voice dripping with icy contempt. "You're nothing more than a convenient babysitter for Abby. Someone to watch her without costing him a dime. And let's not forget the sex. Oh, that's just a nice little perk, isn't it, Mike?”

His arm, which had been resting lightly around your waist, suddenly tightened, pulling you closer as if to shield you from her venomous words.

"That's not true," Mike said, his voice low and trembling with barely controlled anger. His eyes, usually so calm and gentle, were now filled with a fierce protectiveness, his gaze locked onto his aunt with a mixture of disbelief and fury. “I would never— never use him like that.”

His words were laced with emotion, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. But you could feel the way his hand trembled slightly as it gripped your waist, the way his breath came in short, sharp bursts.

"I genuinely like him," Mike continued, his voice rising slightly, betraying the depth of his frustration. "He's not just some... some tool to be used when it's convenient. He's-" you placed your hand over his, squeezing gently to signal him to stop.

The simple gesture was enough to break through his anger, and he fell silent, his eyes searching yours for guidance. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the need to defend you warring with the exhaustion that had been weighing him down for weeks. You offered him a small, reassuring smile, letting him know that you understood, that you appreciated his defense, but that this wasn't worth losing himself over.

You'd had enough.

"Wow," you began, your voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and cool detachment, "you really went all out with that one, didn't you? I mean, it's almost impressive how far you're willing to stretch the truth just to make yourself feel better."

"You have no idea what's best for Abby, and neither does he!" She jabbed a finger towards Mike, her frustration boiling over. "You're both too young, too reckless, and you're making a mockery of what it means to raise a child!"

You could feel your pulse in your ears, a steady thrum of determination that pushed you to meet her gaze without flinching. "It’s ironic that you call us reckless when you’re the one trying to uproot Abby from a loving home for your own gain. Maybe it’s time to rethink who’s really being irresponsible here." you said firmly, your voice unwavering. 

Her nostrils flared, her eyes blazing with anger as she glared at you, but there was no rebuttal. The truth of your words hung in the air and you could see the cracks forming in her façade. 

With a final, furious huff, she grabbed her purse from the couch, her movements jerky and furious. "This isn't over” she spat, turning on her heel and marching towards the door. She slammed it shut behind her with enough force to rattle the walls, the impact made the door bounced back, swinging open again as if mocking her attempt to make a dramatic exit.

You rolled your eyes at her reaction, moving your legs to close the door. But before you had time to touch the handle, Mike turned you around and pressed you against the door, his body warm and solid against yours, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you in the quiet of the house.

His eyes were open and raw, revealing a depth of emotion that took your breath away. Love, yes, but also a fierce protectiveness, a gratitude so profound it was almost overwhelming. 

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with the weight of the confrontation and the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then, without warning, Mike leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours as his eyes fluttered closed. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. 

You leaned up, closing the gap between you as your lips met his in a kiss.

His hands were gentle, but there was a trembling undercurrent of need in the way they roamed. One slipping into your hair, the other finding its way to your waist, pulling you in, anchoring you to him. Mike's kiss was urgent, driven by a whirlwind of emotions that had been bottled up for far too long. 

He needed this. 

Needed to let go of the frustration and the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface.

His hands roamed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

You returned his fervor, your hands trailing up his arms, feeling the strength hidden beneath his skin. You moved with him, letting him guide you back through the hallway, your bodies never parting as you made your way toward his bedroom. 

Mike's kisses were insistent, almost desperate, his lips never leaving yours for more than a breath. His hands found their way to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping underneath to feel the warmth of your skin.

He broke the kiss just long enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that took your breath away. "God, you have no idea how much I needed this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words almost a growl as they escaped his throat.

You nodded, your own breath ragged as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

His response was immediate, a fierce pull that had you stumbling back as he pushed forward, never letting the connection break. The back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you fell onto the mattress, Mike quickly following, his body hovering
over yours. 

He looked at you with a mix of reverence and raw hunger. 

Mike's kisses trailed from your lips to your jaw, then down to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he lingered, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin. 

Mike's grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as he buried his face against your neck, his lips pressing fervent kisses to your skin. 

The idea of you standing strong by his side, protecting what was his-what was yours-had driven him to the edge of control. And now, here in this moment, it was all spilling over.

"All mine. My good boy."

He mouthed along the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing lightly, just enough to make you gasp and arch into him. 

He was methodical, almost reverent, as he worshiped every inch of you with his mouth, his hands, his entire being.

You tilted your head back, giving him better access, and he took the invitation eagerly, his kisses growing more urgent and demanding.

"God, you're so good," Mike whispered, his voice breaking with emotion as he held you tighter, his lips finding yours in a bruising kiss that left you both breathless.

His eyes were dark, half-lidded with desire, but there was also something softer, something deeply affectionate that made your chest tighten. 

"So good for me. For us." His praise was a gentle hum against your lips.

He smiled. 

A small, lopsided grin that was all Mike, the kind that never failed to make your heart flutter. 

He kissed you again, deeper this time, a claiming of sorts, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a fervor that left you dizzy. The thought of you, him, and Abby as a family, an unbreakable unit, seemed to feed the fire inside him. It was as if the very notion had unlocked something within him, something primal and possessive, a need
to make you his in every sense of the word.

Mike's hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a swift, decisive motion, he stripped you of it, the fabric discarded to the side without a second thought. 

The cool air of the room met your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Mike's body as he continued to kiss you, his lips tracing a path of fire down your chest. 

Breathing it in, he lets out his tongue to slowly lick the tip of your cock through the fabric, a tingling sensation now courses its way all throughout your body making you a whimpering mess. Biting your lips to suppress the sound, you take your hand to grab a handful of Mike's curly hair.

You feel fingers around the rim of your underwear, as those said fingers pull them. He licks his lips and starts to lick you tip, now without the barrier of a fabric.

You throw your had back, arching your body, pushing your hips close to Mike's face.

Not taking any longer, he submits his mouth to take on your length, reaching up to the back of his throat, this earns him a scream from you, as you whimper more and more with his tongue tracing every vein and ridge.

You didn’t wanted this moment to end too soon.

Your hands instinctively moved to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles there.

For a brief moment, Mike paused, his lips lingering against your skin, his breath hot and unsteady. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire.

Without words, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and guided him gently. You maneuvered him so that his back was now against the wall of the bedroom, your movements deliberate yet unhurried, a quiet assertion of the control you wanted to share.

Mike's eyes widened slightly at the change, the shift in power as you climbed onto his lap.

His hands found their way to your waist, his grip firm. His gaze roamed over you, a mix of pride and awe lighting up his features, his expression softening as he saw the confidence in your movements.

A slow, wicked smile curled his lips as he teased, "So, my sweet, good boy wants to be in control, huh?" The words were a low, husky murmur, a taunt laced with a deep seated affection that made your heart stutter.

Despite the blush that crept up your neck, fueled by the raw intensity of his gaze, you held his eyes and, with a shy but determined voice, you whispered, "I want to...I want to ride you, Mike. I want to make you feel good."

The admission hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, and you watched as his expression softened, the smirk giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart swell with love. "You already do, baby," he murmured, his hands sliding to your hips, guiding you. "But if that's what you want..."

He trailed off, giving you the power to take the lead. The sensation of his strong hands on your hips was intoxicating, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to tether you to reality, even as the rest of the world seemed to blur and fade away.

One by one, you undid them, each click of the fabric parting adding to the electric tension between you. Mike's breath hitched slightly, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself sink into the sensation, the gentle tug of your hands, the soft brush of your fingertips against his skin.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass.

He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle, leaning down to kiss you firmly. “Tell me if it’s too much.” He said calmly.

“No, don’t do it” you told him, head turning as the finger went in deeper.

Leaning down closer Mike kissed you softly, distracting you with that before adding in another finger. “I got you. Just hold onto me.”

Working the two fingers in deeper Mike watched for any reaction, kissing your lips over and over when you squeezed his shoulders.

Suddenly you let out a strangled cry of pleasure, hips bucking upward to press the two fingers in deeper. That was the spot you wanted. He massaged that little area over and over, biting little marks along your shoulders and upper chest.

After the third finger you were begging for more, digging your nails into Mike shoulders and moaning against his lips.

With trembling hands, you reached down, feeling the heat of his arousal through the fabric that still separated you. The anticipation was a slow burn, an exquisite torture
as you took your time, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. 

And then, with deliberate slowness, you freed him, your hands sure and steady as you positioned yourself over him.

His gaze never left yours, the connection between you unbreakable as you slowly sank down onto him, the feeling so overwhelming that it stole the breath from your lungs. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, was almost too much, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, but you craved it, needed it.

A low groan rumbled from deep within his chest as he watched you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made your heart race. "God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice strained, as though he was holding on to his control by the thinnest of threads.

You began to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that had both of you gasping, the friction between your bodies igniting a fire that consumed you both.

Mike's hands roamed your body, caressing, gripping, guiding you as you moved together, the sounds of your pleasure mingling with the soft creak of the bed and the muffled rustle of sheets. 

He couldn't keep his eyes off you, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your body moved above his, and it was clear that he was completely lost in you.

His control slipped as the pleasure built between you, his thrusts meeting yours with a rising urgency, and you could feel the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. 

The realization that you were doing this to him, that you had the power to bring him to the brink, fueled your own arousal, driving you to move faster, harder.

His thrusts and your bounces becomes sloppier and sloppier, your body fidgeting, twitching, shaking all around, especially around your bottom area. Another set of moans, whimpers and grunts escapes both of your lips, no sign of stopping whatsoever from the immense pleasure you two are receiving from each other.

You place both of your hands in his chest, positioning yourself better to let his cock fuck you harder and vigorously.

When Mike's release finally hit, it was with a guttural cry of your name, his head tipping back against the wall as his body shuddered beneath you. The intensity of his climax triggered your own, and you collapsed against him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you and and fluids fill your body, some of it dripping out of you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still locked together, hearts pounding in sync as you came down from the high. Mike's hands, which had been gripping you so tightly, softened their hold, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"You”, he whispered, his voice rough and breathless, "you're everything I've ever needed” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You grinned, feeling a sense of pride swell within you. "You'd probably have to find another boyfriend to fight off your evil relatives."

Mike let out a mock groan, rolling his eyes playfully. "Please, don't even joke about that. You're one of a kind. And besides, I'm not sure I could handle someone else. They might not be as good at shutting her up."

You both shared a laugh at that, the sound echoing through the quiet room, lightening the atmosphere. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of joy and levity after everything you had both been through.

Chapter Text

The evening was cloaked in a heavy, golden light, the last rays of the setting sun casting long shadows across the small, familiar space of Mike's home. The day had been long, and you could see the weight of it in the way Mike's shoulders slumped, the fatigue etched in the lines of his face. He was standing in the living room, one hand resting on the back of the worn-out couch, the other rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that spoke of his tension and exhaustion.

Abby was already tucked away in her room, engrossed in some cartoon on the television at full volume, her laughter occasionally ringing out. You watched Mike for a moment, your heart aching with the silent burdens he carried, the unspoken fears that clouded his thoughts. 

He hadn't noticed you yet, his mind clearly elsewhere as he stared out the window, lost in thought. You approached him quietly, your steps soft on the wooden floor. When you reached him, you gently placed a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his worn jacket. 

His head turned to look at you, and for a moment, the stress in his eyes softened, replaced by something warmer.

You stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to startle him, though he must have sensed your presence because he looked up, offering you a tired but warm smile "Hey," he greeted softly, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"Hey," you replied, stepping closer until you were standing beside him. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "You look like you could use a break."

Mike let out a heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. He nodded, but the motion was half-hearted, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. "Yeah, just...' a lot on my mind," he admitted, his voice low and rough, tinged with exhaustion

He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking to the paperwork before meeting yours again "Yeah, it's just.. everything feels like it's piling up, you know?"

You could hear the frustration and weariness in his voice, and it made your heart ache. You knew how hard he had been working, how much he was sacrificing to make sure Abby had a safe and stable home.

But you also knew he couldn't keep going like this without burning out. He needed to unwind, and maybe you could be the spark that helped him do just that.

After all, there were better ways to relieve stress, and your lips were more than ready to offer a hands-on demonstration.

You hesitated for a moment, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you considered your next words. Despite everything you had been through together, talking about anything remotely intimate still made your cheeks flush with heat. 

"Mike," you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant. He looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly in concern, and you could see the question in his eyes. “What if...I helped you unwind a bit? Maybe I could help you shake off some of that stress?”

For a moment, Mike seemed caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly as he processed what you had just said. Then, a slow, almost relieved smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle, the sound filled with a mixture of affection and amusement. 

“You'd think after all this time, and after all the times we've seen each other naked, you wouldn't be so nervous around me," he murmured, his voice softening as he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin. "It's adorable"

Your cheeks burned even hotter at his words, and you ducked your head slightly, feeling embarrassed but also touched by his reaction. “I just... I’m not the best with words, but I really want to help you, in any way. I hate seeing you like this.”

His expression softened even more at that, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. "You always know how to make me feel better," he said quietly, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest on your shoulder, his fingers gently squeezing in a reassuring gesture. 

"And if you're offering... I'm not going to say no.”

His lips met yours. They were warm and soft, moving with a gentle but insistent pressure that made your heart skip a beat.

You kissed him back with just as much intensity, your free hand moving to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

Mike's hand tightened around yours, his grip almost desperate as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lips in a silent request. You parted your lips, allowing him in, and the kiss became more urgent, more intense.

His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap, your bodies pressed together.

You reached up, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

"You're such a good boy," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something more primal.

The praise sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped your lips at the sound of it.

"It's okay," he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms to gently grasp your hands, guiding them to the waistband of his pants. 

Mike's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he watched you, his gaze filled with a mixture of affection and desire while your fingers began to undo the button of his pants. The intensity in his eyes made your own pulse quicken, and you felt a rush of heat pool in your stomach as you worked the zipper down, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge beneath the fabric.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He was so warm, so solid beneath your touch, and it made you ache with need.

Your hands slid down his chest, your fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath, your palms meeting the warm skin of his abdomen. He shuddered at the contact as he deepened the kiss even further, his tongue exploring your mouth with a desperation that made your pulse race.

Mike let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you pushed his pants down, your eyes widening slightly as you took in the sight of him. 

He was already hard, his arousal evident as it strained against the fabric of his boxers, and the sight of it made your own breath hitch in your throat.

"You're doing so well," Mike murmured, his voice rough with pleasure as he gently guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, encouraging you to pull them down. "Such a good boy for me."

The praise made your head spin, your body flushing with heat as you followed his lead, pulling his boxers down until his length was fully exposed. You bit your lip, your gaze fixed on him as you took in every inch of him, the way he throbbed with need, the way his breath hitched slightly as you ran your fingers along the length of him, testing the waters.

Mike's hand slid into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you down to your knees, his grip firm but gentle. 

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you saw the hunger in his eyes. "Please, Mike," you whispered, your voice trembling with need as you leaned in and let your head rest on his thighs, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. "I want to make you feel good."

He let out a low, guttural groan at your words, his hips jerking slightly in response "Do it," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

That was all the encouragement you needed. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of him, your tongue flicking out to taste him. 

The salty, slightly bitter taste of him filled your senses, your tongue swirling around him, tracing every vein and ridge of his cock. 

You slid your tongue up one side and down the other, slowly sucking him in  as you began to take him deeper.

Mike's reaction was immediate, his breath hitching as his grip in your hair tightened, a low groan rumbling in his chest. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice rough and raw with pleasure. "That's it... just like that... good boy..."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his dick as you kept moving, taking him deeper with each bob of your head. 

Mike's hips began to move in time with your motions, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as he fought to keep control, to keep from losing himself entirely to the pleasure you were giving him. But it was a losing battle, his control slipping as he let out a series of low, guttural grunts, his hands tightening in your hair as he pushed you closer, his need for release becoming more urgent.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You're so good... so fucking good."

You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the tension in his body building with each passing second, and you knew he was close. You doubled your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, your hands gripping his thighs for support as you moved faster, more insistently, wanting nothing more than to push him over the edge, to hear him cry out your name as he came.

And then, with a low, broken groan, he did. His release hit you with a sudden, overwhelming intensity, the salty warmth of him filling your mouth as he came, his entire body shuddering with the force of it. You swallowed him down as you continued to work him through his orgasm, milking every last drop from him until he was spent, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath.

He leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand gently stroking your hair as he whispered, "Thank you"

His arms wrapped around you, holding you firmly against him. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

Mike grunted slightly as he shifted, trying to get a better look at you. “I wonder if you’ll ever stop getting all flustered and shy around me.” A small, teasing smile played on his lips, a rare sight that made your heart skip a beat.

Mike sighed, his hand gently stroking your thigh as he murmured, "I should get ready for work."

You knew he was right, but the thought of letting go of him, even for a moment, made your heart ache. Still with your butt seated comfortably on his lap, you tightened your grip on his chest, your voice soft and playful as you whispered, “Stay a little longer.” You laughed lightly, the sound a mix of genuine amusement and a hint of longing, hoping he’d catch the underlying wish in your words.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss while his hand squeezed softly your waist.

“I wish I could.”

You nodded, understanding, even though it hurt to let him go.

Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from him, watching as he stood and began to gather his clothes.

When he put his security vest on, he turned to you and stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he reached out, his hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder.

He glanced over his shoulder towards Abby, who was still, in her room, engrossed in her drawing. "Listen," he began, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, one that made you instinctively pay closer attention. "My aunt... she's been pushing harder lately. She's still doing her best at making our life a living hell. I wouldn't put it past her to try something drastic."

You frowned, your concern deepening. "What do you mean? Do you think she'd actually do something?"

Mike let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his stress. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "But I've got this bad feeling. Just be careful as always, okay? If anything feels off, anything at all, promise me you'll call."

You nodded, doing your best to project confidence. "I will. Don't worry, I'll keep Abby safe."

Mike's expression softened, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over his features.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady but still carrying that undercurrent of worry. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips pressing against your hair as he whispered, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe."

The door opened with a soft creak, and Mike stepped outside, disappearing into the twilight.

Abby was already in her room, her small frame bent over a large piece of paper, crayons scattered around her like a rainbow explosion. The television murmured softly in the background, playing one of her favorite cartoons, but her attention was fully captured by the world she was creating with her drawings.

As the clock ticked closer to her bedtime, you suggested a quieter activity to help her wind down. You decided on a movie, something light and fun that wouldn't keep her up later with nightmares. She chose one of her favorites, and you settled down on the couch together, the soft glow of the television illuminating the living room.

But as the minutes passed, you started to notice something strange. It was subtle at first-barely noticeable-but it grew more persistent with time. 

A faint noise, like the creaking of floorboards, echoed from somewhere in the house. You dismissed it at first, telling yourself it was just the old house settling, but then you heard it again, louder this time.

Your heart skipped a beat as you strained to listen, but the noise stopped as quickly as it had started. You glanced down at Abby, who was completely engrossed in the movie, blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Not wanting to alarm her, you kept your concerns to yourself.

Then, you heard something else.

footsteps. 

They were faint, but distinct, coming from outside the house. You tensed, trying to discern where they were coming from, but they seemed to move too quickly, as if someone was running around the perimeter of the house.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Abby," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady, "I'm just going to check on something, okay? I'll be right back"

She nodded absently, her eyes still glued to the screen. You gave her a reassuring smile before slipping off the couch and heading toward the front window. The footsteps had stopped, but you still felt uneasy. You moved carefully, peering out the window into the darkness beyond.

At first, you saw nothing, just the faint outline of the trees swaying in the night breeze. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw movement. A shadow, darting quickly between the trees. You blinked, trying to focus, but it was gone before you could be sure.

Your heart was pounding now, your grip tightening on the curtain. You leaned closer to the glass, scanning the yard for any sign of life, but the night was still, save for the rustling leaves. 

You were just about to pull away when the phone rang, the sudden noise causing you to jump.

You cursed under your breath, feeling foolish for letting your nerves get the better of you, and hurried to answer the phone. "Hello?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Hey, it's me," Mike's familiar voice greeted you, instantly soothing some of your anxiety, "Is everything okay?"

You exhaled a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, though your voice still held a hint of the tension you'd been feeling. "What about you? How's work?

Mike sighed, the weariness in his voice evident even over the phone. "Boring. Me and the cameras tonight, keeping an eye on everything." He paused for a moment, as if debating whether to continue. "I- I was thinking about you," he added, his tone shifting to something softer, more intimate.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Oh? And what were you thinking?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, and you could almost imagine him fidgeting, trying to find the right words. "Well, I was wondering if, you know, maybe later on, when Abby's asleep, you'd be up for... helping me out a bit? Like you did before I left."

You felt a spark of excitement at the idea. You knew exactly what he meant, and the thought of it made your pulse quicken.

"You mean... like phone sex?" you teased, keeping your voice low so Abby wouldn't overhear.

Mike chuckled softly, and you could hear the relief in his voice. "Yeah.. something like that. Only if you're up for it, of course."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. "I think I could be convinced," you replied, letting a playful edge slip into your tone. "Though I'm not sure you'll be able to focus on your job afterward."

"Who says I'm focused on it now?" he quipped back, his voice carrying that familiar blend of affection and humor that you loved so much.

You laughed quietly, feeling more at ease now than you had all evening. "Alright, you've got a deal. But I should probably warn you, Abby's still full of energy, so it might be a little while."

"That's okay," Mike said, his voice dropping to a lower, more suggestive tone. "Just thinking about it will keep me going until then."

There was a brief pause, and then Mike spoke again, his voice tinged with affection. "I love you, you know that?"

You felt your heart swell at his words. "I love you too, Mike. I'll see you soon."

You hung up the phone, feeling both relieved and anxious. The house was quiet again, but the sense of unease hadn't entirely dissipated. You quickly went around, double-checking that everything was locked, before returning to the living room where Abby was still watching her movie.

She looked up at you with a smile and you forced a smile back, trying to appear calm.

You couldn't help but glance at the window again, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure standing there.

But there was nothing. Just the dark, quiet night outside.

Eventually, Abby yawned, her small hand rubbing at her eyes. You glanced at the clock, realizing it was getting close to her bedtime.

"Alright, little artist," you said with a playful smile, gently taking the crayon from her hand. "I think it's time to start winding down."

You helped her gather up the crayons and paper, placing them neatly on the table for her to continue tomorrow. Then, you guided her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her small hand warm in yours as you led her through the bedtime routine.

Once Abby was ready for bed, you tucked her in, pulling the blankets up to her chin as she snuggled into her pillow. 

"Are you okay, Abby?" you asked softly, wanting to make sure she wasn't picking up on any of the tension you were feeling.

She nodded sleepily, a small smile on her lips. "I'm okay. I like when you're here," she said, her eyes earnest as she looked up at you. 

She snuggled deeper into the blankets, her eyes never leaving yours. "Because Mike smiles more.”

The statement caught you slightly off guard, but you smiled gently, curious about what she meant. "He does? What do you mean, Abby?"

Abby nodded earnestly, her face serious as she explained. "He doesn't smile a lot, you know. But when you're here, he does. Sometimes it's just a little one, like he's trying to hide it. But I can see it."

"He talks about you a lot too," Abby continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she was sharing a secret. "Like when we're having breakfast or when he's helping me with my homework. He misses you when you're at college," Abby added, her brow furrowing slightly as she recalled something else.

"He gets grumpy sometimes when you're not here. He doesn't say it. He doesn't laugh as much, and he's more quiet."

You reached out and gently squeezed her hand, feeling an overwhelming sense of love for both her and Mike. "Thank you for telling me that, Abby. It means a lot to hear that. Sweet dreams, okay?"

"Okay," she murmured, already drifting off as her eyes fluttered shut.

You stayed there for a moment, watching her breathe softly, her small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. There was something so peaceful, so innocent about her in that moment, and it only made you more determined to protect her, to keep her safe no matter what.

Finally, you quietly slip out of the room and close the door behind you. 

The hallway was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the lamp in the living room. 

You made your way back to the couch, intending to relax for a bit, maybe read a book or watch something lighthearted to take your mind off things.

But as you settled onto the couch, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had been growing since Mike left. It wasn't anything specific, just a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, like something wasn't quite right.

You tried to push it away, focusing on the book you'd brought with you, but the words seemed to blur together, your mind too distracted to make sense of them.

After a few minutes, you gave up, setting the book aside and leaning back against the cushions with a sigh. And that's when you noticed it. A flicker of movement outside the window, just at the edge of your vision. 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes darted to the window. For a moment, there was nothing, just the reflection of the room in the glass. 

But then you saw it again, a shadow passing by, quick and almost imperceptible.

You stood up slowly, moving towards the window with cautious steps, trying to convince yourself that it was nothing, maybe just a trick of the light or an animal passing by.

But as you reached the window and peered out into the darkness, you saw it again this time, clearer.

A figure, moving through the shadows, too close to the house to be anyone just passing by.

Your heart began to race, your pulse pounding in your ears as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing.

You backed away from the window, moving quickly but quietly through the house to check the locks on the doors. The front door was secure, as was the back door, but the uneasy feeling in your chest only grew stronger.

You returned to the living room, trying to decide what to do next. Should you call Mike? The police? You didn't want to overreact, but the thought of someone lurking outside the house, especially with Abby asleep in the next room, was enough to make your blood run cold.

And then, as if to confirm your worst fears, you heard a faint scratching sound, like something sharp scraping against wood. 

It was coming from the back door.

Panic surged through you, your hands trembling as you fumbled for the phone. 

You quickly dialed the number of the eerie place Mike was working in, your heart racing as the phone rang in your ear.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"There's someone outside," you whispered, your voice shaking with fear. "I think they're trying to get in."

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a soft curse. ""I’ll call the police and then head over. Don't open the door for anyone except me, okay? I'm on my way.” Mike instructed, his voice firm despite the worry you could hear.

You hung up, your mind racing as you quickly moved towards Abby's room. The scratching at the back door grew louder, more insistent, but you forced yourself to focus on getting Abby to safety.

"Abby, sweetheart, wake up," you whispered urgently as you shook her gently. She stirred, blinking sleepily up at you.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"We're going to play a game," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear that was threatening to overwhelm you. "We're going to hide, and you have to be really, really quiet, okay?"

She nodded, her wide eyes staring up at you, filled with trust. Her innocence made your heart ache, but you pushed that feeling down, focusing on the task at hand. You gently move towards her "secret fort."

You helped her crawl inside, making sure she was comfortable and well-hidden under layers of blankets. The space was cramped, barely big enough for her small frame, but you knew it was the safest place for her. You reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, giving her a reassuring smile even though your insides were twisting with fear.

"Stay here, Abby," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens, stay here until I come back for you. Don't make a sound, okay?"

Abby nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line as she did her best to be brave. "I'll be really quiet," she whispered back, her voice trembling slightly.

You smiled at her, trying to mask the fear you felt, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Good girl," you said softly, your heart breaking as you closed the fort, hiding her from view.

You stood there for a moment, your hand resting on the top of the dresser, as the reality of the situation began to sink in. The house was too quiet now, the silence pressing in on you from all sides. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribcage as you strained to hear any sound that might give away the intruder's location.

You knew you couldn't stay in Abby's room, it was too risky. If the intruder found you, there was a chance he would discover Abby, and you couldn't let that happen. 

He seemed to know how to move in this situations, locking her room from the inside would just trap you in it.

You had to draw him away from her, give her as much of a chance as possible to stay hidden.

With every muscle in your body tensed, you quietly slipped out of Abby's room and moved toward the hallway. The shadows seemed to shift and dance around you, the darkness feeling thicker, more oppressive than before. You paused at the door, listening intently.

The scratching had stopped, replaced by the sound of footsteps moving through the house. 

He was inside.

You held your breath, every muscle in your body tense as you listened. 

The footsteps were getting closer, each one sending a fresh wave of fear crashing over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to decide what to do.

You moved quietly but quickly down the hallway, each step measured and precise. You didn't dare make a sound. The house now felt like a trap, each corner a potential hiding place for the intruder. You reached Mike's bedroom door and slipped inside, closing it gently behind you.

Mike's room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the thin curtains.

You pressed your back against the wall beside the door, your breath shallow and rapid. You could hear the intruder's footsteps growing louder, closer. The sound sent a chill down your spine. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, but every idea seemed more desperate and hopeless than the last.

And then the footsteps stopped, just outside Abby's room.

Your heart lurched in your chest, your breath catching as you realized the intruder was inside Abby's room. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you searched for any possible thing to hit the man. 

You knew you had to stay hidden,but when you heard the faint rustling sounds coming from Abby's room, your heart sank. You peered through the small crack in the door, barely daring to breathe as you saw the intruder crouching down beside Abby's bed, carefully placing something under it. The glint of metal caught your eye. A knife, long and sharp, was placed there deliberately.

Your blood ran cold as you realized what he was doing. 

He was planting evidence. 

Trying to make it look like Mike was keeping dangerous items where a child could find them. He wasn't just trying to scare you, he was trying to destroy Mike.

The intruder moved with an unsettling calmness, methodically working through the room as if he had all the time in the world. He opened Abby's dresser and placed something inside, something small and white that you couldn't quite make out. 

Pills, likely. Perhaps the prescription Mike had mentioned in passing, the ones he rarely touched now but kept for nights when the insomnia got too bad.

Anger flared in your chest, hot and consuming, as you watched the intruder desecrate Abby's room, turning it into a scene of fabricated neglect. 

How could someone do this? 

How could they be so heartless, so cruel?

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes darting to where Abby was hidden, ensuring she was well-concealed. As your foot stepped down on the floor, it creaked loudly, shattering the silence.

His covered head snapped up instantly, and your eyes locked for a heartbeat before you jerked your head back inside the room.

The sound of his footsteps grew louder, each one faster and more urgent than the last, echoing ominously through the hallway.

Panic surged through you. There was nothing here, nothing even remotely close to a weapon. He was getting closer.

The door creaked as it was slowly opened, the movements of the man careful and deliberate. You pressed yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

But it was too late. 

His eyes swept the room, and in the dim light, they locked onto you.

For a heartbeat, time stood still. Your eyes met the intruder’s, and in that instant, you saw the raw terror flicker in his gaze as he realized he was caught. The silence was shattered as he lunged at you, his movements frantic and desperate. His hands, cold and clammy, reached out to stifle your scream.

The force of his attack sent you crashing on the floor, your head slamming into the floor with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in your skull, your vision blurring as you tried to fight back, your hands pushing at him, your nails clawing at his arms in a desperate attempt to break free.

His hands found your throat, squeezing with a terrifying intensity, cutting off your air. 

You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to breathe, but his grip only tightened. 

The world around you began to spin, the edges of your vision darkening as your strength started to fade.

You fought with everything you had, your survival instinct kicking in as you tried to pry his hands off your neck, but it was no use. He was nearly double your size, his weight blocking you down on the floor, his strength overwhelming. 

Your vision tunneled, and the last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the cold, unfeeling eyes of the intruder. Your hands fell limp, your body going still as the fight drained out of you. 

The pressure on your throat increased, and then... 

nothing.

A loud crack echoed in the room, followed by a muffled scream of pain. 

The intruder convulsed violently as a muffled scream of pain erupted from behind his mask. He stumbled backward, away from your lifeless form, writhing on the floor as the electrical current tore through him.

Mike stood in the doorway, his face twisted with fury. He held the taser that Vanessa had given him for protection after Abby was taken  at Freddy's, and he was already moving towards the intruder, who was writhing on the floor, his screams of agony muffled by the mask he wore.

He lunged forward, pushing the intruder back on the floor with his body as he tried to get back up. His fists rained down on the intruder’s face with ferocity, each punch fueled by a combination of fear, anger, and desperation.

His grunts filled the room, each one punctuating the brutal force of his blows. There was no mercy in his movements, only the desperate need to protect, to punish. 

The intruder's attempts to fight back grew weaker with each passing second, his body limp and barely responsive under Mike's relentless assault. His fists were driven by something primal, something that transcended reason or logic.

The world had taken too much from him already, and he refused to let it take any more.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as Mike continued his brutal assault, his rage all consuming.

But then, as if from a great distance, something cut through the fog of his anger. A small, almost imperceptible movement, a gentle touch on his shoulder. His body tensed, but he hesitated for just a fraction of a second. The rhythm of his punches faltered, the force behind them weakening as a different kind of awareness began to seep into his mind.

Mike's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with exertion. His fists hovered above the broken, bloodied form of the intruder, shaking with the effort it took to hold back. 

His vision was blurred, the world around him slowly coming back into focus. The room was a mess, blood staining the floor and the walls, and there, just within his line of sight, was you watching him, your eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place.

Mike turned to you, his hands trembling as they reached out to touch your face, as if to make sure you were really there, really okay.

"I thought... I thought I lost you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Without another word, he pulled you into a deep, desperate hug, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. 

You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as the adrenaline slowly faded. 

Mike buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "you’re okay... you’re okay...”

Mike pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze searching your face as if needing to see for himself that you were really there, that you were really okay. His hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your cheeks.

His eyes flicked to the bruises on your neck.

"I'm okay," you reassured him, though the pain in your throat made it hard to speak.

"I love you," Mike murmured into your hair, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache

"I love you too," you whispered back, feeling a sense of peace wash over you despite everything that had happened.

After a few moments, Mike reluctantly let go, his gaze shifting to the unconscious intruder on the floor. The man was still breathing, though barely, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths.

You moved back to the fort where Abby was still hidden, her small form curled up under the blankets you hide her in. Gently, you knelt down beside her. She was asleep, her breathing soft and steady, unaware of the terror that had unfolded just outside her door. You carefully scooped her up into your arms, holding her close as you carried her out of the room.

Once the intruder was tied up and secure, Mike returned to you, his expression softening he saw you with Abby and he reached out, brushing a hand gently over her hair. "She's okay?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded, smiling softly. "She slept through the whole thing. She doesn't know."

Mike let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension drained from him. "Good," he murmured. "That's good."

The sound of approaching sirens filled the air, growing louder as they neared the house.

The authorities arrived quickly and the intruder was taken away. He soon confessed to being someone hired by Mike's aunt in a desperate attempt to discredit him.

The police officer's words felt distant as you replayed the night's events in your mind. It was only when you felt Mike's hand squeeze yours that you were pulled back to the present.

"Let's get you checked out," Mike said softly, concern still evident in his voice as he led you to the waiting ambulance.

You nodded, exhaustion finally catching up to you as you allowed him to guide you outside. The cool night air hit your face, a stark contrast to the warmth of Mike's hand holding yours. 

The paramedics were gentle as they checked you over, their hands moving carefully as they assessed the bruises on your neck and the minor injuries you'd sustained during the struggle. Mike stayed by your side the entire time, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of the night.

When they were finished, Mike helped you into the back of the ambulance, where you sat together, the silence between you filled with a thousand unspoken words. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

His grip on you tightened, as if the very thought of what could have happened was too much to bear. "I couldn't lose you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not you, not Abby. You both mean everything to me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to gently touch his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his cheek. "We're okay, Mike," you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet strength. "We're safe. And we'll get through this together."

Chapter Text

The night was quiet, almost too quiet.

You and Mike were seated at the small, worn dining table in the kitchen, the remnants of dinner between you. The meal had been simple, but it was the kind of home-cooked food that brought a sense of normalcy to the chaos of everyday.

Mike looked exhausted. His eyes were shadowed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that hadn't been there before. He rubbed his temples as if trying to ward off an ever-present headache.

You hated seeing him like this. 

Over the past few weeks, you'd watched as the stress slowly chipped away at him, and it had been tearing you apart inside. You wanted to help, to do something that might ease his burden, even if only a little.

That's why you'd made the decision. You'd hoped it would be a surprise, something to bring a smile to his face, to show him that he wasn't alone in this.

"I, uh..” You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in your hand. The words felt heavy in your throat, but you pushed them out anyway, hoping they would bring some relief. "I took care of the bills this month."

Mike's hand, which had been resting on the table, stilled. He looked up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "I paid them. The electricity, the water... rent. I had some extra from my scholarship, and I thought-" 

"What?" Mike's voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. 

"You paid my bills?"

“I was just trying to help," you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. "You've been so stressed, and I thought this might take some of the pressure off. I just wanted to do something for you, to help you relax a bit"

For a moment, there was silence. You could see the wheels turning in Mike's head, could almost hear the gears grinding as he processed what you'd said. 

But instead of the gratitude or relief you'd hoped for, his expression darkened, a flash of something you couldn't quite identify flickering across his face. 

Anger? Embarrassment?

"Why would you do that?" His voice was sharper now, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

Your heart sank, the unease in your chest growing stronger. "I just... I hate seeing you so stressed out all the time. I thought if I could help with the finances, it might give you one less thing to worry about."

Mike stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that made you flinch. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles were coiled tight like a spring about to snap.

"Do you think I can't take care of my own bills?" His voice was louder now, the anger unmistakable. "Do you think I need you to swoop in and fix everything for me?"

"No, of course not," you stammered, standing up as well, your own hands shaking slightly as you tried to explain. 

"I just wanted to help, Mike. That's all."

"Well, maybe I don't want your help." The words were like a slap in the face, each one stinging more than the last. "Maybe I don't need you to play the hero and save the day."

"I wasn't trying to play the hero,I just wanted to support you” you said, your voice trembling as you fought to keep your emotions in check.

Mike let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. "Support? Is that what you call this? Going behind my back and doing things without even telling me? That's not support, that's... I don't even know what that is."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. "I'm sorry, Mike. I didn't mean to make you feel like you couldn't handle things. I just thought... I thought it might help."

"Well, you thought wrong" His voice was cold now, devoid of the warmth and affection you'd grown used to. "I don't need you to take over my life. I'm perfectly capable of handling things on my own."

The words cut deep, each one driving the knife a little further into your heart. You'd crossed a line, and now everything was falling apart.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you took a step back.

But Mike didn't respond. He just turned his gaze away from you and took a seat back on his chair, his back rigid as he stared at the wall, his silence more painful than any words he could have said. 

The tears you'd been holding back finally began to fall, silent but heavy, as you realized just how badly you'd messed up.

"I think I should go," you said after a long moment, your voice tight with emotion. "Give you some space."

Still, Mike didn't say anything. The silence between you was thick with tension, with all the things that had been left unsaid. You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him how much you cared, how much you wanted to make things right. But the look on his face, the coldness in his eyes, stopped you.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked to the door, your footsteps echoing in the quiet house. You grabbed your jacket and keys, your hands shaking as you tried to steady yourself. When you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back at Mike one last time. But he was still facing away from you, his posture tense, his silence deafening.

The cool night air hit you like a physical blow, the shock of it jolting you back to reality. You stood on the porch for a moment, your breath coming in shaky gasps as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

You'd overstepped. You'd tried to help, but instead, you'd taken away Mike's control, his autonomy, and in doing so, you'd hurt him in a way you hadn't anticipated. The weight of that realization settled heavily on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

The walk back to your college dorm was long, each step feeling like a mile as you replayed the argument over and over in your mind. 

You could see every detail with painful clarity: the look on Mike's face, the anger in his voice, the way he'd turned away from you as if he couldn't bear to look at you. And with each replay, the guilt grew stronger, until it felt like a physical presence, heavy and oppressive, pressing down on you from all sides.

By the time you reached your dorm, your heart was pounding, and your thoughts were a chaotic mess of regret and sorrow. You barely noticed your roommate wasn't there as you stumbled into the room, the silence of the empty space pressing in on you from all sides.

You collapsed onto your bed, the tears you'd been holding back finally breaking free. They came in heavy, wracking sobs that shook your entire body, the sound of your anguish echoing off the walls. You buried your face in your pillow, trying to stifle the noise, but it was no use. The pain was too much, too overwhelming, and all you could do was let it out, hoping that somehow, it would ease the ache in your chest.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. When it finally did, it was fitful and restless, plagued by dreams of Mike's hurt expression, of the coldness in his voice as he told you he didn't need your help. You woke up several times, each time with the same hollow feeling in your chest, the same crushing sense of regret.

The weekend had arrived, and with it, a hollow emptiness that seemed to seep into every corner of your world. The dormitory was slowly emptying out, the usual buzz of students excited for their weekend plans replaced by an eerie quiet as one by
one, they left for home, parties, or short trips.

Your roommate was packing up, his belongings scattered haphazardly around the room as he prepared to leave for the weekend too. The rustling of clothes, the clatter of things being tossed into a bag. Each sound felt like a reminder that you, had nowhere to go, no plans to look forward to.

He glanced over at you, sitting on your bed, staring at your phone as if willing it to ring, to vibrate, to do something other than lie still and silent. 

The argument with Mike had left you adrift, and the days since had passed in a blur of muted emotions and half-hearted attempts to distract yourself from the gnawing ache in your chest. 

But now, with the weekend here and no word from Mike, that ache had only grown more intense, settling into your bones like a cold that wouldn't go away.

"Hey," your roommate said, breaking the silence as he zipped up his bag. His tone was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity that made you tense. "You've been really quiet lately. Is everything okay? Missing your boyfriend or something?"

You stiffened at the question, your eyes flicking up to meet his. He wasn't someone you'd ever been particularly close with, your relationship with him more out of necessity than any real friendship. 

You'd never trusted him with your deeper feelings, and now was no different. The last thing you wanted was to overshare with someone who wouldn't understand, who couldn't possibly grasp the depth of what you were feeling.

"Yeah," you replied shortly, your voice lacking any real conviction. "We... had an argument. Things have been a bit off lately, and I don't think I'll be seeing him this weekend."

Your roommate raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips that only served to irritate you further. "An argument, huh? Must've been something serious if you're moping around like this."

You didn't respond, your gaze shifting back to your phone. The last thing you wanted was to get into the details of your fight with Mike, especially with someone like him. But your roommate didn't take the hint.

"I mean, it's not like I want to be a downer or anything," he continued, a note of condescension in his voice, "but it's kind of obvious things wouldn't work out between you two. You're younger, and let's be real, Mike's got a lot of baggage. A kid sister to take care of, not much money... That's a lot to deal with, especially for someone like you."

His words stung, each one digging into the raw wound in your heart. You knew there were obstacles between you and Mike but you'd never seen those as reasons to give up on him. You cared about him deeply, loved him even.

"You don't know him, or what we have. Just because it's complicated doesn't mean it won't work." you said, your voice colder than you intended, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Your roommate shrugged, clearly unfazed by your tone. "Whatever, man. I'm just saying, maybe it's time to face reality. Relationships like that don't usually last. You're both in different places in life, and it's only going to get harder from here"

He zipped up his bag with a finality that made your stomach turn, the sound grating against your nerves. "Anyway, good luck with all that. Hope you figure things out."

He gave you a nod, that same smug look on his face, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the now-empty room, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

You sat there for a long moment, staring at the door, your mind replaying the argument with Mike over and over again.

The guilt was overwhelming, a constant presence that gnawed at you no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Eventually, you couldn't stand being in the room any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the silence suffocating. 

You needed to do something, anything to distract yourself from the pain that had settled in your chest. So, you grabbed your coat and decided to head to the library. 

Maybe a good book could take your mind off things, even if only for a little while.

The campus was nearly deserted, most students having already left for the weekend. 

When you arrived at the library, the warmth inside was a welcome relief, the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of old books providing a small comfort. The library was as empty as the rest of the campus, save for the sweet old lady who worked behind the counter. 

Mrs. Halloway had always been kind to you, her gentle smile and warm demeanor making the library feel like a safe haven.

"Afternoon, dear," she greeted you with a smile as you approached the counter. "What brings you in today? Looking for something in particular?"

"Hi, Mrs. Halloway," you replied, forcing a small smile as you approached. "I'm just looking for something to read this weekend. Maybe something from the horror section?"

"Horror, hmm?" Mrs. Halloway led you over to the section. "I think I have just the thing for you."

She scanned the shelves with practiced ease before pulling out a book with a worn cover, the title barely legible. "This one's an oldie but a goodie. I think you'll enjoy it."

You thanked her and took the book, glancing at the cover. Your heart sank as you read the title.

“The Shining” by Stephen King. 

You'd heard of the story before. A man slowly losing his grip on reality as the pressure of providing for his family overwhelmed him.

You couldn't help but mentally scoff at the accuracy and timing. 

Of all the books she could have chosen, it had to be this one.

Still, you took the book because you didn’t the heart to refuse something from her. 

As you turned to leave, the phone on the counter rang, the sudden noise making you jump. Mrs. Halloway sighed, clearly annoyed by the interruption, and made a small noise of frustration. "Oh, bother," she muttered, her hands occupied with the stack of books she was sorting. "Would you mind answering that for me, dear? My hands are a bit full at the moment."

"Sure, no problem," you replied, stepping behind the counter and picking up the receiver. "Hello. How can I help you?"

There was a pause on the other end, a moment of silence that made your heart skip a beat. 

Then, a small voice, hesitant but familiar, spoke.

"Um, hi... is this... is this you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the voice. "Abby?" you asked, your voice soft, barely able to believe it.

"Yeah, it's me," she replied, sounding both relieved and nervous. "I... I found this number in your notebook, the one you left at our house. I wanted to call you because... because I miss you. Why aren't you here? I wanted to see you this weekend."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the longing in her voice tugging at your heartstrings. 

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "... I'm sorry, Abby. I can't be there this weekend. I'm...I'm busy”

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her disappointment. "Oh... okay. But... but why? Why can't you come? Mike's been really quiet this days, and I thought maybe you could make him smile again. You always do."

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears finally spilling over as you struggled to keep your voice steady. "I... I can't, Abby. I'm really sorry. But... but I promise I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, her voice small and sad. "I miss you..."

"I miss you too, Abby," you whispered, the words barely audibie as you fought to keep your composure. "But I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay..." Abby's voice trailed off, and then there was a click as she hung up. You stood there for a moment, the phone still pressed to your ear, the silence on the other end ringing in your ears.

Mrs. Halloway looked up from her work, concern etched on her face. "Everything okay, dear?"

You forced a shaky smile, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. "Yeah, it was just... just a prank call, I think." you mumbled, the words feeling hollow as you turned to leave, the book clutched tightly in your hand.

When you finally reached your room, you tossed the book onto the bed, the sight of it only reminding you of how empty and lonely the weekend would be without Mike.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your thoughts spiraling as the reality of the situation sank in. 

You'd never felt so lost, so unsure of what to do next. All you knew was that you missed Mike more than anything, and the thought that you might have ruined everything between you made the ache in your chest almost unbearable.

The afternoon faded into evening, and the dim light of the setting sun cast long shadows across your dorm room. 

You sat on your bed, your back against the wall, the book lying forgotten next to you. 

As you stared blankly out the window, lost in your thoughts, a soft thud broke the silence. At first, you thought you'd imagined it, but then it came again, another quiet tap against the glass, like something small and solid striking the pane. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffing softly as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

Curiosity piqued, you approached the window, your heart beating a little faster as you drew back the curtain. What you saw made your breath catch in your throat.

There, standing in the twilight below, was Mike. His dark hair was a little disheveled, his expression a mixture of worry and hope. In his hand, he held a single rose, its delicate petals a deep, velvety red. 

You recognized it immediately as one of the roses from the bushes you and he had grown together in his garden, a project that had started as a way to brighten up his yard for Abby.

For a moment, you just stared, unable to process the fact that he was actually here. The days of silence had made you fear the worst, that you might never hear from him again, that the argument had driven a wedge between you that couldn't be undone.

When his eyes met yours, they softened with regret. He must have seen the redness and puffiness in your eyes, the signs of the tears you'd been shedding, because his expression changed, becoming even more tender, more apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he called up loud enough for you to hear. "Can we talk?"

Without thinking, you nodded and quickly moved away from the window, heading for the door to let him in.

You barely noticed the emptiness of the hallways as you made your way down to the entrance, your thoughts entirely consumed by the fact that Mike was here. When you reached the door and opened it, there he was, standing just outside, the rose still clutched in his hand. 

He looked relieved to see you up close, his tense shoulders relaxing a little as his eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years.

"Hi," he said, his voice soft and uncertain, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say next.

"Hi," you replied, your own voice just as quiet, the tension between you thick and palpable.

There was a moment of silence as you both stood there, unsure of how to proceed. It was as if the days apart had created a chasm that neither of you knew how to cross, but the fact that he was here, that he had come to you, was a start.

"... I didn't know if you'd want to see me," Mike finally admitted, his eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you. 

You swallowed hard, your emotions a tangled mess inside you. "Same," you confessed. "I thought... i thought I'd ruined everything."

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a small, sad smile. "No. You didn't ruin anything. We just... we both messed up, I think. Can we go somewhere and talk?"

You nodded and without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, the rose forgotten as your fingers intertwined with his. The familiar feeling of his large, calloused hand in yours was a balm to your aching heart, and you realized just how much you had missed missed him. 

You led him back to your dorm room, the two of you walking side by side in silence. The hallways were empty, the usual bustle of student life replaced by the quiet that came with the weekend.

When you reached your room, you held the door open for him, your heart pounding as he stepped inside. He took in the small space, his eyes moving from the neatly made bed on your roommate's side to the cluttered mess on your own. Textbooks, clothes, and the unopened horror novel. 

He glanced at the book, a small smile playing on his lips as he read the title.

"The Shining?" he said, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of the bed next to the book "Lots of isolation, a guy slowly losing his mind, relationship falling apart. I guess I'm the guy going crazy in this situation, huh?"

"Mike..." you began, but he held up a hand, cutting you off gently.

"No, let me say this," he said, his voice shaking slightly "I... I need to apologize. For everything. For how I reacted, for what I said... I was out of line. I was angry, but not at you. I was angry at myself. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I felt humiliated. Like I couldn't take care of myself or Abby. And the last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you had to step in and save us."

His words hit you hard, the weight of his insecurities finally laid bare between you. "I never thought you couldn't take care of yourself," you said, your voice trembling.

Mike squeezed your hand, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes. "I know. But sometimes, I need to be the one to take care of things, even if it's hard. It's how I feel like I'm doing right by Abby, like I'm proving that I can be a good brother to her. But I also need to learn that it's okay to let people in."

You could feel the tears spilling over now, the floodgates opening as all the emotions you'd been holding back came rushing to the surface. "I never wanted to make you feel like you were not good enough," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"I know," Mike murmured, his own voice thick with emotion. He reached up, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb. 

"And I want you to be. These days apart made me realize how much I need you, how much value you have in my life. I can't do this without you."

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the raw pain that had been festering since the argument. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you savored the closeness you had missed so much.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was so scared that I'd lost you."

Mike pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his embrace warm and comforting. You clung to him, the fear and uncertainty that had plagued you for days slowly melting away.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the closeness heal the wounds that had been inflicted by your argument. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as you shifted closer, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

When the tears finally subsided, you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were soft, filled with a mixture of relief and affection that made your heart ache in the best way possible.

Mike's hand, still resting on your cheek, slowly slid down to your neck, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. There was something in his eyes, a look that went beyond the relief of reconciliation, a mixture of need, desperation, and a deep, aching love that he didn't quite know how to put into words. He had always struggled with expressing himself, with finding the right way to communicate how he felt, but right now he seemed determined to show you just how much you meant to him.

He wasn't satisfied with just words. He needed to show you, to prove to you in a way that went beyond apologies and promises. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice husky and filled with longing.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and that was all the invitation he needed.

He leaned in, kissing you with urgency. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that made your pulse quicken, his hands coming up to cup your face, holding you as if you might slip away if he let go.

You let out a small gasp as his kiss deepened, your hands instinctively reaching out to grasp his shoulders, grounding yourself as he pressed closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. "Mike," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you took in the intensity of his gaze. "Are you... are you sure you want to do this? Here?"

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and filled with affection as he leaned in to nuzzle your neck. "Yes," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and soothing. "I want to make you feel good right now. I need to show you how much I missed you."

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at his words, your nerves suddenly on edge. The thought of what he was suggesting made your pulse quicken with both excitement and trepidation. 

You could feel it in the way his hands moved over your body, in the way his lips pressed against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made you tremble.

He captured your lips in a deep, hungry kiss that left you breathless. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The kiss was desperate, almost possessive, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn't say aloud.

As his lips moved down to your neck, peppering your skin with soft, lingering kisses, he paused for a moment, glancing at the bed beneath you. "Is this your bed?" he asked, his tone playful as he nipped at your collarbone.

You hesitated for just a fraction of a second, your mind flashing back to the hurtful words your roommate had thrown at you before he left. The sting of those words was still fresh, a reminder of how others perceived your relationship with Mike.

"No," you replied with feigned innocence, pointing to the other bed. "That one's mine." you said, doing your best to sound casual.

Mike nodded, not suspecting a thing, and before you could react, he leaned down and scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. A surprised laugh escaped your lips as he stood, holding you close to his chest. The suddenness of the gesture made your heart race, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling up inside you.

"Mike!” you exclaimed, more out of surprise than protest, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

He grinned up at you. "I've got you," he murmured, his hands found their way to your ass, cupping it firmly as he carried you.

Without further ado, he reached the bed you'd pointed to and gently lowered you onto it, your back sinking into the mattress with a soft thud. He was already leaning over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he hovered above you, his face just inches from yours.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Mike whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more. This kiss was deeper, more desperate, as if he was trying to pour all the longing and need he had felt during your time apart into this single moment.

His hands moving to unbutton your shirt, each button slipping free under his deft fingers until your chest was exposed to him. He took a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, down to your chest.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back, as if he didn't want to rush this moment, even though every fiber of his being was telling him to.

His hands moved lower, unbuckling your belt and sliding your pants down, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled your pants off completely, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

He moved down your body, his lips trailing a path of fire as he explored every inch of you. The feeling of his mouth on your skin, the way he kissed and nipped at you, made you moan softly, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

As he moved lower, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his exploration. You felt the heat between your legs build, the anticipation almost unbearable as he teased.

When his lips finally reached their destination, you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

Mike's pace was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He took his time, drawing out every sensation, every moan, until you were trembling beneath him, your body taut with need.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening with evidence of his work, you were a mess of whimpers and gasps, your body aching for release. But Mike wasn't done with you yet. He moved back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a deep, hungry kiss that made you dizzy with want.

"Are you okay?" he murmured against your lips, his voice gentle despite the desperation you could feel in his touch.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you tried to form words. "I... I need you," you managed to say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. "Please, Mike."

"Do you have any lube?" he asked, his voice husky and breathless, but still tinged with concern. His question caught you off guard, and for a moment, your brain struggled to process the words. You were already panting, your body flushed with arousal, but somewhere in the haze of your mind, you registered the importance of his question.

"Yeah...." you managed to say, your voice trembling with anticipation and a hint of shyness. You pointed towards the drawer by your bed, your heart pounding as you watched Mike's eyes follow the direction of your gesture.

He glanced back at you, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips as he realized what you were indicating. "In there?" he asked, and you nodded.

Mike leaned over, his hand reaching out to open the drawer. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out the small bottle of lube.

"This?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity as he looked at you, his grin widening at your obvious embarrassment.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze, your face burning as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure. "Y-yeah," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper

Mike chuckled softly, setting the bottle aside for a moment as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "You're adorable when you're shy" he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

He reached for the bottle, pouring a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body was trembling with anticipation as you felt his hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs. The first touch of his slick fingers against you made you gasp, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you.

His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection. He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, every touch sending sparks of electricity through you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more. 

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, the weight of him grounding you, making everything feel more real.

"You're so perfect," Mike whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, across your chest. "So perfect for me."

The words made your heart swell, and you reached up, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes, seeing the love and need reflected there.

He entered you slowly, the stretch and burn of him filling you completely, making you gasp as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, as if he was trying to remind you of everything you had shared, of everything you had lost and found again.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths, the slick slide of skin against skin, the soft moans and gasps that escaped your lips as he drove into you, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

"You'll always be mine, my good boy. No one else... just you." Mike growled, his voice rough and possessive as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, deeper.

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body respond to his voice, to the way he claimed you with each movement, each touch. You clung to him, your hands clutching at his back as he drove you both higher, the intensity of the moment overwhelming in the best possible way.

You finally reached that peak together, your body trembling beneath him as you came, the pleasure washing over you in waves so intense that you could barely breathe. 

Mike groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he followed you over the edge, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. His body shaking with the force of it.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, Mike's hold on you never wavered, his body pressed against yours as he held you close.

He turned his head slightly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light of the room. There was a softness in his gaze, a look of contentment and relief that made your heart swell with affection. He reached out, his calloused, large hand cradling your face gently, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek.

For a moment, he just stared at you, taking in every detail of your face-your slightly swollen lips, the flush in your cheeks. But then, as if the words slipped out before he could stop them, he whispered, "Move in with me."

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw need that laced every word. You could see how much the time apart had affected him, how deeply he had missed you, just as you had missed him.

It was everything you had wanted, everything you had dreamed of. But you couldn't ignore the practicalities, the reality of your situation.

“I could finish my degree remotely."

He blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "Remotely?"

You nodded again, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Yeah. A lot of schools are offering that now, you know? I could do my classes from your home. We wouldn't have to be apart anymore."

The idea began to take shape in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You wouldn't have to face those lonely nights in your dorm, wondering when you'd get to see him again.

"But what about Abby?" you asked, still wanting to be sure that this would work for everyone. "What about you? I don't want to be a burden..."

Mike's smile softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and steady. "You're not a burden. Abby loves you, and I..." He paused, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "I need you with me. We'll make it work, I promise."

A smile slowly spread across your face, and you nodded, feeling a sense of excitement and relief wash over you. "Okay," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "Let's do it."

"I can't wait to wake up every morning with you all curled up on me like a koala," he said with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. "You always do that, you know? Cling to me like I'm your personal pillow."

You laughed quietly, the sound filled with affection. "You are pretty comfortable," you teased, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "I can't help it if you're the perfect shape for cuddling."

You lifted your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. "And I can't wait to hear you snore loudly every night," you quipped, your tone just as playful.

Mike pretended to be offended, his eyes widening in mock indignation. "I do not snore that badly!" he protested, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress your grin. "Oh really? Then why does Abby always ask to close the door to her room?" you shot back, knowing full well the answer.

Mike blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. "Okay, maybe I snore a little," he admitted, his tone begrudgingly good-natured.

"A little?" you echoed, your grin widening as you playfully poked his side. "Mike, you sound like a chainsaw sometimes."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made your heart feel light and happy. "I guess that just means you'll have to get used to it," he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Because you're stuck with me now"

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a contentment that you knew would last far beyond this moment. "I wouldn't have it any other way," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with certainty.

Mike smiled, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let you go. "Me neither," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Chapter Text

The day had finally come. After everything the two of you had been through, you were moving in with Mike Schmidt. It felt surreal, and your heart raced at the thought of starting this new chapter together.

You stand at the doorstep of Mike's house, a series of boxes piled up around you, some heavy with your belongings, others light but carrying significant memories.

Mike stands next to you, hands stuffed into his pockets as he shifts his weight slightly, his gaze flicking toward you every few moments. He's always been quiet, never the type to rush into anything without thinking it through, and now is no different. 

His posture might seem relaxed, but you know him well enough by now to see the subtle signs of his own nerves: the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips press into a thin line, and the tension that hums through his body like a drawn bowstring.

"You ready for this?" he asks after a long moment, his voice low, almost cautious, as if he's unsure whether you'll change your mind.

You hesitate for a fraction of a second, but then you nod, giving him a small smile. "Yeah. I am."

But there's a tremor in your voice that betrays your nerves.

Mike picks up on your hesitation, and for a brief moment, he looks concerned. His hand reaches out and gently rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in a reassuring gesture. "Hey," he murmurs softly, "we don't have to do this if you're not sure. You don't have to rush into anything."

You shake your head, quickly dismissing the thought. "No, I want this, Mike. I want to be here... with you."

Mike's gaze softens, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. There's a vulnerability in his eyes that makes your heart ache. A part of him that's afraid you might still change your mind, that you'll decide this life with him is too complicated.

The weight of the decision you made pressed down a little harder than you had expected.

A life with Mike, with Abby, with all the struggles and responsibilities that come with it.

"It's just... new, I guess. Feels different now" you admitted, trying to shrug it off. 

Before you can say anything else, Mike steps closer, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you effortlessly off the ground. You yelp in surprise, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he pulls you against his chest.

Though his previous jobs were short-lived, they left him with a physique that spoke volumes.

"Mike!" you protest, though there's no real objection in your voice. Your heart pounds in your chest, not just from the surprise of being lifted but from the way he's holding you, cradling you as if you're something precious.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "What? You're moving in with me. Gotta make it memorable, right?" He looks down at you, his expression playful but tender. 

"Mike, you're going to destroy your back doing this," you laugh, playfully pushing against his chest. "I still need you fully intact, you know?"

He grins down at you, his eyes tired but full of that familiar teasing light. "Oh, is that so?" His voice is laced with amusement, and he shifts his grip on you, making sure you're comfortable in his arms.

"Yeah," you nod, biting back another laugh. "Who's going to deal with all the paperwork for Abby? I don't think I'm qualified."

Mike chuckles, glancing briefly toward the door before meeting your eyes again. "Well, good thing you're already taking care of me, huh?" His voice drops into a playful tone, his gaze warm yet sharp with affection.

The front door creaks open as Mike pushes it with his foot, stepping inside with you still in his arms.

You've been here so many times, but now the context is different. 

Now, it's your space too.

The house smells like it always does. Coffee, faint traces of Abby's art supplies, and something distinctly Mike.

"I thought I'd show you around the place. You know, just in case you've forgotten where everything is."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. "I think I can remember, thanks."

"Too late," he replied, carrying you through the front hallway. "This tour is mandatory."

He walked slowly, allowing you to enjoy the feeling of being held so close, the feeling of his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you.

"So, this is where we'll spend most of our time when Abby's not commanding our attention," he said, his voice rich with amusement. "TV, couch... you know, in case you forgot."

"I didn't forget," you said, rolling your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips.

He carried you past the kitchen. "And here's where you'll be the head chef."

"Head chef? Me?" You raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure you're the one who does most of the cooking."

"Guess that's my way of saying I expect a few dinners from you every now and then."

The tour continued, with Mike stopping by random objects to remind you of things you didn't need reminding of. He was clearly enjoying himself.

As Mike carried you towards Abby's room, you could hear the soft hum of a pencil scratching against paper. He paused at the door, glancing down at you. "Ready to say hi?"

You nodded, feeling your heart swell as he opened the door. Inside, Abby sat at her little desk, surrounded by her favorite crayons and paper, deeply engrossed in one of her many creative projects.

When she noticed you both, she glanced up and froze for a moment, her eyes wide in mock horror. She quickly put down her crayon and scrunched up her nose.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, giggling. "Why are you carrying him like that, Mike?"

"Because he's moving in, and I'm giving him the royal treatment," Mike said, grinning.

Abby dramatically rolled her eyes, though the grin on her face betrayed her. "Gross," she teased, but you could see the amusement in her eyes, happy to see her brother smiling. "Are you gonna carry him everywhere now?"

"Maybe," Mike replied. "Depends on how much he likes it."

Abby went back to her drawing, still muttering playful disgust under her breath. "I don't get why grown-ups have to be so weird," she said, shaking her head like she was far wiser than her age.

Mike carried you effortlessly down the hallway, until he stopped at the familiar doorway that led to his bedroom—your bedroom now. His grip on you tightened just a bit, the playful smile never leaving his face as he nudged the door open with his foot.

Mike took a slow, exaggerated step into the room, still carrying you, his voice low and teasing. "And here we are... your new bedroom," he said, his grin widening as he glanced down at you. "What do you think? Fancy enough for you?"

You couldn't help but laugh softly, your head resting against his chest as you took in the space. It wasn't grand or overly elaborate, but it was Mike's room, the place you'd shared countless quiet moments together, and now it was yours too.

"Not too shabby." you teased back, though your heart swelled at the thought of this being your shared space.

Mike's lips quivered in a small, knowing smile, and he glanced toward the bed, his gaze lingering there for just a moment before returning to meet yours. He finally settled you down on your feet, but his hands lingered on your waist, keeping you close.

"Now that you're living here," he said, his voice low, almost a murmur, "there's a lot more we can do... together."

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. There was no mistaking the hint in his voice. You swallowed, feeling the flush of warmth creeping up your neck, but Mike didn't stop there.

He shifted closer, his body pressing lightly against yours, his hand sliding up from your waist to rest against your lower back, pulling you just a little closer, enough to feel the solid warmth of him. "Like..." he continued, his voice dropping an octave as he tilted his head slightly, "all those nights where you had to go back to your dorm. We won't have to do that anymore."

His thumb rubbed slow, teasing circles against your back, his breath warm against your cheek as he leaned in closer. "You'll be here, with me. In our bed. Every night."

The way he said it wasn't just about comfort, it was laced with desire, with a promise of something more.

"And that means," he continued, his lips brushing lightly against your ear now, "there's no reason to rush things anymore, is there?" His tone was teasing, but there was a clear, intimate edge to it. "No more sneaking around, trying to find time between your classes and Abby's naps. We can take our time... really take our time."

You shuddered slightly at his words, feeling your breath hitch in your throat as he pressed his body even closer to yours, the warmth of him wrapping around you. 

Mike smirked, clearly noticing the effect he was having on you. "We'll have the whole night to ourselves," he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, rougher.

His fingers trailing along your spine, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake as they made their way up to your neck, cupping the back of your head. He leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a jolt of heat through you. "I could take my time with you. No rushing... just you and me.”

"But if it's too much for you," he said, pulling back just slightly so he could meet your eyes, a teasing glint in his gaze, "I could sleep on the couch."

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the heat that was pooling in your stomach.

"Mike," you started, trying to sound exasperated, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

His grin widened, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I'm serious," he said, his tone light. "If you're not ready to share the bed, I could crash on the couch. No big deal."

You laughed softly, remembering the last time he had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for you to visit with his mouth wide open, completely knocked out.

"You probably wouldn't mind it," you teased, your cheeks still warm from his earlier words. "Considering how peaceful you looked the last time I found you there"

His face turned a slight shade of pink, and he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, God, you remember that?"

You laughed, nodding. "Yeah, I remember. I didn't have the heart to wake you up... until Abby started laughing and pointing at you."

He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the memory. "She still teases me about that."

You grinned, leaning into him a little more. "I'm just saying, you seemed pretty comfortable."

He chuckled, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips again, pulling you flush against him. "Maybe," he said, his voice low, "but I'd much rather be comfortable here." He glanced toward the bed again, his meaning unmistakable. "With you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and the room suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. There was no more sneaking around, no more stolen moments. This was real, and it was yours.

The weight of your decision settling comfortably in your chest. Mike gives you a quick peck on the lips before the two of you start to haul the remaining boxes inside.

The evening light filters dimly through the thin curtains in Mike's room as you continue to unpack your last things, methodically folding your clothes and placing them in neat piles.

The scent of Mike's cologne lingers in the air. Every drawer you open, every corner you claim for your belongings feels like a small step toward the life you're building together.

As you place a few small keepsakes on the windowsill, trying to find just the right spot for each one, something outside catches your ear. 

At first, it's just a low murmur, the sound of voices carried on the breeze, but then the tone shifts, and suddenly the voices grow louder. You pause, your hand hovering over the sill, curiosity getting the best of you.

An argument between two people.

The words are indistinct at first, but there's no mistaking the sharp edges in the voices. 

Before you even think about it, you find yourself crouching by the window, gently pulling the edge of the curtain aside just enough to peek through. The sliver of space allows you a glimpse of the scene outside.

Two neighbors, standing in their driveway, are engaged in what looks like a full-on shouting match. One of them, a man, is gesturing wildly, his hands flailing in the air as he yells something you can't quite make out. 

The other, a woman, stands with her arms crossed, her posture rigid, and you can practically feel the tension between them, even from inside the house.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the laugh bubbling up inside you. 

This is better than reality TV. 

You lean in a little closer, your breath catching as you strain to hear what they're saying.

The woman's voice comes through, shrill and unmistakably furious.

You can barely suppress the grin spreading across your face as you watch the man throw his hands up in exasperation, his voice rising to match hers.

He fires back with the same tone of the woman, telling her that he’s busy with work to deal with her constant complaining.

You snicker quietly, shaking your head in disbelief. You hunch down even lower, trying to keep yourself hidden while also desperately wanting to see how this all plays out.

The woman doesn't back down. She takes a step toward the man, her face red with anger as she yells back at him.

It's like they don't care who's listening, and you're absolutely living for it.

You didn't expect to get neighborhood gossip on your first day living here, but this? This is better than anything you could've imagined.

Her voice cuts through the evening air again, sharper than before, complaining about how he didn’t care about this family.

This poor guy, you think to yourself, imagining the years of pent-up frustration between these two. You can't help but feel a little bad for the man.

Just as you're about to settle in for more, something behind you shifts, a faint sound that barely registers. 

But you're too engrossed in the scene outside to pay it any attention.

Standing in the doorway, Mike freezes for a moment, his eyes drawn to you. More specifically, his gaze locks onto your body, hunched down and perfectly arched as you peer through the small gap in the curtains. The way you're crouching, your hips tilted back, your jeans hugging every curve perfectly.

Damn. The sight of you like this is doing things to him. His eyes linger for a second longer than they should, taking in every detail.

He takes a few quiet steps forward until he is behind you, moving carefully to avoid making any noise.

Just as you're leaning in for more, your face practically pressed against the glass, you hear a soft creak behind you. 

The curtains are yanked wide open instantly. Blinding light floods the room, and in a split second, your cover is completely blown. 

Startled, you let out a yelp and immediately drop to the floor, sprawling out with a thud as you scramble to hide yourself.

"Mike!" you hiss, half-laughing and half-panicking as you clutch at the floor, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible. You can feel your face burning with embarrassment, but the ridiculousness of the situation only makes you laugh harder. 

"What the hell?"

Mike's laughter fills the room, rich and amused as he stands over you. "You're unbelievable," he says, shaking his head, his voice filled with teasing affection. "Spying on the neighbors already? You've barely been here an hour."

You push yourself up slightly, still on the floor, and glare at him through your laughter. "I wasn't spying!" you protest, though the grin on your face makes it impossible to take yourself seriously. "It's not my fault they're having a full-on soap opera out there"

"I don't know what you were more focused on, what was happening outside or the fact that you were putting on a hell of a show for me." he says, his voice teasing as he raises an eyebrow.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his words. "What are you-" But then it hits you, and your face flushes an even deeper shade of red. "Oh my God, Mike!" you exclaim, your embarrassment mixing with laughter as you finally push yourself up from the floor.

"Hey, I'm just saying. You were in a very... interesting position there."

You shake your head, still grinning as you playfully shove him in the chest. "You're terrible."

"Am I?" Mike grins back, not the least bit apologetic. "You're the one spying on the neighbors."

"I wasn't spying!" you say again, though you can't help but smile at how ridiculous the whole thing is, taking a seat on the bed as you tried to control your laughter. "It’s like... catching up. I need to know what's going on. Gotta stay informed now that I live here again"

Mike chuckles and shakes his head, dropping down to sit next to you on the bed. "Well, if you're gonna live here, you'll definitely get to know the neighbors. Just maybe not like that."

You rest your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as the two of you fall together on his bed—now your bed—and lay there, staring at the poster about Nebraska that he had.

"I think I'm going to like it here."

Mike presses a kiss to your forehead at hearing this.

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the yard as you stood by the garbage bins, carefully arranging the last of the empty cardboard boxes. 

You wiped a bit of sweat from your forehead, feeling the heat from the long day of activity weighing on you. Moving in had been more exhausting than you expected, especially with all the little details like fitting things into their places, deciding what should stay and what could be packed away for later. 

Behind you, Mike was bringing out the last of the boxes, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly disheveled from the day's work. You didn't notice him at first, too busy focusing on fitting the flattened boxes together to make room in the bin. 

But Mike noticed you, how you looked, standing there with your shirt clinging to your back, sweat running in small rivulets down your neck. He couldn't help but steal a few glances, his eyes drawn to the way the muscles in your arms flexed as you worked, the way your hair stuck messily to your forehead. 

You looked good. More than good, really, and he felt that familiar warmth stir in his chest.

You were still focused on arranging the boxes, trying to make sure they fit just right. "I swear these things multiply," you muttered under your breath, unaware that Mike had been watching you for the past few moments.

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking from the pile of boxes to the sheen of sweat on your skin, unable to stop himself from appreciating how effortlessly attractive you looked. 

"You need a hand with that?" he asked, his tone low and casual.

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small grin. "Yeah, if you're done staring”

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was right behind you. "Can't help it," he murmured, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. "You're kinda distracting like this."

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you finished the task at hand. "Just trying to make sure we don't drown in empty boxes."

Mike took that as his moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses to your damp skin. 

You laughed softly, the feeling of his scruffy chin against your neck tickling you.

"Mike," you chuckled, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. "I'm all sweaty."

"Don't care," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and slightly rough. 

You leaned back into him, letting his arms tighten around your waist. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and it made your heart race in the best way. Turning around in his grip, you wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing at him with a teasing smile.

"You're making it hard to finish," you said in a half-hearted protest. He kissed the side of your neck, soft and lingering, his stubble tickling your skin in the best way as you tilted your head to give him more access.

Mike chuckled, his lips brushing against your cheek as he kissed his way up to the corner of your jaw. "You've worked hard enough for one day," he said, his voice low and affectionate. "Let me distract you a little."

Your fingers idly playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, "I was thinking of heading over to say hi to my parents real quick. They know I moved in today, and I figured I should check in."

Mike's expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and interest. "You want company?" he asked, his tone genuine, like he didn't want to seem disinterested in your personal life. "I mean, it could be a good chance for Abby to meet some new people."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting the offer but appreciating it all the same. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that made you realize how much Mike cared about making this work. Not just between the two of you, but for Abby as well. 

You smiled brightly and nodded.

"Yeah," you said, your voice soft but filled with excitement. "Yeah, I'd love that. I think they'd love to meet you both."

A small, affectionate smile tugged at the corner of Mike's lips as he pulled you a little closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. "Let's go, then," he said.

The drive to your parents' house was short, and before you knew it, you were pulling into the familiar driveway, Abby chattering excitedly in the back seat about meeting new friends. You smiled at her enthusiasm, glancing over at Mike as he parked the car, his expression relaxed but with a hint of nerves that only you could really see.

As you stepped out of the car, the familiar scent of home hit you. You hadn't been home in a little while, and the sight of your parents' house and the distant sound of kids running and having fun brought back a flood of memories.

"Ready?" you asked, glancing over at Mike as he unbuckled Abby from her car seat.

He gave you a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah. Let's do this."

As you walked up the driveway with Abby skipping excitedly beside you, the front door opened to reveal your parents standing on the porch, their faces lit up with wide smiles. 

Your mom was the first to rush forward, pulling you into a warm hug and exclaiming how great you looked. 

You laughed, feeling a little flustered but happy to be there, and mentioned that you had just moved in today with Mike’s help.

Mike, who had been standing a few steps behind, smiled and nodded as your parents turned their attention to him. Your dad extended a hand, which Mike shook warmly, acknowledging that they had heard a lot about him. 

Mike responded with a smile, his hand resting lightly on Abby’s shoulder

Your mom’s eyes softened as she glanced down at Abby, crouching slightly to be on her level. She gently introduced herself to Abby, who grinned shyly and hid behind Mike’s leg for a moment before peeking out to say a small but happy greeting. She reached out her hand, inviting everyone inside and mentioning that there were some snacks waiting.

Abby's eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly, following your mom into the house, Mike and your dad exchanging small talk as they trailed behind. 

You felt a sense of warmth flood your chest. 

This was good. 

This was the kind of welcome you'd hoped for.

Your parents' warmth and acceptance made you feel relieved, and you could see Mike visibly relax as they welcomed him and Abby with open arms.

Inside, the sounds of laughter and conversations from your relatives floated through the air as you made your way into the living room while you hugged all of them one by one. 

You found yourself with Mike and your parents soon, the conversation flowing easily as they asked about your move and how things were going between the two of you.

Things went downhill, however, when they started to give advice for your relationship based on their own experiences.

You grimaced, already feeling the heat rising to your face. "Dad, come on," you mumbled, glancing sideways at Mike, who looked slightly amused but remained silent, one arm around your waist and the other hand tucked into his pocket.

But your father continued, undeterred by your embarrassment. Living together is a big step, and it was important for them that you communicate, keep each other in mind and, of course, take care of each other.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your discomfort, but it was no use. You could already feel your face heating up as the conversation took a turn for the worse.

The last thing you expected, to your horror, was your father leaning in closer, as if sharing some grand secret. He reminded you, with an air of solemnity, that even though pregnancy wasn’t a concern, protection was still something to think about. The embarrassment washed over you, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Dad!" you groaned, feeling a wave of mortification wash over you. You buried your face in Mike’s neck, not daring to look at your parents at that moment. 

Mike's body shook with laughter beside you, the deep rumble of his chuckles making your face burn even hotter. 

He wasn't helping, not in the slightest. 

His arm around your waist tightened, pulling you closer, while his other hand stayed casually tucked in his pocket. You could feel his chest vibrating as he laughed, clearly entertained by your parents' well-meaning but mortifying advice.

"Hey, they're just looking out for you," Mike teased, his voice filled with amusement as he tilted his head slightly to brush his lips against your temple. "Can't fault them for that." you could still hear the quiet laughter in his voice as he spoke.

You groaned again as Mike's words only seemed to encourage your parents. "Mike," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper, "you're not supposed to encourage them."

Your parents, oblivious to your discomfort, or maybe just enjoying it a little too much, laughed along with Mike.

It was clear that your family adored Mike, and the warmth of the moment settled deep in your chest, filling you with a sense of comfort.

The conversation eventually shifted to other topics, but the lingering embarrassment stayed with you for a while. Mike kept his arm around you the entire time, occasionally squeezing your waist or brushing his fingers against your side in a subtle show of comfort.

Later, you wandered over to where Abby was. She was bonding with the other kids while one of your cousins, who was sitting on the couch with her baby in her arms, was keeping an eye on them. She smiled at you when she saw you coming, a tired but happy expression on her face.

"Hey," she said, "do you mind holding him for a minute while I make something to eat for him?"

You blinked, surprised but happy to oblige. "Sure, I'd love to."

As she handed the baby over to you, you felt the warm weight of his little body in your arms. He was tiny, soft, and so incredibly fragile-looking, with big, wide eyes that sparkled with curiosity.

You instinctively began to sway back and forth, cradling him close. The soft sounds of his little gurgles made you smile, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect he was. His skin was so smooth and his hair, though sparse, was as soft as down feathers.

“Hey there,” you cooed softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you ran your thumb gently over his chubby cheek. 

He turned his head towards your touch, his big eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

The baby cooed softly, his little mouth forming an 'O' shape as he gurgled in delight. His chubby cheeks were slightly flushed, and his toothless grin made your heart swell with warmth. You couldn't resist running your thumb across his round face, gently tracing the soft skin of his cheek, marveling at how perfect he was. His little nose scrunched up in response to your touch, and he let out a tiny giggle, his toothless smile growing even wider.

"Hey, little guy," you whispered, your voice soft as you bounced him slightly in your arms. The baby responded with another gurgle, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he latched onto your shirt with surprising strength for someone so small. His eyes, bright and full of wonder, locked onto yours, and you couldn't help but feel a connection.

You rocked him gently, cradling him closer to your chest, and as you did, he let out a contented sigh, nestling into the crook of your arm as though he had found the safest place in the world. His small, soft fingers wrapped around one of yours. 

The warmth of his tiny body against yours made you feel protective.

You continued to sway, humming a soft tune that seemed to calm him even more. His eyelids grew heavy, and you watched as he fought to keep them open, his curiosity battling with the need for sleep. 

“You’re so adorable,” you whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead.

Across the room, Mike watched you with a kind of quiet intensity, his attention fully on you. The sight of you holding the baby, the way you cradled him so carefully, the soft expression on your face...

It hit something deep inside him.

Mike's heart thudded heavily in his chest, and before he could stop himself, his mind began to wander. He pictures you holding your baby—his baby. The thought sends a wave of emotion crashing through him, and he can't help but let his mind run wild. 

What would your child together look like? Would they have your eyes? His dark hair? He pictured it so clearly: you, standing in your shared home, holding a child that was the perfect blend of both of you. Maybe with your eyes and his smile, or your laugh and his nose. He swallows hard, the fantasy setting him off in a way he hadn't expected. 

You remain blissfully unaware, still cuddling the baby, gently bouncing him as he giggles in your arms. But Mike can't look away. He's utterly captivated by the sight of you, by the thought of what could be. He's head over heels for you, and in this moment, watching you hold that baby, he knows without a doubt that he wants to share a future with you.

The thought of you being filled with his baby, of sharing that kind of deep, intimate connection, lingers in his mind. The impossibility of it makes the longing more potent. And even though it can't happen, it doesn't stop the primal instinct inside him from craving that kind of closeness with you.

He imagines being with you, pressing himself against you, of filling you up until you were full of him, of having that closeness over and over again.

Those nights where he held you tight, feeling the warmth of your body beneath him, knowing that you're his. There's a primal satisfaction in the act itself, in knowing that you want it just as much as he does.

Mike swallowed hard, trying to rein in the wave of desire that washed over him.

Later, when your cousin returned to take the baby, Mike found his way over to you, slipping an arm around your waist as he pulled you close. His touch was warm, possessive, and there was something in the way he held you that made you look at him, curious.

You leaned into him without a second thought, resting your head against his shoulder.

"You good?" you asked, glancing up at him with a small, curious smile as you noticed the slight tension in his body.

Mike met your gaze and he smiled, a slow, affectionate smile that made your heart skip a beat.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual. "Just... thinking."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, but Mike never strayed far from you, his hand always resting on your lower back, his touch more possessive than usual. And though you didn't fully understand what was going on in his head, you were just glad to have him here with you.

 
The drive home had been quiet, peaceful even, with Abby fast asleep in the backseat, exhausted from the day. You and Mike didn't need to fill the silence with words; the weight of everything that had happened at your family's gathering hung comfortably between you, a shared understanding of how significant the day had been.

When you got back to Mike's house, Abby barely stirred as Mike carried her upstairs to bed, whispering soft reassurances as he tucked her in. You watched from the doorway, feeling the tightness in your chest. The good kind, the kind that only swelled when you saw how gently Mike cared for his sister.

By the time Mike came back downstairs, the tiredness from the day had settled into your bones, the heat of it still lingering on your skin. "I'm going to take a quick shower before bed," you said, running a hand through your hair. "Still feeling a bit gross from earlier."

Mike smiled, his eyes warm and soft as he brushed his hand lightly against your back. "Go ahead," he said, his voice low and affectionate. 

The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the bathroom, the sound of the water starting to run filling the space around you. The warm spray of the shower enveloped you almost immediately, steam rising quickly, soothing the ache in your muscles from the long day. 

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over you, washing away the exhaustion, leaving behind only a sense of deep contentment.

Your mind wandered back to the gathering, the easy laughter of your family, the warmth of the day, and how Mike had fit so perfectly into all of it. The memory of him standing beside you, holding you close as your parents offered their well-meaning advice, made you smile. You could still feel the pressure of his arm around your waist, the reassuring squeeze he'd given you as he'd chuckled at your embarrassment.

You hadn't expected it to feel so natural, but it had. Being with Mike, living with him, sharing these moments together, it was everything you hadn't known you'd needed. 

The water did wonders for your tired muscles. Your skin still feels tender and fresh as the droplets trail down your back, and a light mist still hangs in the bathroom air. 

Wrapping a towel securely around your waist, you glance down at your bare feet as you mentally kick yourself for forgetting to grab clothes. You check Abby's door, finding it firmly closed, and silently thank your lucky stars before you sneak into Mike's room.

You had expected to find Mike waiting for you, but the room is quiet, dim, and still. You shuffle quietly, hoping not to disturb Abby or alert Mike that you're padding around in nothing but a towel. Your mind is already preoccupied with finding your clothes, wondering where you stuffed them after the chaos of moving in. 

You drop to your knees, carefully shifting through a half-unpacked box, fingers grazing over familiar fabric, but nothing quite what you're looking for.

You don't hear Mike step into the room behind you and before you know it, his hands reach out and grips your shoulders. He pulls you back gently, catching you off-guard as he hauls you from your crouched position to your feet, your back meeting his chest.

"You know," Mike murmurs into your ear, his breath brushing against your neck, "I'm starting to think this is going to be a thing. Every time I walk into a room, I find you bent down, doing something."

You laugh softly, your heart fluttering at the feeling of his hands on you, but you don't pull away. "I was just looking for something to wear," you reply, leaning back to rest against him. "You'd be amazed how great it feels to finally take a shower without a line of impatient people waiting outside the door."

Mike hums in response, his grip on your waist tightening slightly, his thumb brushing lazily over the towel where it's wrapped around you. "Yeah? Sounds like you're really settling in."

You nod, smiling to yourself. "Yeah, Feels nice to have some space that's just ours."

Mike's chest swells with warmth at your words. For so long, Mike has been stuck in survival mode. Working hard to care for Abby, fighting his aunt, dealing with everything that life throws at him. 

But now, here you are, someone who's not just a temporary fixture but a permanent part of his world. Someone who's making this house feel like a home.

"Next time you take a shower," he murmurs, his voice soft but suggestive, "maybe I'll join you... you know, to save on water bills."

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, but there's a flutter of excitement beneath your breath. You know what he means, the playful tone in his voice impossible to miss. "Very responsible of you," you say, turning in his grip so that you're facing him now, your hands resting lightly against his chest.

Mike smirks, his gaze dipping down to the towel still clinging loosely around your hips. "You need help finding something to wear?" he teases, though his eyes are filled with something darker, something more primal.

You blush slightly under his gaze, but you play along, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "Actually, yeah," you say, your voice soft and playful. "Do you have any idea where I put my comfortable clothes?"

Mike shrugs, his grin widening. "I dunno... but I'm not complaining if you don't find them."

You turn to face him fully, your cheeks heating up at his words. "Oh really?" you ask, trying to match his playful tone. "You'd be okay with that?"

Your heart races in your chest as you bite your lip, your fingers tugging at the knot holding your towel in place. Mike's eyes follow the movement, and when the towel falls away, pooling at your feet, you hear him let out a quiet, surprised laugh, the sound filled with admiration and a hint of disbelief.

His hands immediately finding your bare skin, tracing the familiar lines of your body as if he's memorizing you all over again. His fingers are gentle but firm and, at first, everything was innocent enough.

Just the two of you staring at each others in a loving gaze. Quiet conversations about the day, the warmth of his body against your skin.

Mike's hands moved casually at first.
He started off slow, his hands sliding over your back, his fingers grazing the lines of your muscles. His hands became more deliberate, more confident, as they moved down your sides, feeling the heat of your skin under his fingertips.

His lips graze the side of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and you can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours.

You steady yourself against the cold wall, the surface cool beneath your hands, while his lips continue their path along your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against the sensitive skin.

His hand moves almost unconsciously, tracing the line of your waist before resting against your bare skin. His thumb moves in slow, lazy circles, the motion intimate but unhurried. He leans down slightly, his lips brushing against your ear.

"You look so good like this," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a quiet intensity. "My sweet boy..."

The words sent a surge of heat through your body, and you couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as his hands explored your body, tracing slow, deliberate lines down your chest and stomach. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself growing harder under his touch.

His hands eventually drifted lower, and you gasped softly as he wrapped one hand around your growing erection. He stroked you slowly at first, his grip firm, his breath hot against your neck. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body, your legs threatening to give out under the intensity of it all.

"Mike..." you gasped, your voice trembling as his pace quickened slightly

He loves seeing you like this, completely undone by his touch, by the connection between you.

You're perfect. You're everything he never thought he'd have, everything he didn't even realize he wanted until now. And as he strokes you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, all he can think about is how much he wants to thank you for being here, for being his.

The kiss that follows is soft at first, innocent. Just the two of you sharing the warmth of each other's presence. 

His need for you is growing with every passing second. His tongue slips into your mouth, teasing and exploring.

He's still fully clothed, the hardness in his jeans rubbing against your bare skin. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you closer as he grinds his hips against you, a grunt rumbling from the back of his throat. The tiredness from the long day adds a roughness to his movements.

His thoughts, though, are anything but tired. They're racing, filled with images of you from earlier today, holding that baby in your arms, cradling him so gently, so perfectly. He can't stop thinking about it, about how natural you looked, how soft and loving you were. 

The image of you with his child has been stuck in his mind all day, and he can't shake it. The thought of leaving a part of himself inside you has been driving him wild ever since.

His hands slid deeper, his fingers brushing against your entrance, making you shudder in response. He teased you, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed a little harder, pushing just enough to make you gasp and buck against him. "You want this, don't you?" he whispered, his voice low and full of need. "Tell me you want me."

You could only manage a shaky nod, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles.

Then, he turned you around so that you were facing him.

His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that left you dizzy, his hands gripping your butt with enough force to leave marks.

The kiss was desperate, full of raw need and passion, and you could feel the tension in his body as he pressed himself against you. His fingers dug into your skin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and you found yourself melting into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

He pulls you to the bed, unable to wait any longer. He doesn't even bother undressing, too desperate to feel you, to be inside you.

Mike's breathing grows heavier, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers something low and unintelligible. His hands slide lower still, resting on your thighs before he gently urges you to widen your stance. You comply without hesitation, knowing exactly where this is going, and the anticipation coils tighter inside you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers slip between your legs, moving slowly at first, easing you into the sensation. Each stroke is careful, deliberate, as if he's savoring every second, drawing out the pleasure with practiced ease.

You took a right hold of the sheets to brace yourself as his fingers work deeper, prepping you with a slow, steady rhythm. His other hand slides up your back, caressing your skin as he presses closer, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in.

Mike's fingers move with increasing confidence, the steady pressure and rhythm sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body as his fingers stretch and prepare you, ensuring you're ready for what's to come.

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure.

His lips move to your neck, kissing and biting softly as he preps you with care. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. He pictures you in his bed every night, in his arms every morning.

"Mike," you whisper, your voice breathless, filled with need. "Please...I want to feel you now."

Mike let out a low, approving growl, clearly pleased by your words. The sight of you, flushed and wanting, drives him wild, and he can't hold back any longer.

His hands fly quickly to unzip his jeans and free himself, the head of his length nudging at your entrance. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he pushes forward, sinking into you inch by inch. The sensation is overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely. The pressure is intense, but there's a delicious heat that spreads through you, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside you.

Mike groans softly, his forehead resting against the back of your neck as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him. His mind flooded with thoughts of how perfect this is, how perfect you are.

Slowly, Mike begins to move, his thrusts deep and steady, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel the tension coiling tight in your core, your body responding to him with an urgency that makes your mind go blank. All you can focus on is the sensation of him moving inside you, the way his hands hold you, the way his breath sounds as he presses himself deeper into you.

As he began to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His lips found yours once more, kissing you hungrily as his pace quickened, the desperation in his movements unmistakable. 

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intensity of the kiss, your body arching into his as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushed deeper, his body moving with a rhythm that left you breathless.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your quiet gasps and his low groans. The heat is unbearable now, the need to claim you overwhelming every other thought in his mind.

And then, finally, he feels it. The tension snapping, the pleasure cresting as he reaches his release. His hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he spills himself into you, the sensation making his whole body tremble.

As the pleasure slowly ebbs away, Mike's grip on you softens, his breath still coming in heavy pants as he pulls you back against him. He presses soft kisses on your collarbone, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he holds you close.

You're his partner, his home, his future.

Chapter Text

You step into The Ritz-Carlton, the grandeur of the hotel washing over you immediately. The elegance of the polished marble floors, the soft, ambient lighting, and the quiet murmurs of guests moving about create an almost otherworldly atmosphere. Your focus, however, is fixed on the interview you're about to conduct.

When you arrive at his office, he's already there, sitting casually behind his desk. He looks up at you as you enter, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softens into a warm, welcoming smile.

"Ah, there you are," he says smoothly, standing up and extending a hand. "I've been expecting you."

His voice has a certain charm to it, deep but with an easy, almost conspiratorial tone. You shake his hand, feeling a brief flutter of nerves under his gaze.

"Thanks for making the time," you say, taking the seat he gestures to. You settle into the plush chair, pulling out your notebook and pen. "I'm here to learn more about your role here at the Ritz and in general about this wonderful place."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair and eyeing you with a glimmer of amusement. "Oh, you know, I'm just here to make sure everything runs smoothly. Guests are happy, problems solved, the usual." His gaze flickers to yours, holding it for just a moment too long. "What’s your first thought that came to your mind when arriving here?"

You clear your throat, caught off-guard by the intensity in his eyes. "There's a certain... charisma here."

He smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. "Charisma, huh? I'll take that as a compliment." He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk, his posture relaxed yet somehow charged with energy. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. What exactly would you like to know?"

You focus on your notes, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens every time he looks at you like that. 

"I see...so, you’re almost a guardian of sorts here?" you ask, pushing through the unexpected tension.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. "Guardian, problem solver, call it what you want." His tone turns softer, more intimate. "I just like making sure things go..... smoothly."

There's a pause, and you realize he's watching you carefully, waiting for your response. You try to focus on the next question. "The hotel itself plays a significant role in making the guest feel welcome. How do you think the setting contributes to the atmosphere and in which way?"

He leans back in his chair again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The hotel is everything. It’s part of the experience. People come here expecting one thing, but they leave with something entirely different. This place has a way of... revealing things about you. Things you didn't even know were there."

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel as though he's not talking about the hotel at all. Your breath catches in your throat, but you manage to stay focused.

"That's fascinating," you say, your voice a little shakier than you'd like. "Do you think that's why you seem to have such a... deep connection to the guests?"

"Exactly," he replies, his tone softening. "I think I know what people need before they do. I can be good at reading people, knowing when to push, when to hold back... when to offer a little something extra." His gaze drops to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes, and your heart skips a beat.

"And do you... enjoy your role here?"

He laughs, a rich sound that fills the room. "Oh, I enjoy it very much. It's fun, you know? Pushing boundaries, seeing how far you can go before someone notices. Like right now, for example." He grins at you, his eyes dancing with amusement.

You blink, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Right now?"

He nods, still smiling.

"Speaking of personal," he adds, pushing back from the desk, "how do you take your coffee?"

You blink at the sudden change in topic. "Oh... just black, thanks," you stammer, trying to regain control of the conversation. He smiles, standing up and heading to the corner of the room where a small coffee maker is perched. You take a moment to breathe, wondering if you're imagining the tension between you.

Is this really happening? 

You're supposed to be interviewing him, but he's turned the tables so effortlessly that you're the one who feels like you're being scrutinized.

When he returns, two mugs in hand, you expect him to sit across from you at his desk. Instead, he sits down right next to you on the plush sofa, close enough that you can feel the heat from his body. He hands you a mug, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, electrifying moment.

"Here you go," he says, his voice soft and intimate. "I hope you like it."

You take the mug, your hands trembling slightly. "Thanks," you murmur, taking a small sip.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches you as you drink, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, without warning, he leans in, his face inches from yours.

"So," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, "what would you like to know?"

Your mind goes blank, the only thing you can focus on is how close he is, how his breath is warm against your skin. You swallow hard, trying to remember what you were going to ask, but nothing comes out.

He smirks, enjoying your flustered state. "No more questions?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. "I thought you wanted to know all about me."

"I-I do," you stammer, your heart racing. "It's just..."

"Just what?" he asks, leaning in even closer, his lips almost brushing yours. "Too distracted?"

You can't find the words, so you simply nod, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

He chuckles softly, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of them. "Is this okay?" he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You nod again, and before you can say anything else, he closes the gap, his lips pressing against yours in a deep, hungry kiss. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue slides past your lips, exploring with an urgency that leaves you breathless.

When he finally pulls back, his lips still hovering near yours, he smiles. "Maybe we should continue this somewhere else. How about I give you a private tour? We could start with my room." His voice is a seductive whisper, his eyes gleaming with desire.

Your pulse quickens at the suggestion, and all you can do is nod, anticipation swirling in your chest.

Chapter Text

You spent every night leading up to the exam reviewing notes, revisiting past papers, and checking your study materials for any gaps in knowledge. It felt like everything you'd learned had evaporated, leaving you with only vague recollections of concepts that once seemed clear.

Sitting in the exam hall, the quiet rustle of papers, the ticking of a clock, and the occasional cough or sniffle from fellow students only heightened your awareness. You found yourself hyper-focused on everything except the exam itself. It wasn't until the final minutes were called that you felt a burst of clarity, rushing through the last few questions with a determination you hadn't felt since the beginning.

Afterward, your body felt drained, as if the weight of your anxiety had been released all at once. All you wanted to do was collapse and forget about everything for a while.

You squinted against the bright light outside, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the late afternoon sun. The campus was buzzing with life. Students milling about, laughing, talking, some excited, others looking just as worn out as you felt.

And then, through the haze of exhaustion, you saw him.

Mike.

He was standing by his car, a short distance away, clearly trying to blend in, though he stood out like a sore thumb among the groups of teenagers loitering around the area. He leaned against the side of his old, beat-up car with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his head tilted slightly down as if trying to avoid eye contact with anyone passing by. His posture was casual, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed how awkward he felt, standing there in the middle of campus, surrounded by people younger than him.

He had always been a little uncomfortable around large crowds, especially when it involved people he didn't know.

Despite the awkwardness, the second Mike's eyes landed on you, his whole demeanor shifted. The tightness in his face softened, and his shoulders relaxed just a little. A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't big or flashy, just a subtle, tired smile.

He straightened up a bit as you walked toward him, though his hands stayed buried in his pockets, his eyes never leaving yours. 

As you reached him, the familiar scent of his worn leather jacket and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air around him. "How long have you been waiting?"

Mike shrugged, the motion almost too casual, like he didn't want to admit he'd probably been standing there for a while. His eyes flickered toward the students walking by, and he gave a small shake of his head. "Not too long. Though I'd get here early, make sure I didn't miss you."

You smiled at that, feeling a pang of affection for him.

"C'mon," Mike said, gesturing toward his car with a slight nod of his head. "Let's get out of here. You look like you could use a break."

You followed him to the passenger side, and he opened the door for you without a second thought.

The silence in the car wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite. You let your head fall back against the seat until you reached yours and Mike’s home, your eyes half-closed as you watched the world blur past outside the window.

The house was quiet, with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old floorboards underfoot. Mike sat on the bed, looking at you as you sank into the mattress with a tired sigh. He couldn't help but watch you, taking in every small detail of your stressed state, and yet somehow, to him, you still looked perfect.

His mind swirls with a mix of emotions. Relief that you were here, disbelief that you were with him, and something else, something deeper. It was the same overwhelming protectiveness he felt for Abby, the kind that made him want to shield you from everything bad in the world.

"How do you think it went?" Mike asked, his voice a little hoarse from the long day. He could still see the remnants of anxiety lingering in your expression, though the worst of it seemed to have passed now that it was over.

"It went okay," you replied, your voice soft but tinged with relief. "I don't know if I aced it, but at least I didn't fail."

Mike smiled faintly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "I'm sure you did fine," he said, his tone reassuring. "You always do better than you think.“

"Maybe," you muttered, still clearly uncertain but a little more at ease.

Mike let out a quiet grunt, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a small, tired smile as he laid back, letting his body relax into the bed. His hand, which had been resting on your arm, moved down slowly, absentmindedly tracing soft patterns on your skin. It wasn't intentional at first, just a natural gesture of comfort, but as the moments passed, he found himself more aware of the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the subtle tremble that ran through you every time his touch lingered a little longer.

"When I was your age, I could barely keep it together for anything, let alone school. You're doing a hell of a lot better than I ever did." Mike said after a while, his voice low and thoughtful.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "You went to college, right? You told me you were going before... you know, before everything with Abby happened."

"Yeah," Mike muttered, a little gruff, as memories of those years surfaced. "I did, for a bit. But I was a mess. Dropped out before I could make anything of it." He shrugged, his tone nonchalant. "Sometimes life happens, I guess."

You were quiet for a moment, processing what he'd said, before replying softly, "But you're taking care of Abby now. That's what matters. I think you've done more than anyone could've expected."

Mike smiled again, a little more genuinely this time. "You always know how to say the right thing," he murmured, his voice low. His hand drifted down your arm to your thigh, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your pants.

You didn't seem to think much of it, though, still lost in the conversation as you turned your head to face him more fully. "I don't know about always saying the right thing," you teased, "I almost caused a fight with your aunt at one point."

Mike chuckled, the sound low and tired, his breath warm as he leaned in just a little closer. "Yeah, but I liked that about you," he said, his voice softer now, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. "You always stand up for me, even when I don't deserve it."

"Of course. You deserve it," you replied quickly, almost defensively, which only made Mike smile more. His heart swelled a little at how earnest you were, how fiercely loyal you had been from the start.

As you spoke, Mike's hand drifted a little higher, his fingers now tracing light circles on your thigh, just barely brushing the skin beneath the fabric. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, and it was almost instinctual the way his body responded, his movements slow, deliberate, but still subtle enough that you didn't seem to notice right away.

He listened as you kept talking, your voice filling the comfortable silence of the room as you rambled on about the exam, your friends, and random things you'd seen at college. Mike didn't say much, just murmured responses here and there, nodding as you spoke, his tired eyes half-lidded as he watched you. 

Without even thinking about it, he leaned in a little closer, his lips brushing against your cheek as you continued talking. You didn't seem to notice, too wrapped up in your thoughts, and Mike used that to his advantage, pressing soft kisses to your cheek, almost absentmindedly. The urge to be close to you growing stronger with each passing moment.

You didn't react much at first, though he noticed the subtle way your breath hitched just slightly whenever his lips lingered a little longer. He smiled against your skin, letting his hand drift further up your thigh, his fingers gently tracing along the hem of your pants.

He shifted a little closer, his body pressing lightly against yours as he kissed your cheek again, this time letting his lips linger longer before pulling back. It was clear you hadn't realized what Mike was doing, at least not fully, and that only made his heart race faster.

Mike shifted slightly, moving closer to you on the bed. His hand slipped from your leg to your waist, his fingers gently tracing the line of your hip. You were so warm, so soft, and he couldn't get enough of you. 

You kept talking, unaware of the way Mike' thoughts were becoming less and less innocent. His hand slid up your side, his fingers brushing against the hem of your shirt, and for a brief moment, he hesitated. Was this too much? Was he pushing too far?

"How was your day? Did everything go okay with Abby?"

Mike blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. His mind had been so wrapped up in you that he had almost forgotten the rest of the day existed. "Yeah," he said slowly, his voice still soft. "Abby was good. She's been drawing a lot lately. She made something for you, actually."

Your eyes lit up at that, and Mike's heart skipped a beat at the sight. God, you were so adorable when you got excited like that. It was little things like this that made him fall for you all over again, every single day.

"She did?" you asked, smiling widely now. "What did she make?"

Mike chuckled, his hand still resting on your side as he spoke. "It's a drawing of the three of us. You, me, and her. She was really proud of it."

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the pillows with a contented sigh. "That's so sweet. She's such a talented kid. I'm really lucky to be a part of her life."

Mike's chest tightened at your words. He knew how much Abby adored you, how much she looked up to you, how much she trusted you. It meant the world to him that you felt the same way.

Mike's kisses became more frequent the longer the conversation went on, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jawline, your temple.

"You're lucky?" Mike asked softly, his voice laced with disbelief. "I'm the lucky one. You're... I don't know how I got this lucky."

You tilted your head slightly, your cheeks a shade of red as you looked at him with a curious smile. "What do you mean?"

Mike's throat tightened as he tried to find the right words.

"You could be anywhere, with anyone. But you're here, with me. And I don't know what I did to deserve that.” Mike told you, his voice faltering slightly. His hand moved up to your shoulder, his fingers gently squeezing as he looked down at you.

You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening into something tender, something affectionate. "Mike, I'm here because I want to be. I'm here because I love you."

To Mike, those words meant everything. They were everything.

And at that moment, Mike couldn't hold back any longer. He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was slow and tender. You kissed him back just as softly, your hand reaching up to rest on his arm, pulling him closer.

Mike's heart raced as the kiss deepened, his hand moving from your cheek to your waist, pulling you against him. There was something about the way you melted into his touch that made Mike's mind spin. You were his. You had chosen him. And he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

His lips found your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. Your breath hitched as you finally seemed to realize what was happening.

"Mike..." you breathed, your voice soft, a little hesitant, but not pulling away.

He didn't stop. He kissed his way down the side of your neck, his lips warm and gentle.

"Just relax," Mike muttered, his voice low and rough, as he kissed the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his teeth grazing the flesh just enough to make you gasp.

You were still, your breath coming in shallow bursts as Mike's lips moved up and down your neck, his hands now fully exploring your body with a slow, deliberate intent.

"You deserve it," Mike whispered against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear before he pulled back slightly to look at you again.

God, you were so handsome. He had thought it from the moment he first met you, but now it was different. Now he knew you, knew how kind and patient you were, knew how much you cared about him.

He wasn't in a rush. He didn't want to rush this. You were so precious to him, so important, and he wanted to savor every second of this moment. 

Mike's lips found your collarbone, and he kissed his way across it, his teeth grazing your skin as he left small marks.

His hand moved lower, resting on your stomach, and he felt you tense slightly under his touch. But then you relaxed, your head falling back against the pillow as Mike pressed another kiss to your neck, this one slower, more deliberate.

As Mike's hands gripped your waist with a gentle firmness, he marveled at how perfectly you fit beneath him, as though you were made just for him.

His lips left slow trails along your body, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He lingered at your collarbone, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before biting down just enough to leave a mark. Your soft gasp in response spurred him on, and he grunted low in his throat as his lips traveled down your chest, nipping and kissing as he went.

You could feel the heat of his hands against your skin, the anticipation building as he slowly worked your pants down, his eyes never leaving yours. You turned around on your stomach to make it easier for him.

When your pants were finally off, Mike took a moment to just look at you. The sight of you, laid out beneath him, flushed with a mix of nerves and desire, was enough to make his breath hitch in his throat.

Mike's hands gently parted your legs, his touch firm yet tender, as he settled between them. His lips pressed softly against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he moved closer to where you wanted him most.

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering just above you, his breath warm against your most sensitive area. The wait was torturous, and you bit your lip, barely able to contain the soft whimper that escaped. The sound of your need fueling him as he gently pressed his tongue against you, starting slow, teasing.

He took his time, savoring the way your body reacted to his touch. His tongue moved in long, slow strokes, exploring every inch of you with an almost lazy precision. He could feel the way your muscles tensed beneath his hands, the way your hips instinctively shifted, trying to get closer to him. But he was in control and he kept the pace slow, drawing out every sensation, every soft gasp that fell from your lips.

His hands gripped your hips, his thumbs brushing over your skin as he held you in place, preventing you from squirming too much beneath him. The taste of you, the way your body responded so eagerly, had him groaning softly against your skin, the sound reverberating through your entire body.

As his tongue explored you, he started to add a little more pressure, his movements becoming more focused. His lips wrapped around you as he gently sucked, his tongue swirling in deliberate circles. Every stroke of his tongue, every gentle graze of his teeth, was designed to make you lose yourself in the sensation. He just loved the way you reacted, the way your hands gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

Mike slowly pulled back, his lips swollen and wet, his breath heavy as he looked up at you.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low and rough, as his hands slid beneath you, cupping your butt softly. His fingers gently squeezed, his touch firm yet tender, as he spread you open, exposing you completely to him.

His tongue was on you again, gently circling around your entrance and moving in slow, deliberate strokes, gradually pressing deeper, pushing past the tight ring of muscle with a groan of satisfaction.

You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching slightly as Mike's tongue worked deeper, exploring you from the inside out. His hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you steady as he pushed further, his tongue curling inside you in slow, rhythmic motions. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure growing as Mike took his time, thoroughly preparing you.

His tongue moved in and out of you with practiced ease and an almost lazy precision, his exhaustion only adding to the unhurried pace. He was tired, yes, but the need to please you kept him going. 

His fingers gently massaged the soft flesh, squeezing and kneading as his tongue worked deeper inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of his hands and mouth driving you closer and closer to your limit.

Finally, when he could feel your body trembling with anticipation, Mike pulled back, his lips swollen and wet, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His eyes met yours, and the look in them sent a shiver down your spine.

With a low, tired groan, Mike leaned back slightly, his hands moving to the buckle of his jeans. His fingers working slowly as he unfastened his belt, the leather sliding through the loops of his jeans with a soft, familiar sound. You watched him, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally undid the button of his jeans, his fingers slow and deliberate.

The sound of his zipper sliding down filled the quiet room. His hands moved with laziness, pushing his jeans down just enough to free himself from the tight constraints.

His boxers followed, his hand tugging them down as he freed his aching length, already hard and heavy with need. You swallowed hard at the sight of him thick and swollen, the tip glistening slightly in the dim light of the room. Mike's hand wrapped around himself, giving a slow, lazy stroke as he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a moment, he just stayed there, kneeling between your thighs, his hand moving slowly over his cock as he watched you. 

"You ready?" Mike asked, his voice rough and low, the exhaustion evident but laced with desire.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you spread your legs a little wider, offering yourself to him completely. Mike groaned softly at the sight, his hands moving to grip your hips again as he positioned himself at your entrance. He paused for a moment, just long enough to let you feel the weight of him, the heat of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

Slowly, almost agonizingly so, Mike began to push forward, his cock slipping past the tight ring of muscle with a low, guttural groan. The sensation was overwhelming. The way your body stretched to accommodate him, the way he filled you completely, inch by inch. 

His movements slow and deliberate, wanting to make sure you felt every second of it. He could feel your body trembling beneath him, the way your breath hitched in your throat as he finally seated himself fully inside you.

"God, you feel so good," Mike murmured, his voice low and rough as he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. His hands moved to your waist, holding you gently but firmly as he leaned down, his breath hot against your neck.

He began to move, slow and steady, his hips rocking against yours with a lazy rhythm. He slid in and out of you with ease, the heat of your body enveloping him completely. Mike grunted softly with each slow thrust,  his head dropping to the crook of your neck as he focused purely on the feeling of you around him. His warm breath comes in short, shallow bursts against your neck.

His hands stroked your waist, your hips, occasionally trailing down to your thighs as he continued to move inside you. The slow, lazy rhythm sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help the soft moans that escaped your lips with each thrust. Mike grunted softly in response, the sound of your voice driving him to push deeper, to take you harder.

His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your throat, biting down gently just enough to make you gasp.

His hands moved lower, his fingers finding their way between your legs as he stroked you in time with his slow thrusts. The added sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure built inside you. Mike groaned softly, his hand working you with the same lazy precision as his hips, his fingers stroking you in slow, deliberate movements that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

Mike's breath was hot against your skin, his soft grunts filling the quiet room as he moved inside you, his body shuddering with each movement.

He was tired, his muscles aching from the slow, methodical pace he had set, but he didn't care. He wanted to make this last, to make sure you felt every bit of love and affection he had for you.

The slow, lazy rhythm started to shift the more the time passed. The pleasure building between the two of you became too much to ignore, and Mike's thrusts grew a little harder, a little faster, his hands gripping your hips more tightly as he buried himself deeper inside you. The soft grunts that escaped his lips became more frequent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he picked up the pace.

His hips snapped against yours with more force now, his hands gripping your waist as he thrust deeper, faster, chasing the pleasure that had been building between you.

Mike groaned loudly, his head dropping to the crook of your neck as he thrust into you with more urgency. His fingers stroked you faster, more urgently, as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come on," Mike muttered, his voice strained as he thrust into you harder, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "I want to feel you come for me."

He groaned loudly, his hips snapping against yours with more force as he finally reached his peak, filling you completely.

The sensation of him filling you, the heat and pressure of his release, pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, your breath catching in your throat as the pleasure washed over you, your muscles clenching around him as you came hard, your release coating his fingers as he continued to stroke you through it.

Mike groaned loudly as he felt you tighten around him, his hips stilling as he buried himself deep inside you, his breath rugged and uneven as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His body shuddered with the intensity of it, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he stayed buried inside you, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing, the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you, and the faint hum of the world outside. Mike stayed still, his body pressed against yours, his cock still buried deep inside you as he caught his breath. His hands gently stroked your sides, his touch soft and affectionate now, as though he was grounding himself after the intensity of what had just happened.

Slowly, reluctantly, Mike pulled out, a low groan escaping his lips as he did. He collapsed beside you, his arm draping over your waist as he pulled you close, his body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of his release.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, still laced with exhaustion.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow bursts as you turned to face him, your body warm and heavy with the afterglow. Mike smiled softly, his tired eyes half-lidded as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The room was still warm with the heat of your shared intimacy, your bodies entangled beneath the sheets, bathed in the soft glow of the dimmed light from the bedside lamp. The air was thick with the scent of sweat. Both of you lay there, your breathing gradually slowing, coming down from the high, your bodies sinking into the comfort of the mattress.

Mike was next to you, his arm loosely draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling with heavy, tired breaths. His skin was still flushed, a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

You reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, and Mike's lips parted slightly, his breath hitching at the gentle touch. There was a kind of awe in his eyes, like he was still in disbelief that someone like you was here with him. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The way he looked at you said it all.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You simply lay there, staring into each other's eyes. 

He didn't respond with words, Instead, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow. The kiss deepened, but it wasn't rushed. There was no urgency. It was all about savoring the moment.

You felt yourself sinking into him, your bodies molding together as the tension from before dissolved into a quiet, comfortable intimacy.

You felt the weight of exhaustion slowly pulling you under, your eyelids growing heavy as your body began to relax into the warmth of the bed. Mike seemed to feel it too, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as if to pull you closer. His hand gently stroked your skin, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across the marks he had left behind.

You were just about to drift off, your eyes fluttering shut as the drowsiness overtook you, when you suddenly felt Mike tense beside you. His body stiffened, his hand freezing mid-motion, and for a brief, disoriented moment, you weren't sure what was happening. You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of sleep, and turned to look at him, confused.

"Shit," Mike muttered, his voice low and strained, his eyes wide with sudden realization. "Abby."

It took a second for his words to register in your mind. Abby. The school. Mike was supposed to pick her up.

"Oh god," you groaned, the realization hitting you just as hard as it had hit Mike. "What time is it?"

His body jerked up from the bed as he searched for his clothes. He glanced at the screen, his face paling even more as he saw the time.

"She's going to kill me," Mike muttered, his voice laced with panic as he quickly pulled on his shirt, the fabric sticking slightly to his still-damp skin. "I'm so late."

You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist, your own exhaustion forgotten in the sudden rush of urgency. Mike was already halfway dressed, his hands fumbling as he zipped up his pants, his expression a mix of frustration and panic. You couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight of him.

"Hey," you called softly, catching his attention just as he was about to bolt out of the room. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, still completely naked, your body covered in the marks that Mike had left on you.

He froze, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on your naked and marked up body. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with something you recognized all too well. For a brief moment, it seemed he was considering staying, the sight of you was almost enough to make him forget his panic.

"She's going to be pissed at you” you teased, standing up from the bed and walking over to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You reached out to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. 

Mike blinked, momentarily stunned by the kiss, his lips still parted slightly as he stared at you. His eyes roamed over your body again, taking in the marks he had left on you, the way you stood there, so completely unashamed, so completely his.

"You look..." Mike's voice trailed off, and he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're perfect."

"So perfect" Mike murmured, his voice rough with emotion, his eyes still locked on yours. His hand reached out almost instinctively, his fingers brushing over the marks on your neck.

You leaned into his touch, your lips curving into a soft smile.

"Go," you said softly, your voice teasing but affectionate. With a resigned sigh, he gave in. He leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, slow and lingering, before pulling away.

"I'll be back," he promised, his voice low and filled with affection. "Don't go anywhere."

You smiled, giving him a playful push towards the door. "I'm not going anywhere, Mike. Now go."

Chapter Text

It had been exactly one month since you'd moved in with Mike, and tonight was a small celebration. With Abby at a sleepover at one of her friend's houses, you and Mike had the rare opportunity to spend some quality time together. Tonight, it was just about the two of you.

Mike had suggested going to a quiet bar nearby, somewhere casual yet with enough ambiance to make the night feel special. It wasn't the fanciest place in town, but that didn't matter to either of you. The dim lights, warm atmosphere, and low hum of conversation from other patrons set the perfect mood. Mike chose a small table in the corner, away from the busier parts of the bar, the kind of spot where you could focus on each other without the chaos around you.

Mike slid onto the sofa first, making sure you were close beside him as you both settled in. The sofa was indeed small, which Mike quickly pointed out. He shifted in his seat, extending his arm across the backrest behind your head, a casual but deliberate move to pull you in closer.

"Comfy?" he asked, his voice quiet and teasing as he leaned slightly toward you. His arm remained outstretched, his fingers brushing against your shoulder lightly.

“There's plenty of room on the other side of the couch. You don't need to use me as a pillow."

Mike chuckled, his eyes glinting with something softer. "I'm just trying to be comfortable. This couch is too small for both of us."

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Sure it is, Mike."

But you didn't mind. In fact, you leaned into him, letting his arm rest more comfortably around your shoulders as the proximity between you grew.

With the excuse of the small couch, Mike's hand eventually trailed down to your side, resting lightly on your hip, holding you close without saying much. 

The way he shifted his body toward you made it clear that his focus was entirely on you, the busy bar around you fading into the background.

"You look really good tonight," Mike said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, as his eyes scanned you slowly, appreciatively. His gaze lingered just a second longer than usual, and you could feel a faint heat rising in your cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

You felt your face heat up slightly as you ducked your head, trying to play it cool.

He was dressed simply, wearing his usual dark jacket over a plain t-shirt, looking effortlessly handsome in his quiet, brooding way. His eyes were focused on the menu, studying the ridiculous drink names with a small furrow in his brow.

"Thanks. You too," you replied, trying to hide the fact that your heart had skipped a beat.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if to say you didn't need to return the compliment. "I'm serious," he added, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer. "It's nice seeing you like this. Relaxed"

You smiled at him, appreciating the moment. "Yeah, it feels good. It's been a while since we've had a night like this. Besides, I had to put in the effort. It's not every day I get to drag my grumpy boyfriend out for a night like this."

"Grumpy?" Mike repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not like that."

"Oh, you are," you teased, poking him lightly in the ribs. "Don't pretend you're not."

Mike chuckled softly, the sound low and rough in his throat. "You're imagining things."

"Am I? You were grumbling about traffic on the way here, and I saw you glare at that couple when we walked in."

"They were blocking the door," Mike muttered defensively.

"See?" You laughed, shaking your head. 

Mike rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I might be like this because I've got a troublemaker for a boyfriend."

You gasped softly, placing a hand over your heart. "Me? A troublemaker? I'm innocent!"

Mike gave you a look that clearly said he didn't believe you, and you couldn't help but laugh. "Uh-huh," he said dryly.

You grinned, leaning in against him slightly to give him a side hug.

"It's been a while since I've gone out like this," he admitted, his lips curving into that rare, small smile you loved seeing.

His expression softened as his arm around your side tightened. "We've both been busy," he admitted, though you could hear the unspoken part of the sentence: You've been patient with me.

As you browsed through the menu, something caught your eye. The bar offered a selection of unique, non-alcoholic drinks with quirky names-exactly the kind of thing that piqued your curiosity.

"Look at these," you said, nudging Mike slightly. "They've got some really cool names. 'Ocean Breeze,' 'Tropical Twilight, and...’Dragon's Breath'? Sounds interesting, right?"

Mike leans in slightly, glancing over the drink description. "Let's try some," he says with a tired but amused smile. "We could work our way through some of these. They're cheap enough and no hangover tomorrow."

You couldn't help but grin at his suggestion. It felt good to unwind like this. Without the heavy weight of your usual responsibilities, it felt like the two of you were able to just be a couple enjoying each other's company. So, you both ordered a few of the more intriguing and exciting drinks, eager to sample their flavors.

It doesn't take long before the server returns with your first round of drinks. One is a vibrant blue with smoke-like vapors rising from it. 'The Dragon's Breath’. The other is a bright orange concoction topped with a skewer of fruit.

Mike reaches for the blue one first, swirling the glass in his hand before taking a sip. His face remains impassive, as if the strange flavors don't faze him at all.

"Try it."

You take the glass from him, watching the vapors curl up around your fingers. When you take a sip, the sharp, sour taste hits you instantly, making you wince and grimace.

When he saw your expression, he let out a rare, quiet laugh, his tired eyes crinkling at the edges. "You look like you just ate a lemon," he teased, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

"It's because I think I did. Ugh... that's intense," you groaned, pushing the glass away, trying not to laugh at your own reaction.

Mike chuckles softly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Not a fan?"

"Not sure how you didn't even flinch," you reply, shaking your head. You take another cautious sip, but the sourness makes you pucker your lips again. Mike laughs, the sound low and tired but full of affection.

"You get used to it," he says with a shrug, though there's a hint of playful teasing in his tone. "Want me to finish it for you?"

"Please do," you say, sliding the glass back toward him. Mike takes it without a word, downing the rest of it like it's nothing.

The next drink was the bright orange one. You took a sip, and the sweet, fruity taste is a welcome relief after the sourness of the first drink. It was much more liquid than the sour one you tried and it quickly consumed as you took a sip of it.

"Oh, this one's good," you say, offering the glass to Mike. "You've got to try it."

There was barely any left in the glass, just a few drops at the bottom. 

"Come closer," Mike says, his voice dropping just a bit lower. There's a playful gleam in his eyes that makes your pulse quicken.

Curious, you lean toward him, and in one swift movement, Mike cups the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips are warm against yours, and his tongue is exploring your mouth, tasting the remnants of the drink you'd just had. The kiss is slow and languid, full of that lazy confidence he always seems to carry.

When he finally pulls back, your heart is racing, and Mike has that small, satisfied smile on his face. "Tastes good," he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded as he watches your reaction.

You flush, half-embarrassed but unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. "You didn't even taste the drink," you say, lightly hitting his chest.

"I tasted enough," Mike replies, clearly pleased with himself.

You can't help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "You're impossible."

There's one drink next with a quiet awful color scheme that tastes faintly of mint and chocolate, reminding you of a dessert, and another that's so bitter you both cringe after the first sip. Mike offers to finish it off, just as he did with the sour one, but this time you're determined to get through it, even though it makes you shiver with each sip.

Your eyes squint immediately, lips purse together tightly, forming a thin, strained line. Your nostrils flare slightly, as if they might filter out the bitterness. You winced, eyes darting down at the glass briefly, maybe questioning all of your life choices up to this moment.

Your throat visibly constricts with each gulp. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you fights the instinct to grimace more openly.

"You're stubborn," Mike says, watching you with a faint smile.

"I'm not letting this drink win," you reply, setting the empty glass down.
Your tongue darts out briefly, almost like your trying to wipe away the bitterness. 

Your boyfriend watches with a small, lazy grin. It’s a smile that dances in his eyes, both amused and impressed by the spectacle.

“It’s the same face you made when Abby gave us those cookies she made at school.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the memory. “She used salt instead of sugar, poor thing. But at least I finished it in front of her. You gagged immediately at the first bite at your own sister’s baking!”

He laughs, shrugging. “Honest reactions. Besides, she took it as a learning moment. I saved her from making the same mistake twice.”

The last small shot arrived.'Zombie Sunrise,'—‘Minty moonshot,'—'Mango Madness’. These names were wild. It sounded like they're trying a bit too hard but it was at least fun trying to figure out the ingredients.

At one point, as you took a sip from the last drink, Mike's gaze fixed on you. You set the glass down, raising an eyebrow. "What?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

Mike didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned in, his hand sliding from your hip to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer until your lips were just inches apart.

"I just like looking at you," he murmured, his voice low and rough in that way that always made your heart race.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. The kiss started soft, tender even, but quickly deepened as Mike's other hand slid around to your waist, pulling you even closer. The small couch left no room for distance, and it seemed like that was exactly what Mike wanted. His kiss grew more intense, more insistent, as his tongue brushed against yours, exploring your mouth with a hunger that had been simmering all night.

You shifted slightly, turning your body to face him more fully as you responded to his kiss with equal intensity. His hand tangled in your hair as he tilted your head just enough to deepen the angle, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of passion that left you breathless.

His grip on you tightened, as though he couldn't bear to let you go.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was a little heavier, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" you whispered, your voice breathless from the kiss.

Mike smirked, his lips brushing against yours again, this time softer, gentler. "What’s the name of the one you had? It was good."

You felt a rush of warmth spread through you at his words, and though the moment was intimate, you couldn't help but tease him back. "Yeah, well, it was probably mixed with all the other drinks we've had," you said, grinning.

Mike's hand slid off your neck, and he leaned back, his expression softening into something more content. "Maybe. You want another one of that?" he suggested quietly, a rare playful note in his voice.

You nodded, standing up and beating Mike. He grumbled something under his breath as you pushed on his shoulders to get up and ground him on the seat. 

His eyes followed you as you moved through the dimly lit room. You were used to his gaze by now. The way he always seemed to keep an eye on you, not out of possessiveness but out of some deep-rooted need to know you were safe.

Leaning against the bar, you glanced over at the bartender, waiting for him to finish with the previous order. You felt someone sit beside you, closer than anyone other than Mike had the right to do. Glancing sideways, you noticed a man standing next to you just a little too close for comfort. He had a confident grin on his face, the kind that immediately set off alarm bells in your mind, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made you uncomfortable.

"Hey," the guy said, his voice smooth and casual. "You here alone?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, no. I'm with someone."

The man's grin didn't falter. If anything, it widened slightly as he leaned a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. "Really? I've been watching you for a while, and it didn't look like you were with anyone."

This guy must be terribly drunk. That or he confused you with some other poor person here.

You stiffened at the unwanted attention, glancing back toward Mike, who was still sitting at the table. From this distance, you could see the way his posture had changed, how his relaxed demeanor had shifted into something more rigid. His eyes were locked on you, a tension in his jaw that hadn't been there a few minutes ago.

"I am with someone," you repeated, more firmly this time, hoping the guy would get the hint. "So, if you don't mind..."

But the man didn't seem to care, leaning in a bit more, his grin turning into something smug. "Come on, I'm just trying to be friendly. What's the harm?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to figure out how to defuse the situation without making a scene. The last thing you wanted was for this random guy to start something. You soon felt a familiar presence behind you.

Mike.

He didn't say anything at first, but the way he moved into your space, his hand landing firmly on your lower back, spoke volumes. His body pressed against yours just enough to make it clear who you were with. He wasn't being aggressive yet but the tension in his body was unmistakable. He was on edge, and you could feel the protectiveness radiating off of him like heat.

"He's with me," Mike said, his voice low but steady. There was no mistaking the warning in his tone.

The guy blinked, clearly surprised by Mike's sudden appearance. He glanced between the two of you, taking in the way Mike's hand rested on your waist, the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes were narrowed in a silent threat.

"Oh, hey, man. Just talking," the guy said, trying to sound casual, but there was a nervous edge to his voice now. "Didn't mean anything by it."

Mike's grip on your waist tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into your side as if to silently reassure you that he had everything under control. "He's not interested," Mike stated, his voice steady, though you could hear the restrained anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

The guy held up his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a smirk that made your skin crawl. "Alright, alright. Didn't mean to step on any toes."

With that, he slunk away into the crowd, leaving you and Mike standing at the bar. The tension in Mike's body didn't immediately fade, even after the guy disappeared from view. He stayed close to you, his hand still on your waist. His eyes followed the guy for a moment longer to make absolutely certain that he was gone.

"You okay?" Mike asked quietly, his voice softer now that the idiot was gone. He turned his attention fully to you, his gaze searching your face for any signs of discomfort.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reassured him. "Thanks for stepping in."

Mike's hand lingered on your waist, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles into your side. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You smiled softly, placing your hand over his, feeling the tension still humming through his body. "You don't have to worry. I wasn't interested."

He let out a small sigh. "Still... I didn't like it."

It wasn't that he didn't trust you; it was that he cared so deeply, so fiercely, that the idea of anyone else trying to take you away made him uneasy.

"Let's go back to the table," you suggested gently, not wanting him to dwell on it any longer.

He nodded, guiding you back to your seat with his hand still firmly on your waist. When you sat down, he didn't let go, keeping you close to him as if he needed the physical connection to fully calm down. 

The rest of the night continued quietly, though Mike's attention never strayed far from you. He wasn't his usual quiet self; instead, he seemed more present, more focused on you than usual. He kept you close, the way his gaze would occasionally flicker to the crowd around you to make sure no one else would try anything.

Later, when the bar started to clear out and you both decided it was time to head home, Mike's hand gripped yours tightly as you walked back to his house. The cool night air seemed to soothe him, though his grip on you was still firm, still reassuring in its own way.

Once you were inside the house, Mike closed the door behind you with a quiet sigh. He leaned against it for a moment. You could see the way the tension in his shoulders finally began to ease.

“Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, his voice a little softer now that it was just the two of you. "I... I don't like seeing you uncomfortable like that."

You crossed the room to him, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. "I'm fine, Mike. Really. You don't have to worry about guys like that."

He let out a small breath, leaning into your touch as his hands found your waist again.

His gaze softened at your words, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to pull you even closer. "Good," he murmured, his voice low and a little rough with emotion. "Because you're mine."

With that he kissed you, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your heart race. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a possessive need that made your skin tingle.

You could feel the tension between you both shift into something else, something more intimate. Mike's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he guided you toward the bedroom.

You chuckled softly against his lips, but Mike didn't let up, his hands sliding to your waist as he started guiding you toward the bedroom. "Mike," you whispered, still smiling, but he only kissed you harder, his lips chasing yours because he couldn't get enough.

The two of you stumbled into the bedroom, your back hitting the wall as Mike's hands roamed your body, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then to your neck. He was being uncharacteristically bold tonight.

You tilted your head back, letting him have his way, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed you like a man starved. 

You were his and nothing was ever going to change that.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the cartoons playing on the TV in the living room. Abby was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, her focus entirely on her drawing. Her crayons were scattered around her like colorful breadcrumbs, some broken in half from overuse. A determined furrow creased her little brow as she worked.

Mike was on the couch behind her, his elbows propped on his knees as he stared at the stack of papers on the coffee table. His expression was tight, brow furrowed in a way that mirrored Abby's, though his was born of stress, not creativity.

The dark shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights. You stepped further into the room, setting your bag and the groceries down by the door.

"Hey, I'm here," you said softly, careful not to disrupt the calm atmosphere.

Abby looked up first, her face lighting up with a smile. "Hi!" she chirped, waving a blue crayon in your direction.

"Hey," you replied, walking over to kneel beside her. "What are you working on today?"

She held up her drawing, the paper slightly crinkled from her eager hands. You, Mike and Abby stood side by side, smiling under a bright yellow sun. She had even added a few hearts floating in the sky for good measure.

Your chest tightened at the sight of it. It wasn't the first time she had included you in her drawings, but it still caught you off guard every time.

"Wow," you said, your voice warm. "I love it, Abby."

She grinned, her cheeks flushing with pride. "Do you think Mike will like it?"

"I think he'll love it," you said, glancing back at the man in question.

Mike was watching the two of you from the couch, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"She's been at it all day," Mike said, his voice low but tinged with affection.

"She's a hard worker," you replied, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning back to Abby. "Just like her brother."

Mike let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Don't give me too much credit. She's the creative one."

"Yeah, but she gets it from somewhere," you teased, looking over your shoulder at him. "You're underselling yourself."

He shrugged, but the smile lingered. He slouched himself on the couch, his head tipped back against the cushions. Eyes now closed and chest that rose and fell with the deep, steady rhythm of someone who was utterly exhausted.

Quietly and without a word, you approached and eased yourself down onto his lap, careful not to jostle him too much. His eyes fluttered open and for a moment, there was a flicker of confusion before his gaze softened. A faint smile tugged at his lips and his hands instinctively settled on your waist.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

"Hey," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in close. "With all of that stress, i’m surprised you don’t have white hair yet."

"Yeah...you could say that." he hummed against your neck, his voice low and rough.

You stroked your fingers through his hair, the dark strands soft and slightly messy from the way he'd been running his hands through it all day. His eyes fluttered shut again and a quiet sigh escaped him, his body relaxing beneath.

His hands slid up from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, slow and deliberate. The kiss deepened for a moment, his fingers tightening against your back before pulling away, his lips brushing against your jaw and down to your neck.

The soft press of his lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you tightened your hold on him, your arms curling around his shoulders.

He pressed one last kiss to your collarbone before leaning back, his head resting against the couch cushions. His arms stayed wrapped around you, holding you close as his breathing evened out.

From the corner of the room, Abby glanced up from her drawing, her eyes flicking between the two of you. She scrunched her nose playfully, clearly unimpressed by the display of affection.

"Ew," she said, dragging out the word in exaggerated disgust. "You guys are so gross."

You and Mike both laughed, the sound breaking the quiet in the most joyful way. Mike tilted his head to look at her, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You'll understand when you're older, Abs."

"I don't think I want to," she replied, sticking out her tongue before returning to her drawing.

"We're setting a bad example." you teased, leaning in closer to Mike.

He chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. "She’s gonna have to get used to it”

Still feigning disgust at the sweet moment between you and her brother, she decided it was time to step outside and check on the flowers. Abby darted ahead, her small feet moving quickly as she hopped over the uneven boards and poked at the soil with her finger.

For all her creativity and cleverness, she was still just a kid, full of wonder and curiosity.

But that innocence came with its own risks.

It happened in an instant. Abby got to her feet, turning to run back toward the porch, but her foot caught on one of the loose boards. She went down hard, her small body hitting the ground with a thud. A sharp cry escaped her lips and your heart leapt into your throat at hearing it.

“Abby?” You quickly slid off Mike’s lap and hurried outside, while he sat up, scanning the room in search of his sister.

She was sitting on the ground, clutching her knee, tears streaming down her face. Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to hold back a sob, but the pain was written all over her little face.

"I fell," she whimpered, her voice shaky.

You knelt down beside her, gently moving her hand covering the scrape on her knee to take a look.

"It hurts," she whispered.

"I know. I promise, we'll fix it up. You'll be good as new in no time."

Carefully, you scooped her up into your arms. She clung to you, her little hands gripping your shirt. You could feel her trembling slightly and it broke your heart.

As you carried her back inside, the door creaked open and Mike was there, his expression taut with concern. His eyes darted between you and Abby, his jaw tightening as he took in the tear tracks on her face.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice low but urgent.

"She tripped on the porch," you explained, "Just a scrape, nothing serious. I'll clean it up."

Mike nodded, stepping aside to let you pass, but you could see the worry in his eyes. He followed you into the kitchen, watching closely as you set Abby down on the counter.

His eyes were fixed on Abby, concern etched into every line of his face. You glanced at him briefly, silently reassuring him that everything was under control, and he nodded, his jaw tightening as if to keep himself from saying something that might worry Abby more.

Reaching under the sink, you grabhed the first-aid kit and set it on the counter beside her Abby watched as you opened it, her big eyes darting between the various items inside When you pulled out the antiseptic wipes, her hands shot out to cover her knee.

"No," she said, her voice wobbling "That's the part that hurts!"

"I know it hurts, but it's just for a second. And after that, it'll feel so much better. I promise."

She didn't look convinced, her lip quivering as fresh tears threatened to spill over. You leaned closer, lowering your voice to a playful whisper. "If you can be super brave and let me clean it, I'll let you pick the coolest Band-Aid in the box. We've got sparkly stars, superheroes, maybe even dinosaurs. What do you think?"

Abby hesitated, her little fists clenching at her sides as she considered your offer. Finally, she gave a small nod, her expression still wary but determined. "Okay... but only if I get the sparkly stars."

"Deal," you said with a grin, holding out your pinky. She linked her pinky with yours, the smallest of smiles breaking through her tears.

As gently as you could, you dabbed at her scrape with the antiseptic wipe. She flinched, letting out a small gasp,  her small hands gripped the edge of the counter. You kept talking to her to hopefully distract her from the pain in sone degree.

"I scraped my knee really bad when I was about your age. It was worse than this, so much worse."

Abby's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," you said, nodding solemnly. "But guess what? My mom patched me up, just like I'm doing for you, and my leg was fine." You leaned in closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I think it made me stronger."

Her tears slowed, and she tilted her head. "Stronger?"

"I'm pretty sure I can jump higher now. And run faster. Oh, and I can do this..." You stuck out your tongue and crossed your eyes, making her giggle despite herself.

"That's not strong," she said through a laugh.

"Don't underestimate the power of looking silly," you replied, winking at her.

By the time you finished cleaning the scrape, her tears had completely dried and she was smiling again. You held up the Band-Aid with sparkly stars, peeling the backing off and carefully placing it over her knee. "There we go. All patched up. How does it feel?"

She looked down at her knee, inspecting your handiwork. "It's better," she said, nodding. Then, she flashed you a grin. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you said, ruffling her hair. "Now, no more wild stunts, okay? You're not trying out for the circus."

She giggled again, swinging her legs as you packed up the first-aid kit.

Mike had been standing in the doorway the entire time, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. From his spot, he had a full view of you and Abby at the counter. At first, he wasn't even sure why he stayed there, hovering silently. Maybe it was his instinct to be present whenever Abby was hurt, to remind himself he was doing everything he could as her older brother.

The longer he stood there, the more his attention shifted-from Abby to you.

At first, it was the calmness in your voice that struck him. You hadn't panicked when Abby cried out in pain; you hadn't hesitated. Instead, you had taken control of the situation with an ease that Mike rarely felt when it came to moments like this. He knew how hard it could be to soothe Abby when she was upset, how quickly her emotions could spiral into tears or stubborn frustration. You made it seem effortless, coaxing her into a state of calm with just your words and presence.

Mike's gaze stayed fixed on you as you worked. You handled her with so much care, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. The way you made her laugh even through her tears. There was no condescension in your tone, no impatience or frustration. Only kindness.

it hit Mike deeper than he expected, watching you like this. Abby trusted you completely and Mike could see it in the way she leaned into your touch that she felt safe with you.

And God, it was doing things to him.

Mike shifted against the doorway, his jaw tightening as a heat rose in his chest, spreading outward. There was something about the way you cared for Abby that made his breath hitch, something so deeply attractive that he could hardly stand still. It filled him with a deep sense of relief. He trusted you. Maybe more than he'd ever trusted anyone.

The sight of you so soft, so steady, so damn good—made his pulse quicken. He couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over you, taking in the curve of your shoulders as you bent down to look Abby in the eye, the way your fingers brushed so gently against her skin.

Mike swallowed hard, his throat dry as his emotions churned inside him. It was all tangled together, making it impossible for him to focus on anything else. He felt his hands flex against his arms, the urge to touch you almost overwhelming. He wanted to pull you on top of that counter and kiss you until he couldn't breathe. The thought alone made his chest tighten, heat pooling low in his stomach.

But he didn't move. He couldn't. Not with Abby sitting right there, her big brown eyes fixed on you as if you were her savior. Mike clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still even as every part of him ached to close the distance between you.

Instead, he focused on his breathing, trying to steady the rapid thrum of his heart. He couldn't let himself lose control, not now. But God, it was hard when you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his with that same warmth and understanding that had drawn him to you from the start.

Abby went outside again, moving slowly, like a centenarian turtle who had seen it all. She brought with her some paper, perhaps to sketch the flowers outside.

“Be careful this time,” Mike warned, his tone carrying the familiar caution of an older brother. She gave a brief, approving hum in response before closing the door quietly behind her.

"You're really good with her," he said finally, his voice low and rough. He hoped you couldn't hear the edge of something deeper in his tone.

Your expression softened and you gave him that small, easy smile that never failed to make his chest tighten. "She's a great kid," you said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Makes it easy."

You turned from the sink after tucking the first-aid kit away, leaning against the counter.

Mike's lips parted slightly, but no words came out at first. He took a hesitant step forward, his brows knitting together as if he were wrestling with something inside. His chest rose and fell, each breath slower and deeper than the last.

Before you could say a word, his hands were on your waist. The strength in his grip sent a jolt of heat through you, but there was no roughness in his touch. Only need. Only an overwhelming desire to close the gap between you.

He lifted you quickly, his hands firm but gentle as he placed you on the counter. The cold surface pressed against your legs, grounding you for just a moment before his hands found your thighs, his fingers curling into the fabric of your pants.

"Mike," you breathed, your voice shaky as he stepped between your knees, his body pressing against yours. The sheer closeness of him made your heart race, heat blooming in your chest and spreading outward. "What are you—"

But his lips were on yours before you could finish, stealing the words from your mouth. The kiss was desperate, filled with a need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. His hands slid up to your hips, pulling you closer as though he couldn't stand even the smallest distance between you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His hands stayed on your hips, steadying both of you as he tried to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to... I just-" He broke off, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his brows furrowing in frustration. "I couldn't help it. Seeing you with Abby, the way you take care of her and me... It's too much. You're too much."

Your heart twisted at his words, your hands reaching up to cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. 

His hands slid up from your hips to your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter so your legs bracketed his hips. 

"You're everything to me," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "You know that, right?"

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. "And you're everything to me," you replied, leaning forward to press your lips to his.

Mike's hands slid up your back, his fingers splaying wide as he pulled you even closer. The counter was cool against your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His kisses grew hungrier, more insistent.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss as your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. He groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a rush of heat through you. His hands moved to your thighs, sliding up and down in a rhythm that was both soothing and electrifying.

“I don't think I'll ever get enough of you" He pulled back slightly, his breathing uneven as he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough.

Heat pooled in your chest at his words, and you couldn't help but grin. "You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he admitted, his lips trailing back to your neck. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your skin before adding, "But you like it."

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head to give him better access. "Maybe I do."

His teeth grazed your neck again, this time with more intent, and you let out a sharp gasp. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his smirk returning in full force. "Careful," he said, his voice full of teasing warmth. "You make noises like that, and I might not be able to stop."

"Who says I want you to?" you shot back, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

Mike groaned softly, his smirk faltering as his grip on your thighs tightened. He let out a low laugh, shaking his head slightly. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Good," you teased, leaning in to press your lips to his. "I'd hate to make your life too easy."

With a low, guttural sound, he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he lifted you up just enough to move towards the bedroom. 

The back of his foot nudged the door closed as he stepped inside, then he gently lowered you onto the bed. His kisses trailed down your jaw, then to your neck, his lips and teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver.

You arched into him, your head resting against the soft material of the bed as his hands explored your body while starting to undress you. The sensation was overwhelming and you felt yourself growing harder under his touch.

His hands eventually drifted lower, and you gasped softly as he wrapped one hand around your growing erection. He stroked you slowly at first, his grip firm, his breath hot against your neck. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body, your legs threatening to give out under the intensity of it all.

"Mike..." you gasped, your voice trembling as his pace quickened slightly.

You're perfect. You're everything he never thought he'd have, everything he didn't even realize he wanted until now. And as he strokes you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, all he can think about is how much he wants to thank you for being here, for being his.

"You're going to have to be quiet," he murmured, his voice low and full of heat before his lips descended down onto yours.

His tongue slips into your mouth, teasing and exploring. He's still fully clothed, the hardness in his jeans rubbing against your bare skin. A grunt rumbling from the back of his throat. 

The tiredness from the long and stressful day adds a roughness to his movements.

His hands slid deeper, his fingers brushing against your entrance, making you shudder in response. He teased you, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed a little harder, pushing just enough to make you gasp and buck against him. "You want this, don't you?" he whispered, his voice low and full of need. "Tell me you want me."

You could only manage a shaky nod, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles.

His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that left you dizzy, his hands gripping your butt and squeezing vigorously. His fingers dug into your skin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth and you found yourself melting into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Mike's breathing grows heavier, his lips grazing your ear as he whispers something low and unintelligible. His hands slide lower still, resting on your thighs before he gently urges you to widen your stance. 

You comply without hesitation, knowing exactly where this is going, and the anticipation coils tighter inside you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers slip between your legs, moving slowly at first, easing you into the sensation.

You took a tight hold of the sheets to brace yourself as his fingers work deeper, prepping you with a slow, steady rhythm, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in.

Mike's fingers move with increasing confidence, the steady pressure and rhythm sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body as his fingers stretch and prepare you, ensuring you're ready for what's to come.

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further.
You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure.

His lips move to your neck, kissing and biting softly as he preps you with care. 

His hands fly quickly to unzip his jeans and free himself, the head of his length nudging at your entrance. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he pushes forward, sinking into you inch by inch. 

The sensation is overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely. The pressure is intense but there's a delicious heat that spreads through you, making you gasp as he bottoms out completely.

Mike groans softly, his forehead resting against the back of your neck as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling of him. His mind flooded with thoughts of how perfect and right this is.

Mike begins to move, his thrusts deep and steady, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel the tension coiling tight in your core, your body responding to him with an urgency that makes your mind go blank.

As he began to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. His breath came in ragged gasps as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His lips found yours once more, kissing you hungrily as his pace quickened, the desperation in his movements unmistakable. 

You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intensity of the kiss, your body arching into his as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers digging into your skin as he pushed deeper, his body moving with a rhythm that left you breathless.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your quiet gasps and his low groans. The heat is unbearable now, the need to claim you overwhelming every other thought in his mind.

And then, finally, he feels it. The tension snapping, the pleasure cresting as he reaches his release. His hands grip your hips tightly as he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you as he spills himself into you, the sensation making his whole body tremble.

As the pleasure slowly ebbs away, Mike's grip on you softens, his breath still coming in heavy pants as he pulls you back against him. He presses soft kisses on your collarbone, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he holds you close.

As the adrenaline slowly ebbed away, the room grew quieter, the air thick with the aftermath of everything that had just unfolded. The faint sound of Abby’s breathing mingled with the hum of the night outside. The tension that had once charged the atmosphere was replaced by a peaceful, almost content silence.

“You are something else,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet affection.

Chapter Text

The moment you stepped through the door, Abby's squeal echoed through the house. You barely had time to set your bag down before she came bounding toward you, her little arms outstretched. She wrapped herself around your waist in an enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking you off balance.

"You're back! You're back!" she cried, hopping on her toes as if to emphasize the sheer force of her excitement.

You laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Missed me that much?"

She pulled back, her face a mixture of indignation and joy. "Of course I missed you! You've been gone forever!" She tugged at your hand insistently, her small fingers gripping tightly. "You have to see what I did while you were gone. I drew a lot! And I made one for you and you have to see it."

"Abby, take it easy, you're going to knock him over," Mike's voice came from the kitchen, casual but unmistakably warm. "He has been gone a week and you've got him chained to you already?"

"I missed you too," you said with a grin before kneeling down to meet Abby’s eye level. "Have you been good while I was gone? Not driving your brother too crazy, I hope?"

Abby giggled, then held out her pinky. "Promise I've been super good. Except maybe when I made Mike drop the spaghetti last night because I tried to do a cartwheel in the kitchen."

You glanced up at Mike, your smile widening. “Sounds like I missed quite a week.”

Mike rolled his eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

"Sorry about her," his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "She's been talking about you all week. You'd think you were gone for months." His voice sent a pleasant shiver through you, low and steady but edged with amusement. 

"She's fine," you said, smiling. "Honestly, it's nice to be missed."

He leaned against the doorframe, the dim lighting catching the tired creases under his eyes. Black hair messy t-shirt that clung to his lean but sturdy frame. His gaze lingered on you and only now did you realize how much you had missed him.

Abby, oblivious to the silent tension, kept tugging at your hand. "Come on! I need to show you something!" Her excitement bubbled over, her small hands pulling you toward her room with surprising strength. "I drew so many things while you were gone and you have to see them all!".

You glanced over at Mike, offering him a half-apologetic smile as his sister guided you by her room. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his lips twitching between amusement and thinly veiled frustration. 

Mike's brow arched slightly as though to say, ‘Really? After a week away, you're prioritizing her?’ But he didn't speak his protest aloud. Instead, he pushed off the doorway with a grunt, muttering, "Guess I'll just... wait my turn."

The room was a kaleidoscope of colors, with crayon drawings taped to the walls, scattered across the floor and piled on her tiny desk. Abby flopped onto the carpet, pulling out a stack of drawings with the urgency of someone sharing top-secret information. "Okay, okay! Look at this one first. It's Chica but I made her of a different color."

You chuckled, sitting cross-legged beside her as she thrust the drawing into your hands. “A total masterpiece."

Her eyes sparkled at your praise. "You think so? Look at this one!" She shuffled through the pile, pulling out another one that she eagerly handed to you.

"This one is us at the park," she explained, holding up a crayon drawing of the three of you surrounded by flowers and trees. "Those two are you and Mike holding hands! I drew it because you're always together."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling a tinge of embarrassment but also a deep sense of affection. "You're quite the artist, Abby. I look amazing here. You're going to be famous one day."

Her eyes lit up at the compliment, and she beamed with pride. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you assured her, glancing at Mike. "Right, Mike?"

From the bed, where Mike had sprawled out with all the ease of a man trying to keep his patience in check, a low sound of approval erupted. He smirked at the question, his gaze flickering between you and Abby. "Yeah, kid. You've got some real talent. Be careful, though. Keep going like this and his ego's going to get too big." His dark eyes watched you intently, softening ever so slightly every time Abby smiled at you.

Abby's grin widened and she immediately dove into her stack of drawings to find more to show you. Mike's smirk softened into a fond smile as he watched her animatedly interact with you. He loved seeing you and Abby bond, though his gaze kept drifting to you, lingering on the curve of your back as you leaned forward, the way your lips quivered when you laughed and the soft glow in your eyes as you encouraged Abby. 

A part of him felt guilty for how often his mind wandered, but he couldn't stop the flood of thoughts. He knew he should focus on the moment, but his body's reaction to having you so close after a week apart was impossible to ignore.

He clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the mundane but his gaze kept wandering back to you. Your fingers brushed hers as you helped her shuffle through the pile of pictures, your laughter soft and genuine as you let her talk about her latest dream.

‘God, those hands...’ his eyes lingering on the way your fingertips moved. He didn't mean to stare, but the memory of those same hands clutching his shoulders, clawing at his back, sent a flash of heat straight to his core.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, feigning disinterest as his thoughts betrayed him. The view of the way you leaned slightly forward, the curve of your spine visible through your shirt made it ten times worse. He wondered, for the briefest of moments, what it would feel like to have you there on the floor, pinned beneath him, the softness of your moans muffled against his lips.

Abby leaned against your shoulder, holding up another picture. This one was clearly meant to be Mike, his hair a chaotic swirl of black scribbles. "This one's you, Mike! I made his hair messy because it's always like that."  she exclaimed, holding up a surprisingly decent rendition of his perpetual frown.

"It's not always messy," he protested half-heartedly. He was leaning against the bed frame, one leg propped up, his head tilted lazily against the wall. You turned toward him with a grin. "She's not wrong, though."

Mike shot you a glare, though there was no real malice behind it. "I see you've both decided to team up on me. Great. Just what I needed after a long week." he muttered. 

Abby giggled, unfazed by his grumbling as she kept eagerly pulling out new drawings she made

His eyes softened at the sight of you and Abby together. She was sitting so close to you, practically in your lap, her small hand tugging at your sleeve as she babbled on about her next masterpiece. It was enough to make his heart ache, both from the warmth of seeing you bond with her and the sharp sting of jealousy that you weren't paying attention to him.

He let his head fall back against the wall, staring at the ceiling as he tried to shake the frustration bubbling in his chest. He shouldn't feel like this. Abby was a kid and she deserved every bit of your attention. But damn it, he'd missed you. A week without you had felt like an eternity and now that you were here, he had to sit back and wait?

His fingers twitched at the memory of the previous night at work. Alone in the security office, watching the flickering monitors, the silence stretching endlessly. It had been another slow, uneventful shift, the kind that made every second feel like an hour. 

One second he was leaning against the chair, the next he got up and grabbed the nearby phone and dialed the number of the structure you were in. 

He'd called you on impulse, not even sure you'd pick up so late.

"Mike?" Your voice had been groggy but laced with concern. "It's, like, two in the morning. Are you okay?"

The sound of your voice had been a balm to his frayed nerves. “Yeah," he'd said, leaning back in the chair, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. "I'm fine. Just... bored. Wanted to hear your voice." His tone had shifted, growing rougher, more deliberate.

There'd been a pause, and then a soft chuckle. "You miss me that much, huh?"

He hadn't denied it. He couldn't. Instead, he'd let the words tumble out, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he told you how much he'd been thinking about you. And God, the way you'd responded, your voice growing softer, breathier, as the conversation took a turn he hadn't dared hope for.

By the end of it, he'd been a mess, stroking himself as your whispered moans filled his ear. He'd closed his eyes, picturing you on his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders, your body rocking against his as he thrust up into you over and over. He could still hear your voice, the way you'd gasped his name when you came. It had been enough to leave him breathless, slumped in his chair with his hand still wrapped around himself.

The memory of your voice, the way you'd whimpered his name through the phone, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him even now.

"Mike, you're not even looking!" Abby's voice snapped him back to the present. She was holding up another drawing, her brow furrowed in mock frustration.

He adjusted his position on the bed, praying Abby wouldn't notice the tension in his body, forcing a smile. "Sorry, kiddo. Let me see."

The hours dragged on, but for Mike, every second felt like an eternity. He loved how natural you were with her, how effortlessly you fit into their little world. But the selfish part of him, the one that had spent countless sleepless nights imagining your body pressed against his, was losing the fragile grip it had on its patience.

Night had finally fallen and Abby, despite her earlier determination to stay awake and keep playing, had succumbed to exhaustion. She lay nestled inside the fort she had spent the better part of the evening constructing, pillows stacked precariously, blankets draped over chairs and furniture, her breathing slow and steady. Mike had taken care to tuck another blanket securely around her, brushing her hair back gently before stepping away.

You stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with a fond smile. There was something endlessly endearing about seeing Mike in dad mode, his gruff exterior softening as he ensured Abby was warm and comfortable.

"She's out cold," he murmured as he joined you at the door, his voice low to avoid waking her. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he gently shut the door behind him.

When he turned back to you, there was a shift in his expression. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his arms around your waist in a firm but measured embrace. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his stubble brushing against your skin as his breath came hot and steady.

"Finally," he murmured, his voice husky. "My turn."

You chuckled softly, though your breath hitched at the weight of his tone. "What, you missed me that much?" You tried to keep your voice light, teasing, though your heart raced as he held you.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his dark gaze smoldering. "You have no idea." His fingers pressed into your lower back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. "No more interruptions. You're mine now."

Mike's hand never left your waist as he guided you down the hall toward the bedroom. His grip was firm but not rushed, his thumb stroking small circles through the fabric of your shirt. Once inside, he kicked the door shut with a soft thud, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

He turned to you, his eyes tracing over your face before sliding lower, drinking in the sight of you like a man starved. "I've been waiting all day for this," he said quietly, voice low and rough. "All week, really."

He leaned in and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was deep and consuming, tongue brushing yours, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

He broke the kiss only to press his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. "God, I missed you," he muttered, his hands sliding under your shirt to touch the bare skin of your back. "Every damn second you were gone, I was thinking about you."

Mike eased you onto the bed, his weight settling between your legs as he kissed you again. His hands worked your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his lips moved lower, trailing down your neck, your chest, each kiss deliberate and hungry.

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your pants, pausing for a moment to look up at you. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

He leaned down, his lips pressing against your collarbone, your chest, the soft skin of your stomach. Each kiss was hot and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His stubble grazed your skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his mouth.

When he reached your waistband, he paused, glancing up at you through his lashes. "Can I?" he asked, his voice rough but laced with tenderness.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his hands worked your pants and boxers down in one smooth motion. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but that sensation was quickly replaced by the warmth of his hands as they smoothed over your thighs.

He took his time, his gaze never leaving you as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, his stubble brushing against the sensitive skin. 

"So perfect," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his breath hot against you. "I've missed this so much."

His hands spread your legs wider as he continued his exploration, his lips and tongue teasing you until you were trembling beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his pupils blown with desire, he reached into the nightstand for the small bottle of lube you both kept there. The sound of the cap clicking open sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

He poured a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body was trembling with anticipation as you felt his hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs. The first touch of his slick fingers against you made you gasp, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you. His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection. 

"You're so tight," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near-growl as he worked you open. "God, I've missed feeling like this."

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, every touch sending sparks of electricity through you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more. 

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

His words sent a flush of heat through you, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased the feeling of his touch. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he added another finger, his movements deliberate.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "So good."

The first stretch was intense, a mix of pressure and pleasure as Mike slowly pushed inside. He let out a low, guttural sound as he buried himself to the hilt, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck," he muttered, his head falling forward against your shoulder. "So tight. Feels even better than I remembered."

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his breathing ragged as he fought to hold himself still. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice low but tender.

"It's good," you whispered, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. "Go on."

You clenched around him, drawing a sharp groan from his lips. His movements started slow, his hips rocking gently as he let you adjust. But as your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging in slightly, he couldn't hold back any longer.

Mike's pace quickened, each thrust deep and deliberate, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good," he rasped, his voice raw. "God, I've missed this. Missed you."

Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his ragged breathing and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Every movement, every touch, felt electric, the built-up tension of the past week spilling over in waves of pleasure.

Mike leaned down, his lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, "You’re taking me so well... so perfect."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove into you with a newfound urgency. His hands roamed your body, touching, gripping, as if he couldn't get enough.

By the time you both reached your peak, you were a mess of tangled limbs and breathless moans. Mike collapsed beside you, his hips stuttered, grip on you tightening as he buried himself to the hilt. His groan was deep and guttural, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you, pulling you close against his chest as you both tried to catch your breath.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his lips brushing against your temple. "Don't ever leave me for that long again," he said quietly, his voice still rough from exertion as  he tightened his arms around you, his breath evening out as he held you close.

Chapter Text

The mall was alive with a symphony of holiday cheer, its corridors decked with vibrant garlands and oversized ornaments. Strings of twinkling lights hung above, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowd. The unmistakable melody of Christmas songs played softly over the sound system, blending with the excited chatter of children and the hum of shoppers. The centerpiece of it all was the large Santa setup. A throne flanked by candy cane columns and a towering Christmas tree.

You weren't particularly thrilled to be here, especially during the chaos of the season with little demons running and screaming everywhere (Mike did such a good job at educating Abby), but when Mike had mentioned he'd be filling in as Santa, curiosity won out over your reluctance. You had to see this for yourself. 

And there he was.

Your grumpy yet irresistibly charming man, now dressed in a plush red Santa suit that seemed both too big and oddly fitting, complete with a fake white beard that looked like it had been yanked out of the clearance bin at the last minute. The white trim of his jacket framed his face, his scruffy jaw and tired eyes unmistakable even under the fluffy Santa hat. 

He looked so out of place, shifting awkwardly as kids climbed into his lap, their excited squeals contrasting with his forced chuckled. His discomfort was evident, lips twitching in what was probably meant to be a jolly smile but looked more like a grimace.

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. He was trying so hard that it was both hilarious and endearing. As the line dwindled, you hung back, blending into the crowd while sneaking glances. But your restraint faltered when a particularly loud kid tugged at his fake beard and you saw Mike wince, a look of barely contained annoyance flashing across his face. 

He looked up to see the line in from of him to calculate how much longer this torture will last and it was there that he spotted you.

For a moment, he froze, then a slow smirk curved his lips. You felt a warmth rise in your chest and your gaze darted away, feigning interest in a nearby display of ornaments. He waved the last child off with a hearty laugh that sounded suspiciously forced.

The line had finally cleared and with no more gremlins in sight, Mike stretched, the red jacket riding up slightly to reveal a hint of his toned abdomen beneath. He stood, shaking off the stiffness from hours of sitting, and caught your eye again. With a barely perceptible tilt of his head, he signaled toward the employee's room in the back of the big mall. It was the same signal he used at home when Abby was around, a subtle but unmistakable invitation. Your stomach flipped, and your feet moved.

The employee's room was quieter, away from the chaotic mall floor. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed above as you stepped inside. Moments later, Mike entered, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed, trying to collect yourself as Mike closed the door. His red Santa suit creaked softly as he moved, the fabric brushing against itself with every step.

"So, this is what it's come to," you began, grinning as you looked him over.

He let out a low groan, tugging at the collar of the red suit. "This thing is like wearing a goddamn oven. I'm sweating in places I didn't know I could sweat."

You laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. "You pull it off quite well. Maybe a little too rugged for a jolly old man, though."

Mike rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly by choice. I owed someone a favor because of you, and they cashed it in big time."

"Me? What did I do?"

"When you came back a week ago," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I asked for someone to take my shift for that day and now he asked me to take his place for this."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "It was well worth it, if you want my opinion. At least it suits you good. ‘Santa Schmidt' has a nice ring to it."

"Oh, shut up," he muttered, but his grin gave him away. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"Can you blame me? You look ridiculous," you said, gesturing toward the oversized jacket, the hat slightly askew on his head. "It's like seeing a tiger wearing a bowtie."

"Yeah? That's why you've been staring at me like that?" He shot back, one brow lifting "Got something you want to tell me?"

Your face heated instantly. "I wasn't staring!" you protested, though the words came out too quick. The way he leaned against the couch with that cocky smirk made it hard to maintain your indignation. "I was just shopping. And you happened to be there."

"Right," he said, dragging the word out as he crossed his arms, the motion causing the red fabric to stretch over his broad shoulders.

"You're impossible."

"And you're a terrible liar," he shot back, his tone laced with playful challenge. "But it's cute."

He moved closer until he sank onto the small couch, the Santa suit rustling as he leaned back. The fake white beard had slipped slightly, revealing more of his stubble and you couldn't help but notice how the red of the suit made his eyes look even sharper.

Mike patted his lap, his smirk widening. "C'mere."

You blinked. "What?"

"C'mere," he repeated, his voice low, teasing. "You've been running your mouth all day. It's time for Santa to put you in your place."

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting at the implication. "Mike-"

"I'm still on the clock. So, technically, this is official Santa business. Now, be a good boy and sit."  he interrupted, leaning back further.

You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck. "You are ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still standing there," he pointed out, tilting his head. "Too scared now? Didn't seem shy when you dragged me into your dorm room last month."

That did it. With a muttered curse, you stepped forward and settled on his lap, feeling the warmth of him through the ridiculous costume. His hands found your hips almost instinctively, steadying you as you adjusted. The position was intimate, the small space making it impossible to avoid the way his body pressed against yours.

"There,” you said, trying to sound unaffected. "Happy?". The fake beard he had was way too annoyingly long.

"Getting there," he murmured, his voice dropping as his eyes swept over your face and momentarily dropped to your lips. "Now, tell me. Have you been a good boy this year?"

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. The playful lilt in his voice and the way his hands tightened slightly on your hips made it hard to concentrate. "I guess," you stammered, unable to meet his gaze. Your hand shot up to wave down the beard he had after it went right under your nose.

"Guess?" he repeated, his tone mock-disapproving. "That doesn't sound very convincing." 

"That depends on your definition of good," you shot back, trying to regain some semblance of control. Your voice low as your hand slid up his chest. "And maybe you need to lose this beard, because it's itchy as hell." You replied, emboldened by the way his grip on your hips tightened.

You reached up and tugged the fake beard down, tossing it gently next to him and exposing more of his face. His stubble was damp with sweat, his jaw sharp and annoyingly perfect. He leaned in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smirk that softened into something far warmer, far more intimate, as his hands slid slowly from your hips to your waist, his touch deliberate and firm. "Now you're not going anywhere." 

His eyes, sharp and glinting with a heat that made your breath catch, traveled to your lips. The humor and teasing were gone now, replaced by a focus so singular it made the air in the small room feel charged.

"I never did ask you what you wanted for Christmas." He murmured, his voice low and rasping, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke, his tone carrying more weight than the words themselves. His warm breath tickled your skin, the faintest graze of his lips along your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

"I-uh..." The words faltered, your chest tightening as he tilted his head, his nose grazing along your cheek.

"Go on," he urged softly, the corner of his mouth curling as he pressed closer. The heat of him seeped through the ridiculous Santa suit, his body firm beneath the plush fabric.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly for balance as his lips trailed lower, ghosting over the line of your neck. You could feel every word he spoke, his voice rumbling against your skin. "I want to know, sweetheart," he continued, his hands sliding lower to rest on your hips again, holding you in place as you shifted on his lap.

The movement drew a low sound from him, barely audible but unmistakable, as the growing bulge in his lap pressed against your lower back. A flush of heat raced through your body, your breath hitching as you became acutely aware of how close you were, how little space remained between you.

Mike's lips found the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing lightly as he whispered, "can i try to guess, then?"

"Mike..." His name escaped your lips in a shaky breath, your hands tightening on his shoulders as his hands roamed, fingers curling around the hem of your shirt. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours as though asking for permission.

You nodded, your pulse racing, and his lips quirked into a small smile before he tugged your shirt upward, the fabric catching briefly before he pulled it free. His hands returned immediately, sliding up your sides, the calloused pads of his fingers a stark contrast to the heat of his touch.

"You look so good like this," he murmured, his voice rough and sincere as his eyes roamed over you. The Santa hat tilted precariously as he leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened.

A kiss hungry, demanding, filled with a need that had clearly been simmering for far too long. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip and you couldn't help the soft sound that escaped you as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. The suspenders of his Santa suit pressed against your thighs, and with a smirk, he used one to tug you even closer, his other hand sliding down to cup your ass.

He shifted beneath you, the hardness of his erection pressing against you unmistakably now. He groaned softly, his head falling to your shoulder as you rolled your hips experimentally, the friction drawing another deep, guttural sound from him.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. "You keep that up, and this suit's not going to survive the night."

You grinned, emboldened by his reaction and reached up to tug the Santa hat off his head, tossing it aside. "Better make it worth it then," you shot back, your voice teasing but breathless.

His hands slid to the waistband of your pants, his fingers toying with the fabric as his lips found yours again, tongue parting your lips as his hands worked to free you of your clothing. The anticipation was electric, every brush of his fingers sending sparks through your skin.

He broke the kiss briefly, his breath heavy as he pulled your pants down, exposing your ass. His hands immediately returned, kneading the flesh with a reverence that made your stomach flip. "You're perfect," he murmured, his lips trailing kisses down your neck as his fingers dipped lower, teasing along your entrance.

The first press of his finger was slow, deliberate, his other hand splayed firmly against your lower back to keep you steady. The stretch was intoxicating, his touch both careful and unrelenting as he worked you open.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice softer now, though his eyes burned with unrestrained need.

"It's not," you managed, your voice trembling as you shifted against him, seeking more. "Please, Mike."

His control snapped at your words, his fingers moving faster, lips capturing yours again as he prepped you thoroughly. The urgency in his touch was tempered by his care, the mix of sensations driving you closer to the edge even before the best part.

When he finally guided you onto him, the stretch was slow and deliberate, his hands gripping your hips as he helped you take him inch by inch. The sheer size was overwhelming in the best way, and he groaned low in his throat as he filled you completely.

"God, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough as his hands guided you into a steady rhythm. The pressure, the friction—it was perfect, every movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His lips found yours again, the kiss messy and desperate as his hands roamed, gripping and caressing as though he couldn't get enough of you. His suspenders dug into your sides as he pulled you closer, his thrusts meeting your movements with an intensity that left you gasping.

"Mike," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed closer, the heat of him overwhelming.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice a low growl as he tightened his grip on your hips, driving into you harder. "Let go for me, sweetheart."

The tension coiled in your stomach snapped, pleasure washing over you in waves as your body tightened around him. He followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, his release warm and overwhelming.

You collapsed against him, both of you panting heavily as the room spun around you. For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the fluorescent lights and the ragged rhythm of your breathing.

Mike chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around you as he leaned back against the couch. "Guess I'll never look at a Santa suit the same way again." His voice still rough but laced with humor.

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as you shook your head. "Neither will I," you admitted, your body still trembling as you rested against him.

Chapter Text

The clock on the wall ticked past 11 P.M., but Mike's restlessness filled the room like a storm cloud. He sat slouched on the couch, one leg bouncing furiously while his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze flicked back and forth between the phone on the wall and the door, almost willing it to vibrate or swing open. Abby was out for her first sleepover and the unknowns of her new friends, their parents, their house, were eating him alive. 

You knew how he got when his nerves took over, which was exactly why you were in his lap, determined to pull him out of his spiral of worries.

"You're gonna give yourself a heart attack," you muttered, your lips brushing against the stubble of his jaw as you peppered him with kisses, each one loud and insistent. His skin was warm under your touch, his body taut like a coiled spring.

He let out a low groan, somewhere between irritation and something far more carnal.

"It's not funny," he said gruffly, though his hands had drifted to your thighs, gripping them through the fabric of your pants as if grounding himself. "You don't get it. She—“

"She's fine," you interrupted, your voice soft but firm. You nipped at his jawline, smiling when he flinched and tightened his grip on you. "She's probably drawing some creepy animatronic with her new besties right now, not plotting her escape to Vegas."

"That's not—"

"When's the last time we had the house to ourselves?" you cut him off again, your lips finding the sensitive spot beneath his ear. Your tone turned teasing as you let your hips roll ever so slightly against his lap, feeling the hardness that was starting to press against you despite his sour mood. "I mean, no Abby, no interruptions..."

Mike's hands flexed on your thighs, his jaw clenching tight enough that you could see the muscle jump beneath his stubble. "You're unbelievable," he muttered, his voice rough, though the way his hands slid higher up your legs betrayed his growing interest.

"And you're stressed," you countered, leaning back to meet his eyes. "Seriously, Mike, she's fine. You need to chill."

His brow furrowed, his lips parting as if to argue, but you silenced him with a kiss all teeth and tongue, a deliberate effort to pull him out of his head and into the moment. He groaned against your mouth, his frustration tangling with desire as his hands found your hips, holding you in place even as you continued to grind against him.

"You're the worst," he grumbled, though his voice was muffled against your lips.

"I know," you whispered back, your breath hot against his skin as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, sliding your hands beneath the fabric to trace the lean muscles of his stomach.

He didn't stop you. Instead, he pulled you closer, his hands slipping under the waistband of your pants to grab your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

You ground down harder, feeling the full extent of his arousal pressing against you.

Mike cursed under his breath, his resolve cracking as he shifted beneath you, his hands deftly tugging your pants down your hips. The cool air against your skin made you shiver, but his touch was warm, almost searing, as his fingers slid between your legs.

"Shit," he muttered, his voice low and rough as he dipped his head to kiss along your neck, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "You're so—"

"Yeah," you cut him off, your voice breathy as you fumbled with his belt, your fingers trembling slightly as you worked to free him.

The moment his cock was in your hand, heavy and hot and already leaking, he let out a deep groan, his head falling back against the couch as his hips jerked involuntarily.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you stroked him, your movements slow and deliberate. "You're so fucking eager."

"Can you blame me?" you teased, your voice laced with heat as you leaned in to kiss him again, swallowing the guttural sounds he made as your hand worked him with a steady rhythm.

The first press of his finger was slow, the stretch intoxicating. His fingers moving faster, lips capturing yours again as he prepped you thoroughly, slicking you up and preparing you for what’s next to come. 

When you were finally ready, your skin slick with sweat and your body trembling with anticipation, he guided you into position, his cock pressing against your entrance as you braced yourself against his shoulders.

"Take your time," he murmured, his voice softer now, though there was a tension in his tone that betrayed how badly he wanted you.

You nodded, biting your lip as you began to sink down onto him, the stretch both overwhelming and addictive. He groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he watched you.

His head tipped back against the couch as you slowly sank down onto him, and for a brief moment, he couldn't breathe. The heat, the tightness, the sheer, overwhelming sensation of you wrapping around him had him teetering on the edge already, his fingers biting into your hips as he forced himself to stay still, to let you adjust.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. His chest heaved with shallow breaths as he closed his eyes, every nerve in his body alight. He felt you trembling against him, the way your body pulsed and clenched around him, like it was trying to pull him even deeper. His hands smoothed over your thighs, gripping tightly, his thumbs brushing over your skin in a soothing rhythm to keep himself grounded.

But then his eyes opened, and when he looked at you and saw the flushed heat on your face, the way your lips were parted as you panted, the slight furrow in your brow as you worked to take all of him with that unfiltered want mixed with the faintest hint of pain as you adjusted was enough to drive him out of his mind. 

He tilted his head forward, resting his forehead against yours. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, a quiet rasp that didn't match the burning desire coiling low in his belly.

You nodded, biting your lip as you wiggled slightly, sending a shudder through both of you. "Just...big," you muttered, your voice shaky, your breath warm against his face.

He chuckled softly, though the sound came out more like a groan. "Take your time." He said, his tone laced with something teasing, though his chest tightened at how fragile you sounded.

His gaze flicked past you for a moment, catching on a piece of paper half-finished made by Abby, the bright colors smudged slightly where she'd pressed the crayons too hard. The sight sparked a sudden, stupid thought, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.

"Do you think her friend's mom has enough papers for her?"

You froze, your forehead still pressed to his as you blinked at him, your expression shifting from confusion to disbelief.

"Mike," you said, your tone incredulous but low, strained from the stretch of him inside you. "Are you serious—" You trailed off, biting back a laugh as you rested your head against his cheek, his stubble scratching against your skin. "Can we maybe not talk about your little sister while I’ve got your dick in my ass?"

It took a second for your words to register, but when they did, his eyes widened, and he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder. "Shit. Sorry. Fuck, I—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, snickering softly as you nuzzled into him. "Just...focus, yeah?"

"Yeah. Focus," he muttered, more to himself than to you. He tilted his head, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I'm an idiot."

You were about to say something but he cut you off with a sudden upward thrust, his cock burying itself completely inside you. You gasped sharply, your words dissolving into a hiss as you clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

"Is this what you wanted?" he murmured, his voice hit your ears like a low hum, rough and frayed at the edges, his lips brushing just beneath your ear as he spoke, the huskiness of his tone vibrating straight through you.

It wasn't the overconfident dominance of someone trying to prove a point. His words carried the weight of his exhaustion, the kind of bone-deep weariness that clung to him. That rasp in his voice, that almost lazy confidence was enough to leave you breathless.

You swallowed hard, unable to stop yourself from clenching tightly around him in response, which drew a low, throaty groan from him that only made the moment more intense.

You started to move then, rocking your hips against him, finding a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands dropped back to your waist, guiding your movements, his fingers digging into your skin as he thrust upward to meet you.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his head falling back against the couch as he watched you. His hand slipped between your bodies, wrapping around your cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

Mike's grip on your hips was almost punishing, his fingers digging into your skin as you rode him, the couch creaking beneath the weight of your movements. His head was tipped back, lips parted, breaths ragged as his dark eyes stayed fixed on you.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse and strained as if speaking took all the energy he could spare. 

You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut and flushed, his length throbbing inside of you as you clenched tightly around him.

His hands tightened their hold on you, pulling you down harder onto him as his hips snapped upward to meet yours, the wet slap of your bodies filling the room. You could feel how close he was, the way his rhythm was faltering, his movements growing more frantic as he chased his release alongside you.

And then the phone rang.

The sharp, jarring sound cut through the haze of pleasure like a slap to the face, breaking the intimate barrier you'd both built so painstakingly. Mike froze beneath you, his gaze snapping toward the phone on the wall.

You let out a frustrated whine, your hips still grinding against him in a desperate attempt to regain his attention.

He didn't respond, the sound of the ringing filled the room, relentless and intrusive and you felt his body tense beneath you, his grip on your hips loosening slightly.

"Mike," your voice insistent as you leaned forward, your hands framing his face. You forced him to look at you, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, "Stay with me."

The plea seemed to snap him out of his daze, eyes refocusing on you as his hands tightened on your hips again. "Shit—sorry," he muttered, his voice low and rough, but before he could fully immerse himself back in you, the ringing stopped.

For a moment, there was silence, then, the voice of Abby's friend's mother crackled through the answering machine, her tone calm and measured as she left a message.

You couldn't make out her words—didn't want to, frankly—but Mike stilled again, his gaze flicking toward the machine as his jaw tightened. He made a muffled sound against your lips, a low groan that was equal parts annoyance and worry, and you could feel him pulling away mentally even as his body remained pressed against yours.

Your hands clutched his shoulders as you moved against him again, desperate to keep him with you. The friction was almost too much, the intensity of your own need clawing at you, and when he groaned again, this time louder, deeper, you thought you'd won.

But then he was pulling back, his movements abrupt and clumsy as he shifted you off him. "I'll be right back," he muttered, his voice laced with apology as he grunted softly, pulling out of you.

The sudden emptiness was unpleasant, your body protesting the loss as you stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless. "Are you serious?" you managed to whisper, your voice raw and incredulous.

He winced, his hand braced against the couch as he stood, his other hand adjusting himself awkwardly. "I just need to make sure everything's okay," he said, his tone almost pleading as he glanced toward the phone.

You shifted on the couch, wincing at the dull ache in your lower half from how deep Mike had been before the damn phone decided to ruin everything. With a sigh, you brought your knees up to your chest, your arms crossing defensively over them as you watched him pace to the phone on the wall.

His posture was stiff. Partially from the erection he was still sporting and partly from the mix of irritation and worry etched into his expression. You caught the faint tremor in his voice as he answered the call. "Yeah? This is Mike."

You leaned back against the couch with a huff, your head falling against the cushions as you glared up at the ceiling.

The conversation blurred into a series of muffled words as you tuned him out, your frustration and wounded pride making it hard to care.

When he finally hung up and turned back to you, his expression softened. His lips curved into a small, sheepish smile as he walked back over to the couch. "So, uh," he started, his voice low and tentative. "Abby's fine. She passed out with a crayon still in her hand together with her friend."

You hummed in acknowledgment, refusing to meet his gaze. Your arms remained crossed over your chest, your eyes fixed stubbornly on the ceiling.

"I think that woman caught up on what I was doing." He groaned in defeat as his voice dropped into that awkward, self-conscious tone you loved while he ran a hand through his hair.

You finally turned your head to look at him fully, raising an eyebrow. 

"I sounded like I'd just run a marathon," he groaned, dragging a hand down his face as if he could erase the memory. "She was definitely trying not to snicker." He trailed off, his eyes flicking to you briefly before looking away again.

You kept your gaze stubbornly fixed on the ceiling, your arms still crossed as Mike kissed your shoulder, the stubble of his jaw scraping softly against your skin while one of his hands rested on your knees. "Hey," he murmured, tilting his head to catch your gaze. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad? No," you replied, your tone clipped as you shifted your legs to make it harder for him to hold them. "I'm just thinking about how I'm going to sleep on the bed tonight. Alone."

He blinked at you, his lips parting slightly in disbelief before he let out a soft laugh. "Oh, come on. Don't be like that."

"Like what?" you shot back, your voice unintentionally sharp as you finally met his gaze. "Like someone who was left high and dry because you had to go full 'big brother mode' right in the middle of—“

"Okay, okay," he cut in, holding his hands up in mock surrender. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he chuckled, the sound warm and rough. "I get it. I suck."

"You said it," you muttered, your arms tightening around your chest.

Mike let out an exaggerated groan, leaning forward to press his forehead against your knees. "You're killing me here," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk with this?" He gestured vaguely at his still prominent erection.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite your best efforts. "I noticed," you quipped. "Pretty hard to miss when you're waddling around like a penguin."

He laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded, and the tension in the room eased slightly. His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your skin as he looked up at you with those dark, tired eyes that always made your heart skip a beat. "Let me make it up to you," he murmured.

You pretended to consider it, tilting your head as if weighing your options. "I don't know," you said, your tone light but teasing. "I'm pretty comfortable here, actually. Might just call it a night."

Mike's lips twitched into a grin, and he leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee. "Come on," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't do me like this. I'll be good. Promise."

You hummed, your arms still crossed as you feigned indifference, though the heat pooling in your stomach betrayed you. "You're gonna have to try harder than that," you muttered, your voice trembling slightly as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

"I plan to," he replied, his voice thick with promise as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep.

Mike's thumb brushed over your thigh as his other hand wrapped around your still throbbing erection, his fingers stroking the length with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. His hand was warm, his grip firm as he tugged, squeezing you just enough to make you groan softly despite your earlier resolve to play stubborn.

Your resolve cracked under the weight of his touch and you finally uncrossed your arms, threading your fingers through his hair as you pulled him closer. "You're lucky you're cute," you muttered against his lips, your voice breathless.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your chest as he pressed you back against the couch, his hands gripping your waist as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss while slowly easing you down onto the couch. His fingers curled around your thigh, pulling your leg up and wrapping it around his waist as he settled between your legs. The weight of him was grounding, his toned stomach pressing against your aching length, the happy trail there tickling you while his own erection nudged insistently at your entrance.

His hand drifted down, positioning himself with careful precision, and the heat of him pressing against you made your breath catch.

"Mike—" you started, your voice breaking on a gasp as he pushed forward, his cock breaching you with a slow, deliberate stretch that had your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He groaned low in his throat, his forehead dropping to yours as he slid deeper.

Your head fell back against the couch, your lips parted as you sucked in shallow breaths, your body trembling beneath him. "Move," you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

Mike didn't need to be told twice. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss as he began to move, his hips rolling with a steady, unrelenting rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. His cock filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was almost overwhelming, and the friction with each thrust had you gasping against his mouth.

"Fuck—" you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his with every desperate breath.

He groaned in response, his movements growing more frantic as he buried himself deeper, each thrust harder and more insistent than the last.

The weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the relentless rhythm of his hips was too much, and yet not enough. You clung to him, your nails scraping down his back as you arched into him, your own arousal trapped between your bodies and smearing against his stomach with every thrust.

Mike's hand slipped between you, his fingers wrapping around your cock once more as he stroked you in time with his movements. The combination was devastating, the pleasure building so intensely it left you gasping, your body trembling beneath him as you teetered on the edge.

"Close," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling as your walls clenched around him, pulling him even deeper.

"Me too," he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours as his pace faltered, his hips stuttering as he chased his release.

Your body tensed, your release spilling between you as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him.

Mike wasn't far behind. The way you tightened around him and the look of pure ecstasy on your face drove him to his peak. He thrust into you one last time, his body going rigid as he came, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he filled you completely.

Mike collapsed against you, his weight comforting as he pressed lazy kisses to your neck, his lips warm and soft against your flushed skin.

"Still mad at me?" he murmured, his voice teasing but tired, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing through his hair as you shook your head. "Not anymore," you admitted, your voice warm with affection.

"Good," he muttered, his lips curling into a small smile against your neck. "Because I don't think I could survive round three."

You laughed, your chest heaving with the effort, and pulled him closer, your bodies tangling together as the heat between you slowly gave way to a comfortable, drowsy warmth.