Archive of Our Own

Missy didn’t want to go. She’s harbored a distinctive distaste for the beach and pools alike ever since she was a little boy. As a child, Michael would spend his swimming time sitting at the bottom of the deep end to wait and see if anybody would notice he hadn’t surfaced in a while, and if Vanessa wasn’t around, nobody typically did.

Missy also wasn’t a fan of the blaring summer heat. The sun had an unruly habit of boiling her alive, sweat prickling her skin and turning her irritably tacky to the touch. But Mike had won a raffle at his job and gotten tickets to a waterpark a few towns over, and Abby had practically exploded with excitement when she’d found out.

“I don’t need to go,” Missy had protested over dinner, fiddling with the cuffs of her long sleeves anxiously as Mike plated their meal. Abby was spending the night with Vanessa in preparation for the trip the next day, Mike extending the invitation since Abby had insistently begged him to.

“I burn too easily…and I’ll only bring the group morale down by complaining the whole time,” she continued, her tone matter of fact instead of searching for any pity. Mike shook his head as he brought Missy her food before sitting across from her. She issued a quiet thanks as Mike planted a quick kiss to her temple.

“We can rent one of the little tents they have on the site. A little privacy area for you to sit and read in the shade if you like,” Mike offered kindly, and Missy pouted.

“I don’t even have a swimsuit,” she muttered as she idly pushed her food around with her fork, “nothing for…me. Just some old swim trunks that don’t even fit anymore, and I’m not even sure where they are anyway.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mike replied plainly, and Missy sat up a bit in her seat as she eyed him suspiciously.

“What do you mean?”

“I already got you a swimsuit is all. Just in case you want to take a dip while we’re there,” Mike explained with a half smile, and Missy’s lips tugged downward into a frown.

“You /what/?”

Immediately following dinner, Missy’s mouth was agape when Mike rummaged through his closet to reveal the suit he’d bought her some time prior and apparently had been keeping secret. Deep mauve in color, the outfit was a simple yet overly revealing bikini that caused Missy to gawk and blush red up to her ears. The audacity of this man!

“I can’t wear that! Are you insane?” she sputtered out, waving her arms about to dramatically gesture to the offending article.

“What’s wrong with it?” Mike posed dumbly as he glanced down at the set. Missy glared at him.

“It’s too much, Mikey, too much,” she fussed, a tad sensitive as she cast an arm across her stomach and brought her opposite hand up to lightly drum her fingers against her lips.

“It’ll show too much,” she insisted, perturbed, “I’m not…you know, I’m not fit for something like that.”

Self consciousness was seeping into her tone, her sharp eyes suddenly becoming skittish as they fell away to the floor. Mike set the swimsuit down on the bed before he ushered to her side, his arms falling around her waist despite her petulant shove against him that didn’t contain enough force to deter him.

“I’m not going, and I’m not wearing that,” she huffed, and Mike set his chin atop her shoulder. She avoided his gaze, his dumb doe eyes undoubtedly dripping with a sweetness that she’d choke on.

“Can you at least try it on?” Mike hummed softly, “and if you really truly hate it, I’ll return it. And I won’t ask you to go with us any more times.”

Missy rolled her eyes, making the dire mistake of flickering her eyes down meet his hopeful and pleading stare. Missy bit her tongue lightly.

“Say please,” she requested, and Mike didn’t hesitate for a second to start begging.

“Please, baby, please. For me?” he mused while batting his lashes in a way that prompted Missy to wish to slap him across the face just to stop those honey brown eyes from prying her defenses apart. She groaned.

“Fine,” she eventually relented, and Mike leaned upward to peck her cheek in earnest thanks. She wiggled out of his arms before snatching up the swimwear and begrudgingly trudging towards the bathroom.

God, Missy had never felt more exposed in her entire life. It would’ve been easier to walk out completely naked than in the skimpy bikini she’d slithered onto her lithe frame. In all honesty, the style of the swimsuit wasn’t terribly extravagant—the top was stringy, the front having very little padding in it as to avoid any overt awkwardness as it laid against her flat chest. Her myriad of bodily scarring wasn’t remotely hidden though, but that didn’t terribly matter; it wasn’t like she’d be wearing this out anywhere anyway, already having made up her mind. The bottoms were simple, hugging against her slender hips as she fiddled with the back to ensure her rear wasn’t falling out at the sides. The most glaring discrepancy, however, was the outline of her genitals in the front. If anyone’s gaze lingered for more than a second or two, she’d be completely ratted out and likely ridiculed into oblivion. A nightmare scenario, especially in such an open and public arena while clad in such a revealing outfit. Missy stiffly hugged her arms as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously.

The longer she stared at her reflection, the uglier she became. A malformed figure, completely unbecoming and undeserving of such a lovely attire. It’d surely look better on Vanessa, or literally anyone else for that matter.

She felt a familiar sting in her eyes as her face contorted with sadness before she clenched her jaw and cleared her throat. No, she shouldn’t think like that anymore. She could wear things for herself without constantly having one more reason to live in her older sister’s shadow. Missy quickly dragged her hands over herself, adjusting and readjusting the fabric in a fickle manner. Mike said she was pretty; he called her that a lot more often nowadays, along with countless other doting phrases, so she strived to see what he saw. Someone pretty, pretty enough to wear something like this without the fear of shame or harassment.

A soft knock on the bathroom door reeled Missy’s mind back into reality.

“You there, sweetheart?” a kind voice called from the other side, and Missy relinquished a heavy sigh to psych herself up. She dragged her bony fingers through her hair, styling it the slightest bit before sucking in a deep breath to meekly unlock and twist the door open.

“Don’t judge too harshly,” she swiftly commented, her eyes down to avoid any glimpses of his initial reaction just in case it would be a poor reception, “I’d have to shave and all, so for now I look a little freakish.”

Her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her, one folded over the other as she squeezed hard enough to tremble slightly in anxious anticipation. Missy always automatically expected the worst outcomes, even from her beloved. She earnestly wished she didn’t, wished that she could believe that Mike loved her and would never be purposefully rude or mean with such sensitive topics as this, but it was always in the back of her mind. Mike would be disappointed or disgusted and hurl insults at her, mocking her face or body or her arduous attempts at makeup or other experimental outfit choices. Not that any of that really happened before she’d come out, so there was no real reason to expect any vitriol now, but nevertheless.

Speaking of, Mike wasn’t speaking at all. That wasn’t indicative of much, as words often failed the blundering man, but Missy could hardly think past the boom of her heartbeat thudding erratically in her ears.

“Well, fucking say something if you hate it that badly,” she spat suddenly, her fears leeching into her chest and shifting her into apprehensive hostility. She was beginning to regret ever entertaining this hopeless charade. What an idiot she was to mindlessly agree to this in the first place just so Mike can have something to gawk and laugh at. She dug her thumbnail into the expanse of the back of her opposing hand.

She was hideous, wasn’t she? Ugly, frumpy and out of place. She was ruining such a nice outfit simply by putting it on. What a mistake it was to ever confide something so dire and personal to Mike in the first place—had the other kept quiet this whole time just for an opportunity like this to arise? To poke fun at the imposter who will never be who she claims to be and will never be like other girls. Never like Vanessa.

Michael should’ve never even—

“You look amazing,” Mike finally uttered out, his voice a touch breathless with awe. Missy’s misty eyes flit up from burning a hole in the ground beneath her bare feet to sear into man standing in front of her instead. His dumb doe eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape and speechless as he drank it all in. His pupils were dilated, filled to the brim with pure adoration that they hardly allowed a ring of honey brown to remain along the perimeter.

Missy’s bottom lip quivered slightly.

“You’re lying,” she muttered, sheepish and a touch accusatory. Mike’s expression shifted into something gentler and less like he desired to jump her where she stood in the bathroom doorway.

“Absolutely not,” he spoke quickly, seemingly a hair offended by the claim. He slowly reached out, bracing his hands over hers to ease the nervous scratching of her thumbnail into her irritated skin. Missy let out a wavering breath like she might sob as he soothingly coerced her tightly wound hands to open up and relax.

“You,” he said kindly, bringing her hands up to his lips to press doting affections to her rigid knuckles and fingers, “are so…“
Another few kisses, “/beautiful/.”

A quaint blush dusted across Missy’s sharp cheeks before another shaky exhale followed her tense shoulders finally slumping.

“You really mean that, Mikey?” she inquired, her voice small and twinged with hopefulness. Mike nodded in confirmation.

“Entirely, sweetheart,” he responded, “my perfect, precious, pretty girl.”

Okay, now Missy felt like sobbing for an entirely different reason.

Her hands left his only to cradle the other’s face and crash their lips together. Missy smiled, relief flourishing alongside the butterflies in her previously uneasy stomach. She let out a small chuckle as Mike reciprocated the kiss almost immediately, his hands planting themselves onto her bare waist as he leaned into her.

They lingered together in the doorway for a few moments, Missy shivering slightly as Mike’s thumbs brushed over her hipbones. A small yelp of surprise escaped her lips, her hands on Mike’s face prying the man back slightly once she felt his own hands dip behind her to grope at her backside.

“You’d better watch yourself, Schmidt,” she warned through soft panting. Mike hummed, the remnants of a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You make it so difficult, you know,” he mused, squeezing the soft mounds of his partner’s ass. Missy bit her bottom lip to stifle another sound, her brows crinkling together. “How else am I supposed to act when I’ve got the hottest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on dressed like this in my house?”

Missy’s face scrunched into a frown. What an over-exaggeration from such a stupid man.

“It’s /just/ a swimsuit,” she muttered, trying her best to hold her ground as her lover shamelessly felt her up. She’d be completely lying if she claimed she didn’t thrive beneath the glow of his attention. Her breath hitched in her throat as Mike pressed himself against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck to scatter hot kisses to her sensitive skin. Her arms lazily propped over his shoulders.

“I know,” he murmured between his fervent affections, “but it’s giving me plenty of ideas on what else to get you. Maybe something nice, something lacy.”

Missy’s face burned, her returning deep blush stinging the tops of her ears.

“I don’t think lace would suit me much…”

“How can you stand there and say that?” Mike hummed, leaning back slightly to trail his kisses down Missy’s clavicle and towards the exposed sections of her chest. The woman watched him with sharpened icy eyes, a startled squeak acting only as encouragement as Mike ran his tongue over the clothed segment of her bikini top.

“Don’t do that!” she protested.

“It’s a swimsuit. I think it can stand to get a little wet,” Mike retorted before wrapping his mouth around the clothed portion, making a show of toying with her tit. Missy groaned unevenly.

“So this was the plan, was it?” she huffed out, vying to ignore the way her swim bottoms were tightening in response to Mike’s meddling. “Get me into something skimpy so you can poke and prod at me like some untrained mutt drooling over a piece of meat?”

“No,” Mike answered lightly, honestly, “but this is a nice bonus. Besides, don’t act like you’re not enjoying it, too.”

Missy scoffed, a rebuttal on her tongue that swiftly died the moment Mike urged them forward into the bathroom to pin her up against the door and slide a leg between her thighs. She shuddered, hands clasping onto his shoulders tightly. A soft moan tumbled out of her mouth before she could catch it. God, she wanted to slap that self satisfied smirk off Mike’s face so badly. She tried to argue, to utter even a syllable of a refute to his claim, but that wasn’t very easy to accomplish with how Mike tugged her closer to him, silently encouraging her to grind against his thigh slotted between her own.

“It’s okay, baby, let yourself feel good,” he purred, and a broken gasp slipped past her defenses as she rolled her hips down against his leg. Mike’s hands squished her ass again before retreating, one resting on her waist while the other tugged her top to the side to expose her chest even more.

Missy whimpered as Mike’s lips wrapped around her now uncovered nipple, her hips shaking as they rut down against his thigh. Her bikini bottoms were almost painfully restrictive now, the woman desperate to chase any friction she could muster. Her arms slung around him fully, tangling a hand in his curls as her back arched lightly off the door she was trapped against. Her eyes cut forward, unable to suppress an open moan at the sight of their shared reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She looked so lewd, panting and flushed while practically naked since Mike’s body covered any semblance of her apparel. God, she was such a whore, rutting down against Mike’s leg like a needy bitch while she permitted his mouth and hands to roam all over her. How much more of a slut would she be if she begged him to bend her over the sink counter and fuck her in front of the mirror? It likely wouldn’t take much convincing since Mike was pawing at her so much like a hungry hound.

Missy rolled her eyes at herself, her posture stiffening as her nails scratched lightly at the base of Mike’s neck.

“Do you want me?” she murmured, her voice low and tempting with the lightest sheen of uncertainty, like she required some sort of assurance despite everything that was happening.

Mike unlatched himself from her chest, panting softly as his eyes flickered up to meet hers. His hot breath danced against the sensitive bud he’d been focused on a moment prior, and a shiver wracked up Missy’s spine.

“Yes,” he whispered, heady eyes half-lidded and spit-slick lips parted breathlessly. Missy battled against the urge to fall apart entirely in his grasp, her heart pounding behind her ribs loud enough that she was certain he could hear it as well. She pet her fingers through his curls soothingly, her opposing hand clutching around his chin. Her thumb darted out to rub across his bottom lip.

“How do you want me?” she breathed out softly, frosty eyes drowning in pools of honey brown as she tried not to get lost. She wished to tease, after all, to wrangle back some sense of control over her beloved pet mouse that was cradled so sweetly in her claws. Mike gulped as he was corralled nicely into that floaty headspace that Missy so loved to hold him captive in. A flash of something sparked to life behind Missy’s eyes—power, with the lightest hint of sadism—as a grin tugged at her lips.

“Do you want a good girl?” she mused, biting back any discomfort that came with the unfamiliarity of the nickname. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant per se, just unaccustomed. “A good girl who takes care of your little problem, hm? One who sits all neat and pretty on her knees and sucks you off?”

Missy’s voice had dropped down to a daunting whisper, relishing the way Mike lost all prior confidence in himself and became sheepish in response to the dirty talk. For every ounce of submission she felt, she wished to pry out of him tenfold. Her thumb hooked over his bottom row of teeth and eased his mouth open a tad wider, a shaky exhale following suit.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Mikey?” she purred, “Do you just wanna bend me over and pound me until my legs start shaking and my voice goes hoarse from screaming your name? Would you like that from your good girl?”

Mike couldn’t answer, his eyes fogged over with swirling clouds of lust and desire. His hand on her waist tightened, not enough to bruise but as if he was trying to ground himself. Missy offered a serpentine smile before she leaned down, tucking her head beside his ear.

“Or do you wanna be /my good boy/?” she muttered, flicking the tip of her tongue against the sensitive spot at the junction where his jaw met his neck, “With a nice collar and leash? Do you think you could behave? Could you mind your teeth while I allow this lovely mouth of yours warm my cock for a few hours? Maybe then you could earn the privilege of fucking me senseless.”

Not that Missy would even be capable of lasting that long with Mike’s lips wrapped around her length—it’d only be a matter of time before she abandoned any scraps of patience she had and fucked his mouth to her own completion. Still, the idea alone was enough to drive them both crazy it seemed.

“I can behave,” Mike muttered, a bit uneven from his bottom jaw being held open, but nevertheless Missy was pleased by his response.

“I know you can, baby. And you want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Mike nodded adamantly, letting his mouth close when Missy unhooked her thumb from his teeth and instead splayed her hand around his throat; she scooted him back so their eyes could meet again.

Fuck, he already looked wrecked and nothing had even really happened yet. She almost wanted to give in prematurely, to abandon this little game and let Mike claim his prize far too early. Maybe it was the strain of her swim bottoms redirecting her sense of reason to accommodate lust. No, she decided, she didn’t want the fun to end so soon.

“Prove you can behave,” she hummed, “all day tomorrow, at the stupid waterpark. After all, I can’t have you ruining this set when I haven’t even gotten to wear it out yet, now can I?”

Mike seemed of mixed emotions—disappointment for certain, a pitiful pout on his lips that Missy was making him wait for it, but also a sense of relief that she had agreed to join them on the trip, albeit for her own nefarious purposes.

He eventually accepted her terms, curtly nodding before finally pulling back away from her. She huffed, as casual as she could possibly be with an erection that made her look completely ridiculous. She could ignore it, and it would hopefully go away on its own.

She nudged Mike to the side to fuss over herself in the mirror again, adjusting her top and fixing her hair.

“Now that you’re done fawning,” she commented as if Mike had acted alone to cause this predicament, “do you think I should shave? I don’t wanna bring more attention to myself than I already will be…”

“Don’t you dare,” Mike replied, snapping back to reality fast enough to cause Missy’s head to spin, “I love your body exactly as it is.”

Missy eyed him for a second, hesitant, before returning her gaze to the mirror. The women typically shown in magazines never sported body hair like hers—not that she had an egregious amount to begin with. A lot of the scarring on her torso prevented any normal pattern of growth, so any body hair was primarily on her forearms and legs with a sparse happy trail that occupied the space from her navel down to her waistband.

“You like hairy girls?” she grumbled to the other, lightly tracing her nails against dark strands around her lower stomach.

“I like /you/,” Mike answered, standing behind her to wrap his arms around her front. His hands grazed over her belly as he pecked the back of her shoulder blade. Missy ventured not to tear up at the corny gesture that secretly meant the world.

“/Fine/,” she huffed out with a roll of her eyes, “I won’t get rid of it. Still, I don’t wanna be stared at the whole time, even if I’m in one of those private tent things like you mentioned.”

“You won’t, sweetness,” Mike assured, “I also bought you one of those coverup things some people wear over their bathing suits. You can wrap up in it until you get to the tent.”

Missy’s brows furrowed, a bit in shock as she turned her head down towards him. How typical for Mike to have also purchased a cover and purposefully neglected to mention it until after he had his fun gawking and touching all over her.

“Show me.”

The delicate article was intricately designed, a pseudo-knitted pattern of a long robe-like cover that was nearly ankle length with long, loose sleeves for her arms. The shade was very similar to the swimsuit, a deep purpleish mauve. Missy slipped it on over her shoulders, loosely wrapping the front opening to close around her frame.

“You had this the whole time? And you just wanted to play with me earlier? I see how it is,” she scoffed, but she was unable to deny how pretty the item made her feel as it swayed and draped over her.

“Do you like it?” Mike inquired as he sat on the edge of his bed, eyeing her up and down as she admired herself in the half-length vanity mirror beside his dresser—it hadn’t been there originally, an addition during one of Missy’s frequent visits before she all but moved in with the other.

Missy wanted to say no, to give some sarcastic quip to be contradictory for the sake of being difficult, but she couldn’t find it within herself to lie. She twirled once, twice as her eyes stayed glued to the mirror. Mike smiled warmly as he observed her. Missy giggled.

“I love it, Mikey,” she beamed, excitement writ across her face; such a rare victory when trying on new clothes, usually suffocating under self doubt and loathing.

Missy finally broke away from staring at her reflection to hurry over and hug Mike’s face, administering giddy kisses to her beloved who gladly returned the gesture. She was so happy, basking in such a unique expression of glee that she’d nearly entirely forgotten what she’d actually agreed to. She’d be rudely reminded the next morning as Mike packed up a supply bag of beach towels and sunscreen.

All of Missy’s previous exuberance had vanished, replaced now with pure meekness as she changed from her pajamas back into her swimsuit and fussed over her appearance in the bathroom for nearly forty minutes until Mike declared it was time to go pick up Abby and Vanessa. Missy tugged her lovely mauve coverup tautly around herself as if it would hide her away, donning a simple set of sandals she could stand to be seen in and a chunky pair of sunglasses that Mike had found for her during a trip to an outlet mall about a month prior.

Missy was visibly antsy as they drove to Vanessa’s house, her head turned towards the window as she hugged her arms close to herself. She pinched and fiddled with the knitted fabric of her coverup sleeve. Mike glanced over, reaching across the way to pat a hand against her leg comfortingly. She flinched for half a second as her head whipped around, her shoulders tensed back, before her posture slumped with a heaving breath. She silently clapped her nervous hand down onto Mike’s and gave it a grateful squeeze.

“Thank you for agreeing to come with us,” Mike commented soothingly, “you’re being so brave, sweetheart.”

Missy kept quiet—this wasn’t bravery, this was idiocy accompanied by a degenerate selfishness based around a poorly thought out plan to toy with Mike’s initial horniness. She’d made her bed, and now it was time to lie in it whether she wanted to or not.

Mike himself was wearing swim trunks that went down to his knees with a basic print plastered onto it. Most likely, it was the first pair he pulled off the rack at a cheap clothing store. They weren’t hideous—mostly black with a few summer-themed colorful graphics towards the bottom of the legs—but they were plain. Normal. Much more normal than what Missy was wearing. Mike was also sporting a plain black tank top with a neon green stripe that lined the low collar and circles of the sleeve holes. Nobody would bat at eye at him.

Missy remained in the car when they arrived at Vanessa’s house. It was the old family house—Missy never could fathom how her older sister could stomach continuing to live there after everything. She shyly glanced out the passenger side window as her sister and little Abigail bounded outside to greet Mike at their doorstep. Abby wore a simple one piece swimsuit with a colorful nylon shirt over it, Missy recalling a rather unpleasant recounting of heat blisters speckling the girl’s shoulders that resulted in Abby vowing to always wear an over-shirt atop her swimwear from that day forward. Vanessa donned a long sleeve dry fit shirt, the straps of a bikini top visible from beneath her collar. Likely the companion piece to the bikini shorts she was also wearing, along with a smile that blinded the inferior sibling that had begrudgingly stayed in the car. Missy scoffed and turned away.

Her relationship with Vanessa was strained for a myriad of complex and convoluted reasons. Vanessa had always been the favorite and, simply put, ‘the better one’ in nearly every aspect. Over time, the two had begun to gradually repair their bond despite the tension that occasionally lingered. After coming to terms with her identity some short time ago, Missy couldn’t help but feel like she’d just supplied Vanessa with yet another reason to be superior. The only real solace she found was that Mike had chosen her over her older sister. After all, Mike had chosen Michael, too, so Missy shouldn’t have been much different.

Vanessa had treated Missy’s nerve-wracking reveal with the utmost respect and care. After all, she loved her brother dearly despite his…many faults, so why shouldn’t she also love her new sister? It almost made Missy sick to be accepted with open arms instead of contested against; maybe she didn’t feel deserving of it all, or she was conditioned to misery. Probably a bit of both.

Abby, on the other hand, genuinely couldn’t have cared less when Mike and Missy sat down with her to explain the situation and that some changes would be made. If anything, Abby had gotten excited by the possibility of drawing makeup on Missy’s face or painting her nails—she was much more disappointed by Missy rejecting that offer than anything else regarding that conversation.

That small circle of people were the only ones who knew, however. Even Mike’s friend Jeremiah had been left in the dark, Missy declaring that it was none of his business and the information was solely on a need-to-know basis. Not that Missy made any habit of hanging around Jeremiah in the first place, especially after being clotheslined all that time ago.

As the group clambered back into the car, the girls in the backseat were abuzz. Abby was rambling on and on about how she was going on all the water slides multiple times while Vanessa commented that she may relax in the lazy river. She reached up into the front seat, splaying a hand over Missy’s shoulder and prompting the brunette to startle slightly.

“I’m glad you’re coming out with us,” Vanessa commented earnestly, and Missy attempted not to crumble like wet sand at the gesture and kind words. Instead, she merely nodded, offering up a quiet “mhm” in response. Vanessa squeezed her shoulder lightly before leaning back and fastening her seatbelt.

The three chattered amongst themselves during the hour long drive, Mike occasionally extending his hand over to hold Missy’s. A sign of goodwill, but also a silent, casual gesture of love and appreciation for her willingness to join them on the outing—even if she planned to stay in the private shaded tent the entire time.

Once they arrived, Vanessa and Abby piled out of the backseat to begin applying sunscreen in the parking lot. Mike stepped out, but he turned right back around and poked his head into the car when Missy wasn’t making any effort to leave.

“You coming, hon?”

What a vile nickname, so lighthearted and sticky sweet that made Missy’s heart stir in a manner she didn’t particularly care to unpack. It wasn’t like pet names were foreign between the two of them, but the more domestic titles tended to strike a chord in her chest more often than not.

“I can wait in the car,” she spoke, barely audible as her eyes scanned over the crowd at the entrance and past the wired fencing that encompassed the area.

“Not for five hours, and not in this heat,” Mike explained, and Missy winced at the mention of ‘five hours’. Would they seriously be here that long? Why was she subjecting herself to this? And why did Mike let her leave the house looking like this?! She surely could’ve borrowed some old swim trunks and a tshirt. She could withstand it for a few hours if it meant nobody would spare her a passing glance. She was surely out of place and completely out of her depth here surrounded by so many people who’d see straight through her in a second.

Mike frowned, seeming to sense the beginnings of a spiral as he sat back into the driver’s seat and clasped his hand over her own that was scrunching her coverup at the knee.

“Hey, look at me. Baby, can you look at me, please?” he requested, and Missy managed to tear her eyes away from the daunting swarm of patrons. Her face twisted like she might cry.

Mike squeezed her hand in both of his own, planting a kiss to her rigid knuckles.

“It’ll all be okay, I promise. Nobody will even notice you, and if they do, I’ll beat them up for staring at my girlfriend.”

Missy scoffed and rolled her eyes, jerking her hand from his grasp to smack it against his shoulder as he chuckled playfully.

“You’re so stupid,” she muttered, “go ahead and get us kicked out. Won’t bother me any, believe me.”

Mike pursed his lips for a moment as if scratching his brain for a new angle to work from.

“I thought you wanted to watch me behave,” he commented, a tad flippant in a way that suddenly whipped Missy’s attention back towards him.

“What?”

“I’m just sayin’. How’re you gonna make sure I’m being good if you’re all the way out here and can’t see me?” Mike continued with a half shrug, like these were words to be spoken so lightly.

Missy’s eyes narrowed, a faint sneer painting across her face. Mike’s pitiful attempt at reverse psychology was one thing, but it was another thing entirely that she was knowingly taking his obvious bait.

“You’re so desperate for me to see you dripping wet in the sun like a cheesy romcom, aren’t you?” she remarked with a snip of sarcasm. Mike chuckled.

“Aren’t /you/?” he returned, and Missy’s mouth suddenly felt dry. Shit, there’s no way this idiot was clever enough to play her like this.

“Watch yourself,” she warned slowly, her hands itching to reach out and snatch him from where they sat idly in her lap.

“Or what?” he dared to taunt, and Missy could just whack him. Or fuck him in the backseat, whichever happened to occur first.

Mike seemed to have inched closer to her, her frosted blue eyes flitting between his dumb doe eyes and enticing lips that were curled into a moronic grin.

Dozens of raunchy ideas and scenarios flooded her mind, absolutely none of them appropriate for their current shared environment. Mike was playing with fire, and what made matters worse was he seemed to understand that. At this point, she didn’t really care who took on which position; hell, she had half a mind to bend him over the hood of his car just to shut him up.

“I hate you,” she grumbled, though there wasn’t a hint of sincerity or vitriol. In its place, almost a tone of defeat and acceptance.

Mike pecked her lips, a kiss far too brief for her liking.

“I love you, too. Now let’s go.”

Missy was flushed as she finally climbed out of the car, holding her coverup tightly around herself as she walked alongside Mike and the others to stand in line.

Abby complimented her outfit, stating she liked the color and design work in the long coverup that Missy was clutching to herself. The skittish woman paused before issuing a small thanks to the child who almost instantly shifted her attention to the towering water slides that awaited them.

Vanessa offered a couple words of encouragement as well, stating that hues of mauve suited Missy well. She even so much as regarded Missy’s hair, slightly styled since she’d grown it out a couple inches over time. In the beginning, Missy had toyed with the idea of longer hair with the assistance of wigs and extensions, but she ended up preferring the utility benefits of a shorter cut. It was easier to upkeep, not to mention less overwhelming sensory-wise.

Mike rested an arm around his partner’s waist as they waited in the gradually decreasing admissions line. Missy found herself sticking close to him as widened, paranoid eyes scoured over every new face behind the protection of her sunglasses.

Once they were inside with each of the four visitors fitted with a plastic wristband that was already irritating the living daylights out of the finicky woman, Abby promptly darted towards the tallest slide in the park while yanking a laughing Vanessa along. Mike called out to them that he would drop off their belongings at the rental tent area before joining, tacking on a reprimand for his baby sister not to run.

Missy remained visibly on edge as she walked alongside the other, keeping her head down for the most part to avoid any troublesome glares. She felt completely overexposed and silly for being here in the first place in the sweltering sun but also dressed so obscenely—even though her outfit didn’t come close to being the most revealing bathing suit like many other passerbys were wearing. She felt like a beacon was shining down on her, announcing her as an anomaly. How frightfully dreadful to suddenly be noticed after a lifetime already spent in the shadows of others.

“Nobody’s even looking, sweetheart,” Mike reassured as they arrived at their assigned tent in the small roped off section of the park. As soon as she was under the cover of shade, she frantically closed the open flaps on the opposing side so there was only one entrance and exit.

“It’s hot out here,” she immediately complained, grateful that she hadn’t attempted any light makeup that morning or it’d surely be running down her face by now.

“Well, I packed a little battery powered handheld fan,” Mike replied as he dropped the bag of supplies off his shoulder and fished a small plastic fan from a side pouch. Missy promptly snatched it from him and flipped it on to cast a breeze over her face with a quiet groan.

“There’s water bottles in here too if you get thirsty,” he added, “though, there’s nothing much keeping them cool.”

“Are we really gonna stay five whole hours?” she whined as she collapsed haphazardly down into the lounge chair.

“Til Abby wants to leave,” Mike replied simply, “or until they close for the day. Whichever happens first.”

Missy frowned, slightly unwrapping her coverup down the center to allow for a bit more air circulation.

Mike paused for a moment before he stepped outside the opening of the tent to douse his bare shoulders with spray sunscreen. “You’re welcome to come out and join us, you know. You don’t even really have to swim—I know Vanessa’s gonna drift in the lazy river at some point.”

“I’ll burn,” Missy pouted with a dismissive tone.

“You can put on sunscreen.”

“I don’t want to get all greasy and nasty,” she retorted, “plus, even with all that, I’ll burn anyway.”

Mike shrugged as he chucked the canister of sunscreen back into the bag.

“Suit yourself then. Stay in the shade.”

“I will,” she replied in a slight mocking tone.

Mike waited for a second, as if deliberating something in that thick skull of his.

He suddenly stepped towards where his partner sat, reaching down to grasp at her jaw despite her confused protests and tilting her head up towards him. She fussed lightly, but her aggravation died down as Mike frazzled her senses with a deep kiss. She abandoned the fan to fall into her lap, the foam blades skidding to a stop against her leg as she reached up to card her fingers through his hair. He squeezed her jaw lightly, eliciting a small sound that gained him enough leeway to worm his tongue into her mouth.

Missy gripped the front of his shirt to pull him further down into her, opting to ignore that the tent wasn’t fully closed as she found herself so easily riled up.

However, much to her dismay, Mike broke away from her. She frowned as she watched his tongue dart across his own lips.

“Vanilla,” he commented out of nowhere, Missy’s brain staggering to realize he meant her thin layer of lip gloss she’d applied earlier during the drive. It was a sort of compromise to herself since she thought it unwise to attend a sweaty waterpark in any real makeup. Plus, she knew Mike often became entranced by the shiny sheen it left behind, and that was hardly an opportunity she could ever pass up.

“I like that one,” Mike tacked on, and a light scowl passed over Missy’s face as she realized she was being toyed with again.

“You’re so needlessly cruel,” she muttered before shooing him away and picking up the discarded fan from her lap.

“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you,” Mike replied, opting to ignore her own little comment. Missy waved him off irritably as he stepped out of the tent and into the sun.

The annoyed woman’s view was limited to whatever was directly in front of the drawn back tent flaps, the peripherals basically nonexistent. She remained idle as the minutes dragged on arduously slow, occasionally catching a glimpse of familiar faces in the distance as they scattered about before vanishing beyond the veil once more. For what it was worth, the fragments she’d caught of Abby made it appear as if the young girl was having the time of her life. Missy might could locate it within herself to be glad, even happy for the child, if not for the heat rendering her miserable despite the valiant efforts of the small fan in her grasp.

She so wished she could match Vanessa’s energy. Her sister’s enthusiasm and can-do attitude may have been a tool adapted for survival, but it was downright contagious to everyone but Missy. Fools that didn’t know any better, that would never see /why/ Vanessa had been forced into habitual adaptation. Nevertheless, her irritating smile repeatedly outmatched Missy’s near-permanent scowl. No wonder Abby tended to prefer her—not that Missy was particularly competitive for the little girl’s favor. It was more Mike she liked to tediously fret over; after all, he and Vanessa had sparked initially before Mike was the first to butt heads. Why he gave up Vanessa for someone so…so…lesser…would always remain a mystery to Missy, even back when she was Michael. Missy was short-tempered, harsh, and argumentative for the sake of it. She was a mess, fractured, and horrifically insecure and defiant. Yet, for whatever insane reason, Mike still chose the cold callous moon over the brilliance of the warm sun. Missy found herself grateful for that, that even now, like this, someone decided she was human enough to love.

Mike returned to the tent about an hour later, Missy sprawled out a bit on the lounge chair with her legs stretched out and folded over one another. She glanced up, her nose crinkling with mild disgust that he was dripping water all over the place.

“How goes it out there, soldier?” she commented with a half-assed salute.

“Hot,” he huffed out, rummaging through the bag to locate a flimsy bottle of water and crack it open. He grimaced at the taste.

“It’s warm…but better than nothing, I guess.”

“You know, I’m sure concessions has cold water,” Missy pointed out, seeming to find a small satisfaction with Mike’s discomfort in dehydration. A sort of ‘I told you so’ that she couldn’t pass up.

“Yeah, and they want $5 for one bottle, too,” he puffed before downing more of the lukewarm liquid.

“Suit yourself then,” she all but mocked by throwing his earlier words back at him. Mike’s brows pinched together, glancing down at the half empty bottle in his grasp then back at her.

“You need to stay hydrated too, y’know. Even being cooped up in here all day,” he explained.

“I’ll be fine without your hot water, thanks,” she waved him off dismissively, though her demeanor shifted slightly when he stepped back to close the flaps of the tent. She sat up a bit in her chair, her eyes raking over the other curiously as he approached her.

“Don’t touch me if you’re wet,” she stated sternly, to which Mike dragged his free hand over one of the beach towels resting at the top of the bag to halfheartedly dry it.

“Open up,” he spoke quietly, but there contained a hint of firmness in his tone.

“I don’t want your water,” she responded, though her brow quirked slightly with intrigue as she stared up at him.

“You can either drink the water yourself or I can spit it into your mouth and /make/ you drink it.”

Missy seemed taken aback, her eyes widening considerably. The tonal shift was a tad surprising, but overall the most shocking part was Mike taking a page from her playbook. What an odd attempt at a power play.

“You’re not behaving very well right now,” she replied, her voice low and almost foreboding.

“Neither are you,” Mike retorted, and Missy scoffed. The audacity was astounding…and strangely a turn on.

Missy grimaced, briefly at a crossroads before she relented, mostly just to see what he had formulated. Her lips parted—barely—and Mike slid his free hand into her hair. Her head was about level with his waist, and he tilted the bottle downward until it was near perpendicular to himself. He guided Missy’s head in a bit further until her teeth knocked lightly against the opening of the bottle, and her breath hitched quietly as he urged her to drink.

She did. Admittedly, she now understood why Mike had closed the tent, as this would look fairly lewd from afar. Hell, Missy was up close and personal and felt pretty damn lewd as she begrudgingly drank from the crinkly plastic bottle until it was empty; Mike pulled back, ignoring the glare he received in return, and pat her head afterwards as a sort of ‘job well done’ gesture that made Missy want to bite his fingers off.

“Good,” he said as he walked away and reopened the tent on his way out, “I’ll check back later.”

What a bastard. He was purposefully torturing her, wasn’t he? Probably having the time of his dumbass life doing it, too.

Missy was antsier than before, unable to even enjoy her intermittent snippets of entertainment of catching glimpses of Mike soaked through his cute swimwear. How could she when all she wished to do was hold his head beneath the water and let him squirm for air as punishment for how he was treating her? She wanted to hurt him—not in any serious malicious way, but more in a flavor of cuteness aggression mixed with sadism and payback. She wanted to dig her nails into his flesh and leave searing red marks, sink her teeth into him like soft dough, slap him, choke him, anything to see him writhe. Perhaps this is why Mike had chosen her over Vanessa—he had a thing for lust teetering on danger, and her poor sister simply couldn’t keep up.

It was an hour and a half, maybe two hours before Mike returned. Missy’s brain had already been running wild with countless scenarios and fantasies that could never be reality—after all, it would be rather rude to the other patrons for her to tear her lover to shreds where everyone could see. Exhibitionism was only fun in Missy’s imagination; if anybody actually did see them entangled together, she’d promptly die on the spot either from embarrassment or jealousy from another person getting to witness her Mikey in the precious flustered way he became during intimacy. Probably a combination of the two.

When Mike arrived, her legs were crossed again, this time to hide her stirring arousal rather than purely casual comfort.

“Abby and Vanessa are waiting in line at concessions to get ice cream,” Mike explained as he stepped into the tent, unknowingly sealing his own fate, “do you want any? I thought about getting some, but I dunno. Don’t really want stomach cramps from eating then getting right back in the water.”

“Close the tent,” Missy ordered, her voice a tad airy yet twinged with an authority that apparently Mike was incredibly susceptible to. Mike swiftly turned to let the entrance flaps down, the only light being the sun bleeding through the canvas-esque material once they were shut off from the outside world.

“Where do you get off?” Missy scolded, scooting to sit upright in her lounge chair, “Playing these games with me and driving me crazy? Is this fun for you?”

Mike hesitated by the entryway as if he hadn’t been prepared to be lectured, but nevertheless he didn’t interrupt. Missy pouted as she continued her manipulative tirade that Mike was all too contented to indulge.

“You’ve got me all cooped up in here in this terrible heat, and on top of it all, you only show up just to torture and humiliate me.”

If Missy had truly been upset with Mike’s behavior, the entire tone of this exchange would’ve been uniquely different. No, it was obvious what this was, and Mike didn’t argue one bit as he was lulled into her blatant trap. A pitiful mouse once again finding itself hopelessly ensnared within the claws of a predator that stalked from the tall grass, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. Missy tsked with the faux, exaggerated sadness of indecision.

“What ever am I gonna do about you, Princess?”

A older term, originally utilized as a taunt in the early days of Missy’s so-called courtship with Mike. She didn’t issue it very often, as it tended to be a signal of mocking and condescension rather than affection. Conversely, the one and only time Mike had pitted the name against her, she couldn’t recall much except crying. She couldn’t even remember why she’d shed tears, but Mike never repeated that mistake.

Missy held the other’s eyes in an intensive staring match, Mike’s posture stiff and almost shy beneath her icy glare. As much as he tended to lightheartedly tease her, he always turned sheepish whenever it came time to put his money where his mouth was; Missy didn’t mind, though, as she rather enjoyed the metaphorical leash of control she could command him with if the mood struck her.

“Take your shirt off,” she hummed bluntly, and a pinkish blush dusted across Mike’s cheeks. It was either blush or the early stages of a sunburn.

“Why?” he shot back, though it lacked any edge.

“Because it’s wet, and I don’t want it dripping on me,” Missy replied matter-of-factly.

Mike looked like he had a rebuttal on his tongue, perhaps a follow-up question, but ultimately he opted to quietly tug the soaked sleeveless tank up over his head. Missy stared unabashedly at his now bare torso as a few stray water droplets cascaded down. His shoulders and neckline were a tad redder than the rest of him, most likely from the vicious light outside. He watched her for a second as he wrung out the article, meek as she eyed him like a piece of meat to be devoured whole.

“C’mere,” she beckoned, Mike momentarily draping the tank over the small metal table that the towel bag was resting on before he approached where she sat outstretched on the lounge chair. Missy was pleased that he was behaving now more than before, biting her bottom lip lightly as her eyes raked over his body.

Mike wasn’t especially built, mainly stockier than her and only a tad toned. Not that she ever expected or even desired him to look like anything other than himself—taut if he tensed up but a bit squishy if he was otherwise relaxed. Easier to bite into, she believed, and she often did. Mike never seemed to care one way or the other about his physical appearance, admittedly not giving it much thought in general until he became familiar with Michael’s (and later Missy’s) borderline obsession with him. Despite this, he did tend to cower slightly underneath such an intensive and attentive gaze like hers; oh, Missy could just eat him up, both in a cute way as well as like a swarm of piranhas shredding vulnerable flesh from bone.

Best not to get /too/ excited.

Once she was done examining him while he stood at her side, almost at attention like he required some divine permission to do much else, she smacked her lips.

“Well, are you just gonna stand there like a doofus, or are you gonna kiss me?” she prompted, and Mike, like a dog waiting for the correct command to receive a treat, immediately dropped down to her level and united their lips in fervent splendor. Missy hummed in approval, along with a couple other sounds as an ambitious tongue grazed past her teeth and into her mouth. Her hands darted up to bracket Mike’s face, pushing damp chunks of hair back out of his eyes and behind his ears.

Mike crouched properly beside her chair, throwing an arm over to the other side so that his upper body hovered over hers as they made out. Missy’s hands wandered over him, brushing across his shoulders to his forearms and then back up to drag down his chest and abdomen. Mike shuddered lightly at the other’s incessant need to feel him up, breaking away from the kiss but only a couple inches. Missy pouted in spite of her quiet panting to catch her breath.

“I don’t…” Mike began, interrupted by a soft, strangled whine in the back of his throat as Missy squeezed his pecs lightly.

“Use your words, baby,” Missy spoke, her voice gentle despite the sheen of a taunt in her statement. She leaned her head forward to steal a quick peck off his lips.

“I-I don’t…” he repeated, struggling to piece together his thoughts, and he was just the cutest thing ever already so flustered and red from a simple kiss. Missy would never grow tired of the adorable display, enjoying the influence she lorded over him but also incredibly endeared at just how stupidly infatuated he was. Mike sucked in a quick breath before a quiet groan, his voice nervous if not a tad bit disappointed by what he was about to say.

“I don’t think I’ll have time to fuck you,” he finally managed in a hushed tone as if he was accidentally speaking louder than he really was. Missy’s eyes widened as her brows hiked up her forehead in surprise.

“That’s /awfully/ presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” she replied, vying not to be distracted by Mike’s somewhat charming notion that the location wasn’t the issue rather than the fact that he wouldn’t be able to take care of her like he usually did during intercourse. After all, they hadn’t packed anything remotely close to lubricant, and Mike never was keen on hurting Missy even if she insisted she’d be okay.

Missy had a…complicated relationship with sex and intimacy as a whole. Most of her prior ‘experience’ came from television or the occasional browsing of pornography. It wasn’t like she was ever open to being touched in the first place, even before exploring her identity. She was closed off, beyond repressed, and convinced she’d never be worthy of anything other than a bout of quick and convenient fun to be discarded afterward like a candy wrapper. She was accustomed to pain, both emotional and physical, so it was safe to assume that any sexual aspect of her life would yield more of the same. Her first time with Mike had ended in tears—not by any means of disgust or agony, but purely the opposite. Mike had been clumsy, his typical shy yet enthusiastic self, and Missy had been utterly confused by his lack of apathy and predicted selfishness. She had been treated as a participant rather than an object like she’d presumed would happen, and it broke her to come to terms that Mike viewed her as a human person rather than a thing. She’d be hard pressed to admit it, but she adored being fawned over and anytime Mike expressed a gentleness towards her, intimate or benign.

Mike’s brows crinkled in slight confusion.

“Oh? Sorry, I thought—“

“Thought I wanted you to peel off those dinky trunks of yours and let you pound me until the chair broke, that it?” Missy mused, and Mike rolled his eyes as his face burned with embarrassment. What a lovely shade; it only encouraged the woman to tease more.

“Just announce to the whole wide world you brought your slut with you to the pools, and she’s just always dying to get down with you, even in broad daylight.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” Mike interjected, a frown on his lips, “you’re more than that. You know that. I love you.”

Something stirred in Missy’s chest, and her next locked and loaded tease died on her tongue. It often slipped her mind how defensive Mike became when it came to any form of degradation of his partner, even if Missy was pitting it against herself. Perhaps it was a turn off, or more likely the result of the countless episodes he’d comforted her through where she felt like nothing in the world and admitted she’d be better off dead ten times over. Yeah, maybe that’s what had turned the topic somewhat sensitive.

Missy sighed, tenderly brushing Mike’s hair from his face.

“I know,” she murmured in return, “I love you, too.”

They peered into each other’s eyes for a moment, both a touch apologetic for briefly souring the other’s mood, before Missy brought him into another kiss. This one was slower, more loving and tender than the first. Mike reciprocated, tilting his head slightly to deepen the kiss until the fervor between them gradually reignited.

Regaining some of her previous confidence, Missy resumed with her earlier plans now that things were back in motion.

“Think you can help me with something, baby?” she breathed out between heated kisses. Mike hummed out a curious noise. Missy nipped at his bottom lip, a tad harsh but not enough to bruise or bleed. Mike pulled back briefly as his eyes flickered over her pink-dusted face before it ducked down into the crook of her neck instead to litter his affections elsewhere. Missy let out a shaky breath as his kisses sent goosebumps to prickle her skin. Bony hands mustered up the confidence to unwrap her pretty mauve coverup and let it drape open on either side of her, her flushed chest barely containing her fluttering heartbeat.

“It’s really…it’s hot in this tent, all by myself,” she murmured, reaching to her side where one of Mike’s hands were braced on the chair. She raised it before placing it down to splay against her ribs just below her bikini top. “I was hoping…I could count on you to help cool me off.”

Mike paused for half a second as the gears in his brain whirred to register her insinuation. Once it clicked, his hand against her body firmed and slid down her torso to grip at her waist. His tokens of affection trailed down to her clavicle and the center of her flat chest, being sure to not skip over her various scarring. God, she almost wished he lacked enough of a conscience to tear her bikini off and take her regardless of any other worrisome factors.

Her breath hitched as he sprinkled loving kisses down the span of her body, her skin tacky and unpleasant from sweat but it wasn’t like Mike had any history of frivolous details like that deterring him from his goals. He had both hands on Missy now, and Missy was earnestly venturing not to abandon all restraint in order to keep herself quiet; this was only becoming increasingly more difficult the lower Mike traversed, eventually idling around her lower abdomen while his hands squeezed her thighs. He kissed her hip bones and trailed inward along the waistband of her embarrassingly restrictive bikini bottoms. He nuzzled his nose against her tuft of a happy trail before dragging his tongue along the coarse strip from her waist to her naval. Missy’s abdomen tensed, and she gasped softly in response. She scooted her legs open a tad wider to accommodate a space for him.

“Right here, beautiful?” he cooed, his face close enough to her crotch that she could feel his breath through the tightened fabric, “Is this where you want me?”

Of all the times for this dumbass to regain the audacity to tease. Nevertheless, Missy nodded quickly.

“Should I use my mouth for you, pretty girl?” he mused, his hands hiking up high to grope and squeeze around her inner thighs, “To avoid a mess, of course. Is that what you want?”

Missy nodded again.

“Use your words, Missy,” Mike hummed, leaning his head down to mouth at the outline pressed to the fabric. Missy flinched at the sudden contact that wasn’t remotely enough.

“Fuck you,” she grumbled.

“Not quite,” Mike hummed, pinning down the fabric of the article to press firmer against her erection. Her face twitched.

“/Yes/, Mikey, /fuck/!” she sputtered out in a hushed yet impatient voice. That seemed to suffice, a dull hiss escaping her pursed lips as Mike rolled the fabric down for her length to spring out. Usually Missy would feel a rush when suddenly exposed to the air, but everything was so warm from the heat outside that there was hardly any difference between being clothed and stripped. Her tip smacked against her lower belly, a small splatter of precum dousing her skin and the patch of hair. This is typically when Mike would take his time to unravel her, a blowjob often serving as a precursor to something more, but there simply wasn’t time for their usual routine. As a result, Missy almost got whiplash from how fast the other went to work.

Mike licked a flat stripe from her base up to her tip, tracing a vein like a guiding bolt before his fingers curled around the base and squeezed lightly. He lapped any remaining precum from her slit, swirling his tongue in a manner that already had her squirming in the lounge chair. His lips wrapped around her tip as he began to suck, one of Missy’s hands clapping over her mouth to muffle herself; typically, her unruly habit of silencing herself was frowned upon and discouraged, but now it became imperative. Her hips bucked upward, an impatient attempt to thrust deeper into Mike’s mouth, but his free hand splayed against her waist to hold her down. Missy whined.

Mike was going faster than usual, bobbing his head shallowly as he slid more of her length into his mouth. He was unfairly good at this, Missy had discovered a while ago—not that she had anyone to compare his skill to nor did she have any interest in exploring other options. Her hips stuttered again to no avail, desperate to fuck into that lovely mouth that tormented her to no end. She braced her opposite hand against the top of the lounge chair above her head lest she grab onto Mike’s damp curls tight enough to rip them from his scalp.

Mike sucked diligently, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing around her shaft as the hand wrapped around her base rocked lightly. The man’s head suddenly raised for a quick breather, ducking down to swipe his tongue over her taut balls and bringing his unoccupied hand up from Missy’s thigh to squeeze and fondle them.

Missy’s body jolted, her heart pounding behind her ribs as Mike planted hot, wet, open mouthed kisses along her twitching shaft and sucking hard around her tip. Her hand smacked against the top rung of the chair, a muffled outcry into her other hand as her back arched slightly. The small pool of heat in her gut had spilled over, and she came into her lover’s mouth without warning. Mike groaned around her tip, dutifully sucking and swallowing what he could until Missy was whimpering to pull away from him.

Mike slid his mouth off her softening dick with a quiet pop, pressing light kisses to her shaft along the familiar vein before reaffixing her swim bottoms. He littered a couple kisses against her waistline and belly.

“That better?” he inquired, still panting to catch his breath. Missy wiped the sweat off her brow, leaning her head back against the chair before nodding.

“Much better, baby,” she murmured, “although, I think I will take that ice cream now, if you’re still offering to get me one.”

Mike scoffed out a small laugh.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

~~~

Missy seemed mostly contented for the remainder of the day. A semi-decent breeze passed through the air at some point, a cluster of clouds drifting to at least partially block the brutality of the summer sun. She was plenty satisfied that she never dipped into the various pools the entire day; she didn’t care for the texture that chlorinated water left on her hair and skin, not to mention avoiding the grease of sunscreen that was paired with a smell that caused her nose to crinkle.

Over the intercom, one of the employees announced that the waterpark would be closing soon, and it wasn’t long after the site-wide declaration that the rest of the merry band piled into Missy’s tent to grab towels and pat themselves dry.

Vanessa, naturally, appeared almost entirely unbothered. Her hair was wispy from air-drying outside, and her face was delicately sun-kissed. The only remote sign of any burns she sported were the tops of her thighs since she didn’t make any habit of tanning her legs, but even so they weren’t severe. Missy almost rolled her eyes, hugging her coverup closer to herself. Even when it was completely benign and unintentional, the remnants of the ugly ‘lesser than’ feeling remained, especially since Vanessa had been out and sociable all day while Missy chose to stow away in isolated shadows of shade. It was nonsensical for someone like Mike to choose an asocial hermit over such an obvious ray of sunshine, though, Missy did have a habit of idealizing her sister that she hadn’t quite outgrown. Then again, Mike was a bit of an asocial hermit in his own right.

Speaking of.

“Hey, baby, you ready to go?” Mike inquired tiredly as he toweled his hair dry.

“You’re gonna burn,” Vanessa commented in observation, reaching out to touch lightly at Mike’s shoulder and around the neckline of his tank top. Missy frowned, trying her best not to be insufferable and possessive (even though she was) while her sister poked and prodded absentmindedly at her partner. The utterly harmless nature of the contact mattered not.

Abby bounded into the tent, her curls matted to her face as she shook them loose like an eager wet dog. It was clear she’d just hopped out of the water while the other two had been somewhat air drying instead.

“Hopefully not too bad,” Mike returned to Vanessa’s idle statement, tilting his head down to scan his eyes over himself and brushing a hand over his shoulders.

“It’ll probably tan over after a couple days,” Vanessa hummed as she wrapped her towel around her waist, “that’s what my sunburns usually do.”

Missy did roll her eyes that time. Vanessa always handled the sun better, even when they were children. Of course, certain factors definitely didn’t help, such as Michael being perpetually so sickly pale as a kid that his skin was nearly translucent. Part of that wasn’t his own fault, though, William often discouraging him from playing outside with Vanessa and Charlotte and occasionally falling into a mean streak of barricading Michael in a closet for hours over some arbitrary malfeasance. Vanessa more than once had to sneak him dinner.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go,” Missy spoke up, a tad sour, and she hoisted herself up from the lounge chair and stretched her legs out.

All four walked together out of the park and back to the car, the irritable woman immediately ripping off her wristband as it had been nagging her off and on all day. Missy was resigned to herself for the majority of the drive home, her arms crossed as she gazed absently out the window. Vanessa and Abby rambled on with Mike’s intermittent input until Abby dozed off leaning into Vanessa’s side. Once they arrived at Vanessa’s home, Missy’s eyes ducked away from the window. She had half a mind to burn the haunted house to cinders, not due to any fault on Vanessa’s part, but just rather the fact that she remained astounded that her older sister could sleep within its walls without being actively plagued by torturous night terrors. Once Missy had outgrown the immediate reach of William’s oppressive influence, she didn’t enjoy lingering around any past connections of her unsavory childhood and demented adolescence.

Vanessa offered to keep Abby one more night since the girl’s stuff hadn’t been packed, and Mike said he didn’t mind that at all. Vanessa stretched her back and legs once she exited the backseat, Mike stepping out to carry his sleeping baby sister inside the house. Tentatively, Vanessa tapped on Missy’s window. After a beat of consideration, the younger sibling lowered it, and the other ducked down to rest her arms against the sill.

“You okay?” she queried softly.

“Just tired,” Missy muttered, her eyes shying away from the pair of inquisitive green. Vanessa bit the inside of her cheek in thought.

“He loves /you/, you know,” she spoke in a lowered voice, and Missy’s attention snapped upward towards her. Vanessa hummed with a quaint smile.

“Look, I know you and I aren’t exactly buddy-buddy like when we were kids. With everything that happened…from before and…times before even that. But I promise you, that little pain in the ass is all yours. I don’t have any interest in anything other than being his friend—we didn’t click, and that’s perfectly fine with me. And I know it’s certainly fine with him because do you know who he was yapping about all day long?”

Vanessa reached into the car to poke her sister’s shoulder.

“So I wish you wouldn’t shut me out, Missy,” Vanessa continued, her lips drooping into a slight frown, “I’m not…the enemy. I’m not your competitor. That was all dad—I never wanted anything to do with all his bullshit, but…”

A pitiful, defeated shrug.

“It’s hard to do anything about it when you’re a kid. But we’re not kids anymore. He’s gone. And I know it’s hypocritical of me to ask that you just ‘get over’ all that mental programming, so I won’t. I still…struggle with it too, sometimes, I’ve just taught myself to hide it away and compartmentalize. I just…want us to be siblings again. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, even during the worst times. And I am glad you decided to share more of your life with me—and I’m glad you went with us today, even if you stayed in the shade. You know you burn.”

Missy chuckled weakly, her face scrunching as her eyes turned misty. She blinked away the tears that threatened to form, not particularly successful. She fussed with her seatbelt before pushing the car door open and climbing out.

“Nessa…” she mumbled, slinging her arms around her sister who immediately returned the tight embrace. Vanessa nearly lifted the other off her feet if it hadn’t been for Missy’s meager five inch height advantage over her. Missy let herself be practically crunched in her sister’s arms.

There were no more exchanges of words between them, the mutual embrace speaking loudly enough for the both parties. Missy loved Vanessa, more than anything, but that love had been buried and overburdened by habitual strife for so long that it had been diluted or nearly outright forgotten. As children, Vanessa was always the best. She had the world while all little Michael had wanted was a sister. And now, over two decades later, that didn’t seem so impossible anymore. Things wouldn’t be magically repaired by any means, but it was a step in the right direction.

“I love you,” Vanessa assured as she rubbed Missy’s back. Missy’s arms tightened around her.

“Mm love you too, Nessa,” she murmured shakily, eventually leaning away to wipe her eyes.

“Everything okay out here?” Mike piped up as he returned from the house, and both women’s head swiveled around to acknowledge him. Mike pointed behind him towards the front door. “I think Abby went to go shower—hope she doesn’t fall asleep in there. I told her not to get on the furniture with her swimsuit.”

“Yeah, we’re all good out here,” Vanessa replied, turning back to Missy and administering a gentle squeeze to her upper arms, “right?”

Missy nodded quickly and sniffled, wiping her hands over her face. “Right.”

“All right,” Mike replied, a bit cautious when he noticed his partner’s tears paired with her smile.

“Thanks for going out with us,” he said to Vanessa, “and letting Abby stay over. I know she had a blast today and will probably sleep until noon tomorrow or something.”

“Not a problem; she’s a joy to have over,” Vanessa chimed before finally separating from her younger sister, “I’ll see you both tomorrow, then, when I bring her home?”

“Sounds good,” Mike responded, and Vanessa tossed a kind smile towards Missy before waving goodbye and walking inside the house.

The remaining twenty or so minutes of the car ride home was in better spirits than before. While still keeping to herself for the most part, Missy did maintain a quaint upturn of her lips.

“Good day,” she hummed to herself, watching the sun set into dusk as Mike pulled into the driveway.

“Yeah?” Mike inquired lightly as he parked the car and climbed out. Missy joined him, her arms folded over her chest as she nodded.

“Mhm.”

“That’s good,” Mike replied as he twisted the key into the lock and opened the door, “because I was thinking I need to do something before we fully unwind for the night.”

Missy quirked her brow as they walked inside, Mike shutting the door behind them and turning the deadbolt back into place.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Nothing too crazy,” Mike returned as he dropped the tote bag full of damp beach towels by the door and tossed his keys onto the small side table in the foyer, “I actually meant to do it yesterday before we left, but decided it’d be better to wait. More fulfilling, I think.”

Missy tilted her head curiously as Mike kicked off his flip flops to prop haphazardly against the wall.

“Yeah, I just gotta fuck the shit outta you is all.”

Missy’s brows raised, shocked by both the statement itself as well as the utter casualness it was draped in. She was admittedly stunned, taken off guard, her head reeling and scrambling to catch up as she was pushed up against the wall of the hallway. Mike’s hands shucked her coverup off her shoulders to cascade onto the floor at their feet.

Her own hands batted at him uselessly, her brain short circuiting as his mouth latched onto her neck to imprint the tacky skin with pretty reddish-purple blossoms.

“Mikeyyy,” she huffed out, finally regaining some semblance of her senses while her hands clasped over the tops of his shoulders. His hands slid easily up and down her bare sides, indulging in her form like it was a forbidden fruit he hadn’t had the opportunity to consume until right this moment.

“/You/, Missy-girl, have been driving me absolutely /crazy/ since the moment you put on this suit,” Mike breathed out against her throat, grazing his teeth over her sensitive spots like below her ear and down towards her shoulder. Not enough to bite—Mike was never a biter, as that was often his partner’s forte, but just enough to almost make Missy wish he would apply that extra bit of pressure to leave behind an imprint. Missy whined quietly.

“Fuck, do you even know how badly I wanted to take you up on your earlier offer? To bend you over the counter or the couch or any place and fuck my pretty girl until you screamed? And you are /my/ pretty girl.”

Missy’s head was swimming, an airy moan escaping her lips as Mike thoroughly marked up her neck before shifting down towards her collarbone.

“But you just /had/ to push my buttons, didn’t you? Calling me your good boy; /fuck/, I almost burst on the spot. Knowing damn well I’d do anything for you, sweetheart, I’d behave so well, be so good for you for just the /chance/ to have you like this. Almost came in my stupid trunks just from sucking you off, you know that? Course you do, shit, you drive me wild.”

Well, no, Missy didn’t know that, but it wasn’t completely implausible to fathom. Mike did happen to have a pattern of getting off to his partner’s pleasure more often than trying to chase his own. Missy tried not to get an ego about it, which usually was a failed endeavor.

“M-Mike,” she breathed out, her face reddening as she was bombarded by the rush of sensations—Mike’s hands all over her, squeezing and groping and holding her firm enough to nearly bruise; Mike’s tokens of adoration painting her skin like lovely shades of blooming flowers, the fresh hickeys trailing down toward her chest now.

Mike rambled on and on, apparently more pent up than Missy had initially realized. Turns out, her incessant teasing and calls for affection throughout the day and the evening before had taken a small toll on the other—not that she was remotely complaining. After all, she thrived on Mike’s attention; perhaps it was a side effect of her obsessive and possessive streak that tended to be yanked to the forefront more often than not.

“Mike,” she panted, a stifled groan as Mike’s hands slithered up to squeeze her chest through her bikini top, “/Mike/!”

“What is it, angel?” Mike huffed out, his arms looping around her waist to hug her body against his. Missy let out a crackled moan as she felt something stiff press against her front from within the other’s trunks.

“Fuck me,” she requested, voice twinged with hazy lust but overall needy, bordering on authoritative.

“So I behaved?” Mike purred, “I did good for you?”

Fuck! Those dumb doe eyes were so wide and hopeful, so dependent on her praise and approval. She’d be more endeared if she wasn’t currently painfully hard. The man’s subconscious ability to switch his demeanor on a dime was impressive, and it would surely be the death of her.

“/So/ good, baby, so so good for me,” she cooed sweetly, bringing her arms back to cup his face in her slender hands, “you’ve earned it, Mikey, really.”

Mike seemed to glow beneath her words of gratitude, leaning up to unite their lips in an impassioned kiss. Missy squeaked out a small noise, carding her fingers through his curls that were matted with dried chlorination from the pool water. She typically wasn’t favorable of the texture, but she couldn’t be bothered to wait for the other to shower and wash it out.

“Any special requests?” Mike hummed, and Missy pondered for about half a second before relenting to the comfortable default.

“Take me to bed, love,” she purred, and Mike recaptured her lips for another kiss. After a beat, he pried himself off of her, leaving her a tad breathless in the process as he guided her by the hand toward his bedroom, which was more like their shared room by now with how often she stayed over. Missy’s footsteps felt heavier than usual, a hint unbalanced in her fuzzy headspace.

Mike corralled her into the room, casting her down to sit on the edge of the bed. Missy kicked off her sandals, watching with bated breath as Mike tugged his air dried tank top over his head and chunked it to the floor. Her hands moved to unclasp her bikini top, but Mike swiftly stopped her.

“Keep it on, please,” he implored, a shimmer in his eyes that caused Missy’s hands to drop right back onto her lap in compliance. If a swimsuit of all things could render Mike so hot and bothered, maybe Missy should consider his previous offer of dressing her in something more decorative like the lace he’d mentioned.

Mike smiled, leaning down a bit to peck her lips.

“Lay back and get comfortable, sweetheart, mkay?”

Missy pouted, leaning back to prop against her braced arms to watch her beloved rummage through the bedside table drawer for the bottle of lubricant that would need to be replaced soon.

“You don’t want me…down? It’ll be easier that way,” she pointed out, a twinge awkward as she cocked her head to the side. While she’d certainly come a long way from how standoffish she used to be during intimacy, there were still occasions whenever she felt particularly vulnerable and pondered if it would be better for the both of them to hide her face away. Mike could pretend he was with someone better, prettier, and Missy could shove down her insecurities and focus solely on the pleasure aspect of it all. It was silly, Mike giving her absolutely no reason to assume such desires from him, and she was aware of that. But the logic didn’t matter whenever she became trapped in her own head. Perhaps the recent reactions Mike exhibited to her new outfit hooked the idea into her mind that he was much more centered on her body rather than the scrambled, tangled mess of a brain that was attached to it. Not /her/, but rather the illusion of what she could offer.

“No,” Mike answered plainly, not privy to her internal discourse at the moment due to such preoccupation, “I wanna see you. See your face.”

Missy scoffed lightly, a strange shyness in the way her posture tensed subtly.

“Why? Does it really matter?”

Mike’s head popped up from fiddling with the lube bottle in his hands, tossing her a dumbfounded look.

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you? Your facial expressions are perfect—and it’s harder for you to hide those sweet sounds from me when you’re not buried into a pillow,” he mused lightheartedly.

Missy chewed on her tongue between her back teeth in thought before settling another inquiry, though it was disguised as a tease for her own sanity.

“You like looking at me, huh?” she hummed, her lips quirking into a half smile, “You like watching the effect your stupidass charms have on me?”

Mike didn’t appear to quite grasp whether that was supposed to be a joke or rhetorical question.

“Yes,” he answered clearly, the simplicity and blunt sincerity of the one word confirmation miraculously enough to shoo away her temporary turmoil. Missy took in a sharp breath to ease herself.

“Alright then,” she hummed, scooting further back and punching against the cluster of various pillows to best situate herself atop the bed. She leaned back, hands brushing over herself idly in any feeble attempt to make herself any more ‘presentable’. She could feel Mike’s eyes on her again in observance, finally clasping her hands over her stomach and swiveling her head back in his direction.

“Okay, you can charm me now.”

Mike rolled his eyes playfully but refused to waste any more time as he climbed onto the bed and practically on top of her. He wormed himself into a space between her long legs, administering the slightest hint of force since she tried to act bashful about opening her thighs widely enough to accommodate him. Mike leaned forward over her to rejoin their lips in a fervent kiss after he’d gotten settled where he wanted to be. Missy followed suit, her hands unfolding from her stomach to glide up Mike’s knees to his thighs. She shoved the fabric of his trunks out of the way as her fingers slid beneath the hemline, her nails dragging up and down the soft flesh and prompting the other to shiver lightly.

A gasp fell into Mike’s mouth as the man’s explorative hands dragged down Missy’s sides towards her separated thighs, issuing relaxing squeezes before one rogue hand suddenly darted lower to clasp behind one of her knees and brace it upward to pin her thigh down against her stomach.

There was a slight strain but no obvious discomfort from the position—Missy was awfully flexible, after all. She always had been, her lanky frame easily bendable and maneuverable to wrangle herself into tight or confined spaces like climbing through Mike’s bedroom window in their earlier days of courtship. This interesting facet of her abilities hadn’t been explored in a sexual context before becoming closer with her beloved, and he was often fascinated by the various positions she could manage. Now was no different, the man breaking the kiss for a few curious seconds to watch his love’s pretty face pant quietly.

“Does that hurt?” he asked softly, Missy dragging her bottom lip between her teeth before shaking her head slowly. She wasn’t lying, but something about the spark in Mike’s eyes enticed her. She formulated a theory which was promptly proven correct by Mike raising her other leg to join the other, folding up far enough for her thigh to press to her abdomen; a wobbly groan slipped past her throat as her chest rose and fell with quickened breath. Mike unabashedly staring in awe at the newly discovered position made her feel like some kind of oddity display, and she would typically begin to feel self conscious if not for being able to physically witness the minute ways his expression shifted like his lust addled brain was rewiring itself with this new and pertinent information. She could already tell where this was going to go, a whine emitting from her mouth as he leaned himself back down and kissed her as if to experiment with the limits of movement and strain. Missy felt compressed, practically folded in half, and she shuddered upon sensing the other’s hips slowly rock forward against her to grind. Mike had better hurry up and get his act together, Missy only growing more impatient and hot as this charade went on.

“Babyyy,” she mumbled against his lips, “stop playing around…I need you…”

Mike was a tad more red-faced now with blush searing across his cheeks to join the hue of his settling sunburn. His eyes were damn near black with how blown his pupils were in adoration and desire.

“Okay, okay,” he spoke gently, straightening his back upright again. He swallowed thickly, like he might burst from the sight and anticipation alone.

“Uh,” he squeaked before quickly clearing his throat, “can you…shit, baby, can you hold your legs like that? Just while I prep you…”

Missy’s eyes widened dumbly, but she didn’t have it in her to protest as Mike gathered up her slender arms to wrap around the backs of her knees to hug her legs in place. In a way, she was fascinated by his fascination. Turned on at the thought that a pose so awkward and comprising was doing such a number on Mike already. She couldn’t view herself, naturally, so she felt a bit silly and flustered as Mike fumbled with the lube container; maybe someday she could fold Mike like this and see what all the fuss was about.

Mike finally opened the bottle, the familiar snap of the lid popping open sending a trill of excitement up Missy’s spine. Her head turned away avoidantly as Mike’s free hand slid smoothly along the backs of her thighs and to her ass, the position offering very few favors for how bony her rear actually was. She didn’t have many curves, basically all straight flat lines, but Mike never complained about it. Missy bit her lip, tensing up as Mike’s hand brushed down across her swim bottoms and pushed the concealing fabric to the side to better expose her.

“I can take these off, you know,” she muttered, but Mike shook his head to shut that idea down promptly. She yelped in surprise feeling his hand smack the side of her ass, her head whipping back forward despite not being able to see as well as usual with her knees shoved in her face.

“I’ll kick you in the head if you do that again!” she warned, and with her track record, it wasn’t an empty threat. Nevertheless, it was a good sign that she was still holding herself in position instead of breaking out of it to prematurely attack the other. Mike grinned, his head popping up to rest his chin to one of her shins. Hell, Missy may have to kick him anyway, a flustered scowl on her face to appear mean despite everything.

“Sorry, hon, couldn’t help it,” he mused without a single hint of any actual remorse. Missy’s mouth opened for what was surely a snappish retort before a stifled gasp was released in its place, her lips clamping shut as Mike encircled her entrance with a slicked finger.

“What?” he hummed flippantly, pressing the digit past her rim with ease down to the knuckle, “Cat got your tongue, Missy-girl?”

Missy tried not to tense, the intrusion simply signaling that they were inching closer to the main event. Their first time had taken nearly forever, so many new experiences all at once with the overpowering flood of obsessive entanglement, but over time Missy learned not to treat sex like a stressful affair or an endeavor to overcome rather than enjoy. Mike had been so patient with her—to an almost overbearing degree—to set the standards and expectations going forward. She was loved, cared for, and it was imperative to Mike that she understood that.

“Don’t be an ass,” she grumbled defiantly. Just because she was loved and cared for didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to act bratty or authoritative. She ventured to hold onto some scrap of control for her own comfort, and sometimes all that really meant was snappish comments or petty insults that meant nothing at all. Mike had picked up pretty quickly on her signs—which words were real and which were in the moment—and learned how to play along.

“Awe, don’t be like that,” he teased lightly, his free hand patting against her leg. He turned his head to plant a kiss beside her calf.

“Like wha—mmh—“ her words died off into a groan as Mike pushed in a second finger. There was a tad more stretch than before, Missy biting her tongue and squeezing her arms a bit tighter around the backs of her knees.

“You’re doing so well, sweetness,” Mike cooed in that stupid encouraging tone that was sappy beyond belief. Missy wouldn’t relish admitting how the praise caused her heart to flutter. Deep down, she did appreciate the level of care and diligence being utilized to avoid any unintended harm to her—Mike and his dumb bleeding heart and all—but she’d also be lying if she said she didn’t wish he’d expedite the process a little. All the foreplay from earlier all the way to the night before was taking its toll.

Mike crooked his fingers, rocking his wrist with gradually increasing speed as he worked her open. Tiny whines and mewls rumbled in the back of her throat.

“Need more,” she huffed out, her face reddened to the tops of her ears with blush, “it’s good enough, Mikey, I need /more/.”

“Feeling eager now?” Mike quipped, and Missy’s face crinkled up.

“Feeling pissed off by you dragging your feet,” she complained impatiently, not to mention her arms were becoming tired.

Mike snickered. “Fine, if you think you’re ready then.”

What an audacious statement—like Missy hasn’t /been/ ready from the moment Mike told her to grind down on his thigh in the bathroom.

Mike removed his fingers, earning a deflated noise from the other in response to the loss. She might pass out from how ridiculously hard she was in her bikini bottoms—what was the play, exactly? If Mike planned on fucking her in the suit, it would be a crying shame to get the lovely thing so messy.

Hearing the sound of shimmying fabric as she poked her head up to snag a glimpse of Mike shucking his trunks off convinced her that she’d get over it if said mess occurred. How pitiful it was that her rapt attention was on him as he poured more of the lube into his palm and gave a few quick tugs to himself to apply it.

Missy and her beloved were fairly similar to each other, both relatively average and neither having given that aspect of themselves much thought until shared intimacy became more frequent. Even so, the details didn’t terribly matter. She’d still love Mike to pieces even if he had nothing at all downstairs, and vice versa.

Finally, at long last, Mike scooted up closer to where Missy was situated. Missy was practically vibrating with excited anticipation, her breath hitching as Mike maneuvered himself to press his tip against her puckered rim. A breathy noise that tumbled into a strangled groan escaped Missy’s lips as he slowly slid into her inch by meticulous inch. The stretch was bigger than Mike’s fingers, Missy whining as he shallowly rocked his hips to aid in her adjustment.

“You’re squeezing me hard enough to snap my dick off,” he gruffed under his breath, “you’ve gotta relax, sweetheart.”

Mike’s hands glided soothingly up and down the backs of Missy’s thighs, eventually reaching higher to unclasp her arms from around her knees. Her arms flopped open to rest for maybe two seconds before her fingers twisted in the bedsheets beneath her. Mike’s hands kept her legs pinned down to her stomach to maintain the position, muttering something under his breath that Missy couldn’t quite catch as he leaned upright to focus on thrusting himself deeper into her. An uneven gasp that fell into a whine rattled from her as the other bottomed out, her chest heaving to steady her breath as somewhat skittish eyes flickered over Mike’s face. His own honey brown eyes were heady, his brows pinched as he panted quietly like he was trying to ground himself.

He could stand to allow a few more seconds for her adjustment, but both of their patience had dwindled a significant amount. Missy’s breath caught in her throat as he pulled out a couple inches before thrusting back in, a slow rhythm at first that swiftly devolved into something less put together.

Quiet moans and grunts ricocheted off the walls of the bedroom, Missy still a hint shy about her vocality. Her noises Mike seemed to love so much had to be properly earned, after all, and Mike was only encouraged by the challenge.

“You’re taking me so well, angel,” he praised softly, “my perfect, precious, pretty girl.”

Missy whined under her breath.

“Mm not perfect,” she grumbled out, but Mike begged to differ.

“Perfect for /me/,” he elaborated, purposefully slowing down to provide deeper, more deliberate thrusts. Missy’s brain shorted out from the sudden change of pace, her toes curling up as a slightly louder moan was coerced out of her.

“Mikeyyy,” she huffed out, vaguely annoyed but draped in a veil of desperation.

“The way you call my name is perfect,” he mused, “how you rile me up so effortlessly, how good it feels to fuck you, please you, everything for you…/only you/.”

There was an insistence in Mike’s tone, especially when he situated her legs to prop up against his upper arms so he could brace his hands down on either side of her. This provided him with a gap to lean himself back down against her body, rocking his hips faster again like before. Missy’s senses scrambled, unaided by the fact that Mike was planting heated kisses against her flushed chest.

Missy’s hands bat against the bed before they shot up to hug around his neck, squirming under him. She could swear he was hitting deeper than usual—maybe there actually was something to this strange new position. Meanwhile, Mike mouthed over her covered nipples, sucking through the fabric of the skimpy bikini top. She attempted to wiggle away, an incredibly futile effort with how she was so effectively pinned beneath him—fuck, she really would have to test this out on Mike later.

It was all so much, but at the same time, not nearly enough.

“Mike—mmmah—Mikeyyy!” a wobbly outcry, “n-need—/fffuck/—need you, baby, p-please…”

“I’m right here, sweet girl, tell me what you need,” he responded quickly amidst his own fits of moans, “anything you need, baby, just name it.”

Missy would roll her eyes if his undying willingness to please didn’t cause her heart to thud like a bass drum in her ears instead. Her face scrunched lightly like her request would be disappointing with how basic it was.

“Kiss me,” she whimpered out, and Mike crashed their lips together without a moment’s hesitation. Her bony fingers tangled in his short curls before one arm flung around his back to hug him impossibly closer to her. She nearly screamed into his mouth after a particular thrust, her nails latching into the back of his shoulder blade like a cat sinking its claws into a piece of furniture.

“There!” she gasped, shoving aside future embarrassment over the obscene sound that just flew out of her, “Right there, Mikey, right—f-ff/uck/!”

Mike, in typical fashion, took her instructions to heart. He bucked his hips harder, faster, focusing everything on that special spot inside his love that had moans and mewls cascading from her mouth in reckless abandon.

His face tucked away into the crook of her neck, and Missy’s hand in his hair clasped around the back of his head to hold him to her.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, you know that?” he murmured against her ear, “How’s it feel to know you’ve ruined everyone else for me? My perfect Missy…”

“Mike!” she squeaked out, breathless as the air was punched out of her with every thrust. Her nails dug harder into his back—he might bleed.

She was close, so unfathomably close that it hurt as the simmering heat pooling in her core was boiling to a roar. She could hardly believe she was about to cum untouched in a stupid swimsuit of all things, but Mike had a habit of prying the unexpected out of her.

“Mikey, babyyy,” was about the only warning she could muster, but Mike seemed to understand regardless.

“It’s okay, baby, let yourself feel good,” the final words of encouragement before her threadbare resolve snapped. She arched up into him, a hoarse moan ripping from her throat as she climaxed. Her body tensed with rippling pleasure, clenching tightly around her partner’s dick and eliciting a heavy groan from the other. His movements became sporadic, Missy letting out sweetened whimpers of overstimulation as her beloved continued to pound into her for nearly a full minute more, thought it felt like much longer with how tingly her body was.

A pitiful, crackled moan escaped her once Mike finished inside, Missy’s head craning back into the mess of pillows as he thrusted a few more times to ride out his own orgasm.

They remained entangled with one another for a while, maybe five or six minutes simply catching their respective breaths. Mike turned his head towards her from where it had still been buried down close to her shoulder, littering small affectionate kisses along her jawline.

“Mm love you,” he croaked out, his voice tender in the calmness of their shared afterglow, “I’ll get us cleaned up…and we can find some dinner, mkay? You hungry?”

Missy hadn’t given it much thought, but now that she had—

“I’m /starving/, actually,” she realized, and Mike chuckled, smiling against her cheek before planting another kiss against it.

Missy remained in her not-quite-clear floaty headspace as Mike crawled off of her to pull out and clean her up. Shyness crept into her once her legs were finally flopped back down to reveal the utter mess in her swim bottoms that had splattered out onto her lower abdomen. That combined with Mike’s spent starting to drizzle out of her was enough to render her bashfully speechless.

Nevertheless, Mike took his usual special care with her afterwards. They showered together, an activity basked in mutual softness as Missy placed apologetic kisses to the back of her beloved’s marred shoulder blade that would likely bruise over the cuts her nails had left behind; luckily, the unique injury wouldn’t require any medical attention. They were both too tired and contented to make any additional moves against one another, simply appreciating the winding down relaxation.

Once they toweled dry and got dressed—Mike in checkered pajama pants while Missy borrowed a faded graphic tee from the back of his dresser to wear with a soft pair of pajama shorts—Missy fussed and fretted over the other in the bathroom mirror as she helped apply aloe lotion to the burns on his face and ears as well as the semi circle on his chest and parts of his shoulders that his tank top hadn’t covered.

Mike cooked dinner afterwards, something quick and easy since their energies were spent. Later on, they sat idly on the couch with the flicker of the television being the only source of light in the whole house. Missy’s left leg was propped up on the coffee table while the other was crooked out beside her while Mike was leaned against her left side. His arm was slung down around her waist with his head lying nicely to her shoulder, his eyes dropping as they vacantly watched the television screen. Missy’s arm rested around his shoulders, her hand brushing through his soft curls in a comforting motion.

“Was I good today?” Mike yawned out—a halfhearted joke—and Missy scoffed out a chuckle as she turned her head to smack a kiss to the bed of dark curls on her shoulder.

“You’re perfect, my love,” she answered kindly, and within the hour, they both dozed off to the drone of the television.