I remember her first Pap smear.
My cock thickens as I recall it. It's thanks to me that they were able to perform that check. It's thanks to me that they were able to keep her healthy.
The night before it was scheduled, she said she was fine, but I knew better. I was just a kid, but I knew she needed my touch. That I needed to touch her there first, so she would allow the doctor to do it.
We played the touch game.
In her bed.
One.
Two.
Three. I stroked between her legs. I remember that she was wet, but I didn’t understand what that meant at the time.
I do now…
She didn't flinch then. I did it twice. She gasped the second time but didn’t move. Of course she didn’t—I’d healed her. I wanted to do it again, just to be sure, but she whispered, ‘thank you, Erik,’ and closed her legs. She said I'd shown her she could bear it. The doctor should have thanked me too. He wouldn’t let me hold her hand.
Fucker.
I imagined choking him.
The door to her bedroom suddenly slams shut, pulling me back to the now. In her room. She's looking up at me, and damn if she doesn't seem glad to see me. A soft smile.
For me.
Of course.
She blinks, long lashes sweeping her pale cheeks. Her eyes are weary and raw, searching my face as she surfaces from her nightmare.
"Erik?" she whispers.
"It's me, Bebe."
She sniffs, rubs her nose. "Did I wake you again?"
I frown.Of course, you woke me. You were fucking crying and thrashing again."Yeah."
As she props herself on her elbows, her tits move beneath her tight white shirt. “Sorry.”
I swallow. "Don't be. It's what I'm here for." I crawl in behind her, and she lets me hold her against me. I feel her breaths through her back, trying with desperation not to think about how close her arse is to my cock, and how much I want to press myself into her.
The next day when I wake up, she's gone and I'm alone in her bed, surrounded by pink and books. I stretch out and look at her guitar in the corner. She sings to me. She has the most beautiful voice. My chest squeezes. I lift my hand and rub it, feeling my affection for her almost painfully.
I wander downstairs and she's sitting at the table, swinging her bare legs underneath and smiling at me with Coco Pops stuck between her white teeth. She seems happy.
"Morning," she says with a mouth full of cereal.
My cereal.
She frowns up at me; I realise it's in response to my scowl. "Sorry," she says, looking sheepishly at her bowl. "I didn't mean to wake you up yesterday."
"I know." I breathe through tight lips, holding something in—I don't know what—consciously trying to relax my face for her.My Bebe."It's fine."
"You're such a teenage boy these days. Don't you have more than a two-word vocabulary?"
"It's fine… Blesk."