A/N: I love candid talks over coffee. Enjoy.
Coffee Time — The Parr Family
"Okay, drink's up! Who's first, we got, um… white chocolate mocha? Whipped cream?"
A small hand hit the air followed by a drained yet eager, "Over here, mom."
An elongated arm flew around the corner into the dining room, clutching a steaming mug of coffee that was placed before a blonde-haired boy, a boy with tired eyes and a lopsided smile who had just turned thirteen a couple weeks ago. Dash Parr nodded in thanks to the stretched out arm before pulling the cup toward himself.
The pleasant sounding voice from the kitchen rang out again: "Next up we haaaaave… a very festive cinnamon cortado?"
Across the table from Dash sat his sister, a lanky, long-haired, borderline ghoulish-figured girl in her late teens. Violet Parr sat with her chin in her palm looking for all the world to see that whatever this was they were doing was a pain in the ass, but still, she lifted her hand. "Cortado me, captain."
Once again, that stretch-tastical arm came soaring through the air, placing an elaborate looking cup before the messy-haired girl. Instead of nodding, she fist-bumped the distended hand and brought her cup of magical nectar closer, taking a long, lung-fueling inhale off the surface.
"This… is gonna be good," she muttered, and across from her, Dash sent his blonde hair flying with the force of his nod.
"You can say that again."
"Second to last isss… regular coffee? Blacker than the souls of men?" that melodic tone thrilled with a slight chuckle. "As if I needed to ask."
"As if you needed to ask for any of them," replied Bob Parr, the muscle-thick patriarch of the Parr family, and the moment his mug of bubbling pitch was placed before him, he produced a worn smile and took that elegant little hand within his own to place a kiss over the knuckles. "Thanks, hun."
The hand of his wife tickled him teasingly under the chin before withdrawing around the corner once more.
"Annnnnd… last but not least, for the queen we have a decadent cup of café au lait, topped with some whipped cream," and the woman behind that sensually southern voice made herself known by sashaying into view, her hourglass figure wrapped tight in a pink satin robe. She looked the very definition of tired, just as the rest of her family did, but the smile plastered on her lips seemed to imbue them with spurts of energy, enough to remain upright at the table at any right.
The smallest member of this assortment of heroes, Jack-Jack, was still knocked out in his bed, which he had every right to be, because who in their right mind willingly chose to be up at six in the morning on a Saturday?
"Cheers, ma'," Dash yawned, lifting his mug toward Helen as she took a seat at the other head of the table, and Violet and Bob copied his movements with likewise praise.
Wordlessly, Helen inclined her head toward him with a lingering look of sensuality that lasted for a couple seconds until she deigned her coffee as more worthy of her attention and picked it up in both hands. "So, I see we're all still awake," she noted with a glance around the table. "That's pretty impressive for this family, especially for the weekend."
"Who you tellin'? I feel like I keep getting like, three more minutes of awake time with every sip I take," Dash said, taking a swig of his mocha to emphasis his point. "Yup, three more minutes starting now."
"Every cell in my being is throwing a revolt against this, just putting that out there," Violet slogged, struggling not to let her chin slip out of her palm while fixing her unfocused eyes on the seemingly glowing woman at the end of the table. She almost snarled. "The coffee's phenomenal, though…."
"Yeah, it is," added Bob, second-glancing his own mug with a quirked eyebrow. "Just… far be from me to question the skill, but… black coffee really shouldn't taste this good…."
"I know, I know," Helen stared with a pleased sigh, crossing her legs under the table. "I really put my foot in this batch, I think."
Following his mother's words, Dash suddenly started coughing, on seemingly nothing as he hadn't been drinking at the time, and he had to thud himself over the chest. While Bob merely chuckled, Violet rolled her eyes and produced a smug smirk.
"Mom can't even talk about her feet without you losing your cookies," she said mockingly, dipping a finger into her drink and giving it a little swirl.
Far from looking embarrassed, Dash merely relaxed further into his chair, one arm slung over the back. "Oh, so we wanna talk about cookies, eh? We wanna talk about the reason you're so tired is 'cause dad was all in your cookies last night?"
When Violet's face lit up a magnificent shade of crimson, Bob burst into laughter. "Oh, you little—" Violet ground out, her eyes shooting down to the mug in front of her. She had half a mind to whip it at her brother, catch him right in the forehead while he was sticking his tongue out, but... she couldn't, it tasted way to good to waste like that. So, instead, she fixed the ire in her gaze at her dad. "I told you they'd be able to hear us!"
Wiping a tear from under his eye, Bob just shook his head. "Mighty plural all of a sudden considering you were the one doing the yelling, Violet" he told her through lingering chuckles. "Thought about choking you to keep the noise down, but then again that might've just made you scream louder."
"Knowing her freaky butt, you ain't wrong, dad. And that's probably why all the cells in her body are crying out right now," Dash added, lifting his mug with his pinkie finger extended. "So cheers, Vi', to your destroyed pussy."
It would have been easy to explode right then and there, to just upend the whole table, dive on her brother, and choke him into the afterlife… so when Violet visibly settled down, the rage leaving her eyes and being replaced with something passive yet chilling, Dash tilted his head to the side somewhat.
"Definitely destroyed, yeah," she repeated almost experimentally, and then she shrugged. "Yeeep, no denying that, is there? I guess you must have been extra in the mood last night, dad, just… whew, it was something serious going on… I dunno how you deal with that, mom," she added, turning to Helen, who regarded her daughter with inquisitive eyes.
"Oh, Bob can be beast when he wants to be," Helen relented with something of a sly leer at her husband, who responded with a wink of his own.
Violet had the good sense to look politely confused, barely managing to hold back what Dash could already see was the makings of a sinister smirk, and shook her head. "No, no, not that, I mean… I dunno how you deal with my downgrade of a brother," she said easily.
"Haaaaaa," was all Dash said through a long-winded exhale, throwing back a harsh swallow of that wonderful morning nectar before wiping his lip with the back of his hand and pointing an exceedingly long finger at his grinning sister. "Listen here, you second-rate excuse for a bean stalk—"
For their part, Helen and Bob remained mostly silent, the both of them taking quaint sips of their relative drinks while staring from one offspring to the other as they traded verbals blows, blows that turned into pantomiming some of the lewd actions they had done with the corresponding parent.
"—made her toes curl so hard they cracked," Dash burst out, his arms doing a good impersonation of a bird trying to take flight before shifting into something that might have been a dinosaur attempting to roar. "When I got my fingers in there—these two right here—when I hit that yanking motion? Oh, she was through—gone. Couldn't even see her pupils afterwards."
"And? That's as far as you've gotten? Toe curling? Eye rolling? Peh." Violet rolled her eyes with a pitying shake of her head. "Oh, little Dashie, so young, so inexperienced… those are rookie heights, my fair twerp. I'm so far beyond that I couldn't slow up to your level if I tried," she said, flaring a hand that she placed over her chest with a royal smirk. "I'm taking souls, kid."
Dash blinked, confused yet unwilling to back down in any capacity. "Taking souls…? The heck's that mean, you fruit loop? You a grim reaper or something?"
"Been reaping souls night after night, Dash, with this," and Violet let her mouth hang open, allowing that slick, pink tongue of hers to dangle almost teasingly. She traced her top lip with it, a slow, teasing caress that caused Dash to flinch, a touch of color flooding his cheeks. "Oh, what? Don't tell me you don't remember? I still have your soul in here, too."
For a couple seconds, Dash struggled where he sat, wanting to fire back with the words that leapt to his own tongue, words to defend himself, but his mind was busy scrounging up the exact moment Violet had taken his soul, that moment three months ago….He had been sleeping in on a lazy Sunday when the most pleasurable sensation trailed its way up his inner thigh, disrupting his dreams and bringing him back to the real world in the best way. He remembered putting up a groggy struggle, bleary minded and lost, until finally snatching off the covers to see none other than his sister, slinking her way up between his thighs with her tongue.
Alternating between gentle nips and suckling kisses, she stared at him between her dark curtain of hair, never once breaking eye contact, and every touch against him, ever tender lap of her tongue, it caused the snake hidden by his boxers to grow in response. The way Violet's hair fell tickled his thighs and Dash remembered having to bite his bottom lips to keep from groaning aloud, something that she noticed and smirked around her roaming tongue, flicking it against the hem of his boxers, tasting the flesh there—
"Oh, but honey, don't forget who taught you to take souls," his mother cut in, snapping Dash back to the present with a jolt that would have normally just shook his spine, but when the almost predatory tone of his mother's voice touched his ears, that jolt had a greater effect down below than anywhere else. "Gotta give credit where credit is due, Vi'"
Almost begrudgingly, Violet huffed. "Yeah, yeah, okay... you showed some things," she relented quickly, through lips that barely parted.
Bob chuckled. "Dash, heh… you'll never know how many times those two made you cum in your sleep," he said, and the speed at which Dash turned to face his dad caused his neck to give a very audible crack.
"W-what?" Dash got out hoarsely, turning from his mother and sister, both of whom were regarding him with lioness grins. "They… they—"
"Oh, yeah," Bob continued, already knowing the words his flustered son was trying to get out. "I mean, naturally, Violet needed someone to practice on. Couldn't use me," he added as though that just naturally made sense. "Only a golden jaw can make me blow, and she wasn't quite at that level yet"—he winked at Violet, who pointedly stared off in another direction—"so she needed someone who wasn't already used to that kind of tongue magic."
There was very little Dash could do after hearing that besides blink, just blink and stare off into space for a couple seconds while his mind ran in circles trying to process a secret that explained why more often than not he awoke with sticky boxers.
"Sooooo… shoot, that solves that mystery, then," he finally muttered, staring into his woefully empty mug. He lazily flicked it toward his mother with a finger. "Y'all two ain't right, had me thinking I was goin' crazy or something!"
"You're so cute when you're groaning in your sleep," Violet told him mockingly, sticking out her tongue.
"Eat me, string bean."
"I have. Many times. I know your dick better than you do, twerp."
The amount of truth in that statement was so staggering that it was easier for Dash to simply act as though she had never spoken, which he accomplished by switching topics with, "I guess I can't be too upset at that. I've snuck into your room a couple times to play with your feet so fair's fair, eh?"
"Way more than a couple," Violet corrected, now finished with her own cup of coffee and sliding it down the table towards her mom. "I'm sensitive in my feet, you know."
It took a moment for the realization to hit home, but once it had, Dash facepalmed himself with a groan. "Oh, woooow... so that means that you...?"
"That I, what, twerp?" Violet leaned forward on her elbows. "That I was awake every time you treated my toes like lollipops? Uh-yeah. I was awake for all of that."
Setting down his own empty mug, Bob gave a vociferous yawn that rattled the table and hunched forward in a very good imitation of his daughter, elbow to the table with his chin in his hand. He stared from Violet to Dash, the ghost of a grin spreading through his lips. "She may have been awake for that, Dash, but after a few inches, she's pretty much comatose. You should see the face she makes, priceless."
"DAD!" Violet hissed, her entire face lighting up a brilliant scarlet, but Dash had already high-fived his dad with ear-cracking force.
"I know the exact face you're talkin' about!" the young blonde began excitedly, jerking a thumb at the only one at the table yet to finish their morning brew and who now stared at her son with one eyebrow lifted.
"And just what're you talking abou—" Helen began.
"You ever made Vi' squirt before?" Dash asked, and it was the sheer bluntness of his question, the way it just rolled off his tongue like he were discussing his favorite game, that caused both Helen and Violet to flare up in the face, Violet even more so to the point where it looked as though she were suffering a sunburn.
"Naturally," said Bob, flexing the hand that wasn't cupping his chin. "With one finger, sometimes two. She said she wouldn't be able to—"
"Yeah, yeah, mom said the same thing! She was all like 'Don't get upset if you can't get it' and 'It takes time'"—and Dash paused to roll his eyes, a motion that landed his pupils on his mother, savoring every bit of the narrowed leer she was trying to flay him with—"but she didn't know my super speed could be focused, heh."
He lifted a hand, his pointing finger aimed at the ceiling.
A second later, it started vibrating like a humming bees wings.
His dad whistled appreciatively. "Ohhhh yeah, that'll do it," Bob said with a nod, looking as though struggling to fight off an impending yawn. "Your mom's a water sprinkler when it comes down to it, bet she had the sheets soaked."
"Bob," Helen snapped, but Dash was already sending his hair into hyperdrive with the force of his agreeing nods.
"Got me in the face!" Dash laughed.
"Your sister got me in the eye a couple times."
"Tasted good, though, didn't it?"
"Like fruit juice, yup."
"And, you know, one time might be enough to set 'em right—" Dash started, lifting a fist toward his dad.
"—but two'll send 'em to heaven," Bob finished, bumping knuckles with his son.
The two of them had completely zoned out in their shared experienced, bypassing—or possibly ignoring—the two women who were eyeing them with mutinous glares. There was nothing they could say, of course, as embarrassing a subject though it was… the truth negated any argument.
And the compliment of being told they tasted good helped to settle tempers somewhat, certainly prevented any number of mugs from being whipped at Dash's head.
Violet groaned into her hands. "We cannot let Jack-Jack turn out like us…."
Glancing over his shoulder in the direction of Jack-Jack's room, Dash clicked his tongue. "Um, why not? You say that like we're messed up or something."
"Brat. You slurp the pink off your own mom's baby cannon and I'm well addicted to getting my back cracked by my dad," Violet pointed out in biting tones, pushing out a full-chested sigh. "What's not messed up about that?"
"I mean, we could be on drugs so, y'know, take a plus when it's there," said Dash matter-of-factly. "You know what they say: a family that fucks together stays together."
"That is not at all how that phrase goes, Dash," Helen pointed out, gloriously crossing the finish line with one last sip of her café au lait. "But your sister has a point. What's commonplace for us, in this house, it's not so socially acceptable beyond the front door."
"Probably more socially acceptable than active supers…" Bob grumbled under his breath and Helen offered her musclebound husband a patient smile.
"I wasn't finished," Helen continued, turning sideways in her chair to cross her legs ever so slowly, slowly enough to garner Dash's attention by way of an intense sideways stare. "That was just the first point she had. The second is... slurping the pink of my—how did you put it?—my baby cannon…."
That nubile little upturn of her lips caused Dash's heartbeat to quicken, the way her eyes lowered into a half-lidded stare of beckoning, the one that turned him to putty in her hand.
"I'm thinking I could go for some of that," Helen continued, almost mewling it out, and she placed a hand on the hem of her silk robe, tugging it up a few inches to reveal a tantalizing amount of thigh. "Your favorite meal, Dash…."
On some sort of inaudible command, Dash rose to his feet, fixing his mom with an uncharacteristically suave smile. "Hey yeah it is, always warm and tasty..."
"And dripping wet," his mother finished huskily.
Realizing that the two of them had been relegated to the background when Dash dropped to one knee in front of his personal queen, Violet sucked her teeth—"To hell with this"—and turned the other way, toward her dad, who was watching Dash's technique with mild interest. "If she gets what she wants then shouldn't I be able to get what I want?"
"And what… does the princess want?" Bob queried, his question turning into a surprised grunt when an immensely pleasurable pressure suddenly took him by the groin.
"I want this," Violet uttered throatily, with her lips next to his ear, and she started a methodical, perfectly practiced stroking motion with what was in her grip, "and I want it now."
Though his face remained quite neutral, something unnervingly primal was beginning to gleam in Bob's eyes, growing in response to Violet's teasing ministrations and he turned those eyes on his daughter. "Are we talking 'hush, hush' or 'volume eleven'?"
"I don't care if I can't walk tomorrow."
Bob chuckled as the dining room began to fill with the sound of his wife's lustful panting. "Then I guess it's time to break out the wheelchair again. Let's go."
The End