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Playing Pretend	By : RustyPeach Category: 1 through F > American Horror Story Views: 2512 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Playing Pretend
- 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my twisted imagination.
A/N: This fic is not meant to offend anyone or cause some outrageous revolt. It is simply the product of too much time on my hands and too much imagination to help it thrive.

Pairing: Lana Winters/Oliver Thredson. Don’t like, don’t read, it’s as simple as that. Contains a LOT if sexual situations, but you should expect that anyway since after all, this is American Horror Story right?
WARNING: I can’t stress enough how smutty this fic is. If this is not what you’re into or want to read, then the back button is your best friend. But to those who crave it, welcome to my smutty never, never land.
P.S: And as for any flames from those who hate this pairing, I’ll gladly use them to keep my fireplace going. I’m sure there will be enough hate in them to keep it burning for a long time.

Playing Pretend

The house is quiet. Too quiet. And in this tortuous silence is when I miss my captor the most. I have been waiting for him to come home to me since the moment he stepped out that door and drove away to work. He has been gone longer than normal today and I have to try to still my rampant fears over whether or not he will come back. So to ease them, I push my white blanket down and smile as I look down at myself.
I am wearing one of his white dress shirts that I secretly snuck out his closet. He put it on this morning before changing his mind and replacing it with a different one. I let my fingers smooth over the soft, white material before pulling the starched collar up and slowly inhaling the mixture of scents still buried in it. His cologne is first, always around the neck and I smile, closing my eyes when I pull the left breast pocket up to find what I’ve truly been looking for: the masculine scent of him.
The room is somewhat dark aside from the glow of a tall Banker’s lamp with a black glass shade at the foot of the bed next to where he has also strategically placed a simple wooden chair. It’s strange how well this traumatic bond we have created has conformed me into this new life I now share with him and I subconsciously look toward the chair and wish that he were in it. But suddenly, my eyes draw to the cement stairs across the basement, my heart beginning to race as I hear the front door open and close faintly followed by the jangle of the handle hastily being twisted.
I sit up quickly as though I’ve just caught doing something I shouldn’t be and my heads spins. I don't know if it’s just because of the movement or if it’s because I know that he's here...

He’s finally home.

====

I can't seem to get the basement door open fast enough. The jamb is off and I curse under my breath for not having fixed it yet and just force my way through the infuriating door that is keeping me from her. I feel my face tensing because I was not greeted by my little boy toddling toward to me in his usual excited manner upon my return. I feel a slight panic and I am bounding down the basement stairs, my feet a little too quick in the somewhat darkened room and when I land at the bottom, my first step causes me to stumble slightly over one of Johnny's yellow dump trucks.
I quickly recover, picking up the heavy toy, determined to keep anything from getting into my path and look up to find her brown eyes silently watching my every move and as my name rolls off her full lips, I know her voice is the only sound right now worth listening to.
"Welcome home, Oliver. You’re late."

====

“Lana.” he acknowledges in a deep, breathless tone that causes my skin to pepper with goose bumps and looks directly at me. “Where is Johnny? Did you already put him down for the night?”

“Yes. He was a very busy boy today and fell asleep on the floor in front of the television around 6.”
He seems to visibly relax, his dark eyes lowering to the toy in his shaking hands and sighs in an attempt to collect himself before speaking. “There was a patient… that had gone hysterical and needed to be sedated.”
I swallow hard as memories of my own past battles with Oliver flash uncomfortably into my thoughts. I look away, pushing up the long dormant fear that threatens to resurface and remind myself that those days are over now.
“I couldn’t leave until I knew she had been stabilized.” He then finishes and places the truck on an empty steel gurney near his workbench by the far wall of the basement.

I chastise myself for not picking up Johnny's toy. I had forgotten about it when I put Johnny down for bed.
Oliver says nothing and removes his long black trench coat, tossing it next to the dump truck. He calmly walks over to the simple wooden chair that he has placed strategically at the foot of my bed and pauses, realizing now that I am wearing his dress shirt and little else. He proceeds to remove his black suit jacket, hanging it over the back of the chair. I watch him roll up his white sleeves and loosen his dark, red tie then take a seat. He smiles softly, his handsome face and dark eyes scanning me up and down at my suggestive choice of clothing.
"I'm sorry-I know you may need this shirt for work... I just... I missed you."
“It’s alright, Lana.” He waves a hand at me in dismissal and leans back in the chair. “Since the baby is asleep, though I'm sure only momentarily… Why don’t we pretend we have actually some alone time and play before he wakes up.”
His voice is dark and deep and my face burns immediately. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” He says in a firm tone, his dark eyebrows rising suggestively. He reaches into his pants pocket and slips a cigarette between his lips, then fingers his breast pocket for his golden lighter and lights it.
I see him reach up to turning the dark glass shade toward me so that I am in its full luminescence. I can barely see him now against the light aside from his dress slacks leading up to his groin and the shiny belt buckle at his slim waist.
Showtime.
On my knees, I slowly turn my back to him on the bed, modest at first as I peak back at him from over my shoulder. I can feel his dark brown eyes on me, watching me intently and quickly I begin to undo the clear buttons down the front of the dress shirt without him commanding me to do so. Finally I pull it slowly from my arms and I can hear his breath catch at finding out I am absolutely naked beneath his cloths. The whisper of cloth settles around me and I raise my arms to lift my hair up showing off my slender naked back to him for only a moment before letting the chocolate locks cascade down over my shoulders. It has grown much longer since I gave birth and Oliver prefers I don’t cut it.
I know that I have his undivided attention and it sends a sheer jolt of electricity from the very deepest and wettest space between my legs to the most sensitive spot on the back of my neck. My face burns with head as I lean forward into the sheets hike my rear up into the air. My back arches, gifting with a very lewd view of my nether regions and I hear a sound of satisfaction roll from deep in his throat at seeing my nipples are already pert and straining for his touch through the space between my spread thighs.
I grip my rounded butt cheeks then travel down my hips and my thighs and back again. I make sure he can see every single finger tickling my skin as they go. I am not allowed to do this when he's not here and the extra long wait today has driven me wild. I bring an arm underneath me and let my fingers lead the way to my anxious core. A soft gasp escapes my lips when they make contact with my heated skin. I glance between my legs and all I can see is the cherry of his cigarette until he takes a drag and illuminates the faint outline of his mouth in the darkness.
I slowly slip a middle finger inside my waiting passage, coating it with the slickness of my juices. A sigh of contentment immediately escapes my lips now that my glistening walls have something to hold onto. I use the ample lubrication found there to trace a slippery trail along the small inner lips of my swollen sex, being careful not to go for the little bud that’s crying so desperately for attention. My back arches in spite of myself when I begin to alternate between massaging my soft inner lips and plunging a finger into my hungry depths. My breath is catching, my hips are twisting and I know that I need to calm down before it’s too late.
"You can't come, Lana. No… not yet. And if you do, well… you will lose the reward you’re working so hard to obtain." Oliver’s calm voice calls out to me from the darkness, causing me to stiffen at the demanding sound of authority in his voice.
He will know if I come. His eyes are ever watchful as he gazes at me from his darkened perch near the edge of my bed. The inner muscles of my soppy sex, quaking and grasping in front of him so clearly will tell all of what doesn’t need to be said.
But I’m so close! Unfortunately, my fingers aren’t enough to quiet my bodies craving, to reach into the farthest of my depths and he knows this. I glance under me and see he is watching my every move, watching my every clench. He has trained my body well and I’m straining for my release. My breath hitches, my nipples drawing impossibly tight as they press against the fabric of his shirt beneath me. I need him so badly that a frustrated sob is ripped from my throat. As if my unspoken pleas are heard, Oliver moves from his seat and I feel the bed dip under the weight of one of his knees, the rough cloth of his slacks brushing against the hot skin of my thigh. My eyes squeeze shut when his two larger, thicker fingers suddenly replace my small ones.
They slam into me almost brutally unforgiving yet just as merciful and sweet.
"Ngh! Oliver... please!" I cry in a tiny, strained voice.
My face twists into such a mask of pain and pleasure that one might swear he was killing me. My hips snap to the rhythm of Oliver’s dancing fingers plunging deep into my charted depths, my face pressing into the white sheets of the mattress. Waves of blistering heat surge through the space between my hips as I go tense, tumbling into climax. I have no shame as I come all over his two fingers, coating them in the slippery honey seeping from inside like he just tapped a honey pot. His fingers don't stop milking my release and my silken passage squeeze his fingers sporadically one last time, then ebb away into a quietly, throbbing aftermath.
"Good girl..." he says, his voice low and breathless. The tiniest whimper is heard when I feel his lips press a tiny kiss to the bare skin of my left butt check as his fingers slowly withdraw.

=====

I slowly stand from the bed, removing the butt of my cigarette from between my lips. My fingers are still slick from the warmth of her insides and my chest swells with pride when I see her naked rump sag weakly atop mattress.
Lana sits up slowly, brushing her hair out of her eyes and she turn around to me, scooting to the edge of the bed. Her eyes find the straining erection hidden in the confines of my pants and reaches for it, but I stop her hand.
My breath is heavy, my eyes half lidded when I release my grip and shake my head. And because I love to tease her so mercilessly, I reclaim my seat in the chair, stubbing out my bud of a cigarette on the tile floor next my shoe.
"Now lay down and don't move." I say.
"But… Oliver, you rarely come and join me."
"In time." I say dismissively.
Her expression is defeated and I smile to myself as I do something she has never seen me do before. My work has become all consuming and I feel like I owe her this after leaving her and Johnny alone for so long. My eyes never leave her as my hands come out of the darkness and into light of the lamp and slowly I work my belt buckle, pulling the leather loose. My nimble fingers slide the zipper down and I see her bite her lower lip in anticipation.
I shift in chair slightly, the dark fabric of my slacks and elastic of my underwear bunch down around my hips. My fingers reach in to gift her with sight of my thickened shaft and plump mushroom shaped tip. I run the tips of my fingers up the sensitive crease along the underside of it. I can feel my own quickened pulse beating beneath my fingers. In the bright of the light, I notice the tip is almost dark red and is swollen with need. My hands feel trembling and clumsy at first as I stroke languidly up the length of it, my grasp tightening on the way up only to circle the pad of my thumb over the sensitive dribbling slit to spread the moisture found there.
My hips begin to thrust upwards to match the building speed of my hand. My grip tightens further, squeezing the steely flesh under my skin. It reminds me of iron wrapped in velvet. I ease down into the chair, my long legs falling lax, spreading wider to give myself more comfortable access. Lana sits up slowly, her long russet hair falling over her bare breasts just shy of her dusky erect nipples and I moan softly, remembering what it’s like to have them between my lips.
But she surprises me when she disobeys my orders and graciously climbs off the bed, slinking over to me submissively and gently straddles my thigh. But her expression is meek because she knows she has break the rules of my request.
"Don’t be upset with me. It’s just cold over there all by myself….” she whispers, gently grinding her hot folds on my leg.
And immediately all is forgiven before the words can even slip past my lips when she covers her hand over mine, matching the rhythm I’ve set. I stare into her soft eyes as confusion and the lack of blood flow to the right head make it harder for me to process the fact that she is sitting in my lap with a silky, delicate hand wrapped around my member.
I hear her quietly call my name and I blink, my brow creasing and my chest heaving from the excitement crawling under my skin. I wince, hissing through my teeth when she squeezes a little too hard, unsure of her ministrations.
“Oliver… I’m afraid I don’t know how to do this…” she confesses and is just about to remove her hand.
I quickly grasp it, bringing it back to its rightful place.
“Relax. You need to let it glide through your palm.” I say quietly, my voice low and thick with need and this time I mold my hand over hers to show her what motions I like best and she nods, catching on quickly as expected. My eyes roam over her nude, milky skin so close to me again as she does this. The silken flesh between her thumb and index finger caress the hot, sensitive tip of me and I shudder knowing full well that the predator has become the prey and I find myself enjoying the thrill of the hunt.
I need to get this first climax out of the way so I can take my time with her later and after a moment and decide to speed up her motions. She feels me jerk beneath her and she pauses, looking at me with an unsure expression as to whether or not she’s hurt me again.
“Oliver..?” she says, a hint of concern in her voice.
"Keep going."
And to my delight, she resumes, her efforts emboldened at the raw need in my voice. My free hand comes up to pinch her thighs and squeeze a tiny pink nipple, warming it with the friction of my fingers. She sighs and leans into me, her own free hand delicately sliding up my chest and neck and higher still until her fingers smooth up the side of my face then through the dark strands of my hair.
Our combined fingers pump and squeeze, fast and slow, and my eyes are locked on hers, my eyebrows drawn together and my face tense. My eyes drift close, my head falling back as my breathing becomes less controlled. Lana scoots up and I feel the soft moistness of her rounded lips ghosting over mine and when they seal against them, my stomach quickly tightens as I'm thrown into my devastating release. My hips roll and jerk, taking her along with me for the rise as I begin to come onto both our hands. Surprisingly she squeezes the thick length of my pulsing shaft tightly in a rhythm that mimics the sensation of feminine release. I kiss her hard, my brain swimming through the deliciously thick haze of lust and a small whine issues from my throat as the pearly liquid from deep inside my groin shoots slowly out over both of our hands.

=====

I gasp, pulling away from him when I feel the heat of an unrecognizable wetness spatter onto my hand and lightly on my belly and thigh. I can’t resist looking down at the thick, opaque liquid curiously in the light. I am unable to turn away as I watch Oliver’s vulgar display. I have never seen him like this before... So absolutely vulnerable and so completely at the whim of my hands. He slows the pace of my still moving hand, his dark brown eyes opening slowly as he comes down from his sexually charged high. I reach up and remove his black rimmed glasses with my clean hand.
I slide carefully off his leg, placing his glasses on the night stand and walk to the sink, turning the water on to rinse my hands. In the back of my thoughts I hear him quietly get up followed by the rustling cloth and jingle of his metal belt. Quickly I turn the water off, my hand gripping the cold steel of the sink, being careful to keep my eyes down and away from the sharp and jagged decoration of tools still hoisted high on the wall. The thought of them so close makes my pulse quicken and I ponder idly over why he still keeps them around. Suddenly I mentally wonder if Johnny will be waking soon. He has not made a sound and I don’t know how much time has passed since I put him down for bed. As if on cue the urge to go and check on my baby grows stronger than ever. I turn from the sink hurriedly in the direction of the staircase, only to bump into the solid mass of Oliver’s naked chest.
“Oliver! I-“ I stammer, looking up in surprise.
“And where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.” he says, towering over me as looks down into my brown eyes and he reaches for my hand, threading his long thick fingers through mine. My eyes dart to the cement staircase and back to him, his own eyes following mine momentarily and he smiles lightly.
“He is still asleep… Besides, I need you more than he does right now.” he tells me and raises a single eyebrow at me.
His dark, thick eyebrows and the slight changes in his facial expressions always seem to tell me what he’s thinking without him ever needing to say a word. I look one more time, testing my chances at the staircase.
“Did you hear me?” he asks again, this time his tone much less patient.
“I just want to check and make sure he’s okay… It will only take a minute. Just one-” I trail off, one of my bare feet already leading the way over the white tiled floor without my guidance, but the strong grip of his arm at my slim wrist pulls me back against him. His skin feels cool against my own searing flesh and the contrast makes me shudder.
“Are you arguing with me?” he says in a deep tone, his nose burrowing into my hair.
He pulls me in roughly by a large hand at the small of my back and I am filled with anticipation at finding he has removed every last stitch of his clothing.
“No, I just-“ I begin, but I trail off when I feel one of his bare knees nudge between my own to force them apart as he backs me up against the metal of the sink. My hands grip his forearms, sliding them up over the smooth dark hair found there. He holds my gaze, my mind becoming fuddled like I’ve had too much to drink and I feel confused and riveted as he closes in and no sooner than I can respond, Oliver dips and grabs me under my bottom, hoisting me up none to gently onto the freezing cold steel next to the sinks basin with a muffled bang.
The stark coldness under my thighs, buttocks, and unparalleled fire still dimly roasting between my thighs sends a jolt of shock up my spine and I gasp, my fists clenching in my naked lap. Oliver grips my knees, spreading them wide like a curtain to let him through. He grabs my upper arms, arching me backward as his lips find what they seek and envelop one of my nipples into the cool, wet cavern of his mouth.
My jaw goes slack, my fingers coming up and raking through his neatly combed hair and I bask in being the one to ruin its perfection. He holds me tight in this uncomfortable position and the rougher top of his tongue swirls and drags over the budding peak. A whimper escapes from between my lips and I have to stifle a moan. Oliver suddenly let’s me go, causing me to tumble backwards, but he doesn’t stop there and pulls my calves up over his shoulders, exposing my most private areas to his eyes once more.
Heat rises to my face once more like the sticky, billowy steam in a hot bath rising to the ceiling to see him so close to my intimate areas and my eyes widen when he raises my hips high to his mouth and his lips close around the swollen kernel at the center of my folds. A strong arm wraps atop my lower belly while an evenly strong hand splays under my bottom to ensure I have no escape. That torturous tongue of his circles and flicks while his soft lips suck and tug at my helpless little baby soft button before he finally gives it one long, firm lick. My eyes squeeze shut as I whisper his name into the quiet bellows of the dim basement. I can’t resist my gasp and cries, my hands stretching and balling into fists and my thighs shake against his cheeks when the tip of his finger glides along the wet seam of my flesh.
A warm palm grasps my breast and I don’t know if it’s his or mine, but the way the fingers are pinching them, I am beyond caring.
“Oh my god!” I sigh contentedly beneath him.
But to my disappointment his timing is intentionally cruel and his mouth withdraws. Oliver licks his lips and I look up into those dark depths of his. He holds my gaze and pulls me by thighs a little too roughly, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin found there so that my bottom is lined up with the edge of the basin just before he pushes his hardened length inside me for the first time tonight.
My back arches at his sudden entrance mixed with the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely. He pushes my outstretched legs even higher and he leans over me, bending my legs into my chest and his hands slam down at either side of me so he can rest his weight on the sink as he moved. His thrusts are quick and angry all the while strong and deep and I know it’s because I have defied him twice tonight. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like should make my disobedience a habit. My hands splay out to either side of me, reaching for something that’s not there to steady myself against his jarring movement. This new positioning allows him to sink deep inside me and my walls wring and clamp onto him with a weak, defeat cry.
“Shit…” I hear him swear under his breath.
Oliver brushes against the not so secret spot buried deep within and I am half moaning from the steadily pooling pressure of blisteringly sweet ecstasy spreading like an uncontained fire through the driest of wood. His brow glistens with sweat, his teeth grit together as he drives towards his release. I feel the cool pad of his thumb swirl mercilessly against that little button again mixed with the merciless drive of him sliding inside me and I fall apart, my mind scattering across the flat steel basin beneath me like a jar of tipped over marbles. I whimper loudly, shuddering as submit completely to my captor’s whim, my hips bucking as his thumb applies just the right amount of pressure.
The sound of Oliver’s groaning pierces my thoughts of nothingness as my insides pulse and squeeze painfully around his length, sending him into the blank abyss alongside me. I feel a sudden burst of liquid heat and his strong hands grip my bottom to make me accept as much of him as he can fit. I am lightheaded and dizzy as I watch the spinning of the basement ceiling above me. The speed of Oliver’s hips slow dramatically compared to his previous assault, drawing out his own climax and I exhale beneath him, my soft half-lidded gaze the first thing he sees as he opens his eyes.

====

Lana is looking up into my blurred gaze, her skin covered in a light sheen of sweet and I can’t resist my urge to feel her milky skin beneath my palms. I would never admit it to her, but I have become like a slave to this woman. I often times feign my reign of control of her just so her defiance will show me what she truly wants and I blindly give it to her every time.

I am beginning to soften and I pull out of her slowly, regretfully, and help her down from her perch. She stands on wobbly legs and it’s moments like these that I can appreciate her shorter stature. I pick her naked little body up easily, hoisting her over my shoulder.
“Oliver, what are you doing??” she calls out in surprise as I carry her with me to the small white bed, the softness of her long hair tickling the backs of my thighs as I go. I stop momentarily to turn down the lamp shade still casting its bright light towards the bed.
I drop her into the fluffy white blanket and crawl in next to her. I scoot backwards, pulling one of her thick pillows behind my back to prop me up somewhat against the headboard and relax. I feel a wave of drowsiness come over me and I look to her to find the same upsurge washing over her too. She turns on her side away from me and curling into a ball. Reaching over, I take a cigarette from her pack on the nightstand and light it between my lips, inhaling heavily before removing it with my fingers as my mind begins to wander in search of when she became such a deep rooted part of me.
My thoughts get away from me before I realize and my cigarette has been smoked down to a stub. I look down at her still form next to me. Her quietly heavy breathing tells me she is asleep and I take comfort in the simple notion that she is willing to do it in my presence. I can’t resist letting my eyes drift along her naked baby flesh and the gentle curve of her hip playing under the muted lamp light and I feel a heat begin to stir in the pit of my stomach.
I stub my cigarette out into the glass ashtray next to the bed and move closer to her sleeping form and I realize I don’t like the feeling of being so close to someone her yet so far away. Before I can stop myself, my hand is reaching out to give her shoulder a little shake. She doesn’t stir right away from deep slumber and I shake her harder this time, turning her over onto her back so that I can see her face. She doesn’t jump the way she used to when she sees me and I easily take comfort in that one simple notion. Her lashes flutter open, fatigue and confusion laying claim to her face as she looks up at me like a mother would her child coming to her in the middle of night after a nightmare has haunted their dreams.
She says nothing as I reach for her, pulling her into my naked lap. No words are necessary because she already knows what it is I seek. I recline back again with her against my chest, the feel her of her skin pressed up against mine soothing me in ways she will never know. My fingertips trace little circles along the skin of her hip and I smile lightly to myself as they trail upwards to palm over her flat stomach and one of her breasts. She sighs softly, her warm breath beating against my chest as I set to work on the over stimulated bud.
I feel myself begin to stir once more and I know she feels the growing hardness of me pressing into her thigh. She looks up and gives me a knowing smile. Lana glides out of my grasp before I can stop her and turns her back to me like before, but I am caught off guard when she her legs hook on either side of my lap to straddle my thighs.
“Lana…”
But she turns her face up to me and shakes her head, pressing her back flush against my chest, but my answers to her curiosity are answered when she reaches between her thighs and grasps my swelling member in her palm. I move to sit up and she pushes her weight against me, pressing me back down. I do as she silently asks this time and my breath is pulled from my lungs when she guides me inside of her in one fluid motion.
My mouth drops open as what can only be described as sparks dance up my spine from the sensation of being so snug inside her soaking heat once more. Lana always fit me so beautifully and I get so utterly lost inside her body’s inviting heat. Her smooth back slumps against my chest and she mewls, her hips beginning to rock over my lap, slowly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation of me buried so deep. I feel exhausted and so utterly subdued that I can only lay back contentedly as she rocks me within.
My fingers grasp at her hips, mesmerized at the way they dance and twist over my lap. Lana croons, her brown head of hair falling back against my shoulder as my hands slide down her arms and thighs and back again.
It isn’t long before I feel the tell-tale sign of her slick muscles, tensing and my brow creases, my eyes shutting. I press my face into her hair as I feel her slick, engorged muscles tensing, each spasm sending a hot chill up straight to my groin.
Brushing her chocolate locks aside, I whisper hotly against the newly exposed skin of her neck, “You are close, aren’t you? I can feel you tightening around me.”
She nods blissfully, her bottom grinding down onto my hips and I feel myself salivate in eagerness to mentally hurry her along. It’s times like these that I revel in this carnal act of physical union with the one woman I once was so obsessed with and despised all at once. My hips increase the slow and torturous pace that she has set and her back backward arches painfully. I feel that increasingly familiar surge of male pride swell within me when the top of her heads touches my chest. Lana’s eyes are closed, her mouth open in a muted ‘O’ and I can so easily her beautiful face and the expressions of fever that roll across it. Her muscles around me begin to twitch and clasp around me, her body tenses and her face twists into mask of pain.

And suddenly I stiffen when her brown eyes shoot open to meet mine, her release plowing through her.
“Ah! Oliver! God…” she cries incoherently and I find myself lost in her brown orbs with the hopes of never being found again.
My forehead presses to hers, my eyes winding shut as I follow her sinful descent into that blank, empty abyss once more and her names issues from my lips. “Lana!”
She pants and sighs against my face, her body shuddering atop the length of my stomach before we both fall lax against each other. I feel her fingers lacing through mine, her head resting lazily under my chin. I roll her over, pulling her down with me into the sheets and I curl up behind her, pulling her back against my stomach. She whispers something beneath the blankets that my ears don’t catch, but I don’t need to because just having her here, pressed against me spoke louder than any words to ever slip passed her lips.

====End====
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Playing Pretend