Ch. 14 | The Headache

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Summary: When Reader comes over unannounced, Spencer tells her that he's sick.

Content Warning(s): Adults w/ age gap (10yrs), penetrative sex, Daddy kink, impregnation kink, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex/creampie, degradation, aftercare included

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It had been less than a week since I'd seen Spencer, but it felt like a lifetime. Now that he was officially my boyfriend it felt like the honeymoon phase all over again.

At least, it felt that way to me. Spencer seemed distant these past few days, though. Not like he used to, but in a different way. Like something had happened he didn't want to tell me about.

Then again, maybe he's not allowed to. I don't know. Days like these I hate his job.

On my way home from school I'd decided to stop by his place. But when I called him on the phone, he mostly just seemed bothered. Like I'd ruined his plans.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little disappointed that he seemed displeased by my presence. I know it was unexpected and kind of late, but I was trying to do it to cheer him up.

He seemed so... far away.

Writing it off as jet lag when he insisted that he still wanted to see me, I tried to seem as excited as I had been when I knocked on his door.

He didn't answer it. Instead, I heard a muffled voice call out, "Come in."

The room was pitch black when I entered, and I almost went to turn on the light. I realized he left it this way for a reason.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, but I didn't go to the figure I saw sitting in a chair across the room.

"Spencer, is everything alright?"

We had promised not to lie to one another. We also promised to be more trusting. I needed to accept whatever answer he gave right now.

"Yeah..." he grumbled in the least convincing way as he switched on the lamp beside him.

"I just think I'm coming down with something. I'm not sure. My head is..." He trailed off, his hand shielding his eyes from the light just as much as it massaged his temple.

He looked like he was in so much pain. I approached him at a moderate pace, hoping that I might think of something to do before I reached him. I couldn't, so I did the next best thing.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

He grimaced at my words, even spoken at a low volume. "No," he fumed, not so much angry at me as at the situation.

I'd never seen him like this before, and I was already not a fan. I was crouched in front of him, looking up at him with my hands on one of his knees.

"Can I touch you?"

Pondering my words for a moment, he finally lowered his hand, those beautiful lashes flickering as he tried to adjust to the light.

"Yes." It was not permission; it was a request. One that I was glad to accept. So I hurried behind the chair, my hands smoothing over his shoulders as I began to work the weary yet tense muscles.

He sighed a breath of relief as I continued, his head rolling to one side as my fingers pressed against the knots that had formed from days at a desk.

"Fuck." He breathed, reaching up to hold my wrist for just a second before falling away again.

I recognized the way his legs shifted open, his hands gripping his thighs before flattening his palms again. My touch was doing more than just relax him, I suppose.

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