All Chapters of ALL YOURS, DADDY: Chapter 441 - Chapter 450

OWEN'S PoV I woke up with Jude’s arm across my waist and Lena’s foot hooked over my calf like she was still making sure neither of us left in the night.The mattress on the floor smelled like sex and old wood. My body ached in places that had never ached before. Every time I shifted, I felt where Jude had been. The reminder sat low and deep and real. I did not hate it. That was the part that kept circling in my head while the grey morning light pushed through the thin curtains.Lena was already awake. I felt her watching me.“Shower,” she said, voice rough from the night. “All of us. Before the day starts pretending to be normal.”Jude stirred behind me. His hand slid once over the bruise he had left on my hip, not apologising, just checking it was still there. Then he rolled away and stood. Tall. Quiet. The same man who had walked into my kitchen with a bottle of wine and left my table sticky and my hole sore.We walked naked through the house again. The kitchen still held the broke

Two college football teammates, Tate and Knox, both have girlfriends (Tate’s is Kate).They have an unspoken rule: after a bad loss, whatever happens in the empty locker room stays there.After the worst loss of the season, Knox locks the door. They cross a line they had only circled before. No talking about it. No labels. Just the understanding that it will happen again.The story is about what that rule costs them — on the field, at home with their girlfriends, and every time they have to look at each other in daylight.* * *The scoreboard still said 42–11 when they came off the field.Someone had already killed the stadium speakers. The only sounds left were cleats on wet concrete and one guy being sick behind the equipment shed. Floodlights made the grass look fake. Tate’s mouth tasted like turf and blood from a cut on the inside of his cheek he didn’t remember getting.Kate had texted twice in the fourth quarter. He had seen the light in his locker through the bars and left it t

Salty. Clean from the shower and not clean under that. Knox’s hips jerked and a hand landed on the back of Tate’s head, not pushing, just there.Tate took more. His jaw stretched. He used his hand. He was sloppy. Spit ran down his wrist. He didn’t care. Knox’s thigh was stone under his other palm. Knox was quiet except for the air going in and out of him, faster now.“Fuck,” Knox said, once, like the word had been pulled out of him.Tate pulled off and stroked him, watching the head push through his fist. He put his mouth back on just the tip and sucked and Knox’s whole body went tight.“I’m close.”Tate didn’t pull off this time. He wanted it in his mouth. He didn’t examine that. Knox came hard, a groan punched out of his chest, and Tate took what he could and the rest hit his tongue and his lip. He swallowed because the alternative was letting it run down his chin onto the floor of a locker room that still had their last names on the tape above the hooks.Knox’s hand stayed in his h

Tuesday the weight room was loud. Metal on metal. Someone had the speakers up too high. Tate was on bench. Knox stepped in to spot without being asked. That was normal. They had done this a hundred times.Tate unracked the bar. Knox’s hands hovered under it, palms up, ready. Tate lowered the weight. Pressed. Lowered again. On the fifth rep his arms started to shake. Knox’s fingers brushed the bar.“I got you,” Knox said.Same words as always. They landed different. Tate pushed the bar back into the rack harder than he needed to. The plates rattled. He sat up and reached for his water like nothing had happened. Knox moved to the next station. Their shoulders almost touched when he passed. Almost.Miller walked by and slapped Tate on the back.“You two are quiet today,” Miller said. “Usually you’re talking shit by now.”Tate shrugged. “Saving it for Saturday.”Miller grinned and kept walking. Knox didn’t turn around.---After lifts Knox’s girl was waiting in the parking lot.Tate saw h

He didn’t ease into it. He took Tate into his mouth like he had been thinking about it all week, deep and wet and immediate. Tate’s hand slammed down on the table behind him to stay upright. The other fist buried in Knox’s hair. Knox’s nose pressed to his stomach. He pulled back, spit shining on his lip, then took him again, slower, using his hand at the base in tight twists.The only sounds were wet and the low hum of the projector fan. On the screen the same missed tackle played over and over in silence.Tate watched Knox’s mouth stretch around him. Watched the way his throat worked. The sight alone pulled his stomach tight. He thrust once without meaning to. Knox took it and held him there, fingers digging into Tate’s thighs hard enough to bruise.When Knox pulled off he was breathing heavier. He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, and shoved his own joggers down. His cock slapped against his stomach, thick and already leaking. He wrapped a hand around both of them t