An avid procrastinator riddled with anxiety who doesn't know shit about writing đ
Multifandom blog, but mainly focused on everything Lewis Pullman
Feel free to chat with me anytime! Inbox is always open for asks! I love yapping with yallđ„°
AI will never be used in my writing and I do not consent to any of my work being put into any AI engine!
Who I Write For:
Any Lewis character (sans Owen) including: Bob Reynolds, Rhett Abbott, Bob Floyd, Rocco Gauthier, Todd Stevens, Calvin Evans, Ben Mears, Miles Miller, William Lee, and Jordan Weaver!
Others: Clark Kent
Requests: I don't do requests for full length fics. However, if you send in any thoughts, I may write a tiny blurb or headcanons!
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chasing cars by snow patrol really hits harder everytime i listen to it like,, what if i DID just lay here???? would u lie with me and just forget the world??????? please???????????
Summary: Life is finally feeling perfect, you have the most wonderful husband and the most beautiful baby girl, sure there were still struggles but you knew you could get through them slowly and surely as a family
Warning: this is mainly fluff but Bob has anxiety and worries a lot, Reader and sentry have some⊠fun đ (but nothing explicit but itâs spicy)
Uhhh this has been in the works for fucking ever!! I meant for this to be post in January but I couldnât write it how I thought the idea deserved so i guess it took 5 months lol
I am glad it worked out this way because this fic means a lot to me and I love it so dearly and because it took so long I now have the privilege to post it on my One year Thunderbolts anniversary, itâs been exactly a year since I saw this wonderful movie and this is my way of celebrating
Dad!Bob reynolds I love you so very much
-Iris/Mars đđ€đ
Words: 3.7k
Itâs been 4 months, 13 days and 9 hours since your life has been forever changed for the better. Your life finally had a sense of completeness, like you are finally free of your former life
4 months ago your daughter Daisy was born. It took a while but you had finally settled in a comfortable rhythm where you and Bob had a routine that worked. You would take care of the baby and Bob would take care of you. If the baby needed changing you would do that, if you needed to eat, Bob would make you a meal. Obviously Bob would still care for his daughter, It just wasn't his main role, his main priority was you and your wellbeing. Though this wasnât the normal way of navigating these early stages, this is just what works best for the two of you.
Though you would still always try to encourage Bob to participate in activities. You knew all about his childhood and how he came from a long cycle of abuse, he had always been very open about that to you since the beginning. But when you first brought up wanting to start a family Bob had opened up. He had explained all his fears about being a father and how he was worried about what may happen due to effects of the Sentry and the Void.
So for the past few months you both have been taking small steps to help him with these various anxieties.
~~~
âHoney, I want to try something simple tonight. Can you just be in the room for bed time?â You asked looking up at your husband who was quietly cleaning up dinner.
Bob cleared his throat. âUmmm⊠what would that entail? Like just so iâm⊠prepared or not prepared per say, just so I can- know exactly what to expect.â Bob asked, as his face contorted in a wince. He knew he sounded so pathetic being worried about putting his own daughter to bed, he just couldnât stop the swarm of thoughts racing through all the scenarios that he could screw up..
âNothing hard Bob, just change her into pajamas, sing and rock her to sleep then set her down. Easy as can beâ You reassure, placing a hand on his back and rubbing comforting circles.
Bob nodded slowly, running it over in his head, thinking of ways to avoid potential disasters he could cause. âOk⊠Ok! Yeah this will workâ Bob said more to himself, trying to psych himself up.
âYou got this âdadââ You tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek. And as on cue Bobâs face heated up.
âI know I just canât stop wor-â Bob starts to explain, starting a spiral of panic and overthink but you instantly shut that down by pressing a brief but loving kiss to his lips.
âI know baby,, I know exactly why you worry and why you are so cautious with her but I still think you are more careful and in control than you believe you are..â You try to reassure.
Bob lets out a pained noise â I know⊠but just what if Iâm not.. What if- I could never forgive myself if something happened to herâ Bob whispered, the pain evident in his eyes as he thought of the possibilities.
âAnd this is why we are being slow and careful and working our way up. âYou remind, gently wrapping your arms around Bobâs waist.
Bob looks down at you and lets out a deep sigh âI donât deserve you⊠and Daisy. Iâm so incredibly luckyâ Bob admits, pressing a kiss to your hair.
âThough you donât agree⊠we are lucky to have you tooâ You say looking up to press another kiss to his lips before pulling away.
âNow letâs go put this little miss to bedâ you coo, stepping away from Bob and going to grab Daisy out of her highchair.
Bob follows you both into the nursery where he practically melts watching you take care of her and change your daughter into a little cat onesie for her to sleep in.
âHere let's do something, Bob, go sit in the rocking chairâ You instruct pointing to the rocking chair in the corner. Instantly Bob does what he is told and settles down, albeit a little confused.
You carry Daisy in your arms and go to sit on Bobâs lap so you are parallel to his lap and he can easily hold you while you hold Daisy. âThere, now I'm holding her and you are holding me. It's a win-win-win.â You softly tease.
Bob just nestles his face in the crook where your neck meets your shoulder âall perfect to meâ Bob sighs against your skin.
You lean your head against his chest before softly clearing your throat then begin to softly sing as you watch your daughterâs eyes flutter close.
God Bob couldnât have asked for a better wife. He never thought he would get this kind of life, he always kind of assumed he was gonna die alone in an alleyway. Then once the whole Sentry project came to be, he thought no one would want him as an unstable, all powerful being. But you proved him wrong. You showed him how to be loved properly, how he is allowed to have good things in his life, how he can ask for help if he needs it, how he doesnât have to please everyone especially if it hurts him. You treat Bob as a person and not something to use. You love Bob for exactly who he was, flaws and all. The same went for the Sentry and Void, sure you were a bit more cautious of them but they were still your husband so you treated them as such.
You were also the perfect mother. Bob had never wanted kids, always been too scared of the responsibility and how his mental illnesses would affect them. Then he became scared of how the sentry serum would affect any children. But once you brought up how badly you wanted a baby, there was no way Bob could say no to you not after seeing how your eyes shined the whole conversation. So after many tests that came to the conclusion the baby wouldnât be affected by the serum and trying for a couple of months you were pregnant.
While Bob had been thrilled by the news, it was the Sentry who was most excited. He loved seeing you pregnant, all round and full of his baby. It was like a claim he had on you that said âthis is my wife, my baby, mineâ and god he couldnât wait to get you all full of his baby again~
This was what Bob had been thinking about while he held you in his arms, watching you care for your darling daughter.
âLove you~â You softly sing, finishing up the last lyric before bending down to press a forehead kiss to your now sleeping baby girl. You then press a kiss to your husbandâs cheek âdonât worry I love you tooâ
Bob wordlessly pulls you closer in a sort of subtle claim, like he has to have you as close as possible. You glance up and catch the shimmering gold in his eyes trying to take over the blue. âOh noâ tease, playfully rolling your eyes while carefully getting up out of Bobâs lap to put Daisy away in her crib.
Bob quickly follows after right on your heel. âWhy âoh noâ?â he questions, raising a brow. Because he couldnât resist, he wrapped his arms around your waist, physically unable to have you out of his grip.
You suppress a snort not wanting to wake up the baby. âYou, I saw the gold in your eyes, whatever you were thinking about got you all excited~â you whisper, trying to ignore his wandering hands on your body that are trying to distract you.
âWhat, canât a man just appreciate his gorgeous, sexy wife~â Bob or well the Sentry groaned against your neck.
âMmm⊠now is this Bob speaking or one of the others?â You ask, dragging him out of the nursery by his hands.
âWell, we are all Bob, but if you want to differentiate us, then you usually call me the Sentryâ Sentry huffs, but more than happy to be dragged around by you.
âMmm I seeâ You humm, âSo what brought you out Sen?â You ask, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
âLove when you call me that~â he murmurs while pressing kisses against your neck. âBut, if you want to know, I was just thinking all about how good a mother you are. How gorgeous you looked round and full of my baby. I thought about how badly I want you like that again~â Sentry groaned as he nipped and kissed your skin in between sentences.
âI- I forgot you have a⊠a raging breeding kink as the Sentryâ You try to joke, but the stutter in your words gave away how much he was affecting you.
âSeems you forgot how much you love it as wellâ Sentry purred in your ear giving it a slight tug with his teeth.. âBesides, Iâm still Bob, he has just as much of one as I do, but I on the other hand am not a coward to show it. To act on itâ He whispered, pressing you against the wall so you can feel the hardening erection in his sweatpants. Your breathing begins to quicken as you start to feel like putty in his hands, Sentry reveals in the state he causes for you, how much you are affected by the Sentry.
âGod, you seem to have forgotten how much you like having me around⊠haven't been out to play since the baby came~ âSenry hums. âBob doesnât trust us with the little one, but you.. he knows just how well I can take care of you~â He caresses your cheek causing you to shiver.
âIâve missed you so much baby~ Missed touching you, holding you, tasting you~â Sentry murmurs before licking a strip along your neck. âBob is criminal for keeping you away from me for so long⊠heâs too afraid of doing something to the baby, when he knows full well Iâm the reason the baby is hereâ Sentry lets out a low wanting breath âAnd I will be the reason thereâs anotherâŠâ He promised before grabbing your face harshly pulling you in for a deep, passionate, needy kiss.
You let out a low groan at the sensation, hand gripping on to his shoulder, just wanting him so bad. But eventually sense came rushing in breaking though the lust clouding your brain.. âSen⊠we canât, it hasnât been that longâŠâ you warn, trying and failing to push him away.
âWhy not? It hasnât been that long since what?â Sentry mumbled not really focusing on what you were saying, too distracted in the way you taste, the way you feel pressed against him. âBecause if you are talking about since Iâve last seen you, Iâm aware itâs been fucking forever, Bob has kept me away from you for monthsâ He groaned bitterly at the reminder of the separation. His hold on your hips tightened as if worried something was going to take you away from him.
âNo, not that. I mean since Iâve given birth⊠I may not be all healed..Down thereâ You whisper, cheeks flush feeling embarrassed.
The realization sunk in leaving him stilled for a second, then he just smirked âoh well⊠so sad, I just have to eat you out instead, whatever shall I doâ Sentry deadpanned with an eyeroll as if this issue is beneath him. Before you could react he picked you up wrapping your legs around his waist and walked into the bedroom. He tossed you on the bed and moved to crawl over you.
For the briefest of moments his eyes shift back to blue as Sentry looks down at you sprawled underneath him and then he pauses, absolutely in awe of you. He couldnât believe how lucky he is, that he gets to be here in this position with you. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear, lost in thought and the feel of you as his hands trail down your body beneath his hands. Despite him being a literal god, he will worship you like you are his reason for breathing.
âHey golden boy~ I thought you said you were gonna eat me out, ummm kinda need my clothes off for thatâ You taunt with an eyebrow raised, taking any opportunity to tease him.
His eyes flash a brilliant gold no trace of blue, your words bring back to the present. âMmm, needy girl feeling impatient~â Sentry mock pouted âIâm going to make you regret being sassy with me~â He all but sneered and you couldnât hold back your grin of excitement.
~~~
Bob glanced down at you asleep in his arms, absolutely dead to the world, he canât help but be amused. You are always out for hours whenever Sentry takes over. Based on the lingering taste in his mouth he had a very clear idea of what happened and honestly heâs just sad he canât remember it.
He sits up trying not to disrupt you as he gently plays with your hair spread across his lap. Then he hears it.
Through the baby monitor on the bedside table, Daisy lets out a piercing cry causing Bob to instantly freeze. He glances down at your sleeping form starting to stir from the noise but taking longer to get up as a sign of your exhaustion. Without thinking Bob quickly moves to shut off the monitor returning the room to silence aside from Daisy muffled cries a few doors down.
Bob gently moves your head out of his lap and creeps towards the bedroom door to head towards his crying daughter. As he walks he tries his hardest to clear his head of all anxieties and to calm his breathing. Heâs got this, he knows he does. This is his daughter for god sake, he knows exactly why sheâs crying like this. She's hungry, earlier during dinner she was being fussy and refusing to eat so you decide to just feed her later. Bob just wishes his mind would stop overthinking this simple task.
Once in the nursery he goes over to his crying daughter and gently picks her up. âHi sweetheartâ Bob softly coos, holding Daisy to his chest as he goes to prepare a bottle for her. The motions feel like second nature with how many times he has watched you do it.
Once the bottle is prepared Bob sits down in the rocking chair across the room, âthere we go sweetie, just like that.â He whispers, admiring her as she quiets down and watches her eat. âNot so hard huh.â He swipes his finger delicately across her cheek. âFor me itâs a bit hardâŠâ Bob pauses, hearing the slightest sound. His head snaps up searching for any sign of movement, he scans across the room for what could have made the noise but eventually decides it was nothing.
Bob turns his attention back to Daisy and watches as her eyes start to droop, falling asleep in his arms. âAnyway, I tend to overthink the simplest of things, Iâm so used to being a fu- screw up that I always assume the worst is going to happen.â He softly explains. âAnd usually the worst would happen, you see I had aâŠ. A hard life letâs just say until I met your mommy, but with her⊠god with her life has been the best it ever has. With her Iâm not just Bob the screw up, to her I'm just Bob, I'm her Bob, her husband and itâs honestly my favorite thing⊠well that and being a dad.â He rambled, a smile growing on his face as he talked about his amazing wife.
âBut anyway, Iâm still not used to the fact that life is over, Iâm no longer in that bad situation and I have a wonderful life with you and mommy. But I get so overwhelmed and have so much anxiety when it comes to you, Iâm so scared of doing the wrong thing and that something bad will happen, and I'll be my usual screw up.â Bob paused and took a deep inhale. âBut Iâm working on it, and itâs all thanks to your momma, without her I couldnât have done any of this. I wouldnât be sober, well Iâm technically sober because of the serum but she would be the reason I got sober anyway,â Bob softly chuckles at his tangent.
âWhat Iâm trying to say is my life is great and itâs all thanks to your mom, she gave me a place to belong, this wonderful life and most importantly she gave my beautiful daughterâ He bopped daisy nose, âand for that I'm forever grateful.â He bends down and presses a kiss to the top of her head.
Eventually Bob straightens up and carefully brings Daisy back to her crib once he knows she is fully asleep and will stay asleep. Silently Bob made his way back into the bedroom and back to bed, he curled under the covers and gently maneuvered you so you were resting against his chest. You stirred and pushed your hands under his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, snuggling into him, and pressing kisses against his sternum. âHi babyâŠâ You whisper sleepy looking up at him with the most love and affection in your eyes.
âOh! Hi darling⊠Did I wake you?â Bob asked in a voice so soft and only reserved for you. You just shook your head, still pressed against his body but still looking up at him with all this love and affection. Bob gives you a curious look, confused to where all this is coming from âbut honestly heâs not complainingâ You just shrug, answering his unsaid question and press a kiss to his lips. Bob, still confused, gives in and starts kissing you back until you both drift off to sleep.
~~~
You start to stir at the sound of your daughterâs cry through the baby monitor but it abruptly turns off. You were about to get up to go check on her but then felt your husband's big hands move you so were no longer resting on him and instead just laying on the bed as he got up.
glancing over and seeing he turned off the baby monitor had a jolt of panic run through you. You know it must have been Bob who turned it off and he probably has his reasons, the main one most likely being that he wants to give you the chance to sleep but it still makes you uneasy to have the monitor off while Daisy is in the other room. You reach across the bed and turn on the monitor where you can see Bob reach down into the crib and pick up a crying Daisy. You let out a tired sigh and get up out of bed.
Walking down the hallway, you make your way into the nursery knowing exactly why sheâs being fussy. Daisy didnât eat much at her normal dinner time,she wouldnât latch on to you and you were too tired to fight her on it so you decided to feed her later. You know there are supplies for a bottle in there but you also know that this is one of the many things Bob is nervous to do with your daughter. Besides Daisy prefers to be breastfed not bottlefed so this would just be easiest to put her back to sleep.
Just as you were about to walk in to get her but stopped at the sight in the room, Bob, still shirtless and in boxers, curled up on the rocking chair, feeding and talking to your daughter. From your view he doesnât even look nervous, he looks like this is something he does all the time, he looks like a dad
. You can just barely hear the words heâs whispering to Daisy while she drinks from the bottle. You push open the door a little bit to try and see him better and your heart practically leaps out of your chest when his head snaps up at the barely audible sound the door makes. You move out of his sightline and hope he doesnât see you. Bob shifts his attention back to Daisy and resumes their âconversationâ
You return to your spot watching them from the doorframe, just admiring the view. Your heart melts as you watch how gentle he is, how he is practically an expert at this despite only ever really observing. What really gets you is the kind words he is whispering to your sleeping daughter, how heâs telling her all about what a good person he thinks you are and how much you have changed his life for the better.
These words arenât new, you hear similar words to this all the time from him. He tells you how much he loves you, how you have improved his life, how good a mother you are, you hear this plenty but something about hearing him say it to someone else without knowing you are hearing it just makes it way more meaningful for some reason. The words just further your disbelief in how you got such an amazing life with the perfect man for you.
You get so wrapped up in watching them that you forget where you are and startle when Bob starts to get up and puts Daisy back in her crib. You rush back to your bed and crawl back into your original position as if you hadnât moved. A few moments later Bob creeps back into the room, trying his hardest to be as silent as possible to not disturb you. Once in bed he settles in beside you, moving you so you are back against him. You get an overwhelming feeling of love for this man, for your daughter, for this life and you canât help but think your life is complete
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Bob Floyd/Bob Reynolds (side Bob Reynolds/Rocco Gauthier and some others)
Word Count: 8.5k
Summary: At first it's just another boring night at the Hard Deck for Bob Floyd, one where he starts to regret letting Phoenix drag him out to. But when he notices a cute omega giving him a tentative smile from across the room, maybe the night won't be that bad after all.
Tags/Warnings: A/B/O AU, fluff, lil bit of angst, Lewcest (obviously), beta Bob Floyd, omega Bob Reynolds, meet cute, the Dagger Squad shooting the shit, Hangman being annoying but right, dubious understanding of anything military-related, Bob R is already in a pack and has other mates, technically a reader character (the female alpha), lots of dialogue, my God so much dialogue, I don't even know what this fic has become
A/N: This started out as a drabble for @iristheplanet16 who requested something Bob Floyd or Bob Reynolds-related. So they're getting both! This universe belongs to @abbottsdarling who graciously let me play with their ideas.
The pack dynamics are where bonded pairs/groups are joined together. At this point, they're fairly simple. The bonded mates are William and Miles; Todd and Rhett; and Rocco, the reader, Jordan, and Bob.
The pack that had set foot in the Hard Deck that night were difficult to overlook to say the least. For one thing, there were almost enough of them to make up an entire baseball team. For another, they were allâŠwell, they were undeniably attractive, something that didn't exactly escape Bob Floyd.
Bob wasn't the only one who noticed. The Dagger Squad had been eying them all night. That wasn't particularly unusual. They always made a habit of watching out for troublemakers. It was part of their unspoken deal with Penny - keep the peace at the bar and she'd overlook some past due bar tabs until payday. And also not throw Hangman out more than strictly necessary. The latter was much to the dismay of Nat, Rooster, and secretly Bob himself.
But it was hard to ignore such an unusual group, especially on a slower night where there was actually space to breathe at the usually overcrowded bar. Much of the night's entertainment had shifted from playing pool and chatting about the upcoming mission to speculating on this strange pack.
"$10 says the cowboy's the head alpha," Fanboy called out, putting a less-than-crisp bill down in the center of the table with the small pile of money that had formed throughout the night. Some of the crew nodded their agreement, but a good number remained visibly skeptical. Hangman looked thrilled.
"Happy to take your money, Garcia. My money's on the mobster," he quipped, throwing down a ten of his own and gesturing at an alpha with slicked back hair on the inside of the booth a few from the group had taken up residence in. He had his arm around the only female in the pack and was quietly chatting with a very animated man with an obnoxious gold chain and the kind of showy muscles that come not from hard labor like the ones under the sleeves of the alpha they'd deemed the Cowboy. This one that Bob quietly referred to as the Greaser had a small, barely perceivable smile and watched his mate with a fondness that made Bob's own heart ache. As much as he hated to, Bob had to admit Jake might just be right. And Bob wasn't even sure the cowboy was an alpha despite the rest of the group readily agreeing.
Mickey seemed to be having some doubts as well. He smiled at Hangman, but it came off as put on, the kind of confidence his erstwhile teammate never had to fake. After all, Jake Seresin was a neverending well of self-regard.
"What makes you think that? Yeah, the mobster is definitely an alpha, but he's not commanding the space the way the cowboy is." Nat, an alpha herself, turned to Bob and rolled her eyes.
Hangman grinned. It looked less inviting and charming the way it did when he flashed it at the single betas and omegas who came to the bar and more the smile of someone who knew they'd won the game before it even began. Fanboy's cheery grin visibly faltered.
"I tried to chat up the female," Jake admitted, much to everyone but his chagrin. Even Nat raised her eyebrows, but Hangman was too busy being smug to pay their surprised reactions any mind.
"That's a level of ballsy I didn't think even you were capable of, Seresin," Rooster shot at him, taking a lazy sip of his beer, face nonplussed even when Jake turned his Cheshire grin to the squad's only omega.
"What? You jealous, Bradshaw?"
Before Rooster could bite back, Payback cut him off.
"Get to the point, Bagman. At least give Mickey the courtesy of knowing why he's losing money tonight." When Mickey shot him a fake hurt look, Reuben just shrugged and grinned. They all knew that Fanboy's proverbial goose was cooked.
"Right, so where was I?" Jake drawled. He hadn't taken his eyes off Rooster, who was doing his best to ignore the obnoxiously cocky alpha who was blatantly peacocking for his attention. Again.
"They need to fuck and get it over with," Nat muttered into Bob's ear right as he took a sip of his (non-alcoholic) drink. He should've known to brace himself the second she leaned in conspiratorially, but her little asides routinely caught the WSO off guard. It took a kind of effort Bob had practiced as long as he'd known Phoenix, but he was able to swallow his mouthful of Sprite without sputtering or choking. His glass, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.
Fortunately, Phoenix was on top of it, instantly mopping up the spilled drink with the kind of speed and efficiency that meant she'd already carefully weighed the pros and cons of her snide remark before it even left her lips. When the others turned towards them, concerned, Bob waved them off, wiping his mouth with a clean napkin Natasha handed him with a smirk.
"Anyway," Hangman said, finally turning to face Fanboy, "I was talking to the female of the group - definitely an alpha, by the way - and the greaseball glared at me like he wanted to blow my damn head off. He stormed over, put his arm around her shoulders, and told me in no uncertain terms to get lost."
"What did he actually say? The exact words used?" Coyote spoke up.
Jake only grinned more. "He told me to get my goddamn hands off his girl and fuck off."
Most alphas would be at least repentant about treading on another's territory as laughably outdated as that notion was, but Jake just laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Typical.
The squabbling only got louder, so Bob used his empty glass as an excuse to get away. His call for refill requests fortunately was ignored just like it normally was, so he didn't have to haul half a dozen various beers across the crowded bar. And he didn't have the voice of his mom in his ear, scolding him for not being a gentleman like he did when he didn't ask at all. It was a win-win all around.
That was one thing about being the quiet beta of the group. When he was younger, Bob resented how easily overlooked he was. 'A wallflower,' his sisters called him when he told them about how he was always passed over by his peers at school. 'A sweet, upstanding young gentleman,' his grandma declared him to be as she pinched his cheeks until they hurt. 'A late bloomer,' his pa deemed him when Bob didn't get the same growth spurt at the same time all the other boys did. 'Just like your dad,' his mom would say with a wistful smile, no doubt thinking about their younger years. He didn't like any of it.
But, grudgingly, Bob Floyd learned the benefits of being generally overlooked. Anything he did well always shocked and impressed the others around him. The few moments he'd let his wit out to cut like a fresh rapier, his opponents were always thrown off. And the few people who did notice him, like Natasha Trace and, eventually the entire Dagger Squad, were the kind of friends you made for life, the ones who saw Bob for who he was and liked him for it.
Which is why it surprised him when one of the omegas from this new pack looked straight at him from across the bar and gave him a faint smile. Bob had to fight the immediate urge to turn around, to see who else this man was looking at. But he saw the eye contact and the way the omega appeared briefly hesitant at Bob's lack of response. And his blatant staring. So quickly, Bob smiled back. It was perfunctory but natural. Not one of those he'd give in the hallway while passing any number of faceless, nameless officers he'd most likely never see again. It was genuine. And even across the room, the omega seemingly sensed the sincerity, and his face relaxed.
Whatever little moment was or wasn't happening got abruptly interrupted when another bar patron accidentally walked right into Bob, who barely avoided the man's drink spilling on him. He'd been in this situation more times than he could recall. Fortunately, this man that Bob quickly clocked as another beta, one with long brown hair and a gentle face, acted more concerned with Bob's state of being than the condition of his now half-spilled glass of white wine.
"I'm so sorry," the beta said, grabbing some napkins from a nearby table and checking Bob over for errant stains. "Don't know how I didn't see you. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Bob assured him with a smile. Fortunately, his dress shirt was just as clean and crisp as when he'd put it on after drills that afternoon. "No harm done. It happens all the time."
Their interaction was fairly short: the stranger apologized a few more times, tried to start mopping up the spill with his handful of napkins until Penny threw Bob a spare rag to use instead, and even turning down a free refill (a first that he could remember from Penny), declaring that the incident must be God telling him that he's cut off for the night. It didn't surprise Bob when the handsome beta walked back to the corner with that strange pack, right into the arms of a different small omega who immediately inspected him like he'd been in a serious accident as opposed to the human equivalent of a fender bender. Bob watched as the beta reassured his mate, nuzzling his forehead against the omega's cheek until the latter visibly relaxed.
"Weird evening, isn't it?" Penny asked when Bob finally stepped up to the counter, placing his empty glass there for a refill.
"Yeah, there's something about that pack," Bob admitted, watching as the bartender swept his old glass away in a motion as easy as breathing. "The squad's been taking bets about them all night."
"I meant the two spills in less than five minutes, both of which you were involved with," Penny said with a grin. Bob had the decency to blush, something that only made Penny laugh mirthfully. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I won't charge you a clean up fee."
Quick as a blink, the bartender turned to the soda fountain, filling up a brand new glass. She turned and set it down on the counter in front of Bob and popped a new straw in it in one fluid motion with the kind of easy grace that always secretly astounded the pilot.
"By the way, you left your jacket," Penny added, nodding over to a black lump of fabric in one of the bar chairs.
Confused, Bob picked up what appeared to be a much-loved but clean hoodie with the name of some band he didn't recognize splashed on the front. Bob Floyd didn't wear hoodies, preferring zip up sweaters instead. And he certainly didn't listen to the kind of music where the band spelled their name in letters so jagged and stylized that he could barely make out the words. But he could see why Penny thought it was his. Written on the label in bold, sharp script were three familiar letters - B O B.
Before he could do more than process the name, a voice came from behind him.
"UmâŠthat's mine, actually."
It was a nice voice: low, quiet, and so soft around the edges that it was almost a hum. It was the kind of voice that was more used to rounding the ends of sentences into a question even when stating an objective fact. The kind of voice Bob could easily imagine murmured into his ear late at night, one he could feel through a rumble in a lover's chest pressed against his back.
Maybe it should've been a surprise when Bob turned around to see that omega from the new pack, the one who smiled at him from across the room. But for some reason? It wasn't.
His voice fit his appearance. Whether it was the mop of brown curls, the cozy and clearly well-loved sweater, or the openness in his face, one word came to Bob's mind: soft.
But there was more to this omega than that. There was some steel there. Even mated omegas tended to avoid being alone with someone unmated that they didn't know. Even a fairly harmless beta like Bob could prove a threat in a room full of liquored up and rowdy patrons. But this omega didn't even seem nervous about Bob himself, just about interrupting his conversation with Penny.
And when Bob spent too long staring at this handsome stranger, those eyes went from warm and friendly to flinty and hard. The tentative smile on his face stretched taut, as if putting on a gruesome mask of the kindness that was previously on his face.
Before the omega could ask, Bob quickly blurted out, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to stare. It's justâŠ" He gestured down at the tag and the faded name in Sharpie, his words failing him.
"Surprised someone still writes their name on the inside of their clothes as an adult?"
And a sharp sense of humor to boot. Bob added that to his mental tally of this omega who was becoming more fascinating by the minute.
"No," Bob said with an awkward little laugh. "No, it's not that. That makes sense if you're living with other people. Keeps you from getting your clothes stolen."
The stranger nodded, his stance becoming slightly less defensive even as he crossed his arms in front of him.
"I was just surprised is all," Bob continued, pointing at the tag. "Penny, the owner, thought this was mine."
The man across from him paused, blinking rapidly, a cute little crease of confusion forming between his eyebrows.
"Wait, butâŠ" He pointed at the name tag on Bob's shirt, the one that said "FLOYD" in all capital letters.
"Last name," Bob explained. He extended his hand to shake before introducing himself. "Lieutenant Bob Floyd."
The other man paused, eyeing his outstretched hand hesitantly. This wasn't exactly a typical greeting to a mated omega, but Bob wagered this wasn't your typical mated omega anyway.
After a moment of hesitation, he took Bob's hand, giving him a firm but friendly shake. "Bob Reynolds. No fancy title. Just Bob."
Their hands lingered perhaps a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, and Bob had to ignore the way his heart pounded just a hair faster.
They talked for what felt like minutes but stretched out to over an hour. On the surface, the two Bobs had little in common beside their names. After all, what would a straight A student turned decorated Navy lieutenant have in common with a middle school drop out who spent most of his adult life struggling with addiction and housing insecurity even have to say to each other? Yet they continually found common ground.
"Vodka soda?" the Other Bob asked as Bob took a new glass of Sprite from Penny. At Bob's frown of confusion, Bob Reynolds gestured at the drink. "Drinking a vodka soda?"
"Oh!" Bob Floyd exclaimed, chuckling a little nervously under his breath. He was used to the teasing from his heavy-drinking friends, but experience didn't make the sobriety talk any easier. "No, just a Sprite." Pointing at the dark cola on the bar next to the other man, he added, "Rum and Coke?"
"Close," Bob R. said with a little laugh of his own. "Just hold the rum and replace the Coke with a Dr. Pepper. I've been clean for two years this coming February. Not breaking that for a shitty cocktail."
"Oh." Bob knew from the way the other man's face tightened just a fraction that he'd made the situation awkward just that much weirder from his reaction. So clearing his throat, he added, "Congratulations. That's a huge accomplishment."
When Bob R. waved away the compliment, Bob F. doubled down.
"No, seriously. That's impressive. I don't drink because I don't like the way it makes me feel and it tastes gross. But you're here at a bar, addiction ground zero. That must take a lot more self-control than it seems. You make it look easy." He spoke with such sincerity that it seemed to strike the omega speechless for a moment. The other man blinked a few times, eyes darting around like he was trying to process the words.
Bob gave him that space, let him sit in the compliment and figure out if he even wanted to respond to it. Unfortunately, he took a sip of his drink when the Other Bob found his words. And even though he'd learned how to keep it together with Phoenix, he had no defenses against this new Bob.
"Bars aren't that tempting to me. Now a crack den? That would be a problem. I'd be like a kid in a candy shop."
A few minutes later, Bob Reynolds apologized for making the lieutenant choke on his drink, but to Bob Floyd? It was worth it to make the other man laugh so hard tears pricked his eyes.
Naturally, conversation shifted towards their respective groups. The Other Bob was the first to offer up details about his pack.
"So, the beta that bumped into you? That's William," Bob R said, pointing out the man with the long, brown hair and friendly face. "And the omega in his lap? That's Miles. They're bonded. Joined the us together a few months ago."
All of the pack were introduced in turn, so Bob was able to put an actual name to the unofficial titles the Dagger Squad had dubbed them.
Bob R agreed that "Cowboy" was an appropriate nickname for the one called Rhett, not just because he wore a cowboy hat and boots. Finding out he was a former pro bull rider was a shock but nowhere near as much as finding out the cowboy was an omega.
"I thought he was maybe a beta," Bob admitted, trying not to stare at the man out of sheer curiosity. If the cowboy noticed how closely both of the men at the bar were watching him, Rhett gave no indication of it. "I've never seen an omega who's built like that."
When the other man's cheeks turned a brilliant shade of bright pink, Bob tactfully said nothing. But he found himself glancing at the seat of the tall omega's pants, idly wondering just how built this cowboy really was.
The well-dressed alpha sitting nearby was introduced as Todd, an unlikely pairing for a rough and tumble country boy like Rhett. But, according to Bob R, they joined the pack as a mated pair.
The three in the corner booth were all directly mated to the Other Bob, a revelation that didn't come as too much of a surprise from the casual way he'd noticed them touching the omega all night. Nothing untoward, of course. Just leaning against him, holding his hand, draping an arm across his shoulders. Little careless gestures that spoke of quiet companionship and a deep affection.
The muscular beta with the gold chain who was now visibly playing footsie under the table with his two alphas was Jordan. The only female in the pack was indeed an alpha like Hangman had claimed with a pretty name that suited her well. And the one with the slicked back hair, the alpha who'd confronted Hangman earlier, was introduced as Rocco.
"He's the head alpha," Bob R added, popping the de-shelled peanut the WSO offered him into his mouth.
Bob didn't mean to laugh. It just bubbled out of him, fast and sharp enough that he covered his mouth and glanced around to make sure he hadn't disturbed any other patrons. The Other Bob didn't question him, just watched patiently with a raised eyebrow and an amused quirk of the mouth. It hit Bob that the other man knew that he didn't have to ask, that Bob would explain himself. Phoenix had given him the same look innumerable times in the past few years they'd been partners. That thought was quickly brushed under the proverbial rug. He wasn't quite ready to ponder the meaning of that revelation and how it made the tightness in his chest that had been there since this mysterious pack entered the bar loosen just a fraction.
"Hangman was right," Bob said, gesturing at the preening alpha still at the center of attention of the Dagger Squad.
A few of his teammates caught his eye, shooting curious looks at him, some of them even openly gesturing at Bob R then back to him in silent question.
He ignored them.
Bob Reynolds gave a nervous wave and a bashful grimace in an approximation of a friendly smile. When he turned in his chair a bit to subtly put his back to the group, Bob Floyd didn't blame him.
"I'm guessing 'Hangman' is that blond alpha who looks like he thinks he's a king holding court in front of his subjects?" the Other Bob asked.
"Unfortunately, yes," Bob muttered, tossing an errant peanut shell in an empty Budweiser glass he'd designated for such a task. No need to get Penny on his ass for making another mess for her to clean. "He's more a court jester who thinks he's king. If we had a leader other than Mav, it wouldn't be him." Tilting his head, Bob gestured at lone omega in the squad who was sitting by the wall, too distracted by the temptation of the bar's piano to pay Hangman any mind. "More likely, it'd be Rooster. Or maybe Phoenix, but I don't think she'd be too pleased with me for saying so."
The Other Bob risked a look at the Dagger Squad, just long enough for him to register their faces, most of which were still eyeing the two Bobs at the bar with unabashed curiosity. Bob Floyd turned and looked himself, briefly catching Phoenix's eye and blatantly ignoring her raised eyebrows.
"Do they always stare like that?" Bob Reynolds asked with a wince, his voice slightly higher and creaking from embarrassment.
Catching Payback's eye, Bob Floyd's unamused stare was met with an impish grin and a wink. When Fanboy wolf whistled, Bob turned back to the Other Bob with an audible sigh, fighting down the urge to roll his eyes.
"Unfortunately," he deadpanned, taking another sip of his Sprite, for once wishing it was something a little stronger.
After a few moments of the kind of awkward silence that only comes when two people know their every move is being heavily scrutinized, Bob R spoke up.
"Are they always thisâŠ" He glanced around the room, blinking rapidly like he was searching for his next words which had suddenly taken flight from his brain. Bob returned the same polite patience the omega had given him just minutes before, letting him figure out what he wanted to say and not interrupting or pressing him.
When he found the word, the Other Bob wrinkled his nose as if dissatisfied with the results of his searching.
"ThisâŠnosy?"
"Absolutely," Bob said with zero hesitation. That awkward expression bled from Bob R's face, replaced by the kind of genuine amusement Bob F wasn't used to receiving from something he'd said. Hangman had once declared he had no sense of humor, but it wasn't Bob's fault he didn't like being unnecessarily mean for the sake of a joke. But if everyone responded to jokes as beautifully as Bob Reynolds, maybe he'd need to start making more.
"Makes sense why you guys were nicknaming some of us. Have you been watching us all night?" There was a twinkle in the omega's eyes that made Bob's stomach flip in the same kind of way as when Becky Wilson in 5th grade held his hand for three precious minutes during recess. The same one as when Melinda Davis kissed him after junior prom.
Bob Floyd was many things but a stuttering fool wasn't one of them. Usually. So he cleared his throat, composing himself before he answered.
"A little bit," he admitted. Even if his voice was steady, the tips of his ears burned hotter than an overheating F/A-18 engine.
The impish grin that spread across Bob Reynolds' face should've been classified as a military-grade weapon suitable only for use in active combat. Definitely not something to be used in the middle of a bar against an unarmed combatant. Bob Floyd's stomach wasn't the only thing flipping; his damn heart felt like it was doing jumping jacks in his chest.
"Explains the nicknames," the Other Bob said with just a hint of a drawl. There was a mischievous light in his eyes, almost like he knew what he was doing to the flustered beta across from him. "You guys debating on who's the cutest? Because I can make a good case for myself."
"Not exactly," Bob said wryly. He took another sip of his drink to whet his suddenly-dry mouth, hands still fiddling with the same peanut he'd been rolling back and forth for the past few minutes.
The Other Bob waited, eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile growing more dangerous by the second. Bob Floyd thought he caught the other man sneaking a glance at his ears which were bright red by now judging by how they burned with the kind of heat usually only registered on the surface of the sun. But, when he glanced up at Bob Reynolds' eyes to catch him looking, the omega was merely watching him back.
"We wereâŠ" he started, cutting himself off before continuing. "They were making bets. About your pack."
Bob R's eyebrows shot up even further, making his forehead crease in a way that the WSO struggled to not label as 'adorable.'
"Nothing weird," Bob F added quickly. "Things like who was going to win that game of pool. Or who'd finish their drink first."
The Other Bob nodded, but Bob Floyd couldn't help but notice a twinge of some expression he couldn't quite place cross his handsome face. Relief?Disappointment? Hard to tell.
"Not exactly the most exciting bets. I think my idea is way better."
Bob F nodded absently, finally popping that peanut in his mouth and slowly chewing.
"Hangman and Fanboy were betting on who the pack alpha is," he finally added, flicking the crushed peanut shell into his cup to join its conquered brethren.
That seemed to interest the Other Bob, who perked up, sitting taller in his chair.
"Oh, that's what you meant by 'Hangman was right.' Everything's making sense now." He tapped his forehead, just like the meme, causing Bob F to let out a snort of laughter he couldn't quite hold back. Bob R beamed at him, eyes crinkling at the sides with laughter.
Since the squad were still closely monitoring the duo at the bar, Bob pulled up a picture on his phone to introduce his teammates in turn. Words flowed out of him, but in all honesty, Bob wasn't quite sure what all he said. He was hyper focused on how the Other Bob pulled his chair closer to better see the phone screen.
Stillness, it seems, was not a natural state of being for Bob Reynolds. He shifted in his seat, shaking his leg and rocking back and forth in an almost imperceptible way that Bob Floyd hadn't noticed until they were practically pressed against each other. Their legs bumped a few times and the Other Bob's hand brushed his own when he'd point at something in the picture that Bob himself had never noticed before. His heart practically pounded out of his chest any time they touched. If the omega knew what he was doing to him, Bob sure as hell couldn't tell. So he kept talking regardless.
The only thing he specifically remembered saying was mentioning Nat's civilian boyfriend she'd been with for the past year or so. Later, he wondered to himself why he'd brought that up, but all he knew was that Bob Reynolds had seemed tense when Phoenix was brought up and that his smiles and quiet touches came much more frequently after.
"You guys seem really close," the Other Bob said. Bob Floyd risked a glance over at his teammates and let out a relieved sigh seeing they'd moved on from staring to yet another game of darts where Payday and Coyote teamed up against Hangman. From the look of it, things weren't going well for them on that front.
"I mean, yeah. We're around each other what feels like every minute of the day. Can't even use the latrine without the entire unit knowing about it. 'Least, that's what it feels like."
The laugh the Other Bob let out wasn't faked; it was genuine but with something that rang hollow underneath. "I definitely understand that. Everyone knows everyone else's business in a pack, after all."
Now it was Bob's turn to smile ruefully. His eyes dipped to his own hands, watching as if from a distance as his index finger traced the bottom of the glass back and forth, swiping through cool beads of condensation and letting the water break, sliding down his skin and onto the bar counter.
Thoughts lingered on the tip of his tongue, ones he'd left unspoken to anyone but his closest family. They'd welled up before so many times along with a fierce sense of envy so strong Bob had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat - when Maverick finally settled down with Penny and Amelia, when his baby sister introduced the family to her new mates, when Coyote's pack came for a surprise visit on shore leave.
By the time he looked back up, the Other Bob was also following his movements. When he stopped, the omega blinked and looked back up at him, the upturned tilt of his lips distinctly bittersweet. There was an understanding there. A lack meeting another lack, like the holes in their hearts saw through the facades they held up and recognized each other.
So, for once, Bob didn't think through what he said. He just spoke.
"It must be nice to have a pack. AâŠfamily."
Several seconds passed before Bob Floyd found the nerve to lift his head up to see the other man's reaction. Would that change how the omega saw him? Would such rank honesty earn him discomfort or even the kind of pity he felt lurking in the eyes of even his closest friends? But, no. The Other Bob didn't give him a sad smile and a pat on the back. He didn't squirm away from the WSO either.
If anything, Bob Reynolds looked confused.
"What?" Bob Floyd found himself asking, the words leaving his lips involuntarily, not caught or even delayed by the ever-present filter he normally pushed all his thoughts through.
"But you have a family."
Before Bob could protest, to say that he meant a non-blood family, a group of people that chose each other willingly, a round of raucous laughter erupted from the direction of the dart board. The Hard Deck might have been emptier than normal, but this was the kind of hooting and hollering that would've drawn the attention of the entire place even during peak times.
Both Bobs immediately turned in their seats to watch as Coyote and Payday knelt on the floor to do push ups as Hangman strutted around likeâŠwell, a rooster while the others jeered at the losing duo and cheered them on in turn. From the expressions of chagrin and dread on Javy and Reuben's faces, Bob knew without a doubt they'd be going at it for quite a while.
The breathy laughter to his right drew Bob's attention back to the omega next to him. Bob Reynolds let out a little snort, covering his mouth and practically giggling as if his own noise only tickled him further.
"They do this often?" he asked.
"Oh yeah," Bob answered, chuckling to himself as Jake put his boot on Javy's upper back, posing like Captain Morgan on the other pilot. He caught Bob's eye, holding a precise, showy salute and grinning at the WSO. At least until Javy shifted his shoulder forward, purposefully causing the cocky alpha to stumble to catch himself, which only made the Dagger Squad howl with laughter.
"Honestly, it's their fault for betting against Hangman at darts. I swear he leaves his bunk in the middle of the night to practice in the rec hall."
Turning back to the bar, Bob R fixed him with a look that Bob F could only describe as fond.
"There's always at least one troublemaker in a pack," the Other Bob said with a wistful smile. His words were so casual, taking a sip of his soda after like there was no weight to them at all. But they hit Bob Floyd all the same.
As if he was on autopilot, Bob pushed the button to turn his phone screen on, looking at the same picture that had greeted him for years. He could still smell the briny ocean spray lapping against the shore and feel that familiar California sun beaming down on the back of his neck, making his skin prickle in the way that let him know it was time to reapply sunscreen. Some 80s rock he vaguely recognized played in the background, but Bob could barely hear it over the grunts and yells and laughter as his squad loped around the beachfront. After a while, teams and scores and even winners were forgotten, replaced with the pure joy of tackles and touchdowns. Even Bob himself, initially turned off by the excess testosterone and macho posturing, got into it, scoring a goal where everyone cheered like it was a winning one. For once, he'd enjoyed being the center of attention, foisted up into the air by his comrades who chanted his name as he threw his head back, laughing.
Penny'd insisted on taking a photo. She'd said they needed a token, something to remember in the coming days and weeks of training for that mission none of them should've come back from but, by no small miracle, all of them did. The whole squad kept it as their lock screen for all this time. Girlfriends, boyfriends, and packmates got the honor of being their wallpaper, kept safe and secure behind a password. But the Dagger Squad were the first thing they all saw when they grabbed their phones in the morning and the last thing they saw as they went to bed at night.
As the screen went black, Bob Floyd was greeted with his own face. Only a couple of hours ago, he'd seen it in the mirror of the men's room as he looked up from washing his hands. Then he was met with a frown, one he quickly schooled into a neutral expression. It was just another night out, one he tagged along to because he had nothing better to do when Phoenix asked him his plans for the evening. That Bob in the mirror had lines on his forehead and a weariness in his eyes.
This Bob, the one reflected by his phone screen, couldn't be more different. Gone was the grimace, replaced with upturned lips, like the remnants of a smile tugged at his mouth. The lines on his face were still there, of course, but not as deep as they'd been before. And his eyes? Now those were the most different.
Bob Floyd wasn't unhappy. The exact opposite, actually. He was doing the job he loved with a team who both relied on him and cared about him, even if they didn't always notice when he left the table. But there was an emptiness inside of him. A loneliness he was loathe to name. But this Bob lookedâŠlighter. Happier. Somehow more fulfilled. Like a conversation with a handsome stranger had buoyed his spirits in a way he didn't realize he needed until he saw the results himself.
For some reason, he felt the urge to turn and look at this unusual pack. Most of them paid him no mind, not the cowboy and his fancy alpha. Not the mild-mannered beta and his doting omega. And not the female alpha or the showy beta, who were too busy flirting to pay attention. But the greaser - Rocco, he corrected himself - caught his gaze and held it there.
Bob couldn't fight the feeling that this was an important moment, that his new friend's mate was passing judgment on him. Normally, he wouldn't care what some knothead alpha thought of him. His parents had told him long ago that gender is irrelevant to what kind of person you are. You can't blame your mistakes on it or let it encapsulate who you are. But something about that moment made Bob want to be a 'good beta' for the first time in his life. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.
When the alpha raised his glass in a salute, a smirk firmly carved into his lips, Bob Floyd let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He lifted his Sprite in turn, toasting this complete stranger for something he didn't quite understand. Maybe he would later.
The Other Bob's voice jerked him firmly back into reality.
Turning to face the omega, Bob mumbled an apology. "Sorry, what was that?"
"I said, 'so, what's yours?'" Bob R stated, his head tilting to the side slightly, just enough that he had to gaze up through his lashes to make eye contact.
"Mine?" Bob F asked, brow furrowing in confusion. "My what?"
"Your callsign," the Other Bob clarified. "Sorry. I know I'm rewinding the conversation back a few minutes. Before we got distracted by the ruckus."
"Ruckus is a damn good way to put it," Bob said. He glanced back at the head alpha across the room, but Rocco had turned his attention away from the two at the bar.
"So, there's Payback. And Rooster. And Phoenix. What are you? Specs?" Bob R grinned as he said it, visibly proud of himself for coming up with a nickname.
"UhâŠnot exactly."
Bob Floyd had answered this question many, many times. People responded usually with confusion ('No, your callsign, not your name'), more questions ('Did youâŠchoose that yourself?'), or, even worse, disappointment ('Aww, man. I was hoping it was something cool'). But this response? It was a new one.
"Hmm," Bob Reynolds said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while looking off into the distance. The gesture made his already-thin lips smush together into a solitary line, making it look like he had a comically long frown. The word 'adorable' floated through Bob Floyd's head for the second time that night.
After a few moments of hard pondering, the Other Bob turned to him, releasing his chin as he declared, "I like it."
Bob blinked, saying nothing at first. And when he did speak, it was just one word.
"âŠWhat?"
"I like it," the Other Bob said with even more conviction, nodding his head as if agreeing with his own assessment. "It suits you."
Bob Floyd couldn't help himself. He laughed. It was sudden and jarring, like his body had a mind of its own. Like it was pulled out of his lungs by sheer surprise.
Bob Reynolds eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "What's so funny?"
"Normally people are disappointed that my callsign is justâŠBob. They expect something cooler."
The other man audibly scoffed. "What? Like Hangman? Wow. He must be so cool." He made a quick pumping gesture with his right hand, wordlessly calling the blond alpha a jerk off. "No, Bob is unique. I bet there isn't another pilot with that callsign. There are probably dozens of 'Hangman's. And, after all, you know what 'Bob' stands for, right?"
"If you say 'Baby On Board,' I'm going back to my -" Bob F started, shaking his finger at his fellow Bob.
"No, no," Bob R said, waving away the other man's concerns. "Nothing as lame as that."
"Then what?"
Bob Reynolds grinned.
"Big Ol' Balls, obviously."
When Bob Reynolds said his goodbyes and made his way back to his pack through the slowly emptying bar, he was hyper aware of the phone resting heavily in his right front pocket. He ran his fingers over the glass faceplate, feeling the tiny cracks in the touch screen, the ones Jordan insisted wouldn't be there if he'd just get a proper phone case. If he traced the name of the man he'd spent the last hour and a half with, give or take a few minutes, no one would know. Or even blame him.
The rest of his pack was suspiciously silent as he slid into the oval booth at the far end of the room, the one right next to the door. Everyone had made their way over to the table eventually, nearly filling it up. It wasn't an easy fit like it had been with just his bonded mates where he could stretch out over the worn brown vinyl, resting his head in one of their laps. But the way Miles chirruped happily, wrapping his arms around Bob and pulling him close, rubbing their noses together, more than made up for the lack of space.
"You tryin'a get us another beta?" Rhett asked with a grin. He'd long ago taken off the cowboy hat. Now the Stetson decorated the table in front of them, set amidst a veritable field of discarded and half-empty glasses.
At those words, Jordan perked up.
"We could use another beta. William helped get our numbers up, but you damn alphas outnumber us," he said, shooting fake glares at the three at the table who just chuckled in response.
"There are three omegas too," William added, pointing at Rhett, Miles, and Bob himself in turn.
Jordan dismissed him with a simple "psht" sound.
"There is never such a thing as too many omegas," he said as justification. Todd, who never missed an opportunity to cuddle with the nearest omega, nodded his head as if agreeing with some deep, sage wisdom. Rhett nudged him with his elbow, snickering when the alpha pouted at him, exaggeratedly rubbing his side as if dearly wounded.
"Can't disagree with you there," Rocco said, taking a swig of his beer before turning his eyes on Bob. Without even saying another word, Bob could feel his own face growing red. Rocco didn't even have to ask. From the smirk that tugged at his lips, he knew what Bob was thinking possibly even better than Bob knew himself.
As much as they so obviously wanted to, a stern look from Rocco quieted any more questions about the handsome stranger Bob had spent so much time chatting up. Everyone seemed mostly tired (or buzzed), so further talk was minimal, mostly just murmuring to the person next to them.
When William caught himself nearly falling asleep at the table, they collectively decided to call it a night. Miles and Jordan busied themselves organizing the glassware on the table, clean spills and stacking plates to make the night a little easier for the barkeep, while Todd made his way to the register to square up their tab.
It didn't take long before everyone filed out of the bar. Bob tried to catch a glimpse of his military counterpart, but, between his own packmates and the people settling up at the bar, there were too many people in the way. He could have sworn he saw that perfectly coifed hair swiveling to face them as they left, but he couldn't be certain.
The parking lot was mostly silent except for the buzzing of the neon lights in the Top Deck's windows, so any noise the pack made was amplified. From the words they exchanged to the keys jingling in the drivers' hands and especially to the gravel crunching under foot, Bob almost didn't hear Rocco when he started talking.
"Was he nice?"
"Hmm?" Bob answered, blinking and looking up at his mate. Rocco smiled down at him, one of those smiles that made him look devilishly handsome. That smile used to haunt his dreams before Bob had finally admitted his attraction to the alpha, but now it brightened his days and warmed his nights.
"Was he nice? The guy you chatted with."
"Oh? Yeah. Yeah, he was really sweet," Bob said, pushing his hands even deeper into his pockets as the cool night air nipped at his skin. Once again, he ran his fingers over the phone as if expecting it to buzz or ring at any moment. Or maybe he hoped it would.
"Sweet, huh?" Rocco said teasingly. He knocked his shoulder lightly against Bob's, who retaliated by leaning against him. From the way Rocco immediately put his arm around the omega, Bob didn't think he was complaining much.
His next words were quieter, spoken practically into Bob's ear.
"You feelin' better?"
Bob didn't mean to stop in his tracks, but Rocco jerked to a halt next to him, practically getting whiplash from the sudden pause in their walk. He wanted to deny it, of course. To tell Rocco that he had no clue what the alpha was talking about. But, looking up into the eyes of his mate, he knew that lying was useless. Rocco knew he'd been in a rotten mood all day, as much as Bob had tried to hide it.
He wasn't even sure why he'd been having a bad day to begin with. It could have been a million things. Or it could have been nothing. After all, it's like his therapist always said - depression doesn't always need a reason.
Hell, he wasn't even sure why he'd approached Bob Floyd to begin with. I mean, yeah, the guy had his hoodie, the same one Bob R had pulled on as soon as the crisp night air hit his bare arms. If Bob put his nose to it, he imagined he could still smell the beta's scent - clean and woodsy with just a hint of something sharp, like the one that lingered on his clothes the one time Todd had managed to convince him to fly on a plane despite his fear of heights. It was like gasoline or kerosene but not quite. The combination was odd, but Bob found that he quite liked it.
Their connection should have ended there. They'd touch hands as the WSO handed his hoodie back, Bob would think about it all night, and he'd look for the cute beta with big, blue eyes and aviator glasses every time they went to the Hard Deck from then on.
But talking to him just felt soâŠnice. He was nice. Bob Floyd was the kind of man who made every person he interacted with feel seen. He waited his turn to speak, and when he did, he made it clear he was listening, carefully logging little tidbits into some nebulous folder in his mind to reference later. And his life was so different from anything Bob Reynolds had ever experienced, full of dangerous missions, cocky pilots, and apparently some beach football. It didn't hurt that the WSO's eyes kept slipping to Bob's lips, his ears turning scarlet when Bob flirted back with him.
Somewhere in their conversation, the ache in Bob Reynolds' chest eased, leaving him feeling lighter than he'd been in days. And the new contact in his phone just meant this wasn't just a random chat between strangers. Maybe it was the start of something more.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Rocco's words brought him back to reality, back to the cold parking lot where his mate was waiting for an answer. None of the pack's vehicles had moved either. They waited for their alpha to lead the way. Or, more likely, they stayed to make sure nothing was wrong with Bob.
That thought felt like ice water over his head. Abruptly, Bob started walking towards Rocco's car, grabbing the alpha's hand to drag him along. Letting out a grunt of surprise, his mate followed wordlessly.
When they got to the car, Bob turned around to squarely face the other man.
"I'm okay, Rock," he said, meaning those words for the first time in the past week that he'd spoken them. "I'm okay."
Rocco fixed him with a stare, one Bob could never seem to hide from. It was like his alpha could see right through him, reading all the truths etched on his soul that he tried so desperately to keep to himself, not wanting to bother his packmates. After a few tense seconds, Rocco breathed out a little sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing.
"Okay," Rocco said. There was no pushing, no trying to get more information out of the omega. And Bob knew he wouldn't. His alpha trusted that he would open up in his own time.
The ride home was full of the regular noises: the hum of the engine, bits of scattered conversation, and a little off key singing.
When they pulled into their driveway and rolled to a stop inside the garage, Bob didn't even reach for the handle. He knew better by now. Long ago, Rocco had made it a habit to always open the door for his passengers. It was so ingrained into Bob that it took him a few seconds to realize that the alpha didn't move to exit the car.
"I do have one question," Rocco admitted almost sheepishly. He looked almost embarrassed to ask but bursting at the seams with curiousity, like he'd been chewing on his words the entire time they'd driven home."You know I won't press the issue. I don't need to know a damn thing about him until you're ready to talk. But it's kinda killing me. Can IâŠ" His words trailed off, looking to Bob for permission.
When Bob nodded his assent, the alpha asked simply, "What's his name?"
Now that was a question Bob was more than happy to answer. Bob grinned up at his partner, smiling even wider when confusion and even a little bit of dread crossed his beloved's face. It was like he'd told the WSO; there was always one troublemaker in a pack, a fact Bob knew well from personal experience.
So, of course Rocco didn't believe him.
"You're fucking with me," he'd insisted. "There's no way that we went to a bar full of people, and you came out with a crush on the only other Bob in there. What's his name really? James? Tom? Lewis?"
It took pulling out his phone to show Rocco the new contact he'd entered in there just an hour ago, the one with the photo he'd startled the lieutenant when he snapped it so that the WSO more resembled a deer in the headlights than a decorated military officer.
When Rocco groaned in defeat, muttering "goddamnit, Bob" under his breath, Bob Reynolds laughed harder than he'd done in months.
Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics
Images in header are not mine.
Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!
Please do not repost or reproduce in any way. You do not have my permission to use this for AI scraping.
OMFG STFU LUNA THIS WAS AMAZING!!!!!!! SO ADORABLE, SO CUTE!!! MY BOBS MY BOYS, YOU BROUGHT THEM TO LIFE IN THIS FIC!!!
I audibly squealed and started kicking my feet up at many many parts of this fic!!! This pack is so beloved and dear to me and the way you perfectly showed how their relationship started with the Bobs, but also Bob Rs relationship with the rest of the pack!!! I'm gonna read this over and over again non-stop AAAAA!!!!!!!!
Summary: You and Ben went to the El Royale in search for inspiration and a change from the hustle and bustle of New York City. There was something missing in your lives in the big apple and you left to go find it. At least that's what you told Miles as you checked in for you indefinite stay. Neither of you expected to find what you were looking for in the shy, caring hotel clerk who checked you in that first day.
Warnings: SMUT, strangers to friends to lovers, threesome, voyeurism (it's Miles duh), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), nipple play, unprotected p in v, anal sex (between ben and miles), mention of Miles drug addiction, mention of past exchanging's of sex for drug, mention of sex work, angst, Miles is YERNING!!!!, misunderstanding (Miles thinks there's cheating but no cheating around these parts!!!!), mentions of Miles's war past, mentions of past character deaths (Bens parents), Miles's religious guilt and trauma (If i miss any im sorry this was such a long fic)
Word Count: 11.9k (you better be fucking joking)
Note: This absolutely took me out. Took me a month to write and it's finally DONE!! If you notice similarities between this and Change, no you didn't. Thank you to @lalalunascope for dealing with me through all this, this fic wouldn't be what it is without your editing and suggestions!!! Based on this request here! Anyway, off to a meeting right now, excited to see your guys' reaction when I get out!
Masterlists
đPart of my 500 Follower Celebrationđ
The day you and Ben Mears stopped by for your extended stay at the El Royale, seeking supposed âinspirationâ for a new book, Miles thought you both would be nothing more than a happily married couple whoâd end up being the same type of customers heâd seen time and time again. Eat, sleep, and stay in your rooms unless you need some housekeeping from the lowly hotel clerk.
He thought the only mark or remembrance of your presence at the hotel would be your name inscribed in messy handwriting on the ledger kept in the back office of that raggedy hotel. Just another two names added to a list that would soon be forgotten and stored away once it got too filled. Miles never expected you to be any more than that. But he shouldâve known, from the first time you met, that you and Ben would forever change his life.
You seemed like a nice couple. Listening to Miles give his whole speech about the great hotel and all its amenities, kindly asking him questions about room service and if the lobby was free to access. It wasnât until you wrote your names down that Miles had realized he actually did know you. Well, your husband at least.
âO-oh, youâre Ben Mears? The author?â
Ben cocked a brow, surprised, âYou know my books?â
Miles nodded, âY-yeah, uhm I really liked your last one. Didnât really think all those reviews about it were too fair.â
Shyly keeping his eyes glued to the wood counter, Miles missed the amused look of curiosity you and Ben shared, Benâs raised brow or the playful wink you threw at your husband before he looked back up at you, none the wiser.
Ben chuckled, âWell, thank you Miles. You think you can call my publisher and let him know that?â
You lightly slapped his shoulder; Ben acted like heâd been wounded in combat. Miles smiled at you two. He didnât usually get to see this type of relationship with his customers. Maybe back in the hotel's hay day when the El Royale was known as the place to be, but since the loss of the gambling license, most âcouplesâ that crossed his paths were more correctly described as clients and their entertainment for the night. You two were a breath of fresh air from that.
Miles handed you the key to your room, ignoring the static he felt as your fingers brushed against his, âWhat brings you to the El Royale?â
Ben hummed, looking a little pained as he uttered the word, âInspiration.â
Milesâs brows furrowed, eyes squinting as he tilted his head to the side, âCome again?â
Ben sighed, exhausted already at the mere memory of his publisher admonishing him for his last poorly reviewed book, âWell, my publisher has been up my ass about getting a new book out before the end of the year, and uhâŠâ
You cut in, leaning against Ben's arm, âLetâs just say, staying in New York hasnât been all that⊠inspiring.â
Miles nearly snorted at your comment. The idea of New York, the state of self-discovery and endless possibilities being so uninspiring that you and Ben had to come here, to this sad, old excuse for a hotel in the middle of the Nevada and California mountains, was comical.Â
And just like that, you two were off. Miles sighed in relief the moment you two disappeared into your room. He waited for the call that never came, the call from management to record the comings and dealings of the famed author staying with them for the foreseeable future, but when it never came, Miles actually felt a tad disappointed. Not that he wanted to blackmail you. Christ no, never. You were both so nice to him. He hated doing that to any guest, especially those as kind as you both, but it wouldâve given him an excuse to sneak into those back rooms and take a peek. Just out of⊠curiosity. Yeah, thatâs right. Curiosity. That was all. Nothing more.
Miles knew he shouldnât have. He should have turned back and gone back to his room. But he couldnât help the curiosity of it. Were you two the type to throw your bags wherever they landed and flop into bed to sleep off the exhaustion of your journey or did you get straight to⊠business after a long trip? Guess heâd find out soon enough.
The hallway illuminated with light as the two-way mirrors showed the inside of the various empty hotel rooms, all lonely in this great palace, just like Miles felt. Finally, he made it to your room.
The hallways were deathly quiet as he watched you two unpack. You said something that made the author chuckle and throw a shirt across the room toward you. You grinned and threw a pillow from the bed at your husband, who quickly dodged it. In a flash you were being led to the bathroom, presumably to share a shower with your husband. And just like that Miles was alone again.
It was quite a wholesome sight compared to the next time he went back to see you. He knew he shouldnât have violated your privacy again; he just couldnât help himself. Yesterday, you had been his only form of genuine human interaction that heâd had in months. Maybe it had been a small, fleeting moment for you, but to him it was everything.
The sun had barely risen when Miles started his rounds around the hotel. He started preparing the coffee for when you twoâd inevitably come down for your morning cup of joe when he felt the pull to check those back rooms. He promised himself heâd just take a peek then march back into the lobby and stay there for further notice.
The sight before Miles boosted him with enough adrenaline for him to forgo caffeine for the rest of the day.
Your breasts bounced as you rode your husband, your arms wrapped around his shoulders as Ben had his hands on your hips, not to guide, but support you. The author looked at you like you were an angel cast down from heaven, love behind his eyes as he reached up and cupped one of your breasts in his hand, tugging at your nipple. Miles knew he shouldnât have, but his finger flicked the switch to his side, and your moans echoed through the wall the moment he did.
âOh! Ben, yes, yes!â Then as the author brought your nipple to his mouth, you whined, âJust like that â fuck!â
Unable to contain his own moans, Miles had to cover his mouth to drown out the sound as he palmed himself. The expression on his face could only be described as half scared, half aroused as Ben easily flipped you over.
âShhh, darling,â Ben whispered with a smirk. âDonât want to wake the neighbors now do we?â
âWeâre the only ones in this fucking hotel. Shut up and fuck me harder, Ben.â
The author simply chuckled at your words, âAs you wish.â
Your whine of Ben's name as he thrusted into you at a quicker pace nearly made Miles fall over. A wet, squelching sound of his dick slamming into your cunt followed behind every one of Ben's grunts, letting Miles and Ben know just how aroused you were.
You grabbed at his back, nails digging into his skin as you felt the pressure in your belly build, âBen, m'close!"
Ben growled, picking up pace, âI got you, come on baby, come on my cock.â
Sweat dripped down the hotel clerkâs neck as he watched you moan. Seeing you come undone was the most beautiful thing. The way your eyes fluttered as you felt your orgasm reaching closer and closer, how you threw your head back and let out a strangled whine as you came on your husbandâs cock was a work of art. A masterpiece.
Miles could barely hold back his whimper as he watched you cum. Ben handled you with a gentle touch, caressing your face as your back arched off the bed when you landed with an âoofâ. Instead of Ben continuing on and chasing his own orgasm, he stopped, checking in on you. He pulled you into a deep, languid kiss, muttering the softest âyou okay?âÂ
You nodded, chuckling lightly as Ben pressed another kiss to your sweaty forehead. Miles was astounded at how attuned you and Ben were to each other, like you knew your partnerâs next move before they did. When you moved, he moved; it was instinctive, but Miles guessed that must be what itâs like when youâve found your person. The love of your life. Something Miles never had the pleasure of knowing.
Not with his high school sweetheart who he swapped kisses with under the school bleachers and who he swore he was going to marry when he returned from the war, or the various men heâd slept with on these very hotel beds. No, no they didnât count. Miles was nothing more than a faded memory or another notch on their belts.
Miles couldnât look any longer. He ignored the ache between his legs, covered the bulge in his pants with one hand and hobbled toward the exit. Once he got to his room, heâd be able to relive the ache he felt. And if the image of your breast in his mouth and Ben's hand wrapped around his cock was the only image that could make the lonely Catholic boy cum, he wouldnât admit that to anyone. Not even God himself.
---
Time seemed to fly with you and Ben at the El Royale. Usually, the days were dull and mundane, dragging on where 24 hours felt like 48. Miles didnât think heâd see much of you besides the occasional room service or cocktail at the bar, but you and Ben rarely ever kept to yourselves.
He didnât remember how it started, but you started sharing meals together almost immediately. Maybe it was when you offered him some pizza after ordering too much or because you ate together at the bar as you swapped stories about life in the Big Apple compared to Milesâs country life back in Indiana.
And then it turned into cooking lessons where you and Ben tried to recreate your motherâs famous chocolate pie. Miles tried to stifle a laugh as he watched you two work. Ben's hair was nearly all white with how much flour you'd thrown at him when âhe accidentallyâ got some chocolate on your face. Miles, in return, baked you both his Nanaâs award-winning peach cobbler.Â
Ben was almost always in the lobby or patio, pen and notebook in hand as he jotted down idea after idea. The first time Miles saw those glasses perched up on the authorâs nose, he nearly stumbled back to the room he came out from. Now Miles wasnât an idiot; Ben Mears was attractive. He thought so the moment he turned to the back cover of one of his books and read the âAbout the Authorâ section and there was Ben posed with his squinted eyes and finger on his chin as if in deep thought. But with those glasses, that collared shirt and the sun illuminating behind him, Miles nearly thought he was in some romance novel.
âYou alright there, Miles?â
âHuh? Oh!â Miles jumped when he realized heâd been caught staring. He was grateful Ben didnât comment on it. The author simply smirked to himself as the hotel clerkâs ears burned red, âYe-yeah, mâfine.â
That exact interaction happened on more than one occasion. And Ben wore that shit-eating grin each and every time.
But they only really started bonding one night when Miles had woken up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as the memories of gun fire, blood and screams of his fallen comrades shook him awake. He knew he couldnât stay in bed, so he made his way down to the lobby, sliding on his slippers as he grabbed his robe off the side of the bed.
A few dim lanterns lit up the El Royale at this time of night, but the lobby for the most part was dark and deserted. Well, usually it was deserted.
âHi.â
âChrist!â
Miles nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to face Ben, who was sitting by himself on the lobby couch in the dark, looking quite amused at the sound Miles let out. Ben was lying across one of the couches, dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants, and his eyes were red from lack of sleep.
âCanât sleep?â
âDefinitely wonât be able to anymoreâŠâ Miles muttered under his breath before walking behind the bar, âTea?â
The other man shrugged, âIf you donât mind.â
While the kettle was warming up, Miles eyed Ben. He had gotten up and was messing with the fireplace, face scrunched up in frustration that it wasn't doing what he wanted.
âHere,â Miles walked over, taking over so Ben wouldn't break it. If it broke, who knew when management would ever get around to fixing the damn thing, âLet me help.â
Ben smiled at him sheepishly, heat crawling up his neck in embarrassment, âThanks, sorry.â
Miles just threw him a tired smile, and in a flash, viola! Orange, red, and yellow flames bounced off the walls of the room, âWhat brings you out here so late?â
âCanât sleep, and I didnât want to wake her up with my tossing and turning soâŠ.â Ben trailed off, gesturing to himself.
Once the kettle whistled and Miles made himself comfortable on the couch across from the author, it didnât take long for the two men to start talking. First, it was just about their day, asking what errands the other ran, what plans they had for tomorrow, before turning into what led to them both seeking each otherâs company.
âWhatâs keeping you up?â
âOh, um,â An explosion. Smoke. Fire. Dead eyes, âNothing just, I get nightmares from time to time. Bad⊠memories.â
It didnât take a genius to figure out what Miles meant by that. Ben had a feeling Miles served the moment he met the skittish man before him. Miles didnât look like the stereotypical military, with his slouched shoulders and meek demeanor, but that look in his eyes screamed of someone whoâd seen and survived things most couldnât even fathom. Ben was lucky enough to have not been caught up in the draft, but he knew many who werenât.
Ben bit the inside of his cheek, his voice much more serious than it had been all night long, âThe war?â
Miles didnât need to say anything, just a nod was enough, âW-what about you? Whatâs keeping you up?â
âAlso, a nightmare, well, sort of. My parents died in a fire when I was very young, so I donât really remember much about it. But when Iâm sleeping, I can sometimes still feel things from that night, but itâs all fuzzy.â Ben let out a dry chuckle, shaking the thoughts out of his head, âGuess sometimes things are so bad your brain wonât let you remember them.â
âWell, my brain seems to do the opposite, wonât let me forget. I can still see them. The bodies, the dead eyes. The smellâŠâ Miles flinched, like the memory was physically attacking him, âCan never forget the smell.â
Miles muttered the last part, but then, like a flip had been switched, he blinked, realizing what heâd revealed, not expecting himself to say something so real and personal. Ben looked like he was going to say something, but Miles didnât want to dive deeper into it, âSorry, forget I said anything.â
âNo, don't apologize-â
âHowâs the tea?â Miles said that sharper than he intended. Heâs glad his Nana isn't here to slap him over the head for being so rude.
Ben stumbled over his words. âThe â oh the tea? Y-yeah itâs good. Nice. Warm. Honey?â
Miles nodded, hiding away from Benâs pity filled eyes, âHoney.â
A silence fell over them, and Ben looked like he wanted to say more. He knew Miles didnât want to dive back into the past conversation, but he thought about complimenting Miles on how hospitable heâd been to them since they got here. Or maybe heâd compliment his eyes. They were so blue and so pretty; Ben could get lost in them if he stared for too long. But the blare of Milesâs alarm in his room interrupted him before he could say anything else.
âOh! Is it nearly 6 already?â
âHuh? Oh... shit it is.â Ben messed with his hair, groaning as he stood up and looked at his watch, âThanks for keeping me company this morning, or night or whatever.â
Miles smiled, ignoring the fluttering in his chest at how adorable Ben looked with his messy hair and tired eyes, before heading back toward his room, âSee you for breakfast.â
Ben watched as he left, unable to deny the fact he wished he couldâve stayed talking to Miles, even for just a little longer, âSee you.â
Those nightcaps between the two men continued on nearly every night, a routine of sorts. Sometimes they talked about nothing and everything. Almost every time, without fail, you came up. Ben could tell the other man was fond of you. Miles probably thought the shadows kept the blush across his cheeks concealed, but Ben could tell from a mile away. It made Ben all the more confident that the one-sided attraction you and he had for Miles wasnât so one-sided after all.
At first Ben thought Miles was only attracted to you. The hotel clerk wasnât exactly the best at hiding it. The way his gaze lingered on you for just a little too long whenever you came down for your morning coffee, and how he blushed as red as a cherry tomato whenever you teased him.Â
The one that always made Ben laugh every time he thought about it when he was watching you look over the engine of your guysâ car. You had taken it upon yourself to give it a once over when it wouldnât start that morning before calling a mechanic that was going to charge way too much for a simple tow.
Blue eyes watched from behind the room blinds as your head was tucked under the hood of the car. Ben couldnât help himself from ogling your ass from that angle, and it seemed he wasnât the only one.
Benâs eyes flickered over to Miles, who looked like he was just getting ready to do his afternoon stroll around the property when he saw you outside. Although you were facing away from him, he could tell you were frustrated from the cursing under your breath and how you threw the rag in your hand down on the engine followed by more expletives.
Averting his eyes from your ass and staring at the ground instead, he called out to you, âCar trouble?â
You turned to face him, sending him a strained smile before turning back to the car, âI was going to go into town and pick up a few things and it just⊠wouldnât start, piece of shit,â you muttered those last words to yourself. You knew if Ben heard you say that about his beloved MG MGB, he would not stand for it. It was his pride and joy, even though he knew nothing about cars. âMiles⊠Do you happen to know of any mechanic in town? Maybe someone friendly enough that they wonât charge an arm and a leg just to look at the damn thing.â
Miles chuckled, âAfraid not, maâam, but Iâm sure we can find someone in the phone book.â He heard you mutter a âfuckâ before perking up again, âD-do you want me to take a look?â
You nearly jumped for joy at the offer. While you knew some things about cars, you were nowhere near an expert, âWould you? Do you know cars like that?â
Miles shakes his head, âN-not really, but I learned a little bit about them in LBJ.â
You tilted your head to the side, confused, âIn what now?â
âLong Binh Junction.â When you still looked confused, he muttered, âIn Vietnam.â
âOh!â You straightened up at that, smile dimming slightly, âYou served?â
âY-yes, but thatâs another life now.â
Noting how he seemed to skirt around the subject, you just nodded, âYouâre too kind, Miles.â
He took the tool from your open hand, again feeling that static energy, but he didn't acknowledge it and kept his head down âJust helping where I can.â
Looking to make small talk while under the hood of your car, Miles asked, âDoes Mr. Mears not ââ Miles motioned to the engine of the car, and you couldnât help but chortle at the mere idea of Ben knowing anything about cars.
âBen may be gifted when it comes to writing, but cars? Anything to do with any type of machinery besides a pen and paper? Heâs hopeless.â You proudly grinned when you heard Miles laugh.
âOh, I think I see the issue.â Miles took the rag you handed him, wiping his hands clean as he explained, âNeeds a new battery, and some spark plugs. Nothing too hard to change if you got the right tools, which Iâm sure I gotâŠâ
The hotel clerk seemed to forget his words as his eyes moved from your face to the hand on his arm. Your hand was on his arm, rubbing it up and down before giving it a gentle squeeze as you smiled. Miles nearly combusted when you pressed an appreciative kiss on his cheek, âThanks Miles. Weâd be calling every mechanic in the phone book if it wasnât for you.â
Heat bloomed under the hotel clerk's skin, his entire face turning a light shade of pink that reached all the way down to his neck, âO-of course. Um, d-do you need, um, me to help you to order the parts? Or, or I can help -â
You waved him off, âItâs quite alright Miles, youâve done more than enough. Iâll get Ben to handle it. If he canât look at a car, the least he can do is order the parts, no?â
âRight, right.â He stepped back, watching as you closed the hood of the car. His eyes couldn't help but wonder at your dress, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at how it hugged your figure in all the right places.Â
Ben hummed in interest as he watched you two bid each other goodbye, not at all missing how the hotel clerkâs gaze lingered on you, completely unbothered by it. You and he had always been different from other couples, more understanding than most.
You shared your bed with a third person only twice before. Both left you and your husband reeling in the aftermath when you learned the other wanted nothing more than to experiment or live to tell the tale of a wild night sleeping with a married couple. Although you didnât care what others thought, you couldnât be too upset when your past partners left when they realized you both wanted more.
Pretty soon after your talk under the hood of Benâs car, you and Miles got really close over your shared hobbies. Miles liked to knit while you crocheted. They were different yet similar art forms. Sometimes youâd read aloud while Miles knit or cleaned around the lobby, stopping every so often to laugh at the dialog the author used or speculate about what you thought was going to happen next.
One time you surprised him. The weather started to get colder, the sun set earlier and the clouds started creeping in closer and closer every day. You noticed that Milesâ clothes seemed too sparse. He mainly wore his work uniform but on more than one chilly night, you found the hotel clerk wondering about the grounds shivering from the cold, his cheeks red as he tried and failed to protect his face from the icy winds.
Miles knew you were making something, but he thought it was for Ben. Imagine his surprise when you gave him a scarf, wrapping it around his neck and sides of his head as you explained why you were giving it to him. Miles thought it was beautiful. It was brown and soft, and so, so warm.
âI donât know what to say, just, thank you. Thank you so much.â
You laughed as Miles hugged you, âIâm glad you like it.â Before placing a delicate kiss on the manâs cheek. It was the second one youâd given him, and Miles couldnât believe it. Were you always so affectionate with people you didnât know? Was this just something reserved for him, because you were friends? Was it⊠Could itâŠ?
When you pulled back, Miles looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth hanging open and eyebrows raised as his throat went dry. Instead, he just mumbled another âthank youâ before holding the scarf close to him. The very next day Miles was dressed in his usual work attire but with one other addition, your scarf.
A couple days later, Miles had a gift of his own for you. Originally, he was knitting the blanket for himself. As the El Royale aged, the insulation in the building worsened and as the colder time of the year drew near and with management giving no indication into upgrading the bedding of the hotel, Miles decided to make a blanket of his own. But when he heard from Ben that you'd been shivering more at night, he immediately knew the blanket was no longer his to keep.
âFor you.â
Your eyes widened, a surprised smile on your face as Miles revealed the secret heâd been hiding behind his back. A gasp escaped you as you touched the fabric. It was wool, but not the itchy kind. It was thick and soft, the best thing to wrap around yourself as you sat beside the fire with a book in your lap as it rained outside.
Clutching it to your chest, you beamed at him, âMiles! You shouldn't have. Oh! I love it!â
He rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish smile on his face as you complimented the fabric and his technique, âI know, but⊠you mentioned being cold at night now that winter's coming, and I, uh, well, I also wanted to thank you for the scarf you gave me.â
Lightly, you flicked his shoulder, ignoring his little âhey!â âYou don't need to give me things in return, Miles. That was a gift.â
âI know! I know, but I justâŠwanted to do something nice for you.â
Miles shrunk away at his confession, eyes glued to the floor. Your heart nearly soared out of your chest at his words. You thanked him again with a hug this time, and Miles couldn't help but bury his head in your neck. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, not wanting the hug to end.
The night Miles knew he was absolutely and unequivocally gone for both of you was a couple of days later. You were going about your usual routine, reading a book in the lobby as Miles sat beside you, this time with his blanket over your lap.Â
At first Miles always sat far away enough as to not make you uncomfortable, but in your time together, he went from sitting on the other side of the couch to you being tucked under his arm, a blanket you made thrown over both your laps with your mugs of Chamomile resting on the table.
Your head lulled to the side as you started speaking slower and yawning between your sentences. Then, silence. The thump of the book in your hands falling shut when your hands went limp echoed as Miles felt the added weight of your head in the crook of his neck.
Oh. My. God.
Miles froze. He carefully moved to peek at you before looking straight ahead again. Okay, okay itâs fine, itâs fine. Besides the fact youâre going to be upset at losing your spot in the book when you wake up later, this was all going to be fine. He just needed his heart to stop beating out of his chest as he caught a whiff of your shampoo.
Miles bit his bottom lip as he stared down at you. He just didnât have it in his heart to wake you, but he knew youâd do much better sleeping in your own bed than the hotel lobby, so he hooked one arm under your legs and picked you up bridal style. He stopped breathing for a moment when you stirred, looking like a deer in headlights until you settled down, mumbling something in your sleep as you snuggled his chest. Breathing a sigh of relief, Miles made sure you were secure in his arms, and carried you to your room.
The timing couldnât have been more perfect, just as Miles reached your room, a groggy Ben opened the door, saving him from having to figure out how to knock and make sure you donât wake up at the same time.
âOh! Miles! Hey, wha- oh. She fell asleep?â
âY-yeah,â Miles whispered, checking to make sure you didn't wake up at Benâs voice, but thankfully all you did was stir before nuzzling closer to his chest. You were going to be the death of him and you didn't even know what you were doing, âI didn't have the heart to wake her up.â
The two men shared a smile before Ben stepped aside to let Miles in. Ben tried to offer his arms up to take you, but Miles shook his head. Heâd hate to have you get woken up because he transferred you from his arms to Ben's. Â
Miles set you down on the bed while Ben took off your shoes, a tense, yet comfortable silence falling between them. Tense for Miles because he was finally in the room heâd watched you and Ben on that first day you checked in. He avoided the backrooms since that day he saw you having sex. No matter how tempted he was, he wasnât going to violate your privacy like that again.
The floorboards creaked as Ben got up and snatched up a pair of wool socks from your drawer before sitting down on the bed and bringing your legs into his lap, âHer feet run cold, so she always gotta sleep with her fuzzy socks on.â
Miles chuckled, âOh yeah?â
âYeah, thank goodness too.â Ben rubbed your calves, smiling fondly down at your sleeping figure, âNo more getting attacked by her icicles every night and morning as long as she got them on.â
Two sets of blue eyes met and after a beat, stifled laughter filled the room. Miles grinned even wider when Ben told him not to tell you he told him that. Ben's love for you was so obvious and raw and real. Though his heart broke because he knew heâd never experience that with either of you, he was happy for you both. Â
âDid you end up finding what you were looking for?â
Ben cocked a brow at Miles, âWhatcha mean?â
While throwing another blanket over your sleeping body, Miles reminded Ben, âYou said that when you checked in. That you were searching for something, that something was missing in New York. Did you find it?â
Ben paused, watching as Miles tucked you in. All the instincts in his body told him to lean forward, kiss the man next to him and tell him he was who they were looking for, but he shook his head at the thought. âYeah, yeah I think we have.â
Finally satisfied that you were comfortable, Miles turned to Ben, âGood.â But there was something different in his eyes when he said it. Something almost⊠sad.
Ben noticed immediately, concerned, âYou okay?â
Miles nodded, avoiding Ben's face as he stood up, âYeah, yeah, I'm just tired. Iâll leave you be, have a good night.â And like that, Miles rushed out. He could barely hear Ben's response with how quickly he dashed out of there.
When Miles finally made it back to his own quarters, sitting there alone in the dark, desolate room, he could finally let himself break down at what Ben's words really meant. His hands shook, as he tried to unbutton his shirt, a ragged exhale leaving his lungs when he could finally get it off him. If you truly found what you were looking for, the day would soon come that you two would finally check out and heâd never see you again. That made his heart race, and not in a good way.
Heâd like to imagine youâd be indefinite guests here. He had gotten so used to having someone to talk to. You two became the people who helped pass the time when he was polishing the same unused glasses for the hundredth time. There were other guests who stayed when you were there, but neither had the effect on him that you two did. It was like you were a witch and cast a spell on him, keeping him only on you.
Miles shook his head at himself. He shouldn't be thinking this. You and Ben weren't his to keep. To have and to hold. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest, inducing sleep to avoid pain, but no matter how hard he tried, his brain wouldn't shut up. All he saw when he closed his eyes was the back of Ben's car as you and Ben left him, forever. So he did something he hadn't done in a while. Miles thought he wasn't worthy of God's ear for a long time now. Someone who's hurt as many people as he had should not get that pleasure. Nor someone with the same temptations as he.
âLord,â Miles began, dropping to his knees and intertwining his hands together as he prayed, âI know I have no reason to ask this of you right now, but I need your help. Please, rid me of these urges and wants. I know itâs not right, wanting a man and woman, a married couple, but I can't-â Miles inhaled sharply, nearly collapsing against the edge of his bed as he felt tears brimming his eyes, âPlease just stop it. I don't wanna miss them when they leave. Please.â
It almost made Miles chuckle at the irony of it all. He used to pray for a lover who'd love him whole and completely, and yet here he is now, praying his feelings would disappear.
Miles wiped the stray tear from his cheek, sniffling as he got up and settled himself into bed. The cold bed squeaked under him as he pulled one of his pillows into his arm, pulling it under his chin so he had something to hold. Miles liked to think he did this because it brought him some comfort, but really, it was so that way he could sleep, imagining for once, he wasn't going to bed alone.
It was apparent that his prayers went unanswered when your impending departure was the only thing on Milesâs mind all day long. It was all he thought of as he washed the dishes from last night's dinner, cleaned the counters for the fifth time that day and as Miles prepared Ben a drink for their usual nightcap. You two had mostly kept to yourselves today, and Miles hated to admit how much he missed your company. He really wanted to march down to your room and ask if he could come in to just be near you. Whether it be watching TV, listening to the radio or reading a book, he didnât care. But that wouldâve been too much.
He was almost afraid Ben wouldn't come tonight because he had barely seen him, but when the author finally made an appearance, Miles let out a sigh of relief. The usual pleasantries were exchanged between them, before Miles went to get Ben's drink ready and that was when his mind wandered to you. Should he ask for you to join them? Heâd really like that. Even though you were probably busy, but he just -
âYou alright there, Miles?â
Miles blinked, dropping the spoon into the drink heâd most definitely over stirred as he got lost in his head. Ben sat right across from him, book in hand and glasses perched up on his nose.
The longer the hotel clerk looked at the famed author, the drier his mouth felt.Â
Ben looked at him, concerned, still waiting for an answer.
Milesâs voice came out shakier than intended, âO-oh right. Yes, yes, Iâm f-fine.â
Ben hummed, putting the book in his lap down and standing up, âIâm gonna miss this place ya know?â
âOh!?â Christ Miles! Keep your voice at a normal octave.
âYeahâŠâ Ben trailed off, gazing at Miles with a look so intense the hotel clerk had to look away, âLike I said, finally found that thing I was looking for. Plus, weâve been getting a bit antsy for a change of scenery. Not saying California isnât pretty butâŠâ
Miles laughed half-heartedly, before his face turned serious again, âW-when will you be going?â he doubts youâll be leaving soon. You have to at least give him a two week notice. So he could mentally prepare. Heâll make sure to cherish his time with you both even more. Not that he already didn't, but heâd make sure to remember the sound of your laugh, the smell of Ben's cologne. Maybe he can take one of your pillows, so he can still have something that smelled of you both, until it inevitably disappeared with time -
âProbably in a couple days. At most a week.â
âWhat!? But thatâs so-â Miles cleared his throat, collecting himself. Pull yourself together man! âSorry, I mean, thatâs soon.â
Ben nodded, tapping his finger on the armrest of the couch, âI knowâŠâ before he changed the subject, a look flashing across his face that Miles didn't recognize. âDo you dance?â
Miles flashed him an incredulous look, but shook his head, âNot really, no.â
Ben stood up, walking to the dusty jukebox with a sway in his step. The author tapped his foot as he searched for a record to play, before he found the perfect one.
And yet as the record started to play, instead of sitting back down and humming the tune like Ben usually did on nights like this, he walked up to Miles and outstretched his hand.
âNeither do I.â
Miles tried to wave him off, shaking his head when Ben beckoned him over, âO-oh no, I canâtâ
âCome on, whatâs one dance?â
Miles gave him a look. One dance was asking a lot. That meant Miles would be pressed up against Ben, nose to nose, well, chin to nose since Ben had a couple inches on him, but still, they'd be so close. And what if Miles stepped on his feet? Or what if he'd look so deeply into Miles' soul that heâd realize his feelings for the author? For you? Oh you. What if YOU walked in and thought-
Ben's hand slid over his shoulder, grabbing Milesâs attention. Ben still had that stupid smile on his face,âComeon, just this once.âÂ
Miles let out an exasperated sigh, acting as if having the chance to be so close to the man that made his heart skip and head spin was such a chore, âAlright. But if I step on your feet, itâs your own fault.â
âYesss!â
Miles laughed at his reaction, his stomach doing somersaults as an ink-stained hand wrapped around his smaller, paler hand. Ben held Miles tight at the waist, their hips swaying as the chorus of the song played.
âIs this okay?â
Goosebumps spread up and down Milesâs neck as he felt Ben's hot breath on his skin, âY-yes, fine. Itâs fine.â
âGood, good.â Wooden floorboards creaked quietly under them as they swayed. Miles kept his gaze focused on Benâs Adam's apple, too scared to look up. And Ben couldnât take his eyes off the other man, he barely could since he met the man all those months ago.Â
Ben was immediately taken with Miles when you met him that first night. You weren't at all surprised as you heard Ben rave to you about how cute the doe-eyed hotel clerk was, gushing about how he blushed and stuttered. Ben always liked to claim he fell in love with you the moment you met, and so far, heâs yet to contradict that statement. And then not even a week later, you were doing the same. Your face hot and flustered as Ben teased you about your crush after he caught you doodling Milesâs face in that notebook of yours. Thatâs when you knew you had to decide quickly if you wanted to pursue something with Miles or not. And the answer was obvious to you both, and Ben was looking to take that leap for you both.
Ben couldnât help himself as he blurted out, âYouâre beautiful.â
âUmmm,â Miles swallowed, stiffening as his eyes darted from Ben to the floor.
Ben caught on, and started rubbing circles with his thumb on Miles's hip bone, âI donât mean to offend or make you feel awkward, itâs just, you are. Very beautiful.â
The air went still, something shifting between them. It felt like time stopped as the music playing became nothing but a quiet lull as the two men stared at one another. Miles couldn't stop looking at Ben's crooked smile, memorized. Ben looked like he was in a trance as he brushed the lonely curl out of Miles eyes, cupping his cheek after.
âI-â
Ben leaned forward, placing a delicate, almost tentative kiss against Milesâ lips. Milesâs breath hitched, his brain glitching for a moment before he kissed back. Oh, this was better than Miles could have ever imagined. Ben was so gentle with him, cupping his cheek as he pulled him into a deeper kiss.Â
Ben's hands tightened along Miles's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Miles' hands got tangled up in the author's hair, the kiss going from sweet to excited.
Ben's lips were so soft; he tasted so sweet. Then, Miles thought of you. Would your lips be just as soft? Would he be able to taste the flavor of your chapstick as his tongue danced along your mouth?Â
WaitâŠno, this was all wrong.
In an instant, Miles pushed back, âN-no.â
Ben tried, cupping his face again, âMiles-â
âYouâre married.â
The sound Miles made nearly broke Benâs heart. He sounded so broken. So betrayed at Ben for kissing him, for making him a perpetrator in a seeming attempt to commit adultery. If he only knew this was meant to happen. Not exactly of course. You and Ben were going to talk to Miles before you left. To explain your feelings to the man youâd both come to care for far more intensely than you should for only knowing him a few months, but you needed to let him know before you left.
âYes, but Miles, she, we, we both-â
âNo!â Miles snapped, his lip wobbling as he backed away even further from Ben, âI- I need to go. Iâm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just, I need to go.â
âMiles!â Ben tried to get him to stop, but the sound of the maintenance door slamming shut was deafening. The author rubbed his face. With all the vocabulary and literacy experience he had, there was only one word he could use to describe this situation heâd just put himself in and what he was feeling as he thought of telling you what heâd just done.
âShit.â
---
Miles couldnât hide from either of you for too long.
He stayed in his room in the hour following his outburst, spending most of his time on his knees, praying with his Nana's old rosary. But he knew it was futile, for if he doubted God was listening to him before, he surely wasn't listening now. Not after that kiss.Â
And he also felt so bad about how he snapped at Ben. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty about it. Ben was the outlier here, but that shattered look in Ben's eyes kept flashing to the front of his mind every time he closed his eyes.
Itâd only been a couple hours since his adulterous kiss when he got a call from your room. He debated letting it ring, too scared of confrontation, but the longer that shrill ring of the phone went on, the worse his fear of you storming over and telling him off in person grew. You wouldnât be mad at him. He knew that. Your husband was the one who kissed him after all, but Miles honestly didnât know what to expect.Â
Milesâs voice only wavered slightly as he answered the phone, trying to sound as normal as possible, âThank you for calling the-the, um El Royale. This is M-Miles speaking.â
âMilesâŠâ you sounded tense, like you just had an argument and were holding in all your emotions. Miles gripped the phone even harder hearing the shakiness in your voice, âCould you be a dear and come by the room when you have a chance? Thereâs somethingâŠâ You paused, and Miles wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. âSomething we need to discuss with you.â
Panicked, âM-maâam, I swear I ââ
âWeâll see you in a bit, Miles.â
Defeatedly, he responded, âO-okay.â
âGreat, thank you.â
Milesâs hands shook even worse as he put the phone down. His eyes flickered over to where your room was; all the lines of windows from the empty rooms were pitch black besides yours. Despite the curtains being drawn closed, he could still see the light from inside.Â
His fingers twitched as he stared at the door leading to the back rooms. It wasn't right, he knew that, but part of him wanted to know what he was getting into before he left. But a flicker from outside drew his attention. Your curtain opened, and he couldn't tell who was there, but it looked like someone was looking out the window, probably looking for him.Â
The walk to your room felt like the most strenuous journey. Fallen leaves and gravel crunched under his shoes, the clouds circling over the El Royale in a way that made Miles sure it was a taunt. A glimpse into the storm he was walking into. When Miles got to your door, he debated just turning around and hightailing it back to his little shack of a room until your door creaked open.
There you stood, wrapped up in the blankets Miles knit for you, with swollen eyes, like you'd been crying, and with a look on your face Miles couldnât decipher. A mix of sadness, anger, and something he couldnât quite understand (hope?) was etched across your face.Â
âMiles.â Your voice sounded rough, smile not reaching your eyes. âThank you for coming. Please come in.â
Miles shook his head, backing away, but you reached out, grip firm but still gentle, and tugged him inside, âPlease Miles, we just want to talk.â
He let you pull him in, and the first thing the hotel clerk saw was Ben sitting on the couch, a look of guilt flooding his face. The author looked like a dog whoâd just been caught doing something bad and received the reprimand of a lifetime. He tried to send Miles a reassuring smile, but Miles averted his eyes to the floor, shame flooding him all over again.
âMiles-â
âIâm sorry -â He immediately fell to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain he felt as his bone connected with the wooden floors at the wrong angle. He didn't flinch when he heard Benâs involuntary gasp or the scrape of the chair behind him, his hand clasped together with yours as he begged for forgiveness, âIâm sorry I didnât mean to cause you any distress!â
Your hands shot out, trying to get him off the floor, âMiles please, stand up, you donât need to -â
âIâm terribly sorry for â I swear I would never -â
âMiles, Miles please! There isnât anything to forgive. Ben was supposed to wait until -â
âPlease don't be mad! I swear - wait, wait, waitâŠâ Milesâs eyes flickering to you then Ben and back to you, âSupposed to wait⊠for what? To.. to kiss me?â
You nodded, helping the open-mouthed clerk up off the floor onto the edge of the bed, sitting beside him. Ben stayed on the other side of the room, waiting for your okay to move.
Miles looked less stressed but more confused now, âWhat⊠I donât... I don't understand.â
You sighed, rubbing his back, âThis isn't how we wanted to tell you. We had a plan in place.â You spoke very pointedly at Ben, who cringed and slumped down in his seat at your tone.
âA⊠a plan?â
You exhaled, squaring your shoulders up like itâd give you the confidence you needed to confess, âWe were going to ask you out properly at least once before we left. Take you somewhere nice now that the carâs fixed. We knew we couldnât just spring this on you out of nowhere. We thought we werenât being subtle about it, but maybe we were.â
âSo⊠so you're not mad at me? For the kiss?â
âAt you? Heavens no! I was mad at Ben for not acting according to planâŠâ You trailed off, watching your husband lean forward and face palm himself, âOnly slightly.â
Miles looked like he couldnât believe what he was hearing. You⊠you and Ben⊠you wanted him? How⊠Why? Did God finally answer his prayers and give him the love he so sought after? No, Miles didnât want to dwell on it any longer. You wanted him. Him! He wasnât going to question it.
âA-all this time - I, Iâve never felt this way before. I didnât think it was right. Falling for two people, let alone a married couple, but -â Ben moved closer, noticing the shake in Milesâs voice, and Miles immediately leaned into him, âBut I have. Itâd be a lie to suggest otherwise.â
Nudging your nose against his, you asked, âCan I kiss you, Miles?â
He didnât care that he sounded desperate and needy when he answered you, âPlease.â
You closed the gap between you, hands cupping Milesâs cheeks as you finally kissed the man youâd been pinning over for so long. It may be a cliche, but you swore you felt sparks fly as your lips met. Hands gripped your sides tight, like Miles was afraid youâd disappear if he let you go. Like he was so scared that heâd open his eyes and find this was all some cruel dream. That he wasnât actually here, kissing the woman of his dreams.
It escalated after that. You had told yourselves you wouldnât, but sometimes instincts took over and all you could do is act. Benâs cock ached the longer he watched you two, and he desperately needed another taste.
His cock twitched as the shy hotel clerk let out the most adorable squeak when Ben quickly pulled him away, barely letting him breathe before capturing him in another heated kiss. You didnât let that interruption deter you. As much as you wouldâve liked to spend hours kissing Miles, you found yourself littering the neck of the man sandwiched between you two with hickies, sucking and biting wherever you could.
Milesâs breath hitched as hands tugged on the hotel clerkâs belt. A choked cry left him as Ben slid his hand under Milesâs underwear and touched him. Itâd been so, so long since Miles felt a touch that wasnât his there. And Ben wasnât rough or quick with his movements like how Miles touched himself. He was curious, languid in his movements as his hand stroked him. Miles couldâve cum from just this, you sucking on his pulse point and Ben jerking him off, but he didnât want that. He wanted to be as close to you as possible when that time came.
âWait, wait, wait!â
You pulled back, âWhatâs wrong?â
Benâs hand moved from his cock, but Milesâs hand stopped him before he could pull away, âAre we moving too fast? Are you okay?â
âMâfine, I swear, more than fine. I justâŠI donât wanna cum yet.â
You cooed at how shy he was admitting that. Miles blushed even harder when you gave his cheek another peck, âOkay, letâs go at your pace. Where do you want us, baby?â
âI donât know, I just- I just want you both, please.â
âWanna sit on his face, love?â
Milesâs hips jerked forward at that. His face somehow burned even hotter when you and Ben chuckled at his desperation.
âI think thatâs a yes.â
You chuckled at Ben before turning back to him, âWant that honey? Want me to sit on your face?â
He nodded, but you shook your head, âNeed to hear you say it baby.â
âYes, please!â
With that, you kissed him again, both you and Ben working quickly to rid Miles of his clothes and then your own. Once the three of you were in your naked glory, you maneuvered Miles onto the bed, resting his head on the pillow. You hovered over the hotel clerkâs face, giggling as you wiped a bit of drool from his chin.
âReady, darling?â
Miles nodded, licking his lips as he stared at your pretty pussy.
You tutted, hand coming up and pulling at his hair. You felt a slick rush through your heat at the pathetic whine Miles let out, âWords.â
âY-yes, please. I'm ready, I'm ready.â
The moment your pussy connected with Milesâs face, he went wild. Gone was the frazzled, shy hotel clerk from before, now in his place, was a man frenzied for the taste of a pussy he had been dreaming of for oh so long. His tongue darted forward, tracing every surface and crevice of your folds. Miles couldn't get enough; you tasted so sweet and you were so wet for him already.
Your fingers found their way into Miles' unruly locks, decimating the presentable, put-together look theyâd had as you curled your fingers into a fist and pulled. You moaned, feeling his tongue glide along your slick-soaked folds. A whimper escaped your gritted teeth as his nose bumped against your clit, and it took everything in you to not start grinding against his face to chase after the feeling, âMiles! Yes! Yes! Fuck, do that again!â
And do that again he did. Every bump of his nose against your sensitive little nub had you seeing stars, thighs tightening over his head, but Miles didn't care. He'd happily suffocate between your legs if it meant he got to hear you mewl and whine his name all day.
Ben watched from the side, entranced. He rubbed his clothed cock, moaning quietly as you turned back to look at him, throwing him a quick wink before going back to facing Miles. Ben couldn't ignore the strain in his pants anymore. You just looked so beautiful like this, both of you. If it was possible, he wouldâve gotten this moment framed so it could be immortalized. That look in Milesâs eyes as he looked up at you, studying every part of your face, making sure he was pleasing you the way you deserved. The way your mouth opened in an âOâ, a moan escaping you as Milesâs nose bumped your clit again.
The bed dipped as the author crawled toward you two. Swiftly, Ben grabbed a hold of those slim, pale legs and spread them apart, his mouth watering as Miles's puckered hole fluttered back at him, âSo beautiful.â Ben muttered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against him.
Miles squeaked against you, hole tightening. Ben chuckled, âGod you're so cute,â before he spit on his entrance. A desperate, muffled sound escaped Miles as he heard the clasp of the lube and felt two fingers probing at his entrance. He whined, grabbing your thighs even tighter as Ben's fingers entered him.Â
You couldn't help but giggle as you started grinding down on his face, âOpen him up nice and good, Ben. He makes the most adorable noises.â
âSo fucking adorable,â Ben muttered, âCant wait till i feel him around me.âÂ
Precum spurted from Milesâs slit when he heard that, and you giggled, cooing at how blown Miles eyes were as Ben began scissoring him open. Every curl and twist of those long fingers elicited moans, each one louder than the last. And the louder Miles was, the more those fingers worked.
Ben made eyes at you, giving you a look that said âwatch thisâ and you quirked up a brow, wondering what he was going to do. And then, Miles jerked, moaning against your sex and eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt Ben ghost his prostate, teasing him. Goosebumps littered Miles' skin when Ben bit down on the flesh of his thigh, legs jerking to the side when Ben did it again with a rougher bite.
It didnât take long for you to climax after that. You could feel the coil in your belly twisting and turning with every whimper, grunt, and lap at your folds. Miles had a wondrous tongue, keeping you on edge for the longest time, but Miles, feeling overwhelmed with the new, exciting feeling, instinctively wrapped his lips around your swollen clit and sucked. That did you in.
The noise that came from you was high-pitched, almost animalistic as you arched your back, toes curling and thighs clenching as waves crashed through your body, the cry of Milesâs name leaving your lips as your orgasm wracked through you. Thank God the bed had a headboard for you to hold onto or else you would have collapsed entirely on the man under you. Slick gushed over Miles' face, and he didn't care. He kept lapping and sucking on your arousal.Â
You whined, âMiles, mâsensitiveâ and slowly lifted your hips, muscles aching from being in the same position for so long, but before you could get far, you were pulled back down.
Blue eyes glimmered with want, the hands around your thighs tightening as they tried to keep you in place. You laughed, shaking your head at the hazy eyes under you, âOh, Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles.â Another whine from him made you giggle. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, you let him stay there for a little longer before you had to physically pry his hands off you, âCome on baby, let me go. Don't worry, I ainât going anywhere, just wanna lay down beside you.â
Finally, with sad eyes, he let you go. The moment you were off him, Ben couldnât help but surge forward, purring against Milesâs lips, âWanna taste you two together,â before his tongue slipped between those plush, slick-coated lips. Clammy hands wrapped around Ben's shoulders, tugging him closer. They got lost in each other, hands roaming everywhere, grabbing and pulling at whatever they could reach. You watched from beside Miles, feeling a familiar throb in between your legs as precum spurted again from the slit of Milesâs cock and onto Benâs belly.Â
Ben huffed a laugh as he felt that sticky substance on his skin, âOkay, okay, won't keep you waiting any longer.â Miles' chest heaved up and down, eyes only leaving Ben for a second when you took his hand in yours. âYou ready, baby?â
Miles had never nodded his head so fast before, âPlease, I need to feel you inside me.â
You kept your gaze locked on Miles as Ben's dick hovered over his entrance, not taking your eyes off him when he shut his to brace for the stretch of Benâs girthy member.Â
You studied the beauty of Miles Miller coming undone. How his mouth opened slightly to whine, and how he bit down his lower lip to hold back an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper as Ben finally pushed inside. Tears of ecstasy escaped his iridescent blue eyes, and his lips glistened in the light, coated with his drool and your slick.
Ben's eyes twisted shut as Miles clenched tightly around him, keeping him close, âYou feel amazing, so tight.â
After letting Miles get used to the feeling of being stretched wide, Ben finally tried moving. Miles gripped your hand, hissing as Ben pulled out, only to slam back into him. Miles cried out, the bedframe hitting the wall with a thud as Ben found his rhythm fast.Â
With a mischievous smile, you started toying with Milesâs nipple, smiling wider when he moaned, squirming and clenching against Ben as you started rubbing his nub until it hardened.Â
Miles whimpered through gritted teeth when you wrapped your lips around his nipple and sucked, âOh my god! Ugh!âÂ
Not a single coherent sentence left Milesâs trembling lips as Ben hit his prostate dead on, and you sucked and nipped at his chest, just your name, Benâs, and various âOh my god!âs, âPlease!âs, and âF-fuck, s-so good!âs leaving the man.
It wasnât long before Miles cried out, his seed shooting out and spilling all over his chest, even reaching the bottom of his chin as the most intense orgasm heâd ever experienced ran through him. Sobs wracked his body as he felt pure euphoria.Â
You immediately soothed him, petting his hair and whispering words of praise and affection as the last of his cum spurted onto his tummy, âYou did so good, Miles. Sâgood for us. Our good boy.â All Miles could do was whimper as you kissed his fallen tears over and over.
Ben was right behind him, grunting into Milesâs neck as his cum flooded the other manâs ass. He had nearly collapsed on top of Miles but caught himself before he could crush him with his body weight.
Ben pulled out and fell to the other side of Miles. Blindly, Miles reached behind him, searching. Ben intertwined his hand with his, pressing his chest against Milesâ back, "Beautiful. You felt so good, so beautiful. You were amazing, bud.â
Heavy breathing and the smell of sex filled the air as all three of you laid in bed together. You quickly cuddled into Miles chest, peppering his neck with light kisses as you watched him start to doze off.is eyes blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake, but the nerves and emotionally-charged conversation from earlier mixed with the most emotionally intense sex heâd ever had basically drained him off all energy.
You stroked his head, shifting up to give him better access to your chest. You held back a moan when Miles immediately latched onto your breast, his sleepy eyes staring up at you for a moment before they fluttered closed, open, and closed again.
Miles wanted to talk. He wanted to discuss next steps, what this meant. Was this just a fling, or something more? Was he meant to stay or get dressed and shamefully make his way back to his lonely cot in the lonely storage closet of the lonely hotel? But his mind could barely dwell on that, too fuzzy and comfortable with the feeling of your breast in his mouth and Benâs stubble against his shoulder. Without even knowing, Miles fell asleep.
--
Miles wasnât used to sleeping with another person. Miles had sexual partners in the past, but none that ever stayed long enough for him to wake up in their arms the next morning. Whether it be the sex worker who entertained him after she was done with her clients or his former dealer, who he used to trade drugs for sexual favors with. They all discarded him like yesterdayâs trash after theyâd gotten their fill.
Itâs why when he woke up face-first in Ben' s solid chest, the authorâs heart beating in his ears and your naked body pressed against his back, he didnât know what to do. The comfortability of the environment was foreign to Miles. He felt so⊠safe. And that scared him.
Instinct made him panic. What if you werenât expecting him to be here still? But the things you said last night, about wanting him⊠was it all just a ruse to get him in your bed? No, no you werenât like that.
Before Miles could make a break for it and wiggle out of your hold, the arms wrapped around him gave him a gentle but firm squeeze. Blue eyes sleepily blinked down at him, before the author buried his nose in Milesâ hair, giving the top of his head a tiny, good morning peck before he snuggled the hotel clerk further.
Benâs voice, rough and groggy, cut through the air, âMorning cuddles are the best part of the day.â
âShut up,â You cut in, eyes closed as you pulled yourself impossibly closer to the wide eyed and no longer asleep hotel clerk, âLet me and Miles sleep.â
You yawned right at the end,and thatâs when you finally opened your eyes.
Soft. Thatâs how Miles would describe you in the morning.
Your eyes were soft. Smile soft. Even the way your hand felt as you cupped his cheek was soft.
âYou sleep, okay?â
Miles was going to say yes. Yes, he did sleep fine, how about you. Yes, yes, he slept better than he had in months, hell, years. But instead, he said:
âDid you mean it?â
You hummed, thumb still stroking his cheek, âMean what?â
âL-last night. Y-you said you -â
Miles averted his gaze, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he felt like a bomb would go off in his chest if he finished the sentence. Ben tutted, cupping the other manâs cheek. Miles looked back up, vulnerable.
âOur feelings for you? Yes, without a doubt.â
âWe meant every word, Miles.â
Miles sighed in relief, âThank god.â
You moved to sit up, and Miles followed. He let out a little âoofâ when you suddenly straddled his lap. He opened his mouth to say something when you interrupted him with a kiss, âDo you,â You kissed him again, and Miles gasped against your lips as your exposed cunt rubbed right up against his twitching cock, âHave any guests checking in today?â
Miles shook his head, fighting the urge to pull you down and take you right in front of Ben, âN-no oneâs on the books to come until Tuesday.â
âGood,â Itâs Ben who spoke this time. The author leaned forward, chin resting on your shoulder as you shared a crooked smile with him, before turning to face the doe-eyed, red-faced hotel clerk, âMeans we can have you all to ourselves then.â
And have him you did.
It would be hours until any of you left the bed that day. You explored each otherâs bodies, learned what made Miles tick, what had him whimpering and begging for more, while Miles learned just how sensitive Benâs nipples were and what it took to make you squirt.
Once you were near the brink of exhaustion, you finally stopped, collapsed onto one another as you basked in each otherâs embrace. Thatâs when you asked the question. The question you and Ben had rehearsed over and over on how to ask, and the one Miles had been waiting to hear all night.
âCome with us. I know â we know â you have your own life here, but we donât want to see you every so often, a few times a year. We want to wake up next to you every day and fall asleep with you every night. We know it might be too soon but -â
âYes.â
You blinked, not expecting him to sound so sure. You thought Miles would need time to think, you were asking him to risk it all, leave his home and everything he knew. âR-really? Are you -â
Miles pulled you down and kissed you, his damp forehead pressing against yours as he muttered against your swollen lips, âYes. No question about it. There's nothing for me here. I've been wanting to leave for so long, but never had any reason to, but youâŠâ Ben reached up and wiped Milesâs teary eyes, âYouâre reason enough.â
Never in his seven years, 10 months and 15 days of service here at the El Royale did Miles ever think heâd be able to escape the clutches of the wretched hotel. Escaping the rooms that brought him so much guilt as he remembered the people he helped blackmail, to break free of the lonely hallways heâd called home for so long. He chucked his orange blazer on the floor of the hotel lobby along with his name tag, not caring that the hotel would remain unmanned without him here. That was management's issue now, not his.
Now he was packed up in your car, his duffle and satchel nestled neatly between your suitcase and Ben's own duffle bag. The author was at the wheel, a boyish smile on his face as his hand squeezed the former hotel clerkâs thigh. You yawned and stretched out your arms like a cat before curling into Milesâs side, head tucked under his neck as you got ready for one of many road trip naps. The fit was a little snug in Ben's car, but it was comfortable enough.
âHere,â Ben tossed Miles the map from the glove compartment, âMind being my navigator for the next couple of hours?â
Miles shook his head with a grin and opened it up, âWhere we headed next?â
Ben smiled, âWell, while we may have found what we were missing in life in Nevada, or were we technically in California,â Miles blushed and smacked Benâs shoulder, you sleepily mumbling for him to stop at the same time, âI still have to do some research.â
âI thought you said you found the inspiration you were looking for already?â
Ben ruffled Mileâs hair, while Miles just giggled before leaning his head against Benâs shoulder, âWe found what we were missing, but my book, that's a different story. And I figured no place better than to go home.â
Miles cocked a brow, âAnd whereâs home exactly?â
Ben grimaced slightly, âJerusalemâs Lot up in Maine. Havenât been there since I was nine, and itâll take us a couple days, but I have a feeling itâs the right place to be.â
Miles studied the map, his fingers gliding along the highway that'd take you all from here to Maine. There was so much of the country he called home he'd yet to explore, and now, despite the uncertainty, he could, and it was all thanks to you. With an emotional, but optimistic tone of voice, he put the map down and grabbed your hand with one and Ben's thigh with the other, âWell, letâs make the most of it, yeah?â
You squeezed Milesâs hand, nuzzling further into his side, âYeah baby.â
Ben nodded, smirking as he pressed the button to turn the radio on, âYou bet.â
Miles and his new partners in crime had no idea what was ahead of them. He was leaving everything heâs known for the past decade behind for a couple heâd known for less than four months, and slowly falling for ever since, but what was life without risk? It was time for him to take the leap and find out what life had in store for him, away from that little desolate hotel in the middle of nowhere. Now he could find his new home, with you both.
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