Below The Belt

Round 12

Tyreek's POV

Between me and God... I lowkey might be in love. An absolutely insane thought considering I've known this nigga for less than a month and in that time he's played in my face about three times, but when I woke up the next morning after sucking his dick and found him in the kitchen cooking a whole breakfast for me... Yeah, it might be love forreal. But I'll put a pin in that.

"Hey baby." I greeted him as I stepped behind him and placed a kiss on his back. When I say he was cooking a whole ass breakfast, I mean there were pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, some fruit, some toast- this nigga cooking like I laid it down on him... These ain't even my groceries. This nigga bought groceries to cook dinner... I know that's fucking right.

"Wassup, nigga." He responded, making me laugh. His thug ass can't ever say something normal. I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and leaned my cheek against his back. "You really cookin' for a nigga? That's wild bro." I chuckled and he laughed right along with me.

"Shit is wild ain't it. Ion know I woke up and was like yeah this nigga gave me some cookin' breakfast in the mornin' type head. Had some groceries sent here and everything, my nigga." I laughed again, just watching him cook and shit. This nigga just fine as hell no matter what he's doing.

"It was that good?"

He turned to look at me when I spoke, giving me a deadpan expression before focusing on cooking again. "Nigga you tried to steal my fuckin' soul. You lucky I chose breakfast because the other option was eloping."

"And just think..." I whispered into his ear while tightening my hold around his waist. I rubbed my crotch against his ass and felt him tense up slightly, though he didn't move. "That was only my mouth. Imagine how my dick'll have you actin'."

"Nigga fuck you." He muttered, and I only chuckled in response. Usually that sentence would be followed up with something along the lines of 'you ain't fuckin' me.' I'd call this progress. He stayed silent for a moment, but after a few minutes I heard him quietly mumble, "Ion know how the fuck you expect that shit to fit anywhere anyway..."

Aww... This nigga scared forreal. That's adorable. "My shit ain't even that big nigga-" I started, but stopped talking when he damn near broke his neck to glare at me. "Okay, my fault. I'm just sayin' it won't be that bad... I'm real good at preparing niggas for my dick. By time I finally put it in you'll be beggin' for it, I promise."

He once again stayed silent, and I assumed he was just going to ignore me now until he finally spoke again.

"You keep on bringin' up the niggas you fucked before imma shoot the whole block up..."

Damn. Nigga is forreal sprung.

"Aight baby, my fault." I said again, resisting the urge to laugh this time. He looked so serious about it too. "But my point still stands."

This time he really did ignore me, but I didn't mind. I just stood there and watched his big sexy ass cook until he was done. "Go sit down. I'll make you a plate."

"Daaamn you gon' make my plate for me too? I sucked yo shit good, huh?" I ducked away when he attempted to swing on me, laughing evilly as I went to sit down like he instructed before he tried to hit me or something with his mean ass.

I watched as he walked around my kitchen like he owned the place, grabbing plates and silverware and piling food onto one of the plates for me. He looked like he belonged there... He looked like he belonged everywhere in my house. In my kitchen, sitting on my couch, laying in my bed... I could only hope to get the chance to share it all with him forreal someday.

... Damn. I'm really whipped and he ain't even do nothing yet.

"Here nigga." His aggressive ass said as he placed the plate down in front of me, making me laugh.