I stare blankly at the wall, feeling the weight of the Admiral's arm still draped over me, his steady breathing tickling the back of my neck. The chaos of the past 24 hours seems distant, almost surreal, as if the physical intensity had burned through the layers of confusion.
I turn slightly, careful not to wake him, and glance at his face. His usual intensity is softened by sleep, and for a moment, I let myself watch him. Vulnerable. Tender. The contrast to his dominance from the night before leaves me wondering: Who is this man when the fire fades?
I slip out of bed, padding softly to the window, my mind drifting to the question I've been avoiding: what happens next? The sun rises over the swaying trees, casting a golden hue that does little to lighten the weight of my thoughts.
A rustle behind me pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to see the Admiral stirring, his eyes meeting mine across the room. For a moment, we say nothing. There's no need for words--we've shared too much to rush into this.
He rises from the bed, draping a robe over his broad shoulders as he crosses the room toward me. "Morning." His tone is low, but his gaze is sharp.
"Good morning," I reply softly, the weight of the night before pressing in. I try to steady my voice as he steps closer, resting a hand on my shoulder.
"Do you have something on your mind?" he says as more of a prompt than a question.
I nod, then look up at him, trying to gauge his thoughts. "I'm just... thinking."
He raises an eyebrow, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin. "About what?"
"I just... we crossed some serious lines. You and me. And... things are gonna get complicated... with Dallas." My voice trails off, uncertainty hanging in the air.
The Admiral's expression shifts narrowly, with discernment. "I see." He considers the weight of my words before responding, his voice low and assured. "Well...I'll handle Dallas. So you can figure out what's most important to you. I won't let anything get in the way."
His words are comforting, but that doesn't take away the edge of unease that's settled in my gut. "This is a lot. I need to clear my head. I think I'm gonna go for a walk."
He doesn't push, nodding calmly. "Take all the time you need."
I slip into some sweats, carefully pulling on my boots before stepping out into the crisp morning air. The early light filters through the trees, the forest alive with the soft sounds of birds and leaves rustling. The cabin feels both like a refuge and durance, its isolation offering too much space for my troubled mind.
For the next few days, I create distance. Not just from the Admiral but from everything. The first morning, I focused on Dallas. We hike, just the two of us, following a steep trail. He talks about nothing in particular, while I listen, trying to reconnect with the simplicity of us.
That night, the three of us played board games by the fire. Laughter fills the room, and for the first time, the weight between the Admiral and me doesn't feel as heavy. He watches, holding back, letting me come back to myself. I appreciate the patience, but it only deepens the strange pull I feel toward him.
After a few days, things feel different--lighter. Dallas and I fish by the lake, our conversation flowing effortlessly. We fall back into the rhythm of youth and ease. I begin to feel more like me again. However, I still can't shake the tug I feel toward the Admiral. His presence is a challenge, a tension I can't name.
The fourth day at the cabin unfurled slowly, stretched out by Dallas's growing fondness for his morning drink. By 10 a.m., he's already nursing a beer, casually chugging can after can as the hours slip by. I ask him to spend the day with me and we go hiking along the edge of the lake, laughing as we wade in the shallow water, but there's a subtle distance I can't quite bridge. His laughter is easy, his touch light and affectionate, but I can't shake the feeling that something is missing.
He takes me to a quiet secluded clearing by the trees, and things heat up between us. Dallas asks me to go down on him, and I comply, I close my eyes, imagining it's the admiral that I'm pleasing, and it's clear I'm doing a great job because Dallas stops me.
"Oh my God, babe, Fuck! You gotta stop, I'm trying to get in that pussy, and if you make me cum now, I'm not gonna be able to recover fast enough."
"Well, if I make you cum, we can just switch, and you can down on me," I say, smiling as I continue to stroke his dick.
"Naw babe, this dick needs some warm pussy, so come on, lay back."
Dallas is eager, his hands roaming over my body with a familiar confidence, but there's a restlessness in me that his touch doesn't reach. As Dallas drills into me, my mind keeps drifting back to my night with the Admiral--the way he seemed to know exactly how to ignite every nerve, how he looked at me with an intensity that made me feel seen in ways I hadn't before. With Dallas, the spark is dulled, blurred at the edges by the steady trickle of drinks he's been nursing all day.
Afterward, as he lies back, satisfied and oblivious, I'm left with a lingering ache--a hollow that his affection just doesn't fill. I know he loves me; I know he cares. But something has shifted inside me, and now that I've tasted something more, I'm not sure I can go back to the way things were.
As evening falls and Dallas drifts off for a nap on the couch, I find myself lost in my thoughts, still feeling unsettled. Then, just as the quiet of the cabin begins to settle around us, a knock at the door breaks the silence. My heart skips a beat. The Admiral, always calm and in control, rises effortlessly to answer. When he opens the door, a woman stands there--a striking figure, tall and poised, with sharp eyes and a sleek, cropped hairstyle. Her presence commands the room.
"Am I too early?" she asks, her tone smooth and seductive.
The Admiral's gaze flicks to mine before turning back to her. "No, perfect timing. Come in, Vivica." He steps aside, and she glides in with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where she stands. "Dallas, Aiyana, this is Sergeant Vivica Howard, an old friend. She's taking a break from the Air Force, passing through on her way to Texas."
Vivica's presence fills the room instantly. She looks to be in her mid to late thirties, her skin is deep and lustrous and enhances her striking features. Her hair, cropped close to her head, forms soft, defined curls that frame her face with a simple, understated beauty.
Dressed in dark, fitted attire that complements her statuesque build, she holds herself with the kind of composure that makes it clear she is a woman accustomed to respect.
Vivica's eyes land on Dallas first, and she extends a hand. "Dallas, so nice to put a face to a name. Ulysses speaks highly of you."
Dallas grins as they shake hands. "Yeah! He's talked about you too. Said you're the most impressive person he's ever met."
Vivica's gaze shifts to the Admiral, and she gives him a knowing smirk. "Is that right?"
The way they look at each other sends a wave of unease through me. Their body language is familiar and intimate. They have a history, and it's not lost on me.
"And you must be Aiyana," Vivica says, her smile friendly but her eyes sharp as she turns to me. I take her hand, my grip firm but my mind racing. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too," I manage, though my voice sounds small. The Admiral watches the interaction closely before turning to Dallas.
"Dallas, be a gentleman, and go grab Vivica's bags from the car."
"Sure thing," he says eagerly, heading out the door.
As soon as Dallas leaves, Vivica stares between the Admiral and me. Her tone drops into something more intimate. "Looks like there's more going on here than just a quaint little cabin getaway."
"Viv." The Admiral warns raising an eyebrow.
"Uh-huh, you know better than to use that tone with me." Her tone is seeping with a brand of venom that completely disarms the Admiral.
The tension between them crumbles as they both crack a smile. I can't help but notice the way they're looking at each other--the familiarity in their body language, the flirtation simmering just beneath the surface. It's not the first time they've stood this close and exchanged these looks, it's clear. Whatever history they have, it's physical, and it's still very much alive.
I stand awkwardly, feeling the tendrils of jealousy consuming me like a parasite. But there's something else, too--a curiosity. I can't help but wonder what their dynamic is.
Vivica glances at me as if sensing my unease. "Don't worry," she says with a sly grin. "I don't bite... unless you want me to." She winks, her gaze lingering on me just long enough to make my cheeks flush.
I blink, caught off guard, but before I can respond, Dallas returns with her bags, breaking the tension. "Got 'em all, Viv!" he says, oblivious to the undercurrent of the conversation. He hands her luggage over with a cheerful smile.
The Admiral stands up straighter, licking his lips as he eyes Vivica one last time before addressing the group. "Why don't we all head to the kitchen, and I'll make us some drinks?"
"I could use a little something to take the edge off." Vivica grins, her gaze locking with the Admirals before flicking to me. "But...how about we make things a little more fun? I've got a game in mind."
Dallas raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind of game?"
She looks at him with a playful smile, her confidence palpable. "It's simple. We take turns asking questions--random trivia, personal, whatever comes to mind. If you answer wrong or can't answer, you drink. The catch is... if your question stumps everyone, you get to skip the next round." She grazes her teeth with her tongue. "It keeps things interesting."
Dallas grins, already excited by the idea. "Sounds like my kind of game."
"Are we doing this, then?" The Admiral asks, his gaze shifting between us, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Vivica claps her hands together. "Oh, we're doing this. And I'll start."
The game starts off harmless enough, with laughs and lighthearted questions bouncing around, but it doesn't take long for a different energy to settle over us--a quiet, almost palpable tension that builds with each round. I can feel it thickening like a low, unspoken current, sensed by everyone but Dallas, who keeps stumbling over his answers and pouring shots to make up for his mistakes.
Vivica and the Admiral, on the other hand, are in perfect sync, answering questions with a smooth, practiced ease that feels almost rehearsed. I sip my drink and watch them, trying to brush off the strange pang of jealousy I feel each time Vivica throws him a sly, knowing smile. I despise the way she looks at him--like they're sharing some secret, I'm not privy to.
