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Jason heard the music from the hallway.
That wasn’t unusual. You rarely did anything around the apartment in silence, and the volume tended to climb whenever you cleaned. He’d come home to everything from carefully assembled playlists to the same song playing for an hour because your hands had been too wet or covered in bleach to change it.
What was unusual was the enthusiasm with which you were accompanying it.
He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, though stealth became unnecessary once he stepped inside and realized you wouldn’t have heard a battering ram come through the wall. Music poured from the speaker in the kitchen, loud enough to vibrate faintly beneath his boots, accompanied by your voice carrying through the apartment with complete confidence and questionable accuracy.
Jason closed the door behind him and set his helmet on the entryway table.
You hadn’t noticed him.
He could see you through the kitchen doorway, wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of panties that flashed into view whenever the hem rode up as you bent forward. Your cleaning supplies had spread across the counters, though the actual cleaning appeared to have stopped several minutes ago. A damp cloth hung forgotten from one hand while you danced between the stove and the island, using a bottle of disinfectant as a microphone.
Jason leaned against the doorway and watched.
He’d been expecting to spend the rest of the night running surveillance on a weapons shipment, but the exchange had been delayed before he reached the meeting point. He’d considered stopping for food on the way home. Instead, he’d decided to surprise you.
This was significantly better.
You swung your hips as the song launched into its first verse, your performance becoming more animated as the lyrics became increasingly obscene. You pointed the spray bottle toward an imaginary audience, punctuating several lines with dramatic gestures before turning back to the stove and wiping the same spotless section three times.
Jason pressed his lips together.
He managed not to laugh when one of your eyelashes apparently became an important part of the narrative. He kept quiet through several graphic references to oral sex, watching your free hand skim down the front of your body as though you were performing for a sold-out arena rather than an empty kitchen.
You spun around, caught your reflection in the microwave door, and used it as an opportunity to wink at yourself.
Jason’s shoulders shook.
You still didn’t see him.
The verse ended. You tossed the cloth onto the counter, lifted the bottle to your mouth with both hands, and drew in a breath as the chorus returned.
“His dick smaller than my toes—”
Jason reached past you and paused the song.
The abrupt silence was deafening.
You screamed and whirled around, nearly striking him with the spray bottle. Jason caught your wrist before the plastic could connect with his face, though the cleaning solution sloshed dangerously inside it.
“What the fuck?” You stared at him, one hand pressed to your chest. “When did you get home?”
“Long enough ago.”
“How long is long enough?”
Jason took the bottle from you and set it beside the sink. “Long enough to learn a lot about you.”
Your embarrassment lasted approximately two seconds. Jason watched the realization move across your face as you remembered what you’d been singing, followed quickly by the decision that acting ashamed would only encourage him.
“It’s a popular song.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Because it sounded more like sworn testimony.”
You folded your arms. The movement made the hem of his shirt rise slightly along your thighs. “You were standing there listening.”
“I was trying to figure out whether you were cleaning the kitchen or auditioning for something.”
“I was doing both.”
“The stove’s gonna be real disappointed when it learns it didn’t get the part.”
You looked toward the stove. The damp cloth lay abandoned several feet away from it.
“I was taking a break.”
“You wiped the same burner for half the song.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I watched you.”
“That’s creepy.”
“This is my apartment.”
“Our apartment.”
Jason nodded toward the silent speaker. “Then why are you spreading misinformation in our shared home?”
You stared at him. “Misinformation?”
His expression remained perfectly serious. “Smaller than your toes?”
A laugh escaped you before you could contain it. Jason’s eyes narrowed, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Oh my God,” you said. “That’s what you’re upset about?”
“I had some concerns about the rest of it.”
“You seemed content to keep listening.”
“I was gathering evidence.”
“But the chorus crossed a line?”
“You sang it with a lot of conviction.”
“It’s the song.”
“You pointed at yourself.”
“I was dancing.”
“You pointed at the floor when you said you’d rather ride something else.”
Your composure cracked. You covered your mouth, but the laugh came through anyway. “Are you jealous of Squidward?”
Jason stepped closer. “Careful.”
“It’s a cartoon character.”
“I know who he is.”
“Then you know he isn’t a threat.”
“I’m not threatened.”
“You stopped the music.”
“Because I’m not listening to you slander my dick in my own kitchen.”
“I wasn’t singing about you.”
“You’re in my shirt, in our apartment, wearing the underwear I bought you.” His gaze traveled deliberately down your body before returning to your face. “I’m making it about me.”
Heat collected beneath your skin despite the ridiculousness of the conversation. Jason noticed. He always noticed, especially when your thighs shifted together and your attention dropped briefly toward his mouth.
“You sound insecure,” you said.
“I’m six feet tall, built like a tank, and you still need me to take my time every time I fuck you.” Jason planted both hands on the counter behind you, caging you between his arms. “I’ve got plenty of things to be insecure about, sweetheart. My dick isn’t one of them.”
You tilted your head back to maintain eye contact. “Then why do you need to defend it?”
“I don’t.”
“No?”
“No.” His mouth hovered close to yours. “I’m giving you an opportunity to correct yourself.”
“I already told you the song wasn’t about you.”
“Not good enough.”
“What would be good enough?”
Jason’s gaze dropped to your lips. “An apology.”
You smiled. “To your dick?”
“To me.”
“For what?”
“Disrespect.”
“You listened to me sing an entire verse about getting railed and only intervened when someone’s dick was called small.”
“That was where it became unrealistic.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“You didn’t ask one.”
Jason moved one hand from the counter and settled it against your hip, his palm warm through the thin cotton of your underwear. “Do you think my dick is small?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. The truthful answer would’ve ended the game far too quickly.
“I think that depends on what you’re comparing it to.”
His eyebrows lifted. “And what exactly are you comparing it to?”
“There are a lot of factors to consider.”
“Such as?”
“Scale. Proportion.” You let your gaze travel down his body, lingering deliberately at the front of his pants. “Whether the available evidence is still current.”
Jason laughed under his breath. “You’ve had plenty of evidence.”
“I might need a refresher.”
“S’that what you want?”
His thumb slipped beneath the hem of his shirt and brushed your bare waist. The touch was light, but it sent warmth spreading through your stomach.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Jason kissed you before you could answer. His mouth covered yours with enough force to push your hips back against the counter, his hand tightening around your waist as he leaned into you. You caught the front of his jacket, gripping the leather while his tongue pressed between your lips.
The kiss tasted like the mint gum he’d been chewing on the way home from patrol, along with the colder traces of the night still clinging to him: rain-damp leather, clean air, and the faint metallic scent of his gear.
He broke away just long enough to remove his jacket. It hit the floor beside the counter.
“You’re getting your clothes on the clean floor,” you murmured.
“You weren’t cleaning it.”
“I was going to.”
“You were performing.”
“I can multitask.”
“Clearly.”
His mouth moved to your neck. You tilted your head aside as his teeth scraped lightly over your skin, your fingers slipping into his hair. Jason kissed the spot beneath your ear before biting down hard enough to make your breath catch.
“You came home early,” you said.
“Shipment got delayed.”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“And miss this?”
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I figured.”
Jason’s hand slid lower, curving around your ass before squeezing firmly. You rose onto your toes as he pulled you against him, the hard line of his cock pressing against your stomach through his pants.
Your smile returned. “I don’t know. That doesn’t feel very convincing.”
Jason drew back enough to look at you.
You managed to hold a straight face.
“Doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Could be the angle.”
“The angle.”
“Or the pants. They might be adding volume.”
“Right.”
“You should probably take them off so we can establish an accurate measurement.”
His gaze darkened. “You’re gonna regret committing to this bit.”
“You love when I commit to the bit.”
“I love you.”
“That sounds suspiciously sincere.”
“It’s the last nice thing I’m gonna say for a while.”
Jason caught you by the waist and lifted you onto the counter. A container of cleaning wipes tipped sideways, and you caught it before it could fall.
“Hold on.” You leaned across the counter to move the supplies. “I actually cleaned this part.”
Jason swept the remaining bottles toward the wall with one arm. “Problem solved.”
“That isn’t how contamination works.”
“You were using the disinfectant as a microphone.”
“The nozzle was closed.”
He stepped between your thighs. “You want to talk about cleaning products, or do you want me to prove a point?”
You placed the wipes behind you. “Depends on how strong the point is.”
Jason hooked two fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear and pulled them away from your body. He released the fabric, letting it snap lightly against your skin.
“Still running your mouth.”
“You haven’t given me a reason to stop.”
His smile promised trouble. “You really don’t know when to quit.”
Jason kissed you again, one hand braced behind your back while the other traveled beneath his shirt. His palm skimmed up your stomach and closed around your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it tightened beneath his touch.
You arched into his hand. Jason pinched lightly before rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, swallowing your quiet sound against his mouth.
“You were real loud five minutes ago,” he murmured.
“I had backing music.”
“You don’t need it.”
His hand left your breast and slid between your thighs. He ran two fingers over the damp fabric covering you, applying enough pressure to make your hips tip toward him instinctively.
Jason’s mouth curved against yours.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re being smug.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You’re touching me.”
“Barely.”
He rubbed slowly over your clit through your underwear. The friction was muted by the fabric but steady enough to make your legs tighten around his hips. You drew his lower lip between your teeth, trying to distract yourself from how quickly he had your body responding.
Jason withdrew his hand.
You made an irritated sound.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“You know what’s wrong.”
“I thought we were discussing scale.”
“We can discuss it while you touch me.”
“Can we?”
“Yes.”
Jason considered that. “Tell me my dick isn’t small.”
You laughed. “Absolutely not.”
He pulled your underwear aside and dragged one finger through the slickness gathered between your folds. Your laughter caught in your throat.
“Try again,” he said.
“You’re abusing your position.”
“My position between your legs?”
“Exactly.”
“Seems like a good position to me.”
He circled your clit once, lightly enough that you barely felt it, then slipped lower. One thick finger pressed into you without warning, stretching you open with slow, deliberate pressure.
Your hand tightened on his shoulder.
Jason watched your face as he pushed deeper. “What was that?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you looked like you remembered something.”
You clenched around his finger. “I remembered you’re annoying.”
“S’that all?”
“Extremely annoying.”
He crooked his finger inside you.
Your breath broke.
Jason kissed the corner of your mouth. “Keep talking.”
“You’re insufferable.”
A second finger joined the first. He worked them into you patiently, giving your body time to accommodate their thickness before spreading them apart. Your thighs opened wider as pressure built low in your stomach.
Jason’s thumb found your clit. “What else?”
“Arrogant.”
“Accurate.”
“Smug.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Possessive.”
His fingers curled against the sensitive place inside you. “You like that one.”
You turned your face toward his neck, muffling your response against his skin. Jason withdrew his fingers almost completely before pushing them back inside, setting a steady rhythm as his thumb continued moving over your clit.
“You’re getting my shirt dirty,” he said.
“You’re fingering me on a kitchen counter.”
“Not seeing how that’s my fault.”
“You started it.”
“You started it when you decided to put on a concert about disappointing dick.”
“It wasn’t about yours.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Jason removed his hand.
You lifted your head. “Jason.”
“Yeah?”
“I was close.”
“I know.”
He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean while holding your gaze. Heat swept through you, intensified by the sight of his tongue moving over his skin.
“You’re being mean,” you said.
“You haven’t apologized.”
“I’m not apologizing for song lyrics.”
“Then I guess we’re stuck.”
You reached for his belt. Jason caught both your wrists in one hand and pinned them against the counter behind you.
“Are we?” you asked.
His thumb pressed against your pulse. “You think you’re subtle?”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“No?”
“No.” You rolled your hips forward, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his pants. “I was trying to take your clothes off.”
Jason inhaled slowly through his nose.
“I think it worked,” you said.
He released your wrists and stepped back far enough to unfasten his belt. “You’ve got about thirty seconds to change your attitude.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m gonna fuck it out of you.”
You watched his hands work. “That isn’t much of a threat.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
Jason pushed his pants and underwear down far enough to free himself. His cock sprang free, heavy and flushed against his stomach. Jason wrapped one broad hand around the base and stroked upward slowly.
He caught you staring. “Something you wanna say?”
You lifted your gaze to his. “I think I need a closer look.”
He stepped between your knees again. “Of course you do.”
Jason pulled your underwear down your legs and dropped them onto his jacket. Before you could comment, he dragged you closer to the edge of the counter and positioned himself against you.
The broad head of his cock pressed through your slick folds, nudging your clit as he rocked slowly against you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your nails catching against his shirt.
“You wet enough for me?” he asked.
“You had two fingers inside me. You know the answer.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’m wet enough.”
His cock caught against your entrance. Jason pushed forward slightly, letting you feel the stretch without giving you more.
“For what?”
You glared at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make me say it.”
“Then I guess we can stop.”
He began to pull away. You hooked one leg around his waist before he could retreat.
“Jay.”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I’m wet enough for your cock.”
His smile was slow and deeply satisfied. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“You are.”
Jason’s expression changed.
You barely had time to appreciate the victory before he pressed into you.
The first push drove the breath from your lungs. Jason held your hips still as he worked himself deeper, your body stretching around him one thick inch at a time. He paused whenever your muscles tightened too sharply, taking his time.
By the time his hips met yours, your teasing had dissolved into uneven breathing.
Jason stayed there, buried completely inside you.
“Smaller than your toes?” he asked.
You shut your eyes. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Currently reconsidering.”
“Must be hard to think with all that small dick inside you.”
A laugh escaped you, but it fractured into a moan when Jason pulled halfway out and pushed back in.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“There we go.” He rolled his hips, grinding deeper. “Knew you still had something to say.”
You dug your nails into his shoulders as he began to move. Jason’s first thrusts were slow, giving your body time to adjust while forcing you to feel every inch of him dragging through you.
The counter creaked beneath your shifting weight.
Jason watched the place where your bodies joined, his hand moving between your thighs to spread you open around his cock. “Look at that.”
You followed his gaze despite yourself.
His cock disappeared into you with each thrust, your wetness shining along his skin whenever he withdrew.
“Still need more evidence?” he asked.
“The study might require multiple trials.”
“Smart mouth.”
“You like my mouth.”
“I liked it better when it was singing about sucking dick.”
“You had notes about that too?”
“Mostly practical suggestions.”
You laughed again. Jason gripped your hips and thrust hard enough to push you several inches across the counter.
The laugh became a startled cry.
“That one of them?” you gasped.
“First draft.”
He pulled you back against him and repeated the motion. Each thrust struck deeper than the last, the angle forcing the head of his cock against a place that made your toes curl.
Jason’s hand slid up your back beneath the shirt before settling around the nape of your neck. He held you steady while his hips drove forward, his pace becoming faster as your body softened around him.
“Tell me,” he said.
“Tell you what?”
“You know.”
“That you’re jealous of a cartoon character?”
Jason tightened his grip. “Keep trying me.”
“You started this.”
“And I’m finishing it.”
He drew you off the counter far enough that your weight rested partly against him, your legs wrapping around his waist while he held you in place. The shift forced him even deeper, leaving you stretched around the thickest part of him.
Your forehead dropped against his shoulder.
“Too much?” Jason asked.
The teasing disappeared from his voice. His hand moved soothingly along your back, ready to stop despite his cock still pulsing inside you.
“No.” You took a slow breath. “Just give me a second.”
He remained still until your body relaxed. Jason kissed your temple, then your cheek, his touch gentler than anything else he had done since entering the kitchen.
“Good?” he murmured.
You rolled your hips experimentally. Pleasure tightened through your stomach.
“Good.”
Jason kissed you. “That’s my girl.”
The praise settled warmly inside you. You tightened your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.
“Move.”
“S’that an order?”
“A request.”
“Could use some work.”
“Jay.”
He resumed fucking you before you had to ask again.
The cabinet doors rattled softly beneath you with each thrust. Jason held you tightly against him, his fingers digging into your ass as he drove upward into you. Your arms circled his shoulders, leaving you clinging to him while pleasure built faster than you could control.
His mouth moved over your throat, kissing and biting wherever he could reach. “You gonna sing for me now?”
“I’m a little busy.”
“You managed before.”
“I wasn’t being fucked.”
“Should improve the performance.”
Your laugh dissolved into a moan when he shifted his stance and struck the sensitive spot inside you again.
“There,” you breathed.
Jason repeated the angle. “There?”
“Yeah.”
He thrust harder.
Your nails scraped over the back of his neck. Jason groaned against your shoulder, his control slipping as you clenched around him.
“You feel that?” he asked.
“It’s difficult not to.”
“Good.” His hand moved between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. “Want you to remember next time that chorus comes on.”
“Planning to ban the song?”
“Planning to give you something more accurate to sing about.”
His thumb moved in tight circles. Pressure wound through you, sharpened by every deep thrust of his cock.
You tightened around him again.
Jason’s breath caught. “Close?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’m close.”
“Not that.”
You knew what he wanted. You also knew he would keep you balanced at the edge until you gave it to him.
You lifted your head from his shoulder. “Your dick isn’t small.”
Jason’s grin was unbearable. “Louder.”
“Don’t push it.”
He slowed his thumb.
“Jason.”
“You had plenty of volume earlier.”
“Your dick isn’t small.”
“Still sounds reluctant.”
“Your dick is fucking huge.” You tightened your legs around him. “Happy?”
“Getting there.”
He drove into you hard and resumed rubbing your clit. Pleasure broke through you almost immediately, your body tightening around him as the orgasm rolled through you.
Jason held you firmly while you shook against him. His hips continued moving, each thrust drawing out another pulse until you buried your face against his neck and moaned his name.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take my cock.”
You clenched around him, oversensitive but unwilling to let him stop. Jason’s rhythm became uneven, his fingers flexing against your ass as he chased his own release.
“Inside,” you whispered.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Jason’s groan vibrated against your cheek. He thrust deeply and held himself there, his cock pulsing as he came inside you. Warmth spread through your body while his forehead dropped against your shoulder.
For several moments, the only sounds in the kitchen were your breathing and the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Jason’s hands moved slowly over your back.
You turned your head and kissed the side of his neck. “Feeling better?”
“Much.”
“Good. I was worried about your self-esteem.”
“My self-esteem’s fine.”
“You launched an investigation.”
“I corrected a factual inaccuracy.”
“Through peer review?”
“Extensive testing.”
You smiled against his skin. “And what did the research conclude?”
Jason lifted his head. “That you talk too much.”
“That seems unrelated.”
“Secondary finding.”
He kissed you before easing out of you carefully. Your body protested the loss, though the ache left behind was pleasantly satisfying.
Jason reached for the cloth.
You caught his wrist. “That was on the stove.”
He looked at it, then back at you. “Right.”
“Bathroom. Clean washcloth.”
“Demanding.”
“You came inside me on the kitchen counter.”
“Fair.”
He dropped the cloth into the sink, tucked himself back into his pants, and pulled them into place before lifting you from the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist again, resting your head against his shoulder as he carried you toward the bathroom.
As he passed the counter, you reached back and tapped the screen of your phone.
The chorus blasted through the kitchen again.
Jason stopped.
You lifted your head from his shoulder, doing your best to look innocent. “What?”
“You did that on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His gaze shifted from the bathroom doorway to the bedroom.
“You’re not banning the song,” you said.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Really?”
“No.” His grip tightened beneath your thighs as he changed direction. “I’m just gonna keep fucking you every time you play it until you learn the lyrics don’t apply.”
You smiled. “That could take a while.”
Jason kicked the bedroom door closed behind him and dropped you onto the bed, his grin sharpening as he followed you down.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”