TANK

8 (smut AND plot)

In the haze of post-sex comfort, I turn to face Tank. "I'm sorry," I begin, unable to look at him. "My insecurities made me overthink it. I got scared and tried to push you away." He squeezes me, tight to his chest, waiting for me to finish. "I only realized I messed up after you dropped me off." His hands run down my body, soothing me, as tears threaten to well in my eyes. "It's hard for me to accept that I am desirable, but you make me feel," I exhale a wet breath, "So wanted."

"I want to get to know you," I begin again, "I want to know what we could be." I finish. Tank's fingers slide under my chin, tilting my head up to face him. He presses a pepper light kiss to my lips. "I'm sorry." He replies, shushing me with another kiss before I can protest that he doesn't need to apologize to me. "I'm sorry I didn't make you feel safe." He pulls back to look me in the eyes. "I want to see where this goes, too." He presses another feather light kiss to my forehead. The silence that follows is comforting, like a blanket. Eventually I move to sit up, fully shed my messed shirt and use it to wipe the cum off of me. Tank watches with a proud smirk, refusing to let go of me.

"I was about to shower, if you wanted to join." Tank offers, eyes grazing down my body to my sticky abdomen. He swings his legs out of the bed and starts shedding his riot gear, until fully nude. I raise my eyebrows at him, "In theory that sounds good but in practice," my eyes settle on his cock. Drained, his cock still twitches in interest. I look back up at Tank through my lashes. Suddenly curious to see where this goes, I stand up and move to the shower, closely followed by Tank who brushes against my back.

I step in the shower in front of Tank, and turn the water on. I yelp at the initial shock of cold water and quickly hide behind him, using him as a shield. He turns to face me, a small smile on his face as he threads an arm around my waist. He slowly swings us back as the water heats up, putting me in front. He leans down and meets my lips, kissing me deeply, he swipes his tongue in my mouth, parting the kiss with a gentle bite to my lip. I look up at him, and have to stifle a sudden laugh.

"What?" He asks, a look of confusion on his face. My face cracks into a smile as I point at the shower head, then back at him. His head is a good 6 inches higher than the showerhead. "How do you even wash your hair?" I stifle a laugh. He rolls his eyes. "Oh ha, ha, ha." With a flourish he bends over until his head is in the stream of water and he scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair. "Like that." He says, "Simple." I cover my mouth, trying to stop myself from smiling at him, "Okay skyscraper," I laugh. Before I can react he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me onto his shoulders, facing him. I'll show you a fucking skyscraper," he retorts, teasing back. I let out a yelp at the sudden force of being lifted and steady myself by pressing my hand flat against the ceiling. I yelp again and tighten my thighs around his neck to support myself, free hand moving to grip to his hair for more support, "Let me down!" I yell, to no avail. "Tank, let me down!" I try again, only to be ignored. I can feel him laughing against my stomach. "Nope." He says, popping the P against my skin. I begin to thrash, hoping to force his hand in letting me down. Suddenly his hands shoot up, pinning my hips to the wall. The bastard is still laughing.

Familiar heat that's beginning to feel like the default around him curls in my stomach. "Tank" I say, whinier, "let me down," I finish, unable to conceal the heat in my voice. His fingers dig into my hips as he turns his head up to look at me, considering where his face is. "Ah," is all he says, pressing me harder against the wall. He presses a kiss to my stomach, which tightens as I thread both of my hands through his hair. He moves his head, up, first, latching onto one of my nipples snd rolling it between his teeth. I whimper, still sensitive from my recent orgasm, carding my fingers through his hair. His tongue circles teasingly, teeth applying just enough pressure to tease it. His kisses slowly trail lower, back down my belly, to the warmth between my legs. As Tank makes his way there, my stomach does flips, for the millionth time. He hoists me onto his shoulders, lifting me as high as he can, until I have to bend my head to avoid knocking it into the ceiling.

His head dips. He presses his tongue to my pussy and I gasp. Involuntarily one of my hands flies up to brace myself on the ceiling, the other pulls his hair tight. Tank rumbles in approval, mouth moving against my already slick pussy with intent. "Fuck Tank, I'm not, I-" I whine, stumbling over my words, thighs bracketing his head tensing. He tongues at my hole, fucking me thoroughly. My body arches, torn on being over stimulated or grinding against his mouth.

He lifts me panting, off the wall, fingers gripping my hips and lowers me until my pussy is level with his cock. I press my face into his neck, sucking my own love bite there and digging my fingers into his shoulders. With one hand wrapped around my waist to support me, he takes the other and angles his hard cock in, bottoming out on the first stroke. I keen against his throat, eyes shut tight as the water from the shower cascades down my face. Tank grunts in my ear as he begins thrusting in and out of me. "I'm not going to fucking last." I whine, loud, as the muscles in my abdomen clench. I cum on Tank's cock, whining with how over sensitive my pussy feels from the amount of time Tank's abused it the past couple days. Tank keeps fucking into me like a machine, and I hang on to his shoulders, along for the ride, too cum drunk to protest yet. His thrusts grow ragged and I clench my muscles around him, still feeling after shocks from my last orgasm. He grunts under his breath, "I'm close baby," he says.

My head rolls back, "Come for me," I say, half conscious. "Daddy please," I moan. Tank's thrusts stutter and he lets out a strangled moan. His arms bracket me against the wall as he climaxes, pumping me full of cum. My hands rest on his back, rubbing his it in slow circles to soothe him as his orgasm rips through him. We stay like that for a moment. "That was," I start, "Yeah," he replies, "that was...".

Tank slowly lowers me back to standing, but I cling to him for support, as my legs are shaking. I keep leaning against him, exhausted and weak as he grabs his loofah and lathers us both in soap. He takes time washing me, like I'm something delicate. His fingers run across every inch of my body, reverent. I smile, leaning into him, feeling warm.

We finish our shower and towel off. I collapse into his bed, completely naked and pull the blanket around myself. Tank stifles a laugh, watching me, and pulls on some boxers. He pauses, then rifles through his closet, eventually producing a soft black t-shirt, that looks like it would be over-sized even on him. He crawls into bed beside me and manhandles me until he puts the shirt on me, all the while I weakly protest, not really struggling against him. Dressed in the shirt he chose I press up close to him, eyes already shut. His arms come around me and he brushes a rhythm on my back. Feeling safe and sated, I quickly drift off to sleep in Tank's arms.