TANK

21 (SMUT, fluff)

I wake up, feeling cold. Exhaustion still sits heavy behind my eyes. I grope around the mattress, searching for Tank's warmth and come up empty. I blink my eyes open with a groan. I don't know what time it is, but I can tell it's way too early to be awake.

I manage to pull myself out of bed, standing up on unsteady feet. I can see Tank across the hall in the bathroom, back turned toward me. I stumble toward him and plaster myself to his back, wrapping my arms around his waist. Tank startles, pulled from his focus, but leans back into me.

"Sorry, I thought I was being pretty quiet." Tank says, soft, while continuing with his morning grooming. I groan into him, voice muffled against his skin, but otherwise don't respond except to peel myself off his back. I hesitate for a moment, but slot myself between Tank and the sink.

Tank bumps me with his hip in protest. "I wasn't done." He says, voice warm with affection. I meet his eyes in the mirror. Already reaching for my new toothbrush that Tank put in here for me.

"Sorry." I mumble, around a mouthful of toothbrush. Tank hm's behind me, still looking a little groggy as his fingers thread through his hair. I lean over, to rinse out my mouth and accidentally press my ass directly into Tank's lap. I freeze for a moment, groggy brain trying to process what I just did.

I feel guilt for just a moment, but it's quickly replaced by heat as Tank's hand lands on my hip with a sharp squeeze. Two can play at that game. I rock my hips back into him, rolling my ass into his lap as I rinse my mouth. I'm almost glad I can't see his face based on how tightly he's holding my hip.

Feeling smug, I stand back up, sure to press against Tank as I go. It only takes a second for his hands to snap to position on my body, dragging me up before I can finish standing. With a measured control he jerks me back against his body and lands his mouth on my shoulder. Our eyes lock in the mirror as his teeth press to the sensitive skin there, mouth bruising me.

I moan in surprise, eyes fluttering shut. Before I can lean into the sensation, it's gone, as are Tank's hands. Suddenly abandoned I lean against the sink for support, watching his retreating back. I take a moment to catch my breath before following.

I sit down on his bed with a huff, eyes following his movement as he stands in front of his closet and buckles his belt. "What was that for?" I say, with a pout. Tank gives me a half smile, laughing at my predicament, before pulling an undershirt on. "Just giving you what you deserve." He says.

I glare at him, hand shooting up to press against the still tender bruise where his mouth just was. With a sigh I flop back into the bed, angling my head to watch him while lounging. "I've never seen you dressed like this." I say, dragging my eyes down his body, eyes catching where his pants are stretched tight on his ass.

"Yeah," Tank says with a shrug, pulling on a button up, "It's for work." I watch him fluff out the over shirt before he sits on the edge of the bed, buckling a utility harness around his waist.

I pause for a moment, distracted, watching him get dressed, before I reply again. "It looks good, not gonna lie." I say, dragging my eyes off his body long enough to look at his face.

Tank barely turns back enough to look at me for a second before turning back. "Stop teasing." He starts, "I know it makes me look like a middle-aged dad." He says, standing up, and starting to button his shirt.

With a coy smile I look up at Tank, "Well daddy," I start and his eyes shoot up to glare at me, "It makes me want to drop my my knees and mouth your cock over your pants, so..." I taper off, faltering under the heat of Tank's glare. His arms cross over his chest, as he turns, looking over me with authority.