Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s been one of the those months. One of those months that were driving me insane with sexual frustration.

He has no idea.

No goddamn idea how badly I want to fuck him.

How I want to walk over there right now, get on my knees, open his jeans and pull out his cock. Suck him down my throat as he moans and groans because now he can’t focus on Overwatch.

Strange how my mind always wanders to this place, right here, as I watch him furiously mash the buttons on his controller. The veins in his neck pop out, his brow furrowed, the anxious bites of his lips and how red they get from his slightly-crooked teeth.

And it fucking kills me, because he’s such a good boy. Way too fucking good for me to touch. My heart and thighs ache by just being close to him.

I sit away from him on the couch, curled up on the corner and facing him. When he turns for a second to excitedly gloat about whatever accomplishment he got on his game, his baby blue eyes light up and and sends a warm smile my way. I smile back on instinct because I can’t help but smile when he smiles at me. And no matter how sweet and innocent he looks when he turns to me with that jubilant expression, I can’t help but think, what I wouldn’t do to wipe that away for a groan of ecstasy and dirty praise as I bounce up and down on his cock. I would take it so fucking good for him.

I am the worst friend ever.

I stretch my legs out, pressing my toes in his ribs to tickle him. He hops up, leaning away and squeaking. He squeaks for fuck’s sake; this man in his late twenties squeaks like a schoolgirl. He’s almost so precious it makes me want to gag.

“Oh, I’m coming for your ass!”

This is bad, I hate when he plays video games. He’s fully invested, his attention focused purely on the screen, and it leaves me with all the time in the world to fantasize and stare at him all I want. Jack gives my mind the room to run wild and of course, it picks… these… thoughts.

Being that goddamn beautiful should be a crime. The bastard, making my tummy fill with butterflies and my insides warm.

I want to say something to him, anything. He’s right in front of me and it’s a constant tease. I can look, but I can’t touch. I can dream but it will never be my reality.

And he has no idea how many girls would lay at his feet, begging just for the chance to get his cum all over them. In them. How they would spread their legs over for him without a word. To get his cum in their bellies and pussies.

I should know, I’m one of them.

I see what they write. Read it all night long because it gives me a taste of what I’ll never have. Bunch of dirty fucking girls for him. Only him.

“Oh, I bet you like that? Don’t cha, bitch?” Jack grits between his teeth. The words swim inside me, rattle in my brain, and slides straight up my between my legs.

“Don’t talk like that.” I say, poking him again with my toes. What I mean is, please don’t talk like that unless it’s to me. It teases me, daddy.

Jack chuckles low in his throat and apologizes (“Sorry, I get a little heated sometimes,”) because of course he does. He the sweetest, most bubbly man I’d ever met. He’d never lay a hand on a woman, never intentionally speak ill of others, never hurt anyone in any way. He’s all smiles and positivity and purity and cuteness with his shaggy green hair and baby blue eyes.

But what I wouldn’t give to see the Anti side of him. The smile wipe off his face for the dominating set of his lips. His slim hand holding my neck in a firm grip. His voice firmer than his palm smacking my ass, reminding me who’s in charge. His mouth sucking spots onto my neck and thighs, calling me babygirl and his little slut. Demanding me to get on my goddamn knees.

Telling me how pretty I look with his cock in my mouth. Fuck, I would look so pretty with his cock in my mouth.

I turn my gaze to his lap. He’s wearing those black jeans with a million buttons down under the zipper and make his bulge look rather intimidating. They cling tightly to his wide hips and thick thighs. I want to wear his legs like a fucking crown.

“Ooh yeah, take it, take it all.” Jack shouts at the screen before lowering his voice. “Suck daddy’s dick! Haha!”

For fuck sake, this is just getting ridiculous. I squeeze my thighs together and the wetness seeps into my underwear, knowing his nose isn’t trained enough to smell my arousal but being paranoid anyway.

I lean back into the couch, hoping my blush won’t give me away. The side of his body warms my toes. I can smell his clean aftershave from over here.

“Jack--” I start, before realizing I’ve even opened my mouth.

“Yeah?”

Fuck me. Fuck me, please. Put me out of my misery.

“Sorry. Nothing.”

I need to get laid, this is getting too much.

I get up from the couch on wobbly legs and make my way over to the sink. I fill a glass up with water before chugging the whole thing down. It dribbles down my chin and onto my chest.

“Thirsty?” Jack says in a tone I can’t really decipher.

My stomach flips because, what if i’d been made out? Had I said something out loud? No, no don’t be stupid. I’m not that obvious and he’s not a mind reader.

I really can’t take this much longer. I haven’t had sex in over a year and being around Jack is getting too much to bear. It’s like being trapped in a dessert with a bottle of water that you just can’t reach. And toys are shit when it’s a real, human connection that is needed.

Fuck it. Fuck it all. I’m getting laid.

I drag the back of my hand over my mouth and lick my lips. My cunt is throbbing something fierce and if I don’t do something about it soon, I’m going to go crazy.

He gets me going like this at least once a week, more if I'm particularly horny. Sometimes it’s over nothing. He’ll just be cooking or reading or playing video games but the strength of his arms would strike me, or the curve of his hips, and I’d be doomed.

But sometimes, on very special occasions, he turns his sex appeal to high and gives me a little taste of him. He’ll make an off-the-cuff remark about how he likes to fuck from behind, or how to make a girl come, or he’ll walk around without a shirt on and his pants hanging low off his hip bones on particularly hot days. Just something that gives me a little insight on how Jack likes it. And don’t get me started on the sweatpants and his bulges.

I’ll never forget the one night when we got drunk and confessed our sexual fantasies to one another. He confessed he liked being called ‘daddy’ and liked being the boss, which really wasn’t that big of a surprise for me. I told him I liked being spanked, and choked, and bossed around. That I get wet just thinking about it. Nothing came from it, we ended up just playing Rocket League until the early morning, but it supplied plenty of fuel to the fire in my belly.

I look at the clock on the mantle. It reads 9:30 at night. Plenty of time to go out and possibly meet a guy. I’d officially lost it. Going out to fuck a stranger. But the gnawing need in my belly has taken over all rational thought.

Hell, maybe this will get Jack a little jealous, if I’m lucky. And if not, eh. At least I got a dick in me.

Taking one last look at Jack, all warmth and comfort on the couch, I head to my room and rip open my closet. I pick out a pair of high waisted jeans that accentuate my ass and a white off the shoulder crop top and pull them on. I don’t care much about my hair so I leave it as a short, choppy mess that sits above my shoulders.

I take a peek at myself in the mirror and tilt my head, dissatisfied with the result. Though my outfit may be hugging me in all the right ways, my freckles on my nose and my chunky glasses make me look… like Jack. This sweet, innocent person. And that is not the look I want right now.

I pick up my fire-engine red lipstick and swipe it on, hoping that it would do the trick. I add a thick, chain-like choker to my neck and mess up my hair a little, giving me a thoroughly-fucked look.

I purse my lips, still looking like a teen, despite being in my early twenties. But it gives off a good-girl trying to be bad vibe, and that’s good enough for me.

I slip my cell phone into my back pocket with my ID and some cash, and I practically sprint through the living room to get to the door.

“Oi! Where’re you going?”

He pauses his game and gets up off the couch. His sweater hands over his body and the slept-in messy hair makes him look cozy. Makes him look like home and I almost cave, wanting to forget it all and curl up on the couch with him in the safety of his presence.

But the need that pulses through my veins is quickly turning into something I can’t control. Something I need to take care of-- now.

“Out,” I say simply and clasp the cool doorknob in my hand.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jack scratches the hair behind his neck and gives me a look that makes me feel a little guilty for some stupid reason.

“Nah, I’m okay. I’ll give you a call if I need anything though. And vise versa, eh?”

Before waiting for an answer, I turn on my heel and get the hell out of there.

The night goes by in a surreal blur. I meet a man with dark eyes and even darker hair. His body is slim but strong, like Jack’s. We go back to his place and my body buzzes all over. He whispers nasty things in my ear that get me more than ready for him. I get his cock in my mouth, then in my pussy, and that’s where the disappointment starts. He’s sloppy and over-eager, and somewhere between “baby, I’m gonna tear that pussy up” and him actually getting it, my arousal falls off the rails because, no, he certainly living up to his promises even though he may think he is. He jerks for a few minutes behind me and comes in the condom, and then he’s off of me, smiling this satisfied smile. He raises his eyebrows at me like “you’re welcome, baby” and rolls over, and I’m left sitting on my heels, wondering what the hell I did to deserve such a terrible, egotistical lay. Is this what sex is like now? It ends with the man coming and the woman merely an object to get off on?

When I get back to the apartment, the living room is empty but Jack left the lights on for me. Alcohol buzzes through my veins and my bones ache from the long night. I trudge my way to my room, struggling out of my top on the way and letting it fall onto the floor in the hallway. I pop the button on my jeans, nearly falling on my face when I step out of them. I get to my room and throw myself onto my bed, welcoming sleep.

I wake up in the morning to the smell of garlic and onions and it makes my mouth water. I groan when the ache between my legs makes itself known. It’s a nice feeling on it's own, but God, what a disappointment. A year with no sex and I break my streak with that guy-- a knot of bitterness and anger settles in my belly.

What a fucking waste of time.

I sit up in bed and stretch my limbs, surprised when my head isn’t pounding from all the alcohol I drank last night. I dig through my drawers for a shirt and smile when I see one of Jack’s that must of got switched around when we did laundry. The urge to slip it over my head and walk out with just my undies is immense, but he’d undoubtedly would find that a little weird. I put on a baggy sweater, paired with some soft short shorts and head out to find that amazing smell.

I find Jack in the kitchen, his back to me as he’s slumped over the stove. He’s still in his green plaid pajama pants that hug his bum and a baggy black shirt that makes his pale skin almost glow. His hair is a poofy mess on top of his head.

“Morning, Princess.” He greets without turning his head. His voice carries a teasing tone that makes me grin.

“Shut up,” I say, my grin widening. “Whatcha making?”

“Hashbrowns. Figured you might need something to soak up all the drink from last night.” Jack shuffles over to the fridge and pulls out the orange juice before pouring me a huge glass. “Your clothes are in my hamper, by the way.”

His blue eyes meet mine and they twinkle with something mischievous. Though, that might be the post-drinking brain fog happening.

He waves the spatula at one of the bar stools. “Park your booter.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack serves a massive mound of potatoes on each plate, slick with oil and herbs and spices and it makes my mouth water. He gets himself a glass of milk and the ketchup before sitting down across from me.

I can barely wait to get a mouthful of potatoes that I snatch the fork from his hands and shovel the first bite in.

Men that can cook are so fucking hot.

“So…” Jack starts, taking a bite and chewing slowly. “Whatcha do last night?”

He keeps his eyes trained on the meal in front of him, and I pause, mid-chew, deciding what to say. Any previous thought of gloating about getting laid falls by the wayside. It was terrible, and awful, and I still need to get fucked, good and proper.

“Just went out. Nothing special.”

“Really? Nothing special?”

I shake my head, shoving more food into my mouth. The potatoes are crispy on the outside but tender on the inside and I could honestly eat nothing but this every day and be happy.

He looks up at me, blinking. Expectant. He wants me to elaborate, but there’s nothing worthy to tell.

He blinks. And blinks. Raises his eyebrow.

“Jeeze, will you stop looking at me like that? It’s getting under my skin, you weirdo.”

“That means it’s working.”

The fucker just keeps blinking and staring.

“What?!”

“What’s with that then,” Jack motions to his neck with a fork, his curious gaze trailing down to my throat. “There’s gotta be something worth mentioning there.”

“Fuck no. Definitely not.”

“Pretty bad then?”

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking. We’re in new territory here. We don’t talk about our sex lives. Certainly not intimately. It gives a strange kind of electricity in the air. I take a big swig of my orange juice, trying to ignore the way my heart has picked up pace.

“Very.”

“How so?” He asks. “Did he not make you come?”

Just as I take another bite of my breakfast, it almost gets lodged in my throat and I spiral into a coughing fit.

“Jesus, Jack!” And it’s odd, hearing him ask such a thing. Especially over breakfast when we’re both sober. It’s not like him at all and I can’t help but feel like there has been some sort of line that’s been crossed.

Not that I mind.

Warmth floods my cheeks regardless, squirming at his attention on my sex life.

“So?”

“No, he certainly did not make me come. But he thought he was God’s gift to women, regardless.”

“Did he go down on you?”

“Jack, really?”

“Just making conversation.”

I chew slowly before swallowing. I take a big gulp of over juice to wash it down. Jack waits patiently for my answer, licking the dried rosemary and oil from his pouty mouth.

“No he didn’t go down on me. He fucked me until he came and that was it. I’m surprised I don’t have his boot mark on my ass to be honest.”

“What an asshole.”

“The worse part of it is is that he really got me going y’know?”

“What’d’you mean?”

“Like he said all the right stuff. Called me babygirl, said all this nasty shit to me that made my knees weak--”

“Like?”

I eye him, a little disbelievingly.

“Really?”

“Well, just for reference of course… see what gets the girls going. You’re helping me out. Come on, be a bro.”

I sigh, the hasbrows around on my plate.

“Like… I don’t know… he told me he knew what I needed. That I looked like I needed good dick in my life and he was gonna give it to me. He said he was gonna fuck me so deep his come was gonna come out of my throat. He wanted to see how wet he could get me.”

“Christ.”

“He knew I was itching for it, and he just wasted my time. Fucking idiot.”

Jack runs his finger along the rim of his glass, his head turned so far down I can’t see the blues of his eyes.

“I could fuck you.” He murmurs.

A jolt shoots up my spine, rattling around in my skull. There’s no way he just said that.

“Excuse me?”

Jack shrugs his shoulders, trying to make his words as casual as possible. He still can’t look me in the eye. Which is probably a good thing because he’d see my jaw hitting the floor.

“I could fuck you, I mean, if you want.”

“Stop mocking me.”

“I'm not. I’m your friend, and if you need good dick. Actually,” Jack looks up, setting his fork down onto his plate in a noisy clatter. “I'm a little offended that you didn’t come to see me first.”

I can feel every nerve in my body. Every nerve that turns on from his proposition.

“Jack, be serious. You’re not being funny.”

“I am being serious.”

My mind goes blank and I watch his hands, his long, strong fingers. Part of me still thinks this is some sort of cruel joke, so I lead with a teasing offense.

“What-- and you give good dick?”

“I give great dick. I give the best dick. I give dick so good, you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

I quirk an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I’m overselling it but I give, at least, pretty damn good dick,” he pauses. “I think.”

I push around my potatoes on my plate and notice my hands are trembling. My stomach is doing cartwheels. I must be fucking dreaming.

“You better,” I say, not being able to meet his eyes but I see him nod from my peripheral vision.

“So that’s a yes? I need full verbal consent here, woman.”

I laugh, his humour easing the tension in the air.

“Yes, Jack. I give you permission to fuck me,” I say, looking into his eyes as I say the last two words.

He quirks a bushy eyebrow, a surprised smirk upturning one corner of his mouth. “You didn’t have say that so sexily. I’m trying to eat my breakfast here.”

“Oh, shut up. You started it,” I grab a square of potato and toss it at his head.

Jack laughs and easily dodges it and it lands on the floor in a splat.

A silence falls over us. There’s something in the air now that there has never been before. It feels different.

I peek up at Jack to find him looking at me, his blue eyes searching. There’s something in the air and I expect him to crack a joke (something about farts or dicks) but instead he gives me this sweet, honest little smile, and I can’t help but smile back.

His voice turns low and serious instead of the usually chipper and bubbly.

“So… when do you wanna do this?”

“I don’t know. It’s…” I search for the right word that describes the feeling of fucking your best friend. “Weird.”

“We can just go back-- pretend this conversation never happened. It’s completely fine.”

“No, it’s a good weird, I think. I… I want to…” The words get caught in my throat. “You know.”

Jack chuckles, shoving a huge forkful of potatoes in his mouth, making his cheeks puff out comically. “Fuck me?”

“Oh boy.”

“Since you like being bossed around,” he chews and swallows. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, I will plan everything out. You just be ready to receive some awesome dick.” Jack looks up to the ceiling, a devilish smirk appearing. “This is gonna be fun,” he says to himself.

“Should I be scared?”

“Scared? No. Frustrated? Probably.”

“Oh no, you got your I’m a little shit face on. What are you planning on doing to me?”

He smiles, showing too much teeth. “Nothing.”

I squint my eyes at him and all Jack does is smile in return.

It’s almost two weeks later and although I haven’t forgotten about our little arrangement, it’s been so long since we’ve talked about it over breakfast that day that it stops being at the fore right of my mind. And after days of being on high alert, wondering when he’s going to strike, it’s actually kind of nice to just relax and just be buds with him.

I’m leaning over the kitchen sink, filling my glass with water when I hear Jack pad into the room. He strolls up behind me and his sweet, clean scent kisses my cheeks.

Suddenly, he’s pressed up flush against me from his chest to his hips, his strong hands gripping my waist. My spine straightens and I nearly drop my glass. His body is so large and solid against mine and the sheer overbearing presence of him makes my knees week.

It’s happening.

I place my glass into the sink and press my ass against him, my hands gripping the side of the counter so hard they start to hurt.

Jack then reaches above me to the cupboard and pulls out a bag of All Dressed chips. His soft lips find my ear and he says:

“Just getting a snack.”

And then he pulls away, leaving me revved up and breathless.

I spin and swat him on the shoulder. “Oh, you asshole. You motherfucker!”

He giggles and I dip my fingers in my glass of water and flick droplets at him.

“Bad boy! Bad Jack!”

Jack bolts, running around the island table and my socked feet skid on the hardwood floor trying to keep up. He laugh maniacally, like he did when he watched Bo Burnham for the first time, the volume and madness of it bounces off the walls in the large room.

When I get his shirt in my hand, he makes a break for the hall. I laugh out in victory before me rips himself from my grasp, and I jump, attempting to get onto his back but the fucker has legs far longer than mine so I end up tackling him down with my arms around his waist.

Jack yelps and falls to the floor, bring me down with him. I crawl up his body as he flips over, straddling his hip and swatting at him softly on his arms and shoulders.

He grabs my wrists in his hands and wraps them around my back, restraining me. I wiggle on his lap, using my attempts to free myself as an excuse to grind myself against him.

With a sudden force and quickness that leaves me winded, he flips me around and pins me to the ground. He licks a stripe up my cheek from jawbone to temple and I screech in protest. Then he’s gone, a trail of laughter behind him.

After that, I daydream about his touch on me for hours.

It happens again a few days later when we’re watching Rick and Morty.

We’re lounging on the couch, our feet up on the cushion footrest and a soft blanket over our legs. My eyes are slipping closed, tired enough to sleep but too lazy to go to bed when I feel the blanket move.

His warm hand finds the naked part of my thigh, sliding inwards towards my now stirring core. His fingers are deft and clever, running circles over the sensitive part of my thigh. The spot between my legs begins to beat like a hummingbird’s wings.

I sigh, inching my legs further apart as inconspicuously as I can manage.

I peek over at Jack to find him seemingly engrossed in the episode, the animated characters on screen flickering in his eyes and the light from the TV in the otherwise pitch dark room dancing in his face.

His tongue slips out from between his soft, angular lips and runs them along slowly, wetting them. The sight of his tongue and the tease of his fingers makes my heart beat faster.

Jack grips my thigh tightly and pulls it onto his lap, making it bend at the knee and opening myself up to his wandering, curious hand. He slides it back down, his fingernails tickling a line to the loose fabric of my short shorts.

I don’t dare say a word, lest it breaks the spell he puts on me.

His denim-clad thigh is warm where it meets mine and there’s nothing I want more than to slip onto his lap and grind myself into him. To feel his cock (I wonder how big it is?) swell underneath the the ache that is rapidly starting to overwhelm all my other senses.

The TV no longer holds my attention. All that exists is his hand on my thigh that is this close to the crease, which is this fucking close to my need.

Jack’s elbow digs into a spot on my ribcage as his fingers dust over my aching pussy (my stomach flutters in anticipation) to tickle the inside of my opposite thigh.

My breath becomes loud enough that it embaresses me so I bite my lip in attempt to quiet myself.

Jack’s touch slips under the underside of my shorts and runs along the seam of my panties. I silently praise myself for shaving the day before.

And just like that, he pulls his hand away and I see this little mischievous smirk light up his face.

Goddamn Huffledoor my ass. This guy is a pure fucking Slytherin.

“Jack…” I groan, squirming into a ball. “Why you such a dick?”

“Because it’s fun,” he turns to me in pure fucking glee at my torture. “It’s so easy to get you going. This might actually turn into a new hobby of mine. I think I’m quite good at it.”

“It’s not fair, you know how bad I need it.” The ache is still present between my thighs, desperate to be touched.

“You’re so cute when you need a good fuck.”

“Saying things like that are not helping!”

“You cute little cunt.”

My cunt responds by pulsing out a pearl of my juices.

The next day, aggravating enough, he walks into the room with nothing on except those teeny tiny blue flamingo shorts.

I damn near blow a gasket.

He’s wet from the shower, his skin looking supple and warm and begging to be touched. So much skin for my greedy eyes to take in.

Jack turns his gaze to me, catching me gaping at him.

“Really? This too?” He asks, as if he’s not the sexiest motherfucker on this planet.

“Put some clothes on, you slut.”

He responds by tugging his flamingo shorts down enough that I see the sculpted V line of his hips and the beginning of his trimmed pubic hair.

“Sean McLoughlin, you stop that right now. It’s not nice to tease.”

He pulls his shorts down a little further, and I start to see the soft skin of the base of his dick.

“Jesus,” I whisper.

He snaps the waistband of his shorts back into place and winks at me. Winks.

My body buzzes with desire.

“Jaaaaaaack,” I whine, throwing a pillow at him. “You’re supposed to be my friend, not my own personal demon hell bent on torturing me.”

“But is so fuuuun!” He sing-songs.

He comes over and jumps onto the couch beside me. He grabs two PS4 controllers and passes one to me.

“Rocket League?”

“Rocket League.”

It’s a few days later when he strikes again. This time, it’s the most intense thing he’s ever done to me.

I’m wrapping a towel around myself when the door gets tugged open. I have half a mind to have a go at him, but the dark look in his eyes has me curious.

“Heya, Jackaboy…” My belly has butterflies. “Whatcha doing?”

Jack walks into the steamy bathroom with me and shuts the door. My pulse begins to race and the grip on my towel slackens.

“Can I?” He asks. He doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t elaborate at all. But I understand what he’s asking. I’m here in a goddamn towel.

I nod.

He tilts his head and reaches a hand out, hooking a finger into the lip of my towel before roughly shucking it off of me before I can blink.

I squeak and automatically cover myself out of habit.

He steps close to me, grabbing my hands and pulling them away from my body. He sets them at my sides with a simple demand.

“Stay.”

My body freezes, obeying his demand with me actively trying to.

Jack then steps back and studies my naked body, his eyes travelling over me from my toes to my chin and back down again. His face is somber and serious as he takes me in and that paired with him being fully clothes and me naked hits me in the cunt like a spark of brutal fingerfucking. He slowly walks around me, trailing a fingertip over my back and down the slope of my spine. His fingers graze over my ass as he round my front again.

He steps closer to me, pressing his firm body against mine and his clothes stick to my wet skin. He smells of warmth and a bit of booze and I want nothing more than for him to have his way with me, right here right now.

I watch the pulse in his neck flutter under his skin. It’s quick, almost as quick as I can feel my heartbeat. He pulls me closer, running his nose along my jaw. His proximity messes with my brain.

And then, just like that, he pulls away from me and heads out the door. Before closing it behind him, he pokes his head in and says:

“I’d really appreciate if you wouldn’t wear panties for the time being.”

I nearly collapse onto the floor.

I stare at my underwear drawer, debating.

He had given me an order (which, granted, was about the hottest goddamn thing I’d ever seen) but I was unsure if it was Jack being hot in the moment for the sake of it, or if he was being drop dead serious.

I have half a mind to just wear out a baggy shirt, just to throw it in his face. The smallest defiant act I can do without actually being defiant. Just for the hell of it.

But I opt for a pair of inappropriately short shorts (the dangerously short kind that you could get an eyeful at certain angles) and pull them onto my hips. The seam of the shorts press softly against my nether-lips. It’s a foreign feeling, but not entirely unwelcome.

It makes me feel slutty, and I like that.

Scratch that-- Jack makes me feel slutty.

And I really like that.

I tug on a white muscle tank top and the fabric hugs to my damp skin, turning almost translucent where the moisture gathers on my breasts. My nipples turn into hard peaks and stand out against the shirt, almost demanding attention.

Take this, you little shit.

I walk into the living room to find him in those beautifully tight black skinny jeans and his NO FUN sweater. His legs are spread wide and his head back against the couch, exposing the long slope of his neck. The familiar sounds of techno-battle vibrate from the television, and I know instantly that he’s playing Overwatch.

I take a seat beside him, and he gives me a double-glance out of the corner of his eye. I pretend to be watching the screen, but all my attention is on the man beside me.

He scratches his fingers through his beard and takes his lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on it. He mashes the buttons on the controller harder than he really needs to and I can’t help the slow smirk that forms on my face.

I watch as his character jumps through the air, hitting target after target.

“You wearing any panties?”

His words dance up my spine, and even though I don’t think I’ll ever get used to my friend asking such questions, it’s such a welcomed thing.

“Maybe.”

Jack’s character gets blown up on screen.

“Son of a bitch!” He yells, slamming the controller down on the cushions.

“I think you died.”

He chuckles from the back of his throat. “Shut up, ya smartass.”

Jack exits out of Overwatch and puts on Netflix.

“Goosebumps?” He asks.

“Goosebumps.”

He puts on the episode with the halloween mask that seals to the person’s face. Jack pats his thigh and quirks his head sharply.

“Come ‘ere, doll.”

I can’t help but laugh.

He scratches his beard. “I was trying it out. Doesn’t work?”

I shrug. “Actually, I kinda like it. It’s cute.”

“Then get your cute little ass over here, doll.”

I swallow thickly, suddenly the air becoming a little harder to breathe in. I awkwardly climb over, not knowing if he wants me to straddle his hips or legit sit on his lap like he’s Santa.

Jack guides me, pulling my back flush against his chest and my ass in his lap. My head falls against his shoulder, his breath hot against my cheek. He swings my legs over the outsides of his and puts his feet on the edge of the footrest, making my thighs spread apart and dangle.

This man is going to be the death of me.

“So…” His warm hands find the stubble on my legs and run along my skin. “How was your day?” He asks, as if he’s not my undoing.

“Fine.” The word squeaks on it’s way out. I clear my throat. “Yours?”

“Really good. I made some fun videos today, I think you’ll like the one I did with Mark.”

He says all of this as his hands travel up my open thighs, under my shirt and over my belly.

I suck my stomach in as his fingers trail over my belly button.

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Sucking in.”

I shrug.

I’m not the fittest girl in the world, and I know Jack gives absolutely zero shits about that, but the thought of never being thin enough has nagged at me for so long that it had become a habit. I can handle the gazes, but it's the touching that gets me.

“It tickles me.”

He holds me closer to him. “You’re not ticklish.”

I stay silent, hoping he’d just go back to rubbing my thighs.

“Can I kill the mood for a hot second?”

“I’d rather you not.”

“Well too fuckin’ bad.”

Jack scoops his arm under my knees and spins me around on his lap so he’s holding me like a giant baby. His arm is warm against my back and I’m uncomfortably close to his face, so I lean my head against his shoulder to evade his gaze.

“You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t let society make you feel bad about yourself. You’re so much more than just a body. So be fuckin’ nice to yourself, got it?”

I pull lightly at the hairs on his chin and my cheeks turn pink at his kind words. Of course I knew that shit already, but it’s nice to hear sometimes.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Good,” he says, giving my forehead a quick little peck. “Nice outfit by the way. Unfair.”

“Please, you were teasing me all freaking month!”

“Well… yeah,” he says. He tugs at the bottom of my shorts.

“Are you really not wearing underwear?”

I shrug my shoulders, wanting to torture him a little.

His fingers slide up the outside of my thigh and his eyebrows raise in surprise when he finds nothing but skin.

“You listened to me,” he says, almost in awe. “I didn’t think I pulled that off. I honestly thought you were going to laugh in my face.”

“Really?” I look at him, surprised. “You totally had me. You were super hot.”

“No, you were super hot. Christ, you let me look at you naked.”

We laugh together.

“I’ve always had a crush on you, you know.” I say out of nowhere. He’s just so beautiful and makes my heart do weird things, and the words just come out like word vomit. I look into his eyes, almost terrified at what he’s going to say.

All he does is smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Me too.”

“You’ve always had a crush on you too?” I laugh, trying to lessen the weight of my confession.

He doesn’t take the bait, in favour of a more serious note.

“You know what I mean.” He stares into my eyes with his baby blues, no hint of laughter or joking in there.

His hand slides over my back in a soothing manner and his thumb rubs circles into my knee and I lay my head back on his shoulder, my stomach doing backflips and I can’t help the seemingly permanent smile that forms onto my lips.

It’s a day later when my frustrations hit their peak that he finally gives into me.

He had been teasing me all day, constantly. If he wasn’t running his fingers along my skin, he was wearing his pants terribly low and leaving the wide stature of his upper body on display. If he wasn’t telling me how pretty I was when I blushed, he was spanking my ass whenever I walked past him, each strike sending a surge of desperate want through me.

It was after begging him to stop, from my hands and knees, that he finally did.

“Fine,” he stalks towards me and lifted me with ease off the ground, his hand around my elbow. Jack invades my space, pressing me up against the counter. He takes my hand and places it onto his bulge, and I grab at him, needy. “This what you want?”

He presses his hand firmly over mine, flattening my hand harder over his dick. Even though he’s not hard, there’s so much of him to grab onto, and it sends a pang of worry through me.

“Oh boy,” I mutter.

He gives me a knowing look. “I know. I know.”

“Shut up,” I taunt, squeezing him a little dangerously.

He squeaks and grabs my wrist tightly and I push off of the counter, using the momentum of my body and my grip on him to switch out positions so I’m the one pressing him into the counter. I need him so bad I can’t think straight.

Jack holds his hands up in submission by his ears and I press my body up against his. I slowly rub him through his jeans and Jack leans his elbows against the counter, letting his head roll back.

“Fuck,” he says, his face scrunching up.

He begins to swell under my administrations and the thought of holy shit I’m actually rubbing Jack’s dick right now hits me like a truck and suddenly I feel anxious and nervous and excited like one would before going onstage to perform.

I look up into his beautiful face in awe as he starts letting out these sweet, needy little whimpers and cussing like a sailor.

Jack turns rock hard and I run my palm over him impressive length, from the base of him, all the way up to where he presses against his hip bone.

“You’re really cute when you’re horny,” I tell him.

Jack smiles, biting his bottom lip and looking down his nose at me, his baby blue eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Thanks, doll.”

“Can I…?” I reach for his button and pop it open.

“As much I as would fuckin’ love that…” Jack pushes himself off of the counter. “Tonight’s gonna be all about you.”

He regretfully frees himself from my hold and surprises me when he picks me up by my waist and sets me down on the kitchen countertop. The marble is cold against my thighs and sends a shiver up my spine (though I can’t guarantee it’s because of the chill and not because of everything Jack is doing.)

He looms over me, stepping in between my thighs and setting his hands carefully on my knees. His lips turn into a straight, tight line as he smiles at me like I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.

I shake my head and give out a breathy, soft laugh because I certainly can’t believe it either.

I run my hands up the thin fabric covering his arms and rest them behind his neck, interlocking my fingers.

Jack wraps his strong arms around my waist, pressing close to me. He rests his forehead on mine, his teal hair tickling my eyelashes. His nose rubs against mine before sliding it to one side, his head dipping and making my pulse go wild.

I feel his warm breath on my lips and my whole body turns warm with it. I slip my eyes closed. His mint after shave teases my senses and his coarse beard tickles my chin.

Jack’s cupid’s bow lips mold against mine in a tender touch. He kisses me like a king kisses his queen; beautifully and intentively, as if I’m the only one his sweet mouth belongs to. His fingers whined into my hair, guiding my head so he can kiss me deeper.

He teases his soft tongue, running it along my bottom lip. I open up for him, eager to feel him. His tongue slides over mine hotly and I let an appreciate little moan out.

My heart begins to pound faster, the spot between my legs pulsing harder and quicker. I feel my entire body flush with desire and Jack kisses the breath out of me.

I arch into his touch, pressing harder against him, trying to feel as much of his solid, strong body as I can but it isn’t enough. It won’t be enough into he’s pounding his lust into me, driving out the crazy in me.

Jack takes the hint, pulling be harder against him so my skin skids across the tabletop and his hardened length is flush against my my opened thighs. My body begins jerking about, sending these little pulses of need and nerves throughout my muscles and I tremble in his hold.

He pulls away from me, his lips wet and dark pink and swollen. “You sure you want this?”

“You goddamn know I do, Jack.”

“Thank fuck,” he says, and his fingers hook on the underside of my top, pulling it straight up and over my head. My nipples pucker under his gaze and the chillness of the room. I don’t cover myself up this time. I want him to see.

Jack reaches behind his head, grabbing a fistful of his sweater and tugging it off. I pull at his black and white splintered shirt, revealing the trail of dark hair that leads into his pants.

“This too, please.”

“So polite,” he chuckles and he pulls that shirt of too.

I hungrily take in the paleness of his skin, noting all his freckles and scars and the hair that curls on his chest. I’ve never been with a man with hair on his chest before, I make a note to myself. Then again, I haven’t really been with men. Certainly not men who are as old as Jack.

It sends a giddy, excited shock through me and I bite anxiously on my nails, careful not to chip off the black polish.

“Can I…?” He asks, holding his hands up towards my breast.

I nod so quickly I’m surprised my head doesn’t pop off and roll onto the floor.

His fingers graze under the swell of my breasts and I take note of how quickly his chest is rising and falling (almost as quickly as my own.) He grasps my small breasts in his hand, testing the weight of them and squeezing them tenderly. His thumbs tickle over my peaked nipples and I shiver.

Jack then tugs sharply at my nipples, and I cry out as it sends a slick of pain through my over-sensitive pink buds.

“Careful, I’m due for my period soon.”

“Oh,” he chuckles, bending down and kissing the tops of my breasts tenderly. “Sorry.”

My hand comes up and cups the back of his head, playing with his short, rough hair. “S’okay,” I say, and it comes out as a whisper.

“I should apologize properly.” I watch his bright, messy hair as he bends down further, his lips brushing against my nipple in a teasingly, feather-light touch. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

Jack grins and sticks his pink touch out to lick a circle around my flushed nipple while his thumb works on the other. It sends waves of desire through me and my elbows weaken a little. Arousal pools in my shorts.

“We’re definitely going to have to wash this counter.” I pant as Jack latches his mouth onto my other breast. “I think I’m getting it all wet.”

He damn near growls, rolling my nipple between his teeth. He sucks it between his lips before pulling off with a pop and tugs me off the counter and onto the bar stool.

And then he does something that makes me nearly cream right there.

Jack drops onto his goddamn knees, and it just might be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

He tugs me closer to the edge so my ass is nearly falling off.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” I chant, my mind going so haywire that I can’t control the words that come out. “Are you gonna go down on me?”

“Absolutely not,” he says, sarcasm dripping heavily from his tone, giving me a sassy little look.

“Holy fuck.”

“You act like you’ve never gotten head before.”

I shrug, studying the way his face fits between my thighs. “Not good head. Leave me alone, I’m excited.”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he says, a bubbling laugh coming from his throat. “Now shut up and let me put my tongue in you.”

“Oh God!”

Jack is still laughing at me as he slips his fingers under my shorts and tugs hard. When they don’t budge, he spanks my thigh.

“Move your booter.”

I obey, jumping off the stool and he quickly grabs the fabric from my hips and tugs them all the way down, leaving me completely naked, dripping, and inches from his face.

“Up you get, doll.”

I sit back onto the stool and Jack places his hands under my knees and opens them, exposing me to him.

I can’t look at him as he takes me in so intimately, so I let my eyes slip closed and focus on the heat of his hands and my leaking middle.

“Damn, you have a pretty pussy,” Jack says, his voice dark with need.

I squirm in the chair, his words hitting all the spots in me that I soon hope his dick will reach. I can’t help the little whimper that falls from my mouth.

“Keep these up for a sec.” He holds my legs apart and I keep them still as he lets go, my tailbone sinking sharper against the wood underneath my bum.

I jump in surprise when his fingers find my pussy lips, spreading them apart. A finger runs a long, slow line up my leaking slit, and a chorus of please please please beg on repeat in my head.

“Good girl, good girl,” he says, his hands finding their way back to my thighs and I tremble under his hold.

And then his warm tongue is on me, licking a firm stripe between my nether lips, lapping up all of my come that leaks out. He pushes his tongue right between my slit, swirling it and fucking me with it. He goes so deep his nose buried against my clit. In and out his tongue goes, opening me up. I can feel my inner walls expand, begging for his cock to slip inside.

“Jack. Oh, sweet Jesus,” I gasp.

I finally open my eyes to look at him, and find him staring at me; his blue eyes drunk with lust, his tongue buried inside my cunt, his hair disheveled. He blinks slowly at me, his eyelashes so featherly and long it makes him to doe-eyed.

I suck my fingers into my mouth to stop the obscene, needy noises that rise from my throat.

Jack replaces his tongue with his fingers, slowly sliding two of them into me at once. I grip around him tightly as he pushes his way to knuckle-deep. I watch his shoulder work as he pumps his fingers into me. His teeth latch onto the bottom of his lips as he pulls his eyes away from mine to watch his digits disappear inside of me.

He pushes them in as far as they can go before pausing and curling them towards himself and hammering them against a spot inside of me I never knew existed but makes me cry out to the ceiling in pleasure.

Jack hooks my leg over his shoulder and holding it tightly against his arm so it won’t fall. As his one hand works magic in my cunt, the other presses down firmly against the low of my belly. His lips suck and lick at my clit and a delicious pressure begins to build from inside me, and I can feel the beginnings of my orgasm starting to surface.

Suddenly, the urge to pee is immense, and I push against his shoulder.

“Wait-- wait Jack, I think I have to pee.” I try to move from my spot on the stool, but he holds me steady in his grasp.

“No you don’t,” he chuckles at me, like he’s said a joke that’s gone over my head.

It feels as if something is squeezing around my insides, but it also just makes my orgasm build higher and higher. The pressure makes me feel as if I’m about to burst, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Please Jack--”

And then my mind goes blank and a rush of liquid squirts out of me and my body is overcome with pleasure. I almost fall off the chair as I lose control of my body, going limp and quaking as if thunder struck the room.

Jack easily steadies me, jumping to his feet and holding me against him. He still has his fingers inside of me as he shushes me and I cry out and tremble in his arms.

“I guess you don’t know what squirting is.”

His voice is far away as the only thing clouding my mind is the naughty pleasure of release that still pumps through my veins.

“Holy hell,” I whimper and I open my eyes to find my juices dripping from his beard and soaking his chest. The primal thought of marking him, of claiming territory doesn’t go unnoticed by me. A weird sense of pride swells inside of me.

“You, sir, are a God.”

Jack winks at me, finally pulling his fingers out of me. He makes a show of sucking them clean, his eyes closing and moans arising from deep within his chest.

The sight makes me ready and needy for him all over again. I slip myself farther off the stool, using the counter behind me for leverage as I lean back. I pull his hips close by tugging on his belt loop and I rub my soaking pussy all over the zip of his jeans. My lust for him completely overshadows how terribly shamelessly I’m rubbing myself all over him and I’ll surely turn red tomorrow in embarrassment. But as of right now, there’s nothing I need more than to show him how much I desperately need him.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he pants, trying to still my squirming against him by pressing his hands into my hips.

It only urges me on, feeling him grip me like that, and I use it as leverage to fuck myself harder against him.

“Please, Jack.” I look up into his eyes, no doubt looking desperately and slutty. “Please, I need it.”

“Christ, girl. You’re gonna give me a bloody heart attack.”

“Come on, be a bro and fuck me.”

“So demanding,” he says, scooping me up easily into his arms and I wrap my legs around him. He places me down by the couch. “How do you want it?”

My eyes roll to the back of my head as the many possibilities pop into my mind. I pause for a second before turning around and bending myself over the arm on the couch, presenting my ass for his taking. I look across the couch, and propped up against the wall is a fancy mirror.

My eyes latch onto his in the reflection.

“I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Jack fumbles with his pants, hastily unbuttoning them and shoving them down. His boxers come down next and I’m thirsty to see his cock, but my body in the reflection is in the way.

I quickly spin around, sitting on the arm of the couch, opening my thighs for him.

My cunt quivers in anticipation as I see his cock bob in the air. He’s long enough that it makes me concerned for my cervix and just wide enough that I know I’ll be feeling his stretch for days. Dark curls wrap around his cock and he pumps it in long, slow strokes in his hand.

I’m suddenly very jealous of his hands.

I lean back, keeping my elbows locked as I prop myself up. They tremble, my body still weak from the orgasm he’d given me.

“Condom?”

“I’m on the pill. I don’t want no babies.”

“Thought so, just thought I’d double check.”

I’m panting as he lines himself up, rubbing his cockhead over my slit and running circles over my clit. My body shudders in pleasure and I moan his name.

“Jack, Jack please. No more teasing. Please give it to me.”

“Jaysus, I’ve never seen you so polite. I should fuck you more often.”

“You should,” I agree, the thought pleasing me.

He bends over a little bit to line himself up properly, his hand finding the cushion right below me. He’s so close to me that I can reach his lips, and I pull him into a searing kiss.

His teeth bite my bottom lip, his cock breaching my opening and sliding in an inch. I moan into his hot mouth, my fingers locking onto his hair.

Jack pushes in deeper, gasping as he fits himself inside of me to the hilt.

The satisfying feeling of fullness overcomes me and I clench my walls around him, a silent request for him to move. I want to stay here forever, him his arms, his heat on my skin, the safety of his arms, and stuffed full to the brim with his cock.

Jack pauses and his brow frowns in concentration before he turns his head, biting and sucking hickies into my throat to keep me patient.

He hooks his other arms arounds me to keep me from falling, and slowing beings fucking me. He leans his head up to look me in the eyes.

“Ready?” He asks.

I brace myself, holding my arm tight around his shoulders. “Yes, yes.”

Jack pulls out, leaving me empty and pulsing, before snapping his hips into me so hard I nearly get bucked onto the flat of the couch.

“Fuck!” His fullness hits me so quick it leaves me aching for more.

“Too hard?” He asks, concern written onto the lines of his face.

“More! More, please, harder, fuck,” the words tumble out of my mouth in a incoherent plea.

A smirk curls up the corner of his wicked mouth and his eyes stare deep into mine as he snaps his hips, filling me up with his cock and causing my body to jerk again. He does it over and over, fucking me dirty and hard while keeping his eyes locked on mine in a way that makes me feel like I am being owned and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing I’d want to do about it anyway, except for maybe wholeheartedly agreeing while he pounds into me like a crazed animal.

My ass skids against the couch with every brutal thrust he gives me before he pulls me back into him, and I know I’ll have terrible fabric burn there tomorrow. I lock my ankles behind him.

Suddenly Jack slows down. He hangs his head and starts laughing.

I smile with him, curious. “What?”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he says, giving me a quick, sloppy kiss on my mouth.

I smile into his kiss, feeling every inch of him filling me up, his hip bones pressing against my thighs. “Me neither.”

I wiggle against him, urging him back into the manic state he was winding my body into. “C’mon, Jackaboy.”

“Needy, needy, needy.” He grips my skin tighter, his pelvis slamming repeated into my over-sensitive nub and I claw my nails into his back, holding on for dear life.

He grunts with exertion, our skin slapping together obscenely. I watch his face and it reminds me of when he’s giving his all on his drum set; bottom lip pulled into his mouth, face screwed up in concentration, lost in passion. He throws his whole body into mine, working me into a hard, rough rhythm. He tunes my body like an instrument, hitting every spot that makes my toes curl, and he does it relentlessly.

Jack holds me and fucks me as if his life depends on making me come.

This. This is what sex should be like.

He serves me, doing whatever I asked as if I were his queen. And in return, I want nothing more than to worship him.

“My king,” I say to myself, so low he won’t be about to hear.

Jack quirks his head up, slamming into me as deep as he can go, and rolling his hips in a slow, seductive circle, his cock hitting spots inside of me that makes me moan.

“Say that again,” he begs, and I’m caught off guard at his request.

I blink openly, my mouth fumbling. But I oblige.

“My king,” I moan, rolling my hips into his, both of us keeping him as deep inside of me as he can get.

“Fuck.”

The praise seems to set him over the edge and he thrusts into me, pressing his forehead into mine. I unlock my legs from his back, opening them up further for him and the bounce at the force of his powerful fucking. He fucks me like that until we're both panting and begging to come.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns, and the thought of him shooting his load into my naked cunt sends me reeling with desire. I want to have him inside of me, staying there for days.

“Fill me up, Jack. Please,” I beg, and his hips become more rapid and hectic. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy.” I don’t notice my words, too lost in feeling.

“Fuck,” he grits, slamming into me harder.

My orgasm rushes towards me, catching me off guard as I feel him squirt inside of me, his warm cum splattering my walls and marking me from the inside. He pumps inside of me, his teeth latching onto my shoulder and I dig my nails hard into his back.

When we both catch our breath, we untangle from one another. His sticky seed feels heavy and very present inside of me, and I can feel some droplets leak from my ravaged pussy.

Jack pulls away, meeting my eyes with a satisfied smile. He pushes the sweaty hair that sticks to my forehead back, cupping my face for another kiss, more loving than before.

He kisses me sweetly this time and I can feel his cock slowly start to soften against my inner thigh.

I can still hear my heartbeat in my ears, and the delicious ache of a good, proper fucking leaves my pussy spent, legs loose and jelly-like, and the weight of all my worries vanish for the time being.

“Okay, I give it to ya. You give really good dick, Jack.”

“Didn’t I tell you? You should believe me when I tell you things.” He says, pulling his boxers and pants up over his hips. He does them up and I sit on the couch, legs still spread, cum leaking out of my cunt, and my hair a mess.

And again, being naked in his presence while he’s clothed makes me feel naughty and delicious.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Jack turns and rushes off down the hallway.

I fall back onto the couch, the endorphins sparking through my veins, and leaving me with a giddy smile on my face and the feeling on being able to take on the world.

I should start a business. I should take painting classes. I should order some fucking pizza.

Jack’s heavy footfalls pat through the room. I look up at him and he looks like a vision; his pale skin pink and blotchy, his biceps a little swollen from exertion, his lips a soft red from our desperate kissing, and his blue-green hair a poofy mess on his head.

In his hand he carries a damp wash cloth. He bends down, brushing his mouth against my ankle before cleaning my sticky cunt with the cloth and I sigh in appreciation. When he’s done, he tosses it onto the coffee table and parks his bum on the armrest.

He places my leg against his lap, his thumb pressing into the arch of my foot.

“Better?”

I nod, my body like spent. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You’re welcome, my queen.”

I blush at his words, realizing it’s kind of ridiculous this is the thing that makes me blush after everything we had just done.

I run my hand up his leg, the denim rough under my touch. I look up at him longingly.

“My king.”

His fingers slide down my thigh and absently play with my pussy lips. I feel another drop of his cum leak out of my slit. I moan at Jack’s touch.

“You hungry?”

My stomach growls at his words.

“Starved.” I lean up on my elbows, suddenly having the energy at the mention of food. “Can we get pizza, please?”

“Of course,” Jack gets pulls his phone out of his pocket with the hand that isn’t busy with my pussy. He pauses, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know good dick could teach a girl manners.”

My foot hits chest in a playful shove and I notice it’s still wet with my pussy juice. “Shut up.”

“Me? Shut up? Never.” He scoffs.

His fingers don’t move to the keyboard.

“You called me daddy, by the way.”

I blink at him, worrying my bottom lip. “I’m sorry-- the heat of the moment. It just kind of slipped out.”

“I liked it.” He moves his body on mine, pulling me up farther up the couch so he has room to fit in between my legs. His fingers slowly glide inside of me, slicking up with our come. “I’ll take care of you.”

Something warm blooms in my chest and I squirm underneath the weight of him, desire building in my body again.

“Thank you, Jack.”

He quirks an eyebrow, that world clearly not the one he was going for.

“Thank you, my king?” I tease, acting aloof.

His fingers press against the spot inside of me that makes me sees stars and I arch under him, all previous thought of playing coy with him goes out the window.

“Daddy!” I say with my whole heart. “Thank you, daddy.”

Jack smirks down at me. “You’re welcome, babygirl.”