Don't You Want Us To Be Dirty, Daddy?

I know what Lucas wants. So too does Rachel. And he knows he's not hiding anything.

And he knows what's going to happen next. Knows that all he has to do is stay still for us to blow his mind. That we are drifting towards him like sirens and he is a ship about to crash on the waves of our nubile young bodies.

"Jesus christ," he whispers under his breath, an epithet that only makes us girls giggle.

What doesn't make us giggle is him taking a step back. What makes us stop dead in our tracks is him holding up his hands as if he's begging for mercy, palms out towards us and asking us to wait just one moment, to give the man a chance to catch his breath.

"I have to be the dumbest son of a bitch on the planet," he mutters, more to himself than to either of us I think, but the message is clear.

I can't believe it. I can't believe him. Not again.

Lucas either has a will of iron or he's laying the groundwork for something down the line, because frankly there is no way in a million years that I could think of any red blooded heterosexual man turning down this opportunity. But he's going to.

And a single parting glance at me tells me why.

So much can be said with a glance. A gaze at someone telling a story that will carry so much more than words and such is the case with Lucas, because even though we really don't know each other that well and even though we're certainly not into 'silent communication with meaningful glances and without words' territory, the way he looks at me he might as well be screaming.

He's begging me to be someone else. He's telling me that he wants me, but he can't quite bring himself to do this to me. He's saying that if there was two Rachels, if I'd been someone other than me and without all my baggage, he wouldn't hesitate.

But he's saying that he can't. He can't be this person for me.

I'm the one to intercede, reaching up and placing my hand almost gently on Rachel's shoulder and halting her advance. She falters a little and gives a slight shrug, trying to push me off of her. She wants to keep on going but she didn't see what I saw.

"Rachel," I say, "It's late."

"That's the idea," she shoots back, "I was thinking that maybe it's too late to make the trek all the way back up to your bed so maybe there might be another one on this floor we could spend the night in."

"No," I say, almost firmly, "We can't. We..."

Shouldn't. That's what I try to say but even I can't quite bring myself to put it into words.

"Are you really saying-" she starts, but I cut her off.

I spin around and step in front of her and my hands are on her hips and my lips are on hers. Inches away from him I kiss her deeply, pushing my tongue past her defenses and then moaning as I stumble back with her, not away from him but to the side.

We tumble into the wall and I press forward hard enough that her body is trapped against mine and she's not going anywhere. And writhing and wriggling I manage to detangle the knots in our towels so the only thing keeping them up is the friction of our bodies.

Mine slips away, a shocking gasp of skin on full display to him and with a single twist of my fingers Rachel is showing him the same as well and she moans, smiling against my lips and my touch as I kiss her once more and pull back just enough that my lips tease against her while I whisper my words loud enough for him to hear.

"If Daddy wants to be boring, let him be," I say, "We can have our fun all by ourselves, and besides you owe me. I made you cum buckets. My turn now."

Taking her in hand I walk her back to my room, leaving Lucas stranded in the hallway watching us leave. Leaving him with only our towels as our perfect naked bodies practically prance away.

"Goodnight Daddy," I call out over my shoulder, not even glancing back but knowing he can't tear his eyes away from us.

"Sweet dreams," Rachel adds.

And then all that's left is our giggling refrain as we tumble up the stairs and into my bedroom.

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