Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

*

The inciting agent took the form of a unassuming video cassette which had sat amid a stack of mundane relatives ever since Daniel Hebert purchased it fifteen months previously. At that time, barely month past his beloved wife's death, mere weeks after his best friend's berating for virtually abandoning his child, Danny Hebert had been desperate for anything that that might offer hope or a reestablished footing to his life, even something as tacky as a self-help instructional VHS. Thus “Inspire Yourself to a Better Future” went in Danny's shopping bag, joining such choice gems such as “Depression Isn't Forever,” “How To Be A Single Parent,” “Coping with Unexpected Loss,” and similar, all brought home with every intention of being watched, only to become dust collectors along with the rest of the Hebert's now-scorned comedy and romance collections.

(Every single movie already there carried its own memory of Annette, which neither he nor Taylor could face.)

Unlike the rest of its fellows, however, “Inspire Yourself to a Better Future” had never been a mass-produced. If investigated, one would have found there were no other copies of it in existence.

It had come to the second-hand store where Danny purchased it through an estate sale, as part of a lot of seven unsorted media boxes. Before that, it had wound its way through several states and purchasers over quite a number of years after being originally pawned off by a home invader of no great talent, an opportunist known to his few friends as “Grubby Fingers.” Grubby had only managed to steal the tape from its maker it in the first place because said tinker was three weeks off his trigger and had yet to think of home security. Even then, the tape had already been a discarded prototype; its creator never realized that it was gone, its taker never knew what he had stolen. No one who had owned the VHS since had ever played it. The trail between “Inner Vision” – the villain who left at least one-hundred forty-three people dead and almost six times that severely traumatized – and his first creation was a cold one.

Inner Vision had eventually earned a kill-order, and every single copy of his “Harness Your Potential Through Self-Reflection” that could be tracked down was destroyed, while a significant number of other recordings, writings, and documentation were sequestered or contained. Clarence “Grubby Fingers” Scruggs was eventually arrested – not for his crime which would go on to have the biggest impact – but for attempting to steal medicines from a pharmacy. Danny Hebert continued to sink further into depression and self-absorption with each month that passed, for his loss had torn out the better parts of his self.

And finally, Taylor Hebert, starting to buckle under the sudden abandonment of her best friend, a distant father, and increasingly unpleasant first year of high school, took one of her Saturday afternoons and went looking for ways to cope.

*

“-important to keep your friends close. Let them know what they mean to you, and try and participate in at least one shared activity a week. While this can seem difficult some days-”

Taylor hissed and repeatedly stabbed the “Eject” button on her remote with barely-contained violence. Barely five minutes into “Coping with Unexpected Loss” and she couldn't take the woman's gentle, syrupy words for one more second. It was precisely the tone Emma had used on her not two weeks ago – false sympathy delivered in a low croon.

“And what if your only friend is now the one deciding to make your life hell, Lola?” she ground out, stalking over to where her bedroom's little TV-VCR combo unit was quietly whirring as it regurgitated the tape. Taylor snatched the rectangular prism from the slot and only with an effort of will prevented herself from hurling it at the wall. Instead she settled for slamming the recording back into its box, pointedly ignoring the “Please be kind, Rewind” label on the back.

“What've you got for that scenario you stupid- false- unthinking...little imbecile!” Lola Bridges could go rot. With a frustrated huff, she walked back over to examine the remainder of the tapes she'd retrieved from downstairs.

“How to Dad when Mom's Gone” wouldn't be what she was after, and almost definitely not “Bringing Job Satisfaction Home.” Maybe she should try “Pep in Your Step: A 30-Day Course” but...ugh, it sounded so lame. Then her eyes fell on the one labeled in a simple, almost homemade-looking font.

“'Inspire Yourself to a Better Future,'” Taylor spoke aloud, her eyes following the block letters. The box didn't have a picture on it. She flipped it over to look at the back.

Life can be harsh, and sometimes your future will be in doubt. “Can I be happy? Can I achieve my dreams? Can I find my way past an impossible obstacle?” While many people will tell you it's easy to achieve their success by doing what they did- “Too true,” grumbled Taylor, sparing another withering glance for the rejected boxes on her bedspread -or following a generic guide of fortune-cookie wisdom- Taylor snorted again -we all know that's not how the world really works. Who you are matters. Some things are hard, and will take you time, or help, or things you don't even know you'll need yet. Some things really might be impossible to do in one way...but possible in another.

This course contains no fancy tricks, no upfront payments, and no fortune-telling. Just simple, direct advice on how to find your own strengths and weaknesses. Join Vision for this two-hour talk, listen, and allow him to show you the place you need to start from to create your future .

Taylor sat back and blinked. It was still marketing-speak, mostly, but it did somehow feel more...sincere. Certainly better than the “True happiness in 30 days or your money back – guaranteed!” on the back of Lola Bridges' pathetic offering. With a faint ember of optimism burning in her breast, Taylor loaded the tape. Maybe, just maybe this time there would be something better than trash advice. She took a seat at the end of her bed as the video began to run.

After several seconds of nothing, the screen faded in on an unassuming living room with a blue couch in the foreground. On it, an man in a brown suit and a silver carnival mask raised his head to address the camera.

“Only a few people in the world will ever experience a life devoid of pain,” he said in a quiet but utterly carrying tone. It seemed to resonate minutely in Taylor's ears, all the way down into her skull. He was giving her his absolute, fullest attention, and she unconsciously leaned forward to do the same. “And if you're watching this, you are not one of them. For we common people, we are in a constant conflict in ways great and small, with the world, with each other, and most of all, with ourselves. And it is when we cannot find our strength that weights become too much to bear; when we stumble, when we doubt, when we fail.

He took a deep breath, and Taylor took it with him.

“But those moments, those times, though they may last seconds...or days...or years...or all our lives, they can be met and answered. I am going to tell you how. I am going to tell you what I think works. And I promise you, once this course is over, you will no longer be alone in the struggle.”

The words became a blur after that. Taylor sat and listed as he talked about reliance on the self, how it was inextricably tied up with reliance on others. That society was humanity's greatest strength and also its greatest potential weakness. He talked about meditating, about how he found his own self after months of extreme doubt and persecution. He talked about what could have brought her to this moment, this day, and what she would most wish to take away from it. At some point, he asked her name.

The girl didn't think it odd that he used it after she replied.

Vision's recording asked Taylor opened-ended questions to encourage her to articulate what she liked and disliked, what she thought was good and what not, what she wanted for herself in one year, ten years, one-hundred. He always nodded understandingly at Taylor's answers, after giving her as much time as she needed to speak.

Vision expounded at length about how working towards a greater cause could help Taylor, how being able to extend trust even after it was poorly used was the greatest asset anyone could have. He talked about accepting what one knew and didn't know, about how self-improvement was a way of improving humanity as a whole, about how the better future was on them to lay the foundations for, today, together. Taylor sat and listened as she was told that she would have worth, that she was important, that should could be integral to a better future, and tears welled up in her eyes. She hadn't felt seen and accepted and valued like this since her mother died.

Before she knew it the sun was starting to get low in the sky, and the lecture was ending.

“Now, think about what you've learned today, Taylor, and think about what happens next. You know you're ready to trust, and you'll have the opportunity to try it soon. The next person you see will be your Confidant, and you can tell them anything. They may ask you for help with things, and I know you'll be glad to help them. After all, that's what matters most isn't it? Helping each other when we need it?”

“Yes,” breathed Taylor, smiling.

“I know you'll be ready to help with the Great Work when we finally meet in real life. Until then, trust your Confidant, and treat their words as you would my own. Goodbye, for now, Taylor.”

“Goodbye, Vision,” whispered Taylor.

The screen slowly gave way to static. Taylor stared blankly at it with a faint smile, waiting. She was ready to meet her future, meet her confidant. The sun practically seemed to race down the sky towards sunset while she continued to sit in expectant silence, idly swinging her legs against the bed's foot-board. At some point a car pulled into the drive, keys clinked at the door, and the sounds of dishes moving came from the kitchen. Taylor sat still, ignoring them all, waiting.

A voice distantly called her name but she did not hear it, staring out at something only she could see. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, came towards her door, and someone knocked, but Taylor remained oblivious. Then suddenly, her door was opening and she looked over to see her father standing there. Taylor blinked, and smiled hesitantly up at him.

“...What did you say?” she asked.

“I said it's time for dinner, Taylor,” and she frowned the worried look on his face. Had she done something wrong? “Are you alright? You didn't hear me earlier?”

“Sorry Dad, I was...just thinking. Had a lot on my mind,” replied Taylor honestly. She'd been wondering who her confident would be – and now she couldn't be happier. Her dad had always been there for her before...and was still here for her. It hurt to think she'd begun to doubt that, but no longer – Taylor's fears were erased as if they had never been at all. She felt the weight of the past few months halved from that understanding alone.

Taylor smiled broadened as she rose from the bed, suddenly aware of just how hungry she was. “Let's eat, Dad! What'd you make?”

“Just a basic mac and cheese tonight, sorry I wasn't feeling up to a more-”

“No way, that sounds perfect!”

“Oh- uh...good then.”

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I trust you, you know?”

Danny Hebert looked down at his daughter in surprise as they walked from her room.

“Oh, I...thank you Taylor. I trust you, too. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” and that easy response seemed to break through and warm his features in a way that had become all too rare. Taylor keep his gaze but her voice became hesitant. “Dad, I...I think I do need to tell you about what's been happening at school...”

They walked and talked, and sat down and ate while she kept talking, and while her it clearly pained him to hear, her father listened.

*

It was a significantly dispirited Danny Hebert that slipped into his night clothes after showering that evening.

His Taylor, bullied. Bullied by the girl who'd been her best friend. His daughter, starting to doubt herself and her future and lose hold of her happiness. And he'd noticed nothing.

Guilt and regret were old familiar friends at this point, but they'd never come to him in this particular flavor. Danny didn't yet know what he was going to do, but he was going to have to do something. Taylor looking up at him with the wide expressive eyes she'd inherited from his side of the family and asking “You can make it better, right?” had almost broken him.

He would fix this. Somehow, someway, he would fucking fix this.

“Are you alright?”

Danny twitched in surprise, looking over to the door as his train of thought veered wildly off its track. Taylor was standing there in her pajamas, looking concerned, and little unsure. Danny sighed.

“It will be alright, just, what you've told me...it's a lot to process.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier,” she said earnestly.

“Don't blame yourself for that, Taylor, not for one moment. I...I wasn't there for you. When you most needed it. But you've told me now, and I will find a way to make things better, I swear.”

“I believe you, Dad,” she said simply.

And then she smiled – smiled – at him, not the awkward sullen effort that had only occasionally graced her face since Annette's death, but a real, full, beaming regard that left him breathless, ashamed, and hopeful all at once.

It's not too late.

“Thank you, Taylor,” he whispered.

It was a miracle he didn't choke on the words.

She bid him goodnight, and turned to go.

“Why did you tell me?” Danny burst out before he could think twice. If there was anything that ran it the family, it was bottling things up until it was far too late. She'd come by that from both her parents.

What did I do right this time? Please let me know so I can never stop doing it .

Taylor turned back, surprised.

“Oh,” she said, and thought for a moment. “Well, it...just seemed like a thing I ought to do. But I guess the tape helped.”

“...Tape?”

“One of your old self-help videos,” she explained. “Before I decided to tell you, I'd taken all the ones from downstairs looking for advice – but most of them were garbage. The opposite of helpful.”

Sounded accurate.

“But the 'Vision' one, it did give me some...perspective, I guess? It just seemed silly not to tell you after I watched it. You're supposed to be my confidant.”

Danny missed the odd inflection on her last word amid his disappointment. It hadn't been anything he did, just an...accident of timing and circumstance. Was that how the universe worked? What would the future have been if he and Annette hadn't bought something stupid years ago, and Taylor stumbled across it? Would his daughter have ever told him? Or just suffered in silence more and more and-

He didn't want to even imagine that.

“Here, I'll get it for you.”

Once again, Taylor broke his spiral of negativity with her interjection. He heard her go trotting across the hall, rustle through her bedroom and return, crossing to his bed to present Danny with a minimally-decorated box.

“'Inspire Yourself to a Better Future,'” he read off the front.

...When on earth had this been purchased?

He couldn't recall.

“Thank you Taylor,” he said, taking the offering. He leaned over to kiss her cheek (and was both surprised and gratified that she allowed it) before they said goodnight, and he was once more left alone.

Danny stared at the VHS in his hand, then glanced at the contract law book he'd intended to start laying on the bedspread next to him. He checked the clock – not even 8:45 yet. He weighed the cassette several times in his hand before sighing, rising, and putting on his slippers to head downstairs to the main TV.

Maybe he was being stupid, most likely this tape had nothing else beyond the same drivel he'd seen a hundred times. But on the off-chance there was something in it that could give him a little bit of new perspective as well...Christ knew Danny could use that.

At worst, he'd waste fifteen minutes or so determining its value.

What could be the harm?

*

“-That's why your weaknesses aren't really weaknesses when you have someone else to cover them, and their weakness can be covered by your strengths, so long as you work together. Find people you can trust to cover your gaps, who trust you to cover theirs. Find the people who trust you, Danny, teach them and help them, find the people you trust, help and learn from them.

“In the end, our trust in each other, in the Chosen, is the key to everything. They key to your happiness. The key to a better future. The key to my Vision.

“Now, think about what you've learned today, Danny, and think about what happens next. You know you're ready to trust, and you'll have the opportunity to try it soon. The next person you see will be your Confidant, and you can tell them anything. They may ask you for help with things, and I know you'll be glad to help them. After all, that's what matters most isn't it? Helping each other when we need it?”

“That's right,” answered Daniel Hebert, his face relaxed and serene in a way it had not been for far too long.

“I know you'll be ready to help with the Great Work when we finally meet in real life. Until then, trust your Confidant, and treat their words as you would my own. Goodbye, for now, Danny.”

“Goodbye, Vision.”

Danny folded his hands in his lap and sat back, content. Clarity was a beautiful thing, and once he found his Confidant, the universe would be complete. There would plans, and help, and everything would work out. He had been traveling his whole life to get here, to find this purpose. His future was bright.

And his Confidant would be here soon.

*

“Dad? Dad? ...Are you alright?”

The man blinked several times, realized where he was, and focused on his daughter. She had stopped in the living room doorway in her running outfit, looking in on him with a curious expression. There was now daylight streaming in the windows, and the clock in the kitchen was displaying 7:43.

What happened to the night?

But none of that really mattered. Taylor was here, concerned about him when it should be the other way around. He was going going to make her life better. He could tell her anything. She'd understand. Danny couldn't help smiling in relief.

“I'm fine Taylor,” he said hoarsely (why was his throat so dry?). “I must have fallen asleep on the couch. You're going out running again?”

It was a quite recent habit of hers.

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Yeah. Just around the block though – nowhere unsafe, I promise.”

As if she needed to promise him anything – he trusted her completely. Danny smiled again.

“See you at breakfast, then,” he said fondly.

She waved and went out the door, letting in a gust of cold air that had him shivering even in his flannel pajamas.

Oh hell, his neck was sore. But it was Sunday morning, and that meant...well...once, it had meant pancakes. Why had they stopped that? Danny rose and stiffly made his way into the kitchen. At least they had all the ingredients. And he really wanted to do something nice for Taylor right now. Working with her school administration and talking to Alan was going to take time – and he'd do those too, no matter how long it took – but she deserved more than waiting, something immediate.

Humming to himself, Danny cracked eggs into a bowl and began to whisk. He wished he didn't still feel so tired. At least it being the weekend, no one could complain if he took the afternoon for a nap.

*

A household run with absolute frankness, trust, and a complete lack of shame between its members is a strange thing. Neither Taylor nor Danny ever noticed they would answer the other's passing thoughts as if they were fully legitimate questions. If Taylor reported on her school humiliations in full detail when her father asked, or Danny spared none of his language when describing his own days at work to her inquiries, that was just...the new normal.

When Danny vented his anger the the bureaucracy of Brockton Bay, his daughter was there to pat his back.

When Taylor railed against the lack of concern her teachers were showing even after her father's berating, her father had a shoulder to cry on.

If Taylor expressed worries about how college would be more of the same, Danny told her uncensored stories about his experience, complete with his fears and enjoyments, uncertainties and lusts at the time, until she brightened to the point of laughter.

Should Danny came home after an extra-long day with his back in knots, Taylor spent time kneading them out while he lay face-down and groaned into the couch.

Should Taylor come home in a rage after her classmates ruined her work, Danny would hold up a stack of pillows for as long as it took her to pummel her frustration into submission.

While watching a film with a protracted sex scene one night, both commented on the foolishness of the main characters and their aesthetic appeal with equal ease.

Danny got Taylor replacement tampons when she ran out, and she dropped her pants right in front of him to insert a new one, neither of them giving that a second thought.

Taylor wondered what pornography was really like, and Danny rented a selection of films for her.

Danny went out shopping for new underwear, and modeled them at home in front of Taylor for her feedback, unconcerned at exposing himself to her while swapping them out.

Taylor didn't care if her dad collected laundry while she was reading, studying, or – as it happened on several occasions – masturbating. She just smiled as he passed by, and remained focused on her activity, regardless.

Each would enter a bathroom where the other was showering to talk about daily plans, without seeing anything odd in the act.

So the days passed, and, such moments aside, their family could have remained no more than that. The world would have spun on with a father-daughter unit that could be mistaken for normal most of the time. But fate had one last trick to play: in that – many, many years previously – Danny and Annette Hebert had become a bit adventurous in the bedroom...and that legacy had left a few artifacts of its own.

*

“We really ought to have a regular family activity of some kind again,” Danny had mused about two weeks after Taylor's school confession, staring out the window as snow drifted down. “Annette would have wanted us to.”

“Like movie nights?” Taylor asked, swirling the last of her spaghetti dinner around the plate. “I'm happy to do anything, of course, I liked watching The Velvet Glove with you, but – I think I'd find most of her movies sad now.”

“I would too...no – that's not quite what I had in mind. Just something...fun. Simple. For us. I hadn't gotten as far as specifics.”

Taylor had frowned out at the weather as she considered.

“Hmm. Maybe we could...do karaoke? No, never mind, that was more...her thing. We could re-instate Family Game Night?”

“That could be fun....though it'd be pretty different without anyone coming over,” Danny observed, wincing as Taylor's expression had darkened. Not to mention, he and Alan were no longer on speaking terms after their most recent conversation. Exchange. Shouting match. “And I'm not sure much of what we have have will be good for two people...but we could certainly try.”

Taylor sat in thought for a moment.

“Okay, well...if we cut the old favorites (Candyland, Scrabble, and Mousetrap Danny translated in his head) we might find a different one good for us,” she suggested. “And if we can't find anything good after trying everything on the shelf-” she gestured to the living room bookcase who's lower third was absolutely packed with boxes in disorderly columns “-then we go shopping for something new!”

Danny nodded agreeably.

“Sounds like a plan. Let's do it.”

What Taylor hadn't known, and Danny didn't remember, was that at the bottom of one of the stacks, underneath a long-suffering Monopoly set, had been stuffed a small package labeled Gillian Merrywench's Intimate Dice.

*

Chapter Text

*

As winter began to edge towards spring, the Heberts played their their way down their collection.

Taylor won Checkers but found it boring, Danny swept at Go Fish.

Chess ended in a draw, as neither of them were practiced at it.

Poker and Blackjack were agreed to need more players to really be engaging, and with that the remaining card game options were put on hold.

Neither of them could get their heads around Go (and neither knew where the set had come from), Dominoes was declared to be decent, and Connect Four entertaining but too easily strategized.

Monopoly went on for three hours and ended with the bank broke, and Taylor and Danny each with half the playable money and properties. That was also called as a draw, and they shook hands solemnly over the ashes of late-stage capitalism.

The next time Danny went over to pull a game off the shelf, however, he found himself surprised.

“Oh,” was all he said at first.

Taylor paused in removing the placemats from the dining room table to come and look over her father's shoulder at the red box containing a book and a number of over-sized dice. Its manual had a painting of a nude succubus behind a roulette wheel on the front, and boldly proclaimed:

Gillian Merrywench Presents:

Intimate Dice!

For couples, threesomes, and moresomes to play their way to pleasure – these dice will spice up your night! Whether you're looking for a little light fun, a little heavy fun, or just need to kick off an orgy, Gillian Merrywench's Intimate Dice are your ticket to ribald enjoyment and personal encounters.

There followed rules for three game modes – which the instructions called “encounters” of “Naughty, Intimate, or Hardcore” levels, with directions for any number of players from 2-7.

“This...um isn't a game we ever played, before, I don't think,” Taylor finally settled for.

Her father of all things, blushed.

“Well, it was more a game for Annette and I...and I can't believe we left it here, to be honest,” he said. “We almost invited Kurt and Lacy over to share once, but chickened out at the last second. Must have been from that.”

“...Not Uncle Alan and Aunt Zoe?” Taylor asked, feeling her own face heat slightly.

“Oh no, Alan would have never-” Danny cut himself off. “Well, he wasn't ever into dating much in the first place, and the one time I made a joke about something similar...well, he didn't look at all like a fan. I'm surprised he got married after college, to be honest, let alone had kids.”

Taylor shrugged, not really wanting to think further on Alan Barnes' sex life. Or lack thereof. It just seemed strange to her that the Barnes' wouldn't be the first family her parents had thought to be intimate with, given how close they were in the past. Her mom and Zoe and Danny and Alan had been constant companions.

She had always thought Kurt and Lacy were cool, though. Not in a particularly naughty way, but well...they were both dockworkers and they both had tattoos. They knew something about everything, and told really funny jokes. Her father's work crowd were mostly like that: cool, kind, and awe-inspiring, or at least to little Taylor they had been. She didn't see many them that often anymore, though...

“Dad, you should start doing your cookouts again.”

“Well, the grill's probably rusted through at this point, but there's a thought,” he said, flipping through the Intimate Dice manual. “For tonight though, we need to figure out what to play. And this game is...well...isn't one I would have necessarily picked.”

He seemed to be struggling to articulate his thoughts.

“Well, we are definitely not a couple, or threesome, or an orgy,” Taylor agreed reasonably, feeling a faint sense of embarrassed at articulating obvious words which she'd never say to anyone else. “But look-” her finger stabbed down on the pamphlet “-they've got a game here for getting acquainted if you don't know each other. We could do that one?”

“I guess we could,” agreed Danny. “It's not exactly normal though, you've got to admit. And we know each other already, don't we?”

Taylor nodded seriously.

“Well, sure. But it's not like I'll ever tell anyone about it...unless I trusted them just I much as I trust you. And you'd do the same?”

“Of course, Taylor.”

“And we are sorta trying to get to know one another better again, right?”

“Right.”

“And we did say we'd try everything on the self to find the best one, right?”

“That's also true. I guess, as long as you're not uncomfortable, I'm fine with it. We can give it a try.”

“I'll tell you the moment I become uncomfortable...but – I trust you, Dad.”

“And I trust you, Taylor.”

*

They set up the game on the living room coffee table: only needing two dice and the rulebook, since there would be no randomizing of partners in a two-player game. Danny turned on both lamps and closed the curtains, while Taylor poured them each a glass of water, tuned the radio to the oldies station they favored, and took a seat on the sofa. Once her dad had joined her, Taylor picked up the manual and cleared her throat.

“'Getting a Bit More Acquainted – Level Naughty'” she read. “'All the players should form a circle- we don't really need to do that. -Each player gets one turn in the round, going counter-clockwise from a mutually agreed-upon starter. On their turn, the player rolls the appropriate white partner die' – unnecessary for two players – ' the pink action die, and the yellow duration die simultaneously. The player and their partner, specified by the selection die, then perform the action specified by the action die (see chart below) for the time specified on the duration die. If an action requires both a giver and a receiver – such as being spanked,'” Taylor paused to giggle for a moment “'-the player who rolled always receives the action.'”

“Makes sense so far,” Danny grinned lopsidedly. “It's all starting to come back.”

The teenager shot him a half-amused, half exasperated look, and kept reading.

“'Once a round is completed, every player removes a single item of clothing and another round may be played. Players may leave at any time, simply swap out the selection die for the one corresponding to the new number of players. The game ends once a round has been played that started with every participant naked, or, if agreed upon (and we recommend!), the dice may be swapped out where necessary to start an Intimate Level game.'”

Her parent had retrieved the necessary items as she spoke: both the action and duration dice were six-sided and about the size of a golf ball. He set them down on the table in front of them.

“Who goes first?” he asked.

“Roll you for it? Highest time goes?” Taylor held up the yellow die invitingly.

“Sure.”

Taylor rolled, and the face came up indicating five seconds.

“Shouldn't be hard to beat,” she observed – that was the second shortest result on the chart.

Danny's roll came up with eight lines radiating out from a dot; a small explosion.

“...Or not,” Taylor admitted, making a show of consulting the instructions, though she was already pretty certain that meant-

“An instant,” stated Danny. “Well, you're up first, and I really hope that's not how my luck is going to go all evening.”

Taylor retrieved the die, added the action one to her hands, and started rattling them. “What even is a good roll in this game?” she pondered. “Longer for something you like, shorter for other stuff? Won't it all be subjective?”

Danny shrugged.

“At least this can't be like your triple-doubles Monopoly start.”

“You caught up,” teased his daughter, and let the dice fall. Then stared at them.

“A hand...which means 'hold hands,' duh,” Taylor read slowly as she consulted the guide. “...And for...thirty seconds. Max time.”

She reach over and took hold of Danny's left hand with her right.

“Well. I'm not sure what I expected, but I don't think this was it,” she stated. Danny smiled back and picked up the two randomizers.

“From what I can recall, these have a tendency to to go silly just as easily as- well, as anything else.”

He swirled the dice for several seconds, then cast them onto the coffee table.

“'Hug' for...five seconds,” Taylor confirmed.

As half their hands were already occupied, Taylor and Danny just put the others around each other's shoulders and leaned into one another for a few moments.

“This is actually kinda nice,” Taylor said, well after five seconds had passed.

“I'm sorry I stopped hugging you properly,” Danny admitted in a sombre tone. “I shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have let myself pull away so much. I will make up for it, I promise.”

“I believe you.”

They separated again and then paused.

“I guess that round is already done,” said Taylor. “So now we just, uhh...take something off?”

Danny nodded in confirmation.

“I think I'll do my shoes,” he said.

“Wait, that's no fair, I'm not wearing anything on my feet right now!”

“But you've got a bra on, whereas I do not – unless you want to count all underwear as the same thing?”

“Shoes and socks then. If 'footwear' is what you're doing,” declared Taylor. “Keep us even.”

Danny agreed and slipped both layers off, before stretching his legs out under the table.

“What about you?”

Taylor fidgeted for a long moment, then stood and began pushing down her jeans, baring lean white legs topped by gray cotton panties. Danny's brow rose in surprise.

“Wouldn't have guessed that one for your first.”

Taylor shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes while pulling down on the hem of her shirt to keep it from showing her stomach.

“Round two?” she asked, picking up the dice.

“Round two.”

Clatter-clatter.

The icon facing up on the action die was a stylized pair of lips.

“...Kiss. For twenty seconds.”

“...Are you alright with that Taylor?”

“Yeah. Yeah – I'm fine, I've just never really- kissed...had a boyfriend...any of it.”

“Not even with...” Danny trailed off.

“No- we- it doesn't matter. She wasn't interested...and I'm not gay, anyway.”

Danny patted her shoulder sympathetically.

“Well, leaving all that aside...you do know how to kiss. Remember family kisses? On the cheek?” He angled his head away from her, and leaned over to present the bearded plane. “We can do that.”

“Oh, right, that'd be- that's fine. I can do that.”

The girl leaned forward, closed her eyes, thought better of it, opened them, leaned forward more and bushed her lips against her father's cheek, counting in her head.

One.

Smooch.

Two.

Smooch.

Three.

Smooch.

By five, Taylor's eyes had closed again. Once within the right range, it was easy to purse her lips and press them down, lift and repeat. Six, seven. She worked her way along his jaw (ten, eleven), tagged his ear (twelve), even grazed the side of his nose on the way back (seventeen), before heading down. But she didn't end up quite where she'd started, and eighteen and nineteen were part beard, part something soft and yielding, and by the time she'd realized and opened her eyes (twenty) Taylor realized she'd ended by kissing her dad almost half on the mouth. Confused, she drew back.

She hadn't meant to do that.

“Are you alright, Taylor?” Danny asked, his eyes darkening in concern.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. It wasn't bad or anything it just...that wasn't quite a family kiss. At the end.”

Her father's brow wrinkled for a moment, but then he shook his head, face clearing.

“Sure it was. You probably don't remember, but that's how Mom and I used to kiss you when you were little. She brought it with her when she emigrated. And besides, this isn't really a family game in the first place is it? So a regular kiss wouldn't be out of place either.”

“I guess not. You're not mad? It wasn't a bad kiss?”

“No I'm not, Taylor – it was very nice.”

She smiled, relieved.

“You turn, then.”

The dice were rolled.

“Hold hands for – an instant.”

“Lame.”

“Agreed.”

They shook, then turned their attention to clothing.

“What're you taking?” Danny asked as he prepared to lift his shirt.

Taylor bit her lip, glanced at him, then in one swift motion, stood, slid off her panties, and sat once more. She kept holding the shirt down against her waist, but made no effort to conceal the dark bush now visible at the junction between her pale thighs. After a moment, she looked at him expectantly.

“Well? Go on and take your shirt.”

“You know, I think I'm doing my pants too,” he stated, put those words directly into action. Danny's beige khaki's landed in a heap on Taylor's denim, his belt clattering behind. “That's twice you've surprised me with your order, and now I feel like I'm losing, for some reason.”

Taylor almost smirked as she picked up the dice once more, but there was an edge of pain and uncertainty to it. Danny considered asking her what was wrong – she had nothing to be uncomfortable about that he could see...but thought better of it.

Taylor gave the cubes four decisive shakes for luck, and let fly.

“...Be spanked for five seconds.” She turned her wide up up to Danny's. “You won't...make it hurt, will you?”

“No, Taylor. This is supposed to be silly fun, not pain games. I've heard there are people into that sort of thing, but I'm definitely not one of them.”

Taylor smiled, repositioning herself to lay across his lap, buttocks facing upward.

“I don't think I am either.”

She wiggled into a more comfortable position and looked over her shoulder at him. Danny could feel the heat from her thighs leeching into and mingling with the heat from his, feel her pubic hair rasping against his leg as she settled. It was nice...if remarkably intimate. The last time he'd felt something like that was, well-

“Go on then, Dad. Spank me.”

Danny pushed away his woolgathering and brought his hand down in a slow motion clap against his daughter's left buttcheek. Taylor gave a little yelp, more from startlement at how gentle he had been than any real discomfort.

One.

He repeated the action, angling this time onto the right cheek, and Taylor twitched much less abruptly this time, and flexing her rear for a moment before he could remove his hand.

Two.

Surprised at the response, Danny tried for a slightly harder impact with the third strike; this time a faint report was heard, and Taylor let out a startled little “oh!” as he let his hand clasp and knead the left semi-globe of flesh a single time before retreating.

Three.

A similar performance on the right, and Taylor burst out with a “hmm,” her legs uncrossing and falling slightly apart.

Four.

For the final blow, Danny dropped his hand across both cheeks at once, pressing firmly into the posterior after it fell, pushing the cheeks together, and then letting them fall apart with a barely-perceptible jiggle while Taylor let out a throaty “mm-HMM” that could be nothing less than complimentary. After a second to collect herself, she climbed off him and took back her seat, looking faintly bemused.

And that makes five. “All good, Taylor?”

“Yeah. I'm- I'm fine,” she replied. “That wasn't bad at all. I actually think...I may...really like that. Surprised me. Something to try with a boyfriend, whenever I get one.”

“Oh good, I'm glad you learned something about yourself from this – I was afraid it would be a wasted night.”

His daughter shook her head.

“No no, been good so far. Lets keep going.”

Danny stretched for a moment, then gathered the dice towards him.

“Well, then. I will be-

Clatter-skitter.

“Kissing you for thirty seconds.”

Taylor shifted nervously for a moment, then squared herself to him, closing her eyes and pushing her lips forward. Danny couldn't help himself – he burst out laughing.

Taylor opened one eye to glare at him accusingly,

“I didn't think it was at all funny when it was my turn,” she accused.

“Probably because I didn't make myself look like a fish.”

Danny imitated her puckered mouth while crossing his eyes. An unwilling snicker escaped his daughter before she re-intensified her glare.

“...Sorry Taylor, that was unkind. I shouldn't be making light of your relative lack of kissing experience. Here – we'll turn it into a lesson.”

He shifted to face her, so that they were both kneeling on the sofa, knees almost touching.

“Now: kissing is an improvisational kind of game, but the basic rule is just Goldilocks – not too much, and not too little. When starting out, just think about meeting in the middle-” he described a vertical plane between them with his hands before leaning forward to it, “-about here. Ideally, at the same time. Too far away or too slow means something's wrong. Might be your timing's off, but more likely-” he pulled back to not-quite-straight, “-if you're over here, that means I'm not into it. If I'm over there-” he leaned almost all the way to her “-you're not into it.” Danny pulled back to where he'd started.

“Taylor, I know you already got The Talk, and we don't need to retread that ground. But be prepared – most boys, especially in their teens, have no ideas of boundaries and will go past one-hundred percent from eagerness, desperation, or just plain disregard for you. My rule of thumb is anything past three-quarters either way means 'abort and have a conversation.' It's served me well since I learned it, and I hope it helps you.”

Taylor nodded earnestly.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Now then – and I know this is hard without much experience – once both partners have agreed the kiss is going to happen, don't over-think it. It's supposed to feel nice and that won't be the case if you're worried about how well you're doing the whole time. With the kiss, think about it as much as you need to get it started, then listen to your body from there. Basic tips-”

He removed off his glasses, and blinked as the background went out of focus.

“-glasses get in the way for beginners. They can be worked around, but you'll need to practice.”

Taylor mirrored him, folding her own rounded pair, and setting them on the table.

“Next: approach.” Danny leaned in, almost to his invisible wall, and Taylor mirrored him, staring into his eyes and hanging on every word. It had been a long time since he had looked squarely into the beautiful, earthy brown of Taylor's eyes. More like his mother's than Danny's own, especially when she got all focused like this. He took a moment, then continued. “If we keep going forward without changing anything, what happens?”

Taylor thought for several seconds.

“Noses...bump?” she hazarded.

“Exactly. So you get at least this close with your eyes open, or open enough, and then you tilt. Which way might vary by partner, by moment, and you can always change it once you're fully engaged. But on the way in, pick one and stick with it. Then you can close your eyes.” Taylor tilted her head left and he did the same.

“Now, in those final moments, all you need to think about is being gentle as you find your partner. If you think bumping noses is bad, wait until you bump teeth – few things take you out of a kiss faster.” Taylor grimaced and huffed in understanding, her breath ghosting over his lips, eyes half-lidded in anticipation. “Once you're there, however,” and Danny finally leaned that last little bit forward and brushed her lips with his. “Advice really stops mattering.” He tenderly kissed her upper lip. Then her lower one, then another square on the mouth. Taylor hummed.

“Play, experiment – don't worry about involving your tongue right now.” He kissed the left corner of her mouth, then the right corner, then up her jaw on that side. Taylor tilted her head back and he followed that to her neck, feeling the rapid pulse thrum under his gently pressing mouth. “You'll soon find-” kiss “-there are some things that you like-” kiss “-some you don't-” kiss “-and some you might not know-” kiss “-either way until they happen-” kiss “-some, it might vary by mood.” He gave a gentle suck to the artery and Taylor arched, letting out a breathy “yes,” so Danny repeated that several more times before working his way across her collar and back up her other side, following the smooth jawline to find her mouth again.

This time, when their lips met, it was no mere touch, but full and indulgent contact: slow and delicate but also decisive, warm, and cajoling. Danny drew out the final seconds: pressing, lapping, and retreating, parting Taylor's lips with his own and sculpting their mouths together before finally moving away to leave a dazed daughter behind him.

“Once you've got some practice,” he said quietly, fondly, “you'll find there's all sorts of exceptions to what I've said about speed, approach, and so on. Any piece of advice I've given you might not apply in a certain situations...but they're a good place to start.”

“...Wow, Dad.” Taylor shook herself, catching back up with the moment. “Thanks. That was very...wow.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” he said emphatically. “If you come away from a kiss smiling more than when you went in, something went right. If you immediately want to do it again, then something went really right, and that's when you might take moment to think on what you want to re-create. But again, never over-think it, and if you're pursuing a relationship with someone, remember that kissing is only ever part of that: you can also flirt and show affection to each other with words, actions, listening – the whole mess of human expression.”

“Right, I'll remember.”

They shared a smile, and Danny let the last of his Parent-Lecture Mode dissipate.

“Okay, that's round three in the books, and this time, I'm discarding first.”

Without further ado (though with a quick glance to be sure the widow was still fully covered), Danny pulled down his boxers and added them the the pile of clothes on the living room floor. He could feel a slow draft cross his penis as it was freed to the air before he sat again, and gave thanks that he had turned the heat up earlier in the day. He looked from his organ to Taylor's thicket, then up to her face. “Solidarity,” he stated with a quirk of his lips.

Taylor gave a faint smile, but instead of pulling off her top, she instead reached into it, gave a complicated little shimmy of shoulders and arms, and pulled her brassier out the bottom, leaving her top half still completely covered. When he looked inquiringly at her, she didn't meet his eyes, and Danny was a the point of opening his mouth to ask her what was wrong before Taylor forestalled him by rolling the dice with barely any windup.

They hopped, skipped, and spun to a stop.

“Hug for thirty seconds.”

Danny stood and opened his arms invitingly.

“Guess I can make up a bit more of the deficit now, huh?”

Taylor nodded, stood, and they wrapped their arms around each other, holding tight. Danny felt his manhood get pinned against his daughter's belly, along with a vague stir of excitement at the heat and rough fabric pressing it. Tucking her head under his chin (when had she gotten so tall?), Danny hummed and stroked her hair with one hand. After a considered pause, he spoke carefully.

“Is...everything alright, Taylor?”

He felt more tension enter her arms, felt her let out a rough breath against his chest.

“...It's stupid. I just...”

“...What, Taylor?” he prompted after another long silence.

“I don't...like how I look. Especially, my...belly. With my legs and mouth, it makes me a frog.”

Danny frowned at nothing as he tried to consider how best to answer.

“I don't think that's true, Taylor. Is that what those...girls at school have been telling you?”

Her body tensed further, which was all the confirmation he needed. Danny growled low in his chest and clasped her reassuringly.

“Well, they're wrong. You're still growing into yourself, and things develop at different rates, and the hormones make it impossible to think objectively anyway. I hated my body at your age because I had terrible acne from third grade on. Zits and pimples galore. One of my nicknames was 'Craterface.' It was a nightmare. At least be grateful you've missed that so far.”

Taylor gave a choked laugh from within his embrace.

“And I know just being told you look nice when you think differently doesn't mean much, especially coming from your old dad-”

“That's not true-”

“Kind of you to say Taylor, but I know the score: not matter what, dads always tell their daughters they're a perfect princess – it's a well-known fact that's part of the job. No, instead, I'll ask you this. Was your mother beautiful?”

Taylor lifted her head to look up at him in confused outrage.

“Of course!”

“Well then,” Danny smiled. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed his daughter away to stand at attention in front of him, then squatted down and clasped her hips, letting his hands slowly glide down towards her ankles.

“These you got from your mother, and she could run like the wind.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Have you ever tried running flat out, Taylor?”

She smiled tearily down at him.

“....Yeah. It's kinda fun.”

“Were you fast?”

“Yeah.”

“There you are.”

He brought his hands back up, then stood and traced them further up her sides, over her shoulders to clasp her neck, and began outlining her mouth with a finger.

“You got this from Annette as well. Remember how her smile could light up a room? That'll be your smile one day.”

“Yeah? You think?”

“I know. Your brain definitely came from her as well, and while I can only apologize for giving you my poor eyes and wonky ears-”

“I like your eyes, Dad. I'm glad I got them.”

Danny paused and smiled to himself, his thoughts momentarily derailed. A glowing feeling had risen in his chest – one of those 'glad to be a dad' moments.

“...Thank you, Little Owl,” he said, his tongue thick as it formed the words. “My point was- is...that your mom gave you the best parts of herself, and you'll feel worthy of them in due time. Your stomach may seem too prominent now, but you've got more mass to gain as you get taller, and it'll get balanced out. You're still growing, and-” inspiration struck.

“Wait. Wait right there, young missy-”

Danny hurried around the couch to the door behind it and strode through into Annette's study, untouched since her death – a familiar twinge stuttered through his heart – but that didn't matter, the first picture he'd been looking for was still sitting right where it should be on her desk. Danny snatched the frame up, then pulled the other one he was after from a bookcase before hurrying back holding them out to Taylor.

“There. See what I mean.”

Taylor took moment to examine the offered photographs. In one, a skinny girl with plaited black hair, braces, and a bit of a paunch grinned out from between her two larger siblings. In the other, a beaming woman stood on some church steps next to a much younger-looking Daniel Hebert, her white gown emphasizing her willowy figure and making her almost ethereal in the soft light.

“Annette, your mother, just fifteen years apart,” he said. “She was just a bit younger than you in that first one. Have faith, Taylor. One day, you'll shine even more brightly.”

Taylor stared at the pictures intently, seemingly burning them into her memory, before smiling back at her father.

“You really think so?”

“I'm certain.”

Danny brought his hands to her waist again, then slid one up under her shirt to draw circles with his palm around her bellybutton.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Taylor,” he whispered earnestly. “You're not a frog. This doesn't make you ugly.”

The girl sighed and let her eyes close for a little while, pressing forward into his slow caress and dropping her head to his shoulder. After some time, she pulled away and took another long look at the pictures. Then, she set them on the table and drew her father into a tight hug, even closer than the last. For several minutes they stood there quietly, sharing warmth, remembering their greatest inspiration.

At last, they both let out mutual long, wistful breaths, and sat.

“Your go, I guess,” said Taylor softly – but she was smiling. Danny grinned back, then picked up the dice and set the rolling.

“Spank me for fifteen seconds,” he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You up for that, Taylor?”

She sat back and patted her thighs, matching his challenging look.

“I think so.”

Danny laughed and climber over her, stretching out to his full hight on the couch. He shifted uncomfortably for several moments as his semi flaccid organ got pinned against Taylor's legs, not wanting to crush it beneath his weight, before delicate fingers took hold of him.

“Here, let me.”

His daughter threaded Danny penis between her legs to point down into the couch, allowing him to relax fully into her lap. He took a moment to get used the the odd sensation of his daughter's pubic hair brushing his bulb, then glanced back.

“Whenever you're ready.”

Taylor raised her hand, but look torn between seriousness and amusement.

“I didn't think boys got spanked in games like this,” she admitted. “For some reason, it just seems really silly to have you in my lap right now. Like everything's backwards.”

He smirked.

“Keep an open mind, Taylor. Some boys like it too.”

Her eyes widened.

“...Do you like it?” she whispered.

“I haven't told you anywhere near everything I did in college.”

Taylor bit her lip, and dropped her hand.

Tap.

“You can do better than that, Taylor. Remember how I was with you? Try for gentle, but firm.”

Smack.

“Better,” he said, then gave her an encouraging “mmm,” as she also replicated his kneading.

Taylor soon began to use her hand with confidence, alternating buttocks with her firm contacts. It did not escape his notice however that she lingered when removing her hand each time. It felt quite pleasant, even when her final stroke had fallen and she let her hand rest on and rub his backside, seeming to get lost in the attention, as it continued for almost a minute.

At last his daughter sighed and let him rise, and Danny took a moment to relieve crick in his back. His slightly harder member bounced as he arched, and Taylor's gaze tracked it for a moment before finding his face again.

Danny sat and glanced over at her, then down at their last articles of clothing.

“Round four is over,” commented Taylor after a moment.

“Yep,” replied Danny.

“Just one thing left for each of us,” she echoed his observation.

“Yep.”

Clothing rustled, and then both father and daughter were completely bare to each other in the living room's warm light. After several more seconds, Taylor carefully uncross her arms from over her abdomen and sat stiffly, waiting for Danny to comment. He kissed her forehead.

“You look good, Taylor. Don't ever doubt it.”

“Okay, Dad.”

She smiled, then broke into a fit of giggling as he leant down to lay a wet kiss on her tummy as well.

“Every part of you, Taylor,” he promised. “I mean it.”

“Thank you, Dad,” she replied sincerely.

“Round five?” he offered.

“Round five.”

Taylor rolled.

“Sit in your lap...for fifteen seconds.”

“Come here you not-so-little-anymore terror.”

“Nooo~” Taylor laughed as Danny dragged her into his lap. She pretended to try and escape for a few seconds, then allowed herself to be positioned crosswise and snuggle into him. Danny curled one arm around her back for support, the other around her waist from the front.

“...You're warm.”

“...So are you.”

“I wish the fireplace was working,” Taylor said, the fingers of one hand running absently through the dark hairs curling across Danny's chest. He let out a pleased sigh - it felt very nice. “A fire and hot chocolate for a snowy game night. That'd be perfect,” Taylor went on.

“I probably can't manage that this winter,” said Danny regretfully, “but if I can find someone to fix our flue over the summer...next year, I promise.”

“And the grill.”

“And the grill. For this summer. That's guaranteed.”

Taylor shifted around a bit more.

“Hugging without clothes on is a bit weird,” she said next.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your penis is right against my butt. I've never felt that before. And I think it's moving a bit.”

It was.

“It seems to have a mind of its own, sometimes,” Danny allowed. It wasn't full stiffness down there, not yet, but the heat and pressure and abstract knowledge of naked body next to mine had been steadily redirecting his bloodflow. “It's definitely been fifteen seconds, you don't have to keep sitting on it, sweetie.”

“Just a bit longer,” bargained Taylor. “A lot of hugs to make up for, remember?”

Danny did, and wasn't about to complain. He cradled her more firmly, letting his non-supporting hand unfold and begin to stroke up and down one of Taylor's toned legs. Her toes curled.

“Mmm, keep doing that,” she said in a murmur. Her hands had come to rest on his pectorals, threaded though his chest hair, pressing against skin and radiating heat inward. Danny obeyed silently, tracing first one leg up to the knee from the ankle, then down the other, then up and over again, Taylor purring like a cat against him. The fingers of his other arm curled around her ribcage just underneath the flushed rose of a nipple that was slowly growing pointier as the seconds elapsed.

After nearly three minutes when neither spoke further, Taylor finally stirred and peeled herself away from him. Danny felt the loss of contact keenly, but shook himself and picked up the dice for his final roll of the game.

Rattle rattle rattle.

Skitter-clatter-plink.

A duration of fifteen seconds.

An interaction that hadn't come up yet – lips inside a heart – the direction to 'Make Out.'

Danny's breath caught. Looked questioningly to Taylor. She met his eyes, considered, then nodded.

“I'll try. I'd like to do it, I just don't know how-”

“Straddle me,” he directed, helping her climb over until she was in his lap again, but with her legs on either side of his this time. “That's good. Now, making out starts with kissing, and is just-” he took a moment to swallow his own moment of hesitance “-more. More touching, more kissing, more energy. Hands can go under clothes – if you're still wearing them-” they both took a moment for amusement “-or just explore. We'll start slow...gentle...kissing only. And go from there.”

“Alright.”

Taylor's eyes were bright, her breaths shallow, eager. Danny felt his own breathing speed slightly as something electric and anticipatory went curling down his spine.

“My turn starts...now.”

They leaned together and met in the middle, and while Taylor was a bit slow to start, she overcompensated quickly and ended up pressing her father back into the cushions as their kiss deepened. Soon, Danny was cupping the back of his daughter's head as Taylor's own hands laced behind his neck, lips mashing and sliding at one another as they shifted, then settled into languorous sampling once more. His other palm skimmed along her back and she pressed into him, pushing her faint cleavage into his hairy musculature.

At every point where skin lay on skin, Danny felt like they were bursting into fire, the long absence of this kind of embrace having only served to bank up a hunger he had not guessed at until this moment. He moaned into her mouth and Taylor reciprocated with an undulation and moans of her own, her kisses taking on a new intensity as she peppered them onto and around his lips.

During this time, Danny's manhood was not quiescent – more and more warmth was coiling down through his guts and pooling within his organ, stiffening it, raising it from just sticking out of his lap to a full stand, quivering and resolutely erect. It rode along the crack of Taylor's ass as they shifted, his velvet flesh chastened by her burning skin. Danny's testes were slowly pulsing too, beginning to draw themselves against his body, expectant of use.

The intended time had certainly been long lost to them when Taylor finally let her father's mouth disengage from hers, but instead of rising, she just reached back and fumbled for a moment before successfully collecting the dice.

“Sixth bonus round, now,” she declared without ceremony, and dropped them behind her on the table. “What do they say?”

Danny looked past her for a moment, then quirked an eyebrow.

“Ten seconds of spanking.”

Taylor looked back at them as well, then rotated the duration die over a face.

“That one was on a tilt,” she declared, daring him to contradict her. “What do they say now?”

“...Thirty seconds of spanking.”

“Oh please yes.”

Taylor couldn't be flipped around and over his lap fast enough, her bottom sticking hopefully upward.

“Can you do it...exactly like last time?”

“Of course, Taylor.”

Danny's hand rose. Danny's hand fell.

Slap.

“Mmm!”

Taylor shivered with her entire being.

Clap.

“Hmm!”

More arousal in Danny's own nether regions.

Whap.

“MMM!”

His daughter's legs parted further.

Danny spanked, and stiffened, and spanked again. Taylor moaned with each carefully placed strike, her belly dipping down to brush his member even as her hindquarters sought ever higher. Danny again began to knead after each stroke, his free hand on her lower back, holding her down, containing his daughter to his lap.

Six strokes.

Eight strokes.

Ten.

“Ah!” moaned Taylor, no longer even attempting to keep her exclamations restrained.

Eleven.

“Oh!”

Twelve.

“Yes!”

Danny was straining not to pump his hips upwards at this point, his penis having come to lodge itself in Taylor's navel. One of her legs was down on the floor, it's toes straining against the carpet, the other curling up over the back of the couch, forming a wide 'v' of quivering ivory. Danny paused to admire those long, beautiful runner's legs, and spanked her again, firmly. Her belly expanded and contracted around his cock.

Fourteen.

“More!”

Fifteen.

“Yes!”

Sixteen.

“Please!”

Seventeen.

“Dad!”

An exultation. A plea.

Quivering, worried lips. Breaths becoming ragged. Danny grunted every time Taylor's breathing pushed her abdomen down around his hardness. She was a furnace, he was molten. If they'd still been wearing even a single scrap of clothing, it would have been too much. He leaked. His hand rose and fell. His daughter writhed atop him.

Crack.

“Again!”

Smack.

“Again!”

At forty strokes, Danny began to slow. Taylor had been reduced to almost incoherent mewling at this point, but now she began to beg.

“Don't stop, dad, don't stop. Just a little bit more, please? Just a little bit more.”

Danny obliged her.

A patch of wetness was blooming on his leg under her crotch, something above and beyond the sweat now beading all their exposed skin. Danny spanked his child again, eliciting a drawn-out moan, and then reached for the table.

“You forget...I've still got a turn.”

He held the dice and swirled them with one hand as he let several more strokes fall with the other, extending the pauses where Taylor waited on tenterhooks, relishing the momentary loss of focus in her eyes at each touch. When she was finally able to look at him clearly again, Danny retrieved the dice, carefully rotated them, and set them down on the table.

“Make out for thirty,” he declared.

Trembling with anticipation, Taylor slid off Danny's lap as her father scooted from under her body, then flipped over as he guided her into a reclining position. A long bright smear trailed down her pelvis and one hip from where his precum had been drawn out of her bellybutton. Taylor lay back, gazing up at him, her thicket of pubic hair glistening in the soft light with her own copious arousal. Danny looked down at her, his penis throbbing and bucking between them, clear droplets oozing from it's tip. He climbed slowly on to the couch and knelt over her.

“....I'm going to kiss you now, Taylor.”

His hands went to the inside of her knees, gently inviting them to part. She spread for him without hesitation, open and inviting.

“Kiss me, Dad.”

He descended into her eagerness, pressed body to body, and caught her lips with his.

They moved.

It wasn't sex – Danny's penis was pressed firmly to her stomach once more, his scrotum pinned against her vulva – but it was close. Danny thrust his hips downward, drawing on every trick he knew to keep it regular and mutually stimulating. Fluids mingled as grind followed on grind, moan on moan. Danny's hands delved under Taylor and cupped her buttocks, squeezing the now hyper-sensitive flesh and allowing them to press even more strongly together. She was vocal in her appreciation, nipping at his mouth and sucking on his lips in between groaning kisses. Her legs locked around his hips and her hands clutched at his shoulders while they rocked urgently.

Danny felt good, but Taylor seemed to be rocketing to her verge – vibrating like plucked guitar strings, feasting on his mouth, her young body pinning itself to his needfully. Danny slid his hands around and up, clasping her hips, grunting as their pubic regions squelched in natural rhythm. He could feel his cock forming a similar mess between their bellies, slipping around as their movements became rougher and more erratic.

“Ah! Ahn! Mmm!”

Taylor's mouth was now hanging open in a perpetual cry, her brow scrunched and eyes tightly shut as she sought her ultimate pleasure. She was so close, his little girl, teetering on the brink, and in a burst of inspiration, Danny shifted to give her that final push over the edge. Moving his hands up across sweat-slicked skin, he curled his fingers around the sides of her chest to her back– all save for his thumbs: with which he flicked her peaking nipples.

Taylor went rigid against him with an exultant gasp.

“OH!”

Danny humped his hips forcefully down as he traced a firm circle around each gumdrop bud. Then he flicked again.

“AHH!”

Taylor twitched with every muscle available to her, arms clawing at his shoulders her legs became painfully tight, back curving like a bow to crush her sex into his, to press her chest more desperately into his attentive hands. Danny traced a second firm set of circles around her areolae, lowered his head to her neck, and sucked fervently on the spot she'd favored earlier, even as his thumbs gave a last, abrupt swipe upwards across his daughter's pebbled breasts.

“DADDY!”

Taylor dissolved. Her climax took her in waves, each one building on the last as Danny held them to each other, a rock to her storm as he continued to gently suckle her neck. Fresh slickness painted his legs legs as Taylor orgasmed against him, shuddering from ecstasy to ecstasy with a little “oh!” of delighted surprise accompanying each shake.Once the spasms began to subside, Danny gradually slackened his own ministrations, until finally they were both laying supine, limp, plastered together and slowly trying to catch their breath. From the kitchen, the radio played on, a faint chorus of voices raised in harmony whispering through their ears.

After a minute of recovery, Danny kissed his daughter's forehead and moved off her, allowing them both to resume their former seated positions at the couch. In contrast to the start of the game, each was now naked, sweat-drenched and broadly smiling.

Taylor looked over at him with affectionate eyes, and by mutual agreement it seemed they found no words were adequate to the moment. Her reached around her shoulder with his right arm, and she re-took his other hand with her right, and they leaned together, content, cuddling there for many minutes.

Finally, Taylor stirred herself enough to speak.

“I guess the game's done, huh?”

Danny smiled.

“I'd say so. We even went an extra round. Wasn't quite by the rules, though.”

Taylor chuckled.

“Thanks, Dad. I really liked it...maybe I can practice kissing with you again, sometime?”

“Anytime you want, honey. Right now though...I think we both need a shower before bed.”

Taylor agreed. They stood and went upstairs without bothering to re-gather their clothes, pausing only to flip off the lights, still holding hands all the way. When Taylor paused the the bathroom at end of the hall, Danny stopped as well. He sensed Taylor was feeling the same way he was: not wanting to separate and spend the night apart after so nice an evening. So he took a risk and voiced his thoughts.

“Taylor...do you want to use the master shower tonight? You could even...sleep in my bed, if you wanted.”

“Oh, could I?” Taylor eyes glowed with gratitude. “I'd like that.”

She ducked into her bath to gather her soaps and other essentials, then rejoined him in the master bedroom. Danny pulled a second towel out of the linen closed and passed it to her.

“Take the first shower if you want,” Danny said, looking down at his still-rigid cock. “I'm going to masturbate before I wash.”

“Sure thing, Dad.”

Taylor vanished into the bathroom and soon came the sound of water running. Sitting down on the end of the bed, Danny tilted his head back, took himself in hand, and began to stroke, drawing out the minutes as he pushed his hardness back towards its limit.

It felt good, very good – this activity he hadn't bothered with in the longest time. The impulse had effectively died with his wife, but he wasn't going to complain that 'Family Game Night' of all things had brought it back. Danny thought back to Taylor's body under his, her face distorted with pleasure, mouth forming a perfect 'o' as she moaned, and stroked faster.

“Mmm~ Daddeee...”

At first, he thought it was his imagination, but no, that echo was coming from the adjacent room.

Was Taylor masturbating in the shower?

Danny smiled to himself as he pictured that. His daughter was truly finding her confidence lately, growing up more and more with every day. He spared a moment to wonder if she favored the showerhead or her fingers...Annette had always been a magician with her hands. Danny knew he wasn't bad, but his wife had always exceeded him in that arena. Deft, that's what she'd been. Or maybe Taylor would end up preferring toys? He'd have to ask, see if she wanted to try any out.

Before long, a series of staccato exultations reached his ears – another peak achieved by his precocious princess. Danny loved hearing her voice, was thrilled she was beginning to talk the way she used to again...though he would never imagined the sort of sounds she had ended up making tonight. Danny could feel he was now getting close himself, his testes were jumping, eager to release their load, but something still wasn't quite right, he was still...

...alone.

Alone.

But he didn't have to be – did he?

After a long moment, Danny came to a decision.

Standing and walking to the door, he swung it open to enter the steamy cleaning room. The blurred form of Taylor shifted as he entered, apparently in the middle of shampooing her hair, and slid the shower door partially ajar to stick her head out.

“Hey, Dad. What's up?”

What he could see of her body shone with water and soap, a vision of youthful beauty. Danny felt his manhood buck in his hand.

“I thought I heard you feeling something nice earlier,” he said, slowly fisting his shaft. “I just wondered what you were up to.”

“I was thinking about being under you on the couch,” Taylor admitted easily. “And wanted to feel that good again.”

“What'd you use?”

“Showerhead,” she grinned, all teeth and braces. “I heard that was a good way, but my bathroom's one is fixed in place, so I'd never been able to try it before.”

“Was it nice?” Danny asked taking a step forward.

“Very,” sighed Taylor, “...But not as good as it was with you.” She pushed the sliding glass open a few more inches.

“I guess I'm feeling the same way,” Danny confessed. “I was just listening to you, and thinking about how happy I was to share that moment with you earlier, and I just...wanted you to share mine, if you'd like.”

Taylor pushed the door wider, her smile growing.

“I do.”

Danny stepped closer again, their faces almost touching, hand urgently chastening his swollen cock.

“May I join you, Taylor?”

She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, and that made him swell in moments more than his own efforts of the past five minutes. After a long moment of absolutely sublime contact, his daughter pulled back and opened the door fully.

“Come into my shower, Daddy.”

Danny stepped into the warm cubicle, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, phallus projecting up like a red mast. Taylor took the shower head and began rinsing him down as he continued to masturbate, the hot water soothing tiny aches and tensions all over his body, rendering them all down into fuel for the one, penultimate strain where his sex was almost bursting from his groin.

When he had been fully moistened, Taylor hooked the spray nozzle back into its' resting posting and turned it away from them. She then stepped right up to her father and laid a hand on his arm.

“Is there anything I should do for you?”

He gasped and shivered at the touch. Ejaculation could not be far off, so agitated was Danny's every nerve ending, so great was his need.

“No Taylor, you're perfect just being here. I'm not far off at all.”

He stepped closer, waggling his erection up and down until it it had bushed her stomach several times, finally coming to rest in the depression of her navel once more. Taylor smiled and let her hands come to rest on his hips, helping stabilize him as her father widened his stance and began pumping in earnest. Danny could feel the surge as he prepared to ejaculate into his daughter's heat, his eyes closing as he sped faster and faster, grunting as tension rose to a fever pitch.

A soft heat pressed to the left side of his chest for a moment, vanished, then landed on his right side. Forcing his eyes open, he looked down to find Taylor laying gentle kisses along his breastbone. She spared him a mischievous glance upward, then continued her attack.

Danny bit his lip.

“Oh Taylor, that's...nice.”

His hips began trembling as he tried to contain the urge to thrust forward, tugging almost viciously on his engorgement. Taylor blessed him with kiss after kiss, then laid a lingering one onto his left nipple, sucking tenderly.

Fuck.

“Yes Taylor, that's v-ER-y nice!”

Danny's blood was rushing now, restraint broken past the point of no return, the avalanche on its way. His hands became a blur, his rod jammed as deep as it could go in Taylor's belly. She rocked against him gave and even longer suck to his other nipple.

“Fuck- Taylor- yes!”

There was a roaring in his ears. Precum was being expelled from him en mass, pushed ahead by that which it heralded and running down Taylor's paunch. Danny's hands clamped down on his organ like a vise, delaying the burst those few extra second that pushed pleasure into to agony and out the other side into impossible bliss. As her father arched and went still, Taylor, returned to her first target, bared her teeth and ever so gently bit-

“YES TAYLOR!”

Danny came undone. His vision vanished, hearing blanked, his thoughts exploded into emptiness. All that matter was the pulse, the evacuation. Spurt and surge and spurt again, each one a lance of delight which shook his entire frame as it departed. Taylors hands were steady on his waist, her mouth nursing at his chest. The press of her fiery flesh around his cockhead turned sticky, slick and gooey. Nothing else in the universe existed. Every moment of repression and depression and loss was expelled in a handful of instants. He came, and became transcendent.

He was free.

When the flow finally had slowed and his surroundings began to reassert themselves, Danny tilted his head forward and let it rest on his daughter's. His semen was trickling down her belly, winding freely among her pubes to fall from the lowermost hairs with steady drips, or diverting down her legs in long runnels of white like careless silver pennants laid on alabaster towers.

Danny sighed and kissed Taylor's hair, releasing his cock to clasp her upper arms with his hands and squeeze them thankfully in supplication. Carefully, reluctantly, he began to straighten himself, pulling his hips back from where they had sought so far forward.

A few errant aftershocks left him as he moved away, further specking Taylor's skin with his obscene pearls. Freed from confinement in her bellybutton, a wash of gummy ejaculate traveled down her front, to fall or pool as chance decreed.

“Fuck,” Danny breathed. After getting a few more breaths in him, he added, “wow.”

Taylor raised her face to his and smiled.

“That good?”

“Better,” Danny nodded. “The best. I didn't know how much I needed that.”

“I'm glad I was here for it.”

“I'm glad you were too, Little Owl. You were just...perfect.”

He leaned in and they kissed, no hesitance or doubt, joyous in their union.

When full tranquility had come upon them again, Danny reached over and grabbed the long-neglected water disperser.

“Better get you cleaned off properly this time,” he said, a wry smirk forming on his features. Taylor's tinkling laugh in response as she reached for more soap lingered in the air long afterwards.

When both their ablutions were complete, Danny and Taylor dried off, brushed their teeth, and exited the bathroom. Remaining nude, Danny crossed to the bed and pulled down the covers, waiting until Taylor had tucked her bare self in, before turning off the light and padding back to situate himself.

Sliding under sheets and blankets and drawing them up, Danny felt Taylor wiggling over to him. Laying out on his back, the man positioned his pillows for comfort as the girl placed her head on his chest and hooked one leg over his own, wrapping an arm across his torso to form a human limpet. He curled one arm down her back and propped the other behind his head, completing their embrace.

“Goodnight Taylor,” he offered to the darkness.

“Goodnight, Dad,” his daughter's voice came back.

A moment, two moments passed, and then he heard her murmur:

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied affectionately.

Lips found lips for a last time that day, and then the Heberts sank down into the mattress together and started drifting off. The final thing to leave Danny's awareness that night was how Taylor's presence made his bed seem so much less cold and empty than it usually was.

*

Chapter Text

*

School was still...not pleasant, if you were Taylor Hebert.

It was better, Taylor would readily admit – her father's several talks with the principle and teachers had insured her grades weren't slipping any further due to stolen assignments, and direct harassment during most classes had fallen dramatically...but the adults couldn't catch everything, especially when they weren't around.

Instead of backing off, Emma and her cohort had shifted to maintaining plausibly deniability while still making every unmonitored moment they could find a petty torture of Taylor. And now they seemed to have gotten her whole grade in on the plot.

These days, the Hebert daughter was a constant recipient of disgusted looks as unsavory rumors made their way around, the regular target of spitballs and gum during class, and her email was constantly filling up with hateful messages from anonymous accounts. Her most minor mistakes, even something as innocuous as a stumble, would inevitably produce a ripple of mocking laughter from bystanders, and she was always last picked for any form of team activity.

Not even the other outcasts, like Sparky or the goth kids, would talk to or look at her if they could avoid it. It often felt like she'd become the most ostracized person at Winslow.

The pressure was constant, and spiked in between classes, in the hallways, at lunchtime, flaring in bathrooms, locker rooms, and stairwells; it's manifestation became meaner, more focused, more abrupt. Emma would stroll by with a cutting remark, Sophia loom up to block Taylor's path, or their new lackey Madison graze her with an elbow before apologizing so loudly and profusely and falsely it made Taylor's teeth grind.

Sophia was bad, but so long as Taylor kept her head down and remained passive, she'd give way eventually, smirking all the while. Madison was worse – not because of her overly pointed elbows and nails – but her public insistence that she was actually Taylor's friend and just trying to help, an act which completely fooled the teachers and even led to Taylor being forced to apologize to her on more than one occasion. But no matter what happened, Emma Barnes was the one Taylor hated and feared the most, for with just a few words that girl could pull up something Taylor had half-forgotten but once cherished, and turn it into a sudden source of pain, or shame, or loss.

Lately, Emma had taken to spacing out her verbal strikes, letting Taylor agonize and twist over when the next even more vicious barb would land, and on every day she didn't pass dreading what Emma would come up with, Taylor was heading home with spiteful words ringing in her ears and a feeling of cold in her gut that had nothing to do with the weather.

If it hadn't been for her father's unwavering support and the safe retreat of the Hebert's old, familiar house, Taylor didn't know how she could have stood it all.

But her dad was there, her closest friend, her trusted confidant, always willing to listen and take the sting out of her day until Taylor felt like a real human being again. He'd make tea or hot chocolate, look over her homework, let her punch pillows to exhaustion or curl up with her in bed, whatever she needed. This allowed Taylor to keep her head above water, allowed her to breathe, and always gave her something positive to anticipate during the most trying school-day moments, even if she wished she could bring that homely comfort with her everywhere.

She'd briefly considered storing her mother's flute in her locker for a touchstone, but after the malignant trio managed to vanish her English textbook from it with no-one the wiser, concluded that would be foolish. Recently though, Taylor had succumbed to the impulse of hiding the videocassette of Vision's lecture (sealed in a zip-lock bag, she wasn't an idiot) at the bottom of her backpack so she could run her fingers along it for reassurance whenever swapping books. She often put the tape on in the background while doing homework, and while it couldn't provide any profound revelations like her first viewing, returning to it was always comforting.

So, all things considered, Taylor was...getting by.

Her academics had been preserved, and while any transfers would have to wait until the fall with how far the academic year had advanced, she could endure whatever the bullies came up with in the meantime. And even if school might occasionally feel like an upper canton of Hell, what waited for her outside those hours was thankfully anything but.

*

Taylor rolled over on her bed, pulling her father atop her without ever losing their embrace. She hummed in pleasure as Danny's hands swept under her shirt, gliding along the planes of her back in steady circular patterns. Then, hooking an arm around his neck, she pinned their bodies together and moaned, mouth lolling open as his tongue found hers and the bulge of his pants nestled firmly into her crotch.

Was she taking advantage of his offer to help her practice making out a little more often than she should?

Yeah, probably. But it always feels so good!

Usually, they reserved bedtimes on Saturday for this particular activity, and stuck to hugs and the occasional peck throughout the week. But today, Emma had blindsided Taylor with a truly nasty comment about her future romantic prospects, using language the teen would never have believed of her once-best friend, and she'd left school in shock and tearing up despite herself. Danny had found his daughter cloistered in her room, spent half an hour listening to and soothing her, and before she knew it, Taylor was climbing into his lap, determined to prove every last insinuation made about her lack of intimate prowess completely wrong.

Sure, maybe she'd done something similar in the middle of last week after Madison wrangled her into a fifth, innocent, “Taylor's-just-a-dummy” incident with a spilled lunch tray.

...And the week before, after Sophia had cornered her in the bathroom and made her flinch back into a wall so hard Taylor saw spots.

But it wasn't a habit or anything!

Gasping in delight as her father's mouth moved down to close on that perfect spot her neck, Taylor arched and pressed her pelvis upwards. She'd have to wear a high turtleneck tomorrow if he continued that, but so what? With a pleased sigh, she ran an encouraging hand up and down her parent's hip, perilously close the the stiffness below his belt-line, relishing his closeness.

“Oh fuck, Taylor, Taylor- Taylor-” the man gasped, then forcefully pulled himself up and out of her embrace. “Hold on, Taylor, honey, just- hold on.”

“What's wrong? Why'd you stop?” Taylor asked, aching at the sudden loss of contact. Had she messed something up? It was only her second time trying anything with tongue, but she'd thought it'd been going okay.

“You're fine, sweetie, you're great,” her dad reassured her, forestalling the uncertainty and distress which had been threatening to manifest. “I only...” he let out another deep breath, shaking his head as he tried to regain some equilibrium. “Just a few more seconds...and I would've stained my pants.”

“Oh,” said Taylor, her eyes dropping to the impressive tent which had just been pressing against her. She tried to fight down disappointment. “Are we done, then? I guess I-”

“No Taylor, I had a plan for this, just give me a moment-”

Daniel Hebert strode out and she heard the door across the hall open to the master bedroom. Several hopeful seconds later, he was back, tearing at the seal of a small glossy box. Succeeding after a few moments, he removed a thin foil square and laid the box on Taylor's nightstand. As he began undoing his belt, she took the package and examined it.

'Palanok Condoms – Large,' said the front.

“This way, the mess stays contained, and I don't need to switch clothes before dinner” her dad explained, dropping his pants. Taylor glimpsed a darker wet patch on the front of his undershorts before those too fell, allowing his rigid manhood to spring up freely. With deft motions, Danny tore open the foil slip, removed a bright yellow latex ring and bubble from it, pinched its tip, and rolled the prophylactic down his penis in one smooth sequence. His daughter's eyebrows rose.

“...Is that something I should learn at some point?” she asked.

The man paused in the middle of pulling his lower garments back up. “...It'd probably be good for you to know how it's done properly, yes. I'll go over it in detail next time, and you can practice.”

“Cool.”

He re-buttoned his pants but did not bother re-threading the belt, which Taylor was quite happy about. Its buckle had a tendency to prod her uncomfortably at the worst times. Slipping a hand into her own leggings, the girl ran a curious finger along her mound, and found it slick.

I'm gonna need new panties of my own, at this rate.

Then her father was climbing onto her again, and within a minute they were locked together, coherent thoughts retreating to the periphery of awareness in favor of yes, mmm, and more.

Heat and touch and closeness were all that mattered. The swaddled erection pressing on Taylor's button, the taste of Danny's mouth in hers, the roving hands that coaxed delightful tremors from her limbs. When their positions reversed once again, she practically ripped away her shirt to keep from overheating, shaking out her hair and grinding down on the ridge of her partner's groin. His hands went to her sides and clasped firmly, seeking upwards, rubbing her front and chastening its scant bosom through the thin material of her cami bra.

So good!

Taylor groaned in turn and began to tremble as an over-eager rock forward shifted the rod she straddled to nestle in the depression of her most private entrance. Held in check by the layers of fabric still separating them, she nevertheless gloried in the sensation of the rigid protuberance pressing wide her labia, grinding her underlayers up into wetness.

Orgasm was now sweeping towards the teenager; a rolling wave of need gathering to breach itself on a shore of ecstasy. Almost crying with pleasure, Taylor fastened her lips to Danny's again, delighting in his ardent response as she began to shudder over him.

Yes, Dad! Please Dad! Yes, yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyes-

Bliss.

Strong, comforting arms, firm and steady around her, an unyielding chest supporting her, heat bound to heat, Taylor clung to her rock and let herself go. Everything clenched inward, expanded, then clenched again as her eyes screwed shut and her mind blanked. She gasped harshly with each shock, rolling her hips and riding her father into the mattress to the tune of a creaking headboard. She was ascendant, a star rising into the heavens.

When Taylor finally regained enough wits to pull back and appraise her partner, she found him flushed and panting and still stiff with tension beneath her.

“Are you okay, Dad?” she whispered, tenderly brushing sweaty hair back from his face.

He smiled up at her. “Fantastic, Taylor – you look incredible when that happens. I'll never get tired of seeing it.”

Taylor blushed shyly, then colored further when an upward press of his hips into her sensitive core sent another ripple of pleasure through her body and had the man letting out an involuntary moan.

“Feeling good?” she asked, as his legs spread wider.

“Very good. I'm also getting...close.”

He thrust upward again. She linked her hands behind his neck and leaned forward.

“Then let's get you closer,” she breathed huskily, meeting his next upward push with a downward one of her own, and leaving them both groaning in delight. As her father took hold of her hips and began moving them in a regular tempo, she feasted on his lips, tongue running heedlessly wild. Then she lowered herself, sucking on her dad's neck, returning his earlier favor to her, and the burst of encouraging profanity he released was a sweet prayer in her ears.

As the pace increased, Taylor began undoing the buttons of Danny's shirt. Pop-pop-pop the fasteners went, well-practiced hands making short work of each disc, all the way down to his waist. Sitting back and pulling the tails out of his pants, she spread the garment wide and drank in the sight of her dad's thin undershirt shifting as his body flexed, then began running her palms up and down his abdomen under it, relishing the living texture under her touch.

They resumed kissing, and for several minutes the only sounds were their increasingly hard breathing, the rasp of clothing on bedspread, and the squeaking protests of the bed itself.

Tightness was building deep in her again, a second, slower tide rising to wash away Taylor's cares and suffuse her with that perfect release. Despite her reduced attire, the room was still too hot, it felt stifling, and her parent seemed to be faring no better, judging by his panting and reddening face. Awkwardly, she sought to relive him of his shirt without breaking their rhythm, but his arms were locked in the sleeves of the material, even beyond what was already trapped by his back.

Danny must have agreed with her intention, however, for after a particularly hungry kiss, he pushed her away and began hurriedly shimmying out of the garment. Taylor gratefully took the opportunity to slide her own pants off entirely, retaining just her underwater. Then, before Danny could pull her back onto him, she undid his pants too and yanked them down, freeing the pole of his cock to rise within its confining boxers.

Eyes clouded with desire, the man gazed up at her, then dropped his eyes as she climbed over him, reached down to take hold of his length, gripping through the thin cotton, and aimed the organ straight at the juncture of her legs. Biting her lip, Taylor aligned the dark, gleaming patch on her underwear to the damp spot still evident on his, then lowered herself until they made contact.

Her father grunted, his fingers curling tightly into her thighs, and then there was pressure as she sank just a little further and began to undulate. Taylor moaned wantonly and threw her head back as the now re-doubled sensations assailed her, the flared cockhead at her groin still unable penetrate her through the fabric separating them – but now almost pressing her sopping underwear up and into her, as her body began adapting to the petitioner at her gate.

“Daddy...oh fuck, Daddy,” she exhaled as she felt each millimeter by millimeter expansion, her mouth parting in an 'o' of enjoyment.

“Taylor-Taylor-Taylor-Taylor-Taylor-” he was chanting, and then all at once, he grunted, spasmed and went taut, back arching to lift her with him, his grip becoming painfully tight.

“TaylaffffUCK!”

As he began shaking, Taylor's mind caught up to what had happened. Far soon than she expected, her father was reaching his peak. Epiphany gave way to satisfaction as she focused on his eyes screwing shut and features contorting in rapture.

I did this – I'm making it happen. This is for for me.

She continued to bear down fiercely on the shaft as it bucked helplessly against her, spending its full load into the prepared container without ever soiling her body. Yet Taylor fancied she could actually feel the liquid pressure, perceive each molten, coursing pulse failing to flood her. She sharpened the rotation of her hips, punctuating each surge with an urgent grind of her own, attempting to catch up to him with her own gratification. But it was no use, soon his emissions were slowing, the pillar starting to buckle as its purpose was fulfilled. With a faint whine of disappointment, Taylor let herself fall forward onto elbows and knees over her parent, his exhausted organ falling from her resting place.

Yet after a span where neither of them seemed capable of anything more than breathing, a warm caress slid along Taylor's front. Down her body it sought, found her underwear, took hold, and abruptly ripped the cloth away, exposing her bush and buttocks to the world. Taylor gasped in surprised pleasure at her sudden transition into bareness, and then again as those most private parts were cupped by a firm hand, the fiendishly tantalizing contact of her father's fingers making themselves known.

Oh please, oh yes.

Burying her face in his shoulder, Taylor's breathing became increasingly ragged as the nimble digits stroked and probed her, gently pinching the folds of her hanging labia and running over her hood, spreading slickness around until a fingertip settled itself on the critical nub from which overwhelming pleasure flowed.

Oh Daddy, don't stop.

It stroked and she shook, whispering nonsensical encouragement into the crook of Danny's neck. Then came little motions, up and down and across and back, slowly growing larger, firmer, rougher. She shuddered and shook, lighting igniting along her veins and channeling itself into the sea of arousal pooling at her bright, burning center.

More, more, more!

Panting, begging, shaking in every limb, Taylor squatted deeper and deeper into her pleasure, now swearing vociferously into the bed-covers as she pleaded for release. When a second hand found her butt and began to move and knead the cheeks, she catapulted over the edge of control without warning.

“Ah! Ahh! Oh God! Oh Dad! Oh fuck! DAAADDEEE!!!”

She was lost to a blinding climax which shattered the world and filled Taylor's eyes with a nova of stars. She had arrived in nirvana, found unity with herself. Every part of her body unwound and and exploded and went taut all at the same time. Earthly exaltation ricocheted through her frame, every muscle loosing until she slipped from that almost violent summit down into the gentle valley of post-orgasmic bliss.

When at last she could see again, Danny carefully lowered her to the bed, and began giving her a gentle pecks along the forehead and cheek. Taylor stretched out and sighed, heart drumming like a rabbit's, dazed but gloriously sated. Her contentment was absolute. Looking up into the eyes she'd inherited, Taylor offered her father a languid smile, hoping it would convey everything she couldn't articulate.

I love you, her heart sang.

“A good one, Taylor?”

She nodded emphatically, still trying to catch her breath. He stroked her forehead with tenderness for several moments, then dropped his hand to massage a knot out of her shoulder while the other wove into her hair. Taylor groaned.

So good. Impossibly good.

“I didn't even know it could be like that,” she stated, lost in her wonder at this newly broadened horizon. “That...I...it was...I was flying.”

“I'm glad, Little Owl.”

Your Little Owl. I'm yours, yours.

Rallying herself, the girl hooked a leg over his, wrapping herself around him, pulling them together, mixing their sweat. She needed him closer, felt the overwhelming need to burn her father's existence into her skin's memory. Danny lowed his head and gently pressed his lips to hers for a long moment. When he pulled back a faint cord of saliva stretched between them.

Taylor licked her lips.

“I'd only ever done one at a time before now,” she whispered, gazing up at him. “And that was...that was great. You- I- thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, Taylor.”

“Maybe...you could...go for one more?” she dared, lip dragging across her teeth as she stared hopefully at him.

Danny grinned at her – that warm, glowing look of pride and love and caring that never failed to melt her insides, before the hand at her shoulder began sliding purposefully downwards. Taylor drew Danny back into a proper kiss as the touch passed her navel, desperate to convey her over-flowing gratitude as words failed her again. Then fingers were at her ridge, skimming across her wetness, testing her there, and Taylor eagerly cast aside her life's burdens for another spell.

I love you, Dad. I love you, I love you, I love you.

*

Sometime later they both lay sprawled on the bed, Taylor's third summit achieved after long minutes of tortuous and vocally-appreciated coaxing under Danny's fingers, culminating in a single protracted cry that used up all the the remaining air in her lungs.

Now a serene new state of transcendental existence, the girl watched as her father meditatively examined the fingers which had, seconds earlier, been dancing between her legs. They shone with her arousal – almost ran with it – her fluids coating the tips in bright caps and hanging in strands between digits. He turned his limb over a few more times, then looked at her with a sleight frown.

...What?

“I should apologize, Taylor,” he said. “That...what I did just now went well beyond what 'making-out' usually entails.”

“...I liked it a lot, Dad.”

“That's good,” he replied, still troubled, “but it doesn't change the fact that anything involving touching of that nature should be explicitly consensual before one does it...and I was nearly fingering you at the end, there. We should have talked beforehand, I should have asked, so I'm sorry – all I can say is that I was swept up in the moment.”

Taylor gave a hoarse, throaty chuckle.

“I was too, Dad, completely, to be honest. I forgive you. And I guess I owe you the same apology – so I'm sorry for touching you down there earlier without asking, even if it was over underwear. But...I guess I'm not sorry that it all happened. That felt incredible. So much better than my own fingers.”

She clasped his free, unsullied hand in reassurance, and he allowed a smile to steal over his face.

“Very well then, we both enjoyed it, and we're both barely repentant,” Danny said with good humor. “At least we're on the same page. But I think we're both due for a little clean up.” He stood up and dropped his underwear, leaving himself fully exposed, aside from the yellow barrier around his sexual organ.

Taylor agreed and cast a look to where their discards had been kicked to the foot of the bed. She noted with some chagrin that the dark patch on Danny's underwear had grown significantly larger before their removal – from what could only have been her wetness soaking down into them. Her own panties hadn't fared much better before they'd been torn off: they were soaked through, while the area between Taylor's legs wasn't merely wet – it was drenched. Long streamers of arousal radiated out from her vulva and down her legs, testament to the very enthusiastic last half-hour.

Gathering up all the clothes and tossing them into her laundry basket, Taylor snagged a tank top she worn yesterday to wipe between her legs. She had to make several passes, and her pubic hair still felt damp even after she was done. Then she offered it to her dad, who dried his dripping hand on on the fabric with a thankful nod before going to remove his condom. Taylor watched the unfamiliar process with fascination.

The yellow sheath had gone entirely milky and opaque around the end of her father's privates. Semen collected in its tip as the man gently eased the latex down, leaving his shaft wrinkled and glistening behind. Even spent and unengorged, Taylor didn't mind the sight – Danny had what she'd always vaguely considered the 'correct' shape: a mushroom-headed cap on a long tube of flesh curving gracefully away from the body. Sometimes silly-looking, the way it could flop, but she'd forgive that in a heartbeat. Taylor liked her father's silliness – every manifestation of it.

Once the tube was off, the elder Hebert tied its back section into a knot before walking over to drop the artificial pocket in the trash can by Taylor's desk. On his way back, her eye was once again drawn to how his drooping manhood swayed and bounced. Smears of ejaculate were still evident in places, a bead of something clearer had gathered at its tip. Pre-cum? Lube from the condom itself? She didn't know. Again, silly to look at...but somehow compelling.

...Stop staring, Taylor. It's just Dad's penis.

She broke off and held out the impromptu cleaning cloth to him again. Danny carefully wiped his member off with it, then tossed the now hopelessly-fouled top back into its basket. With a grunt, he lay down and stretched out on her bed, Taylor joining him with only a pause to peel away her overly-sweaty bra.

It didn't feel right to leave on a single piece of clothing while her father was fully nude.

She shimmed up to his side and hummed as their shoulders bumped, his warm skin brushing hers. Taylor let herself sink into the mattress and looked up at the ceiling, content.

After a minute, the man spoke up.

“You know, this reminds me an awful lot of fumbling around with my first few girlfriends,” he said. “Back when I was a young and inexperienced idiot.”

Taylor let out a half-amused, half-exasperated huff.

“Well excuuu~se me for being young and inexperienced, but you don't have to make fun of me for it, Dad,” she teased.

“Taylor, that's not what I- oh I see,” Danny stuck his tongue out at her grin. “No, I meant that- the whole situation; coming to a girl's room, making out, getting caught up in things...just makes me feel like a teenager again.”

I really can't picture Dad being my age. Even having seen pictures. He's just too Dad-ly.

“Did you ever actually sneak into a girlfriend's house to make out?”

“A few times, but I don't recommend it. It starts out with every moment loaded in fear, then you either get carried away to the point your partner slaps you, or you both get carried away until you hear an unusual sound, and all the fear comes rushing back and you run for your life carrying your pants because you remember that Mr. Dunlap was in the Army and has a rifle.”

Taylor rolled onto her side to cuddle closer to him, stealing more body-heat for herself and flipping one of her blankets over their bare lower halves. He wrapped a reciprocal arm around her shoulders.

“That's...very specific.”

Danny shrugged.

“Such are the risks of living in a social circle of military families. Abigail Dunlap was a very pretty young woman, and I was a very frustrated young man, and when she finally asked me over, I couldn't have dreamed of saying no. Her father still tracked me home, spoke to my father, then they both spoke to me for quite a while, and then I didn't have a another girlfriend after that until college.”

Taylor winced.

Mr. Dunlop must have left an impression.

She was vaguely aware her dad had been in the army right out of high school, but despite their still being alive (as far as she knew), she had never met her paternal grandmother and grandfather, nor any of her father's siblings. Every story Danny told that referenced them was laced with a current of tension, avoidance, or dislike. He'd never been explicit, but something had left Daniel Hebert permanently estranged from the rest of the Hebert family. And while Annette's mother had always held that Danny wasn't good enough for her little girl – and was occasionally quite vocal to him about it – at least they could hold a frosty conversation for five minutes.

“How many crushes and dates did you have when you were my age?” she asked, trying to redirect the conversation to something less unpleasant.

“Many crushes, far fewer dates” laughed Danny, ruffling her hair. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged.

“It's not like I've got any prospects right now,” she explained baldly. “The boys at Winslow are either gang members, part of the 'popular' crowd and would brag about 'bagging' me, or uninterested. And one of the few I thought was tolerable went right along with Emma's plan with that fake Valentine's note. But it'd be nice to hear a bit about what I might look forward to...someday.”

Her father gave her a comforting squeeze.

“I'm so sorry you're having to deal with all that immature bullshit Taylor, and I promise it will get better. Maybe you'll find some summer romance this year? As for my past however...hmm.”

He drummed his fingers on his chest for a moment, thinking.

“Fourteen felt like going in every direction at once for me – nothing was stable. You could be floating on clouds all morning just because your crush asked about an assignment, then down in the pits that afternoon because she smiled at someone else during lunch. Looking back, I think I had significant interest in at least six different people, but only ever went on a proper date with one of them.”

“Sounds messy.”

He sighed.

“Too right. I remember a lot more of feeling defeated and confused when it came to romantic things than anything else. Most of what I can express now was completely opaque to me at the time, so don't feel bad if you ever find things overwhelming or need to talk. It doesn't have to be me, necessarily, but I'll always be here for you if you want it.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, kissing his cheek for emphasis, and Danny smiled.

“My most obvious crush was on Chloe Alexander,” he began, slipping into a contemplative tone. “That was a long-standing one, it'd been there for me ever since lower school. I'm sorry to say that it was less due to the person she was than how she began...maturing in the chest area long before the rest of our grade started. She wasn't actually the nicest girl – possibly as a result of all the unwelcome male attention she got so early, or the jealousy of classmates – but whatever the case, I couldn't see the person behind the breasts. I started regretting my behavior after she transferred out mid-way through tenth grade – she could have used a real friend, instead of someone trying to get into her pants...but I wasn't mature enough to be that person for her. Try not to ever emulate me in that, if you can.”

Taylor made a face.

“I'll do my best, Dad...but I know what you mean. Sometimes, I notice a guy's muscles, and my brain just drops out of my head. Stupid hormones.”

“Stupid hormones,” Danny agreed, toasting her with an imaginary wineglass. “So, that year, my crush on Chloe went nowhere, as had been the case for every year before that.”

Kinda like my crush on Braden Meyer. Why did he have to transfer schools? He was never mean to me, and he was kinda cute.

“My second crush was a new one, on Safi Moussa – she and her parents emigrated from Cameroon the year before – who had rapidly become one of the most popular girls in our grade. She was fit, a terror on the soccer field, tutored in lower school, and still found the time to play violin and turn in top grades. I have no idea how she managed to hold up under so many commitments, but I really admired her for that, as well as her appearance.”

The picture Taylor was attempting to form in her head bore a distinct resemblance to Sophia – but somehow nice? She was having real trouble imagining that. A Sophia who smiled kindly and meant it...nope, still coming up blank. Sophia wasn't one for smiles. The few Taylor had ever seen from her always had a streak of cruelty or sarcasm running thorough them. Occasionally sadistic delight, whenever she succeeded at whatever Emma had sicc'd her on Taylor for. It was a pity, Sophia could have been rather attractive with different expressions on her face.

And she has muscles for days, Taylor reflected, then quickly banished that thought before it could lead to something uncomfortable. Like Dad. Dad has great muscles too, under the softness.

“Safi was my assigned lab partner for eighty-two to eighty-three,” the story continued, “and while I got into some scrapes with jocks who wanted me to switch, it was completely worth it. She was one of the few girls who didn't mock me when my voice broke, who was generally polite and helpful, and I loved her for that. We had actual conversations – most of them school and homework-related, admittedly – but I didn't care. Just getting to interact with her without feeling like a fool all the time was enough.”

That sounds lovely.

“Was she the one you went on a date with?”

“I wish! I should have. And I thought about asking her, many, many times. But...I was still too scared of my father back then. He...”

Danny turned to look at her, a bitter and angry look crossing his face.

“Taylor, I don't think we've ever discussed this before, but my family...if they lived in Brockton, they wouldn't be at all bothered by the Empire. In point of fact, my older brother would probably be a card-carrying member.”

Taylor blinked as the cold shock of that statement washed over her, trying to absorb it, but it refused to settle quietly. That her father, one of the kindest and fairest people she'd ever met could have come from people who...who...were at all like that...she absolutely couldn't fathom it.

Dad's brother...in the Empire...I always assumed he was just a dick, but...

“...Why weren't you like them? How are you you?” she asked, then winced. But Danny didn't scold her for the insensitive question, just wrapped his other arm around her and gave Taylor a tight hug.

“I don't know,” he confessed. “In some ways, I was like them – there were a number of things I've since had to unlearn. But as to what made the difference? Part of it may have been me often feeling like an outsider, as well as the sexuality I hadn't yet claimed shining through...but mostly, I think, I was really lucky and met the right people. Safi and her parents, Mr. Maxwell who ran the general store, Ms. Weaver who taught math and tutored me through algebra...Wendell...from them, it was just always obvious to me that black people were people. Trying to think otherwise was fighting myself.”

He frowned again.

“Not that that ever made me brave enough speak at my parent's dinner table when certain topics came up. I wanted my family's approval just like any other kid, but the older I got, the more both silence and approval left a bad taste in my mouth. I don't know where my life would have gone if I'd been more outspoken earlier, but, well...now I'll never know. Just have to regret it, and live with it, and do better.”

That...sucks. That really sucks.

“You shouldn't have to...pick between family, and being decent,” she said aloud.

“You shouldn't, but many have to. We dockworkers, we're a motley group, and you'll find a lot of us with similar stories. That's why we stick together. The real family is the one you choose.”

“That's what you see it as? A family?”

“Yeah. A big, extended family with hundreds and hundreds of cousins, many of whom might not get along with each other, who will bitch and moan and swear and kvetch, but step up when necessary. You're a part of that family too, you know. Annette got adopted into it when she married me, and we chose to have you, so you're in for life, unless you disinherit yourself by dating Kaiser.”

Taylor underwent a momentary struggled between horror and humor, until levity won out.

“Oh, can you imagine?” she snickered. “'Taylor-girl, zis is best Nazi cock-ring, extruded in steel from mine own penis! Engraved vith proud images of fertile motherland to inzert into your baby-canal! I promise you, girl, is quite flexible, and vill – vhy are you running avay? Ignore my political views, I am very nice man!'”

Her father began shaking with restrained merriment.

“'I haf bought you contacts so ve can make blue-eyed baby boy!'” she pressed on. “'Und ve haf hair dye! Come back girl! I am full eight-point-eight centimeters of pleasure for you! Ze perfect length for a Nazi man! I am assured by all my subordinates that I am very romantic person!”

Danny was losing control, ugly snickers escaping though his nose.

“'I have bratvurst for- for candle dinner!'” Taylor added, struggling with her own composure. “'Zey are all eight-point-eight centimeters long as vell! Und I- I cum in eight-point-eight seconds! No need to flee, ve are very efficient! After- vun night of- Kaiser cocking, you- you vill no longer be- needing- to learn how- to high step-'”

It was useless to continue and she dissolved with him into full-blown laughter, flopping back on the bed and giggling uncontrollably. When their mirth finally began to fade and Taylor was wiping tears from her eyes, Danny's hand found hers and squeezed.

“My girl,” he grinned fondly at her. “Have you considered becoming a comedian?”

“Anything's possible,” she smiled, snuggling into him further, one leg going over his. “Tell me more about your youthful foolishness?”

“Oh, that'd take several days, at least,” Danny teased, “but – to round out my fourteenth year crushes...okay, so there was Chloe, Safi...Abigail of course, though my sneaking into her bedroom wouldn't be for years yet – at that point we'd only spoken at cookouts because our parents knew each other. The person I actually went out with was Taylor Byrne.”

He knew a 'Taylor' at my age? Is that weird?

Taylor Hebert shifted to catch his eye.

“I'm not...named after her, am I?”

“No, no,” he reassured her. “Your namesake was my great aunt, a formidable woman who never married or took any bullshit, for all she lived to ninety-two. She was one of the mavericks of our family, campaigned for women's suffrage her whole life, among other things. She died not long before you were born, willed Annette and me her house. Our house.”

Oh wow. She sounds cool.

“I wish I could have met her.”

“I wish you could have too, dear. She was one of the greatest losses I've ever experienced, and the reason I didn't change my name when I split with the rest of the family,” Danny admitted. “I'll dig up some pictures, several boxes of her things are still in the attic.”

He cleared his throat, and started to draw circles on Taylor's stomach with his free hand under the covers.

“My classmate Taylor Byrne wasn't on the radar for most people. She was a decent student, but plain, and a little heavy. None of that really matters though, because from the first day I saw her, I just kept...noticing her. We shared a number of classes, and I was always...aware of where she sat, and stole glances even if more conventionally attractive people like Chloe or Leah Norton were around, and, well, I must have stared a bit too much, because around Halloween she came up to me, and asked why I kept looking at her.”

Whoops. Way smooth, Dad.

The man chuckled ruefully, reading her face.

“I was not at all confident back then, so I gaped at her like a fish, stammered nonsense – the whole time I just wanted to run away. But somewhere in my mumbling must have been words saying that I kinda maybe liked her, because she said, 'okay then, let's try a date.' Completely stunned me. But we ended up going on three outings. I took her...where was it again...first to the ice cream parlor, and that didn't go well. Then to the movies, we snuck into Rambo of all things, but she liked it, so that was better. And our third date was just walking in the park, where she mentioned her dream was to become a fireman – well, woman – which she did, years later.”

Ooooh – romantic!

“Did you kiss?”

“Yes – only once though, at the end of the third date. Right after, Taylor told me she didn't have any serious feelings for me, and she was sorry about that, but we shouldn't keep going out. That was painful, as I thought we'd done alright to that point.”

Oh dear.

“Oh Dad, I'm sorry.”

He patted her belly, then resumed his circles.

“It hurt, I won't lie, and I stayed away from her for a while, which was cowardly, but we actually drifted back together as friends later on, and remained so through the rest of high school. It turned out that she didn't really get a spark from anyone, despite dating several guys and girls while I knew her. So it was hardly either of our faults, and good for her to recognize and articulate that so early. We were both out-crowd people, and we did have a connection, it was just much healthier once the sexual expectations from my side were gone.”

That's really sensible of you. I can't see most boys at Winslow, even seniors, managing that.

“So who were your last two crushes? Did you go on any dates with them?”

“No, no more dates. My last two get...complicated. One was actually,” Danny drew in a released a great breath, “my aunt. Lydia Crawford.”

If Taylor had been surprised by the first revelation her dad had shared about his family, this one left her dumbfounded.

“Your Aunt? But she was...you were...” ...her nephew! Did you actually do anything with her? Did she do anything with you?

“Yes, quite related,” Danny agreed with her first unspoken objection. “My attraction wasn't at all appropriate, but we saw her so infrequently she was in many ways a cool, attractive, older stranger to me, rather than a close family member. Once puberty hit, she started featuring prominently in my dreams, and the dreaming mind doesn't really care about morality. It's only when you wake up that you can feel guilty.”

Taylor nodded – she'd had a couple of unfortunately salacious nighttime visions involving her own parents in past years. She bit her lip to keep from hurrying him to say more as her father stared into the middle distance.

“...Aunt Lydia was born much later than my father,” he told her, “enough they felt like completely different generations. She was married at eighteen but divorced not long after, moved south, and didn't visit often. But she was always a breath of chaos and fresh air when she did. Always smiling, liked to party and tease people. But I don't think she was actually very happy...she slept with a lot of men, drank to excess, and couldn't hold down a steady job. I think Aunt Lydia felt as out of place in our family as I did, but where I retreated, she was self-destructive and aggressive. Anything the family wouldn't approve of, she'd do with a smile just to spite them. But she always seemed genuinely happy to see to me, and I worshiped her...while she was around.”

“...What happened?” Taylor couldn't help but ask, hearing the fatalism in his voice. Was it bad?

“She died, about the time I transferred to Fort Benning,” Danny replied somberly. Oh – that bad. “Fell from a hotel roof she had no business being on. Drugs were involved, and whether it was deliberate or clumsiness, we'll never know. She left no note. Father didn't even want to hold a funeral, but Great-Aunt-Taylor overruled him and made it happen. I went – but it wasn't well attended.”

...I have no idea what to say to that.

Taylor's father shook his head in remorse and tightened his hold on her. She took one of his hands and laced her fingers through his in silent support.

“If your mother and I were ever over-emphatic about the dangers of recreational substances, that's probably why,” he eventually admitted. “It shouldn't have happened that way. Despite everything else she did, despite how messy it got, I wish she were still alive. Aunt Lydia deserved better.”

It sounds like he really misses her.

Danny sighed, squeezing her gently.

“There's a lot more to Lydia than I want to get into right now. But despite everything, she was family, and a better person than many of the people I share blood with. And I had a hell of a crush on her for the longest time.”

Taylor's curiosity was burning. She wanted more details, but at the same time, was highly reluctant to open up her father's very obvious old wounds. So she waited, holding out hope he would offer more voluntarily...but it wasn't to be, not this day at any rate.

“My last crush...I actually had no idea was a crush, at the time,” Danny shifted topics. “None, zero, zilch. And 'crush' isn't even the right word. It's not strong enough. I thought he was my best friend. It was only when I got older, only when I realized I could really like men in that way, that I figured out what my feelings had actually been.”

Taylor nodded, it'd always been clear her father leaned toward both sexes, but he'd never gone into detail about how he discovered that.

“His name was Wendell Kelley, and we met in first grade. There was...never a moment after that first day when we weren't friends. 'Best friend' still doesn't cover it, he was even more; we simply understood each other – perfectly. Though I never tried to invite him over to my house, always went over to his. I guess I knew even before I could say why, in my gut, that my family wouldn't welcome him...or maybe I was just presumptuous on his hospitality.

“I'm not sure why Mr. Kelley put up with me befriending his son, his family being poor and black and my family poor, white, and varying degrees of blatantly racist, but maybe he figured his son would gain something from the association. Protection, or something else, I don't know. He was a very quiet man, Mr. Kelley. Maybe he saw the part of me that was ashamed of my relations but not yet able to talk about it, and wanted to nurture that. Maybe he saw how well Wendell and I got along, and didn't want to hurt his son.”

He smiled wryly at Taylor, and gave her another peck on the forehead.

“Again,” he let out a faint snort, “in retrospect, it's so obvious. I always hung out with Wendell on the playground, we talked about everything together, went to movies, hung around the store, studied on the same bench, refused to play on opposite baseball teams, the works. We did all the traditional 'boy' stuff too – snowball fights, wrestling, playing Cowboys and Indians, and running through the woods...those were days when you could just head out the back-door and have a whole forest to have adventures in – there were so many fewer fences. Things are much different now.”

Danny sighed.

“But – my God, Taylor – can you believe?” He indicated their joined hands. “Wendell and I would do this in the woods while hiking, or when we were trick-or-treating together. We passed notes complimenting each other in class. We were each other's first kiss, because 'if girls can practice, why can't we?' And, you'll never guess – we repeatedly compared penises, and were so proud of the fact we were the same size!”

“No way!” Taylor gasped.

“I swear it's true!” affirmed her father, holding up his free hand in pledge. “No one else ever caught on to what we were doing as far as I know, we were out in the woods most of the time – had a whole little camp set-up and everything! But whenever one of us had a birthday, we'd drop our pants to check. We'd hold them up and press our hips together, and we thought that was normal! As we got older, we'd talk about the girls we liked while jerking off side-by-side! Just what all the straight boys were doing!”

Taylor shook her head in amazement.

“It gets even better,” her dad confided. “At Wendell's house, when his parents were busy, we'd go down into the basement – it was carpeted but unfinished, so the Kelleys used it for storage – and we'd take off all our clothes to play naked hide-and-seek in the dark amid the boxes. And it was so much fun, we'd sneak around each other, and who was 'it' only switched if you could hug the other guy, not just tag him, and boy did some of those hugs get close and last for a while. Sometimes we'd do the same thing at night in the woods, and bathe together in our creek.”

“That sounds...really nice,” Taylor admitted, though privately, she was a little flustered.

She'd been unable to avoid projecting herself and Emma into the same kind of relationship, and gone red when she realized they'd not been far off. The only exception, really, was the nudity and excessive physical contact, and...a surprising part of her thought Taylor might not have minded even that. She'd taken baths with Emma, yes, but only when they were younger, and there were no implications hidden in it then. The idea of being so naked and exposed with a friend now sent Taylor's heart racing, and even a hint of doing so outdoors was a multiplier of both embarrassment and desire.

It's not even about doing particular stuff, just about knowing someone that well, trusting them with that much, and having them trust you back. Showing them you with no barriers...and being comfortable with that rawness.

She couldn't help but want that despite herself: what she had with her Dad now should've been what she kept with Emma, too.

If Emma hadn't turned into...whatever she is now, would we have gone as far as Dad went with Wendell? We did compare boobs and hair a couple times, if not quite that closely. I know I'm not into girls, but...if we'd stayed friends...it could have been...a bit fun.

The betrayal still hurt, still bled. Some stubborn part of her remained sure that this wasn't how things were supposed to go, renewing the pain every time Emma acted different from Emma she once knew. Taylor worried a lip, and flushed once again.

...I would have tried it. Maybe. With her.

No matter, any potential once there had long since been cut away by Emma's cruel tongue, and the idea of exposing herself to the criticism little-miss-model might now unleash on her body made Taylor feel faintly ill. Emma already said enough with Taylor clothed from head to foot. She would never give her ex-companion the chance to hone that blade with with particulars.

“Did you do anything else? Did you and Wendell ever...have sex?” she asked her father. She'd never given much though to the logistics of two boys being intimate before, just assumed it was something that happened if they were gay, and now found herself wanting to understand details.

“Hah, we did almost everything but have sex with each other,” Danny told her, “too much to get into now. I'll tell you more later if you like...but I'd need to do it over a drink. Nothing heavy-” he reassured Taylor, seeing her expression twist, “-it's just traditional for reminiscing over old flames...and Wendell certainly is that, even if we never formally declared for one another. We were certainly on the trajectory to have sex, and probably would have if we'd had another year before...”

He trailed off and went very still, his entire countenance falling, his hand becoming almost painfully tight in hers.

“...Part of the reason fourteen was such a turbulent year for me was...Wendell had to move. It was sudden. He didn't want to. I didn't want him to. But it wasn't up to us. His extended family lived out west in the Dakota's, and there was a fire...a really bad fire. Six people on his mother's side died or got serious burns, and the Kelleys decided to move out there to support them. It was supposed to be temporary – only a year or two. Even a few months of separation at the time was beyond horrible for us to consider. But we put on the bravest faces we could, and played as much as we were allowed for that first month of our last summer.

“The final night, we cried, we held each other, we hid out in the forest all night, mostly talking in our fort. We barely slept. Couldn't even manage words once dawn came. We kissed goodbye for ages. Walking in opposite directions at the edge of our forest was the hardest thing I've ever done. We both looked back...I don't know how many times.”

Her parent's voice had gone heavy with sadness, his grip on her like a drowning man seeking a lifeline. His eyes were bright.

Oh Dad, I'm so sorry.

“...My father sent me to buy some replacement part for the sump pump after breakfast,” Danny forced himself to conclude. “On the way back from town, the moving truck outside Wendell's house was gone. His family's car was gone. And he was gone.”

He choked, tears beginning to spill down his face. Taylor wrapped herself around him, wishing desperately she could squeeze this old grief out of existence.

He was your first love, wasn't he, she thought. Not just a crush...you describe it like Mom's paperbacks do. A once-in-a-lifetime connection. The kind that almost never really happens.

“Didn't you..try to keep in touch?” Taylor asked asked after Danny's tears had slowed, still cradling him for whatever comfort she could offer.

“We did better than try!” he declared in a watery voice. “We sent letters weekly for the next four years – I've still got every single one. But...we never quite managed to meet up...life kept happening. In eighty-four, the Kelley's car broken down in Columbus as they were coming out to the beach. It took a week to fix, and then they just headed home. Wendell's father got cancer the next spring, and they moved to a bigger city even further west for treatment, and we lost that year's chance. Two years turned to three, then four...we kept writing, up until I got into basic training just as they moved again, and the post office screwed up forwarding our addresses. When I finally left the service and went looking for him...”

He couldn't manage the rest, but Taylor could guess it. After all, she'd been born to a marriage between a man and woman, not been adopted by two married men.

It really sounds like that might've been a good world, though. I mean, I don't really want to stop existing, but...at least Dad would've been happy. I hope.

“Maybe I...shouldn't look for a relationship, then,” she reflected, laying her head on Danny's chest, feeling his loss in her own heart, an empty ache of profound sadness. “If it could mess me up that much. I mean...I've already lost Emma...I don't think I could take another like that...”

Her father shook his head in emphatic refutation of such a proposition.

“No matter what you do, Taylor, you'll have good and bad experiences. But I think it's worth it, even when you get your heart broken. I wouldn't give my good memories with Wendell up, even knowing what would happen. They'll always be a part of me – part of my better self. If you don't want a relationship right now? That's fine. But don't decide to not let one happen out of fear,, because you might just miss something amazing. Maybe not today, maybe not this month, or even this year...but don't say never.”

Taylor let that percolate for a while, and finally decided he wasn't wrong.

Emma had been her one and only; an irreplaceable friend that maybe could have been more, and they'd had many incredible years together. What hurt most wasn't that they'd known each other...it was that Taylor now couldn't recognize anything of the girl she had known, nothing beyond the facial similarities. The Emma of now was all false smiles and cruel eyes, the tone of her voice always wrong, and she didn't care about the same things. She talked different, wore different colors, hung out with different people.

She couldn't be more unlike my once-friend if she tried.

The Emma at school now was a queen bee at the center of a hive, treating the world as if she alone stood at the center of the universe. And yet for all this – and Emma was good at hiding it – there was still something about that image which came across as...artificial – rehearsed, even. Like the role didn't quite fit. In a few brief instants here and there, Taylor had glimpsed her looking...lost, which was also completely unlike the best friend who'd once been dauntless and wild and eager to try everything.

...I don't know who she is anymore. But thinking on it...I wonder...does she?

That possibility landed like a hammer-blow, shuddering through Taylor's resigned acceptance to future years of a best friend's cruelty. The Emma of now mocked her for being childish, for not knowing about the world but she was more selfish, more petulant when she didn't get her way, more ignorant. Despite all of her posturing, the Emma of now was nothing but...a meanie.

Taylor found a small giggle emerging at the absurdity of the epithet, but there it was. Strip away all the physical growth and complicated words the girl used, and the one who her mother had once called 'a gifted young lady' actually seemed to be going backwards.

A meanie. A kindergarten bully. Using hostility as a shield, weaving it into herself. Against what?

As far as Taylor could tell, against everything that had once made Emma herself, Taylor included.

It must really hurt to tear out everything that once mattered to you. It must leave you lonely.

The steady thump of her dad's heartbeat pulsed under the teen's ear, reaffirming his presence.

A wave of sadness stole over Taylor. Her once friend had made a desperate attempt to crush everything Taylor had ever loved too – but she couldn't stop Taylor loving those things. Taylor still had her dad, and loved him. Her mom might be gone, but the memories of Annette Hebert remained bright, the lessons she'd taught still strong – Taylor still loved her. Emma may have found some success at damaging Taylor's love for herself...but what had taken Emma eight months to wound was growing back stronger with every conversation she and Danny shared, every meal they ate together, every choice Taylor took back for herself.

I'm getting better faster than she can make me worse.

Taylor still loved grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken tenders, bright colors and nature. Who cared if that was 'childish?' She didn't. They brought her happiness. The misery she'd been put through might have made her forget that for a while, but now she was remembering. She still loved singing off-key, and dancing in the rain, and reading by the fire, and, and, and...

Emma couldn't take any of it away. The only thing Emma could really take away...was Emma.

Taylor's childhood best friend...was gone. The girl Taylor went to school with these days looked a lot like her, knew a lot of the things she'd once known, but the resemblance ended there. This new girl only wanted to hurt people and be loved for it. That was really...pathetic, when all was said and done.

Three years and a bit left of high school, and then where will she be? If she keeps on going like she is – wasting her time on hurting others instead of building herself – will she even know anything honest? Will she even be able to be happy?

Taylor nodded pensively as her realigned perspective sank into place. Would she get mad at the three bullies when they plagued her in the moment? Certainly. Would she cry when she got blindsided by an overly-familiar face degrading her childhood? Definitely. But she wasn't living her life to their playbook anymore – they could cast as many shadows at school as they wanted, but at home...and everywhere else...

...Everywhere else, she was in the sun.

Taylor smiled at her partner through all this, her mainstay of family and comfort. Danny's flaccid member was pinned against her thigh, their bodies sticky with recently shared pleasure. His heart thudded strongly under her ear, his familiar hairs tickled her skin. Their arms were wrapped around each other – hers developing an ache from being still for too long, but even that was a happy pain. It was mundane and simple and real and...perfect.

I'm in the sun, with Dad. And the days are getting longer. Like he can.

To her parent's confusion, that incongruous thought completely destroyed Taylor's composure, but it didn't matter – his bewilderment at her sudden mirth just made the poor joke funnier, and she ended up holding her sides as she brayed like a donkey.

Longer – like his penis! she thought, wiping tears from her eyes. And here I was, being all 'I'm so much more mature and sensible than Emma,' only to compare my mental health to springtime – and an erection! Taylor, you are a classy girl.

When she was slightly calmer, the girl gave her father a reassuring hug.

“I'm fine dad – just silly thoughts. I'll let things happen as they happen, and do my best with them when they do. And I'll try not to say 'never.'”

He hugged her back.

“That's all anyone can ask.”

She kissed the back of their linked hands in agreement. For another minute they stayed cuddled together, until at last Danny shook himself, and began to rise.

“Now then,” he sighed, unfolding ponderously to stand and crack his back, “my dear Taylor. We're losing daylight and someone needs to start on dinner...and I expect you've got homework to get to?”

Taylor reluctantly confirmed this was so, shaking out pins and needles from her arm.

“Well, I'll get to food preparation. Maybe a quick shower first,” he added to himself. “I'll call you when it's ready.”

Taylor also forced herself to rise from her all-too-cozy bed.

“Thanks, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you.”

He smiled and left.

Not wanting to take her own shower right away, but not willing to get dressed yet either, Taylor wrapped herself in the blanket and went to sit at her desk. She pulled the schoolwork out of her backpack and began looking through assignments for a short one to do before cleaning up.

Geometry would probably be easiest to start with...

Opening her notebook of graph paper, Taylor was just pulling the bulky mathematics text towards herself when her eye chanced to fall on the trash can by her feet.

The floppy yellow tube of condom was still laying where it had landed haphazardly over some rejected English compositions from the day before, its knot preventing any ejaculate from leaking out. For a minute, the teenager just stared at it, but then curiosity overcame her, and she reached down to pick it up.

It was light, and oddly dry to the touch – but then again, the lubrication would be on the inside, wouldn't it? Her father's semen pooled in the bottom as she held it up to the light. Latex and liquid both had lost their temperature swiftly to the ambient air, and the sack yielded comically when she prodded the flexible wall with a lone finger.

This is half of the stuff that made me, Taylor mused, pinching the tip and watching the murky fluid well up inside its container to ooze back down. It had an odd consistency through the barrier, thicker than milk, but not at all like the rubber cement she'd once heard it compared to. She squeezed the receptacle once more, observing the ebb and flow of Danny's issue. This is what made Dad a dad.

...Wild.

She could almost fancy she smelled the cum through the scent of latex and and citrus – something sharp and musky at the same time – though Taylor couldn't figure out what it most reminded her of. But she liked it – something uniquely her father's, masculine and generous, just like him.

In a sort of weird, roundabout way, this shows how much he likes spending time with me.

Taylor chuckled to herself and took a last, slow breath before dropping the prophylactic back in the basket and propping open her geometry textbook.

Right, so if angle ACB is equal to angle CAB...

Across the hall came the sounds of a shower starting, prompting the memory of a shower shared.

That had been a good day.

A standout among many since, equaled only, perhaps, by today itself.

Humming tunelessly as she began writing, Taylor gave in to persistent impulse, and let a smile curl her lips upward and soften her face.

Some things had been lost, but Taylor Hebert had survived them. She still had a father who loved her, time for herself, and a whole future ahead. There was a lot to look forward to.

I'm actually...eager to see what happens.

Optimistic anticipation was something she'd long been without, but Taylor was glad to find it blossoming in her spirit once more.

I think tomorrow's going to be good.

*