"Nooooo," I whined, "you're not supposed to be up yet. It's my day, and on my day, we sleep in." It was eight a.m. On a Saturday.

"My bad," Arthur apologized with a chuckle before putting a lid on the breakfast he had started cooking and turning off the stove. He came back into my bed and spooned me as I drifted back to sleep.

It had been a few weeks since Arthur and I had made the decision to get back together. In an effort to understand each other better, and because it was fun, we had agreed that we would each get one day where we could do whatever we wanted, and the other had to follow without complaining. We thought it was an efficient, and entertaining, way of walking a mile in each other's shoes.

My plan for that day was simple: sleep in, morning sex, eat at a fast-food restaurant, go to the beach, have dinner, and then go to a frat party at the Sigmas'. He didn't know about the whole program yet. I had just instructed him to bring casual clothes and a swimsuit before he came to my place the night before so we could enjoy the full day together.

I woke up again two hours later. Arthur was wide awake, on his back, and reading news articles on his phone with one hand while his other arm was wrapped around me. He put down the phone when he saw that I had opened my eyes.

"Good morning, sunshine." He kissed my forehead. "Are you hungry?"

"Not for food." I winked and slightly rubbed my thigh, that was conveniently draped over his crotch, against him.

He laughed. "I see. Since it's your day, I will oblige."

I looked at him and said in all seriousness, "No, cari. You have to do as I say today but sex doesn't count. If you don't want to, we won't do it."

"Don't you worry, darling. I would very much love to have sex with you right now. In fact, you're in for a treat, I'm going to go down on you."

It was my turn to laugh. "You always go down on me."

Since he had mastered his repulsion of giving oral sex, Arthur had been keen to practice. Every single time. I was not complaining for one second, he was a good student and had become very good at it, very quickly.

"I need to perfect my technique."

He rolled me on my back, got rid of my pajama bottoms and undies, and proceeded to eat me out, my legs draped on his shoulders. He made me come fast with his mouth. Then he got naked and made me come slowly with his dick.

"I could get used to this," he commented as he slowly became flaccid inside me. "Stay here."

He pulled out and ran to the bathroom. He rinsed himself, wet a washcloth, and came back to me. With incredible tenderness, he wiped away the evidence of his pleasure that was dripping out of me. He always did that. Just like Josh always used to.

He disposed of the soiled washcloth before getting dressed. I had specifically told him to bring casual clothes. But being who he is, he had picked beige chinos, a white polo shirt, and navy boat shoes. The only missing element to the picture was a powder blue sweater tied around his shoulders.

"Careful, cari, if you keep dressing like that, people will think you're a rich boy," I told him.

That made him laugh.

"Seriously, though. I told you to dress casually."

"That is casual."

I rolled my eyes. "We're eating at McDonald's for lunch. You'll be overdressed".

"Really?" Arthur complained. "Of all the things you could make me do today, eating at a fast-food restaurant is what you chose?"

"Yup," I replied with a cheeky smile. "When was the last time you ate there?"

"Never."

"You just made my point. My day wouldn't be funny if we did stuff that you always do."

"You're going to regret this when my day comes," he declared as his lips stretched into a vindictive grin.

"Come at me! I'm not scared."

"We'll see about that . . ."

He got behind the stove again and resumed his cooking. A few minutes later, I had put my pajamas back on and he was putting French toast and bacon on both our plates.

"You know," I said, "my plan was to have a simple breakfast, like cereal with milk."

"My apologies if my cooking breakfast for you interferes with your plans," he scoffed.

"You're being sarcastic, but it kinda does interfere with them. The whole point is to get you to live a day in my shoes."

"I always cook or buy you breakfast when we spend the night together, we're not too far from your typical day."

"Arthur . . ."

"Fine. No more taking initiative from now on. Will you still eat what I made?"

He made to take my plate away from me, but I held on to it firmly.

"Don't you dare take my food away from me, Dullac," I threatened.

"Uh-huh. What was that about not interfering, again?"

I gave him the finger and ate my breakfast without further comment.

After breakfast, I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and got dressed. I put on a floral playsuit over a bikini. A very sexy bikini that would not fail to make Arthur blush. I couldn't wait.

We watched TV, lazily lounging on the couch, to pass time until we had to go for lunch. I could feel Arthur nervously tap his foot on the floor or fidget with his hands. He did not like idleness.

The show we were watching was agonizingly stupid, I had made sure of that. I barely paid attention to it and my mind started to wander. That evening, the Sigmas were hosting their typical post-finals party, one of the last parties that Cedric and Spencer would attend as active students, since this was their last year of college. Sigrid would be there, as would Val, Leo, and Nate. That was Arthur's and mine first group outing since we had gotten back together.

I had told Sigrid and Cedric about us shortly after we had rekindled, and their reactions had been mixed. Sigrid was on board. Even though she tried to downplay it, she had been on Team Arthur since the beginning so I couldn't say I was surprised. Cedric, on the other hand, was unconvinced. He was like me, in that he was petty, revengeful, and prone to hold grudges. He struggled to understand how we had managed to forgive each other and, like everything he didn't understand, he was wary of it. But, as my friend, he had promised to keep his reservations for himself, and he was still happy for me. After all, he had bet on Arthur and I ending up together, hadn't he?

I had no idea how Arthur's friends had reacted when he'd told them we were together again. They had to know about it, because why would they go to a frat party I invited them to if they didn't, but I had no clue about how they had welcomed the news.

I asked Arthur about it. He said that he believed his friends were glad, from what Val had told him. It seemed surprising at first, and then I remembered they didn't know what I had done to him. They thought he was the only villain of our story, so they could only be grateful that I had been magnanimous enough to forgive him. I would ask him, one day, if he wished we told his friends the full story. But that was not the right day for such a conversation.

When I started to be hungry again, I got off the couch, ignoring Arthur's sigh of relief that we were finally doing something, and packed a bag for the beach.

"You should wear your swimsuit under your clothes," I advised.

"I won't be caught dead wearing a swimsuit as underwear."

"You'd rather change in public?" My tone rose in questioning. That couldn't be true.

"What do you mean?"

"Cari, why do you think I asked you to bring a swimsuit?"

"I have learnt not to question you but, if you must know, I thought you wanted to swim in my pool."

I rolled my eyes. "Why would I tell you to bring it here instead of leaving it at your place?"

"Again, I'm not questioning you."

"Ugh, idiota! We're going to the beach, Arthur."

Disgust showed on his face. "Why?"

"Because we live in Southern California and it's hot outside and the ocean is, like, right here."

"So is my pool."

"You're not getting out of it, cari, we're going to the beach whether you like it or not. Now you can decide whether you want to change into your swimsuit now or if you'd rather do it on the sand, in front of dozens of people."

He grumbled then asked which beach we were going to. When I replied that we were going to Venice – my favorite beach in LA – he Googled it. He found out that there were public restrooms so he decided he'd change there.

I stuffed his swimsuit in my bag, and he grabbed his car keys. I felt a diabolical smile appear on my face.

"You can leave the keys here, we're taking the metro."

His mouth gaped exactly like I expected it to. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I think you know me well enough to know I'm serious."

"Abril, please. I haven't taken public transportation since I got my first car. And even before that I tried to take a taxi as often as I could."

"I figured as much. You'll be fine. I'll be right here."

"My revenge will be tenfold. Consider yourself warned."

"That's the spirit. But just so you know, there aren't many things you can make me do that would scare me."

"We'll see about that . . ."

We finally got out of my flat. He took the beach bag from my shoulder and put it on his own. The bag was bright orange with drawings of boobs of all shapes and forms with the message 'All boobies are great boobies'. I looked at him skeptically and asked if he was okay carrying that.

"There are a lot of things that make me uncomfortable, and I have a feeling you're going to test that theory today, but carrying your bag is not one of them." Then he winked at me and shot me a smirk that I could only qualify as mischievous and flirtatious. "Besides, though I wouldn't dare objectifying women's bodies, I do agree with the message." He had the most furtive glance south. "It's especially true for yours."

By reflex, my hand came to my chest and the other to my cheek as I felt myself flush like crazy. Worse even, I was cowering from the compliment. I couldn't look him in the eye, and I had the instinct to make myself as small as possible.

"Oh, shut up!" I replied with a slap on his shoulder.

"You don't believe me? We could go back inside right now, and I would show you how much I mean that."

I blushed harder. What the fuck? Since when was Arthur such a smooth talker?

"Nice try, Dullac, but we're still going to the beach. You can feel free to expand on that thought once we're there, though."

His face turned as white as mine was red. Touché.

On that note, we made it down the stairs and walked towards the metro stop. I asked if he could hold my hand. Just like sex, he didn't have to do it if he didn't want to. The point was to get him out of his comfort zone, not to overstep on every single one of his boundaries. But he chose to do it, and the feel of his hand in mine sent warmth straight to my heart.

The bus ride to McDonald's was entertaining. For me, not for him. The mix of pain and disgust on Arthur's face when he entered the long, orange vehicle was a sight to behold. It became even more funny when he realized he had to choose between standing, therefore touching the bars, or sitting, therefore letting his clothes touch the infamously dirty bus seats. He went for the seats. I sat next to him and kept holding his hand. This time, though, he was the one who needed it.

"Why do they even call it a metro if it's a bus?" He asked to distract himself from the filth his butt was sitting on.

"Every type of public transport in LA is called 'Metro'. It's the name of the company."

"That's misleading."

"Only for rich people like you who never had to take public transportation."

"Ha. Ha."

I squeezed his hand, kissed his shoulder, and leaned my head onto it. He visibly relaxed and realizing that my mere presence and touch had this kind of effect on him seemed to solder together a few pieces of my broken soul.

We made it to McDonald's and ordered our food. I had to use my body as a human shield to prevent Arthur from asking for cutlery. He frowned all the time, absolutely hating touching his food with his bare hands, but he bit his tongue very hard and did not complain. He even spared a smile when I made him taste a McFlurry.

And then we went on with our day. We took the metro again to Venice. We found a spot on the sand, and I established our camp while he went to the bathroom to change into his swimsuit.

Sitting on my towel, I watched him with shameless lust behind my sunglasses when he walked back to our towels. He was wearing short, navy blue swim trunks, the kind that are meant to be loose around the legs, but were hugging his thick thighs. I fanned myself exaggeratedly with my hand when he was next to me.

"What?" He asked.

"You look hot."

"I am hot. It's only April, how come the sun is so bright today?"

I chuckled. "No, cari, I meant you look sexy. This swimsuit is doing things to me."

"Oh. Erm, thanks."

I casually lay down and rolled onto my belly, showing off the colorful striped thong that made up my bikini bottom, and more importantly, the sizable area the material didn't cover. I heard Arthur swallow when he caught a glimpse of exactly what I wanted him to see. I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were stuck to my ass. It wasn't his style to stare, but boy was he staring.

"Wanna touch?" I offered.

That snapped him back to the present. His eyes darted away from my butt and landed on my face. "No, erm . . . How do you—How can you stand being so exposed? Aren't you uncomfortable knowing that anybody can see you almost naked?"

I took a big inhale, ready to tear him a new one for suggesting I needed to cover up. And then I saw his face, the clothes that he carried in front of his torso, hiding most of his skin from view, his hunched posture, as if he wanted to take as little space as possible. The enlightening lecture on feminism I was about to shove down his throat got stuck in mine. Arthur wasn't being a bigot, he genuinely wondered how I could do what he would never imagine doing.

I patted the towel next to mine, inviting him to sit next to me. He did, but he did not let go of his pile of clothes which he was holding on to for dear life. I sat up on my knees and put my hand on his. Slowly, I pried his fingers open and made him release the clothes, item by item. I made sure to fold each one of them carefully before putting them in the bag. I snorted at the expensive boat shoes he was still wearing.

"Cariño, please don't feel like you need to hide your body. You look gorgeous."

"I appreciate your trying to reassure me, Abril, but my issue has little to do with self-esteem. It's the lack of pudor I'm bothered with. I don't mind my body, but I mind exposing it to the world. Some things are meant to remain private. But don't worry, I'll ignore the feeling today."

His words unsettled me.

"You should wear sunscreen." He pointed at my ass with his chin.

"No, you should. That ginger skin of yours is going to burn if you leave it unprotected."

"I'm ahead of you on that one," he retorted while already spraying himself with the sunscreen he'd taken out of my bag.

When he was done doing the rest of his body, I did his back. He thanked me for it and handed the bottle to me, instructing me to wear sunscreen too.

"Have you seen the color of my skin? I'm fine."

"Skin cancer is very real, Abril, and it's not just for snow-white gingers like me."

"I know, but sunscreen is oily, and sticky, and it takes forever to apply, and the sand gets everywhere," I whined.

"I can do it for you. I'll make sure to keep the sand at bay to the best of my abilities. How does that sound?"

"You—You'd put sunscreen on me?"

"Yes."

"Even on my ass?"

"Especially on your . . . behind."

"But we're in public."

"I know. I don't mind."

Damn it, Arthur!

There was only one right thing to do after that.

"Get dressed, we're leaving."

"What? Where?"

"Let's go to the pier." I pointed at Santa Monica Pier, whose Ferris wheel we could see in the distance.

"No. You wanted to go to the beach, we're staying at the beach." A pause. "I know what you're doing."

Of course he did. Nothing got past him, it seemed.

"Abril," he continued, "I love that you worry about me but I'm fine. I would tell you if I weren't."

"But you hate being so exposed, and you hate touching my body, especially the intimate parts of it, and especially in public. And yet you're willing to go through it just because of this stupid game we're playing. But I can't let you do it. I thought it'd be funny, and maybe eye-opening for you to try new things, but it feels like I'm torturing you."

He laughed. I punched him in the ribs. Lightly, I'm not a brute, but with enough force that he keeled over a little. He laughed harder.

"You know, some days I fear that I'm in way over my head, that you're never going to love me back. And some other days, you say things like this and I know I have no reason to worry."

I groaned. He sure had reasons to worry. I couldn't – wouldn't – love him.

"And for the record, I have grown quite fond of touching some very intimate parts of you. I'm not on big on public displays of affection, but I'll make an exception for skin cancer prevention."

"If you're making exceptions, I'd rather you made love to me in the ocean."

He tilted his head to the side and looked right at me, waiting. And waiting. For it to click. Until it clicked. And I felt my cheeks burn.

"Who's talking about love, now, huh?" He taunted.

My sole response was to glare at him, and to become redder.

"Just lie down on your stomach and let me apply sunscreen on that beautiful backside of yours, darling."

So I lay down, and he applied.

We spent a couple hours at the beach. We sunbathed, we talked, we kissed a little, he read more news articles, and I decided I wanted to dig a hole in the sand. I got bored of digging a hole, so I went for a swim. Surprisingly, Arthur followed me. The waves were strong that day, I wouldn't have expected him to want to bathe in that. He made weird faces each time his foot touched something disgusting, but he held on.

We reached the first line of waves, staying out of the way of the surfers, and that's when the fun began. Well, it was fun for me. I jumped in waves after waves, diving underwater if they broke too close to me, and bodysurfing on them if I could catch them at the right time. Sometimes, if I caught a wave too early, it would just lift me off my feet and drop me back softly on the sand.

Arthur humored me, but he didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

"Cari, go back to our towels, you don't like the water."

"Absolutely not."

"It's fine! The activity was to spend the afternoon at the beach, you held your part of the deal. I won't hold it against you if you get out now."

"I'm not staying with you because it's your day, I'm making sure you don't die! Do you even realize how dangerous this beach is?"

I shrugged. Sure, the waves were a bit high and there was a strong undertow, but I was a decent swimmer, and I had been to this beach a million times.

I kept surfing the waves, Arthur standing still and keeping a close eye on me, until my body started to tire up. We got out, safe and sound, and I let myself fall on my towel, letting the hot sun warm me up and dry me. Arthur all but ran to the beach shower, desperate to rinse the grimy ocean water from him.

We put more sunscreen on each other, sunbathed, I took a short nap while he read some more, and when I woke up, I was ready to leave.

"Let's go to the pier," I said, pointing at the Ferris wheel, when he returned from the bathroom he'd changed his clothes in.

"Sure."

He took my hand before I asked him to, and we walked to the pier. The distance was much longer than what a typical Angeleno would walk in a day, but Arthur did not bat an eye.

Once at the carnival, he bought me an ice cream, and then a giant cotton candy, even though I insisted that I could pay for it. I played some arcade games, won a few points that I exchanged for a low-quality stuffed octopus.

I looked up at the small rollercoaster whose course was wrapped around the Ferris wheel. It was no Disneyland, but it was entertaining enough. I had done each ride multiple times, and it never failed to put a smile on my face.

"You want to go on that Ferris wheel," Arthur declared.

It wasn't even a question, but I denied all the same.

"Yes, you do. I know you, Abril, and I can see it." He pulled on my hand while walking towards the ride. "Come on. Let's do this."

"Arthur, no. I won't do that to you."

Arthur was afraid of heights. I would not be the heartless monster who'd force him to do something of which he had a literal phobia.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"I won't. Because I will worry about you."

"You know that just because you go easy on me doesn't mean I'll go easy on you when it's my day, right? I have plans that you'll absolutely hate, so here's your chance to exact revenge in advance." He chuckled.

I guess I only had myself to blame for how vindictive he thought I was.

"Whatever."

The grin on his lips disappeared.

"Abril, if you don't do it for yourself, do it for me. I want to go on that Ferris wheel. It's healthy to test my limits, and I want to do this small thing for you. Please let me do that for you."

When he talked like that, I couldn't say no. So I said yes and we rode the damn thing.

"Thank you," I said with a genuine smile when we stepped off the gondola, back onto solid ground.

He was white, bordering on green, and his hands were shaking. I had never wanted to kiss him so badly.

"Anytime, darling," he replied when his skin had finally got back to its normal pallor.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close, our chests flushed against each other's. He captured my lips with his for a brief kiss. I sighed from unadulterated glee, which made him giggle. His arm remained around my waist as we walked to the nearest bus stop to make our way back to my place.

"You can shower first," I told him when we entered my apartment. "I'll order pizza while you do."

He thanked me copiously for letting him get the ocean filth off him first and darted to the bathroom. After a phone call to my favorite pizza place, I stripped off my clothes, leaving them where they fell on the floor, and went to the bathroom too.

Arthur gasped when I opened the door of my ridiculously small shower cabin.

"I thought of something else we could do on my day."

He got the message. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I was pulled under the shower head and my mouth was taken hostage by his.

I made sure he wanted to have sex as much as I did, as I would not ask him to do that for the sake of a game, and when he replied positively, we went to town.

He knelt before me, ready to feast, and brought one of my thighs on his shoulder. Before he struck, I made a suggestion that I knew would be risky.

"Would you, erm, would you be open to sticking a finger up my ass while you go down on me?"

"Why?"

The disgusted face he made told me everything I needed to know.

"Never mind. Forget I asked."

"What is wrong with you today? You're always annoyingly stubborn when it comes to getting what you want. But the one day you get to get it, no questions asked, you're suddenly very quick to renounce?"

"You finally figured out I'm no better than a kid who only wants stuff when it's being denied to them, yoohoo!"

His hold on my thighs tightened, pulling me closer to him and sending my upper body leaning against the shower wall for support.

"Is a finger in your . . . rear something you enjoy?" He asked in a very calm way, ignoring my sarcasm.

"Yes, very much so."

"Then I will put a finger in your rear and I will enjoy seeing you get pleasure from it. Do we need lube?"

"For one finger, it won't be necessary. But you really don't have to do this."

He rolled his eyes and started feasting on me, effectively making all my concerns vanish.

He ate me out like I had taught him to eat me out, meaning it was divine. As the pressure grew in my lower abdomen, I fisted his hair and he slid his finger up my ass as instructed. I held for the whole of two seconds before exploding on his mouth with a tremor-inducing orgasm. I whimpered loudly and spasmed violently, but he held on to my thigh and kept his finger where it was until I recovered.

When I let go of his hair, my chest still heaving, he put my leg down, stood up, rinsed his finger, and grabbed my waist. He bent at the neck and rested his forehead on mine.

"I don't think you can possibly imagine how it makes me feel when I get to be the only reason you get an orgasm."

"Describe it to me, then."

"It's like seeing the light after a long, dark tunnel. I struggled for so long, I thought I'd never manage to properly please you and you'd grow tired of me. Each time you climax in my arms, I feel like I'm finally doing something right for you. I feel powerful, and proud, and adequate. And to top it all off, the lazy, sated smile on your face after every orgasm fills me with a kind of happiness so intense I didn't know it existed. It awakes some primal, bestial feelings in me that I don't know what to make of."

I laughed.

"Ravaging me like I'm your submissive female is what you're supposed to make of those feelings."

"Would you like to turn around and let me do just that?"

If my life was like one of those sitcoms with a live audience, that would have been the moment where the public gasped in unison.

"You—You—You serious?" I stuttered.

He nodded. "Very."

"Oh my God, yes!" I grabbed his cheeks and brought his face closer so I could kiss him. "Yes, please, ravage me like I'm your naughty female who deserves a punishment."

He blushed at my crude language and he shook his head to brush away his embarrassment.

"Turn around."

I turned around.

"Hands on the wall."

"Dios mío, cari! If you keep talking to me like that, I might come again already."

"I said, hands on the wall."

I gasped. And I put my hands on the wall.

He oriented the shower head so that the water would spray down my back and keep me warm. He aligned his penis with my vagina, he grabbed my hips, and then, it was hard, and rough, and fast. I almost cried when I came from a flick of his finger on my clitoris and from his dick relentlessly pounding inside me, crushing me against the wall a bit more with each thrust.

Just as Arthur's hands dug deeper in my hands in anticipation of the grand finale, my doorbell rang. He froze immediately.

"Joder," I muttered. "That's the pizza."

Arthur withdrew and I had never felt so empty. I whined.

"I'll be right back."

He kissed my shoulder and stepped out of the cabin. He wrapped a towel around his hips and got the door.

"I—I think the pizza guy suspects what we were doing, he made a weird comment," he said when he came back.

"Yeah well, that's a crappy building with very thin walls. And it didn't help that you showed up to the door in just a towel that does not conceal your hard-on."

He looked down.

"It's mortifying. I should have given him a bigger tip."

"He'll be just fine, I'm sure he's seen much worse. Come back inside."

He put the towel on the drying rack and joined me. He kissed my neck, my shoulder, his erection was poking my butt, but I could tell the mood had shifted.

"Cari, let's finish in a more traditional way."

"Thank you. I'm not sure I even want to finish anymore. I made you come. Twice. That's what matters to me."

"Nuh-uh. No way."

I swapped us around so it was his turn to lean against the wall. I palmed his cock firmly and kneeled in front of it.

"Abril, no, what are you doing?"

"Please. Please let me suck you off."

He cringed away from me.

"But I—"

"You're going to love it. I'm very good at it. And if you don't, we can stop immediately, but let's at least try. You managed to give oral, receiving it should be easier."

"I . . . But . . . I don't— . . . What—" He paused, exhaled, and started over. "Okay. It's your day, let's try."

"No, we're not doing it because it's my day. We're doing it because it's healthy for our sex life to try new things and figure out what we like. And because I'm a queen at giving heads. There's no way you're going to hate that."

He chuckled and visibly relaxed.

"Okay. I trust you, Abril."

I reminded him that he could stop me at any point, and I began. I started slow, with light licking and hand-pumping, and when I saw nothing but delectation in his heavy-lidded eyes, I took his tip in my mouth. He moaned. And when I took his entire length, the moaning turned into the sexiest, most helpless whimpers, and his thighs shook from pre-orgasm tremors.

"By the way," I said from between his legs while giving his dick a short respite, "you are to come inside my mouth."

"Wha—Gosh, Abby!"

I cut him off by taking him back in my mouth and that's the moment I chose to let my piercing enter the playing field. "Abby." Not Abril. His hand even found its way to my head and snaked into my hair, almost grabbing it. That's how powerful my tongue game was.

It took only a couple more minutes of sucking and strategic piercing play until he came in long, warm spurts down my throat, his voice echoing all over the bathroom with each of his whiny moans.

Needless to say, he did like the blowjob.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: A bit of cute fluff to lower everybody's blood pressure after the very intense past few chapters 😂 I don't know about you, but fluff chapters in romance tend to be my favorites. I know they're frowned upon in traditional publishing because they're a "waste" of words that doesn't bring anything to the plot, but I'm a big fan of those cute, romance-y vibes. What do you guys think?

Next chapter on Wednesday, please vote and comment.

Love,
Charlie.