the pittlings staying over at the dentos apartment to get drunk and to just hangout when things take a turn at victoria’s drunken confession.
“cassie loves it when i call her daddy.” she takes another long swig of her beer as the chatter dies down, the conversations between them petering out because they are now extremely intrigued. “and mommy was fine, it was hot, but daddy? yeah, that fucking ruined me.” and like she’s running away from what she said, she gulps her beer in one go.
“huh,” trinity says, nodding. “that’s hot, vic.”
“thanks, trin.”
“yeah, of course.” trinity licks her lips. “garcia likes brat taming.” she shoots them a grin. “and i love being a fucking brat.”
(trinity shoots dennis a look. a warning. because yeah, trinity loves being a brat, but they both know the truth to it; how it was a coping mechanism turned into something softer, into something better and lovelier, by yolanda’s patient love. but she can’t word out that vulnerability yet, so she settles with this, for now.)
“of fucking course you do,” samira quips. trinity throws her balled up napkin at her. samira pokes her tongue out in retaliation, which trinity mimics.
“what? don’t tell me you and ellis don’t do anything spicy? i swear i saw you limping two days ago.”
“oh my god she was!” mel giggles.
“shut up,” samira whines. “and we do spicy things—not that vanilla is boring, by the way.”
“amen.”
“but, uh, parker loves pussy inspection. it was a little embarrassing at the start but fuck, i love it now.”
they let her words settle, the others squirming in their bubbling desire at the admission, before victoria puffs out, “yup. gonna make cassie do that now, mhmm.”
samira laughs, her cheeks burning, and thinks to herself how she can’t wait for another one herself, really. parker could go for so long, sometimes she’d try doing it for an hour, and samira’s body would be pulled into a euphoric sensation that she really can’t name. it sets her aflame, reduces her to her pleasure, until all she could say, all she could remember, is parker’s name.
in the comfortable silence, mel’s words spill out in a shy rasp. “abby bought me a strap. taught me how to fuck using it. taught me how she likes it and—” her breath rattles here, “and how frank likes it.”
for a moment, no one can say anything at that, their minds tumbling at the image her confession makes—abby and mel, beautiful in their matching straps, folding frank over for each other’s pleasure.
“christ,” trinity whispers. “christ.”
mel laughs because she gets it; she thought the same. she remembers abby guiding her through it, her hot lips roving over mel’s back as they stare at frank’s weeping eyes. slowly, abby told her, and deep. that’s how he likes it.
mel shakes herself out of the memory, and washes down the simmering throb inside her with another gulp of her fourth beer.
then, in sync, they all turn to dennis, anticipation bright in their eyes. dennis coughs, bright red already. “they call me puppy,” he starts. it was the tamest he could share, the one he was going to settle with, but—
“i have a collar and a leash and, recently, robby bought me a tail.” his eyes gloss over, gone in the memory. “jack had to prepare me for so long because the tail was this thick bulbed butt plug. made snug so that it won’t slip out. they made me test how snug it is—humped jack’s boot, walked on all fours, you know, the works.”
he doesn’t even register the sound of someone choking. (it was trinity.)
“then robby locked the leash on something, i don’t recall anymore, but i was there, in the corner of their bed room, with my hands bound behind my back. they made me watch them fuck.” dennis squeezes his legs together. “i came, i think. honestly, i don’t even remember anything except for jack coming over to reward me.” he ends it with a shrug, acting nonchalantly now, of all times.
they all stare at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks. so swept up by their giddiness, for a moment they had truly forgotten who dennis is seeing, and now, they know more about their attendings than they ever wanted to. still, it was such a visceral description from a scorching admission. they can’t help but imagine it now—puppy boy dennis, whimpering and whining as his partners deny him of his own pleasure until they’ve had their fill.
“woah,” victoria murmurs. gasps out, really.
dennis chuckles, embarrassed now more than anything. the silence begins to swell, and his embarrassment slowly transforms into horror. an apology begins to form on his tongue, when—
“that’s really hot, dennis,” mel says, after a while. trinity and victoria nod in agreement.
“absolutely,” samira puffs out. then, “but also? of course you are into puppy play.”
dennis groans, throwing his balled up napkin at her. unfortunately, samira is able to duck this time.
(they start doing this, more often. other times, they don’t even drink anymore, and the pretences of this being a drunken confession leave them as they immerse themselves in sharing pieces of their relationship with each other.)
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