Page 40 of The Trailer Park Twink
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze., guiding me through the house, showing me the bedroom and bathroom before heading into the kitchen.
“I’ll need to head into town later and grab some groceries.”
I point at the bedroom. “Are we . . .”
He nods. “We can share if you’re okay with it. Or if you don't want that room, we can take my mom and dad's old room.” He points at the door opposite the one he walked through with my mother God knows how many nights. He fucked her in there. He must have. It triggers something in me, but it isn't something I expect. I'm not angry or jealous or unhinged with rage. My chest is swelling, because I finally fucking won. This is my Dallas. My Daddy. My happily ever after, not hers. Not anymore.
“I'm going to fucking claim you, Dallas,” I whisper firmly. "You're going to fuck me in the same spot you fucked her, and I'm going to make you come twice as hard.” I grip his chin, though not tight enough to hurt. “You've always been mine. Say it.”
He blinks slowly, his lips slightly parted. “Jesus, Austin.”
I lick his bottom lip. “Say it.”
“Yours,” he breathes. “Always.”
We share a kiss, my fingers twisting through his hair as I pull him flush against me. His stubble tickles and the brim of his hat knocks against me now and then, but it just adds to the experience. When we pull away, his cheeks are rosy red, his lips twice as dark from use.
I bite my lip and look up at him. “Can we get new sheets too? If it’s too expensive, it’s okay, Ijust—”
He places a finger against my lips. “I’ll get them in pink. I know it’s your favorite.”
“It’s not too girly for you?”
He laughs like it’s the silliest question he’s ever heard. “I wore those pink jammies you got me for over a year. Do you really think I care about a sheet?” He cringes once the words are out, because those pajamas are a sore subject. Mom knew how much Dallas loved them. She knew I bought them special, just for him, and she still ruined them with bleach and threw them in the trash. I could tell how much it hurt Dallas at the time, because they were a precious gift from his precious boy, but he didn’t say a single word to her, probably wanting to placate my unhinged mother so she didn’t unleash holy hell on me after the fact. “I’ll even get a pink comforter.”
“Daddy, no. That's too much money. I can wash the blanket, I was only worried about the sheets.”
He shakes his head decidedly. “You're worth every penny.”
When Dallas leaves for the store, I get to work, putting my playlist on shuffle and fluttering around the cabin like a fairy, tidying up a year’s worth of dust. It only takes about half an hour before the place is sparkling, because it’s not a very large space. I kind of like that it’s smaller in size, because cleaning the trailer fucking sucks balls. Big, sweaty, hairy balls, much like Dallas’. I can picture them in my head so clearly after seeing them up close, and the memory gets me half-hard in seconds.
I haven’t ejaculated in what feels like ages, and I really need to rub one out, but I’m saving this load for Daddy, because I kind of want to drench his entire face when I finally blow.
I head into their room, being nosy. Well, it was Dallas' room first, back when his parents were still alive. It holds traces of the boy he was. Blue walls with little baseballs scattered from floor to ceiling. Bedding that looks like something 1993 projectile vomited it across his mattress with triangles placed at twisted angles, making shapes out of shapes in a faded neon color palette. Absolutely atrocious.
The room is mostly empty save for a dresser, the bed, two bedside tables, and a desk in the corner with children's books stacked at the end. On the bedside table by the door, I notice a picture that sends my blood boiling. In it, Mom and Dallas are getting drunk by a fire in front of the cabin. He doesn't look exhausted, but she's staring into the camera like she's staring right at me. Like she knew we would always end up here, and this picture is meant to lay claim to a man who doesn't belong to her.
Well, we can't have that, so I walk the picture frame into the kitchen and throw it in the trash, out of sight, out of mind.
After two hours of endless waiting, I get antsy, which leads to me getting tipsy when I find four unopened bottles of pink champagne in the pantry. I’m on my second glass when Dallas pulls into the driveway. Being the angelic stepson I am, I meethim at the door with the bottle I’ve been swigging out of, and a quick kiss to the cheek to celebrate his safe return. He stares down at the bottles and snorts a laugh.
“I keep that hidden from Shelly. Did you go snooping?”
I nod proudly. “I always go snooping. It’s what I’m best at.”
“And I see you’re enjoying the fruits of your labor.”
“Yeah, but just a little bit though. I’m not passout drunk or anything. I think I’d like to be, if that’s an option.”
He snorts a laugh and grabs the bottle out of my hand, then carries it into the kitchen as I follow along like a lost puppy. The screw-on lid is still where I left it on the counter, and Dallas twists it on before popping the bottle into the fridge. Before I can react, he whirls around and catches me off guard, lifting me into his arms and holding me. Not just holding—cradling. I feel like a swaddled baby in his arms, and I won’t lie and say it doesn’t feel nice being toted around like I weigh nothing. He carries me to the living room and plops down on the moderately comfortable sofa by the window.
“Why don’t we save the rest for later tonight?” He pulls me closer against his chest, rocking me slowly back and forth. “The place looks good. You didn’t have to clean up though. I would have done it when I got back.”
“You were gone forever. I needed something to fill my time. It got lonely here without you.”
Dallas brushes his thumb against my cheek. “In any case, thank you. Go ahead and get a little nap in. You’ve earned it.”
I close my eyes and melt into him, because that’s fine by me. It isn’t long before I’m nodding off. For the next two hours, Dallas watches television as I fade in and out of consciousness, peeking up at him and smiling dreamily each time I stir.
