Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"I'm telling you, Omphile, men are absolute trash," Sibongile hissed, slamming her spoon down against the saucer with a sharp clink. "Complete, unprovoked garbage!"

We were at our campus cafeteria as Sibongile was fuming with anger.

I leaned back in my chair, nursing an iced latte, while Sibongile aggressively stirred her strawberry milkshake. I winced slightly, looking around to see if anyone was staring. "Okay, wait. Take a breath. Tell me exactly what Shakes did."

"He slept with another girl," she said, her voice trembling with a mixture of raw fury and hurt. "And now this girl is walking around campus acting like she's the main chick! Like she owns the place!" Sibongile threw her hands up in the air. "I know we are technically in a situationship, yabo? We haven't made it completely official. But the hypocrisy is what's killing me! A few months ago, when I did the exact same thing and went out with that other dude, Shakes went completely crazy! He was mad mad, acting like I betrayed him. But when he does it? It's just 'the culture'?"

I stared at her, genuinely taken aback. I had never seen Sibongile this angry before. Usually, she was the calm, detached one who shrugged everything off, but right now, her eyes were practically flashing.
"It's literally like how Amanda was trying to ruin my relationship with Zuko," I said, a wave of empathy washing over me as I remembered the agonizing insecurity Amanda had put me through. "They just want to mark territory and make you feel small."
"Exactly!" Sibongile groaned, sinking back into her chair. "Why are they like this? Why do we even bother? They bash us, they stress us out, they live by a completely different set of rules..." She paused, staring miserably into her milkshake for a long, quiet beat. Then, she let out a heavy, defeated sigh. "...but I won't leave just yet, his D is so good"
A breathless laugh escaped my throat before I could stop it.

"I get you friend! If it's then…" I immediately took a massive, panicked sip of my drink. Sibongile's sharp eyes caught my reaction instantly. She leaned across the table, her eyebrows wagging suggestively. "Oh? Hold on. Did you guys finally have some action? Omphile!"
I nodded shyly, keeping my eyes glued to the table, my fingers nervously tracing the rim of my glass. "Yes... but Sibs, please don't laugh. I was horrible at it. Like, an absolute disaster."

"Why? What happened? Did it hurt?"

"Well, yeah, at first it felt like I was ripping apart, so we had to stop the penetration part," I whispered. "But then... he started using his fingers. And it started feeling really, really intense. But then something awful happened. I got so overwhelmed that... then uncontrollable urine came out. Right on his kitchen table."
I covered my face with both hands,the agonizing embarrassment of the memory making my ears hot. "I felt so disgusting. I apologized like a crazy person."

Her eyes went wide, and she let out a loud gasp. "Oh my god, Omphile, you idiot! That wasn't pee!"
I peeked through my fingers, confused. "What do you mean? Something came out."
"You were climaxing!" Sibongile explained, her voice a loud, excited whisper as she leaned in even closer. "That's an orgasm! You squirted, girl! It means whatever he was doing with his fingers was hitting the exact right spot. It's completely normal, and honestly? It's a major compliment to him. There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."
I pulled my hands down slowly, a massive wave of relief washing over me. *An orgasm.* It made so much sense now. The intense coil of pressure, the sudden release... it hadn't been an accident; it was just my body reacting to him. The heavy knot of shame in my stomach finally began to untangle.
"Okay... well, that makes me feel a bit better," I mumbled, a shy smile tugging at my lips. I cleared my throat, playing with the straw of my drink. "But... more happened after that."
Sibongile practically squeaked with delight, clapping her hands under the table. "Shut up! Tell me everything! Look at you, getting nasty!"
I was always so shy when it came to talking about sex, but Sibongile was my safe space.

"Afterward, he took my hand and made me touch his dick," I whispered, my face burning hotter. "And it was... it was up. Like, completely rock hard and so big. And I just stood there like a complete fool because I had absolutely no clue what to do with it." My eyes pleaded with her for guidance. "He told me I could 'play with it,' but what does that even mean? How do you play with it? I just moved my hand up and down once and said it was big. It was so awkward."
Sibongile let out a soft, amused chuckle, her expression turning into that of a wise, experienced older sister.
"Okay," she smiled, resting her chin in her hands. "When a man says you can play with it, he wants you to use your hands and your mouth. He's giving you permission to explore him you see."
"My mouth?" I gasped quietly, my eyes widening.
"Yeah, It's called giving head," Sibongile explained smoothly, completely unbothered. "Listen to me, it's not as scary as it looks. First of all, the hand movement. You wrap your whole hand around the shaft, tightly but not too tight, and you slide your hand all the way up to the head and back down in a smooth, rhythmic motion. You can use a bit of spit or lubrication to make it smoother, because friction hurts them. Also make the safe word your name and watch him struggle to say it, it's super hot."
I listened intently, my mind racing as I tried to visualize her instructions, a strange mixture of nervousness and curiosity bubbling up inside me.
"And with your mouth," Sibongile continued, tapping her finger on the table for emphasis, "you start slow. You can lick the tip, kiss your way down, and then gently take it into your mouth. The main rule? Keep your teeth covered by your lips! Nobody wants a scraping situation. Use your tongue, follow his rhythm, study him too, his breathing and when he comes, keep on going girl, and also look up at him while you're doing it. Trust me, the view alone drives them absolutely crazy."

She leaned back, giving me a knowing nod. "Next time he puts your hand down there, don't panic. Just take control. They love it when you're confident, even if you're just figuring it out."
I sat back in my chair, taking a long, deep breath as the information settled in. The next time I was in Zuko's arms, I wasn't going to freeze like a scared little girl. I was going to show him exactly what his girl could do.
—

Zuko's pov

The smell of antiseptic and old floor wax always made my chest tighten before I even stepped foot inside the ward. The hospital corridor was exceptionally cold today, a sterile, hollow chill that seemed to seep right through my jacket.

I hated this place. I hated the constant, rhythmic ticking of machines and the heavy, suffocating scent of sickness. But I came anyway. I always came.
I pushed open the heavy door to her room, my boots making a quiet clicking sound on the linoleum.
"Molo, mama," I said softly.

She didn't move. She was propped up by a mountain of stiff, white hospital pillows, staring blankly out the window at the rain.

Today was not a good day. She was completely non-responsive, her mind locked away in some dark, distant place where I couldn't reach her. Some days, there would be a sudden, beautiful flash of light in her eyes, she would look at me, recognize my face. But today was a reminder of how much worse she had gotten over the years.

I sat down on the hard plastic chair beside her bed, setting a warm, greasy cardboard box on the bedside table.

"I brought you food.KFC. Your favorite."
I opened the box. Carefully, I took a piece and placed it gently in her frail, trembling hands.
She didn't look at me. She didn't acknowledge my presence, or the fact that I had driven through a storm just to sit with her. But her fingers closed around the food, and she began to eat it slowly, mechanically, staring straight through the glass pane into the gray downpour.
Watching her chew, a sharp, physical ache bloomed behind my ribs. It was torture, sitting here with the hollow shell of the woman who had raised me. Looking at her wrinkled, pale face under the harsh fluorescent lights, I found myself fiercely holding onto the version of her I remembered from my childhood.
Before the sickness took her mind, before the fire, before the streets swallowed me whole.
I remembered how loud her laughter used to be, echoing through our small home. I remembered the warmth of her hands when she would pull me into a tight embrace after a rough day at school, wiping away my tears and telling me that as long as she was alive, I would never walk alone. She had been so fiercely loving, a protector who shielded me from the harshness of the world with everything she had.
Now, she was the one who needed protection, and all my money, all the heists, and all the power I wielded on the streets couldn't buy her mind back.
A stray drop of rain leaked through the old window frame, pooling on the sill. I reached out, my large, scarred hand gently covering her small, frail one as she finished her food. Her skin felt paper-thin and ice-cold.
"I'm trying to build something real, mama," I whispered into the quiet. "I found a girl. Her name is Omphile. She's smart, she's beautiful... she goes to church. You would have loved her."

My jaw tightened as I squeezed her unresponsive hand, a sudden, fierce determination cutting through my grief. I was going to get the capital for that club. I was going to pay for whatever medical care she needed, and I was going to build a clean, safe legacy for the family I wanted to start. For too long, I had tried to consult with doctors hoping that I would get help but gave up. It's incurable.

I sat there in the cold for hours, just watching her breathe, listening to the rain beat against the glass, refusing to let go of her hand.

The drive back from the hospital was a miserable crawl through the pouring rain. By the time I unlocked the door to my place and stepped inside, my throat was burning, and a congested sneeze tore through my chest. I felt completely wiped out. The cold, sterile air of the hospital ward always seemed to cling to my clothes, but it was the emotional weight of seeing my mother like that truly dragged me down into the dark.

I stripped off my damp jacket and tossed it onto the couch, shivering as a sudden chill racked my body. I wasn't okay. The house felt too quiet, and the shadows on the wall seemed to mock the millions I had hidden away that couldn't buy a single grain of my mother's memory back. I stayed for hours on my bed, thinking. Letting all the emotions sink in.

Suddenly, a soft, tentative knock echoed from the front door.
I frowned, my hand instinctively dropping toward my waistband out of habit before I remembered where I was. I dragged my feet over and pulled the door open.

Omphile stood there, droplets of rain glistening on the hood of her jacket, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. The moment I saw her, the tight, suffocating knot in my chest completely snapped.

Before she could even say a word, I buried my face into the crook of her neck and wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her against me so tightly there was no air left between us.

She let out a soft gasp, surprised by the sudden impact, but her arms instantly came up around my back, holding me just as securely. All I cared about was the warm, comforting scent of her skin filling my nostrils, grounding me back to reality.

After a long, quiet moment, I finally pulled back just enough to let her step inside, closing the door.

She looked up at me, her gentle eyes scanning my face. "You're really down today," she murmured softly, her hand reaching up to lightly touch my arm.

I looked away, clearing my raspy throat. "I'm fine, Phile."

"I know you, Zuko," she said, her voice steady. "What's wrong?"

I let out a long, heavy breath, sitting down heavily on the edge of the couch and resting my elbows on my knees. "I went to see my mother today."

Theres silence after I said that. She didn't pity me, and she didn't bombard me with a million painful questions about her condition or what happened at the hospital. She just walked over and sat down right next to me, sliding her hand into mine and holding it firmly. That silence brought a profound, overwhelming sense of peace to my chest. In my world, everyone always wanted something, always demanded answers, but with her, I could just breathe.

I squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you're here, baby."

She smiled softly, then reached down to pick up the plastic packet she had set on the floor. "I actually bought some food. I thought we could make something."

I blinked, looking at the groceries, and a sudden flare of masculine pride made my jaw tighten. I felt a bit offended. "Why did you buy food, Phile? You know I don't want you spending your money. If you want something, you tell me and I'll get it for you."

She rolled her eyes slightly, a playful chuckle escaping her. " I didn't think it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal," I grumbled, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling completely out of character. "You're making me feel like a princess here, while I'm supposed to be the king. It's my duty to take care of you. You shouldn't be worrying about buying groceries for my house."

"And what's so wrong with me taking care of my man?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she nudged my shoulder.

I stared at her, the frustration melting into a reluctant, helpless smile. "Next time, we can go shopping together," I negotiated, tapping her nose.

"Deal," she laughed. "Come on, let's cook."

We moved into the small kitchen area, unpacking the few items she bought. I took over the stove, my movements fluid and practiced as I began chopping vegetables and prepping the meat. Omphile stood beside me, watching with wide, impressed eyes.
"Wow," she commented, leaning against the counter. "Look at you. Mr chef. Who really taught you to cook?"

"Shakes' mother taught me," I said, a small smirk playing on my lips as I stirred the pot. "When we're over at their place, we take turns with the cooking. It's how I learned to make a proper meal."

"Shakes' mother sounds like a really lovely woman," Omphile said softly, a warm expression on her face.
"She is," I agreed, looking down at her. "Actually, they've been asking about you. They want to see you."

Instantly, her posture stiffened. "Wait... what? They want to meet me?"

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"Zuko, that is so nerve-wracking!" she cried, her hands flying to her cheeks. "It's like... it feels like I'm going to meet your parents. Even though they aren't technically your biological parents, they're your family. What if his mom doesn't like me? What if I say something wrong?"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at how genuinely panicked she looked. I reached over, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against my side. "Relax, baby. They are nice people, I promise you. You'll love them."

She let out a shaky breath, nodding reluctantly, though she still looked completely overwhelmed by the gravity of it.

Once the food was ready, we sat down at the table, the warm, rich aroma of the home-cooked meal filling the apartment and pushing out the last remnants of the hospital's cold chill. I reached for my phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker, and pulled up her playlist.

A second later, the smooth, soulful vocals of Elaine began to drift through the room, the exact same song we had listened to during our formal date at the restaurant. Then Risky song. She sang along and I also started jamming. I don't really listen to R& B but she was influencing me. Watching her enjoy her favorite artist, the heavy shadows that had been looming over my heart all afternoon finally cleared out completely. I was home.

We sat across from each other at the small table, the steam rising from our plates. It was a proper Sunday-style meal on a weeknight, beetroot, warm carrots, savory peas, perfectly seasoned chicken, and white rice. The rich aroma filled the room, erasing the last bit of the cold rain tapping against the windows.

OMPHILE

As I chewed, my fingers instinctively drifted up to the collar of his oversized shirt, my thumb and index finger playing with the delicate silver pendant of the necklace he had given me. It felt heavy against my skin, a constant, comforting reminder of his promise to protect me.
"So," I started, looking at him over my fork. "A club owner. You're really serious about this?"
Zuko chewed slowly, nodding his head with that quiet, unshakable confidence he always carried. "Dead serious, Phile. I've been thinking about it a lot. I want a clean, secure future. For us. And for when we have our two kids."

"Two kids? You have this planned huh?"

A boy and a girl, so they can play with each other and never be lonely."
My heart did a massive, violent flip in my chest. *Our two kids.*

"I can already see it," my mind went running, two kids playing, our kids. Me in a wedding gown.

"Just think about it baby, Me, a successful club owner with multiple branches. And you, my beautiful wife, a top attorney at one of the biggest firms in the country. We'll have a perfect life in a big house."

A deep, burning blush rushed up my neck and stained my cheeks. I looked down at my plate, a helpless, giddy smile breaking across my face as I pictured exactly what he was describing. It sounded like a dream. A beautiful, untouchable dream.

"I definitely want a big house," I added softly, looking back up at him, letting myself indulge in the fantasy. "A safe place where the kids can run around."

"We can just extend this spot, yabo," Zuko said, gesturing around the apartment. "The property has a massive backyard. Perfect for kids to play."
"Yeah," I agreed, my smile widening. Then, my expression turned a bit more serious, my fingers tightening around the silver pendant. "But Zuko... I'd like to have kids after marriage. I want us to do things properly."

He didn't skip a beat. He reached across the table, his large hand briefly squeezing mine. "I respect that, baby. Whatever you want. We'll do it your way."

The sheer respect in his voice made me melt. When we finished eating, I insisted on doing the dishes to thank him for cooking. I stood at the blue sink, the warm soapy water running over my hands as I washed the plates, humming along to the soft Elaine tracks still floating from the speaker.

Suddenly, a heavy, radiating warmth pressed against my back.
Zuko stepped up directly behind me, his massive chest flush against my shoulder blades. His large hands gripped my waist possessively, and he tilted his head, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck. He sucked gently, trailing searing, slow kisses up to the shell of my ear.
"Zuko, stop," I gasped out, a breathless laugh escaping me as a shiver ran down my spine. "I'm still washing the dishes."
"You look so hot right now," he growled against my skin, his hands sliding down to press my hips firmly against him.
The dishes were instantly forgotten. I turned off the tap, dried my hands quickly on the towel, and spun around in his arms. I looked up at him, my eyes wide and dark with a sudden, overwhelming hunger. I was ready for him. Completely ready to let him take me.
Zuko looked down at me, his gaze scorching, before he leaned down and pecked my lips once, twice, and then deepened it into a passionate, bruising make-out session that left me completely breathless.
Before my knees could buckle, his hands slid under my thighs. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he carried me into the bedroom. The fluid power in his movement made my stomach drop in the best way possible. He laid me down on his bed, the sheets cool against my bare skin as he stripped out of his clothes, leaving him shirtless before me.
He climbed over me, his heavy weight a comforting, solid presence as he began to kiss me, my lips, my jawline, down to my collarbone. His hand slid down between my thighs, his long, warm fingers gently parting my folds. He found my center and began to finger me, copying the slow, rhythmic in-and-out motion.

I gasped, my back arching off the mattress as that familiar, intense friction began to build. I moved with his hand, my moans filling the quiet room, but this time, there was no fear or embarrassment. I wanted more.

Zuko reached into the drawer, fixing a condom in place with practiced ease, and then hovered back over me. He held my leg up slightly, guiding himself to my opening.

"Relax for me, baby," he breathed, his voice a low command.
He pushed forward, slowly, deliberately. I braced myself for the ripping pain from last night, but as he slid inside, my body opened up for him. It fit. The initial sharpness was gone, replaced by a tight, stretching fullness that felt incredibly, intoxicatingly good.

A loud, broken gasp escaped my throat as he sank deeper inside me.
"You okay?" he whispered, his jaw tight as he braced his weight on his forearms, looking down at me with intense concern.
"Yes... oh god, Zuko, yes," I sobbed out, tears of absolute pleasure prickling the corners of my eyes.

He began to move. It was slow and deep at first, each stroke sending a violent wave of electricity straight to my core. The feeling was so intense, so profoundly intimate, that I felt like I was losing my mind. Every boundary between us blurred. He went deeper, his broad chest rubbing against mine, his heartbeat hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"Harder!" I moaned.

The pleasure spiraled completely out of control. I was gripping his massive, scarred shoulders for dear life, my nails digging into his skin as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent.

"Get me pregnant!" I screamed into the quiet room, completely unhinged by the intensity of the climax building inside me.

"Yes! Zuko, I want to have your babies!"
Hearing those words, something explosive seemed to snap inside him. His eyes went completely dark, his jaw locking as he grunted, driving into me much harder, his pace becoming frantic and commanding. He walked me through it, his deep voice a gravelly anchor in the storm. "Hold onto me, Phile." I held on to his back for dear life.

" Just like that, baby" his praises sent me spiring, I closed my eyes enjoying every minute.

"Look at me, baby." I opened me eyes and we looked at each other intensely, he was staring into my soul as he pounded.

"Our kids are going to have beautiful eyes just like yours." I blushed, moving in unison with him harder.

I held onto him with everything I had, my head tossing back as the coiled spring inside me snapped. A violent, shattering orgasm rippled through my entire body.

"Ahhh! Zuko!!!" I climaxed. A second later, Zuko let out a low, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he shuddered violently, releasing his own deep climax inside the protection of the condom.

We stayed like that for a long time, our bodies tangled, our heavy, ragged breaths the only sound in the room.

When his breathing finally slowed, he pulled back gently, disposing of the condom before crawling back into bed next to me. He leaned over, pressing a tender, lingering kiss against my sweaty forehead.

I rested my head against his shoulder, my face burning as the memory of what I had shouted in the heat of the moment came rushing back.

"So," Zuko murmured, a deeply amused, teasing chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You said you want to get pregnant while we were having sex, huh? "

I groaned loudly, burying my flaming face directly into his chest. "Zuko, stop! Not now! Don't use what I said against me, I wasn't thinking straight!"
He chuckled loudly, clearly enjoying playing with me, his large hand gently stroking my back in soothing, circular motions.

The teasing eventually quieted down, and we just lay there in the dark, the rain still pouring outside. We started talking, reminiscing about olden days. As we compared stories about growing up in the township, I noticed a distinct difference in when we experienced things.

"Wait, how old were you when that happened?" I asked, looking up at him.
"I was fourteen," he replied casually.
I frowned, doing the math in my head. "Hold on... how old are you exactly, Zuko?"
"I'm twenty-four," he shared, looking down at me.
We talked for hours and hours, the conversation flowing effortlessly from silly childhood memories to deeper, quieter thoughts about life. For the first time, the walls around him felt completely down.
Eventually, I noticed his responses were getting quieter, the deep rumbles in his chest fading into long silences. He stopped replying back entirely. I tilted my head up slightly. Zuko was fast asleep. His expression was completely peaceful.
Ten comments for next insert. It's already typed out, I'll just upload when we reach ten comments. Comments like next please won't count or emojis won't count
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Thoughts on when Omphile said "Get me pregnant!" 🤣🤣🤣