C2 Chris? Hed Look Hilarious Next To Travis

C1 Kaitlynn 🥺

Oh I totally see her there 😂

C1 is reserved for Kaitlynn ❤️✨

Jason Kolchek with his son Jayden 🥺❤️

His wife wanted a mini-version and he delivered 😂 who doesn’t like a soft sleeping hubby?

Soft sleepy cuddles✨

Listen I would give anything for a sequel to the chocolate fic where Travis eats some of it 😭😭🥵🥵🥵

Henlo!

Im happy to hear you enjoyed it and I am currently working on part two. So please hold on a little longer. I try to post it this weekend and give it his finishing touches.

Thank you for your support ❤️

"So...what was all that about?"

Laura comes out from the shower and enters Travis's bedroom, a cloud of condensation following her even as she takes in his question. She runs a towel through her hair and shrugs, "I don't know what you mean."

"Really?" He deadpans, crossing his arms, the sheets tangled around his waist, "That's your play? Laura...you basically just jumped my bones."

(more explicit under cut)

She's redressed in the same shirt as before, but he takes in the new pair of panties she's sporting with some satisfaction, as she sighs and tosses the towel to one side, "Okay, look, I've been-?"

It's clear she's trying to ease herself into this uncomfortable conversation as best she can, the way she's swinging her arms and twisting about on her feet, "Sort of...in a mood."

"A mood?"

"An...amorous one."

"So, horny." He sums up and her cheeks take on an attractive shade of pink, her eyes casting downwards, "In a manner of speaking..."

"Alright." Travis absorbs this and does his own looking down. He takes in the signs of aging on his hands and sighs, "But...why-?"

He almost says 'me'. Almost. But instead, feeling a sudden tendril of fear, he changes tack, "Why not just ask me?"

Laura snorts, "Oh yeah. Because you're so easy to talk to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon Travis, " she waves her hands about, "We live together, but we're practically strangers. You never talk to me, I never talk to you-!"

"We talk-?" He starts to argue but she cuts in quick, "About the baby! That's it! Nothing else! It's-it's like when I was locked up all over again! You barely breathe one word to me-!"

"Well, what else is there to talk about?" Travis counters, aggravated at the reminder of his unlawful imprisonment of her, "If it wasn't for that, we would've never spoken again!"

Laura shakes her head, "You don't know that!"

"The hell I don't! What would we have talked about? You shooting my niece? You holding me responsible for your boyfriend getting torn to pieces? What about my keeping you locked up?"

Laura looks unhappy, but talking about this, finally discussing it, actually makes him feel better, "Face it, Laura. This...thing between you and me is only because of the baby."

He knows it's the truth. He knows it needs to be said. But, still...he's weak. So weak, as he concedes, "But...I mean, considering how it happened...if you-? If you have needs right now, needs because of-of hormones or whatever...then I'm-?"

He shrugs, "Then I'm willing to help. You just have to ask."

Laura glares at him, "Okay, so, what? I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough to talk to?"

"You want to talk?" He snarls and gets up from the bed, still completely naked, "Fine. Let's talk."

He stalks over to her, but Laura doesn't look afraid. No, not Laura Kearney, of course not. The girl who showed any trepidation towards him when they first met is long gone and she's breathing hard now, looking angry as he growls, "You killed my niece!"

"I didn't-!"

"No," he stops her sharply, "You wanted to kill my brother."

"You didn't tell me-!"

"I told you what you needed to know." He crowds her up against the nearest wall, "Nothing else. And yeah, that's my mistake, but you ask me if you're only good enough for fucking and you know that's not true."

Laura's back is up against a wall and she looks a toss up between angry and aroused and that's fantastic, because that's exactly how he feels, "You're good at lots of things, Laura. Good at lying, good at killing-!"

"Travis..."

He presses his face close to hers, breathes in her fresh clean scent and hisses, "Good at riding me dry."

"That's-? I'm not-?" She looks confused and annoyed, but her eyes are glazing over and shit, she wasn't lying about how she's been feeling 'amorous', "You're good at carrying my child...our child..."

His hand presses over her belly and he can feel how she's grown. The slight increase under his fingertips and it shouldn't appeal to him as much as it does, but there's something about the knowledge that he's helped her to create this.

That beneath his palm he's encouraged something good, something positive - something alive. It speaks to him. Makes him feel as if, for the first time in six years, he's done something right.

And he'll keep it right.

When the time comes.

He'll step back, step away, when he has to. For Laura's sake. For the baby's. But for now, he doesn't see the harm in indulging himself, especially if it's helping her, and he captures her mouth with his, kissing her deeply.

Laura is still slightly stiff, like she wants to object and he draws back, air rushing from him as he speaks, "You want me to talk, I'll talk. I'll say all the right things, tell you what you want to hear..."

"L-?" Laura has to stop, has to lick her lips to return moisture to her mouth before asking, "Like?"

"Like how lucky I am to do this with you. How you giving me permission to touch you drives me outta my mind." Even as he says it, the hand he'd had on her stomach dips lower, fingers easing back the elastic waist band of her newer set of underwear.

"How finding you so wet and ready for me takes my breath away."

"Travis..." It comes out airy, shaky and he can't help but give her a shark like grin as he softly palms her before stroking his fingers along the silky lips of her pussy, "Look at you, you're already so sweet down here, juices flowing, and it has nothing to do with the shower you just had, does it?"

Laura audibly swallows, shakes her head and her expression would signify it as a shameful thing, but he clicks his tongue, "No, no - don't be ashamed, Laura. It's okay, I understand. I'm not as young as I used to be, but I can still take care of you."

He buries his face into her hair, his own hot breath billowing back on him as he mummers against her scalp, "Please, ma'am...let me take care of you..."

Asking seems to spark something in her as she moans, turning her head to capture his mouth. They're kissing, open mouthed and filthy, and one of his fingers has worked up into her again, another knuckle pushing against her clit and she mewls.

His dick bobs some, aware and wanting to fill to full hardness again, but having already had a good go, it's not quite ready yet. That's fair. Travis has other talents and he decides to use them, as he withdraws his fingers from her.

"No! What-?" Laura cries out in such despair that it nearly parallels the way she sounded when he first locked her up, when he interrogated her, when he left her alone, and a dark, twisted part of him is so turned on by that, even as he whispers, "Shh, it's alright, it's alright..."

Laura doesn't look as if it's alright, but he just carefully turns her, gently eases her back towards the bed and suddenly she seems to understand and the way her eyes light up-!

Travis can't afford to notice that. Moreover, he can't afford to like it. What he told her is true. She killed his niece, tried to kill his brother - he doesn't hold her accountable for his mother, because he recognizes how that was clearly an accident, but still...

There's nothing but blood between them.

His family's. Her boyfriend's. The baby, in its own way, is blood too - but this blood bonds them instead of tears then apart, and he can't afford to have feelings for her.

Even if it's too late.

Even if he had them before all of that, had them start when she was first in his custody - so strong, so defiant, so the opposite of how Gwen was, but in such an appealing way.

His wife had been soft spoken, biddable. His mother called her weak, stupid. Travis hadn't felt that way at all. Gwen had been delicate, she'd needed him for protection, just as much as he'd needed her for love.

But he'd failed.

He'd failed to protect Gwen and that was just the beginning of his failures in protecting people. And not just any people, the ones he loved. So, he won't love Laura. Or the baby. He won't.

He'll protect them. He'll leave them. But for now he has to help them both. Her, in particular, as he lays her out gently, removing the underwear she just put on.

The bed is soft against his knees and he's thankful for that as he bends down low over her, as he takes a hold of her legs and encourages them up and over his shoulders.

Her ankles lock slightly behind his back as he lowers his head, just the tip of his nose brushing against her clit. She whimpers at the feeling, fingernails scratching at the sheets and he tries not to laugh, but it's difficult.

She's so violent, so impatient.

Again, things he shouldn't enjoy, but does.

He takes a smooth, steady lick at the heart of her, honey bathing the breadth of his tongue as he curls it upwards slowly. Laura lets out a choked gasp, her body pressing downwards, clearly eager for more and he can't stop a smile from forming.

Travis is sure she can feel it, his mouth buried as close as it is against her sensitive skin and he kisses there, licks and laves at her pussy the way he was earlier with her lips.

His name eeks out of her, strained, and he can feel her legs shaking. Christ. The way she can cum so quickly right now...

He's not sure if it's because of her age or her hormones or both, but he has no problem bringing her to climax with very little work on his part, his mouth taking her apart easily.

Her voice echoes off the bedroom walls and he's sure she thinks they're done.

They're not.

Travis has all the time in the world.

And he proves that to her as he eases his fingers back inside of her, as his mouth returns to pull tenderly at her overly sensitized clit. He hears her moaning how he can stop, how she can't, not again, but he knows better.

...he bets Max never got her four times...

He continues to work his mouth and fingers over her quivering form and she's crying out about how it's too good and too much and oh sweet God and Travis! Travis! Travis!

Higher and higher in pitch, in fevered joy, and Laura breaks apart a fourth time.

Laura's panting - tiny, pleasured sounds leaving her throat that hints at her coming down and he's tempted to go back at her again, but decides to give her something of a refractory period.

Still, he stays positioned where he is, silently letting her know he's ready to go again when she is, and she must eventually recognize it, as she croaks, "You-? You're not-?"

"Told you. I'm taking care of you."

The sound she lets out at this revelation? A cross between shocked, overwhelmed, and gloriously happy? Travis can't help himself.

He finally gives up, gives in, and he laughs. It's a dumb, dopey full hearted chuckle - but he gives in to it. How can he not?

This is the woman carrying his child and he's doing the right thing. For once. And for now. But again, he has to do the right thing when the time comes.

Come hell or high water.

I LIVE!

@theprincesswithoutvoice asked for someone getting asked on a first date, and bc I can’t help myself it’s a little comic now ;w;

This is part one! And I’m working on part 2 >:3c

oh before i forget @hackearneyarchive

For @be-side-my-self - thanks for being so kind and always there! 🙏

Companion piece to This

Rating: Mature

Abi's blush matched her hair to a 'T' the first time she met him.

Chris Hackett.

Their illustrious camp leader.

For some reason, she'd pictured someone...older. Not that Chris wasn't older. He has twenty years on her and then some. But he wasn't what she'd envisioned from their exchanged phone calls, emails, and texts about the camp.

The way he'd presented himself was, to her, as someone in their mid-sixties at the very least. Chris is not sixty. Not by a long shot.

He's fairly young and devastatingly handsome, the lines on his face only making him look more distinguished. Silver is interwoven throughout his hair and his stumble and he has a bit of pudge, but he's just-?

Abi can't quite describe why she's so drawn to him, but she is. It feels like a neigh primal thing, something she finds hard to ignore.

Although she does her valiant best.

And then Emma happens.

Emma is only a year older than Abi, but it feels like lifetimes. Emma is so... sophisticated. Smart and confident and comfortable in her body in a way Abi never has been, nor ever will be.

Emma takes one look at Abi and announces to one and all that she's going to take the girl under her wing.

Abi doesn't know how exactly she feels about this.

On one hand, it's nice to have a friend right off the bat. On the other - to use the wing metaphor further - Abi doesn't like the idea that she's the ugly duckling to Emma's swan.

But she knows Emma doesn't mean it that way. Emma's too...vapid to. And no, that's not the word - too mean to be right. Emma's too shallow to notice-! Oh, but that's worse!

The point is, Abi's sure Emma's offer of mentoring and friendship doesn't necessarily stem from a bad place. Emma's just...Emma.

A girl with a big personality and stunning looks who naturally turns heads and - when her mind is set on something - she does it.

One such example is Jacob Custos, a fellow counselor who they only know for two days before Emma has him completely wrapped around her finger.

And this is where the trouble starts.

Because once Emma feels she has Jacob on lock, she turns her attention to Abi, "We have got to find you some summer lovin', Abs."

"I-I don't need that! Really!"

Emma rolls her eyes, "Abigail..."

"...please don't say my name like that..."

"Abigail," Emma repeats in the same authoritative voice that borders on patronizing, "We are young, strong, sexually capable women. We need - no! Deserve some strange."

Abi is sure her face is going to catch flame and it's not just from the heat.

"Well," Emma chuckles, clearly enjoying Abigail's embarrassment but pushing on, "Not so strange. I mean, clearly the person in question is going to be working here. I mean, you have options."

"I-?"

"There's Ryan, of course - but I think he's already caught both Dylan AND Kaitlyn's eye and I don't think you want to get caught up in that mess."

Abi just makes an uncomfortable sound.

Emma's smile grows, "There's Jacob. But I've already called dibs and I tend to be bad about sharing..."

"Oh!" Abi gasps, shocked, "I-! I would never-!"

"...so that leaves Nick and Caleb."

Abi swallows thickly at both names. Emma, picking up on what she construes as interest, continues, "Nick is cute. He's got the accent, the boy next door thing - but he also seems too safe."

Abi doesn't know what to say to this, so she says nothing.

"Then there's Caleb. He's got a wildness about him, but he's also a bit off putting. Not to mention he's Mr.H's baby boy. Might be awkward."

Emma doesn't know the half of it.

As if on cue, Chris and Nick walk by, Caleb behind them. Abi looks their way. Abi notices Chris talking lowly to Nick, his camp shirt slightly unbuttoned as he leans closer to the boy. There's a small triangle of chest hair peeking out and her fingers clench involuntarily. To distract them, Abi brushes some hair behind one ear and colors at her own awareness.

And it's as if fate is laughing at her when Emma cries, "Whoa! Abs?!? Why didn't you tell me?!?"

Abi turns to her, eyes wide, alarm bells on full ring, "T-tell you-?!"

"Yes!" Emma giggles with delight, "I saw you! Eating him up with your eyes!"

Abi gulps.

"You have a thing for Nick!"

...for-?

Abi blinks several times, trying to absorb what Emma just said. Nick had been standing close to Chris. It would be easy for Emma to misinterpret the look. To her, it's as if Chris wasn't even there.

And while Abi's always considered herself an honest person, she finds her mouth working of its own volition, "Oh! Um? Yeah! It's - it's Nick!"

It's such a blatant lie and Abi has always considered Emma shrewd, yet somehow the falsehood floats, "I like Nick!"

"Girl! Good choice!" Emma crows and pats her on the back and Abi tries to keep a grin in place but she feels awful.

She just lied! And lied to someone who (in their own way) is trying to help her! But what else can she do? While it's perfectly acceptable to fantasize about someone, it's another to admit to it.

And Abi can't admit to it - not to Emma.

True, Emma might understand, but somehow Abi doubts it. And that doubt makes her simply repeat the words she almost wishes were true, "Yeah. I like Nick."

So - as far as Emma is concerned - like Nick Abi will.

+

It's late into July when it happens.

It's a muggy night, a fog in the air giving the evening an almost dreamlike quality. The mandatory movie night is coming up and there's a big argument as to what film to stream.

Jacob is all in on Top Gun.

Dylan is for School of Rock.

Nick is torn in-between and Emma doesn't understand why it has to be a male-led film, Mean Girls obviously the best choice.

Abi wants no part of the discussion, and while the crew argues the merits of Jack Black versus Tina Fey versus Tom Cruise, she sneaks out.

She takes her trusty sketchbook with her and is huddled beneath the awning of the front deck of the lodge, silently sketching when she hears a noise behind her.

Startled she turns to see Chris emerge from the storm shelter. He emerges and he...wobbles some. Abi's eyes narrow as she watches him, trying to figure out what exactly he's doing.

It takes her a moment to realize he's loosely holding a six pack in one hand - several bottles missing from the cardboard carton. His other hand holds one of the bottles and he sips at, growling under his breath.

It sounds like 'fuckin prison' and with the way he kicks shut the storm shelter doors behind him, she wonders if that's the place he's referring to.

Abi wouldn't know.

She hasn't dealt with the storm shelter much - only vaguely aware of its' existence through the times she's passed it.

She's certainly never thought of it as a prison and she wants to ask Chris why he does, but doesn't know where to begin.

Besides, it's probably for the best if she just stay hidden. Unnoticeable. Like she normally is. And she thinks she will be, until suddenly Chris...stops. He lifts his head and inhales through his nose, almost as if sniffing the air itself when suddenly he turns and his eyes land on her, "Abi?"

Abi wishes she could just melt through the earth.

Instead she holds up a shy hand, an innocent smile on her face, "Mr. Hackett."

He moves towards her, wavering on his feet, tone baleful, "What're you doin' out here?"

"Uh..."

"Wh-why aren't you with the others?" His slur hints to him as being the culprit responsible for the missing bottles in the six pack. That and his haggard expression...

...one that Abi finds embarrassingly attractive. Some bits of his hair are sticking out at odd angles and she finds herself wanting to brush them down with her fingertips.

Heat suffuses her cheeks as she resists the urge, instead sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as she tries to think of a reply.

Chris groans and then curses before ruefully shaking his head, a smile appearing, "Sorry. Just sounded like a mean old bear, didn't I?"

Abi just shrugs, unsure how else to answer, as he sighs and comes closer. The scent of him hits her - hops and yeast from the beer he's been consuming as well as something else, something distinctly rich and masculine that makes her insides quiver.

None of the other male counselors smell like this. This is something dark and older and his eyes are very much the same as he mummers, "You alright there, Abs? Look a little-?"

"I'm fine!" She interrupts brightly and she raises up her sketchbook, "Just wanted to get in some art time. That's all "

"That's all, huh?" Chris repeats, bobbing his head to himself and then - much to her surprise - he sits himself down across from her. He sits the six pack down as well, tipping the bottle he's holding her way, "Mind if I join you?"

Abi feels a wave of nerves rush through her, but impresses herself when she calmly replies, "Sure."

"Good girl." He chuckles and Abi is going to one hundred percent ignore how her belly tightens at that and, worse, that a...certain part of her anatomy flushes with wet heat.

Jeez, Abi! Kinky, much?!?

Abi has never thought of herself as kinky, much less bold - but here she is, sitting with her camp leader who is casually drinking and he looks at her thoughtfully, his lips wrapped around the end of his bottle.

Abi shifts about a little, feeling as if she's under his scrutiny as he looks at her with those unreadable, dark eyes of his, "What?"

The bottle pops free noisily and his lips are shiny from the alcohol, "Nothing, just-? You're a strange one, Abi."

She lets out a shocked puff of laughter, "Who? Me?"

He chuckles huskily, "Yes, you. Didn't imagine you as the type to be okay with me sitting here with you while I flagrantly break the rules."

"What rule?"

He waggles the bottle at her and she feels dumb for not knowing better, "Oh! Well! You ARE the camp leader! You're in charge!"

"Being in charge doesn't mean I have the right to break the rules, Abi. If anything I should be the one the most adamant about enforcing them."

Chris sounds so sad when he says this. Terribly so. Abi wants to reach out to him, wants to comfort him. But she resists, instead saying weakly, "Okay, well, then you-? You get a demerit!"

Abi has no idea what exactly she means by that, but it doesn't matter. Chris starts cracking up. His laughter lifts Abi's spirits and soon the two of them are laughing together.

When it fades, Chris is still in an amiable mood and he holds out his free hand towards her sketchpad, "May I?"

Abi makes a sound of confusion until she realizes what he means and then she ducks her head, a shy 'of course' leaving her as she hands it over. Chris flips through the pages and Abi starts shifting about where she's sitting again - antsy with worry.

But a slow (sexy) smile curls up Chris's face as he moves through the pages, "Wow. These are really good."

"Yeah?" Abi blushes and Chris reiterates her 'yeah' even as he keeps looking through her work. He doesn't take his eyes off her art, moving page through page even as he speaks, "My wife? Amelia? She was like you, you know? Real artsy."

Shaking his head, he laughs, "Not with art like this, I mean. She did some embroidery and made a few sculptures. She liked using her hands. She liked to create."

Abi can see the wistfulness about him, the air of lost love and she speaks gently, "She sounds wonderful."

Chris turns and looks her directly in the eyes, making her heart seize, "She was."

...the way he says it, the way he's looking at her...

It makes Abi wonder just how much, exactly, like Amelia she is. Because this moment? It speaks volumes. It's as if Abi shares more with Amelia than just a love of art. It's as if, looking at her right now, Chris sees Amelia.

Or, more frighteningly (excitingly), Chris really sees her.

Either way, the moment ends as Chris returns the sketchpad to her, "You, uh-? You show Nick this?"

Ah, yes.

Nick.

Abi has a crush on Nick.

Emma's not very good at keeping secrets - even fake ones. Not that she knows any better. And Nick is nice. And sweet. And he does seem legitimately interested in Abi.

Which is good.

And right.

And how it should be.

And it should be what Abi wants.

But she looks at Chris and finds herself wordlessly shaking her head. He looks down and says something and it's almost inaudible, but she's pretty sure she heard him and she's pretty sure she heard him right.

Good girl.

That's what he says, in response to her not showing Nick her art, but allowing him to see it, and Abi squirms, feeling hot and confused and all out of sorts and Chris - sensing it or seeing it - clears his throat and grabs his six pack, getting back to his feet.

He removes one of the unopened bottles and offers it to her, "Here."

She looks at it and then up at him and her initial response is to reject it, only for him to say quietly, "Our little secret."

Abi takes it without a second thought. The bottle is cool and beaded with condensation and she gives a soft 'thank you' when taking it.

She tries to unscrew the top with little success and she can just make out Chris smirking as he says, "Here."

Chris takes it back from her. He easily pops off the metal cap, but his palm brushes over the bottle's open lips. So, when he hands it back to her and she drinks it, she tastes more than just the beer.

She tastes him.

The salt of his palm, the warmth of it. It splashes over her open mouth and waiting tongue and yes, apparently Abi is kinky or something along those lines, because the thought of this makes her breath catch, her nipples tighten.

Chris clears his throat and inclines his head to her, "Evening, Abi."

He quickly trots away before she can stop drinking and return the sentiment, but maybe that's for the best. As the burn of the alcohol settles in her belly, Abi realizes she's not sure how she would have responded.

What she would have done.

All she knows is the way his face looked like when he looked at her...

Those eyes so serious, expression almost too open as he watched her drink the beer he handed her - the one he opened for her.

She doesn't want to forget that face and so, setting the bottle down, she quickly grabs her sketchpad and gets to work - determined to capture that look forever, knowing full well she'll be seeing it again later tonight in her dreams and that - by capturing it now - she can call upon it again for future ones.

Right or wrong.

I’m currently working on Part 2 of "The taste of Chocolate"!

I’m very sorry for the delay, but Baldurs Gate happen and a certain white haired twink had my full attention 😂

But it’s already in the making and I should be able to post it soon. Thank you all for your interest and patience!❤️

Travis Hackett ✨🥰

Ryan as A-1

Alrighty! The dark and brooding Ryan as A1 ✨👏