The Failing Hours

“I love this body, so much…” Her hands smooth along the planes of my pecs. Pinch my nipples. “I could stay here all night.”

“Let’s have a fuck fest all weekend.”

The telltale sign of her pussy tightening has my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Clenching my cock. Fuck it feels good, fuck it feels good, fuck it feels good…

“Oh god Zeke, I’m gonna come, I-I’m gonna… I’m…”

Why does this feel so good? Why does this feel so good, why…

Violet’s head tips back, mouth falling open when we come together—and I come hard.

Groan.

Groan so loud Oz starts thumping on the wall, banging loudly.

But the sound only makes me come harder.

Violet

“Those are some slick sneaks, Kyle.”

It’s Thursday and we’re walking into the city’s children’s museum—Zeke, Summer, Kyle, and I—since the weather is too frigid for the park. The kids are skipping along when I notice Kyle’s brand new shoes. I mean, the kid couldn’t make it any more obvious, kicking his heels up every ten feet, stomping around noisily, bending to tie them near every bench.

He stops to tie them now for the third time since we’ve been here. “Zeke got ’em for me. I won a bet.”

“You won a bet?” Whirling to him, I ask, “Dear lord, what kind of bets are you making with an eleven-year-old that require you to buy him new tennis shoes?”

He shrugs. “The normal kind.”

“I beat him at hoops,” Kyle brags, sprinting ahead to show off, jumping in the air and dunking an invisible basketball. His brand new navy and gray sneakers are high end and the latest style.

“The normal kind?” I turn toward Zeke, skeptically. “Is that so?”

I stop to tap the toe of my brown half boot on the marble floor impatiently.

“What’s the big deal?” Zeke asks when both kids are out of earshot, studying a demonstration of weather patterns. I can see Summer pressing down on a lever, the display box in front of them flickering, lightning illuminating the exhibit.

“He needed new shoes.”

“The big deal, Zeke, is those shoes are expensive. What if he had lost the bet?”

“You’re so fucking cute.” Zeke laughs, snorting through his nose. He grabs my hand and pulls me along. “He wasn’t going to lose.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean, he wasn’t going to lose?”

“Exactly what I’m saying. He wasn’t going to lose the bet. The kid needed new shoes, his mom can’t afford, he won the bet, end of story.”

When he gives my hands a little squeeze, I yank his hand back, stopping us both in our tracks.

“Zeke Daniels. You big softie.”

He laughs, beautiful mouth smiling, gently tugging me along. “Whatever, Pixie Dust, keep walking.”

But I’m not giving up so easily. “Don’t try to change the subject. I want you to admit you’re not such a hard ass.”

“Hard ass? You cursing today, Vi?”

“Knock it off! Don’t change the subject!”

He heaves a hefty sigh, sounding put out. “All right. Maybe on occasion, I help people out.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? You just asked and I told you.”

“I heard you, but if you like helping people, why do you always seem so, I don’t know…pissed?”

“Long, drawn-out story you don’t want to know.”

“Of course I want to know—I want to get to know you, Zeke, especially if we’re going to, you know…”

“Have fuck fest sex?”

I feel my cheeks burning. “Yes.”

“There are a lot of things I want, too, Violet, but I don’t bring them up just to make conversation.” He looks off into the distance, at Kyle and Summer, squinting.

“Well I want a relationship,” I announce loudly. “But I wouldn’t want things to be awkward between us if you don’t.”

He stops in his tracks, my whole body lurching with the sudden inertia, regarding me warily.

“Violet…”

“No. I want to talk about this.” I refuse to let him sidestep the conversation and tug his hand. “What are you like when you’re in a relationship?”

His nose scrunches up and glances down like I’ve lost my mind, steely eyes skeptical. “I’ve never been in one. What about you?”

My chest swells, excited that he’s cooperating and that we’re talking.

“One or two. Nothing serious, obviously. Zeke, I…I-I can’t sleep with you and spend time with you and not catch feelings.”

“What do you mean, catch feelings?”

“The more we’re together, the more I like you. Have you heard the phrase ‘peeling back the layers’? You know, like an onion. I feel like I’m finally starting to see what’s under that cool demeanor of yours, one layer at a time—and I’m starting to like the layers.”

He grunts, still holding my hand. “Are you making it sound like a bad thing?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Please.” Zeke’s nostrils flare.

“I’m just worried about myself. I’ve…been alone a long time if you don’t count Mel and Winnie, and I’ve never depended on anyone to…gosh, th-this is going to sound really stupid.”