Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night greeted you so fondly. In the way you least expected. A few friends from college decided to hit you up with a straightforward text, saying: 

Hey dude, me n a couple of peeps from 101 days r going 2 a club to hang around.

You should come 2.

when?

Tmrw @ 8 pm

i’m down

Great! I’ll send you the details.

Eight P.M. came rolling in faster than anticipated, much too fast for your liking. Not because you have to meet up with your friends, it's the inevitable fear of possibly meeting your ex-lover, Schlatt. In the past, he wasn’t available to join in any of the hangout events, at least most of the time. He expressed that he’s busy, but personally, the group wouldn’t hold it against him. He did have a growing audience and is a major influence. In addition to that, you couldn’t hold it against him either; he did what he could and still decided that it’s better for both of you to part ways, with the uncertainty of long distance, and also his fame. It’s a mutual decision. 

Even if that’s the case, you still have unresolved, lingering feelings for the man.

However, Schlatt led you to a meeting with Ted Nivison. A sweet, kind gentleman who was also a fellow content creator and a good friend of Schlatt. A best friend, you could say. Unlike Schlatt, Ted was able to differentiate his fame from his private life; he was careful. He’s methodical with his approach to love life and whatnot. One thing led to another, and he ended up asking you out on a date to the California Beach with a side of overpriced poke bowls.

You loved Ted. You really do. He would give you flowers on days you feel sad. He would stock the fridge with your favorite treats. He helped you stream and provided you with a lot of streaming equipment when you first started. But falling in love with Ted feels like settling down, and you know that. You just didn’t want to say anything. The sparks just fade over time, unlike the man that still plagues the back of your mind. The man who accompanied you through the first years of college and multiple friendship breakups. The man who introduced you to your current boyfriend at a random content creator party. The man who, from time to time, still visits and talks to you whenever you visit the Chuckle Week set, but kept distance if Ted is there. The man who still has sparks in his eyes when he sees you.

With your Uber approaching, you slipped onto your heels, fixed the strand of hair that kept bugging you, and straightened the miniskirt you had on. With a final look in the mirror, you saw a beautiful version of yourself. Which was made clear from the wolf whistle Ted let out when he saw you. 

“Looking good there, pretty.”

“Why, thank you, boyfriend.”

“I wish I could take you there myself, but the car still needed some time in the repair shop.” Ted rested his hands on your shoulders, kissing your cheek lightly. “I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll probably be back faster than you, it’s just a quick hang with my friends.”

“Mkay, Ted.” A honk caught your attention, “I’ll see you later, take care!”

With that, you ran towards the car, not wanting to make a bad impression on the driver. Ted stood there, leaning against the frame, and waved slowly as you went into the night.

The night greeted you with a wound. A familiar brunette eyed you immediately, and he was wearing an outfit you didn’t fully recognize him in. A black turtleneck and outer shirt, tucked into his pants. It looks like he groomed himself recently, too, his hair much shorter than you remembered. But God forsake you, his curls fell gracefully. He was also wearing his aviator glasses. He was breathtaking. 

Schlatt’s gaze on you felt like a thousand shots aimed and fired at you at once. You felt like your entire body was on fire. You didn’t expect him, and he didn’t expect you to come here alone without Ted. His gaze softened as he petted down an empty spot next to him, and his fingers beckoned me to come there. The others soon realized your presence.

“Hey, dude, you came! You look great.” A friend fist bumped you, and another one, one by one, until it reached Schlatt. “Starter drink?”

“Just a white claw for me, don’t want to get too drunk.”

“Awe… Why not? We should go loose like we did in that Alpha Delta Nu Party in Freshman Year!”

“Gotta skip this one out, I’m afraid.” You didn’t want to reveal the full extent of why you didn’t want to get too drunk. In all honesty, it’s because you don’t trust yourself enough to be alone with Schlatt, especially when you don’t have control over yourself when you’re drunk. “I need to be conscious enough to order myself an Uber, y’all.”

“No fun!”

“Too bad,” you chimed in. 

The conversation delved deeper, and they talked about anything and everything. Catching up on the last 4 years has been a pain; you started to regret not keeping a diary of important events in your life. The only thing you could talk in detail about is you dipping into content creation and dating Ted. Other than that, you sprinkled in minuscule family and tea about your college mates. You heard each one of them tell their past years, which, for some, you chimed with the exaggerated reactions.

Somewhere between the white claws, Schlatt moved closer to you, with just an inch away. Sometimes when he retorted to the group discussion, he would brush his thighs with yours. Just lightly. Not enough for you to think he’s doing this on purpose, but enough to conspire an insatiable yearning for his touch.

He leaned closer to you, “You look beautiful.”

His New York accent cocked heavily even if it was a mere whisper. His voice is deeper when complimenting you. Schlatt spoke those words like he did back then, and it still stirred you in the same way. God, you hated how he still has a grip on you. 

“Thanks, Schlatt. You look good, too.”

Perhaps it’s the trick of the eyes, but you swore that you felt Schlatt’s eyes glancing at you multiple times towards the night after you complimented him back. At times, you felt his gaze fixated on your thighs, with your miniskirt folded up from your constant shifting. Maybe he was taking a peek at your waist, who knows what he could see from up there.

On a spur of the moment, he's touching you. He’s touching your shoulder, masking it as an effort to rest his hands on the booth’s frame. Yet, his touch went downwards. It went on your back. Then, he put his hands around your waist in front of everyone you know, and mixed in with lingering romantic feelings (which you never resolved personally, from being your first lover that never really got to anywhere). He cradled your waist and loosely massaged your waist. He took a swig of his whiskey again, fueling more into the uncertainty of the situation. He's still touching you, albeit without anyone realising it.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Suddenly, his mouth is already positioned aligned with your ears, then he gently whispered, “You don't have to think about Ted here. I'm already here.” He continued, “We can have some fun of our own.”

The conversation diverged into somber, muffled sounds, going from one ear to the other. However, your focus has always been shifted to one thing and only one thing, that is, his hands on your waist. And perhaps, the slight buzz in your system is spiking the growing warmth in your stomach, amplifying the sensual lust further.

“So what was it like dating… with both of you? Y’know, before all the internet fame and all. Must be really nice.”

“And weird!” 

“I don't think it's that weird. It's just, we haven't explored our relationship that much. Especially, we were so young and all, isn't that right, toots?” He lifted his hands a bit, and then the conversation spotlight was on me.

“Yeah… that's right.” You said, as he shifted closer to you. The warmth of his palms lingered, boldly imprinted as a request for more. For the first time in the night, you looked at him. Your eyes, telling him quietly, I want more . 

He understood.

“What do you mean, Schlatt?”

“When you're young, you can't really take them out to cock a gun and do a burglary date, can you? Right, fellas?” Schlatt said, ending the rhetorical question with a chuckle and a grin. You can feel him shift closer, unknowingly, his hands move comfortably in the small of your back. He gently nudged you to scoot forward. “You don't have that kind of adult experience when you're young,” he shrugged.

At that time, you're going delirious. The conversation has led to nothing but goodbyes and ‘take care’s. From what you gathered from your tipsy mind, they were going to another bar for more drinks. Schlatt and you opted out because neither of you wanted to get full-blown drunk. You’re now fully alone with him. You don't know how this would end up. Your mind couldn't help thinking about Ted again. Your boyfriend. How he would scold you, or even worse, break u—

“Sweetheart,” his fingers lifted to guide your jaws, facing him, with only a half-inch between you. “Move forward.”

You scooted forward as best as you could, through the cramped space at the booth. His legs now went through the other side, caging you in. You were sandwiched between the cold, oak beer-stained table and a really… warm figure huddling your back. 

From then on, you couldn't help feeling all the blood pooling on your cheeks. Perhaps out of embarrassment. Perhaps out of excitement. You could never tell. For all you know, the adrenaline is pumping in your heart, telling you to keep going. Your hands, cold from holding the canned white claw for so long, are held against your face. Hopefully, no one could see your flustered face, not even Schlatt.

His arm came back, passing the place where he massaged you, in exchange for hugging you all together. His other hand finished the last bit of his whiskey. Afterwards, both hands hold you tightly on the waist. You fitted so snugly at that time, a different feeling when he hugged you from much younger. At that time, you felt safer. He enveloped you so easily, so securely. All of a sudden, you felt something growing against your tailbone. 

“You feel nice, sweetheart,” Schlatt whispered again, sending chills down your spine, and it went directly to your aching core, desperately needing more. “I've missed you.”

“I know, Schlatt, I've missed you too.”

“Remember the thing I said earlier?”

“You said a lot of different things.”

“About adult experiences?” He said softly, somewhat afraid of both of your voices getting leaked to the other booths. However, between the distant chattering and blaring bass-boosted club songs, you find it very hard to believe someone would overhear your conversation. He started to kiss the crown of your head, which trailed down to your temple, then to your neck. He snickered a bit as you exhaled shakily. His hot breath kisses your warm neck, wet kisses implanted so passionately. His hand was trailing your thighs up and down slowly, going so close to it, but never in contact directly. 

Unknowingly, he was still waiting for your answer; a simple answer that's not whimpers or pathetic noises. A good minute had passed where he would tease your thighs and your neck. He simply thought that teasing you like that was one way to pass the time and give you room to think. He was wrong. You couldn't focus on simple words at all.

“I—I can recall.”

“Would you like to try it out?” You could only nod as his hands wouldn't stop touching you. Yet, he still kept his hands off places that were off limits; your pussy and your breasts.  “I can't believe you're so sensitive, toots. If I had known you would react that way, I would have kept you around. Or better yet, I'll steal ya from Ted.”

“You… Want to steal me from your best friend?”

“Well, technically, you're mine to begin with.”

“If you want to steal—” you exhaled sharply as Schlatt licked a sensitive spot on your neck. “ God .” He bit lightly, not hard enough to leave any markings, “me… You could do so…”

Those words stirred something within Schlatt. He lifted you on his legs so that he could face you directly, trying to assess the work he'd done. All he could see was his wet masterpiece on your neck. Then, his sparkling eyes find yours. That's the first time in the night that you two have made proper eye contact. Not just a single glance worth mere pleasantries. On top of that, you could only see his damp mustache, a drool running down his mouth, which he quickly cleaned, and the pure redness on his face. Perhaps from all the whiskey he drank. But knowing him and his streams, he could drink way more.

“I know you would pick me over Ted, darlin’” Fuck, he was right.

You swore you felt his dick twitch a bit when he moved you. If anything, it makes you believe he considered doing that, even if it means jeopardizing Ted and Schlatt’s friendship. You’re mine to begin with. Why did he say that? Was it because he was your ex? What makes you think he deserves to say that after he asked to break up? The only undeniable answer now that you could determine was how wet you were. You were begging to be touched more, to have some sort of pleasure, which would end up with either a climax or a regret.

Without realizing it, you were looking down, staring at his bulge. Somehow, it gets bigger the more you look at it. Schlatt cupped your cheeks so that he could maintain eye contact with you. His brown eyes, also begging for you, looking at you with such intent you never saw before. You knew him throughout high school and the early days of college, and your relationship with him is strictly romantic. PDA in your definition was hand holding and the occasional cheek kisses. You only kissed him once, and you were taken aback at that time. It ended abruptly, which led Schlatt to think you didn’t like it. However you did, you craved it, and now it fuels your what-if scenarios in your head when it comes to Schlatt. You still hoped that he would kiss you goodbye at least.

Now that you have been greeted with the answers to your what-if questions, you get the chance to do so. If only you could do that without any consequences. The only burden you have to carry is guilt. Your audience didn’t need to know. Your friends didn’t need to know. Ted didn’t need to know. It would be between you and Schlatt. No one else. 

“Do you want to do it, sweetheart?” He looked up to know, now pleading. You felt like you’d seen that before, but you couldn’t place a finger if you tried. “You could always order an Uber right now, you don’t have to do it. I’d like to apologize if I made you uncomfortable. We could forget this interaction ever happened—”

You kissed him, shutting his train of thought. All you could think of at that moment was how nice his lips were. Truly, his lips are so soft to play around with; it was wet from both kisses and whiskey. A toxic combo worth your night and several days of regret. Synchronized breaths, racing heartbeats, trembling hands, and addicting body heat coursing through both of your veins, desperately asking for more. Your hands grasped tightly onto his turtleneck, and his hands tugged securely to the roots of your hair, guiding you in closer. He was feeling you, exploring every inch of your back to your waist, and later on the back of your neck. You could feel him biting your lips, desperately asking for more.

He pulled away, and he looked at you all starry-eyed. He could only muster up, “Whoa.”

“I could say the same to you. I didn't know you could kiss me that good.”

“I wish I could've done that before.”

“You don't have to do that, you could do that now.”

To say Schlatt was surprised would be an understatement; he was beyond shocked to hear that. You enabled him, pushing his buttons further, making you fall deeper into whatever this was. 

“Bathroom?” He asked, pointing at the gender neutral bathroom. You stood up and gave him a slight nod.

Both of you beelined towards the bathroom. As soon as you locked the doors behind you, Schlatt caged you, looking at you hungrily. You put your hands over his neck. Between you, Schlatt was the one who broke the gap first. Lustful and hungry kisses peppered messily, trying to make sense of the growing attraction. He was careful not to put any marks on you, yet you gave him playful nail scratches on the back of his neck.

A tug on your miniskirt diverted your attention away from all the kissing. You felt your miniskirt slip out easily, and following that, your panties, which looked beyond soaked. You would have blamed your ovulation, or probably the alcohol that was making you drown in pure discharge. You could have thought you saw Schlatt’s eyes glint, as he licked his lips. It looked like he had been waiting for this for ages. He probably had, since the beginning of your relationship with him. You didn't even realise Schlatt folding and putting away your skirt on the shelf, sitting on top of the toilet. He gestured for you to sit down on the newly closed toilet.

“You smell nice,” he said as he kneeled. The hot breaths linger longer down there as he kissed your inner thighs. You convinced yourself that it was because he smelled a waft of your powder perfume. He propped you up, so you sat more comfortably, and Schlatt got a clear view of you in its entirety. You were a goddess in his eyes. 

Out of nowhere, he sunk a finger inside you. The initial shock of pain quickly subsided once you relaxed a bit. 

“You okay there, toots?” You quickly nodded, biting your lips as if you were asking for more. “Sorry,” Schlatt responded without hesitation (and careful calculation), he started to pump his finger in and out of you. It didn't feel that significant, but the buzz in your system made it seem like it was everything. He observed your face. He added another finger, which you responded with groaning out his name sweet like honey mixed with the squelching noise of your pussy and bass-boosted DJ sets.

At some point, you didn't even realise that he added another finger. It felt so good at that moment, you swore you were going insane. He was simply fingering you— God, why did he have such amazing, long, plump, perfect-length fingers ? He kept going further, increasing the speed. Without realising it, a tension kept building up. An unknown one. Certainly, it wasn't just cumming, it was something entirely different. 

“Sch—Schlatt!” You warned. Warning for what was about to come, but you couldn't really tell. “Schlatt… Please sto—”

“What is it, Princess?”

“Stop fingering me.”

“Or what?” Instead of stopping, he was finger-fucking you faster than before. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Your back arched. You felt your entire body tensing up. A stream of liquid was sprayed onto the floor, the toilet, and also Schlatt in the process. Hot wet squirt of your cum puddling down below you. Even when you finished feeling euphoric from that, he still fucked you through it. 

“Oh my god… I'm so sorry, Schlatt. I don't know what came over me. I have never done that before.” Embarrassed, you held your hands up, covering your red cheeks. He pushed aside your hands to look at you better.

“It's okay, you look so hot when you do that.” Schlatt took some tissues, wiping down wet spots on his shirt, hoping it won't stain that much. “Don't worry, it'll dry up.” He focused back at you, gripped your legs, and forced it to open up to him. “Did you wear the outfit because you expected me to?”

“No—Not at all.”

“You look really cute in it, doll.” Schlatt lazily traced scripts on your clit, not having any patterns you desperately want. However, it was enough to make your teeth chatter and make incoherent noises. Somehow, that was what Schlatt yearned for. The whimpers and hitched moans were making him go crazy. 

“I love your outfit so much, I love how you could see a little peek of your tummy.” He had his fingers circling it firmly, giving it more delicious friction. Your mind bewildered by the profound sensation, your fingers grasped even harder on the roots of his curls. In a way, it also drove him insane. He ground mindlessly on one of your legs. The damp feeling on your legs felt more prominent now, and it was getting wetter than anything. He was dripping like a faucet. And, he made it very clear. “I wonder if I could cum on your tummy.”

Between the wetness, the pleasure, and his hands, you felt close again. Schlatt could also feel the growing climax; he opted to stop again. Leaving behind his tongue inside your vagina. This time, you couldn’t help but whine like a pathetic dog. When you caught your breath, you realised that your body was quivering. 

“I can’t take it much longer—Schlatt, please, please, please, I’m so close. Please.”

He wasted no time on pleasantries; he gave you what you’ve been craving for. No more edging to the night, he circled your clit at a perfect pace. His tongue was in a perfect place, undulating without any signs of stopping. He was finally giving you what you deserved, something held back from long ago. There it is, the orgasm ripped through you, it was so electrifying your body couldn’t help but tremble, from head to toe. You were on cloud nine, at least for a good while. You didn’t even realize the drool that ran down your mouth, nor did you realize Schlatt chasing his orgasm too, he whimpered out loud, spreading his cum onto your tummy. You could feel the extra warmth pooling attractively, almost dripping from your awkward position.

Schlatt took a second to breathe. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

Then, he took some tissues from the sides, wiping his dick as well as you (your whole body from all of the cum and squirting). He helped you get into a better sitting position, putting on your panties and your miniskirt. After all of that was taken care of, he hugged you tightly. It felt like he would never let me go. The warmth of his body was still welcomed, even with the adrenaline and alcohol running through your blood. You tried calming down your disheveled hair, though it wouldn't make that much of a difference.

“That, yeah… That was nice, Schlatt,” you talked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I could imagine.”

“Thank you for that.”

“No problem,” he said with a cheeky smile. You tried standing up, but your body didn’t allow you. You almost fell when you felt your knees buckle suddenly. Maybe that orgasm was too intense; you couldn’t even walk freely for the next several hours. Thank God Schlatt was there to catch you. “Hey, be careful!” He grabbed your waist, turning you to him again. The butterfly in your stomach did not settle down for the night, even after you did all of that. I need proper rest after this . You sighed. “You want to get out of here, toots?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Can you walk?”

“Hold me tight.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Schlatt gave a kiss on the temple and unlocked the doors. His hands still fit snugly onto your waist. You just gave him a goofy smile, one that you would give after an exam so hard it blew both your brains out. As you opened the bathroom doors, you were greeted by the person who gave you a near heart attack for the second time tonight. It was Ted.

“ What the fuck, Schlatt? ”

Chapter Text

"…so, honey, what are you in the mood for?"

Ted wrapped his arms around you. Snapping out of your thoughts.

"Hmm… Brown butter… mushrooms… miso noodles."

"That sounds like a nice combination of all things good, but will it be good?"

"It sounds good in my head. Now chop chop chef," you smiled, lightly pinching his arms. He lifted himself and danced around in the kitchen. At some point, he got into a goofy mood and commanded Alexa to play his Toyota Tacoma playlist. He gathered the ingredients from the fridge, taking the half-used butter from the back, two sealed udon packs, a plastic bag filled with mushrooms, and a big tub of miso that always seemed to disappear before he could blink. He boiled some water. After melting the butter, the air around Ted smelled heavenly. When he added the mushrooms, the smell got more intense. He set aside the mushroom and started browning the butter. He added the udon to the boiling water.

Immediately after the flavorful, fragrant hit you—and you couldn't help but smile—he concocted the butter with the miso and what you thought was soy sauce. His fancy soy sauce, nonetheless. He wanted to impress you. As he drained his udon, he skillfully tossed it onto the pan and flicked it. With a smug smile on his face, you applauded and laughed a bit.

And… a little sprinkle of black pepper…

There we go! You could have sworn he mumbled a voila! too. He set the plates right in front of you and one on his side. Both of you forked the udon, flavor seeped into the gaps of the utensils.

"So the other day…"

Of course, it tasted wonderful. The mushroom burst with all the flavors from the umami of the miso paste and the fattiness from the butter. Yet, all of that seemed to balance well with the refreshing spice of the freshly cracked black pepper with the grinder he thrifted (more or less stole from the back alley of a Home Depot).

Ted made it for you. Even with the taste of tears straight from a Goddess, throughout the conversation, your mind wandered off into the other night again. Looks like Ted noticed your absence in the conversation, too. Based on his raised eyebrow, he was about ready to question you about your pondering and the absentmindedness in your plate from all the time you twirled your noodles.

“Honey,” Ted started, his hand squeezing your shoulders firmly. “What's bothering you?”

“Nothing really, Babe. Just thinking about stuff. You don't have to worry about it.”

That was true; it wasn't something Ted should be worried about. This conversation can be easily brushed off, of course. Because, you know, it's an extremely taboo topic. A sexual deviant conversation that neither of you was probably equipped for. For all you know, vanilla sex was an acceptable form of romantic relationship escapades and a way to show intimacy from one person to the other. After all, content and affection are the key to a relationship. Happy? Not the right word for it. There was a different word for it. Secured. That's it. You were secured in the relationship, confined to what you already know.

Yet, some part of your deepest desire didn't want to let go. Especially, after last night, as the thought of Ted’s hands snaked around your neck, planting them firmly onto the bed frame.

Although it was a simple mishap, you couldn't stop thinking about it. So simple that Ted quickly lifted his hands as soon as you grunted at the pressure and pleasure. Which he selfishly assumed was you grunting in pain. He muttered a little sorry in his low baritone growl, seemingly genuine enough to show remorse for your action. Even if your horny brain craves the push and pull of control and a little breath play. The hot gripping sensations were hugging your neck like it was some sort of plaything. Momentarily, you didn't feel like his partner. You were his object. His little princess. Now, you hated yourself more than ever when you felt the gnawing, familiar tingling sensation down there.

“I know something is bothering your mind there, Hun. A penny for your thoughts?”

You braced yourself for emotional weight, which was mostly embarrassment, that you were about to lay on him. His hands quietly traced your shoulders to your arms. Electrifying touches that could only be simplified as the feeling of an insect crawling on our skin. Anxiety fleetingly bounced inside your mind, and later your body, causing you to shiver like static on TV. It's too eerily quiet for your liking, no other sound other than LA traffic accompanying your distant conversation. Then, Ted scooped your hands with his, holding them gently as if he were holding a newborn fawn. With a firm squeeze from his grip, you looked at him; you could see the worry in his eyes.

One of his choices of the movie, which was still playing in the background, had long been cast aside. You believed it was a stupid shark movie with an unbelievable premise. Your attention was now fully on his eyes, which were searching for answers.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to judge me too harshly?”

“Pinky promise.” 

“Okay.”

Although his mouth didn't show it, his eyes hoped for a bit; you could see it from the glint in his eyes, and also the way his cheeks smiled ever so slightly. He was glad, but in a way that didn't have the means to scare you off. His gaze was fully fixated on you, and his grasp tightened slightly; they were telltale signs that you had his undivided attention.

“Something has been on my mind lately, but I don't know how to bring it up to you.”

“You can tell me,” your eyes glanced to the side, afraid of any forms of nonexistent judgments.

“It's about the sex we had a while ago.”

“Oh,” a silence followed, “what about it?”

“It's uhm—When we're about to finish… Like when I almost cummed. You had your hands around my uh… my—” Your grip tightened even more. You felt your heartbeat fastening, your mouth dry, and your hands damp. Confessions were supposed to be freeing, but the anxiety gnaws away. You didn't even realize you had been clenching your jaw until it started to hurt a bit. “My neck.” You said with a little more confidence.

“Oh, Babe… I'm so sorry, it's totally my fault. I shouldn't have crossed that line with you. I know you told me beforehand that you didn't like it, it's just I was acting on instinct and I—” You looked up, seeing Ted scrambling apologies left and right. This time, the one who had the tighter grip was Ted. The one who wasn't looking at the other was Ted. His action was acting on behalf of fear; he was scared of the relationship going awry because of what he did. 

“Hey.”

“—I’m really sorry.”

“No, it's okay.”

“It's okay…?”

“Yes, Ted. It's okay. I liked it.”

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.” You chuckled. “I was also surprised that I am also into it. When you had your hands around my neck, it felt really…nice. I really liked it, Ted. We should do it sometimes.”

“Thank God. I thought you hated it.”

“I never said I hated it.” You scoffed. “You just never tried it out. If you asked, I would have said yes, too.”

“Hm,” Ted looked around the room. He tried to think of a response. “Care to tell me more about things you indulge in, honey?”

You took a second to let your eyes wander a bit, thinking of a suitable answer that could satisfy both you and Ted. You know that any answer would be stored neatly with a pretty bow on top inside of Ted’s mind, or a secure safe, only to be let out during intimate times. But you would like to save yourself the embarrassment, or rather, the expectation that he wouldn’t act upon it.

“Well, I like it a bit rough.”

“Oh?” Another squeeze.

“Yes, I’m open to anything really, you name it and I’m probably, most likely, down.”

“Rough…As in…marking?”

“God, yes, I love that, Ted.”

“How about degradation?”

“Yes, please.”

“Praise?”

“Mhm.”

“Domination?”

“100% yes.”

“Threesome, perhaps?”

“Interesting enough for me.”

“Primal play—”

“Ted, I’m up for anything your heart desires. Tell me what you’d like and we’ll do it. I’ll gladly make you feel good.” You played with the sleeves of his hoodie, fidgeting in embarrassment, and hoping Ted wouldn’t tease you about your extremely red face. Then, a moment of silence follows the end of the sentence. You assumed Ted was pondering what he could do with that information. When it was time for him to conclude, he let go of your hand in favor of hugging you tightly around the waist. Then, and only then, you were overwhelmed by the amount of support and the scent of his embrace, almost resembling the smell of butter.

“Thank you for trusting and telling me, honey. I really appreciate it.” He whispered. “Would you be open to maybe something more in the future? Something outside of the things I asked earlier?”

You couldn't really muster up any voice; your chords failed you. Yet, your head nodded instinctively. He smiled, brushing against your cheeks. From what you gathered, he felt content with your answers. If anything, you could feel his heartbeat going faster. His breath was heavier than earlier. You didn’t know what this meant, or you didn’t have the means to act upon it so hastily after the conversation.

Yet, you were right on your hunch. The conversation was never brought up again, not in a passing conversation or any of their future sexcapades. At least, not until now.

—

“What the fuck, Schlatt?”

By that time, the deafening blaring sirens of DJ sets had been replaced by sultry, somber songs as the night submitted itself to intimate desires. The guests were either passed out or chatting idly, not paying close attention to the drama that was unfolding. Ted was conflicted. He just stood there, mouth agape. 

“Hey…Ted, What's up—”

“Not another word from you, Schlatt.”

Even though your feet were very much planted to the ground, you felt your knees buckle under you once more. Your head scrambled to make some kind of coherent excuse, some sort of reason that Ted could understand. 

“Ted, I—I was drunk and I—”

“Zip it.” Ted cut you off.

You were still grateful that Schlatt was on your side, standing graciously in the midst of a conflict that he wasn't even supposed to step into. It was Ted's and your problem, not his. It was your affair. It was your discontentment in the relationship that led to this ordeal. You could not communicate your needs and wants in the relationship with Ted. And yet, you still have the guts to blame it on the alcohol in your system. 

Disappointment was an understatement. Ted flooded his eyes with it, drowning in anger and betrayal all at once. He couldn’t believe his girlfriend would cheat on him, let alone with his best friend, albeit your ex. Flushed with guilt, your face reddened, and your mouth was dry. After a long-standing feud between all of your inner thoughts, Ted decided to move, grasping your wrist tightly. You yelped, yapping out an excuse. 

“But I—” You tried to speak. 

“Save it for later,” Ted said, dragging you out, “Our Uber is already here.”

You stopped talking, and you assumed that Ted wasn’t in the mood, either out of spite and anger. The ride back home was silent. Pure agony that slowly crept up in the form of Ted’s hotness, scooting closer to you, fingers silently tracing your thighs. Ted stopped himself. He started gripping your thighs, enough to stir something in you. Manicured short nails digging into your flesh, furthermore. You curse yourself for even remotely thinking that this would lead to nothing but hate fuck. Realistically speaking, you know that both of you would just get into an argument and end up with one of you kicked out. That tightening grip, however, suggested otherwise.

During the entire ride, he couldn’t take his eyes off your thighs.

Once in a while, he opted out of gripping in favor of rubbing it, somewhat loosely massaging it. Deja vu was hitting you like a truck as you felt him massage your thighs; it was similar to Schlatt’s teasing. Suspicion arose at the thought of Ted talking to Schlatt about you, perhaps spilling more intimate details than you would like to believe. You felt him getting closer to you; he had his head level with yours, while his fingers fidgeted with the exposed bra strap from earlier. He was close. Dreadfully close. The faint smell of his ginger shampoo lingers on your red nose a little too long.

“I might have to fuck Schlatt out of your mind if you keep thinking about him,” Ted said darkly and quietly, as if he were reading your mind. Or rather, if he interpreted your silence as you comparing him with Schlatt. “But I don’t think you deserve that yet.” It made you sigh sharply.

A silence fell right after you both arrived at Ted's apartment. Ted's hand resided nicely in the small of your back, guiding your every step. From the entrance to the elevator, then to his room, you felt his eyes shift back and forth between your neck and your thighs. Your body set aflame, and Ted doused more fuel into your core's fire. As soon as the jingling keys stop tattling of your existence, you're soon faced with the consequences of your actions. Once again, you tried to defend yourself.

“Ted, I—”

“Call me Sir.”

“Sir.”

“Much better.”

He kissed you hard. Harder than Schlatt ever kissed you, filled with anger and passion, left you wondering what you had done wrong in the past to never deserve this kind of treatment. The tongue languidly met yours, as if his hadn't met yours in a very long time, even though both of you had done it merely this morning. You loved this. You absolutely adore this roughness that you craved since the beginning of the relationship. Hands dancing on your hot skin and settled nicely on the side of your neck. As if it wasn't obvious enough, he claimed you and you were under the whim of his dominance.

He pulled back, pupils dilated targeting yours.

“You know what’s gonna happen to girls like you?”

You thought for a second, your breath hitched as you tried to take a deeper one.

“I think you’re going to punish me, Sir,” you grinned, “You could use me as a Fleshlight, Sir.”

“Oh, honey, cumming from my fucking is only a reward for good girls, and you haven’t been good.”

“But, Sir—I have been good.”

“Says the slut who gets to fuck around with other dudes, especially with my best friend.” He snarled back a response, spitting venom at you. “If you were a good girl, you would have kept those legs shut for me. Say that you’re mine.” You felt his fingers slithering between your thighs, parting ever so slightly to feel the heat radiating between your legs. "I can't even blame the guy; you even dress the part." He rubbed your pussy, gathering the dampness and slickness of leftover cum from multiple orgasms not even a few hours ago, and the only response you gave was a pathetic moan. "Tell me, slut, what did my best buddy do to you? What's so great about him?"

"Well, we talked a lot, I mean, with the others. Then we were alone; the others went to another bar downtown. He asked me to move forward, and I was trapped between his legs." You explained as best as you possibly could with the threat of Ted making you cum right then and there from the way he breathed down your neck, rubbing your pussy mindlessly, and his hips rolling now and then. It was barely asking for the satisfaction of friction and relief.

"We got a bit drunk."

"On what?"

"Schlatt with his usual, and I was drinking some beer."

"Could've guessed that earlier, I could practically taste it from your mouth." He licked his lips, and it hit some parts of your ears. He sucked a part of your neck's flesh for a bit, leaving a satisfying pop before moving onto your other side. Trapped around him, you could only meander within a close distance, however, not far enough to think you were escaping. You wouldn't want that. Not after you upset your darling boyfriend. Or during his terrifying yet utterly arousing interrogation.

"Schlatt teased me a lot, Sir. Something similar to the way he was before."

"Oh, really?"

"Just a lot of light touching."

"Where?"

"My body."

"Specifically?"

"My waist."

"And?"

"My pussy."

"What else did he yap about to you? Did he say something about me, your boyfriend?" He had his hands all over your body now, exploring the ghost of Schlatt's night touches, putting his hands exactly where you told him. Your waist, then slowly snaked on your pussy. He sank his teeth into you once more, determined to put all his bite marks and hickeys on you.

"He told me to forget about you, Sir."

He stopped.

"And, what else did he say?"

"He told me that I'm his to begin with."

If previous interactions with Schlatt didn't set him off, this certainly did. All of a sudden, he had his hands around your neck. When you choked out of shock, he immediately let go of your windpipe, in favor of putting pressure on the side of your neck. You knew, from the way he winced for a split second, he still wanted this to be enjoyable for you as it was for him. He stared you down.

"What? He said that?"

"Y—yes, Sir. He did."

Mustering all his sheer willpower to stop his possessiveness, he looked at you almost incredulously. You swore, if you didn't know any better, his eyes would have popped out right then and there. He was angry. Sure, that part was apparent. But, accompanied by the stained wetness from his jeans, you were also determined to believe that he was at least enjoying this interaction as well. In some ways, you were relieved by this. He smiled at you, lips wet, plump, and red from all of the licking and biting.

"Look at me."

You look up, wetting your lips in the process.

“You look so good with my hands around your neck.” He whispered into your ears. “If I had known you would look this pretty, I would have done it sooner and more frequently. I bet you’ll miss my hands more when you’re fucking another man. And, I bet you would miss the pressure on your pretty little neck when you’re making out with another guy.” 

Almost instantaneously, he licked a portion of the neck, down to your chest, while his hands still kept nicely on your neck.

"Now turn around. I wanna see your pretty ass."

You bent down, both your hands supporting your body, and, for the second time tonight (or morning), without any warning, your pussy got violated in the best way possible. His digits brushed away your soaked panties, and in place of air hitting it, it was his dick inserting you. It was stretching you, absolutely bigger than Schlatt's fingers. The feeling of Ted's movement didn't even register with you before he started to knock the wind out of you.

Rarely did you feel him raw. For some reason, he felt more secure with a condom on, even though you've told him multiple times before that you have an IUD. But now, it feels intimate, far too intimate. You swore you could feel his bulging veins match your rapid heartbeat. The smell of sex wafted through the air, and both of your sweats mixed into one.

For a second there, he moaned in the same way he was about to cum, or perhaps it was your fucked out brain playing tricks with you. It was far too soon. Even for him. In the same way, when he would run his hands on your mouth and pistoned out of you, in and out, tiredly and messily, and he would whisper to your ears that he was indeed close. Yet, those hands never met your lips, and the words are left unspoken. Instead, he opted for another choice. He put his hands around your waist as if it was going to leave a bruise when left longer than it should.

“Now, slut, who do you belong to?”

“Y—you.”

“Who?”

“You, Sir.”

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, S—Sir.”

“That’s right.” He circled your clit while fucking you mercilessly. You felt as if he were claiming your insides. “God, you love it like this, don’t you?” He felt you nod against his head. “Stay still for me.”

He sank his teeth once, deeper and harder, and you could even feel his tongue gnashing on your neck. You couldn’t help but let out a throaty moan, so guttural—in fact, you could feel Ted growing impossibly bigger inside of you. 

"Just know that I'm the only one who can make you feel this way."

"I'll have my bite mark and my hands in the same place until your flesh craves me." He sank further until it felt like he drew blood just from drowning his teeth against the sea of your neck. Hot breaths coupled with hard thrusts made you weak and leaving you with nothing but a moaning mess. "Until it remembers me."

He licked you up, savoring the taste of your blood. The corner of his mouth was tainted red. Blood red.

God, you wanted to savor that moment.

“You’re mine, honey. Don’t you forget that.” That pushed you over the edge. You tensed up for the umpteenth time tonight—or morning, you couldn’t tell anymore. Pleasure fucked your sense of time, and this time it knocked the wind out of you. You felt the more electrifying waves wash over you harder than before, even harder than the session you shared with Schlatt. Unknowingly, your pussy hugged tighter like it was once before as Ted hastily exit out of you.

As you crave what little Schlatt can give you, Ted somehow gives you the same, however, with a different kind of passion. What Schlatt gave you is the answer to your 'what ifs,' and what Ted is giving you right now is the question to your relationship. And now, you felt strings of hot cum, dripping as well as pooling in the small of your back.

Finally, your legs gave out, and you fell onto Ted's apartment flooring. The cool of the wood planks clashed against your scalding skin. Although from a short distance, Ted's heavy breathing sounded far away. He was standing akimbo—or at least that was what you imagined from previous experience, his sweat staining through what's left of the thin shirt clinging to him. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him part your legs once more with his feet. Suddenly, he trailed up your oversensitive pussy with his rough Chelsea boots, eliciting a pornographic noise from your throat. He smiled, almost sinisterly.

“I can’t believe you’re still horny. Didn’t Schlatt fuck you hard enough?”

“He… didn’t fuck me, Sir.”

“He didn’t?” He questioned you, a little bit in disbelief, then he mumbled something unintelligible to himself. You couldn't pick out any words he spoke to you. You assumed that he was just still angry at you.

Out of nowhere, his phone vibrates, almost falling off the table. He caught it just in time. He saw the Caller ID, accepted it. Your mind didn’t even register him taking a towel from the cabinet. He carelessly tossed the towel into your vicinity.

“Clean yourself up. I’ll be back.” 

He pressed his phone against his ears. His back was facing you. You tried your best to gather your thoughts and take the towel Ted threw at you. You were surprised by the amount of cum that was splattered on you. Was Ted really that pent up? Or was he the one turned on from the whole ordeal?

“Yeah?”

He walked towards the door, leaving it agape.

“Mhm, she fell for it, Schlatt. You’re right.”