【 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑑 ✧ rave & rev. 】ⁿˢᶠʷ

[Rave]

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J A M E S K    I    N    G  ​ He pulled Melissa's chair out for her like a good husband. Sat down. Folded his hands. But his eyes—his eyes kept darting, unwilling, back to Christina. Her lips. Her throat. The exact spot where he'd left marks she probably covered with makeup. She was quiet for a beat, and then came the chirp of her voice. He tried to swallow the tension rising in his throat. "We've been… keeping busy," James said, but his voice was hoarse, and Melissa quickly jumped in to smooth it over. "We've both been working so much, honestly. James is out of the house most nights! And the weather's been awful, right? So it's nice to get out of the house, see everyone. This smells amazing, by the way." She beamed at Christina and her mother, oblivious, well intentioned. James stared down at his hands. He knew what was coming. He could feel it brewing across the table. Christina's smile was far too sweet now—something syrupy with poison underneath. And then she turned. Asking him how lucky he was to have such a wife. He blinked. It took him a moment to register the words because her tone wasn't right. It was mock praise, dipped in acid. And the way she looked at him afterward—like she was daring him to say the wrong thing, or maybe say nothing at all—that nearly undid him in anger, frustration, yearning for that bitch of a niece sitting opposite him. James cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said quickly, eyes flicking to Melissa. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me." Venom for venom. His hand sliding over visibly, unsubtly, to slide along Melissa's thigh and clasp at the inner. But Christina wasn't finished. The pregnancy comment...It hit like a gunshot under the table. James flinched internally, but his face stayed blank. Barely. He felt Melissa's hand tense in his, subtle but sharp, like a reflex she hadn't had time to smother. Her laugh came too quickly. "God, no," Melissa said, with a tight smile. "Still just the two of us." James looked down, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He felt Christina watching him, saw her smirk curled behind the fake innocence. She knew. Of course she did. The question had been a scalpel, and she was the kind of girl who knew where to cut. She knew about the years of false starts. About the failed tests. About the quiet nights where Melissa cried in the bathroom and didn't think he could hear her. She knew James had always wanted a child—had imagined it. Needed it, in ways he hadn't even understood until he realized it might never happen. All that fatherly energy had transferred to Christina herself as they raised her. He was the daddy where her own was absent, because he had always wanted a child. It was a secret that wasn't a good one. Most everyone knew. He knew she knew. And now? Now, that longing had twisted into something darker. Because the image in his head wasn't of Melissa anymore. It was Christina. Bare and breathless, clutching him, ruined and radiant. And for one horrible, treacherous moment, James wondered what it would be like to fill her again—not just with heat and guilt, but with something permanent. Something that couldn't be undone. "We're happy just the way we are, aren't we baby?" He kept a side eye on Christina as he leaned over to the side, pressing his lips to the corner of Melissa's lips for a kiss to unwind the tension Christina had caused in her, and in him. Cruelly, he'd rip his gaze from Christina completely as he did so, visibly running his hand up and along Melissa's thigh in 'comforting' rubs, perhaps almost inappropriately so, since they drew a quiet blush from the older woman's cheeks. "Mm...yes. Exactly." Melissa almost drifted off in bliss at the moment. It was the most affection James had given her in months. Only then, did he part, facing forward again, legs parting slightly under the table and reached forward enough to press the curve of his foot into Christina's own, almost in silent threat. "What about you darling?" He stared Christina down again, brow slowly rising. "How's your love life going. Bringing anyone special over for Christmas this year?" ​

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[reverie.]

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C H R I S T I N A J    O    R    D    A    N    -    K    I    N    G ​ Christina couldn't help but hide her smirk at Melissa's poor attempt at smoothing things over. "Out of the house, huh?" She glanced over at James, giving him a knowing look. He wasn't working as much as he wanted Melissa to believe. No, she knew what he was doing in his free time, late at night. Fucking girls half his age, that was what her uncle was doing. And last time, he'd fucked her. And although Christina would never admit it, it had felt amazing. She wondered what Melissa would say—what her expression would look like—if Christina had told her the truth right now. Told her how her beloved husband had fucked her raw and enjoyed every millisecond of it. How he'd plowed into her pussy, so deep she could feel it in her stomach. "I wouldn't worry too much about it," she assured Melissa, giving her an apologetic smile to pretend she understood what she was going through. But even if she did, Christina didn't fucking care. "I'm sure he's just very dedicated to his. . . work." She moved her attention over to James, smiling innocently despite being anything but. "Isn't that right, Uncle? Don't you just love to bury yourself in work on a Friday evening?" She held his gaze, refusing to look away. If he thought she was going to go easy on him just because Melissa was at his side, he was sorely mistaken. Christina was going to help him remember that night, reminding him how incredible it felt. Her tone changed slightly before she opened her mouth again. "Awh, that's a shame." It truly wasn't. At this point, she wasn't sure she could have handled Melissa being pregnant. Not when a part of Christina wanted her uncle all to herself. "I know you'd make wonderful parents." Now, that wasn't a complete lie. James had been more of a father to her than her actual father had ever been, and she knew how much he longed for a child of his own. It was a shame that Melissa hadn't been able to give him one, but. . . perhaps it was for the best. Christina watched as James gave Melissa what she'd secretly been craving all week—his touch and affection—but trying to look unfazed by it. She was jealous of her, his wife. He had every right to touch her, to kiss her, but Christina couldn't help but wish it was her thighs he rubbed under the table. And when his foot nudged hers, she gave it a small nudge back, silently telling him to fuck off. "Me?" She resisted the urge to scoff, seeing instead a golden opportunity to make her uncle even more uncomfortable, if not jealous. "Actually, yes," she lied. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but he's really sweet." She turned to her mom, adding, "You remember Xaden, right?" Her mom needed a few seconds to collect her thoughts, but then she seemed to recognize the name. "Yes, I do," she said, her voice perhaps a bit firmer than it needed to be. "And I also remember telling you to be careful around him." Now, Christina scoffed. "Oh please, mom. You just don't like his tattoos." She nodded briefly towards James. "You've never told me to stay away from Uncle James." Her tone was cool, almost challenging. Her mom just sighed, sending James a faint smile as if to apologize for her daughter's behavior. "Uncle James has never been in prison, Christina." That made Christina roll her eyes. "Well, it's not like he's in prison right now," she argued. "In fact, I'm gonna spend the night there." More lies, but Christina wanted to see James' reactions. Did he, or did he not want to bury his cock in her again? ​

    

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[Rave]

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J A M E S K    I    N    G  ​ James felt his stomach knot, and not from the medicore lasagna he was barely making a dent in. The air around the table had thickened with every word Christina let drip from her lips, her tone sugary but sharp, like broken candy glass. She sat across from him looking too sweet, too put together, with that damn skirt riding just high enough to make his thoughts dangerous again. Every sentence was a dare, every glance a threat she dressed in innocence. But he knew better. He knew exactly what she was doing—and worse, it was working. When she spoke about him "burying himself in work," the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth said she hadn't forgotten a single second of what he'd buried himself in instead. Right between her fucking legs. She held his stare across the table as if Melissa didn't exist. Her voice was velvet, eyes steady, and James fought the twitch in his jaw as she kept piling on. And then came the name—Xaden—like a steel-toed boot to the gut. James didn't flinch, but his knuckles tightened just slightly around his fork. Of all people, she had to resurrect that lowlife, that tattooed scrap of a man he remembered too well. The guy she'd mentioned once just to rile him up. Well, it was working again. James could feel heat blooming in his chest. Possessive. Ugly. He remembered the last time she mentioned him, barely a day after her seventeenth birthday. The creep, his intentions, her attraction to him. James had quietly showed up to his home that night and made sure he didn't fucking talk to her again, then went and consoled Christina for the rest of the night. She sat on his lap that day, they curled together under a blanket, watched her favorite movie, fell asleep on the couch. Now it seemed the fucking lowlife was back in her life. Whether that was a lie to rile him up, or the truth, it didn't matter now. The moment her leg brushed his beneath the table, something short-circuited in his brain. She didn't move it. Neither did he. He shifted just enough so his leg pressed back—deliberate, firm. Not a mistake. Not a flinch. A reminder of the warmth of his touch against her thigh. Her skin was warm, electric. His foot slid forward the slightest bit, just enough to nudge hers with quiet control. Talking about him being in prison nearly had his veins popping out on his forehead, that faux-casual tone barely hiding the glee in her voice. And spending the fucking night there?...That did it. James stared at her, angry. His voice, when it came, was low and dry. "Xaden," he repeated, like the name tasted foul. "Didn't think you were the type to recycle." He let the silence stretch for a second, then added flatly, "Still—you always did have questionable taste." Melissa laughed, light and clueless, nudging his arm. "James," she scolded softly. "Be nice." She didn't notice how tense he was. She never did when it came to this. Her hand moved gently across his thigh under the table—casual, possessive. And James made a decision. He turned to her with a slow, easy smile. "You're right," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer with casual intimacy. "I'm just being a little protective of my only niece, that's all." He let his fingers trail across her bare shoulder, thumb brushing the curve of her neck. "But you're right, love. She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions." Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple, soft but visible, deliberate. He felt Christina watching— He smiled against Melissa's skin. "I made mine all on my own and ended up with a diamond like you, didn't I?" he said, loud enough for Christina to hear. But his eyes never left Melissa's, wilfully ignoring Christina across from him. And under the table, his leg abandoned her too. ​

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[reverie.]

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C H R I S T I N A J    O    R    D    A    N    -    K    I    N    G ​ A spark ignited in her core when her uncle pushed his leg against hers. Shit. She'd almost forgotten how it felt. She'd dreamed about his touch all week, but this was real. And a part of her wanted him to push it between her legs so she could grind against his knee. She knew that wasn't physically possible, but that didn't stop her mind from racing. She missed his touch more than she wanted to admit. Above the table, nothing had changed. Her expression was the same, and her smug smile only grew when she saw his reaction. She knew mentioning Xaden would hit a nerve. He hadn't been a fan of the guy a few years back, and now that he'd also served time in prison, she could only imagine what James' opinion of him was. "So you do remember him," she said coolly. Thankfully, Melissa scolded him, allowing Christina to chime in. "Yes, Uncle James—be nice. Xaden is a new man now. He's taking very good care of me." She made a quick gesture towards Melissa, "Just like you're taking care of Melissa." Christina wanted to say more, but all of a sudden, James' focus shifted. His focus—his hands—were now on Melissa, and Christina couldn't help but feel jealous. She wanted to feel his hands against her skin, his fingers brushing over her shoulder, her neck. It should have been her he touched, not that bitch of a wife. If only she knew. . . She watched them intensely, feeling her anger, jealousy, and frustration grow every second he caressed his wife right in front of her. Christina knew exactly what he was doing—and hated that he was succeeding—so when he eventually pulled his leg back and left hers alone, she decided she'd seen enough. She pushed her chair back, letting the legs scrape against the floor to announce her departure. "Excuse me, but I need to use the restroom." Her tone did not match her choice of words, but it was hard to tell if she was upset or angry. She didn't even spare her uncle or his wife a glance before she turned her back to them. Fuck James. Fuck Melissa. She knew it was all pretend, knew it wasn't real. It was just a show he'd put on for her, and now she was going to make him regret it. Because she remembered that night a week ago, when he'd fucked her raw. She remembered the sounds he'd made—what she wouldn't give to hear him growl in her ear again. Locking herself in the bathroom upstairs, she called her uncle. And the moment he answered her call, Christina started talking. "Have you already forgotten what it felt like to have a wet, tight pussy wrapped around your hard, throbbing cock, Uncle James? Hmm?" Her voice was low and alluring. She was teasing him as much as she was challenging him. She was definitely trying to provoke him. "Don't you remember how good it felt when you buried yourself deep in my cunt, feeling my pussy clench around you as i milked every. . last. . drop. . out of you? Because I do." For a moment, her tone had changed from alluring to challenging. "I remember how it felt, Uncle James. The way your cock stretched my pussy—God, it felt sooo good. Don't you want to just sink your big, fat——" He hung up. Mission. Fucking. Accomplished. However, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't gotten herself riled up in the process, but knowing that James was downstairs with his wife's hands all over him, probably trying to hide a growing bulge in his pants, made her feel really smug. Oh, what she wouldn't give to see his face right now. She'd see it soon enough when she went downstairs again. It wasn't like she'd actually needed to pee. Although there was no denying that there was now a tingling feeling between her legs. Because a part of her wanted to feel James's cock buried deep in her pussy once more, stretching her—filling her. She could hardly wait to see his face. Unlocking the bathroom door, she knew it was only a matter of seconds before she would see it. She wondered if Melissa had heard anything or if she'd noticed the bulge. Probably not, but she'd like to know if James had managed to keep his cool. What she wouldn't have given to see him trying to keep a straight face in front of his wife. His expression would have been priceless. ​

    

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[Rave]

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J A M E S K    I    N    G  ​ James had been trying to keep his act together. He really had. He thought the smug look Christina gave him after he touched Melissa was irritating enough, but he hadn't expected her to leave. Not so suddenly. Not so obviously. Her chair scraped back with an ugly screech, slicing through the tense air like a blade. She didn't even look at him when she walked off. Didn't have to. He could feel her satisfaction as clearly as heat. The perfume, the way she held her head high. It was a victory strut. Melissa blinked, confused, watching Christina's back disappear toward the hallway. "Is she okay?" she asked softly. "Probably just… bathroom," Her mother muttered. "Food's barely hit her stomach, that girl is too sensitive!" James forced a small laugh. It landed hollow. Under the table, his hands were clenched tight. He tried to focus on Melissa's voice as she started talking about weekend plans with Christina's mom, but it sounded distant, underwater. Especially as his phone buzzed once in his pocket. Then again. He didn't need to check it. He already knew. The second the phone buzzed against his thigh one more time, James slid his hand into his lap, casually unlocked the phone, and answered the call with a flick of his thumb. No greeting. No movement above the table beyond taking his phone up to his ear, his other hand raising in an 'excuse me' like gesture, as if he really had to take this. He kept his face still, his posture relaxed, like nothing was happening. Like he wasn't suddenly boiling alive under his shirt. Then her voice came through the speaker, low and sinful. ​ "Have you already forgotten what it felt like to have a wet, tight pussy wrapped around your hard, throbbing cock, Uncle James? Hmm?"​ The words slammed into him, sharp and merciless. His body reacted instantly. Blood surged to his groin in a sudden, heavy rush, and he shifted in his seat just slightly, pretending to adjust the napkin in his lap. His cock thickened against his zipper. Fast. Painfully fast. His free hand curled into a fist against his thigh. He kept his eyes on his plate, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Across the table, Melissa laughed politely at something Christina's mother said. Her fingers grazed his arm lightly, and he nodded—tight, mechanical, entirely detached from the conversation happening around him. Christina kept going, her voice practically purring in his ear now. ​ "Don't you remember how good it felt when you buried yourself deep in my cunt, feeling my pussy clench around you as I milked every. Last. Drop. Out of you? Because I do."​ He was starting to lose composure. A bead of sweat formed at the base of his neck. The napkin in his lap barely concealed the outline of a cock pressing hard against his pants now, so much so that his hand had to cover him up, squeezing around the shaft beneath the table. He exhaled slowly through his nose, tried to stay still, tried to ignore the molten tension tightening every muscle in his body. But her voice was wrapping around him like rope. He could see his little niece in his mind—arched, trembling, moaning his name while he ruined her. He wanted to break the phone in half. Melissa turned toward him finally, noticing the sudden silence. "Everything okay?" James blinked once and forced a smile as best he could. "Work." he exclaimed "Billing mistake. Nothing urgent." Melissa nodded and returned her attention to the table. He waited a beat longer. Then— ​ "The way your cock stretched my pussy… God, it felt sooo good. Don't you want to just sink your big, fat—"​ He hung up. The silence afterward was deafening. If he didn't hang up, he might have stained his pants with pre-cum erupting from his cock and he wouldn't know how to get up. He stayed seated, unmoving, with the same placid expression on his face. But inside, he was a storm. His cock throbbed beneath the table. His hands ached from tension. Her words replayed again and again, and he knew he wasn't going to last the rest of the night sitting politely next to his wife. "Excuse me," James smiled, voice calm. "Just need to make a quick call and get this sorted." He pushed his chair back carefully, grabbing the napkin and subtly shielding his lap as he stood. Melissa barely looked up, still deep in conversation. He walked out of the room fast, jaw tight, pulse hammering in his ears. He walked forward in hurried silence, just in time to see the bathroom door creak open. Christina stepped out, smug and glowing with satisfaction. That was all it took. James crossed the hall in three long strides. He didn't speak. Didn't give her time for her smirk to widen. The second she stepped fully into the hallway, he reached out and snatched her wrist. Hard enough for her to stumble, hard enough to fucking hurt hurt. He yanked her flush against his chest, her body colliding with his, the scent of her perfume hitting him square in the face. "You little fucking bitch." She was in so. much. fucking. trouble. ​ His grip stayed firm as he spun her around and marched her backward, roughly and without hesitation, like this had almost been decided long before she picked up the phone and she just fanned the flames. He shoved it open with his free hand, stepped in behind her, and kicked it shut with his foot. It slammed with a quiet, solid finality. The lock slid into place in one swift click. He used the grip on her wrist to keep pushing her forward, until there was nowhere to go, until her cheek pressed against the cold tile of the bathroom and her ass smashed against his groin. Her arm was twisted behind her, nothing too serious to risk a break, but enough to restrain her in fucking place. His chest rose and fell, breath ragged, and for a few seconds, he just looked at he from behind—at the flushed skin, the swollen mouth, the smug satisfaction barely hidden behind her eyes. "You think that was fucking funny?" he asked, voice low and dangerous, not moving. His cock pressed thick and obvious against the curve of her ass, and there was no table to hide behind now. ​

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