Fifty-Four
fifty-four
SLOW MOTION - TREY SONGZ
OWEN - AUGUST 22, 2013
A feeling of contentment washes over me as I pull into the driveway. Tonight marks my first official evening living with Callie and Sara. I linger in the truck for a moment, allowing the stress of a long workday to fade away.
When I step inside, I’m greeted with the comforting smell of the spiced apple candles Callie loves to burn mixed with something else, something sweeter. The scent lingers in the air, and I realize she must have been baking something earlier. Judging by the lack of baked goods on the counter, I’m going to guess things didn’t go according to plan.
I can almost picture her here in the kitchen, fussing over every detail. She has always insisted she’s a terrible cook, but lately, she’s been trying to learn more—testing out new recipes as well as her patience. Sometimes, she will even text me pictures of her “experiments.” It’s charming, the way she wants to get things just right. No matter the outcome, each effort feels like a piece of her she’s offering up, making me fall for her that much more.
As I round the corner to the living room, I find my beautiful girlfriend on the couch with Sara nestled beside her, the two of them bathed in the soft light from the TV. Callie looks up as I walk in, and there’s a smile on her face that makes the long day worth it—a smile that feels like coming home.
“Hey,” she whispers, careful not to wake Sara, who’s teetering on the edge of sleep. She must not have napped today. Sara’s tiny hand clutches the hem of Callie’s shirt, her little body curled up against her like she never wants to let go.
“Hey,” I reply, leaning down to kiss Callie’s forehead. The warmth of her skin under my lips is familiar, grounding, and I can’t help but press another kiss to Sara’s forehead, inhaling the soft, sweet scent of baby shampoo. These little moments—the everyday moments that might otherwise seem unremarkable—remind me why all of this is worth it. They’re not just Callie and Sara anymore; they’re my family.
“How was work?” Callie asks as she shifts slightly, making room for me on the couch.
“Long,” I say, sinking into the cushion beside her with a sigh. “But it’s good. We’re making progress on the steam lines, and Will’s been a big help. We’ve got a good system going.” I glance over at her, catching the way her eyes soften, and I know she understands. She always does.
We move through the rest of the evening in a comfortable rhythm that’s quickly becoming familiar. I help Callie with dinner, our movements synchronizing in the kitchen as we prepare a quick meal. Sara chatters sleepily, her words slurring as her eyes grow heavier, and by the time we finish eating, she’s almost out again. I scoop her up, feeling her tiny arms wrap around my neck as I carry her upstairs.
I take Sara to her room and tuck her in, smoothing the soft, faded pink blanket over her tiny body. I stand there momentarily, watching as her breaths even out, her small chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deepening sleep. She’s so peaceful, her little face slack and soft, and it hits me all over again how much these moments have come to mean to me. I love this little girl. And I am so glad that Callie has allowed me to be a part of her life.
While tonight is my first official night living here with them, it’s not the first time I’ve helped Callie get Sara to bed. Callie would often be up until the early hours with Sara, rocking her in her mom’s old recliner.
I knew that after everything Callie had been through, the idea of letting Sara cry herself to sleep was almost unbearable. She couldn’t stand the thought of walking away, so at the slightest whimper, she’d rush in, scoop her up, and hold her close. And while it was done out of love, it was taking its toll on them both. Callie was running on fumes, and Sara wasn’t learning to fall asleep independently.
When I started spending more weekends here, Sara took to me putting her down without much fuss. They say kids save their hardest times for their moms because it’s who they feel safest with, and maybe there’s some truth to that. But the first time I spent the night here, I had a little chat with my sweet Sara. I told her that if Mommy got to be well-rested, she’d have more energy for fun the next day. Sara seemed to understand, and the bedtime struggles have eased since then.
Callie jokes that I must have made some sort of deal with the devil to get Sara to go down so easily, but I wonder if we just needed this—me being here, being a part of their nightly rhythm. It’s clear this move wasn’t just about convenience but building something that made sense for all of us. I’ve always heard it takes a village to raise children, and I’m grateful that Callie allows me to be a part of hers .
When I return to the living room, Callie is waiting, leaning against the doorframe with a warmth in her eyes that makes my pulse stutter. “You are so wonderful, Owen,” she says softly, her voice sincere. “Thank you so much for everything.”
I step forward and place my hands on her hips, pulling her gently away from the doorframe. She wraps her arms around my neck, drawing me in for a kiss. It’s slow, unhurried—just the two of us finding comfort in the closeness. She drops her arms from my neck, lacing her fingers with mine as she leads me down the hallway to our room.
Our room.
My girl.
All mine.
After pulling me into the room and closing the door behind me, Callie turns to me, her eyes soft but full of lust. I press a soft kiss to her lips, savoring the sweet taste of her. Her warm breath dances across my skin as she starts to undo my belt buckle and begins kissing her way down my neck. I reach my hand over my head, pulling my shirt off in one swift movement before tossing it aside as she continues trailing kisses down my skin until she’s on her knees in front of me.
It’s a sight I will treasure forever.
The more Callie and I are together, the more I learn about what makes her tick and what turns her on. Callie is a service-submissive. Part of the way she shows affection is through acts of service, always ensuring I’m well taken care of. Callie has repeatedly shown me that she gives as good as she gets, and I am living for this moment with her kneeling at my feet.
“Can I please help you take your boots off, Sir?” she asks, her voice radiating desire as she looks up at me through her long black eyelashes.
“Yes, Kitty,” I nod, taking a seat on the bench that she placed at the end of the bed. “But you have to take your clothes off first.”
She smirks at me and does as I say, slipping out of her pink cotton dress. When she gets back on her knees in front of me, she slowly unties each one of my boots, pulling them off my feet and placing them carefully beside the bench. She moves back toward the button and zipper on my jeans, freeing my now incredibly hard dick from the confines of my boxer briefs and jeans.
Jesus Christ, she is so fucking sexy.
As she wraps her hand around my cock and lowers her head, I put my hand in her hair, stroking it softly. Her warm breath against my skin is intoxicating. I’m addicted. I need more.
I tuck her long hair behind her ear as she moves her mouth up and down on my erection so I can get a better look at this beautiful goddess that is on her knees for me.
“You make me feel so fucking good, Kitty,” I praise.
She hums at the encouragement and continues her movements until I pull her up to stand before me as I remain sitting on the bench. I pull off my pants and toss them aside before putting my hands high on her ribs and squeezing just a bit. I decide to have a little extra fun with her and spin her around while I remain seated before slowly pulling her down to sit on my lap.
I feel her start to get nervous as she sits back, like she’s worried that she might break me. She’s not going to. Before she’s fully seated, I grab my cock in one hand while holding her in a half seated position with the other. Slowly stroking myself through her folds, she is soaking wet.
She whimpers as my cock passes through her pussy lips and I can tell she’s trying not to beg for what she wants. I’ve learned that making her wait for things drives her crazy but it also makes her come so much harder. I continue stroking my cock against her entrance until she’s about to come undone.
“That feels… so… good,” she pants.
“Does my greedy little Kitty need my cock?” I taunt.
“Yes,” she replies, almost breathlessly.
Just as the word leaves her lips, I pull her down, driving my dick deep inside her. She leans back, wrapping one arm up around my neck, pulling me closer to her. I place a kiss against the sweet spot where her neck and shoulders meet while reaching one hand down to play with her clit.
We move together, slowly, every touch intentional. I run my other hand over her belly and a wave of protectiveness surges through me. I hold her close, my lips pressed against her shoulder. I watch as the quiet connection makes goosebumps dance across her skin.
Her soft gasps fill the room as I urge her on. “Come for me, Kitty. Show me how good I make you feel.”
As she starts to move up and down on my cock, I can feel my own orgasm trying to come out. She is so stunningly beautiful and this sight is enough to make any man lose their shit long before they want to.
“I love you,” I whisper against her skin. Callie pauses her movements, turning her head just enough to catch her expression. Her eyes are soft and filled with warmth, sending a rush of emotions through me.
“I love—Oh God, Owen! Holy shit,” she struggles to get words out as I pick up my pace on her clit and begin driving myself upward into her.
Callie’s head falls back, and she surrenders to the sensation, her body moving in perfect rhythm with mine. Her moans grow louder, filling the room as she rides the waves of pleasure. I tighten my grip on her waist, guiding her as she moves, the heat between us building to an almost unbearable intensity.
I can feel her walls tighten around me, and I know she’s close. Her breathing becomes ragged, each exhale punctuated with a soft, desperate cry. She’s losing herself in this moment, and the sight of her like this—completely vulnerable and open—is almost too much to handle. My own release is hovering on the edge, but I force myself to hold back, wanting to watch her fall apart in my arms.
She tilts her head to the side, eyes half-lidded and filled with lust, and meets my gaze. "Owen," she breathes, her voice breaking, “I’m so close.”
I press my lips against her shoulder, biting her softly while my hand still works her clit in time with our movements. “That’s it, Kitty. Let go for me.”
She places her hand on my thighs, holding herself steady as she cries out, her body shuddering as her orgasm takes over, her nails digging into my legs. The feeling of her pulsing around me pushes me over the edge, and I groan, my own release crashing through me with an intensity that leaves me breathless. My hips jerk as I empty inside her, every muscle in my body tensing as I hold her close, riding out the last of our shared high.
For a moment, neither of us moves. We just stay like that, clinging to each other, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The world feels distant, and all I can focus on is the feeling of her in my arms, the way her body molds against mine, warm and soft and perfect.
After I pull out of her, Callie turns to rest her head on my shoulder. Her fingers glide gently across my chest, creating invisible designs on my skin. I brush a few stray strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear as we settle into the comfortable silence .
She lets out a contented sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “I love you, Owen,” she whispers, the words soft and sincere, like a quiet affirmation of everything we just shared.
I tighten my arms around her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “I love you too, Callie.”
We stay like that, wrapped up in each other, letting the quiet envelop us. This space feels like it belongs solely to us, and for once, I’m at peace in a way I haven’t been in years. It’s more than just the physical connection; it’s the trust, the closeness, the love that’s been steadily growing between us.
Afterward, we move to the bed and lie in a comfortable silence, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan softly accompanying the rhythm of our breathing. Callie rests her head on my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns along my skin, and I feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Being here with her feels perfect, and I wouldn’t trade this quiet warmth for anything.
I reach over for my phone on the nightstand, intending to set an alarm for the morning. But as I unlock the screen, a message from Josh catches my eye. Apprehension fills my chest as I open it.
I haven’t heard from Josh since the day he chastised me for not supporting Karissa when she told me that she was pregnant. What the fuck does he want now?
I open the message, certain that this day will be ruined if he tries to pull the same shit this time. I consider not opening the message but decide I might as well get whatever this is over with.
Josh:
Hey man, I owe you an apology. I ran into Karissa at a bar last night, and she admitted she was never pregnant… She used a patient’s ultrasound photo. I’m sorry for how I reacted when I thought you’d disrespected her. I should have believed you; I didn’t think she was capable of this.
I stare at the screen, the words blurring as I read them over and over, trying to make sense of it all. Relief washes over me first, like a dam breaking loose, the tension that’s been coiled inside me for weeks finally easing. But then there’s the anger—hot and sharp, cutting through the relief with a vicious edge. The audacity of Karissa’s lies, the manipulation, the sheer disregard for the truth—it all hits me at once, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
Callie must sense my change in mood because she lifts her head, her brows knitting together in concern. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice soft but tinged with worry.
I hand her the phone, watching as her eyes move over the screen. She lets out a low breath, shaking her head. “Wow,” she says, her voice a mix of disbelief and something else—something closer to pity than anger. “I can’t say I’m surprised, but… God, what a mess.”
I let out a humorless laugh, running a hand over the back of my neck as I try to process everything. “I can’t believe she would go that far,” I say, my voice rough with frustration. “Who does that? Who lies about something like that?”
Callie shifts closer, her hand resting against my chest in a soothing gesture. “Someone who’s desperate for attention,” she says quietly. “But it doesn’t matter now. She’s out of your life, Owen. You don’t have to deal with her anymore.”
I nod, her words sinking in slowly, like the gradual thaw of ice. It’s over. The anxiety, the doubts, the constant questioning— it’s all done. There’s a finality to it that feels like a weight lifting, and as I pull Callie closer, I let myself believe that maybe, finally, I can leave this behind.
We lie there in the dim light, her warmth pressed against me, and I find myself thinking about the future—about the rooms in this house and the lives we’re building together. It’s not perfect—far from it. But it’s real, and it’s ours, and that makes it enough. I press a kiss to Callie’s forehead, feeling the soft flutter of her breath against my skin, and we drift off to sleep.