A Final Valentine

"Easy, Jarhead. I got him. I got him. You just take it easy."

"Fucker tried to shoot Bitty," I grunted. "Hit Angela."

"And did shoot you," Brannon said, never looking away from down range. "You just rest and let me handle it. More help is on the way."

Well, that just didn't make any fucking sense. I would know if I'd been shot again. Wouldn't I?

Only when I looked there was sure as shit a fucking hole in my leg leaking blood. And even I could tell without resorting to an x-ray the bone was broken. Again. At least it wasn't sticking out through the skin this time. Unless that was what had made the big ass hole leaking blood.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

I looked up to find Angela kneeling next to me, crying.

"It's alright," I signed. "I've had worse. But, I need you to take care of Bitty for a while, please. I need you to stay. Please. Take Bitty home and stay there. Please, stay."

Then a couple of jackasses in E.M.S. windbreakers pushed her aside and started fussing.

Would she stay? Did she understand?

--Three Days Later--

I was a model patient for almost two whole days. Then I woke up from that shit they pump into you so you can't fight them off.

I hate fucking hospitals with a passion that is almost holy. They are fucking termite mounds for white-jacketed menaces.

And why the hell do they go to school for that fucking long and then set up a business they call a "practice?" I'll tell you why. Because they don't know jack shit. That's why. They guess and try things. And all the while the body does the real work of healing. They just stand around looking and sounding stupid while they try to pretend they are helping. And then send a fucking bill worth five fucking paychecks for anyone who actually works for a living!

Fucking assholes!

I was well on my way to killing somebody during my third jailbreak (my first two having been thwarted) when rescue came.

"I'm telling you, Nurse Fielder. He's just going to get worse the longer you keep him."

"Brannon?!" I bellowed. "Did you bring your heavy weapons?! We're going to have to blast our way out!"

It took a half hour, but somehow Brannon sprung me. I think it was threatening to blow my way out using the oxygen tanks they had my roommate hooked up to. Brannon says it was because they were convinced he was arresting me for terroristic threat.

Either way, he got me the hell out of there. Brannon is good people.

For a Squid.

"Do you know if Angela and Bitty made it home?" I asked once we were in the car and on our way.

"Took 'em there myself," Brannon said laconically.

Yup. Brannon is really good people for a Squid.

"Uh, did you forget where I live now?" I asked as I glanced around.

"Need to make a stop first," Brannon said.

We pulled up in front of a familiar squat ugly building. Brannon was a fucking dick.

"I'll wait here," I said.

"Not me she needs to talk to."

She? Oh, fucking hell.

Krista fucking Winn was every bit as startlingly beautiful as she had ever been. And just as big a bitch.

A red business skirt suit hugged every curve of a fantastic body Boris Vallejo might have done if he had worked in ice. Long blonde hair I knew for a fact reached to the backs of her knees, having seen it loose once, was braided and twisted and bound hanging in loops just behind her left shoulder. Her lips were drawn in so tightly the corners weren't much past the edges of her flared nostrils and her sapphire eyes glittered coldly behind her horn-rimmed glasses.

Of course, she pulled her usual psycho-babble trick of watching me silently as seconds ticked by to see if I would break first. If she'd had half the brains she thought she did, she might have actually been dangerous.

Ordinarily, I would have stood and stared right back until she got to the fucking point. But, I'd been shot. I had a cast on my left leg. And I hadn't been too steady on my feet before.

I plopped down in a chair, stuck my leg up in the other, and didn't give a shit if my hairy balls showed beneath the two overlapping hospital gowns I'd escaped Hell on earth wearing.

"So, Aaron," she said finally.

I counted out fifteen Mississippis in my head. "So, Krista."

Her eyes narrowed. I guessed those tricks they delight in aren't so much fun when they get aimed back the other way. Which had always made it so much more fun as far as I was concerned.

"How did you come to be involved with this child?"

"What child?" I asked politely. "I am involved with no child that I know of."

If Angela wasn't eighteen, she might not survive to be.

"A technicality," Krista said. "She may be eighteen and therefore legally an adult as of the twenty-sixth of December. However, she has not finished high school as yet. Which together with her being hearing impaired places her in a special category."

I didn't know the "warm and fuzzy" side of the street so well. But, I knew Krista. And I figured she was bluffing.

"There is no special category," I said. "CINS offenses no longer apply as she is no longer a child. She no longer legally qualifies as a child in need of supervision. She cannot be a runaway. She cannot be truant. She can pave her own road to Hell wherever and with whomever she chooses and you have no legal grounds to get involved."

"I have a moral responsibility to ensure that she knows she is still entitled to assistance and succor."

Aha. Just as I'd thought. Shifting the ground from legal to moral was a dead giveaway.

"I'll make sure to tell her you are concerned," I said as I struggled back to my feet.

"I am concerned," Krista snapped. "You aren't fit to look after yourself. Much less finish raising a child. At least I hope that is why you are involved with her since anything else would be sick and depraved. You are three times that girl's age."

I paused as Krista's words hit me harder than that fucking bullet that had torn up my leg again.

"I will tell her, Krista," I said softly. "And I will even try to get her to come see you. If nothing else, she is going to need help getting her birth certificate and transcripts and other stuff."

As with every predator, Krista smelled blood and went for the jugular.

"The sooner, the better," Krista said. "I can't help but think Angela, your wife Angela, would agree with me that I can help this child more than you ever could if she were still holding your leash."

She was wrong about that. I knew she was. But, I was also getting a glimmering of how Angela, with my help, might use Krista to get those ubiquitous papers that any functioning adult needed even in the land of the free.

Brannon relaxed a little when he saw I wasn't as pissed coming out as when I'd gone in. Foolish, since it gave me a chance to whack him in the nuts with my crutch.

And just how fucking much were those assholes at the hospital going to charge me for those two pieces of wood anyway? Or the two hospital gowns I'd been liberated in?

At home, crime tape was stretched across the open door of the front half. I paused as I saw it and turned to Brannon.

"Everything come out alright there?" I asked. "Do I need to make any other statement or anything?"

"Nope. The scene came back clean. Eight perps killed each other was the determination. The streets are a little cleaner without us having to fix it. There was something about blood splatter patterns on the cash, but I guess they worked it out because I never heard anything else."

"What about the guy who shot me? Anything I need to do there?"

"Doubt it. A whole bunch of people would like to talk with him after his prints together with the gun popped in reference to about a dozen open homicides. Teenage runaway hitchhikers if you want to know. They're running ballistics on the gun, but I'll put up my next paycheck it's going to be a match. I'd say it's anybody's guess and flip a coin which state will finally become his last home."

A frisson of cold ran up my spine at the bullet dodged. God, if I'd been just a little slower. No, if Bitty had been just a little slower.

Bitty was ecstatic to see me and broke her training to come out the door and dance around me. She wasn't so sure about the cast, however.

Angela was standing there looking like a cross between a hopeful child and an angel in one of my old button-down shirts. And not a stitch else I could see. And considering only two of those buttons were buttoned, I could see rather a lot.

Brannon coughed and cleared his throat.

"Looks like you got shit to handle. So, this is where I get off. Catch you later, Jarhead."

"Sure, Brannon," I said absently, my eyes never leaving my angel. "And thanks."

"I missed you," she signed.

"I missed you," I fumbled back. "Let's sit so we can talk."

The drapes and blinds were open, as were the windows they were supposed to cover as I took my seat at the table. I caught Angela as she would have moved to the other chair and pulled her into my lap to hug fiercely.

Bitty wasn't done with my greeting and reared up to exfoliate that whole side of my head. Angela and I laughed and reached out to pet Bitty. But, I didn't let Angela go with my other arm. And she didn't try to get away.

Finally, Bitty settled down and stretched out on her belly beside us with her tongue lolling in a doggie grin. As far as she was concerned, all was right again in her tiny little world.

I caught Angela's chin and gently turned her head from watching Bitty so I could place a tender kiss on her mouth. Then I pushed her shoulders back to lean against the table behind her so we could use our hands to talk.

"I love you," I signed. "I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me. But, I thought you should go to California to be an actress if that is what you wanted to do."

"I didn't want to go. I had changed my mind about California and being an actress. I wanted to stay with you and Bitty. But, I thought you didn't want me here."

I pulled her close with my hand behind her neck so we could lean our foreheads against each other. Tears fell to splash where our groins met.

Fucking fresh air and sunshine. I sniffed back my "allergies" and pushed her shoulders back once more.

"I want you to stay with me. But, I want you to be and do whatever you want to be and do. I think it would be good if you finished high school and went to college before you tried to be an actress if that is what you still want to do then. I want you to stay with me while you do it. And when you do decide you want to go on out there, I want us to be able to put you on a plane or at least a bus with money in your pocket so you won't have to hitchhike or steal to eat."

"I don't really think I want to be an actress anymore," she signed. "I was reading those books. And I think I might like to check into being a veterinarian to see if I might do that. Or maybe a dog trainer."

"I think you can if you want to bad enough. If you study and work hard enough, I think you could be and do whatever you want, if you only want it bad enough. That reminds me. Brannon took me to see someone I think could help us make sure you can do that if we play our cards right. She wants to meet you at least."

"She?" Angela asked aloud.

The look on her face was so suspicious, and so obviously about me talking to another woman, it was all I could do to keep from cracking up.

"She's worried about you staying with me," I signed, careful not to so much as a smile. "I think she wants to try to take you away to someplace she feels would be better for you."

"I would like to see her try," her fingers snapped angrily.

I rather thought I might like to see that too. I had a feeling I was going to be the least of Krista fucking Winn's problems if she took the hardline approach she usually did.

"I love you, Daddy. And I'm not going anywhere. If you kick me out, you'll find me on your porch every time you open the door."

There was that damn "Daddy" business again.

"You really shouldn't call me that," I signed. "It's not really appropriate considering we are fucking. And I would like to fuck you again any time you are willing. If you are willing."

For an answer, Angela popped those last two buttons and guided my hands to her breasts.

"I'm willing and more than ready now if you are able."

"You would have to do the work," I signed. "And I'm probably not very fresh. I turned down the last sponge bath. Actually, I threw the pan and the sponge at the door as she ran out."

I'd never been a big fan of sponge baths. Not even when I'd had no choice. There's just something emasculating about having someone wipe me down with a soapy sponge and clean my shitty ass for me. I almost expect them to hit me up with some powder when they're done and pin a Pampers back on before carrying me to a highchair and shoving some Gerber's at my mouth while making choo-choo noises.

Angela changed my way of thinking once she got me in the tub with my cast running up in the corner.

I don't know how clean the rest of me got, but the only way my cock and balls could have been cleaner would have been if she had gone and gotten a Brillo pad.

Pre-cum boiled out of my pulsating cock to trickle down the sides of my shaft and over her knuckles.

"Don't cum yet," she said aloud, her hands being busy.

"Then you'd better stop," I signed. "Because I'm really close."

"Then, let's get out and dry you off and get you to bed so I can fuck you."

Fucking was probably not in the cards. I was so aroused and so close, I doubted she would any more than climb aboard, probably not even get seated good, before I exploded. And I wasn't a snot-nosed wet behind the ears teen or early twenties who could stay hard as long as I kept going. Once I came, I was usually down for the count anymore.

Angela did get me out of the tub. And she did get me dried off, somehow without my filling the towel with my seed. And she did get me into bed.

She did not, however, climb aboard. Or even join me.

"I need to tend to Bitty first," she signed. "I'll be back in a minute."

A small part of me didn't like that Angela was taking care of my dog for me. But, a larger part of me was glad that Bitty had someone else to care for her. And Angela had someone else to care for her. In case, for example, the white-jacketed assholes had screwed up somehow and I died in my sleep because of it. Which I didn't think was just completely outside the realm of possibility, seeing as how they were "practicing" after all.

In my absence, Little Angela had restacked the covers so that the unfinished quilt was on top. And had obviously been working on finishing the remaining edge.

It seemed oddly fitting somehow, almost symbolic.

By the time Angela rejoined me, I had backed away from the edge. My cock was no longer as hard. It hadn't wilted completely, yet. But, it was headed that way.

Angela wasted no time getting her hands involved once more, gripping my softening shaft in a double-fisted grip and pumping it back to full attention in short order. As I watched, she brought her face closer and closer to my crotch while staring right back into my eyes.

"You don't have to do that," I signed.

Her pink tongue darted out to touch my glans before disappearing back into her mouth. I groaned in pleasure. More at the visual than the sensation.

"But, I want to try, Daddy," she said verbally. "I want to try for you."

"Damn it!" I signed. "Don't call me 'Daddy'! Especially not when you are doing that!"

"But, you are," she signed, sitting up and letting go of my dick. "You are more of a daddy than I have ever known."

"Then maybe we shouldn't do this," I signed. "If you think of me as 'Daddy,' it would be wrong for me to do this to you."

"That's what they say," she signed. "But, it never stopped any of them from touching me and doing things to me. You're the first one I've ever really wanted to do these things with. I mean, like a specific person rather than just needing a dick. And, besides. You aren't doing anything to me. I'm doing it to you."

Fuck vet school. This kid had lawyer written all over her.

Over my dead body.

"Still," I signed. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Really? Then why does your dick twitch every time I say it?"

"Ignore that," I signed, scowling at her. "It always has had a mind of its own. But, I'm calling the shots."

"Whatever you say, Daddy," she said aloud as she straddled me. "I think I'm going to fuck you now."

I tried, I really tried to address that whole 'Daddy' issue one last time, but my eyes flickered closed in bliss and my fingers stopped forming words and reached for her as I felt her moist heat touch my tip.

Without so much as a guiding hand, Angela slowly slid back and down, her molten pussy opening to draw my hard cock inside.

I couldn't, I just couldn't just lie there and let her. I had to sit up to meet her and wrap the arm not propping me up around to pull her tighter against me.

"I love you," I mouthed, clearly and distinctly.

Angela's eyes rolled back and her small body shuddered, her head flopping back on her shoulders, as her pussy tightened around me and ground back and forth three times.

I bent my back as much as I could and extended my tongue to lightly tease her nipple.

Angela cried out and pushed me back to lie flat as her hips jerked back and forth.

"Love you, Daddy. Love you. Fuck me. Fuck me, Daddy."

I did not, most definitely not like her continuing to call me "Daddy." And wouldn't have even without the windows being open and her being deaf and having just no idea just how loudly she was saying it.

Everything else she was doing, however, was A-fucking-ok in my book. We could get back to the whole "Daddy" issue some other time.

And "Daddy" wasn't so much of an issue once her cries became wordless grunts and snarls as she bucked and ground against me with her hands on either side of my arms as I cupped her tiny ass and tits while she rode me.

At least, not until she drew my own climax boiling up from deep inside.

"Fuck, yes," she snarled as my first burst shot deep inside of her. "Fill me with your cum, Daddy! Fill me up!"

It was too late to do anything about it. My climax would not be denied and I spilled a second and third burst inside of her despite her using that name. I did manage to smack her ass. Probably a lot more gently than anyone ever had. She screamed and I felt a spurt of wetness coat me as she collapsed on top of me.

We were seriously going to get rid of this whole "Daddy" business. If she was going to stay, that had to go.

But, we would deal with that later.

For now, I was hilt deep into the pussy of the woman I loved while she panted for breath against my chest. When the yelling and creaking stopped, Bitty stuck her head in the room and when she saw we were done, trotted over to jump up and stretch out next to us. Life just didn't get much better.

--Epilogue; A Year Later--

It was Valentine's Day, again, and I was pissed. Seriously pissed.

Little Angela had sent me a text that she was going to be late. That wasn't what had pissed me off. She'd also said she would be bringing a guest.

Damn it!

The past year had been as fun as it had been event filled.

Little Angela had won the battle over that "Daddy" business by going out and getting her first two tattoos. Two hearts. One on her left tit that said, "Daddy's Girl." The other on her shaved pubic mound that read, "Daddy's Pussy."

I hadn't been wild about her shaving off her pubic hair, even before she'd gotten the tattoos as it made her look even younger. But, I felt it was important to establish that it was her body and her choice.

Angela, with Krista's "help," had gotten her paperwork such as her birth certificate and transcripts. And had completed her high school education, such as it was. I had to agree with Angela's assessment that the "dummy classes," as she called them, hadn't prepared her to even be accepted, much less attend, college when her first SAT attempt tanked. We bought books and studied hard and the third time was a charm, getting her in just under the wire to attend the local university on probation with a first semester course load that was heavy with remedial classes.