#bc what ends up happening is i feel overwhelmed and go quiet across the board if i have to come up with ideas for

[tvrningout-a]

good morning ( and almost afternoon ), friends! i'm feeling foggy-brained today, so!! i'm gonna try to get some writing done offline before trying to put more stuff in the queue. i might tentatively do a lil plotting call as well? though it might come with a condition or two, like having a muse and/or general plot in mind that you're wanting to discuss. i do like to make these things easier on others, but in doing so, i think i make it tougher on myself, too, which contributes to my social battery burning out quickly. and i wanna stop that bc i'd really like to talk to more of you uvu

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 35 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: I just...someone call the Pope.

“First class again?” Bee asked as she looked down at the boarding pass that had just printed out from the kiosk at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport.  She readjusted the Louis Vuitton tote bag on her shoulder – the same one that Lucy convinced her to buy all those months ago – and looked up at Morgan quickly.

“Did you expect anything less from me?” Morgan asked, looking down at her.  “I mean…really.”

Bee snorted as she took a closer look at the boarding pass in her hand, wondering if she got a window seat again or if she was in an aisle cubby.  As she looked at her seat number, a peculiar word caught her eye.  “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it printed out the wrong boarding pass for us.  We might have to go back up to that lady who took our luggage.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan said, his tone not phased at all by the apparent error.  Morgan flew all the time – this was probably a common error.  Did private team jets still print boarding passes?

“It says the destination is Kelowna instead of Vancouver,” Bee said.  

“That’s because the destination is Kelowna.”

For a moment, Bee couldn’t understand the words coming out of Morgan’s mouth.  She looked at him like he had three heads, trying to decipher the words.  “We…we’re going to Kelowna?” she asked.  He nodded.  “But…I thought we were going to Vancouver?”

“We are, silly.  I’m surprising you with a trip to the Okanagan Valley first, then we’re going to Vancouver,” Morgan was smirking at her.

“The Okanagan Valley?  You mean like B.C. wine country?”

“Precisely,” he leaned down to give her a quick kiss.  “Who would I be if I didn’t surprise you with something.  And don’t Morgan me.”

She sneered at him playfully.  “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure.”

“But you do…I mean…” she began, wondering if she should even say the words.  “You do know we could be staying in a Motel 6 and I’d be happy.”

“Briony,” he said her name in a half-amused, half-warning tone.  He leaned down to kiss her again before continuing.  “What’d I say about this stuff.”

“I know, but--”

“We are going to have,” kiss, “a very good time,” kiss, “going on winery tours,” kiss, “and watching the sunset,” kiss, “over the Okanagan,” kiss, “and then we’re gonna take a roadtrip,” kiss, “to Vancouver,” kiss, “and watch the sunrise,” kiss, “over the Sunshine Coast,” kiss, “just like last time,” kiss.  

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words.  She was also very conscious of the fact that he was kissing her multiple times in the middle of a busy airport.  She didn’t used to be that person, but Morgan brought it out of her.  She licked her lips and bit her bottom lip before looking up at him.  “You’re too good to me,” she mumbled.

“You get what you deserve, Bumblebee,” he winked.  “Now let’s go.”

***

When they touched down in Kelowna, they checked in at the Delta Grand Okanagan Resort on the waterfront and changed into workout gear.  Morgan wanted to take Bee hiking up the mountain to see the views, and she was more than ready to comply, despite the fact that she knew she was out of shape and would probably have to stop several times along the way up the mountain.  She knew the views would be worth it, and if she was a sucker for anything, it was views from mountaintops.  Considering she had never been to Kelowna, she thought it the perfect introduction.  

They began their hike at the base of Knox Mountain Park, following the trail diligently and making sure to stay on the designated path.  There were a lot of hikers out and about due to the beautiful day outside, so there were many quick greetings and many dog pets as they made their way up.  About half way up the hike, they happened upon a group of middle-aged people – Bee would say they were probably around Rocco and Clarette’s age – with four golden retrievers between them.  Morgan was in absolute heaven.  Everybody stopped so the dogs could be pet, and one of the men eventually recognized Morgan, so everyone posed for a group photo.  Bee was pulled into it for some reason.  The man’s wife was so excited that she pulled Bee in.  It was all very nice, but unnecessary for her to be there.  She could have at least taken the photo.  

When they got to the top of the mountain about twenty minutes later, Bee gasped.  There, before her eyes, was Okanagan Lake and the city of Kelowna spread out across the landscape.  Though she was out of breath, probably red, and definitely sweating, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the sight before her.  The vast expanse before her was almost too much to handle; too beautiful to forget.  She focused hard, and long, creating a mental image in her head of the view so that she’d never forget it.  She didn’t want this memory to disappear.

It was only when she felt Morgan’s arm wrap around her waist that her trance sort of ended – even then, she couldn’t look at him, too transfixed on finding every little detail to remember.  The colour of the trees.  The sparkle of the water.  The deep blue of the sky.  “It’s beautiful, eh?” he asked softly.  

“Like…it’s not fair,” she said, causing Morgan to giggle slightly.  “I know I said this on the boat that morning in January but you’re so lucky that you got to grow up here.  Like, incredibly lucky.”

“I know, Bumblebee.  That’s why I want to bring you here all the time,” he admitted.  “I want you to love it as much as I do.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally looked up at him.  “I already do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Just by virtue of the fact that you grew up here.  Never mind the views and the scenery and the people – they’re extra.  I love it because you love it.  Because it’s your home.”

Morgan leaned down to kiss her, not caring about how many people were around possibly watching.  Sometimes, Bee had the simplest reasons for things, and for a guy who got stuck in his head too much and came up with overly complicated explanations for things some of the time, it was that simplicity that he needed.  I love it because it’s your home.  It was the simplest sentiment but one that brought out the best in Bee.  She didn’t need anything besides the ground beneath her feet and her favourite people by her side.  Everything else was extra.  “I love you, you know that?” he whispered against her lips.

“You do?”

He pinched her butt playfully.  “Smart ass.”

“Yeah, but you love my ass.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

***

So you’re finally working out.  About fucking time, fat ass.  

Surprised you’re not off fucking Fred or Tyler for your 15 minutes of fame.  But then again, who’d want to fuck someone as desperate as you?

Making Morgan spend money on you again…typical.  Bleeding him dry.  If you were smart you’d be with Auston bc he has way more money.

All the Toronto girls are talking about you behind your back.  I hope you know that.  You’re still the biggest social climber ever.  You think you’re hot shit but you’re not.  And just because your new BFF is Aryne, it doesn’t mean a thing.  Everybody can see right through you.  When Aryne and Morgan dump you, it’s over for you.  You’re already so irrelevant.

Why do u think u can wear tights like that omg u look like a complete whale!

Go drown urself in that lake bitch

“Is everything okay?” Morgan asked as he crawled into bed beside Bee, snuggling up to her automatically as she lay in bed with a lace camisole pyjama set.  Bee had sent Angie a quick text to see how Bruce was doing, and Angie was supposed to have sent a video of Bruce back to them.  She and Mason were cat and house sitting the apartment while they were away.  

“It’s fine,” she sighed.  “Just reading the latest messages from my fan club.”

“Fan club?” Morgan asked.  When she gave him her phone and he saw the familiar layout of Instagram, he knew immediately what she was talking about and furrowed his brows.  

Ur soooooooo desperate for attention

U look like a cheap hooker…like not even an escort.  Ur so trash!!!!!

You should learn a thing or two from Lucy and her yoga business.  AKA stop leeching off your boyfriend!!!!!  You think you’re better than everyone else when you’re not.  SAD!

Morgan is stupid to be with you.  I don’t understand what he sees in trash like you.

“Bumblebee…you don’t…I can’t…” he couldn’t find the right words to say as he shook his head.  “I’ve gotta talk to Steve again…”

“He’s not coming back from Europe for you, Morgan.”

“Briony, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this,” he said sternly, unable to joke about this like she was.  “I know how much this affects you, baby.  And it’s not fair.  It’s not fair that they can say whatever they want to you and you have to refrain from saying anything back.  That you can’t…that you…” he trailed off.

“That I what?” she asked.  She was practically able to see the gears shifting in his head.  

“You can’t say anything about it…but what if I did?”

“NO,” she half-screamed, grabbing her phone out of his hand quickly before his thoughts got the best of him.  She sat up in the bed and he followed her, sitting up too.  “Morgan Frederick Rielly, NO.  Don’t you dare.  Don’t you – that would make it worse, Morgan.  That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with.  Could you imagine the media coverage on that?  Kyle would blow a gasket, let alone Steve.  Shanny might have a stroke.”

“But I want to keep you safe, Bumblebee.  I need to keep you safe,” he tried to reason with her.  

“Not at the expense of your good reputation with the team and in Toronto and definitely not at the expense of your career,” she said sternly.  “Morgan Frederick Rielly, don’t you even think about it.”

“But Briony--”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t understand how you can handle all this.  It’s all my fault,” he said.  

“It is most definitely not your fault.”

“I feel guilty every day, every fucking time I have to read one of those fucking messages or see you torn up about it.  Canada Day wrecked me.  To see you like that…Briony, I can’t.  How can you be so…how can you handle it?  How aren’t you scared ab--”

“Shhhhh…” she said quietly, bringing her finger up to his lips to quiet him.  “Because my love for you is greater than my fear of that.”

Morgan took a moment to internalize her words.  His chest was heaving slightly, he was a bit agitated, and his mind was set on doing something about it himself if he had to, but all he had to hear was her voice, her smooth, calming voice, and all those feelings washed away.  “You…”

“My love for you is greater than my fear of that, or them, or anything they say to me,” she repeated, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him.  “You need to start realizing that.  They can say whatever they want, and sometimes it might hurt me, and I might cry about it a little bit, but I’m stronger than that and I’ve been through way worse.”

Morgan sighed heavily.  “Bumblebee…”

“Shhhhh…” she shushed him again, her finger on his lips being replaced by her own lips.  “They’re all jealous.  That’s all it is.  Jealously.  Jealous that you’re mine and jealous that we’re building a life together.  Jealous that I get this giant hunk of man all to myself,” she whispered, kissing him again.  “Now…if you don’t mind, I’d like to show this giant hunk of man how grateful I am for him and everything he does.”

“B-Bumblebee…” he mumbled out before she kissed him again.

“Quiet, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan did as he was told.  He began kissing her back, softly at first, then with a fervour he reserved only for her, that only she could bring out of him.  And when she began kissing along his jawline, climbing on top of his body simultaneously and rubbing her core on his thigh, all his thoughts dissipated completely, replaced with a hunger that he felt only for her.  He was insatiable for her.  He could never get enough of her.  He wanted her always, all the time, constantly, incessantly, persistently.  His body ached for hers.  It was crazy, he thought, how well they fit together.  How their bodies responded to one another instinctually.  He wouldn’t be able to find this with anyone else – couldn’t find this with anybody else.

Her took off her lace camisole easily.  With her breasts now exposed he took the opportunity to lean forward and take a nipple in her mouth, sucking and teasing and biting down gently.  She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, and cradled his head in her hands before tugging on the tufts of his hair gently.  She took his shirt off easily.  Over it went, across the room, and she moved down his body to slip his boxers off slowly.

“Briony…” he managed to mumble out as she stayed there, grabbing his already hard cock in her hands.

“Shhhh,” she shushed him for the umpteenth time that night.  She began stroking it and watched as he gulped.  “I got you, baby.”

“I d…I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he mumbled.  “Don’t – when I say--”

“Mmkay,” she said quickly, licking the tip of his cock.  “Just say the words,” she said in an almost playful tone before dipping down and taking him in her mouth.

He gathered some of her hair in his hand to get it out of her face; he didn’t want his view to be obstructed as she bobbed up and down, his cock disappearing inside her mouth further and further until he felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat.  He closed his eyes momentarily, relishing in the feeling.  “Fuck, baby,” he sighed out.  

Bee let out a mischievous giggle, her fingernails digging lightly into his thigh.  “You like that, don’t you?” she asked as she scratched down slowly.  Morgan nodded his head desperately.  “You love it when I suck your cock.”

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.  “Fuuuck Briony, I love it when my cock is down your throat.”  He felt her dip down again, her tongue swirling around the tip, licking the pre-cum greedily.  “You better start touching yourself,” he told her.  

He watched as she slipped a hand down her body and underneath her shorts, wiggling out of them with ease.  By now, he was rock hard, and when Bee looked up at him with her big green eyes before she took him in her mouth all the way, hitting the back of her throat again, his hips buckled and he let out a loud groan.  She gagged slightly, his movements shoving his cock deeper into her throat, but when he looked at her again, she was already looking at him, a slight smile in her eyes that drove him fucking crazy.  “Briony…p-p-please--”

She ignored him, looking away and focusing on her movements instead, and the feeling of his hand tugging at her hair slightly so he could get a better look at her.  His grunts and movements gave her the confidence to keep going, to take risks and be as daring as she could.  It wasn’t long, though, before Morgan’s breath became heavier, his chest rising and falling with every gasp her took.  “B-Briony…”

She moaned on his cock in response, taking him to the back of her throat one more time before her mouth left his cock with a large pop.  “I want more of your cock, baby.  Just cu--”

“N-No,” he stuttered out.

“Babyyyyy,” she mewled, kissing the tip.

“No.  I want…I…get up here,” he huffed out.  

“Ba--” she tried again, but Morgan wasn’t having any of it.  His hand left her hair as he leaned forward, pulling her up and flipping her onto her back on the bed, his large body immediately over hers as he grabbed at her thighs and wrapped her legs around him.  He didn’t wait – there was no time to wait – and entered her quickly, the feeling of her warm walls around his cock causing him to moan out again.  

“Holy fuck Mo,” she gasped out, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso so he stayed buried deep inside of her, not allowing him to move just yet.  “Fuck baby.”

“Who gets too fill you up, Briony?”

“You, baby.”

“Who?”

“You, Mr. Rielly.  Only you get to fill me up,” she pulled his head down to kiss him passionately, lips and tongues everywhere.  

Morgan bit down on her bottom lip, dragging it away with him as he straightened out his back and unwrapped her legs from his body.  He brought them both together, keeping them over his shoulder as he looked down at her, her body flush with desire.  “You okay?” he asked.  She nodded her head quickly.  “You want my cock buried deep inside of you?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head.  

He began moving, slowly at first, her breasts bouncing along every time he thrust into her.  He would watch her breasts bouncing like that all night if he could.  He progressively kept getting rougher and rougher until he was pounding into her, her moans and cries fuel for him to give her more. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-Yes,” it was her turn to stutter out.  “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

He could feel the heat inside of him growing.  He grabbed at her legs that were over his shoulder and pushed them forward, into her body, changing the angle so he could go even deeper.  She let out a string of expletives at the new feeling, her cries out music to his ears.  “S’deep babe,” she could barely get the words out.

“You like that?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.  Yes.  I love it when you fuck my pussy hard like that.”

“Are you gonna make that pretty pussy cum for me, Briony?”

She could only nod her head as he continued to pound into her, fast and rough and wild, until he felt her walls clench around him and heard her scream out his name over and over again.  At the sound of his name escaping her lips so desperately and full of want, he exploded inside of her, leaning further into her so the angle was just right.  Bee huffed, trying to catch her breath.  

“Stay right there,” Morgan mumbled quickly.

“W…What?” she asked not understanding why he’d say such a thing.  Where the fuck was she going to go?

It didn’t take long for her to find out.  Two of his fingers slipped into her pussy quickly, causing her to gasp out, and they began moving quickly in and out of her, not allowing her to catch her breath or settle down from her first orgasm.  “Mo...” she gasped out, but instead of answering her he licked his way down her body.  He was being gentle but rough with his fingers, and she squirmed as she was pinned beneath him.  “Mo Mo Mo Mo Mo…” she kept repeating his name as he finally attached his mouth to her clit, lapping and sucking like he was drinking a thick milkshake.  “Mo, fuck, please.”

“All mine,” he mumbled against her pussy.  “All fucking mine.”

“All yours Mr. Rielly.  All yours,” she breathed out, grabbing hold of his hair.  Her body gyrated at the sensation and it was too much; in no time, she was cumming again, the sound of her wetness and Morgan’s fingers still moving in and out of her just amplifying it all.  He lapped up every last bit before moving back up, squishing her beneath his body as he kissed her.  

“I love you Briony,” he mumbled against her lips.  

She could taste her juices on his lips as she continued to kiss him.  “I love you too baby.  So much.”

***

“Wow, Ms. McTavish, you’re a natural!” Chef Michael smiled as Bee began basting the chicken breast cooking in the pan.  The chef looked over to Morgan, who had given up a long time ago and chose instead to just watch – Bee had no problem cooking his chicken breast too.  “You’re a lucky guy, eh?”

“The luckiest,” Morgan smiled as he watched Bee concentrating on the basting. 

“Does she cook a lot at home?”

Morgan nodded his head.  “My specialty is grilled cheese and breakfast for dinner.  She does everything else.”

Chef Michael focused his attention back to Bee.  “Alright Ms. McTavish, we need to let it simmer now.  Let’s focus on those broccolini sautéing with the garlic.  Think we should add more?”

“You can never have too much garlic.”

Chef Michael looked over at Morgan again.  “My kinda girl!”

“I learned some of my cooking skills from an Italian,” Bee continued, stirring up the broccolini.  “If a recipe called for two garlic cloves he’d put five.”

“Who are your friends?  Your family?  I need to meet these people!” Chef Michael exclaimed, so enthusiastic about everything.  “Let’s mince some more garlic in there.”

When all was said and done, Bee had perfectly prepared two plates of creamy chicken in a white wine sauce, roasted Japanese sweet potatoes, and sautéed garlic broccolini.  It smelled heavenly, and Morgan could tell she was so proud of herself as she fixed her plate with the last of the brocollini, Chef Michael instructing her on how to present everything beautifully.  When she finished, he presented them with a bottle of white wine from the winery to have with their meal, uncorking it and pouring it for them.  

“You two can bring your dinners out onto the patio with you.  Ray will come to clean up the pans and dishes while you eat,” he said.

Morgan nodded but Bee furrowed her brows.  “Oh, there’s no need for someone to clean up.  We can just do that after.”

Chef Michael paused his movements momentarily.  “No no Ms. McTavish, it’s fine.  Ray will be in any second with the busser to take everything away.”

“I insist--”

“No ma’am, it’s fine,” Chef Michael stressed.  “It’s part of the service.  You can just enjoy your meal on the patio.  You worked hard on it.”

“Bumblebee,” Morgan said gently.  “It’s alright.  We can go.”

She looked between Morgan and Chef Michael hesitantly before giving in.  “Okay.  Um, thank you,” she said, more awkwardly than she would have liked.  “Are you positive?  Because I can just wash everything after dinner.  It’s no big deal.”

Chef Michael let out a laugh.  “Go enjoy your meal Ms. McTavish.  And have a good night.”

Bee followed Morgan out onto the patio with her plate and wine glass, his own already on the table.  She looked back into the room as Morgan closed the sliding door, watching as Chef Michael gathered all the dirty cutlery and utensils and put them all in the sink.  She looked to Morgan, who had pulled out her chair for her.  “Does that usually happen?” she asked.

“Does what usually happen?”

“People cleaning up after you in these fancy shmancy places,” she clarified, setting her plate and wine down on the table.

“If you request for butler service, yes.  But we didn’t get that,” Morgan said, knowing that would be her next question; that she would give him one of her looks if he did.  “I think it’s just a part of the service they offer with the chef.  I think they figure you’d want to eat right after instead of clean up.”

“It’s a bit…I mean, I can clean up after myself.”

“Not everybody is responsible and sensible like you,” he leaned his head down to kiss her quickly.  “Now, let’s eat, shall we?  I want to have a romantic dinner with my girlfriend.”

Romantic it was.  Morgan couldn’t keep his eyes off of her.  The scenery spread out before them was beautiful – just like everything else was in British Columbia – but he could only transfix his eyes on her, watching her as she ate and listening to anything she began talking about – how it was supposed to get cool that night, how Angie had sent her a new video of Bruce with the zoomies, how Mark had texted her that they had made record profits the past month for a particular client of theirs.  If her voice were the only thing he heard for the rest of his life, he’d still die a happy man.  

When they finished their meal, Bee stacked their plates on top of one another.  She brought them into the villa, setting them in the sink before popping her head out the sliding door.  “Is there a way you can call so they can come get these plates and not bother us for the rest of the night?” she asked.  “I don’t want anyone coming back in.  I just want to watch the sunset with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan nodded his head, getting up from his seat.  “I’ll call.”

“Good.  I’m going to the washroom,” she said, disappearing into the bedroom.  

After some time, Ray was back to collect their plates and ask if they wanted anything else taken care of the night.  Morgan declined, thanking him, and let him go for the night, making sure to lock the door behind him as Ray left.  He found it a bit peculiar that Bee was still in the washroom.  He hoped the food didn’t get to her; there’d be some strongly worded complaints if it did.  

“Bumblebee?  You alright in there?” he called out.  He glanced at the screen door quickly to see the sunset in full bloom.  

“I’m okay,” she said.  “Is Ray gone?”

“Ray’s gone,” Morgan confirmed.  “You feeling okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m feeling fine,” she responded, but he could tell her voice was a little off.  “Can you…um…can you make sure the door is locked?”

“Already is.”

“Okay.  Can you come into the bedroom?”

Morgan furrowed his brows.  “Of course,” he said.  “Are you sure you’re okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m fine,” she confirmed, still calling out from the closed washroom.  “Just…you know…get comfy.  Change into your pyjamas.  I’ll be out soon and we’ll go out and watch the sunset.”

Morgan did as she said, stripping himself down and changing into his pyjama bottoms.  He sat in the chair, folding the jeans he had been wearing, before the light in the bedroom mysteriously turned off.  He looked up, only the light from the sunset peeking through the window.  “Bumblebee?” he saw her stand outside the doorway to the washroom.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Good thing you’re already sitting in the chair.  Topless, even,” there was a slight laugh in her voice, not answering his question.  She turned on the lamp, illuminating the room romantically.  He noticed she was wearing a robe.  She never wore a robe at home.  

“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes wide as he noticed it was a silk robe, lace trim dangling from the ends of sleeves.

Bee smiled shyly.  “Just a little something.”

“Just a little something, huh?” Morgan gave her an up-down, throwing his jeans onto the floor beside him.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, playing with the tassels that tied the robe together.  “You know…I bet all that cooking must have taken a lot out of you,” she winked.

Morgan couldn’t help but giggle slightly.  “Oh, it did.  I am spent.”

“Well then.  Just sit back and let me give you a show,” she smiled devilishly.

“A show?” Morgan asked.  Bee nodded her head slightly.  “You…you planned something?”

“Is that okay?”

Morgan couldn’t help but let out a light laugh.  His body already felt on fire.  She had planned something – with that robe on, and whatever else was underneath it – and was asking if it was okay?  “Of course baby,” he said softly.  “Let me see.  Let me see what you’ve planned.”

Standing far away from him, she bent over and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on his lips.  “I trust you.”

“And I trust you.  And I love you.”

“Good to know.  Because by the end of this I have every intention of you fucking me like you don’t.”

Morgan’s pupils dilated.  He gulped nervously.  He watched as Bee straightened herself out and took a few steps back, playing again with the tassels on the robe before she started to sway her hips slowly back and forth.  She worked on untying the tassels slowly, achingly so, and Morgan could feel himself getting hard with each passing hip sway.  Eventually, she pulled, untying the bow and letting it fall, the robe becoming looser.  A hint of pink lace peeked its way out of the robe.

“Briony…” Morgan barely made out her name.

“Yeah baby?” she asked in an innocent voice, her fingertips gliding along the edge of the fabric near her chest.

“What…what did you--”

“Shhhh baby,” she cooed, approaching him slowly, seductively.  “What did I tell you?”

“But baby--” he tried reaching out to grab the fabric of the robe.

She smacked his hand away quickly.  He looked at her in the eye, shocked.  “Don’t touch me,” she ordered.  “Don’t touch me unless I tell you.  Just watch.”

She saw his chest rise and fall dramatically.  “Briony--” he tried to grab at her again.  

“Don’t.  Touch.  Me,” she stressed, smacking his hand away once more.  “Unless you want me to stop.  Then you’ll have to take care of that,” she eyed down to the growing bulge in his pants, “all alone.”

There was a fire in her eyes and Morgan knew she meant it.  This was completely new – he was completely blind-sided – but he wasn’t exactly complaining.  He loved seeing this sort of confidence from Bee.  He thought it partly cute, partly evil that she had planned this – masterminded it from the beginning.  He nodded his head, agreeing with her.  He couldn’t formulate a word.  There was no point.

She took a couple of small steps back – far enough so Morgan couldn’t reach out, and far enough so he could get a full body view – and started to pull the robe down her shoulders slowly, letting it fall to the floor dramatically revealing, inch by inch, the blush pink floral lace bralette and garter set, complete with a matching pair of pantyhose.  

“Oh my fucking God,” Morgan mumbled in disbelief.

A smile adorned Bee’s face.  “Do you like, Mr. Rielly?”

Morgan nodded, beginning to feel an uncomfortable strain in his pants.  “Yes,” he nodded his head almost desperately.  “Yes.  Yes.  I love it,” he was a gibbering mess.  

“D’you like the colour?”

“Yes.”

“And the lace?”

“Yes.”

“What about the garter?  And the pantyhose?”

“I love it all,” the desperation was evident in his voice.  “I love it all.  Every fucking piece of it.”

“Good,” she bit her bottom lip, running her fingers along the lace of the thong that hung on her hips.  She took a step towards him.  “So if I came closer…” another step, “and closer,” another step, “and closer,” one final step, “you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Morgan huffed out a breath.  “I don’t…”

“If I put my hand on your chest…” she moved to do exactly that, walking to his side.  His head followed her as far as it could until she was behind him.  “If my breath grazed the back of your neck…” she moved, again, to do exactly that as she stood behind him, her hand still on his chest as she gave the skin on his neck a quick kiss.  She took a few steps so she was standing in front of him again, turning away so her back was towards him, her ass in full view.  “If I sat in your lap, would you be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer.  She lowered herself onto his lap, swaying her hips back and forth for good measure.  She heard Morgan grunt as she did so, absolutely fucking loving that she was getting such a reaction out of him.  She felt powerful.  Sexy.  Sensual.  She could feel the erection already in his pants and it made her the most confident she’d ever been.

“Fucking hell, Briony,” Morgan whispered.  Like clockwork, it didn’t take long for her to feel his hand on her ass, even if it was just a quick caress.  

She rose up quickly and slapped his hand away for a third time.  He whined out in protest as she walked away from him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look at him.  “No.  Touching.”

“But Briony--”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“NO!  No no no,” he shook his head.  “Please God no.”

“No more touching.  Do you understand me?” she said, her voice seductive but stern.  “No.  More.  Touching.”

“I won’t.  I won’t.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise.  I promise you,” he was desperate, so desperate.  “I swear to you, I won’t touch you.  Fuck Briony, fuuuuck, I w…I won’t touch you.  Not unless you tell me.  Just get back here.”

“Not until you beg.”

Morgan whined out again.  “Briony.  Briony please.”

“Beg.”

Morgan could swear there were tears forming in his eyes.  “Please Briony, I promise.  I’m begging you.  Come back here so I can look at you.  Please.  Please.”

Briony smiled, biting down on her bottom lip again.  “If you touch me without my permission again it’s over.  Keep your hands to yourself.”

Morgan nodded his head.  “I will.  I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.  Now please.  Please come back here.”

Bee sauntered over to him, bending over so her breasts, covered by the delicate lace, were right in his face.  She leaned forward so the material gently grazed against his nose and lips.  “Lace is your favourite, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.  Morgan nodded his head.  “You always go crazy for me in lace.”

“You look perfect in it,” his voice was low.  “You make it look perfect.  Every time.”

She straightened out briefly so she could turn around again, her ass facing him as she sat down on his lap.  “You love spanking me too, don’t you.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath.  “Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.

She looked over to see his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, his knuckles almost completely white.  Excellent.  “Especially when I’ve been a good girl?”

“I…y…yes,” he huffed out, stuttering again.  She watched as his hands shook through the grip he had on the armrests.

“Am I being a good girl right now?” she asked, grinding down against him gently.  

“I’d reckon you’re being a bad girl right now.”

Bee let out a giggle, looking at him over her shoulder.  “Is that so?”

“You’re being a very bad girl teasing me like this,” he reasoned.

“Whoops,” she rolled her eyes playfully at his answer.  “Sorry not sorry.”

“Briony, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you,” he begged.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

“Wh – I – please,” he continued to beg.  “You don’t understand, Briony.”

“Not yet,” she shook her head.  She stood up again to face him, placing her hands on his chest.  His eyes were pleading with her, but she didn’t budge.  “What do you think of the garter and pantyhose?” she asked again, just to torture him.

“I love it.  I love it all,” he said.  “It looks so, so sexy.  It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Her hands made their way down his chest and over his bulge, settling on his knees as she shifted her weight from one leg to another again and again before flipping her hair in front of him dramatically.  She promised him she’d give him a show, so she was going to give him a show.  She incorporated her movements into pulling his pants off of him, revealing how rock hard he was.  After scratching her nails up and down his thighs, she settled them on his knees once more before spreading his legs open dramatically.  Morgan looked at her wide-eyed before she squatted down between his legs, her hips swaying from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ Briony,” his voice was frantic as she spun around on her tiptoes, still squatted, before swaying her hips back up into his face.  “Briony.”

“You like that?” she ignored his pleading tone, knowing all he wanted was to touch her.

“Yes.  Please Briony, can I t--”

“What about when I do this,” she said, spinning around to face him before climbing on to his lap.  She flipped her hair in his face again, and began to grind down.  His hands left the armrest dramatically, ready to grab her, but with every ounce of will he had left in – which wasn’t much – he balled his hands into fists and kept them away from her.  She shoved her chest into his face, her hands on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.

“Briony – you fucking – you don’t – you can’t--” he muttered out.

“You want to fuck me with this on, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to take it off?”

“No.  Keep it on.  Keep it all on.  I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he told her as she grinded down on him again, his cock rubbing up against the fabric of her thong.

She smiled.  “That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Rielly.”

“Can I touch you?  Please?”

“No.”

“Briiiiiiony.”

“Not.  Yet,” she said, arching her back.  “Tell me something Morgan,” she began.  He gave her cut eye.  Her right hand slipped down between their bodies to her hot core.  “Do you like it when I touch myself?”

Morgan huffed.  “I like it when I touch you better.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how to make you feel good,” he said.  “Because I like making you feel good.”

“And when you get to touch me, what are you going to do to me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She smiled.  She grabbed his cock without warning and began to stroke it teasingly.  She felt his hips buckle at her touch and knew she had teased and agonized him long enough.  She grinded down on his lap one last time, for good measure, feeling just how hard his cock was.  “Morgan?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes Briony?”

“Make me be your good girl.  Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Morgan was like a man possessed.  In what felt like less than a second he grabbed her, picked her up, and threw her on the bed.  He climbed onto the bed after her and flipped her over so she was flat onto her stomach, her legs spread apart for him but her ass slightly raised.  She arched her neck to look behind her and saw him hovering over her.  “You think you can play games like that with me and get away with it?” he asked her, his voice low and coarse and his hands went to the small of her back, pressing down so she stayed laying flat on the bed.

“You liked it, didn’t you Mr. Rielly?” she asked, her voice playfully innocent in tone.  “You kept telling me how much you liked it.  You begged to keep me close.”

He leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear.  “Now I’m gonna make you beg,” he said, watching as her lips curved into a smile.  

“Like your good girl?”

“Like my good girl,” he nodded his head.  “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“You can’t cum until I say so.  Understood?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head, feeling his body loom over hers.  He was still holding her down so she could barely move.  “Mr. Rielly, if I be a good girl will you spank me?”

Morgan laughed mischievously.  “We’ll see about that.  Maybe if you ask nicely,” he said.  

Without warning, he entered her hard and quick, unable to wait any longer.  Bee cried out automatically at the feeling – everything from the speed, to the size of his cock, to his holding her down, to the angle that he entered her, made him go so deep that she swore she could already see stars.  He didn’t start slow either; he was desperate and needy and didn’t have time for any of that, so he rocked into her hard and fast.  She screamed out in pleasure over and over again, savouring the feeling.  He was being a bit rougher with her than normal, but she loved every second of it.  She wanted it.  She had asked for it, and he had complied.  He was doing exactly what she wanted him to do, and they had the trust in each other to do this.

The way he was holding her lower back down, keeping her in place, meant the angle was deep – and with the force he kept pounding into her with, she knew she wouldn’t be able to last long.  But just as he complied – as best he could, he did slip up twice – to her rule of ‘no touching’, she knew she would have to comply to his rules now too.   “Mr. Rielly,” she said between her screams and moans, “Mr. Rielly it’s so deep.”

“You like it when it’s deep like that, huh?” he asked.

“Your cock is so big and it always goes so deep,” she said, knowing it would stroke his ego.  “Can you spank me, please?”

She heard Morgan huff out a laugh, barely missing a beat as he continued to fuck her.  “No.”

“But Mr. Rielly--”

“No.”

“Please Mr. Rielly, I want to be spanked so bad.”

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” he threw her own words back at her.  She almost regretted the decision to use that language when she was teasing him – almost.  But there was no way she could ever regret anything that brought her so much pleasure.  “You have to beg, remember?”

Morgan could hear her whimper.  “Pleeeease Mr. Rielly.  Please spank me.”

She felt one of his hands leave the grip he had on her lower back and she prepared herself.  Instead, she felt him grab her hair and tug her towards him, so her back was flush against his chest momentarily.  His hand snaked around and went to her clit, and he bit down on the skin of her neck before moving up to her ear.  “Beg.”

“Please Mr. Rielly,” she was practically on the verge of tears.  “Please please please, I’m begging you to spank me.”

“If I spank you are you gonna cum?”

“No,” she answered automatically, shaking her head slightly.  “Not until you tell me to.”

He smiled, a throaty laugh escaping him.  “That’s right.  That’s my good girl,” he cooed, pushing her back down so she was flush against the bed again.  With one hand on her lower back holding her down, the other hand spanked her ass.  She let out a cry of pleasure, and with another spank, another cry.

“Harder,” she mewled out

“Harder?”

“Fuck me harder, Mr. Rielly.  Spank me harder.”

Her spanked her again, red marks already appearing on her ass from before.  He rubbed the area gently before spanking it one more time.  “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, not bothering to hide how close she was.  “I want to cum so bad.”

“If I spank you again will you cum?” he asked.  Bee nodded her head.  “Then no.”

“No, please,” Bee cried out.  “I can’t – I won’t--”

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” he practically growled out, holding her down again with both hands now.  

Bee didn’t answer automatically this time.  She was trying to regain composure, trying to regain whatever semblance of sanity she had left in her body.  “Y-Yes…” she whispered, barely audible.

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” Morgan asked, louder to insinuate how loud he wanted her to be.

“Yes,” she said aloud.

“Like my good girl?”

“Yes!” she screamed out.  “Like your good girl.  Always your good girl, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued pounding into her for a while, even harder than before.  Bee’s cries became louder, as did the sound of cock throbbing in and out of her hot core.  With the prelude leading up to this, the dirty talk, the sound of Bee’s moans and cries, and the fact that he probably could have cum while sitting in that God forsaken chair if Bee had grinded down on him just one more time, he was surprised to have lasted this long anyway.  He could feel his body getting flushed and hot and knew he was close.

“Are you ready for my cum, Briony?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Rielly,” her voice was coarse from all the noise she was making.  “I’m always ready for your cum.  Always.”

He spanked her again a few more times for good measure, getting some more desperate cries out of her, before tugging her hair one last time to bring her back against his chest.  “You’ve been such a good girl,” he cooed as he gave her a sloppy kiss.

“I love it when it’s like this,” she managed to get out through hooded eyes and desperate whispers.  “I love it when I’m your good girl.  When you take me from behind.  When you fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”

“You like me fucking you hard and fast?”

She nodded her head.  “I love it so much Mr. Rielly.”

He snaked a hand around her body and began rubbing circles on her clit.  “You ready to cum, Briony?”

“Yes.  Fuck, yes.  Please.”

“When I spank you I want you to cum,” he instructed her.  “And I don’t want you to stop.  Understood?”

“Yes.  Yes yes yes yes,” she said in hushed whispers.  

Bee waited a few moments, and when she didn’t feel the hard smack on her ass she whined.  She waited for another few moments – and still nothing.  She was desperate.  She was going to kill him.  She was going to cum any second.  “Mr. Ri--”

Smack!

She cried out, loud, her orgasm pulsating through her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.  Morgan continued to pound in and out of her with his throbbing cock, while his hand continued to rub at her clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm, over stimulating her just how she liked it.  After what felt like a million of them – a million different orgasms, a million different cries, a million different moans and desperate shouts of his name – she finally, finally, felt his hot cum pour into her, filling her up as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her.  She felt his body shake against hers, his own moans and desperate calls out of her name filling the air as they rode out their orgasms together, clinging on to one another.

Bee swore she could still feel an orgasm ride through her entire body as he pulled out, the both of them collapsing on the bed trying to catch their breath.  Her core was still so hot and sensitive as she curled up in Morgan’s arms, both their bodies hot and glistening with sweat.  She was surprised the lingerie made it through – that Morgan didn’t rip it off half way through or take it off with his teeth or something.  She was glad it got this reaction out of him.

“Bumblebee…” she heard Morgan’s voice, barely above a whisper.  “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else but you.”

She smiled, curling further into his body.  “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else either,” she responded, reaching down below their bodies to grab hold of his cock.  “Thank you for indulging me.  For giving me exactly what I wanted.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, feeling her put his softening cock at her core again, the heat still so comforting.  “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

***

Bee was a bit sad to leave Kelowna and the Okanagan area, after having experienced its beauty, great weather, and lovely people, but she had to remember she had Connor, Andy, and Shirley Rielly waiting for her on the other side, eagerly anticipating her presence in Vancouver for the second time that year.  Earlier that morning, she and Morgan had checked out of Hester Creek Winery, where they had been staying for the past three nights, and loaded everything into their rental car for their five hour road trip to Vancouver.  After a last minute stock up of the wine from the winery, and a very last minute stop at Tim Horton’s for some coffee and snacks to sustain themselves (like good Canadians) they were on their way, the GPS system directing them where to go.

“You tell me anytime you want to stop to take pictures,” Morgan said as they took the on-ramp onto the highway.  “It’s going to be a pretty scenic route.  Especially when we drive through the provincial park.”

“I will,” Bee smiled, stuffing a Timbit into her mouth before feeing Morgan one.  “I’ll try not to stop too much.  I don’t want this trip to take eight hours.”

“Nuh uh,” Morgan shook his head.  “You just tell me whenever you want to stop.  We can take ten hours.  It doesn’t matter.”

“Your parents are expecting us for dinner.”

“We’ll call them and tell them there’s traffic,” he said, his mouth still full with the Timbit.  He winked at Bee as she gave him one of her looks.

Morgan reached over the console and grabbed her thigh, exposed thanks to the pretty sundress she was wearing, squeezing it gently as the road opened before them.  It was there for a while, as they continued to drive on the open road, occasionally squeezing and massaging her skin before it crept higher and higher, getting dangerously close to her core.

“Keep your eyes on the road, you perv,” Bee placed her hand above Morgan’s to stop it from going any higher.  If it did, she knew he’d probably swerve off the road.

“I am keeping my eyes on the road,” he reasoned.  “My mind, on the other hand, isn’t on the road.”

Bee snorted, shaking her head playfully.  “You want to fuck me in this rental car, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She couldn’t help but snort.  At least he was being honest.  “Why’re you so horny all the time?” she giggled.

“You make me.”

“If you keep it up we’re gonna end up having ten kids.”

There was a silence between the two.  It wasn’t awkward, or charged, or because either was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say.  It was just…a silence.  A comfortable silence, the road of the car on the road filling the void, until Morgan spoke first.  “We’re not having ten kids.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile.  “No.  Definitely not.  I’m not doing that to my vagina.  We’re not the Duggars.”

“Two or three is good,” he said.

Bee nodded her head in agreement.  “Two or three.  One of each.  Whatever happens first.”

Morgan took his eyes off the road to look at her.  She noticed his smile.  How he was looking at her; like he’d just laid eyes on the image of perfection.  “Yeah.  You…you’ve thought about it, then?”

Bee nodded her head.  If she thought about the wedding, and establishing a life together, there was no way she didn’t think about kids either.  “Of course.  You know I want kids.”

“I know.  But like…”

“I want kids with you, if that was going to be your next question,” she said.  “I mean, there’s no question.  It’s you.  I’m not having anybody else’s kids.  I’m having your kids,” she stressed.  

“Okay,” he said, unable to contain the smile on his face.  “I uh…yeah.  Okay.”

“Tongue tied, are we?”

“No,” he kept trying to contain his smile.  “Not at all.  Just glad you’ve thought about it too.  That’s all.”

“I know…I know you’ve always initiated these conversations in the past,” she said, thinking out loud at this point.  “Whether drunk or tipsy or not.  But I think about this stuff do.  I do love you more than I can describe with words.  I just…I think because of my background, because what I’ve been through, I’m a bit less open about it.  Because my mom never wanted to hear it when I was a young kid, and because I never really loved her later on growing up.  But I do love you.  And like…I want everything with you.  A life.  A house.  Children.  I may not vocalize it, but I do.  And I don’t picture myself having all those things with anybody else.  I only want it with you.”

Morgan flipped his hand so he could hold hers and bring it across to his lips so he could kiss it and hold it across his chest.  “I only want it with you too,” he said, his lips rubbing against her hand.  “I’ve only ever wanted it with you.  And I want to give you all that.”

“I want to give it to you too.  This is a relationship.  A partnership.  We can give each other these things,” Bee clarified.

“Yeah.  You’re right.  That’s what I meant,” he nodded his head again, correcting himself.  “We can give each other these things.  A life.  A house.  Children.  But not for a while – children, anyway.  We…we’re already building a life together.”

“We are.”

“Everything else will come in time,” Morgan said confidently.  “I’m just…I know I’ve told you this before, but I thank my lucky stars every single day that it’s you in this life with me.”

Bee smiled again, unable to keep her eyes off of him.  “And I thank my lucky stars you sent a mojito to my table.”

[vowel-in-thug]

and here I take my wifey privileges and ask for something from something you didn't say was allowed bc you love me :) philip and lukas, eyewitness "i'm alive, i can tell because of the pain."

DEEPLY. SIGHING. i’m gonna lose followers for this non-related content ALLIE and then I’ll just be left with my friends, the porn bots.

i’ve never written anything for this before in my life and i’ve only seen the show once WEEKS AGO and i know you know this and i know you don’t care so HERE’S THIS THING.

ps to anyone who reads this, i am a swim instructor, and everything in this is A+ solid advice

Eyewitness, Philip and Lukas, "i'm alive, i can tell because of the pain."

The idea originally came when Philip was trying to think of something to give Gabe for his birthday next month. Philip wasn’t good at coming up with gift ideas, and he had no money, so eventually settled on going out on Gabe’s boat, and actually going out on it this time. But since the last time he was in a body of water, he was dragging his unconscious secret-boyfriend back from the brink of death, being out on the lake still didn’t fill him with much calm. He’d mentioned it off-hand to Lukas one day, and Lukas had nodded silently, sympathetically, and didn’t say anything, until the next day he showed up at Philip’s house, thrusted his extra helmet into Philip’s hands, and said today was a Day of Learning.

Now, Philip stood in a YMCA locker room in a pair of borrowed swim trunks, learning that his boyfriend could be an asshole sometimes.

The swim trunks used to be Lukas’s, and he said he grew out of them two summers ago but they were the only ones he could find, and Philip wasn’t totally sure he believed that. They fit snugly around his hips, a faded blue with flames along the sides, and the hem of each leg sat higher above his knees than he’d like.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Lukas was already out in the pool, wearing a normal-size pair of shorts. He left Philip to change alone but said if he wasn’t out there in five minutes he’d come looking for him.

They had just been starting to get to know each other when everything went to shit, before. And now, with everything settled, they were finally figuring out how to be regular people around each other. It was a little backwards. Other couples learned what their significant other liked on their pizza before learning what they looked like tied up and gagged in someone’s trunk.

In the last few months, Philip learned Lukas had the worst taste in music (“John Mayer? Seriously?”), he put ketchup in his macaroni and cheese (“No, I don’t care, you’re not kissing me until you’ve repented for your sins”), and that he can quote almost every single episode of South Park (“Yeah, okay, some of the early stuff is pretty funny.”). One scary afternoon, Philip nearly broke up with him when he found out Lukas supported the Yankees, but they were finally able to overcome.

He also learned that Lukas liked to be kissed right behind his ears, that if there’s a particularly nice-looking sunset he’ll always point it out to Philip, or if Philip wasn’t around, he’ll text him a picture of it. Lukas was not a morning person but reached peak cuteness when he was rumpled and monosyllabic before class, and whenever he was eating something he’d always wordlessly hold it out to Philip to share without even noticing he was doing it.

Philip stared at himself in the streaked YMCA mirror, at the stupid board shorts, and the old, hairy men shamelessly changing behind him. He took in the clangs and the shrieks and the whistles of a public pool, the overwhelming smell of chlorine that actually was a source of comfort for it. None of his water trauma ever happened in a pool.

He grabbed his towel, and gave himself one last look of half-realized confidence. His boyfriend was thoughtful, in an absolutely terrifying way. The least he could do was try and see it through without passing out.

It took him a moment to find Lukas out in the pool. He was swimming laps in a middle lane, his body cutting across the water sharply, but with grace, in the exact same way he jumped ditches on his dirtbike and in the exact same way he kissed. Philip put his towel down on the bleachers and stood at the end of his lane, waiting for him to finish.

Lukas stopped finally, breathing hard, and lifted his goggles off his face. He gaped up at Philip, saying nothing.

“I thought the most embarrassing thing about this was me not knowing how to swim,” Phillip said. “You look like a condom.”

Lukas touched the white swim cap on his head but didn’t remove it. He didn’t look mad though. He only pouted. “My hair will turn green if I don’t wear it.” He looked Philip up and down. “I guess the shorts fit, huh?”

“Barely,” said Philip. “Stop ogling me.” He awkwardly sat down at the end of the lane, letting his feet dangle in the cold turquoise water. Baby steps.

“I’m not ogling,” said Lukas. “I’m inspecting.”

“Yeah, well, this is a step up from a speedo, so I guess I should say thanks.”

Lukas smiled. “You’re welcome.”

It was very hard not grab Lukas by the shoulders and pull him in for a kiss, stupid swim cap be damned. He knew they were being open about their relationship, but there was a fine line between holding hands on the way to class and getting kicked out of a YMCA for public indecency.

“Keep swimming,” Philip said. “I’m gonna get in myself, I don’t need you watching me.”

“Okay.” Lukas put his goggles back on. They were black racing goggles and Philip couldn’t make out his expression at all. “Remember, it’s only four feet deep. Nothing can happen.”

Infants drown in bathtubs all the time, Philip didn’t say. Most drownings at a beach occur in shallow water, where it doesn’t even hit your knees. He just waved Lukas away, wincing at the sudden splash of Lukas’s kicks.

The pool was long, about thirty yards, and Philip genuinely got distracted, watching Lukas swim, so he didn’t move from the pool’s edge until he heard a small voice say, “You should get in like this.”

He glanced down at the lane next to him. A small girl in a purple tutu bathing suit was sitting beside him. She was also wearing a swim cap, except hers was hot pink.

“Watch,” she said. She put both hands on one side of her skirt, turning her body so she was facing away from the pool. She slid in slowly until she was submerged to her shoulders, then kicked off the wall towards a parent waiting for her in the lane. “See?” she called out as she swam away.

“Thanks,” said Philip, because it turned out to be preferable to be looking away from the water when he finally got in.

He stood by the wall, clutching it with both hands in an effort to hold onto something and also to keep as much of his upper body out the water. It was cold.

“Nice job!” Lukas splashed up behind him. He stood there, dripping, huge grin on his face. “C’mon, dude. You’re better off just dunking yourself all the way under. The cold water on your stomach is the worst. Here.”

He took off his goggles and put them on Philip, and suddenly the world was tinted black and foggy.

“This doesn’t make things less scary,” said Philip. “Or less cold.”

“I’ll go under with you,” Lukas said easily. “We’re just going under one time, to get you used to the water. When you’re underwater, you like, lose a lot of your senses, so the goggles are a good way to get more comfortable. It’s less freaky when you can at least see.”

Which made sense. And then Lukas was taking Philip’s hands off the wall, and then he was still holding them, which always made sense to Philip.

“Count of three?” he asked.

Lukas counted, and then he was under, and Philip was going under too. He closed his eyes on instinct, the cold rush of water over his head piercing. But then he opened his eyes and saw Lukas, blurred behind the goggles but close enough to see his serene face underwater, still grinning, his eyes squinting through the chlorine.

Philip wanted to kiss him underwater. It felt cliche. But he did it anyway, only a quick brush of lips before rushing back to the surface with a gasp. They were probably submerged for two seconds at most, but Philip still came up panting.

Lukas came up laughing, his cheeks pink. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Much.” Lukas was still holding his hands.

“Okay,” said Lukas. “We’re not here to teach you strokes, right? Maybe one day, but you don’t need to learn any of that right now.”

“Nah, I’ve gotten pretty good at stroking lately, anyway,” Philip said, eyebrow raised.

The fluorescent lights in the gym and the cold water already made Lukas look extra pale, which in turn made his flush stand out even more.

“Knock it off,” he said, pulling Philip’s goggles onto his forehead. “You just want to be able to feel safe, right? So you can go in Gabe’s boat without freaking. So the best way to save yourself in any body of water is to float.”

“Float?”

“Yeah,” said Lukas. He waded over to the edge of the pool. “My mom showed me how to do it when I was a little kid. Being able to swim is good, or treading water, but sometimes there might not be anywhere to swim to, or you don’t know how long you could be waiting to be rescued, and swimming and treading can tire you out. But you can float forever.”

Philip watched as Lukas put both hands along the gutter that ran inside the pool. He put his feet up on the wall, so high he knobby knees were sticking out of the water. He looked up at the ceiling, his head resting on the gentle waves of the pools.

“The most important thing to do is relax,” Lukas said. He let go of the pool edge, pushing off gently with his feet, and his whole body stretched out along the surface of the water, long legs akimbo, relaxed with that ease so quiet it seemed to shout out to Philip. It was what stuck out to Philip in the first place, what he noticed first about Lukas -- just how loud his quiet could be.

“See?” Lukas said, putting his hands beneath his head like he was sunbathing. “Easy.” He stood up easily, too. He blinked a little water out of his eye, smiling still, and Philip had to remind himself yet again about that fine but firm line between real relationship, and banned from the local YMCA.

But it did look easy. So Philip turned to the wall and mimicked Lukas’s pose. Except as soon as he let go of the wall he sunk like a stone to the bottom of the pool.

He felt a shocking pain in his face at the same time he felt hands hooking under his arms, and Lukas was pulling him up towards the air, pressed against his back. Philip was too busy coughing to appreciation the closeness, feeling like water had shot into every corner of his head.

“Jesus, Philip!” Lukas pounding him between his shoulder. “Are you okay? Philip?”

“I’m fine,” Philip gasped, coughing one more time. He rubbed at his nose fiercely. “I’m fine. I’m alive. I know, because of all the pain.”

Lukas turned him around to look at his face, inspecting him thoroughly. When he detected all signs of life, right down to the streaming nose and watering eyes, he sighed, dropping a hand on the back of Philip’s neck.

“Jeez, okay. You’re not supposed to inhale the water, man, what the fuck.” He rubbed Philip’s neck once and tugged on his hair curling wetly there. “Blowing bubbles is the next thing we’ll work on, alright? And no, that’s not anything dirty or anything, you goddamn pervert.”

“I am an innocent young boy,” said Philip, already trying to work out how he could get at Lukas’s phone, and change his contact name to “Bubbles.”

Lukas snorted, but then his face went serious again. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,” Philip said immediately, and was only a little surprised that he really meant it. “Only -- this time, could you…”

“I’ll hold your head,” Lukas agreed, pulling his hands back. “That’s how my mom taught me. Turn around. You want your goggles on?”

“Nah.” Philip turned, looking out at the bottom of the bleachers, the kids running where they shouldn’t, the slick tiles littered with stray hairs and sports bottles. It was different from his other experiences, which was mostly true about everything that happened with Lukas. Even the water felt different on his skin, lighter, cleaner. It made a difference, he realized as he glanced down, to be able to see your foot beneath the surface, planted firmly on a nearby ground.

Then he felt finger tips cupping the back of his head. “Trust fall,” Lukas said quietly in his ear, humor evident in his tone. “Just let your feet rise up.”

Philip started to fall back, head safely pillowed by Lukas’s palms, and he closed his eyes, again on instinct. He felt his feet drift up to the surface slightly as Lukas walked them backwards.

“Push your stomach out,” Lukas said in his ear. “Relax. Spread your legs and tilt your hips up.”

Philip smiled, eyes still closed, as he followed instructions. “Now, why does that sound familiar?”

Lukas tugged on a lock of Philip’s hair sharply. “You are ruining so many childhood memories for me, man.”

“Sorry,” said Philip said, then he added, “You’re making some of mine better, though.”

Lukas didn’t say anything, just continued walking them back, letting the flow of the water pull Philip’s body upwards. Philip could feel Lukas’s fingers rubbing his scalp in ten small circles, occasionally feeling a hand drift away from his head so Lukas was only holding him with one before the other returned again and he’d alternate.

“Just relax, dude.” Lukas was slowly u-turning in the lane, carefully making sure Philip’s feet didn’t knock into the hard plastic of the lane lines as they headed back to the shallow end. “But like, don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not,” said Philip. He felt awake. His eyes were still closed, and the only sound he could hear clearly was Lukas’s voice, hovering right over his ear. Everything else was muted, the echo of the pool area and the splash of other swimmers became as distant as a rainstorm coming down miles away from Helen and Gabe’s house, the thunder and lightning only known if he happened to glance out the window.

His toes breached the surface of the pool finally, and the sway of the water, the hands in his hair, and the muffled noise reminded him of being a boy, half in a dream and mindless of the city still running outside the thin walls of their crappy apartment.

“You doing alright, Philip?”

Philip’s hands hung uselessly at his side, until he reached up with one, careful to keep his balance on the top of the water. “This is easy,” he said, circling one of Lukas’s wrists tightly. He kept his eyes closed, and Lukas kept him afloat.