Set My Girl Freeeeeeeee!!!!

Of course, that typically just means a long, afternoon nap, but that’s beside the point. 

You should be reveling in the start of what is meant to be a serene Saturday, but there’s something holding you back.

It’s a buzzy, humming feeling in your chest. Not quite anxiety, not quite excitement, but it's been there all morning. As you set up the canopy and the folding table, stacked your peaches and tomatoes so the ripest end up on top, and even as you tied the crocheted bandana around your two braids — a necessary accessory to keep flyaway from escaping in the early morning breeze.

Anticipation. And as you swipe your hands over the apron looped around your waist, you glance down the aisle of booths, and spot the very person you’re anticipating. 

He strides toward you with purpose, ignoring the surrounding booths.

A black scrub top and mocha brown cargo pants, accompanied by work boots that have seen better days. He looks worn down, like he always does when you see him first thing every Saturday morning. But the lines on his face crinkle when he spots you, recognition lighting the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Good morning, buttercup,” he says when he sidles up, eyeing the pints of strawberries. It's a simple booth: just a folding table filled to the brim with pints of berries, peaches, tomatoes, and a few jars of honey from a local beekeeper. “And how are you today?” 

Buttercup. You glance down at the fruit-centric logo on your apron — Buttercup Farms, a locally owned small batch produce farm, owned and operated by your friend just ten miles past city limits. A nickname born out of weeks of shy, sideways glances and small talk, exchanged both ways until it became too late to ask for your name. 

But you know his— well, his last name, at least. Spotted it on his hospital badge the fifth consecutive Saturday he came to see you.

DOCTOR, it said, in bolded white letters on a green background. Then, just barely readable from where his shirt covered it, a surname that you know but you’ve never been brave enough to test on your lips. Abbot. 

You've found your thoughts drifting on more than one occasion, daring yourself to say his name aloud. Wondering how he might react if you said it to him. Wondering how it might taste on your tongue. Dr. Abbot.

“Good morning!” You chirp, taking your post at the end of the table. There’s some familiarity here — you, standing in the same place each week, and him, making a show of selecting the best produce while making conversation. 

You tried to convince yourself he was just being polite, taking pity on the market girl running a booth all by herself every Saturday morning. But after two months of recalled details, week after week, you can’t help but think maybe he might like talking to you just as much as you like talking to him. 

“I’m good today,” you pause, daring yourself to insert a cheeky Dr. Abbot into the conversation, but instead suffer an awkwardly elongated silence. You clear your throat. “How are you?” 

"Oh, you know. Same shit, different day,” he raises his eyes from the strawberries to shoot you a winsome wink. “No blackberries today?” 

You glance at the folding table with a start. Oh, no, no no. He's right. There are no blackberries. 

“Shit!” You exclaim, hand flying to your forehead in a resounding smack. “Shit, shit, shit.” 

“Woah,” Abbot chortles, extending his hand, but not quite touching you. As if he’s not sure if he’s allowed. “What’s the matter, buttercup?” 

“I left the blackberries in the truck,” you drag both hands over your face. “I left the blackberries in the truck!” 

“It’s okay,” his voice comes out firm and assured, as though he’s already hatching a plan. “Where’s the truck?” 

“It’s—“ your hand flies in the general direction of the parking lot, all the way across the park. It’s probably half a mile, if you had to guess, it doesn't matter. You’re not allowed to drive in the grass. "Oh, my god."

Panic sets in as you rattle off context to the poor man trapped in a predicament he has nothing to do with. “One of the volunteers helps me unload the canopy and the table and all the produce each week, a-and it usually takes two trips, and I must have forgotten the blackberries!" Your voice comes out a puppy whine, reduced to uselessness when you're otherwise perfectly capable of handling things on your own. "Shit, and they’re so ripe, too.” 

But it’s the fact that this isn’t your business that will suffer because you forgot the blackberries that sends you down a spiral. It’s your friend’s. Her profits for the week won’t be nearly as high as expected, all because of your thoughtlessness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse so much before,” Abbot attempts a joke, to which you crumple even more. An exasperated whine is your only response.

“Hey,” his voice evens out again, and before you can register what’s happening, his beefy, calloused hand cups your bare shoulder. You glance up, meeting eyes the color of a carnival kaleidoscope. You can't decide what the dominating shade is: blue or green or gold. “It’s okay. Will you take a deep breath with me?” 

With his free hand, he mimes a long breath in, then a sustained, steadying breath out. You follow his lead.

“There you go,” he murmurs, the rumble of his voice shooting electric shocks up and down your veins. “That’s a good girl.” 

Your jaw goes slack. It takes everything in you not to shudder.

“How many pints of blackberries are in the truck, angel?” He asks, providing a quick rub to your shoulder before reverting back to his own space. Your skin feels especially cold now that his hand is gone.

“Twenty,” you gulp, guilt clouding over any lust for the older man before you. 

Abbot reaches into his back pocket, tugging out a weathered, camo print wallet. “And how much are they going for this week?” 

“Five dollars.” 

He flips open the wallet, then tugs out two crisp fifties, and a twenty. He extends his hand to you, the bills poised between two fingers.  

“What are you doing?” Your brow furrows, eyes dipping to the money, then back to him. The sun peeks out from the bottom of the canopy, striking him over the bridge of his nose. He's all polka dotted with freckles.

“I’m buying your blackberries,” Abbot husks. You swear the sentence sounds a million times more provocative than it should. Your knees give a little wobble. “You can give ‘em to a food bank or something.” 

“What?” You blink. 

“My arm’s gettin' tired,” he shakes the money at you, though not impatiently. “Take it, buttercup. Please.” 

“What’s the extra twenty for?” You swallow, plucking the cash from him. You move with reluctance, your bones heavy with guilt.

“Whatever a pint of these strawberries is worth, and the rest you can use for a coffee or something,” he shrugs. 

“That’s fifteen extra dollars,” you mutter, dumbfounded.

“Aren't you smart? Even when you’re stunned,” he smirks. It takes you longer than you’d care to admit to realize that he’s teasing. “Coffee and a pastry then. On me, okay?” 

You nod, then shove the cash into the pocket of your apron. On him.

God, your thoughts are veering to a place that would rip the family friendly status away from this farmer's market.

Abbot lifts a pint of strawberries without looking at them, then cradles it close to his chest. “I’ll see you next week, alright, angel?” 

A hum vibrates through you. “Okay…” you pause, nibbling your bottom lip. The breeze picks up, ruffling his delicious, greying curls. “Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” 

The look of bewilderment on his face is enough to make you wish you forgot the blackberries every week. 

He throws his head back in a sharp, heart-shattering laugh. He says goodbye a second time, then stalks off, only stopping to throw you one last grin over his shoulder.

You’d gone to Deran’s room to change after swimming, knowing he wouldn’t mind. He was your friend, and it wasn’t unusual for you to be around the house.

You escaped there after swimming, leaving Deran outside with the others while you went to change. You were distracted, which was probably why you didn’t notice the door hadn’t closed properly behind you.

You were halfway through getting changed when that familiar feeling hit.

Pope’s presence.

Ever since he’d come back from prison, you’d started noticing him more. He had a way of appearing without warning, standing in doorways, sitting quietly across the room, always seeming to know where you were.

You’d caught him watching you before, but he never said anything.

He never explained why.

It wasn’t exactly fear, just the awareness that Pope was close.

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

Slowly, your eyes moved toward the mirror beside you.

And there he was.

Pope.

Standing just outside the doorway.

The small gap in the door had given him away.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Pope looked different when he realised you’d seen him. Not angry. Not defensive. Just caught. Like he’d been pulled out of his own thoughts and suddenly remembered there were rules he was supposed to follow.

You stared at his reflection, and he stared back.

The strangest part was that he didn’t look like someone trying to intimidate you.

He looked like someone who didn’t understand why he was there in the first place, like he’d been drawn to something familiar without knowing why.

Slowly you turned around to face him. You should be freaked out and angry, but instead you felt more thrilled.

You dropped the wet towel around you, revealing your swimwear clinging to your body.

Slowly, you ran your fingers up your body; Pope’s eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Reaching the straps of your swimwear, pulling them down to reveal your chest, nipples hardening from the cool night air, goosebumps forming from the water dripping down your skin.

Pope's Adam's apple bobbing as he took a shuddering breath in, his eyes darkening but also pleading for more.

And who were you to deny him, pulling your swimwear down your torso all the way till it was bundled around your ankles.

You bent down, your head up, eyes not leaving Pope's gaze. Stepping out of your swimwear, slowly rising till you were up straight.

Pope rumbled a growl deep in his chest at your body fully bare for him, his hands clenched tightly at his side.

You stood in front of him, eyes locked toward each other, not saying a word, just in an intimate silence.

You kicked your wet swimwear toward him, pope looked down at it then back at you. He slowly crouched down, picking it up.

He stood back up straight, clutching your wet swimwear to his chest.

Pope stood there for a long moment, still holding onto the only proof that the moment had happened.

Neither of you said a word.

Finally, Pope looked away first. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew he had to.

His hand tightened slightly before he stepped back toward the hallway.

Closing the door softly behind him, somehow that was worse than if he’d said anything at all.

Because now you knew something you hadn’t before.

Pope Cody wasn’t just watching.

He knew this was stupid, plainly a terrible idea. On any other day, the thought wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but today wasn’t any ordinary day. Today was his birthday. Fifty-five years old, and he had never felt more lost in his own life. Nothing had turned out the way he’d once imagined it would. If someone had told him, back when he was a resident, that he would still be coming home to an empty apartment at this age, no wife curled up on the couch waiting for him with a tired but loving smile, no chorus of small feet thundering toward the door, shoving drawings into his hands and saying “Look what I made for you today, daddy!” he would have laughed in their face and called it a cruel joke.

Yet here he was. No relationship had ever survived the weight of the hours and the way his mind stayed trapped in the ED long after he left it. He couldn’t be present anymore, not the way a partner deserved. The job had hollowed him out in ways he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

It had been almost a year since he ended things with Noelle, not long after he returned from his sabbatical. He’d told himself it was the right thing to do. Maybe it really was better this way. At this point in his life, trying again felt pointless, almost selfish. He was saving whatever good women were still out there from the inevitable complications of loving Michael Robinavitch.

But today the emptiness hit differently. The apartment felt quieter than usual, and his thoughts were louder, circling like a vulture. He knew it was the birthday doing this to him. Birthdays had a way of dragging the sorrows out into the light, every missed milestone, every abandoned version of the life he thought he’d have. Jack had tried to pull him out of it, offering a beer after shift, but Robby had politely declined. He wasn’t in the mood for forced cheer, for anyone raising a glass to another year of the same.

He’d made it clear to the whole department that he didn’t want any birthday cake, no cards, no presents, nothing. Still, the well-meaning murmurs had followed him all day: “Happy birthday, Dr. Robby,” each one met with a progressively wearier smile until the words blurred together. By the end of the shift, he was only managing quiet nods of acknowledgment, the kind that said thank you and please stop at the same time.

So here he was, in an apartment that was too big for himself, lying on a couch that felt even bigger, downloading Tinder on his phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, he’d tried Tinder once, maybe two years ago. Downloaded it, swiped for a week, then deleted it when the superficial nonsense started bothering him too much.

He started with the basics. Photos. Robby opened his gallery and scrolled slowly through the meager collection. Most of the images were work-related, grainy screenshots of charts, or blurry shots of trees and roads he’d taken during his bike rides. After a long hesitation, he picked a silly selfie he’d sent Jack a few weeks earlier. He was holding up the book the two of them had been texting about, half-smiling at the camera like he felt ridiculous even taking it. It wasn’t terrible, he supposed. He looked… friendly. Approachable, maybe. 

Next, he chose one from the department barbecue he’d actually forced himself to attend last summer. He was wearing the sleeves rolled up on a button-down shirt, and holding a beer in his hand. He didn’t hate it, it showed a version of himself that still showed up for people, even when he didn’t feel like it. The last one was from the hospital fundraiser gala two years ago. He looked elegant in that photo in a black suit, but he had to crop Jack out of the frame, his face was still half-visible over his shoulder. Three photos, not exactly a compelling portfolio, but they were honest, he wasn’t pretending to be anyone other than himself.

He moved on to preferences. Gender: Women. Age range… His thumb froze. At first, he set it to 50–60. Women at the same stage he was, maybe divorced, maybe widowed, or just tired of feeling alone. But then something flickered in his chest, part curiosity and part desperation, and before he could talk himself out of it, he dragged the lower end down. Twenty to sixty. The wider net felt reckless, almost embarrassing. But what if the love of his life existed somewhere in that range? What if he missed her by something as stupid as a single year on a slider?

As if the love of your life was sitting on Tinder on a Sunday night, he thought. Don’t be fucking stupid, Robby.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, and with a quiet sigh that sounded too much like surrender, he tapped confirm. Now it was time for the bio. Robby stared at the blank field for a long minute. What the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn’t looking for anything specific. Company? Distraction? Someone who wouldn’t mind a man who came home at crazy hours, sometimes covered in blood and whocarried more baggage than he could carry?

He typed slowly what felt the most honest: “ER doctor in Pittsburgh. Love long bike rides to clear my head and 70s rock. Not entirely sure what I’m looking for here, but if you can handle sarcasm and odd hours, we might get along.”

He read it back. It sounded stiff, after all, he wasn’t used to this. But it was him, and so he hit save before he could overthink it more. The app prompted him to start swiping. Robby leaned back against the couch as the profiles began loading, smiling faces, pictures of holiday destinations, and bios full of lists of requirements. He swiped left on most without much thought. 

Left. Left. Left. Some of the women seemed nice, but nothing pulled him in. He kept going until the endless scroll of faces started blurring together. No one stuck, just the same hollow feeling that had driven him to download the damn thing in the first place.

But then your profile appeared. Robby’s entire body froze. The photo loaded first: you, one of his own residents. You were standing in scrubs outside the Pitt with the same smirk you got after a particularly chaotic shift. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as the heat crawled up his neck. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling right now. 

At work you were talented and dedicated, but still green enough that he rode you hard during shifts. And here you were on Tinder, of all places. The thought that you, or anyone else from the department, might stumble across his profile made his stomach twist with embarrassment. He could already imagine the gossip: Dr. Robby on Tinder. How pathetic.

He should swipe left immediately, delete his profile, and pretend this never happened. Instead, curiosity won. Robby tapped on your profile, telling himself it was just… professional concern. Making sure you weren’t doing anything stupid. He cared about his residents. Yeah, that was it.

Your bio loaded beneath the main photo: “If you like girls who will force you to watch her Letterboxd top four and then talk your ear off for hours about the hidden meaning behind her favorite songs, then I’m your girl. Emergency med resident with zero free time. Not looking for anything serious, just fun, meeting people, seeing where it goes.”

Robby let out a chuckle despite himself, the sound was unexpected in the quiet of the moment. He had only ever seen you in the chaos of the ED, running on adrenaline and too little sleep. But this version of you felt… different. He found himself thinking about how little he actually knew you. How little he’d allowed himself to know.

He didn’t know where you were from, or what your family was like, whether you had siblings who called too often or parents you tried to make proud. He didn’t know what you did outside of the hospital besides the occasional beer in the park, or what made you laugh until your sides hurt. All those small and ordinary pieces of a life that existed outside the emergency department.

It felt strangely intimate, seeing you like this. Like stumbling across a part of you he wasn’t supposed to have access to. A version of you that wasn’t filtered through the hierarchy of resident and attending. Up until now, you had been “his resident”, contained within the professional boundaries he’d carefully maintained.

He started swiping through your photos. The second picture was you laughing in what looked like a group hike, with your hair windblown and your eyes bright. You looked undeniably pretty. Objectively, he’d always known you were attractive. The kind of natural attractiveness that turned heads in the hospital corridors even when you were exhausted and covered in sweat. But once again, he’d never thought about it. You were a resident, he’d gone down that path before, and it’d ended badly. That made you off-limits, end of story.

The third photo was of you in a cozy sweater, curled up with a book and a mug of coffee. It was cute, almost sweet. The kind of image that made the loneliness in his chest ache. He kept swiping until the last photo hit him like a defibrillator. You were on a beach somewhere sunny and sandy, wearing a bikini. Your skin was glowing under the sun, and you were smiling at the camera in a confident pose, the kind of effortless beauty that could stop any man cold. Holy fuck, your body barely contained by the fabric of the bikini, the photo capturing the gentle swell and the way the light played across your body. 

Robby’s mouth went dry, the heat flooded his face and then lower down his body. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t let himself imagine you like this, outside the hospital, undeniably a woman and not just one of his residents. His pulse kicked up, the nervousness made his hands shake and his grip slippery. He fumbled the phone, trying to swipe left fast. Swipe left, damn it, he thought.

But he accidentally jerked his thumb the wrong way, to the right, and the screen lit up with that unmistakable animation. 

It’s a Match!

On the other side of Pittsburgh, you had been lying in bed, still trying to unwind after another brutal twelve-hour shift. Sleep felt miles away, so you’d given in to the guilty habit of late-night Tinder scrolling. Sure, swiping at 1 a.m. probably looked desperate to anyone else, but who cared? It wasn’t like you had much of a life outside the hospital anyway.

You swiped left with efficiency. Guy whose entire bio was just a link to his podcast. Left. Gym mirror selfies and nothing else. Left. Self-proclaimed “entrepreneur in the crypto market” with a Lamborghini in the background that probably wasn’t even his. Left.

How was it this difficult to find someone even remotely decent? You weren’t expecting to meet the love of your life in this digital dumpster, but was it really too much to ask for a man with basic social skills and a profile that didn’t scream immediate red flags? Someone whose opening line wasn’t just “u dtf?”

Guy who still clearly lived with his mom. Another left. “No feminists” in the bio, followed by a rant about “high value woman.” Left.

Then your thumb froze mid-swipe. Michael Robinavitch. Your heart slammed against your ribs. There he was, Dr. Robby, looking straight into the camera in one of the photos, that familiar half-smile you’d seen a thousand times in the ED, only now it was on a dating app.

You sat up straighter in bed, suddenly wide awake. What the hell was Dr. Robby doing on Tinder? You’d scrolled through this app for weeks and never seen him before. He must have created the profile recently. The man you’d been quietly (and not-so-quietly) thirsting over since your very first day of residency was right here. One match away. 

How could you not like Robby? He was everything you’d ever wanted in a man, strong, steady, impossibly smart, and so damn capable it made your legs weak every single time he gave you a calm and yet authoritative instruction in the middle of a trauma.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d gently reprimanded you for being distracted while charting. He always assumed you were just tired from the long hours. He had no idea that you kept getting lost in vivid daydreams about him: running your fingers through the silver-flecked hair and that coarse, greyish beard, feeling those big hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close.

You loved the way his eyes crinkled warmly behind his glasses when he smiled, the way his voice dropped into that gravelly register when he needed to command attention in the ED… it did things to you. Dangerous, addictive things. Sometimes getting in trouble with him felt more exciting than it had any right to.

His Tinder bio was unexpectedly adorable. He looked a little lost, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged on the app but was willing to put himself out there anyway. That bike is not the only thing I’d like to ride, you thought, as a little smile tugged at your lips.

His pictures made you melt and sigh at the same time. That warm, contagious smil, the glasses that struck the perfect balance between hot and endearingly sweet. The silver threading through his beard that made you press your thighs together at the mere thought of feeling it against your skin, between your legs, specifically. 

You swiped slowly through the rest of his photos. Those wide shoulders, that tall and solid frame, that soft belly under the button-down shirt… you wanted him in a way you had never wanted anyone before. 

It was almost pathetic the way your heart did a little skip every time he complimented your work on a tough case. The way your thighs squeezed together almost involuntarily whenever he stepped in close during a complicated procedure, guiding you step by step, his voice low and patient near your ear. “Yeah, grab the blade like that… make a two-inch incision, softly, very gently.” “Hold the tube with your left hand, tight, don’t move it.”

It made your mind wander to dangerous places. Was he like that in bed too? The kind of man who talked you through it, calm and devastatingly attentive? In your fantasies, he absolutely was. Late at night, alone in this very bed with nothing but your hand and your imagination, you could almost hear his voice murmuring against your skin: “Keep your legs open for me, nice and wide… just like that.” “Look at you… already making such a mess. I’m gonna start with one finger, okay? Think you can be good and take it for me?”

Should you swipe right? It felt like the only logical choice. If he swiped left, which seemed like the most likely outcome, he would never even know you’d swiped on him. But if he did swipe right… then maybe, just maybe, you could end up in Robby’s bed.

Your hopes stayed low. Never in a million years did you actually expect Robby to be attracted to you the way you were to him. You would’ve noticed something by now, maybe in lingering stares, subtle flirting, or any shift in the way he treated you. But he didn’t. He treated you exactly like the rest of the residents: a young doctor he needed to teach, who could sometimes be frustratingly distracted.

Still, you couldn’t contain the tiny, thrilled scream that escaped your lips when the screen lit up:

It’s a Match!

Robby had matched with you. He wanted you too.

“Shit!” Robby dropped the phone onto the couch like it had burned him. It bounced once and landed face-up, the match confirmation still glowing on the screen. He and you had just matched on Tinder. All thanks to that goddamn bikini photo and his clumsy, nervous fingers.

He stared at it, feeling his heart hammering harder than it had during the worst trauma cases. This was mortifying. You’d seen his profile, you’d swiped right, and now you were going to see that he’d swiped right as well. Part of him, the tired and lonely part that had downloaded the app and widened the age range, wondered what you’d think. 

A dozen what-ifs tumbled through his mind. What if you saw his profile and laughed? That disbelieving laugh when something genuinely surprised you. What if you messaged him first? Maybe it had been a mistake on your end too. Maybe your phone had slipped, or you’d been swiping too fast after a long shift, half-asleep and a little buzzed. Or maybe… maybe you’d swiped right on purpose, just to tease him. He could already picture the text popping up on his phone: “Oh my god, Dr. Robby. What are you doing on Tinder? lol.”

Robby ran both hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. He picked the phone back up, looking straight at the Send message button. He shouldn’t. The responsible thing would be to delete the app, pretend this night never happened, and go back to being your attending, not your Tinder match. 

Instead, he opened your profile again. Robby tried to move past it, he really did, but his eyes lingered on that last photo far longer than they should have. You in a bikini, your skin glowing under warm sunlight. He couldn’t believe that was what you looked like underneath the baggy scrubs you wore every day in the ED.

It felt wrong. Like he wasn’t allowed to see you like this, like he was intruding on something deeply private, crossing a line that should never even be approached between an attending and his resident. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but it wasn’t enough to make him look away.

His body reacted anyway, a sudden heat stirring unwanted, a throb of arousal he hadn’t felt this sharply in longer than he cared to admit. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, hating himself for it even as the reaction deepened. What the hell is wrong with you, Robby? he told himself, but the self-reproach did nothing to dull the pull. What could he do? You were a woman. A beautiful one, and for the first time, he was seeing you not just as his resident, but as someone undeniably, breathtakingly desirable.

Before he could delete his account and go to bed as he should, your message popped up.

You: hii :)

Robby’s breath hitched in his throat. For a split second, he swore his heart actually stopped. Then it slammed back into rhythm, pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, in his temples, in the tightness of his chest. The little smiley face stared back at him from the screen, innocent and cheerful, as if it hadn’t just flipped his entire night upside down.

You had matched with him. At eleven at night. On his lonely fucking birthday. What the hell was he supposed to say to you at 11 pm. after accidentally matching with her on Tinder? “Hey, funny seeing you” here felt pathetic. “This is wildly inappropriate” felt like a lie because the rush of heat still lingering in his veins said otherwise.

He set the phone down on the coffee table for a moment, dragging a hand over his face for the millionth time. Part of him wanted to delete the match immediately, pretend it never happened, and go to bed like the responsible, professional attending he was supposed to be. But another part, the part that had been sitting alone on his fifty-fifth birthday, couldn’t bring itself to swipe left on this one unexpected connection. So he picked the phone back up and stared at the blinking cursor in the message box.

Another message came through a minute later.

You: robby? it’s me from work... guess you saw my profile too haha

Robby let out a long breath, he couldn’t avoid it now that you’d initiated a conversation with him. It was better to be direct, explain the mistake to you, and shut this down before it got any more awkward.

Robby: hey yeah, I saw it listen, this is embarrassing as hell, i was messing around with the app, dropped my phone and it must have swiped right by accident sorry about that, didn’t mean to make things weird

He hit send and immediately regretted how cold it sounded, but it was the truth. The phone stayed quiet for a moment that stretched too long. He had his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for your reply so he could shut down this awkward conversation and delete this stupid app before he accidentally matched with anyone else from work. 

You: oh. so it was a mistake? damn, i thought you had swiped right on purpose. bummer.

Robby’s eyes widened. You were being direct, not beating around the bush or deflecting by saying it had been a mistake on your end as well. He could practically hear your voice saying it with a teasing edge.

Robby: Sorry about the confusion  i know it might be awkward finding me on here. probably the last person you expected, i don’t usually do this. 

You: honestly it was surprising. didn’t peg you as the tinder type at all.  but hey, we all have our moments i guess

Robby: i’m not the type this is my second time ever downloading it and i already regret it, should probably delete the whole thing before i make an even bigger fool of myself.

You: yeah i get it. i thought the match was mutual so i figured i’d say hi. sorry for texting if it was just an accident. didn’t mean to make it weirder

Robby read your message twice. Thought the match was mutual. The words echoed in his brain. You had swiped right on purpose, not as a joke, not out of morbid curiosity about your boss’s sad dating life. You had chosen him willingly. The realization of what that meant sent a confusing rush through him. You liked him, that had to be it. The thought of you… having a crush on him made a warm feeling run through his body, one he immediately tried to shove down.

Robby: What do you mean you thought it was mutual?

You: idk... i saw the notification and figured you wanted to match with me since it happened. that’s why i said hi right away. didn’t want to leave it hanging if we were both curious

He stared at the screen, his heart beating a little harder. You were so honest and blunt about your feelings, he found himself almost intimidated by it. Some rational part of his brain was trying to tell him this had to be a big joke, there was no way in hell you could like him. You were… you. What would you see in a man like him?

Robby: you wanted us to match? seriously?

You: lol yeah i did swipe right, didn’t i? your profile was actually really nice. the book pic is cute and the 70s rock mention made me smile. plus... i don’t know,  you’re interesting. figured why not. no pressure though

Robby: i thought maybe you did it out of curiosity or just to see if I’d swiped on you didn’t expect you to actually want that

You: well i did. but if it was an accident on your end then no big deal. we can pretend this never happened and go back to normal tomorrow. i won’t mention it at work or anything. promise

Robby let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a long moment as he exhaled heavily. He knew exactly what the responsible Chief of Emergency Medicine should do right now: unmatch immediately, delete his profile, and pretend the entire night had been nothing more than a lonely fever dream.

But tonight… tonight he didn’t want to be responsible. He didn’t want to be Dr. Robinavitch, the attending who had sacrificed nearly every personal connection, every version of a fuller life, on the altar of the ED. For once, he wanted to be Michael. Just Michael. The man who had matched with you on Tinder. The man who was currently staring at his phone with his heart hammering like he was twenty years younger.

Before he could piece together a polite but firm way to end the conversation and retreat back into the safety of professional distance, another message appeared.

You: i think your profile’s part of the reason i swiped right. the book pic’s really nice

He smiled faintly at that, a rare genuine twitch at the corner of his mouth. Robby leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

Robby: your profile’s pretty good too, better than most of the ones i’ve seen tonight

You: aww thanks. your’s so much better than the usual bullshit on here which is not that hard but still finding you here is a nice change :)

Robby: you on this app a lot? seems like you’ve got the profile down

You: not really. i’ve been on a couple dates from here but it’s honestly exhausting. hard to find someone decent in this city. most guys are either looking for hookups with zero conversation or they’re boring as hell. you know how it is

Robby: fair enough. your age range must be set pretty high if it pulled me up fifty four isn’t exactly the usual crowd for you or is it?

You: haha yeah well  i like older men

Those four stupid words hit him square in the chest like a defibrillator. “I like older men.” Robby reread them slowly, feeling a dangerous warmth bloom low in his belly and spread outward through his chest. He was an older man, and apparently, that fit exactly into your preferences. Was that flirtation? Were you subtly implying that he was the kind of older man you liked? Or was it just a casual, throwaway comment, something you’d say to any guy on the app who happened to have a few gray hairs?

No. He was spiraling too deep, overthinking it the way he always did. Your words didn’t carry some hidden, special meaning meant just for him. They couldn’t. And yet… No matter how hard he tried to talk himself down, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of validation that lit up inside him. He felt desired, really desired. Not just by anyone, but by you: someone younger, and so strikingly pretty it almost hurt to look at your photos for too long. Someone who, in his mind, was clearly way out of his league.

Robby: It’s okay to have preferences  everyone does.

You: yeah exactly. i just find older guys more attractive than the ones my age. they’re usually more mature, know what they want, have actual life experience. it’s... hotter, i guess. plus the conversations are better

He swallowed hard, feeling his throat suddenly dry. He could practically see your face as you typed those words, maybe biting your lower lip in that teasing way you sometimes did right after nailing a difficult procedure.

Then the bikini photo from earlier flashed unbidden through his mind, and the heat in his body flared hotter. He pictured you exactly as you’d looked in that shot: sun-warmed skin, curves barely contained by the fabric. The thoughts he had no right to entertain came rushing in anyway, pulling him deeper. Thoughts of having you all to himself, of finally being able to run his hands slowly over every inch of that bare skin, tracing the line of your waist, sliding up your ribs, cupping the soft weight of your breasts. Of putting his mouth on you and every sensitive spot until you were trembling beneath him.

Robby: makes sense i usually go for women closer to my stage of life we have more in common that way

You: do age gaps bother you?

Robby: in what way?

You: like as a concept. are they a problem for you?

Robby: i’m okay with consenting adults doing what they want as long as everyone’s on the same page it’s not my business.

You: have you ever been in an age gap relationship or anything like that?

Robby: i once dated a woman a bit younger than me but usually around my age

He paused before sending the next part, he shouldn’t keep engaging in this deeply unprofessional conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. And you were simply so easy to talk to that he couldn’t stop himself from letting his walls down a little.

He typed before he could second-guess himself.

Robby: how much older are we talking anyway? the men you usually like i mean.

Your reply came fast, like you’d been waiting with the phone in hand.

You: usually over fifty up until their sixties or so. around that range. but it’s just a preference, nothing crazy. i feel like older men usually treat you better. they’re more gentlemanly, know how to actually listen, and they tend to understand what a woman wants... in every way, if you know what i mean ;)

Robby read the message twice. Three times. Four. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck me. You weren’t just being polite or making casual conversation. That winky face, the implication hanging there about “every way”. You were deliberately flirting with him, there was no other way to see it. He shifted on the couch, suddenly very aware of his own body and the fact that it had been a long damn time since anyone had spoken to him like that.

He took a slow breath and replied, trying to keep some semblance of control.

Robby: do you date men closer to your own age too?  or is it mostly the older crowd?

You: i have tried guys closer to my age. some of them are sweet but a lot are still figuring their shit out. you should try dating a woman younger than you sometime though. maybe it’s exactly what you need.

Robby didn’t know what to say. The words hung there, full of possibilities around them. He was still wrestling with a response when another message from you popped up.

You: anyway sorry again for the confusion earlier. i’ll leave you alone so you can keep scrolling through profiles. i’ll go back to robbing the graves haha (joke, get it? because i like older guys... sorry that was sooo bad)

Robby chuckled despite the whirlwind in his head. The joke was cheesy, so perfectly you that it cut through some of the tension. But it also gave him an out, you were offering to back off and let this weird moment fade into nothing before tomorrow’s shift made everything awkward as hell. Part of him wanted to take the exit ramp, wish you a good night, unmatch, delete the app, and pretend none of this happened. But another part, the one that had been sitting alone on his birthday didn’t want the conversation to end.

He tapped over to your photos again, almost against his will. There it was the last one. You on the beach in that bikini, with the perfect swell of your tits catching the sunlight. Holy fuck. He wanted you, the realization hit him all of a sudden, making him switch back to the chat and move his thumbs almost on autopilot.

Robby: Nothing to apologize for honestly you’ve kept me better company tonight than I expected

You: see? younger women can be good company too :) you shouldn’t close the door so fast. you could meet someone nice if you give it a chance

Robby: you shouldn’t close the door on guys your own age either there are decent ones out there, you’ll find someone who can keep up with you

You: out of all the guys i’ve matched with here... you’re easily the best one. no contest

Robby: Really? that can’t be right  you’re selling yourself short.

You: no i mean it. you’re exactly the kind of man i’d usually go for. tall, older, smart... and hot

The word hot hit him harder than it had any right to. His face flushed deeper, his clothes felt constricting, his pants uncomfortably tight. Robby’s cock was already half-hard, thickening and pulsing insistently against the zipper of his jeans with every new message.

All because you’d called him hot. Just a little cheeky, playful comment, and it was enough to unravel him. The touch starvation wasn’t helping. It had been so damn long since anyone had looked at him with real interest, longer still since he’d felt this fluttering feeling low in his stomach. This rush of ego, this sharp need to be close to someone, to be wanted, to touch and be touched.

Robby: thanks i guess you’ll meet someone worth your time, you’re a good girl 

The message was sent before he could fully reconsider the wording. The second it went through, Robby winced. It sounded weirdly sexually charged, maybe it was because he was feeling sexually charged, painfully so. A Freudian slip at its finest.

You: good girl? 😏

Robby: shit i didn’t mean it to sound weird just a figure of speech i suppose.

You: should i call you daddy then? ;)

Robby nearly dropped the phone again. The winky face, the bold suggestion, the way it played so perfectly into the tension that had been building sent a bolt of pure want through him. He could imagine your voice saying it, teasingly so, with that mischievous glint in your eyes. His mind supplied far too many vivid images: you in nothing but your skin looking up at him, you saying it in person with a flirty smile. He was fully hard. Actually hard, just from a fucking text conversation.

The professional alarm bells were clanging loudly in the back of his head. This was his resident, the age gap, the power dynamic, the fact that you’d have to face each other at the Pitt in a few short hours... it was all wrong. But god, it felt good. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

He glanced down at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, his cock straining against the fabric like a flagpole. He couldn’t believe it. One flirty text from his resident and he was rock hard. Don’t get hard for your fucking resident, he thought. She’s one of your own. Off-limits. This is insane. He adjusted himself uncomfortably, trying to will it down through stubbornness, but the ache only sharpened.

You: too much? sorry i was just messing around lol

Robby exhaled and typed back, trying to sound more composed than he felt.

Robby: Don’t worry about it i know it was a joke, no harm done

You: it was... unless you don’t want it to be a joke 

He let out a surprised laugh, his cock twitched again at the follow-up, you were relentless, and something told him you were noewhere near done.

Robby: you’re funny, i’ll give you that.

You: that’s what i’ve been told. glad you’re having fun with me tonight

Robby: Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep early shift tomorrow and all

You: i don’t mind staying up. i swiped right on you, remember? yk for a minute i really thought you were gonna flirt with me or maybe even ask me to come over to your place or something

The words hung there. You had been excited, you had hoped he would flirt. The image flashed through his mind, you showing up at his door in the middle of the night, stepping inside and… He shifted again, pressing his hand down against his insistent erection through his sweatpants, trying to get some relief even as guilt gnawed at him. This was crossing so many lines he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross after Heather. But the loneliness that had driven him to download the app in the first place was quieter now, replaced by an electric tension.

Robby: that would be very inappropriate i’m your boss and there are lines we can’t cross

You: but you’re not dr. robby my attending in here. you’re michael robinavitch, 55, the guy who loves 70s rock and long bike rides. and i’m not your resident in this chat. i’m just a girl who likes movies and older men... and who is really, really into you right now

You were separating the roles so cleanly, drawing a line between the hospital and this private space. It was tempting, dangerously tempting. 

Robby: you know it doesn’t work like that we can’t just turn it off when the shift starts tomorrow

You: nah i’m pretty sure i can

Robby: No.

You: If we really can’t meet then we can do it over text, you know.

He stared at the screen trying to guess if you really meant what you were saying. 

Robby: what do you mean?

You: sexting, duh

He let out a short breath, Jesus fuck you were actually gonna kill him tonight.

Robby: that’s basically the same thing.

You: no it’s not. technically we’re not doing anything if it’s just messages. no one has to know.

Robby rubbed a hand over his jaw, his mind was screaming at him to shut this down, but his fingers were already moving. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering to do this.

This was a terrible idea. What difference did it really make whether it was real sex, his hands on you, feeling your heat around him, or just describing it in detail over text messages? A line was still a line. One he had promised himself he wouldn’t cross again. He didn’t want this to end with you giving up your residency, transferring to another hospital, another city, once things inevitably fell apart.

But fuck, his cock was achingly hard, straining against the front of his pants like a caged animal that desperately needed to be freed. The thought of you right now, maybe lying in your bed in, pressing your thighs together, that sweet slick already soaking through your panties because of him… it made it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t leave you like that, so wet, so needy, aching for him.

Robby: what do you want me to say?

You: i don’t know… just say something hot. you’re goot at being hot  

He hesitated, he wasn’t sure of what to say. He was scared of seeming naive and old school to you, but he wasn’t used to this whole… sexting thing. The most spicy exchange over texts had been insinuating pictures before asking someone to come over. Okay think Robby, if you can save someone’s life under extreme preassure then you can sext with a woman, just say something typical, he thought

Robby: who’s been a naughty girl?

The second he hit send he regretted it. He winced, already typing another message to backtrack when your reply came through.

You: lmao that was the best you’ve got?

Robby groaned out loud, dropping his head back against the couch. 

Robby: forget it. i’m going to bed

You: nooo wait. let’s try again :(

He should’ve put the phone down. He really should’ve. Instead he waited to see if you had anything else to say.

You: you’re so good at giving orders and guiding me at work. maybe you could do that now too? tell me what to do

You were right, in theory. He was good at instructing, guiding, teaching. It came naturally to him to step into that mentoring role, he had always been the one others looked to for direction.

Robby: i  feel stupid doing this.

You: pleeeease. i’ve always thought you were the kind of guy who talks people through it in bed. it’s the same here, just write it instead of saying it. tell me how you want me to touch myself

Your words hit him hard. He reread the message twice. He had never consciously thought about it before, but yes… that did sound exactly like him. Fragments of memory surfaced unbidden: the commanding tone he’d used with past partners, the way he’d instructed them. “Open your legs for me.” “Turn around.” “Look at me.” He remembered the way their breathing would change, the way they’d tremble under the weight of his voice and his hands.

Robby: you really want me to talk you through it, sweetheart?

You: yessss that was so much better. keep going

If anyone had asked you how it happened, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to explain it. You weren’t even sure yourself. One moment you were typing a slightly embarrassed apology to Robby for matching with him and the next, the conversation had taken a turn and you were the one demanding he sext you so you could get off. It was bold, stupidly reckless, and yet it felt inevitable.

Robby: good girl that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, i want you to get those pretty legs spread nice and wide for me, can you do that?

You whimpered softly and obeyed him instantly, letting your knees fall farther apart on the mattress. The cool air hit your exposed pussy making you shiver. 

You: yes. they’re open

Robby: Perfect i’d be on my knees between them right now if I could run your fingers up the inside of your thighs for me slowly, feel how soft they are

As you trailed your free hand up one thigh, you imagined his callused palms and the scratch of his greying beard following the same path.

You: doing it… feels so good thinking about your hands instead.

Robby: that’s my girl  now slide two fingers through your pussy and ell me how wet you are for me

You did exactly as he says, gasping as two fingers glided easily through your slick heat. You were soaked, embarrassingly so, the wet sounds filling the quiet bedroom as you stroked yourself.

You: So wet… i’m dripping. all because of you.

Robby: fuck i knew you would be i want you to circle your clit for me now Do it slowly and imagine it’s my tongue instead, licking you just the way you need i’d take my time, taste every inch of you

Your mons got louder, tipping your head back against the pillows as your fingers obeyed, traxing circles around your clit that sent sparks up your spine. In your mind, it was Robby’s mouth devouring you while his strong hands pinned your thighs down.

Robby: how does that feel, sweetheart? tell me

You: so good, i’m so sensitive. keep talking please

Robby: Good now slide one finger inside that tight pussy, nice and deep curl it up just like I would, searching for that spot that makes your legs shake i’d be watching your face the whole time, telling you how beautiful you look spread open for me, how good you are for listening

When you pushed a finger inside yourself, you curled it upward as instructed to hit that sensitive spot while your other hand kept working your clit in circles. 

Robby: add another finger and stretch yourself open i’d be so much thicker than your fingers, but we’ll start like this imagine me pumping them in and out while i rub your clit

Adding a second finger, you continued fucking yourself to the rhythm of his words on the screen. It was not enough, it was nowhere near enough to calm the hunger and desperation that was threatening to consume your whole being. You knew nothing would be enough, only feeling him inside of you.

You: wish it was you inside me. can’t get off like this. i need you robby please

Robby: you were the one who told me to do this 

You: i know i did. but it’s not enough send me your address

He was tempted, so tempted that for one second his fingers almost started typing on an impulse. But the reality crashed back in immediately. The risks, the morning after, the way he’d have to look at you during rounds, knowing what you’d done. He was rock hard and aching for you, but the responsible part of him still refused to crumble completely.

Robby: what for?  you’re not seriously thinking about coming over right now, are you?

You: robby i’m literally only like 2 miles away from you. are you dtf? not as dr. robinavitch and his resident, but as two adults who casually matched on tinder tonight. there’s no title or hospital here. it’s just us.

Two miles. You were so close. He stared at your message, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs. His cock gave another insistent throb, the head already leaking a little against his underwear. The thought of you actually coming over, right now, in the middle of the night, made his mouth go dry.

Robby: Send me your address and I’ll order you a ride. 

You sent your address a moment later. It really was only two miles away. He confirmed the ride, watching the estimated arrival time tick down. Fifteen minutes… only fifteen minutes until you’d be at his door.

You: this is exactly what i meant earlier about older guys. so much more gentlemanly. taking care of the details instead of just telling me to get there

You had no time to get ready, and honestly, you didn’t care. Makeup? Hair? None of that mattered when you were this desperate, this aching for him. You climbed out of bed still wearing the thin tank top and soft sleep shorts you’d worn to bed, and threw an oversized jacket over everything, one that swallowed most of your body and made you look far more put-together than you actually felt.

Your hands were shaking as you grabbed your keys and phone. The rideshare arrived sooner than you expected. The drive across the city felt both endless and far too short, but eventually the car pulled up outside his building.

You stood on the sidewalk for a second, staring up at the apartment complex, suddenly hit with the full weight of what you were doing, showing up at your attending’s door in the middle of the night, soaked and trembling with need, because a stupid Tinder match had spiraled completely out of control.

But you didn’t hesitate for long, you took a deep breath, pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, walked toward his door and knocked on it.

Robby opened it right away. He didn’t say a word, the second you were in reach, you had one of his strong hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. It was electric to say the least. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that stole your breath. His beard was scraping deliciously against your skin as he moved his lips with experienced urgency. You melt into it instantly, fisting your hands in his shirt, tasting the pure, overwhelming taste of him. Finally. Here he was, kissing you like he’d been starving for it just as much as you had.

He kicked the door shut behind him without breaking the kiss, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his taller frame. You felt the warmth of his hands roaming everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, squeezing the curve of your ass through the fabric of your shorts. In your mouth, he groaned, making a vibrating sound that went through you as he explored every inch he could reach, like he was memorizing the feel of you. 

Your breasts were the next to get his attention, he was cupping them with his big hands through your tank top, brushing his thumb over your already hard nipple, while he tangles his other hand in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You pulled back just enough to gasp against his lips, “It took you long enough.”

Robby chuckled, the sound coming out breathless. “Took you long enough. You have any idea what it’s like waiting twenty minutes for you with a hard-on?” He pressed you closer, letting you feel the thick and insistent bulge against your stomach. 

As if they had a mind of their own, his hands couldn’t stop moving, squeezing, caressing, claiming, running down your back, over your thighs, everywhere he’d fantasized about touching. Before you could respond, he bent slightly and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively. 

The strength in his arms, the way his broad chest felt against you, sent a fresh rush of heat between your legs. He carried you through the house with purposeful strides. The door to your room swung open and he layed you gently on the bed, climbing on top of you immediately until his full weight pressing you deliciously into the mattress. 

The kissing resumed instantly, slower now but no less intense. Robby’s mouth was moving from your lips to your neck, sucking lightly and scratching you with his beard in the most perfect way. Now his hands got bolder, continuing their exploration but this time sliding under your tank top, pressing his palms against your bare skin. He lifted the fabric higher, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room.

“Fuck,” Robby groaned, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you could see his soft brown eyes turning darker as he stared down at you. “Look at you. These tits… so perfect. So fucking pretty.” His voice was rough with want, the same commanding tone. He cupped them reverently, as if they were something precious, circling your nipples until they pebbled tighter under his touch. “They’re made for my hands. For my mouth.”

He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently at first, then harder, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. The wet touch of his tongue made you arch into him with a moan, threading your fingers through his hair as he kept lavishing attention on your breasts. 

From one side to the other, Robby switched sides, licking and sucking the other while his hand massaged the first, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation, the tingly heat of his mouth and the firm squeeze of his callused hand, had you writhing beneath him, making you so wet you were soaking through your shorts.

The humming of his mouth against your skin sends sparks straight to your core. “So responsive,” he murmured, switching back to the first breast and sucking it harder than before. “These tits are going to ruin me. I could spend hours right here.” Sliding his free hand down your side, Robby gripped your hip possessively, continuing with the worshipping of your chest, licking broad stripes, sucking marks into the soft flesh, massaging and kneading until he had you panting and grinding up against the hard line of his cock through his pants.

The age difference between you only heightened everything, his experience was showing in every skilled touch, in every perfect flick of his tongue. He was being patient but hungry, like he’d been holding back for far too long. You could feel how hard he was, he was making you feel it, pressing insistently against your thigh. The knowledge that you did this to him made you even wetter.

Robby lifts his head briefly to lock his eyes on yours. His lips were swollen and his beard slightly damp with his saliva. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, but his hands never stopped, squeezing and caressing, teasing your sensitive nipples with his thumbs as he waited for your answer.

You shook your head, pulling him back down. You’d rather die than stop right now. “Don’t stop. Please.”

His mouth trailed a hot path down your sternum, over your stomach, scraping you teasinglywith his beard against your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His hands followed strong, sliding down your sides and gripping your hips as he settled between your spread thighs. The weight of him, the sheer size and presence of this man, made your core clench with anticipation.

“These shorts have been teasing me since you walked in,” he murmured with the same steady tone he used in the pitt, but now turned intimate and commanding. Robby hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly peeled them down your legs, taking his time as he revealed more of you. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart. Good girl.”

You obeyed instantly, lifting your hips so he could slide the fabric off completely, leaving you in just your thin panties and the tank top. Robby smoothed his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider with gentle but firm pressure. “Keep your legs open like that,” he instructed you. “Nice and wide for me. Don’t close them unless I tell you to.”

You were already moaning softly, and he wasn’t even touching your core yet. Robby dropped his eyes to the damp spot on your panties, making the fabric cling to your pussy lips, and he let out a groan of desire and hunger. He cupped you over the fabric with one hand, pressing his palm firmly against your heated pussy while his thumb found your clit through the material and began rubbing slow circles.

“Oh god,” you moaned, twitching up your hips into his touch, seeking more of the contact. The friction was simply perfect, it was teasing, and it kept building higher and higher. Robby’s callused thumb was applying just the right pressure on your swollen nub. 

He watched your face intently through his hooded and lustful eyes as he worked you higher. “Feel good?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his own breathing grew heavier. “You’re so wet already. Soaking through these panties for me. That’s it… rock against my hand, sweetheart. Show me how much you need this.”

Your moans only grew louder and more unrestrained, as he kept rubbing your clit with precision. The fabric added a delicious layer of friction, and every circle sent sparks shooting up your body. He got you gripping the sheets, your thighs already trembling as you fought the urge to close them around his hand.

Robby leaned down to kiss the inside of one thigh, scratching your skin deliciously. “You want my mouth? Want me to taste this pretty pussy? You gonna wrap these gorgeous legs around my neck while I do it?”

“Yes,” you gasped, nodding frantically. “Please, Robby. I need it.”

He hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down slowly, revealing your glistening, bare pussy to his hungry gaze. “Fuck… look at you. So wet and perfect.” He kissed along your inner thighs, taking his time, brushing his lips and beard against the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer. “Wrap them around me, sweetheart. Lock your ankles behind my head if you need to. I want to feel you holding me right where I belong.”

You did exactly as he said, wrapping your legs around his broad shoulders and pressing your heels into his upper back. The position left you completely open to him, vulnerable and exposed. Robby groaned, the sound vibrating against your core as he finally leaned in.

The first lick of his tongue was broad and slow, dragging from your entrance up to your puffy clit. The sensation was overwhelming, and it made you cry out loudly, threading your fingers into his greying hair as he began to devour you with the same intensity he brought to every procedure at work. He licked and sucked with precision, alternating between long and flat strokes to tight and quick circles around your clit. 

His beard was scratching your inner thighs and outer lips in the most delicious way, adding a kind of texture that made your toes curl. “Robby… Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips against his mouth. 

He hummed in response, pulling back with his lips glistening with your arousal just so he could speak to you. “Tell me how it feels, sweetheart. I want to hear it.”

“So good… your tongue—oh god, your mouth, Robby. It’s driving me crazy. Don’t stop, please.”

“You’re being so good for me,” he praised, diving back in to suck your clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly while applying suction with his lips. 

Before you could register it, he teased your entrance with two thick fingers, slowly sliding them inside you, letting your own greedy hole swallow them. Once he curled them upward to find that perfect spot, the sensation had you moaning loudly and arching off the bed. 

Robby pumped his fingers steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue with his digits. A few moments later, he stopped again briefly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes and shiny lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Spread open for me, taking my fingers so well. This pussy is perfect, made for me. Keep moaning for me. Let me hear how much you love my mouth on you.”

You obeyed, your moans spilling freely as he returned to his task with renewed hunger. The pleasure built fast and faster, making your thighs tremble around his head and your feet dig into his back as you held him exactly where you needed him. Robby gripped your hip with his free hand, holding you steadily while he worked you closer and closer to the edge with expert skill. Every command, every praise, every flick of his tongue pushed you higher. 

Robby didn’t relent, he kept his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with rhythmic pressure, devouring you like a man starved. “Robby—oh fuck, yes!” The pleasure was overwhelming, every single nerve ending in your body was alight as he worked you higher. 

“Keep those legs open for me, sweetheart,” he growled against your clit. “Don’t you dare close them. I want to feel you squeezing around my fingers while I eat this pretty pussy.” He added a third finger slowly, stretching you wider, the burn blending perfectly with the pleasure. “That’s it… take three for me. Feel how full you are? You’re doing so well. Such a good girl taking everything I give you.”

The wet sounds of his fingers plunging into your dripping pussy and his mouth sucking hungrily on your clit filled the air. You were soaking his beard, his chin, his wrist, but he didn’t care. Robby slid a hand under you, grabbing a firm handful of your ass and lifting your hips slightly off the bed. The new angle let him bury his face even deeper, working your clit with more precision while he fingerfucked you harder. “Just like that,” he praised you between licks. “Grind on my tongue, baby. Use my mouth. Show me how bad you need to come.”

You obeyed helplessly once again, rolling your hips and bucking them against him as the coil in your belly tightened unbearably. The pleasure built in powerful waves until your thighs started to shake violently around his head. Robby kept talking you through it, pushing you closer to the edge.

“You’re getting so close, aren’t you? I can feel this tight pussy clenching around my fingers. Come on, let go. Cum all over my tongue. I want to taste it. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

The orgasm crashed over you with blinding intensity, making your back bow off the bed, a loud and broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy spasmed hard around his digits. Your thighs were squeezing his head tightly, your heels digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Robby didn’t stop though, he kept sucking your clit through the peak, curling and thrusting his fingers to draw out every last shudder.

You came harder than you ever had. So hard that your vision went white for a moment as the pleasure bordered on overwhelming. Your moans turned into whimpers as the orgasm slowly ebbed, leaving you limp and gasping on the bed.

Robby finally eased back, gently lowering your hips and kissing softly along your inner thighs. He looked up at you with dark and satisfied eyes. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So beautiful when you cum for me.”

You lay there panting, your thighs were still twitching, completely wrecked and already aching for more of him. Robby climbed back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue. He was so close that his hard cock was pressing insistently against your thigh through his pants. 

“That was… amazing,” you whisper with your voice hoarse from moaning. “So much better than I ever imagined.”

Robby chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Yeah? Better than your hand?” His eyes were sparkling with lust. 

You laughed breathlessly, nodding. “So much better. Your mouth… God, Robby. I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He hummed in satisfaction, grinding his still-clothed erection slowly against your bare, sensitive pussy. The thick ridge of his cock was being pressed perfectly against your clit, giving him some much needed relief while teasing you both. “I loved doing that for you,” he murmured. “You were so good for me, sweetheart. So responsive, so wet. The way you moaned my name and squeezed my head with those pretty thighs… fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Robby rolled his hips deliberately, the friction making you whimper and arch up into him. You could feel how achingly hard he was and how much he’d been holding back. You slid up your hands down his chest, feeling the soft flesh beneath his shirt.

“I want you,” you breathed, looking up at him with need. “Please, Robby.”

He stilled for a moment, as if to pulling himself together. “Tell me what you want. Be specific.”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth invade your cheeks. “Your cock. I want you to fuck me. I need you inside me.”

Robby let out a groan, sitting back on his knees between your spread thighs. He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out the anticipation. You sit up slightly, eager to help, moving your fingers to tug his pants down along with his underwear.

“I’ve been dying to see you,” you confessed as you pulled his pants down his hips. He caught your wrists before you could push his boxers down.

Robby looked almost nervous, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Wait… I, uh—” He cleared his throat, flicking his eyes away for a second. “I haven’t trimmed down there in a while. This whole night was… unexpected. I would’ve cleaned up if I’d known we were gonna end up here.”

He said it like it was something to be embarrassed about. Like it might actually make you want him less. It made you soft, you cupped his jaw, turning his face back to yours.

“Robby. Do you honestly think I give a damn about that? It’s just hair.”

He let out a self-conscious breath, still looking a little defensive. “I know. I know it’s just hair. It’s just… it’s probably a fucking jungle down there right now. You don’t have to— I mean, you don’t have to do anything if it’s too much.”

The way he was trying to give you an out was almost painfully endearing. You shook your head. “Just let me see you,” you whispered.

You slid his boxers down his thighs and freed his cock, it sprang out, thick and hard, the head flushed in a dark red with arousal. It was beautiful, so long, girthy, with a slight upward curve, prominent veins running along the shaft. Exactly like he’d warned, there was a thick, dark mat of coarse hair at the base, dense and untrimmed. He looked completely natural, it was so him, deeply masculine and unpolished.

A fresh rush of wetness slipped down your inner thighs. Your fingers twitched with the need to touch him there.

You looked up at him through your lashes “I love it,” you slowly carded your fingers through the thick hair at the base of his member. “You look so fucking hot like this. I like every single inch of you.”

Robby’s whole body shivered under your touch. “God…” he rasped as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna kill me tonight.”

Almost with instinct, you wrapped your hand around it, stroking the shaft slowly from base to tip, feeling the heat and weight of his member.

Robby hissed in pleasure, twitching his hips forward into your grip as he watched your hand move up and down his cock. “Fuck, your hand feels good,” he groaned, letting you stroke him for a while, savoring the sight of your smaller hand working his thick length, making a bead of precum leak from the tip.

After a few moments, he gently stopped you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Lay back down for me, sweetheart. Keep those legs open nice and wide. Just like before.”

You obeyed, lying back against the pillows and spreading your thighs for him. Robby reached over toward the nightstand, stretching one arm past you as he pulled open the top drawer. He rummaged through it for a few seconds, before his hand closed around what he was looking for.

A moment later he sat back, a condom held between his fingers. He held it up, searching for your eyes with his. “I’ve got this if you want me to wear it.”

You shook your head, reaching up to touch his arm. “No. I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”

You both knew it might not have been the smartest option, doing it raw, with nothing between you. But there was a deep, unspoken trust between the two of you, forged through long shifts, that made you feel safe. And in that moment, that trust felt solid enough to lean on.

The hunger that had taken over both of you made anything else almost unbearable. The need to feel each other completely bare, skin on skin, heat on heat, with nothing separating you, was overwhelming.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” He tossed the condom aside, leaning down to kiss you deeply again. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel all of you.”

He groaned, positioning himself between your legs and nudging the thick head of his cock against your slick entrance. The anticipation felt electric, this was the culmination of over a year of longing, of hours of texts, and now all that was left was this desperate connection. Robby gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he looked down at you with hunger.

The night is only beginning, and the way he’s looking at you promises he’s going to take his time ruining you in the best possible way.

As his cockhead was being rubbed up and down your folds, teasing your clit with every pass, coating itself with your juices, the sensation felt maddening, promising everything you’d fantasized about for so long. You whimpered, twitching your hips up instinctively to chase more contact.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Robby commanded you softly, the same authoritative tone that had guided you through countless procedures was now guiding you through this. He cupped your chin gently, tilting your face so your gazes locked. “Keep looking at me the whole time. I want to see you while I fuck you.”

You nodded shakily, unable to look away even if you wanted to. Robby continued rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, drawing out the anticipation until you were squirming beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your mouth. “So wet for me already. This pussy is going to take me so well. Breathe for me, relax and let me in.” He pressed forward slowly, breaching your entrance with only the tip. The stretch was immediate and intense, opening you up inch by inch as he sank deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, but you forced your eyes open, locking them on his as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“Easy, baby,” he cooed, stroking your thigh soothingly while the other braced beside your head. “You’re doing so good. Feel how you’re stretching around me? So tight and warm… fuck, you feel incredible.”

You moaned loudly as he continued sliding in, the deliberate thrust filling you completely until he was buried to the hilt, until his hips were flushed against yours. The fullness was overwhelming, his thick cock stretching your walls like nobody had stretched you before, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.

Robby stayed still for a moment buried deep, resting his forehead against yours as he looked straight into your eyes. “There you go. All the way in. You took every inch.” He started to thrust with deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock along your walls with exquisite friction. “Wrap your legs around me. Hold me close while I fuck you.”

You did as he said, locking your legs around his waist and digging your heels into his lower back. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and you cried out in pleasure, digging your nails into his shoulders. Robby kept talking you through it, just like he knew you liked.

“That’s my girl. Feel that? I’m hitting that spot inside you, huh?” He angled his hips slightly, grinding deep on every stroke. Robby slid one hand up to cup and squeeze your breast, rolling your nipple as he thrusted harder.

Robby moved his hand from your breast to cup your chin. His grip was gentle enough not to hurt, yet firm enough that you felt every one of his fingers pressing against the bones of your jaw. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see how good my cock feels inside this tight pussy.” He tilted your face up and held it there, leaving you no choice but to meet his eyes.

And God… what a glorious sight he was. This handsome man, with his face flushed, his brow glistening with sweat, devouring you with his gaze as he kept driving his cock into you.

His face was only inches from yours, and he kept fucking you in long strokes while he held your chin like that, as if he were starving for every single expression that crossed your face. He loved watching the way pleasure wrecked you. The way your lips parted around helpless moans, the way you bit down on your lower lip only for it to slip free again with a broken sound. The way your eyes went glassy and pleading, silently begging him for more even as your body trembled around his cock. He drank it all in like a man who had been thirsty for years.

With his free hand, he gripped your waist, holding you in place so he could drive into you with more power. Every slide of his cock stretched you perfectly, dragging the fat tip along your g-spot like that was what it was made for.

“Robby—oh god, yes!” You moaned loudly, raising your hips to meet his thrust and tightening your legs around him. Your tits were bouncing with every powerful stroke, and he leaned down to suck one nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue as he continued fucking you.

“You feel so good,” he groaned against your skin, switching to the other breast. “So tight and wet around me. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it? Taking me so deep.” His hand on your waist slid down to grip your ass, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle as he thrusted harder. “Lift your legs higher for me, sweetheart,” he said against your neck,kissing and nipping the sensitive skin there. Ronny held the back of your thigh, helping guide your leg up. “That’s it… over my shoulder. Let me get deeper.”

You whimpered as he assisted you, hooking your leg over his shoulder. He did the same with the other, folding you nearly in half beneath him. The new angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper, until he was pressing the head firmly against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, grinding against your g-spot relentlessly.

“Fuck—Robby, it’s so deep like this,” you moaned, fluttering your eyes shut for just a moment as the intense sensation washed over you.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chided gently but firmly, cupping your jaw with his hand to tilt your face back to his. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Keep them open. I want to watch you while I fuck you like this. Don’t look away.”

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his hungry gaze as he continued hammering into you. The eye contact made everything more intimate and overwhelming. The feeling of his hand leavinf your jaw and sliding down between your bodies made you shiver. Robby found your swollen clit and began rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.

The combined stimulation was devastating. The pleasure was burning higher in your core, so close to finally exploding. Your body was arching and squirming beneath his frame as you scratched down his back and trembled over his shoulders. Every thrust, every rub of his fingers on your clit, every moan and grunt that escaped his mouth pushed you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” Robby groaned, never removing his sight from yours. “Look at you taking my cock so deep. You’re getting close again, aren’t you? I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you cum all over my cock. Keep your eyes on me when you do.”

You bowed your back off the bed as your climax took over your body. A loud cry tore from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around his length. Your thighs shook violently over his shoulders and you dug your nails harder into his back when the waves of pleasure crashed through you. Robby sekpt thrusting through it, drawing out your orgasm with deep strokes and continued pressure on your clit.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me… that’s it, sweetheart. Give it all to me. You’re being so good.”

By the time he finally slowed and gently pulled out of you, you were still trembling and gasping. Robby layed back on the bed beside you, with his cock hard and glistening with your release. “Come here, baby,” he said. “Get on top. I want to watch you ride me.”

He helped you shift positions, gripping your hips firmly to guide you as you straddled him. “Easy, sweetheart. Take your time… that’s it. Feel me right there? Let me watch you take every inch.”

You positioned the head at your slick entrance and began to sink down, inch by inch. The stretch was intense all over again, his girth opening you up as you lowered yourself onto him. Robby kept his hands still on your hips to steady you, stroking your skin soothingly while watching every expression on your face.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groaned. “You’re doing so well. Keep going… take a little more. Feel how full you are?”

Louder moans left your mouth as you sank lower, the fullness was overwhelming in the best way. Bracing your hands on his broad chest for balance, you finally took him to the hilt, resting your ass against his thighs. Robby squeezed your hips encouragingly. “Ride me. Roll your hips like that… yes, just like that.”

Whn you started moving, rolling, and grinding your hips in a steady rhythm, the pleasure built quickly. His cock was dragging along your walls as you found a rhythm that made your tits bounce and your clit grind against his pelvis.

Robby kept moving his eyes are everywhere, watching where your pussy stretched around his shaft, sliding up to your bouncing breasts, then locking onto your face. He reaches up with both hands, cupping your tits and rolling your nipples as you ride him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Keep going… faster if you want. Take what you need from me.”

Without a word, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward. He sat up just enough to help you pull it off, and the second the fabric cleared his head, your hands were on him.

God, you loved his body. Your moved your palm slowly over his chest, feeling the coarse hair and the thud of his heart beneath your fingertips. You dragged your hands lower, mapping the soft, rounded curve of his belly with desire. It turned you on more than any gym-honed torso ever could. As you pressed your palms into the softness, your fingers dag in gently. Then you smoothed your hands over it again and again, savoring the way it yielded under your touch.

You were mumbling praises and moans between gasps, completely lost in the sensation. “Robby… you feel so good… so deep… fuck, I love your cock inside me…”

At one point, Robby planted his feet firmly on the bed, bent his knees, and started thrusting up to meet you. The change felt devastating, he was now fucking you from below with powerful strokes that made you cry out loudly as he droveinto you. 

The slap of skin on skin grew louder when the slamming into you intensified. “Fuck—Robby!” you moaned, letting your head fall back as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Eyes on me if you can, sweetheart,” he growled, moving his fingers down to rub your clit again. “I’m getting close. You feel too good. You’re gonna make me cum.”

You were a moaning and squirming mess on top of him, riding and grinding as he thrusted up harder. His fingers on your clit and his cock hitting deep pushed you toward another peak, but it was his impending orgasm that had you focused on him.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, snapping his hips up faster. “Fuck—can I cum inside you? Please, I want to fill you up.”

“Yes,” you gasped, riding him desperately. “Cum inside me, Robby. I want it. Fill me up. Please—”

With a deep groan, Robby thrusted up hard one last time and came, pulsing nside you, flooding your pussy with thick and warm ropes of cum. He held you down on him, gripping your hips tightly as he emptied himself completely. The feeling of him cumming inside you, fully claiming you, triggered your own smaller orgasm, making your walls clench rhythmically around his pulsing cock.

You both stayed locked together, panting. Robby stroked your back and thighs as you came down from the high befor pulling you down against his chest, kissing your forehead, keeping his cock still buried deep inside you as his release slowly leaked out around him, so much that you could feel the hot nd sticky evidence of his climax.

There were no more walls, just the two of you, finally giving in to everything you’ve both wanted and repressed for so long. You stayed draped on top of Robby for a long stretch of time, both of you catching your breath as the intensity slowly ebbed. Eventually, you lifted your head and looked at him. “That was… amazing. I wouldn’t even have dreamed that it’d be that good.”

He hummed in agreement, continuing his soothing path along your back. “It was. Better than I let myself imagine. You felt perfect.”

The praise made a warm feeling bloom in your chest. After a few more quiet moments, Robby gently helped you sit up, easing you off his cock with a shared sigh. You both winced slightly at the loss of connection and the feeling of emptiness, but he pulled you down beside him on the bed, wrapping his arms around you again as you cuddled into his side.

“So… you don’t regret it, do you?”

He met your eyes as a small smile began tugging at his lips beneath the beard. “Right now? I can’t regret having amazing sex with you. My mind is still somewhere up in the clouds.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow when reality hits, but tonight… no regrets.”

You nestled closer, throwing one leg over his. The cuddling felt easy, natural, like you’d been doing this for years. For tonight, the outside world, the hospital, the guilt, the what ifs didn’t exist. There was only the two of you, and Robby might be right about reality hitting tomorrow, but right now, in the darkness of his room, everything felt right.

A/N: Two attempts at posting this fic, and two times Tumblr’s stupid AI mistakenly flagged it😭 I’ve spent days trying to figure out what was causing the problem and doing everything I could to finally get this fic posted for all of you. So if you’re reading this, it means it worked. Hopefully.

If you end up enjoying the fic, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me share it with a reblog (only if you enjoyed the fic) cause I’ve put a lot of work on it

Well, I hope you enjoyed this little something I worked on when inspiration finally struck me. I don’t know if I read it somewhere or if we all collectively decided it, but Robby absolutely feels like the type of guy who talks you through it. You’re telling me the man who spends all day teaching med students and residents how to do procedures wouldn’t also be guiding his girl in bed? It’s literally in his nature!!! This TikTok also got me inspired because, yes, he absolutely looks at you through it too.

I also think Robby’s canon texting style is weirdly inconsistent. In that scene in season one where he’s texting Jake, sometimes he starts messages with capital letters and sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he ends sentences with a period, sometimes he doesn’t. In my head, he has perfect grammar but deliberately tries to sound Gen Z and chill when he’s texting someone younger than him lol. Anyway, I tried to replicate that here too.

Thank you all so much for your patience. I really appreciate it, and I hope I can stick around for good this time🩷

You pushed open the door to twelve and was greeted with cigarette breath and stale perfume.

“Hey, sugar tits!”

“Myrna,” you greeted. “I thought we agreed we'd stop meeting like this.”

She chuckled, showing off teeth that weren't particularly white anymore, stained by years of smoking and drinking. “What can I say? I can't get away from you hot stuff.”

Myrna was around enough you were shocked she didn't have her own room. She did have her preference of wheelchairs, the one that had the smoothest wheels she deemed that made pushing around the Pitt and chasing doctors easier.

“What are we in for today?” you asked, folding your hands over her age old chart and keeping to the end of the bed.

Her brows rose. “Aren't you gonna come any closer?” she teased, crooking a finger into her as best she could from where they were restrained softly to the bed.

“Myrna you know I'm married.”

“Happily?”

“Sadly.”

“To the fruitcake?”

“Still,” you said with an amused smirk. Sometimes when you wanted to annoy Robby you'd call him fruitcake and watch his face twist up.

Myrna scoffed. “Pathetic.”

“You had another seizure?” you asked, knowing already her usual tricks.

“Yeah.”

“Who brought you in?”

“Some guy.”

“And what was his name this time?”

“Antonio. Italian. Handsome,” she said with a drool. “Looked great in his uniform.” Myrna pulled at her restraints again as you walked around her, checking the vitals another nurse (most likely Dana) had already took. “Are these really necessary?”

“They are when police bring you in.”

“Is this because I grabbed fruitcakes ass?” she asked.

“No, Myrna,” you said, checking her IV. “It's because you grabbed my ass.”

As if she were proud of herself, Myrna grinned and chuckled.

The door behind you pushed open gently, two bodies, one tall and lean and the other slightly rounded blocking the doorway.

“And this is, Myrna. Seizure activity, or so she says,” said Robby as he gestured from his son next to him to the lady in the bed.

Carter's med student days had been spent mostly in Presby, in order to avoid such conflicts of interests like working with his mom and dad in the ED. However, Presby was closed for up to two weeks due to a viral outbreak and quarantines that Robby insisted Carter come do days in the Pitt.

Carter was pressed in his fresh and light coloured scrubs, a polished stethoscope slung over his shoulders and a pep in his step. Looking at him, you wouldn't have thought he was roaming the halls he ran through as a child, talking to Dana as if he didn't use to babble incoherently at her.

“Myrna, say hello,” said Robby, passing you a nod.

Instead, Myrna dragged her tongue over her teeth and growled.

Carter all but jumped back.

“Fruitcake, you've multiplied,” she smirked.

“Don't worry, Carter,” you said. “She's harmless.”

“She's-she's tied to the bed.”

“Exactly. So she's harmless,” you said. “Just don't get too close if you're examining her, she bites.”

At first Carter laughed but when nobody- not even Myrna- laughed with him, he fell silent, looking between his dad and you. Robby only nodded, confirming that fact.

“Who is this tall, lean, fresh blood?” Myrna asked, eyeing him up.

“Myrna, this is Carter. Our kid. He is doing a emergency medicine rotation and is here to learn,” said Robby.

Carter's chest puffed out, his hair that was soft to the touch and bounced around like Robby's used to do, fell in front of his eyes.

Myrna shifted in her bed. “You need to do a physical, huh?”

“He does not,” said Robby. “Rest easy, we'll be back soon.”

Robby held the door open, letting you and Carter out first as if to protect you from her 'abuse', but he didn't close it quick enough, the nicknames sugar tits and fruitcake floating out behind you.

“What-what was that?” asked Carter, frowning at the names he could have sworn he heard.

“Nothing, don't think about it,” said Robby, a firm had clamped on his shoulder and stirring him away.

“Fruitcake?” he laughed, probably thinking of every way he could use it against him.

“I said don't ask.”

“Don't worry about Myrna, just keep your distance,” you advised.

Carter looked between you and Robby, the both of you in doctor and nurse mode. It was the sort of thing he'd caught glimpses of throughout his life but never seen so much of. The both of you shed the scrubs like skin when you got home, pulling off the medical practices and putting on everything you'd learned about being parents. It was a fine line, Robby had decided, between happiness and work and he wasn't going to drag the dead and the sick into the home he'd created.

“You guys put up with her a lot?” he asked.

Robby huffed. “She comes in to avoid the cops.”

“She's here so often we're thinking of inviting her to thanksgiving next year,” you teased.

“But she doesn't actually bite, does she?” asked Carter, laughing at the very idea.

You and Robby shared a look, ignoring him.

“Just don't find out the hard way, son,” advised Robby, leaving him to it and letting him go.

Carter nodded. “Is she the reason you came home with a bite mark on your shoulder last week?”

He regretted asking almost immediately as he watched your cheeks grow pink and watched Robby fight a smirk down at you. He reached for you, turning you around as you walked away laughing.

“Yeah, sure, son.”

Carter was at the nurses station, leaning over the cool counter and watching the rest of the ward work. He watched nurses float around him, Dana be called off on different ventures, traumas being wheeled in and pushed through doors. Nobody was calling his name. He was waiting to be called, to be rushed into the action.

At some point he watched you and his dad be called around, the two of you taking patients like it was a tag team mission. He watched Robby's hand ghost the small of your back as he directed you around, he watched your careful words console him after tough patients.

So, that's what love was.

The squeak of wheels from behind him sounded, dragging over the floor closer and closer.

“Doctor, doctor, I got a bad case of loving you,” said the drag of a voice.

Carter turned, looking down at the wheelchair. “Oh, I'm not a doctor. I'm a med student.”

“Younger, even better,” she smirked, licking her lips.

“You're Myrna, right?” said Carter, looking around him for help before he was cornered by her.

“Call me mama,” said Myrna.

Carter gulped, eyeing the handcuffs that gleamed in polished silver. She was attached to the wheelchair. Could she still bite him? “Is there anything I can help you with, Myrna?”

“You could make my time worth while,” she said with a lur of desire.

Presby had been a different kind of chaos to PTMC. There'd been a blur of patients and an over crowded hall way of equipment, less put back and clean and darker than here. He could see Myrna in daylight, the ragged pull of a dressing gown which seemed to be strictly hers. The dark colour of exhaustion under her eyes. Hadn't he been told she came here to hide from the cops?

“I need the bath room hot-stuff,” she said, as if catching his hesitation.

“Oh. Right. Yes, course, let me just-” Carter looked around desperately, hoping to catch a face he could put a name to. He drew a blank.

“Come on, sweet-cheeks,” she said, a low droll of her voice. “Never seen a real woman before?”

If he said yes would word get back to his mom? If he said no would word get back to his dad?

Finally, a small doctor in a neatly combed-back braid and glasses walked by, focused and clear of mind.

“Hey! Um, hey! Wait, Can I-Can I get some help?”

She looked back to him, eyes alight. “Oh, Doctor Robby! I mean not-not our Doctor Robby, a Doctor Robby, our third, really,” she frowned at herself and shook her head. “I'm Mel, D-Doctor King.”

“Hey, nice to meet you, Doctor King,” he greeted with a bright smile. “Myrna needs the bathroom and I-”

Mel caught on quick and took over the charge of Myrna who was less than enthusiastic later.

“Strip down and get on my bed, sailor!” she yelled.

Carter's cheeks blazed.

It was one of those days where things seemed quiet for you and Robby. Where patients came in with small complaints that could be handed off to med students and residents, carefully supervised of course.

So carefully supervised from Robby's place in the lounge, you perched on his lap with his arms tightly around you. You were only blocking his view a little bit, he'd know if anyone was dying at least, it was basically a sixth sense.

But with you in his lap, tracing patterns in his hands, Robby didn't seem to care if outside was on fire.

“You know, if this one's another boy,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder, hands pressing into the small, nearly un-noticeable swell of your stomach. “We might have to call him Jack.”

You smirked. It was a running joke that with three sons and one daughter not one of them was named after Jack, even if he was there for the births of them. Once when Robby was not.

“He might start thinking we hate him.”

“But if we have a girl I am not calling her Jaqueline,” you said.

Robby huffed a laugh into your shoulder. “No, definitely not.”

“I think if it's a girl, we should call her Stacey,” you suggested.

“Stacey?” asked Robby, trying to go through everyone you knew to understand why Stacey was an important name. He came up blank.

“So I can be Stacey's mom.”

Robby knew there was a joke there that he didn't understand.

You backed up, peering at him. “You don't know Stacey's mom?”

The door squeaked open, flashes of the Pitt startling the two of you as Dana walked in, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

“There you two are! Hiding out here while the rest of us do your dirty work!” she said, smiling at the sight.

“Is somebody dying, Dana?” asked Robby, smug and still secure with you in lap.

She scoffed. “Yeah, your kid.”

You shuffled in Robby's lap, sitting up straighter. “Carter?” anxiety clawed at your nerves, turned over the little breakfast you'd eaten.

“Myrna's got her claws in him, poor kid,” she said with a show of no sympathy. The truth was all of them had to put up with Myrna at some point. It was always best to get it out the way in the early days. Let Myrna have her fun then she usually left you alone.

Except you. And Robby. By a common trend, Carter might not be so lucky either.

Robby's hands squeezed your thighs, a subtle signal that you were both going to have to get up. “All part of the hazing programme.”

The three of you crept to the door, huddled close and looking out the slim window at the door.

In his scrubs still yet to be strained, Carter was crowded at the counter, Myrna and her wheelchair up to his feet, practically rolling over his toes in the trainers you'd brought him. He was laughing awkwardly and trying to climb up the counter to get away from her. You'd never seen someone so afraid of an elderly woman in a wheelchair.

Robby's chest rumbled in a chuckle as he lingered over you. “He's your son.”

You swatted his chest.

“C'mon,” tutted Dana. “He's doing good. Says he wants to go inter surgery.”

“We taught him where the money is.”

Across the way the three of you noticed you weren't the only one watching the show. Hiding by an exam room, a curtain pulled close you could see Santos and Whitaker watching. Trinity was doing a bad job at hiding her grin while Denis was a decent guy, he looked bad.

“Shouldn't we be helping him out?” you pondered.

“Are you kidding?” smirked Dana. “This is the most fun I've had in years.”

“You think he gets treated better at Presby?” you asked.

Robby shook his head. “Presby doesn't have a Myrna.”

Carter had just stitched up a gruesome cut in a leg, finally staining his scrubs in a speck of blood. It was small but made him feel like a real doctor.

He was just walking past an exam room when he heard calling. He supposed it was for him, though it wasn't his name.

“Hey! Pussycat!”

He paused past the exam room, hand grasped at the doorframe to steady him. Sweet-cheeks. Hot-stuff. Pussycat. Carter dreaded to think what she could come up with next.

Carter stepped back. “It's-It's Carter, or Robinavitch.”

“Yeah, yeah, plenty of them,” she said, holding up her arm as far as she could while restrained. “I got an itch.”

“Okay?”

Her restraints jangled again as she proved a point. “I can't reach.”

He was stuck in spot, wondering if Myrna had been paid by his parents to make his day harder. With a sigh he took a step in at her bed side, making an exaggerated move in tugging on powderless, latex gloves.

She watched and rolled her eyes.

Carter was tempted to pull on a mask to prove a point. “Where's the itch?”

Myrna tugged a little at her gown, exposing the curve of her thigh. “Right here,” she said, as seductive as she could.

Carter stared down at the skin, veins a deep blue and a wide purple bruise forming over where she needed the itch. He drew a stool closer and settled, drawing a delicate circle around the mark. “When did this happen?”

“When the cops caught me, itch!”

Gently, Carter started to drag his fingers over the mark she emphasised. He eyed the bruise still, trying to find the best way about it. Had anyone else examined her? “I could get you a band for that,” he said. “To help with the inflammation. Some elevation and that-”

“Higher!” she said.

Carter looked to see if she had listened to him. It seemed she had not. He moved half an inch further, knowing where his hand would end up if he went any more, or even if she shifted.

“You know know one's been this high up to me since my third husband,” she said.

“What happened to the other two?”

“I killed them!”

When Carter looked up at her she seemed only smug and proud of herself. It was impossible to tell what was a lie.

Myrna rose her brows in challenge.

Carter itched a second more before slowly taking away his hand, yet she latched on like a snake sinking in its claws when his hand brushed hers. “Is your... itch satisfied?”

“Not yet sugar,” she smirked. “You want to see my Vagina?”

Carter felt his cheeks rise up in heat.

“Myrna,” you appeared in the doorway, leaning there with your pleasing smile, the sort reserved for patients. At home, the kids got a different one. And Robby got another one. “Are you behaving?”

“Me? Please. I'm a good girl,” she said with a wink, releasing Carter.

He fell to your side quickly, like you could protect him.

“Really? Cause we've had a complaint from a nurse saying you grabbed his ass,” you said.

Her face fell. “That grey-haired pussycat? There was nothing there for me to grab, please.”

“So you're keeping your hands to yourself?” you asked.

“Urm, mom- I-I mean Nurse Robinavitch,” said Carter with a clear of his throat. “Miss- Mrs, er-”

“It's just Myrna, Carter.”

“Oh, okay.”

“She won't tell us her last name,” you added, looking to her pointedly.

“It changes!”

“Myrna has a pretty bad coloured bruise on her thigh,” he said. “I suggested a band to help with the swelling and elevation.”

You nodded. “She knows all of this. We put a band on her when she came in with the bruising, she just choses not to.”

“You want to see my vagina?” asked Myrna.

Carter looked back to you. “And she keeps asking that.”

“I'd be worried if she didn't.”

“Can I see yours?” she asked.

Carter suddenly really didn't want to be in that room.

You patted his shoulder, gently leading him out the room. “When you become a doctor, Myrna and I have a problem you'll be the first I go to, I promise.”

You closed the door behind you and chuckled quietly, shaking your head.

“Is she- is she a real patient?” Carter asked. “Or has dad paid her to do all this?”

“Myrna is as real as they get. Just wait till you meet Earl.”

“Who's Earl?”

“Don't ask.”

It was only one hour later when Carter knew what all the warnings about Myrna had been about. Why Jesse had complained about her hand and his butt. He knew it in the cigarette breath, the scratch of a wheelchair against the floor and the pinch in his ass.

“Ah- what the-”

Myrna was still looking down at him when Carter turned, biting his tongue. “You have a much better ass than your daddy.”

“Okay, Myrna, that's-”

Before he could erupt about how wrong it was to flirt, to pet name, to touch, two doctors slid up on either side of her.

“Hey, pussycat,” said Santos, taking the bars of the wheelchair and pushing her away. Next to her Javadi accompanied and Carter followed slowly to see what happened to her. “We've got your discharge papers.”

“Fuck off,” she grumbled.

“Ah, my own term of endearment.”

“So you're like-” started Javadi next to Carter. “The prince of this place?”

Carter was surprised it had taken this long for someone to bring up his name. To bring up the fact he was a Robinavitch. “I mean, I don't know about prince.”

“Please,” said Santos with a scoff as she pushed the door open to Myrna's room with her back. “You're set to inherit this place when Robby retires. Or if.”

He didn't think Robby would ever retire. There were days his dad relaxed, always easier when with you. If the both of you had days off, which seemed to be the only days you and Robby took off, Carter could usually find the two of you at each other's side. It was all romantic but as the child to witness the stolen kisses in the kitchen, the moments you both thought you were being sneaky in making excuses as to why Casey shouldn't come in their room for ten minutes, it was also embarrassing.

In PTMC it didn't seem to change that much.

Robby still touched you all the time. Still looked for you when he left every exam room, still called for you at every trauma. He almost envied anyone else ever trying to get in Robby's good books because your name took up the whole thing.

Robby wasn't leaving this place without you.

“I'm thinking about surgery, actually,” he said.

Victoria's eyes widened. “Surgery. Woah. That's- that's really cool,” she said with a dusting of pink on her cheeks.

Santos's eyes rolled. “Surgery, yeah, great.”

“She's got a lover up in surgery,” said Myrna as she moved herself back into bed.

Carter's brows rose. “O-oh?”

“You know,” said Javadi as he looked back to her. She was staring up at him, a sparkle in her eyes. “It's-it's like they copy and pasted Doctor Robby.”

“Yeah, I- I get that a lot.”

“Goin’ into medicine like them?” Said Myrna with a cheap Ha! Punctuated at the end. “What’s the point? I won’t be around forever to watch out for you Robinavitch’s.”

“Don’t say that, Myrna,” Trinity said with an air of boredom, like she’d had this conversation a hundred times before. “You’re gonna live forever.”

Myrna chuckled dryly.

“I-I’m thinking of psychiatry,” said Victoria, still to Carter. “Emergency psychiatry.”

Carter nodded. “Cool.”

“You think so?” She blushed.

“Crash, you can’t flirt with Carter,” said Santos. “That’s like flirting with Robby.”

Victoria stuttered, ponytail swooshing as she looked between her and Carter. “I’m-I’m not flirting. What? No, I-I would never and that’s totally- totally-”

“Honey,” said Myrna. “This is painful.”

With some dull excuse, Javadi scrambled away quickly, Carter still trying to figure out just what had happened as he watched her go.

Santos looked at where she’d left. “Damn. Crash crashed.”

You were hunched over at the nurses station, chasing up labs for Robby as he always knew how to ask sweetly. In the dim reflection of the glow of the screen you saw Myrna creeping closer, regular clothes adorned.

“Myrna,” you warned.

“Can't a girl say hello?”

“So long as your hands are to yourself.”

“Then how are we supposed to shake hands?” she hummed, the gruff sort.

You shook your head and fought of a smile as you slowly turned to her. “I'm sure you'll be shaking something. Are you going home?”

Myrna smirked. “The city doesn't sleep for anyone.”

It wasn't a secret to you what Myrna did that had her being brought in so often enough you typically always had a gown and room ready, even her favourite snacks in the lounge. She'd maybe never said it in so many words but you knew the streets were her domain, the hospital her sanctuary. You'd offered to help, dropped of pamphlets on her first few visits before you realised she only used it to dump her gum.

“So, I'll be seeing you soon?”

“You know I can't stay away from you, Sugar Tits.”

“Don't I know it,” you said, walking her out to the doors. The real VIP treatment of passing through the ambulance bay.

“Your kid is good,” she grumbled.

You smiled to yourself. “You think so?”

“He's on a tight leash. You must have warned him about me?”

“That we did.”

She rolled her eyes, her mascara smudging at the edges. “He'll be an annoyingly good doctor. Just like his daddy.”

“Who knows, maybe the next time you're here he'll be around to patch you up.”

The automatic doors slid open as you walked her outside, letting her give her flirtatious smiles and winks to the paramedics on call and a special blow of the kiss to Ahmed.

“Yeah,” said Myrna in the dying light of the day. “I left him a little something to remember me by, just in case he forgets me.”

You chuckled. “I don't think he'll be forgetting you.”

When she was far away enough, Myrna popped a cigarette between her cracking lips and lit it up. Though she may have squeezed the asses of any hospital worker close enough, she respected the rules enough to stand out of the no smoking zone and light one up.

“Well, see you around sugar tits!”

You watched her slowly walk off, the click-clack of her heels fading as she went.

The doors behind you sounded and Robby's arm slowly slid over your shoulders.

“Was that Myrna?” he asked.

“Yeah, she's off to fight crime and defend our streets,” you teased.

“You worry about her?”

You worried about everything. Really, it was your job as a nurse. Your regulars who came in, Earl with his sandwich requests, Louis and his stories, Myrna with her nicknames. You worried that every time you saw them it would be your last.

Robby drew you in closer to his chest, caving you in in his warmth. “She'll be back, then you'll be sorry.”

Behind you the ambulance bay doors slid open and closed again and a distressed voice called out.

“Why is this in my bag?”

The both of you turned to Carter who was pink in the cheeks and hands trembled as he held up a thin and stringy lingerie set. It was pink with bows, saggy in all the wrong places and teared slightly at the seems.

You chuckled as Robby stared, almost as alarmed as Carter. “That's Myrna's gift. From her to you.”

You had a felling she'd be back for that.

Companion Piece To:

The Casting Couch - Your first foray into porn starts on a casting couch with Michael “Robby” Robinavitch behind the camera.

The Photo Lab - Jack and Robby review the photographs from your audition on the casting couch.

The Screen Test (NSFW) - You and Jack set the screen test on fire during your first video together.

You’ve left your gym bag.

Robby finds it resting against shelves that stocks the towels and the baby wipes after him and Jesse hoof Dana’s velvet sofa back to the reception area of the studio. He stares at the white and green Nike bag containing your spare set of clothes before glancing at the bathroom door where Jack has graciously let you take the first shower. He’s currently reviewing the footage Robby shot during that scene, something he’s very interested in to Robby’s surprise. He’s usually a ‘wrap it’ and move on to the next shoot kind of guy.

Jesse’s already been sequestered to this next assignment. Dana’s on location, filming a bathroom scene with Garcia and Walsh, and needs his skill set. They have no idea why, but their viewers really love the whole lesbian in the bathtub trope, the more bubbles the better.

He picks up the bag and approaches the bathroom door. You’ve been in there a few minutes by now so he’s hoping you’re finishing up. He raps his knuckles on the door, a loud one, two that has Jack’s head popping up from behind the camera like a meerkat. “Honey, you’ve left your bag-”

You call out his name through the thin wood. You mustn’t have gotten in yet, he turns the handle, pushing the door open and to his surprise steam bellows out. The showers running, he can hear the patter of water against the tiles.

His name sounds again like a siren’s song. The showers in this place, they can take a minute to reach an ambient temperature. He pokes his head through expecting to see you in front of the vanity. Instead, he’s treated to your naked silhouette in the fogged-up glass of the cubical. Your back is against the wall, the blurred shape of your hand between your legs, while the other kneads your breast.

This happens sometimes after a shoot if one of the performer’s didn’t climax, the build-up it can lead to taking matters into your own hands…

“Robby.” His name rolls off your lips, your voice desperate, closer to the edge than you ever were with Jack.  

His cock springs to attention, thrusting itself against the inside of his combats, electricity spiking underneath his skin. He stares down at the tent in his pants, surprised by its sudden interest. It’s the second time he’d popped a woody over you. He’d made sure to jack off before the screen test just in case it happened again but it’s still there, big, bold and craving every inch of your bareness.

Christ, he hasn’t felt like this in a long time, not since before all that shit that happened with Driscoll.

That memory, it’s like cold water dousing his entire body, reminding him of how boundaries can be blurred, how temptation can be entirely one sided. He pulls away, setting your gym bag just inside the bathroom before closing the door.

“You alright?” Jack asks. His body is angled away from the camera, his eyes on Robby. The movie you’ve just made plays in the background, your gorgeous tits on display as you play with them, almost a mirror of what’s going on in the bathroom. “Oh, is she…”

Robby nods his head at the insinuation. “I walked in because she was saying my name.”

“I knew she had a thing for you.” Jack’s hands grasp his hips, his tongue clicking as he jerks his chin back to the movie. “The way she looked at that camera at the end…Are you going to-”

Robby cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“I’m her boss.” His arms cross over his chest, affirming his stance on the situation. “Everything we do here is based on ethics, that’s why we set up our own studio in the first place. She should be able feel safe here.”

Jack, more than anyone else on this earth understands exactly why Robby has to maintain that professional boundary, he was the first one Robby told about the assault, the one who found him after he tried to slit his own wrists.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Jack suggests, picking up the camera from the tripod and handing it to Robby. “You can grab a coffee, get started on editing the footage. I’ll close down the set, finish up here.”

“You’re sure?” Robby asks him, cradling the camera to his chest. He’s usually the one that resets the room after a scene, that does the checks to make sure everything’s ready for the next shoot.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Jack says as the shower turns off and the sound of you humming Destiny’s Child drifts through the bathroom door. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Like My Work? - Tip your friendly fan fic writer here! Or be a sweetheart and drop me comment or reblog.

you set your brush down and rose from your seat, making your way behind him. you pressed yourself against his back and wrapped your arms around him, your hands barely meeting at his belly. then you rested your cheek against the beef of his arm. 

you looked at him seriously through the mirror. “jack–” you started before he interrupted you, “i’m not complaining, just noticing.” 

he continued, “it’s just. . .not exactly comfortable, especially when we move around a lot. we’re in the emergency department — it’s like a medical survival show.” 

you laughed softly, you agreed. you were ready to admonish him for talking down to himself, you were happy that was not the case. he would be always attractive and sexy in your eyes. 

his growing belly excited you so much you didn’t realise you’d started running your hands languidly up and down, kneading and squeezing the fat.

jack looked down to your hands, raising a curious eyebrow. he felt your chest release heavy breaths, he turned his attention back to the mirror. there was a distant look in your eyes, glazed over. your mouth slightly agape. huh. 

“uhh, hon? should we head out?”

you snapped out of it at the sound of his deep voice. when you came to, you saw him sporting a tiny smirk. you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. 

jack started to connect the dots throughout the night — the way you stared at his stomach when he clasps his hands behind his back during handovers, the gentle pats of praise for his good calls, and, again. . .the containers of food you brought that could be shared between three people, all somehow ending up all for him.

it never occurred to him until now, you’d completely conditioned him into eating more than he usually did. oh well, you wormed your way to his heart through his stomach.

as soon as you locked the door after you got home, jack pulled you into a tight embrace. he’d done it on purpose, holding you against him until you felt his soft belly getting squished between you. you tried really hard to stop the small whimper that escaped you, but he heard it. cat’s out of the bag now. 

“anything you wanna tell me, sweetheart?” 

“umm. . .” you could sense blood rush to your face with humiliation again. how could you possibly confess the dirty stuff you want to do to his belly? you stood there quiet and frozen in place. you wanted to separate yourself from his grasp, run to the bedroom you share with him, and lock yourself in. 

but jack had voiced it out for you. “i saw you eyeing my stomach.” he ran his palms slowly over the exposed skin of your arms, trying to soothe you. “it’s okay. you like it that much?”

“you like that it’s getting bigger? you like seeing the result of your care and how much you love me?” he continued talking, “fuck, baby. . . now that i’m thinking about it, the way you take care of me is making me sooo fucking hard.” 

you gasped at his crudity. he suddenly held one of your wrists and placed your hand on the top of the fat, then he led it downwards to his raging hard on. the sound of your whiny moan made his hips buck up. 

he rested his forehead against yours, you could feel his heavy pants fan on your lips. jesus, he’s really horny. 

“s-show me. fuck—” he didn’t stop thrusting into your hand, he just kept going. “please, baby. please— show me what you wanna do to me.” he sounded absolutely pathetic begging you, and you fucking love it. you could feel yourself soak through your underwear and pants. 

“use me.” 

you instantly dropped to your knees, you bunched his scrub top and undershirt up until his tummy was revealed to you. you peppered it with open-mouthed kisses, licked it, bit it, sucked a hickey on it — all the while keeping your eye on jack completely losing his mind. 

you were never good with talking dirty, instead you showed it through your actions.

you tugged his pants and boxers down, the heaviness of his cock slapping against the plush of his belly. it was, by far, the sexiest sight you’d ever seen. 

you gave him one last kiss on the side of his gut before you enveloped the tip of his cock with your mouth. there was no teasing or patience — you pushed yourself towards the base until you could feel your lips kissing his mound. 

jack never pressured you into taking all of him, he could cum just by licking on his tip alone. but you wanted to make him feel good and hear him praise you for being such a good girl.

most of all, you wanted to feel the fat of his stomach pressing against your forehead. you squeezed the flesh with your hands, so you could get closer to him as much as possible. if you could choose a way to go, this was it — death by suffocation due to his growing belly. maybe next time you could ask him to fuck your mouth like a fleshlight whilst you lie on the bed.

you pulled away before ramming his dick inside your mouth again a couple more times. your top had darkened because it was drenched with your spit. at some point, you involuntarily started to hump the air. you could reach your orgasm just by sucking him off. 

jack had to forcefully pull away, stumbling back, and would’ve fallen on his ass if you hadn’t help stabilise himself. he didn’t want to shoot his load yet, he badly wanted to see what else you’d do to him. 

you two had stripped down to nothing along the way. you were sitting on the meat of jack’s thighs and started bouncing on his cock. you placed your hands on his belly, in awe of the way the movement of your hips caused it to ripple. 

jack held on to your waist, watching you stare at his abdomen. something awakened inside of him, he adjusted the position of his lower limbs, bended his knees, and rested the soles of his feet on the mattress. he started to pound himself into you, meeting you halfway. the ripples turned into stronger waves, making you moan out loud and sinking your nails into the flesh. 

he brought one of his hands to his mouth — biting the back of it as he groaned at the combination of pleasure and pain. his voice was muffled when he grunted, “i’m cumming, baby. shit–! i’m– cumming!”

he was surprised when you pulled yourself out because he’d always cum inside of you. he didn’t have the opportunity to question you as he could not stop his release, making a mess all over his tummy. 

you were almost at your peak as well, you rolled your hips against his belly — your wetness mixed with jack’s seed were used as lubricant to easily rub your clit on him. 

“jesus fucking christ.” jack quietly muttered to himself, the scene was making his flaccid dick harden again. “yeah. . . make it messier, baby. make yourself cum on it.”

your body jolted, convulsing in shockwaves. jack could feel your hole clenching and more of your juices leaking out of you. the real thing was even better than you could ever imagine, you’d been humping your pillow wishing it was jack instead. 

you dismounted from jack’s body to position yourself at his side, you bent forward to start gently lapping on your mixed fluids saturating his skin. you took your time cleaning him up while he watched, adoring. today, you made him feel more loved and cherished. ♡

You're a bit nervous to see Pope again. It's been over six months since you've last seen him, something you feel a little bad about but you're sure he appreciates the fact that you took the time to get yourself settled into a new place. 

You're finally feeling ready to put yourself back out there, at least for a good time. 

Especially when it seems like everyone else in your life is having their own fun. 

You don't want to miss out so you decide it would be nice to see someone you've always been comfortable with. 

Andrew “Pope” Cody, a friend you've had for a long time who has seen you through the worst versions of yourself and still somehow managed to stick around. 

You owe a lot to Pope for being the one you could call in the middle of the night to come pick you up to keep you company while you're bawling your eyes out. He never made you feel lesser for having these anxiety attacks. He always took very good care of you. 

Because he has always liked you, a lot. 

So when you text him asking him if he'd like to meet up and do something together, Pope replies instantly, asking what you'd want to do. You tell him that a cup of coffee would be nice and then the two of you could decide from there. 

Usually, how this goes, at least when you and Pope sleep together, is that the two of you either eat something first and then fuck or fuck and then eat something. 

It's routine, simple, easy. 

Nothing like how your day actually ends up going though…

Because the moment you see Pope, your eyes immediately trail the length of his body, staring at the way he has filled in his shirt, his muscles outlined by the soft fabric. 

You have never been more nervous in your life…

You weren't expecting him to be so fit but he did tell you that he took up boxing recently and that he helped move in his older brother, Jack, who plays a lot of tennis. The two of them have been playing together most days, which is why Pope is more muscular than he was the last time you saw him. 

He can tell you're nervous because you don't say anything when you get into his car. 

“Everything alright?” He turns to you for a second before he starts the drive to your favorite cafe.

“You look really good, Andrew.” You blurt out your thoughts, embarrassment making your stomach knot up. 

You open your mouth to try to pad what you just said but then Pope goes, “you look really good too.” 

That has your whole body lighting up because as a subtle flirtation, you decided to wear a shirt Pope let you steal a while back and thin shorts, since you wanted him to know exactly what this meet up was for. 

But now you're feeling more worked up than you were previously and it only gets worse when he parks at the cafe and has his muscular arm around your back as the two of you walk inside. The heat radiating off of him makes you a little dizzy, his hand imprinting its warmth into the side of your hip. 

Has he always been this…big compared to you? 

“What do you want?” He whispers into your ear while the two of you are in line and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you feel his hot breath on your skin. 

You mumble your order when the two of you get to the register and Pope whips out a wad of cash from his pocket, setting down enough for your coffee plus tip and then guides you over to where the two of you can wait for your coffee. 

His hand hasn't left your side and he likes that you're letting him keep it there. 

Usually you don't.

It's not that you don't like public displays of affection but you try to keep more of a distance between yourself and someone you're just sleeping with, to lessen any growing attachment. 

But…has Pope ever been “just” someone you're sleeping with?

You've always felt more for Pope than that but you never let yourself feel those feelings until right now. Maybe because you didn't think you deserved him. You still don't think you deserve him. 

And yet, when your eyes lock with his and he leans down to kiss you, why do you kiss him back without minding that the two of you are in the middle of a busy cafe…

Your heart flutters when he moves away from your lips and says, “I missed kissing you.” 

You missed it too. You missed him. 

Something you're unsure if you are going to let yourself feel right now.

When your coffee is ready, Pope asks you if you'd like to come over to his place and meet his older brother, Jack. You remember Pope telling you about his doctor brother moving back into town after years away. 

Jack wanted a change of scenery and the beautiful city of Oceanside has always been a place he was homesick for. Plus, the pay at this hospital is much better than the one back in Pittsburgh. He doesn't have to work the night shift anymore, though he still does. He has a better work-life balance here, which gives him room to pursue other interests.

Like you… 

Because Pope had told Jack all about you. About the kind of sex the two of you have. About how much he wants to be with you but he doesn't want to make you nervous and scare you away. About how you confided in him that you would like to one day try fucking two men at once, though you doubted the opportunity would ever arise. 

Until you get to Pope's place and meet his brother Jack, shaking his hand formally and introducing yourself.

Your heart suddenly pounds in your ears when his hand lingers in yours as he asks, “so what do the two of you plan on doing together today? Can I join?” 

Now, your stomach seriously is in knots and your anxiety starts to peak…

Because this is Pope's older brother. You know for a fact that Pope had to have told Jack about you so Jack definitely knows what he's implying with his words.

And you were not mentally prepared to fuck two men today… 

Which is why you don't answer him and instead ask Pope, "where's your bathroom again?” 

Pope shows you where it is and you lock yourself in there, trying to catch your breath. You have your body leaned up against the door, doing the breathing exercises your therapist taught you, while you eavesdrop on them talking out there. 

“You made her nervous.” Pope scolds Jack. 

“She didn't say no.” Jack says back. “Maybe she's nervous because she wants us both.” 

That is exactly why you're nervous…

It's not an understatement to say you're attracted to Pope. So, of course, you would be attracted to Jack, who is just an older version of Pope. 

Two attractive men…wanting to sleep with you…

You feel like you're going to start hyperventilating. Your anxiety is through the roof and it's getting hard to breathe because you don't want to mess this up but you feel like you already have by acting this way. 

Sometimes, you wish you weren't built like this. That you could just go with the flow and not think so deeply. 

But…you are thinking deeply and you can't help it. 

You're afraid that you'll end up liking this and then what? What will you do then? 

Is it okay to—

You flinch when there's a knock at the door and you hear Pope's voice ask, “are you alright in there?” 

You let out a sigh. 

You can't keep hiding. 

At least, not without explaining yourself a little. 

So, you open the door and look up at Pope and tell him, “I think I just need a moment to myself. Can I borrow your room?” 

Pope nods, leading you back there. Then, before he heads back out to the living room with Jack, he grabs a hold of your shoulders, rubbing them gently before being so sweet to you, “we don't have to do anything today so don't worry about it, okay? I'm just happy to see you.” 

His words have your heart wanting to burst because you were not expecting that at all. 

So, you apologize for behaving this way, “I'm sorry I'm acting all weird. I just…I'm so nervous all of a sudden.” 

“That's okay.” He keeps rubbing your shoulders so gently. “Just let me know if there's anything I can do to make you feel better.” 

Your eyes meet his and then, unconsciously, you drop down to stare at his lips before snapping your eyes back to his. He smiles at that before leaning in, giving you a light kiss that you melt into almost too quickly. 

It's exactly what you needed, so soft and full of care.

“I'll be right out there. Call me if you need anything, okay?” He nuzzles your nose lightly and you nod into it. 

Pope leaves and shuts the door behind him and you don't lock it. You just sit down on his bed then lay back, looking up at the ceiling you've stared up at many times before.

It's different this time, though. There are butterflies flapping around in your tummy. You've never…felt so much before. The nerves are there but there's something more to it.

He lingers on your lips and you miss his kiss already. 

Your heart is still racing in your chest so you need some kind of outlet for the anxious energy. Normally you take a walk, so that's what you'll do. 

You see them both hanging out on the couch when you head out of his room and the moment he hears your footsteps, Pope gets up and walks to you. “Feeling better?”

“I will. I just want to take a walk around for a little. Is that okay?” You don't need to ask permission but it helps you to hear that it doesn't bother him. 

“Why don't we walk to the tennis courts?” Jack suggests. “Pope and I were going to play anyways.”

“I thought you said you wanted to play pickleball.” Pope has been indulging Jack's latest obsession with pickleball. “Now you want to play tennis?” 

“We're definitely playing pickleball.” He says a bit too seriously and you hold in a little laugh because you find that strangely cute how passionate he is. “Maybe we can teach you.” 

You shake your head. “I don't want to learn something new right now. I'm a little overwhelmed as is…”

“Then you can just watch us play.” Jack gets up from the couch, presumably to start getting his gear ready. “Do whatever makes you comfortable, princess.” 

He smiles at the shocked expression on your face when he calls you the nickname you love to hear in bed. You're even more flustered now than you were before. 

So flustered that you barely register Pope cupping your face with his big hands, turning you to look at him. “Does that sound good with you?” 

You nod into his palms. “I think so. I've never seen you play before.” 

“He sucks.” Jack comes back after quickly changing and pats his brother on the shoulder, smirking. “But it'll be entertaining to watch I'm sure.” 

“I do not suck.” Pope glares at Jack, pointing at his prosthetic. “I just don't want to overwork you.” 

You glance down, seeing that Jack is wearing athletic shorts now so his prosthetic leg is visible. You immediately rip your eyes away from him when you can see the faint outline of his cock through the fabric. You shake the image from your mind, but the thought of whether or not he's the same size as Pope stays plastered in your head. 

“I'll get overworked regardless today.” Jack gives you a big smile after he says that and now you’re internally screaming…

Pope rolls his eyes at his brother's direct flirtation then looks back at you. “I'm going to get changed. Don't let him bother you.” 

He leaves then and, of course, Jack can't resist walking up to you. He wants to see the cute look on your face when he gets real close. 

You swallow down the nerves, staring at him as he examines every inch of you. He glances at your shirt and then says, “that's my brother's shirt, isn't it? I have one just like it. It's like you're wearing my clothes too.” 

The nonchalant grin Jack gives you has your heart pounding in your ears louder than ever. He smells different from Pope too. It's nice in its own way but it has you feeling dizzy from how close he is to you. 

“You really are as cute as Pope said.” Jack leans in and your breath gets caught in your throat the moment his lips touch yours and he whispers, “I can't wait to play with you later.” 

He pulls away before he can give you a real kiss. It was just a brush of the lips but now your skin is on fire…

Pope comes back to Jack acting completely unaware of why you look like you've just been jumpscared. “What's going on?” 

“We were just chatting. Right, princess?” Jack flashes that quietly mischievous grin of his at you. 

You nod, not sure what to say back. 

Pope proceeds to grab Jack and drag him into his room, shutting the door behind him. Then, in a low whisper, he tells Jack, “stop messing with her.” 

“I'm not.” Jack lies through his cocky smile. 

“I'm serious, Jack.” Pope doesn't want to scare you off. 

“She let me kiss her.” Jack tells him, which has Pope letting go of his shirt. 

“What?” Pope is surprised to hear that. 

“She wants this. She's just too nervous about it. You can be her comfort and I can be the one who gets her to break out of her shell a little.” He already has a plan formulating in his head for how to make you more comfortable. 

And it starts with making you laugh. 

On the way to the tennis courts, Jack tells you a story about a crazy night shift he had and you can't stop giggling to the point where your stomach is cramping up. You haven't laughed like that in so long. 

Jack is completely unserious and carefree, and it helps get you to relax because you haven't said a word about how his hand has been resting on the small of your back. You've been holding Pope's hand this whole time, squeezing it when you need a bit of comfort. 

It doesn't dawn on you how this might look if someone spotted the three of you until they both leave your side to start playing pickleball. That's when your nerves come back and you start pacing around to release the energy piling up inside of you. 

But then, Jack starts goofing off on the court, messing with Pope, and your laughing fit comes back at full force. 

Jack looks at Pope and then says, “come on, Pope. You have a princess to impress.” 

The glare Pope gives Jack makes you giggle even more. They really are brothers. 

And Pope is much better at pickleball than Jack was leading you to believe. 

The two of them play for what feels like forever, until they're both drenched in sweat. 

You're sweaty too but that's because of the California heat. 

“Let's head back.” Pope can tell you definitely need a cold glass of water. 

He puts his hand out to help you up, since you've been sitting on the sidelines watching them, then proceeds to keep your hand held in his as the three of you walk back. You try not to feel too happy about that. Holding his hand makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy but not in a bad way. 

You like how nice his calloused palm feels in yours. 

You also like how Jack's hand feels resting on your back, even though the fact that they're both touching you right now has your heart racing. 

Then, Jack leans closer to you and asks, “do you want to shower first or with one of us?” 

And you feel like you might actually explode.

Pope bites back a laugh at how shocked you look at Jack's question because you're just too cute all flustered. It makes it hard for him to not tease you too. 

But, he pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he says, “let her shower on her own. She's nervous enough already.” 

“Her choice.” Jack looks at you. “What do you want to do, princess?” 

You're stunned into silence because you have no idea what to say. So many things run through your head, like the sight of them both naked with hot water dripping off their skin…

You'd love to see that… 

But you refrain from the desire, opting to just answer, “I'll shower first.” 

“Suit yourself. We could've sat in my shower chair together.” Jack's words have you imagining that very scene.

You can't believe how forward he's being. That's not what you expected when Pope told you about his brother. But it seems like Jack is the type to live life in the moment and doesn't think very far ahead. 

That's why when you're freshly showered and dressed in one of Jack's shirts, since he insisted on it, he makes his move while Pope is in the shower. 

“Come here.” He gestures for you to sit on the couch with him. “Let's chat a little.”

You definitely don't think he wants to chat because the moment you're in front of him, he grabs you by the waist and sits you down on his lap, making you straddle him.

“Jack, I just showered…” You can feel his sweat on your body.

“You can shower again, with me.” He says with that sly smirk of his. 

“I don't think that's a good idea…” You grip onto his shoulders tighter, the nerves getting to you again.

“You know, you could get up anytime.” Jack tells you and you realize then that he doesn't have his hands on you at all. 

You've just been sitting pretty on his lap. And for some reason, you don't scramble to move. 

Maybe it's the look in his eyes, the one you've seen on Pope before. 

Lust. 

“Push me away, princess.” Jack leans in, whispering so close to your lips. “Before I kiss you while my brother is in the shower.” 

“Is Andrew okay with—” His lips are on yours before you can finish your question, kissing you with such heat that your mind goes fuzzy for a second.

Then, when you kiss Jack back, he smiles against your lips and says, “I think you know the answer.” 

Suddenly, his hands are all over your body and he's grinding up against you, pulling a moan from your lips you can't keep in. 

“Good girl.” He tells you before you can be embarrassed about it. “That's it, let go and just feel good.” 

It does feel good. You like the way Jack kisses you. It's hot and passionate, his hands holding you tight against him, his hips rolling up to meet yours, his hard cock rubbing up against you through your shorts and his own. 

He groans when you start grinding on him, your hands moving into his hair, brushing through his silver curls. “I could fuck you right now if you want me to.” 

You shake your head, your lips still on his when you answer, “I want Andrew too.” 

“Greedy girl.” Jack likes that you're honest. 

You're surprised you are. You have no idea what's gotten into you. But it's like the moment Jack kissed you, a switch flipped in your head and you're aching between your legs at the thought of two men having their way with you. 

Who are you to say no to that? 

So, despite the fear pooling in your belly, you close your eyes and just enjoy the feeling of Jack's lips on yours and his hands on your skin until Pope gets out of the shower and sees the two of you making out on the living room couch. 

“Started without me?” His voice pulls the two of you apart. 

You feel flush all over at his accusation but Jack just laughs and goes, “I loosened her up for you. Don't fuck her until I get back.”

Jack then proceeds to lift you up off of him like you weigh nothing and sets you down next to him. He gives you one last heated kiss before he heads to shower. 

And you don't know if the sweat on your skin is his or your own… 

“Was everything alright with Jack?” Pope joins you on the couch, taking your hand in his. “I can tell him to leave you alone.”

He's certain you don't want that from the way he watched you grind on his brother but he has to ask anyway. 

“Is it alright with you?” You want to make sure because you don't want to do this if Pope is uncomfortable with it. 

But it's his brother and he trusts Jack more than anyone in the world. “Yeah, if it makes you feel good, it's alright with me.” 

“Andrew, we don't have to do this.” You're nervous that he's forcing himself to be okay with this. “I'm sorry if I—”

“Look at me, princess.” His words have you snapping to listen instantly. “I want you to feel good. Did my brother make you feel good?”

Pope's hand slips out of yours and your breath hitches when his hand rests on your thigh. 

“I can check how good he made you feel.” His hand starts sliding between your legs. “Can I do that?” 

You bite down on your lip, then you nod.

“Lay back then.” He instructs and you lay down on the couch and watch as he pulls your shorts off, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. “I've missed looking at your pretty pussy, princess.” 

You choke back a whimper when his finger grazes your clit before drawing a line down your slit. His touch is so featherlike that your body can't handle it. 

You want more than just that light touch… 

“Use your words, princess.” Pope climbs on top of you because he wants to kiss you. “What do you want?” 

“Please touch me.” 

“Ask politely.” He demands in that stern tone of his that has you getting wetter between your legs. 

“Will you please touch me?” You tense up from how shy you get after saying that but the smile on Pope's face has you relaxing a bit. 

Just a bit, because you gasp when his finger slides into you for just a split second before he drags it up along the length of your pussy to swirl around your clit. 

“Who's a good little princess?” He asks, dipping just the tip of his finger into you again before pulling back out. 

“I am.” You'll be so good if he keeps touching you like this. 

“You really are. You're so wet for us.” Pope slips his whole finger inside of you right then and you arch your back in response, driving him deeper. “Are you aching for more?” 

“Yes.” You're practically pleading for him to stop stalling with that single word but much like his brother, Pope enjoys the worked up expression on your face. 

So he's patient and slow, feeling around for that spot you like so much, watching you squirm when he purposefully avoids it. 

It isn't until you're panting that he finally adds another finger and starts kissing you. 

His tongue feels so good on yours. His fingers feel so good inside of you. 

You're drowning in absolute bliss. 

“She looks like she wants to cum.” Jack's voice has you glancing over at him. He's rubbing his hair with a towel, drying those beautiful curls of his. 

You like that Pope's hair is still a little damp. You want to grab a hold of it.

And you do, when he pulls away from your lips so he can head down between your legs and flick your clit with his tongue until you're trembling. 

“Please.” You don't know how much more of this edging you can take. “I want to cum so badly.” 

“I never said you couldn't cum, princess.” Pope rolls his tongue over your clit, sending you reeling but not close enough to the edge to cum. 

“I'm so close.” You whimper out, not caring anymore how you might look or sound. “Please don't stop, please keep going.” 

“She's so cute when she begs.” Jack nudges you to let him slide in behind you on the couch, pulling your back against his chest. 

He slips his hands under your shirt, technically his shirt that you're wearing, and exposes your chest to the air, your nipples peaking in response. 

“Can I help make you cum, princess?” Jack asks as he slides his hands from your sides to cup your breasts. 

“Yes, please.” You don't know why you plead to him but it just slips out… 

And when his thumbs roll over your nipples at the same time Pope seals his lips around your clit, stars flood your vision and you cum so hard that your whole body shakes, your orgasm sending waves and waves of shock through your system. You're gasping for air, lightheaded from the feeling.

“Deep breaths, pretty girl.” Jack nips at your ear, his voice so soft and sweet. “You're okay. That must've felt so good, right?” 

You nod, the pleasure overwhelming you. It's been so long since you've cum and you definitely haven't cum that hard in a while.

“Should we make it happen again?” Pope starts slowly fucking you with his fingers again. “Do you want to cum again?”

“I don't know if…” You're unsure if you'll survive another hit of pleasure like that…

“We can take a break.” Pope goes to slide his fingers out of you but you snatch his wrist before he can, which draws a laugh from Jack. 

“Looks like she doesn't want you to stop, Pope.” Jack chuckles against the nape of your neck. “Tell him what you want. Do you want my brother to make you cum with his fingers?” 

You nod but Pope doesn't move until the words leave your lips. “Please make me cum again, Andrew.” 

“What a good girl, asking for what you want.” Jack rewards you by pinching your nipples, sending such a jolt through you as Pope finds a pace with his fingers that leaves you squirming in their hold. 

Then, when he curls them just right, you unravel completely, squirting with every thrust of his fingers until you feel like you might pass out. He pops his fingers out of you then before giving your pussy a light smack that has you cumming again so quickly. 

“Do that again.” Jack tells his brother. “I think she liked it.” 

Pope gauges your reaction as he slaps your wet pussy again, seeing the way your eyes roll back in response. “Does that feel good, princess?” 

“Too good.” You don't know if you should let him keep doing that. 

It might ruin you… 

“And here I thought you liked it when I was gentle.” Pope leans down, his tongue trailing along the length of your slit before dipping into you slowly. 

Every stroke of his tongue is so light, like you're something delicate he doesn't want to break. 

But you need more than just this and he knows it. 

You're aching for him to slide his cock inside of you… 

Jack tilts your head up, seeing the lust in your eyes, smiling. “That's the face of someone who's needy for cock. Do you want my brother's cock buried inside of you?” 

You nod then turn to look at Pope. “Please, Andrew.” 

“When did you get so polite? Is it because my brother is here? Usually you're more demanding.” Pope teases you with his words and you feel so flushed from it, heat rising through your skin. 

That heat remains when you watch him strip off his pants and you get a view of the cock you're always so desperate for. 

But he doesn't want to give it to you right away. 

So, he grabs your underwear and slips it back on, surprising you. Jack seems surprised as well, until he watches Pope rub your slick all over the fabric before gliding his cock against it. 

Everything clicks for him and he's menacing with his laugh now. “Oh, you're going to get edged to death, princess.” 

“Wait, what?!” You yelp when Jack pins your wrists behind your back with one hand while he holds your head steady with the other, forcing you to watch Pope rub his cock against your pussy through the wet fabric, dipping it in and out of it. 

“When did you get so horny? You're practically drooling all over my cock.” Pope slips just the tip inside of you but pulls out before you can enjoy it, drawing such a whimper of desperation from your lips, which he smiles at. “Do you want more, princess?” 

“Please fuck me, Andrew.” You want him so bad…

“Hmm…” He slides more of his cock inside of you before pulling back out and you whine in response. “Do you think I should fuck her, Jack? I'll let you pick.” 

You can feel Jack shake his head behind you. “I don't think so. She's too adorable all needy like this. I want to enjoy it a little longer.” 

“You heard the man.” Pope smirks at you before sliding his cock along the length of your pussy, teasing your clit over and over again with the tip of it. 

“Please.” You look up at Jack. “Please let Andrew fuck me.” 

That causes Jack to laugh hysterically. “Beg again, princess.” 

“Please, Jack. I want Andrew to fuck me. Let him fuck me.” You lean in closer to him, your lips nearly touching his when you tell him, “I'll let you fuck me too if you do.” 

“We're bartering now? I like this.” Jack grabs you by the chin, turning you to face him more. “What else can I get if I let you have my brother's cock?” 

“Whatever you want.” You're so clouded by your desire that you don't care what he asks of you. “Please just let him fuck me.” 

“What do you want, Pope? Tell her and she'll give it to you.” Jack prompts and Pope swallows nervously for the first time this entire session. 

Because the words that leave his lips have your heart pounding. “I want her to be ours.” 

“W-What do you mean?” You don't get what he's implying. 

Is he saying that they want you to be…

No, there's no way. 

Why would they both want you—

“I want to fuck you more than just today.” Pope says firmly. “I want to fuck you from now on. I want to do more than that…”

You turn to face him and you're not ready to feel his lips press against yours, kissing you with all the affection he can't put into words. And when Jack loosens his grip on your wrists, you move out of his hold to cup Pope's face, pulling him in closer, kissing him harder. 

“Do you really…” You're scared to say the words aloud. 

“I want to be your boyfriend.” Pope nibbles on your bottom lip after he says that, then trails a line of kisses down to your neck. “I want to be with you.” 

Jack scoops your attention away by turning you to face him again, saying, “can I be your boyfriend too?” 

“T-Too?” You're stunned to hear that. 

Jack nuzzles your nose, grinning. “A princess like you deserves two men to spoil you rotten.” 

“So, can I be your boyfriend?” Pope looks up at you, waiting for your answer.

“Can I?” Jack chimes in too. 

And you find the strength to push yourself to say, “yes.” 

To allow yourself to be given the affection you've always desired and more. 

“Our princess is so precious.” Jack kisses your cheek. “I think she deserves a kiss, doesn't she?” 

“I know just where to kiss our princess.” Pope lines his cock up with your entrance before thrusting the entire length of it inside of you in one go, the tip of his cock pressing up so deep inside of you, you might actually burst from that single motion. “Do you like it when I kiss you here?”

You nod but then Pope shakes his head at you. 

“Say “I like it when my boyfriend kisses my womb with his cock” or I won't move.” He stills inside of you, his cock throbbing, making you ache for more. 

“I-I like it when my boyfriend—” You can't get the rest of the words out because Pope starts grinding his cock deeper, causing your head to spin. “Oh god, Andrew, I'm going to cum if you keep—”

“Just cum on your boyfriend's cock, princess.” Jack coaxes you to let go completely. “Like you will on mine in a bit.” 

You moan so loudly that you have to clamp your hands over your mouth when Pope starts pounding into you, fucking you exactly how you always like it. Jack moves your hands away and slips his fingers into your mouth instead to silence you. 

“Suck them on like it's your boyfriend's cock.” He instructs and you listen instantly. “That's a good girl. You're going to suck my cock so well.” 

“Can I?” You say with his fingers in your mouth and he pulls them out immediately.

“Wait a second, Pope.” Jack has his brother slow his thrusts. “She wants me in her mouth. Flip her over.” 

Pope pulls out of you and you bite back a whine from the loss but then you're on your knees in a second. And without Jack having to say anything, you're already tugging off his pants for him while Pope realigns himself behind you. 

“Put my brother in your mouth and then I'll feed you my cock too.” Pope tells you as he rubs your back, the action so soothing like his words. “You can do it, princess. Let me see how good you can suck off your new boyfriend.” 

Jack watches you eagerly sink your mouth down onto his cock, taking him nearly to the base in one go. “Fuck, that's incredible. Look at you go, swallowing me up so easily.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, groaning at you humming around his cock in response. 

“I'm going to fuck this pretty little mouth the moment my brother's back inside of you. Get ready, princess.” Jack's warning barely preps you for Pope ramming the entirety of his cock inside of you from behind. 

You're squirting immediately, your knees buckling, your lower belly getting pounded into oblivion by how deep his cock is thrusting inside of you. It doesn't help that you're dazed from Jack fucking your mouth just as deeply, stuffing himself as far down your throat as he can.

It all feels better than you could've imagined. 

You could get used to this… 

“Please tell me I can cum inside of you.” Pope is certain you're still on birth control but he wants to be sure. 

You nod around Jack's cock so he answers for you, “she wants you to cum, Pope.” 

So, he does, spilling so much of his cum inside of you that he's fucking it deeper with every additional thrust. You're drooling by the time Jack pulls your mouth off his cock and Pope pulls out of you. 

“Come ride your new boyfriend.” He pats his lap and you straddle him but he turns you around so your back is against him. “You've got to put on a show for your other boyfriend, princess.” 

You slip off your shirt then, allowing yourself to be completely bare when you sink yourself down on Jack's cock, moaning when he hilts. Him and his brother are similar in size and they both fill you up wonderfully. 

You start grinding down on Jack's cock, burying him further inside of you until you're desperately bouncing on it, wanting to cum already. 

Then you do cum, when Jack smacks your swollen clit. You cum way harder than you should've and he chuckles into your ear. 

“You really like that, don't you? You like it when your clit gets abused?” Jack rubs it gently before slapping it all of a sudden again, making you tighten up around his cock. “Keep milking my cock. You're doing so well. Isn't she, Pope? Aren't you proud of our princess?”

“So proud.” Pope's hand slides to your lower belly, pressing his fingers into your flesh, massaging right above your womb where Jack's cock is pushing up against. “Our princess is going to cum real nice right now for us. Right?” 

You nod and then when Jack's hands come up to play with your breasts and Pope slides his free hand to roll your clit between his fingers, you burst entirely, your orgasm rolling through you immediately. 

“She's too pretty when she's fucked out of her mind.” Jack says, giving your neck a kiss. “I'm glad I get to have a piece of this beauty.”

“She's all ours.” Pope tilts your chin towards him before he kisses you and you're grabbing onto him, kissing him back. 

Jack takes that moment to grab a hold of your hips and starts grinding his hips upwards, fucking you harder until you're moaning against his brother's lips. 

“Move, Pope.” Jack gestures for his brother to get up so he can pull you off of his lap and throw you down onto the couch, ramming his cock back inside of you the moment he's on top of you. He revels in the way your toes curl and your eyes roll back. “I'm going to cum so deep inside my girlfriend right now.”

“Please, Jack.” You want it, just like you wanted Pope's release. “Fill me up too.” 

He grabs a hold of your face before smashing his lips against yours, grunting with every harsh thrust of his hips until you feel that warmth fill your lower belly. 

A warmth you never want to be without from now on…

“Did that feel good?” Jack asks, kissing you lightly on the forehead. 

You nod, then turn to look at Pope. “Can we do it again?” 

Pope lets out a beautiful laugh and then says, “we can do it as much as you want.”

“Anything for our princess.” Jack gives you a warm hug, pulling you up to straddle his lap again, still seated inside of you, surprisingly hard still too… 

You bury your face against his shoulder, mumbling, “are you both sure you want me?” 

And in sync, they both say, “yes.” 

Jack likes the way you smile against him. He lifts your head up so he can lean in and kiss you with the same amount of affection that Pope has when he kisses you. 

“Let's take this one day at a time and see where it goes.” Jack tells you with so much kindness in his tone. 

“Is that alright with you?” Pope sits back down next to his brother, pulling you to look at him. 

You nod and that's when he leans in to kiss you too and you smile against his lips.

Then, you say as a little tease, “are you going to fuck me now or are you going to let your brother go first since he's still inside of me?” 

That makes Pope laugh harder than he has all night, a sound that is so beautiful to hear that it has you giggling too and Jack can't hold in his chuckle either. 

This seems like the start of a very fun relationship with two men who will make it their life's mission to have you laughing your days away, filled with more than just happiness. 

How wonderful does that sound? 

a/n: oh I am so mushy, I swear being in a happy relationship has me wanting to write such cutesy mush, I love it!!! also the title of this fic is based on the song blooming days by exo-cbx ❀

I think this would be fun to add onto in the future whenever I want to revisit a softer, more heartwarming relationship with jack and pope ~ 

Jack Abbot was normal. He was fine. He was definitely not seething watching you dance with friends. The problem with dating the hottest woman in existence was that he couldn’t exclusively monopolize your time. He barely knew anyone at this wedding, it was your friend’s wedding.

She had too many sisters to have you as a bridesmaid and in the comfort and secrecy of your bedroom you had whispered to him that you just didn’t have it in you to be in so many weddings—most of your twenties had been spent traveling around the country to be in friends’ weddings.

Now, he was watching you in a gorgeous plum dress dancing around barefoot with girls you’ve known for over a decade. Some of their husbands were tolerable. Your best friend and her husband were here. Most of the time Ted was fine. Drunk Ted cared a lot about golf and Jack, drunk or sober, couldn’t give a shit.

When P!nk’s “So What” ended you meandered back over to Jack and to his surprise (and delight), collapsed in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m a little tipsy.”

“So I see,” he replied, lightly pushing your hair back away from your face. Your nice hairdo had long since come unraveled and kept falling in your face.

“I like you so much,” you said leaning into him.

“You don’t love me?” He asked with a smile on his face. You snorted.

“Of course I love you. But I also like you.”

“Thanks?”

“I don’t think all my friends like their husbands,” you whispered a little too wet in his ear. He had to resist the urge to push you away to wipe it off.

“What makes you say that?”

“Take me back to the hotel and I’ll tell you,” you said laying your head on his shoulder. It definitely didn’t look comfortable, largely speaking to your exhaustion. You had been dancing and jumping with your friends for multiple hours.

“C’mon, babe,” he said shifting your legs off his lap.

“Ugh,” you groaned standing again. “I need to tell Claire goodnight.”

“I’ll get our stuff,” he said.

The send off had been a few hours ago, before the elderly relatives had left. Now, it was just a fun party with friends. He loved watching you light up and enjoy being around your people. He loved his people, but they were far more subdued than yours.

Across the dance floor you approached your friend who threw her arms around you with heartfelt but drunken balance and coordination. It made his heart swell, watching how happy you were. Fuck, he loved making you happy. All he wanted in life was to make each day just a little easier; he wanted to do his best to make you happy.

By the time you’d extricated yourself from your friend’s embrace and made your way back to him, Jack had a hold of your purse and coat. He also had already dug your ugly Birkenstocks out of your purse so you didn’t have to put your heels back on.

“Fuck you’re so good to me,” you said, holding onto him while you slipped the shoes on.

“Well if that’s all it takes,” he replied, helping you into your coat.

He kept a hold of your bag when walking out to the parking lot. Just like his mother taught him, he held the door open on the rental car and shut it gently behind you. When he got into the drivers seat, you had dug your water bottle out of your purse.

“Ugh, I’m already sobering up,” you complained.

“So you don’t want drunk fast food?”

You gasped dramatically. “Do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”

Jack laughed and grabbed your hand as he turned out of the parking lot heading back to the hotel.

“What did you mean earlier about your girlfriends not liking their husbands?” He asked pulling into a greasy fast food joint. It rarely mattered which one as the point was disgusting food.

Once the French fries and chicken and burgers had been acquired, Jack pulled into a parking spot towards the back of the lot. One of the first things you both discovered you’d had in common was growing up in small towns. It meant that you both had fond memories of idling car conversations and the occasional makeout. Even now, a long away from your teen years, you both adored your post party ritual.

“So,” you began, curling your legs up. “Abigail, not technically my friend, but she’s a good time. Was talking to me about how glad she was that her husband couldn’t come and that was fucking bonkers to me. Why would you marry someone you don’t like?”

“You would be sad if I couldn’t come?”

“Sure, I like spending time with you. It’s not like it would ruin it for me, I basically barely hung out with you tonight, but it’s fun coming back and kissing you before dancing to Pitbull songs with everyone.”

“I think that’s a compliment,” he laughed.

“But seriously!” You said nudging him. “I like being around you. It’s fun. You’re just as fun as my friends.”

“Even though I can’t dance with the energy of a drunk college girl?”

“Even then,” you laughed. “Hear anything good with the spouses?”

“Ted likes golf,” Jack sighed.

“God he’s so boring,” you laughed. “But she needs boring after the shit head she used to be married to.”

“Do your friends think I’m boring?”

You scoffed. “No, they think you’re a crazy adrenaline junky, not boring. Did you notice the groom’s sister had a fucking weird speech?”

For the next hour you both sat in the car, eating food that would clog your arteries and gossiping about the wedding. It was life giving and comforting in ways you never wanted to lose. You’d had this with friends but Jack was the first man you’d ever dated who wanted to do stupid shit with you. He wanted to go to weddings of people he didn’t know. He wanted to sit in a slightly too heated car talking shit about speeches. He wanted to do nothing and everything with you.

“What’s that look?” Jack asked.

“I dunno,” you sighed. “I just really fucking like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I really fucking like you, too,” he said. “Even if you dance like a baby giraffe.”

“Fuck off!”

When you both got back to the hotel, Jack helped you search for the various pins hidden somewhere in your hair.

“You’re so pretty,” he said mouth at your bare shoulder.

“Are you trying to get in my pants, Dr. Abbot?”

“You’re not wearing pants,” he said, bracketing your body against the counter of the bathroom. “You are, however, wearing a gorgeous dress I’ve wanted to peel off with my teeth all night.”

“Your teeth, huh?” You asked making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“God I’ve wanted to touch you so bad all night,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a soft kiss right near your hairline.

“You look so good in that suit,” you grumbled, pushing your ass back against his groin. “Kept coming back to kiss you so everyone knew you were mine.”

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he buried his face in your neck. Being wanted by you was intoxicating. Knowing that you coveted him as much as he coveted you was more than enough to turn him on. He could feel the ghost of your cunt clenching around him. It had been two weeks since he last fucked you. Both of your jobs had been hectic.

But now, in the privacy of the too expensive hotel room, he had you at his mercy.

“Look at me baby,” he said softly against your ear, relishing in how you shivered against him. “All mine, right?”

“Only yours,” you breathed. “I’ve missed your hands.”

He ran his hands from your thighs up your dress to cup your tits. The strapless dress was held up by tape and some intricate ties in the back. He pulled the tape off your chest gently and then yanked the fabric down under your tits, bra and all. You looked so good. In the dim light of the bathroom, he drank in your heedy gaze.

“Beautiful,” he said attacking your neck again.

Having you in his bed for so long, meant Jack knew just how to kiss you and play with your chest to make you soaked. It’s like he had a cheat code to turning you on. It helped that most of the night had been subtle foreplay between you both. During dinner his hand was definitely too high on your thigh but he couldn’t bear to move it.

“Fuck, baby, take me to bed. It’s cold as shit in here,” you groaned.

“Anything for you,” he said. “How hard do you want tonight?”

“Rough,” you replied.

He wove his fingers through your hair, close to the roots and pulled. He drug you back into the main room and tossed you on the bed face first. Holding you down with one hand on your upper back, he slowly pulled the zipper of your dress down.

“Look at this sexy body,” he said. “All for me.”

You wiggled a little as he unhooked the strapless bra with one hand. It had taken him nearly a year to master, but it was one of his most used bedroom skills. Letting you go, he pulled off the dress harshly, taking your underwear with it. Then you were face down on the bed, naked and already dripping for him.

You had arched your back, preening under his gaze. With a sharp smack to the meaty part of your glute, he watched you jump and settle back into your skin. A few more spanks and he quickly shoved his fingers inside you making you gasp.

He loved all the noises and movements you made during sex. For the duration of your relationship, he had been making a running catalog of how to get you to do a sound or movement. While he harshly fingered you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, he began unbuckling his belt and pants.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Fuck me, please,” you panted against the comforter.

Shoving his pants down just low enough let out his dick, he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your wetness along his cock. Just the smell of you was sending him over the edge. He made sure to clamp down on your hips tightly, hoping to leave a bruise for you to enjoy, before careening his hips into yours aggressively.

There was a grunt as the air was knocked out of you. For a moment he paused, enjoying how you felt. Your cunt always felt so fucking good against his dick. You were so warm and wet and you clenched so beautifully when he spanked you. As much as he loved to be the one furiously fucking you, he also loved having you in charge.

He always enjoyed feeling your nails rake down his back. He was desperate to feel you closer against his skin, so while he had your hips pinned to the bed, he quickly ripped off his button up and undershirt so he could wrap his arm around your neck and pull you up against his body.

Once he felt you against his chest, he began to thrust ferociously against your cunt. He loved how it fluttered and the grunts and groans you released as he harshly pounded into you.

“Fuck, baby,” Jack growled harshly. “You feel so good. Made for me. Carved for my fucking dick, isn’t that right?”

“Just for you,” you said breathlessly.

You were clutching onto the bicep his had wrapped around your neck (more so your chest than neck, but it had the same effect). He felt you meeting his thrusts sending shockwaves through both of you.

“I love it when you’re rough with me,” you heaved against his assault. “Harder, please.”

Your tone was always so breathy and almost whiny when you got worked up like this.

“Anything for my naughty girl. Do you like this dick pounding into you. Does it feel good to have someone treat you so meanly?”

“Fuuuck,” you groaned arching against his grasp more. “You feel so good inside of me.”

“You make me so fucking crazy, pretty girl,” he hissed against your ear. “Watching you tonight was like my own personal dream. The prettiest girl in the world dancing and jumping but always coming back to me. Can’t be without me can you?”

“No, I can’t,” you whined as one of Jack’s hands roughly kneaded your tits. “Your hands are so good.”

“Rub your clit for me, baby. I want to feel you cum on my dick. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Yes please,” you mumbled. He felt one of your hands leave its iron grasp on his arm. “You fill me up so good.”

Jack felt himself getting close so he pulled out and finished taking off his pants. Getting his prosthetic off quickly was a hard fought for skill, but he managed to push you flat on the bed covering your body with his own before slipping back inside of your warmth.

He wrapped his arm around your throat again and grinned at how you moaned wantonly.

“So pretty when you’re being used by me.”

“Please,” you managed.

“Prop your hips up, baby,” he said getting on his knees to allow you room.

The harsh sounds of him slamming into you filled the room while he kept whispering debauched things in your ear:

“You’re made for me and only me.”

“Using you feels so sweet.”

“Are you going to cum on my dick?”

“I’m so fucking deep, baby.”

“I’m going to make you cum so hard.”

He was so focused on making sure you came, he didn’t noticed how you turned your face.

“Please, daddy, harder,” you moaned.

His hips stuttered and to control himself, he bit into the muscle of your shoulder. He almost felt guilty for how hot he found your cry of pain to be.

“Rub your clit and say it again,” he mumbled against your skin.

Your hand snaked underneath your body, and gasping under his assault you said,

“Harder, daddy. I want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned.

He was so close when he felt the tell tale flutters of your cunt against him. He nearly wept with relief you finally were close enough for him to say,

“Cum on my dick, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel. Milk me. Milk daddy.”

You cried out as you tensed and gasped underneath him. He made sure to keep moving as you clenched against him until your shaking thighs collapsed. He continued his furious pace until he felt himself orgasm. It felt like he came forever. When he finally collapsed and rolled over next to you, he chest was heaving.

“Daddy, huh?” He asked.

“I don’t know where it came from,” you laughed. “But you clearly liked it.”

“Surprise for me, too,” he huffed. He pulled you against him, reveling in how your naked skin felt against his.

“You’re sweaty and hot,” you grumbled, nuzzling your face against his chest. It was said like a complaint but you weren’t moving away.

“So are you,” he laughed. You tweaked his nipple.

“I’m fresh as a daisy.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Want to shower first?”

“Yes please,” you said. “Will you keep me company?”

He snorted and nodded.

The accessible bathroom had a removable shower chair that he used while he waited for you. Unlike the shower at home, it wasn’t big enough for Jack, his shower chair, and you. So he watched as you tied your hair up and quickly rinsed off. He noticed your wince when you gently cleaned your vagina.

“Do you want me to check it?” He asked a little concerned.

“Nah, just sensitive. You did a good job.”

“Wow, did I get an A-plus in sex?”

“Fuck off,” you laughed.

While Jack showered, you began working through your nighttime routine. You took off whatever make up hadn’t been sweated off during the wedding or the following sex and washed your face. By the time Jack got out, you were brushing your teeth.

Before leaving the bathroom you kissed him and said, “I love you.”

“Wuv yew,” he said with his toothbrush in his mouth.

Using his crutches, he made his way back to the bed, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before sliding into bed with you. Like you always did, you slept on the side farthest from the door. It was one of the many things that lingered from the war. Jack wanted to be between you and anything unexpected.

He pulled you against him, in the dark, enjoying how warm and soft you were.

“A good night,” he mumbled.

“And good sex,” you said.

He laughed and closed his eyes, feeling so much love and affection for you leaking out of his chest.

“Hey,” you said after a while. “You awake?”

“Hmm?” Jack asked sleepy.

“I just really like you.”

Jack laughed softly. “I really like you, too.”

They’d been open to finding an Omega but as the years passed and they failed to find anyone compatible, they accepted it might be just the two of them. Truth be told, they were fine with that. They loved each other, they knew each other’s quirks and the demons that haunted them. They would be two grumpy old Alphas taking care of each other for the rest of their lives.

Then came a warm Tuesday spring morning and a car in the driveway of the house next door. The house had been empty for several months but no ‘for sale’ sign had ever appeared in the yard. A service had kept things cleaned up so Jack hadn’t given it much thought. His gaze fell on a woman with her arms so full of clothes he couldn’t see her face. Ordinarily he’d offer to help but he’d just finished hour fourteen of a twelve hour shift. His leg hurt and he needed to wash the stench of hospital off.

“Hey,” he called as he entered the house, shutting the door behind him.

“Kitchen,” Robby yelled back.

Jack popped his head in to greet his husband. “Looks like we have a new neighbor,” he said after he’d kissed him hello.

“Do we?” Robby turned to look out the kitchen window that faced the other house.

“Just one car but they were carrying clothes inside. I’ve got to clean up.”

Robby kissed him again. “Yeah, you go ahead. I’ll make you some food.”

Jack took his time in the shower decompressing and washing off the hospital along with the remnants of the suppressant gel he had to wear at work. Robby had food ready by the time he emerged and they sat at the table in the kitchen to eat.

They’d been eating and chatting for about five minutes when there was a knock at the door. Robby frowned but stood. “Stay put. I’ll be back.” He kissed the top of Jack’s head on the way by.

The longer Robby was gone the deeper the furrow in Jack’s brow became. How long did it take to grab a package?

“Hey, Jack,” Robby called from the door. “You should come meet the new neighbor.”

Jack sighed and dropped his bacon back on his plate. He wiped his hands then wheeled his chair into the front hall. Robby stood in the open doorframe, blocking Jack’s view of whoever was on the porch. “Hey,” he said.

Robby turned with a smile and stepped aside. “Meet the neighbor, honey.”

Jack’s gaze shifted from him to the woman standing outside. You turned with a smile of your own and introduced yourself. You were beautiful. He wheeled closer, ready to say something by way of greeting when a breeze blew past you and into the house. Jack was suddenly enveloped in the scent of honeysuckle and vanilla mixed with something that was all you. It smelled like home.

His eyes snapped from you to Robby who gave a small nod in confirmation.

Oh.

Oh shit.

You were their Omega.

your pov:

samira’s pov:

your pov:

samira’s pov:

— — tag list:

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@laaundromat @noyaisasimp @strangegirl26sff

@wylewhims @rufles2 @cosmicneptune @draculovey @mayax2o07 @sharkers00 @shak1ra124 @itzpixiebabe @xh444 @barcelonaaababe @soapyspurnell @roryheartz

@bleb3 @bsttwice @escapingrealityalways @inthemindofmyown @honeycombsmilk @1dhoe93 @thoroughlymimi @stylesonlyangel4

Being back at your apartment was nice, but as you wandered around your space it didn’t feel as homey as you remembered it. The fridge hum sounded familiar, the creak of your couch didn’t sound too-plastic-y and the art on the wall didn’t feel like a bargain hunter find at TJ Maxx. Despite the space being catered exactly for you, it didn’t feel right. Something was missing.

(You didn’t want to admit what was missing and no one could make you).

The first night back in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel the echoes of Jack and Robby’s lips against your skin. Even in your memory the touch felt so real. If you closed your eyes and focused, it almost felt like they were in the room with you, holding you between them.

Their touch was haunting; you’d never experienced anything like it. Did it feel so intense because of soulmate connections or because it had been years and years of emotional build up? You were hard pressed to say, all you knew is that laying in your bed hours away from them the only thing you were sure of was how intensely you craved their touch.

You glanced at your alarm clock next your bed. Should you call them? Is that crazy?

Toggling to your text chain on your phone, you found the photo Jack sent of their schedule; he started sending it not long after you reconnected, all but insisting you schedule yourself in whenever they were both free. Neither Jack nor Robby were at work tonight…your finger toggled over the call button for Robby’s phone (he was slightly more reliable in answering a phone call).

You all were something, more than friends, but nothing was defined. The only real conversation you all had about everything was a not-long talk with Jack about how he felt about everything. There was still so much unsaid between all of you.

Before you could second guess yourself, you hit call.

After the third ring you contemplated hanging up, but then a warm, raspy voiced answered:

“Hey, how was your drive?”

It was Jack.

“Bland,” you said curling up in under your covers. “What do you do on nights you and Robby aren’t working?”

“He sleeps and I don’t,” Jack said simply. You could hear him puttering around in the kitchen based on the sound a closing drawer. “My sleep schedule never went back to normal after I lost my leg.”

“Why not, do you think?”

“Phatom limb pain for the first few years, but now it’s mainly age and stress.”

You hummed and tried to readjust your pillow.

“You good over there?” He asked, amusement in his voice.

“I can’t get comfortable. I’ve missed my bed so much, but no matter which way I lay, nothing feels right.”

“What do you normally do when you get restless?”

The automatic answer, the one you defaulted to, was masturbating but you couldn’t say that could you?

“Read,” you said.

Jack laughed and said, “Bullshit. You’re such a bad liar for a lawyer.”

“I don’t lie as a lawyer,” you grumbled. “I don’t need to, I’m too clever.”

“Yeah?” Jack goaded, a smile in his voice. You heard him sit down in one of their leather chairs.

“Yeah, that’s why they pay me more money than I know what to do with.”

“And why you work 70 hour weeks,” he added.

“Only sometimes.”

“And when you’re not working, what do you do to relax?”

“You know what I do,” you told him quietly.

“Tell me.”

“Jack,” you whined.

“C’mon baby, tell me how you touch yourself.”

His voice, already raspy and soft, was deeper with want. It wasn’t hard to imagine him on his leather chair, leaning back watching you hungrily.

“Only if you do the same,” you replied.

“Ladies first,” he said.

“Most of the time, it’s just a vibrator and whatever smut I’m reading at the moment.”

“Do you not turn yourself on?” He asked, it didn’t sound judgmental but curious.

“It’s an ends to a mean most of the time,” you nearly whispered. “Sorry, I know that’s not sexy.”

Jack cleared his throat. “I think you underestimate what I find sexy. The last time I saw you, I felt you up and you were wearing business professional.”

You laughed softly. “I guess that’s true.”

“Tell me a fantasy then,” he replied. “What do you think about when you want to get off.”

“Right now? How you and Robby pinned me between you both. I swear I can feel you still,” you told him.

“I thought about that too after you left. You were so warm and soft against me,” he murmured.

“How do you touch yourself, Jack?”

“With my hand.”

You snorted. “Sexy.”

“I like really firm pressure, that rotates,” he told you, voice breathy and a little nervous.

“Do you like someone playing with your balls?” You tried to sound sexy but were positive you missed the mark; it wasn’t something that came naturally to you.

“Y-yeah,” he hissed.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“How could I not?”

“What do you think about to get off?” You asked him, quietly.

There was the soft pant of Jack’s breath against the phone as he stroked himself.

“You and Robby on your knees for me. Sometimes us on our knees for you,” he managed tightly.

“Not for Robby?”

“He’s surprisingly submissive,” Jack halfway laughed.

“Do you want me to tell you what I would want to do if I was on my knees for you?”

“I’m not sure I could take it,” he said breathlessly. “But yes, please.”

“I would start gently, rubbing at you over the fabric of your boxers, as needy as you want me to be—”

“Mmm, would you beg?” He asked. It didn’t sound mean or even as dominant as he might have intended. It sounded desperate.

“I would beg and beg until you let me take off your underwear, then I would worship you with my mouth. Starting at your thighs, I’ve always wanted to leave a hickey there.”

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

“Then I would suck on your balls before moving to your dick,” you said. “The whole time staring at you, showing you how much I’m enjoying myself.”

“Are you wet, baby?”

You didn’t think he was asking about the hypothetical you in the fantasy.

“Want me to check?”

“Please,” he whined.

Slowly, you slid your hands under the waistband of your shorts. Unsurprisingly you were soaked.

“Thinking about sucking your dick made me soaked,” you said, lightly toying with your clit.

“Will you touch yourself?”

“Sure,” you said rolling over to your side table sifting for your vibrator. Jack groaned over the phone when he heard it turn on. You turned it on the lowest setting, but it still was intense once in contact with your clit. “Shit.”

“What…what else would you do?” He panted.

“I’d beg you to use my throat,” you managed, though you were squeakier than intended. “Use me however you want to feel good. I’ll suck and suck until you’re finishing down my throat.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he moaned.

“Then when you’re finally done, I’ll beg you to use my vibrator on me. Beg you to let me cum for you.”

“I’ll bet you sound so pretty when you cum,” he said, a soft grunt suggesting he was getting close.

“I want to hear you, Jack,” you told him. “Are you close?”

“So close,” he huffed.

“Think of me on my knees in front of you, where do you want to cum? My face? My tits?”

“Tits,” he managed.

“Show me what you sound like, baby. Paint my tits,” you hissed, arching into the vibrator.

There was a long, low groan from Jack that ended with his heavy breathing.

“Fuck, baby. That was crazy. How close are you?”

“Very,” you sighed.

“Would you do this on display for us? Pleasure yourself for our enjoyment? We’re older now, can’t always get it up.”

“Where do you want me to be?” You asked, closing your eyes letting him paint you a picture.

“We’d put you on the bed, legs out. Your cute little vibrator between your legs.”

“Would you both touch me?”

“Would you want us to?”

“Desperately,” you breathed.

“Then sure, baby. There wouldn’t be a piece of your skin we wouldn’t memorize the feeling of. Maybe if you asked nicely, Robby would shove his thick fingers in your cunt,” Jack told you.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you hissed.

“Just like that, baby. Think about how it would feel for us to watch you come apart.”

It wasn’t hard. Just like it wasn’t hard to imagine Jack using your mouth, it wasn’t hard to imagine their hands on you as you inched closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Jack,” you said between gritted teeth. “Tell me I cum. Count me down.”

“I can do that,” he sounded pleased and a little surprised. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Cum for me, baby.”

A sharp keening sound left your mouth as your body finally let go for Jack. The orgasm tore through you more intense than you’d felt in years. For a minute you sat their twitching, the remnants of the orgasm slowly abating.

“I was right,” Jack said.

“About what?”

“You sound very pretty when you cum.”

You laughed and felt yourself warm at his compliment. “You do too, you know. This is the new fantasy, now.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm, that was very hot, Dr. Abbot.”

“You cannot ‘Dr. Abbot’ me,” he groaned.

“Why not?”

“I’ll get a boner the next time a patient says my name!” He protested with a laugh.

“Devastating for me,” you replied with a smile.

“You feel any better?”

“A little, still feel like something is missing,” you said without thinking.

“And what do you think is missing?”

You blinked and quieter than you expected said, “You and Robby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When the stickiness between your thighs began to irritate you, you briefly hung up promising to call back when you were settled again. After cleaning yourself up, you slid back into bed and called Jack back on his phone this time.

“Hey,” he said, you could feel his smile from 200 miles away.

“Hey,” you replied.

For awhile you both talked about nothing and everything. The conversation ranged from opinions on The Matrix to a brief but thorough cultural critique on people’s fear of sharks. When you felt yourself drifting, Jack cleared his throat and said,

“Can I ask you something?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“When you fantasize…” he trailed off and the beginning had your marginally more awake. “Do you ever think about you and Robby?”

“Do you really want to talk about this?” You asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I think I want to know.”

Jack knew that Robby had once or twice but the guilt had been too overwhelming to continually revisit.

“I did once, but not in a…sexual way, I guess. It’s kind of a boner killer,” you said sardonically. “I wonder what the difference would be—what it would be like to know that I care for the other person and they care for me. Maybe hate-fucking was theoretically hot, but in practice…it was empty. We didn’t bond. Or at least I didn’t.”

Soulmate bonding was well-studied but not understood. Most scientists believed that soul bonds were generated from intercourse combined with an intense endorphin rush. Most of the time that occurred during intense and passionate sex between soulmates.

“Do you regret it?”

“Everyday,” you said simply. “Why did you forgive us?”

It was a question that had been on your mind ever since the men had come back into your life.

“Actually, why did you forgive me? With Robby there was so much history and love, but we weren’t…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure how to finish the thought. Thankfully, Jack knew what you meant.

“Because, I knew that if I had been in that storage room with you, I would have done the same thing,” he said. “I’m not being gregarious when I say that, either. I was halfway in love with you before I found out about the marks. It made sense when I realized, of course, but I was dreaming of you in our bed long before you and Robby fucked.”

“Huh.”

“Was that too much?”

“No of course not,” you said. “I guess I hadn’t realized. I thought it was one sided, my feelings for you.”

“It was not,” he laughed, a little acerbically. “Can you forgive me?”

“For what?” You asked, astounded.

“For flirting with you when I was already in a relationship. For constantly seeking you out when I knew—well, at the time I thought I knew—we couldn’t be anything.”

You were silent for a minute trying to figure out how to handle him apologizing for something that felt so small in comparison.

Eventually, you said, “Yes, I forgive you.”

“I forgive you, too.”

— —

Robby found himself taking one of his few breaks outside. The fall chill had settled on the city and there was a short seasonal lull before the winter freeze finally hit in a few weeks. Leaning against the pillar, one knee uncomfortably drawn up towards his chest (he was not as young as he used to be), he was scrolling through his phone looking at the thread of texts between you both.

It was silly, he knew. But staring at your dry, slightly too-lawerly text messages made him miss you slightly less.

Ever since the kiss, there hadn’t been any conversation about what was going to happen moving forward. Robby wanted desperately to beg you to move back to Pittsburgh, to ditch even looking for an apartment and move in with him and Jack. But Jack was right, you had been more hesitant and closed off as you both reconnected.

Months ago he wondered what it was like to be loved by you and he wasn’t sure he knew yet, but he did know what it was like to eat Chinese food on your squeaky work couch. He knew what it was like to kiss you with Jack’s taste still lingering on your lips; he knew what it felt like to be cared about—if that paper plan had anything to say about it.

So looking through your last text messages was not a replacement for your presence, but it would be tolerable until you returned.

——

You crossed city lines back into Pittsburgh a little after eight pm on Friday evening. The familiar shape of downtown rose against the deep indigo sky, windows glowing like scattered embers as the city settled into another cold October night. Instead of taking the turn to your awful temporary apartment, you made your way to Jack and Robby’s.

Pulling up to their small bungalow, the knot that had lived beneath your ribs all week eased, if only by a little.

It was Robby who opened the door and for a split second he took your breath away.

He wasn’t even dressed up, in fact he looked a little grumpy in a rumpled t-shirt and ratty pajama pants. His feet were covered in thick wool socks to combat the growing chill at night. His necklace shimmered in the porch light, the familiar Star of David catching the warm glow of the porch light. His dark greying hair was mussed and messy, and the tiredness beneath his eyes did nothing to lessen how impossibly handsome he looked.

“Jack stepped out to the store,” Robby said softly.

You stepped through the door and lightly brushed Robby on the arm as you entered. He cleared his throat and said,

“Are you…are you spending the night?”

The night before they asked you to come over and stay for the weekend. There was no obligation for sex. They just wanted to be around you. That simple request had made you smile. It felt precious in a way you hadn’t expected. Before leaving your apartment in Harrisburg, you had grabbed your favorite blankets and pillows, desperate for some comfort of home regardless of whether you were at the impersonal penthouse or your soulmates’ slightly more personal house. Neither place was truly yours yet, but this one was beginning to feel less borrowed every time you walked through the door.

“I am,” you confirmed. “I am just too lazy to grab my bag.”

“Let me grab it,” he said, holding his hand out for your keys.

You handed them over, Robby’s slightly rough skin brushing against your own. The touch lasted barely a second, but it was enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

You watched from the entryway as Robby slipped on shoes and walked to your trunk. Cold air drifted in through the open doorway, carrying the sharp scent of winter and distant chimney smoke. He grabbed the duffle bag easily and then peeked over at you before asking,

“Do you want the bedding?”

“Just the green blanket!” you called.

He picked up the fuzzy blanket, bunching it beneath one arm, and walked back inside. After shutting the door, he herded you back to the guest room. The very one he had slept in the night he fucked you. Instead of dwelling on the pit that grew in his stomach when thinking about his bad decisions, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Beating himself up didn’t help anything. It never changed the past, and it certainly didn’t make the future easier.

“This is soft,” Robby said, gesturing to the blanket as he placed your duffle on the mostly empty dresser. The room itself remained simple—fresh sheets tucked tightly onto the bed, a single lamp casting pools of amber light across the hardwood floor, the faint scent of cedar lingering from last time their cleaning lady mopped.

“Thank you, a friend got it for my birthday.”

“You seem to have really good friends,” he replied.

“I really do,” you said softly. Thinking of them made your chest ache with gratitude. They had held you together through impossible years and impossible clusterfucks of your own making .

“What do they think about all this?”

“I don’t think they know what to think. They’re holding out judgment for now,” you said, digging through your bag. Your fingers searched between folded sweaters until they brushed the small wrapped package tucked safely inside. “Do you know when Jack will be back?”

“Thirty minutes probably.”

“Okay, I have something for you both. It’s super small.”

“Do I get a hint?” Robby asked, approaching you.

He reached out and toyed with your fingers, absentmindedly tracing the spaces between them before pulling you flush with his body.

He smelled good. He smelled like a classic cologne. It reminded you of the ocean and leather and wood, clean without being too overpowering. Burying yourself against his body, arms wrapped around his waist, you couldn’t resist a deep inhale. Your nose bumped the side of his neck as you luxuriated in his scent. It settled something restless inside you that you hadn’t even realized had been fraying all week.

“Nope,” you replied, muffled against his body. “You smell really good.”

“You smell like car,” he replied, a smile evident in his voice.

You rolled your eyes.

“I drove three hours.”

“We really did miss you,” he said softly, his hands landing on your hips. His thumbs rubbed absent circles through your sweater without him seeming to notice. With a few slow steps he backed you against the doorjamb of the bedroom.

Tilting your head up, you gazed at his weather-worn skin and surprisingly soft beard. The lines around his eyes had deepened over the past week, evidence of long shifts and too little sleep, yet there was something lighter in them now that you were here. Mischief danced behind his eyes as he gazed down at you. He seemed happy, at least happier.

The first brush of his lips was not shocking. But strength in his grip on your hips brought you back to the heady way he’d man handled you in the storage closet all those years ago. Against your will and better judgement, you body reacted: melting against his whims desperate to feel his lips on every part of your skin.

“We had a plan,” Robby mumbled between harsh kisses and knee-wobbling bites.

“This feels like a good plan,” you croaked.

“We were going to wine and dine you,” he said moving down your face to suck at your jaw. “We were going to make sweet and gentle love to you. To finally bond with you after all this fucking time.”

You couldn’t manage to form words under his welcomed assault. The only thing keeping you standing was his grip on your hips and sheer will power. Your brain was unable to communicate with non-relevant systems. It didn’t give a flying fuck about your knees’ stability while Robby’s skilled mouth was rendering you dumb.

“But you are just so fucking kissable. Grabable.”

“I like the grabbing,” you managed between gasps. He bit down at the juncture of your shoulder and neck making you keen, scrambling to get a hold of him in case you legs really did give out.

“But I promised Jack,” Robby sighed pulling away.

Your chest was heaving and it took your brain multiple seconds to process how worked up Robby had gotten you only to pull away. Whining, you leaned back heavily against the door jam. He looked far too pleased with himself and you couldn’t help but glare at him.

“You’re a bastard,” you hissed.

Robby grinned at you, his forefinger tracing a line from the edge of your shoulder, up your neck, so he could tilt your chin upwards. He placed a soft peck on your lips.

“I know. Want to shower?”

“Fucking need it,” you grumbled to yourself.

Annoyed and still remarkably turned on you gathered your change of clothes and petulantly stomped to the bathroom. You could hear Robby’s chuckles behind you. You weren’t sure when or where, but you knew that you would be getting your revenge on the man and it would be sweet.

By the time you showered, dried off and got dressed, Jack returned. You walked out to their living room hearing his muffled laughter. It had been a long day. In a different world you might have tried to wear something sexy, but you couldn’t be fucked. An old law school tshirt and pajama shorts were all you could stomach putting on your body.

Turns out you didn’t need to worry, because when you walked in both men stared at you with such rapt attention they would have missed the rapture. Robby swallowed hard while Jack’s eyes never stayed stationary—taking in your bare legs and relaxed appearance.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not in a suit,” Jack said.

He was sitting next to Robby on the couch. A few inches of space separating them. When you stepped close enough, Jack yanked you towards them, situating you between the two men. Jack’s hands were immediately on your body: one on your thigh lightly squeezing and the other wrapped around your waist. Robby’s hand was not far behind, rubbing up and down your bare thigh with excruciatingly slow speed.

“If I’d known this is what would happen wearing ratty pajamas,” you mumbled feeling excited and terrified for what was coming next.

“Can we…?”

“Yeah, yes. Please,” you croaked out to Jack’s question.

“I want to savor you, baby,” Jack said.

He pulled you against his body, slotting his lips against yours. You remembered what Robby had said only a few minutes before—that the plan was nice and slow. That was fine, great even. But you spent the last week craving these men and finally the itch you’d couldn’t quite scratch was being soothed.

You didn’t want slow and gentle.

Summoning the ferocity of the woman you were underneath the fear and trepidation, you swung your leg over Jack, straddling his lap. Pulling away just enough to glance at Robby, you said,

“You get to watch for now, you dick.”

Ignoring Jack’s confused look, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him almost angrily. Distantly, you heard Robby’s amused huff and the ghost of his hand touching you and Jack. This is what he got for working you up before Jack got home.

Jack’s face was rough with the early vestiges of a five o’clock shadow but you didn’t care. The scratch of his skin was more than tolerable when you were finally the kissing the man you fell in love with. Forcefully, you kissed and mouthed down his jaw, lightly sucking before focusing your attention on his neck.

“Holy shit,” Jack moaned, throwing his head back.

Even through your thundering heart beat, you could feel the frantic pulse of Jack’s underneath your lips. For a moment you paused, pressed lips against his jugular. Magical was the only way you could describe the understanding of how alive Jack was beneath you. Each pump of his heart kept him alive. He was alive and he cared about you.

Despite the everything, he cared about you.

Everyone you’d spoken to describe bonding with a soulmate differently. Some felt a jolt, some had a wave of emotions, but for you everything went silent. It echoed in your ears until the only thing you could see was Jack. The world zeroed in on him and even Robby’s soft caress wasn’t felt.

The first time the men told you about their sensory association you had thought it sounded like bullshit. You never said that, of course. But even though neither of them had bonded to you, they had these synesthestetic associations with you.

But as the world faded, and only you and Jack remained, you felt it:

On a dark, foggy coast he was the lighthouse guiding you home.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped.

“Oh my god,” croaked Jack.

Both of you were breathing heavy as you felt the bond settle into your body. The bond securing felt like someone had cracked a warm egg over your head and it was seeping down all the way to your toes. You shivered and looked at Jack.

“Did you…?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You?”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, before pulling your harshly against him any pretense of softness forgotten.

Robby hadn’t said anything and you wondered if his bond would also solidify tonight.

“What do I feel like?” Jack asked in between frantic kisses. He held you tightly against his body, as though terrified you might float away.

“A lighthouse on a dark and foggy night,” you told him.

Jack made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Did you bond?” Robby asked softly.

Jack didn’t respond—his lips too busy on yours, but he pulled Robby in closer. Awkwardly, Robby began to suck on Jack’s neck in the way you had been doing before the bond snapped to life.

Jack’s touch felt more intense and lingered longer. Goosebumps followed his fingers in a way they didn’t with Robby. You knew the bond felt intense the first few days, but you felt like teetering on a knife’s edge. It was overwhelming but you couldn’t pull away.

Still, bonded or not, you needed air. It wasn’t until your lungs were burning did you finally break away.

Panting, you let Jack and Robby continue without you. Watching Robby shift, so his arm was still around you even while focused on Jack. The dichotomy of Robby was his terrifying wrath and equally powerful compassion. He raged and fought and lashed out, but he also ensured that you felt him bracing you no matter what.

Without a doubt, you knew if you began to tip over on Jack’s lap it would be Robby who would catch you.

The man annoyed the shit out of you. He egged you on. He cared so tenderly for you that even after he blew up his life, bid you goodbye with a small paper airplane. That paper airplane had followed you for years, and as you stared at the man in front you fully and sloppily making out with Jack, the world became fuzzy.

It was different than it was with Jack. Bonding with Jack felt like one in a million—nothing else mattered. With Robby, the bond felt inevitable. You felt a string wrap around your chest tightly, tethering you to the grumpy, caustic and warm hearted man.

He froze against Jack’s lips but his grip on you tightened almost painfully.

Robby was an explosive gust of wind before a storm. He battered against you and pushed you forward, he cleansed and healed. The string that tethered you together snapped taut and you could feel it weave through your body. If Jack seeped, Robby burrowed. There was no way you could rid yourself of either man. They became integrated with the very nature of who you were.

When the world righted again, Robby’s arm felt like a brand against your skin and you couldn’t help but squirm.

“Did you bond too?” Jack asked, a grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Robby muttered pulling back to stare at you.

“A gust of stormwind,” you told him.

“A powerful trumpet solo,” he said back you.

“The strength of an evergreen forest,” Jack added.

“I feel a little insane,” you admitted. “It’s a head rush.”

Not only was it a head rush, but you felt absolutely soaked. There was no amount of foreplay that could have created the watershed in your pants.

“Fuck me, one of you, please,” you said.

Both men zeroed in on you. Their gazes felt predatory and Robby pulled you with him as he stood.

“Bedroom,” he growled and you felt it in your core. He pushed you towards their room.

Robby pulled you onto the bed after him. He sat up against the headboard, thoughtlessly pushing off the pillows and blankets. Who cares where they landed? All you needed was their touch on your desperate skin. Robby pulled at your tshirt and you let it go willingly, pulling off your shorts as well.

In your haste, you lost your balance and nearly tipped over the bed. Robby caught you, just like you knew he would.

As though it were a sixth sense, you could feel Jack’s eyes on your bare body. (Robby was taking his time undressing which was not fair). The overwhelm felt astronomical and Jack’s slow gait felt positively glacial.

“Jack,” you said, turning to look at him. His darkened eyes drank in your nude form. “Please.”

Robby looked up at him and said, “You first.”

The whine that came from you surprised yourself and Robby. It didn’t sound like anything you thought you could make. Hastily, Robby grabbed some of the pillows from the floor and created a small pile.

“Lay down, sweetheart. Prop yourself up for Jack,” he said.

You recalled Jack saying that Robby was more submissive and you wondered if your relationship with him—bickering and bothering—brought out his oft under-used bedroom dominance. Ultimately, you didn’t care.

So you draped yourself over the pillows, face down. They propped up your hips for better access. For deeper access. Robby’s long legs were splayed out and you in between them. The bed dipped when Jack sat on the edge. Turning slightly, you saw him naked (you mourned missing him undress) and taking off his prosthetic.

Once unburdened, he slowly crawled up behind you, settling himself between your open legs. You positively ached.

Robby’s forefinger and thumb grabbed your chin and titled your face up towards his.

“Do you need warming up?”

You shook your head. “I’m pretty certain I’m wet enough to take you both at once.”

Jack’s hands, that had been caressing your hips so softly, gripped tightly at your words.

“We should consider that for later,” he bit out.

“We really should,” Robby agreed, taking your lips. You were bending at and awkward angle to reach him, but the comfort didn’t matter so much as how Jack felt lining himself against you.

“She’s so wet Robby,” he said. “Like a fucking fountain.”

“That for us, sweetheart? You finally getting what you want.”

The tip of Jack’s dick ran the length of your core, never quite pushing inside. You groaned trying to push back against him but a sharp slap against your ass made you still. The contact echoed through your body, making you tingle and shiver. You were pretty certain it made you wetter.

Before you could complain again, Jack slid inside forcefully. The movement knocked you forward and you collapsed onto Robby’s lap, burying your head in his hip. On a different night, when you weren’t completely overwhelmed, you would have tried to suck his dick. But tonight, the simple movement of Jack inside you ground all coherent thoughts to a halt.

Jack folded his body over yours, burying himself deeply inside you. Yoh knew that you were whining, groaning, and making all kinds of incoherent noises. Clutching onto Robby help ground you, but the simple act of contact still made your fingers tingle.

Having Jack fuck you with a force that knocked the headboard against the wall, felt like fireworks exploding in your chest. Each drag of his cock through your walls made you clench. With one hand dug into Robby’s thigh, you reached behind to hold onto Jack. Cocooned between the men should have felt suffocating. Instead, each breath lit your nerves on fire.

“Kiss me,” Jack said. At first you thought he was talking to you, but when you felt Robby lean forward, you whined. You wanted to see.

When you tried to pull away, Robby’s hand kept your head and body exactly where it was buried against his skin.

“It’s so nice when she doesn’t fight us all the time,” Robby mumbled in between kisses.

You might be fuck drunk, but you still were you. In response to his comment you bit him hard.

“Fucking hell,” he exclaimed jumping.

Instead of letting go, you held on and to your surprise he moaned.

“He likes some pain,” Jack laughed. Leaning over you, no longer kissing Robby—who was making indecent noises as you bit him—he continued to whisper, “Does it feel good to have me so deep inside. I knew you’d feel like coming home baby.”

It was too hard to find words to respond, so you let go of Robby and whined for Jack. His thrusts were rhythmic and deep. He wasn’t going fast, but his speed made stars dance behind your eyes.

“So good for me,” Jack muttered. You clenched at his words. “Fuck Robby, she might be tighter than you.”

Still panting against Robby’s side, it was insane to feel so singularly worshipped and degraded by Jack. Robby held your face against him, muffling your cries or maybe just keeping them for himself. You could hear the two men kissing again which meant that Jack was no longer draped along your back. Your skin itched without his touch.

“Please,” you said not quite sure what you were asking for.

Jack’s hand slid under your hips and fingers circled your clit. It was impossible to control the way you jolted under his finger tips. So singularly focused on how it felt to be pounded by Jack, you almost missed the way Robby stroked his cock next to your face. You managed to move over just enough to reach the base of his cock with your tongue.

Instead of letting you. Robby stuck his two fingers in your mouth and said. “Suck.”

Later he would tell you it was because any touch from you made him want to blow his load.

You sucked on his fingers as though auditioning to be able to touch his cock.

“Oh sweetheart,” Robby hissed. “Your tongue.”

“She feels so good, Mike,” Jack moaned.

“Feels like she was made for us,” he replied. “Does it feel like that sweetheart? Like Jack’s cock was made to touch every little spot inside of you?”

Jack’s heavy thrusts were becoming frantic, as were his circles on your clit. Your orgasm was building, starting in your core and radiating outwards until you trembled and twitched between the men crying out. You could hear Jack’s grunts as you tight clenching finally wore down his self control.

When Jack collapsed onto you, every inch of his skin pressed upon yours, you purred. This is what your body craved. It wanted to feel the men so intricately woven into you life. If given the chance, you would burrow yourself into their chests.

Jack’s softly brushed back your hair.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby. You did so well for me,” he mumbled pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulder. You were jello in their grasp.

You whined when Jack pulled back, unsticking himself from you. In fact, he pulled away entirely, settling himself on the opposite end of the bed.

“Cmon sweetheart,” cooed Robby.

You felt your body being moved by the men until you were laying on Jack’s chest, his thighs keeping yours open, hands toying with your nipples. In your haze, you barely understood the changes until you felt Robby kneeling over both of you, his cock pressing into your abused cunt.

“Fuck,” you hissed. “I don’t think I can.”

You were so sensitive.

“You can take him, baby,” whispered Jack in your ear. “Look at his pretty cock all red and angry for you. Don’t you want to know what you do to him?”

Robby pushed into your pussy at a glacial pace, making you feel every stretch and touch and caress. His long groan when fully sheathed inside sent a wave of arousal through you. Having both men focus on you was dizzying.

“So much,” you mumbled.

Robby draped himself over you, pressing himself invariably deeper. You swore you could feel him in your throat. He didn’t pound into you like Jack had, instead he rolled his hips sending motes of pleasure through your body that had you shaking.

“So warm and wet. Feels like coming home,” he growled.

He leaned past you and kissed Jack. Their sloppy noises ratcheting your senses higher and higher. Jack hadn’t stopped his attention on your nipples. Each tweak was timed with a roll of Robby’s hips. For a a few minutes there were just the sounds of Robby’s slick cock stroking you, the smack of their lips together, and your own quiet keening as the men used you for their pleasure.

It was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you.

“Isn’t her pussy so nice?” Jack asked licking the shell of your ear; you shuddered.

“Made for us,” Robby agreed. “Made for our pleasure and made for us to pleasure.”

Your whine sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

“Aww, she’s fucked out,” Robby cooed.

He leaned down again, this time slotting his lips with you. The caress of his lips and tongue, combined with his languid strokes, emptied your brain of anything other than the two men. Your two soulmates. Being pressed between them while the bond solidified had you hazy and utterly incapable of higher thought.

“Taking us so well baby,” Jack murmured. “Cmon, cum on Robby’s dick, too. Don’t want him to feel left out.”

One of Jack’s hands slipped between your body and Robby’s to circle your clit again. It was too much. You were already too sensitive from your first orgasm, now with Robby filling you so deeply and Jack not giving your overwrought nerves a moment, you felt yourself writhing against them.

“Fuck baby,” Jack hissed.

“Clenching so hard on me,” Robby panted. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You both,” you managed. It felt like an unassailable truth. There was no one in the world who would be able to make you feel like this.

“Are you close?” Robby asked. You nodded.

“Cum for us. Show the neighbors what a good girl we have,” Jack told you.

His command finally gave your body permission to lose control. White, hot pleasure coursed through you. It was almost too intense to enjoy. You definitely screamed and maybe raked your nails across Robby’s back while Jack’s lips tickled the side of your neck. Distantly you were aware Robby himself also came, but it was lost in the sensations of your body.

When you finally came back to awareness, you managed to croak:

“Please tell me it’s not always like that.”

Robby was still braced over you and Jack. You could feel him, but he wasn’t putting any weight on your body. The entirety of your weight was pressing on Jack, but you couldn’t even think about moving yet.

“No,” Jack said, brushing your hair slightly. He seemed to enjoy the contact. “It’s always intense for awhile after you bond, but since you bonded twice…”

You groaned.

“Really hot, though,” Robby added. “Jack slid into you and it’s like I watched your brain shut down.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I can’t move.”

Between Robby and Jack, they managed to roll you off and onto the bed. While Jack held you—you still craved contact even if you wanted them to stay far away from your cunt—Robby went to grab something to clean everyone up.

He came back in with a rag and your pajamas.

He was so gentle as wiped you down, softly apologizing when you twitched under his care. He tossed the rag at Jack and it landed on his chest with a wet “plop”. Robby had slid on a pair of short and a tshirt.

“Take the shirt off,” you said as you slid your underwear back on. You were foregoing the shirt for now.

“Yes ma’am,” Robby laughed. He slid into bed next to you and you ditched Jack’s body for Robby.

His long arms wrapped around you and he nuzzled the side of your face. His bare skin against yours soothes the prickling sensation of your soulmate bond.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched painfully. All the history and memories and yet you still were laying in their bed. They still were telling you they loved you. You felt yourself tear up a bit. Before you could respond, Jack was against your back. Being held by the two men finally allowed you to relax, melting into their embrace.

“I love you,” Jack said. “I love you both.”

Jack preened when he felt you relax into them. Over the last six month of knowing you and spending time with you, all he wanted was to make your life easier. He wanted to make you feel seen and cared for in ways, he was pretty certain no one had ever done for you.

Recognizing that his mere presence allowed you to calm down so much, your already noddle-like body became pliable between him and Robby was exhilarating. He bonded with you. He felt the world completely stop except for you. All he wanted for the rest of his life is to feel you relax when he held you.

“I love you both, too,” you said softly.

Robby kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger against your skin. He reached for Jack’s body on your other side desperate to hold you both. His heart felt so full and content for the first time in a long time. There wasn’t this feeling of missingness—of knowing you were out in the world and not in bed with him and Jack. He was almost asleep when you quietly said,

“I’m moving back to Pittsburgh.”

Robby was suddenly wide awake.

“Really?” Jack asked.

“Transfer was approved today,” you said softly.

“Move in with us,” Robby said suddenly. Technically he and Jack hadn’t talked about it but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that’s what Jack wanted too.

“Please,” Jack echoed. “I want to see you more than just dinner in your sad office.”

You laughed and wiggled on your back in between the men.

“I’ll draw up a contract,” you said.

Robby snorted, “Is that obnoxious lawyer for yes?”

“Mm-hmm,” you replied grinning.

“You’ll move in?” Jack asked.

“I will.”

Jack made a happy noise and began to pepper your face in kisses, making you giggle and push him away.

Robby threaded his fingers through Jack’s and rested them on your bare stomach.

“I love you both, so much.”

——

Robby was halfway to work when he realized his keys had a new small keychain on them. At a crosswalk, he paused and saw a tiny silver paper airplane, not quite the size of his thumbnail, dangling from a short chain. On one side were Jack’s initials and on the other side were yours.

Hanging on Jack’s keys was an identical paper airplane, because no matter how far away you traveled, they would be waiting for you at home.

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the chasing (3.2k) - where you introduced yourself to one of your peers, having heard all the rumors about him. he is obsessed with asking you out. (fluff, pre-marriage)

power move (1.6k) - where you see your ex husband flirting and decide to pull a power move to stop it (fluff)

the reminder (1.2k) - where one of your kids ends up in the er and robby reminds you why you divorced (angst + comfort)

the vacancy (1k) - where robby finds out you haven't been dating since your divorce (fluff)

nightcall (1.2k) - where after an incident next door, you call robby and ask him to come home (fluff + angst)

the smirk (1.3 k) - where robby finds out you like someone else (angst)

the warning (1k) - where you warn your ex husband to stop flirting around (fluff)

the realization (3.6k) - where robby realizes you are dating someone new (angst)

myths (500) - where robby hears all the myths about your boyfriend

the plan (1.5k) - where you realize both your kids are playing matchmaking (fluff)

the anesthesia (2k) - where you end up in the er and confess a thing or two under anesthesia (fluff + angst)

the sabbatical (3.8k) - self explanatory really (fluff + angst)

out of office (500) - where you call robby on day 2 of his sabbatical to ask about a case (fluff)

the "emergency" (1.8k) - where you receive a call from the er saying your kids are there (fluff)

dental evidence (500) - where robby left his dental evidence on your neck (fluff)

playing nice (500) - where you pretend to be great at co-parenting at your daughter's birthday party (fluff)

the old habits (1k) - where you go out with your friends (fluff + smuttish)

the test (1.3k) - where you and robby have a pregnancy scare (angst + comfort)

big ideas (700) - where robby asks abbot and langdon dating advice (fluff)

the interrogation (700) - where your kids find you asleep in the morning and interrogate you about your family (fluff)

You have no idea how Jack convinced you to come with him to pick up his estranged twin brother from prison. Maybe it was because it was so out of the blue. The two of you have always kept each other at arm's length when it came to any personal stuff. 

So, when he asked you if you would come with him, you didn't know how to say no. 

Because you wanted to say yes.

You have been curious about Andrew Cody since the moment Jack mentioned he had a twin brother. They don't share a last name. 

And technically, they're triplets. 

But his mother had decided to only keep Andrew and his sister Julia. Jack never knew his deranged mother, who his brother calls Smurf for some reason. She had dropped Jack off at an orphanage and he was adopted by a family who lived on the east coast. His adopted parents, the Abbots, were lovely people. He was raised in a happy household. 

The same cannot be said for his brother Pope. 

“Why do you call him Pope?” You ask Jack on the drive to the prison. 

“That's what he told me to call him.” Jack shrugs. “I didn't pry. It's not my place.” 

You're unsure if you agree with that. If you found out randomly one day that you not only had a nearly identical twin, but that twin is in prison for an armed bank robbery gone wrong and goes by a strange nickname, you would definitely be asking a lot of questions. 

But Jack doesn't seem to have the same sense of curiosity that you do. He doesn't even know why he asked you to come with him. The two of you never go out together, unless it's convenient like for grocery shopping. He keeps a distance because his work is too hectic for him to be in a committed relationship. At least, that's the excuse he will keep telling himself because his feelings for you would grow out of control otherwise. Then he'll start imagining a life with you, one where you're his. 

A life he cannot have. Or won't allow himself to…

He has no idea that you feel the same way about him. 

And you aren't going to tell him. 

Because you don't want to ruin a simple arrangement. You are perfectly comfortable warming his bed whenever he's home. Even if it kills you sometimes to think that this could all end the moment he finds someone else. You try not to think about that. 

You focus back on Pope. “Will he be living with us?” 

“Until he gets on his feet. He'll stay at the guest house.” Jack has a small guest house in the backyard, the size of a studio apartment. It has its own bathroom so Pope would only have to come into the house for the kitchen. 

“How long do you think that'll be?” You can't imagine how rough the transition back into regular life is after being in prison for years… 

“Who knows. Shouldn't change things.” Jack had already set aside a fund for Pope. Sort of like a weekly allowance, at least until he finds work. That's why he has been picking up SWAT shifts. All that money was being put aside for this. 

“I'm sorry about your sister.” Pope had told Jack that their sister, Julia, had died of an overdose recently.

That's why Pope doesn't want to go back to Oceanside. He didn't even tell any of the Codys that he's being released. Though, they never went to visit him anyways, not even to tell him Julia died. He had to find out over the phone when he called Baz and Baz told him that her son J is staying with Smurf now. Pope meant to tell Baz at the very least but he ended up keeping his release to himself. None of them ever called him so he knows they won't find out either way. They probably figured he'd find a way to get himself stuck in prison forever…

“I never knew her so there's nothing to be sorry about.” Jack wonders how different his life would've been if his mother hadn't given him up for adoption. 

Him and Pope could not be more different. They may look alike but their life trajectories have skewed dramatically in opposite directions. Jack is a veteran and an attending physician for a very successful Emergency Department. Pope is a felon who is lucky that overcrowding had him booted out early on parole. 

“Still, it sucks you never got to meet her. Do you think you'd ever want to meet your half-brothers?” 

Jack shakes his head. “If what Pope has told me about them is true, I think it's best if they don't know I exist.”

The only reason Jack knows about Pope is because he had treated a patient that was obsessed with robberies. One of those online sleuth types. They thought Jack was Pope in disguise. That's how he found out he had an identical twin. 

They've been exchanging letters ever since. Jack has even gone to visit him a few times prior to his release. It was strange. Like looking into a mirror that's crooked. 

“It's kind of you to house him while he's readjusting.” It's a bit reminiscent of how you and Jack met. 

You were like a stray cat. He always saw you shopping late at night at the same twenty-four hour market he goes to, buying small handfuls of things here and there. One day, he asked you about why you only shopped at night. You asked him the same question. He told you that he works the night shift so he keeps that sleeping schedule even on his off days. You told him it's because you like the dark. 

You slept with him for the first time that night. In his truck, in the empty parking lot. That's when he knew you were just like him. You both had the same tastes in bed. He hasn't slept with anyone else since. Neither have you. 

You both are comfortable with each other. Not comfortable enough to admit the layer of feelings that neither of you want to address, but comfortable enough to fuck for hours at a time. 

Everything is about to change, though.

You and Jack stand outside the gate, waiting for Pope to come out. You notice the way Pope walks. There's a cadence to it that is…unique. The closer he gets to the two of you, the more your gut seems to churn. 

A weird sense of foreboding. 

You shake it off when Pope is in front of you. He looks at Jack then asks, “who's she?” 

Jack introduces you to Pope. “She lives with us.” 

“Why?” Pope furrows his brow at you. 

You do not have an easy answer to that. Neither does Jack. 

“Cheap rent.” You say with a shrug. Technically, you aren't lying. Free rent is cheap rent. 

He keeps his eyes on you, his gaze a bit more intense than any look you've ever seen on Jack's face. It's uncanny how similar they look. If it weren't for Pope's shorter hair, you might not be able to tell them apart… 

Pope stares at you the entire ride back out of the corner of his eye, since you have to sit between him and Jack in the truck. He can't tell if the two of you are in a relationship and just don't want to tell him. But there's no affectionate touching that couples would usually do. Jack keeps his hands on the wheel. You even lean more towards Pope than Jack. 

Maybe the two of you are just roommates. Pope doesn't believe it though. Because you're stunning. And small. Perfect to toss around in bed. 

You feel your ears heat up. You don't want to turn your head to check but you're sure Pope is staring at you. He keeps his hands at his sides and on occasion, his fingers brush against yours. You can't tell if it's on purpose or not. It has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering up a storm. 

“First meal out of prison, what do you want?” Jack and Pope had talked about this at length in their letter exchange. “Still want that burger I was telling you about?”

“Can I shower first?” Pope hasn't showered alone in years. He needs it. To feel somewhat normal again. 

“Sure. I'll drive home. I stocked your bathroom already.” 

Jack's words give you pause. When did he do that? Was that the reason he had a bunch of random packages these last few weeks? It was all stuff for Pope? 

“Thanks.” Pope is uncertain still if he trusts Jack's hospitality. He knows Jack is a doctor, which means he is well versed in treating a patient. 

But is Pope his patient or his brother? 

Pope doesn't know which he'd prefer. He doesn't have a great relationship with his brothers, even though he would do anything for them. Including taking the fall for a robbery gone wrong. 

They could've, at the very least, visited him… 

He was lucky the prison he was sent to was on the east coast near Jack so he had one visitor. It made him feel less alone. But very uneasy too. 

Because Jack has everything he would ever want. 

Except for you, for some reason. 

Pope watches the way the two of you interact when you all get to Jack's house. Jack doesn't hold the door open for you, going into the house first. Pope grabs it and holds it for you, letting you step in before him.

“Thanks, Andrew.” You tell him reflexively then catch yourself. “Shit, sorry, Jack told me you go by Pope.” 

“You can call me Andrew.” He likes how his name sounds coming from your lips. 

Jack shifts his attention back at Pope when the door closes then gestures, “let me show you where you'll be staying." 

That seems to be your cue to leave. You disappear into the nearby hallway. That must be where your room is. 

Jack catches how Pope still has his eyes on you as you walk away. That unsettles him. But he has no real claim on you. 

That's what disturbs him even more. The fact that Pope could pursue you if Jack doesn't step in to stop him… 

“She's pretty.” Pope says when he sees Jack looking at him with the same eyes Baz does when Pope would look at Catherine. Strange to see that look on his face. 

Is that how Pope would look if another man was eyeing his lover? 

So, the two of you definitely aren't just roommates. 

Jack doesn't comment on that. He just goes, “come on. You should wash up and then I'll take you out to eat.”

“She's not coming with us?” Pope's question drives Jack insane. 

Because he doesn't invite you out to eat. That's too intimate in his mind. He buys you take out if he picks something up on the way home from the hospital. Coffee on occasion. Usually after he texts you and asks if you want it. Because it's convenient. Not because he likes how you smile when he comes home with a treat. Definitely not… 

“You can ask her if you want.” Jack leaves that up to Pope. 

“Okay.” Pope sees a challenge when it presents itself. Jack probably figures he won't do it. 

He's in for quite a surprise. 

The guest house is like a tiny cottage in the backyard. It has enough space for a king sized bed surprisingly. Pope hasn't slept on such a large bed in years. It'll probably take a while for him to adjust to. Maybe he won't be sleeping at all… 

“There's clothes in the closet for you. I figured we're about the same size but let me know if anything doesn't fit right.” Jack sorted through his wardrobe for clothes that were a bit less fitted, in case Pope was more filled in than him. 

Pope nods then says quite bluntly, “do I get a key to the house?” 

“Your key is right here.” Jack points to the rack on the wall. “It opens the door that leads to the backyard and this guest house. The sliding door that leads to the kitchen is never locked so you can enter from there.” 

Pope tries not to be bothered by that. It's a bit too much like back at Smurf's. They never used the front door. Always entering the house from the pool into the kitchen.

Thankfully Jack doesn't have a pool. Pope would probably go crazy if he did. He's already pretty crazy to begin with. His brother doesn't need to know that just yet, though. 

“I'll be in the living room. Meet me when you're done.” Jack tells him before leaving. 

Pope takes a moment to look around the room. He straightens out the sheets on the bed. He grabs the chair that was at the small desk Jack keeps in here and faces it towards the door. He sits down, checking if this is a comfortable angle. He needs to be able to see any entrances. For his paranoia that a prison guard will come in at any moment and assault him. 

Once he has done that, he goes to shower. He spends a long time in the shower, doing everything he hasn't been able to do. Including jerking off. Thinking about you and your lovely voice saying his name. How soft your hand was when he'd brush his fingers against it at any bump on the road. Wondering what it would feel like wrapped around his cock. 

Would you be gentle with him? Would you want him to be gentle with you? 

In the living room, Jack can't shake off what Pope had asked him earlier so he gets up and goes to your room, knocking like he always does. You open the door and say, “Jack?”  

“Pope is going to ask you to come with us for dinner.” He just states it outright. 

“Okay?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Thanks for the warning?”

“Are you going to say yes?” Jack doesn't know why he's even asking. He has asked you a lot of strange things today… 

“I haven't eaten.” That's the truth. You are hungry. “A burger sounds nice.” 

Jack can't really tell you to decline now. “Then I'll tell him you want to tag along. I'll come get you when he's ready.” 

You nod then shut your door. Jack stands there, biting back a sigh. What the hell is he doing? 

You're asking yourself the same question. Does he not want you interacting with Pope? You want to convince yourself that this is some kind of jealousy but you don't think Jack values you enough to be possessive over. That's what you think. That isn't the truth, however.

Jack is growing more possessive now that he realizes he might have competition for your attention. His own brother. He has to figure out a way to dissuade Pope. But that would require admitting that he wants you to be more than just a fuck buddy and he is not prepared for that yet. 

For the potential of losing you entirely if he screws everything up…

When Jack sees Pope open the sliding door, he says, “meet me outside.” 

“I still have to ask our roommate if she wants to tag along.” Pope purposefully emphasizes that fact. 

“I already asked. She is.” 

“Then I'll go tell her we're heading out.” Pope walks past Jack. He already memorized where your room is in the house. Jack can't stop him from knocking on your door. 

You open it and see Pope. “Oh, hello.” 

“Are you ready to eat?” Pope notices you've changed clothes. Did you shower too? You're dressed much more relaxed now. 

“Yeah.” You close your bedroom door behind you. When you turn back around, you nearly jump because Pope is still standing right there. Very close to you… 

“Do you need your wallet?” He sees you're bringing a bag with you. “I'll pay for your meal.” 

“That's sweet of you, Andrew.” You say kindly because it is a nice gesture. “But it's alright. You should save your money. At least until you get a steady income.” 

“I'll buy you a meal when I do then.” He gestures for you to walk ahead. He wants to be able to look at you for a bit longer. 

You feel flush because it's been a while since someone's been that forward with you. His gaze is right on you as you two step outside. Jack is already in his truck, waiting. Pope opens the passenger side door for you and you hop in, sitting between the two of them again. 

You clutch your bag in your lap, feeling a bit shy at how it feels to be sandwiched between them. You shake your head of thoughts you definitely should not be having. 

Maybe you should've said no to going out to eat…

It's a local fast casual restaurant, done up to look like a diner in the 70s. Jack has picked up food from this place for you before. They do have great burgers. 

The host sits the three of you at a booth and Jack gestures for you to sit down first before he chooses to sit next to you, making Pope sit on his own across from you. 

Pope doesn't mind this. It just means he gets to look at you the whole time. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest at how intense his gaze is. That's probably why you stumble on your order when the server comes by asking if you all want something to drink. You end up ordering a mixed drink and the two brothers get beers. The alcohol will help ease your nerves, hopefully. 

“Do you two go out to drink often?” Pope asks and Jack knows he's probing on purpose. He has to hide his annoyance at that. 

“No.” Jack says to Pope directly, hoping that's the end of his questioning. 

Pope turns to you. “Do you like to drink?”

You shrug. “Sometimes.” 

“So, how did you two become roommates?” He asks the question Jack has been trying to avoid the most. 

You answer. “He told me he had a free room and needed someone to watch his house when he was at work.”

“How nice of Jack.” Pope says, his eyes drifting to your lips for just a second. 

“Why do people call you Pope?” If Pope is going to push Jack, he's going to do the same thing back. 

“Because I robbed a church when I was a teenager and beat up a priest.” Pope answers right as the server comes with the drinks. They give him a concerned look as they set his beer in front of him. He holds a very cold expression until they walk away. 

Once Jack knows you all aren't in earshot of anyone, he tells Pope, “don't think about doing that shit while you're living with me. Move out first.” 

“Don't worry. I'm not doing anything that will land me back in prison.” Pope smiles right at you as he says, “I'd hate to jeopardize such a nice living situation." 

It's fun to lie through his teeth. Because he knows everything he wants to do will upset the delicate balance between you and Jack. Doesn't mean he won't do it though. 

Like brush his foot up against your ankle under the table. 

The first time, you figure it's an accident. The second time, you know he's doing it on purpose…because he takes a swig of his beer right when you feel his foot trail up your calf. 

Again, it makes you nervous enough to mess up your order when the server comes back for the food order. Pope likes how you look when you're nervous. 

“Can I get another beer?” He tells the server, who nods immediately before quickly walking away. 

“Don't overdo it while we're out.” Jack doesn't want to drag a drunk Pope home. “I have beers at home.” 

“Are you saying I can get drunk at your house?” His words hold a strange weight to them. It's that unease… 

“I'm saying you don't have to drink here.” Jack has to keep Pope in check. That'll prove to be more difficult than he imagined. 

It never crossed Jack's mind that Pope might be tough to deal with. When he had visited Pope in prison, Jack met a very different version of his twin. More timid. A bit hardened. Probably from whatever he was experiencing in there.

Freedom is making Pope act differently than Jack expected. More bold…

You are experiencing that boldness right now. You aren't going to pretend you aren't attracted to Pope. You're very attracted to Jack so…it only makes sense that your body reacts to Pope as well. But you have to nudge his foot away from you. He doesn't bother you again after that. He keeps his gaze on you, though. Because he wants to enjoy looking at you with that shy expression on your face. He finds it so cute. 

Once you're all done eating, Jack pays and then drives you all to a nearby grocery store, since he wants Pope to be able to buy his own groceries. 

You notice how precise everything he buys is. Square bologna. Cheddar cheese slices that are exactly the same size as the bologna. A loaf of sliced bread that is just big enough that the cheese and bologna will be perfectly sandwiched. He buys cereal and milk too. Simple things. He pays with them with the card Jack gave him. 

Pope points to the candy and gum that is always available near the register. “Want anything?” 

“Oh.” You're caught off guard. Maybe that's why you pick a pack of gum and place it on the belt with the rest of Pope's things. “Thank you, Andrew.” 

“You're welcome.” The smile he gives you makes your stomach churn. You can't tell if you like the feeling or not. 

Once he pays, Pope hands you your pack of gum. He intentionally brushes his hand over yours when you take it, making your heart skip a beat. 

“Do you want a piece?” You open it, since you like to chew gum after you've eaten a meal. 

“Sure.” He takes one from the pack.

You turn to Jack, who has been keeping quiet this whole time when the two of you have been interacting casually. “Do you want one?” 

Jack takes a piece. “Thanks.” 

You all chew gum as Jack drives home. It's like a different kind of quiet. Just the sound of gum chewing. Yours is very delicate. Pope is blowing bubbles. Jack chews it with the back of his teeth. 

“Have a good night.” You tell them both before you head down your hallway, which is close to the front door. 

Pope watches you leave and waits until he hears your door close to say to Jack, “are you sleeping with her?” 

“What?” Jack looks his brother in the eye when he answers. “Why are you asking me that?” 

“Do you think she'd sleep with me?” Pope has to be baiting Jack. There's no other reason he would be asking Jack this otherwise. 

“Why would she sleep with you?” Jack hides his irritation. 

“Because we look alike.” Pope meets Jack's eyes. The same hazel eyes that he has. “I bet we fuck the same.” 

“I don't care what you do or who you do it with.” Jack hates that he's lying but he can't say otherwise. “Just don't do anything that will land you back in prison.” 

Pope knows what Jack is implying with his words. “You think I'm going to rape her?” 

“No.” Jack doesn't think so. But he has to ask for his own peace of mind. “Would you?” 

“Nope.” He would only take you willingly. He doesn't want you to look at him with fear in your eyes. Just pleasure. “I told you, I'm not going back to prison for any reason.” 

“I'll hold you to it.” Jack wishes he felt less tense but he can't shake the feeling. 

“Why don't you date her?” Pope keeps pressing Jack to his very limits. 

“I don't want to.” 

“I've always wondered what I look like when I'm lying.” Pope points at Jack's expression. “Must look a lot like that.” 

“Why does it matter to you?” Jack can't hide his frustration anymore. 

“Because if I pursue her, I don't want you getting in my way.” Pope smiles in a way that sends chills down Jack's spine. 

“I won't.” 

“Liar.” Pope pats him on the back. “Have a good night, Jack.” 

Jack watches Pope walk away and when the guest house door shuts, Jack curses under his breath, “motherfucker.” 

Against his best judgment, Jack locks the sliding door. Meaning Pope won't be able to come in until the morning. Then, he goes to rinse off the anger he feels in the shower. But not even a cold shower can settle his mind. 

He knows this is bothering him bad because he feels the phantom ache in his leg. That only happens when he's hung up on something. His mind will always wander to the missing feeling. 

He has to do something about this. 

So, when he's dressed again, Jack heads to your room. He knocks, like he always does, and you open it. 

“Jack?” You weren't expecting to see him again today. “What's—”

Jack grabs a hold of your face, kissing you all of a sudden. He kicks the door shut behind him and then locks it before he starts pulling off your shirt. You don't resist. Because you want him too. 

You just aren't prepared for him to shove you back on the bed with your legs hanging off the edge. He kneels down between your legs, tugging off your pajama pants, leaving you completely naked while he's still fully dressed. Your hand barely has time to grip onto his hair. His mouth is on your clit in an instant, sucking the life out of you. He hasn't been this impatient in a while. 

You cum quicker than usual from it, the sudden aggression turning you on more than you'd like to admit. You can't stop the moan that leaves your lips when his tongue dips inside of you, trying to find that spot that he can flick with the tip of his tongue that makes you scream. 

Once he finds it, you're squirming, the pleasure building too fast. You try to slow him down, “Jack, it's too much, please—”

He doesn't listen. Instead his hand slides up the length of your stomach until he squeezes your breast, rolling his thumb over your nipple. You can't stop yourself from cumming right then. 

Jack won't let you breathe. He stays like that until you're grinding your hips against his face, no longer trying to pretend like you aren't loving this. You usually don't let him spoil you like this. It makes you crave it too much. 

You'll start craving the way he demands, “cum on my face.” 

You do. It's hard not to. He's lapping it up like he hasn't taken a sip of water in ages. There's an intense hunger in his movements. Like he can't get enough of you. 

“Jack, I need a break, please—” You cry out when three of his fingers slide inside of you, curling right up against the spot his tongue was just abusing. “I'm going to—”

“Just cum.” He commands. “Don't think. Don't resist.” 

You listen too easily. Your orgasm is so intense that you squirt on his fingers, drenching his hand. He presses his palm and kneads your clit in response, forcing more out of you. 

“Please, I need—” You can't finish your sentence because you're cumming again.

“What do you need? Say it.” Jack won't stop until you do. 

“Your cock.” You tell him desperately as your pussy squeezes around his fingers. “I need your cock.”

“What do you need my cock for?” He's not letting you off that easily. 

“I need you inside of me.” You plead. “I want you to fuck me.” 

“Beg for it.” He starts moving his fingers violently side to side, making you see stars as you cum harder than you have all night. 

“Please fuck me.” You pant out in your orgasmic haze that's still going on because he simply will not stop fingering you. You don't care how needy you sound as you beg, “please, I need your cock inside of me, I want to cum on your cock, please make me cum on your cock.” 

“Flip over.” He snaps at you to hurry as he pulls his fingers out of you, making your legs shake. “Spread your pussy for me.” 

It's humiliating to be on your knees in bed, with your hand between your legs, spreading yourself wide for him. But you're instantly rewarded with the entire length of his cock ramming deep inside of you. 

“Rub your clit.” He doesn't want you to move your hand away just yet. “I want to feel you cum like a little whore.” 

You muffle your moans into your pillow as you rub your clit while he pounds into you from behind. You're cumming with every thrust, your hand soaked with your own release. You'll have to change your sheets. You see how dark the fabric is where your knees are.

“You're making such a mess.” Jack smacks your ass as punishment, which makes you cum harder. “Do you squirt on every cock that fucks you like this?” 

You shake your head. He sees it. That satisfies a nasty desire of Jack's. The one that wants you all for himself. 

“So just my cock then?” He angles himself more so he can rub up against a deeper spot inside of you. The one that has you gasping for air every time the tip of his cock pounds against it. 

“Yes.” You repeat that word over and over again until you cum. “Oh fuck, Jack, I can't—”

You can't cum anymore. You feel like you'll go dumb if he keeps this up. You're drowning in pleasure. And it won't stop. 

“Please…” You don't know what you're begging for anymore. 

Do you want him to stop or do you want this to last forever? 

You're scared that it's the latter when he tells you, “be my good little whore and keep cumming for me.” 

There's something intoxicating about the way he degrades you and praises you at the same time. You tighten up so much when he talks to you like that. 

You cry out his name when you finally feel him cumming inside of you, filling you up so much that you can feel his cum leaking out of you. You hear his heavy breaths behind you, the sound flooding your mind with desires you shouldn't have. 

Jack pulls out of you and you collapse onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up anymore. You expect him to leave. He usually does once he cums. 

But he doesn't. 

Instead, you feel him pull your back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you. He cradles you like this. You don't know how to feel about it. It's so intimate. 

Especially when he whispers in your ear, “spread your legs.” 

Your legs are so weak but your body listens without a second thought, your legs parting for him. His hand slides down from your stomach before slipping between your open legs. You gasp when his fingers thrust inside of you again. 

“Jack…” You turn your head back to look at him and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. 

And now, you don't care about how your actions will look. 

Your arm hooks back, so you can keep his head steady as he kisses you and fingers you at the same time. You moan against his lips when he starts kneading your clit with his palm. You arch your back against him when you're getting close. His other hand grips your breast, playing with your nipple between his fingers. This position makes your mind go hazy from the pleasure. 

You cum while his lips are still on yours. You swear, this is a first. You've never cum while he's kissing you. He doesn't kiss you often. You assumed it was because it was too intimate for your relationship with him. 

But tonight, he wants to kiss you. He wants your tongue to tangle with his as his fingers torture you. He wants you fully focused on him in this moment. 

You feel how hard he's grown again, his cock rubbing against your ass. You want him inside of you again already…

Jack does too. But he needs to hear you say it so he breathes out against your lips, “do you want me to fuck you again?” 

“Yes.” You stare into his eyes, your voice all light and airy. “I always want you.” 

Jack pulls his fingers out of you. His eyes are locked on yours as he licks them clean, making you shiver all over. Then, he lays you down on your back and gets on top of you, much to your surprise. You and Jack rarely do missionary. Again, too intimate…

But you cling onto him when his cock slides back inside of you. This time, he's so slow with his strokes that it's almost agonizing. Like the look on his face. 

Jack is staring down at you like he's afraid to lose you. You reach up, cupping his face in your hands. He leans into your touch. This is the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

“Kiss me, Jack.” You can't think of anything else to say that would reassure him that you want him. You can't say the words you want to say, so you hope that's enough.

Jack hooks his arms under you, rolling his hips against yours, fucking you nice and slow as his lips return to yours. The orgasms he pulls out of you now are so gentle but overwhelming at the same time. Because there's a layer of something unspoken. 

Something that doesn't remain unspoken for long. When Jack feels like he's getting close, he pulls away from your lips, looking into your eyes when he says, “if you want me to cum inside of you, promise me something.” 

“Okay.” You nod, waiting for him to tell you what.

It takes all your remaining willpower to keep your expression calm when he tells you, “promise me you won't leave me alone.”

“Oh, Jack.” You trail your fingers along his jaw and he closes his eyes, showing you how much he likes your touch. “I won't leave you alone. I promise.” 

He seals that promise with a kiss and with a few more gentle thrusts, you feel his release inside of you again. You hold onto him because you don't want to let him go. Not after he said that. 

“I don't care what happens.” Jack breathes out, every word warm against your lips. “As long as I get to hold you like this again.” 

It isn't a love confession. It's something else entirely. Something deeper than love. 

The fear of complete loss. 

“You will.” You promise him. “I won't go anywhere. I want to be here.” 

Some might say that Jack should ask for more of you. To ask you for your whole heart. But he doesn't feel worthy of that. So he'll settle for a constant place in your life. A guaranteed place, no matter what.

Jack kisses your forehead. It's so sweet and tender. Then he helps you into your bathroom. He draws you a bath and gently sets you into the tub. 

“Good night.” That's all he says before he leaves you in the tub. 

You don't know how to feel. You want to be happy with this development. He said it in his own way that he wants you. That should make you feel good. 

You sink into the bath, dipping your hand between your legs. You trail along your folds, feeling how sensitive you are after what just happened. You close your eyes, remembering the way Jack's lips felt on yours with his fingers buried inside of you. You can't stop yourself from touching yourself to the memory of it. You cum for the last time tonight, the pleasure making your mind almost as fuzzy as Jack's words did. 

Jack leaves your room but stands there for a while. He doesn't know what that was. What compelled him to do that, to say those words, to want to hear your response to them. His chest aches in an unfamiliar way. 

Then his stomach churns when he sees that the sliding door is unlocked…

Jack definitely locked it before he went to your room. So, how is it unlocked? 

Unless…

Jack glances out to the guest house. He sees that the lights are on through the window in the front. Pope must be in there. 

He is, sitting in his chair, staring out at Jack through the sheer curtains that cover the window. Pope squeezes his fists open and close, over and over, thinking. 

Thinking about how loud you were moaning while Jack was fucking you. How distracted the two of you were that neither of you heard him picking the lock to the sliding door and opening it. How neither of you felt his presence at your door, listening to everything with his hand wrapped around his cock. 

That's the second time he has cum today because of you. 

A trend he is certain will continue.

Life with Pope is interesting. That's the best word you have for it. It's been a week since he started living with you and Jack. The house is spotless. Pope spends most of his day deep cleaning. You haven't seen the wood floors this polished ever. 

It is a bit distracting, however. You usually work on your laptop in the living room but with Pope fussing around, it's hard to focus. But you don't like working in your room because you want to keep work separate from where you sleep.

Pope notices that you can't sit still and tells you, “there's a desk in the guest house. You can use it.” 

That is a good idea. You need to get this edit finished. 

“Thanks.” You follow him out there. 

When he lets you into the guest house, you notice that the chair is nowhere near the desk. The desk is in front of the house but the chair is all the way in the back. He grabs it for you and sets it at the desk. You don't question it and set up your laptop. 

“What do you do for work?” Pope has his hand on the back of the chair, his knuckles brushing along your back. 

You try not to stutter but his hand is distracting, “I-I edit novels.”

“So you read all day?” He lowers his body until his head is hovering over your shoulder, looking at what's on your computer screen. “That looks like a lot of reading.”

“It can be a lot. That's why I work from home.” You can't imagine having to go into the office and drown in text. 

“What kind of novel is this?” He brings the hand that was on your chair forward, draping over your other shoulder, pointing at the screen. 

Pope smiles out of your view at the way your breath catches in your throat in reaction. He has you trapped. Your heart is racing in your chest. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. 

“It's…um…it's a science fiction novel.” You scroll up to show him the synopsis you wrote. 

With how close his head is to your shoulder, you can actually feel his chin move as he mouths the words while he reads. “Interesting. So, what happens? How does it end?”

“Happy ending, of course.” The publishing company you work for specializes in novels that have happy endings. 

Pope turns to look at you. When you turn your head to see what he's doing, you're ill prepared for how close his face is to yours. He smiles before leaning in. You half expect him to kiss you but he brushes his nose against yours instead. A little tease. 

“You should get back to work.” You feel every word of his against your lips. “I'll come back when I'm done cleaning.” 

Pope pulls away, leaving you with your heart pounding in your chest. When the door shuts, you try to shake off what just happened. This isn't the first time Pope has come in close contact with you. 

You've noticed how casually he'll touch you. A hand on your back to move you aside as he walks by. Brushing an eyelash off your face with his thumb. He likes touching you.

And you're worried you like it too…

Ever since that night with Jack, he hasn't visited your room. Is it because the two of you came to an agreement that you won't suddenly leave him? You hate how needy you feel. Especially after having experienced such an intense night. Your body is craving intimacy more than ever. 

Maybe that's why you don't push Pope away when he gets close to you. It's horrible to say but…you like the attention. You like that he has his eyes on you whenever you're in the same room as him. It makes you feel wanted. Something you thought Jack was going to make you feel after that night. 

But he has been so busy working. He has been at the hospital every day this week due to a staffing shortage. So you can't really blame him. He can't give you the attention you crave, even if he'd want to. He's exhausted by the time he comes home. 

It's why Jack can't commit to a relationship. Because if he knew someone was waiting at home for him, it would kill him inside. He doesn't know that you are always waiting for him. Or, he just chooses not to believe it.

You finish editing the novel when it's well into the evening. Jack has probably left for work already after sleeping all day. Pope still hasn't come to check on you. Not that you're waiting for him to come back…

You finally close your laptop, leaning back in the chair, sighing. That was the last big project you had to do for work. The next few days should be a lot lighter, mainly fixing small mistakes that the proofreaders caught. You'll get a bit of a break until they've sent in the errors they find. 

You walk out of the guest house to…Pope and Jack having a pretty heated discussion. Neither of them notice that you're watching. They're standing in the kitchen. The sliding door is open just a tad, which is why you can hear everything they're saying.

And you are in utter shock.

“You work too much.” Pope tells Jack. “She's getting lonely.”

“What does this have to do with you?” Jack has been hearing the same shit from Pope all week. 

Pope just shrugs in response. “Maybe I don't like seeing her all mopey.” 

“She is not…” Jack bites back a curse word. This is exactly what he was afraid of and someone is finally confronting him about it. He does not like it one bit. “I can't control how she feels.”

“You can control how you act.” 

Jack is tired of Pope's bullshit. 

“Is that what you're doing? When you stand outside her bedroom at night?” His words finally crack the nonchalant facade Pope has been trying to maintain. He pushes further. “I know you unlock the sliding door at night. I know what you do, Pope.” 

“What do I do?” Pope snaps back, walking up to Jack to confront him face to face, his aura threatening. “Tell me.” 

Jack doesn't want to say it. But he has seen Pope outside of your room, just staring at your door. It's why Jack hasn't been coming to your room. He doesn't want to give Pope material to jerk off to. He doesn't want your private moments with him to be heard. Because he cannot keep Pope out. 

There's not a lock on Earth that would be able to keep Pope from you. 

Jack glances down at his watch. “I'm late for work.” 

And that's all he says before he leaves. 

Jack doesn't notice that you're standing there, in disbelief. But Pope notices. His eyes shift to you and your heart stops. Then, it starts to pound loudly in your chest when he makes his way over to you. 

“Did you hear everything?” Pope knows you did. You wouldn't have such a surprised expression if you hadn't. 

“I-I…” You can't find the words to say. You just swallow the lump in your throat.

“How does it make you feel?” He steps closer to you and you don't back away. You're frozen in place as he says, “knowing that I've heard you touch yourself so desperately these last few nights?” 

A wave of shame and embarrassment floods over you. There's a reason you picked that specific room in the house. It's the furthest room from Jack's. Meaning, you can touch yourself while calling out Jack's name and he would never know. You checked the soundproofing. He would have to be pressed up against the door to hear you and Jack would never do that. 

But Pope would. 

“What does he do to you that makes you scream his name when you make yourself cum?” Pope closes the space between the two of you and you choke on your own breath when he asks you, “how do I get you to do that for me?” 

“Please don't tell him.” You can't have Jack knowing this. It's not something you're proud of… 

“He doesn't know how lucky he is.” Pope reaches forward, cupping your cheek with his cold hand. You don't even flinch. Because his touch is like an alternative version of Jack's. A bit more jagged, but so similar. 

“Lucky?” You don't get what Pope is saying. 

So he explains, “it would be a privilege to have you scream my name like that while you're feeling good. How did Jack get so lucky to have a beautiful woman do that for him?” 

You place your hands on his chest, using your laptop as a makeshift barrier. You don't push him away but you don't pull him closer. You're building a wall between you and Pope. Because you're scared what will happen if one of you leans in. 

You don't think you'd be able to resist. 

So you keep your hands on his chest, giving you just the space of your elbows. If he gets any closer, you'd feel his body heat too much. It makes you dizzy…

“Are you scared of me?” Pope asks and his question confuses you. 

“No.” You shake your head. “That's not…” 

“You are afraid of me.” He tells you, his words piercing you in unspeakable ways. “You're afraid of me making you feel good.” 

Now that the truth is in the air, you're more overwhelmed than you were a few moments ago. It's like he caught you red-handed. He did catch you red-handed…

“Why were you outside my door?” You look him in the eyes when you ask, “did you want to come in?” 

“I could've.” You don't lock your door. Not like that would've deterred him if you wanted him to be there. He'd pick that lock in a heartbeat. 

“You didn't.” You don't know what you would've done if Pope opened your door while you had a toy buried inside of you, fucking yourself with it. 

“Would you have wanted me to?” He doesn't move closer. He wants you to do it. He wants to see you give in to your desire. 

You take your hands off of him then, taking a step back. 

Because you were about to say yes. 

You try to ground yourself, clenching onto your laptop tighter. 

You're getting swept up in Pope. 

That's why you need to say, “you're only interested in me because of Jack. Whatever you feel for me, it'll pass.” 

It always does. You have been in enough shitty relationships to know that no one has ever stayed interested in you. Especially not when you start to let yourself crave more of them. They always back away then. Calling you needy, unbearable, tiring. 

At least with Jack, you know where you stand. He's not stringing you along. You feel secure in your relationship with Jack. 

You don't feel secure in your relationship with Pope. You feel like you would drown in his affection. Something you are more than desperate for. But you can't take that risk. 

It'll only hurt you more later.

His response makes you ache all over, “I'm interested in why Jack is willing to risk losing you to someone else. I wouldn't take that risk. I would've made you mine ages ago.” 

You shake your head. “You wouldn't. Trust me, I…”

You wrap your arms around your middle, clutching your laptop like a shield, pain sweeping over you. It's a familiar feeling. Heartache. 

“I'm just a good fuck.” You tell him, choking back the sob that threatens to leave your lips. “I'm not anything more than that.” 

But you saying that does not dissuade him at all. 

Instead, Pope steps closer. He has decided that you won't be able to make the first move. You won't allow yourself to. 

“You never answered my question.” He grabs a hold of your chin, making you look him in the eyes as he repeats himself, “would you have wanted me to come into your bedroom while you were touching yourself and give you what you really want?” 

You can't hide from the intensity of his stare. You can't run away. Your body has gone completely rigid. 

Because you can't say no. 

Why can't you just say no? 

Tell him no! 

Pope licks his lips as his thumb brushes across your lower lip. Your whole body quivers in response. Just from a small touch…meaning you won't survive more than this. He'll corrupt you completely.

“If you say no, I won't bother you ever again.” He gently caresses your cheek before trailing his hand down to rest at the nape of your neck. His thumb glides along the column of your throat, making it hard for you to breathe. Though maybe it's his words that make you breathless. “If that's what you really want. I promise, you will never have to interact with me again.” 

That same heartache from before stabs into you like a dull blade. You've never experienced this before. Someone willing to give up their affection because you said so. Usually, you're the one doing that. The one who has to let go even when you don't want to because they don't feel anything for you anymore. 

Pope feels something for you. Enough for him to suppress it at your command. 

So, tell him. Tell him that you don't want him. Tell him so that he can leave you like everyone else has. 

Tell him the truth. 

“I don't want that.” You can't take back the words once they leave your lips. “I don't want you to leave me alone.” 

All of a sudden, you understand exactly what Jack felt the other day…

“What do you want?” Pope leans in closer, now that he knows you're willing. “I'll do whatever you want.” 

“I don't know.” That's the truth. You really don't know. 

“Do you want to know what I want?” He pulls you closer to him by your neck. It's gentle and forceful at the same time. 

You can't speak. You can only nod. 

“I want…” Pope leans in, his lips resting on the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you, underneath me, screaming my name instead of his. Would you like that?” 

Again, you can't speak. 

And again, you can only nod…

“Good girl.” He gives you a kiss on the forehead. “I'm glad you can be honest.” 

You feel a mixture of fear and excitement. Fear that you'll enjoy this too much. Excited for it to happen regardless. 

Pope smiles at you, at the bashful face you're making. He basks in the desire in your eyes. “Where do you want me?” 

You can't answer because you're unsure if you could take him to your bedroom. It would be impossible not to think about him if the two of you slept together on your bed. You'd relive the memory every time you lay down. That's what happened with Jack. 

“I don't know.” You're so nervous right now. 

“Let's go to the guest house then.” Pope decides for the two of you. That way, he can reminisce about you every time he lays down in bed. It might actually make him want to sleep in bed. 

He puts his hand out for you to hold. You take it and follow behind him as he walks you back to the guest house. You set your laptop back down on the desk.

Then, when your hands are finally free, Pope comes up to you, his eyes taking you in completely. You're so beautiful to him. He knows you'll be even more stunning without any clothes on. 

But you press your hands against his chest when he tries to come closer. He looks at you, puzzled. You swallow your nerves to tell him, “can I use your shower?” 

You've been sitting at a desk all day, mulling over words on a screen. You're sweaty and you don't want him to touch you for the first time when you're not clean. 

“Can we use it together?” Pope wouldn't mind a nice shower. 

“Okay.” You and Jack have never done that before. Only baths, since he can't stand in the shower. He probably could with his prosthetic but he prefers not to get it wet if he doesn't need to. 

“Can I take off your clothes?” Pope wants to be the one that undresses you.

You nod, letting him come close again. His hands hold onto the hem of your shirt and you lift your arms so he can pull it off of you. He does the same, pulling off his shirt, so you don't feel alone. 

It's actually crazy how similar him and Jack look. Even their bodies are only slightly different. The main difference being how much more intimidating Pope carries himself. 

Pope rests his hands on your hips before he pulls your pants off of you. You step out of them, leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. He takes off his pants, leaving him in only his boxer briefs. You try not to notice that he's hard. 

“Turn around.” Pope instructs and you listen. He unhook your bra and then gently pulls down the straps one at a time, making you shiver all over from the soft touches. 

He steps closer to you, close enough that you can feel his hard cock against your back. His hands slide down from your stomach to the waistband of your underwear. 

Then, he whispers in your ear, “you don't have to wear these anymore. It would be easier to fuck you whenever I want if you went without.” 

He pulls them off of you at that moment, letting you stand there, stunned by his words. You know he has pulled his off because the heat of his bare cock is back on your back. He feels big. Jack's is pretty big. 

Could they really be that similar? 

“We should head into the shower.” He says to you, pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder. “Before I can't control myself any longer.” 

Pope takes your hand and guides you into the shower. He turns it on, shielding you from the cold water that sprays out first. You take that instance to look down at his cock. 

He catches you. “Are you comparing us in your mind?” 

You definitely are. They're about the same size but different in one very distinct way. Pope is uncut. You can't remember the last time you fucked someone with foreskin. You're a bit surprised by that. 

“You might as well touch it if you're going to keep staring that hard." Pope takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. “Go ahead, touch me.” 

You stroke up the length of his cock until you reach the tip. You like how hot it feels in your hand. You also like the look on Pope's face when you start to move your hand. He grabs your wrist, stopping you. 

“If you keep doing that, I'll fuck you right here.” He isn't going to cum until he's buried inside of you. 

You pull your hands away from him. He hands you a bar of soap. You wash your body while he does the same. You don't get your hair wet, thanks to him shielding you from the shower until you're ready to rinse your body. 

“Thank you.” You appreciate his consideration. 

“Can you say my name when you thank me?” He wants to hear his name from your lips more often. 

“Thank you, Andrew.” You tell him as he helps you dry off with a towel. 

Then, he takes your hand again and walks you over towards the bed. It doesn't look like it has been touched at all. 

Where has he been sleeping? The floor? 

You can't think straight anymore when he pushes your back up against the wall and closes the space between the two of you. There's so much warmth radiating off of him after the shower. It's making every breath you take heavy.

You try to ignore the way his cock rests against your lower stomach, throbbing. You can't ignore the way Pope cups your face with his hands before he kisses you for the first time. You're taken back by how gentle his kisses are. Perhaps you judged him prematurely. You expected him to be more aggressive. 

You haven't been touched like this in a long time. Like you're precious to him. Like he's afraid that one wrong move will turn you off. 

“Your lips are so soft.” He says, nipping at your bottom lip lightly with his teeth. “I could kiss you all day.” 

“Would you?” You look at his lips, reaching up to touch them. 

“Are you saying you'd let me?” He leans in again, kissing you once more. The butterflies are dancing around in your stomach. 

“I wouldn't stop you.” You wouldn't stop Jack either. But he never has. Will Pope? 

“I understand now.” He starts to kiss down the side of your neck, feeling the way his words make you shiver, “you like being used whenever, wherever.” 

His hands slide down to your waist, holding you against the wall as his lips make their way down to your collarbone. He kisses along the length of it and the gentleness of it is driving you wild. 

Especially when his words don't match his actions. “Have you always been a ready and available hole for Jack?” 

“Yes.” You don't hide it. You like when he would just fuck you wherever you were in the house. 

“Will you be that for me?” His lips trail lower, hovering over your breasts. He just stares at them, refusing to touch them. He's purposefully avoiding the areas that make you feel good. 

Pope likes the build up. You're squirming from it, and his question. 

You only nod in response, giving into your desire. If he wants to use your body, you're ready and willing. You hope he actually does it. But he keeps his hands away from anywhere sensitive. It's killing you…

“Please touch me, Andrew.” You can't stand waiting any longer. 

“I am touching you.” He smiles, resting his hands on your shoulders. “See?” 

“That's not…” You gasp when his hands slide to meet in the middle, closing around your neck. 

“Do you not like these touches?” His thumbs press down on the center of your throat. Any air you breathe in is trapped right there. Your body is trembling. 

Pope gently spreads your legs apart with his thigh, pushing it right up against your pussy. You're embarrassed by how wet you are from this. Surely he can feel it on his thigh now.

“Let me see you cum like this.” He tells you, gesturing to his thigh between your legs. “Grind those hips like the whore you are.” 

He heard. He must've heard you and Jack. He knows how much you like being degraded and humiliated…

You nearly cum just from that. You don't hide anything anymore. You show him how needy you are, grinding against his thigh, desperate to cum. The friction against your clit is incredible. The way Pope is staring at you is electric.

You lift your hands up to wrap around his wrists and for a moment, he expects you to tug his hands off your neck. But instead, you pull him closer, wanting him to choke you. He's never wanted someone so badly before, his cock throbbing like crazy. 

Pope applies more pressure, forcing your eyes to roll back in your head. You can't breathe. You're still grinding against his thigh, getting closer and closer to your release. 

Then, he whispers in your ear, “cum right now or I'll snap your neck.” 

His hands squeeze your throat harder, his threat apparent. You cum all over his thigh in an instant, choking on your own moans. You ride his thigh through your orgasm, wanting it to last longer. 

All the while, Pope has the loveliest smile on his face. When you've come down from your high, he lets your neck go and returns to holding your face tenderly, kissing you with so much sweetness. The contrast sends such shock waves through you. You can't tell which side of him you like more…

“You did very well.” He praises you, your heart skipping a beat in response. “Now lay down for your reward.” 

Pope likes how obedient you are. You lay down right away on the bed, hands clasped over your stomach, patiently waiting. He can see now why Jack keeps you here. 

Why would anyone let you go? 

“Are you comfortable?” He climbs on top of you. “Do you need another pillow?”

You shake your head. There's tension coiling in your stomach because you have no idea what's going to happen next. You don't know what a reward looks like from Pope. 

It starts with him finally cupping your breasts with both of his hands, grasping them firmly. You bite back a whimper when he rolls his thumbs over your nipples. A few more swipes and they're nice and hard for him, so he leans in and takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. 

Then, he trails lower, kissing a line down your stomach until he's between your legs. His eyes are locked on yours when his tongue drags up along your folds until he reaches your clit. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue and you can't hold in your voice anymore. 

“Andrew.” His name comes out all raspy from your lips as your orgasm builds from him playing with your clit in his mouth. 

The expression on his face is pure delight. He loves how you say his name when you're about to cum. He needs to hear it more. So he takes his time, learning what makes you rasp out his name, not letting you cum. 

You wouldn't consider this a reward. This is more like torture. He keeps edging you, bringing you so close to cumming only to pull away at the last second. 

“Please, Andrew.” You can't take it anymore. “I want to cum.” 

He knows that. He can tell from how much slick has built up. He can probably slide right into you right now. But he won't.

“What's the rush?” He says, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “We have all night.” 

This is different from the sex you've had with Jack. Usually, it's hot and intense. There's no stalling anything. If he wants to fuck you, he does. 

With Pope, he just spent years in prison. He's not looking to do anything quickly. He has to savor everything now that he's free. 

“Just let me cum once.” You barter because you can't handle getting so close and then not going over the edge. 

“You already came once. Don't tell me you forgot.” He smirks. 

You're so frustrated right now. The denial is making you insatiable. You want to cum. You want to cum a lot. But he won't let you. 

“I thought I was supposed to get a reward.” You whine because you have no other options. 

“You're right.” He says, his gaze shifting down to your core. “I did say you'd get a reward.” 

You scream the moment two of his fingers thrust inside of you without warning. You're not ready at all for the sudden burst of stimulation, his fingers curling inside of you until your body is shaking.

“Wait, wait, wait—” You try to move away, to try to stop yourself from bursting at the seams.

But then he locks his lips around your clit and starts to suck, pressing his fingers upwards inside of you right below it, and you cum hard. So hard that you squirt and it won't stop. His fingers are relentless. He slips another one in, stretching you out, watching as your back arches in response. Your body wants him deeper. 

But your mind is completely blank. The pleasure fogging all your senses. You haven't stopped cumming. 

“Andrew!” You plead for him to give you a break. “Please, I can't keep—”

Pope watches your body convulse from the consecutive orgasms. He just stares at you, at how utterly helpless you are. Your pussy is squeezing his fingers so tightly, he can't possibly let go. 

Unless… “It's either my fingers or my cock. Which would you prefer?” 

You answer almost too fast, “your cock, please.” 

“Are you on birth control?” Either way, he's going in raw. 

You nod, craving him inside of you. He pulls his fingers free then presses down on your lower stomach. He licks his lips when you cum again from the pressure, drenching the sheets beneath you. He can't help himself. He leans in, having a taste. 

You grab a hold of his head and hold him there, angling yourself so he can give you another orgasm before he fucks you. Because you wanted a reward for enduring that. 

You rest your hands on his shoulders when he climbs back up over you, lining his cock up at your entrance. You spread your legs wider, so it's easier for him. 

“Jack is the stupidest man alive.” Pope says to you bluntly. “Because why would he ever let someone else fuck you when you're this perfect?” 

You dig your nails into his skin when his cock pushes inside of you. You're so wet that he hilts with ease, your hips meeting his. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer to you. 

Pope closes his eyes. He wants to etch this feeling to memory. The very first time your pussy squeezes around his cock. 

“Andrew?” You reach up to caress his face, running your fingers along his jaw. “Are you okay?” 

He opens his eyes, staring down at you. You've never seen this look before. Not even on Jack's face. It's darker, more intense. 

Because the only thought in his mind right now is that he wants to own you. You're his to use as he pleases. 

His. 

“How do you like it?” He asks, rolling his hips. “Nice and slow or do you want me to fuck your brains out?” 

You bite your lip, not wanting to rush your answer. How do you like it? 

“Use me.” You tell him. “For your pleasure.” 

And just like that, you show him again how perfect you are. 

You hold in a whine when he pulls out of you. Pope snaps at you, “where's your vibrator?” 

You feel a surge of heat run through you. “It's in my room.” 

“Go get it for me.” He likes how you stare back up at him, all desperate and confused. Because you were expecting him to fuck you. “The faster you get it, the quicker I'll be back inside of you.” 

“Can I borrow a shirt?” You look over the closet in the room. “Please?” 

You've never been fully naked other than in your bedroom and now here. Usually if Jack fucks you out in the open, you're still semi-dressed. 

“Only because you said please.” He gestures for you to grab whatever you need. 

You quickly throw on a shirt and then head back to your room. You're tensing up from the thrill of walking through Jack's house, dripping between your legs from how hard Pope made you cum. Your heart is beating so loud in your ears by the time you're back at the guest house with your vibrator.

Pope puts his hand out and you set it in his grasp. He examines it, imagining what it must've looked like when you were fucking yourself with it when you thought no one could hear you. It's a pretty simple design. Slightly curved, thicker head, smooth. 

“Lay back down.” Pope pats the bed next to him.

You do as he says and he climbs back on top of you. You don't hold back the sigh of relief when he buries his cock back inside of you. You can't hold in your voice when he turns on the vibrator and presses it against your clit. Your whole body shivers in response at the sudden stimulation. 

Pope isn't moving at all. He's just waiting to see how you'll react, holding the vibrator steady with one hand and pinning you down to the bed by your lower stomach with the other. 

You're gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to hold yourself still. But your body is shaking like crazy. Tears are building in the corner of your eyes. The intensity of the vibration on your clit, the pressure of his hand pressing down over his cock inside of you, the way he's stretching you out, buried deep, everything altogether is too much. 

The moment you cum, it's impossible to stop. Pope stares at you with that intense gaze of his as you cum over and over again, your body writhing beneath him like you've been possessed. And he hasn't even fucked you yet. 

“I need a—” You need a break, your clit is so overstimulated. “I need—”

Pope turns the vibration up and you explode. You're cumming so hard that your vision goes blurry. 

That's when he starts pounding into you. You're screaming his name, shoving at him, trying to get him off of you. Because if he keeps fucking you like this, you're going to go crazy. You won't be able to resist wanting this again. 

“Andrew, you have to stop, I'm going to—” You pinch your eyes shut, tears dripping down your face as the next orgasm is drilled into you with how hard he's thrusting. 

“I'll stop if you tell me “we can't do this, Andrew. He's your brother. I can't betray your brother.”” Pope's twisted desires flood out when he feels how tight your pussy gets when he tells you that. “Say it.”

“Oh god.” You're clawing at his chest, squirting on his cock when you scream, “please, Andrew! We can't do this. He's your brother. I can't—”

Pope slams into you harder, your toes curling in response to him driving so deep into you, “you can't what? You can't believe you're cumming this hard on my cock instead of his?” 

“Yes.” You drag your nails down his chest the moment he turns the vibration to the highest setting. You're an absolute mess after that. You try to get him to stop but he keeps ramming his cock into you over and over again, kneading your stomach, forcing you to be all too aware of how deep he is inside of you.

Pope wants to make sure you never forget how he can make you feel. That you memorize the shape of his cock pounding into you. That you remember every time you use your vibrator how he used it on you.

He wants to make sure the name that crosses your mind you cum is his, not Jack's. 

“Beg for it.” He's getting close but wants to hear you want him. “Like you're my whore, not his.” 

“Please cum inside of me, Andrew.” You're going to unravel completely when he does. You know it. “I need you to. I can't cum unless you do. I don't deserve to cum unless you do.” 

Your pussy squeezes him to death. You're holding it in. You won't cum unless he does. 

You really are perfect. 

Pope hasn't cum that hard in ages. He's surprised at how much spills out of him. You are too, because the more he releases inside of you, the harder you cum. It doesn't help that he's still abusing your clit with the vibrator. You're never going to cum from normal sex again. He's ruined you…

He pulls out of you, but then slides the vibrator down. You gasp when he thrusts it inside of you. You're not prepared to feel the intense vibration in your thoroughly fucked pussy. You can't breathe when you feel the vibration push up against your womb where he just came. It makes you all too aware of how warm it is, trapped inside of you by your toy. 

“Andrew, take it out.” You push at his arm as your orgasm builds too quickly and you're scared of what might happen if you let yourself cum from this. “Please, take it out!”

“No.” He shakes his head at you and starts fucking you with the vibrator instead. “You told me to use you for my pleasure. That's what I'm doing.” 

Because Pope will feel incredible the moment you completely give in. The moment you shed that shame and embarrassment and just show him the most depraved side of yourself. 

He's showing you his right now. The sadistic need of his to torture you. 

And you're showing him how much you love being just a plaything. How it satisfies something unspeakable inside of you. 

“Hold this for me.” Pope moves your hand to the vibrator. “I need to get my phone.” 

Jack had given him a phone and he hasn't used it yet. He needs to right now. Because he wants to be able to watch back this moment whenever he wants. 

You keep the vibrator inside of you. You should pull it out. You should…but Pope told you to hold it. And you're a good listener. 

He hits the record button, taking a video of you writhing against his bed with the vibrator held inside your pussy. He takes it from you then, keeping his camera hand steady as he drives the vibrator into you over and over again until you're squirting all over the bed with every thrust. You're screaming his name now and he has it all on video. 

You can't think straight anymore. Your body has a mind of its own, obsessed with the pleasure of it all that you don't have a care in the world anymore.

You're just his to use. That's all. 

Pope pulls the vibrator out of you, turning it off and tossing it aside, then sinks his now hard cock back inside of you. He smiles when he sees how you've stopped resisting. “Look at you, grinding your hips on me like a whore.” 

You can't help yourself. You don't want to stop cumming, especially now that his cock is back inside of you. 

You grab his hand, wrapping it around your neck. “Punish me for being such a whore.” 

Pope grips harder, moving his phone closer so he can record how tight his grip is around your throat. Then, he shows the camera the face you're making in response. Pure bliss. 

You have your hands around his wrist, holding him to you, not wanting him to pull away as he pounds into you exactly the way you like it. Without any air coming in or out, your moans are getting caught in your throat. The thrill of being completely at his control makes every orgasm he drags out of you a million times more intense. 

And it only picks up when he demands, “tell me that you don't want to betray Jack.” 

He loosens his grip on your throat and slows his thrusts, giving you ample space to breathe out, “please, Andrew. We shouldn't be doing this. I-I don't want to betray Jack.” 

You feel Pope's cock twitching like crazy inside of you. He's more aroused than he has ever been. He feels like he could burst at any moment. 

He nearly does when you say, “please get off of me. You're scaring me, Andrew.”

Pope growls back, choking you again all of a sudden, “good. Be scared of how hard you're going to cum on my cock. Don't forget to scream my name when you do.” 

The moment he's fucking you again, you're clutching the sheets, your back arched, your orgasm causing your body to spasm uncontrollably. His name leaves your lips in strangled gasps. He can feel every attempt you make to scream it on his palm clasped around your throat. It drives him wild. 

“Give me your hand.” He demands for you to let go of the sheets and hands you back the vibrator. “You know what to do, my little whore.” 

You turn it on and press it against your clit as he pounds into you until you feel his hot release spill deep inside. Then, when he pulls out of you, you slide the vibrator down, slipping it inside of you, trapping his cum right where he wants it. 

You're not ready for him to hover over you, throwing his phone away so he can press both of his hands over your throat, strangling you. His lower body holds the vibrator steady inside of you as he squeezes. 

You start clawing at his arms, digging your nails in hard, scraping down his flesh. He revels in the pain, in knowing you're the one doing it to him. 

“I want you to cum so hard that you'll never forget this night for the rest of your life.” Pope demands to be one of the memories you touch yourself to. 

You do exactly as he wishes. Your eyes roll back, your toes curl, your stomach twists and you cum so hard the vibrator pops out of you from the sheer force of it, landing in the space between you and Pope. He frees you from his grip and you swallow in air, shivering all over. Then, you're clinging onto him, the shockwaves still surging through you from how intense that was. He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside, so he can memorize the sound of your heavy breaths. 

Pope cradles you, laying you down against his chest, and you crumble in his hold, feeling incredibly vulnerable. He gently rubs your back, soothing you slowly. He waits until your breathing has returned to normal and your heart isn't beating out of your chest to lift your chin up to look at him. 

He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, admiring how beautiful you look all dazed like this. Then he leans in, kissing you. You melt into his kiss completely. 

“Good job.” He praises you, giving your forehead a light peck. “You did really well for me. That was incredible.” 

It gives you a different kind of pleasure to hear that. You never thought knowing you did a good job in bed would make the butterflies in your stomach dance so happily. 

“Was that okay?” He moves your head side to side, checking your neck. “I hope I didn't hurt you.” 

“I'm good.” You feel bad for being surprised that Pope is caring. You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. “Thank you for checking up on me, Andrew.”

“I know I have…strange tastes.” He wasn't expecting you to fulfill his fantasies so readily. 

Pope will never let you go now. Jack will have to kill him to keep him from you. 

“Then I guess I have strange tastes too.” You say back shyly, admitting out loud that you thoroughly enjoyed all of that. 

“I can delete the video, if you want me to.” He would prefer not to. He'll keep it in an encrypted folder on his phone, so no one has access to it but him. 

“You don't have to. Just don't show anyone…” You shouldn't say this next part but…you do anyways, “except Jack.”

Pope doesn't hide his devilish smirk. “You want him to see it?” 

“Is that…bad?” You don't know where the boldness comes from.

Maybe it's because you want Jack to feel a bit threatened. You promised to never leave him alone, but you never promised you'd make staying easy for him. 

“You're asking me to test my brother.” Pope draws a line down your side, the casual touching so intimate as he tells you, “you realize I want you for myself, right?” 

“I guess you'll have to fight him for me.” You present a challenge because you suddenly have a surge of confidence. 

You know exactly where you stand with both of them. 

And you want them to push it to the limit. 

Jack has never been this angry before. Not even after the incident that made him lose half his leg. He is genuinely more pissed right now than he has ever been.

Because he comes home from a long shift and when his eyes glance out to the guest house, he sees your silhouette behind that sheer curtain getting railed by Pope. 

You're pressed up against the window with only the fabric of the curtain covering you up, as Pope fucks you from behind. You and Pope went straight to sleep once you were all washed up again after the night you two had and then the moment you woke up, he was between your legs. You haven't had a second to breathe since your eyes opened. And now your body is pushed up against cold glass and you can see Jack through the curtain staring right at you. 

“Let him watch.” Pope says all low in your ear. “He'll fuck you better later if he sees us.” 

He doesn't pretend not to notice how tight you get when he says that. You cum way too easily at the thrill of what Jack might do to you once you see him after this. 

Jack storms off to his bedroom, the rage boiling inside of him. He got a text from Pope he has yet to open. Because it had an encrypted link to a video. And from what Pope texted him, it wasn't a video he could view at work. 

Pope: I promise I didn't rape her. She told me to send this to you. Enjoy, brother. 

Against his best judgment, Jack opens the video. He told himself he should just delete it without watching it. But when he sees the preview picture on his screen, he clicks the video too quickly. 

Then, he tosses his phone aside and storms out to the guest house. The door isn't locked so he swings it open. Pope has you pressed down against the bed, still fucking you from behind. Neither of you are facing the door, but both of you definitely heard Jack come in. 

“Get off of her right now, Pope.” Jack practically prowls up to you two, glaring. “Move.” 

Pope doesn't listen because you're squeezing his cock so hard now that you know Jack's watching. So, he does the exact opposite. He pounds into you faster, until you're screaming his name and the freshly washed sheets are now stained once again. Then, Pope pulls out of you and cums all over your back, marking you. You shiver all over when you feel the warmth hit your back. 

“She's all yours.” Pope steps aside, sitting down on the bed. “I even left her pussy clear for you. Aren't I a good brother?” 

“I should fucking kill you.” Jack can't contain the anger. 

“You've got a gun. Go ahead.” Pope invites him to. “But I think our roommate would miss me if you shot me. Isn't that right?”

Pope reaches over, smacking your ass. You bite back a moan in response, which is enough of an answer. 

Jack flips you over onto your back so you can see the death glare on his face as he spits out, “is this what you want?” 

“No.” You sit up and then reach forward, immediately unbuckling his belt. “This is what I want.”

You're through pretending you aren't obsessed with him. You want him to know exactly how much you want him. 

Jack is so stunned that he doesn't stop you from pulling his hard cock out of his pants. You lean forward, taking him into your mouth with ease, despite how big he is. You swallow him whole, your lips humming at the base of his cock. You've missed his taste. 

You feel him throb in your mouth when Pope asks Jack, “so were you hard from watching me fuck her or did you open that video I sent you?” 

“Shut the fuck up and get me that vibrator.” Jack snaps at Pope and then grabs the back of your head, forcing more of himself down your throat. Your eyes are watering now as he fucks your face. “Get on your fucking knees and take it.” 

You kneel on the bed without hesitation and Pope knows exactly what Jack wants from him. He grabs the vibrator, turning it on before thrusting it into your pussy. You moan around Jack's cock, allowing him to stuff even more of himself down your throat. You gag but your tongue keeps swirling around him and your mouth keeps sucking. 

“Your mouth is like a pussy.” He degrades you exactly how you like it, sending such a thrill through you. “What a fucking whore. Spreading your legs for my brother of all people.” 

That's enough for you to cum hard enough to squirt and launch the vibrator out of your pussy. His cock muffles your scream from the sudden loss and the wet feeling dripping down your thighs. Pope chuckles at your humiliation. 

“You've got to keep it in you.” He pushes the vibrator back inside, making your toes curl when he increases the vibration and starts thrusting it at the same rhythm as Jack is fucking your mouth. 

Jack can't last much longer. He hasn't fucked you in a week. He needs to cum. 

But not without establishing your punishment first. “I'm going to cum in your mouth and you are going to keep it there. No swallowing. No spitting. Got it?” 

You nod, and the moment he coats the back of your throat with his release, you squirt all over Pope's hand while he fucks you with the vibrator through your orgasm. You don't swallow as Jack pulls himself out of your mouth and tucks his cock back into his pants. He grabs you by the chin, lifting you up to look at him. 

“Show me.” Jack demands. 

You open your mouth, letting him see that it's filled with his cum. He spits in your mouth then closes it for you. Your body convulses in response and you nearly cum from that action alone. 

“Turn it off.” Jack tells Pope, who listens, turning off the vibrator. “But keep it there.” 

Pope is enjoying this a lot. He likes seeing the look on Jack's face. Because that's the look on his face when he's in that exact mood. 

Jack turns his attention back to you. “Listen to me carefully. We're going to watch you cum hard enough to push that vibrator out. Only then do you get to swallow. Got it?” 

You nod, the taste of Jack in your mouth numbing your mind. You lay back, letting both men watch you as you turn back on the vibrator and start fucking yourself with it. You're grinding your hips to the rhythm, already getting close from how heated their gazes are. 

Because their eyes are on you, you give them a show, grabbing a hold of your breast and pinching your nipple between your fingers. You moan with a full mouth, wishing it wasn't full of cum but with a cock instead. 

“God, she's perfect.” Pope says, staring at you, his cock already getting hard again. “You really let me fuck her?” 

“You're lucky I'm letting you.” Jack knows it's either this or you having to pick between one of them. And Jack won't take the risk that you'll pick Pope, so sharing you is the best case scenario. 

“Don't let anyone else, okay?” 

“Fuck no.” Jack will not give you to anyone else. “She's ours and that's it.” 

When you hear that, your whole body tenses then explodes.

The vibrator launches out of you as you soak the bed again with how hard you squirt and you swallow right after so you can tell them, “please fuck me. I want to be all yours, both of yours.” 

“Then get that pretty mouth over here.” Pope sits up against the headboard, his cock ready for your mouth to sink down on. “I've already enjoyed her pussy today. You should have a taste, Jack.” 

Jack watches you crawl over to Pope on the bed. You lean down, dragging your tongue up along the base of his shaft. He grabs a hold of you by your hair as you close your lips around the tip of his cock, groaning when you start to suck. 

The temperature in the room rises to the point where Jack needs to strip off his clothes before climbing onto the bed. He grips your hips and then buries his face into your pussy, dipping his tongue right in. You moan on Pope's cock and he pushes more of himself down your throat in response. 

“Pay attention to the cock you're sucking or I'll start fucking your face.” Pope's meaner tone heats your skin up and you focus more on making him feel good. “Good girl.” 

Jack doesn't make it easy for you, though. He's tormenting your clit with the way he slides into you then pulls out to drag the tip of his tongue along your clit before slipping back in. It's so inconsistent that your legs are shaking from the denial. 

“You aren't allowed to cum.” Jack smacks your ass when he says that and you gag on Pope's cock, making him laugh darkly at you. “Not until he shoots his load down your throat. Hold it until then.” 

That proves to be a challenge because Jack thrusts three fingers into you and starts moving them in that side to side motion that has you tearing up. You want to cum so bad but Pope is nowhere close to his release. 

Not until you move your mouth off his cock and look him in the eyes as you say, “don't let me cum from Jack's fingers. Make me cum from your cock fucking my mouth, Andrew.” 

It's like a switch flipped in Pope. He slams you back down onto his cock, burying himself deep down your throat before he starts rolling his hips, fucking you just like you asked. You're gagging and crying but you're in heaven from how full you feel on both ends and how close you are to what you know will be one of the best orgasms of your life. 

“Keep my cum in your mouth like you did for Jack.” Pope instructs and you nod. “Fuck, your mouth is like a pussy. What a perfect whore you are.” 

You clench around Jack's fingers when you taste Pope spilling his cum down your throat. Jack pulls his fingers out of you with a pop and before you can have a moment to react, his cock rams inside of you. Your orgasm hits right then and there and you nearly drool out Pope's cum from your mouth but he grips your chin tight, stopping you from losing any. 

“It must feel good to cum while tasting our cum. Open up.” Pope taps your cheek and you open your mouth, letting him spit into your mouth like Jack had earlier. “Now we're even. Swallow for me.” 

You swallow at the same time Jack spits on your ass. You aren't prepared for that at all, the feeling completely foreign to you. He rubs along the tight ring with his thumb, the motion causing your body to tingle all over. 

“Relax.” He tells you. He keeps the strokes of his cock steady as he teases your sensitive ass. “It'll feel good. You said you wanted us both. We have to train you to take us both.” 

“Come here.” Pope gestures for you to grab a hold of his shoulders. You do just that and he pulls your face towards him. “Focus on me.” 

He leans in and kisses you in that soft way of his. It coaxes you into calming down, your mind focused on his lips on yours. Jack slips his other hand down to rub your clit as his thumb presses into your ass slowly. All the sensations you're experiencing are warring inside of you. But Pope's reassuring hold on your face and Jack's slow, methodical circles over your clit coupled with his gentle rhythm of his cock pounding into you make it easier to accept his thumb slipping completely inside your ass. You moan against Pope's lips when you feel him start to move his thumb, getting you used to the feeling of being touched there. 

“It's just another place for us to make you feel good.” He breathes out against your lips. “We'll take it slow.” 

You nod, laying your head against his shoulder, letting yourself feel everything without distraction. You muffle a scream into Pope's skin when you cum around Jack's cock and he pulls out of your pussy, cumming all over your ass right as he pulls his thumb out. He rubs his cum with his fingers along the tight ring before slipping his forefinger in. Now, it's the only sensation you're feeling. 

“Isn't it dirty?” You've never had to prep your ass before. 

“We aren't fucking your ass today.” Jack quells your worry there. “We already came twice. If I'm going to fuck your ass, you're getting my first, full load of the day buried deep inside of you.” 

“Is he always like this?” Pope asks you, chuckling under his breath. 

You shake your head. “I think you're a bad influence.”

“Or a very good one.” He pecks your lips sweetly before saying, “now, be a good girl, and learn to enjoy the feeling.” 

Jack manages to slip another finger past your tight ring and he's careful in how he moves, not wanting to overstimulate you and make this more painful than it has to be. You take deep breaths, allowing it to happen, wanting to feel good from this. Imagining it's his cock not his fingers. Though, his cock would split your ass open, so you do appreciate that they're going to slowly prepare you for this instead of rushing in. 

When three fingers fit without too much difficulty, Jack knows it's time for the next part. He grabs your vibrator and you brace yourself, tightening around his fingers when he slips the vibrator back inside your pussy, gathering up as much of your slick as he can before he pulls it and his fingers out. 

“Trade with me.” Jack tells Pope. “I need to wash my hands. I don't want to risk any infections.”

“Ah, the doctor is in.” Pope smirks and gives you another kiss before he slips away and subs in for Jack, taking the vibrator from him. “I'm glad I get to have a bit of the fun.” 

Jack leaves to clean up as Pope turns on the vibrator for a second, teasing around the sensitive flesh before shutting it off again. You put your arms under your pillow, gripping it up towards your mouth to smother your moans. 

“Inhale.” Pope says and you listen, letting him slip the tip of the toy past that tight ring. “Exhale. Good job.” 

You feel flushed at how much you like hearing him praise you. Though, that might be also because he's pushing more of the vibrator inside of you. You've never felt this full in that area before. 

When he hilts the vibrator, Pope applauds you, “well done. I'll let you get used to it. You can lay down if that's more comfortable.” 

You lay on your side, tired of holding your body up. You take in deep breaths, trying to adjust to the feeling. Pope lays down next to you, caressing your sides, looking at you with so much care. 

“There's no rush.” He doesn't want you to think this has to happen right away. “It should feel good. Tell me if it doesn't.” 

“It's…different.” That's the best way you can put it. “But not bad.” 

“We can work with that.” Pope says, looking up as Jack returns from the bathroom. He plops down behind you, the mattress weight shifting. “Thankfully this is a king sized bed.” 

“Still a bit cramped.” Jack scoops you into his arms, spooning you from behind. It makes you reminisce about the other day, when he held you like this. 

“Are we planning to sleep together like a big, happy family?” Pope has you lay on his chest. 

“I'd like that.” You say quietly, not sure if you should've admitted it. You did like sleeping with Pope last night. Jack usually doesn't sleep with you after the two of you have sex, to keep that distance, so you're unsure how he'll react to your words.

He surprises you. “Then we'll sleep together. I don't mind but you'll have to adjust to my sleeping schedule.” 

You turn back to look at him. “Really?” 

He nods, leaning in to kiss you before saying against your lips, “I'm tired of pretending that I don't want to spend every moment of every day with you.” 

“Thankfully, I never had to pretend.” Pope turns your head back so he can kiss you. “I knew you were perfect for me the moment I saw you.” 

“It's okay if you both change your minds later.” You don't want them to feel trapped in this arrangement. “I'll enjoy this for as long as it lasts.” 

Pope and Jack share a look. And for the first time, it's like they have that twin telepathy. They both have the exact same thought. 

That they're never letting you go. 

Because this will last forever. 

As long as you want them both. 

“We should be saying that to you.” Jack tells you, holding you a bit tighter as he does. “If you ever want this to end…” 

Pope can see the panic in your face as you reply, “I don't. I mean…I would understand if you two wanted to end things but…I don't think I would ever. But maybe that's selfish of me…” 

“What's wrong with being a little selfish?” Pope looks at you with that intense stare of his. “I wouldn't be here if I was trying to be considerate. So be selfish and want what you want. Don't hold back.” 

You place your hand on Jack's and then you put your hand out for Pope to give his for you to hold. You squeeze them both and your heart melts when they squeeze back, the feeling so comforting. 

“If I get to be selfish…” You take Jack's hand, sliding it back to the handle of the vibrator. Then, you take Pope's hand, sliding it between your legs. “I want you both to make me cum.” 

“Greedy little whore.” Jack whispers in your ear, making you shiver all over. Those shivers intensify when he turns on the vibrator. You're squirming at the feeling of it. 

Pope takes that as the perfect opportunity to thrust three of his fingers inside of you, curling them right up against where the vibrations are pounding into you. You gasp, clinging onto him, your hips absentmindedly shaking already. He steals your breath away again by kissing you.

Then, you feel Jack grab your chin, pulling you away from Pope's lips so he can kiss you. He breathes out on your lips, his breath so warm and lovely, “you're so unfair. You better cling onto me next time.” 

“I will.” You reach up, trailing your fingers along his jaw before leaning up to kiss him. “I'll treat you both equally, I promise.” 

“I don't mind if you ignore Jack.” Pope pulls you back towards him, kissing you with a smirk on his face. 

Jack is definitely glaring at Pope so he gets his payback by grabbing the handle of the vibrator. He starts slow thrusts and you moan against Pope's lips, the feeling becoming more pleasurable than you thought it could be. It helps that his fingers are buried in your pussy, making you very aware of where you're feeling each sensation. 

“Oh god, I'm going to cum so hard.” You're practically shaking already, the tension coiling exponentially inside of you. “You guys are going to make me cum so—”

Pope wraps his other hand around your throat, cutting you off from saying anything else as your eyes roll back and you release all the tension in your body all at once. Pope pulls his fingers out of you, wanting you to cum just from your ass. Jack immediately pounds into you faster with the vibrator, increasing the vibration, and now you're screaming their names as you squirt uncontrollably. Pope holds your legs apart, not letting you hide it. 

“Let it all out.” He wants to see you completely unravel. 

“I heard anal orgasms make women squirt but I never thought it would be this intense.” Jack whispers right into your ear, “keep going until you can't anymore. You can do it.”  

It doesn't end. There's tears dripping down your face as you spasm with every orgasm. Jack doesn't stop pounding your ass with the vibrator, each thrust making you feel faint. You didn't even know you could cum like this. 

When you're thoroughly spent, Jack carefully pulls the vibrator out of you and gets up to go wash it, prepping a bath for you too. Pope picks you up into his arms and takes you to the bathtub, setting you down there. 

“I'm going to shower in my room.” Jack tells you both and heads to the door. But then, before he leaves, he goes, “meet me there when you're done here.” 

Jack walks back to you, not holding back his desires anymore. So, he leans down, kissing you once on the lips and then another time on the cheek. 

“Have a nice bath.” He says so sweetly before he leaves. 

You sink into the water, not believing that just happened. You must be so flushed because Pope goes, “are you really smiling because of another man in front of me?” 

Pope gestures for you to move and you shift so he can get into the tub with you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

He nuzzles his face against the nape of your neck and then says, “I'll let it slide because he's my brother. But don't you dare smile at any other man or I'll do something that'll send me back to prison.” 

You giggle, leaning back into him. “I promise, I only have eyes for you two.” 

“And we only have eyes for you.” Pope says “we” because he knows even though it took Jack this long to admit it, he feels exactly the same way Pope does. 

“We've only known each other a week though.” You turn around, wanting to straddle his lap to look at him. “Are you sure this is okay? I feel like maybe I'm taking advantage of you…”

“No one has ever wanted me before.” He cups your cheek with his hand and you lean into his warm touch. “I wouldn't care if you took advantage of me. At least you want me.” 

You have no idea about the horrors Pope has gone through when it came to intimacy. It wouldn't be the first time he was taken advantage of. He's just happy to be chosen.

Your heart breaks a little hearing that. You meet his gaze, then rest your forehead against his, telling him softly, “I will never let you feel unwanted.” 

You kiss him then and Pope holds you closer to him, believing that someone truly does want him for the first time. So he will do the same for you, “and I'll make sure you know how much I want you everyday.” 

“I'd like that.” You give him a little squeeze before getting out of the tub. You stop him from leaving, though. “Will you give me a few minutes with Jack? I should talk to him alone too.”

“Fine.” Pope will be fair. For now. “Don't keep me waiting for too long.”

“Never.” You lean down to give him a parting kiss and he deepens it before you can pull away. You sigh against his lips, “Andrew…” 

“Can't help myself.” He nudges your nose with his before letting you go. 

You steal a shirt from Pope's closet and then scurry back to your room to change into comfortable pajamas before heading over to Jack's room. You knock on the door and he opens it.

“Where's Pope?” Jack wasn't expecting to see you alone. 

“I told him to give us a few minutes alone. We haven't really talked since…” 

“Come in.” Jack shuts the door behind you, locking it. It won't stop Pope from coming in if he really wants to but it'll stall for time so you and Jack can have this conversation.

You sit down on his bed and he joins you, the weight shifting over to him. You turn to look at him then say, “if this is ever too much for you, just know that I won't hold it against you if you want to reel it back. I'm happy, truly, just being with you in any capacity.”

“You shouldn't be happy with that.” He tells you, sighing. “Pope is right. I'm an idiot. You're a wonderful woman and I…just was so wrapped up in my own bullshit that I convinced myself I wasn't worthy of anything but the occasional fuck.” 

Jack is finally letting his insecurities peek through. He has plenty to worry about. He's not getting any younger. He has a prosthetic leg. He works too much. He's bad at communicating. 

But he wants to change so he tells you, "you will never be too much for me. I can't get enough of you.” 

His words make the butterflies in your stomach flutter around so happily. “I like you, Jack. I always have. I always would've, too. So, I'm really happy we get to finally be close. Even if it's a little scary…” 

“Are you sure you want me?” He knows he can be a handful. He doesn't want you to feel obligated to commit to him.

“I have been waiting for the day that you'd kiss me just to kiss me.” You refer to earlier in the tub. “I can't not want you after that.”

Jack grabs a hold of your face, pulling you towards him. “I've always wanted to kiss you just to kiss you. There were so many moments where I wanted to but I…”

“That's in the past.” You lean in, kissing him. He kisses you back without hesitation. Then, he pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle him like you had done with Pope.

They really are brothers. 

“I'm going to spoil you from now on.” Jack makes this vow. “And Pope will hold me to it.”

“Is it…okay that I like Pope too?” You know it's asking a lot of Jack to share. It is a complicated situation. 

“I think it's good.” He answers honestly. “He fills in the gaps I physically can't. It is like having another version of myself take care of you.” 

“You both took very good care of me earlier.” You giggle, going in for a big hug. “I liked how demanding you were.” 

“Did you really tell Pope to send me that video?” Jack just has to ask. 

“Did you not enjoy it?” You smile mischievously. 

“I'd enjoy it more if I got to do that too.” He wants his own video of you screaming his name like that while you cum over and over again. 

“I can make that happen.” You wouldn't mind it. You haven't watched the video yet but you're sure it would send you into a frenzy in the good kind of way. “Maybe we can have Pope film us.” 

“Or we could just get a camera set up.” 

“Do you like watching me get fucked?” You can feel him getting hard underneath you. “I'll take that as a yes.” 

“You're killing me. I was exhausted from work and yet somehow, I still want to fuck you again.” Jack has no idea where the stamina came from. Must've been adrenaline.

“Maybe after a nap.” You pat the bed. “I wouldn't mind one. Pope kept me up all night.” 

“I do not need to know that.” He glares at you and you love that look on his face. 

“You get comfy. I'll go get Pope.” You hop off the bed and go to the door. You open it and say, “speak of the devil.”

“I was wondering when you two would finish talking.” He says with a yawn. “I'm ready to sleep.” 

You notice he brought two pillows with him to add to Jack's bed, so now there's three sets on it. You plop down in the middle and Jack immediately pulls you in to spoon you and Pope has you rest against his chest. 

You don't usually sleep during the day but…maybe this is something worth getting used to. 

You really like being sandwiched between them like this. 

You hope it'll never end. 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed what my brain cooked up! ♡

“Mrs. Abbot?” The pharmacist waves their hand in front of your face. “Are you feeling alright?”

You're staring down at your phone right now. At the bounty your company just set out on your burner. 

For a man named Andrew Cody. 

Better known by his call sign “Pope”. 

Who looks exactly like your husband Jack…

“Hmm?” You glance up from your phone, remembering for a moment where you are. “Oh, right. Sorry, just got a business text. A little distracted.” 

A clever excuse, like always, given your formal attire and the fact that you do actually work for a Fortune 500 company. You look like any corporate executive would if they were in line for a prescription at a pharmacy. Definitely not like an assassin for hire staring at a kill order…

“Do you need me to explain the medication to you before I sign off on it?” They show you the bottle of sleeping pills you always take on the nights Jack isn't home. 

Because it's always hard for you to sleep when he's not there next to you… 

“No, I'm alright.” You tell them and they nod, handing you the medication once they've signed off on it. 

You take it out of the paper bag when you get to your car and stuff the pill bottle into your glove box. 

You can't possibly take those now.

Not when you have no idea who your husband is…

So, you call your handler. “Who is this guy?”

“Competition.” The robotic voice on the other end answers. 

“Last known?” 

“Oceanside, CA.” 

You and Jack are a long way from there. On the complete opposite coast…

“Time frame?” 

“ASAP.” So, that's why it was sent to you…

You have the highest record of kills done in the shortest amount of time. Always so efficient. You knew it would bite you in the ass one day… 

“I'm retired, though.” 

“You're the only one capable of doing this within the desired time frame.” 

“Why?” You know they're not going to answer but you ask anyway, clarifying, “what's the rush?” 

“We have intel he is planning to kill one of our own.”

You wonder who it can be. 

Because you would've never guessed that it would be you.

Pope stares down, much like you had earlier, in disbelief at the photo on his screen. 

That's you, his wife, on his burner beneath the bounty just sent to him. 

But that isn't the name you gave him. 

Call sign “Pearl”. 

Because you excel under pressure. 

A top assassin. Clean kills. Perfect record. 

Just like Pope… 

“Jack?” Robby tries to glance over Pope's shoulder but he shoves his phone in his locker and shuts it before Robby can see anything. “Alright, keep your secrets.”

“My wife just sent something I shouldn't open at work.” Pope lies through his teeth but Robby always believes it. 

Since Pope talks about you all the time at work. He loves you, after all. 

He loves being a doctor, too. 

He hates being an assassin. He had quit when the two of you got married. 

So, why is he getting sent a bounty now? 

“She's a high priority target.” Pope's handler tells him when he calls after his night shift. Call sign “Smurf”. “We need her dealt with, so we need our best.” 

“Why the urgency?” Pope wants to know. 

Smurf replies, “we have intel she's after one of our own.”

He wonders who it could be. 

Because he'll never guess that you, his pretty wife waiting for him at home, are supposed to be going after him. 

You've been sitting at the dining table, nursing a glass of wine, since you got home from the pharmacy. 

You haven't eaten. 

You couldn't sleep. 

You can't even stomach the wine that's sitting untouched on the table. 

You keep thinking about your husband Jack. 

But you know that's not his real name. 

Andrew is his real name. Though, everyone in the world of hitmen calls him Pope. 

The ever elusive Pope. An elite assassin who has been out of commission for years now. 

Around the same time the two of you got married…the same time you retired too…

You blink back more tears because you're trying to convince yourself that the foolish thoughts in your head can't possibly be true. 

That maybe he quit killing people because he's actually in love with you. 

Like you're in love with him. 

Fuck. You know that can't be true. 

Pope is known to be heartless. Ruthless. A born killer. The best of the best at torturing his targets for information.

Nothing like the man you married, Jack Abbot.

Decorated veteran. Emergency medicine doctor. Caring, kind, loving husband of yours… 

How much of that was real? 

And how much of it was a cover?

Does he know…who you are? 

There's no way. And if he did, what's the goal of playing the long game? 

If he wanted you dead, why would he go through all the extra hoops of taking you out on dates? Marrying you? Making love to you? 

Because he loves you. Your mind tries to feed you delusions.

You are delusional…because you can't find it in you to kill him. 

Even though you have to, before it gets reassigned and someone else does. 

And they won't be so merciful…

“Honey?” You hear your husband's voice call out to you. 

Is it really morning already?

“What's wrong?” Pope sees the untouched wine glass and your puffy eyes. 

So, you make something up quickly. “The pharmacy didn't have any pills left in stock to fill my prescription. Couldn't sleep without them.”

Couldn't sleep without him. You hate that you love sleeping next to Jack—Pope. 

His name is Pope. Jack doesn't exist. 

The man you love was just a cover…

For what? You might never find out. 

“Come on, let's go to bed. I'll go get your pills for you after a nap.” He puts his hand out for you to take. 

And you take it without hesitation. Force of habit. 

Pope doesn't notice anything off about you, which is good. He is used to you not sleeping well without your pills. You get bad nightmares if you sleep unmedicated. 

That's why you like sleeping next to him. You never get nightmares for some reason. Probably because his warmth comforts you. 

The thought of feeling his skin cold because you had to kill him makes you want to throw up… 

You actually do throw up, right into the toilet in the bathroom. Pope gently holds back your hair, helping you with a light shoulder rub. 

“Are you alright, honey?” Now Pope is worried. 

Because the two of you were trying for a baby. And if you're pregnant right now…with his child…how is he possibly supposed to kill you? 

“No, I'm not alright.” You wipe the tears that are dripping down your face uncontrollably. “I'm scared.” 

“About what?” He kneels down next to you. “Talk to me.” 

You look him in the eyes, in those beautiful hazel eyes you fell in love with, and you want to tell him the truth. 

That you're supposed to kill him. 

Before he kills you. 

But instead, you tell him, “that you won't want to kiss me now, after I just threw up.” 

The concern on Pope's face washes away, replaced by a chuckle. “I'd kiss you no matter what.” 

“Yeah?” You look at his lips. “Are you sure?” 

He leans in to prove it, kissing you. And you kiss him back. 

You do more than just that. You pull him against you, wanting his body flush with yours. 

“Let's get ready for bed first.” He smiles at your eagerness. “Then I'll help you fall asleep like always.” 

Your skin heats up from his words and he nuzzles your nose while holding back an amused chuckle, liking how flustered you look.

It's hard for him to believe his adorable wife is an assassin. One of the best in the business too. 

And yet here you are, your hand holding onto his so nervously as he walks the two of you to bed after you both washed up and brushed your teeth. 

Who is the real you? 

The one who is looking up at him all bashful the moment he climbs on top of you in bed? 

Or the stone cold killer Pearl that he has heard echoes about slashing her way through target after target without a shred of fear? 

Does it matter right now when you pull him down to kiss you, lacing your fingers in his soft curls and grinding your hips up against his? 

“Someone's being impatient.” Pope nips at your bottom lip, drawing out a whimper from your lips. 

“Please, sir.” You beg of him because you need to feel your husband's body against yours right now. “Please touch me.” 

“How do you want me to touch you?” His hands slide under your shirt, lifting it up over your chest so he can see your lovely breasts. 

“Make me cum, sir.” You want to remember this feeling, in case you never get to experience it again. 

“Lift your arms up.” Pope instructs and you listen, letting him tug your shirt up over your head. 

But he doesn't pull it off. He instead ties your wrists to the headboard, securing them in place there. 

“What's your safe word, honey?” 

“Your name.” 

“That's right. Do you remember why?” He asks as he kisses down the length of your body starting from the arms he just bound. 

You swallow back gulps of air before his lips hover over yours and you breathe, “because I only get to call you “sir” in bed.” 

“Good girl.” He leans down, sealing his lips around yours, trapping the moan that wants to escape when you feel his hand slipping between your legs. “Do you still want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, sir.” You tug at your restraints when you feel his fingers graze your clit. So lightly, so purposefully weak to get you wriggling for more. “Please.” 

“My wife is so needy tonight. I love it.” He really does love you so much. 

That's why in bed, he doesn't want you calling out some fake name he made up. When you call Pope “sir”, he knows you're talking to him and not the fictional persona of Jack Abbot he created to be free from the world of assassination. 

It's hard for him to think that you've been hiding the same secret as he has been all this time. 

Is that why you told him you like being called “honey”? So you could enjoy his attention without the constant reminder of your fake identity? 

What would you do if he called out your real name right now? 

You're restrained. You wouldn't be able to do anything to him. Though, if you are Pearl, then he's sure you could get out of the loose knot he made with your shirt. 

Why does that thought make his cock twitch? The sight of you showing him how skilled you truly are at your work. You have to be skilled to hide this well. 

It would be betraying your trust, though, to use this vulnerable moment of yours for more than just sex and pleasure. 

You trust Pope, maybe not fully but definitely in bed. You've given this part to him. He knows that well. 

You wouldn't show this side of you to just anyone, the side so desperate to cum on his fingers that your hips are grinding against his hand now that he's stripped you completely naked.

Would you be this eager if you knew that he's supposed to kill you? 

Maybe you wouldn't care. 

You just want to cum. 

His spoiled wife, who he takes great care of. 

“Beg for it, honey.” He pins you down to the bed by your lower belly, stopping you from squirming so much. 

“Please make me cum, sir.” You plead with him and nearly cum when he spits so harshly on your clit. 

“Be specific.” Pope wants to see what you ask for today. 

“Please make me cum on your fingers, sir.” You feel so empty inside. 

Your heart aches and you want to have him inside of you any way you can.

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum hard for me?” He asks as he slips a finger inside of you for just a second before popping it back out, pulling a whine from your lips. 

“Yes, sir.” You definitely will. 

“Let's see it.” Pope dips two fingers inside of you then and curls them, grinding them right up against that spot that has your body trembling all over. He keeps thrusting them right there, reveling in how tight you're squeezing his fingers as he fucks you with them. 

He knows you're about to cum because you're looking at him with those pleading eyes of yours. You don't want him to stop. 

He always stops though. Because he likes seeing you on the edge of an orgasm, panting, reeling from getting so close before his fingers slow completely. 

“Please, sir.” You don't know how much more you can beg for him to make you cum. 

Pope likes torturing you. It's what he's good at. Always has been and he takes a lot of pleasure from it. From seeing you so helpless and in need of his assistance.

“Tell me you love me.” He doesn't know why that's what he asks in this moment. Usually he asks you to tell him something filthy, to leak out a dark desire of yours he'd be happy to fulfill. 

But right now, all he wants to hear is your beautiful voice telling him, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” He says, then drives his fingers back inside of you without warning. 

You cum instantly, the sheer force of his sudden movements causing you to squirt uncontrollably. You're gasping for air and crying out because he won't slow down. He just keeps fucking you with his fingers until you're squirting like a fountain for him, drenching the sheets with your orgasms.

“Oh god, sir, I can't—” You dig your nails into the fabric of the shirt binding your wrists when Pope leans down to seal his lips on your aching clit. “Wait, stop, I'm going to cum again if you—”

You cum so hard that your eyes roll back and you can't seem to pull enough air into your lungs with every heavy breath. Pope slides his fingers out of you, licking them clean while he stares down at the sight of you so thoroughly dazed. 

He strips off his clothes then, and that's when you ask him, “will you please untie me, sir?” 

And he's tempted to tell you to do it yourself. 

You can, of course, but in this scene, you've relinquished control to him. You've let him restrain you, so you aren't going to undo them yourself unless you absolutely have to. 

Should he give you a reason to? 

Should he wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze just to see if you're afraid of him enough to show your true self?

His body moves before he can think his actions through. 

Pope sinks his cock into you, filling you up completely before his hands wrap around your neck. Your eyes widen when you feel him tighten his grip around your neck. 

Tighter than he's ever choked you before.

Pounding into you with his cock rougher than he ever has before too. 

“Say my name.” He keeps squeezing more and more, ramming his cock into you harder and harder, trying to scare you. “Do it.” 

The wires are crossed in your head. You don't know what to think or what to do. 

So much pleasure is flooding your system but there's a backnote of genuine fear. 

That maybe Pope is trying to kill you. 

Would he? 

Should you let him? 

If you did, then you wouldn't have to kill him. 

Then your last memory could be him fucking you like this. 

That's not a bad way to go. 

Especially not when you're cumming your brains out on his cock, feeling so lightheaded from the lack of air, your mind spinning from cumming so much over and over again. 

“Say it!” He shouts at you, shaking you by your neck. “Make me stop. Don't let me…”

You lock eyes with him and it's only when you see the tears building in corners of his eyes that you have to put a stop to this. 

Not for your sake, but for his. 

So, you slip out of the fabric tied around your wrists with ease then you reach up, cupping Pope's face before meeting his shocked gaze with your eyes as you call out his name, “Andrew.”

He blinks at you, the grip around your neck stilling completely, no longer actively squeezing. Tears drip down his face and you can feel them hitting your own face. Though, maybe some of those are your tears. 

“You were going to let me kill you.” He lets go of your neck entirely, holding himself up at either side of your head now. “Why?” 

“Because they want me to kill you.” You don't need to explain much else. “And I can't do that to you. I love you, Andrew. Even if you don't—”

“I love you too.” He says, followed by your real name. 

And despite all the orgasms you've had, nothing could compare to the pleasure of hearing your real name come out of his lips after being told that he loves you. 

“I wouldn't have killed you.” He swears to you. “I would've let you kill me if you had to.” 

“Till death do us part.” You pull him in for a kiss then, like you're making that vow again. 

Only this time, as your real self. 

“Death will have to wait.” His words are so warm on your lips that your heart skips a beat. “Because I finally get to hear my wife call out my name while I'm fucking her. I'm not dying today.” 

You chuckle, smacking him on the chest, “Andrew!”

He smiles back at you, nuzzling your nose so affectionately before kissing you. 

You meet his hips halfway as he starts to roll them against yours, fucking you nice and slow. Making love to you, like always. 

Making you laugh like always. “Are you really Pearl?”

“Are we seriously talking about this while you're fucking me?” You gasp when he buries his cock as deep as he can and then lays all of his weight on you, trapping you beneath him. “Andrew!” 

“Fuck, you sound so good screaming my name.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek and you glare at him when he pulls away. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes.” You answer then yelp when he thrusts his cock inside of you all of a sudden.

“Yes what?” He smirks at how annoyed you look. 

So there is a side of you he hasn't gotten to enjoy fully yet. The little brat hidden beneath the usual submissive. 

“We are not doing this!” You shove at him so he pins your arms down with his hands. “Stop it!” 

“You're good at pretending, honey.” Because if the stories are true, you definitely can get out of his grip right now.

Pope wants to see it. See you in action. 

You huff through gritted teeth. “I am not doing this with you, Pope.”

Oh, now you've pissed him off. 

Pope slips out of you completely and before you can stop him, he opens the secret compartment he built into his bedside table and pulls out his revolver. 

Then, he shoots you. 

You narrowly avoid it, your reflexes kicking in immediately so you can dodge it, rolling off the bed and to your feet in an instant. 

He laughs so hard that you want to punch his teeth out. “So you are as good as they say.”

“Fuck you, you just shot at me, you motherfucker!” You press your hand against the nearby wall, activating the biometric lock that opens up the hidden compartment you made and pull out your glock. 

Then, you shoot him. 

And Pope narrowly avoids it, before firing another shot at you that you dodge with ease so you fire back at him quickly.

Clipping his arm. 

You suddenly feel a weight sink in your stomach at the sight of the thin line of blood that darts across his bicep. But that uneasy feeling washes away when you hear Pope chuckle so happily.

“Nice shot, honey!” He tells you before he fires another round and you almost get clipped in the ear. “Hey, stand still. I need to even the score.”

“What are we doing right now?!” This has to be the strangest foreplay ever! 

“Having fun. And getting some practice in.” He says before shooting at you again, this time by your feet, hoping to nick your ankle but you're too slippery. “Looks like my wife doesn't need the exercise though. Good reflexes.”

“I will shoot your fucking cock off if you don't stop whatever the hell this is!” You shout at him before he aims another bullet at you. “Andrew!” 

“You wouldn't dare shoot my cock. You'd miss it if it was gone.” He smiles so mischievously at you that you are actually tempted to shoot him there. 

“I don't miss your leg.” You say then instantly regret it because you feel like that might've been too harsh, given the prosthetic he has.

Until Pope starts laughing again and goes, “that's why you won't take out the one hanging between my legs, right?” 

“Oh my god!” You groan at the horrid joke. “Who the fuck did I marry? Have you always been this irritating!”

“Pretty much.” He nods with a shrug. 

So you shoot his gun out of his hand. 

Pope is actually startled by that, his revolver dropping to the ground. 

Right before you pin him down to the ground in his distraction.

You point the gun to his head then tell him, “I always knew I'd be better than you.”

“Oh yeah?” Pope suddenly grabs you and pushes you down onto your back, then shoves his cock into you in a single smooth stroke. “I always knew you had it bad for my cock.” 

“I will fucking shoot you!” You point your gun at him as he rolls his hips, grinding the tip of his cock deep where you like it. “Stop it!”

“You'll have to shoot me if you want me to stop fucking you.” He digs his fingers into your hips for leverage before he starts pounding his cock into you at a pace that has your back arching and your orgasm building too quickly. “That's it honey, cum for me.” 

“Andrew, you can't—” You literally have a gun trained on him and he's fucking you right now?!

“I can't what? Fuck my wife? Watch me.” He slips his hand between your legs and rubs your clit while he finds the right angle to drill his cock into you until you're cumming all over him. 

You toss your gun aside, not wanting to accidentally shoot him, as your orgasm shoots through you in intense waves of pleasure that has you pulling him in for needy kisses. He smiles so beautifully against your lips as he kisses you back.

“Tell me you want my cum, honey.” He massages your lower belly with his palm while his fingers play with your clit and his cock pounds you into the ground. “Tell me you want to have my baby.” 

And it's like you snap right back into that submissive space in your head because you nod and tell him, “please, I want to have your baby. I want your cum, sir.” 

“Good girl.” He gives you the sweetest kiss on the forehead before saying your name and telling you, “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Andrew.” You pull him back for a kiss, pleasure surging through you as you cum again. 

That's enough for Pope to cum, when he feels you tightening up from your orgasm, milking his cock dry. You lay your forehead against his, breathing heavy as he fills you with so much of his release.

“What do you usually say after you've gotten my cum deep inside of you?” Pope nudges your nose, waiting for your response. 

“Thank you, sir.” You tell him, grinning when he grins back at you. “You are so lucky I love you.” 

“I am lucky, because you definitely would've been able to kill me before I could kill you.” Pope can tell your reflexes are much better than his. 

“We should get that cleaned up.” You point to the slight cut from the bullet. 

“I'll be fine.” He waves off your concern, since it's not even bleeding anymore. “In case you forgot, I am actually a doctor.” 

“How does an assassin have time for medical school?” You raise an eyebrow at that.

For you, it was easy to forge an impressive resume to land you an incredibly easy corporate executive job where all you do is answer emails all day. 

Pope actually went to medical school and served in the military. 

All under his fake identity, Jack Abbot. 

“How do you think I paid for medical school?” He laughs at his own joke and then laughs some more when he sees you glaring at him. “You are so cute, honey.” 

Before you can say something back in retaliation, Pope kisses you with so much affection that you melt in his arms. 

The two of you lay there on the ground, kissing until he's soft. Then, you both take a nice shower together, which really ends up with you riding him in his shower chair until the two of you cum again together, and then get redressed for bed after swapping out the sheets.

“There's bullet holes in our walls.” You gesture at all the work that will need to be redone. “How are we supposed to explain that to a contractor?”

“We have lots of fun in the bedroom?” Pope chuckles when he sees how annoyed you are with his antics. “What? It's true—”

The doorbell rings, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Pope rolls over to his bedside table, grabbing his security tablet so he can check who's at the door. 

It's the police…

“A neighbor probably called when they heard the gunshots.” You hold back a groan. “What are we going to say?”

“Misfire?” Pope says with a shrug. “I'll just say my silly wife wanted me to show her how to shoot and you accidentally pulled the trigger.” 

“I can accidentally shoot off your balls. Don't test me.” You shove at him. “You go answer them. I'm staying here where it's cozy.”

Pope hands you the security tablet and then gets up to go to the door. He tells the officers the explanation but they want to step inside to look around, which Pope allows. 

Though, his eyes drift to the two cops that walk into the house once their backs are turned to him. He doesn't recognize either of them from the local police force and since he does SWAT work every now and then, he should have at least seen them once or twice. 

They wouldn't send newbies out to check on gunfire. 

And those guns they have holstered aren't police-issued…

Fuck. Pope can't tell if they've figured out that he knows yet. 

So, he slowly walks over to the bookshelf by the living room television, where he has a gun. 

But before he can fire a shot, a bullet flies through the air. 

And one of the cops drops dead. 

Then, Pope shoots the other one down before that one has a chance to react to you killing their partner. 

He walks over to meet you as you both stare down at the dead bodies. Then, you each take a body to check for a burner. 

“How'd you know they weren't real cops?” Pope finds the burner phone on his dead cop’s body, seeing the bounty for you and him on the screen with your current house address listed for last known.

You pull out your dead cop's burner along with some keys then say, “no cop car outside. But a very nice getaway vehicle.”

“Want to take a ride, honey?” Pope puts his hand out for you to give him the keys. “You got a go bag?” 

“Of course I have a fucking go bag.” You want to beat him up for even asking. You know he's just messing with you, though. “I have one made for the two of us too.” 

“Really?” Pope finds that oddly sweet. 

“In case my life ever caught up to yours.” You wanted to make sure that wherever you had to hide, he could come with. 

“What are our new identities then?” 

You go to unseal one of the floorboards in the living room and pull out the go bags. They're filled with untraceable cash and other necessities like weapons and new identities. 

You pull out Pope's new driver's license and hand it to him. He looks at it and goes, “seriously? You couldn't pick a better name than “Titus”?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, throwing the heavier go bag at him. “Go pack the car, Mr. Danforth.” 

“Maybe I should have you call me “mister” instead of “sir” from now on, Mrs. Danforth.” He says with a smirk on his face, swinging the bag over his shoulder with ease before putting his hand out for you to take. “Ready to run away together?” 

You let out a light chuckle then nod. “Yes, sir.”

“So we're keeping the “sir”. I'll allow it.” Pope leans over, giving you a loving kiss on the temple. 

The two of you start packing the car but then you remember the pills so you quickly go and grab them from your car. Pope furrows his brows at you. 

“You got them already? Why didn't you take them last night?”

“You know why.” You shove them in your go bag. 

“Tell me.” He makes you stop your fussing.

“Andrew, we have people after us, who wants us dead. Can we talk about this in the car?” He really has such poor timing sometimes!

“I promise I wouldn't have killed you. Even if they tried to make me, I wouldn't. I love you, truly.” He says your name too, just to confirm it, giving you the reassurance you didn't know you needed to hear. “Come here.” 

Pope pulls you into his arms, giving you a warm hug that you gladly accept. 

“Till death do us part.” He tells you before lifting your chin up to look at him. “And I promise you won't need those pills for a while. I'll make sure you sleep real good from now on.” 

You glare at him, knowing what he's insinuating and when he laughs, you giggle with him before leaning in for a kiss. 

“Now let's go make sure the world knows not to fuck with Mr. and Mrs. Danforth.” Pope says against your lips before giving you another loving kiss. 

You're certain they won't once they realize the two of you are a pair.

Because why would any assassin risk going head to head with you and Pope? 

It'll surely be a death sentence for them, and a lot of fun for you two. 

a/n: aw, this one turned out so much more fun than I originally planned! I will say that I hope this version of pope sort of makes sense as like a blend between him and jack, since technically he is jack too! I thought it would be fun to explore the idea that pope created the persona of jack abbot as a cover and then grew to love being jack! and now he's titus hehe ~

I decided to keep this one short and sweet. I was originally going to write the whole backstory of how they met, etc, but sometimes I like leaving things up to the imagination, I find that more fun and it allows for a little more wiggle room for any future installments! 

Not long thereafter the incident, your bush was back and better than ever and all was well in Robby’s world; just in time for his birthday weekend. Both he and Jack had managed to get the weekend off and the three of you were planning on spending it doing whatever Robby wanted.

His only request was dinner together at his favorite restaurant with the fancy bread and a nice bottle of red. Easy enough.

What he didn’t know was that you and Jack had a trick up your sleeve—or rather—down your pants.

After one too many glasses of Cabernet, the three of you made your way back home, ready to spend some quality time together. Robby had already opened his gifts this morning over breakfast in bed, so he was pleasantly surprised when you and Jack sat him down telling him you had one more gift for him.

He was even more pleasantly surprised when you started taking off your clothes, both of you stopping at your underwear. Robby lifted an eyebrow in suspicion, not quite sure what was to follow.

You’re the first to break the silence. “So… remember a bit ago when I went to the beach and I shaved and you cried?”

Robby scoffs, “I didn’t cry.”

“There were some tears,” Jack counters.

“Whatever,” Robby rolls his eyes. He isn’t interested in arguing on his birthday, especially knowing he will lose that argument—there were indeed tears.

“Wellll,” you cut in, trying to get the conversation back on track. “We thought it’d be funny if—since you have a very… strong love of the bush…”

Robby shakes his head in amusement, trying to cover his blooming embarrassment that has heat rushing to his face and betraying him.

“Just— just close your eyes,” you instruct, somewhat impatient to show him what you and Jack have in store.

Robby reluctantly obliges. Some ruffling noises and hushed giggles cut through the silence and force Robby to fight back a smile thinking up all the possible shenanigans his partners could be getting into.

“Okay you can look now,” you try to keep your voice calm even though you are simmering with excitement.

Robby slowly cracks one eye open, anxious to see the sight before him. His nerves are quickly dissipated when he comes face to face with your bush. It’s been carefully trimmed into the shape of a heart. There’s no fighting back the shocked laugh that bubbles up from his chest. “Oh my god.”

“Happy birthday,” you practically beam.

“I— I don’t even know what to say. I’m not sure if I should laugh or thank you?”

“Both,” you shrug lightheartedly. “It’s supposed to be silly.”

“It’s…” he looks between the two of you, “yeah.” He has to do a double take when catching a glimpse of Jack's pubic hair. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“A candle,” he answers like it’s obvious.

“A… candle?”

“Yeah. Y’know… you’re supposed to blow the candle,” Jack says with a wink.

a/n: Thank you guys so much for all the love on pt 1 of this! Wasn’t planning on making a second part but I was talking to my friend ab ideas and she came up w the blowing out the candle joke and I couldn’t help myself. Anyways I hope this makes u guys giggle :) I’m working on a pt 2 for Cowboy as well so keep an eye out for that soon… 😏

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MDNI divider by @cafekitsune | lace divider by @diviniyae