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"Where're the wife and kids?"
Bro answers Enjin without thinking, mind preoccupied on maxing out his last rep—shit, this is heavy—so he can hurry up and check on the cake that you, Dear and Guita had entrusted him to ensure didn't burn... for the third time.
"She's fighting with Dear to detangle his hair, and Guita was seeing how many times she could shout the word candy before Rudo started foaming at the mouth." He finishes his sentence with a grunt, the thick corded muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging as the barbell taps his chest. He forces it back up with a huff, beads of salty sweat trailing down his temples and disappearing into his hairline.
"Hm. Dutiful, isn't she?" A snicker comes from Enjin, and Bro gives him a quizzical look as he drops the weight back down. The veins in his neck pop out now as he nears failure.
"The hell's so funny? His teeth gnash together in a grimace as he leaves it back up for the last time, a loud clang sounding as he reracks the weight. "Are you—WIFE?!" Enjin's words finally click in his thick head, and Bro feels something warm and hot settle in his gut and work its way up to his burly chest. Heartburn. Acid reflux, probably. Damn, I sound like an old geezer.
"Took ya long enough." Enjin rolls his eyes with a chuckle. "If you last half as long when you're screwin' her I can maybe see why she's so smitten." Bro sputters, perspiring for an entirely different reason now.
"Smitten? Screwi—you've really got it all wrong, En. We're not—she's not—I'm not—she's good with the kids! We're friends!" His voice has gone up an octave, a considerable feat when you recall the usual deep timbre he speaks with. Enjin shoots him a disbelieving look, and he shoots a pleading one back instead.
He was telling the truth!
Nothing had ever happened between the two of you - your relationship was entirely platonic. You were the newest addition to the Cleaners, a Giver more suited for defense than offense, and you had struggled at first to find your footing in a group until you had wound up in his. The kids had instantly taken to you and you to them, and he guesses he had taken to you, too. You were easy to get along with; smart, sweet, funny, caring, doting, motherly, pretty, breathtaking even, especially when you smiled.
Er- all that to say that it was strictly platonic between the two of you, which made this stupid, childish rumor of you being his wife all the more annoying. He's glad it hadn't reached your ears yet - you were young, younger than him anyways, and you had suitors out the ass lined up for a chance just to get your name, the last thing you needed was him of all people getting in the way of that. You seemed purely focused on the job now, but he was sure there'd come a time when your want for romance started kicking in and he wanted you to be unfettered in your search
So why does the thought piss him off to no end?
"Friends, right." Enjin shrugs his shoulders, seemingly disinterested, and Bro lets out a sigh of relief, broad shoulders losing some of their tenseness. "So it's cool if I take a shot?"
A glare similar to the ones he's always chastising Dear for takes over his features. "Don't play around like that, Enjin. She's not some toy that you pick up when you feel like fucking around. She deserves—"
"Hey." Your head appears in the door out of nowhere, your eyes landing on a now smirking Enjin before landing on him. Bro quickly snaps his mouth shut, nearly biting his tongue off in the process. "Please tell me that you've already taken the cake out of the oven and that's why you're in here chatting it up."
He gives you a sheepish smile, one hand coming up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck. "Uh, I forgot." You let out a huff and march into the gym and straight up to him. "Wha-hey!" You twist your hand into the front of his shirt and begin to pull him out of the room.
"You'd better hope that cake isn't burned or you're going to be the one to explain to Dear and Guita why they can't have it and whose fault it is, you got me?" You throw him a leveling look over your shoulder. "Sorry, Enjin, but I'm borrowing your friend."
"Take your time." Enjin grins like the sly bastard he is, and Bro can't even begin to send him as much as a warning look before he's spitting out his next sentence. "He's your husband, afterall."
You stop in your tracks immediately, and Bro begins to stumble over his words. You look over your shoulder, wide eyes locking onto his and lingering for a few moments before looking away.
"Anyways, think 'm gonna hit the bed. Night, you two. Cake and then to sleep, alright? We got enough little brats running around this pla–whoa, almost got me." Bro would have gotten Enjin with a slap atop his grotesquely small head had you not been in the way.
Enjin makes his escape, his laughter sounding down the hallway, and you two are left in an awkward silence. Ah, shit. Does he pretend nothing was said and go about business as usual and hope you do the same? Or does he address it and die a little inside? He'll check your reaction and decide then.... no reaction, double shit. He's going to have to pick one.
He mentally groans.
Why is this so hard? He makes split second decisions out there when he's battling trash beasts without a second thought, but this is what he struggles with? He's a grown ass man! Where's his balls?
Luckily for him, he doesn't have to decide, a familiar suckling noise growing closer and closer until Dear is standing in the doorway with pinched eyebrows and freshly done puffs in his hair.
"Dear!"
Before he can start tapping his foot away on the floor, Bro is gently untangling your fingers from his shirt, keen ears picking up on the hitch in your breath, and placing his hands on your shoulders as he looks to the little boy. "I think I smell that cake finishin' up. Let's go check it out, yeah?" He ducks his head down so he can speak a bit quieter, eyes now dropping to meet your own. "Unless you want to be the one doing the explaining instead?"
You smell freshly showered, the scent of vanilla and something else, something indisputably you, wanting up his nose, and he quickly steers his mind in another direction when it tries to explore the path of your shower routine.
"Oh, you wish. The cake was your job, your responsibility." You punctuate the words with a firm poke to his chest.
"Aw, c'mon, it was a group effort. Right, Dear?" Dear tilts his head and raises a brow, and Bro can't help but find it utterly adorable, even if he isn't hopping on the Save-Bro's-Ass bandwagon.
You're shooting him a smug smile, neither of you lingering on the fact that your hand has found its way back to his chest to rest, and that his have slipped from your shoulders to instead loosely rest at your waist. It's comfortable, familiar, and pissing the ever living hell out of Dear by the incessant tapping of his foot.
"Okay, okay, let's go before he brings the whole building down." You spin out of his arms and head over to Dear, your hands fluffing at his hair as a pleased look takes over your face. "I did a really good job, right? Guita let me do hers as well - kept them in for longer than ten minutes this time, too."
The three of you make your way to the cafeteria, easy conversation flowing between the two of you as the previous one tumbles down into the Pandora's Box of your minds, a box that would be opened sooner rather than later.
-
It was nothing short of a miracle that you hadn't gone utterly insane yet.
When Gris and the other supporters had come barging in to tell everyone of the kidnapping, a bottomless pit had formed in your stomach and refused to leave.
You had only been in the Cleaners for a year, in the group Child even less than that, but you had come to see all of them as your family, especially the ragtag bunch you had found yourself spending the majority of your time with.
You had never gravitated towards kids before, but Guita's hyperactivity and silliness had broken the ice and pulled you in, and Dear's quiet, baby-esque nature had kept you there, and Bro... he made it all work. Much like the function of his Vital Instrument, he was the glue that kept you all together, the foundation, the pillar, the head of the family.
You had come to care for him in a different way that you cared for the children. You loved them in a maternal way - you wanted to help them grow and develop, and your heart warmed every time they further developed their strengths and skills, and chilled whenever you saw so much as a scratch on them.
And for Bro... you loved him in a way that made your cheeks warm whenever he smiled at you. In a way that had your stomach doing flips anytime his skin made contact with yours, even something as simple as a dorky high-five after you took down a trash beast. In a way that made your lips curl into a bashful smile when he'd rain compliments and praise down on you for the most mundane of things. In a way that made your pulse quicken whenever his eyes would meet yours across a crowded room. In a way that made your body thrum with delight anytime he entered the vicinity.
In a way that made you sob with relief when you finally saw him walk through the doors of HQ, an exhausted yet still jolly Guita by his side and a soon to be asleep Dear in his arms.
You quickly add yourself to the ensemble - checking over Guita and halfheartedly fussing over her half dressed state, poking and prodding at Dear and wiping smudges of dirt off his freckled cheeks. Before you can assess Bro next, the chokers around everyone's who has just gotten back neck is going off with an order to report to Corvus's office.
He shoots you an apologetic look, looking tempted between staying or following orders. You make it easy for him, giving him a wobbly, yet wholly relieved, smile and nodding your head for him to go.
"It's okay. Go. I'll come by your room later... if that's okay?"
"Of course. You know my door is always open for you." He lingers a while, the other Cleaners walking past the two of you, before finally following along with the rest of them.
You let out a shaky breath leave you, hands moving to wipe at your wet cheeks, and abruptly freeze when you notice Riyo's hawk-like gaze focused on you. "Oh, Riyo, you look–"
"Like hell, I know. But more importantly," she strides over, her grin growing more and more the closer she gets. "Enjin was totally right. You two are definitely working on a litter of rascals."
You blink.
You blink again.
"I.. I am going to pretend that you're not insinuating what I think you are and leave the room." You turn to leave, but she calls out to you before you can clear the room.
"I'd jump on that soon if I were you. Just think, if you feel that way about him, 'm sure someone else does too. Wouldn't want someone to snatch him up." And with that she's gone, leaving you to turn that statement around in your head over and over until it's finally time to go and see Bro.
The meeting had taken longer than expected, which makes complete sense considering the magnitude of the situation they were in, and you had checked in on Guita and Dear, the both of them positively knocked out in their respective rooms, before making your way to Bro's room.
You give the wood of the door three quick knocks before pushing it open without waiting for a response, a bad habit of yours, but excusable considering the reason (you hope). You find Bro sitting on his bed, shirt on the comforter beside him, and a sharp gasp leaves you at the sight of the large, purple bruises decorating his body.
"Oh," he calls your name. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"Really? Because it looks pretty freaking bad." The self censorship comes without a second thought. You close the door behind you and quickly make your way to the bed, hands moving to touch him but stalling mid-air, not wanting to hurt him. "Why haven't you gone to see Eishia?"
"She tired herself out fixin' up Zanka - kid really took a beating. We weren't sure if.." He trails off, and the worry you had felt suddenly seems so inconsequential compared to what he must have felt up there. "I thought.. Dear was scared.. I was scared."
You give a sad sigh of his name, heart twisting and aching in your chest. Bro has never been all that open with his feelings and fears, whether from repression or just a lack of knowing how to open up you weren't certain.
"I just kept thinking that we had to make it out of there, ya know? That I had to get them -us- home. To you." His gaze falls to you, and your heart leaps up into your throat. "And then I started thinking what if this morning had been the last time I saw you? That the last thing I said to you was some corny joke about corn flakes of all things." You choke out a laugh past the emotion in your throat. "Then suddenly everything I've ever wanted to say to you started going through my head—one after the other, gave me a damn migraine it did."
He winces as if he can still feel it, and you can't help but take his face in your hands and cradle it as if you can take all his pain away. His skin is hot underneath your palms, his gaze even hotter, and you find it hard to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling in time.
Strong arms loop around your hips and draw you nearer, and your body sings as he buries his face into your stomach, arms tightening around you. "I want this."
"This? A hug? Of course, whenever—" He shakes his head against you, grip tightening even further, and you briefly wonder if he can hear the heavy thuds of your heartbeat. Your fingers slip into soft tendrils of hair, pads of them rubbing at his scalp.
"I want you. All of you. Anything you're willing to give. I'll take it. Even if it's nothing but what you've already given, that's fine, I just need to know you'll always be here with us."
Your lips tremble as fat dollops of tears drip down your cheeks, and you sniff as your nose begins to run. His hand smooths up your back and soothes comforting circles into it. "I want—.. I want you, too. I always have."
The tension in his body seeps away immediately, his body melting into yours, and you look down just as he looks up. Your faces close the distance in sync, and fireworks shoot off in your stomach the moment his lips press against yours. It's soft, tender, nerve-wracking, but oh so wonderful, and despite your lips trembling against his you kiss him harder and he returns it in earnest.
His hands pull you down to straddle a sturdy thigh, big hands moving to cup the sides of your throat, thumbs underneath your chin and tilting your head up to allow him better access, and your lips opens at the behest of his tongue, and he makes a home of it inside your mouth. It rubs alongside your own, and you wrap your arms around his neck.
The kiss devolves into something less sweet and chaste, and into something desperate and unrestrained. You suppose it's the months of yearning from both ends, the months of quick glances, ghosts of touches, nervous smiles, double meanings hidden behind innocent words, you suppose it's all of it.
Your lips part when the need to breathe outweighs the want to stay connected, but he takes it in stride, mouth moving to press wet, heated kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me know if it's too much." He rasps, and you absentmindedly nod, your mind too preoccupied on thoughts of this not being nearly enough. There's an.. ache. It's persistent and ever growing, and each shift of Bro underneath you makes it further bloom.
He sucks a bruise onto your skin, and you stutter out a moan of his name, hips unconsciously rocking against the muscle of his thigh. One of his hands grip at the fat of your backside, and you weakly cry out when he pushes your hips down harder against him. "I can feel you. Shit, you're soaked."
"S-Sorry. I'm sorry, I-ah." You throb in your panties, clit pulsing with each accelerated beat of your heart, and a new rush of arousal comes rushing out of you at the guttural groan that leaves him. Suddenly, he's falling back against the bed and pulling you with him. Your hands brace against his chest, and something in you chirps in approval when you realize his heart is beating just as fast as yours, if not faster.
"Don't ever apologize for showing how much you want me. Besides," he gives you a naughty grin that has your lids lowering. "I can't really talk." He doesn't leave you confused for long, his hands effortlessly moving you so your clothed cunt is directly atop the bulge in his pants. You suck in a sharp breath of air, back slightly arching, and grind your hips down against him. The both of you moan in sync. "I've wanted this for months.. You have no idea how many times I've thought about you."
The bed underneath the both of you moves with your movements, each roll of your hips making the mattress bounce, and you're beyond thankful that the frame is relatively new. His fingers slip underneath the hem of your shirt, hot palms exploring the skin underneath, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you move faster. "At night, I would think about you.." You admit.
"Yeah?" He breathes out, his eyes taking in each and every facial expression you make. "Me too."
"I-I would think about you touching me and.. and.." His jaw clenches, and your train of thought is interrupted as he maneuvers you out of your shirt, leaving you in a flimsy sports bra that quickly joins your shirt on the floor.
"Where would you think about me touching you? Here?" Big hands grab handfuls of your breasts, and you hurriedly nod, dripping hole clenching around nothing. Calloused fingers grip and pinch at your nipples, drawing sounds out of you that would make you want to crawl somewhere and hide if you were in your right state of mind. His mouth is on them next, lips locking around the hard bud and sucking while he kneads at the other one. His hips buck up between your legs, and you huff, your hands moving to grip the waistband of his jeans.
"Off.. take them off." It comes out as a whispered plea, and he detaches from your nipple with a loud pop, the cool air wafting over the now wet, sensitive bud. "I want you inside - please."
"Not yet. Fuck, don't pout like that honey. Soon, I promise. I've just gotta.. I gotta taste you first." He pops the button on your pants, and with a few strong tugs they're off and across the room, leaving you in a pair of underwear that are now soaked through with your juices. He drinks you in, a flush taking over his face, and you fight the urge to cover up. His gaze is all-consuming, all-seeing, not leaving a scar or mole or mark unseen, and you wilt under his gaze, just to immediately blossom at his breathy beautiful.
Oh, if you could love him any more you would.
Just as before, he moves you where he wants you, and your body heats at the new, foreign position. He's got you hovered over his face, thighs bracketing his head, and the only thing visible when you look down is his drunken eyes that look up at you.
"I don't know if we should—you won't be able to b-breathe, ohh." His eyes don't leave yours as he presses open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and your head falls back as he presses a kiss to your clit.
"What makes you think I need to do a silly thing like that, hm? C'mon." He tugs you further down. "Take your seat." He kisses you again, and the muscles in your legs give out, a yelp leaving you when he immediately takes advantage, mouth opening wide and sucking. The sound is lewd and makes your ears burn, and your hands fly to the headboard to assist you in keeping your balance.
His spit replaces the arousal in your panties just as quick as it leaks out of you, and when he finally hooks a finger around the seat of your panties and yanks it to the side, revealing your bare cunt to his mouth you nearly die. Every muscle in your body winds up tight, and tears bead at the corners of your eyes as his tongue swipes over an engorged clit, through puffy folds and down to your empty hole to fill it up.
You choke on a shout of his name, eyes squeezing shut and hands moving to slap over your mouth to keep your voice down. You hear a gulp come from him, and a whine is muffled beneath your palm. He pushes his tongue in and out of your hole, a prelude of things to come, and your heart rate quickens as you feel yourself hurtling towards that edge.
Suddenly, a thick digit is pushing up into you, lips wrapping around your clit, and your walls eagerly suck him in. Oh, Gods. He pushes it in to the last knuckle, and your lashes flutter shut as you come without warning, pussy clamping down hard as you do.
He lets you bask in it, finger pulling out and mouth detaching from you. He helps you down to lay beside him, and you fight to calm your breathing, chest heaving as you do. Bro props up on his elbow to get a better look at you, hand smoothing down your chest and settling on your stomach. He rubs it, fingers sinking into the flesh there, and then it's dipping lower. "Do you want more?"
He's leaving the decision up to you, and a spacey smile finds its way onto your lips as you nod. He smiles back and leans down to kiss you, his hair, now unrestrained by his headband and his braid somehow having come loose, pools around you.
His hand spreads your thighs apart as his lips move against yours, and you hum as he moves between them, his body now hovering over yours. You lift your legs, feet flat against the bed, and he shuffles closer, and that's when you feel him. You break the kiss to give him a disbelieving look, and he gives you one of confusion, eyes searching your face. "What is it? What's the matter?"
"You're big."
"I'm too heavy? Guess I have been packing away the burgers." A sheepish look comes across his face, and you shake your head and try to look down between the two of you, only to quickly snap your gaze back up when you get a visual of it. "What're you—oh. Oh. No, baby, it's okay. I'll go as slow as you need me to - you know I'd never hurt you." He comforts, but there's a hint of pride and smugness underneath. "Right?" He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"Right, but--"
"No but's, just let me take care of you."
His mouth closes over your own once again, and some of the stiffness that had settled in your body dissipates. One hand slips underneath you to rest at the dip in the bottom of your spine, and he tugs you a bit closer, hefty cock slotting up against you. You gasp into the kiss, the hotness of him shocking you, and you feel him twitch against your folds.
He parts from your lips and rests his forehead against yours, eyes focused on yours. "We'll start with just the tip, okay?"
"Okay."
His other hand gathers the slick between your legs and spreads it over the length of him, and you take in a stuttering breath as he slides the head of him down through your folds until he reaches your entrance. His tongue wets his lips, and he slowly starts to ease himself in. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails biting into the tanned skin, and he coos down at you.
"Relax, I've got you." He pushes in a tad bit more, pausing at even the slightest furrow in your brow and pressing kisses to every piece of skin he can reach until you're ready for him to keep going. "You're doing so good for me, angel. Look at you. Almost there, we just got a little more, you can take me, I knew you could. Ngh, shit, that's my girl."
He's finally nestled deep inside, both of your breaths mingling with your pants, and your toes curl at the feeling of being stuffed full. It feels as if he's carved out a spot just for him -only for him- and you clench at the thought, fingers intertwining at the back of his neck as you pull him down into a dizzying kiss.
His thrusts start off slow, calculated, and you can feel the restraint in his muscles, his body seeming to thrum and vibrate with effort above you. Once the motion becomes easier, once he's properly stretched you out and allowed you to adjust, he picks up the pace, just a tad.
Drool spills from the sides of your mouth, the kiss turning into a desperate mashing of lips and rubs of tongues, and his hands cup the backs of your knees and push your legs up. The new angle drives him deeper, harder, his full balls clapping against the curve of your ass, and your hands move to his hair, fingers twisting and tangling in the strands as you fight to ground yourself, but he makes it hard.
He gives you slow, deep thrusts, letting you feel every single thick inch of him. "You feel so good," his voice is strained, and you blink up at him through bleary eyes. "Taking me in so good—mm, fuuuuck. Listen to ya - listen to this pretty pussy tell me how good I'm fucking her."
You gasp out his name, ears burning at his crude words, but even still you find yourself wanting him to say more, wanting him to keep pushing you down into the soft mattress with every push of his hips. Wanting him to never pull out - to stay inside of you just like this until neither of you could stand it anymore.
Each push in is accompanied by a loud squelch and a breathless huff from you, and your head falls back against the pillows. Sweat drips off of him and onto you, his skin gleaming under the glow of the light, and your hands slip from his hair and down onto his slick shoulders.
Every drive of his cock into you pushes out a little bit of your sense until you're a drooling, bumbling mess beneath him. "So good- feels so good. I love it.. O-oh! Yesyesyes!"
His nose nudges against yours, warm breath panting against your jaw as his pace quickens and he grows rougher. More and more until he's pumping into you with reckless abandon, your cries mixing in with his grunts and groans. "Hah, hell.." A string inside you is stretched taunt, threatening to break and send you hurtling at any moment. "'M gonna pull out 'n cum on your stomach. That okay?" Your eyebrows furrow at the suggestion, and you whine out a 'no'.
"Inside.. cum insi—mmph!" He smashes his mouth against yours, hips grinding into yours, and he keeps you in place with a strong grip on your waist, your now free legs moving to hook around his hips. His rhythm becomes sloppy, uncoordinated, and he breaks the kiss to pant out a sentence that has you coming harder than you ever have before. It rips through you, a complete shock even though you had felt it brewing, and he follows immediately after, fat cock spurting out thick ropes of hot cum, and it settles deep inside you where it's always belonged.
The come down is gradual, gentle, he guides you through it with ghosts of kisses and whispered words and feather-light touches. You're tucked into his chest, side of your face pressed against his hot skin, and the steady beat of his heart threatens to lull you to sleep, your eyes drooping and your breaths slowing.
He presses one last kiss to the top of your head, his earlier words quietly repeated, and you repeat it back to him, voice sleepy but full of conviction nonetheless.
"I love you."