random double mid-week post
cuz above water hit 11k reads
and the deep end hit 1k
tysm <3

—

God, what I'd do to turn back time.

I would go back and never tell Dallas I wanted to be friends. I would go back and leave my mark on him, make him mine. I could have had this for two years. I'd never make the mistake of letting go of Dallas's fucking mouth again.

"Fuck," I threw my head back.

We had to whisper and cover our mouths because my mom would be mortified if she knew what was going on. Or maybe she did know. Either way, I was going to pretend like she didn't.

He was between my knees, my thighs on his shoulders like a scarf, sucking on my cock like his mouth was made for me. I stared down in awe at the long eyelashes that fanned the tips of his cheeks, at the way his lips pursed around my member, at the way he kept looking at me to get his own sense of pleasure.

That warm wet mouth kissed it's way up my body to land on mine, our tongues speaking a secret language. My hands knotted into his hair and his just kept running up and down my torso.

"You're smaller than the last time I saw you," he mumbled, his fingers ghosting over my ribs. He pulled away to examine the stretched skin over bone. "Did something happen?"

"Don't talk," I hissed, pulling him to my mouth again.

Dallas complied but I knew him too well to know that he was still thinking about it. I didn't want him to think about it. So I flipped us over so he was on his back and instantly started working on his jeans and getting them far away.

I sat upright on his lap and ground my hips down, his mouth dropping into a little O. He grabbed my waist, his thumbs pressing into the skin, and guided me. I watched his face and every expression he made, embroidering it onto the woven cotton of my memory.

Then I shimmied down and gave him head, remembering every trick that would evoke a noise out of him. He had to put a pillow over his face to suppress the grunts and groans he couldn't control. I couldn't have that for too long; I needed to see his face.

The bad news was that I didn't have any lube in my childhood bedroom. The good news was that I did keep an emergency coconut oil that I stole from my mom literally ages ago in my nightstand drawer for exactly this reason. I pulled it out as well as a condom, which was purely there for just-in-case-it-ever-happens situation when I was sixteen. It never happened. Until now.

Dallas sat back against the wall while I put the condom on his cock, slow and deliberate. His eyes followed my hands and my face and my body all at once. He didn't intervene, either, just let me do it all and soaked in every second of it.

I then lathered the both of us up. Dallas held my hips as I positioned myself and sat right down on it, his face screwing in pleasure. "I miss you," he blurted. I slammed my lips onto his and we made out while I rode his cock.

It had been a while since I'd had sex. A long, long while. I wasn't going to last very long.

"I miss you," I said back, his fingers now in my hair and our foreheads pressed together. We created our own rhythm, one that put composers to shame, our bodies making music and our lips singing the lyrics.

"I miss you so fucking bad," he whimpered. "I'm gonna—"

"Me too," I said and then he pushed me away, holding me in place by my shoulders while we came undone.

My eyes shut and I pressed my hands flat to his chest. I felt my mouth fall open as we rode the high together, our bodies never ceasing through the pure agony that was coming as a unit. I heard him call me baby through his high and I lost it, coming on his stomach and my own hands.

When we were both finished, we stilled with him still inside me. I opened my eyes and he was staring right at me, looking wrecked and fucked and so fucking hot I had to look away.

Shame, I thought as I climbed off of him.

Stupid, I thought as I walked naked to my desk to grab some tissues.

Homewrecker, I thought as I wiped my hands clean.

Dallas hadn't moved other than to take the condom off and was just watching me. I felt so much guilt while I did the normal motions. As good as the sex was, this gut feeling wasn't worth it. I found my boxers and pulled them up on my legs, as well as my sweatpants. Neither of us said a word, just cleaned ourselves up and got our clothes back on.

"You should go," I said again.

He frowned. "Really?"

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, eyeing his neck and the ravishing I'd done to it in the midst of foreplay. "That shouldn't have happened and you know it," I said. "I couldn't control myself around you. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Thomas," he said, kneeling on the bed so he was within arms reach and pulled me by my waist to stand in front of him. "You think I can control myself? Look at you, like Jesus."

My cheeks blazed with heat when he kissed me again, this time sloppy. Our teeth gnashed together and I couldn't stop my hands from finding his throat, touching the scruffy skin and feeling his jaw with my fingertips.

But I pulled away again.

"How long have you been with Shelby?"

Dallas grimaced. "It's not important."

"How long?" I demanded.

He looked away like a dog in trouble. His hands lingered on my waist, but he wouldn't look at my face. "It'll be a year next month," he finally said and I jumped backwards.

I sunk my hands in my hair, tugging at the roots aggressively. A fucking year? I paced around my room, trying to justify what we just did in any rhyme or reason, but I couldn't. Dallas stood up and tried to touch me, but I yanked myself away from his grip.

"It's okay—"

"It's not okay, Dallas," I snapped. "That girl is probably waiting for you to propose at this point, Dallas! For fucks sake. You just cheated on your girlfriend of an entire year with me."

I was freaking out. I was allowed.

Dallas sat on the bed and played with his fingers while I had an entire existential crisis and a half. I stopped pacing and looked at him. At this beautiful, confused boy on my bed that just fucked me so good I saw stars . . . How could I?

How could he?

If it were anyone else who tried seducing me that had a partner, I would have downright sent them out the door. I would have blocked their number, told their girlfriend, and felt good about my choices. But it wasn't anyone else. It was fucking Dallas, who had some sort of spell on me.

Fuck. Poor Shelby.

"Dallas, go home," I said finally, grabbing the discarded second bottle of wine and finishing the last few swigs of it. "I can't deal with this."

He sighed but didn't move. "No."

I let out an exasperated mangled noise, frustrated beyond comprehension. "This is really the worst time to do the sexy bossy thing," I said with an eye roll. I grabbed his hand and tugged, but his big ass wouldn't move. "Come on. You have to go."

"No, Thomas," he said and the slight desperate whine in his voice brought me to a halt. He took advantage of my concern and used it to grasp my hand and pull me down onto the bed with him. "I'm not leaving."

I struggled in his hold but in the end, he was way stronger than me. He held me to his bare chest, his breathing erratic. "Why?" I insisted.

The panic and the guilt and the broadest range of emotions that I've ever experienced all hit me at once in full saturation. I was crying. Dallas heard it in my voice and held me tighter.

"I fucked up. I made a mistake," he said into my hair, one hand stroking the nape of my neck while the other traced the knots in my spine. "But the mistake is not what we just did. I will never regret anything I've done you. So I'm going to stay with you tonight because I fucking miss you so much and then tomorrow I'm gonna tell Shelby."

I froze. The warmth of Dallas's body was not enough to stop the chill running down my back. I tilted my head back and looked at him.

"You can't tell her," I said.