THREE’S NOT A CROWD, part three.
dadbf!smoke x mommygf!annie x younger!black!fem!oc
warnings for this series ! suggestive language , cursing , fluff , angst , cheating , emotional cheating , lying , mentions of sex , graphic depictions of sex , papa kink , slight mama kink , spanking , praise kink , corruption kink + possessive kink , poly relationships , dadbf! energy from smoke , momgf! energy from annie , threesome sex , some dom / sub undertones , naiveness from oc! , overstimulation , dumbification , && clinginess .
synopsis; elijah smoke moore and annie moore had been the happiest couple for twelve years , their love steady and unshakable . but everything changed when they both laid eyes on a younger , irresistible woman , and their hearts quietly shifted . both of them grew intensely infatuated with the woman . her presence and fire fueled something inside the both of them . both of them unable to admit it , they lied , sneaked , and schemed to get closer to her . eventually , the truth came out : they both needed her . together , they decided to open their marriage and claim the woman they couldn’t resist .
ACHE FILLED THE MAN’S BODY EVERY joint, every bone, every muscle felt as though it were on fire. From all the lifting he’d been pushing himself through, sweat poured from his forehead as he curled two heavy dumbbells, his arms trembling with the effort, each rep burning deeper than the last. His plump bottom lip was tucked between his teeth. The gym was quiet and calming, nearly empty due to the early hour. The air felt still, untouched by the usual rush of bodies and noise. Elijah preferred it this way—five in the morning was his usual time. No crowds, no distractions, just the low hum of machines and the steady rhythm of his breath as the day slowly began.
“Shit,” he mumbled, his face scrunching as he pushed through the burn, determined to finish what he’d started. Five more curls. He counted them silently in his head, each one slower than the last, muscles screaming in protest. When the final rep was done, he released a long breath of relief, carefully setting the weights down. Reaching for his phone, he shut off his music, the sudden quiet settling around him as his breathing began to steady.
Smoke drifted toward the leg press, the low hum of machines and the clink of iron filling the air around him. Halfway there, something tugged at his attention—a woman, a few machines over, working the rope attachment. At first, she was just another body in motion: arms flexing, back taut, breath measured. But the longer he watched, the more an uneasy familiarity began to crawl under his skin.
He slowed, brows knitting as he searched his memory. He knew her. He was sure of it. The thought nagged at him, pulling him out of the rhythm of the gym, twisting in his head until it became a distraction. Then she turned slightly, sweat catching the light, and he saw it—a small flower tucked into the elastic holding her hair in a neat bun.
Recognition hit him all at once.
The flower shop owner. The woman he’d bought Annie’s flowers from. The same hands that had wrapped delicate stems in brown paper now curled confidently around thick rope handles, knuckles whitening with each pull. Smoke stopped short, something tightening in his chest as memory settled into place, the past brushing up against the present in a way that felt anything but accidental.
But the moment stretched a second too long.
As if she could feel his gaze, the woman turned her head. Her eyes met his—sharp, assessing—and her brows furrowed, a faint crease forming between them. It wasn’t anger, not quite, but confusion edged with caution. Enough to make his stomach dip. Smoke reacted on instinct, snapping his head away like a guilty teenager caught staring. His jaw tightened as heat crept up his neck.
The thought gnawed at him as he took his seat on the leg press, adjusting the weight with more force than necessary. He planted his feet against the platform, lay back, and let the machine take over—metal sliding, resistance biting into his thighs. He pushed. Once. Twice. Again and again. Thirty reps, slow and controlled, muscles burning, breath heavy. He racked it, rested just long enough for the ache to settle deep, then went again. And again. Three sets of thirty, sweat slicking his skin, his mind stubbornly replaying the look on her face no matter how hard he tried to focus on the strain in his legs.
By the time he finished, his body was spent—but his conscience wasn’t. He sat there for a moment, elbows braced on his knees, chest rising and falling as he weighed his options. He could leave it alone. Pretend it never happened. That would be easier.
But Smoke had never been the type to hide behind easy.
With a quiet exhale, he stood, wiped his hands on a towel, and turned back toward her. She was still there, still working the ropes, shoulders rolling with controlled power. He hesitated only a beat before walking over, posture steady, expression open. If he was going to do this, he’d do it right—like a grown man. An apology, plain and simple, even if it cost him a little pride.
Smoke stopped a foot away, letting the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly. The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion lingering in the air like a faint scent, and her lips pressed into a thin line. He could feel the weight of her gaze, sharp and unflinching, but he refused to let it shake him.
“Just… wanted to say sorry for starin’,” he said, voice low but steady, careful to keep it casual, almost easy. “Wasn’t on nothing creepy. I just… recognized you from your shop, and I couldn’t figure out where I knew you from.” He exhaled softly, rubbing the back of his neck, the faint heat of embarrassment warming his skin. There was a beat of silence, and Smoke watched as her expression shifted—confusion softening just a touch, curiosity peeking through the guarded exterior.
The way the gym hum faded slightly around them, like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, made him acutely aware of every movement she made, every subtle shift of her stance. “I—uh… hope that makes sense,” he added, a small, self-deprecating shrug accompanying the words, his dark eyes fixed on hers, trying to convey sincerity without overexplaining.
“Oh! I remember you!” Her face brightened, and the confusion melted into recognition. “You bought some flowers and a bear, right? Yeah… no, you’re fine!” She offered a polite, easy smile, one that seemed to diffuse the tension in the air.
Smoke nodded, a small, tight-lipped acknowledgment. He felt her eyes briefly sweep over him, taking him in from head to toe—a glance that was curious but not intrusive, appraising but not judgmental. He caught it, just enough to make him straighten his shoulders and adjust the damp compression shirt clinging to his chest.
“You have a good day,” she said, turning back to the rope machine, rolling her shoulders into the exercise with practiced ease. Smoke let out a low, almost inaudible, “You too,” his voice rough around the edges. He gave one last glance in her direction, then adjusted the strap of his gym bag slung over his shoulder. The hum of the gym seemed to resume its normal rhythm as he moved past her, each step measured and deliberate, the cool air outside calling to him as he headed for the exit.
There was a faint sense of relief—he’d navigated the awkwardness without incident—but also a curious pull he couldn’t shake, a small thread of interest lingering in the back of his mind as the door swung closed behind him.
As Smoke stepped out of the gym, the crisp morning air hit him, brushing against the dampness of his skin and making him shiver slightly. He walked with measured strides toward his car, the leather soles of his shoes clicking softly against the pavement. Reaching the vehicle, he fished the keys from his pocket, the familiar weight of them grounding him. With a practiced motion, he unlocked the door, swung it open, and dropped his gym bag onto the passenger seat before sliding into the driver’s side.
The interior smelled faintly of leather and lingering cologne, comforting in its familiarity. He adjusted the seat, fastened his seatbelt, and exhaled, his gaze lingering on the dashboard for a beat longer than necessary. Even though it was only about nine-thirty in the morning, he felt an eager impatience to be home. By the time he pulled into his driveway, it would barely be ten o’clock, yet the thought of seeing his wife, of feeling the warmth of her presence, made the wait already unbearable.
Smoke would never admit it out loud pride and all but he had a kind of separation anxiety when it came to her. The hours spent apart felt heavier than they should, dragging on in slow, measured pulses. At work, he found himself constantly calculating the minutes until he could see her again, silently counting down the seconds until the end of the day. Even simple errands, mornings like this, he couldn’t escape the magnetic pull of home, the thought of her smile, the soft brush of her hand against his. It was a craving he’d never voice, a weakness he carried quietly beneath his composed exterior.
He was so dangerously in love with Annie that sometimes it felt as if he couldn’t breathe without her. He loved his own space—valued it, even—but if he could live in her skin, feel the world the way she did, he wouldn’t hesitate for a second. Every fiber of him ached for her presence when they were apart.
It took about thirty minutes to get home. When he finally pulled into the driveway, Smoke shut off the car, stepped out, and locked it with a soft click, the familiar rhythm comforting. The house was quiet as he made his way inside, and he called out for his wife. Silence answered. Assuming she wasn’t home yet, a small frown creased his brow, and he let out a soft huff.
He walked into their shared bedroom, stripped off the damp, clinging gym clothes, and slid into a fresh black t-shirt and soft grey sweatpants. The gym bag went into the laundry room, where he loaded up the washer and started it, the steady hum filling the space with a domestic cadence.
By the time he returned to the bedroom, the bed looked impossibly inviting. He sank into the pillow-soft mattress, letting his body melt into it. His bones ached, his muscles screamed for rest, and the pull of sleep was irresistible. Eyes closed, he drifted into a deep, heavy slumber.
Hours passed, uncounted and hazy, until he felt a familiar warmth slip into the bed beside him. A body pressed against his, soft and familiar. He smiled in his sleep, shifting closer, molding himself into her embrace without hesitation. Only Annie could make him feel so utterly safe, so completely at home. Together, they slipped through dreams, their arms entwined as if the world outside didn’t exist.
Eventually, the pull of consciousness tugged him back. Smoke’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked against the light. His arm instinctively reached out—but she wasn’t there. Confusion flickered, then he caught sight of her ahead of him, sitting at her vanity. The mid-to-late day sunlight pooled across the room catching her as she applied her makeup with quiet precision.
Smoke rose from the bed, moving closer, drawn in by her presence like gravity. Standing behind her, he took in every detail, drinking in her beauty. Annie wore a dark wash fitted denim jacket, zipped just under her cleavage, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her gorgeous breasts. His chest tightened; he couldn’t look away. The jacket matched perfectly with the dark wash denim pants she had on, the little embroidered hearts on each cheek drawing his gaze in equal parts awe and hunger.
A delicate necklace draped elegantly between the curves of her chest, catching the light and shimmering against her rich brown skin. Every detail, every shimmer, every curve seemed perfect, and the longer he looked, the more he felt as if he were getting drunk on her. Time slowed around them, and for a heartbeat, Elijah knew he could stay like this forever—just staring, just wanting, just hers.
She had on some brown heels that made her feet look to die for, her hair was in a barbie ponytail. And her edges were perfectly laid. Her makeup was gorgeous, it accentuated all of her features. Smoke bit his lip as he watched his wife pick up her earrings, “Where you goin’ mama?” She smiled before shaking her head. “Jus’ a party. A birthday party,” Smoke hummed and nodded.
“I’ll be back sometime later on tonight, baby,” she said, slipping in her earrings and dusting just a hint more blush onto the highest points of her cheeks. Elijah hummed softly in response, still rooted in place, drinking in every drop of his beautiful wife—the curve of her smile, the way the light caught in her eyes, For a moment, time itself seemed to pause, holding its breath for them both.
hiiii yall! this is over 2k words long.. i was originally only trying to get a thousand but i guess i got carried away? but anywaysss. i loveeee writing awkward!smoke idk he’s so cute when he’s awkward. like him going to apologize to delilah all because he was staring at her and she caught him so now he’s thinking she probably thought thinks he’s weird or a creep? and he’s thinking about it the whole time he’s exercising so he’s basically forcing himself to apologize?? like he’s so cute.
i wanted this chapter to be all about smoke with a a cliffhanger of annie so the next chapter could open up with annie going to the party! and also so this series doesn’t seem so onesided; they’re both supposed to fall in love delilah!
i wrote this in one whole day just because i know im about to start school again soon.. and i know i might be slowing down on the updates so i needed to get this update out!
i want to say thank you to the amazing and very sweet @thebumblebeesworld for helping me come up with ideas for this series and also helping me beta readdd! i thank you so much, i love you bookie!
@delicateprint for the use of dadbf!smoke
@enchanthings for the dividers,
@thickianaaaa @vaultkween @unicornkittii @mrsudakuwilliams99 @moundbayou @andreaxmorgan01 @thebumblebeesworld @mysteriousmblr @pisceswrld @switchthecolors @vibrantlymellowknight @blk-afrodite @naebaae @pdizzle125 @manebabe @sighsrollseyes @ariidadonn taglist!
