daddy's girl ❥ luke hemmings ✔️

26. "sick dickstick"

LUKE

"You what?!"

I sigh, my face taking on a grimace as Michael looks at me with big eyes and a jaw that's open wide enough to snap. I'm half tempted to reach over and knock his two rows of teeth together if it means dulling his reaction in the slightest.

"Mike-"

"No, shut up, let me process this new info," he places his fingers on his temples, massaging them roughly. His eyebrows knit together. "You finger-fucked your daughter?!"

No. She's not yours, Luke.

"Y-yes." An idiot. You are an actual idi-

"And she liked it?"

"I-"

"Please don't tell me you two fucked,"

I let out a slow breath, happy there's at least something that'll make Michael see me in a better light.

"We didn't do that-"

"You just kissed her."

"Right."

"And stuck your fingers up her fucking vagina."

"Michael!"

"I'm sorry!" I watch as he puts his hands up in surrender, eyes still wide. "I just find it very hard to believe!"

"Well, don't!" I'm frustrated now, messing my hair up with my hands because I'm preoccupied trying to forget how I used these very fingers to work my little girl.

I think Michael's thinking about it, too, because he shuffles to the other end of the couch away from me.

"What?"

"You kissed your daughter,"

"She's not my daughter."

"She might as well be!"

"Will you stop yelling?" I hit him on the arm and he hits me back, twice as hard, and suddenly we're trying to knock each other off of the couch.

"I thought you'd understand," I hiss, once Michael's on the floor and I'm left successful on top of the mound of pillows that encase him. "You're the one who always used to tease me about it!"

"That's because I never thought it'd actually happen!" Michael swats an arm out, barely missing my ankle. "Dude, get off of me!"

"Not until you agree to listen-"

"I am listening," he interrupts, attempting to wriggle out from under me. "Luke, seriously, you weigh as much as a damn giraffe! I'm only small, move!"

Sighing, I do as he says, slipping off of the plush mountain and sliding onto the floor. Michael huffs, sits up, glares at me, out of breath from the struggle I put him through.

"Dick."

"Cheers, it's nine inches." I scowl, brushing myself off as Michael rolls his eyes. "Now will you listen?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, because I already know what you're going to say."

"You can't know," mainly because I don't know myself.

"Fucker, I do," Michael narrows his eyes.

"You're the fucker."

"Nice comeback. What are you, a ten year old?"