#tw: hospitalization | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatsmutaccount · 1 month ago

Text

The crow and the jock

Cross posted on ao3

Chapter 4: Lucky caps and unlucky incidents

<Prev| First | Next>

SUMMARY: It's the day of the most important lacrosse match of the year, and the whole school is buzzing. Even Don was convinced by Jim to attend. What the teacher didn't consider was the possibility of something going wrong in the middle of the game, and that leading to some more revelations and insight about Timothy McArthur.

WARNINGS: Sport injury, sport incidents, hospitalization

*****

“And scene! Great guys, I'd say we can call it a day. At the next rehearsal we will pick up where we left off and try to make it to the end. Oh, and please, if you haven't already done so, check that all the costumes are ready and fit you smoothly. We are getting closer and closer to the premiere day and everything must be ready. Have a good day, you are free.”

Immediately the theater was filled with the sound of the voices of the drama course students as they took to chatting with each other or walked off the stage to head for the exit, some simply anxious to be able to go home and get some rest, others who were more interested in enjoying the post-rehearsal freedom, and others who, trying not to be noticed, headed off quietly to check their costumes after mister Crawford's reminder.

Don was just finishing talking with Sofia, discussing the outcome of today's rehearsal and comparing the notes they had taken, with the woman suggesting some changes regarding lighting and costumes, when an all too familiar voice exclaimed, “Hey, Mr. Crow!”

The man sighed, but instead of assuming his usual annoyed expression, Sofia saw him raise a hand to signal her to wait and turned around, “Yes, Timothy?”

The lacrosse player was standing on the stage and beckoned him to come closer with one hand, his eyes shining with anticipation. The man rolled his eyes, said only, “Give me a minute,” to his colleague and walked down the audience stairs. When he reached the bottom of the stage Tim got into a squat position so that the two were almost eye to eye.

“What's going on, Timothy? Do you need something?” the teacher asked, pointing his hands to his sides and raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

The young man smiled and exclaimed, “You're coming to Saturday's game, aren't you?”

A couple of seconds of silence descended between the two before Don ran a hand over his forehead, “Really? Is that all you wanted to ask me? If I come to the game?”

The student took on an offended look, “What do you mean ‘is that all you wanted to ask me’? This is the most important game of the season! If we win it is basically guaranteed that we have the championship in the bag, it's a very big deal!”

Don couldn't help but lift his lips in a grin at the younger man's fervent protests. Chuckling, he shook his head in an amused act and continued, “All right, I'm sorry for underestimating the importance of the game. Anyway, Coach Adams had already convinced me to come, so yes, I will be there.”

The smile on the other's face opened up even more, “Great! Now I'm even more pumped up for the match. You'll see, Mr. Crow, I'll dedicate a goal in your honor!”

“Please don't do that.”

“You just make sure you cheer, though. I want to hear you shout my name loud and clear and with passion, so that I can hear you all the way down the field” and stood up giving him a wink before walking away almost jumping on the spot, leaving behind Don who for a second wondered if the innuendo was intended or simply the jock had spoken without really thinking about the meaning behind his words.

Eventually he decided it was better not to know and headed shaking his head toward his colleague.

“Hey, I'm sorry, you know how Timothy is. So you were telling me about the lights for the fourth scene, right? - He looked up at her and frowned - What?”

“Hmm?”

“You're looking at me in a strange way. Do I have something on my face?”

“No no, you're wrong, it's nothing,” the young woman tried to shield herself by lowering her head and taking to rummaging with her papers.

Don sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Sofia, you've never been a good liar, ever since you came to school here. Do I have to remind you of the incident at the vending machines?”

She groaned, embarrassed, “Please don't. You and Miss Rossi keep bringing it up every time and I feel like dying each time.”

“There you go. So how about you tell me what's wrong?”

She raised her head, sustaining his gaze for a couple of seconds, then sighed and replied, “It's nothing, really. It's just that... I can't help but notice that something has changed?”

The colleague frowned, confused, “What are you talking about?”

“ About your relationship with Tim. It's been a couple of weeks since I noticed it, and I can't help but wonder if something has happened between you.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold your horses, what do you mean?”

The woman widened her eyes, registering how her statement could be intended, before correcting herself, “N-not like that! I wouldn't want to imply that-that something is... is...! You're not the type to...!”

After a good minute of stammering and embarrassed looks he was finally able to calm down enough to explain, “Your relationship has changed. You don't get as angry with him anymore, and even Tim's declarations have become less...direct, his flirts more subtle. Almost more intimate, if I can use that word. It's as if something happened, an event that made you bond, making you closer, that's all.”

Don took on a thoughtful look as he weighed the woman's words.

Finally Sofia picked up her binder and exclaimed quickly, “M-maybe I'm the one who's wrong! It wouldn't be the first time! - And she gave a nervous laugh -But look at the time! I must go, we will finish talking about my notes tomorrow or in the next few days. Have a nice day, Mr. Crawford,” and she hurried out, so nervous that for a second she felt as if she was back to when she was a student and walking out of her old literature teacher's class.

Left alone, Don took to going over in his mind his days since they had returned from the field trip and tried to figure out if Sofia was in fact right, but it did not seem so to him. He was continuing to behave with Timothy as he always had.

Right?

*******

That Saturday afternoon, Donovan opted to leave the house wearing a more casual look, wearing only a short-sleeved shirt, comfortable jeans, and the same leather jacket he had worn for the spring festival that one time. He paused for a second to adjust his black hair in the mirror he kept in the hallway, mussing up the unruly wisps that fell across his forehead, and then walked out humming with his mouth closed.

After a short drive of about ten minutes he arrived at the field at the back of the school, where the fateful match was to be held. As soon as he had parked and got out he took the opportunity to look around, slightly surprised: it was true that for a month now that game had been the only thing talked about in the whole school; he could not walk around the halls without seeing the banners hung up to cheer the team on or hearing the teens talking about it with a thrill. Even the teachers seemed well into it, and even the old Jenkins was affected by the electric atmosphere in anticipation of the big day. Hell, she had only yelled at him twice that week instead of the usual five times!

The parking lot was crowded with students and parents slowly making their way to the playing field, and the school colors alternated with those of the opposing team, as well as some pretty creative choruses insulting the players coming from the stands could be heard all the way over there.

Never underestimate the levels to which one could descend for a high school match....

His teacher-trained eyes framed a few teenagers who, secluded from the rest, were laughing loudly and almost certainly smoking pot, and for a second he wondered if he should intervene, but in the end he just shook his head and joined the rest of the audience. After all, he wasn't even on duty, so if he had reprimanded them he would only have ruined their day and risked returning to his car with the side completely scratched.

Once he arrived on the muddy grass field instead of taking his place in the bleachers he thought he would head first to the home team's bench, where he saw Jim with a folder in his hand busy checking that everything was okay as the team finished warming up, between stretching and drill passes.

When the coach noticed him out of the corner of his eye he put the papers away and turned to him with a broad smile, “Don! You finally made it, bro!”

The younger teacher drew him to himself in a hug, which, stiffly, his friend reciprocated, noting once again in surprise how, underneath the otherwise altogether thin build, the younger man had a discreetly muscular physique, certainly more than his own.

“You asked me to, I certainly couldn't refuse. Besides, that's all the school talks about, I would have felt left out if I didn't come and at least have a look - they parted and the man looked toward the field - So how are things? How are the boys? Nervous?”

“A little, but we had a good motivational speech before we took the field and I think they're looking forward to the game now. You'll see, we'll crush them tonight!”

“I'm sure you will. So I'll be going now and...”

“Mr. Crow!”

The man stopped and sighed as he heard Jim at his side who could not hold back a chuckle. The teachers turned and saw Tim come trotting up to them, already dressed in pads and holding his stick in his fist. The boy removed his helmet and smiled in the direction of his favorite teacher, showing off his mouth guard.

“Mr. Crow, you really came! Awesome!”

“Yes, Timothy, and I really don't understand the surprise. I told you I was coming, didn't I?”

“Yes, but all the other times you did you never showed up.”

Donovan frowned as under his breath Tim muttered, “oh, damn....”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! Mr. Crow, I always invited you to the games, ever since my sophomore year. Every time an important match was scheduled, at the end of class or in the hallways I would stop you and ask if you would come, and every time I had to convince you to say yes, but every time you didn't show up.”

As much as it may not have been the student's intention, his every word was like a stab in the heart for Donovan. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was the fact that he was someone who kept his word, no matter how unpleasant it might be, and instead he had apparently done nothing but break it constantly for the past two to three years. Thinking about it, it was definitely possible that things had gone as Timothy said, he had some vague reminiscence of the young man chasing him down the halls saying something about matches and him quickly saying yes to get him off his back. And by now he also knew the young man well enough to know that underneath his feigned nonchalance and smile, he had hurt him by never showing up. He could imagine him, after scoring a goal, looking in the direction of the bleachers expecting to see him so as to do one of his usual silly things like throwing him a kiss or pointing at him in the message 'this point I made it for you!' only to fail to see him anywhere, the smile disappearing replaced by a hurt expression that he was then forced to stifle so that no one would notice his sadness

With a lump in his throat, he opened his mouth to speak, “Timothy, I...”

“But you're here now! - the young man punched him on the shoulder with his gloved hand - I promise you it will be an unforgettable game. I will also score that point in your name like I said I would, I promise!”

The young man winked at him and then brightened up and raised his hands, as if struck by a brilliant idea, “In fact, you know what, wait here for a second. Don't move,” and sprinted in the direction of the bench, nearly tripping over his stick in excitement.

Once they were left alone Jim whistled as he adjusted the front of his cap, “Buddy, you have just been the victim of the most unaware roast of all time. Damn, that kid can be brutal sometimes...”

“I'm a horrible person - Don wiped a hand over his eyes - Sure, I had never accepted his invitations so as not to give him a way to increase the delusions of his crush, but this? I feel bad...”

“Hey hey hey, nothing irreversible happened. It's okay. You know Tim, I bet he didn't mind.”

“Of course, however, that doesn't change that I hurt him. All I would have needed to do was show up just a couple of times...”

“Dude, stop thinking about it. You can't change the past. Think about the present, and especially now think about enjoying the game. Tim certainly didn't invite you so that you would spend all your time being guilt-ridden, did he?”

“Yes, you may be right.”

The two were interrupted by the return of the student, who, still smiling, extended a hand toward them, in which was...

“A baseball cap?” asked Jim surprised, but by his side Don shook his head.

“No, this is not just a baseball cap... - he looked up at the other and raised an eyebrow - This is your cap, isn't it? The one you wear all the time.”

“Bingo, Mr. Crow! You should take his example coach, learn to pay more attention to your players instead of yelling at us because we can't make a pass well. Anyway - he continued, ignoring the offended expression on the coach's face - It's my good luck charm, I never part with it. I thought about leaving it on the bench to help us with the game, but I was afraid someone would take it from me, you know how the guys on the team are. So I want you to keep it for me, Mr. Crow, for the duration of the game! And once it's over, you'll give it back to me. And maybe I can even get a kiss as a reward for a job well done,how about that? As a treat. Or, if you prefer, I can give you one to thank you for your help,” he asked with a sly smile wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Don huffed and gently tapped him on the head with his hat, “Get your feet back on the ground, McArthur, and think about winning the game. I'll take care of it though, you can rest assured of that. Come on, run along and finish warming up.”

“Right away...daddy,” and with one last hearty laugh and a sly wink the boy returned to his teammates, with the teacher yelling at him, ‘You try to repeat something like that again and I'll make you give me a full report on ’War and Peace'!”

As he watched him walk away Donovan shook his head, his hand going to put the hat safely in the pocket of his leather jacket, his pout quickly replaced by a good-natured smile, before noticing Jim watching at his side.

“What's the matter?”

“Oh no, it's nothing.”

“Don't lie. You had the same expression as Sofia in the auditorium, when I accepted Timothy's invitation to come and watch the game”

“Dude, it's nothing really. I was just thinking that it was nice of you to agree to keep Tim's lucky charm, that's all.”

The other watched him for a couple of seconds, certain that his friend was holding something else back from him, the man's fair eyes failing to sustain his gaze, darting everywhere that wasn't toward him. He made to open his mouth but at that moment the referee blew his whistle, calling the coaches to him to check that everything was ready.

Donovan sighed, shaking his head. He punched the other's shoulder in a gesture of salute and exclaimed, “You and I are not done. Anyway, good luck, I'll see if I can cheer you and the boys on.”

“I know you will, old man. Come on, before your knees give out,” his colleague teased him, receiving a middle finger and a slight smile in response from Don.

The man made his way to the bleachers and passed several rows, waving to a few colleagues, some students and a couple of parents of his pupils, his eyes going in search of the 'perfect spot.' He was just comparing a couple of candidates when he felt a hand tap him on the shoulder. He turned and in front of him saw a rather short woman with a well-placed physique, her frizzy black hair kept short that reached just above her shoulders. Her brown eyes were tired but shone with a friendly, motherly light, and her smile beamed against her dark skin. Her full face was marked by wrinkles that made one think of someone who normally smiled a lot, and instead of aging her made her, if possible, even more beautiful.

“Donovan Crawford,” she greeted him, adjusting her purse over her shoulder. She wore a comfortable shirt that highlighted her soft body shape, jeans and a blouse left open for the purpose of warming her from the evening chill.

Don broke into a wide smile as he turned fully toward her, “Dorothy Travis.”

The two looked into each other's eyes for a couple of seconds before laughing, and then the man wrapped his muscular arms around her, hugging her gently, being returned with affection.

When they parted, Dorothy exclaimed, “I have to admit: seeing you is a surprise. I was sure you would not show up this time either.”

Her words were a low blow that made him cringe, before he lowered his head in shame, a hand running through his dark hair, “You don't need to mention it to me. Your son has already made me feel guilty about it, albeit most likely without meaning to."

“Well, in that case it's my job to make you feel guilty on purpose. After all, that's what moms are for, too, isn't it?” and gave him a complicit wink, which for a second made Donovan freeze where he stood. He had never noticed before how much Arthur and Dorothy resembled each other, not only physically - both of them of sturdy build and not too tall and with eyes of the same brown hue - but also personality-wise: mother and son had the same warm smile and the same light in their eyes, of someone who preferred to laugh it off rather than get angry, and whose mere presence relieved the tension in the room.

He shook his head and forced himself to put on a nervous smile, hoping the other had not noticed his silence, “I promise I will try to make it up to you in some way.”

She watched him for a couple of seconds, as if she was studying him, sustaining his gaze, and finally broke into another smile, this time a sweeter one, and placed a hand on his face, “ I was just kidding, babe. The fact that you're here is enough, and I bet that alone made Tim's day a hundred times better. Come on, let's go sit down now, they will start in a bit.”

Mother and teacher took their seats on one of the last rows of the bleachers, in an area where they could get a clear view of the opponents' goal, chatting with each other and inquiring about how life was going. Dorothy was just finishing telling him about the latest scene she had witnessed in the emergency room when the referee's whistle rang clear in the evening air, the teams taking the field, greeted by whistles and cheers, leading the two to focus on cheering for the team and, most importantly, for Timothy.

*******

It was an intense game in which it was clear that both teams were giving their best. Even Don, who was not the type to spend time in large arenas and come to watch sports matches, sensed the tension, joy and sadness that were emanating all around him, the shouts from the bleachers that echoed in his head and made his ears ring, the anger of the players when a foul was called or their elation when they scored.

It was an electric atmosphere, in which you naturally felt like letting go of your inhibitions and ranting and joining the choruses to cheer on your players.

And, in the midst of all that chaos, Tim was rushing across the muddy field, his head held low like a charging bull, getting his opponents out of the way and dodging their feeble attempts to stop him, displaying excellent footwork and playing perfectly with the rest of the team, demonstrating a harmony that could only have been the result of months of intense collaboration and friendship.

They were now at the end of the third quarter and, albeit by a small margin, the home team was ahead. If they could maintain the gap and put even more distance between themselves and their opponents in time, they could consider victory in their grasp before the last period of the game even began.

Timothy was running in the middle of the field, discarding to the right to get rid of the defenders surrounding him, trying to prevent him from intervening. At one point, with an excellent fake-out, he managed to discard them and sprinted toward the center raising his stick in a clear sign toward his teammates. Erickson, who had the ball at that moment, noticed this, and with a grunt of effort, sent it flying through the air, miscalculating the distance, however, imparting a little too much force and throwing it a little too far away from where his teammate was standing. Tim's eyes widened, realizing after a split second how things stood, at which point he powered up his calves, the stick stretching forward, competing with the defender who was persistently trailing him. The young man's gaze was on the ball, and a smile had formed on his sweaty face as he noted that he was going to make it and succeed in catching it, but at that moment the opponent at his side, seeing that he was not going to be able to beat Timothy, in desperation moved his stick out of the way, hitting the boy squarely on the stomach. The young man let out a low wail as he felt himself being thrown forward, his feet leaving the ground as he slid ahead. In addition to that two opponents he had behind him also struck him, imparting even more force and in turn losing their balance.

Because of the combined forces, instead of landing on his stomach, the young man found himself flying through the air, in a diagonal position, his head pointed downward and his body rigidly forward, as if he was diving. But instead of the safety of the water of the municipal pool, now in front of him was nothing but the hard earth of the lacrosse field.

All the bleachers held their breath as Tim hit the ground head-on, the bodies of his opponents tripping over him, trampling him. The sound of the whistle sounded clear, referee and paramedics running toward the field, the various bruised players pulling themselves to their feet.

But not Tim.

The student was still, lying on his stomach, arms spread wide, his stick three feet from him.

He was not moving.

Don had sprung to his feet as soon as he saw his student flying through the air, as had Dorothy. The referee was trying to calm the boys on the home team, who were divided between those who wanted to get close to their teammate to make sure he was all right and those who seemed determined to beat up the man responsible for it all, who was being protected by the rest of his team, the paramedics bustling around Tim to make sure of his condition.

After a few minutes, a stretcher arrived and Timothy was loaded onto it and then put into the ambulance, which departed with sirens blaring. Through it all, Don was sure he had never seen the young man move a single muscle.

A sense of chill was spreading through the man's stomach as panic took hold inside him, the sour taste of vomit filling his throat, memories of a rainy night and a call that had completely changed the trajectory of his life.

Everything was muffled around him, his movements made slow, as if he were swimming in molasses. He shifted his head slightly to his left and his eyes rested on Dorothy. The woman was still, her eyes wide, her hands forgotten near her face, every trace of mirth gone from her face, replaced by one thing: absolute terror.

That very sight was what Don needed to pull himself together. He shook his head and forced himself to focus back, grabbed the woman by the shoulders and forced her to look at him, “Dorothy. Dorothy, focus on me. Look at me, please. Can you hear me? Listen to me, follow the sound of my voice.”

He shook her slightly and after about ten seconds saw her eyes focusing on him as her breathing became regular again.

The teacher swallowed and exclaimed in as firm a voice as possible, “Now let's take my car and go to the hospital. He is fine, do you hear me? Timothy is fine. We don't know what happened, but they wouldn't have left in such a hurry if he wasn't okay, all right?”

She nodded but he could tell she was only half hearing him. Holding her with a firm but gentle grip the man accompanied her down the bleachers, making his way through the crowd and barely paying attention to the rest of the spectators. When he reached the edge of the field he cast a glance back and saw that Jim was looking at him, pale and distraught. His expression was probably a mirror of Donovan's. The two men crossed glances and the coach gave him a stiff nod, reciprocated by his colleague, before they disappeared in the direction of the parking lot.

The road to the hospital was done in an atmosphere so tense that it could have been cut with a knife. Don divided his time between concentrating on the road and driving as fast as he could but without risking an accident and reassuring in a low, comforting voice his passenger, who merely kept her gaze straight ahead, her lips reduced to a thin line from tension, her fists so tightly clenched that she was probably leaving nail marks on her palms.

After a time that had seemed like hours to the man, they made it all the way to the hospital. He had not even finished parking that Dorothy had jumped out and hurried toward the building, followed a short distance by the other. When Donovan entered he saw that she was talking to the employee behind the counter, while a couple of other nurses and doctors had approached, recognizing her and wondering what had happened to have reduced their colleague to such a state.

After a good five minutes spent calming the woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Donovan managed to get past the wall of worried health workers and reach her, persuading her to go sit down and wait for news. As soon as they sat down Dorothy collapsed. She had managed to get this far with only her willpower and the goal of reaching her son, but faced with that block she could do nothing but wait, and her pent-up emotions came to the surface.

The teacher hugged her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her to him, the woman's face pressed against his chest, suppressing any trace of awkwardness, knowing that the only thing that mattered at that moment was giving the other some comfort, whispering words of encouragement and letting her vent. At one point, after the initial crisis had finally subsided, they were approached by a woman in a nurse's uniform, one of Dorothy's co-workers, who sat down next to them and handed her a small bottle of water. The two of them began talking, and the other managed to calm her restless soul a bit, revealing to her that Tim was fine, but that he was still in intensive care to make sure the last checks were done. His life was not in danger.

After hearing the news Donovan let go of the breath he had not realized he was holding until that moment, and suddenly he felt his head spinning. He clung with his hands to the back of the nearby chair to keep from collapsing as he took deep breaths to try to focus again on his surroundings, the suddenly much more vivid colors and the ambient noises all around them nearly deafening him. After a couple of minutes the room finally stopped spinning and the man felt safe enough to let go of his grip, his temples now throbbing with pain. Strange, where was that headache coming from? Could it be stress leaving his body? In a way he sort of got it, he had had the exact same fears as Dorothy, after all, Tim was still his student, but such a reaction, so intense and uncomfortably familiar, did not make sense, not for someone who was “simply” his student....

Perhaps, he thought as he swallowed worriedly, the overreaction was due to what had happened to him, to his bad memories. Perhaps his body had acted as a response to the situation, bringing him back to then and making him relive that evening from twenty years ago.

He shook his head. Even so, he did not want to think about it, not at that moment. He could not afford to break down yet, not until he was sure the boy was all right. Dorothy could still need him.

After another ten minutes or so the nurse had to leave to go back to work, thus leaving mother and teacher alone again. A new silence descended between the two, however, no one seemed willing to break it now, thoughts overlapping in their minds, Donovan's leg tapping rapidly on the floor and Dorothy's hands playing with the strap of her purse, rolling it between her fingers and pulling on it so hard that they feared she would rip it apart.

Don was so lost in thought that he noticed with a couple of seconds delay that Dorothy had stood up and had her gaze focused on a doctor who was walking toward them. The man looked at the time and was surprised to note that it had been only another fifteen minutes since the nurse had left them. He was sure it had been at least an hour. He shook his head and positioned himself beside the woman, his heart in his throat, ready to support her in case the worst happened.

The doctor stopped in front of them clutching the medical chart and, after a couple of tense seconds, broke into a tired smile.

“Timothy is fine, Dorothy. He is in no danger and there will be no permanent damage of any kind. He was lucky.”

The woman let out a sob and grabbed onto Donovan's jacket with one hand, who supported her slightly, before opening into a liquid smile, her eyes wet.

“Oh, thank you Jason. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she murmured as she moved closer and hugged him, being gently reciprocated.

When they parted, the doctor cleared his throat and continued, “The impact was quite violent. The shock he received was such that he simply fainted, which is why he was not moving. Fortunately, however, the neck area was not damaged, so there will be no kind of repercussion on his body. He did not come out in one piece, however: he has several fractured ribs and a couple are also broken, not to mention that he also has a subluxed shoulder, probably from the other players falling on top of him, I would think. These are all minor injuries compared to what could have been, but still, at least for a couple of weeks, probably more, he better be very careful with how he moves around. Right now he is unconscious, we have given him painkillers with a calming effect, his body needs to rest.”

As the man spoke and explained the situation Donovan felt his shoulders relaxing, his ears ringing from the tension leaving his body. Sometimes what the human mind was capable of imagining was far more frightening than reality itself, and the more the mists of doubt cleared the more the environment around the teacher became clear again.

When he was finished, the doctor turned to Dorothy, “I guess you want to see him.”

The woman took a step forward. Now that the worry was gone the only thing visible on her full face was determination and an iron temper.

Jason merely nodded before turning to Don, “I'm sorry, but only relatives are allowed in, so I will ask you to...”

“Don and I are dating - she hastened to explain as she took him by the arm with her hand and drew him to her side - That's why he was with me to watch Tim's game.”

The other frowned : “Dorothy, I don't know if I...”

“Please, Jason. Don and Tim are very close, I bet he'd like to know he's here for him too.”

He was clearly conflicted, but in the end the young man sighed, shaking his head, “All right. But you owe me a favor, remember that,” and he took off to lead the way for them, followed by Dorothy, who dragged behind a Don who had been so taken aback that he was unable to speak.

Making sure the doctor was a couple of feet away from them, the dark-haired man tilted his head toward her and whispered, “We're dating? I don't know about you, but this sounds new to me...”

“But it's true that you and Tim are close, and that knowing you are there would make him happy - she breathed in through her nose - Please, Don, I need a friend's help.”

The man bit his lip but eventually nodded. During the short walk he began to think about how he had gotten to such a situation. Dorothy was a beautiful woman, he acknowledged that, and she also had a cheerful and jovial disposition that made her fantastic company, plus by now they had known each other for years, and he would have been lying if he had not said that perhaps, at some point, he had entertained the idea of asking her out. But circumstances had always been such that that thought had been nipped in the bud. After all, she was the mother of no less than three of his pupils, and when they had first met, the divorce and disaster that had been her last relationship were still fresh in her. At the time she was not ready for a new relationship, and Don accepted this, giving her the space she needed and making sure she knew that in him she would find someone to talk to without ulterior motives. And slowly from the status of mere acquaintances they had slipped into a strange friendship that had finally evolved into an almost family relationship. By now the very idea of Dorothy as something different to him was so foreign and alien that he could not even conceive of it, which was why he had been speechless when the other had come up with the story that they were dating.

The man came to his senses when they arrived in front of the room and the doctor opened the door for them, and as much as he had expected it, the scene that unfolded before his eyes made his heartbeat quicken, drying out his throat. Lying on the bed, Tim looked younger than he actually was: he was wearing a hospital gown and could make out some white bandages in the chest area that stood out against his dark skin. Some tubes stretched from his arms that made his guts twist in discomfort, but the peaceful expression on his sleeping face had the effect of calming him at least a little.

“I will leave you then. If you need anything, Dorothy, just call us,” the doctor said before closing the door behind him.

The woman walked over and sat down next to her son, gently resting a hand on his arm, her eyes not leaving him. Slightly embarrassed, Don stood still in the doorway, moving uncomfortably in place. After a couple of minutes he was just about to tell the other that he had forgotten something in the car and would be right back, when Dorothy's voice reached him, “Thank you, Don.”

The man stared at her in silence, unable to speak, and she continued, “I don't know how I would have done if you hadn't been there. Maybe I would still be there, standing still and in shock in the stadium bleachers, unable to rationalize what was happening.”

“Hey, you don't have to blame yourself for this - whispered the man as he came closer and sat on the other side of the bed - It was an abnormal situation. In these cases, our bodies...”

“I know, Donovan, don't worry, I'm not blaming myself. I know how the human body can react when such events happen, I am a nurse after all,” and she gave him a tired smile that made the man blush slightly in embarrassment, causing her to giggle.

“It was all so sudden - she muttered as she shifted her gaze back to Tim and took to brushing his arm with her thumb - I've been to dozens of lacrosse games, and just as many basketball matches before when Ruth was still in high school. I've seen my kids fall and break bones,smash noses and sprain wrists. These are things I've learned to put on the back burner. But for the first time, when Tim fell and never got back up, I was afraid. Afraid that I had lost my ... my ...” she paused and took a deep breath, her hand tightening around her son's wrist to make sure of the warmth of his body, to feel the beat of his heart.

She opened her eyes again and Don noticed that they were shiny again, but her voice was steady: “But that wasn't the case. And the only reason I didn't lose hope is because you were beside me, spurring me on and shouldering some of my burden. You are a good man, Donovan Crawford. Your students are lucky people.”

Don shifted in his chair, slightly uncomfortable by the intensity and sincerity in the woman's tone.

Dorothy shifted her eyes to him and smiled, a cheerful sparkle in her eyes, “I really think that with all you have done for me tonight, we can forget about your absence at the previous games.”

The comment served to release the tension, making the teacher chuckle as he felt his shoulders relax. Silence descended again between the two, but this time it was comfortable, relaxed, just the three of them and no one else. At some point, slowly, the adrenaline left their bodies and Dorothy leaned back against the mattress, then closed her eyes and in a few minutes her breathing became regular as she gently slipped into dreamland.

Donovan watched her before sighing. He could have walked away, but part of him did not want to. It wouldn't have been right.

He pulled out his phone and saw that it was now after nine o'clock. The game had been over for at least an hour now, and they had both skipped dinner. The first thing he noticed were the dozens of missed messages and calls, mainly from Jim but also from Maria, Sofia, and a few other colleagues who had gotten word of what had happened on the field. He even had a couple of emails from some of his students, mainly the boys on the team and Tyler, anxiously asking him if Tim was all right.

He spent the next five minutes texting messages of reassurance, particularly to Jim, who seemed to be the most anxious of all - a theory corroborated by the fact that, the second after he had sent the message to reassure him that Timothy was all right, the young man texted him back with a cascade of emoji and gifs of joy and relief that made him chuckle - and then closed his phone and made to put it back in his pocket. At that moment, however, his fingers brushed some fabric, and confusedly he pulled out the baseball cap Timothy had given him before the game started.

He had completely forgotten about it. He touched the cloth and visor carefully, and for the first time noticed how worn out and ruined it was in some places, with even clear signs of wear and tears mended haphazardly. Anyone else would have simply thrown it away and gotten a new cap, but not Timothy. Who knows why...

His thoughts were interrupted by a grunt and a rough voice that asked, “Mr. Crow?”

Immediately the man's head snapped upward and, in disbelief, he saw Timothy looking at him with his dark eyes half-closed and a dumbfounded expression.

Immediately he approached and exclaimed, “Timothy. Are you all right? Does it hurt somewhere? What do you remember?”

A grimace passed over the young man's face before he replied, “I'm fine, Mr. Crow, I'm fine, keep your voice down, please... I have a little pain in my chest and arm and my whole head is bobbing, like I'm wasted, but otherwise I'm all right. As for the last thing I remember ... I was on the field, I had jumped to catch the ball and then ... that's all I remember - he looked around and frowned, also noticing his mother sleeping with her head resting on the mattress - Where are we? What happened? Did we win the game?”

That last comment caused an exasperated sigh from the teacher, “You jocks, unable to think of anything other than your match... You had an accident and passed out. We are in the hospital, the one where your mother works. We came together, she and I. As far as the doctor said there is no permanent damage but you hurt your ribs and shoulder. And as for the lacrosse match - he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through some old messages - I gather you won it.”

Tim sighed and shifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Well, that's good, at least. Gee, and here I was hoping to score that goal for you... So maybe I'd finally get my kiss as a prize...”

“Think about resting instead - huffed the teacher, his cheeks dyed slightly red, before raising his hand - Where do you want me to put this? Because I think right now luck is what you need most.”

The young man shifted his head toward him before raising his eyebrows, “Oh, Ethan's cap.”

Those words chilled the man as suddenly his questions were answered: that was Tim's older brother's hat. It was obvious, then, that the boy had taken such good care of it.

The student, oblivious to his inner turmoil, nodded his head sideways, “Go ahead and put it on the nightstand. You know, Ethan gave it to me before he left. He's in the Marines now, did you knew that? Stationed somewhere in Southeast Asia. When he can he writes or contacts us, but we rarely see him anymore.”

Don nodded. He did know, Dorothy kept him informed of the activities of both his former students.

Meanwhile, Tim continued, “I still remember it. I was in fifth grade when he left. Mom and Dad were finishing the divorce papers and I felt so lost, I didn't want him to leave too, I thought everybody was abandoning me. Ethan loved that hat and left it with me, telling me that as long as I kept it, he would always come home. I've been carrying it ever since. It's my good luck charm.”

Perhaps it was the fatigue and the painkillers they had given him that were making him ramble, but Don dared not interrupt him. It was strange to see him so candid, so vulnerable.

The student blinked a couple of times before murmuring, his tone getting lower and lower as he slowly dozed off again, "I care a lot about that hat... I let few people touch it... even the guys on the team never got to wear it... other than my family I only let Tyler try it on when we became best friends... and now Mr. Crow got it too - a slight smile passed over his face - That just made it a hundred times more special...and to know that Mr. Crow came to see me in the hospital to give it back...that hat really is lucky..."

Don waited another couple of seconds but saw that by now the young man had fallen asleep and let out another sigh.

He ran a hand over his tired eyes, suddenly exhausted, and pulled himself to his feet, legs wobbling unsteadily, resting the cap on the nightstand at his side.

"Get some rest, McArthur. See you at school," he murmured and then tiptoed out. He informed the doctors and nurses of the situation and asked the same woman who had helped Dorothy as soon as they arrived to inform Ruth of the situation, so that she would come and could in case take her mother home, since she had left her car in the school parking lot, and then left, anxious only to get between the covers and forget about that emotion-filled day.

But once he got into the car, despite the chilly wind, for some reason he felt himself dying of heat, his cheeks burning as Tim's last words and his happy smile replayed in his head, a strange feeling of warmth working its way through his chest.

#ao3 #ao3 writer #gay #writer on tumblr #writblr #younger man older man #teacher student #teacher student relationship #jock x teacher #tw: hospitalization #tw: sport injury #The crow and the jock #ThatSmutFic #no smut

0 notes

greengoblinswifey · 8 months ago

Text

When I Met you in that Hotel Room- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you meet Nicholas Chavez during a solo vacation at a hotel pool. your flirtation quickly escalates into a passionate night together in his hotel room.

warnings— explicit content. unprotected sex, daddy kink, degrading kink, praise kink, ass slapping, possessive!nicholas, reader has a clit piercing, creampie, cockwarming, rough sex, oral(f receiving)

You had been enjoying the peace and quiet of your solo vacation. It was your second day at the hotel, a much needed break from everything at home. That night, after a day of exploring, you decided a swim was exactly what you needed before heading to bed. Wearing nothing but your bikini, you grabbed a towel and made your way to the pool.

As you walked through the hotel hallways, you stopped to take a selfie. The lighting was perfect, and the glow in the hallway made your caramel skin look radiant. You snapped the picture and sent it off to your little sister. She’d be thrilled to see you finally taking some time for yourself. Moments later, you felt your phone buzz in your hand, but before you could check it, you noticed a guy walking in the same direction as you.

He wasn’t bad-looking, in fact, he was really attractive, and you noticed he was glancing at you. He was tall, with brown eyes, and as you caught his gaze, you could tell he was checking you out. It wasn’t creepy, though. He seemed, intrigued. His eyes trailed over your body in your bikini, but he wasn’t being sleazy about it. You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Not to be that creepy guy at the hotel, but you’re really beautiful,” he said with a sheepish grin, his voice deep and smooth.

“Well, you’re a little less creepy now that you’ve said that,” you teased back, trying to play it cool even though his compliment made your heart race a bit.

You both realized you were heading the same way and fell into step together. As you approached the elevator, you noticed how close he was standing to you, the air between you buzzing with an odd, electric tension. He was definitely throwing glances your way, and as the elevator doors closed behind you, it felt impossible to ignore.

You stared at the floor, trying to keep your cool. To break the awkward silence, you glanced at your phone, where a flurry of messages from your sister had come through. You furrowed your brow, confused as to why she had texted you so frantically.

Sis, OMG, do you know who that is?!

That’s Nicholas Chavez!!!

PLEASE ask for a picture!

You frowned, not immediately recognizing the name. Who was Nicholas Chavez? Before you could piece it together, another message from your sister came through with a TikTok link. You clicked it, and to your shock, it was an edit, a fan video of the man standing right next to you. The very same Nicholas Chavez. And oh my God, he was an actor? A famous one, apparently.

Your eyes widened, but you forced yourself to stay composed. You didn’t want to freak out or fangirl. In fact, you hadn’t even heard of him until just now. Instead of saying anything, you put your phone away and focused on the present moment.

When you arrived at the pool, you dropped your towel on a nearby chair and took off your robe, revealing your bikini-clad body. As you stepped toward the water, you heard a sharp intake of breath behind you. You turned to see Nicholas, Nicholas Chavez, you reminded yourself, standing still, his eyes fixed on you. He was clearly trying hard not to stare, but his gaze kept drifting over your figure.

You smirked at his reaction and chuckled softly. “See something you like?” you teased, your confidence boosted by the way he was looking at you.

Nicholas flushed a little and quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before finally taking off his shirt. And holy shit, he was hiding all that muscle under there? Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, your heart racing. His body was even better than the TikTok edits had let on. You could feel the heat between your legs growing at the sight, and you mentally cursed yourself. Not now, you thought, trying to get a grip.

You both slipped into the pool, swimming to opposite ends. The cool water did nothing to calm the heat between your thighs. As you floated there in silence, Nicholas spoke up.

“I’m Nicholas, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Nicholas. I’m Y/N,” you replied, your voice carrying softly across the water.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, his voice sounding sincere as he moved a little closer, cutting the distance between you.

You smiled softly, feeling a strange connection beginning to form between you two. There was something about him, beyond the fact that he was famous, that was pulling you in. The chemistry, it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.

The water felt cool against your skin, but the heat between you and Nicholas was undeniable. You stood there, trading glances, eyes locked, neither of you willing to break the tension. He moved closer, his body cutting through the water with an effortless grace. You could feel your heart beating faster with every step he took toward you.

When he finally reached you, his hand gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest. His gaze dropped down to your lips, and instinctively, your eyes flickered to his.

God, kiss me already, you screamed internally, your breath catching in your throat. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours, but he stopped himself. You could feel his breath against your skin, and the tension was nearly unbearable.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice husky, filled with restraint.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. But before he could make the move, you grabbed the waistband of his swim trunks, pulling him in, your back pressing against the pool wall. The space between you vanished as his lips found yours, slow and deliberate. The kiss was deep, full of need but laced with patience, as if he wanted to savor every second.

You let out a soft moan against his mouth, and that sound seemed to do it. His body pressed into yours, wet skin sliding together as you reached up to grip his hair, pulling him in closer. The kiss intensified, deeper, hungrier, as you devoured each other. His lips moved against yours in perfect sync, the taste of chlorine and desire mixing together. You couldn’t get enough.

Nicholas groaned as your bodies molded together, your hands tangling in his damp hair, and you tugged him closer, wanting more, needing more. His hands found your waist, gripping tightly as he pushed his hips against yours, leaving you breathless.

Finally, you both pulled away, gasping for air, eyes searching each other. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and you could feel the heat radiating between you.

"Do you want to come up to my room?" he asked, his voice low, filled with urgency.

You hesitated for just a moment, your pulse racing as the weight of his words settled over you. But the way he looked at you, the way his lips were still swollen from your kiss, made it impossible to say no.

“God yes,” you whispered, nodding.

Without another word, you both grabbed your towels, hurriedly drying yourselves off as you made your way to the elevator. The air between you buzzed with excitement, anticipation simmering. You could barely keep your hands off each other as you rushed inside.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Nicholas had you up against the wall. His hands were on either side of your head as he kissed you again, this time with a ferocity that sent a surge of heat through your body. You groaned into his mouth, and he responded by slipping his hands under your ass, lifting you effortlessly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back.

You could feel the hardness of his bulge pressing between your legs as he pinned you to the wall, his body grinding against yours. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses, and you let out a breathless moan as you tilted your head back, giving him more access. His hands gripped your ass tighter, pulling you closer as you rolled your hips against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through your swimsuit.

“Fuck,” Nicholas groaned against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You grinned, tugging at his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you teased, your voice breathy as you ground against him harder.

His hips bucked against yours, and you could feel the rough fabric of his swim trunks pressing against your core, and it only made you want him more.

“I’m gonna do a lot more than that,” he growled, his lips crashing against yours once more, leaving you dizzy with need.

The elevator dinged, signaling that you had reached your floor. He didn’t even wait for the doors to open fully before he carried you out, still kissing you as if he couldn’t get enough. You were breathless, panting against his mouth as he carried you down the hall to his room. The door clicked open, and you both stumbled inside, the tension only growing with every second.

He set you down just long enough to rip off his swim trunks. The sight of him, of his sculpted, wet body, made your knees weak, and you bit your lip, trying to suppress a groan. His hands were back on you in an instant, pulling you to him as he kissed you hard, backing you up toward the bed.

Nicholas gazed at you, his eyes dark with desire as he pulled your bikini top aside. His hands gently caressed your breasts, and he let out a soft groan. “Your tits are perfect, your whole body is perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling your cheeks flush from both his words and the heat radiating between your bodies. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, a laugh bubbling from your throat as the tension momentarily lightened. He chuckled softly with you, but it quickly faded into another passionate kiss.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, sucking and biting as he left marks on your skin. Each graze of his teeth sent shivers through your body, and your moans grew louder when he reached your breasts, his mouth closing around one of your nipples. The sensation made you arch into him, hands gripping his hair as you held him against you.

Nicholas wasn’t done. His kisses traveled lower, leaving a trail as he moved down your stomach. His lips brushed over your navel piercing, and then lower still, to your bikini bottoms. You bit your lip, anticipation building as you watched him.

He pulled the straps of your bikini bottom down with deliberate slowness, revealing more of you. The moment his eyes landed on your clit piercing, his breath hitched audibly. He looked up at you, eyes blazing with lust.

“Fuck,” he swore, licking his lips. “Like I said, you’re so beautiful, so fucking sexy.” His voice was low, almost a growl. “After tonight, no one’s gonna see that pretty pussy,” he paused, his fingers brushing over your clit piercing, sending a spark of pleasure through you, “or that fucking clit piercing. Only I will.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a wave of arousal through you, and you bit your lip, already dripping with need. His words were enough to make your body pulse with desire, but you had no time to react before his mouth was on you.

He wasted no time, his lips pressing against your core, tongue darting out to taste you. The moment his tongue flicked over your clit, you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure coursed through your body. He worked you with expert precision, alternating between long, slow licks and fast, teasing flicks of his tongue over your piercing. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself growing wetter with every second.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as you bucked your hips against his face. “Oh fuck, daddy,” you moaned without thinking, and the moment the word left your lips, he groaned into your pussy.

His tongue worked even faster, and he pulled back just long enough to look up at you, his chin glistening with your arousal. “You little slut,” he growled, eyes dark with lust. “Calling me daddy, making a stranger eat your pussy? You like that, don’t you?”

You whimpered, the words sending a thrill through your entire body. “Yes, oh, fuck, yes,” you panted, not even caring how desperate you sounded.

He grinned, the smug look on his face making your heart race. “Good girl,” he purred, before diving back in. His tongue circled your clit relentlessly, and your moans grew louder as you felt the pressure building inside you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man starved, and all you could do was writhe beneath him, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Fuck, daddy, m’ so close,” you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper.

He growled again, and the vibrations sent you over the edge. With one final flick of his tongue, the tension snapped, and you came undone beneath him, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

“Cum for me, baby,” Nicholas whispered against your pussy, and you cried out as your orgasm rippled through you, your thighs shaking as he worked you through it.

As your breathing slowly evened out, he pulled back, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I told you… only I get to see that,” he murmured, his voice full of possessive satisfaction.

You lay there, panting, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. But even in your blissed-out state, you managed to smirk up at him.

“Maybe, daddy,” you teased, “if you’re lucky.”

Nicholas smirked at you, eyes dark with lust. “Oh, if I’m lucky?” he echoed, his voice dripping with dominance. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “If I’m fucking lucky? No, I said no one else gets to see you like this.”

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, ruin every other man for you,” he growled. “Ruin you for every other man.”

His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper as his eyes raked over you. “I’d let you suck my cock like the whore you are, make you swallow every drop of my cum, have it simmer inside you,” His fingers lightly brushed over your trembling body. “But I need that sexy little pussy first.”

You watched as he reached to grab a condom, but you quickly stopped him, breathless. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered, biting your lip. His reaction was immediate.

His grin widened, eyes gleaming with excitement as he tossed the condom aside. “Fuck yes,” he growled, and before you could react, his hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing too hard, but enough to make your pulse race. He dragged his tongue up the side of your face, groaning like a man possessed. “I’m gonna fuck you raw, baby. You’re mine.”

You shivered as he positioned himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes widened when you looked down, suddenly realizing just how big he was. You hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing your face. He noticed and paused, leaning down to kiss you softly, his lips gentle against yours. “It’ll fit, baby,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “I’ll take care of you.”

Before you could respond, he thrust the tip inside you, and the feeling had your back arching instantly, a loud scream escaping your lips. The stretch was overwhelming, filling you in ways you hadn’t imagined.

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothed, his voice deep and husky as he kissed along your neck. “It’s okay, you can take daddy’s cock. Be a good slut and take it for me.”

You nodded quickly, your breath shaky as your legs trembled. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning your legs behind your head, spreading you wide for him. The position gave him deeper access, and you gasped as he slid further inside, filling you completely. His cock throbbed inside you, every inch making you feel deliciously full.

He didn’t stop there. With a low groan, he started to move, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. His hand moved down between your legs, fingers expertly rubbing your clit, the piercing catching the pads of his fingers. The combination of his cock and the relentless stimulation of your clit was almost too much.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, his hips moving faster. “This pussy was made for me, only me. No one else is gonna fuck you like this.”

You moaned loudly, your body trembling beneath him as the pressure built inside you. “Daddy!” you gasped, your hands gripping his arms tightly.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his thumb brushing over your piercing again, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “Cum for me. Be a good slut and cum for daddy.”

Your legs shook violently, and you felt the tight knot in your core finally unravel. With a loud cry, you came hard around his cock, your pussy clenching tight as waves of pleasure washed over you. He groaned loudly, thrusting deeper into you, riding out your orgasm as you trembled beneath him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, watching your body convulse from pleasure, his fingers still teasing your oversensitive clit. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Nicholas kissed your neck again, his lips trailing down your skin, sending shivers all over. Without warning, he lifted you properly, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. With one powerful thrust, he slammed you onto his thick cock, the sudden stretch making you gasp loudly.

“Oh my god,” you moaned breathlessly.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your ear. “Not God, baby. Me,” he growled, gripping you tighter. “Your daddy. I’m the one fucking this pussy. My pussy.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer, as he held you there, trembling. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, stretching you out, filling you to the brim. Slowly at first, he started moving, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his cock. Every powerful thrust made your body jolt, your voice growing louder with each movement.

“Daddy,” you screamed, grinding against him, desperate for more. His thrusts grew faster, more intense, and you felt yourself nearing that familiar edge, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck, yes, grind on me, baby,” he panted, slamming you harder onto his cock. Your body responded, and before you could even speak, the pressure inside you erupted. You screamed, your entire body shaking as you squirted all over him, your juices splashing down his abs and dripping down his legs.

He groaned in pleasure, looking down at you with a grin. “Such a good girl,” he rasped. “Such a dirty little slut, squirting from a stranger fucking you.”

Your breath was still shaky, but he wasn’t done. He placed you down on the bed, but before you could even arch your back, he grabbed your legs. Your body hovered off the bed, only your upper half resting against the mattress, and he positioned himself behind you. Without hesitation, he thrust deep inside, slamming into you relentlessly.

You screamed in pleasure, feeling him reach so deep inside you, your moans echoing through the room. “Does daddy’s dick feel good?” he growled, slapping your ass roughly, his grip on your hips tight.

“Yes, daddy! Fuck me harder,” you begged, your voice barely coherent through the pleasure.

He responded with even deeper, rougher thrusts, his cock hitting all the right spots. You moaned louder, overwhelmed by the intense sensation, your body rocking with each thrust. When he slapped your ass again, you couldn’t hold back, and your body exploded once more, creaming all over his cock as another orgasm tore through you.

He groaned, his pace faltering as he followed right behind you, his thrusts becoming erratic. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up, spilling deep inside, making you tremble in pleasure as your body relaxed.

Nicholas collapsed onto the bed, pulling you on top of him, your bodies still connected as he cockwarmed you. His hands gently cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, his lips brushing over them. “You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his voice soft now. “You’re so beautiful.”

You let out a soft hum, snuggling into his chest, feeling completely blissed out. He shifted, smiling. “I should clean you up,” he offered, his hand brushing gently over your back.

You shook your head, sighing contently. “I just want to cuddle.”

He laughed softly, pulling you closer. “Alright, baby. But we’re getting up early,” he said with a smile, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “I want to do this right. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

You smiled, feeling warmth spread through your chest, the perfect end to a wild night. You soon drifted off in his arms but not before snapping the picture your sister asked for. You had to turn on DND to silence the frantic messages she sent as soon as she saw the picture.

1K notes · View notes