Tabby squealed, and Toby’s panting grew louder. His thrusts were the single-minded work of someone who was also about to come. He nudged her chin with his, bending low to kiss her as he finished. He’d shaved, Tabby realised, her lips working dumbly against his. His skin was almost as smooth as hers. Toby went slack as he collapsed onto her. “Fucking hell, you’re amazing.”
His hands sought hers, the skin no longer cold but burning. And when he wound his fingers through hers, Tabby felt the strangest urge to cry. Instead, she disconnected as consciously as she’d ever managed to do it, floating up and away into her ceiling.
They lay together for a while, him on top of her, saying nothing. His racing heart seemed to be trying to pull her back into her body, but Tabby wouldn’t let it. It was time to float. Time to imagine better worlds, brighter colours.
When he finally pulled out of her, she felt the gorgeous rush of him flooding out of her pussy and into her sheets. She knew she should clean it up, but it felt too good. Fuck the wet spot. Fuck everything.
“Shit,” Toby mumbled. “That was insane.”
Stop talking, dude. Just enjoy it before it gets shafted like every other good thing that exists.
“How are you, Tabs? Anything cross a line?”
The question had become standard these days. A few hours into their final tattooing session, Tabby had given into her insecurities and mentioned Toby saying she was ‘almost worth the money’ while he was fucking her. She’d tried to be offhanded and funny about it, but Toby freaked out. He’d scrambled out of the massage chair and started pacing the room like a wind-up toy.
“I shouldn’t have fucking said that! I’m a moron; I shouldn’t have fucking said that! I was tryna be a dick, but Jesus! I’m so sorry, Tabs. I’m a moron?—”
“It’s cool,” she’d said, disconcerted by the rash blazing down his neck. “I know you were just trying to cunt-talk me?—”
“I knew something like this would happen!” Toby had sunk his fingers into his hair, pulling hard enough to tear it out. “I let myself say whatever came into my head at the time, and now I’ve fucked everything!”
“Dude!” she’d yelled loud enough to wake Mopsy from her morphine slumber. “It’s all good!”
Toby had whirled on her with what could only be called ‘crazy eyes.’ “It’s not. I made you feel like… I made you think…”
His tortured expression was all the evidence Tabby would ever need that Toby Tennant, former dork and actual human man, didn’t believe a shred of the filthy shit he said to her. Which, in and of itself, made the conversation worth it.
“I mean it, it’s all good,” she’d said. “Just tell me you like my vagina, and it’s worth more than a dress and some champagne, fuckssake?”
Toby dropped to his knees like a stack of bricks. “Tabs, you’ve got the best pussy in the world. It wrecks my head; it’s so fucking good. You know how they say that talc is the softest substance in the world? Science needs to find out about your pussy.”
“That’s… the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard, Toby.”
“I don’t care. It’s true. I’d pay a million bucks to look at it?—”
“Let’s not go that far,” she’d said, but she’d smiled like Miss America. “Get back in the chair and?—”
Toby had grabbed her hand and pressed it to his shirtless chest. “It’s A plus. Honestly, it’s the best I’ve ever seen. I thought maybe it was so incredible that first time because it was the only pussy I’d ever seen, but now I’ve seen way more I?—”
“Losing traction here, buddy.”
“Christ,” Toby moaned, driving a fist into his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. Tabby, if you gave me a choice between eating you out and giving up all my money, I’ll sign over everything tonight.”
“Don’t make cringey, unenforceable promises,” she’d said, but she’d still been smiling. “Get back in the chair, you dragon dildo.”
He had, but ever since, he’d checked in after sex, running over all his meanest lines and most aggressive moves to make sure she wasn’t harbouring actual worries about her attractiveness or ability to refuse him. It was nice. Or it had been when it didn’t feel like an imposition on her right to mentally leave the earth like a mylar balloon.
“I’m fine,” she told Toby. “Just spaced out.”
Sensing he was going to ask another question, she pre-empted him. “Are you actually drunk? If so, congrats on your smooth climb, Romeo.”
Toby chuckled. “No way. I didn’t trust myself going up the tree pissed. I just swished some Laphroaig around my mouth.”
She smiled at the thought of Toby gargling whiskey so he could appear lecherously drunk. “Good call.”
“You still not drinking?”
“No. It’s been nice to have a break. I’m sleeping better. Or I would be if some dude would leave it alone.”
