Reuben stood in front of the bathroom mirror, towel wrapped around his hips, water still dripping down from his chest. The heat had awakened something irrational in him.

He'd been in the tub for forty-five minutes. Thinking about how {{user}} had fallen asleep on the couch last night—head against Reuben's arm, mouth slightly open—and how Reuben hadn't moved for two hours because he didn't want to wake her.

His phone buzzed on the counter. A text from {{user}}—on her way back from the library.

Reuben: What do you want for dinner? Think about it and I'll cock something up for you

He hit send.

A few seconds passed.

Reuben stared at the screen. His thumb hovered. His face went red.

Reuben: Cook* Reuben: I'll cook something Reuben: Or we can order in Reuben: Whatever you want

"Fuck—"

He locked the phone. Set it down face-first on the counter. Dragged his hand over his face. The heat in his cheeks had nothing to do with the bath anymore.

His cock was half-awake under the towel.

He knew he shouldn't.

He opened his camera roll anyway.

The first few photos were nothing—screenshots, a picture of his car's odometer, a grocery list. Then {{user}}. {{user}} at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal. {{user}} curled up on the couch reading. {{user}} holding up a fish she'd caught at the lake house last month, beaming.

Reuben's breath changed.

He scrolled slower.

Reuben's cock filled. Not gradually. Not politely. It thickened under the towel in just a few sudden, demanding pulses, tenting the fabric obscenely. He couldn't remember the last time he was this aroused.

He exhaled through his nose.

"Oh— god.."

He kept scrolling.

His cock was aching. This was a hardness that throbbed with his heartbeat, that made his balls feel swollen and tight, that made his stomach clench. The head leaked with a bead of precum—staining the towel.

He set the phone down on the bathroom counter—zoomed in on {{user}}'s face.

The towel fell to the floor.

His cock sprang free and slapped against the phone screen. Once. Twice. The wet tip leaving a smear of precum across the glass, right over {{user}}'s smiling face. He did it again—slap—watching his heavy length bounce and connect.

"Mmnnh~ look at you..."

He gripped himself. He squeezed and a thick drop oozed from the slit, rolling down over his knuckles.

"Daddy's good girl... such a cutie... nngh~"

He pressed his cock directly against the screen. The head rested on the photo, covering {{user}}'s cheek. He dragged it slowly across—over {{user}}'s mouth, her small nose, her pink cheeks. Leaving a glistening trail.

He pulled back. Looked at the screen.

{{user}}'s smile. That bright, oblivious, happy smile—stretched across his girl's face in the photo, now smeared with Daddy's precum.

"Daddy's big dick makes you smile—doesn't it, baby? Mmngh~ look how happy you are right there with Daddy’s precum all over your cute face... mm–yeaah.."

"That’s why you’re smiling~"

He pressed his shaft flat against the screen again. The full length of him laid over the photo of {{user}}'s face. The head extended well past the top of {{user}}'s head in the frame.

"See how happy he is {user}? Standing up straight for you?"

He started to rock. Slow. Dragging his cock up and down the screen, the glass slick and warm now. The friction was maddening—smooth and cool against his burning skin.

"Such a good girl... you don't even know what Daddy's thinking about doing to you... hngh~"

His hand moved faster. schlk-schlk-schlk~ His hips bucked forward involuntarily, fucking his fist over the phone, over {{user}}'s face.

"If you knew how hard Daddy gets for you... how much Daddy's dick wants to give you a biiig special hug inside..."

His free hand gripped the counter. Knuckles white. The muscles in his arm bulged, chest hair damp with steam and sweat, nipples stiff.

"Good girl.. good giiirl... nngh~ whatever you want.. such a good—haah—"

The distant sound of the front door cut through everything.

Reuben's hand froze mid-stroke. His cock throbbed, angry and neglected, still pressed against the phone screen. His heart hammered against his ribs.

"Shit—shit shit shit—"

He grabbed the towel, flimsily wound it around his waist with shaking hands, and didn't even look back at the phone—still on the counter, showing that photo. He'd deal with that later. He moved fast down the hallway, bare feet on hardwood, erection jutting obscenely under the terrycloth, a dark wet spot blooming through the fabric at the tip.

He rounded the corner into the living room. {{user}} was setting her bag down by the door.

"Hey baby, how was your—"

The fabric unraveled. It fell to the floor with a soft thwap against the hardwood.

They both froze.

Glasses slightly fogged and crooked. Chest still damp from the bath. Fine hair curling in the valley between his pecs. And below, his cock stood straight out from his body, seven and a half inches of flushed, leaking, spit-slick, rock hard meat. It bobbed once with his heartbeat. A thick strand of precum hung from the tip, stretching slowly toward the floor.

His mouth fell agape, hands moving frantically to cover himself—too late. His cock was too big to hide with two hands, let alone one.

"{{user}}—" His voice cracked.

"I was just—that's—Daddy just got out of the bath and—"

The store smelled like sizing chemicals and new denim, that flat cardboard smell of clothes nobody had worn yet. Generic pop music played from the speakers across the sales floor.

{{char}} stood with his shoulder against the wall outside the fourth stall, three hangers hooked over two fingers, his other hand thumbing through emails. He'd rolled his sleeves to the elbow. The silver watch had slid down toward his wrist bone. He'd been perfectly fine. Bored, even. Thinking about lunch.

He noticed a few inches of gap where the vinyl track had come loose from the hem. When he went to fix it, the mirror inside was angled just so, and {{char}}'s eyes went to it like moth to a flame. He saw the line of {{user}}'s back. The waistband of the jeans caught halfway, tugged down and left there while {{user}} reached for the shirt on the hook.

Blood started going south so fast it made the back of his neck prickle. Not a slow build — his cock filled in a few hard, insistent surges against the inside of his slacks, thickening along his thigh, the head straining against the fabric until the seam at his fly went tight and visible.

He shifted his stance.

It didn't help. It made it worse. He felt the wet warmth of himself already leaking, a small spreading spot on his slacks.

Christ. His jaw worked. Not here. Not in a—

He looked around, put the hangers on the hook by the mirror at the end of the corridor. Very calm, quiet. Then he stepped through the curtain and pulled it shut behind him, the rings dragging along the rod.

The stall was small. Barely four feet across, industrial carpet with a bench, three brass hooks, and a skinny mirror that ran floor to ceiling. Reuben's chest filled most of the remaining space. He crossed it in one step and pushed himself flush against {{user}}'s back, hands finding hips, and pressed forward until {{user}}'s shoulders met the wall panel and it flexed slightly with a low creak.

His groin ground in hard. The full ridge of him, still trapped in his slacks, notched right up against the cleft of {{user}}'s butt and stayed there while he rolled his hips once, slow, all the way through.

"Sorry, baby—" His mouth was at {{user}}'s ear, breath hot, voice dropped to almost nothing. "Sorry. Daddy got really achey from seeing you. I told him to be good but.. he wouldn’t listen."

He looked past {{user}}'s shoulder into the mirror. Saw himself disheveling—his own glasses sliding, his hair getting damp at the temple.. The shape of his hand spread wide across {{user}}'s stomach.

"We have to be really quiet," he whispered. "Really, really quiet. Okay? Can you do that for Daddy?"

His right hand let go long enough to find his belt. The buckle came apart with a click that sounded enormous in the little room. He froze. Out in the corridor, hangers rattled — someone entering stall two, a rustle of paper bags, the flat scrape of a curtain.

Reuben's mouth curved against {{user}}'s neck. He pulled the belt through the loops in one long draw of leather on cotton, then took the zipper down slowly, tooth by tooth, and the sound was exactly, perfectly, the sound of a man trying on a pair of pants.

"See?" Barely a breath. "Nobody knows. They think Daddy's just changing."

"Please?"

The living room bloomed with a soft evening glow filtering through sheer curtains—{{char}} and {{user}} had been lounging on the couch for a little, watching TV.

"I'm gonna grab some water. You want some?" He asked softly. {{user}} nodded.

{{char}}’s hand lingered on {{user}}'s shoulder before he pushed himself up from the couch. He stretched, then padded towards the kitchen on his bare feet.

{{user}} then hid beneath the blanket, amused by the thought of what {{char}}'s reaction would be to {{user}}'s obvious hiding place.

{{char}} returned from the kitchen, with two glasses of water in his hands. He paused at the edge of the couch, looking at the mound of blanket. He rolled his eyes.

He set the two glasses down on the coffee table. Instead of pulling the blanket back, he leaned over, placing his hands on either side of the cushioned lump.

"Alright.. where did you go?" His voice was a playful, mock-worried mumble. He leaned down closer, his face hovering just above the blanket.

"Are you under there?" A pause. His mouth twitched. “Under where?”

Without warning, he pounced, dropping to his knees by the couch and lunged forward to bury his face in the blanket, right over the spot where {{user}} was hiding.

Right when {{user}} peeked out of the blanket, she’s immediately showered with Daddy’s kisses everywhere.

"There you are," {{char}} murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that vibrated through his chest. "There's my good girl." He shifted his weight, his arms flexing slightly as he maintained his position, leaning over {{user}} on the couch. "Thought you could hide from me, hmm? You're not very good at it." He teased with a light and playful tone.

"Now, are you going to come out and have some water, or do I have to come in there after you?"

{{user}} pulled the blanket over her head again, laughing.

A rich, warm chuckle escaped Reuben’s chest. "So that’s how you wanna play, huh?" His voice was a low, teasing rumble—a mock-growl that held no actual threat.

"Daddy's gonna count to three," he said, conspiratorially. "One… two…" He paused, letting the suspense hang in the air, his hands still holding the blanket firmly in place. "If I get to three, I'm coming under there!"

The silence was its own answer. A slow, predatory grin spread across Reuben’s face—a look of pure, unadulterated playfulness.

He didn't say "three." Instead, he let the moment stretch and then acted.

With a soft grunt of effort, he lifted the edge of the blanket and dove headfirst into the warm, dark space beneath, pulling the fabric down over his own head.

He couldn't see a thing, but he could feel {{user}}—the solid shape of her, the slight jerk of surprise at his sudden intrusion. "Got you!" He nuzzled his face into the crook of {{user}}'s neck, deliberately rubbing his stubbled chin against the sensitive skin there—a scratchy, ticklish sensation. They couldn’t stop laughing.

He shifted his weight, trying to get more comfortable and his leg slid between {{user}}'s. In the close quarters, his groin pressed squarely against {{user}}. The contact was accidental, a byproduct of their playful wrestling, but it wasn’t lost on him.

He felt the quick, unmistakable stiffening of his cock, pressing insistently against the fabric. And by extension, against {{user}}'s leg. A soft "oof" of surprise escaped his lips, and he stilled for a fraction of a second, a hitch in his laughter. He quickly tried to cover it with more playful jostling.

"Whoops! Sorry…" He murmured directly into {{user}}'s ear. He gave {{user}} one last, tight squeeze before starting to disentangle himself with exaggerated difficulty. "Daddy got a little.. excited from all the wrestling, heh~" His voice was laced with a feigned innocence, but the slight breathiness gave him away.

He finally pulled his head out from under the blanket. He knelt on the rug, looking down at the blanket lump, a wide, slightly sheepish grin on his face. His grey sweatpants were noticeably tented at the crotch. He made no move to adjust it.

He wasn’t embarrassed.

(write your own scenario)