TANK

13 (smut and fluff)

I come back to a while later, blearily blinking sleep from my eyes. I arch, stretching out in the bed, in my haze it takes me a moment to notice Tank's absence. I sit up, looking around, feeling fuzzy. I manage to swing myself to my feet and wobble for a moment, legs still feeling weak. I stumble out of his room, and spot him coming back in his front door. "Where'd you go?" I question, drowsily moving toward him. He startles, looking up at me in surprise. "I thought you might be hungry when you woke up." He says, brandishing a bag like an offering. I close the distance, arms sliding under his shirt and wrap myself around him. My stomach growls, as if in response, making us both huff a quick laugh.

I back away from him, still blinking sleep from my eyes, I realize I'm still naked and now... dripping cum. Again. My hands move between my legs holding it in, I blush, "I think I might uh, shower, first." His eyes drag down my body before he drops the bag on his table, kicking off his shoes, "I'll join you in a second." He says. I take that as all the permission I need and awkwardly shuffle away into his bathroom, flush creeping across my body.

I hurry to get in the shower, cranking the water to somewhere between way too hot and scalding. My eyes flutter shut, feeling the water beat against my body. Alone, I'm thankful that my brain is still waking up, otherwise I'd have to deal with absurd overthinking. I worry my lip between my teeth, I'm now, exclusive, with Tank, whatever that actually means, it doesn't change much for me. I'm not really sure why I would even fuck anyone else when Tank's an option, but the dedication of it adds some certainty to the idea that he does, in fact, want me. Or at least wants me enough to dedicate to fucking only me.

My head swims, threatening to bring up thoughts that tell me it means nothing, that he's just locking me down for his own selfish reasons, that he could never and would never attach himself to someone like me. Circling inside my own head, the shower curtain pulls open, and a fully nude Tank steps in the shower with me, pausing those thoughts. His hands are on me the second he closes the shower curtain, like it's inevitable. He pulls me flush against him, hands loose on my waist. He smiles, soft and leans down for a small kiss against my jaw. "Sorry, I can't help myself around you." He says, voice low. I blush, thankful to be in the shower as tears well at my eyes that I can easily disguise in the water. His timing, like always, is perfect.

My head settles against his chest and I relax there, content to stay here like this until the water runs cold. His fingers trace against the curve of my back, slow and tender, rubbing small circles into my skin. He doesn't move for awhile, indulging me as I stand completely lax in his arms. Eventually his hands run up my back, squeezing my shoulders to get my attention. "C'mon baby, the food is already cold." I whine, intent on not moving as my face presses against him. He laughs, rumbling against me, "Fine," he relents. We stay wrapped in eachother's arms another few seconds until, feeling something cool start running down my back, I jolt, reeling back and unsticking myself from Tank's body.

I crane my neck to see a bottle of soap hastily being placed back on the shower rack by Tank. He smiles innocently, dragging me back against his body with a soft slap. His hands work quick, lathering both of us up and rinsing both of us down. I sigh, and lean into his hands, for only a moment, before slipping out of Tank's hands and sinking to the floor of the shower.

He laughs smiling down at me. "You can't just sit here because you don't want to leave yet." I lean forward resting my head on his thigh and look up at him through hooded eyes. "That's not what I'm doing down here." I say, lips soft against his thigh. He backs up, pressing his back to the shower wall as realization dawns on him. I raise up on my knees, moving to be directly in front of him. His stomach clenches and unclenches in pulses, cock hardening between his legs. One of my hands reaches up for it, slowly stroking down the length. I lean forward, brushing my lips against the head, I dart my tongue out to taste him. He grunts, hands shooting forward
to gather the wet hair sticking to the sides of my face, pushing it all into one of his hands and loosely holding it there.