be for me like the moon… @jakeyt - Tumblr Blog

Feb 20

Covet: Chapter 14

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary: Life was good. No, life was great. Was. Until. Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture. You welcomed him into your life—your home. Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in. Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; LANGUAGE; sexual tension + tense themes; self deprecation; mentions of sad childhood; vivid memories of sexual encounters; body changes as a result of pregnancy; talks of baby + pregnancy; jealous!reader; angry!jake; possessive/territorial!jake; pregnancy hormones of multiple variety; crying; INFIDELITY; Y E A R N I N G !!!; joshua being THE FUCKING BEST; BABY KICKS <3333; touching; kissing; unprotected p in v sex; rough sex; dry humping; fingering; oral (m!receiving); post-sex v*ginal/body pain PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter 14 Word Count: 45.7k+

a/n: my favorite chapter to date. so, there's that. love you guys <3

as always, massive thank you to @joshym for being the best sister there ever was and supporting me in my writings + pursuits + listening to every time i have anxiety over my writings <3 i love you to the ends of the earth, lis. you're my person - forever + ever. <3 additionally, a BIG OL thank u to @builtbybrokenbells. you are a queen whose throne is one to be bowed at. always. you'll never understand just how much your help + friendship means to me... in this silly story, other stories, and in LIFE. ily more, canadian me <3 an ode to my wonderful, fellow ginger pal (and coffee supplier !!) @gretavangroupie for being my constant push to keep writing always, helping me in the final revisions and edits when i release my cry for help. you are a true friend + i hope you know how much i appreciate u <3 a shout out to my homie @gretavanmoon for being my daily partner in flipping shit over anything + everything jake kiszka. you're a fuckin' real one, babe. <3 and, finally, an ever-present thanks to my girl @alwaysonthemend. Thank you, my love, for always being just around the corner when i need you. you're a personal favorite of mine + you know this <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

I VERY HIGHLY SUGGEST LISTENING TO: Giving Up + A Song For You by Donny Hathaway as you read a ~certain scene~ towards the end of the chapter... you'll know when hehe (both are featured in the story's spotify playlist) ok byeeeee

Covet Masterlist

"One be covetous when he has little, much, or anything between. For, covetousness comes from the heart, not from the circumstances of life."

Charles Caldwell Ryrie

August 16, 2022

Jake’s POV

Surprising her on her shift was part of the point of my errand today, yes. But, it was also the only day this week that I could go grab the Stevie Wonder record I’d asked Josh to special order for me.

According to Josh, they weren’t ‘technically supposed to special order records’. He’d told me some shit about how it ‘goes against the owner’s morals’. . . how the older man liked to be an ‘easy-to-please customer for his suppliers’. But. . . when I’d asked Josh if he’d done it before, he’d affirmed my assumption.

If he could special order a vinyl, I could, too. Especially since it was for a particular person who’d put just as much energy into that damned store as my brother.

When I posed him with the exchange of him ordering a certain Stevie Wonder record for me and me doing any work his fuck ass car might need done, he’d agreed. We all knew that the man spent too much damn money on that stupid ass car. And, for some reason, he still refused to part with it. I knew he had a healthy enough savings account to get a new vehicle, but he was Josh. Stubborn ass motherfucker.

And I’d sacrificed my limited free time to help said-stubborn-shithead with his hell on wheels – for y/n. I’d do anything for the woman. Anything.

Josh had checked my purchase out as y/n had gone to the back room to grab a few things. He hadn’t been as speedy in the process as I wanted, instead choosing to talk my leg off about everything that came to his mind. We hadn’t been able to really talk, just the two of us, for a few days. So, I’d only assumed he was making up for lost time.

Though, I didn’t have time to shoot the fuckin’ breeze, since y/n was surely almost done in the back.

When he started on a new tangent about Sam possibly looking for a place to live, I finally interrupted him. “Can you please hurry? I have shit to do after this and you’re taking way too damn long.”

With a look that said he was judging me for daring to get in the way of his rambling, he made a show of scanning the orange record. And the stupid ass flourish of the black bag as he got it ready to slip the vinyl inside was unnecessary. But I didn’t say anything, just rolled my eyes as he pulled his overdramatic ass.

Finally handing it to me, I breathed a sigh of relief, growling out an exasperated ‘thank you’ to him as I looped the plastic around my hand. Safe and secured, hidden from her.

But, unbeknownst to me, he’d been watching me be meticulous with how I made sure the bag was closed to not let anyone get a look. And, it was just plain careless of me when I’d looked over my shoulder, in the direction of her voice behind me, as she spoke to customers.

Careless, because I should’ve known his little overly curious musing was coming. “Why so jittery, brother?” He slyly asked, my eyes popping back over to his, where I saw his brow raised in question. “Y’know. . . Y/n loves Stevie Wonder. . .”

God. Why was he pulling this shit? “Yes, Joshua, I know this. Her goddamned cat is named after the man for God’s sake.”

“And you’re buying a Stevie Wonder vinyl. . . A rare one, at that. . . Fuckin’ forced me to special order it. . .,” he pondered, trailing off momentarily. He started tapping his chin in a way that had me wanting to slap him. “Does this have anything to do with y/n perhaps?”

“What the fuck does any of that have to do with me wanting this record?” I countered, my tone a little too sharp to not be suspicious. “Maybe I just wanted a rare pressing of a classic to add to my collection. Did that happen to cross your mind?”

“It’s just. . . Quite a convenient situation, wouldn’t you say?” He smirked, as if he knew something. “A mighty funny coincidence, yes?”

Fuck. Why was he being like this? And, as her voice started coming nearer, no less. Didn’t have time for his bullshit. Scrambling so he didn’t give away my purchase to her to put me on the spot, I decided I could say something to get him off my back. For now.

“She’s my friend, Josh. I wanted to surprise her with this. I’m trying to make up for being such a prick to her when I moved in,” I reasoned, the words, thankfully, coming quick to my aid. They weren’t a lie, necessarily. . . Just not the full truth. I was hoping against hope he wouldn’t catch on. “Is it so wrong for me to try to mend a bridge with my roommate?”

“Well, you’ve been doing this shit for the past couple of months, Jake. . . First, the lavender plant drop off that I’d found placed on this desk,” he patted the desk in front of him, as if to emphasize a point. “With a note and everything. . . . Now, a pricey, unique record by her all-time favorite artist. . . . You seem to be awfully fond of y/n, no? Seems to be going past the point of being friendly. . . . To me, at least.”

Goddammit, Josh. Mind your motherfuckin’ business. Stay out of my shit.

Seriously. Why did he have to pin me with this accusation? Right now, of all times? I needed him off my back.

“Well, it’s not anything more than me being friendly, so shut the fuck up before she gets up here and hears you spouting nonsensical bullshit,” I demanded.

My jaw tightened with stress at the prospect of exposing our arrangement. Or, you know, letting her on to what I’d bought with this conversation that would do nothing but worry her. The last thing I wanted was for y/n to begin worrying over shit my lovely, prying brother was saying.

Thankfully, he’d backed off, and by the time she’d made it to the register, he’d moved on to some other ramble. Thank god.

And hours later, back home, after spending a couple of hours getting ice cream and shopping for a new, nicer pot for the lavender, I couldn’t have given two shits about where Josh’s mind was. I figured I’d covered up well enough.

We’d walked through the door to the apartment a few minutes ago, and y/n had immediately gone about getting the lavender switched over to the new pot we’d just bought on the way home.

It was only three p.m., and we had the rest of the day together — a fucking dream. I was more than looking forward to spending the rest of my day doing absolutely nothing with y/n.

Looking forward to doing nothing with her. . . . God, she was steadily becoming everything to me. She was the most incredible woman and I had the privilege of being so near to her, all of the time. The idea of sitting in an empty room, simply staring into her eyes was past exciting to me. Invigorating seemed more fitting a word.

So, once I’d safely secured the Stevie vinyl in the back of my closet, I was on my way to the kitchen to be with her — to check on her. See if she needed any help with the lavender and the new pot. Knowing y/n, she already had it pristinely potted and back in the window. . . . But, all I wanted to do was be near her – no matter what she was doing. So, I went in the direction I’d seen her last.

And, what greeted me when I entered the living room to walk towards the kitchen was a welcome surprise.

Y/n, beautiful as ever and still drying her hands on a fresh tea towel after dealing with the soil and lavender.

But. . . the best part. The part that had me stopping in my tracks, ready to fucking bust, had nothing to do with the plant or the crisp towel. No, the best part was how completely fuckin’ naked she was as she waited for me. Sitting, so prettily, with her legs crossed, on the arm of the couch.

The way the late afternoon sun shone in through the living room curtains had her skin painted with these shadowy, intricate and beautiful details of the lacy curtains. The patterns that highlighted every damn inch of her skin, combined with the golden hue on her soft, tanned skin. . . . Left me speechless.

The ethereal vision of her, as she played oblivious to my presence, with this cute, little knowing smirk on her pretty features. . . fuck. My dick took no time to respond, instantly hot with need as my blood turned molten in my veins.

This sight had me unbuckling my belt and slipping the leather through the brass buckle as I walked towards her slowly. Every step was purposeful, as I made sure to slip the belt smoothly enough from its loops. The swift swoosh sound was meant to gain her attention.

But it didn’t.

Dammit. Wanted her to look at me. . . needed those eyes looking into mine. Needed her to see what she’d done. Though, when she continued to look at her hands, swiping across them gently a few more times with that damn towel, my breaths became harsher. My skin heated and tingled with the feeling of deprivation that was simmering, just below the surface.

Instead of saying anything yet, I decided I could take advantage of the image of her, once more, before I tried my next trick.

But, I fucking couldn’t.

This little game she was playing had her arms blocking my entire view of those pretty tits. Aggravated at the lack of visibility, I let my eyes wander. Yet, when they traced the curve of her hips, all the way down to the middle of her thighs. . . I couldn’t get a damned view of the pussy I was sure I’d never get enough of.

I was quickly reminded of the way she’d crossed her legs – starving my eyes of what they wanted to devour most. And, while I could absolutely appreciate every other part of her body, I had priorities right now. If this woman was going to be naked in front of me, I was damn sure going to do something about it. She knew better than to pull shit like this and not give me what I wanted.

Done with the bullshit and ready to take advantage of the problem she’d caused in my jeans, I cleared my throat in a way that seemed to rumble from my chest directly to hers. Her face reddened, the small smile, never leaving her features as her eyes finally cast up to mine.

And, now that her eyes were on me, I noticed how her eyes instantly flitted to my hands as they worked to undo the button of my jeans. The pants were out of the way in seconds, my shirt getting stripped as I took the last few steps towards where she was perched on the arm of the couch. Her skin, so fucking smooth that it seemed to reflect every goddamn beam of light from the sun. . . Her flowing hair, doing just the same.

When I finally stood in front of her, my thighs touching her knees, her eyes found mine. The way they bored into mine showed me that she’d absolutely known it would lead to exactly this.

“Felt like giving me a little show, hm?” I asked, a hand reaching out to let my knuckles graze gently against the flushed, satin-like skin of her cheek.

She hummed, turning her face into my hand, encouraging me as she nuzzled against me enough to open my palm. I let the action bleed into the next and let the same hand move from her cheek to the hair at the base of her neck as I angled her face to look up towards me.

“Now, I’m going to kiss you. And after that, you’re going to finish what you started,” I said, my voice holding no room for her to argue with me. “You’re gonna bend over the arm of this couch and let me fuck you like you deserve.”

“And how’s that?”

I leaned down, just enough, until my nose was brushing hers, fitting her lips to mine as I spoke against them. “I think it’s your turn to wait a bit, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t even make you wait that long,” she smartly responded with a little huff, her lips grazing mine with every syllable – every petulant breath. “Practice a little patience, Jacob.”

“It’s hard to have any when it comes to you, baby,” I muttered, letting my lips leave hers, floating to her neck instead. I’d take my damn time – do what I goddamned wanted. Let her feel this irritation with me. She needed to understand. She knew how this worked.

Her body curved, so deliciously, right up into mine. Where she belonged. Those beautiful, perky tits, connecting with my skin as a groan left my chest to connect with her throat. Her nipples, showing me just how ready she was as they pressed to me. Her breaths were choppier now, her chest heaving in rhythmic thrums to communicate with my body in a way only we knew the melody.

“Jake, please,” she careened fully into me, her body molding to fit against mine from where she sat in front of me. Her thigh, slipping skillfully in between our bodies to delicately graze my damn-near aching dick.

Fuck. Yes. I’d gotten her – just where I wanted her. And it was time to show her what she fucking deserved. My mouth moved, languidly, back to her lips. She was whimpering, desperately. Needy little thing. She would never understand the way these sounds affected me.

When I was standing straight again, I kept my hand on the back of her neck. But, I let the other join on the other side of her throat, making sure she was looking at me. Fully. She needed to hear me.

“Probably best not to test me,” I said, lowly, as I raised a stern brow. “I don’t think either of us are very patient people, baby. . . You know this.”

“Yes,” she sighed, her eyes wide and trustful of whatever I had planned. She bit her lip, her eyes going from mine, to my chest, and down to where I was full on throbbing with need for her. Her delicate hand reached out to faintly touch me, the small touch, making the pulsing heat in my cock travel straight to my head. God fuck. “Let me prove to you that I know better?”

“That’s my girl.”

End of Jake’s POV

Present Day

Christmas Day, 2022

The gift you’d been most excited to give your Grandpa had been an original pressing of Stevie Wonder’s Songs In The Key Of Life. So, you’d gone in the natural order of events and gave him the socks and shirts you’d bought him first before you handed over the flat package.

He’d given you an eye when you’d handed it over to him. And you’d simply sat on your knees, hands planted on your thighs, next to his chair with a small grin and a wink to communicate your excitement.

You never failed to feel like a little girl in these moments. . . That feeling of being so excited to give her parents an ornament she’d made at school. But, for adult-you, it was always your record gifts — for your Grandpa specifically — that made you feel so anxious and anticipatory.

It helped that every year, he got just as jittery and enthusiastic — like a little boy, himself — when it came to that one flat gift he’d come to expect from you. Of course, he always knew it was a record that awaited him. And being the one to give you your love for the music you listened to, he knew to trust your choice And, every year, you relished in his anticipation. Giving him records had always been the singular time you ever got to see your Grandpa act in such a way. . . And now that his soul got so vibrant with Jake around, today felt like a double whammy as you saw his face light up for the thousandth time over the excitement for the gift.

You’d always looked up to the man. He was the first man who’d ever saved you. And he’d saved you from what you were now remembering as the closest thing to hell on earth (and you knew that was without remembering everything). When you were a little girl, your Grandpa had held the stars in the sky that twinkled with hope impending. He was the only father you’d ever known – hardly knowing your own. And he’d been a damn good father, at that. No matter how quiet, pensive, and slightly impatient he was. . . You knew that deep down, he was a sort of kindred spirit with you. For as long as you could remember, you’d inherently, naturally felt like you saw him in a way others couldn’t.

Because you saw yourself in the way he processed the world around him.

Music was just one way you witnessed this with him. Everyone knew what music meant to you – and you loved it because of your Grandpa. It was a genetic trait that you’d inherited from him, you assumed, after years of witnessing how he digested music. But, it was also due to his wondrous introduction to the ways of melody and rhythm.

He was your biggest influence when it came to music. He’d shown you the ins and outs of it – backwards and forwards – as a little girl. The older man had taught you the beauty of healthy escapism, through melodies and grooves in songs. . . . Your favorite form of art. The art form that’d rescued you, time and again, even through the most confusing years of your adolescence and adulthood.

You felt a connection with this old man, down to the deepest recesses of your soul. The part of you, where music had first come into play in the most beautiful and healing way, there he was. . . Countless memories of him and you, listening to record after record on the living room turntable. . . . From Stevie Wonder to Elton John to 90s R&B. . . He’d taught you how to hone in on that appreciation.

“You know, Plum, I was going to wait until your birthday. . . But, I feel like I have to give you this vinyl gift I’ve found for ya. . . .now,” he grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with a wink. “We can open at the same time.”

Even though your heart rate sped up at the idea of him gifting you a record (your favorite type of gift), you felt guilty at the prospect of getting one more present from them when they’d already spoiled you with their influx of Christmas gifts. “Grandpa, you seriously don’t have to do that.”

“No, no. . . I have to give it to ya, Sugs. . .,” he responded, handing you the vinyl you’d gifted him, carefully. He was sliding out of the chair when he continued. “Keep that one safe for me. I’ll be right back.” He was grunting and getting out of his chair before you could argue it any more. And once he was out of his chair, you realized how hateful you’d feel if you were to tell him to sit down. Standing up and getting around was a feat for your Grandpa these days. . . . It was something you didn’t give yourself too much time to think about, lest it break your heart that he was aging – quite quickly, as of late.

“Really, babygirl,” your Grandma started, drawing your attention to her raised brow. “He’s been on the edge of his seat waitin’ to give it to you. . . . You’ll understand why once you see what it is.”

“Is it a rare Stevie?”

“Not quite. . . He told me it’s one you used to search for endlessly as a younger girl. . .”

You wracked your brain – totally lost as to what it could be. For as long as you could remember, you’d been focused solely on getting any and every Stevie Wonder vinyl you could get your hands on. There had been a period of time where you’d searched for all types of soul, but. . . Just couldn’t remember a specific vinyl that you’d searched tirelessly for. . . . You could only hope that your reaction was worthy of the gift. Hopefully seeing it would trigger something.

For your Grandpa’s benefit, though, you’d do your best to fake it – if you had to.

As you waited for him to walk back out, you were fidgeting with your new bracelet from Elsie. . . The most perfect gift, hidden under the lid of that slim box.

It was a thin silver chain, perfectly suited for your wrist with a little lavender charm. It was such a beautiful, dainty charm. Mostly sterling silver, with the faintest tint of purple. And, the more you looked at it, the more you noticed that every beam of light in the living room was sparkling off of the pristine, practically white silver. . . And the guilt was starting to set in. If you were correct in your assumptions, this bracelet could not have been cheap. . . Which, most likely meant that Elsie had spent much more on you than you had, her. First Josh and now her. You should have assumed she’d go all out. . .

“Elsie Mabel,” you began, raising your head from the bracelet to look at where she stood with Josh and Jake in the entryway leading to the kitchen. “How much did you—?” You began, trying to keep your sights set on her and not the handsome man across from her who took over your every waking thought.

You couldn’t finish your question to her before your Grandpa gleefully made his way back into the living room.

He was making these happy little noises that distracted you, momentarily halting your train of thought. You watched him with big eyes and a wide smile, practically prancing on his toes to his chair. When you glanced over at Elsie to see if she was noticing this, she was gaping at him, her brows up in her hairline. It seemed she was just as shocked as you to see the old man, almost dancing to his seat with little ‘ra-ta-ta’s and ‘woo-wee’s.

Once he was seated back in his red chair, she left the room with a little giggle and a shake of her head, leading Josh and Jake wherever she went. Jake caught your eyes briefly, your insides turning to mush temporarily under his gaze.

But, soon, your Grandpa was clearing his throat and all of your attention was trained on the old man again. You noticed the vinyl he had for you was tucked inside of a folded sweater, rather than being wrapped. It made sense that it wouldn’t be wrapped for your birthday yet — that wasn’t until February.

But the ‘wrap’ job he’d done was endearing and it made you giggle. Looking up at him from where you sat on your knees, still, you waited until his eyes were on you again. When he was finally looking at you once more, you took a second to sit in the blip of time where you’d found yourself.

You really felt how similar he was to you at that moment. The giddiness over a record, the love for someone he greatly valued, fueling him. And his eyes — looking into them was what made your own glisten with tears. These eyes, which resembled yours greatly, though his were glassy with age and cataracts surgery. His eyes betrayed the soul beneath the surface. And, briefly, you wondered. . . maybe, after all, you were more like him than you could ever be like your mother.

And if that was the case, maybe you weren’t so bad for those around you. . . . . Maybe you were worthy of good just like your Grandpa–.

“Alright, Sugarplum,” Grandpa started, interrupting your thoughts with his little closed mouth smirk. The apples of his copper skin, rounded with excitement. “Give me that little thing in your hands, because I can only imagine what you’ve found for me. . . But, as I’m opening yours, you’ve gotta open this one I’ve got for ya. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, Gramps,” you grinned, exchanging the flat gifts with the old man.

Once you were both holding them, he counted down from three. You smiled softly, having done this plenty of times before. Then, it was on and you were going in, full force, paper getting ripped to shreds. You kept a careful eye on him, checking once you felt like he was getting close to having his unwrapped. Seeing his reaction was something you’d been looking forward to since the moment you’d grabbed it up for him at the B&G.

And once that iconically groovy, orange sleeve was out of the paper and in his grasp, his mouth opened in joy, his eyes getting huge as he scanned the cover. You knew he was looking for the little hint at what made it special. It was a known fact that your vinyl gifts for your Grandpa were almost always special pressings.

Finally, once he’d slipped his bifocals over his eyes and lifted the cover to his face, he saw that little sticker in the corner. The worn sticker, fresh from the 1970s, indicated its uniqueness. The way his face became a wide smile (rare for Gramps), with his brown eyes huge and unbelieving, you knew you’d done well. . . He was giving you the exact reaction you needed.

It was an original pressing, from the year of its release. The little sticker you’d been waiting for your Grandpa to notice indicated that it was the ultra rare, Limited Edition French Pressing. It had been one of those that you’d received at the Black & Gold that you couldn’t pass up for its value. It had definitely been a bit outside of your budget, but it was worth every penny for the way your Grandpa looked at this second.

He leaned over to your Grandma to show her, to which she responded with a little ‘wow-wee!’. She loved the record, too, for sentimental reasons that you were sure would present themselves once the vinyl made it on the player later today. . . You knew he’d be spinning it in no time.

Aside from the uniqueness of the vinyl, it was just a good fuckin’ record. It was a classic for a reason. Songs In The Key Of Life was a staple to all true music listeners. And, as a Stevie Wonder fan, it was, in your opinion, the Elite album of all his others. The record was a go-to conversation starter for you, with customers at work and as you got to know someone. The record was legendary. Couldn’t miss an opportunity to listen.

“Thank you, Suga,” your Grandpa said, tone so calm and collected. That deep gravel in the undertone of his voice, one you’d always cherish. His voice had led you out of countless fearsome scenarios.

All you did was squint your eyes with a broad smile, proud of yourself. You winked at him before going back to your own, sweater-covered, gift. Your task didn’t take as long as his had, since all you had to do was slip it out of the fabric. So, you closed your eyes to add emphasis to the sentimental moment. And once you could tell it was fully out of the material, you kept your eyes closed as you leaned over in the direction of your Grandma to hand her the deposited sweater.

“You goofball,” she joked with a snort identical to Elsie’s. “Open your stinkin’ eyes. You’re going to love it, babygirl. Gramps swore you would.”

You truly were dying to see what the man was so stoked about. The only part you were dreading was not knowing why it was special. Your childhood was so clear in some aspects, but in others, not so much. . . A lot of the instances that’d happened near the time that you’d come to live with your grandparents had long been lost in the wind. As you opened your eyes, you first looked at your Grandpa. He was chewing his lip, waiting on bated breath to see your reaction. Heart racing, you finally glanced down at the piece of history in your lap.

And, instantly, you knew.

Holy fuck.

Donny Hathaway’s self-titled vinyl.

As a little girl, you’d had this fascination with his music. It had started the summer after you’d come to live with them. Your grandparents had both been anxious to bring as much joy as they could to your life and Elsie’s. And while your Grandma had helped Elsie find an escape in cooking, your Grandpa had kickstarted your obsession with music.

You couldn’t forget this record. But, somehow the memory had been lost on you until this moment.

You’d seen this Donny Hathaway by Donny Hathaway record in a store window while out with your Grandpa on an errand.

(It had been an emergency ingredient run for Elsie and Grandma’s dinner of choice that evening — so long ago. You hadn’t even driven to a grocery store, you’d walked — on hurried feet — to the corner market with your Grandpa.)

You could still remember the soft purple color of the ivy hat he’d been wearing. His favorite style of hat. And, he’d worn that particular purple hat into the ground that summer.

. . .That thought made you pause for a few seconds.

The purple stitched into that hat, very similar to that of a certain plant you loved very much. . .

And, considering how that hat was associated with some of your first fully positive memories. . .

No way.

You knew the human brain was a fucking weirdly intricate place. And, you had a feeling, deep down, that the color of the plant alone might have brought a sense of comfort with seeing the color in your kitchen window on a daily basis. . . Why you’d wanted it in your apartment in the first place. . .

You’d have to come back to that later.

But, that evening, you’d asked him about it when you got home. You’d been anxious to understand every in and out of music that you possibly could. And, he’d fucking illuminated at the idea of getting to show this ‘under-appreciated’ artist’s music to you for the first time. He’d pulled out his Extension of a Man vinyl, almost tearing the worn inner sleeve with how excited he got to put it on.

And, the instant your Grandpa had played “Someday We’ll All Be Free”, you’d known. You’d known that music was truly magic. It was a vast canvas of possibility to travel to other worlds. Music was a sort of intricately designed machine that could transport you to places all over space and time. Music created the ideally orchestrated rhythm that had shown you that life had bright meaning, beyond the dark scenes that had overruled your life until that point.

As your Grandpa had swung your lanky, sun-kissed, freckly ten-year-old self around the living room doing a sort of swing dance to “Flying Easy”, you’d felt hope sprout in your little heart for the first time.

The next day when you’d explained to him what you’d seen in the little shop window, he’d exclaimed with a ‘well then, what are we waitin’ for?!’. Instantly, you were leaving Elsie and Grandma in the garden as you left the house with excitement rushing through your veins to have your own little piece of hope. But, sadly, when you’d made it to the store window that afternoon, the record had been swiped by another customer.

And you remembered, clear as day now, how for nearly two years, you and your Grandpa, individually and together, had searched for this vinyl. But. . . You’d never found it. It hadn’t ever even landed at the B&G, either. . . The longing to look for it, having stuck around in the back of your mind. . . But the importance as to why you were looking for it had become lost in the shuffle of disastrous self-healing. . . And, simply time itself.

Taking your lack of words and stilled body as a sign that you weren’t remembering its significance, you heard your Grandpa begin to speak.

“You probably don’t remember this, Plum, but we looked for that thing for a minute,” he laughed to himself.

Your eyes glanced up to show him your rapt attention and the wetness that was hastily gathering in your tear ducts. “Grandpa,” you began, sniffling. “I—I can’t believe. . . You found it. After all this time,” you gasped.

The feeling of fulfillment took over and the smile that adorned your face was unshakable. And, suddenly, you were really wishing that Jake, Elsie, and Josh hadn’t gone off to do their own thing in the kitchen. You wanted so badly to share this entire story with Jake. . . But, maybe it was right that it was just you and Gramps.

“I’m finally holding Donny Hathaway by Donny Hathaway in my hands. . .,” you said, a tear falling to collide with the vintage, fading cover. But, where you normally would have cringed at that, you didn’t now.

At this moment. . . It seemed symbolic that the tear might collide with the found piece that encapsulated the cherished memory all on its own. You ran your fingers, nimbly, over the papery cover, at the same time that two more tears left your eyes. One droplet, landing on the cover again. And the other, falling to land on your white sweater, just at the top of your bump, temporarily staining the material.

“Y/n. . .Plum. I gotta tell ya,” the man began again, your tear-filled eyes instantly finding his. The irises, replicating yours across from you. “I never stopped looking for that darn vinyl,” he laughed a bit, shaking his head. “But. . . I’m glad I kept on ‘a searchin’. . .,” he continued before his eyes became serious with the following words, once more catching yours.

“Because, babygirl, special little things that catch our heart’s eye — they really are worth holdin’ onto until they’re secure in our hands.”

As soon as “Knocks Me Off My Feet” came on, you knew that it would result in this. . . The melancholic moment between your grandparents was a given. When they’d decided to slow dance to the song, you watched on with nothing but overwhelming love in your heart.

A grin rested upon your lips, tears threatening as you tapped your foot to the beat and sang the lyrics under your breath. Memory upon memory came trickling in as your Grandpa sang the words, aloud, to your youthful, yet fully- white-haired Grandma. He was an incredible singer, still, and your Grandma blushed as he sang the lyrics over her. And when he dipped her, your Grandma’s little laugh was reminiscent of one you figured she’d worn when she first fell in love with him.

This song had become “their song” since its release in 1976. You’d been told this through countless stories as you’d grown up. As a young girl, you’d wanted nothing but what they told in their stories. Wanted to know all you could about the two people who were more like parents than grandparents.

You could remember the first time your Grandma had explained it. Only a little girl at the time, you’d wondered out loud why there were tears in her eyes as this song had come on the radio in her kitchen. And, she’d continued cutting angels into the Christmas cookie dough as she’d told of the night he’d sung it to her for the first time — ‘years before you’d ever come to be’.

Even as you’d lived a hopeless life with your mom and sister and only got to see your grandparents on the big, food supplying holidays, you found a sense of joy in that moment. A joy you hadn’t known existed. A joy that’d come alive in the confines of those stories of times long ago.

The love in those tales had seemed so much like a fairytale. It had seemed impossible to understand that type of love, then. But you got it now. You understood feeling that deeply for someone. You even had a certain song you shared with that someone. A song that resonated a touch too well with your heart, if you were being honest. . . And, if things were different, you’d get to dance to it with him in a sentimental way. Just like your grandparents got to, with each other.

And while it wasn’t unique to have a ‘song’ you shared with your lover, this was different. Yes, many couples, past and present, had ‘that one song’. . . However, this someone you shared your song with had never been your ‘someone’. Never a couple.

The summer fling had been just that: a fling. Yet, it continued to feel as though it had been so much more — even more than a relationship. It’d been something unspoken and unique that you two had shared. . . A sense of serenity in his company, as you shared your time, music, and bodies with the other. . . The connection rivaled a nuclear, stereotypical relationship.

The pull to look over at him was so fucking strong. You couldn’t stop yourself when you let your eyes wander to him. He was standing at the entryway to the hallway, leaning against the archway that led to all of the other rooms in the quaint little home. You were across the room from him, right outside of the kitchen. The pies had been awaiting your eyes to check on them when your Grandpa began to queue up the album you’d bought for him.

You knew you couldn’t miss the moment that you’d known was bound to happen between your grandparents. These two elderly people had shaped everything good from your childhood – they’d given you safety after having none for so long. They’d done that job so incredibly well. . . And, it was almost as if a torch had been passed when Jake came along. Without you even realizing it, your Safe Haven had become an entirely different place. A new person.

And, thankfully, when you glanced his way, the man who provided it wasn’t looking at you. He didn’t catch you. Instead, he was talking to Josh quietly about something. They were laughing over a shared joke, it seemed, as their eyes glinted at one another in a mischievous sort of way, then at Josh’s phone.

The Kiszka twins were two of the best men you’d ever met. Right up there with your Grandpa, in fact. And that was saying something. These two. . . Your best friend, and his brother, who now happened to be the father of your baby. These men, who’d opened your heart in a way you’d believed impossible until recent years.

The smile that clung to your lips upon watching their interaction was natural and made your entire body feel warm with hope and a sense of everlasting home. Because, on top of their sweet interaction, you also saw your sister. The first person you’d cherished more than life itself. . . Your first person. Her face read the same contented, peaceful emotion yours did as she watched your grandparents laugh together – in their own little world.

All of these people, you loved so much, in one place.

A hand floated to your tummy – a gentle, serene reminder that there was an additional person who would, one day, be a physical part of the entire scenario, too. A giggling, bouncing, joyous baby girl who would be the most enchanting cherry on top of this group of people. Though, at the same moment you let your mind wander to Lav, it seemed Elsie’s mind wandered to Josh.

You saw her look back at him once before she was pulling him away from Jake, grasping her boyfriend’s arm to join her in the middle of the living room with your grandparents. The two instantly began to sway to the music as well, their eyes filled with a combination of stars and hearts that had your chest aching for the same.

Once again, the longing for Jake was overwhelming and you were letting your eyes trail over to him. And, to your sweet surprise, he was already watching you. You felt your entire body flame as his dark irises took you in.

And while you wanted to stand there and stare at him — get lost in him — you knew you couldn’t let yourself get so obviously entranced by him. The romantic song, combined with the display of affection that you were surrounded by, was simply too much for your heart at the moment.

Your feet were momentarily glued to the floor, as his eyes began to nestle deeper into your own irises — through to your heart, communicating feelings beyond words. Though, rather than returning the look, you did what you did best and fled the still moment.

The kitchen was waiting on you.

You’d had the self-delegated task before the dancing had begun. You had to check the pies. There were more important matters at hand than getting ridiculously lost in the tresses of Jake Kiszka’s enigmatically beautiful stare.

In the kitchen, the air was clearer. Crisp, cooler, calm. . . In comparison to the stuffy and lively living room. No longer was there warm air stuck in your chest. In fact, the amount of deep breaths you were able to take helped you to clear your mind. . . Even if the love song and sweet laughter still trickled through to the kitchen, you were away from Jake. . . The man who personified your heart’s greatest desire.

God. Ridiculous.

The pies were almost done. So very near the point of completion. Only about ten minutes. The overwhelmingly appetizing aroma of cherries, blueberries, and homemade pie crust infiltrated your senses. You reset the timer for about nine minutes, just to be safe. You closed your eyes in delight, taking a moment to enjoy, by yourself, as the lovely (and depressing) display of love took place in the room right next door.

After a minute or so, though, you heard boots clicking against the hard wood of the kitchen floor. Boots you’d recognize that specific click of anywhere.

You relaxed at the idea of him being near. The ecstatic energy was dominating. Being in his presence again, after a couple days of being completely distanced from him. . . . It truly was like a puzzle piece was being clicked into place. Your heart, lighting up, beating in your chest, all the way to the pit of your throat was a striking indication of this.

The mere sound of him sighing and settling behind you made your heart rate settle and increase, all at once. You’d come to find that he had that strange effect on you. Without even turning your back from the oven yet, you could imagine him. You pictured him, leaning against the kitchen island or something. . . From the little sigh he released, it sounded as though he was easing against something.

Just the two of you, in one room. And he was only feet away from you. Inches, really. . . The simple knowledge of his nearness was so relieving.

Then, his voice. God. Your favorite sound. With a slight laugh, he began. “I’m assuming you didn’t want to partake in that sickeningly cute display of dancing in there?”

A sad smile found its way to your lips. You didn’t turn to look at him. You swiveled on your heel – just a bit – to face the kitchen window above the dining table. It was safer. Safer than looking at him and getting all sad as you continued to hear Stevie proclaiming the words “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over again, from the living room.

You imagined the sweet, sweet dancing. . . And the only person you wanted to dance with. . . Who was now speaking to you. Seeking you out, for the second (or would this be third?) time in a single day.

“Don’t have a someone to dance with,” you replied, eyebrow raising as you took in the gorgeous rusty glow of early evening settling over the familiar, quiet, and quaint Valley Stream, NY.

His lack of response had you feeling real stupid for pointing out the obvious. . . So, you went ahead and decided it best to point out the other glaring matter at hand. “Jake—,” you began, your voice catching on his name. You softly closed your eyes and looked down once more. You wanted to gather your thoughts before you gathered the strength to look at him. “. . .I’m sorry they don’t know it’s you.”

He took a few moments to respond. And your heart rate picked up, your skin heating with shame and self-consciousness. Though, before you could ponder your inner thoughts much longer, he was speaking again.

“It is up to you what they know. You are the one doing all of the work all day, every day,” he said, reassuring you with his gentle tone.

Your heart rate slowed to normal for the first time in hours. He didn’t sound mad. . . At all.

“However. . .,” he countered, continuing. “Whenever she’s here, I think it’s going to be obvious when I finally get to help you with the heavy lifting. . . What I want is to be around all of the time – involved. . . You know, there, right beside you. . . Caring for our little girl alongside you. . .,” he cleared his throat, and you did your best not to show your emotions regarding his words. He was making your heart yearn for something that you wanted – so badly. “I just — I have a feeling you’ll have to explain it to them at that point,” he finished with a small, huffed laugh.

Your eyes pricked with tears at the thought, wanting that reality right now.

“To begin with. . .,” you began, clearing your own throat of any leftover emotion. “If I have my way, there will be no denying she’s yours. I hope it’s obvious. . .,” you let your eyes float up to his finally, catching the sparkle in his golden irises that you wished for Lav. Your grin fell a little, though, as the guilt still ripped at you at the thought of her inheriting his traits – all while you left him out of the picture. “But–Jake. I promise they will know way, way before then. . . Don’t lose all faith in me.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything, y/n,” he grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. That was, before his dimples pressed a little further into his cheeks, with a soft roll of his eyes. “And I haven’t lost any faith in you, babydoll. I promise that.”

“Well. . .,” you sighed, brushing a hand through your hair as a blush stained your cheeks at the pet name and reassuring words. “I know I don’t have to. I want to reassure you of that, though. You are very much her father and I want them to know that. It just – it hasn’t come up yet. . . It’s on me, completely. Obviously,” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched at your over explanation. Come on, y/n. . . “I just. . . Uh, haven’t quite figured out a way to explain the thing we had going on in a ‘PG’-way. . .”

He snorted at that, looking down as he swiped a hand over his chin in thought. There was pink coloring his cheeks, indicating he was either reminiscing on past times or simply feeling joy with you again.

You watched him for a minute. And even when he made eye contact with you once more, you didn’t quit. Wanted to match his gaze, now. . . wanted him to see you. . . . to understand. You found comfort in his eyes, now that things had settled more between you. First time since the phone sex that everything felt okay.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told them,” you finished, repeating your sentiment, yet again.

“Y/n. Please, baby, don’t be sorry,” he insisted, rounding the corner of the island towards you. Your heart began beating in your ears at his anticipated nearness. The moment moved in slow motion. Then, he was right in front of you and continued his prior command. “Please. You don’t need to feel sorry for anything.”

His hand came up to hold your cheek for a brief moment, his eyes connecting with yours as the palm of his hand cupped your jaw. His eyes held fire, setting your body alight with tender flames. They licked your cheeks, making you blush at the intensity of his stare.

The calloused pads of his fingers grazed over the crest of your cheek, right on your cheekbone. The hand moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, softly running his fingers through your hair, your body shivering at the delicious chill that ran up your spine and down to your toes at your hair being played with so carefully. Felt so good. Then, after brushing it behind an ear, he was adjusting the hair just so, over your shoulder, to fall smoothly down your back.

He let the first hand fall, his eyes following it as he grasped your forearm in a steady grip. And, just as you began to miss the feeling of his hand on your cheek and in your hair he was doing the same to the other side of your face with his opposite hand. But the right hand didn’t do what the left had done by holding your arm. . . no, once he was finished, both hands went to its own front pocket of his black jeans.

“Do you understand me?”

Fuck. You wanted to say ‘yes sir’, but you denied the urge – knew you shouldn’t. He hadn’t continued that text conversation for a reason. You knew. And you’d be damned if you added any unnecessary stress for him. Not with the way he looked this morning and last night. So tired, the circles under his eyes so dark and jaw clenched. . .

But. . .Damn. Even in present time, as he stood in front of you, he continued to observe you. Just as he had this morning. Although, there was no wettening of the lips this time. And for that you were very grateful. You were already struggling with his incredible sandalwood, amber, and vanilla scent wrapping around you at his closeness. His eyes continued to drown in yours. You couldn’t look away.

You shifted from one foot to the other, subtly, to get more comfortable. Why the fuck was all of this working against you and making your damn panties wet? In your grandparents’ kitchen, no less! You were trying so damn hard to stay logical and composed in the face of your inner confliction. Why did he have to make this so difficult? All of it, always so difficult. Why?

You know why, y/n. . . You know, said the knowledgeable and comforting voice in your mind. Don’t be afraid to feel it.

But you were. Right now, you were afraid. So, all you muttered in response was, “I understand.” Your gaze, never leaving his.

“Thank you,” he replied, voice gravelly as he edged closer. . . . the movement was very slight, but it had been enough for his chest to now be nearly touching yours.

“Oh, Jake, no. . .,” you sighed, just as his chest made contact with yours. “Thank you. . .for being so—,” your breath caught in your throat at his exhaled breath that allowed his chest to temporarily graze yours — in a way that sent butterflies spinning in your belly. “So patient with me.”

Things got worse as he pushed against you further, just enough for your nipples to respond in delight. Fuck. No. Not here. Not now.

So, as much as you didn’t want the moment to end, you blinked to gain some sort of traction. If anything were to happen in the kitchen, it would be foolish. Someone could walk in at any moment. And that would be quite the way to have to explain to your grandparents the connection you shared with this man.

. . .And, further, have to figure out a way to explain how the baby in your belly was a result from said connection.

But something must’ve clicked for him, too. Because, when you opened your eyes, he was stepping back. The disappointment you felt licking at your heart was bothersome, but you ignored it. He was right for backing up. You were right for trying to end the moment.

“What you said before, y/n. . . It’s not all true, you know,” he began, breaking the silence. His voice was pitched just a tad lower.

His tone made your cheeks heat, but before you got too tied up in him, you softly grinned — didn’t know what he was talking about. “What did I say before? I can’t remember. . . Pregnancy brain, lots of emotions about everything. . . Hard to keep up these days.”

“Yeah. . .,” he breathed a laugh, reaching out and laying an open palm on the island countertop. “No, but you said that you didn’t have someone to dance with. . . I was going to tell you, before you started apologizing. . . You do have someone to dance with. You always will have that — with me.”

It was, in theory, a sweet thing to say. But— it wasn’t true. And your heart hammered in your chest at the thought, heat engulfing your skin in irritation.

“Jake, you know just as well as I do that that isn’t the truth. . .,” you trailed off, crossing your arms across your chest to stay firm on your point. “You’re with—.”

“No matter who I’m with, y/n. You’ll, at the very least, always have a friend in me,” he said, the word ‘friend’ piercing your chest.

“‘Friends’. . .,” you scoffed the word without thinking, the term falling off your lips. You hated the term, quite frankly.

“There’s more to what I was implying, y/n. . .,” he remarked, coming closer, leaning back against the island, right next to you.

And, the way he crossed his feet at the ankles and leaned easily against the island. . . It had you wanted to chew a fucking head off. He wasn’t your someone. Seriously — emotional was an understatement these days.

“I can’t care about the implications, Jake,” you snapped, outwardly sighing deeply from your chest. You shook your head as you looked down to your socks, padding your toes on the kitchen floor. The beat of “Summer Soft” filtering in from the living room — it was too catchy not to tap it out before you were turning back to check the pies.

“Y/n, you know that I’ll always—.”

Without a second thought, you were spinning on your heel and pinning him with a stare. You couldn’t hold back any longer. Looking into his eyes, the moment, the song. . . The honesty was pushing at your lips, begging to be heard. You’d done so well this morning. All day long, in fact. . . But not anymore.

“No, Jake,” you insisted, staying strong as you lost a single breath at the sight of him. You had to pause briefly as you looked into the eyes you loved so dearly. But when his mouth twitched to speak, you stopped him. “You won’t always. Stop. Please. You can’t—do what you did on Friday, then ignore me all day yesterday, reject me last night, and then say you’ll always be this or that for me. Not when you’re obviously that for her. First and foremost. Everyone fucking knows it. So, please.”

“Who did I choose to spend Christmas with?”

That didn’t fucking matter to you right now. Nor did it matter when his ass leaned a little further into the kitchen island, pressing deliciously against it. Fuck. Stupid fucking islands. You despised the other memory associated with him and your goddamned island. Him, moaning. Maya, on her motherfucking knees.

Jesus fuck. Of course that was what was coming to your mind. Well. . . Might as well address that while you were at it. Made sense.

“Okay, yes,” you momentarily relented, crossing your arms at your chest. “That’s fair, sure. But—don’t you worry, Jake,” you began, push back. “I haven’t forgotten how you spent the last national holiday.”

His brows furrowed, confused. “Friendsgiv—?”

“Oh, no no, Jake,” you smirked, no humor at all in your tone. And his raised brows indicated he knew exactly where this was going. The way his mouth had formed into an ‘o’. “I will never forget how thankful, grateful, and blessed I felt on Thanksgiving to come home and see Maya on her knees for you in our kitchen. Happy Thanksgiving to me. So, thank you, Jake, for not making me bear witness to that again. Thank you so much for choosing the road less traveled today.”

“You’re not the road less—. . . God,” he began, a growl taking over before he mirrored your stance. Crossing his own arms across his chest as his heated stare danced with yours.

Neither of you said a word for a couple of minutes. It was long enough that you started to feel your heartbeat in a way that was threatening more need for the man. So, you’d taken that bodily response as an excuse to look away. You bent to look in the oven, opening the door a bit to get a good look. You blew your hair out of your face.

Before you could turn back to him, he’d decided to begin speaking again. And as much as you wanted to outwit him again, you didn’t. You loved his voice too much. You’d missed it. Needed to hear him.

“No matter what, y/n, you will always be someone I want to dance with. . . No matter who we are with. You are and will always be special to me,” he’d insisted. Finally you turned to him once more, not even trying to mask the look of sadness evident on your features. He could see it. You weren’t going to hide your facial reactions when you’d just bit his head off. “Baby or not, you changed me. You helped me heal. . . and that is never going away. No matter how much we hurt each other or how many people come between us.”

You were at a loss for words. Didn’t know what to say to all of that. Your heart was already threatening to break through your chest and land at his feet.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind that you weren’t ready with a response. He began an entirely different subject. “I. . .,” he started. And, you knew, with the way he was trailing off that he was waiting for your eyes to meet his.

But you weren’t ready to look at him. Couldn’t.

Still, though, even without your eyes, he kept on. “I fed Stevie before I left. Figured you might want to stay here with your family until later tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed, eyes watering at his gentle gesture. Why must you do such kind things, Jacob?

“Thank you,” you grinned, bashful as your eyes remained glassy. “That was really sweet and thoughtful of you. I appreciate it,” you grinned, your cheeks undoubtedly hot pink at the thought of his kindness. “I’m—um—really happy that you came today,” you said, clearing your throat before looking over at the oven timer. Only a couple minutes left. But you wanted longer in here with him. . . Damn it. “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you myself, but I just thought you’d be with. . .”

His eyes floated over your face, brows dipping. Thinking — considering your words.

“Yeah, no. . .,” he awkwardly huffed a laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck. He messed with his hair, fluffing it a bit. He was obviously nervous by all of the feelings transpiring. . .but. . . so were you. “Also, your present is at home,” he quietly said, the space between you filling with something you couldn’t put a finger to. “I wanted to give it to you when it was just the two of us. . .”

Jake getting you a Christmas present was not something you’d been expecting. . . The idea that he’d done so made your chest heat. He’d thought to get you a gift? Just as you had for him? Maybe he had meant half of the shit he’d said. . . The back and forth was just beginning to wear you down.

Not that you had much room to talk. . .

“I actually left yours at home, too. . . ‘S sitting in the corner of my room,” you replied, your cheeks hot under his dark gaze. Your eyelids fluttered as you went to rub your belly. Briefly, you remembered the frame from that store. “Is my gift that frame we found?”

“No, silly. . .,” he grinned, walking towards you once more to meet you. He reached his thumb to brush the apple of your cheek. “That was for Lav, remember?” Suddenly, his voice got lower and his eyes hooded as he kept your eyes locked with his. “You, sweet girl, have got your very own gift. . .”

Thankfully, the timer to the oven went off just in time, making you jump. The sudden action was enough for his hand to drop and for your line of sight to go from him to the stove. The blinking 00:00 was telling you to cut it out.

You cleared your throat, nervously pulling at your sleeves before you looked at him from the corner of your eye. “Can you help me with the pies?”

“Of course, babydoll.”

Fuck. Of course, he had to say shit like that that left your heart pounding in your ears. Even after he’d helped you set the few pies out on the stove, your head was in the clouds.

And as you made your way back into the living room with him following behind you, you were feeling such a sense of calm at how you’d mended things in that short span of time. . . You wanted to sink into him and keep working on things. But, was that risky? Scary? Impossible to fix everything?

When you made it back to the living room, the dancing was over and your family was sitting around enjoying their gifts. Josh and Elsie, giggling to themselves as your grandparents admired the scrapbook Elsie had put together for them. It made your heart so warm, the feeling too peaceful to not sink into.

All of your favorite people in one place. That especially applied to the man behind you and the little one within you. It was second nature at this point to place a hand on your tummy in moments like this, so you did just that.

Although, when you glanced behind you to gauge Jake’s reaction to the serene moment, he was furrowing a brow as he read the screen of his phone he was now holding in his hand. His jaw was clenching once more as his fingers made a few swipes. Just like this afternoon, his face was hard.

You didn’t want to gain his attention, though. No, his attention to his screen only proved your lack of importance in comparison to the woman he’d decided to love when you broke him. He was so immersed, looking at the screen. Before you knew it, he was walking away with it held to his ear.

You didn’t have to guess who it was. And, unfortunately, he was already answering it as he left the room. Your line of sight stayed locked on him as you watched his retreating form, broad shoulders tight under his sweater. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on, My?”

Where you usually would have leaned into the music playing around you, you couldn’t even do that in your bitter state. Because, of all songs, “Ordinary Pain” was playing. The lyrics were perfect for the current, tangled mess of your heart. . . the song was just resonating a bit too perfectly for your taste.

Don't fool yourself

But tell no one else

That it's more than just

An ordinary pain

In your heart

You hated how much this sad fuckin’ love song resonated with your broken heart. And, the smile you forced as you sat beside Josh and Elsie was so fake — all you wanted to do was scream into a void.

When you catch up

But she says goodbye

Hold back your tears and before you start to cry

Say you feel unnecessary pain. . .

In your heart

Seriously. Who in the fucking fuck gave ‘Little Stevie Wonder’ the right to narrarate your broken heart?

Jake’s POV

Her hair still smelled the same as it did all those months ago. Coconut, vanilla, a hint of strawberries. . . and something so warm and distinctly her. . . but it was a little different now.

Heady and intoxicatingly sweeter. Thanks to her growing our baby, her body was going into hyperdrive and making her more. Apparently, in every way — even her smell. And taste. Goddamn — the taste. . .

The past few days had been fucking torture. . . because all I’d been able to imagine was her. Me, inside of her. Whether it be my tongue, my fingers, or my dick. . . I’d imagined all of it. Had wanted to fulfill all of those thoughts and needs when I got home. . . But, unfortunately, last night had not ended up the way I’d wanted it to.

I’d fallen asleep with tension all the way from my head to my fucking toes. And, even though I’d fallen asleep (literally) as soon as I’d hit the covers of my bed, I’d woken up stiff. All of me, hurting. My head, throbbing with the way my neck hadn’t eased at all throughout the night. . . Somehow, my neck and back had been worse when I’d awoken. Like it’d had time to settle in all of the places it’d wanted to make me suffer the most.

Thankfully, it’d dissipated a while after I’d taken a few ibuprofen as I’d enjoyed a nice cup of orange juice, after waking up. And, as I’d leaned against that counter with the worst headache known to man, massaging my forehead. . . I’d heard her. Those keys. In the dish. She’d tried to be subtle and silent, but it’d failed. She'd had a one track mind, focused on getting to the door. She hadn't noticed me, probably still assuming I was asleep. But, I'd been very much awake - feeling guilty as fuck, as I'd observed her. Though, seeing her had also made everything better - even more than the ibuprofen. Even if my head had still been hurting, laying eyes on her — glowing and more gorgeous than I’d ever seen her — had been a fix my body had needed to ease up.

She made things easier. My bones and muscles, loosening for her. . . Felt so safe around her. No matter her unpredictable emotions, I felt at home in her presence. Love. That was what I felt. An all-consuming and reassuring love — a feeling that made me see the light. All brought out in y/n.

I regretted the night before. . . how it had been left with me acting like an asshole when she’d only been excited to see me. I had let her down, not at all doing what I’d promised I wanted to do. Because of my exhaustion over all of the Maya shit. I’d felt guilty all around. Guilty towards Maya and being annoyed by her. And guilt towards y/n for not giving her all of the attention she was owed from me. All of my attention, ever, could be given to her and I wouldn’t regret it.

But. It couldn’t be like that. I had a girlfriend. Fuckass situation. And I’d felt every bit of that fuckass shit boiling to the surface that morning. Upon looking into y/n’s eyes, in the daylight, and knowing I had cheapened an opportunity we’d both been waiting for. . . I’d fucked her over so many times within the past couple days. . . I wouldn’t blame her for not wanting me anymore. I’d used her. Yanked her around. Stood her up.

But this minute, this scene. . . The way she laid with me, everyone else having slinked off to bed at the later hour.

Y/n had been the first to fall asleep, but she’d made no move to leave the room like the others.

I knew her well enough to know her desire to be present with the ones she loved. Quality time was a love language of hers. And tiredness was not going to get in the way of that – time with the ones she cared for most came before any heavy eyelids.

I had noticed in recent times that she got tired much easier than before, the task of making a human life, physically taxing in a way I’d never understand. In a way that made me want to wrap her up and possibly feel any of it with her to take some of the weight off.

I’d gotten to help take some of the load off – the tiniest bit when she’d let sleep take her a couple of hours ago. Her body had already been leaning into mine before she’d gotten sleepy. But when she dozed, the first place her head landed was on my shoulder. That was when the smell of her hair had infiltrated my senses, captivating me. Wrapping around me like a warm hug – familiarity in the most genuine, beautiful sense.

At her bowed head on my shoulder, I’d moved my arm, up and behind her to accommodate her soft, sleeping form. She hadn’t moved an inch away after the sound of her light snores, that met my ear. If anything, she’d only nestled her head deeper – a little more into my neck, her head more on the curve of my collarbone.

Her grandparents had been the first to bid us all goodnight. At the end of the first movie, claiming their age as the reason. They had kissed her so delicately on her forehead. Her lips had even perked in her sleep at the gesture – her response to the love they showed her. She was deserving of the world and every act of love that was given to her.

Elsie and Josh had asked if I wanted to watch the next movie in the series with them, giving me a look as they surveyed how y/n was snuggled against me. I’d simply ignored their ridiculous behavior and happily agreed, not wanting to move or react for fear of losing the moment with her. The rise and fall of her sleeping body, too calming to rid myself of. . . her soft breaths steadied me in a way little else could.

Though, again, after her Grandma and Grandpa had clicked their door shut, Elsie and Josh had turned to me and y/n. Y/n, completely oblivious to their bullshit and still sleeping soundly. And, after giving her sweet form a simultaneous, tender smile, they’d smirked at me and fucking eyed me — again.

Weasels.

Then, both of them had shared a secret smirk with each other before giving me the same pondering stare – like they were curious about something. Then, almost in sync with the other, they’d raised their brows at me. But before I could tell them to fuck off or before they could make it any more than whatever that had been, they were turning back to their initial place on the loveseat, her leaning back against him, snuggled between his legs.

Like I selfishly wanted y/n to do. . . dammit.

With that thought, though, I’d bravely decided to move her. . . Just a bit.

I shifted just enough to maneuver her body, keeping her comfortable while also laying her down further on my lap. Truly, it was to avoid a crook in her neck – mostly. But the position was an added bonus for me, too. It felt so much better – closer. More like us. I made it so she could lay her head on a swiftly placed throw pillow, situated just so on my lap.

To my complete and utter relief, she’d seemed to subconsciously welcome the change. Her body even moved a bit on her own to adjust. She’d curled up against me, on her side, pressing into the bottom of my stomach. She'd done so just enough for her hair to touch a sliver of skin on my stomach, just a tad exposed at the hem of my sweater. To my surprise, she’d even reached a hand up to clutch my thigh, right next to her head and the pillow.

She’d sighed, too. Content. At peace. But the way she’d gone to hold my thigh with the sigh. . .? It’d made me very grateful for the throw pillow.

It had been that way for the entire movie. A fucking dream.

Once that film had concluded, it had taken almost no time for Elsie and Josh to jump up from their spots. They were all quiet and giggly and weird and touchy, barely paying me any mind before they were on their way to Elsie’s room. Josh’s hands had not been to himself one bit as they stumbled over each other, but he’d managed one lone, sly-ass wink in my direction before rounding the corner of the hallway.

In all honesty, of course I knew what the fuck he was implying. He’d been very clear on his opinions concerning y/n and myself. But, all that mattered was how she laid, peacefully in my lap, at the present moment.

Now. Heaven.

Me, y/n, and our baby girl – warm and safe inside of y/n’s belly. Our Lavender. It still astonished me that we’d wanted the same damn name. What in the fuck were the chances?

I hoped to god y/n didn’t want to give up on us yet. The past couple days had been fucked. But. . . I needed her. . . And I especially felt this way as she moved in a certain way on top of me — only slightly, but enough that she made a little whimper in her sleep. Had my head spinning and my dick throbbing.

I needed to taste her again. Her release, emulated melted sugar against my tongue three nights ago: in the shower, and then again in her bedroom. At the moment, I just wanted to say fuck all of the obstacles that kept her from me. And, even more so, the ones that have kept me from her.

The way we’d connected earlier had made me feel nearly sick with love for her; just our eyes doing the talking while her Grandpa played the Stevie Wonder record she’d bought him.

(Which, as fate would have it, was the same one I’d bought her. Songs In The Key Of Life. . . a cult classic amongst all classic music connoisseurs. I’d tried hard to find a special pressing of it – knowing how much she loved Stevie Wonder. Though, she still had no idea, of course – wanted to give it to her at an intimate time, where it could just be us.)

The lyrics to every one of those three songs I’d heard.

“Knocks Me Off My Feet” had resonated with my pure and unadulterated lovesickness for her, of course. I wished I could repeat the words “I love you” to her over and over again – just like he had in that song. . . . And then, as we’d left the kitchen, “Ordinary Pain” had punched me in the gut as, ironically, I’d been causing myself and her pain by walking away from her. For Maya. . . .again.

But, the one that had played while we were in the kitchen. . . “Summer Soft” – fuck. That shit had cut me deep. That song sang our entire summer love story, in such a melancholic, depressingly nostalgic way. I wanted that again — more than anything. I’d even searched the lyrics afterwards, while on the phone with Maya as she’d had some sort of anxiety attack (which had caught me off guard, as she’d never had one before).

And, as Maya had cried to me over extremely tiny shit (in comparison to what I knew y/n’s mind to reel with), I’d read through them. . .

Morning rain

Gently plays her rhythms on your window pane

Giving you no clue of when she plans to change

To bring rain or sunshine

And so you wait to see what she'll do

Is it sun or rain for you

But it breaks your heart in two

When you find it's October

I wanted the sun and the rain. . . I wanted it with her. Didn’t want her to push me away. . . wanted to be tender with her – care for her. Hold her. Touch her. Feel her. Simply be with her. Just like summer – wanted another try at August, September, October. . . Just as he proclaimed in the song. I wanted her always. Still hated that we parted in the first place.

I’d always hate that.

When she shifted the slightest bit once more, her eyebrows crinkled and her fingers fanned over her belly before holding the bottom of it. Safely. Securely. She was taking care of our baby. Every time I thought about it, my heart would beat just a little steadier after halting for a moment.

The sexy lounge set she’d chosen to wear today hugged her curves so damn well, I couldn’t help but admire every soft curve of her body visible to me. . . And the bracelet that she held on her wrist, compliments of her sister. I carefully messed with the lavender charm, not wanting to wake her. The way she’d wiped delicately at her eye before Elsie had been there in an instant to help her put it on. Every detail of her in that moment, I’d watched in wonder. So beautiful. So angelic. So pure— contrary to her belief. She was so flawlessly elegant to me. Just as refined as the untouched, cream-colored lounge set she wore.

I watched her, in the sharpest quality, as she laid so gracefully on my lap. Everything about her, in 4-fucking-K. . . And, it made my heart come alive more than ever before when I glanced at the charm once more, thinking about how she quantified the importance of lavender as I did. Lavender, so consecrated between us. . . Enough to make it our daughter’s name.

She burrowed deeper against the pillow, turning more to her belly. Not laying on her tummy. I knew her well enough that she did her best to stay aware of that, even whilst sleeping. It was y/n. Of course she thought about shit like that even when asleep.

Once situated, she’d sighed with a teeny tiny whimper, again, as her hand slipped over her tummy, lifting the bottom hem of the sweater a little. . . Before she was moving to grip firmer onto my thigh. She held me gently, still, but surely. And, her fingers moved higher. . . . her hand fanning out a bit on me as it just had on her belly – just enough to graze awfully close to the zipper of my jeans. . .

Fuck.

With that action, I decided I needed to touch her, too. Something to distract myself from the growing problem in my pants because of her innocent touch. The hand that had been balanced on the back of the couch came down to rest gently at her side, framing her waist. Then her hip, where I then grazed the underside of her swollen belly. I started by barely grazing my fingers over the soft, cream colored sweater.

It wasn’t long that I held my hand there. . . before I felt her stir. Her free hand, slowly reaching to smooth over mine, so delicately to hold mine on her tummy. Fuck. Felt so nice. Like home.

She cleared her throat. And before I knew it, she was speaking, so softly. It was a serene moment and her tone said as much. Such a pretty, pretty voice.

“I felt her quite a bit during the first movie,” she sniffed sleepily with a sigh and a yawn, breathing deeply with the hushed words. The side of her breast grazed my arm that laid against her body. I pressed the pillow on my crotch down just a bit more. Now was not the time. “But I think she’s resting right now. No kicks for the time being.”

Wait. . . moving? Kicks? What?!

“Kicks?”

My eyes were glued to the parts of her face I could see past her loose curls, now more like gentle waves after a full day. So beautiful. But. . . Rather than getting distracted by her features, I watched her. Waited for a sign that she meant what I thought she meant. I mean, what else could she have meant?

“Oh. . . Yeah,” she said, slowly, measured in her response. Her hand gently flexed over mine on her swollen belly. “She—um, she actually kicked for the first time last night. Right before you got home, actually,” she sighed, the thigh hand coming up to her face to cover a little yawn. “Minutes before you walked through the front door last night. . .,” she breathed a laugh, resting the hand over my thigh once more.

No. . . Lav had kicked?!

Not while I was. . . Fuck!

Fuck it all.

My life was a goddamn joke. Trapped in that motherfucking car — right outside in the parking lot. All the while, arguing with Maya over trivial shit and revealing the gender without y/n’s permission. . . as she was upstairs feeling our little girl. For the first time.

I’d fucking missed it. For nothing.

I didn’t want to act too disappointed, but I couldn’t help the way it leaked into my tone and words when I spoke next. I was heartbroken, understandably. Foolishly. “I’m so upset I missed it. Goddamn. Just fuckin’ missed it, too, huh?”

She was silent for a few lengthy seconds. Her eyes were trained ahead and nowhere near me. She was watching the dancing title menu for the movie we’d been watching. I wished she’d look at me. . . But it was okay. I didn’t want to make her feel as if she owed me anything. Not right now. I was the stupid fuckin’ asshole in this entire situation.

“Well. . . Not technically. She was still doing it when you walked in — went crazy when she heard your voice. . .,” she commented with a melancholy huff of a laugh, then a sniffle. “I— I actually tried to tell you. When you walked in. Remember?”

Yes. Obviously I remembered. It had been lingering in my mind since I’d passed her up.

Fuck. Gotta be fucking kidding. I was a selfish fucking moron. A prick move to not take the time to hear her out when she was so excited — after everything that had transpired. After ignoring her for an entire day after the phone sex. I’d already felt like shit for that. But now that I was finding out that I’d missed it? Willingly? Passing up the opportunity to feel my baby girl move because I was tired. . . A massive, debilitating punch to the gut.

I mentally vowed to myself that that would be the last time I missed a damn thing that happened. It was ridiculous to even act like y/n wasn’t important in the first place. And I’d done so enough on that godforsaken trip. It was all because of that fruitless trip. I’d been mentally drained from the stupid ass conversations with my suddenly nosy-ass girlfriend. And her dickhead of a dad.

Completely rejected my family for these people who didn’t matter nearly as much as my baby girl or the woman who carried her. . .

So many monstrous ideas swirled in my head as I watched her hand float from my hand on her tummy to her hair, turning up towards me just a bit, tucking some behind her ear. More of her face was visible for me to admire. And there was no missing the wetness in the corner of her eye. Dampening her eyelashes. She’d kept it hidden. She was blinking like crazy. I knew she was trying to hide how much it had affected her. Another punch to the gut.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you out, baby. I’ll regret that shit forever. God. . . I’m so damn sorry.”

“You had other important things on your mind, I’m sure,” she sniffed, a gentle hand, going to subtly dab under her eye. “I’m sure it was an exciting weekend — getting to be with Maya’s family, and all?”

“No,” I said it without a second fucking thought. And I meant that shit. I was tired of lying.

“No?” Her brows crinkled with her question. I had to resist the urge to run my finger over the perfectly waxed edge of it that faced me.

“Not at all. I missed you more than life itself the entire time. And if I would’ve stayed home with you— we would’ve gotten everything we’ve been wanting. . . And—,” I sniffed, the emotions taking over and annihilating my heart. The conflict was crippling my heart. “I wouldn’t have missed my little girl kicking for the first time.”

“You had no choice.”

“And I wish I would have had one. I should’ve made up an excuse to get out of going.”

“No, Jake. . . Don’t— you have to keep true to your word, honey.”

She was the most selfless woman. . . And the fact that she wouldn’t let herself feel that part of her heart broke me. Instead of giving into those emotions and understanding herself, she rejected them for the sake of past hurts. It broke my heart for her. I didn’t want her to carry that shit and I, personally, was still learning how the hell to respond to it.

“But—,” I began, but she was quick to correct me.

“But nothing.” She still wasn’t looking at me, just staring straight ahead, before blinking and letting her eyes go to look down at her bump.

I moved my hand from her belly, feeling momentarily undeserving of it. . . Y/n, being so excited to see me, waiting for me. . . Our daughter, waiting for me. . . At the same moment I'd been giving Maya access to very sensitive information pertaining to the other two. God damn.

A couple of silent minutes passed before she was slowly reaching up, delicately grabbing my hand from her side. Gently, she placed it on the curve of her belly once more. She kept her soft palm over the back of my hand. She held me there. Right in the center of her swollen abdomen. Not a word was spoken between us. Both of us, just letting the moment sink in. Waited for Lavender to pick up on the cue. . .

But she didn’t.

“What do you think she’s doing?” I asked, finally finding my voice again. I had to get over myself. I wasn't going to let my personal upset bleed over onto y/n tonight. I couldn't. Just as soft as my tone, my fingers danced the slightest bit to make delicate letters against her sweater-clad tummy.

“What do you mean?” She giggled a bit with the words, taking her hand away from mine to gently lay on my wrist, instead. Oh, the feeling of her holding onto me – purely for the feeling of being close. Her own finger skated on the back of my arm, just as I did the same to her belly. . . It made my chest feel so damn warm.

The warm glow from the living room lamps and the tree, sensually highlighting her beautiful, smooth complexion. Her features, lighting up — she was enchanting me in the golden glow. Ethereal, mesmerizing goddess of a woman.

My lips lifted at the feeling of it all. Her laugh, her body under my hand. . . how she held onto my arm just because. . . It helped my soul tremendously to just be in the moment with her. Our breaths, our voices – the only sounds circling the silent air of the living room. Thankfully, the menu screen for the movie was silent. I only wanted to hear her.

“Is she dancing, you think? Jumping? Kicking? Rolling around?” I pondered aloud, continuing to move my fingers over her belly, drawing our baby girl’s name against her sweater.

L-A-V-E-N-D-E-R. . . . . I wondered briefly what her middle name would be. . . Would we somehow come up with the same idea for that name as well? Would it be easy to agree upon?

“Hmmm,” y/n interrupted my thoughts with the low hum of her response.

I flattened my hand on her belly, focusing in on y/n. And, without even thinking, I used my spare hand to brush back some hair from her face so I could see her better. The action made her turn a smidge, gently, slowly flipping around to be on her back fully – the best she could, at least. Those eyes. . . looking up at me, for a second, from my lap. My favorite sight — the deep tresses of her eyes. They were glowing in the dark room – shining with every single color on the Christmas tree. They seemed to wrap around mine and pull me in even further.

“I’d say she’s playing the air guitar. Wants to be just like her daddy,” she said, looking down briefly as her hand smoothed over her belly once. Her touch caused her sweater to hike up — just a little more than before. . . But enough.

Enough so that I was fucking done for with the combination of her sweet words and the glimpse of her soft tummy. . . Goddammit.

“Yeah?”

“Well. . .,” her big, beautiful eyes found mine. Mother of fuck. “I want her to be just like her daddy, so. . . I can only hope she wants the same.”

The way she stared into my eyes, letting her irises mold to mine, I felt every word she said. I sensed her heart in every syllable of every word. This woman. . .

So, before I could process another goddamned thought, I was sliding my hand up her sweater. Had to feel her skin. More of her, had to touch her body. . . I let my hand rest firmly on her belly, before my eyes were searching hers for permission as I let my hand glide further up.

Without even meaning to, my fingers merely grazed the underside of her breast. . . But I wouldn’t go further until I knew she wanted that right now.

Though, rather than giving me a verbal response, her eyes only seemed to sparkle more. Looking up at me, piercing my soul. . . Her lips, lifting into a secretive grin. Her nose, twitching just a bit, cutely. And before I could make another move, she began to rise from her position. Though, she didn’t even give me time to worry that her next move could mean her possibly leaving me. I didn’t have time for that thought when she was smoothly adjusting her voluptuous, goddess-like body on my lap.

She rested on her knees, on either side of my hips, straddling me the best she could in this spot on the couch. Her chest took no time to meet mine, her belly pressing, snugly, against my abdomen. . . She was surrounding me. I was completely immersed in her — just as the universe fucking intended.

I felt her full, swollen breasts against my heaving chest. And, thanks to the thin material of her cashmere pants and whatever panties she’d decided on today, it wasn’t long before I felt all of her. And, maybe it was just my overactive, wishful imagination, but I swore I felt how warm she was underneath those pants. Felt her connect with my pulsing dick. I swore to fuck.

I knew how warm and wet she could feel. . . All I wanted was to make her get there. Wanted to get her there, through her pants, her underwear, and mine. . . It felt like her body was burning mine, begging me, with fervor, for more. And who was I to resist such a damn incredible temptation?

Not taking a second longer to contemplate it, I thrusted up into her. I needed her – it was almost like her body was inviting mine in. . . Felt how her body enveloped my straining cock, even through our clothes, as she pushed down against me. She began rocking her hips, in time to some beautiful, unspoken rhythm. I fit, so tight, so right, in the heavenly crease of her clothed pussy.

Pretty, desperate moans escaped her lips, but she didn’t let them for long before she was covering her mouth with a quick hand. My face didn’t hide anything, as I let my disappointment show in not being able to hear her. I wanted to hear her. But with a subtle turn of her head, in the direction of where her grandparents had gone earlier, my mind became clearer. She didn’t want to wake her grandparents. And neither did I. . . But. There was a solution for this.

Stilling my hips, granting both of us some reprieve, I removed her hand from her mouth. With a gentle hand pulling her towards me, and her eagerness to follow my lead, the shell of her ear was touching my mouth. Right where I wanted her. “I need to hear you, y/n. . . .,” I urged, lowly, wrapping my fingers, gingerly, into her locks. “Make those pretty noises against my ear, hm?”

“Yes sir,” I heard her sigh into thin air, her head falling back to rest further into my hand.

Fuck yes. With the same hold on her, I nestled her head right against my neck. My other hand, keeping a sure hold of her left hip as I pushed my hips to meet hers once again with a languid, lazy movement. And, just as I desired, she was now making those perfect sounds against the crest of my ear. Even better, I got to feel her gentle, rasping breaths against my neck as I continued to move our bodies, grinding my dick against her in a pattern we both knew – very well.

I felt like I could damn well explode at any moment. The sighs fell softly and directly into my ear. She wrapped her arms around my neck in no time, showing she wanted to be right there, pressed against me in every way, and I was so damn relieved. Because god knew I needed it.

I tucked my nose into her neck to muffle any sounds I’d make, too. And when I did, I felt my eyes become wet at the way she smelled so much like home and safety. She’d created my safest haven, all of those months ago. I hadn’t thought it possible to feel so safe — especially after I’d left a place that had felt like the exact opposite.

But she’d shown me. . . Y/n had shown me that there was safety, beyond the limits of my mind’s imagination. . . She had offered a complete stranger a home, and had been bound and determined to make me feel at peace, as soon as I’d moved in. All the while, I’d decided to fuck all because I’d been so damn afraid of how much I’d felt for her. . . Instantly.

This same smell that I was breathing in now, so much closer than moments ago when she’d been asleep on my lap. . . This sugary, delicious fragrance that had come off of her in waves that day. Anytime she’d been near me, I’d been instantly soothed by the fresh fragrance that she exuded. It was that of vanilla, coconut, strawberries. . . and a warm, sweet musk that belonged specifically to her. . . And, like I’d already noticed earlier this evening, her scent was even more powerful with pregnancy. . . Pure fucking ecstasy.

“Jake,” she sighed into my ear, her hand wrapping up in the hair at the nape of my neck, tugging on me in a way that had me groaning and bucking up into her, needing more from this goddess on my lap.

When my rock hard front made contact with her sensitive pussy, she let out the tiniest little whimper that had me threatening to bust on the spot. I tucked my nose closer against her neck, my mouth grazing her ear before I nipped at the flesh there. “Yeah, baby? You like that?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to, Jacob Thomas,” she corrected me smartly, the words spoken into my ear, so low. My skin buzzed with overwrought need, tension, and longing for her.

Without a second thought, I began to give into an impulsive urge. My hand flattened at the bottom of her belly to slide up and under her soft sweater – just as I’d begun before she’d climbed on top of me. The fabric bunched up against my arm, as I went higher. And, as I made my way to her tits, I decided to take my sweet time to spread my hands out against her and trace the hot flesh underneath with my well-practiced fingers. Her skin was so soft – essentially silk, truly. The way her skin felt under my touch had always amazed me. I’d never felt a girl so flawlessly smooth.

I had a goal in mind, though, that was more than simply feeling her skin.

And, once I made it where I wanted, I felt for whatever material the bra she’d worn was made of. Thankfully, when I located it, I realized she’d chosen a thinner bra. It was more bralette than anything, but was still tight enough against her chest when I pulled it, that I knew it was maternity. The way the cups stretched under my hand indicated the hidden support the delicate, lacy material offered. Though, it still wasn’t so tight that I couldn’t easily pull down the right side’s lacy triangle of material.

My hand immediately went to grab ahold of her warm breast, my thumb grazing over her oversensitive nipple. She trembled on top of me with a breathy moan and pressed herself into me. Her breath hitched as I continued to massage the supple flesh. I admired the way she felt in my hand, the way her breast was so heavy, as her body prepared itself for my baby.

Goddamn. My dick strained against my jeans that were undoubtedly too tight. Her body responded to me so well, her right nipple having become impossibly harder against my palm.

That’s fucking right, baby. . ., I thought, wanting to say it out loud, but not able to form words with how she was making my brain short circuit. Show me how you like that.

I felt territorial with her body. I wanted it to be my job to take care of her changing body. . . I didn’t want anyone else caring for her body like this. The thought alone had my blood pressure rising, my heart pumping hard in my chest, all the way to my ears.

She was mine.

“Jake,” she sighed into my ear, her hips languidly keeping a rhythm with mine as I focused on occasionally rutting my front up into hers, while also paying mind to this tender part of her body. “I really did miss you. . . So badly.”

Briefly, I noted how the swell of her growing belly peeked out from the bottom of her sweater. The way the material had gathered, while I was able to feel her perfect chest, I also got a view of the most miraculous task I could imagine a woman completing. I kept one hand on her chest, using my leverage there to move her a little. I wasn’t too rough with her, since I knew how that might hurt her. But, I kept my grip firm enough on her tit that I was able to manipulate her movements at the top and middle part of her immaculate body.

I felt this overwhelming sense of possessiveness take over me for this woman, in a way I knew I shouldn’t have felt. . . But it was my mind and body’s natural response to y/n. Even before she’d carried my baby, I felt this way for her. I couldn’t help it.

I assisted in her movements as she rocked against me, with a tempo that felt so achingly familiar. . . I could have cried with how damn right it felt to hold her like this. That bold and measured flow of her hips, unique to y/n. As she pressed down further against me, she reminded me of the incredible power she had over me. . . And now, it was every time her front connected with mine.

With one meticulous roll of her hips, there was zero doubt that I felt her pussy fit to me through our clothes. And, she must’ve felt it, too, with how she suddenly stilled. She held her hips there, her breath catching. I felt the distinctive way her pussy liked to tighten around me. It was different from any other woman.

And, as I sat, utterly dumbfounded in wonderment of the woman on top of me, she took advantage of my weakened state. After leaving a gentle kiss on the column of my neck, she was pulling her face from the crook of where I’d placed her earlier.

When she was out from where she’d nuzzled against me, she was looking down at me with this fire in her eyes that should have indicated she was about to do something that could end me. And, very nearly, she did when she flattened her hips, to get as close as she could to me. When she did this, there was no question in my mind that I felt the clench of her sweet pussy around the tender head of my dick. She watched my face intently, while also releasing a moan of her own at the way we fit together.

My head rolled back against the back of the couch, but not for long, as she was sighing my name, asking me to look at her. When I made eye contact with her again, my heart skipped a beat in my chest at the vulnerability her gaze showed. Then, I noticed she was rising up from her knees again, her hands gripping my shoulders for leverage, before her round ass was going to sit on my thighs. She arched her back to get a better angle, her belly bumping into me as she made languid figure 8’s, the best she could, without actually riding my dick.

Our bodies, in tune with each other, as I felt myself leak in desperation, just the slightest bit from my tip. While, at the same moment, I felt a touch of wetness seep through her thin pants onto mine with a particularly intentional, brutally slow roll of her hips against my throbbing cock. She obviously knew what was happening in her pants, and I assumed she wanted me to know, too.

Her next words confirmed this. “Do you feel that, Jake?” She whispered, huskily into the space between us. My head swam with it all, my hips bucking up into hers of their own accord. I bit my lip, nodding at her once to continue. Wanted to hear her say it. “Do you feel what my body does when you’re near? Need you so badly. . . Not even my panties can contain it. . .”

Mother of god. Control. I had to gain some of it back. My dick was raging with need, threatening a reaction I did not want in my pants. I wanted it inside of her.

“You want me to fuck you in this living room?” I sighed the rhetorical question, into the crest of her ear, before nipping at it. Just wanted to see how she’d react. And when it made her moan and push down harder against my dick, I knew she was fully in it with me. Dammit. “Right here? You wanna ride my dick? Where anyone could fuckin’ see?”

“Fuck, Jake. . . . I don’t even care at this point. . . Just need you,” she responded on a shaky breath, her body twitching when I shifted my hips up and into hers once more. Her eyes were dazed as she quickly regained composure, grinding against me in gentle sweeps, her core circling my dick, where she rubbed herself against me.

I couldn’t help the little laugh that came from my lips. I was trying to act like I was in control when I most definitely wasn’t. There was no use in covering my weakness for her at this moment, body betraying me when the smile turned into a low, pathetic grunt when she let her hips bounce effortlessly on top of me, so gently — just enough pressure. Her body moved on top of me, mimicking something I needed so badly.

That sweet pelvis of hers, doing all of the work, up and down, on top of me. I couldn’t stop myself when I reached forward to grab ahold of her soft hips. My fingers, slipping beneath the cashmere of her sweater, holding firm to her body. I tried to regain some sense of control, as I began to move my fingers in the opposite direction, on her warm skin. I was measuring her little thrusts in time to what my dick was needy for, figuring out the rhythm she’d started for what I had planned next.

This little pattern. . . I kept one hand on her hip, as the other one continued to dip further and further into her pants. As I pushed her down harshly onto me with the one hand, making her sweep her across where my body needed her most, I finally let my hand make its way to her heated center. I tapped my pointer and middle fingers against that little swollen clit, looking up at her face to gauge her reaction. Her hips stuttered on top of me as her eyebrows dipped in, pleasantly surprised. Her perfectly straight teeth bit into the plush skin of her lower lip. I repeated the action with my hand on her hip a few times, testing the waters a little more when I cupped her pussy in my hand. The guttural moan that escaped my lips as I felt her, soaking wet through her panties, was natural and a touch louder than it should’ve been.

When she didn’t even look at me to correct me and shush me, I knew she was lost to the moment. She didn’t even care for her family to hear us at this point, and fuck – was that so damn hot. We were both being absolutely pathetic, writhing against each other on this damn couch, our bodies each demanding more from the other. These sexy little noises she was making, once again going to press her lips against the blazing hot skin of my neck, staining my neck to hell with every sigh, moan, and whimper. Against my neck and my hand, I could feel every reaction from her. It was almost too much for me. . . My dick, hard and hurting in my jeans.

I couldn’t stand this. She was downright desperate for me, just as I was for her. I was dizzy as fuck, my mind swimming with everything I wanted to do to her. I needed to feel more of her, but it was impossible on this tiny couch in this living room – out in the open. All I wanted was to rip these pants and thin-ass panties off her body and bend her over the arm of this couch. Wanted to fuck her until she didn’t remember a damned thing but the shape of my dick.

But. . . . we couldn’t. I’d been bluffing with my earlier question of doing shit in the living room. I couldn’t help myself, though, as the thought continued to infiltrate my mind.

The way her core continued to gain friction against my hand with these hungry rolls of her pretty hips. I could feel her, growing wetter and wetter by the second – felt how her soaking panties warmed my palm to the point that I was sure she was leaking through them, onto my hand. . . . . Fuck. I had to say or do something before I busted a fuckin’ nut in my pants. So, against my better judgment, I decided to continue with the train of thought from earlier. . . . Just to drive her a bit more crazy. . . . Get out of my head with my own wants and needs.

I took the hand from her hip, placing it at the base of her skull instead, wrapping a fistful of her hair in my palm. I needed a hold on her – just enough to bring her face up to mine so I could whisper what I wanted in her ear. And, once she moved with me and the side of her head was touching my mouth, I moved to speak into her ear.

“How good would it feel, y/n? For me to take you, right now? Wanna fuck you until you can’t walk. . . On this couch, against every window, over your grandma’s kitchen island,” I spoke low and dark, licking her earlobe into my mouth as she mewled needily, her hips continuing to rub against my palm for more. “Force you to think of the way I fill you up, every time you’re in this damned living room from now on? Maybe then, even when you’re here and I’m not, you’ll remember who the father of our baby is. . .”

“Jake. . .,” she sighed, whimpering for more than just pleasure, against my forehead. She placed a kiss there before she spoke, sadness painting her tone. “I’m sorry, baby. . . I thought you weren’t–?”

“I’m not mad,” I reassured, though my tone didn’t change. She needed to understand this. “But I do need the whole fuckin’ world to know who put that baby in your belly. . .,” I decided to go the extra mile and slipped my palm from the front of her panties. She whined from the loss of contact, but I knew she’d like what I wanted to do. Instead of simply holding her there, over the panties, I let my first two fingers slip under the hem of this poor excuse for underwear. And, as my fingers pressed against her, I felt how swollen, ready, and slick she was – all for me. Fuck. But, still, I wanted to put her on the spot. “And who the fuck were you wearing these panties for, baby?”

“Only you, Jake. Always — it’s only you,” she sighed, hiccuping as I gripped her hip again, to move her on top of me, just as I teased the tips of my fingers inside of her.

Before I knew it, though, she took the initiative. She began grazing my fingers with her warm, soaking cunt until her entrance met my fingers. And as she sunk down onto my hand, all on her own, I thought I was going to fucking collapse. I kept my fingers strong and steady, as they became engulfed in her – so fucking wet and gripping me so tightly. . . . All I wanted was for her to be wrapped around my dick, just as she was imitating on my fingers.

She grasped my shoulders, starting a rhythm of her own. And briefly, her daze wore off, just enough for her to test me back, it seemed. “But what gives you the right to question who I wear these panties for when you spent all weekend fucking your girlfriend?”

Maya being mentioned should have made me pause. . .But it didn’t. Not at all. In fact, it only made me want to make y/n fall apart more. She was the priority to me, always – but especially right now. I took control, once again, lifting her hip off of me. And when her brows crinkled in curiosity, dark eyes flaming at me, I didn’t even give her time to question me before I was slamming my fingers back into her fluttering pussy. Once they were completely engulfed in her, I flattened my hand against the front of her satin-smooth pussy, slapping the skin there with my palm to emphasize the intensity behind my actions.

“I didn’t spend all weekend fucking her, though, baby,” I informed her on a ragged breath, still moving my hips in time with her as I changed my rhythm to let my fingers fuck her a little slower. I found it more than necessary for her to know what I was going to say — didn’t need her distracted. “You and I both know who the fuck I was cumming on my hand for this weekend. . .,” I continued, letting my hips begin a harsh, relentless rhythm against her, continually fucking my fingers deeper inside of her with each thrust. “Poor girl barely fuckin’ saw me, y/n. . . . I was too wrapped up in my fuckin’ phone – in you – to pay attention to her. That’s what I was doing all weekend and you goddamn know it.”

She glared at me. I let my thumb graze her clit, her eyes shutting for the briefest of moments to rub against my thumb. But, she was trying hard to stay focused. When she opened her eyes again, they were still heavy with lust amidst her irritation. “Don’t call her a poor girl when she gets to ride your dick anytime she wants,” y/n huffed, indignantly. Her lip curled, visibly upset at the thought. Her motions, paused. “She gets to have you in her mouth – whenever she motherfucking pleases.”

Hell. . . My dick pulsed, hard as a fuckin’ rock. The way I’d grown in response to y/n over the course of the past several minutes, had made things completely painful for me against my zipper. All I wanted to do was free my dick and sink inside of her ready and waiting pussy. . . .

At that moment, stuck in the heat of it with y/n’s beautiful body imitating sex with mine, I figured that honesty was the best policy. I didn’t want to hide the truth from her, especially when I knew it might reassure her. “She isn’t who I want on my dick, y/n. . . I’ve come to terms with having her for that because the only woman I want to fuck all of the time only gives me the time of day when she feels like it.”

“At least I don’t leave you on delivered for an entire fucking day and ignore you as soon as I see you, Jacob,” she clipped, sniffing just a bit with the words. The tenderness of this moment, showing me how it had affected her.

Fuck my life. I couldn’t watch y/n cry. I was so tired of being such a dick – the constant reason behind the majority of this perfect woman’s tears. . .

“Baby. . . .,” I began, reaching a hand out to hold her cheek tenderly, my eyes scanning her eyes, her soft cheeks, the way her lower lip trembled. “Let me make it up to you,” I offered, downright begging her to hear me. I needed her to understand that I’d do whatever it took to show what she truly meant to me.

“I think I’d actually really fucking appreciate that,” she clipped back. And, for a second, I thought she was going to hop off my lap to prove a point of some sort. But, quickly, her face was betraying her words, as a little smile came to her pretty lips. This woman. . . “I will gladly let you make it up to me however you fucking want, baby. . . Please,” she pleaded, going right back to submitting herself to me. And just like before, she went to nuzzle her face into the warm skin of my neck.

When her body leaned forward, I hurriedly positioned my arm to accommodate her new position. And, unintentionally, I felt when I hit that sensitive sweet spot inside of her, right behind her needy little clit. I felt more of her release accumulate on my fingers as she let out a moan. She ground her hips into mine at the sensation, repaying me with a few hard rolls from her tired hips, setting the pace with these relaxed, yet expert thrusts – nudging the head of my cock with her soft mound, over and over.

This woman, knew better than any other, how to turn me into a mess – knew how to force me to my fuckin’ knees.

When her face found my neck, I hastily realized her intentions this time around. Unlike before, she wasn’t resting her head there. No, now she was causing my cock to damn near explode its load when she licked a long stripe up the skin of my neck. Momentarily, it made me still my fingers inside of her as I had to focus on everything but imagining how that tongue would feel against my dick.

After marking my neck with her spit, she was sitting up again, peering down at me. And, any control I thought I had was lost as soon as her eyes dug into mine. “I need you, Jake.”

“Oh, baby. . .,” I moaned, doing my best to press my dick into her throbbing center, with my hand in the way.

She went limp against me, her body putty in my hands — even with the slightly botched movement. My hand and hips had apparently done something to her, causing her to slump into me with a satisfied whimper that soon turned into a groan as I decided to pull my hand from her pussy. And, being y/n, impatience was soon taking over her. She began to try the best she could to create friction, her hips attempting to dig into mine. A valiant effort on her part, yes. Though, there was no point, as I was continuing with my preconceived course of action, situating my own hand on her ass to hold her down, on my dick. I pressed her, as far as she could go, against me. I forced her to feel every inch of me that needed her. I leaned back a bit, so my hips could shift up, just enough to coax a response from her clit. My free hand went to brush the underside of her left tit, finally paying it mind.

At the attention to her breast, she reacted, her pussy pushing harder against me. I took no time in grasping hold of the thin bra cup covering the left side of her chest, pulling it completely down, just as I had on the other side. Now, under her sweater, I’d successfully exposed both of those irresistible, swollen tits. I was happy with my action. Because, even if I couldn’t see them bare, I could see her hard nipples through her thin sweater. And, I could still feel just how warm those heavy tits were in my hands. . .

She arched forward, once more, as my thumb flicked at her oversensitive left nipple.

“Do you want to go to bed with me?” She asked, her lips grazing the shell of my ear as her hips continued lazy movements, the best she could. Those impeccable curves, measuring gentle sways on my groin. She was grazing me just how my body craved.

But—. She’d just asked me a very weighty question. I dropped my hand from her breasts, my mind suddenly running circles around itself. . . She wanted me to go to bed with her. This was it. This was what my heart, body, and soul had been yearning for, pathetically, since I’d let her go in August.

But. . . Maya.

She really was a factor, and with the offer from y/n hanging in the air, I couldn’t help the image of my girlfriend’s beautiful face, those chocolate irises — the way she was always there for me. . . It all invaded my mind. Fuck. I. . . I’d done this to myself. I’d dragged Maya into this. . . And was I really okay with completely breaking her trust? Just as Amelia had done to me?

What the fuck did I do? I didn’t want to miss a moment with y/n – I loved her. But could I do this? I didn’t know. I didn’t fucking. . . . . Shit.

Because, the other woman in the equation was y/n. My y/n. . . .

I considered how I was continuously leading y/n on, only to leave her hanging for Maya. Was it time to just let Maya go? Or was I risking losing a solid relationship for y/n to just break me again? My heart, being left in shards and vulnerable, right before my daughter was born. . .

My heart couldn’t be in pieces. I needed to be strong and whole. For her. For Lav. “Y/—.”

“It’s comfier than this old couch. . .”

What was I supposed to do?

“I’m— I’m good. I’ll be good,” I responded, not at all taking the proper time to consider it. As soon as the words left my mouth, I closed my eyes, looking down. I had to momentarily avoid her eyes. I was completely unsure of my words. I cleared my throat to alleviate whatever awkwardness I could. What was I doing?

She stayed on my lap for a moment. And, when I opened my eyes, I found her eyes, slowly dissecting anything I could be hiding behind mine. I didn’t know what to communicate to her, though, so I looked down at my lap — like a coward, once again. I flexed my fingers against her hips to appreciate her body while it was still on top of me. . .

Though, as soon as I’d pressed languidly into her tender curves, she was taking that as a sign to get up.

No. Fuck!

She maneuvered as smoothly as she could, a hand on her back to keep balance with that beautiful, round belly. I tried to reach out to help, but she just shook her head, gently pushing my hand away from her. Fuck. I was losing her.

Why?! Why was I doing this?! Torturing myself.

The words ‘inner turmoil’ couldn’t get it said. Not when I’d willingly given up the prospect of laying her down and worshiping her body with mine the way we’d both been working towards. The way we both wanted. No, I’d let her leave my arms. And, now, I was being forced to stare at the woman I loved, her flushed cheeks and suddenly hardened eyes. And that soft, voluptuous body – had just been in my arms. . . The woman was fucking stacked. No matter the season of her life — she was so exquisitely made. Goddamn.

And, here she was, standing in front of me — having offered her bed and her body.

But. . . I couldn’t do it. Because, even with her beauty ahead of me, I knew there were too many factors at stake. Her heart, the most valuable piece of all. . . I didn’t want to break her any more than I already had by fucking her and going straight back to Maya. But, what was worse? Me, not going at all?

What was Maya to me anymore? I knew she was my girlfriend. . . But was she my future? It all depended on y/n. Y/n. . . The woman I wanted as mine — in every future imaginable. Though, it was completely unclear if y/n wanted me in that way — for the rest of forever. I knew that the word ‘forever’ was daunting to y/n.

“That’s okay.” She wasn’t even going to argue? What? “I’ll go get blankets for you. Give me a sec.”

And without giving me a chance to argue, she was going to the hallway. Effectively, making it known that the moment was over. Fuck me. I heard what I assumed was the hall closet, open and close, with a soft click. I was too consumed by the decision I’d made to move. I felt like a prick. A coward. An asshole. A fucking moronic loser.

Why was I letting myself miss out on this woman? I loved her – so goddamn much. I’d spent an entire evening two nights ago, getting her worked up. I’d promised to come home to show her what she meant to me. Moments ago, I’d promised the same damn thing. . . But, I apparently sucked fuckin’ ass at keeping a damned promise to the one woman I yearned to trust me.

And, at this exact moment in time, I wasn’t making any effort to show her that I wanted that. She was being vulnerable, offering herself to me, and I was turning her down. . .?

Meanwhile, she wasn’t reacting poorly at all. No, because her precious, delicate heart wouldn’t allow it right now. I knew that. But why wouldn’t her heart allow it? Was she that hurt? Or was she that done with me? She’d seemed hurt and done this morning in the complex’s parking lot. . . Fuck if I knew. All I truly knew was that she was in the hallway, getting my bedding for the night. Meanwhile, I was stuck in my head, sitting on my ass.

Before I was able to fully process anything, she was walking back out into the living room with a folded blanket. She was holding it just under her tits. I couldn’t help it when my eyes landed on them, bouncing fuckin’ beautifully under her sweater. She’d put them back in her bra, albeit haphazardly. This gave me an impeccable view of how she hadn’t put the entire thing back in on one side, her nipple still hard and showing under the soft, cream fabric. Fuck. Me.

Then, there was her hair, beautiful waves cascading over her shoulders. . . And that face. She was adorable and dangerously sensual all at once. . . But her eyes. . . Where I usually found something, I now saw. . . Nothing. My blood turned cold at the woman who stood in front of me. She was y/n, but she wasn’t the y/n who’d been so open and honest with me mere minutes ago.

She wasn’t letting me see through to her — already doing a damn good job at closing herself off to me. . . Again. There was a tsunami of emotions that raged war in my chest. Any word I might have wanted to speak, died on my tongue. . . She had a very similar look in her eyes to the one she’d had, months ago, in her kitchen. . .

Was this how it was destined to end up anyway? Was it worth it to just follow her to her bedroom and fuck her how I wanted, only for my heart to never fully have her? She was the one entity I needed — while also being the only one I’d never actually have. Or could I have her? I didn’t know. What the fuck was I doing? Should I take that chance? Even if it led to two shattered parents, come Lavender's birth? Or could we make it work?

“Alright. There’s your blanket. . .,” she said, her voice sounded small as she went to tuck her hair behind both ears. Momentarily, her palms pressed to her flushed cheeks and I wanted nothing more than to replace hers with mine. “Would you like a pillow?”

God, the more she spoke, the more emotion was lacking from her tone. I was watching and listening as she faded away from me. . . Mother of fuck.

“Nah, I’m good,” I replied without full consent of the words passing my lips. I was trying to sound nonchalant, to match her. But, was that the right move? “Thank you for the blanket, though.”

She gave me a grin that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes whatsoever. It was barely a smile at all – mostly all it was, was her pressing her lips together. Fuck it all. I wanted to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. . . But what the fuck did ‘okay’ even mean for us anymore?

“Alright,” she responded, emotionless. And, once again, her lips were rising in the teeniest, tiniest non-smile. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Good. . .,” I trailed, watching her go to leave before I even finished the word. “Night.”

I barely had time to register that I’d spoken the words. Since, as I said them, she’d already been turning smoothly on one heel. . . And, all I’d had to see of her was the back of her. Which, all things considered, was always a welcome view. Her tight, round ass that seemed to get better and bigger the more the belly grew. . . Just like her tits. Fuck.

I didn’t know how to feel about any of it this time. Arousal didn’t seem right because it was just as heart-aching and terrible to watch her leave. . . Was this the end of us? Her, walking away from me, my dick slowly but surely fuckin’ deflating as I watched her walk away from me. Was it the end? Not even five minutes ago, things had been incredible and erotic. And now, everything was so damn bleak. The world felt gray and meaningless, when only minutes ago, I’d felt like king of the fucking world.

All in a matter of moments, we were back where we’d been at the end of August. But. . . was it too late now? Because, if it was, I fucking hated myself for it. . . I knew it was all my damn fault this time around.

I only had myself to blame if I’d lost the love of my life once and for all. . . I just had no earthly fuckin’ clue what to do anymore.

End of Jake’s POV

Crying wouldn’t solve anything. It hadn’t before. It wouldn’t now. You were tired of crying.

Tears, combined with never having the fulfillment of Jake in your arms at the end of them, was getting old.

So, the only logical thing to do upon crossing the threshold of your childhood bedroom, was something else you could accomplish with your face.

Washing your face was the most logical first step to feeling better. Though, it went further than simply ‘feeling better’ this time. You needed to feel grounded in the here and now. No longer could you live, delusionally, in the past. In fact, you were desperate to feel as distant as you could from the past — both recent and not. The past that had belonged to Jake Kiszka.

The way of life you’d been craving was leaving your grasp. The connection you yearned to consistently foster — was nearing its end. . . That was, if it hadn’t met its end already.

He was slipping through your fingers. The more he gave in, the more he pulled away. A vicious and cruel cycle that you knew he didn’t purposefully do. It was just the way of things. All of this was just as much out of his control as it was yours.

It was the way your relationship with him was fated to be. . . And you truly didn’t want to wrap your mind around such a terrible truth. But you had to.

The hasty stripping of your too-warm clothes came first. You were suffocating under the fuzzy fabric.

And, while you wanted music at the moment, you also. . . Didn’t. Music was now a shared language for you and Jake. Melodies were a bond that you shared intimately with him. . . And, with how close you felt to music, that was terrifying. You couldn’t even get started on the human life that was cozily nestled in your womb that was half of him. Your eyes welled with tears, heavy and threatening to flood your checks, right at your lash line.

Not now, y/n, you counseled yourself. Just go through these motions first. Once you’re in bed, then you can let it out. . .

Once bare, you ran one smooth palm over your belly before grabbing your belly oils, lotions, and face wash from your bag. Then, you were making your way to the bathroom that sat within your room, connected to your bedroom. The faster you washed your face, completed your oil and lotion routine, the faster you could lay in your bed and cry out every lingering emotion from the tiresome, taxing day.

It would be the beginning of saying goodbye to the idea you could ever feel your truest love the way you wanted to again. It was bound to be a long path of letting go to the idea of him, but it had to begin sometime.

And sometime soon. Had to begin focusing on the things that would come to fruition, beyond any shadow or any doubt. . . Like the babygirl in your belly.

Face washed and teeth brushed. Check and check.

Though, before you began your stretch mark routine, you’d finally decided to put on music. Didn’t want any residual oils on your fingers interfering with the one record that held the utmost significance to you. The one record you’d been dying to hear on vinyl for years.

Soon, after you’d placed the vinyl carefully on your childhood record player, Donny Hathaway’s self titled album was spinning smoothly. Its steady thrum helped guide you through the rest of your nightly routine as you tried to not think about Jake.

But. . . It was harder than one might imagine to block out all of the ways you felt so utterly deeply for Jacob Kiszka. Your mind was first lingering on the truth you’d focused on before. It wasn’t far from your mind, what you’d already decided, weeks prior to this. You’d put yourself in this heartbreaking situation of back and forth. . . It was understandable if he wanted to stop and it definitely seemed he did. . . But, even if you knew this, why did it hurt so damn bad?

Because you love him, y/n, said the soothing voice that fought to occupy more brain space. And that’s okay.

The song that spun was called “Giving Up,” which you realized was quite ironic as you dried your face in your bedroom’s conjoined bathroom. You looked into the mirror, the lyrics hitting home.

Giving up

Is hard to do

When you really

Love someone

Giving up,

So hard to do

When you still depend upon

[Her] warm and tender touch

Damn. Okay, Mr. Hathaway, you thought with a snicker of a laugh.

You couldn’t lie. . . it was pretty funny that music seemed to consistently match your moods these days. “Please Don’t Go” playing at the bar, the night of the E.R. visit. “Memory Lane” playing as you rode in Josh’s car to Jungle Juice — quite actually strolling down memory lane (the X-rated version) when it had come on shuffle. Stevie narrating, yet again, with “Ordinary Pain,” when you’d stood, forlorn in the living room as Jake left your serene little bubble to talk to Maya. So, “Giving Up” being the first song on this vinyl was the icing on the cake as you sulked over the countless failed attempts with Jake. The deep love you felt for someone who–. Fuck. No.

No more fluffy, love-filled thoughts. You were done with those. . . . You had to try, at least. It was nearing the point of you feeling at a complete loss. Every time you took an inch, you went several back with his responses. You were tired. Tired of feeling like a goddamn fool.

You didn’t want to imagine it, but. . . Was it truly time to give up?

Jake’s POV

She was talking. Through music, she was saying everything she hadn’t said to me before she’d left the living room. In the smaller, quaint home, her bedroom was in the hallway right beside the living room.

And she was playing the song just loud enough for me to hear. . . Whether she meant for that to happen or not, I was using it as a way to see into her heart.

It was a beautiful, older song. It expressed her fantastic taste in music to an exquisite extent. And, the brilliant, gut wrenching, melancholic melody was crushing my goddamn heart. My brain was screaming at me to stay logical. The idea of going to her was wrong. For many reasons, I shouldn’t want to go to her room. It would be irresponsible — fucking careless for me to leave this couch.

I should have just gone home. . . Hours ago, I should have gone home. But. . . my heart had kept me here. Y/n had kept me here, without even trying. The illustrious, truly statuesque woman was everything to me. I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d missed her. I needed to be near her. . . So, I’d stayed. Hours ago, I’d stayed. . .

Because my heart had known the truth. My heart had known what needed to happen. The universe itself was waiting for it. Whether it should happen or not didn’t matter. . . At least, a few hours ago, it hadn’t mattered. . .

But now? I didn’t know what the hell the wisest option was. . . Felt like shit for everything I was doing to Maya. Though, I felt even worse for what I was putting y/n through. Especially when I knew what my heart wanted. . . I just wanted her. Y/n.

My heart was screaming at me to get my ass off this couch — to go to the girl. . . The woman of my dreams. . .

“What in the living fuck are you still doing out here, loser?”

My head snapped up at the sound of my brother.

Brows, instantly furrowing, at how his eyes sunk into mine. He was a fuckin’ mess. Curls all out of whack and his face the color of these red walls. He was flustered to hell. But—he was still reading my mind. The way he was standing there, staring holes through me. . . Asshole.

The telepathy shit was so real. Anyone who questioned it was a fucking shit-for-brains. The connection was very much a factor of being twins—identical, at that—with someone.

It was detrimental in situations such as the one I was in, where I knew he was feeling everything I was. His gaze, quite literally, matching mine. He was about to call me out. I knew it. Knew this motherfucker like the back of my hand.

“Do you not hear the song she’s listening to? It’s Donny Hathaway. It’s a song all about giving up, Jacob,” he explained, giving away the basis of the song before the lyrics had even started. “Giving. Up.”

“Obviously I hear it, Josh,” I snapped, already aggravated with him.

“Well. . . I’m just making a point, fucker. The woman speaks in music. She’s trying to say something with the lyrics or melody—.”

“Yes, Josh,” I growled the words, unable to control the rage bubbling up in my chest. “I know. She communicates using music. It’s ingrained in my brain. I’ve experienced it first hand,” I reminded him, making sure to stare him down until he remembered how I knew. The situations we’d been in. Wanted to make him squirm, but he didn’t. Just raised a brow and balanced his hands on his hips. God. Whatever. “She’s perfect, yes. I fucking know this, Josh.”

“And whether she’s speaking to you or herself. . . I don’t know, but— god, Jake. Why the fuck aren’t you in there?”

“Why the fuck are you blatantly complimenting her body?” I challenged, thinking back to earlier in the day when he’d made a show of capitalizing on her gorgeous body with a damned photoshoot gift. “I knew you wouldn’t hold back either, you fucker. With how goddamn beautiful she is, carrying my baby,” I scoffed, shaking my head to emphasize the sense — the truth. “Anytime you’re given the opportunity to talk about that shit. . .As soon as a woman’s body is brought up in conversation, there he is. . . Josh fuckin’ Kiszka. And apparently my pregnant—.”

“Your pregnant what? Girlfriend? She’s not yours, Jake. You’ve made certain of that, brother.”

Fuck him.

He shook his head just the same as me, a smarmy smile on his lips, continuing. “Besides, you act as if you don’t view a woman the same damn way, you fuckin’ miscreant—.”

“And I’m sure when you reassure her, you give specific details of her body to remind her that she’s beautiful,” I continued, feeling insane, but not able to stop. “And you have no fucking right to—.”

“Jacob. With all due respect, shut the fuck up.” And, I followed his instructions. There was nothing else for me to go on about. It wasn’t Josh I was mad at. . . It was only myself I had to blame. “You and I both know there is nothing there between y/n and myself. . .,” As Josh spoke, he came to sit beside me on the couch, moving the still-folded blanket she’d laid next to me. I hadn’t even come close to unwrapping it. Didn’t know if it was the right move. He continued. “And someone had to compliment her before she posted that story. . . Considering you weren’t here to do the damned job. . . No, you were out of town, fuckin’ around with Maya.”

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, knowing ge was right. But I had my own truth to share with my other (arguably better) half. “For one: I did compliment her. . . More than. Don’t talk on shit you don’t know the full truth about,” I corrected him.

I knew that me complimenting her from afar and then denying her in person was bullshit, though. Completely unjustified, on my end. I knew I was wrong for what I’d done. Josh had gone about it the kind, pure-hearted way. And I’d fucked it up — mishandled her. One of my hands rose to mess with my hair, without me even thinking about it. Then, I was biting my lip before I smoothed my hand over my chin.

“Quit fidgeting, Jacob. It’s just me,” Josh reassured, patting my right thigh, the one nearest him.

It was no surprise when I eased up under his touch. As much as he pissed me off (for always knowing me better than myself), he was the only other person in this world who came close to y/n and Lavender on the metaphorical love scale.

Deciding there was no harm continuing, I went on. “And secondly: Maya is my girlfriend. I wasn’t just ‘fuckin’ around.’ What else did you expect me to do, Josh?”

“Well, Jacob, what I expected of you was to leave relationships in the dust for a while after Amelia, but. . .,” he said, looking me right in the eyes with word. He wanted my attention, and he had it. Even if I already knew what he was going to say before he said it. “The one woman you could’ve truly, finally flourished with. . . you fucking fumbled her. You let the perfect woman for you go — all for another woman who will never truly understand you.”

“Maya’s a good woman, Josh. Why are you making her out to be—?”

“But— is she y/n, Jake?”

“Y/n doesn’t want me like she used to. Besides, she’s so damn hot and cold, I never know where I stand with her and I can’t—.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“She is, Josh. You wouldn’t understand. You haven’t been in a relationship with her,” I stopped, clasping a hand over my mouth. Sarcasm dripped from my perturbed face, my voice over-dramatic as I expressed my point. “Oh, shit. Y/n wouldn’t want me to call it that. She has a strange distaste for relationships.”

“Yeah, and you, brother, have an equally strange affinity for relationships. . .,” he poked right back, bugging his eyes out at me. Dick. “Specifically the type that drain the living hell out of you. . . .And why?”

Could he stop? “Maya doesn’t drain me, Josh—.”

“Oh, please, Jacob. Please,” he held a hand up, emphasizing his insistence that I shouldn’t speak. “Quit bullshitting me. You know I know you better than that.”

“It really just started happening this weekend,” I relented, giving him an in on how she’d pissed me off over the past few days. I hadn’t divulged any of that yet. “And I am being serious about that. She’s usually a dream.” But was she?

“But. . . Doesn’t it drain you to have to lie to yourself and say you feel a certain way for Maya when you truly feel that way for y/n?”

Fuck. “I do feel those things for Maya—.”

“No you don’t, Jacob,” he argued, shoving his shoulder with mine to make sure I knew he meant this shit. “Not the same as you do with that extremely melodramatic woman,” he pointed towards the direction of the hallway, where the sound filtered out from, “Who’s feeling all of her sorrows through her own life-fucking-soundtrack. . . And you like that about her, don’t you, Jake?”

“I love that about her, Josh,” I snapped, turning to him suddenly. The action made him raise a brow, a smirk lifting his stupid ass mustache. Yes, Josh, you’re right. But I won’t fucking say it out loud. “Are you kidding me? She loves music just as much as I do. I didn’t believe that kind of woman existed until her. And, along with the unreal love for music, she has that massive, beautiful heart to match? I feel it all with her, Josh. . . don’t you fuckin’ worry, brother.”

“Hm. . .,” he continued to smirk, rubbing his chin with a little glimmer in his eye as he peered at me from under his curls. “Okay. Alright. . . So. Let me pose you with this question: would you say she’s your ideal woman?”

“Absolutely.” Fuck.

God knew I couldn’t lie to him. I rolled my eyes as the cocky bastard continued smirking at me, enjoying the fact that he was ‘always right’ or some shit. And, unfortunately for me, his intuition was usually one to trust. . .

“What does that make Maya?”

“Not that, Josh. She’s not that,” I bitterly spat, scrubbing a hand over my face with a groan. Staring straight ahead as my elbows rested on my thighs seemed the best way to avoid his eyes. There was no lying to him. “She’s not my ‘ideal.’ God, fuck. Are you happy now?”

“Jacob, this has nothing to do with my happiness. It has everything to do with yours. . .,” he insisted, his hand resting on my thigh in a loving gesture that had me relenting and looking over at him. “And, brother, if you pass this up with y/n, she will close off again and you will lose any and all progress you’ve made and god knows if she’ll ever trust you again,” he explained all of this shit I already knew. And it was making me mad at myself as he continued. “You’re fuckin’ damned if you don’t go in there. Lost chance for your ultimate happiness — forever.” He said, his eyes searing mine with the word before he stuck me further with the blade of it. “Forever, Jake. The woman’s trust is shaky at best.”

I just sat there, taking it all in — knowing that he was completely right. I’d just needed his voice of reason to say it.

And, as if he needed to persuade me any more, he continued. “And, if you’re going to let Maya get in the way of that, then I guess I was wrong all along about the energy I picked up on between you and y/n. But… I’m hardly ever wrong, so I doubt I’m wrong about that obvious display of longing.”

I still didn’t say anything, completely agreeing with Josh on everything. But, loving the sound of his own damn voice too much to shit up, Josh kept going. “And if you miss out on this… you will regret it forever, brother. Do not let another woman get in the way of what you truly want. Go for it. If you reject what the heart wants, it has a way of catching up with you. That’s just the logic behind the divine structure of the human psyche and the science of the domino effect.”

“I know, Josh,” I said, placing my head in my hands.

“If you don’t go in there, Jake,” he said, the hand that had been on my leg, going to clasp my shoulder instead. “I hate to tell you, but a man who is essentially her brother — me — giving her a maternity shoot for Christmas will most definitely be the least of your concerns.” He continued, squeezing my shoulder. “Y/n is a goddamn catch. You and I both know she catches the eye of every person she passes. And she already has that Theo guy wrapped around her finger. . . Don’t let someone else take what you both want. . . What you both deserve.”

I hated all of that. Everything he’d said, so uncomfortably true. There was no doubt she would be taken from me, in every regard, if I didn’t act on something. I knew I had to. . . Before it was too late and she was out of my grasp. And for the simple fact that she was the only person for which my heart, body, and soul longed. I had to have her.

But, I had to tell Josh something important. Had to tell someone. . . And Josh had been my someone since the womb. The fact broke my damn heart every time I thought of it. My baby girl had kicked for the first time, all while I was passing that time with y/n up. . . . For a woman I didn’t love nearly as much as Lavender’s mother. . . I had to divulge all of this to the angel-devil man, whose hand still sat atop my shoulder.

“Lavender kicked for the first time while I was with Maya,” I said, my tone mopey, and

demeanor completely pathetic.

“Well. . .,” Josh cleared his throat, clapping a hand to my thigh once more before getting up to stand across from me, just as before. “If that doesn’t give you your damn answer for what you should do. . . I don’t know what else it will take, Jacob.”

But. . . I was back to square one, my mind flashing with an earlier topic of conversation. There was the daunting factor I had mentioned and he had alluded to agreeing with. “She doesn’t want a relationship, Josh. We know this.”

“Maybe. . . But— I know that girl,” he proclaimed, hands going on his hips to address me. His relationship with her, how well he knew her, meant he was quite handy in situations such as this one. . . I had to admit. “And I know she has some preconceived ideas based on her own life experiences, just as we all do. But, trust me, Jake, when I tell you to not give up on her. Don’t give up on the possibility of more with her.”

I couldn’t give up. Not yet.

“I guess I just needed you to tell me that. . . You know her so well, and,” I sighed, ashamed of myself for being so selfish in all of this. “Didn’t want to be that idiot holding out for something — all delusional and shit,” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to get my head to stop spinning with depressing shit. Because, at the end of the day, I had to have hope. “She is damn well worth it, though, huh?”

“Hell yeah she is, brother. . . .,” he agreed, a gentle smile lighting up his face. “Now, go — and get the damn girl. When I’m done getting the whipped cream from the kitchen because my girl is waiting for—.”

“Oh, god, Josh,” I squinted my eyes shut, wrinkling my nose at the thought. “Seriously?”

“Whatever, you’re just jealous you’re not doing that shit with y/n right now,” he rolled his eyes, before continuing his walk to the kitchen. Right before he entered the other room, he turned around and hushed a few more words my way. “When I get back in here, your ass better be off of that damn couch. I swear to god.”

Then, he was gone.

And I didn’t take another moment to let myself dig back into a stupid hole that shouldn’t even fucking exist. I got up off the damn couch.

I was tired of hiding. It was time to take her back.

End of Jake’s POV

You dried your hands, patting your flesh dry with the ultra-fluffy red towel that hung in your bathroom. (Your Grandma’s choice of linens had never lacked in quality.) Once your complexion — face and belly — seemed like they were shining in the healthiest way, you smiled. Well, you grinned — closed-mouth and half-heartedly at best. It was the best you could do.

But, you still wanted to admire your reflection; you turned to the side to observe your bump in the mirror. When you tried to smile, it was still half-assed. It made you feel like a shitty mom. The few freckles on your cheeks, barely moving with the action. The smile was the fakest shit you could’ve mustered at that moment. All over a man who didn’t need you. . . But this baby did. And you couldn’t give her all of your excitement, because you were stuck in a predicament with her father.

God, why was your life like this?

The tears, once again, were gathering in your eyes. You were fucking distraught. Lost. . . And unable to comprehend what your next steps were. If you were never going to be able to have Jake Kiszka again, the future looked mighty different. Apparently, you’d put more faith in the situation than you should have. In fact, you hadn’t even realized you were doing it.

It was impossible to stop, though. Because, while you knew you couldn’t have him-have him, your body couldn’t resist yearning for him. You wanted him in a way you could satisfy, if shit would stop getting in the way. . . It was a way you’d believed he wanted to satisfy, too. . . But you were just — never good enough for him anymore.

So. . . You posed the question to yourself, once more. . . Was it time to ‘give up’? Time to stop opening yourself up? Over and over again? Only to usher in hurt you didn’t need to be dealing with. . .?

The lyrics that filtered out of the speaker landed like a weight in the pit of your tummy, moving your heart in devastating directions.

Giving up

So hard to do

I said I've tried

But it just ain't no use

But my light of hope is burning dim

How many times? Even within a few days’ time, you’d given your heart over to him, for him to continue to turn you away for someone else. . . Your thoughts were interrupted by the slightest knock on your door. Eyebrows drawn in, you grabbed the sports bra you’d brought with you, slipping the thin, gray Calvin Klein material over your head. After you’d adjusted your tits to not be falling out of the bra, you turned off the light to your bathroom before slowly, tentatively making your way to the door of your bedroom.

And, just as the saxophone started to musically emote every feeling the song’s lyrics professed, you twisted the old, golden knob. . . to find. . .

Jake.

He was. . . He had come. . .? He was standing here – actually at your door. And his eyes were dark, drinking you in as he stood there before you. Your gaze left his, traveling down to his chest; you watched the way it heaved with slow, deliberate breaths. The way his breathing took over his entire upper body, the muscles of his chest expanding underneath his black sweater. . . it made your own heart rate increase.

When you snapped your eyes back to his, completely overtaken by what was in front of you, you noticed how his gaze was drawn directly to your own chest. Your breasts, steadily rising and falling, under his captivating stare, your breasts swelling, peaking for the chance to be touched by his hands again.

Your blood rushed, blazing hot, through your veins and to your head. Anything that had happened before this moment that might have stalled you. . . All of it was insignificant now. You could not pass this up for anything. . . If he was willing, you would make yourself available.

Pitiful? Definitely. Pathetic? More than. But, you didn’t care.

Just as the song’s tempo slowed, he started walking slowly towards you to match the time of the track. You stayed, frozen, feet rooted firmly in their spot. Your heart was daring to thump straight out of your chest at the anticipation.

Barely able to process it, as you stood captivated by him, you felt his lips before you even noticed they were coming towards yours. His full lips, nearly grazing yours before reality snapped back. He couldn’t.

You put a hand to his chest, pushing him back just a bit to look up and into his eyes. “Jake—no, you said we can’t kiss, baby. I can’t let you do that and have you regret it,” you hushed into the few inches of air between your bodies.

“Baby, the only people in the entire world are you and me. Even if only for tonight, we are letting the rest of the world fade. . .,” he emphasized with a gentle graze of his thumb to the crest of your left cheek. Your eyes blinked innocently, up at him. “There is no one here but you and me,” he encouraged, tilting your chin up to look at him more directly. “That means I can kiss you. So. . . If you’ll have me, I would really love to feel your lips on mine ag—.”

You didn’t even let him finish before you were crashing your lips against his.

And god bless it all. The press of his soft lips against yours again made your entire being light up in a way that compared to nothing else in the entire world. This kiss, it reminded you of how incredibly dull life was without the regular feeling of having his lips against yours. . . How fucking dim things were when you were so distanced from him. . . Now, in this moment, you wondered how in the fuck you had ever willingly given up this access to him. He’d offered himself to you, begged for you to give him a chance, and you’d still let this go.

No tongues were involved – not yet. This was solely based on the plump softness of his pretty lips, and how they meshed with yours so seamlessly. Until Jake, you hadn’t realized that lips could feel like they were made to grace another’s. And, by some cruel twist of fate by the universe, you were reminded that this man – who was too good for you, destined to always be right outside of your grasp – happened to also be the perfect match to your mouth.

“I don’t want to ever leave you again, babydoll. . . Being away from you is one of the worst feelings on this damn earth,” he murmured against your lips, pulling away as little breaths came out in warm puffs against your freshly washed face. “I am so, so sorry.”

You wanted to lean back in, and not talk about that for the time being. But, it seemed Jake had other plans as he reached to hold your shoulders, pulling you back just enough to look into his eyes. The amber-brown irises that honed in on yours screamed honesty.

“Do you believe me?” He softly asked, heart fully exposed in front of you as his eyes evoked vulnerability.

You knew he meant the truth – knew he wanted to resolve any possible hurt feelings. . . But, it wasn’t worth it right now. Having that conversation and somehow losing the guts to go through with this? Absolutely not. You couldn’t lose him for the millionth time. . . You had to have him. Just this once, at the very least. This was your moment. This was your opportunity. You could worry about the rest later.

When you stood there, not willing to speak, his gaze questioned you – very obviously worried that you were upset with him. He took that as his indicator to continue. “Y/n, I need you to know. . . every stupid thing I’ve done within the last few days. . . All of the things that might’ve made it look like I didn’t care,” he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. Then, his eyes were looking into yours once more, begging you to listen. “I promise you, baby, I didn’t–.”

“Jake. I–,” you sighed, shaking your head as you ran a hand across your forehead, nervously scratching your brow. “At this moment in time, I really don’t want to worry about that,” you sighed again, closing your eyes for a moment before you reached up and out to wrap your arms around his sturdy shoulders. His body moved closer to yours, naturally. Ready for whatever you were going to give him. “Right now, I only want this. Please, Jake. Just let me have this with you. . . .”

“Anything you fucking want, y/n,” he responded vehemently, the seriousness behind the utterance of the words made your chest tighten. “I mean it.”

So, without saying a word more, you simply leaned to kiss his lips once again, not able to help yourself. Lingering for a bit, you savored the taste of him. . . You’d missed it so fucking badly. Kissing him again felt like endless, hope-filled summer nights where the worries were few and the exhilaration was overflowing. . .

The next song began in perfect time with the moment – with your emotions.

“A Song For You”. . . And, quite honestly, until this fragment of time, you hadn’t realized how perfectly suited this song was to you and Jake. To be fair, you hadn’t thought of this album in ages. Props to your Grandpa for reminding you of its brilliance, at the most idealistic time.

I know your image of me

Is what I hoped to be

I treated you unkindly

But darling, can't you see?

There's no one more important to me

Baby, can't you see through me?

'Cause we're alone now

And I'm singing this song to you. . .

Songs. Music. Melodies. . . .Your favorite way to communicate with each other. . . and this song, in particular, the perfect accompaniment to the waging storm of love and care you felt for the man in your arms. . .

His lips hardly left yours, forming to yours in a way only his lips could. His tongue pushed into your mouth, just as you opened your mouth, more than eager to feel him there. He continued drawing shapes against your tongue with his own, as you made your way back towards your bed. And, suddenly, the backs of your knees were hitting the edge of your mattress. His jean-clad thighs, flush with your bare thighs.

This was not going to work. The jeans had to go. Now.

When you both pulled away, gasping for a breath of air, you decided to go in a different direction than his lips. Moving back in towards him, you laced your hands in his hair and tilted his head to the side, letting your lips graze the side of his neck, sloppily tasting him. You were doing everything but biting against the warm skin there. You didn’t want to mark him up – fearful of this night being found out.

No matter how dizzy and lightheaded he made you, you had enough wherewithal, still, to remember you could not leave any trace of your touch.

His tanned skin was quickly showing for your mouth’s work with temporary smudges, though, becoming red from the heated breaths and long, open-mouthed kisses you were planting there. His breath hitched when your tongue reached the shell of his ear. And, when you got there, you did let your teeth bite. Lightly, enough to pull a whimper from his lips. Your belly buzzed with delight, toppling over itself, ready for more.

You gripped his sweater, holding him there as your mouth trailed to the pulse point at the front of his neck, lapping at it. Your tongue tasted the saltiness of his skin, enjoying the way its essence mixed so intricately with your tastebuds. No matter how sad he’d made you — particularly over the course of the past couple of days —, you couldn’t help but feel utterly pathetic and needy for any and everything Jake could give you.

And, one of your favorite things he could give you – the thing you needed most – was right in front of you, hiding behind the constricting fabric of his jeans. Some sort of primal instinct took over your body, your chest igniting with heat at the possibility of feeling his dick in more places than one. And one place you felt was crying to feel him, was your tongue.

Your hands became tighter in the fabric of his sweater, finally pulling it up from his waist. Thankfully, he was quick to assist you. He grasped the sweater himself, with one hand behind his neck, making it one quick swoop of taking off the offensive material.

And, then. . . There he was. You bit your lip, your core heating at how incredible his body was. . . That beautiful, taut and tanned chest, in front of you. The curve of his pecs, intoxicating and begging for your teeth. . . But. You couldn’t bite him and make a mark. So, you went with the second best alternative. Your tongue went to trace the rounded, smooth muscle of his chest, licking underneath the curve of his right pec.

He hissed, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, above you. “Fuck, baby. . .”

You then pointed your tongue, flicking the tip of your tongue against his pretty nipple, closing your eyes at the same time he pushed his body against you. You grabbed his waist to stay balanced as he began to move. His arms, coming to loop around your body, grabbing the stretchy waistband of your sleep shorts. Before he took them off, though, his hands slipped into the back of the shorts and held onto the supple skin of your ass. He used his leverage to push your body closer to his, just before he rutted against you. You whined against his chest, but continued to taste him, trailing your tongue across his sternum, giving the same treatment to his left pec as the right.

Then, it was time to accomplish your ultimate mission. You held tight to the warm skin of his sides, keeping a sure hold as you didn’t want to lose your balance. Once you felt confident, you went on your toes once more to give him a tender kiss, gently sucking his bottom lip between yours. When you released his lips, you looked up at him through your lashes. His hands, still holding tight to your ass, squeezed in response to how you bit your lip, your stomach dropping at the way his eyes had darkened as he watched you.

No words were exchanged, though, as you went back to moving — further down his body, this time. Once you were past his belt loops, your hands switched to gripping his thighs to keep a sense of gravity. Instantly, he knew exactly what your goal was, responding in a low and husky rasp. “Fuck, y/n. I swear to fuck. . . You better be careful,” he warned darkly.

Finally on your knees in front of him, you once more peered up through your fluttering lashes, playing innocent. “I just want to help you take these tight pants off, baby. . .,” you smoothed your hands up his thighs, then kept one hand on a strong thigh as the other did the most important job. Your fingers teasingly traced over the thick imprint of his dick in front of your face, then you stopped the gentleness. You were ready for him. So, you decided to take advantage of the pretty impression you were staring at. Your fingers switched from delicate to intense, as you gripped him, sliding down with a stroke through his pants, to the swollen outline of his tip.

His knees buckled as he breathed out expletives, his thigh shaking in your left hand. You grinned up at him, finding his eyes watching you — so intently. He was scanning every bit of your face with partially closed eyes, weak under your touch.

And with his eyes still connected to yours, you grabbed his thighs with both hands again and went in with your mouth. You let your mouth close around the head, hollowing out your cheeks to suck on him the best you could through the jeans. You moaned, solace flooding you at the feeling of him in your mouth again. His legs trembled under you, as your tongue reached out to tap the muscle in your mouth. Between your legs, you felt your panties dampen when he twitched in your mouth.

It made you realize just how badly you needed the real thing. No more motherfucking pants. But, you knew it could be so much better than this — for both of you. You were ready to give him and yourself exactly what you both wanted — needed.

Your knees pressed further into the shagged carpet of your old room, anchoring to your spot as you prepared for him. With deft fingers, you undid the button of his jeans. And once it popped open, you heard him release a sigh of relief at the same time you watched his thick cock push his pants open further.

“Fuck,” he gasped, a groan following when you placed your hands on his hips to adjust better.

His body loosened just a bit as you held him there, his throbbing cock, begging for attention as it pushed against the seams of his briefs. Wanting to do the best for him that you could, you didn’t waste time pushing his boxers and pants down in one go.

“Y/n, goddammit, baby,” he mumbled on a strangled breath.

Perfectly groomed, as always. You grinned at how meticulously he kept himself trimmed — hardly any hair to obscure the view of his pretty cock. Any and every woman would kill for a man who paid such incredible mind to his hygiene as Jake did. It was a small, thoughtful gesture that exemplified how much he cared to make things comfortable for his partner.

Aaaaand, you were done thinking about that. Your mind didn’t trail any further than that, stopping that thought process before it could even start.

His cock bobbed deliciously in front of your face, pre-cum making the tip glisten. Thick, flushed, and so hard it looked painful. . . He was practically pleading for your mouth. And your mouth, reacting similarly, with how much saliva began to accumulate behind your lips.

With one more glance upwards, you looked to gauge how he was feeling. And when you did, you felt your belly become a tangled mess of wanton adoration for this man — the way he was watching you, pupils blown out and irises black with lust. The throbbing heat pooling between your thighs at his expression, and being face to face with his dick was already making you lose stability. But, when he encouraged you with a knowing smirk and a gentle nod of his head, before reaching down to form a grip on your hair. . . it only worsened.

And then he spoke, moving your head just enough to get a better look into his eyes. “Think of this as your penance, y/n,” he said, his timbre so low, you felt it in the pit of your tummy. “Should’ve been your mouth around my cock the night you posted those pictures. . .,” he trailed off, the rough pads of his fingers brushing the side of your cheek while his other hand tightened in your hair.

“‘S not my fault you can’t control yourself. . .,” you smirked, replying with a gentle kiss to the tip.

He choked on a breath, hips jutting out for more. “You know you make me lose all sense of rationality, y/n.”

“Do I?” You asked, eyes never leaving his, your brow raising as you teased the lip of his tip with your tongue.

“Dammit, y/n,” he said, letting out an exhausted huff, his head rolling back a bit. “Stop being a smartass and open that pretty mouth for my dick.”

Only wanting to obey his every word, you did just that, making sure his cock was lined up perfectly with your waiting mouth. But, you didn’t move forward. You only blinked up at him, acting blameless. He knew that you were at his mercy as soon as you gave him a subtle nod of your head, letting him know exactly what you wanted from him. And, acting in time with your desires, he used the hand threaded in your hair to push your head forward until your lips were closing around him, wrapping around his thick and throbbing shaft.

You could’ve cried, it felt so fucking satisfying to have your mouth full of him again. The long, low, guttural moan from him as you took him in — his gasps for air above you — indicated that he was feeling the same satisfaction.

He was warm, heavy, and smooth as satin against your tongue. The slightest taste of him from the pre-cum, making your toes curl. He tasted better than any other thing. You sucked on him gently, your tongue doing what it had every time before this. With long and slow strokes, it pointed to neatly skim the crease beneath the head. His hands tightened in your hair, tugging in a way that made your breath catch and your tummy light up.

“Shit, y/n. . .,” he breathed above you, hips jerking in response to your continued ministrations.

You took him deeper, bending your thumbs to prepare for him hitting the back of your throat. As you sunk your mouth further onto his aching cock, you made sure to treasure every moment of him being on your wet tongue. And when he finally connected with your uvula, you closed your eyes, focusing on what you wanted. You didn’t want to become overwhelmed. And when you gagged, you didn’t let it stop you from hollowing your cheeks. You sucked on his shaft as you let the head slide into your throat, where you did the best you could to swallow around it.

The pitiful whimper he let out was one that you immediately tucked into your heart, holding the way that sound made you feel, close to your chest.

And, once you’d repeated that — the pulling of him against your tongue, the suctioning of your cheeks, and the notable swallow — a few times, you felt like a fucking queen.

“I will never, ever get over how fucking good you are at this, baby. The best,” he praised you, the words coming out heatedly, with strangled effort.

You continued nursing his warm cock, soaking it with your wet mouth as you focused on the pressure you could apply with your mouth alone. And, with a sudden surge of impulsive courage, you decided you’d see just how far you could go down your throat with him. How much of him could fit inside of you? This way? It admittedly hurt to accommodate your throat to fit his size, but the tears and stretch of your throat was worth it when you heard that little whimper again, from before. You pulled back to try it again, but at the same time that you began to envelop him again, he grabbed your head and thrusted forward.

With tears beginning to streak from your eyes, you pulled him from your throat again and bobbed your head on his tip, focusing on it with little flicks from your tongue. When you felt it was wet enough, you popped off of him, a string of saliva coming with you that you quickly wiped from your chin, before looking up to survey him.

You found him, his eyes seeming locked on you — so dark — watching you as if you were some deity he was made to worship. With a little smile, you went back to it — reaching between his legs, to hold his balls in your hand. When you did this, he emitted a deep, ravaging moan — the sound going directly to the little juncture nestled between your thighs, as your pussy leaked, worshipping him. Your body slumped just a bit, as your knees got tired from holding up the extra weight of your belly. Once you felt comfortable on your lowered knees, you relaxed enough to let the bottom of your little bump rest right where it met the very tops of your thighs.

“I’m gonna— fuck, y/n,” he started, sounding urgent as his hips lost control. His hand resituated to grab ahold of your hair better, but you only focused on the little whines and moans and the shape of his cock in your hungry mouth. You gave a particularly tight suck of the head before flatting your tongue on his shaft, licking a healthy stripe from base to throbbing tip. With your mouth still opened around him, you delivered a slight squeeze to his balls at the same moment your uvula nudged his tip again.

“Y-y/n,” he suddenly breathed your name, little desperate choked breaths of his, accumulating in the dense air. You hummed around him in response, waiting for him to say more. “I can’t—I’m going to fucking cum. But I want to—. Fuck, y/n!”

Fuck yes, Jake. Let me have it, baby. . .

But, he kept trying to pull away from you, which had your anger flaring in your chest. What the fuck did he want?

Momentarily, you pulled your mouth from him before you decided you’d finish him off. “What, Jake?”

His eyes were hard set while he brushed a hand through the front of his hair. He placed his other hand on his hip, trying to apparently find a sense of reprieve.

But you weren’t done yet. Was this seriously as far as he was willing to let it go? Your heart raced in your chest at the possibilities of what could possibly happen. . . What did he want?

“Do you not want this?” You quietly pondered, your eyes dark with a cocktail of emotions. “If you didn’t want this, then why—?”

“Y/n, if I fucking finish now, it’s going to be about ten minutes before I can get hard again and be inside your pussy,” he explained, like it was essential information. And, it was. You hadn’t stopped to consider that. The words rolled off his tongue in a hushed tone. “And I don’t want to wait one more goddamned minute. Much less ten.”

You blinked a few times, trying to take in what he’d said. “Did you not want me to. . .?” You nodded at his dick, hot and hard, still wet from your mouth’s hard work.

“I want whatever you want to give me, y/n,” he responded softly, his hand coming down to caress the top of your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “And if it’s only this, I guess I’ll take that. . . But if you want more, then I want that shit — most of all.”

“Did you not like—?” You squeaked, eyes watering in spite of your tough demeanor.

“I loved it, babydoll,” he replied, the word ‘loved’ enunciated in a way that had your head spinning. “I would fuck your mouth all day if I could. But. . . I need all of you — more than anything — right now.”

Before you could utter another word, your confidence coming back to you, he was asking his own question. “Do you want that, too?”

As much as you loved having him in your mouth, on your tongue, you were ready for the answer to that question before he’d even asked it.

“Fuck yes,” you sighed, raising your arms up as an indicator for him to help you up. Your body was not what it had been in the past when you’d done shit like this. Getting up took extra effort now.

He quickly bent to help you, his strong hands hooking under your armpits as he lifted you up. But, he wasn’t putting you down. No, he carried you, about a foot to the bed, from where you’d been prior. He’d carried you. Your center pulsed for his care and his attention and his strength. . . For him.

You loved him so fucking much.

Once you were sitting on your bed, he was kneeling in front of you. His sure hands, already on the waistband of your plaid sleep shorts. “You have way too many fuckin’ clothes on, baby.”

“Yes,” was all you could sigh, lifting your hips to help him as he swiftly took off the shorts and your thong all at once. No words were exchanged as he tossed the shorts over his shoulder. And, in the seconds-worth of time that took him, you focused on reaching around your chest to yank your bra off.

And to his pleasant surprise, your chest was naked and heaving beautifully for him when he turned back around.

“God, baby,” he breathed, his hands going to cup your full, aching breasts. When his touch came into contact with your body, your nipples hardened, almost painfully. But, he made up for it as he massaged your entire breast, on both sides. You sighed with complete and utter relief at how good his hands felt, supporting you. “I haven’t stopped fuckin’ thinking about my dick being between your thighs since I was there last,” he groaned, lifting from his knee, to full standing height above you. “I think it’s past fucking time to remind that pretty pussy who can treat it best.”

God, fuck. Your head swam with all of his words, your cheeks burning and heart racing. Every pulse your heart emitted, pouring against your eardrum.

This was it.

He came down, eye level with your face. A few strands of hair, hanging in front of his handsome face. After you tucked a few tendrils of his long waves behind his ear, he lifted your chin to offer your lips a kiss. He took his time, his tongue tangling with yours for a moment as he focused on languidly kissing you. Just as before when he’d kissed you, you had to see again what he looked like when he kissed you. And, just as you remembered, his brows were dipped in concentration, taking the moment more seriously than any other man you’d known. You closed your eyes to finish the moment with him, before you were opening them as he pulled away.

“Tell me how you want me, baby,” he whispered against your lips, standing up again, crossing his arms at his handsome chest.

And, so, you did. You figured it would be best for you to start on top. As he situated just how you requested, you explained why you wanted it like this — ‘at least to start,’ you’d emphasized. You went about telling him how it was known to help women avoid back pain during sex. And, as he gave you a grin, while you rambled about it being ‘a sure fire way for most women to not experience too much pressure of your belly better that way’, you realized you’d been talking far too much.

“I’m sorry,” you said, suddenly very bashful and embarrassed for how you hadn’t stopped talking. “I don’t know why I—.”

“Because you wanted me to know it all,” he reassured you, the curve of his close-mouthed grin reaching high on his cheek to create his dimple. “And I will gladly listen to whatever you want me to know. . .,” he said, motioning for you to come towards where he was leaning against a few pillows for leverage — ‘to be able to do what he wanted’, he’d explained only seconds ago, before you started on your tangent about being on too. Each word he spoke, said in that sexy raspy tenor, that made your cheeks heat and your heart pound.

You did as he wanted, crawling on all fours to him. You followed the motion of his finger and finally settled just right on top of him. Once there, your ass balanced on his bare thighs and his swollen cock seemed to pulse against you, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

The moment was almost too much for your soul to handle. Almost. But, at the end of it all, it absolutely wasn’t. This was what you’d needed — been waiting for, for months. Simply having him under you again was the cure to months and months of heartache. Finally, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

And when he leaned up, just a bit more, to get some leverage, you knew exactly what he wanted. Your forehead went down to touch his. When you did this, he grazed your nose with his own in a gentle Eskimo kiss. It didn’t last long before you were leaning further, angling your face to get a kiss from him on the lips. When your lips touched his, it felt like electricity was igniting every last one of your veins. . . Still couldn’t believe you were kissing him.

Let alone, naked, on top of him, with the shaft of his thick cock tucked in your entrance. He was so hot and literally pulsing, where he was nudged in between your wet and waiting folds. Fuck, you needed him. So badly, you had to have him. You couldn’t miss this opportunity again. This was your driving force. That singular, most prominent worry that he could be ripped from you again, had kept your ass moving towards what you wanted most.

And right now wasn’t any different.

So, you raised higher to your knees, balancing on your bent form. And, very carefully, you waddled up to him, on said knees, until they were on either side of his strong hips. Until your wet and waiting core was lingering above his thick, hard cock. You were right there – right above what your waiting pussy had been longing for. . . Without another thought, you let his tip nudge between the swollen folds at your center, your entrance, right where it needed to be.

You took a moment to let the head tease you, raising up and then down, just barely letting him get to the point of entering you. And, while you were absolutely living for the way it felt to have him just there, almost entering – the self-induced teasing driving you nuts. . . .that was not the sole reason you were taking your time. The more you’d taken in the sight and feeling of his girth against you, the more you began to feel intimidated at his size. It wasn’t that you’d forgotten how thick he was. After all, you had seen and handled this part of his body a few times in the past few months, even as your core had been starved of it.

So, no. You hadn’t forgotten what he looked like or how he felt. It was that, in the past several moments, you had absolutely remembered the way your entrance seemed a touch too small for him. You knew that once he was inside, it would be okay. It had been before. . . but, it was daunting to feel him nudging at you. Besides, it didn’t hurt to take just a bit more time to warm up to the idea, since he felt so damn good where he was – against your wanting, pulsating cunt.

But, after enough teasing for his taste, he was taking a bit of initiative when he grabbed hold of your hips. You gasped as he began to drag you, so slow and purposeful, back and forth, over his heated tip. He did this for a bit, his cock gliding from the back of your pussy to the front – making your entire body feel like fire. Then, he was pulling you forward, just enough, that your hardened, swollen clit repeatedly nudged at the head of his cock. The stimulation of him against you – the way he growled at the feeling – fuck. He let one hand slide to grip your ass, as the other held strong to your aching breast. . . . You tossed your head back, fire licking at your skin. Goosebumps rose on your skin, your spine feeling jolts of electricity, as you began to feel how eager he was to see you fall apart. His movements switched from purposeful and helpful to completely forceful, needing you to reach your precipice.

Both hands came to grab a fistful of ass, his fingertips, exquisitely tugging at your skin. He skillfully swirled you on top of him, rolling your hips with his hold on your ass – your throbbing bundle of nerves getting exactly what they needed as you felt your body become tingly and fuzzy. You gazed down at him with hooded lids, in complete awe of his ability to work you up by doing everything and nothing, all at once.

You watched as his eyes trailed from your face to where your breasts bounced with the increased fervor of his actions, then down to where he was moving you against him. He gripped your ass even tighter, earning a squeak from you, the way he held you was bound to leave the faintest of bruises on your ass. A girl could definitely hope. . .

You could feel and see that he was getting desperate to see you let go, before he was saying it. Your heart rate sped up as he continued on.

“Come on, baby. . . You can do it,” he encouraged, voice husky and low to not bother the other occupants of the house. The rasp in his words, combined with his dick teasing at you, left your nerves on fire. The tight coil in your belly, begging to unfurl. “I can feel how wet you are already – I know how badly you want this, so fucking show me, y/n.”

With the words ‘show me’, he pulled you, just right, against him – and you suddenly saw stars. With a low moan, your toes curled and you felt every worry leave your body as you came apart on top of him.

“That’s right, honey. . . Soak my dick,” he cooed, still manipulating the motions of your hips, slowing you just enough for you to come back to.

You did just as he said, letting every single drop of you paint him – needed him to know how much you appreciated his help and attention to see you through each and every need your body could conjure. Your body did the talking as you swayed and rubbed against him, showing him every bit of gratitude through your heavy release. And, finally, after your body had given you what you needed, you gained the courage to reposition.

As if he knew you were ready to try it on your own again, he let his hands fall from your body to rest against the bed. But you did not want that. You needed to feel him on you, as he entered you for the first time in too long. With a shaking hand, still feeling the effects from your orgasm, you were able to grab hold of his hand. And, once it was in your clutch, you placed it back on your waist. You pointedly looked at him – making him understand what you needed from him.

A little grin found his pretty lips, his brow raising as his eyes settled on yours, at the same moment you felt his other hand on your opposite side. “Still want me touching you, hm?”

“Don’t ever want you to stop touching me, Jake,” you replied, as if it was the most obvious statement.

With his touch and your newfound strength since you’d finished, you let his hot and heavy tip burrow into the spot, created just for him, between your thighs. You kept those gorgeous eyes of his locked with yours, needing to watch him as he entered you again. Just barely, you let him slip in, not able to help it when your eyes began to flutter closed, just barely, in response to the pure ecstasy of the moment.

But, just before you could push completely down, his hands gripped tighter to your waist, thumbs fanning the sides of your bump. “Hey,” he said quietly. And, at the simple word, your eyes popped open and you gave him your rapt attention. He grinned softly, his eyes squinting just a bit to question you. “I need you to know. . .”

Your heart began to pulse in your ears, the steady thrum washing out anything else but him. You studied him. The curve of his brow. The golden flecks in his irises, reflecting the dim, yellow light from the lamps on both bedside tables. The way he carefully licked his full lips. Your core fluttered around him at the sight.

“What?” You asked, your expression going to match his, as a worried sense of curiosity took over. What was he about to say?

“I needed you to make you finish – as always. . . sure. Of course,” he began, eyes glancing at every detail of your face before finding your irises once more. “But. . . I mainly did it so you could feel just as confident in yourself as I do.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, a little lilt of a smirk on your lips.

“Needed your body to remember, just as well as I do, that you can take it,” he said, emphasizing the words with a gentle push of his hands against your hips, pulling more of your body, onto his. Your body lit up at his movements and words. He slipped in just a bit more, not nearly all the way, before lifting you off to your previous position. “You’ve taken it before, many times – and you handle it damn fuckin’ better than any other woman I’ve ever known. . . As far as my dick is concerned, your pussy is the only one that fits it perfectly, y/n,” he repeated the same action as before, still leaving most of himself out of you.

You very quickly realized you were no longer worried, as you were now the one growing tired of his teasing. Needed him. “Jake, I–.”

“This pussy was made for me and you know that shit,” he finished, finally stopping his actions as his jaw clenched with the seriousness behind his words. “Now. . . God slowly as you need, y/n. . . I’m not going fuckin’ anywhere. . . . But, once you do feel like you can give me all of you, don’t you dare hold back from me.”

And, at that, you went for it. You spread your legs as far as you could, and, very slowly. . . . . you buried him inside of you. Inch by thick inch. . . Your nearly identical sighs of relief, weaving together in the stuffy air of the room.

You should’ve known it before. You had known it. And you hated that you’d made both of you wait, as you’d worked up the courage to take him. Worrying had been unnecessary, in the end. Because, while it did take a bit for you to readjust to his size, your wet and waiting body was fucking made for his. Every inch, tucking inside of you – both of your bodies rejoicing at the long lost connection. Truly, sinking onto his cock again was ethereal. Like no other time before.

It felt like you’d finally made it home after being away for far too long. And, yes, while the other things you’d partaken in had been wonderful – you’d be an idiot to say any different – the feeling of having sex with Jake? Pure and unadulterated sex? The act was different, more fulfilling than anything else you could put a finger to.

“Look at how damn well you take it, y/n,” he encouraged you, those hands going fully to your hips, holding fast to you. “Perfect fuckin’ body, baby. . . . Made to fit mine.”

The delicate, yet purposeful way his calloused hands held your hips to guide you and keep you going at a steady pace was fucking breathtaking. His fingertips were equal parts hard and soft against your skin–pressing into you in a way that felt as though he was marking you.

The tender action, combined with the intoxicating stretch of his dick within you, after so long? It tore you apart and put you back together, all at once. And the thought of what you held inside of you, yours and his together, did not help matters. This man, he meant more than the world to you.

He was everything. So remarkably special to you. He was Jake. Your Jake. . . . For this moment, at least.

The thought made you loosen your movements, going to rest on your forearms on either side of his head. Naturally, this put your breasts in the ideal position, right above his mouth. He was biting his lip, watching your hips, focusing solely on the way your bodies were meeting once again.

Yet, with one particular roll of your body against his, his lips parted. When his eyes caught yours, every secret he kept hidden was out in the open for you to see – or so it felt. Whatever it was, you were getting a glimpse into his soul again. His brown eyes were darkened to a shade reminiscent of the night sky as he let his eyes lock into yours.

There was no looking away. No losing this moment. And, even when your tightened, sensitive nipple came into contact with his lips, he didn’t break eye contact. Taking one tender bud into his mouth, his amber-brown irises never left your eyes. You could’ve cried, your knees buckling at the simultaneous feeling of having him fill you so intimately, while also sucking your sore breast into his mouth.

Your breasts, sore from the way your body changed for the little life you’d created with him – that you carried inside for him.Yes. It was all for him. Dammit. And you were proud to fucking say it.

“It’s all for you, Jake,” you sighed with the squeak of a whine. Suddenly you were throwing back your head at the flick of his tongue against you and the way the tip of his dick had just nudged the sensitive spot hidden inside of you. When you looked down at him again, he was still watching you. His pupils, still darkened, but eyes opened in a way they hadn’t been before. Like he was listening. You’d caught his attention. So, you continued with a sigh, “I needed this world to have a piece of you. Needed to share this baby with the world so there could be more of you. You are worth it, Jake. You always have been.”

His eyebrows dipped at your words, surely considering your heartfelt words. You would probably regret saying that later. But right now? You didn’t give two fucks. He needed to know. And you wanted to scream it from the motherfucking mountaintops.

He groaned against your heavy breast, giving one more slightly aggressive suck that you wanted more more more of. . . His movements faltered ever so slightly, but only in the tiniest bit, his eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment. He moved enough for him to remove his mouth, your body releasing even more arousal for him.

You needed more.

But, for the briefest of moments, you had images of a woman flash through your mind. No matter how angry she’d made you in the past, there was a woman across the state that he very much belonged to. . . A woman who wasn’t you. Should you have wanted more at this moment? Much less ‘needed’ more? The guilt started to tap at your brain, forcing you to put yourself on the spot.

What the fuck were you doing?

Though, more concerning, was that the man below you had stopped his ministrations. Fuck. Was he having the same thoughts?

Eyebrow raised, you tried not to let your nerves show, as to why he’d stopped his licking and sucking. . . “Ja–?”

“You are the most incredible woman to ever grace this planet,” he gruffly responded, but heartily as he kept a comfortable rhythm with his hips. Up, down, up, down. . . So smooth, exactly what your body longed for. No other thoughts swept through your mind. All you could focus on was the fact that he knew just how to give it to you. But. . .as soon as that thought entered your mind, you mentally froze. Was it the same for M–?

No. Not right now, y/n, a gentle voice within you pleaded.

“Y/n,” Jake spoke again, interrupting the soft voice in your mind. With a slight growl, his lips were tight as he reached up to hold the base of your skull, nestling a hand under your hair. “Get out of your motherfucking head, baby. We are here. This is our moment. Feel it.”

Feel it.

With those words, he delivered a particularly sharp thrust to your center, making your entire body limp for a moment. Even more desire for him leaked from your core. You needed it–this. Every single thrust – sharp, easy, hard, soft. . . you needed it. All of it.

Feel it, y/n.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his grip loosening on your hair only to pull a tad harder. At his order, you did as you were told and caught his eyes yet again. Falling back into the familiar color of dark chocolate felt like the coziest blanket. His stare was intense and quiet all at once. “You are the most incredible woman and I am honored that you chose to carry the life we created. I am honored, baby. I only want it with you.”

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes and you didn’t try to hold back the lone tear that dripped down your cheek, landing on his heavenly, sculpted chest. You gripped one of his pecs in your shaky hand, your hips tightening just a bit at the position. It was just a little harder to maneuver with the extra weight at your front.

Your face must’ve twinged with a look of discomfort because you felt a steadying hold at your hips.

“Hey,” Jake softly beckoned your attention and you had to open your eyes to look at him. “What’s up, love?”

Love. You’d ignore that for now.

“Body’s just different. Heavy, y’know?” You explained, staying balanced next to his head with one palm as you leaned up. Your other hand laid gently against your growing belly. “Need to move.”

His eyes softened and he slid up the bed just enough to get good enough leverage to reposition.

“Just tell me how,” he requested, the hand at the base of your skull massaging there. His other hand went to comfortably hold and lift your hip and the curve of your ass. It was obvious what he was doing – holding you up, trying to alleviate any unnecessary pressure. “However you need, honey.”

Another tear left your eye of its own accord. And with his next words, your heart sped up.

“As long as I get to stay inside of you.”

Your skin flamed, your heart lodged in your chest. “You bet your ass you’re finishing what you started,” you quietly responded, knowing your cheeks were blushing so bright under his heated stare. “I’ve needed this more than I can explain, Jake.”

With that, he smirked and pulled himself from you. But before you could get too sad, he was using the hand, still placed at the base of your skull and the other, still on your hip to adjust your body to be laying down. You, laying on your side and him, right behind you. It was the perfect idea, your muscles relaxing immediately. It felt wonderful.

“How did you know this would feel so good?”

You knew the answer before you even asked it.

“I’ve done my research,” he replied, his hand brushing some of your hair to the side, so his breath could fan against your ear.

Imagining him doing research on pregnant sex had more release accumulating between your thighs. How he was managing to get you wetter and wetter without actually making you come was beyond you. But he was sure as hell doing it.

Behind you, you felt him squeeze your hip, his tip nudging against your entrance before entering you once more, so slowly. As he did this, his hand came to lay gently on your swollen tummy.

While your eyes rolled back in bliss, you suddenly detested one detail about the position. “I can’t see your face,” you noted, voice melting with a hint of sadness. “That part sucks.”

He leaned down, his lips lightly pressing to your skin. Just a dusting of kisses against your cheek, before he was letting his lips trail from your face to your mouth. With that, he reached around and grabbed your chin between his pointer and thumb, angling your face just so, locking eyes with you once more. His hips, languidly keeping their pace as his lips locked with yours before his tongue was dipping into your mouth. He took his time to trace the inside of your mouth, his tongue sliding across yours, slowly. After one steady stripe on the roof of your mouth, he very smoothly pulled his tongue across yours before pulling his mouth from you completely.

Your body trembled against his, the sensation of him inside of you and the way his tongue had intentionally taken time to pay mind to each and every line of your mouth, so carefully. And when he pecked you gently once more, his lips pressing so intentionally to yours, you felt tears well in your eyes.

And, no matter how hot it had been to feel your tongues tangling so intricately, you couldn’t help the tear that slid down your cheek. For, as much as the moment had made your skin lick with heat in ecstacy, you felt the painful pang of familiarity. The longing for what had been your heart tugged against nothing in your chest when he pulled away with a sense of finality. Then, you were able to focus on the expression painting his handsome face. And that was the worst part of all. His face, the one you loved more than any other, held every bit of empathy he could muster – you were sure of it. Not pity for you or the situation, but pure understanding for everything encompassing your current reality.

As his eyes remained locked with yours, his hand stayed on your chin, holding you steady in place as he continued to move inside of you. He wanted to see you just as badly, his teeth going to bite his lip as he watched your face in awe. You wanted to communicate every feeling he was offering you, to him. He needed to understand what this meant to you. What he meant to you.

It was too much and not enough all at once.

You wanted to say three simple words, to seal the serene moment, but you couldn’t. That would, somehow, be worse than the sex. Because, the words would admit vulnerability and expose your heart in a way you were not sure you were ready for – not yet.

Also, he wasn’t with you. That was your other factor to consider before you could ever let those words leave your mouth. He was with her. And this was. . . you didn’t know what this was. No, actually. . . You did know. This was a moment. One moment, so utterly intimate and inevitable, with his dick situated snugly inside of you, fitting with you as if he were made specifically for you and no one else. . . Hence your debilitating confusion.

What in the fuck were you doing? And did you even care to question it right now? No. You fucking didn’t. Not now. Fuck everything else. Because, this was how it should’ve stayed, months ago. . . Before you’d ruined it. Squandered it. You’d destroyed the best thing you’d ever experienced in this life, in a matter of minutes, in that motherfucking kitchen.

And, every single day, the reasoning behind losing him became less and less clear. Especially in moments such as this.

You’re bad for him, a grating voice reminded you, forcing another teardrop to slip down your cheek. You could hurt him if he got too close. This is what you can do for him. All you’re good for is this. You can fuck him and have his baby. That is your contribution, y/n.

Your vision was suddenly much blurrier, a few more tears accumulating that threatened to spill over your bottom lashes.

“Hey,” he smoothed one calloused thumb against your cheek, the same one he’d just placed the sweetest kiss upon. “We’ll keep working on positions, okay?”

It’s not just that, you wanted to say. Silently, you plead with him. I want to keep working on this. Us. But I’m not for you.

Though, rather than speaking those pitiful words into the warm air shared between your mixed breaths, you just grinned the best you could. Focused on the closeness of this moment. Reveled in this. How he felt right now. How familiar this was. Cruelly familiar.

“Okay,” you mumbled, a few tears straying yet again. Gently, you nudged your chin against his thumb, causing him to get the idea and move it to rest upon your bottom lip. You kissed the calloused pad of his thumb.

His finger pulled a bit at your lip, testing something. You moved your hand that laid against your side, reaching around to him the best you could, to cup his cheek. He leaned into the motion, nuzzling his warm cheek against the soft skin of your palm.

“If you need, you can turn this way to see me,” he assured, looking down at how you’d leaned back into him. The way you’d moved, accompanying your head, which was still turned after the earlier help of his hand. “But just relax, baby. Let me do the work.”

And with that, you truly focused on the feeling of his thickness once more. He fit you exquisitely, your body acclimating to him like he’d never left. No matter how intimidating his girth was and how tight your body seemed to be, it was like your body realized just how necessary it was for him to nestle inside. Your core, forming around him, having been anticipating his presence since the last time you’d felt him.

Suddenly, you felt him nearly bottom out – the pressure suddenly much more intense. He was beautifully and intoxicatingly intense. Your eyes pinched shut in sweet bliss, falling into the way your body was full of him. Just how God fucking intended.

As much as you didn’t want to, your neck was starting to hurt from the angle. So, you turned your head to once again face the pink walls of your childhood bedroom. The crown of your head naturally came to rest against the slightly sweaty skin of his toned chest. Your back, arching to get impossibly more. And more you got, somehow, as his body adjusted into the place that needed him most. The base of his dick, resting at your entrance, as his balls were cradled in the space between you, between his thigh and yours.

You were one.

Until he was pulling out, his arm that laid underneath your head, flexing as he went to grip the bedsheets in front of your face. His fist began to tighten, strong white knuckles appearing in front of you as he clutched the mattress beneath them to anchor himself as he prepared for what was next. You moaned, straightening your back a little to steady yourself, your head pushed back to rest against his shoulder. Your ass curved, just like it knew how, to accommodate him.

You heard the slap of his skin against yours before you felt it, your body needing a moment to come to after the harsh thrust. As the head of his dick made its home, over and over, against your cervix, you felt the heaviness of his balls as they slapped against you with each purposeful thrust of his hips. His breath, so hot against your sweaty neck. His body had taken completely over, remembering every line of your form, everything you liked.

But, this time was different. There was an eternal connection, created by the two of you. And, as though reading your mind, his hand came to rest, once again, on your tummy. He held it as though to protect it, and with a spare hand, you let your palm float to lay upon his. What was underneath, the two of you shared more intimately than anything or anyone else.

She was you and him. The most precious gift that you’d created together.

One strong, weighted jut of his hips against your ass brought you back to him. Only him. Your whimpers filled the air – no longer cognizant enough to control your sounds. You simply had to count on everyone in the house being asleep.

You knew that Jake was immersing himself into every little whine, his groans of approval, could only be described as possessive. They were hard and harsh, just like his thrusts. His face came to rest in the crook between your neck and ear, nuzzled just right before you felt repeated kisses placed behind your ear.

You tried your best to move your hips to keep in time with each measured pump of his hips. With each rut of his front against your back, you realized just how much you’d missed the feeling of him inside of you. It was seemingly essential to you feeling complete. You hadn’t felt this good since the last time you’d fucked him that hazy, golden morning in August.

And, fuck, he was so damn thick, stretching you, fucking the inside of your heated core to the point of complete fulfillment. The combination of moans and sighs were hushed, both of you doing your damndest to be quiet. But, you knew it was a near impossible feat. While you both seemed to know it best not to be noisy at the risk of your grandparents being privy to what was going on in their house, it was getting more and more difficult to conceal it.

You breathed in tiny hushes against the hot air of the room, his own echoing into your ear from his spot, nestled into your neck. His hand, having been holding your belly, trailed up to your chest. And in a healthy grip, he cupped a full breast, your taut nipple running against his palm, making your entire body shiver. Your pussy contracted around him, throbbing healthily and leaking a bit – naturally, to spur him on. At the feeling, he slid out a bit slower, milking your body’s response to him. He sucked in a breath of air between his teeth as he sunk back inside, just as slowly. Though, it didn’t last long before he was once again increasing his speed, to a merciless rhythm. His dick marked you as his own – to the point that you were positive he’d leave a mark inside of you.

You fucking hoped so.

“You are so fucking perfect,” he breathed into your neck, the sound vibrating against your skin and into your ear. Another rough thrust had you biting into the plushness of your bottom lip. The feeling of him hammering against your cervix, while simultaneously rubbing, purposefully, against the secret spot opposite your clit, made your eyes roll back in your head. “Do you understand me?”

You whined pathetically, with each steady rock of his hips. The way he filled you on top of how sharp the thrusts had become, threatening to make you unravel. Your body had been craving this. And that term didn’t even come close to describing it.

You could feel it coming, slowly but surely, your body wanting to take its time. But, Jake’s power over you had your abdomen beginning to clench with a fiery sense. Your uterus, aching and begging for his release. The growl that emitted from your lips, eyes shutting on their own – all a sign that your entire being was ready to let go and accept his release. From the inside and out, your body was withering away to nothing and begging for his body’s response.

But not yet. You were not ready for this moment to end. And you by god, were not going to do this shit until you could watch him. And you didn’t want to have to turn your damn head.

Without a care for how it might hurt your back, you decided to give up the careful position you were laying in. For a better view of the man that held your heart, so comfortably, in his hands – it was absolutely worth it.

“Jake,” you whined his name, your body writhing against him and the sheets with the roughness of each perfectly timed rock and sway of his hips.“Lay me on my back, baby.”

His response was breathy, barely letting up on his movements. His hair, stuck to your own neck at his closeness. “Are you sure? Won’t that hurt your bac–?”

“I don’t care,” you stated, not to be argued with. “Wanna see you when you make me finish, baby.”

“What if I don’t want you to be hurting when I make you finish?”

“What if I don’t care?” You tested him for no reason at all, just felt like it. Felt like getting under his skin a little. . . that was definitely not new. And he knew it. “And what if I said that now I want to lie like that because I know you don’t want me to?”

He scoffed a sly chuckle, moving your bodies just so, giving you himself in a way that you so desperately craved, every waking moment. And, then, when he snapped his strong hips against your ass in response, you felt equal parts aggravated and needy. You knew what you wanted was fucking valid and that you would die on this damn hill until he understood you meant fucking business. Because all you knew was: comfort did not matter anymore. Not in this moment with him, the moment you’d found yourself carelessly envisioning for far too long.

Months. It had been months since you’d been able to fall apart on his dick.

“Always so fucking stubborn,” he rasped, pulling from your wet center abruptly, with no warning. You gasped at the sudden loss, instantly regretting your decision for him to have to move out of you to appease the adjustment for your new position. You knew he was frustrated to have to leave your body. And, you expected more of a fervid response to indicate this. But, when he made contact with you, it was with gentle hands – offering help in guiding you onto your back. “Even when she gets what she wants, she’ll always want more.”

His husky, whispered voice, gave his irritation away. The statement, spoken at a depth that you’d only heard on the occasions that he was the most animalistic and angrily hungry for more of your body. His voice, at all, made your little game of testing him crumble beneath you. . . .And the specific timbre in this tone let you know that he wasn’t going to be quite so gentle with you once you were facing him like you’d so stubbornly desired.

He’d slipped himself out of you just long enough to place you in the position you’d requested. After getting you like he wanted, your back supported by a couple of pillows, he settled above you. His heavy cock rested between your thighs only briefly before he was pressing forward. As if his body couldn’t stand not being intertwined with yours for even a second, he found his way back inside of you nearly instantly. Both of you, hissing deliciously at the new position. And somehow, whether it was the pillows he’d placed under you or what, your back wasn’t the issue you were expecting it to be. In fact, the way he’d laid you out now, felt even better than before.

Perhaps it was for the simple fact that you could see his face. Admittedly, looking into his eyes always left your body feeling more at ease. Which was why you’d prefer this view to anything else – especially at this moment.

His face. His perfect, flawless features, carved with a yearning equal to one the one you felt as you looked up at him. Those eyes–they said so much. And while you couldn’t hear the words, you could see them – every single one. They were written in a language so specific to Jake, a dialect you’d come to understand so intimately. And, to be in the place where you could read those beautiful lines once again–your heart knew each and every word with a single glance.

He placed his forearms on the pillow, next to your head, boxing you in. In this protective position, he brought his lips to place a full kiss against your lips. You sighed with relief, feeling more air enter your tired lungs. When he pulled away, you held onto his dark irises with your own. His stare, penetrating you just as his body did. . . . . You were pinned to your mattress. There was not a chance in hell for escape. And you wanted it just like that – wished this could last for-fucking-ever.

His desperate, deep strokes came one after another, at a carnivorous pace, his hips unrelenting in their quest to make you fall apart. Just as you’d guessed, he was not taking it easy. And you had a strong feeling if he continued like this, it would easily make you fall apart, completely, at the seams.

You reached a hand up to cup his cheek in your hand. Your thumb, fanning sweetly across his birthmark as you studied every intricate and sweaty detail of his face at this moment. You wanted the way his eyes were unrelentingly trained on yours, the sweat accumulated at his hairline, the way his lips were curled. . . . . You wanted it branded into your mind, never to leave, for all of eternity. You wanted this version of him to be the last thing you thought of when you went to sleep, the first thing you envisioned when you awoke. . . . All because it was carved so deeply into you that it would also take up residence in every dream.

You couldn’t let this go. Couldn’t let him go. Had to keep this glimpse of his face, near to you. The way he looked when he was entranced by you, stuck in a moment made only for the two of you. Having this with him again, it was completely surreal. The idea that you were in your old bedroom, him above you, sweating just as much as you were. . . His brows, knitted together with his mouth, suddenly agape when your body responded to a roll of his hips – fluttering around him, pulling him into you. . .

You knew he’d find his end soon, too, if he didn’t slow down. You could feel the way his body was tensing every now and again, the way the thrusts were growing more ragged. Goddamn. The last time this had happened, it had resulted in a baby. Your baby. His baby. You let both hands rest on his shoulders, suddenly feeling the urge to bring him down close to you. Because, all you wanted at this moment was to kiss him. Since you could for this blip of time, you’d take advantage of that shit. In this moment of space and time, where only the two of you existed, you could feel his lips on yours. So, once he was finally close enough to you that every breath that left his opened mouth entered yours, mixing with your breaths, you leaned up just the slightest bit.

And, once you’d met in the middle, you let your lips mold with his. Your top lip, tucked snug between his slips. You sucked on his bottom lip before you let the kiss deepen briefly, tangling your tongue with his to entwine with him in every way you could. Languidly, you kissed for a few stolen minutes. The kisses were measured perfectly and messy, all at once. His body, moving just enough to keep a rhythm. You crossed your arms at his neck, just as your ankles went to cross at his lower back. This made your belly come to rest snugly against his abdomen.

Still, somehow, you needed him closer — he was never, ever close enough.

He pulled away once breathing became a necessity once more. The words were mumbled, his voice strangled on a low moan against your lips. “When I–when it’s time. . . . where do you want me to finish?”

Not able to help it, a giggle released from the tenderness you felt in your chest for him. “It won’t affect me either way, baby. . .,” you sighed, your words lilting with the steady, now-soft force of his thrusts. He was pacing himself. Thank god. You were trying your best to do the same. You played with the tendrils of hair that had fallen to cling to the column of his throat. You loosened your legs momentarily – just enough to tighten them again, proving a point. You pulled him close enough to you that the roundness of your bump meshed completely to his abdomen. If she kicked now, no doubt he’d feel it against his skin. “I’m full of your baby already.”

He stopped moving momentarily. His breath, catching in his throat as his mouth dropped open at your words. Eventually, he came back to you. This was after he’d let his eyes trail down from your face, to every other part of your upper body. He’d watched, in utter admiration, where your bodies connected.

He moaned once his eyes were on yours again. From deep in his chest, you felt it rattle through your chest. You’d never heard the sound from him. It was dark and guttural —territorial, almost. Your body did the talking for you as you processed the sound. Right along with the darkness in your gaze, your center squeezed him – right where his hot, heavy dick rested inside of you.

You’d meant it as a joke. But. . . His reaction was telling you that he didn’t seem to find it so funny. And now, you weren’t finding anything funny at all.

When his movements stuttered back to life, he clenched his jaw before biting the plushness of his bottom lip. When his eyes found yours, after tracing intently over your heaving tits, his pupils were enormous, his eyes were so dark. No light. Nothing. Only neediness. Hunger.

The fire that blazed in his eyes when he went to kiss you, before sucking a mark behind your ear – marking your little secret night together. . . He’d liked that. He liked you talking about being pregnant with his baby. Your chest flamed.

“Damn right you fuckin’ are,” he finally replied, the fire in his voice unwavering as he let a hand trail to your thigh. He lifted your leg higher, to rest higher on his back, getting even deeper, hips never ceasing. His eyes, still blazing, seemed to hold an important thought behind them. “But. . . baby, where do you want me to. . .?”

It took you no time at all to know exactly where you wanted him to finish. That was no damn question at all. In fact, you were a little offended he had to ask at all.

“Inside,” you sighed, your chest heavy with need for the man above you. “As far as you can get – inside. Please.”

“God— I was hoping you’d fucking say that,” he mumbled, bringing the other leg up by the thigh, before he did just as you said, sunk as far as possible. Just as he had earlier, from behind, but now you could see his face when he (very nearly) bottomed out. The way his eyes rolled back in his head was hardly caught by you as you reacted, just the same. He grabbed the headboard above you, pulling it from the wall the slightest bit, the bed creaking a bit from being manipulated. Then, he was reaching for a spare pillow with the other hand, grasping the one next to your head. Then, he was tucking it, securely, between the white metal of the headboard and the wall.

You crinkled your brow. . . Why is he. . .?

He then used a powerful rut of his hips to push the bed back into place, pounding his hips into you as the bed squeaked back against the pillow.

The groan that left your lips matched in perfect time to his own, as the head of his cock surely left an imprint against your cervix. Then, as soon as he was seated in you, he was tucking your legs up a smidge higher to sink further into you. He couldn’t go as far as you wanted, because, even with your legs lifted, the belly hindered him a bit. Not too much, but enough that you were longing for the last couple centimeters of him. Your legs tingled in the best way with the new position, before you felt him all around you – moving in the pit of your tummy.

“Jake,” you pathetically cried his name, miserable for him. And he met it with harsher, harder thrusts. . . Less controlled. More reckless. . . starved.

His eyes briefly lifted to the headboard, just in time, it seemed as he rushed out a ‘fuckin’ pillow’, before he hurriedly pushed his palms against the headboard, holding the offensive pillow in its place.

Even though you knew what was going on, you still asked. “What’s wrong?”

“This damn pillow,” he grunted, his hips still keeping the same time as before. He was a sex god. Plain and simple. Fuck. “Keeps trying to move. Can’t let the headboard hit the wall. But I’ll be damned if I slow down.”

Your face heated at his statement, core gaining more wetness, all for him. “Well, I think. . . .,” you started, his gaze finding yours to acknowledge you. “ I think. . . Therein lies the problem, baby. . . . The poor pillow can’t keep up with us.”

He huffed a laugh, the dimple in his cheek showing as your mind drifted to the way his sweaty abdomen rubbed against the underside of your belly. “I’d say you’re correct, babydoll.”

You looked above you, to watch him, his face contorted in concentration as he went back to watching the pillow. Then, he was clenching that pretty jaw, your body jostling with each and every powerful roll of his hips. From where you were writhing beneath him, you got to admire the strong underside of that jaw, as he looked up to watch the headboard tempt to hit the wall. The bed was shaking—creaking with the power of his movements.

God, his arms looked so incredible as they flexed in their position, stretched above your head. His hips never letting up, creating a rhythm between your bodies that was absolutely un-fucking-rivaled. Then, he was looking at you again. With the most awe-inspiring irises you’d ever seen. His eyes . . . Dammit.

“You know, y/n. . . .,” he began, easing up on the work of his hips for a minute. His eyes scanned every inch of your face before finding your irises, pinning them. “I think the pillow is a symbol.”

“And what symbol might that be?” You wrinkled your brow, nose twitching when a gentle grin perked your lips. Your hand, coming to rest over his rounded pec, skin warm and smooth and sweaty. His heart, beating a steady thrum under your palm.

“That I will always keep going – working – for you. I would hold this pillow for all of eternity, my arms falling off with the effort, just to be with you,” he responded, body slowing down, almost stopping, to accommodate what he was saying. The words were raspy as his eyes began to glisten. One hand left the headboard as he stopped completely, still hot inside of you. He reached down, arm brushing yours. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, just as he always had. Then, he cupped your cheek, affectionately running his thumb against the apple of it. “You, y/n y/m/n y/l/n, are worth every type of pain in this world and more. I will always believe that. You are worthy, baby. And I will show you however I can, for the rest of our lives – no matter what,” he sighed on the words, his hand leaving your body, going to the headboard once again.

Then, his body was picking up its pace again as a small smile clung to his lips, eyes glancing to the pillow above you briefly before he was scanning your face once again, wonder encapsulating his amber-brown irises when he found yours.

Your eyes watered at the fierce way he seemed to care for you. . . . But, you didn’t know what to say. Agreeing with him definitely wasn’t on the table. You weren’t there. . . You didn’t agree with him. Everything he’d said about being worthy –that did not fit your perception of yourself. But. . . The fact that he thought to utter those words at all, had your heart about to beat straight out of your chest. Your head was light and heavy with thought, all at once.

Deciding a response was respectful of the bold statement, you went with something light. “Even if it’s a damn pillow and my old bed?” You asked, sweetly, reaching to touch his face lightly. His skin was damp against your fingertips from exertion.

He chuckled on a breath of air before letting his eyes settle on you once more, the level of care behind his gaze just wasn’t fathomable to you. “Even that,” he said, so sweet. “And even then.”

It was at that moment, you realized you’d do it all over again. The night you’d given him permission to finish like this before, when the baby had come to be. . . . You wouldn’t change a damn thing about any of it. This chapter of your life was the best you’d experienced so far and it was because of him.

Damn. Just the thought alone and his heartfelt words and the constant effort, no matter what. . . . It had your body quivering. Your legs grew weak and your walls fluttered around him, before holding onto him. You felt it all. Felt the way you would give him all of you, so freely. It felt like the first breath of spring after a harsh winter.

Loving Jake was so easy. . . It was the easiest, most freeing thing in the world to sink into him.

To let loose for him.

Your mind pondered as your legs slipped down to his hips, wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders. The tips of your fingers twirled around the long wisps of hair at the base of his head, before you combed your fingers fully through his hair. It was tangled and sweaty after the night's events. You shuddered a breath at the thought of everything he’d done for you. All of the time. Even tonight, when he was giving all he had for this significant moment.

He felt it all with you. Every bit of emotion you’d felt for the past several months – the passion that took over your entire being. . . . Had he truly felt it this entire time? In the spirit of vulnerability, and the raw, emotional moment, you decided to ask him. And, you decided you wouldn’t even specify. You’d simply ask. And, if he knew what you were referring to, that would give you your answer all the more.

“Jake. . . .,” you began, fingers still combing through his hair. Because, now, you were determined to get the tangles out.

Instantly, his sights were on you, setting your soul on fire as he raised his brows with a, “Hm?” in response.

“The whole time?” You asked, and instantly, you were waiting for him to be confused. He didn’t look confused, necessarily. His eyes, holding a sense of care that emphasized he was listening intently to whatever you had to say.

God. You were so stupid. What you were asking made no sense whatsoever. It wasn’t fair to ask him – that you expected him to just know.

You were about to follow it up with something else, but weren’t able to by the time he answered.

“The whole time, y/n,” he said, finishing off with a gentle, relaxed motion from his hips. You sighed, both from the feeling of his cock making home inside of you, over and over. . . and the fact that he’d understood. He knew. Fuck. Your eyes welled with tears and the few that trickled from your eyes were impossible to contain. A calloused thumb came to wipe away the wetness. “From the first time I laid eyes on you, babydoll. . . . My soul knew before I did. Knew I needed you somehow, forever. . . And then the universe gifted us Lav. The most incredible answer to my soul’s deepest desire.”

Fuck.

“Oh, Jake. . . .,” you murmured, your wet eyes bouncing between his, weighing the emotion behind each iris. “I. . . . You are. . . ,” you paused, contemplating if you should say it. What wanted to fall from your lips. And, you decided, not bothering to fully consider it, that you had to say it. It was the truth, and this was the chance to say it. At the very least, you could say this. “You are everything, Jacob Thomas.”

Your hips lifted up to meet his, encouraging him as tears continued to fall down your cheeks, one by one. He kept with his motions, that same grin from before, evident on his lips, still. His brows drew together at the feeling of it all, just as yours did the same. God, you wanted to fall apart around him more than anything right now. So, you kept meeting his forceful thrusts, felt his heavy dick sink in, then out, in, then out. . . .

This was it. Both of you knew it, your eyes meeting in a nostalgic gaze. This was a mirrored moment to the one, so many months ago in August, where you’d allowed the same thing. . . . The results, very visible from the allowance that night.

“I need it, Jake,” you whispered, the words sacred – meant only for his ears – on a shaky sigh. “I need you to feel it when I let go. I need you to know – to feel how much I mean it. My body needs yours and it’s ready to show you just how badly it aches for you, all of the time. . .”

He was receptive immediately, reaching behind him to push your legs a bit lower. And, you eventually got the hint that he wanted your legs to be down. So, you did as you assumed, planting your feet on the bed and spreading your legs as far as they could go. Your hips burned a little at the position, your back finally beginning to feel the effects of this position. . . But you didn’t care. When you did this, he laid his body down further against you, meeting you completely. His chest, nearly flush with your own. And when your hard, sensitive nipples skimmed his strong chest, you mewled, grinding up into him, needing more.

Once he was nestled just as he’d apparently wanted, he tucked his face into your neck. The bridge of his nose, running lazily against your neck before his lips were making home there as well. Leaving wet, open mouthed kisses, lazily against your burning flesh. Once he’d made it to the column of your throat, right next to your ear, he went back to that spot from earlier. His mouth rested under and then behind your ear, as he curled a fistful of your hair in his palm, angling your head a bit to the side so he could bite there.

“Fuck,” you breathed, careening your body into his, getting as close as you could. His dick shifted a bit in your body at the action and you moved against it the best you could, craving friction everywhere. As you did that, he began sucking, intently, to make an even darker bruise than you were sure was already there from earlier.

His lips were then against your ear, his hot, labored breaths brushing against your skin. He stopped moving completely, pushing into you, entirely (or, nearly – thanks, belly) before his hips stilled. “Stop moving and listen to me,” he demanded. His voice was low, his tone dark and husky. “You are mine, y/n. And I am yours. We both know this. Don’t we?”

“Yes,” you sighed in response, needing no time to confirm you felt the same. There was no way in hell you could disagree. You’d learned there was no denying the pull you felt to the man on top of you. You were his – beyond the shadow of a doubt. You squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself leak around him, encouraging more. “Yes, Jake. I am yours, baby.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer, his hips beginning a slow, steady, and deliberate rhythm. His breaths, still hot against your neck. But. . . that wasn’t what this position was intended for. . . You could’ve had his head in the crook of your neck from behind. You’d moved for the one reason to be able to see his face.

“I need to see your face, Jake,” you reminded him, breathing the words into the stuffy air of the bedroom. “P-please,” you stuttered in time with his hips.

Without any other prompting, he was placing a kiss on the column of your throat, before doing just as you asked. When he’d moved from your neck, and was once more looking down at you, you smiled in unison. The secret smiles you shared, making a little giggle bubble from your chest, his lips quirking beneath the incoming facial hair above his upper lip.

“Hi,” you sighed, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Hi, beautiful,” he responded, two delicate fingers brushing a few tendrils of hair back from your sticky forehead. “Better?”

“Much.”

He wasted no time getting back to it. He kept one hand against the headboard, just above you, but brought one down to hold your left hip. His grip was so strong and practiced, as he lifted your body for him. You knew he had plans. Knew that he needed you just so, for what he intended to do. You had zero question that he had a plan – exactly how he intended to make you fall apart underneath him.

The weight of his body on top of you, his abdomen, completely damp with sweat, and so firm and sturdy against your belly. You felt so safe like this, with his dick – so fucking thick – so deep inside, his body hovering over you in a way that made you feel completely secure. You were sure nothing on this earth could harm you when he was like this: with you, in you, around you. You watched his face, letting his expressions fuel your impending orgasm. And, for a brief moment, you truly felt as if no time had passed, because the way he looked now was so similar to how he’d looked, every time he’d worked to make you finish all of those months ago. Every time, there was this pinch of his brows, his concentration honed in on you, watching your bodies, then he’d watch your face. . . His focus, untouchable, as if getting you off was his sole purpose for living.

Yet, even with how familiar it felt – this way he looked, just the same as before. . . . it still wasn’t the same. It hadn’t been like this for so long. But, it wasn’t a sad realization this time. No, it made your skin light with fire as you realized his handsome features seemed to be communicating more than before. There were new indicators on his face, in his actions that told you things were different. And not a ‘bad different’. Quite the opposite, actually.

You’d had no idea it was possible then, but you knew now it was entirely possible for him to look at you with even more intention. It showed that he was paying even closer attention to the responses your body gave him, more meticulous in his decisions to lead you to the precipice he wanted for you, just as badly as you wanted it for yourself.

The feeling of him – sliding in and out, in and out. . . It sent a shiver up and down your spine. This sensation alone, if you focused on it long enough, could make you finish. You were sure of it. But your mind began a slew of thoughts that aided in getting you there. It lit your skin on fire to remember how wrong this was. Rather than infuriating you, you whined at the combined push of him inside of you and the reality of how he wasn’t choosing her over you.

Not this time. No. This time, he was saying things that made you realize. . . . Maybe it really could be you two, in the end. After all, he’d said it himself. You were his. He was yours. That left anyone else out of the equation. And whether or not it was true in the morning, it was true right now. Right now, as his cock controlled your pussy, there was no one else. You spread your legs further, welcoming him in, offering your body to him. All of you. Your breath hitched on each skilled jolt of his hips, into yours. You let him reclaim you, mark your body in any and every way he wanted. You didn’t care. Because even if he wasn’t yours fully, you were undoubtedly his. In every sense of the phrase.

Neither of you were ready to let go of this, that much was apparent. No matter when or what, your bodies would always find refuge in the other’s. You knew that much. The spark that ignited with every pull and push of him inside of you – that little spark forced you to feel that truth. There was no denying it.

Fuck. You could feel the pressure building, coiling up in your tummy, before jolting straight to your throbbing center. His hips snapped – harder – into you, feeding the way he, no doubt, noticed your pussy begging for him. He was pumping into you, with such a primal urgency, you were sure the bed was lost in thought and slamming against the walls. Afraid you were too lost in the rush of thoughts, you came back to, to survey the situation. But somehow, as you glanced up, you noticed he’d kept enough sense to continue pressing the pillow into the wall.

Damn. He really was everything. You’d meant that shit with every fiber of your being. Your core gripped him, tightening around him of its own accord. Fuckfuckfuck. Suddenly, you weren’t ready – wanted to stay in the moment forever. But you knew better – were aware that it was almost time. It was all too much, your body needed to release the tension. You’d held on to the moment for too long. It was time to pay your dues.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, as he continued to wreck your soaking wet pussy, relentlessly, above you. The sound of your wetness, repeatedly coating his cock, was all you could hear. The gasps for air, drowned out by the sound of your bodies claiming each other – thrust after thrust. Again and again. . . It was dirty, intoxicating – just the same as the practiced tempo of his hips. The tempo, which matched that of your pounding heart.

“Jake,” you cried his name, not sure what the fuck you were pleading for. . . . Just felt it necessary to breathe his name like a prayer. “Jake.”

Though, he paid almost no mind. The only indicator that he’d heard you, being his eyes. Those lovely irises, floating from where he’d been watching your breasts bounce on your chest, to your eyes. A droplet of sweat came from his nose, to meet the center of your chest – marking you. You wanted that evidence of exertion to soak into your skin and stay there forever. . . His eyes were soft, full of that unnamed emotion you were too afraid to name aloud. That four letter word. You could see it behind the amber-brown pools that haunted your every thought.

Though, tender as his gaze was, his body had the opposite reaction. He didn’t slow down at his name. No. He only pressed deeper, both hands going to hold the headboard again, his energy coming to a fierce head as his cock hit a spot inside of you, repeatedly, that had your vision blurring.

“Cum for me, y/n,” he demanded, the rasp in his tone mixing with a sense of domineering urgency. “Cum around my dick. Let me feel it. Do it for me, baby.”

His words were filthy and desperate – urging you. And, as his eyes connected with yours once more, he bit his lip. And there you were. Right at the edge. Somehow, you found it in you to challenge him. “Why should I?” You questioned, panting unceasingly.

Sure, now wasn’t the time. But, his answer, whatever it was, would push you over that edge – where you were teetering and tempting fate. This banter, that had been the beginning of your relationship, had become something you’d come to cherish. It now lived permanently between you two. Challenging him had become a favorite pastime of yours long before you’d ever felt his body with yours.

“Because you know who the fuck this body belongs to and all you want to do is show me, y/n,” he snapped, his tone sharp as his eyes held every memory and feeling possible. “Because your goal is to make me cum. Isn’t it, baby?” He said this with a curl of his lips, satisfied with the way you’d groaned, croaked a tiny whimper in response to the words. “And I can’t fuckin’ do that until I make you fall apart. You want to drown in me – want my name to be the only thought in your mind. Don’t you, y/n? Do it. For me.”

‘For me.’ Goddammit! Those words, all it took to make you shatter around him, your muscles tensing inexplicably, legs shaking uncontrollably beneath him as it flooded from you. You released an appalling cry, not at all worrying for anyone but him and you. Thankfully, mid-cry, Jake swooped in and silenced you with his plush lips. His mouth and tongue, absorbing every sound you released for him. All you saw were stars and JakeJakeJake, for a solid minute. Once his mouth had left yours, your back simultaneously arched to the point of near impossibility, body still trembling beneath him. You were not even aware, until this moment, that your body could curl in such a way, forming to his every line. Your nails scratched at his back, surely leaving angry red stripes. But–fuck everyone else. You wanted that. Needed the world to know that he wasn’t theirs. He belonged to you.

“That’s right, babydoll,” he encouraged, on a rushed breath, hips not once letting up. He continued to milk you for all you could possibly give as he chased his own release. “Fuckin’ mark me, y/n.”

The sound you made in response to the words and his relentless rutting was absolutely humiliating. It was this lewd combination of a growl, grunt, and a starved fucking wail that slipped past your lips. After you were sure you’d left deep scratches, you let your hands fly to the covers, gripping them as his hands left the headboard altogether. And, in an instant, he was flipping you both, never leaving you. And, he was below you as you very suddenly found yourself on top.

One might not guess it looking at him, but those broad shoulders weren’t for fucking nothing. Jake Kiszka was a strong ass motherfucker. And, damn, it felt delicious to be the recipient of his rugged handling again.

You leaned down into him, taking the new position with as much grace as you could. Your hands found home on his chest, tugging at the taut skin there like your life depended on it. And, as your swollen clit nudged, over and over, against the underside of his tummy, your toes curled. And, in this revisited position, you dissolved into another wave of pleasure. Your knuckles were flexed and tight to the point of whitening. When his eyebrows seemed to furrow in pain at your grip, your hands traveled to his shoulders rather than his chest. You were more secure like that, anyway.

“That’s it, baby,” he coached you through your fourth orgasm, your eyes hazy as you looked down at him. He was blurry through your blissed out eyes. “Take it,” he continued with a growl, grabbing a firm hold of your hips, locking you in place as he fucked up into you with one purposeful thrust. Soon, you noticed him losing his composure, though. It was his turn. . .

His hands slid over your ass, then over your hips, sides, belly. . . and finally, he held fast to your breasts. Right before it happened, his hips beginning to stutter, he went to hold your aching tits in a vice, covetous grip. You throbbed, right along with him inside of you, at the feeling of his hands possessing your body. It was all his. And he fucking knew it, too.

Even as his hips jutted up into yours, he stilled for long enough that his hands had time to come down and hold your hips. He let out a strangled whimpering moan of his own, his brows creasing in a way that looked as though he was pleading for mercy. And then, you felt him pulsing inside of you. You could practically taste his warm seed as he emptied into you, his head thrown back, his long locks fanned out on the pillow beneath him.

“Yes, baby. . . Fill me up,” you sighed, continuing to circle your hips on top of him, creating an illustrious pattern of swirling, along with a rhythmic bounce on his dick. You gave him all of you – everything you had left in you, owed to him. “Give it all to me.”

It overwhelmed you as you sat atop him, watching him do just as you said. As he gave his all, you continued to come down from your monstrous high—your body, completely loose and sensitive in the most fulfilling way. You continued to quiver as his faltering, slower movements indicated he’d reached the end of his peak.

But, you were quickly proven wrong when you felt him suddenly pulsing inside of you, again, as he once more swelled inside of you, and with a few slow sways of his hips and yours, you felt more of him empty into you.

What in the fuck?

There was the wisp of a whimper falling from his lips, his eyebrows knitted, eyes vulnerable as he finally looked at you again. His perfect teeth bit his bottom lip. . . You felt it. Felt him. This second release, painting the inside of you. . . .

“Did you just. . .?” You began, pushing up a bit to eye him curiously. Your lips curled into a proud smirk.

“Twice,” he responded, eyes wide and shock evident in his own tone. “I don’t–I guess it’s just been so long. . . . that my body was–.”

“Making up for lost time?” You finished quietly, your eyes watching where your fingers deftly combed back the hair stuck to his forehead.

“Exactly,” he responded, raspily.

Then, his fingers were skimming, occasionally gripping, up and down your sides again. Slowly. Tenderly. Sensually. You peeked back over at him, the way your soul settled at the serene moment. . . It had you wanting to live this moment, on repeat, for the rest of forever.

“Hi,” he said, once your eyes made a home in his again.

“Hi,” you softly echoed, leaning your body down to tentatively try something. It could be humiliating if he wasn’t wanting it anymore, but god, you already needed to feel his lips on yours again.

You leaned down onto your forearms, on either side of his head. Positioned just as he’d been earlier, his bare, sticky chest pressed to your own. Both of your bodies, having cooled down. Once you were molded to him, your body tucking into his like two pieces of a puzzle, you let your lips hover over his.

But, before you could move the final breath it would take to kiss him, his body jerked, before he shivered below you, making you pause. You pulled away momentarily to check on him. Somehow, worried you’d gone too far, with the almost-kiss. Even after everything that had just transpired, you instantly worried over that miniscule action.

“What’s–?” You began, trying to play it cool. But, you couldn’t finish before he was stopping you.

“I want to kiss you, too. Don’t start worrying about that. Please.” He said this, his hands reaching up, holding both of your cheeks in the palms of his hands. “I’m just sensitive as fuck from that double fuckin’ orgasm. . . How the hell do women do it?”

“Because we’re awesome like that,” you countered back.

“Yes, you are,” he agreed, tapping his finger to the tip of your nose sweetly with the word ‘you.’

You would’ve stayed like that all night, but when you moved just slightly, again, you internally cringed. Tried not to show it on your face. But, you were steadily realizing and feeling the effects of his dick. Your center, very obviously sore and fucking sensitive for reasons of its own. You tried to play it off, winking at him before you went to lift off of him.

Though, you were afraid there was no hiding it when you squeaked at the loss of contact, your eyes squinting shut at the momentary stinging tinge of pain. Very carefully, you went to position on your knees, away from him. “Fuck,” you sighed, to yourself, once you’d turned your body to face opposite him.With the additional movement, you noticed just how fucked your back was, after the variety of positions. . . Your poor muscles, beginning to practically groan after what you’d put it through – exercise, one might say, that it was not used to.

The poster of Diana Ross across from you seemed to judge you, but you had zero patience for her owl eyes staring into your soul, so you closed your eyes to feel out the slight burn crawling up your body, from your back to your pussy. The sting, unique to each body part, as they bounced back and forth, causing their own little jabs of pain.

Your chest heaved, with each motion you made. But, as you felt him leaking from you, you knew you’d have to get up and go pee anyway. A damned UTI was the last thing you needed right now. So, very slowly and carefully, you went to basically crawl to the end of the full sized bed. Ironically, it felt best to keep yourself tucked in a sort of fetal position. But, soon, you’d found the edge of the bed and you realized you’d have to uncurl from yourself in order to get to the bathroom. And, honestly, there was nothing that sounded worse than that at that moment. But, you had to get up. You had to pee, had to clean up.

“What’s up, honey?” Jake asked from behind you, the rasp in his voice making you feel a bit lighter.

You wanted to lie to him – didn’t want to ruin his high by indicating you felt knives shooting up from your fucking vaginal canal. Like, seriously. All you’d wanted was what he’d given you, and your fuckass body was acting like it was of satan. The damned thing, ever doing its best to betray you, as it continuously put you through hell, all on its own.

But, god forbid you receive good sex. It hadn’t been this bad before being pregnant. And he’d definitely gone that hard before. . . That wasn’t a new development. And while, yes, it had been awhile. . . Deep down, you knew it wasn’t because of the time transpired between the last sex and now. If you had to guess, it was this pregnancy, making your body its own on the daily. And, apparently the oversensitivity that came with pregnancy was astronomically worse when sex was too rough.

You loved that for yourself.

“Y/n?” He questioned again, still not having received an answer. But, before you could contemplate it any longer, the bed’s old springs were squeaking from the loss of his body weight.

And then he was in front of you, his eyes filled with worry for you. His stare hurriedly traced every single part of your naked body, searching for an issue. But, knowing he’d find none, you decided to tell him. But before you could begin on that, his gaze was suddenly stuck on what was coming out of you. You knew he was most definitely enamored by the sight of his seed spilling from you, but his eyebrows furrowed in a way that said there was more to what he was watching.

Yet, when you looked down to survey what he was looking at for yourself, you saw only that. His release, covering your shaven front and thighs. “It’s just–.”

“I fucking hurt you, didn’t I?” He gaped, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. His eyes, coming to connect with yours, filled with nothing but ashamedness for his actions. The same hand grabbed at his chin as his eyes screamed an apology you did not need from him. This wasn’t his fault. “I am so fucking sorry, baby. . . God. I can’t believe I was so rough with you. The last thing I wanted was to cause you any sort of p–.”

“Jacob. Stop it,” you ordered, your eyes stern as you got onto him. You did not want him upset with himself. At all. “Please, baby. This isn’t your fault.”

“Y/n,” he replied, just as stern. His thick eyebrows, drawn in. “It’s absolutely my faul–.”

“I wanted every bit of what you gave me, Jake,” you reminded him, your brows raising to emphasize it. “Begged for more, actually, if you can remember correctly. . .”

You felt your face get hot at the talk of what had just transpired. “Yeah, but I shouldn’t have been so careless with you–.”

“The last thing you were was careless, Jake,” you sighed, rubbing your forehead. His eyes were now covered by his hand, forcing you to lose that access to him. Absolutely not. “Jake, look at me. Please. I need you to believe me.”

He uncovered his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face as his eyes unwaveringly stayed on yours. His hand held his cheek as he shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, y/n. . . It’s that I should have slowed down. I shouldn’t have given in to those damn near animalistic urges.”

“And upset a pregnant woman? I don’t think you’d want to deal with that either, honey,” you said, giggling a little in spite of yourself. “Trust me.”

But, he wasn’t smiling. Instead, he looked even more saddened as his shoulders drooped just a bit more. “I’d rather not hurt one either. . . Especially the one that belongs to me.”

God. ‘Belongs to’ him. . . He was still holding onto that, even after the passionate moment. Those words. . . . they had a heat licking in your belly that was begging you to lay on your back and spread your legs for more. Right at this moment, you’d do it. No matter the pain, you were already ready to take more from him in a heartbeat. Your hormones were truly of the utmost inconvenience. . . .

Though you knew even if you professed how badly you wanted it, he would definitely not agree to it at this moment. So, you once more tried to ease him, moving just a bit more to the edge of the bed, until your knees were touching the fronts of his thighs. “The one that belongs to you is going to survive. I’m seriously fine, Jake. It’s just a little bit of pain after sex,” you reassured, reaching out a hand to grasp his strong bicep. “I’m sure you’ve read, with all of your research, that pregnant women are more sensitive – everywhere, all of the time. . . . And that’s, without a doubt, including sex itself. This is normal. So, please, stop beating yourself up.”

He was quiet for a small bit of time, his gaze never leaving your face and body as he, more than likely, ruminated over everything you’d said. Then, with a little scratch to his brow, he was sighing. “Can I at least help you? Get off the bed? Clean up?”

“Please,” you sighed with a gentle laugh, squeezing his bicep tighter to balance yourself. “All of the above are more than welcome.”

He’d done exactly as he’d promised and helped you to the bathroom. Your body, loosening a bit and relenting its terrible clutch on you once you’d stood up and stretched out. That had calmed Jake’s anxiety a bit, but he was still watchful of you as you’d cleaned up. His eyes, watching you through the mirror, as he’d run warm water on a towel, before wiping your core and thighs for you with it. Then, as you’d sat on the toilet to pee, he’d watched very carefully, for any twinge of anything that might have crossed your features.

Still, even after you gave him a spare toothbrush to brush his teeth (per his request, of course), you held his gaze through the mirror as he’d brushed.

And, about an hour after sex, you were both tucked under the pink sheets and white, ruffly covers of your white metal childhood bed. Still completely bare, neither of you wanting to waste time on clothes, when you both obviously craved the skin-to-skin that you’d been lacking for so long. He was spooning you, his breathing light and faint against your back. His hand, caressing your sore breasts, like you’d needed – every night for the past couple of months. Your legs were tangled together, your feet rubbed against his calves. Finally, you could say you felt fully relaxed again.

He tucked his head to kiss behind your ear, where he’d marked you earlier. He kept his arms around you as he spoke, letting them graze over your breasts and down to your swollen belly. “You will never understand how much you mean to me, y/n y/l/n.”

Your heart leapt at his words, while also feeling like you were floating in response. Surely this couldn’t be your life. . . “I think I do u–.”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump.

“Jake–.”

“Was that–?”

It seemed someone had decided to finally make an appearance. And at the sound of his touch and his voice, no less. She was intent on letting him feel her.

“I guess she wanted you to feel her before you went to sleep,” you joked, tears filtering into your words.

“Me? I’m not sure about that. . .,” he responded, his own voice wet with emotion. “I’m sure it was because of the way we had you moving so much earlier. . . And it’s nighttime. Both of those are prime times for babies to go crazy. I just can’t believe that tonight she. . .,” he sighed, laying his palm flat against your belly, following everywhere there was a thrum.

“Of course you know all of that,” you responded, with a raise of your brow, as you let your eyes travel to where his hand was wrapped around your front. His strong, skilled hand, seeming so delicate and gentle, suddenly. It was already so apparent that when it came to Lav, he morphed into the softest version of himself.

His hand stopped following her, stilling against your abdomen. She wasn’t slowing down any time soon, you could assume that much. She was going to town. . . . Right before bed. But, where it might have annoyed some parents, it didn’t annoy you. Instead, you viewed it as her being urgent to spend every waking moment with you – wanting to stop you before you’d inevitably leave her for dreamland.

And, in this moment, you especially understood her. Yes, Jake was right about his research. But, you’d done your own and when babies heard a sound they recognized as familiar, they’d light up. And, so far, it had been obvious that Lavender liked to respond to her Daddy’s voice and presence.

Your throat was tight with emotion when Jake spoke again. “Can you turn around so I can see your beautiful face?”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You huffed a tiny giggle before rolling carefully, not on your belly, to face him. “Me?” You posed, voice a sigh into the air shared between you two. “I’m not the star of the hour. . . That’s all our girl.”

“You are always the star of the hour, to me,” he said, voice soft as his breath dusted your lips. “Wanted to be able to look at you while I felt her doing this for the first time.”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your chest clenched, heart lodged in your throat. God. This man. Tears also gathered in your eyes, at the point that Lavender continued to prove in your womb, getting a little more frenzied in there, anytime he’d talk.

With a gentle hand, you reached forward to position his hand to lay comfortably against your belly. At the same moment that his hand touched you, he leaned toward you to press his lips to yours. She’d slowed down, only a kick or so per minute. Perfect time to test and prove your theory. He hadn’t talked again since she’d slowed.

“Talk,” you urged, holding his hand on the spot where she seemed to move most, as his eyes found yours. You nodded towards your belly, then at him.

With a raised brow, he scooted a little closer to you before doing as you requested. “You’re trying to prove me wr–?”

Thump. Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump.

His eyes widened, noticing the difference right away. When he was talking, versus when he wasn’t. . . It was obvious the girl already had a favorite parent. And you honestly couldn’t blame her a bit for how much she loved him. . . You loved him an awful lot, too. She was right to get excited in his presence.

She rested a bit, once again, as he let the air settle between you. Then, he started talking again. It seemed he was enjoying the theory testing. This time, moving down the bed a little to be closer to your belly as he spoke. “Hello, babygirl. . .,” he began, earning the string of kicks. His face lit up, a wide smile overtaking his features as he looked up at you. You smiled, too, a weighty tear falling down your cheek. He was looking at your belly, once more, before he started again. “How’s my Lav?”

Thump. Thump-Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You couldn’t help but treasure what was happening. This moment in time, the first ever shared with your little family. . . Saying it was a dream come true would be the understatement of the century.

It kept on like that for a while, until she finally started to settle a bit and he decided to give her a break. “She’s not a dancing monkey,” he remarked, shaking his head at himself, as he moved up. Once situated on his elbow, he leaned over and kissed your forehead.

“No, she’s just a Daddy’s Girl,” you replied, brow raised at your statement as you looked up at him. He only shook his head, but his cheeks were pink with a knowing grin. He then moved down, kissing your lips languidly before you added the last bit to your statement. “You know it’s true.”

Once the moment had settled, Lavender’s kicks having ceased, he cuddled up to you. His face, pressed to your full breasts, nipples peaked at his closeness. The burning desire to be nearer persisted. You could feel it – in your every pore. It was in the way he held you. It was how he kissed your lips, like you were the most precious creature he’d ever encountered. And after that, how he’d once more massaged each of your tender breasts, kissing them, too, before licking around each nipple, just so. The action, creating the relief you’d craved, so effortlessly, for your ever-aching chest.

And, still, after that, leaning up to kiss your mouth again, before letting himself fade away into the crease of your chest.

Most of all, though, it was in all of the moments in between. Specifically, it came to mind how he’d lock eyes with yours. From across the room, from above you, below you. . . Anywhere you found yourselves, he was watching you with nothing short of adoration.

You’d felt it in how he’d cared for you – pre, during, and post sex. How he cared for you all of the time, truly. It was such a knee-jerk response for him, it seemed – to help you. And now, laying together — being together— it just felt like the most natural thing in the world. You knew it was—for you, it was so unexplainably natural. And you had a very strong inkling that he thought so, too.

As your eyes closed, heavy from the exhaustion of the night’s events, you briefly wondered what might greet you in the morning. When the sun was up, reminding you of reality. . . Your grandparents, Elsie, Josh. . . they’d all be waiting for you, in the morning, to eat post-Christmas pancakes. What would happen when they all witnessed Jake and you, walking out of your room?

And then, there was Maya, across town, completely unassuming and now completely and utterly betrayed by her boyfriend. . . . .

Then, you remembered. His back. Covered in scratches from your fingernails. He was definitely going to be exposed – was going to have to answer for your stupid choice. What in the fuck had you just done? And what in the fresh hell was bound to happen?

When morning came, where would your mind be daring to take you? And would you fall into it, for the millionth time? Or could you, somehow, let yourself fall into this? You didn’t know. . . .Only the morning held those answers.

So, for now, before your brain decided to attack you and remind you of your wrongs, you decided you could treasure this. You could sink into the feeling of his steady breaths, warm against your bare chest. . . And, slowly, you let his contented breathing lull you to sleep.

And the last thought that crossed your mind before sleep took you was how nice it felt to live in the delusional bliss that this could somehow be your forever.

a/n: Fucking FINALLY. it was ABOUT DAMN TIME. and, ohhhh, sweet peace and contentedness..... ahhh..... and, you know what, knowing these two, absolutely nothing will get in the way and cause difficulties for the next 14 chapters.... right? all bliss and happiness, surely....

..... ;)

AS ALWAYS -- please send in asks, respond to chapters, etc. I PROMISE I SEE THEM AND IT IS THE BEST REWARD FOR THE DAYS, WEEKS, AND MONTHS SPENT WRITING THIS STORY! <333 this story takes up SO MUCH time in my already busy family-filled, work-filled, etc. life, but YOU all make it WORTH IT. So I LOVE to hear from you!!!!! <3 xoxoxo

trying my best to keep up w the Covet Visualizer... you may view it if you'd like. however, you don't NEED TO. i simply am a very visual person, sooo i made it for my fellow visual learners/lovers. the photos i pulled inspo from for y/n's photos in this chapter will be in the visualizer :D !!! (IF YOU DO CHOOSE TO USE IT, PLEASE VIEW IT IN PRINT LAYOUT!! — esp if you’re using the docs app/are on your phone!!)

@joshym, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @gretavangroupie, @jaketlover, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow , @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmarge , @creadliz98, @mackalah , @lek-gvf , @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini , @welllauragvf , @highway-tuna , @dont-go-home-without-me , @sarah-gvf01 , @polemicandcontent , @ageofbajabule , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jennyraye20 , @builtbybrokenbells , @stardustjake, @indigostreaksolo , @tripthelightfantastix, @kiszkas-canvas , @jakebrainrot, @anthemheatwave @chichi610, @freyjalw , @scoreofinfantryvines , @stonecoldmo , @divapadam @hailthegodsong @fleetingjake @demolitiondanchipsversion @stardustsamm @blankvz @mikiepeach, @gretavanmoon, @demolitiondanchipsversion, @lipstickitty, @gracev0609

I always try to tag everyone, but you all know how it goes! ughhh. Please make sure you’re filling out my Google Form if you would like to be tagged and aren’t already on the taglist! <3 AND IF I MISSED TAGGING YOU -- PLZ LMK <3

jakeyt

Just in case you wanna refresh before tonight’s sneak peek of Chapter 15 🫶🏻🫣💜

xo :)

#see you soon :)#covet #14 was one of my favorite chapters I’ve ever written #sigh #:’)#minors dni #like — BIIIIG time… minors dni with this one l m a o #over 20k words of filth in this chapter (how did I do that)

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be for me like the moon…