life on mars right?

The hardest thing about dating two men at the same time is that whenever you have an appointment, they both have to argue about who gets to go with you. Because now that you're in a committed relationship, they have to go everywhere with you.

“I'm the doctor.” Jack pulls that card usually, which irritates Pope. 

“You have to work right after.” Pope pulls that card, just to remind Jack that he should probably stop trying to take on too much. 

“Guys, it's just my OBGYN. I can go alone…” As much as you enjoy having them chauffeur you around, you have been going to appointments by yourself for a long time. 

It's just to swap out your IUD, since it's been the designated amount of years. And since you've been having a lot more sex than before, it's very advisable to keep your protection up to date. 

In the same exact tone of voice, they both go, “no.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth between them, rolling them when they both give you the same disapproving look. You are all standing in the kitchen, which seems to be the designated meeting spot for conversations like this. 

“Well, someone has to take me.” You fold your arms over your chest. “It's in a few hours. So pick.” 

“Why can't we both go?” Pope has been asking this question often recently. Mainly because he hates that you have to make these kinds of choices so often. 

“Because how do we explain to people why we're both there?” Jack hasn't told anyone that he has a twin and your appointment is at the hospital. He does not want to have to deal with the pestering he will inevitably get from everyone at work. 

He already got enough shit from Robby when he finally told him you two were going out. His middle finger is sore from how much he has been flipping him off. 

“Can't I just be a concerned friend?” Though, Pope would prefer it if he was never considered just a friend to you.  

“What is there to be concerned about?” You feel like this is way too much trouble for a single appointment. “I've done this before. You work late today too, Pope. Maybe you both should sit this one out.” 

It's been a few months since you all have started this new arrangement and Pope has noticed that you call him Pope in front of Jack. You call him Andrew in private and in bed, but never in public. 

He's unsure how he feels about that. A part of him likes that it's just between the two of you, minus the times Jack is there too, but he does wish you'd say his name more. He likes hearing it. 

“There could be a complication.” Jack knows this is a pretty safe, routinely performed procedure, but he wouldn't want you to take any chances. “It would be better if one of us drives you so you can rest after, in case you're in more pain than you expected.”

You sigh. “Okay, fine. Rock, paper, scissors.” 

You put your hand out. They both look at each other then at you. 

“If I win, I get to go alone. If one of you wins, then that person takes me.” You gesture for them to play the game that you all have been using as your tiebreaker for decisions. 

As agreed, none of you will debate a situation for too long. If there isn't a clear answer that benefits everyone, then you all leave it up to fate.

And this time, Pope emerges victorious with his scissors that cuts through you and Jack both picking paper. He beams a lovely smile at you, one that you've grown to love because of how rarely it happens. “Finally get to take you on a ride in my new car.” 

A friend of yours, Drax, owns a car repair shop, so you called in a favor, since Pope has ample car experience. You did disclose that he is an ex-con, though your friend doesn't mind since he employs plenty of ex-cons and helps them find resources for transitioning back to civilian life after prison. You figure it would be a good environment for Pope to meet others going through what he is right now and so far, he has been enjoying work. According to your friend, he does a phenomenal job, given how much attention to detail he has. 

You have yet to tell Jack and Pope that Drax is an ex of yours but you figure that information isn't relevant. He's one of the few exes where the two of you split amicably so you both remained on good terms. 

“Alright, but you stay in the car and park a few blocks away.” Jack warns. 

“I'll do you one better. I'll drop her off, grab her dinner then pick her up. Good?” Pope doesn't wait for Jack to answer. They share a look that answers it for him, so he turns to you. “What do you want to eat after?” “Maybe some soup?” You had a pretty bad cramp last time so something warm would be soothing. 

“I'm going back to bed then.” Jack decides since he'll probably have to work overtime today again, as usual. He walks up to you and gives you a lovely peck on the lips. “See you in the morning.” 

“See you later.” You smile, grabbing him before he can walk away so you can kiss him again. Then, you whisper against his lips, “dream about me, okay?” 

“I always do.” He kisses you one last time before heading to bed. 

Pope walks up to you and the moment Jack is out of range, he wraps his arms around your waist, hauling you up onto the kitchen counter. Then, he leans in, brushing his nose against yours, before saying sarcastically, “you two make me sick.” 

“Oh?” You giggle at his jealousy. “And here I thought you liked seeing your brother happy.” 

“I do.” Pope is happy that Jack is happy because he always wants the best for his brothers. “But that doesn't mean I'm not annoyed that he's happy because of you.”

You know Pope is just joking around but you put your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them gently, then ask, “are you sure this is okay with you? I don't want to—”

“We are not having this conversation again.” Pope closes the space between the two of you, trapping you in place with his hands at either side of you on the counter. “You're not leaving me and I'm not leaving you.” 

“I know.” You press your forehead against his, breathing in deeply before exhaling, “I just worry that you're limiting yourself to me. You're incredible, Andrew. You could easily find someone—”

Pope doesn't let you say another word, sealing his lips over yours. The very thought of being with anyone else but you disturbs him. He wishes you'd get the idea out of your head. But he feels the way you tremble against his lips, the nerves from all your past experiences still haunting you. 

So he reminds you that he picked you. 

“I found you.” He says against your lips, his tone as intense as his eyes on you. “Stop questioning my decision or I'll make it so your gyno will have a very difficult time later with the mess I'm going to make down there.” 

You get way too flustered when Pope gets in this mood. He likes that the reason you're nervous now is because of him. 

“Do you understand?” He wants you to say it. 

“I understand.” You pull him in for a hug, resting your head against his shoulder. “Thank you for…wanting me.” 

“Hey, look at me.” Pope pulls your face so he can see your reaction when he says, “I will always want you.” 

“That's a bold statement.” You can't say you don't feel the same, though. You know you'd always want him too. 

Because…you love him. 

You love Pope and you love Jack and it scares the fuck out of you how much you love them. You knew this would happen the moment you let yourself have real feelings for them. 

You fall very easily and you always fall hard. 

That's why you're so worried that this is all a dream and you'll wake up one day and you won't have either of them next to you anymore. That's also why you haven't said anything yet. Because you're scared that your big feelings will scare them away. 

So, you keep trying to give them both outs. You keep reminding them that they don't have to do this with you and that you would understand if they wanted to end things. 

Usually, when you get into these moods, it ends up with Pope and Jack showing you just how much they want you. Because sometimes that's the only way it'll get through your mind that they feel something deeper for you than just physical attraction. 

“Hold on.” Pope barely gives you a warning before he hauls you up by your ass from the kitchen counter. You have to wrap your arms and legs around him to balance as he carries you to Jack's bedroom, opening the door. 

Jack rubs his eyes, furrowing his brow when he sees Pope drop you onto the bed. “What's going on?”

“She's doing that thing again.” 

“Ah.” Jack knows exactly what he's talking about. He lets out a yawn and then says, “well, this will be a good show.” 

“I'm okay, I'm okay!” You flail a bit as Pope flips you over onto your stomach. “You don't have to do—”

He practically rips your sweatpants off of you, revealing that you do not wear underwear around the house anymore. That, and you've been wearing a very comfortable plug to help train your ass for them. They still haven't fucked you there yet. They're taking their time, coaxing you into craving it. 

Pope presses his thumb against the base of the plug, pushing it deeper, making you squirm. “I have to do this. Because you've been a very bad girl.” 

“I'm sorry.” You look up at Jack, who has his arms crossed, sitting up now in bed, shaking his head at you. “I'm really sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” Jack needs to hear you acknowledge it.

“I-I…” You bite back the heartache swelling in your chest when you admit, “I'm sorry I keep thinking you both don't want me. I know it's annoying how insecure I am…”

Pope sighs. “What a shit apology.” 

Jack glares at Pope. “Don't make her feel worse.”

“She needs to apologize for not believing us when we say she's not annoying.” Pope has never found reassuring you a hassle. It's his responsibility to ensure you always feel secure with him. “I want an apology that will stick.” 

That signals to Jack to grab the one thing that has had you panting lately. You try to worm away but Pope is holding you down to the bed with his hand on your lower back.

“Quit wriggling.” He smacks your ass, which stills you instantly. “Don't act like you don't cum like crazy when we use this.” 

“M-My appointment…” You can't show up looking freshly fucked… 

“We have a few hours before then.” Pope glances up at Jack. “Do you want me to take her somewhere else so you can sleep?”

“Nope. I want to be here for this.” Jack smiles at you and it's not comforting in the slightest. 

It's that sadistic smile he has learned from Pope… 

Jack pulls the toy out from the bedside table's drawer, handing it over to Pope. It's a vibrator with four beads in a straight, rigid line, each one a bit bigger than the next, with a flared base. You barely made it out alive the last time they used it on you.

And you definitely aren't going to make it out in one piece when Jack grabs the gag that they've been using whenever you've been especially bad. 

It has a soft piece of silicone that lays on top of your tongue, filling your mouth completely like a cock would, teasing the back of your throat. 

He takes a hold of your face, tapping your cheek, “you know what to do.” 

You swallow then plead quietly, “please, I promise I won't—”

"Don't make me do it.” Jack's stern voice shuts you up right away. 

You obey then, opening your mouth, letting him settle the gag on your tongue before tying the soft fabric securely around your head to hold it in place. Now you're stuffed everywhere except your pussy. And you know they aren't going to touch you there at all since you have an appointment later. 

Which can only mean one thing…

“Breathe.” Pope tells you, his fingers wrapped around the base of the plug currently inside of you. “Don't make this difficult.” 

With the gag in your mouth, you inhale as best as you can through your nose and then on your exhale, Pope pulls the plug out of you. You choke on your own moan, your legs quivering from the sudden loss. He gently massages your lower back, comforting you. 

His words aren't like his actions, though. “I wish I didn't have to torture you like this. But you need to learn to listen.” 

Pope smacks your ass, gesturing for you to move towards Jack. Jack pats his lap so you go to straddle him. He cups your face, looking at you so softly. Then, his hands slide down to your neck, engulfing it completely. You shiver in anticipation, expecting him to choke you, but he doesn't. 

He does smile at how desperately your body is twitching. “I don't think it's torture when her body is begging for it.”

You feel Pope behind you, reaching forward to grab a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer. It took a while to find a lube that worked really well for you personally. But they didn't mind all the testing. It was a lot of fun figuring out how much you needed to fit a whole dildo inside your ass. 

Pope considered doing that now as your punishment but you could barely walk last time they did so he'll settle for the beads. He coats the vibrator in lube and then pours a bit on your ass directly. You shiver at the cold feeling but your body is so hot to the touch from how much you can't wait to feel what's about to happen. You hold in a gasp when you feel the tip of the vibrator press up against your tight ring. 

“Show me you know what to do if you want us to stop.” Jack tells you and you nod, blinking at him five times in quick succession. “Good girl. Do you want us to stop?” 

You shake your head, your core tightening up. You can't help but want anything they throw at you. You love being used like this. 

You love being taught a lesson you'll surely never forget… 

“You heard her.” Jack glances back at Pope. “She wants this.” 

“Fucking whore.” You can't see it, but you know Pope is shaking his head, feigning disappointment. It makes you so wet when he degrades you. “I always knew you liked it up the ass.” 

You dig your nails into Jack's shoulders when Pope pushes the first bead in, your tight ring closing around the base. You lean your head against Jack's chest when the next bead pops in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold yourself up. 

Jack tries to help you take it, whispering in your ear, “remember how hard you came last time? You'll feel that again very soon.” 

Your eyes are watering when the vibrator hilts and all four beads are inside of you, the strange, differing sized swells feeling so foreign. You bite down on the gag in your mouth, the oral stimulus turning you on even more. 

Pope grabs the base of the toy, then leans in to whisper in your other ear, “you're going to wish you had just been a good girl for us.” 

He pops a bead out of you right then, making you scream with the gag in your mouth muffling it completely. When the next bead pops out, Jack squeezes his hands around your throat, stopping you from even getting a sound out in response. You expect Pope to pull the next one out but he pushes one back in instead. Then out again. Then in. Tears are streaming down your face both from being choked and the way your ass is getting fucked. 

“So beautiful.” Jack says to you, dragging his tongue up to taste your tears before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “What a lovely whore.” 

You wish he would kiss your lips but he can't with the gag in your mouth. That's why this is a punishment. You miss his lips on yours so much. 

Pope manages to get into a rhythm where he can pull the vibrator almost all the way out of your ass before sinking it all the way back inside with ease. That's when he knows you're ready for the vibration. You just aren't ready for him to turn it on and then immediately start fucking you with it. 

You cum so hard on Jack's lap. You're so embarrassed at how hard you came that you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide from what just happened. But Pope won't let you hide for long. He keeps fucking your ass with the vibrator, making you cum again and again. 

“Look at you making a fucking mess.” Jack pulls you off of him by your neck, forcing you to look at how hard you came all over him. “I was supposed to go back to sleep after this.” 

“I'm so sorry.” You say to him, hoping he can make out your words through the gag. 

He pretends he doesn't hear you and starts choking you, gripping your throat much harder than before. 

“Are you really going to cum from getting your ass fucked while getting strangled?” He stares at you with so much lust in his eyes. “You must love being just a fucktoy for us to abuse.” 

Tears drip from your eyes as you nod. Your orgasm overwhelms you, loving how humiliated and small you feel. You're really being used by them however they want. They're in full control. 

Pope drives the toy deep inside of you and then flicks it onto the highest setting before demanding, “turn around.” 

You turn around on Jack's lap, straddling him while facing Pope. Jack takes the opportunity to slip his hands under your shirt to cup your breasts, pinching your hard nipples. You cum from just that, your pussy clenching so hard around nothing. You wish there was a cock inside of you right now. 

Pope trails his fingers along your folds, lightly grazing your clit. You nearly cum from the gentle touch but it's not enough to send you over the edge. The pounding in your ass feels incredible but it's not enough by itself to get you off. 

They both know this, which is why they only tease you a little bit here and there until you're grinding your hips unconsciously, desperate to cum. 

“Dr. Abbot. I need medical advice.” Pope stares at the way your pussy is spasming. “Can I put a dildo inside of her or will that fuck with her appointment?” 

“Honestly, that might be helpful for later. This is like dilation prep.” Jack approves so Pope gets up and grabs the dildo they've been using with you. It's a bit smaller than their cocks, since they wanted to work your way up to them, but it vibrates too to make up for not filling you up the same as they can. 

“Do you want to cum?” Pope asks you, showing you the dildo. 

You nod furiously. You're being edged like crazy right now. 

“Will you ride the pillow so we can watch?” He waits for you to agree before grabbing it. It's a pillow specifically made for adhering suction cups, so he sticks the dildo on it and lays it down on the bed. It's waterproof and very comfortable for you, so you move off of Jack's lap and straddle the pillow instead.

Pope sits on the bed, patiently waiting for you to sink down on the dildo. You can't stop yourself from cumming when your pussy swallows it up completely. 

“Lean forward. Shake your ass for Jack.” Pope instructs and you do exactly that, placing your hands forward, letting Jack have a full view of the vibrator inside your ass and the toy buried in your pussy. 

That entices Jack a little too much. He scoots over until he's behind you and then he grabs a hold of the base of the vibrator, turning it off, making you very aware that he's the one behind you now. 

You're shaking your head because you're sure the moment Jack starts fucking your ass while you're bouncing on this dildo, you're going to collapse. Pope grabs a hold of your face, staring right into your eyes. He watches to see if you'll give them the signal. 

You don't. He smiles at that and decides to pull off your gag. You swallow in gulps of air now that you can. Pope watches the way your chest swells from how you're heaving. He could stare at you just breathing for hours. 

“Now listen carefully.” Pope says in that low, menacing tone of his. “You're going to give us an apology, a real apology, and then we're going to make you cum your brains out. Got it?”

You nod, biting back the anticipation. “Got it.” 

“Say you're sorry for not believing us when we say you mean everything to us.” Pope looks over at Jack, just to check to make sure he agrees with Pope's word choice. 

He nods but adds, “you should also say sorry for thinking so lowly of yourself. You wouldn't have the affection of two men if you weren't worth it. Understood?”

You turn to Jack and nod. “Understood.” 

“Let's hear it.” Pope gestures for you to do what you've agreed to do. 

“Jack,” you look at him then back to Pope, “Andrew. I'm so sorry I keep thinking that it's unbelievable that you both value me so much. I'm sorry I'm not kind enough to myself. I will do better to show myself that I am worth your affections. Please forgive me.” 

Jack glances at Pope. They do that learned ability where they can talk to each other with just a look. Then, Jack tells you, “I want you to say “I am worthy of love”.”

“What?” You look at him and then back at Pope. 

“Say, “I am worthy of love”.” Pope repeats what Jack said. 

You open your mouth to say it but…you can't. 

The words get caught in your throat. 

Because you don't believe you are worthy of love. 

Especially not their love…

So why do they want you to say it? 

You aren't going to pretend like they love you. There's no way they do. 

So what love are you worthy of? 

No one's, like always. 

Suddenly, a pit forms in your stomach. Your chest starts to ache. Everything becomes too much right then. You don't know what they're trying to say but it hurts your heart. You're supposed to feel good but you feel terribly overwhelmed all of a sudden. 

So, you blink five times and Pope immediately helps you up off the toy and Jack slowly pulls the vibrator out for you. You're shaking all over, clinging to Pope. 

“You hold her.” Pope hands you over to Jack so he can clean up. Then he reassures you, “everything's okay. Nothing has changed.” 

You shake your head against Jack's shoulder, panic-filled tears spilling from your eyes. “No, no, everything's not okay—”

“It's okay if you don't love us back.” Jack tells you, cradling you in his arms, holding you like you truly mean everything to him. “It's okay if you never do. We're happy just like this.” 

“You don't know what you're saying.” You sob into his shoulder, the sudden onslaught of emotions overloading your senses. “You guys don't…love me…” 

Because why would they? 

This is just…fun, right? 

This isn't serious for them. 

This can't be. 

Why would they want to—

“The sub drop is rough today.” Jack says to Pope when he gets back from cleaning the toys and putting everything away. “She won't stop shaking.” 

“Shit.” Pope comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on your shoulder. “You're okay. Everything's okay.”

“No, it's not.” You don't know what to do. You feel like you're being swallowed up by your fear. “This is…why would…I don't know…” 

You aren't saying words. You're just mumbling. You can't form full sentences. 

“I need you to breathe, baby girl.” Jack cups your face, making you look at him. He only calls you that if he really needs you to listen to him. “Follow my lead. Inhale, exhale, okay?” 

You try. You really do. But it's so hard for some reason. Your breath is caught in your throat every time you try to inhale. 

“I can't…” You try to shove away from both of them but they hold you still. “Please, please, just let me go—”

“Are you really not going to listen to your daddy?” Jack has that stern look on his face but he doesn't hide how worried he is. “Come on, baby girl. Don't do that to me.” 

You want to listen. You're such a good listener. You are. You're a great sub. You're a good girl. You can do this. 

But every mantra that you usually tell yourself doesn't work. It's like you've fallen down into a black hole of emotional nothingness and you can't pull yourself up. 

“Pope…” Jack defers to Pope because usually bringing you into a safe mental state works to break you out of the panic. But it didn't this time, so Jack needs more help…

“Fuck.” Pope doesn't want to have to do this. But it probably is the only thing that'll snap you out of it. “Okay, I got it.” 

Then, they let you go. And you run away. So, Pope chases after you. 

Jack leans his head against the headboard, regret filling every inch of him. Him and Pope have talked about it. About when they should tell you that they love you. Because they know, they know with all of their heart, that you feel the same. 

But they also know that you probably would not believe them when they told you. 

They've been training you since. They've been testing out what can break you out of that fear mindset when it comes to their feelings for you.

Usually, you like to listen so that breaks you out of it pretty easily if you're not too far gone. If you're being difficult, then either of them will pull out the daddy card and normally that's the most they need to do. Because you feel incredibly comforted in that space, being their baby girl. 

But when everything fails, there's only one option left. The option that Jack rarely does because he physically is not always capable of it.  

Thankfully, Pope is very capable. But he hates doing it. 

You sprint as fast as you can to your bedroom and shut the door, locking it then running to the corner of your room, collapsing to the ground, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

You know the lock won't hold Pope for long but you just need…time…to think…

Time that they cannot let you have because you will simply spiral and lose yourself in the panic and then ultimately do something you'll end up regretting. 

Like telling them you don't love them in a meek attempt to get them to admit it was all a hoax and that they don't actually love you and that it's all in your head because they never truly wanted you, they just made it all up because they wanted to use you for a bit and then throw you away—

The door swings open, hitting the wall with such a bang. It startles you. Pope stands in the doorframe, staring at you. Then, when your eyes meet, he starts stalking towards you, like he's going to kill you. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

Pope is rarely this scary with you. He only gets like this when—

“Get up.” There's no kindness in his voice. “I said, get up.” 

You shake your head, clutching your middle, hiding behind your knees. “Just leave me alone, please.” 

“I'm not asking.” Pope glares at you with that intensity you try shaking away. “Get up.” 

“I can't…” You're so scared right now. 

Not of Pope but of…everything else. 

But he needs you to be scared of him. 

That's the only way you'll break out of this. 

So, he prowls up to you then grabs you by the collar of your shirt, tugging you to your feet. But he doesn't let you stand. He just wraps his hand around your throat and pins you to your bedroom wall, lifting you until your legs are dangling. 

It's getting hard to breathe. You're clawing at his arm, trying to make him let you go.

“Stop!” You cry out, tears bursting from your eyes, “please, Andrew…” 

“You're calling me Andrew but you won't even listen to me?” The pain in his harsh tone churns your stomach. “Instead, you run from me?” 

“I-I…” You squirm in his grasp. He's way too strong. Sometimes you forget how strong he is… 

“Do you hate me?” His words stab you in the heart. “If you hate me then…”

He adds his other hand and without hesitation, he starts to strangle you. 

You're gasping, sobbing, shoving, kicking but nothing stops him. 

He just keeps squeezing and squeezing, then tears drip from his eyes as he says, “I'll kill you and then myself. Because I can't live without you. I love you.” 

Something about the way Pope looks when he's crying breaks you out of your own mind. You stop struggling. You reach forward, cupping his face with your hands. He closes his eyes, his grip on your throat getting shaky. 

He's the most scared he has ever been…

That's what snaps you out of it. 

“Oh no…” You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. He loosens his grip enough for you to tell him, “I'm sorry. I promised I would never let you feel unwanted.” 

“You did promise.” Pope drops you onto your feet then leans his face against your shoulder, crying into your shirt, “but you were going to tell me you don't love me, even though I know that's not true. You were going to lie and make me feel unwanted.”

You hate that he is right about you wanting to lie. Him and Jack can read you like a book. But he is also right that your lie would've broken your promise to him. And you can't do that. 

Even if that means…you have to do something scarier. 

Like tell them how you feel. 

“I love you, Andrew.” You don't like how shaky your voice is when you say it but you tell him everything that you hold true. “I love you and I love Jack and I am so scared that you both will come to regret loving me.” 

You hear footsteps and notice then that Jack has been standing at the door. Now he's walking up to the two of you. He places one hand on Pope's back and one hand on your shoulder. Pope is still crying, his own emotions overwhelming him. 

In these moments, Jack really is the one that holds you all together. The anchor. 

“He hated having to do this.” Jack refers to how Pope has to show so much of his vulnerability right now. The weaker parts of himself, the sicker, deadlier ones. “Don't make him have to do that again, okay?” 

You nod, pulling Pope into a tighter embrace. “I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.” 

“Tell me you love me.” Pope looks up at you, fear and hurt laced in his features. “I want to hear you say it again, please.” 

“I love you.” It scares you to say it but you need to comfort him right now. And he wants your love. “I love you so much.” 

You look up at Jack and he knows you're saying it to him too. He gestures for you to focus on Pope. He always worries when Pope gets overwhelmed. 

Just like you, Pope is experiencing an intense drop as well. It happens whenever he has to tap into the darker pieces of himself. The parts he's afraid will frighten you, which is why he only does it when he needs to scare you. But when he does, it's hard for him to snap out of it. 

Usually giving him the attention he craves helps the most, which is why you turn back to Pope and say, while wiping away his tears, “how about I reschedule my appointment and we stay in today? You can call off work and we'll watch TV and cuddle.”

“Okay.” Pope calms at that, nodding in your hands, relaxing in your hold. His arms wrap around your middle, pulling you closer to him, not wanting any space between the two of you. You pepper him with soft little kisses all over his face, spoiling him. 

“Maybe we'll bake a cake or something together.” You tell him with a big smile. “To celebrate that I'm in love with two incredibly caring men.” 

“Can we all go out together to get everything for it?” He doesn't want to be left alone right now and he doesn't want to exclude Jack, since Jack is looking out for him. 

“Sure.” Jack replies, patting him on the back. “I'll go get changed. Maybe I'll see if someone can cover me tonight.” 

“Can we make a pie?” Pope always liked Smurf's celebratory pie, even though he never wanted to admit it to her. 

“We can make as many pies as you want.” You nuzzle his nose and he smiles finally, pressing a kiss against your lips. 

“I'm sorry if I scared you.” Pope lifts your chin, checking your neck. He couldn't really control himself so he's worried he hurt you. Thankfully you seem alright, no bruises. 

“You could never scare me, Andrew.” That's the truth. 

Pope can be frightening when he wants to be but never to you. You see him as a big softie with violent tendencies. Like a killer teddy bear. He would never hurt you, unless you did something truly unforgivable. Even then, he probably would just let you hurt him. He loves you that much. 

“I feel better now. I'll go call Drax.” Pope gives you one last squeeze before he leaves your room, presumably going to the guest house where he left his phone. 

You take that moment to walk up to Jack and hug him. He hugs you back, rubbing down the length of your arm in a comforting gesture. 

“Don't scare me like that again.” He holds you firmly by your jaw, making you look him in the eyes. “I love you too much to lose you. Especially to your own head.” 

“I'm sorry, Jack.” You squeeze him tighter. “I was so wrapped up in my head that—”

“I get it.” He has definitely been there. “I forgive you.” 

“It's okay if you're mad at me.” You would understand. You were being frustrating… 

“I'm only mad that you didn't think you were worthy of love. Will you say it now?” Jack wants to hear it, clearly, now that you're out of your own head. 

“I am worthy of love.” You say firmly, making him smile. 

“That's my baby girl.” He leans down to kiss you and you melt into it, grabbing a hold of his shirt to pull him even closer to you. 

Jack scoops you into his arms and then sets you on his lap once he's sat down on your bed, your lips never leaving his. He can't resist deepening the kiss and you can't resist the moan it draws out. 

You pull away from him, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Sorry…I just love kissing you so much.” 

Ever since you and Jack have been kissing casually, you've grown to love the way his lips feel on yours. It's like you're finally making up for lost time, getting in all the kisses you wished you could've shared with him earlier. 

“I'm not complaining.” He pulls you back to his lips and you smile so big, kissing him again. 

And neither of you stop until there's a knock on your bedroom door. You both turn to see Pope standing at the doorway, arms crossed. 

“Are you two done?” He acts like he's been waiting a while. 

“Yeah. I'll go get dressed.” Jack gives you one last kiss before setting you aside to get up from your bed. “You should cancel your appointment.”

“Actually.” You take a hold of his hand then put your hand out for Pope to take. He walks up to you to hold it. Once you feel them squeeze your hands, you tell them, your nerves making your words come out choppy, “what if I don't cancel it? But I…also…don't…get it replaced…”

Jack looks at Pope. Pope looks at Jack. They have the same shocked expression on their face. It makes you close up a little. 

You pull your hands away from theirs, stammering your next set of words, “I-I mean, obviously, if you two want me to, I'll of course get it replaced—”

“Don't.” They both say at the exact same time. 

The brothers exchange glances. Mostly because neither of them thought this would happen, at least not any time soon. But you love them and they love you and having a product of that love seems like a very nice addition to all of this. 

Plus, this fulfills a desire that the two of them have been holding back on. 

The need to keep you full of their cum until you're pregnant. 

“Are you sure?” Jack wants to be realistic here and not get ahead of himself. “Getting pregnant is a risk. Pregnancy is a risk. It's your body so if you ever want to terminate it, that's a choice I'll leave to you.” 

Pope keeps his mouth shut. Because if he opens his mouth, he would not be able to stop himself from saying that if you were pregnant with his child, he would do anything he could to have you keep the baby. But Jack's right. Your body, your choice. 

“If neither of you would regret it, then I definitely wouldn't.” You love the idea of your child growing up with not just one caring father, but two. They would be the most spoiled child in the whole world. 

“I need to call Robby. I'm definitely not working tonight.” There is no way in hell Jack is going to let Pope get you all to himself the moment your IUD is out. 

You chuckle at the eagerness then become the realistic one. “I don't know if we'll even be able to have sex tonight. I might have a bad cramp from getting it taken out.” 

“Either way.” Jack glares at Pope. “Don't even fucking think about cumming inside of her without me. I will kill you.” 

Pope should keep quiet because if he says his thoughts out loud— 

“Pope.” Jack maintains his death glare. “I need to hear you say it.” 

“Fine.” Pope will be fair. Even if he really doesn't want to be. “But if you take any extra shifts…”

You hide a smile, knowing Pope is saying that to Jack for your sake. 

“I won't.” He needs as much time with you as possible. 

“Then whenever we both can, we'll put a baby in her.” Pope sits down next to you in bed, placing his hand on your stomach. “You're going to be so beautiful with my child growing inside of you.” 

“It'll be our kid.” Jack is not letting him stake a claim already. 

“It would be better if I'm the only one who knows who the father was.” You think that's best. “That way, neither of you will play favorites.” 

“But what if they end up being both his kids?” Pope does not want to lose out on being a father to a biological child. 

“Then you will get to have lots of unprotected sex with me until you get one of your own.” You make that promise now. 

“Deal.” He leans his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “You're going to be a wonderful mother.” 

You kiss him on the forehead. “You're going to be a great father. Same with Jack.” 

“He better fucking quit if he keeps working this much when our child is here.” Pope gives Jack a knowing look. 

“I already told SWAT I have to cut back on helping.” Jack hasn't taken a SWAT shift since Pope got a job. 

“Good.” Pope is very happy now, which is a relief given earlier. 

Jack goes to swap shifts with Robby and then they both decide to take you to your appointment. Pope drives. Jack sits in the passenger seat. And, of course, you sit right in the middle between them. 

“I can't believe you also got a truck.” Jack thinks there's no need for both of them to have one since he already does. 

“I like driving them and Drax had one available. It's nice.” Pope really likes this truck. It was well maintained. “Plus, we can take her car if we need a regular sedan.” 

You do have a standard, run of the mill sedan. You don't use it much since you work from home but you especially don't use it now that you have two men who like driving you everywhere. 

“Will it be okay if you both are there with me?” You don't want to cause them to be in the hot seat of anyone's line of questioning. 

“Jack?” Pope defers to him, since it's his workplace. 

“It'll be fine. I doubt anyone will assume we're both in a relationship with her.” 

That doubt is…debatable with the way they both stick to you like glue as you all walk through the hospital to the elevators up to the women's clinic. Thankfully, there isn't many people in the waiting room of the clinic so you check in then sit down. Jack sits next to you and Pope takes the seat across since it would be weird if they sat on either side of you. Though, he wishes he didn't have to think about these things but he'd rather keep you safe from prying eyes that might be rude about your relationship with them. 

“Do you want one of us to go in with you?” Jack asks. He assumes if you did, it would be him, since he is a doctor. 

You shake your head. “It'll be pretty quick. I took some ibuprofen already so hopefully it won't hurt too bad.” 

The medical assistant calls your name so you say goodbye to both of them and head in. Pope reads one of the “What to Expect When You're Expecting” books that they have in the waiting room. Him and Jack have talked about how having kids with you would go but he never realized how eager Pope was about it. 

“You really like kids, don't you?” Jack asks him and Pope nods. 

“I want to do a better job than my mom did with me.” He knows all the mistakes to avoid. 

Speaking of parents, Jack has been meaning to prompt this but he hasn't found a good time. Now might be the best time. “Do you want to meet my parents?” 

Pope raises an eyebrow at Jack. “What?” 

“Well, you are my brother. I think my parents would love to meet you.” Jack is sure they would. They'd probably pinch the shit out of Pope the moment they see him and adopt him into the family immediately.

“Seriously?” Pope never thought of Jack's parents as part of his family but…Jack is right. Pope is his brother. They are, in technical sense, related to him. Not by blood but they are his brother's parents. 

“We'll all go. My parents are pretty progressive. I think they'll just be happy I'm finally settling down.” Jack grimaces when he thinks about how often his mother asks him when he's going to give them grandchildren. They'll be surprised to learn that might be very soon…

That is, if you actually stop birth control. 

“You have other options, if you don't want to do the IUD anymore.” Your gynecologist tells you. “If it's a bother during sex.”

You wouldn't say it's a bother. But you definitely think with the kind of sex you're having, there is a risk of it getting shifted around more than it needs to. So, no more IUD. 

You did tell Jack and Pope that you'd take it out so you aren't technically lying to them. But you debate if you should tell them that you've decided on taking the birth control shot so you'd be protected for the next three months. 

The truth is, you are a little squeamish about having completely unprotected sex right away. You had sort of said what you did on a whim. You should take more time to plan.

So, maybe it's okay if they don't know. 

You'll definitely enjoy them trying to get you pregnant, even when they physically can't. Then, in three months, if everything is still as wonderful as it is now and you have a more concrete plan in place, then you won't take the next shot and let them get you pregnant for real. 

Until then, it'll be your little secret. 

Jack still can't believe how easy it was for HR to approve his time off so that he could take you and Pope to meet his parents. It must be because he was getting close to being forced to use it, since he has accrued so much, which is a disaster scheduling wise so at least with a few weeks notice, they can figure out coverage so Jack can take a week off. 

It was easy for Pope to take a week off, since Drax is pretty flexible with his schedule. You'll have to thank him personally for that. You really appreciate how kindly he has been treating Pope. Pope tells you all the time about how Drax is always checking up on everyone that works there. He was always a very caring guy. 

Sometimes you wonder what would've happened if the two of you didn't break up but obviously if you hadn't, you wouldn't have met Jack and Pope. And you are incredibly happy right now. 

Minus the fact that neither of them have touched you since you went to your appointment…which was almost two weeks ago.

You thought they'd be excited to have tons of unprotected sex. But they want you to be ovulating first. And Pope read somewhere that if they keep you from cumming until then, you'll have a higher chance of getting pregnant.

You keep telling them that it wouldn't matter because it actually doesn't since you're still protected but they really want the best chance at getting you pregnant. So, you can't argue with them. 

However, that does mean that you've been incredibly needy…

That's just what happens when you've gotten used to cumming every day. Your IUD made it so that you didn't get your period so it really was every day before now. You aren't looking forward to getting your period again. Though, the shot might keep you from getting your period. 

You might have some explaining to do when you don't get your period but also aren't pregnant. Jack could figure out that you've been keeping a secret from them.

What you don't know is that he already knows.

Jack checked your chart the next time he was at work because he was curious if you had any medical history that might make pregnancy complicated. He knows he shouldn't have looked because that's an invasion of your privacy but he reasoned that he was doing it out of concern. 

Then he saw that your gynecologist had approved the birth control shot and your appointment notes said that it was administered in office. 

You did have a bad cramp after the appointment so neither him nor Pope had touched you yet. 

That's why he sent Pope a medical study about the link between orgasms and improved rates of conception. 

You think it was Pope's idea, but it was Jack's. 

He couldn't punish you outright because there's no way in hell he's going to tell Pope about what you did. Pope would surely go nuts. He has been so excited to get you pregnant. 

For Jack, he is also excited but if you are nervous about it, he does prefer that you want to wait until you're ready. He doesn't want to rush you into anything. Pregnancy in general is a big commitment. Having a child is an even bigger commitment. 

And Jack would want to propose before that. 

So, he is happy he has a bit more time to plan that. He will need to, eventually, loop Pope in, since Pope will definitely want to marry you too. 

In an official capacity, it would be better if you married Jack so he could give you his military pension if anything were to happen to him. He's sure Pope won't argue there. He'd want you to be taken care of. 

He wants you to meet his parents first and get their opinion on how he should do it. They are the most successful love story in his life. That's why he felt for so long that he wasn't ready for a deeper relationship. Because he watched how much his father doted on his mother growing up and he knew he wouldn't be able to do the same with how much he works. Thankfully now, he has help on that front to keep you happy. 

Though, Jack is well aware of how unhappy you are right now with the fact that him and Pope aren't touching you. He hasn't even let you kiss him for too long because he knows if he gives in, he'll surely want to fuck you. 

“How much longer…” You squirm in the backseat of your sedan, since Jack decided it would be better gas price wise to take your car for the road trip.

Totally not because he's secretly punishing you by making you sit alone with all that need building in your body. He likes how desperate you look when his eyes shift to the rear view mirror. 

“Until we get there or until you get to cum again?” Jack can't hide the sadistic smile that creeps up onto his face when he asks that. 

Pope glances over at Jack from the passenger seat. Even though you may not catch it, Pope definitely knows when Jack gets into this mood. He recognizes that look on his face, the look Pope gets when he thinks someone deserves to be punished. 

It may surprise people that Pope isn't the sadist between the two of them. Many would assume he was, given his record, but…he definitely would not torture you the way Jack is right now. But, that's his brother so he will play along. 

Especially since he knows how much of a masochist you are. 

“Both!” You frown at them. “I can't believe you two have held back for this long…” 

Pope has no clue how he has been dealing with it. He wants to touch you so badly. He's sure Jack is the same, though he has more experience in denying himself of you. Pope held back for that one week before he had to make you his. He hasn't held back this long since. 

“Someone's being impatient.” Jack shakes his head at you, pulling over at a rest stop so him and Pope can switch who drives. He exits the car then goes around, opening your door all of a sudden. He stares down at your surprised face when he says, “do you really want us to fuck you that badly?” 

You bite your lower lip then nod in response. 

Pope scans the rest stop. There isn't anyone here. It doesn't even look like this rest stop is frequented. He realizes there isn't even a restroom. It's just a parking lot a mile from the highway, in a dense forest full of trees that block the view from the road.

Now he knows why his brother stopped here…

“If we're going to do this, I should take off her plates.” Pope tells him as he gets out of the car, heading back to the trunk. “In case someone drives by and snaps a picture.” 

“W-Wait, wait, what do you mean—” You yelp as Jack hauls you out of the car, shoving you towards the trees close by. “Jack!”

“Shut up.” He silences you immediately, the harshness in his tone making your knees weak. “You're the one who has been begging to be fucked. Why do you suddenly care where we do it?” 

“Because!” You stumble forward, nearly tripping on a tree root but Jack catches you by the waist before you do. 

His hold on you is gentle compared to his words, “because what? You don't want people to see and hear how depraved you are?” 

Pope is minding his own business right now, pulling off your plates. He doesn't know what you must've done to get Jack into this mood but he is not going to step in his way. He knows better than to mess with Jack when he's like this. 

“Please, Jack.” You turn around and that gives him an opportune moment to trap you up against a tree. You nervously swallow, seeing the darkness that swirls in his usually soft features, saying, “l-let's just go back to the car. Your parents will be waiting.”

“You're so cute.” He taunts you, leaning forward, brushing his lips against your very warm ear, whispering, “you know we won't get there for at least another day. Who cares how late we are to our motel reservation? We have plenty of time.” 

You place your hands on his chest. You aren't pushing him away but…you definitely can't let him know how turned on you are. You can't believe how soaked your underwear is just thinking about him fucking you outside like this. 

Pope finishes up with the plates, tossing them in the trunk for now. Then, he unzips one of the bags you all had packed. 

The one with the camera gear. 

He pulls out the video camera he had gotten specifically for filming you. He grabs the tripod as well because he will not be sidelined. He's definitely going to fuck you out here too. 

But for now, Pope records from a slight distance, liking the way you and Jack are in your own little world. 

“Strip.” Jack tells you and you shake your head, drawing out his deadly glare. “Are you seriously going to disobey me right now?”

“I-It's cold.” You lie. You're burning up right now from how hot Jack looks all angry with you. 

“Don't piss me off.” He grabs you by your face, demanding with both his harsh grip and even harsher tone, “strip.”

You shake your head again, clutching onto his shirt. “What if someone sees…”

The way his lips easily curve into that twisted smile of his has chills running down your spine. “What if they do? Are you pretending you won't cum even harder if you know you're being watched? I didn't know my baby girl was such a liar.”

Then, without warning, Jack grabs a hold of your shirt and rips it off, making you scream. Especially since you weren't wearing a bra underneath. You're completely exposed from the waist up now.

Pope catches the whole thing on video then pulls out his phone so he can order you another one of those shirts. It was brand new. You bought it the last time the two of you went to the mall… 

“Jack!” You try to push him away when he grabs the waistband of your pants. “Stop!”

“You want me to stop?” He steps closer, his body flush against yours, keeping you backed up against the tree. 

Then, he slides his hand down between your legs, over your pants, his fingers grazing your clit through the fabric. You tear up from the sudden sensation, since he hasn't touched you there in so long. He leans in, kissing your cheek where the tear drops. 

You feel every word on your skin as he says, “I don't think you want me to stop.” 

You're clinging onto Jack, shivering from how gently he's touching you. It's those slow, methodical, agonizingly small circles that the pads of his fingers roll over your very sensitive clit. 

You bury your head in his shoulder, whimpering, “please stop…or I'm going to cum.” 

“I'm barely touching you.” He shakes his head at you in disappointment. “Is this all you need to cum?”

“Yes.” You're tensing up like crazy trying to stop yourself from bursting. “I can't help it. I love it when you touch me, Jack.”

“Then why did you tell me to stop?” His other hand rests at your hip, his thumb hooking into your waistband. “Let me take these off so I can make you feel very good.” 

But if you let him, you'll be naked in the middle of nowhere. The very thought sends such a thrill through you but also makes your stomach knot up. 

It doesn't help that he starts kissing a line down your neck then straight down the middle of your chest. Your breath is getting lodged in your throat, heat pooling in your core. You can barely hold back when Jack gets on his knees, his face hovering right between your legs. 

“Will you be a good girl and strip for me?” He takes his hands off of you, waiting. “I'll reward you if you do.” 

Every breath you take is heavy because the sight in front of you is incredible. Jack is looking up at you with so much desire in his eyes. He even leans in to kiss your thigh. He can't stop himself. It's like a little reminder that he loves you. 

Even though he's on his knees, Jack is the one in control. You're at his mercy meaning…you have to listen to him. 

You put your hands on your hips, biting back the nerves as you slip your pants off, stepping out of them. Jack promptly tosses them to the side, making sure that you're not getting dressed any time soon. 

“Spread your legs, baby girl.” He smiles beautifully when you listen, giving him quite the view of how wet you are. “You make me so happy.” 

“Really?” You put your hand in his hair so you can feel him nod in response. 

“Are you ready for your reward?” He waits for you to answer.

“I-I might make a mess.” You haven't cum in weeks… 

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” He pulls you closer to him, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. “You know exactly how much I love it when you cum on my face.”

It's impossible not to arch your back against the tree when Jack drags his tongue along your folds for the first time in what feels like forever. You have to put both of your hands in his hair, gripping his soft curls for balance as he slowly makes his way to your clit. When the tip of his tongue flicks your clit, you moan way louder than you should, the sound echoing in the quiet forest. 

You glance over to see Pope is filming you. You didn't realize he was. Nor were you prepared to see him kneading himself with his free hand through his pants while he watches Jack eat you out. You cum right then and there, the bliss shooting through you instantly. 

Jack reaches up to grab your ass, smacking it. “I need you to cum harder than that.”  

You close your eyes when Jack dips his tongue inside of you, filling you up. You revel in the feeling of his tongue slipping in and out of your pussy. The wet noises only add to the pleasure. 

You wonder what you must look like right now, naked with your hands in his hair, holding him between your legs as you grind on his face until your next orgasm hits you, this time much quicker and much more intense than the last. 

You don't need to wonder though, since Pope is filming the whole thing. 

He decides he's tired of being the cameraman so he sets up the tripod so it has a good angle of you before he heads over to join in. You take one of your hands out of Jack's hair to reach for him and when he gets close, you grab his shirt and tug him towards you, kissing him. He grips your face so quickly, his tongue deepening the kiss immediately. 

You moan against his lips, wanting more than just this. You want them both inside of you. You need it. 

“I want you in my mouth.” You breathe out on his lips. “Please, Andrew.” 

You haven't tasted either of them in so long. You miss it so much. 

“You can, but I'm only cumming in your pussy.” He tells you, making you lick your lips. “There's no way you don't get pregnant from how much I'm going to cum inside of you soon.” 

“You're really dreaming about sucking his cock while my tongue is fucking your pussy?” Jack smacks your ass again, nearly making your legs give out. He pulls your leg off of his shoulder and gets up, saying, “we're going back to the car.”

“But I just set up.” Pope points to the camera. 

“Then you take her and I'll set up.” Jack turns to you. “After this.” 

He grabs a hold of your face, kissing you with all the passion he has been keeping to himself. You melt into him, clinging onto him like he's your lifeline. This is everything you've been craving. 

You're left all breathless when he finally pulls away. Pope tugs you back over to the car in your daze. He sits down on the hood of the car, placing your hands on his thighs. 

Then, he leans towards you, saying against your swollen lips, “I hope you haven't forgotten what you begged me for.” 

You definitely haven't. Your hands slide away from his thighs to unbutton his jeans. He groans when you pull his cock out, watching the way you lick your lips at the sight of him. 

Jack sets the camera back up to get a clear view of you and Pope from the side, so when he joins in, it'll be a full frame. He stays behind the camera to record you swallowing all of his brother's cock in one go. 

“What a greedy little whore.” He says so the camera's microphone can hear it. “Sucking him off right after I made her cum.”

He makes his way over to the trunk of the car, opening it. The sounds of you sucking Pope off fill the air as Jack opens his backpack to pull out some cleansing wipes so he can sanitize his hands before he joins in. He keeps the portable pack in his back pocket, since he'll need it in a bit. Then, he grabs the lube as well, along with your favorite beaded vibrator, and heads over to you and Pope. 

Jack smacks your hand away from your clit, stopping you from rubbing it while you take Pope deeper down your throat. You moan on his cock when Jack sinks his fingers inside of your pussy, curling them until your legs are shaking. Then, you feel the cold lube on your ass, shocked by the sudden change in temperature. 

“I need you to relax.” He palms your clit so you can focus on that feeling and not the first bead sliding into your ass. It feels fuller than usual because they took a break from training you there too. 

You pull off of Pope's cock so you can breathe in deeply. Pope lifts your chin to look at him, trying to comfort you. “Just take it like you always do.” 

You nod and Jack pushes the next bead inside of you at the same time as his fingers start thrusting into you at a pace that is slowly building. You can't stop your stomach from coiling up. You feel like you could cum at any second. 

“Hold it.” Jack doesn't want you to cum yet. “You can't cum until they're all inside of you.” 

That proves more difficult than you could imagine because when he thrusts the third bead inside of you, his fingers in your pussy rub up so close to where you can feel it in your ass. You turn your attention back to Pope, dragging your tongue along the length of his cock before putting him back into your mouth. He grips onto your hair so he can start fucking your mouth. You gag when he hits the back of your throat and Jack takes that as the perfect opportunity to sink the last bead inside of you, your ass swallowing it without any resistance. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy so he can grab your hip with that hand, for leverage. His other hand wraps around the base of the toy and when his eyes meet Pope's, that's all the signal they need. 

Pope pulls you off of his cock right as Jack flips the vibrator on and starts pounding your ass with it. You scream so loud from the sudden rush of sensations. It's no surprise that you squirt when your orgasm slams into you at the same pace as Jack is fucking your ass with the toy. 

“Have you ever fucked a squirting pussy before?” Jack asks his brother. 

Pope stares at him in disbelief. “You're letting me go first?” 

“All yours.” Jack stuffs the vibrator fully inside of you before turning you around and shoving you towards Pope. 

Pope catches you by your waist, lifting you up onto his lap, holding your back against his warm chest. You nearly cum from the feeling of his cock dragging along your folds. 

“You are so wet.” He whispers into your ear, nipping at it playfully. “I bet I could just slip right in.”

“Please.” You repeat that word over and over again as his hands wrap around your middle, putting pressure on your lower stomach, making you crave him buried deep. You feel so empty. 

You've been so empty… 

The dull vibration inside of you isn't enough. You need more. 

You're so desperate that you tell them, “please use me.” 

Jack walks up to you, staring down at your naked body, his gaze more intense than you've ever seen it. Sometimes it scares you how much he can resemble Pope. He pulls out his phone from his pocket and hits record. 

“You heard her, Pope.” Jack says, keeping you focused in the center of the shot. “She wants to be used.” 

So, at your request, Pope lifts you up just enough for him to line his cock up at your entrance. The moan that leaves your lips when he's finally inside of you is unlike anything sound you've ever made. It's filthy and depraved. 

And Jack catches all of it on camera. He has it from two different angles too. He looks forward to editing everything together for his own pleasure. 

You cum so hard when Pope hilts, drenching the hood of the car with your orgasm. You almost cum again when Jack says, “look at her cumming like a porn star for the camera.” 

“Is that what you want?” Pope asks you, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples for the video. “Do you want people on the internet jerking off to you getting fucked by us?”

You arch your back against his chest, unable to stop yourself from cumming again. You should hate the way they degrade you like this but it turns you on so much. You love being their favorite toy to play with. 

“I don't think she's going to stop cumming now that she finally can again.” Jack steps forward, getting a close up shot of how your pussy is trembling around Pope's cock. “I bet she wouldn't even stop if someone drove by.” 

That makes your eyes dart towards the road nearby. You can hear the cars in the distance, on the freeway. You close your eyes, imagining what would happen if you heard a car approaching down this road. 

What would they think when they drive by this scene? Of you, completely naked, with a toy vibrating in your ass and Pope's cock buried deep inside your pussy? All while Jack is filming everything? 

“I'm going to cum.” You brace yourself for the inevitable because you can't help yourself. 

“Make yourself cum.” Jack gestures to your hand. “Go on. Show us how much of a whore you really are.” 

Your hand dips between your legs, your fingertips brushing along your sensitive clit. You rub it exactly the way you always do when you touch yourself and then you start grinding against Pope, driving his cock deeper inside of you. It doesn't take you long to get into a rhythm where you lose yourself completely to the pleasure. 

Pope can't handle how tightly your pussy is squeezing him. This must be why Jack had him go first. It's almost impossible for him to not cum right now. Especially when you're bouncing on his cock, moaning their names each time you make yourself cum. 

He just needs to fuck you. 

“Switch with me, Jack.” Pope wants to stand up. 

Jack agrees, taking a seat on the hood of the car beside Pope, putting his phone away. You're so dazed from cumming that you barely register Pope picking you up while he's still inside of you and then dropping you forward onto Jack. Jack catches you before you topple over, helping you plant your feet firmly on the ground. You'll need to, because Pope starts ramming into you from behind. 

“Oh my god—” You can't take in any air because Jack pulls you in for a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth as Pope fucks you so hard, your legs nearly give out when you cum. But he's holding you upright by your hips, not letting you collapse. He needs to make sure you take every ounce of his cum inside of you. 

Jack nips your bottom lip before saying, “you know what I want you to do, baby girl.” 

You follow his gaze downwards and nod, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his cock out. He loves how quickly you act, stuffing his cock into your mouth without hesitation. 

You're stuffed to the brim in every hole. It's incredible, how good it feels to be this full. A surge of pure bliss shoots through you. Everything you do feels amazing. You suck Jack's cock like it's the best thing you've ever put in your mouth.

“Do you like the taste of your daddy's cock in your mouth?” Jack grips the back of your head, forcing more of himself down your throat. 

You squirt all over Pope's cock in response, which is all the answer either of them needs. Pope smacks your ass, telling you, “you better like the way your daddy's fucking you too.” 

You nod, loving all of this. It satisfies something inside of you that you never thought you'd ever get to experience. You've given yourself up completely to them. You trust them so much, with your body and your heart.

That's what makes every orgasm better than the last. 

“Tighten up for me, baby girl.” Pope growls in your ear, since he's getting close, gripping your lower stomach. “I want you to make sure none of my cum spills out of you.”

You do what he says, tensing up when you feel him release thick ropes of hot cum deep inside of you. It doesn't stop. You cum just from feeling him cum. He empties everything he's been waiting to let out until there's nothing left. 

Then, Pope slips out of you but then cups your pussy, demanding, “don't let any drip. Not until Jack's cock is inside of you.” 

You pull your mouth off of Jack's cock, looking him in the eyes before asking, “will you please let me ride you?” 

He pats his lap. “Come here.” 

Pope moves his hand away so you can straddle Jack's lap, sinking down onto his cock with ease. You moan when he's fully inside of you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. 

“Feels so good.” You mumble into his skin. “I want your cum inside of me too.” 

“Why?” Jack pulls you off of him, wanting to see your face when he asks, “do you want to be bred?” 

“Yes.” You start rolling your hips, trying to find a good angle that buries Pope's cum deeper inside of you. “Fuck me until I'm full of your cum and it's impossible for me not to get pregnant.”

“You'd really like that, wouldn't you? Maybe we should promote you from whore to cumslut.” Jack cups your ass, lifting you up off him just a tad before slamming you back down onto his lap, forcing an orgasm to hit you all of a sudden. “Never mind, only a whore could cum that fast.” 

“She could cum faster than that.” You can feel Pope's presence behind you. His hand hovers over the base of the vibrator, teasing you before he gets a firm grip on it. “God, I can't wait to fuck this perfect ass.” 

Pope thrusts the toy in and out at the same excruciating pace that Jack has you riding his cock. You see stars in your vision from how hard you're cumming, tears dripping down your face from the intensity. You've practically covered your car in your own release. 

Jack is getting close, so he goes back to kissing you, wanting to cum while his lips are pressed against yours. You moan on his lips, tangling your hands in his hair, keeping him close to you. 

You'll never tire of cumming while kissing him. It's one of the best feelings in the world. A close second to being filled with his cum. 

You're both panting by the time Jack's spent and Pope takes over the clean up, carefully pulling the vibrator out of you and wiping it clean before storing it away. He comes back from the trunk with some clothes for you to change into you. Jack helps you off of his lap, setting you down next to him on the hood of the car. He uses a wipe to clean himself up before tucking himself back into his jeans. 

Then, he helps Pope take care of you. Though, you don't want to burden them with it.  

“I can get dressed on my own.” You reach for your shirt but Pope pulls the pile of clothes away from you.

“Let us do it.” Jack says, peppering your bare shoulder with kisses. “It's important aftercare.” 

You try to hide how shy it makes you feel when they care about you so much. Pope hands you a water bottle for you to finish while he takes a wet towel and cleans you up. As much as he would like to keep his cum inside of you, Jack has scolded him enough times that preventing you from getting a UTI is much more important than any possessive need he might harbor. 

“We'll stop at the next real rest area so you can use the bathroom and wash up a bit.” Jack says rather sweetly as him and Pope carefully help you get dressed, your heart warming at how gentle he's being with you. “Tell us if you need anything else.” 

“A kiss?” You close your eyes and Pope leans in, kissing you. You giggle. “Thanks.” 

“Hey.” Jack grabs your chin and kisses you. “Don't fucking forget me.” 

“Never.” You nuzzle his nose, smiling. “I love you both so much.” 

“We love you too.” Him and Pope say simultaneously. 

They give each other that shocked look whenever they sync up like that. Strange how often that can happen sometimes. 

“Here.” Pope hands you some pills. “In case you have any muscle aches.” 

You take them as a precaution since you'll surely be a bit sore after everything the three of you just did. Not that you'd ever complain about getting fucked by the men you love. 

“Do you think we can head to a motel soon?” You'd like to cuddle with them sooner rather than later. 

“We can head in early and drive more tomorrow.” Jack doesn't mind and when he exchanges looks with Pope, he knows that they're on the same page. 

“I'll figure out what our options are once we have signal again.” Pope can't get any bars on his phone out where you all currently are. 

“Thank you both again.” You grab a hold of both of their hands, squeezing them in that comforting way you've been doing as of late. “That felt really good.” 

“Only the best for our baby girl.” Jack places a kiss on your left cheek so Pope leans in to kiss your right cheek. 

“You know just how to make your daddies very happy.” Pope gives you another one of those rare smiles of his. You love seeing him smile so much. 

You help Pope and Jack put everything back into the trunk, including the camera set up. You are curious what the videos look like but you're sure if you watch them now, you'll only want to have sex again right away. So, you will save watching those until you all get to the motel. 

The motel that Jack booked is actually in the middle of nowhere. Apparently he has stayed here before on his drive to his parents’ place because they have him on file. 

Pope whispers to you, “do you think he's going to kill us?” 

You whisper back, “they'd find his cum inside of me. I don't think he would risk that.” 

“You two are so fucking annoying.” Jack grumbles as he walks up with the key to your room. 

“You think I'm annoying?” You feign a sad expression and Jack pinches your cheek, making you laugh. 

“Don't be a brat.” He warns. “Do you remember what happened last time you were?” 

You shut your mouth right away. Pope snickers under his breath. He wouldn't mind seeing that again. You tied down to the bed, blindfolded, with the gag in your mouth and a vibrator in each hole on the very lowest setting. 

They left you like that for hours. You were never a brat again after that. 

“I'll be good…” You wish you didn't have to be but you cannot be edged like that again. 

You enjoy being used freely much, much better. 

But they just want to cuddle for right now, so you all wash up and lay in bed together, watching some pay-per-view movie. 

“Do you think your parents will like me?” You ask Jack, whose chest you're laying on. 

“They will love you. Just like we do.” Jack kisses the top of your head. You feel so warm inside whenever he reminds you how loved you are. 

“Do you think they'll like me?” Pope asks, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“You're my brother. Of course they will.” If Jack can grow to like Pope's company, he's sure his parents will too. 

“I'm a felon though.” He reminds the two of you. 

“My parents aren't the judging type.” That's why he's pretty sure they won't mind the arrangement you all have. “Plus, you were in prison to help your brother. That counts for something.” 

“Would you ever want me to meet your family, Andrew?” You lean your head back, brushing your cheek against his. 

“Fuck no.” Pope grimaces at the thought of Smurf meeting you. “You will never meet the Codys. I'm sorry.” 

“It's okay. You have your reasons.” That's why Jack and Pope will never meet your family. 

There's a reason you're insecure. You grew up in quite the toxic household, which is why you left the moment you could. You've been no contact since, so you understand how Pope feels. 

“I guess my family will become both of your families then.” Jack says. The thought makes him happy, being able to show the two of you the love of a caring family. 

You almost say something but you stop yourself. About how much you'd like to be an Abbot. But that would mean something you aren't ready to talk about just yet, so you shut your mouth. 

You decide you should tell them the truth about something else instead. 

“I have a confession to make.” You tell them both, a little nervous.

“Please don't break my heart.” Pope clings onto you more, not liking the sound of your words. 

Jack has a feeling he knows what you're about to say. “What is it, baby girl?” 

You chew on your lip for a moment then just bite the bullet and admit. “I'm still on birth control.” 

“What?” Pope is shocked to hear this. “What do you mean? You didn't take your IUD out?”

You were hunched over like the entirety of the night afterwards so Pope doubts that. 

“She got the shot.” Jack tells his brother, his words surprising you.

“Did you check my chart!” You look up at Jack, who just smirks back at you.

“Why else would I punish you for the last two weeks?” He chuckles at your jaw dropping to the floor. 

Pope snarls in response. “What the fuck, Jack! You could've told me!”

“I didn't want you to get all sad.” He did it to protect Pope's feelings. “Plus I wanted her to tell you herself.” 

“I'm sorry, Andrew.” You know Pope was the more excited one about the whole thing. 

“Were you scared about getting pregnant?” If that's the case, Pope doesn't mind as much. He'd rather you not do something that scares you. 

You nod. “I wanted a bit more time to think about it.” 

“You can take all the time you want. It's your body.” Jack isn't looking to lose you by making you do something you aren't ready for. 

“I just wish you had told us.” Pope sighs against your shoulder. “We would've understood.”

“I'm sorry. No more secrets from here on out, I promise.” You tell them, crossing your heart. 

Though, a thought crosses your mind. 

You should probably tell them about Drax being your ex, right? 

That doesn't feel like a good idea. 

Jack grabs your face, making you look up at him, saying, “what else are you hiding?” 

Busted… 

Pope can feel how tense you are. “It must be bad if you're this stiff.” 

“I didn't realize you kept so much from us. We'll have to figure out how to make sure you stop doing that.” Jack shakes his head at you and now you definitely don't want to tell them.

“It's not bad or anything.” At least, in your opinion it isn't.

“Then just say it.” Pope states firmly, tired of all the stalling. 

“I didn't think it mattered but you both should know that…” You let out with a sigh. “Drax and I dated for a long time.” 

“Pope's boss? At the garage?” Jack has met this guy once before. 

Pope had invited him over for a beer. You and him chatted like good friends. He didn't think anything out of the ordinary. Minus the fact that when Drax asked about your relationship with the two of them, you said you all just lived together. He thought it was because you didn't want people to know, since it is not a very common arrangement. 

He never thought it could be because you didn't want Drax to know for another reason. 

You can tell Pope is spiraling in his head so you flip over and cup his face, shaking him. “Andrew, I promise I don't feel anything for Drax. He knows we're together.”

“You told him?” 

“I texted him about it.” Though it was mainly because Drax asked if you wanted to come out for a drink and you had to disclose that you don't think it would be a good idea. Then he asked if it was because you and Pope were dating and you said yes. 

“Show me.” Pope hates how possessive he feels but he needs to know for his own sanity. 

You would show him but…Drax had asked you right after that if it was serious. And you said you don't know yet, to which he replied: Let me know if it isn't. I miss you.

You haven't replied to that yet. It's been a few weeks. You just didn't know how to. 

You don't miss Drax at all but the two of you had a good relationship. The only reason you two broke up was because he had experienced a family tragedy and didn't feel like he could give you the attention you deserved so you both agreed to be friends. Then you met Jack a couple weeks later and the rest should've been history. 

It will be history because you love Jack and Pope. You don't want to be with anyone except them.

So you gesture for Pope to give you your phone so you can unlock it and show him the texts. Jack reads through them too. 

“Call him right now and tell him you and I are serious.” Pope demands. 

“It's almost eleven at night.” 

“He's up.” Drax usually stays late at the garage to help anyone after hours who doesn't have time to come during working hours. 

“Would that make you happy?” That's all you care about.

“Very.” Pope looks up at Jack. “Do you have anything to add?”

Jack shrugs. “An ex is an ex. If she had feelings for him, she wouldn't be with us. I trust my baby girl but you do whatever you need to feel secure, Pope.”

Pope wishes he was more trusting but he has been burned enough. He wants you to be his, openly his. 

“Okay, I'll call him.” You dial Drax's number and he picks up pretty quickly. 

“Hey darling, I've been waiting for you to call.” Him and that southern drawl of his. 

It pisses Pope off how Drax sounds talking to you. Because he has seen the way he flirts at work. He sounds exactly the same talking to you right now. 

“Hey, I've been meaning to tell you.” You try to figure out the best wording but then decide to just be straightforward about it. “Things are going really well with me and Pope so I just wanted to let you know, you shouldn't wait around for me.” 

“Is that why you haven't texted me?” Drax laughs, his tone still cheery. “Alright. I won't get in your way. He's a good guy. Hardworking. A tad shorter than me but you've never really been the superficial type.”

Pope clicks his tongue behind you, irritated, and Jack bites back a laugh. 

“He is a great guy.” You look back at Pope, smiling. “I love him a lot.” 

“Wow. I really lost my chance then. You'll always be the one that got away. My darling girl.” Drax sighs over the phone. “I knew I should've asked you to marry me back when I had the chance.”

You don't know what to say to that. You didn't know he was even planning to ask you. Though, that's probably the insecurity talking. 

Jack and Pope see the shock on your face. It makes the two of them nervous. Because would you have married this guy? If you had, you would've never met them. Never gotten with them. 

And that makes them all the more possessive of you. 

“Would you have said yes if I had asked back then?” Drax is playing with fire asking you that right now.

You don't know how to respond. Because the truth is, you probably would've said yes. You would've loved to have been wanted that much by someone you loved. But you can't be honest when the two men you're currently in love with look like they might die if you said yes. 

“I don't think it's healthy for you to dwell on what could've been.” You tell him, hoping that's a good enough answer. 

“You're right. I missed my chance. I hope Pope doesn't fuck his up like I did. You're a wonderful girl. He's lucky to have you. I know I loved you while you were mine. Did you…love me?” 

“Drax…” You don't think you should answer that. 

“It's in the past, like you said.” He brushes it off. “Don't mind me. Just reminiscing.” 

“I did love you.” You admit because Drax has always been so sweet to you. You don't want to outright break his heart by omitting the truth. “But I love someone else now. A lot. So, I'm sorry things didn't work out between us. This won't ruin things with you and Pope, will it?” 

“Ah, of course not. I ain't that kind of guy. No retribution here. Unless he hurts you. Then I'll drop a car on his ass.” Drax laughs and you giggle in response. “I miss that laugh. You take care now, alright?” 

“Good night and thank you.” You tell him back before hanging up the phone. Then, you meet Pope's gaze and say, “was that enough?” 

“Not yet.” Pope says right as his hand slips down your sweats, tracing a line down your bare pussy. He's grateful you aren't wearing any underwear, like always. “I need to cum inside of you a few times and then I'll be okay.” 

“Why don't you take her ass?” Jack offers. “You can be her first.” 

“Seriously?” Pope thought he'd have to fight Jack for that. 

“If it makes you feel secure being her first there, I don't mind.” Jack figures this is a good exchange for him being the one to marry you in the future. 

“Would that be okay with you, baby girl?” Pope would die if you chose Jack over him but he has to ask. 

“Of course.” You want to give this to him if it makes him happy. 

“Can we tonight?” He doesn't want to wait. 

“We should prep more.” Jack doesn't want it to hurt for you. 

“I think I can handle it.” You reassure them both. “I know what to do if I can't. But I want to, I really do.” 

Pope rubs your clit when you say that and your whole body quivers. Jack sits up, putting his prosthetic back on. 

“I'll get everything prepped.” He climbs back in bed to give you a quick kiss. “Don't cum too hard while I'm away.” 

“No promises.” You say with a big smile. 

“Jack got to go down on you earlier. I want a turn.” Pope nudges you onto your back, sliding down your body, tugging your pants off. You're already dripping wet, looking delicious. “I love how ready you always are for us. What a perfect little whore.” 

“Andrew…” You always feel so flushed whenever he berates you like that. 

You pull off your shirt, leaving yourself completely naked as Pope dips his tongue into you, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts. You moan and grind your hips against his face when he plays with your nipples between his fingers while his tongue plays with your clit. Your orgasm approaches much quicker than usual, since you're still sensitive from earlier. 

You try to keep quiet, since you are in a motel with other people staying in the adjacent rooms, but it's hard to hold in your voice when Pope pinches your nipples between his fingers and pulls at them the moment he starts sucking on your clit. He knows how easily that makes you cum. 

You have always liked it rough. 

You also like not knowing what's going to happen next, which is why you gasp when Pope moves lower, his tongue swirling around the tight ring of your ass. “Wait, Andrew—”

“You're fine.” He tells you, easing your worry. “I'm just teasing the outside. It feels good, right?”

It does, in an embarrassing and degrading kind of way. He smirks at the warring feelings it's bringing you. “Flip over.”

“W-What?” You're suddenly very nervous. 

“Don't make me say it again.” Pope warns and you quickly lay on your stomach. “Be a good girl for your daddy and get on your knees.” 

Your legs wobble as you listen. Pope spreads them, then you bite back on your pillow when he thrusts two fingers into your pussy at the same time as his tongue swirls around the sensitive ring again before spitting on it, sending shivers through you. 

“Deep breaths.” He instructs before he pulls his fingers out of your pussy and pushes them straight into your ass. His other hand moves down to play with your clit. “Relax, baby girl. I don't want this to hurt.”

“It doesn't hurt.” You let out with a small whimper. “But I really want to cum again.” 

“Cum as much as you want.” Pope gives you permission to. 

“Here, this will help.” Jack comes back with everything all ready, handing Pope one of your vibrators. 

“Thanks.” Pope takes it, flipping it on. “Ready, baby girl?” 

You nod into the pillow and then muffle your scream when you cum the moment he presses the vibrator against your clit, the feeling sending ripples through you immediately. It makes it easier for him to add another finger inside of you, getting you nice and ready for him, your orgasm distracting you from how full your ass feels right now. 

“Is it too early to take her?” Pope looks over at Jack, seeking approval. 

“You should probably put the toy in and let her get used to it for a bit.” Jack hands him the lube. 

“You don't have to.” You lift your head off the pillow to say, “I can handle it.”

“We don't want to hurt you.” Jack rubs your back as Pope pulls his fingers out of you and shuts off the vibrator. 

“You won't.” You sit up on your knees, turning to both of them. “I don't want to wait anymore. I want to feel both of you inside of me right now.” 

“Then come here.” Jack pats his lap after shrugging off his pants, sitting on the edge of the bed. You go to straddle his lap. 

Pope gets up to wash his hands then makes his way behind you. You're really sandwiched between them the moment you feel his chest against your back and your chest is flush against Jack's. Your pulse pounds in your head, heat rushing all over your skin. 

“I love you both so much.” You tell them. “It's crazy how much I want you two.”

Jack chuckles. “I can tell. You're dripping all over my cock, baby girl.” 

You look down, realizing how you're unconsciously grinding on him beneath you. He grabs your hips, steadying you. You whine, missing the friction. 

“You're making me jealous.” Pope growls low in your ear. “You better do that on my cock soon.” 

“Please just fuck me already.” You're feeling terribly needy right now. 

“Pope, you first.” Since it'll be more difficult if Jack was already inside of you. 

The cold lube sends tingles through you. Pope pours enough to coat his cock then places a kiss on the nape of your neck when he pushes the tip of his cock past the tight ring of your ass. 

“Come here.” Jack cups your face with his hands before kissing you, the warmth of his palms so comforting, helping you relax so you can take more of Pope. 

“Sometimes I forget how big the two of you are.” You breathe out against Jack's lips. “It's going to be a tight fit.” 

“I look forward to it.” Jack pulls you back in for a kiss, smiling. It makes you smile in return. You love it when he's happy. 

“Hey.” Pope tugs you off of Jack, turning you to face him. “I want your lips on mine when my cock is fully inside of you.” 

You sigh against his lips when Pope leans down to kiss you, which frees Jack up to play with your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples as Pope deepens the kiss, thrusting more of himself into you. 

You're close to cumming by the time he finally hilts, pulling off your lips to let out a satisfied groan. “Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me. Does it feel good for you?” 

You nod then say, “but it would feel better if your brother was inside of me too.” 

“What a fucking whore.” Pope lets out a laugh before smacking your ass. “Talking about fucking my brother while I'm deep in your ass.” 

Somehow that's enough to make you cum, pleasure searing every inch of your skin, leaving you breathless. 

Jack shakes his head at you trembling above his cock. “Couldn't wait until I was inside of you to cum? You really are a whore.” 

“I'm sorry…” You lean some of your weight against Jack, since it's getting harder to hold yourself up. “Please don't be mad at me.” 

“I could never be mad at you.” Jack trails kisses along your shoulder. “Unless you can't take my cock right now.” 

“Just fuck her already.” Pope groans at all the stalling. “I can't move until you do.” 

“Fuck me, Jack.” You whisper into his ear directly. “I want your cock inside of me too.” 

There's no way he can wait any longer after that. Jack lines his cock up then grabs your hips, sinking you down onto it. 

You aren't prepared for how difficult of a fit it would be with Pope already inside of you. You've barely taken the tip of Jack's cock and your eyes are already watering from how full you feel. 

“Breathe.” Jack instructs, his voice so steady and calm. “Deep breaths. You can take it.” 

You nod, inhaling as you let more of him inside of you. He distracts you by kissing you all over while Pope moves his hands to cup your breasts from behind, playing with them to help ease any discomfort you might be feeling. 

You thought it would be more painful to be this full but the moment Jack's cock hilts inside of you, you feel nothing but a surge of pleasure. 

It must be the satisfaction of knowing you can take them both. 

“That's my baby girl.” Jack rewards you with a lovely kiss. “You take your daddies so well.” 

“Can I move now?” Pope is growing impatient, which makes you and Jack chuckle in unison. 

“You can move, Andrew.” You cling onto Jack for leverage, since you know you'll need it. 

Pope is slow to start, testing how much movement you can take without tensing up too much. He leans his head against your shoulder, letting out airy grunts, loving how you feel wrapped around him. 

“Fuck, your ass is so tight. I can't believe I get to fuck you like this.” He places a kiss on the nape of your neck that is so gentle. “I love you so much, baby girl.” 

“I love you too.” You say to Pope then turn to Jack. “Both of you.” 

“I love you too.” Jack says, smiling. “I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His words cause you a bit of that wave of anxiety you normally feel. 

Pope gets worried you'll experience a drop right now, so he rubs your shoulders and tells you, “there's nowhere we want to be than right here with you, always. Please believe us.” 

You swallow back the fear that threatens to spoil your fun and say back, “I believe you. I know you both love me. And I know you both want this to last. I won't jeopardize it.” 

“You could never.” Jack wants to reassure you there. “You're the sweetest person we've ever met. You could do no wrong.” 

“Besides when you keep secrets from us.” Pope smacks you on the ass for that, making you yelp. “Stop doing that.”

“I promise, no more secrets.” And to assure them that you're being serious, you let them know, “I really want to cum on your cocks right now.” 

“Then cum as much as you want.” Jack slides his hand down between the two of you, touching your sensitive clit. “I miss seeing my favorite whore cum her brains out.”

Pope takes that as his cue to start fucking your ass again, his cock resuming the pace he set before. You grind your hips against Jack's lap, rubbing your clit against his hand as you drive more of his cock deep inside of you. 

This is like a slice of heaven because you cum so quickly once all the sensations combine together. They both feel how hard you cum, clenching around their cocks so tightly. You are perfect for them, everything they have ever desired. 

Jack and Pope love every second of being able to fuck you at the same time. You've completely forgotten to keep your voice down, moaning their names so loudly as Jack pounds upwards into your pussy and Pope pounds your ass from behind. 

By the time you feel them cum inside of you, you're overwhelmed by how much of a mess you've made in Jack's lap, a recurring theme in your nightly activities. You drip so much of their release out when Jack lifts you off of him and Pope gently pulls away from you. 

You expect them to help you into the bathroom but instead of doing that, you feel Jack's fingers dipping into your pussy as Pope's fingers sliding into your ass. 

“Woah, wait, wait!” You aren't prepared for them to start fucking you with their fingers all of a sudden, drawing an orgasm out of you immediately. “I'm cumming—”

“Keep cumming until we get hard again.” Jack demands. “Because I need to fuck that tight ass of yours.” 

“And I need to make sure to cum inside of your pussy at least one more time.” Pope curls his fingers in your ass at the same time Jack curls his fingers in your pussy. 

Their fingers meet inside of you, pushing into the same spot, forcing you to cum so hard that you could snap their fingers off from how tight you got. 

“I think I'm ready.” Jack tells Pope, who pulls his fingers out of you. 

“I'll go wash up well. Enjoy her ass, brother.” Pope smirks before he grabs your face with his clean hand, kissing you before he heads into the bathroom.

Jack moves you off his lap so he can go grab the lube, along with your favorite vibrator. He coats his cock in lube then gestures for you to flip around. 

“Lay down on the bed face first, baby girl.” He watches as you listen so perfectly, giving him a great view. “Beautiful.”

Then, he hands you the vibrator, patting your back lightly. 

“You know what to do with it once I'm inside of you.” Jack doesn't need to spell it out. He needs to focus on burying himself in your tight ass. 

You squirm a little when you feel the tip of his cock push in. It's much easier to take him since Pope already broke you in. Jack hilts easily and you turn on the vibrator once he does, pressing it down against your clit. 

You cum so quickly from that, from the vibrations bullying your clit and the fullness of his cock in your ass. Then, you thrust the vibrator inside of you, holding it there, letting it pound against your womb, which is coated in Jack's cum. 

Pope comes back to quite the sight so he grabs the camera equipment and quickly sets it up. Then, he heads back over to you and Jack.

Jack smiles then says, “you're about to get quite the show. Lay down, Pope.”

Pope lays down and Jack drags you over to him, pulling you to stand up straight in front of Pope. He sees the vibrator in your pussy and he knows exactly where this is going.

“Rub your clit, baby girl.” Jack whispers right into your ear. “Let your daddies watch you cum so hard that the vibrator pops out of you.”

You stare at Pope stroking his cock to the sight of Jack fucking your ass as you rub your clit furiously, building yourself towards an orgasm that will surely shatter you. 

You cum, but not hard enough to push the toy out of you. Jack shakes his head in disappointment.

“Where's my whore?” He sighs. “I guess I'll need to bring her back out.” 

You feel his hands wrap around your throat and squeeze. He starts ramming his cock harder into your ass and you can't scream so you cum instead, the toy pushing out of you with an orgasm that leaves you shaking all over. 

Jack shoves you forward and Pope takes your hips, guiding you onto his cock, forcing you down onto it without any hesitation.

“I keep cumming, I keep cumming—” You can't think straight, pleasure consuming you entirely. 

It doesn't help when Jack slows his thrust to a standstill and Pope grabs the vibrator, pressing it against your clit. You wriggle in their hold. They aren't letting you move. They just want you to stay still, with their cocks buried deep inside of you as the toy sends wave after wave of stimulation through you. 

They watch you cum over and over, just from being full. It isn't until you're so far gone from all your orgasms that they both start fucking you again. 

“Jack, Andrew, don't stop, please.” You're practically bouncing on their cocks, desperate for them to keep fucking you silly. “I need you both so bad. I love you both so much.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl when you feel their release shoot deep inside of you, triggering your final orgasm for the night that leaves you absolutely spent. 

You collapse onto Pope, who rubs your back with so much affection. Jack pulls out first and goes to wash up, letting you cool down for a bit. You and Pope lay there, kissing happily until he's soft inside of you. 

“We can kiss more after we shower, baby girl.” Pope loves how eager you are to keep kissing him but it would feel better to be clean. 

You nod and he helps you to the bathroom, where Jack is brushing his teeth. You and Pope shower as Jack shaves. You give Jack a big kiss once you're out of the shower and he smiles into it.

“I'll bring you two some clothes.” He nuzzles your nose with so much affection before heading out of the bathroom. 

You and Pope brush your teeth then get changed into the clothes Jack brought. You hurry back into bed, snuggling right up against Jack. Pope slides in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, peppering kisses along your shoulder blades.

“That was amazing.” Pope breaks the silence first. “We have to do that again.” 

“Maybe not at my parents’ house. Unless we gag her next time.” Jack glances down to look at the bashful expression on your face. “Looks like someone likes that idea.”

“I don't ever want to wait that long to have sex ever again.” You make them both promise never to hold out on you again, especially now that you know how good it feels to have them both at the same time.

“We are going to have a lot of fun from now on.” Jack leans in for a good night kiss. “Now rest up, we're meeting my parents tomorrow.”

“Good night, Jack.” You give him a quick peck on the cheek before turning your head to face Pope, giving him a few kisses too. “Good night, Andrew.”

“Good night.” They both say back to you. “I love you.”

“I love you both so much.” You cuddle up to them both, feeling so giddy.

How did you get so lucky? 

To have two wonderful men so in love with you. 

You'll do whatever it takes to keep them by your side forever. 

A/N: This took me so long to write because I couldn't decide where to end this part. I was going to include meeting Jack's parents in this update but I decided I'd wait for the next update, which will be meeting the Abbots + the proposal ♡ 

Andrew “Pope” Cody has a very strict routine. He wakes up, has a glass of water with his pre-workout supplements, then runs a few miles before heading back to do a few weight-lifting sets. When he feels like he has let the pent up energy out of his body, he'll shower and then eat a protein heavy breakfast so he can take the rest of his pills. 

Because if he doesn't take his meds, he'll surely go crazy when he's on set. The medication numbs the worser parts of himself. The ones people usually are afraid of.

The ones directors tend to tell him to “tone down” when he's fucking whatever actor or actress they're asking him to for the week. 

They're lucky he even cums. It doesn't feel good. Hasn't since he started working as a porn star. 

But it pays the bills better than robbing people. 

It also keeps him away from his family, since most of his shoots are in Los Angeles. 

So, he deals with the fact sex is muted now. The medication helps him not feel some type of way about it, thankfully, because he doesn't have sex for fun. 

It's all for work. 

That is, until he meets you. 

You're sitting off to the side, legs dangling off a dressing table, laptop resting on your beautiful exposed thighs. 

It's hot on set. You're wearing flimsy little shorts and a halter top that lets Pope see much more than anyone should for a girl your age. 

“Who is she?” He asks one of the producers on set. 

Could you be his newest co-star? 

Why is he…excited over that prospect? 

Pope hasn't felt any kind of attraction in a long while, so if you are, maybe he'll actually get to enjoy himself for once. 

He's curious to know what your pussy feels like. 

Are you a loud performer or a more subtle and shy one? 

Do you actually cum or do you just fake it for the camera? 

He wants to make you cum for real. 

But his desire gets shut down immediately when the producer he asked answers, “oh her? I don't know who she is. Probably one of the director's kids or something. Wannabe producer. Been trying to pitch a script but no one's biting.” 

“Why's that?” Pope doesn't know why he's so curious about you. 

The producer laughs, in that grating kind of way that makes Pope want to knock his teeth out. Especially when the guy goes, “because she wants to make girly porn. As if that shit will sell. Men aren't going to buy into any of that cutesy femme shit.” 

Pope knows there's a female audience for porn. He has a lot of followers online. Plenty of them are women. And he is fully aware of the many comments he has read on his posts where some of his fans wish he would do more work that “catered to the female gaze”. He never understood what that meant. He has worked with plenty of female directors and producers before, but apparently they focus on making sure male audiences are satisfied first and foremost. 

He's never read a script made for a woman's interest before. 

Now, he's even more curious about you. 

So much so, that he's walking over to you before he can stop his legs from doing so. 

You look up and are startled to see Pope. You've never seen him in person before. You didn't know he'd be on this set. Your aunt is one of the directors and she didn't give you much notice on what exactly the production was. 

“Oh, hi.” You put your hand out and introduce yourself. “You must be Pope, right?” 

“Have you seen my work?” He asks, shaking your hand, his lingering in yours for a beat longer than he normally would. 

“Clips here and there.” You seem a little flustered at his question. How cute. 

“I heard you've been trying to pitch a script.” Pope is more direct than he intends.

You're surprised he knows about it. “I am, but it's probably not going to sell much.” 

“Can I see it?” He leans back on the edge of the table next to you, gesturing to your laptop. “My shoot isn't for an hour. Wouldn't mind something to kill the time.” 

“Oh, sure!” You scramble to pull it up. 

Pope glances over your shoulder, seeing how many scripts you have written already. You're sifting through them, parsing out which one you'd want him to see. You decide on one where you had based the main lead on him and hand him your laptop. 

“You can fold it over to use like a tablet.” You show him, your hands brushing against his as you do, your heart skipping a beat when you feel how big his fingers are. 

Pope is so close to you that he nearly leans in and kisses you. He doesn't, but he does take a brief inhale, liking the smell of your perfume mixed with the sweat that's trickling off your neck from your nerves. 

You sit there in silence, his big bicep casually resting on yours as he scrolls through your script. You take out your phone to distract yourself, trying to calm your rapid heartbeat from his proximity. 

You never thought you'd ever get the chance to be near anyone in the industry. You always figured you'd be behind a camera. But Pope is right next to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. 

It almost makes you dizzy how hot he is…

Pope is worried his skin is growing too red. He hasn't felt this turned on in years. Reading this script has him needing to resist getting hard, which is usually not the case for him. Most of the time, it's difficult to get hard and he'll end up needing a pill or some help. 

But what you've written is too well-aligned with the fantasies that haunt his mind. 

“What would you consider this?” He asks you when he finishes reading, handing you back your laptop.

“Ah, like a dark romance, I guess?” You had shown him the plot where the main lead, a distant family friend whom the other lead refers to as her uncle, lures her to his private estate for the summer so he can hold her captive until she agrees to be his forever. 

“I like it.” Pope tells you in that flat tone of his that has you questioning whether or not you heard him correctly. 

“Really? You might be the only person who thinks so.” You're elated to hear that but then immediately talk yourself down. “Everyone else I've shown it to thinks that it's too focused on his obsession with her and that it should be the other way around because “why would anyone want to watch a man throw himself at a woman”. Men wouldn't buy it, I guess.” 

You bite your lip after you say that, wishing you hadn't just dumped all of that onto Pope.

You open your mouth to apologize but then Pope goes, “then those men just don't get the appeal. I think it's good and you should make it.” 

“Wow.” You can't stop the big smile that forms on your face. “That's so sweet of you to say, Pope. I hope I get the chance one day.”

Pope wants to tell you that he'd make it happen but they're calling his name to get ready. So, instead, he tells you, “do you want to come over after this and talk more about it?”

You're speechless. No one has ever invited you over to their place before. 

And it's Pope, of all people. 

He never invites people over. 

His house is his sanctuary. 

But he wants you alone. 

He wants to get to know you more. 

He wants to see if your desires truly align with his own. 

“I'll have to check in with my aunt first, since she drove me. But I'd like to.” You reply, reaching your hand up to touch your warm cheek. 

You must look so flustered right now. 

Pope loves the sight of it. Such a shy girl. To think you're on a porn set right now and about to watch him fuck someone else. 

He'll have to put on a good show for you. 

“I'll come find you after, little one.” He calls you what the uncle in your script calls his pseudo-niece and it has your skin flushing with more heat in response. 

Once he's out of your line of sight, you bury your face in your hands, muffling a scream because what was that! 

Did he really just…

You loop him calling you “little one” over and over in your head, wanting to memorize the sound of it for when you touch yourself later. You have to resist touching yourself now while you watch Pope at work. 

You've, of course, seen him naked before. You've watched plenty of clips of his porn online. For research purposes, of course!

But there's something different about seeing him in person. 

About knowing how his hands could feel, how warm his body is, how big he is compared to you that makes watching him pound his huge cock into his co-star all the more enjoyable. 

Then, your heart stops in your chest when he locks eyes with you from across the set when he cums deep inside of her. 

That wasn't in the script. Not in the one he's performing right now, because rarely does male centric porn ever “waste” a cumshot. 

It's in yours, though, because you like the idea of getting filled and you're certain other people do too. 

But for a shoot like this one, they want to see his cum on his co-star somewhere, for the visual. 

Pope couldn't help himself, though. He wanted you to see what he could do to you. He hasn't cum that much in a long time, which might be the only saving grace for the shoot because when he pulls out of his co-star, so much leaks out that they don't have to fake it for the shot. 

All in all a successful shoot so the director yells “cut” and it's done. 

You meet Pope out in the parking lot afterwards, since your aunt didn't seem to care if you wanted to go home with a porn star. She knows he's clean, because he has to be for work, and that you're an adult so she's letting you make your own decisions. Her only warning to you was that you will likely get your heart broken dating a porn star.

But you wave off her concerns because you don't believe he's interested in you. 

Pope just likes your scripts…right? 

That seems to be the case when you come over to his house and he spends the entire time reading through every idea you've written. 

You're both sitting on his couch together. He has on some kind of nature show, the one that follows a pack of lions throughout their day.

You watch one of the lions chase after a gazelle before it pounces on it and the gazelle becomes its next meal. You don't know why watching that has your heart racing so much. 

Maybe it's because you're currently in a lion's den and he's looking to make you his next meal… 

But you're oblivious to it, to Pope resting his hand on your thigh casually as he scrolls through your writing, asking you questions about it here and there like what you're looking to do, etc.

“I'd like to make a truly indie production.” You explain to him your dream shoot. “Like maybe only me and the stars on set. The script just being a loose guideline. Going with the flow, seeing where the scenario takes us naturally. I'd like for it to be organic and less “produced” than the stylized porn available now.” 

“Have you ever thought of starring in it yourself?” Pope poses a question that has you stammering out your reply.

“I-I…um…” You shake your head, the nerves apparent in your voice as you admit, “I don't think I could. I've never…” 

“No one has ever touched you before?” He can hardly believe that. 

In his eyes, anyone would be lucky to have the chance to be near you. He can barely keep his eyes off of you as is. 

“Why would they?” You chew on your cheek after you say that, wishing you didn't let your insecurity slip out so readily so you pretend to shrug it off, “it's not a big deal. I'm not in a rush to experience anything.” 

“Shouldn't you experience the things you want to produce?” Pope doesn't mean to sound so coercive but it definitely doesn't help that his hand slides higher up your thigh as he asks, “wouldn't it be nice to know for your writing?”

“But no one would want to…” The words get caught in your throat when he leans in, his lips so close to your own that you can taste his breath. 

“I'd want to.” His voice is so low, so intoxicating that you almost melt when he says, “if you'd let me, little one.” 

This is all too similar to something you've written before. It's like he's roleplaying your own words back to you. 

You don't know how to react to it…

“I don't think this is a good idea.” You tell Pope as he leans in closer to you, pressing a kiss on your jaw, making your whole body shiver as he trails upwards to the shell of your ear. “Oh god…”

“We don't have to do anything today.” He whispers right into your ear. “But I'd like to see you again.” 

“Why?” You feel so stupid asking that, your insecurity leaking out again. 

Pope cups your face, turning you to look at him, his gaze so intense. “Because I want to know what you look like when you feel good.” 

His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, seeing the way you're trembling, the nerves overtaking you. 

You're so precious, so scared, so perfect for him. He can't get enough of you.

“I'll probably be really bad at it.” You want him to be prepared. “You might not have a good time. I won't know what I'm doing.”

That makes him chuckle lightly. “I've got enough experience for the both of us.” 

“I've never even kissed anyone before.” You admit with your eyes locked on his lips. 

The lips you've watched go down on his co-stars. The lips you've seen leave marks on their skin. The lips you're desperate to kiss right now.

“Do you want to?” He brushes his lips against yours. A simple brush, not a true kiss, but it has your whole body quivering just from that light touch. “I think you do.”

“Will you go slow?” You have to ask because you're so nervous you'll get swept up in him. 

“I'll go at whatever pace you want.” He pulls away and you don't like how disappointed you feel. But then, he pats his lap and gestures, “come here, little one.”

This is truly everything you've dreamt of and he's feeding into it. You stand up, staring down at his lap, trying to figure out how exactly you should sit. 

When you've stalled for long enough, Pope just grabs you by your waist and tugs you down onto him. You're straddling his lap now, his large thighs becoming your new chair. 

Your breath catches in your throat when his lips land on your neck all of a sudden, causing you to grip onto the thin black shirt he's wearing that doesn't leave anything up to the imagination. His chest is flush against yours and he can hear your heartbeat thrumming so quickly, like your heart might burst at any moment. 

Pope smiles against the column of your throat, pressing a kiss there. Just one, right in the center, so he can feel the air get caught before it can reach your lungs. 

“Stay calm.” He instructs, his words warm and oddly gentle. “It'll feel better if you aren't so worked up.” 

“I'm sorry.” You don't know what you're doing… 

You smooth out his shirt, worried you've wrinkled it from how hard you were gripping it for leverage. 

“You can hold onto me, little one.” He takes your hand and places it onto his shoulder. “Lean on me.” 

His other hand splays across the small of your back beneath your shirt, practically engulfing your skin. Every touch is sending signals to your core that you've never felt before. Anxious signals, screaming at you to stop this before you start feeling more than you should. 

“Maybe we should stop.” You say out of concern, your nerves getting in the way. 

“Just one kiss and then we can stop for today, okay?” He already has you on his lap. He can't lose out on this golden opportunity.

One kiss will be enough to convince you. Pope is sure of that, sure of himself and his skill. 

He just needs you to say yes. And to stop squirming on his lap or he might have to do something about how hard he's getting. 

“Okay.” You nod, gripping onto his shoulders like you might fall off his lap if you don't. “Just one kiss.” 

“Atta girl.” He shifts slightly, pulling you closer until there's not an inch of space between the two of you. “Why don't you try?” 

You shake your head immediately. “I'll fuck it up.”

That draws another chuckle from his lips, which you feel very prominently on yours from how close he is to you. “I doubt that. I want to see you try. Then I'll take you home.” 

You take in a deep breath, your chest rubbing against his when you exhale. Pope's eyes drift down to your chest, loving how your top lets him see much more than he'd want anyone else to be able to. He'll have to make sure you only dress like this for him. 

His eyes go back up to look into yours, that intense gaze of his making you even more nervous than you were already. 

“I don't think I can do this.” You tell him as your hands ball up the fabric of his shirt beneath your fists. “I'm scared. My heart feels like it'll explode.” 

So cute. Pope can't help thinking how adorable you are, so frightened by the prospect of a little kiss. 

“And you want to produce porn?” He smirks at you, nudging your nose with his own playfully. “You need to be able to do this if you want to direct it, little one.” 

“Okay, okay.” You know he's right. 

You have to find the confidence to push forward, to make things happen. 

So, you press your lips against his. You don't do it hard. It's the lightest kiss Pope has ever felt, laced with fear and anxiety. 

Exactly the kind of kiss Pope has been dreaming about. Everyone he has ever kissed before you has been so full of themselves. 

You are the exact opposite. So careful, so worried you'll do it wrong that you barely do it at all. 

Just the gentlest little tap on his lips. 

Now he needs to know how frightened he can make you. 

So, Pope slides his hand up to the back of your head, securing you in place so that the moment you lift your lips away from his, he can press them right back down. 

Your eyes widen, not expecting for him to kiss you back again right away. 

It's not harsh. His lips just stick onto yours, keeping steady right there. Then, when he starts to move them, you start to panic, the blood rushing straight to your head and tension forming in your core. 

You're wriggling in his lap like a scared little mouse caught in a trap. 

Just the way he wants you to be. 

“Easy.” He breathes against your lips. “Don't get scared. Just pay attention to what I'm doing and follow me.” 

He tilts your head a little, angling himself a bit to get a better hold on your lips. You're gasping between each feverish kiss and Pope loves it. 

Loves how inexperienced you are, how easily provoked you are. 

Like when he grinds his hips upwards just as a tease and you moan against his lips unexpectedly, your face heating up in reaction. 

“Oh god, I'm sorry.” You can't believe you're reacting this much. 

“Don't be sorry.” He says, sliding his hand over to cup your jaw. “I like that you feel good. I wanted to see it, remember? I like hearing it too.” 

“It's embarrassing though…” You feel like such a virgin. 

You are one but you feel it a hundred times more because you're in the presence of someone who fucks for a living…

“Is it?” He nips at your bottom lip, liking how you shiver when he does. “I think it's cute.” 

“You think I'm cute?” You don't believe him. 

Not until he says, “I don't “think” it. You are cute, my precious little one.” 

His precious…

Bad thoughts are running through your mind. Of hoping he means it and it's not just part of some roleplay of his. But you know that can't be true. 

What could you offer him that he can't already get? 

Pope can see the warring thoughts in your eyes. So, he leans in and kisses you again, which snaps you out of your own head. Especially when you feel the tip of his tongue flick your bottom lip. 

“Let me in.” He says, his tone sultry. “I want to know what you taste like.” 

Pope smiles when you grab onto him tighter, unable to keep yourself still otherwise. Then, you nod, since you can't bring yourself to say any words. 

His tongue flicks at your lip again and this time, your lips part, allowing him in. You expect him to go slow, to let you adjust to the idea of his tongue in your mouth but he does the exact opposite. 

He just ravages you, his tongue tangling with your own, stealing your every breath away. His kisses get rougher, his movements too. You can't hold in your voice when you feel him grip your ass with his hands and roll his hips against yours, forcing you to feel how hard his cock is beneath you. 

You know how big he is. Porn star big. 

Impossibly big for someone who has never had sex before. 

Big enough that it feels like he's fucking you already. 

“Wait, wait!” You gasp out onto his lips, trying to get him to stop because you don't think you'd be able to live with the embarrassment if you came from this. “Please, Pope, I can't—”

“Are you going to cum, little one?” He smirks at how scared you are of your own orgasm. “It's okay if you do.” 

You shake your head. “No, I can't, not like this…” 

“There's nothing wrong with cumming from this.” He keeps rolling his hips and since your lips aren't plastered to his, you can't stop the moan that leaves your lips. “Let it feel good. Stop resisting.”

“But I shouldn't—” You bury your face in his shoulder, dry heaving as the friction against your clit becomes too much to bear. “I don't want to cum, I don't want to—”

Suddenly, you feel his hand slip into your shorts and without any warning, Pope pinches your clit, rolling it between his fingers until you cum so hard that you see stars in your vision. You're reeling, clinging onto him, your whole body shaking from the sudden surge of pleasure. 

“There you go.” Pope starts rubbing your clit over the fabric of your underwear, making you whimper into his shoulder as another orgasm builds inside of you all too quickly. “Let it happen again.” 

He grabs your face with his free hand, pulling you up so he can kiss you again. 

Kissing him feels very different when his fingertips are playing with your clit. 

You're lightheaded, unable to breathe, so close to cumming that you're nervous you might pass out…

Then, he moves off your clit right when you're about to and you whine uncontrollably before catching yourself. He laughs lightly, almost menacingly, at your reaction to getting teased. 

“Did you want to cum?” He asks you, wanting to hear you admit it. 

You chew on your lip. You shouldn't tell him yes. You shouldn't even be doing this. You should have him take you home like he said he would. 

But you want to cum. 

It's addictive, that wave of pure bliss that he gave you. It was unlike any of the orgasms you've given yourself. 

You want to know what it feels like to be made to cum by Pope. 

So, you tell him the truth, “yes, please make me cum, Pope.” 

“I like a girl who knows what she wants.” He says with a smile that could kill. “Can I make you cum with my mouth?” 

Pope wishes he could take a photo of your shocked expression, all wide eyed and beautifully nervous. 

“I-I've been on set all day. It's probably—” 

“Then take a shower here.” Pope offers, if you're really that nervous. He likes that you didn't say no. 

He likes that you're so easy to convince. 

“Okay…” You can't possibly decline getting eaten out by a porn star. People would think you're crazy to miss out on something like that.

“Mmm, good girl.” He praises you, making your whole body yearn for his affection. “Now, I'll make you cum one more time before you shower.”

“Wait, what—” You squirm when Pope suddenly dips his hand into your underwear and slides a finger inside of you, “Pope, stop—!”

You can't stop gasping when his finger curls at the same time as he starts palming your clit, giving you the friction you were desperate for just moments ago. But now his thick finger is buried inside of you, searching for the spot that makes you cry out his name. 

“Andrew.” He demands, thrusting another finger inside of you. “Call me Andrew when you cum.” 

“Andrew, please, please, not there—” You cry out when he grazes the right place inside of you, your stomach tensing at the feeling, “your fingers are—oh god—”

You're saying his name on repeat into his shoulder when his fingers keep pounding right where you need them to until you're bursting at the seams, cumming all over his lap because he won't let you stop. 

“No, no, I can't cum anymore!” You tug at his arm but he keeps fucking you with his fingers against your wishes, “please, Andrew!”

Pope's too strong. He has you locked on his lap with his other arm wrapped around you, pinning you to him as his fingers ravage your insides until you're squirting so hard that you drench his hand. 

It's only when tears start streaming down your face that Pope finally lets you breathe, pulling his hand away. 

In your daze, you watch him lick his hand clean, grinning so happily at you with your lovely glazed over eyes, so lost in your orgasm. 

Pope leans in for a kiss and for the first time, you lean into it, kissing him back the way he taught you to. You're a bit sloppy with it, but he adjusts you until you're kissing him exactly how he wants you to. 

“Someone's a fast learner.” He compliments you again, which gets you wriggling, your heart racing once more.

You glance down, at how wet you've made his lap, humiliation coursing through you at the sight. 

Pope catches it and says, “do you feel bad for almost ruining my couch?” 

“I'm sorry.” You do feel bad. You've never squirted before in your life. 

You thought that was just something that happened in porn… 

“How sorry?” He wonders aloud. 

“Very sorry…” You definitely wouldn't be able to afford to buy him a new couch.

“Then help me get out of these pants.” He points to his lap. “Take them off before your cum can touch my couch.”

You stare at how daunting of a task this is going to be. But, you listen, grabbing a hold of his belt buckle and undoing it. Then, you unzip his pants. 

“Now get on your knees in front of me and pull them off.” Pope's tone is so commanding that you do it without a second thought, moving to the floor in front of him. He stops you before you can tug at his waistband. “Wait a second, little one. Look up at me.” 

You do, your eyes meeting his. He likes the way you look on your knees. You would look even better with his cock in your mouth. 

He'll shelve that for another time, when he has trained you so well that you'll be begging to put him in your mouth yourself. 

Pope nods, gesturing for you to continue. You tug off his pants by his waistband, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. You notice the spot of precum leaking from where the tip of his hard cock is pushed up against the fabric of his underwear.

You can't help but wonder what he tastes like…

It doesn't look like Pope will have to train you at all because you ask him, “can I try making you feel good with my mouth?” 

“Sure.” He says, reaching over to grab his phone. “If I can film it.” 

“W-What?” You weren't expecting that. 

“If it's your first time sucking cock, we should get it on camera. It'll fund our future film.” Pope knows how much authentic first time content goes for, especially when he's an experienced star and you're just an innocent inexperienced reluctant woman who never thought she'd ever star in a porno. 

“Y-You want to make my film?” You hadn't asked yet if he was interested. 

“If you star in it with me, I will.” Pope doesn't want to do it with anyone else. 

He only wants you. 

“What?” You sound like a broken record at this point.

But he likes how cute you are, all surprised. “You heard me, little one. I'll finance it myself, just be my co-star.” 

“But I don't know a thing about…being filmed…” You know there's a whole learning curve to it, of knowing where the camera is and what angles look best. 

It's something you've never thought about for yourself. You've only considered it in the context of filming others.

“You'll learn. I'll teach you. Like right now.” He hits record on his phone, holding it steady in his hand. “You're going to suck me off for the very first time in your life.”

Pope grabs your hand, putting it back at his waistband, inviting you to take his underwear off. 

You do it, leaving him bare from the waist down. He looks incredible like this, his cock hard and leaking precum. His shirt clings to his upper body beautifully, reminding you that you were just grinding on his lap with his chest pressed flush against yours.  

You feel so small knelt in front of him like this. He hovers over you like a giant, engulfing you completely, consuming you with his eyes locked on yours. 

“Now, do what you think is right. You've watched plenty of videos. You know what to do.” Pope wraps his hand around his cock, pumping it a few times for the camera, before leaving you to do the rest. 

You shake away the nerves so you can lean in, dragging your tongue along the bottom of his shaft until you reach the tip, swirling around it, tasting him for the first time. He chuckles at how stunned you look at how pleasant he tastes. You expected it to be more musky but it wasn't at all. 

It's oddly…sweet. 

“Do you like how I taste?” Pope takes a hold of his cock again, pushing the tip of it against your lips. “Let me feed it to you if you like it so much.” 

You part your lips, letting his cock slip into your mouth. He's so big that your jaw nearly locks up trying to take him. You're careful with your teeth as he slides deeper inside, until he's so far down your throat that you gag. 

“First time and you're already taking me like a porn star. Good girl.” His praise is so addicting that you start to suck on his cock in hopes he'll reward you with more. He does, which makes you so happy, “fuck, just like that, use your tongue too. You're doing great.” 

You alternate between sucking on his cock and using your tongue to lick up and down his shaft. You try to pay attention to what triggers him to groan and focus on doing that. You know you're doing well when Pope puts his hand in your hair and grips it tight.

“God, I want fuck that face. Can I fuck your face?” He wants to use your mouth for his pleasure. 

You nod, not really knowing what that entails. You know it's harsh from the videos you've seen but…you want to know what it feels like for Pope to use you to make himself cum. 

So, you let him fist your hair rather roughly before he pounds his cock into your throat over and over again. You're gagging and crying but to Pope, you've never looked more beautiful. 

He might not be able to post this video. It might just have to stay in his personal collection. Your first time taking his cock in your mouth. 

Your first time swallowing his cum. 

You gulp it down as he coats the back of your throat with his release. 

“That's it, drink it up, don't waste a drop.” He slowly slips his cock out of your mouth and he can't stop himself from smacking your face with it a bit, so the camera can see how big his cock is compared to your face. You make him groan when you eagerly lick along his shaft again, since you assume it would look good on camera. 

“Fuck, get over here.” He ends the video and drags you up onto his lap again. He grabs a hold of your face, looking at you fiercely as he asks, “who the fuck taught you how to suck cock like that?”

“You did.” You say the only correct response. 

Pope lets out a dark chuckle. “Good girl. You're making me very proud.”

You want him to praise you more so you find the confidence to cup his face like he's doing to you and kiss him, applying the right amount of pressure against his lips that causes him to just start grabbing at your flesh, needing to touch you when your tongue flicks at his bottom lip. 

“Oh, I'm going to fuck you.” He's looking forward to seeing how eager you'll be to please him once his cock is deep inside of you. 

"Do you think you'll fit?” You look down, seeing the way his softening cock is still huge, pressing into your lower stomach. 

“Don't worry, you can take it.” He presses his fingertips into your belly, massaging right where your womb must be, which draws out full body shudders from you. “You'll feel it right here and you'll love it.” 

You meet his eyes and then, quietly, you ask him, “can we…do it a different time?” 

Pope's jaw tenses at your question. “Why?” 

You bite back a nervous sigh, your stomach churning from what you're about to say, “because I don't want this to be a one night stand…”

You let go of his shirt, not wanting to cling onto him when he'll likely kick you out for being so needy.

“I'm sorry.” You shake your head at him, deciding for him that you should leave. “I-I should know better. I'll just head out.”

“Wait.” He wraps his arms around you, keeping you in place. “Who says you get to leave?” 

“Pope—”

"Don't call me that.” He doesn't want you to use his stage name. He wants you to use his real name. 

You're the only one he'll let call him Andrew. 

Which is why he doesn't understand why you can't see how special you are to him. 

Maybe because no one has ever made you feel special before. 

He'll have to change that. 

“Andrew.” You saying his name allows Pope to relax his jaw. Though, he tenses again when you tell him, “I don't think I should stay. I'm going to do something stupid…”

“Like what?” He wants to know what you're running from. 

“Like…” You look down at his slightly swollen lips, at how you wish you could just freely kiss him without the worry that he'll have to kiss someone else for show. 

But you can't want that. 

Your aunt is right. He'll end up breaking your heart.

So you need to push him away now, “I'm going to fall in love with you if we sleep together. I'm already…feeling too much from just…this. I'll fuck it up. I can't keep things casual. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” 

“Then fall in love with me.” Pope states so nonchalantly that you think he must not have understood you. 

“Andrew, I can't.” You shake your head at him.

“Why not?” 

“Because you'd never…” You don't want to break your heart by saying it out loud but it feels like your heart has already decided to break. 

“Do you want me to fall in love with you?” He asks, again with that flat tone of his that has you feeling like he doesn't understand the weight of his words. 

“You won't.” Your answer isn't what he was looking for. 

“Answer the question.” He's more stern now. 

You pinch your lips together, tears welling your eyes. You should say no, because then you could run from this. From the desire to be his. 

But you can't bring yourself to lie so you confess, “of course I want you to fall in love with me. But you won't—”

“Okay.” Pope hugs you tighter. “Let's fall in love.” 

“What?” You're more astonished than you've been all night. 

“What?” He parrots you. 

“Andrew…don't fuck around with me.” You don't like whatever kind of joke he's making. 

“I'm not fucking around with you. I want to fuck you, though. It doesn't have to be tonight but I'd like you to stay the night regardless.” 

You blink at him. You're unsure if your hearing is fucked or not but did he really just say…

“Are you being serious?” You need a clear answer. 

“Yes, little one.” He leans in to press a kiss on your temple. “I'd like you to stay the night. Sex is optional. I fuck for work. I wouldn't mind not doing it but I want to cuddle at least.” 

“You want to…” You're speechless. 

Pope laughs at how absolutely baffled you are. You turned out to be more fun than he thought possible. 

“Is that bad? Would you not like to cuddle?” 

“Of course I would love to cuddle.” You say it like that's the most obvious thing ever. “But, but…why do you want to cuddle with me?” 

“You gave me a great blowjob.” 

“Andrew!” You smack his chest and he laughs again. “I'm being serious!”

“I am too.” He smirks and you glare at him, making him smile even bigger. “You are so fucking cute. Come here.” 

You're suddenly hauled up into his arms. You have to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips to keep yourself from slipping as Pope carries you past his bedroom and then sets you down in his bathroom. 

“What are we doing here?” 

“Well, you probably shouldn't have your first time in the shower but I want to shower with you.” Pope strips off his shirt, leaving him completely naked now. 

He is used to people ogling him but knowing that you're so noticeably overwhelmed by the sight of him, he actually enjoys being looked at by you. 

“You can touch me if you want.” Pope takes your hand and places it onto his chest. 

You feel his steady heartbeat under your fingertips. It's calming but also worrying because if he felt something for you, shouldn't he…be more nervous? 

It seems like you're the only flustered one, which you don't like. It has you feeling super insecure. But it makes sense that Pope doesn't react much, given his profession.

So, what makes you different enough that he wants to do this with you? 

You can't wrap your head around it, your hand lifting off of him.

Then, out of a need to push him away, you demand something you doubt he'll give you, “I don't want to do this if you're just going to throw me away when you're bored of me.” 

“Is that what you think I'm going to do?” 

You nod, wishing you didn't feel this way.

“Hmmm.” Pope steps closer to you, grabbing a hold of your chin, lifting your face up to look at him since you've been avoiding eye contact this whole time. “How do I show you that I'm serious about you?” 

You shrug. “I don't know…”

“Is there something you want?” He'll give you anything you want. 

“Nothing that isn't super selfish.” You're honest there. Pope likes that you're honest. 

“Tell me.” He wants to know. 

“I want you to only kiss me.” You just spit it out but you don't think he'd actually say yes to this. “And I want to kiss you whenever I want.” 

“So you don't want me to kiss anyone at work?” 

You nod. 

“But I can still fuck them?” Pope finds your conditions interesting. 

“I'm not that selfish. I know what you do for work. I'm not looking to take away your livelihood but…if you only kiss me, I think that would be enough for me.” 

“Alright.” He agrees way too easily for your liking. 

“Andrew, I'm serious.” 

“And I'm serious.” He leans down to press a kiss against your lips. “I won't even go down on anyone else. My lips are all yours.” 

“Really?” You look at his lips, wanting to kiss him again but your nerves stop you. “Are you sure?” 

“Only if you kiss me right now.” Pope needs you to seal the deal. 

You kiss him immediately and he smiles against your lips, loving how visibly excited you are now. You're much more relaxed, which allows him to unbutton your shorts and tug off your bottoms, leaving you bare from the waist down. Then, he tugs off your top, his lips never parting from yours. 

Pope drags you into his shower, turning it on, shielding you from the water until it's warm enough. He presses you up against the tiled wall, his hands roaming your naked body. You're no longer holding back, moaning against his lips when his hands cup your breasts. 

“Just so you know,” Pope leans down to flick one of your nipples with his tongue, “you aren't allowed to wear such a low cut top around anyone but me from now on.” 

“I promise I won't if you keep doing that.” That feels way too good. 

He swirls his tongue over both of your nipples until they're nice and hard then he slides his hands up to tug at them. Before you can react, his mouth is back on yours, his thumbs swiping over your nipples, his thigh spreading your legs apart. You're so shy about how wet you are but Pope grinds his thigh into you, wanting to get you even more wet for him.

“Cum all you want, little one.” He says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “We'll wash up after so no need to hold back.” 

It's destructive that Pope knows what he's doing. You wonder if he's been this way with anyone else. You can't possibly be the only one swept up in his charms. 

But you are. 

Because Pope hasn't felt desire like this before. 

There's something about how absolutely overwhelmed you are by his actions. He finds it too entertaining. He can't get this from the people in his industry, nor would he want to. 

He has been searching for someone like you. Close enough to understand what he does for work, but far enough away that you haven't been exposed to the sides of him that he's trying so hard to hide. 

Does he need to hide them from you? 

The things you have written have shown him that there's a darkness lurking in your mind that is on the same frequency as the needs in his. 

Shall he test you? 

You feel his hands slide up your chest and wrap around your neck. Pope can feel your breaths quicken, fear suddenly causing your body to tremble in his hold as he squeezes around the delicate column of your neck. 

“Are you scared of me?” He looks at you with the blankest stare you've ever seen. 

And you can't believe how turned on you are. 

Because he's performing your script, albeit with a bit of improv since this scene doesn't happen in a shower. But it's the same concept. 

Hands wrapped around your throat, thigh between your legs, nerves on high alert. 

So, you answer just as you wrote it, your voice the right amount of shaky, “d-do you want me to be?” 

Pope doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. 

He just steps aside, letting the warm water of the shower suddenly hit your face. You shoot your hands up, trying to stop the water from getting into your eyes but then Pope squeezes your throat and you gasp, swallowing water uncontrollably instead. 

“Wait!” You can't push his hand away before it slips between your legs, dipping a finger back inside of you. His thigh keeps your legs apart so you can't resist him adding another one. “Andrew!” 

“Scream my name louder.” He grips you by your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Let me see how scared you can get.” 

In all his content, you've never heard Pope sound so frightening before. He usually plays the rougher, harsher characters but the producers never let him show this side of himself. The one he developed in prison. 

The one that yearns for the dark. 

Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh as his fingers drive into you over and over again. You cling onto him desperately, trying not to topple over completely but it's so hard to stay still when he's fucking you with his fingers like this. 

The steam is getting to your head. The look in his eyes is heating up your core. The desire he has to see you completely unravel is messing you up inside, more than his fingers already are.

You should've known better than to expect vanilla sex from Pope. 

This is what he truly likes. He only wishes it were his cock getting milked by your tight pussy instead of his fingers. But you need to loosen up a bit or you'll never take him. 

You need to be able to handle him at his worst because the moment he puts his cock inside of you, he'll surely lose all rationality. 

Like he does right now, when you kiss him out of nowhere. 

Pope did promise you that you could kiss him whenever you wanted but he would've never guessed that you would do so while he was abusing your pussy with his fingers. 

And now, he has to fuck you up. 

You moan when Pope kisses you back, his tongue flicking at your lips, his movements rougher and sloppier than before. It helps that the shower washes it all away, making his rather aggressive kisses much more enjoyable since there aren't layers of spit to contend to. 

You cum so much when he curls his fingers just right and he basks in how your pussy clenches to his fingers. “I need you to do that on my cock.” 

“I think I'll die if you fuck me.” You might die right now because his fingers haven't stopped moving inside of you despite your blatantly obvious orgasm. He moves his fingers rapidly side to side until you're close to collapsing, your head so dizzy from cumming so hard all over his hand and thigh. 

You're clinging onto him for dear life and it's only when he thinks you actually might pass out that he slows his fingers and pulls out of you. 

Then you feel a light slap against your cheek. “Stay with me, little one.” 

“I'm…dizzy…” You feel so lightheaded from the steam and the orgasms.

“I've got you.” Pope helps you wash up. 

You find it odd how gentle he's being in the shower now. He's almost too focused on making sure you're taken care of from head to toe.

He even helps dry you off after the shower. He seats you down on his toilet so he can plug in his hair dryer and blow dry your hair for you. 

You feel utterly spoiled, especially when he pulls one of his shirts over your head so you have something to wear and aren't cold while he finishes up with your hair. 

It smells like him. You like that a lot. 

“All done.” He pats your head. “Feeling better?” 

You nod. “Refreshed.” 

“Want some water?” 

“Can I come with you?” You put your hand out then realize what you're doing. 

Were you seriously going to try to hold hands with Pope?

Would he even—

Pope grabs your hand and yanks you to your feet, interlocking his fingers with yours as he walks the two of you out of his bathroom. Your heart is beating out of your chest at the sight of him leading you to his kitchen, hand firmly clamped around yours. 

When you're close enough to him, he picks you up and sets you down on the kitchen counter, legs dangling off like you had them earlier on that dressing table. He likes the look of your bare legs. Maybe he'll have you stay pantless at his place. 

“What do you want to drink?” He opens his fridge, gesturing to the few options he has. 

Protein shakes, water bottles, beer and some juice. Usually he doesn't drink anything besides water. Tonight, he feels like a beer. 

“I'm not old enough to drink.” You hadn't thought about that. 

Pope didn't realize you were that much younger than him. “Do you want one?” 

You shake your head. “I want to be sober when we cuddle.” 

That makes Pope put his beer back in the fridge and grab water instead. “Then we'll both be sober.” 

You don't know why that makes you so happy but the butterflies in your stomach are going nuts. 

He rests his hand on your thigh, massaging it gently as the two of you drink water. You like the casual touching. 

You like Pope, a lot. 

So you set down your half-finished bottle of water then put your hand on his chest. It's bare. He's only wearing underwear. He looks way too good like this. 

It makes you almost frustrated that this sight has been seen by millions…

“Like what you see?” He steps closer to you, tossing his bottle of water aside so he can place both of his hands on your thighs. “You can touch me as much as you want.”

“You aren't tired of being touched?” You're worried that after the shoot, he must not want to do this for much longer. 

But then he says, “I'd never get tired of being touched by you.”

“Have you always been such a flirt?” You chuckle, your hands roaming his bare skin more freely now. “I hope you don't regret this. I might never want to let you go.” 

You say it like a joke but Pope says it back like a promise, “I'm never letting you go.” 

“We just met.” You remind him. 

“You don't believe in love at first sight?” He thought you'd be more of a romantic type than a realistic one, given your aspirations. 

“Love…” You blink up at him. “Are you saying…?”

Pope doesn't hide his truth. “I knew you were special the moment I saw you. I was hoping you'd be one of my co-stars.” 

“I…still can be…” Your skin heats up when you say that, not believing that it actually came out of your mouth. 

“Do you want to make content with me?” Pope wouldn't mind that. 

As nice as it is to get paid regularly to do bigger porn productions, he knows he could pull the same numbers if he started making videos on his own. Or with you. 

Especially with you. 

“What if you get sick of fucking the same person?” You let your insecurities flood out, sighing. 

“I could ask you that.” He spreads your thighs open with his big hands, settling his hips between them.

You glance down, surprised to see that he's hard. His cock is practically begging to burst out of his underwear. 

“Are you going to get tired of being fucked by me?” He grinds his cock against your bare pussy. You can feel so much warmth radiating off of him despite the layer of fabric between the two of you. 

It has your heart leaping out of your chest when you answer, “I doubt I could ever get bored of you.” 

“I feel the same way about you.” Pope wants to reassure you that he's choosing you. 

He can't help it. He hasn't wanted anyone like this before. 

He would give it all up for you. 

But he knows you're too sweet to let him. “You don't have to stop making porn for me, Andrew.”

“Say my name again.” He likes hearing it from you. 

No one ever calls him Andrew, especially not in porn. And he is grateful for that because now the only memory he has of someone moaning his name is you with your lovely voice. 

“Andrew.” You wrap your arms around his middle, tugging him to you. “I'm serious. Don't throw away your livelihood for me.” 

“I'm not throwing it away. I'm shifting to a new style. You can help me. It would be good filming practice.” 

You can't believe what he's offering you. “You'd let me direct you?” 

“You said you wanted to make an independent production. Doesn't get more independent than just you and me.” He leans down to press a light kiss on your forehead to comfort you, since you're staring back at him so baffled. “I'd like to film with you. Only you.”

“I'm unsure if I'm star material…” You've never even had sex before. 

How can Pope be so sure you won't drag him down? 

Because he made that video of you going down on him earlier, looking like such a beauty that he's sure anyone would get riled up seeing you on camera. 

“Why don't we practice?” 

“How?” It will probably take you forever to get comfortable in front of the camera. 

“I'll teach you everything about sex one step at a time. We'll film the whole thing, leading up to the first time we fuck.” His words have your heart racing unbelievably fast. “We won't fuck until you're ready to film it. Until you know your angles and what you want to show the world.”

“You would…wait that long?” 

“Would that make you happy, little one?” Pope wraps his arms around you, tugging you closer to him. 

You nod. You'd like that a lot. 

So, that's what you and Pope do. 

You help him set up an account on a reputable adult content sharing site. You shouldn't have been shocked how quickly he builds a hefty fanbase willing to buy his personalized content but you are.

He's making so much money. More money than you'd ever need for a simple production like you've been planning. 

And Pope thanks you for his success. 

He has you do all the filming. All your ideas sell very well to his audience, who love the jerk off videos where he's talking about how much he wants to kidnap you and rape you until you're his forever.

It's easy for Pope to make this content because he doesn't have to pretend. He's being completely honest and his fans can feel it through the screen. But he isn't talking to them. 

He's talking to you, his pretty girl behind the camera who he has a vibe strapped to. He doesn't let you cum until the filming is over. He wants you wet and aching for him the moment the camera shuts off. 

It makes for incredibly authentic videos when you're so desperate for him after all the edging. He has gotten a little too good at making you cum on his tongue. 

You cum so well for the camera. You never have to fake it. And everyone who follows Pope wishes they were you. 

You satisfy them by filming from your point of view, letting the world watch your porn star boyfriend eat you out and finger you until you're squirting all over his face, which he licks up in a way that has people begging for more content like that, where they can pretend to be you. 

You've been faceless thus far. You're worried about showing yourself, that it might kill the fantasies of the viewers.

“Let them be envious.” Pope tells you while you're both cuddling in his bed. “I want to be able to see you in those videos too.” 

“You might be the only one who would, Andrew.” You smile at that, though. 

You really like him. He really likes you. And you believe he does because he is always making these kinds of comments. About how he wants the world to know that you're more than just his co-star. 

But you urge him against it. 

It's better for him if people don't know he's dating anyone. 

You know this because you've been deleting all the messages that he's been getting where they complain about you being there. They want Pope content, not you. And if you are there, they want less of you and more of him. Which makes sense, since it is his account. 

Pope can tell you've grown more apprehensive about filming content together. You insist on just filming him. But he doesn't want to film alone anymore. 

He likes filming with you. He likes having you on camera with him.

He would like it even more if he got to fuck you but you're scared to do it. 

Because you've read several comments telling Pope that they'll unsubscribe if he fucks you. A lot of them are sick of you “capitalizing his time and attention”. They miss when he made porn with different people because at least then, they could pretend he belonged to anyone and everyone. 

But he belongs to you. 

And you're starting to feel bad about it. 

You don't want his career to get stunted because of you. Even though you can't possibly leave him. You love him.

These last few months have been incredible. You've learned so much about filming and about your own body. 

You want to have sex with Pope but you're afraid that the moment you do, you'll never be able to let him go. 

You feel selfish for wanting him all to yourself when there's so many people willing to throw ridiculous amounts of money at him as long as he stays “available” in their eyes. 

But you don't know Pope. 

Pope doesn't give a fuck about any of those people. He only cares about you. He has enough money. He doesn't need to make porn anymore. 

If anything, the porn is just an excuse to keep you in his life because he worries you're not as crazy about him as he is about you. 

Any time he tries to initiate sex, you worm your way out of it. He even tells you that you don't have to film your first time but that still doesn't persuade you. 

You don't come over as often anymore. Only when he wants to film content and you don't stay the night. He can't convince you to, either. You always have some kind of excuse.

Your behavior is making him lose his mind.

He misses you when you aren't with him. He tells you this and you believe him but you also keep up the self sabotage because you delude yourself into thinking that he'll get sick of you eventually, especially when you're acting like this. 

Why would he want you when you're being a burden? You keep it up, in hopes he'll finally see that you're not good for him, that you're making his life worse. 

Even though Pope's life feels empty without you… 

So empty that he has to fill the void somehow. 

And he starts when he catches a comment on an old video of his. 

You haven't been over in a week. He missed you so much that he went back to watch a video that he uploaded of you cumming on his tongue for the first time. He likes that video a lot because you're so shy about how hard you came and he chuckles on video. It's such a natural interaction between the two of you. Beautifully intimate, which is why Pope wanted to rewatch it. He figured other people would like the genuine connection you and him have.

But apparently, some people don't like this video at all. 

He clicks on the profile of the person who left a comment saying that they wish Pope would stop making videos with you because they don't like you. He sees all the comments you deleted from his account from this person, since they're only deleted on his end, not theirs. 

They're all hateful, disgusting comments that make his blood boil. 

Pope realizes then that you've been hiding this from him. He doesn't get why.

Don't you know that he'd take care of these people for you? 

These aren't people you need to worry your lovely head about, little one. 

Pope will handle it. 

He'll handle each and every one of them. 

Then, you won't have anything to worry about anymore… 

You find it strange that Pope's house smells like bleach. It never used to smell like bleach. You know he likes to clean but it's been more excessive lately. 

You're concerned so you ask him the next time you come over, “is everything okay, Andrew?” 

“Everything's great.” He's getting through his list quicker than he thought he would. 

Killing people was something he figured would take him a while to get back into the groove of but he's been disposing of bodies left and right without much extra effort. Though, it helps that he feels incredibly motivated to kill, versus before where he was forced to kill for his mother Smurf. 

This is easy. He'd do anything for you. 

The next jerk off video Pope posts is…dark. 

You didn't plan any of the dialogue. Usually you have a light script written up for Pope to follow along with but today, he just improvised. 

He talks about how much he wants to fuck you, that he would do anything for you, including torture and kill people who are bad to you and dispose of their bodies so you don't have to see them ever again. 

As long as you belong to him. 

It's the most fucked up video he has made thus far. 

And it sells like hotcakes. 

People eat it up, loving that he's so crazed in it. He cums hard for the camera too, harder than he has in a long time. 

Though, his audience has no idea it's because Pope was looking at you and that haunted expression on your face that he wishes he could see while he's buried inside of you. 

That frightened expression never leaves your face. 

Because you ask him, “were you being serious in that video?” 

And Pope answers without flinching, “yes.” 

You're laying beside him in bed. You decided to stay the night after editing and posting that video because it's been a while and you've missed sleeping next to him.

But now you're…scared. 

More scared than you've ever been. 

Because you saw what looked like a fingernail in the bathtub. A whole fingernail, caught under the stopper. Like it couldn't get washed away fast enough. 

His bathroom reeked of bleach and other chemicals. 

But you have no reason to believe that Pope would actually kill people…

“That was a pretty creative concept.” You try to make light of it but it falls flat. 

Especially when Pope furrows his brows at you. “Concept?” 

“Yeah, for the video.” You blink up at him, confused. “You were just acting, right?” 

“Do you think I'd cum that hard if I was acting?” He chuckles at your horrified look. “You should know I'd kill for you.”

“Andrew, that's not funny.” 

“It's not a joke, little one.” His grip around your waist tightens because you attempt to wriggle out of his hold but he won't let you. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I want to go home.” You tell him because you're actually super freaked out right now.

He has to be joking. There's no way…

You can't be here if he's being serious. 

“You promised you'd stay the night.” Pope has worked so hard these last few weeks for you. He deserves a treat. He wants to fall asleep with you in his arms. 

“Andrew, I want to go home.” You push at his arms but he won't budge. “Andrew, please!”

Pope is tired of this. Of you fighting him and his needs. 

He knows you want him too. 

You'll appreciate what he's done for you someday. 

Even if you're afraid of it right now. 

You shriek when Pope pins you down on the bed, his body weight making it impossible for you to move. You feel how hard his cock is, rubbing up against your lower belly, making it known what he wants to do to you.

“I'm going to fuck you and you're going to enjoy it.” He's done waiting. 

“No!” You shout at him, shoving at his chest. “I want to go home!”

“This is your home!” He shouts back at you, his words silencing you completely as he exclaims, “you loved it here, you loved being with me! Until those stupid motherfuckers put it in your head that you weren't good enough for me. It's okay though. I took care of them. They won't bother you anymore, little one.” 

“You…what?” You're going to pretend you didn't just hear that.

But then Pope makes it very clear what he's done, so you can't avoid it any longer. “I killed anyone I could who said anything mean about you.” 

And now you're left with that shocked look on your face that has his cock throbbing against your belly. 

“Thankfully, a lot of them were local.” He continues detailing what he's done for you. “I cleaned up the vermin. You're welcome.”

“You're…you're sick.” You think back through the last few months.

Has Pope been taking his pills? 

He hasn't. Because why does he need to when you'll accept him as he is? 

You love all of him, don't you? 

Don't you? 

“Andrew, you need to get off of me.” You push at his shoulders but again, he doesn't dare move. 

“Why?” He likes being on top of you. It's one of his favorite places to be. 

“Why?” You repeat back to him, baffled that he doesn't get why you're afraid of him. “You just told me you killed people.”

“So?” He doesn't know what the big deal is.

Pope grew up around killers. He grew up killing people. This isn't anything new to him. Just a part of himself that he revived for your sake. 

You seem ungrateful though…

“You can't just murder people for being mean to me!” You scream at him, pounding your fists against his hard chest. “Get off of me!”

“I can and I will.” He snatches your wrists and holds them above your head. “I'd do it again and again if you needed me to.”

“I don't need you to kill people for me…” You can't move at all. He has you locked down tight right now. 

“That's how I know you're perfect for me.” He leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “You would never make me do what needs to be done. You care so much about me.” 

You are in complete disbelief. 

Of course you care about Pope but…do you care enough about him to let him murder people? 

People who specifically were rude and nasty to you? 

Do they even deserve to live?

You shake that deadly thought away. No, that's wrong. You shouldn't be happy that Pope killed those assholes for you. 

You shouldn't encourage this behavior. 

You shouldn't feel so…good that he would do that for you. 

This is fucked up, beyond fucked up. 

It's your wildest fantasy come true. 

But some fantasies should stay fantasies…

Because if you indulge in any more darkness, you'll surely never find your way out.

Is that really a bad thing? 

Can't you just…enjoy being his? 

Pope wouldn't do this for just anyone. You're obviously special to him. You are fully aware of that now. 

And it makes you sick how much you like it. 

“Andrew, we can't be together.” You want to see how crazed he can get about you. “I don't want to be with you anymore.” 

Something fucking snaps in Pope when you say that. 

He lets out a low, menacing growl. Like you've triggered the beast in him that he's been trying his whole life to keep caged. 

“You think you get to run from me, little one? You think you have a choice here?” He starts laughing maniacally and your entire body freezes up. “I don't give a fuck what you think. You're mine whether you want to be or not.”

Then, Pope gets off of you. He stands up, at the edge of the bed, and looks at you staring up at him with wide eyes, so full of that delicious fear. 

“I'll give you until I'm done setting up.” He's being generous. You won't get very far. “But just know, the moment I catch you, I'm raping you on camera.”

Your chest tightens. Every breath you take is a struggle. Your body is trembling all over.

The thrill is unlike anything you've ever felt before. 

Pope ignores the fact that you're still laying in bed, stunned. He focuses on getting all the cameras set up. 

Why would he care if you decide not to run? Makes his life easier if you don't. 

You scramble to your feet when you see him pull out several toys, including a butt plug, so he can clean them and get them ready.

That's when you start to actually panic. 

Because you told Pope you don't want to do any kind of anal play until you've gotten used to sex. 

But it looks like he has stopped giving a fuck about what you want. 

He's going to take both of your virginities, right here, right now. 

Live on camera. 

You shriek when he tries to grab you. You duck under his arms and sprint out of the room. You should've ran sooner. He's so much faster than you are. 

You barely make it to the front door before Pope slams you against it. The wind is knocked out of you immediately which is why you can't fight back when he grabs you by the hair and drags you back towards his bedroom. You have no strength left. Or rather, he is so much stronger than you. 

He tosses you onto the bed without breaking a sweat and he does it again and again, each time you try to get out of it. You're immediately thrown right back down. 

“Stay put.” He commands but you don't listen, making him click his tongue in irritation. “This would be easier if you stopped struggling. I can make you feel really good.” 

“I don't want to.” You shake your head at him, trying again to get off the bed but this time Pope is done with fucking around. 

He grabs you by the throat and holds you down onto the bed. You flail beneath him, kicking at him, screaming at him but the words don't come out. 

The only words that can be heard are his, “you know I could just kill you.”

You still completely at that. He smiles down at you, caressing your face with his free hand. It's not comforting. It's so fucking scary. He's so fucking crazy… 

“What will it be, little one?” He grips your throat with both his hands now, tightening his hold, making you choke for the cameras. “Do you want to die or do you want to get fucked?” 

He lets go of your throat for just a moment so you can tell him, panic in your quiet murmur, “I don't want to die…”

“Good girl.” Pope praises you for making the right choice, giving you a light kiss on the temple. “You're going to let me take your virginity, then?” 

You nod reluctantly. 

“Including your ass?” He wants the camera to catch you consenting to this, even if it's obviously coerced. 

“Please, Andrew, not my—” His hands don't allow another word to leave your lips, gripping your neck so hard that your eyes feel like they might pop out of your skull. 

“Don't be a bad girl.” He shakes his head at you, full of disappointment. “Tell me the right answer.”

He loosens his hold and waits for you to tell him what he wants to hear. 

Heat flashes in his gaze when you answer, “no.” 

“No?” His lips curve into a big smile, a smile so wide that anyone could tell it's an evil one. 

“I don't want this.” You tell him and you're unsure if you're acting or not. It's a little bit of both… “You're going to rape me. I didn't sign up for this.” 

“Oh?” He moves his hands to the side of your head, leaning down until you can feel every word he breathes out on your lips, “what did you sign up for, then?” 

Pope isn't expecting you to cup his face with your hands. Nor is he expecting for you to rest your forehead against his before kissing him on the lips. 

He has missed the feel of your lips on his. 

It feels like it's been too long since the last time the two of you kissed. 

“You.” You whisper to him, so softly so the cameras can't hear it. “I love you, Andrew.” 

“Are you being serious?" He won't let you live if you're fucking with him right now. 

You nod, smiling up at him. “I love everything about you.” 

“I was about to rape you.” He wants you to realize what you almost made him do. 

“I was going to let you.” You nuzzle his nose playfully before telling him, “you still can.”

“Don't push me.” He refuses to let you tempt him any further. 

But you entice him too much. “I want you to, Andrew. Take me like you've always wanted to.” 

His breaths grow heavy, desire clouding his judgment. “We're going to have to cut this part out of the video.” 

“Want to kiss me a little first?” You say with a lovely grin. 

“Fuck.” He finds you so adorable. “I love you so much.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The two of you lay there, tongues tangled, hips grinding against each other until you're aching for him to fuck you already. 

When Pope can't handle it anymore, he tells you, “we make love for us. Then we fuck for the camera.” 

“I like that idea.” You giggle happily when he tugs off your clothes until you're bare beneath him. “My turn.” 

You strip him and Pope knows then that you're the one for him. Because you're so gentle with him, with every touch. You treat him like he's precious to you. It's all he has ever wanted.

You're beautifully bashful when he starts kissing up and down the length of your body, his hands roaming your skin, wanting to memorize what you feel like. 

“I hope you know the moment we fuck, we're never stopping.” He warns you because he's been waiting for this for too long. He's going to need to have his fill of you. 

“Don't tease me with a good time, Andrew.” You spread your legs for him, dipping your hand between them to show him how wet you are. “Will you touch me? I've missed you.” 

“You have?” Pope hadn't realized how desperate he was to hear you admit it out loud. 

“I'm sorry I was being distant.” You feel really bad about it. 

“It's okay.” He would've suffered as long as you needed him to. “Just don't do it again.” 

“As long as you don't kill any more people.” Your words make him snap up to look at you. 

“But what if they're mean and deserve to die?” He says between gritted teeth and you hold back a laugh.

Pope can be like a vicious puppy sometimes. It's so cute. 

“I don't want the love of my life going to prison over a few internet trolls.”

He grumbles. “Fine. Then I'll take out my frustration on your pussy.”

You gasp when he dives between your legs without warning, his tongue dipping into you immediately. You squirm when the tip of his tongue starts flicking that spot inside of you that has you begging him to stop or you'll burst. 

“Wait, slow down—Andrew!” You push at his head, trying to get him to stop because your orgasm is building too quickly. “Stop! I'm going to cum, I'm going to—”

Your orgasm hits you right then and Pope has a little too much fun licking it up, the sounds surely getting captured on camera. 

“Cum as much as you want, little one.” He says as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, curling them right where his tongue just was, sending shivers through you. “Show me how good I make you feel.” 

You grab a hold of his hair when Pope starts sucking on your clit while his fingers pounds into you. You're trying not to be too vocal. You know the audience doesn't like it. But Pope likes it, so he makes you cum so hard that you can't hold back your voice. 

And he does that over and over again until you're begging and crying for him to give you a break. 

“I can't cum anymore, Andrew.” You won't survive if he makes you cum again. 

You're so overstimulated…

Pope lets out a sigh. “Fine, we'll take a break.” 

Though, a break in his mind really just means he's going to take his time marking every inch of your skin with his teeth. You don't know if this is any better than cumming your brains out. Now you're sensitive all over. Everywhere he touches sends sparks to your core. 

Pope's prepping you to cum hard on his cock. He wants your first time to be so good, you become addicted to fucking him. 

So he has to pull out every trick in the book. 

Edging you until you're dripping wet and aching for something deep inside of you. 

“Finally ready for my cock?” He asks, smirking at the desperation in your eyes.

“Please.” You want him so badly. 

Pope settles his hips against yours. He grabs his cock, dragging it up and down the length of your wet slit, coating himself in your slick. 

“Deep breaths, little one.” He instructs as he pushes the tip of his cock against your entrance. “You're about to take a porn star's cock for your first time. You'll need to relax.” 

Easier said than done because it feels like he's splitting you in two from just the tip of his cock pushing past your entrance. You're gripping onto the sheets for dear life as he slips more of himself into you slowly. 

“Too much.” You cry out, shaking your head, feeling overwhelmed. “You're too big.” 

Your words cause his cock to twitch inside of you which only makes you wriggle even more. It's so intense, the pressure of being pried out like this. 

“Focus on me.” Pope leans down to kiss you, distracting you with his soft lips and loving words. “You're doing so well. Your pussy feels so good.”

“Yeah?” You like that he feels good too. “Do you like my tight virgin pussy?” 

He growls low. “I love it.”

His cock barely fits inside of you. He'll need to fuck you a bit to loosen you up. So, he grabs your hips and looks at you with so much need in his eyes. 

“I'm going to fuck you now.” He gives you a moment to prepare yourself. “Until you're covered in my cum.” 

You shake your head. “I want you to cum inside of me. Pump a baby into me, Andrew.”

The moment you say that, it's like any remaining rationality Pope had left completely crumbles. 

He pins you down by your shoulders and just starts ramming into you. You've never felt such forceful thrusts before that your body doesn't even know how to react. 

You just cum. That's all you can do. 

“Oh god—” You grab a hold of his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as he pounds you into his mattress. “Too rough, you're being too—!”

His hands slide to your throat and the moment he cuts off your air, you squirt on his cock and he laughs. “Someone likes it rough.” 

You're clawing at him now, drawing blood, unable to handle the orgasms he's pulling out of you. Your vision is going blurry. You can't think straight. 

And you see stars when he whispers in your ear, “how does it feel to get raped for your first time?” 

Your body convulses under him in response and Pope loves how your pussy is clenching around him, milking his cock, begging for his cum. When he finally gives it to you and lets go of your throat, you're gasping for air, cumming your brains out on his cock pumping hot ropes of cum inside of you. You love how warm you feel, completely filled up with his release. 

You don't want it to end. 

You want to be wrung out like this for the rest of your life. 

Pope pulls out of you and you expect it to be over but then you feel three of his fingers replace his cock. You're so sensitive that an orgasm washes over you just from him idly stroking your insides. He's merely resting his fingers inside of you, to keep you plugged up, but you're cumming on them too easily, drenching his hand.

“You're spilling my cum, little one.” He thrusts as much as he can back inside of you. “I need you to hold it in.”

“It's hard…” Especially when he keeps curling his fingers on purpose. 

“Who taught you to cum like a porn star?” He can't even count how many orgasms the cameras must've caught by now. 

“You.” You answer honestly, earning yourself another orgasm when his fingers start fucking you faster. “Andrew!” 

“Don't cum.” He thrusts his fingers deeper inside of you with every stroke. “If you cum, I'm going to rape you.” 

You glance down. Pope is hard again already. Usually it takes longer but when he looks at you, his body is just ready to fuck. 

Especially now that his cock has had a taste of your pussy. 

He can't possibly quit now!

Your whole body tenses in a poor attempt to stop the orgasm that will inevitably shatter you. But Pope is ruthless with his fingers. 

Then he tugs at your perky nipples with his free hand and you burst like a dam, cumming all over his fingers. 

You don't get a second to collect yourself before Pope flips you onto your stomach and pounds every inch of his cock inside of your still spasming pussy. His weight keeps you held down to the bed as he fucks you like an animal desperately needing to breed. He wants you pregnant.

He needs you to have his baby. 

You don't know how many times Pope cums inside of you. The batteries in the cameras all die at a certain point but he doesn't stop fucking you. 

It's a compulsion at a certain point. The moment he's hard again, his cock is buried inside of you. Your pussy has molded to his shape. Your body yearns for his release. 

The two of you don't stop fucking until you take a pregnancy test and it's positive. 

Pope is the most excited he has ever been about anything. 

And you're happy to see him like that. 

So, you'll wait a bit longer before you tell him it's a false positive. You had to figure out how to create a false positive or he would've never let you leave his bed. 

He surely won't once he finds out.

And you're looking forward to it. 

a/n: you know this idea started as one of those crack ideas but then I just ended up writing so much for it, oops! I just fell in love with porn star!pope, he's such a lovely guy (who will be very angry when he finds out you aren't pregnant hehe the next part will be fun ~)

You could feel your face setting on fire as you desperately tried to think of what to do.

Robby’s eyes weren’t on you anymore as he got rid of his jacket and boots… this would be the perfect time to get up and scurry away towards the bedroom… Robby’s bedroom— Shit.

Your hands went to cover your bare tits as you tried to come up with something else.

“Decided to cut my sabbatical short,” Robby was explaining, “You all were right- as it turns out, I can’t go more than a month without the ED.”

You heard and felt Jack’s snicker, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles where he still held your waist.

His hard cock was still deep inside you, and as much as you hated having to depart from it, you really needed to get off and try to at least regain some decency.

Which is what you tried to do. You began rising from Jack’s lap, but in an instant, his eyes were on you, his brows furrowed.

“Where you going, sweetheart?”

He can’t be serious right now.

You glanced pointedly at Robby behind him, your voice barely a whisper as you murmured his name.

“It’s alright, honey, Robby doesn’t mind,” he spoke softly, his hands caressing you softly. “Do you, Robby?”

Robby’s soft chuckle came from somewhere closer than where he’d previously been.

“I sure don’t,” He was smirking once you slowly raised your gaze.

He’d walked to the edge of the couch, right behind Jack.

You felt your face burn with embarrassment- and yet your pussy clenched harder around Abbot as you caught Michael’s eyes drink you in.

“We were having such a good time,” Jack murmured, his mouth on your collarbones as he pecked your skin, “Would be a shame to stop now.”

Oh God, he was being serious.

“Jack- I-”

Were you dreaming? Was this one of the sick fantasies that materialized in your mind whenever Robby and Abbot were both on shift, and you had to squeeze your tights together at how incredibly hot of a pair they made?

Everything seemed to point in that direction, except for the fact that the feel of Jack’s fingers removing your hands from your naked chest was very much real- the same went for Robby’s voice.

“You know, sweetheart... we had a talk about you before I went away.”

You were bare again now, and Jack was making use of the space, filling it with delicious, taunting kisses as Michael spoke.

“Decided none of us were gonna try anything... didn’t wanna take advantage of you or anything….” His voice was rough and soft all at once as his hand went to cradle your cheek, “and now look at that.”

Heat bloomed low in your belly and on your cheeks as you heard yourself whimper.

What he was saying was… unbelievable. They liked you- both of them. Just as you liked them.

This was really happening- Dr. Robinavitch was watching you as you sat on Dr. Abbot’s cock. And they both looked incredibly casual, as if this were a daily occurrence.

“Since when has this been going on?”

When you didn’t answer, Jack stopped his ministrations on your neck to speak, “Just two weeks, man.”

“Is he lying to me?” Robby asked you, his head tilted in doubt.

“N-no,” You murmured as you cowered under his stare.

To that, he smirked, shaking his head as he muttered, “A week- that’s how long you lasted.”

“C’mon, man- you knew it was bound to happen.” Jack groaned, looking at you with a smirk as his mouth ghosted yours, “You’re too pretty not to do something about it.”

You felt your heart skip, and your hips involuntarily grind against Jack’s lap- causing you to whimper pathetically.

“Oh sweetheart…” Abbot cooed, his hands going back to rest on your hips, “Go on, take what you need.”

There was nothing you wanted to do more. As unusual as this situation was, you were so turned on that you feared you’d start dripping on the couch any second now.

Yet you watched the two men uncertainly, biting your lip as you went against your instinct to use Jack’s manhood to feel good.

“Go on, baby,” Robby encouraged you once your eyes settled on him, “Do as he said.”

His palm was still on your cheek, his thumb pulling on your lower lip to free it from your teeth’s grip… and you had no choice but to obey.

You started slow, shily grinding onto him, feeling Jack’s dick graze and reach all those sweet spots inside of you as your clit rubbed against his base.

Your mouth hung open as soft whines filtered through your throat. Robby’s hands held your face so you could only look at him- and the look in his eyes… the darkness in his iris and the locking of his jaw gave you all the more incentive to go faster.

You began raising yourself on Jack’s dick just to slide back down again until you found the delicious pace from before your interruption.

Your moans weren’t so quiet anymore as you struggled to keep your eyes open and gripped Jack’s shoulders for dear life, your nails probably leaving crescent moons on his skin.

“So good for me, baby,” Jack murmured against your neck, resuming his kisses on your salty skin as he thoroughly enjoyed the show. “Such a good girl.”

You cried like a desperate little thing at that, his dick hitting that spongy spot inside of you that had you feeling on cloud nine.

“Jack feels good, baby?” Robby’s voice felt muffled, as if the pleasure was acting as a sound shield.

“Y-yes,” You whined, your voice breathless, your movements more and more desperate, “B-big,” you cried brokenly.

You felt Abbot’s growl vibrate against your chest at that, and seconds later, you felt his mouth against your ear as he whispered loud enough for Robby to hear, “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

You didn’t have the brain capacity to understand what he meant by that, or to analyze the grin that spread Michael’s lips at those words, because all you could focus on was the growing sensation that sparked in your belly.

“Oh my god,” You whined, your thighs burning with the effort as the sound of your skin slapping with Jack’s echoed against the walls.

“It’s ok, baby,” Robby murmured, watching closely as your eyes almost closed and your brows furrowed in bliss, “You’re doing so good.”

You didn’t even realize you were doing it, but as Robby guided his thumb into your mouth, instinctually, your lips closed around it, sucking him in further.

“That’s it, baby,” he nodded, the weight of his finger on your tongue making you wish it was replaced by his cock. And that image… that image made your orgasm approach even faster.

Your moans were silenced by Robby’s thumb, but Jack could feel your walls gripping him like a vice.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he commanded, kissing the spot right beneath your ear. “Be a good girl and show Robby how pretty you look when you come.”

That was it.

You didn’t even have time to mentally prepare yourself that a bright white flash of pure ecstasy overtook your soul.

You came like the world would end tomorrow, your pussy spasming around Jack as he couldn’t help but follow suit.

Somewhere in the frenzy, you could hear Abbot’s groans while Robby murmured what appeared to be soft words to you, his hand never leaving your face.

The pounding of your heart thumped in your ears as you tried to calm your breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open to both the men looking at you, Jack’s eyes soft with gratification and adoration, while Robby’s irises swirled with lust and just plain need.

“You wanna switch?”

Jack’s words didn’t even make sense to you. You were still lost in the haze of what had just happened.

“Not on the couch, man.” Robby shook his head, his lips pulling into a small smile as he watched you. “Let’s get on the bed, baby.”

__ __  __

Your legs felt like jelly as Robby towered over you.

You knew what was happening, and yet your brain was still buffering.

His lips were so close to yours… just a few inches and you’d be kissing him.

But that’s not what he had in mind.

“Lay down for me, baby.”

You blinked, needing a second to understand his command and do as told.

The mattress was soft, the comfy duvet wrinkling underneath you as you laid back, your wide eyes watching him.

With a quick move, he removed his shirt, throwing it behind him… in the direction of Abbot.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning against the wall, his eyes dark as he watched the scene unfold.

By the time you looked back, Robby was naked- and your lungs took another toll.

You were propped on your elbows, shamelessly eying all of him. His broad chest, the dark hair on his pecs, on his belly, until your gaze lowered just enough to catch his cock-

You were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing completely.

That’s what they’d been talking about.

You really had seen nothing yet.

You swallowed dryly as his big hand wrapped around his dick, giving it two slow strokes that had him seemingly grow even more.

Your eyes were wide as he stalked closer to you, his smirk everlasting.

“R-Robby,” you stuttered, clearly intimidated.

“’S alright, baby. I’ll go real slow.”

“I-I- How…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “spread your legs for me, baby.”

And even if your heart was going crazy and your brain was telling you that was an impossible fit, you did as told.

“Wider.”

You slid your feet further across the bed, opening yourself up to him completely, eliciting a delighted groan.

“Pretty,” he murmured, his palm going to your mound and his thumb moving to your folds, exploring slowly.

Jack’s come was still leaking out of you, creating a sultry mixture with your own juices.

Your cheeks heated at his unabashed gaze, but then his other hand grabbed the base of his manhood, his tip suddenly parting your folds, and all thoughts left your head.

You were whimpering already, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and Michael would have done anything to record those sweet sounds and listen to them on repeat all day long.

“It’s ok, baby, relax for me.” That’s all he murmured, as he started guiding his impossibly thick tip inside of you.

“Oh!” You gasped, your eyes wide open as you watched him thrust into you.

He was looking at where your bodies melted into one another, watching your greedy pussy swallow him in.

The stretch burned at first- he had the biggest cock you’d ever seen after all- counting porn- but his soft growls and groans were making you all the more pliant.

His thumb started circling your clit to help you out as broken cries fled your throat.

He was retracting his hips just to thrust softly into you, over and over again, filling you up inch by never-ending inch.

“O-Oh my god,” You were crying, your hands fisting the sheets as he kept going.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he reassured you, his free hand tight on our waist. “Stretching so good for me- such a good girl.”

Your walls tightened around him at that, causing him to hiss.

“Let me in- just like that… good girl”

You knew the moment he was in to the hilt, because you could barely breathe at the feeling of how unbelievably full you felt.

Breathy gasps spilled from your lips as your gazes met.

“Told you you could do it,” he smirked, before he started to move.

The moan you let out at the first full, deep thrust was more of a scream.

“Robby!” you gasped, your fingers gripping his forearm as he started building his pace.

His back hurt like a motherfucker from all those hours on his bike, but he’ll be damned if he denied himself this sight.

“He always makes you do all the work?”

How his voice was still so even when you could barely breathe, let alone think, was a mystery.

You want to tell him the truth, that no, Jack was usually very much adamant in his need to take care of you, to pin you beneath him and fuck you thoroughly well into the day… but all you could manage was a whine.

You watched his lips pull into a grin at the state he’d rendered you in.

“Oh, c’mon, brother, I’ve just come back from a twelve-hour shift,” Jack defended himself from his spot against the wall as your eyes found him.

You could see from the bed, even with his boxers back on, that he was hard again.

God, this was all so hot.

The way both their eyes were only focused on you as Robby’s thrusts had you bouncing up on the bed, your tits moving in tandem with his harsh movements…

“And she hasn’t?” Robby raised his brows, shooting Jack a quick, disappointed look, before coming back to you.

“You don’t have to worry about it now, baby,” he spoke softly, the thumb he still had on your bundle of nerves resuming its torturous movements. “I’ll take care of you like you deserve from now on.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at those words.

Your hips were chasing his movements, forcing the loud smacking of his skin hitting your core over and over again to get even louder.

You could feel every inch of his dick inside you, every vein and ridge slide against your velvety walls as his tip speared you and reached parts of you no one ever could find but him.

And with a feeling like that… it was inevitable for tears to gather in your eyes, your vision blurring as a knot of pleasure tightened inside you.

“Oh baby, I know it’s a lot.” his voice was calming, soothing your overexited system.

It was a lot. He was a whole damn lot.

“Just take it,” he cooed, “Don’t think about it, sugar, just be good for me and Jack, yeah?”

You slowly nodded, tears rolling down your temples and onto the sheets as the air filled with your moans.

“That’s it, pretty girl— that’s it.”

And suddenly, it was all too much.

“I-I- Oh my-”

He groaned at how tight you got. His chest inflating with the effort not to come on the spot.

“Let go, baby,” he instructed. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

The last thing you saw was his smile; everything after that was sort of a blur.

A tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body; you were pretty sure you were moaning his name like a prayer as you experienced a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your eyes and ears started functioning again as Robby’s thrusts got sloppier, more erratic.

He grinned as you whimpered at the overstimulation, his groans getting louder as he got closer, until he spilled inside you with a feral roar.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed after several moments, slowly pulling out of you.

Jack had gotten beside him somewhere in the meantime, and both men’s eyes fell to the release spilling out of your spent core.

“C’mere,” you whined, breaking them out of their amazed trance.

They both smiled, and it was Jack who joined you on the bed first, moving you so your head could rest on the pillow as he spooned you, wrapping his arms around you.

“You did real good, sweetheart,” he murmured to your ear, his stubble grazing your skin as your eyes fluttered shut.

You were exhausted.

You didn’t even hear Robby lying down next to you until he placed your head to rest on his chest.

“So… am I gonna have to sanitize every surface of the house?”

A soft laugh fled your throat as Jack grinned amusedly.

“The kitchen should be saf—” The look you sent Jack had him suddenly remember all the alternative meals he’d consumed on the kitchen counter. “No, yeah… the whole apartment.”

The city had been just about everything you dreamed off.

You’d been a real touristy cliche, stumbling out of a taxi with a box of your belongings and your heart set on conquering the big apple. College had always been a part of your plan and you would sit in your childhood home, surrounded by the woes of suburbia, and tell yourself that if it wasn’t far away then you didn’t want to go.

You were happy to be a stereotypical freshman girl from a small town, navigating the streets of New York with a smile and too big of a heart.

Your time between classes got spent reading down in the park or trying out local coffee shops, taking the train across town just to find your way back to campus without a map. You wanted to know the city like the back of your hand, even if it took getting lost and missing lectures a few dozen times.

Everything was going exactly as it should be.

Eddie wasn’t necessarily a part of your planned out future, in fact he was pretty close to the opposite of something you would have prepared for.

He had stuck out to you from the moment you saw him, getting far too rowdy in the back corner of a bar your new friends had dragged you along to.

It already wasn’t your scene, you hadn’t been to a place with people like this back home, and the added volume from the drunk boys definitely didn’t help.

One of Eddies friends had noticed one of yours and made his way over like a snake through the tall grass, shoulders bumping carelessly with the other tipsy patrons that didn’t even spare him a glance.

She seemed to like him enough, especially when he bought you all your first round of drinks like he wasn’t on a college kids budget, and fate was practically sealed from then on out.

You didn’t really talk to Eddie much that first night and you figured he wouldn’t have remembered it even if you had, already slurring his words and laughing loudly at his friends jokes before he even made it over to get introduced to you all.

He had scanned over each new face as your names were rattled off by your friend that was now pressed against the side of his own, eyes a little glazed like he wasn’t really registering the difference between them all.

And then he reached you.

You watched his gaze pass you by and then immediately falter and bounce back in your direction, sticking on your features even after the other names began to follow yours.

You’d flushed and looked away, eventually making your way outside and bumming a cigarette off of some older woman outside who looked about as haggard as you felt. It made you cough, chest itchy and sore from the unfamiliar feeling, but you were halfway determined to be the type of girl who smoked under the rush of the city.

You hadn’t thought much about the boy and the backwards cap, even though his friend started to make an appearance weekly.

It became clear pretty quickly that things were getting serious between him and your friend, halfway roommate considering how often you escaped the dorms in favor of sleeping on her couch.

The merging of the friend groups was slow but then permanent as soon as it became a reality. Suddenly Eddie Hicks was at every social event you attended, as big as a party in somebody’s parentless townhouse and as intimate as a movie night with just the four of you.

There were plenty of words people used to describe Eddie and you weren’t necessarily a fan of any of them. He wasn’t exactly stupid he just didn’t care about his studies as much as your average peer and he certainly wasn’t as immature as others might think he was based off of a drunken night or a brief public interaction.

You thought he could be really sweet when he wanted to. His voice would get soft when it was just the two of you and he’d talk a lot more with a much lower level of volume, rambling about small subjects you didn’t really understand and showing you he had more depth than getting wasted and jumping into the fountain on campus.

He’d lose that softness when others were around and you felt a little thrown off the first few times he did it before understanding it was just how he presented himself.

It was easier for him to be the party boy that didn’t get embarrassed or nervous in a crowd.

You liked to be around Eddie and he wasn’t shy about showing you that he felt the same way. He was almost constantly at your dorm, knocking lightly at the door and encouraging you to come outside with him as soon as you would answer.

That was your favorite part about him, other than the general comfortability you had started to feel after the first few months. He loved the city more than you, more than anybody else you’d met since you’d first stepped out onto the busy streets.

Not many people around you had actually been born in New York but Eddie was a city boy down to his core. He still went to eat dinner with his mom at his childhood apartment twice a week, taking the train thirty minutes across town without hesitation, and he had barely left the zip code area he was born in before college.

He thought it was sweet that you liked to get a little lost so he wouldn’t correct you when you went on your adventures together, letting you find your way back home despite the fact he knew it was the wrong way almost every single time. You’d take a glance at his face when you would board a train car, groaning and hiding in his shoulder when you realized you had messed up again and feeling the way his frame vibrated as he laughed.

The touchiness was a whole different ballgame you weren’t sure how to navigate with him.

Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed it. It just felt natural for you to gravitate towards each other in a crowd, his hand on your lower back or yours wrapped around his arm to make sure neither of you strayed too far from the other.

You’d press up against him during movie nights and he’d let your ankles lock together, playing with your fingers absentmindedly as he watched. You fell asleep together often on long study nights or at more lowkey house parties, his head in your lap or you resting against his chest and dozing off on his shoulder.

Eddie was your friend and you liked to be around him. You weren’t exactly an expert on boys so you didn’t think much of it until everybody else started to point it out.

At first it was curious glances between the two of you and then it was full out teasing confrontation, openly commenting on it in front of both of you despite how awkward you’d get.

“She’d never go for a guy like me.” Eddie would reply with a goofy grin like it was the easiest answer in the world, his arm going around your shoulder and shaking you softly for emphasis.

You would laugh and smile fondly but it made your chest feel a little weird and tight. You figured he was just being nice, playing it safe and rejecting you but making it sound like it was for your sake.

It could be blamed on your inexperience, the lack of willing suitors back in your hometown who didn’t get to see you in your college prime, or just plain denial. You assumed that if Eddie happened to like you then he would be just as eager to let you know as his friend Alex had been that first night at the bar with yours, immediately coming over to her and not leaving her side since.

But you weren’t too upset about it because you liked to be Eddies friend more than anything, even if it got a little confusing occasionally.

Now you were right back at the same bar almost nine months since the first time, pushing your way through the crowd with only a mildly disgusted look this go around. You’d started to get used to it along with the rest of the city and its liveliness.

You still felt a rush of relief when you got through the mass of bodies and saw your friends at the back table, your favorite drink already in the empty space besides Eddie.

You easily slid into the spot next to him, barely getting out a soft greeting before he was turning to look at you and wrapping his arm around your side.

“We thought you weren’t going to make it.” Sarah was frowning slightly like the idea was a lot sadder than it was in reality due to her already tipsy state.

You liked Sarah quite a bit despite how different the two of you were, her large apartment paid for by her parents and closet full of designer clothes painting a much different picture than your own humble upbringing. She let you crash on her fancy couch when your dorm mate was being obnoxious and occasionally gave you any tops she grew out of so you figured she liked you quite a bit back.

“I missed the train.” You replied softly even though she wasn’t even really listening to your reply, going to say something you couldn’t pick up to Alex.

You turned to Eddie instead who already seemed to be waiting for your attention, hand resting lightly on your side as he pushed your drink in your direction and watched you take a slow sip.

“Again? I thought we got that down by now.” He didn’t miss the opportunity to tease you for your lack of direction and you rolled your eyes.

“It was busy okay? I got a little bit distracted and it just flew past.” You explained over the noise, faltering between sentences to slightly grimace at his cigarette smoke that was floating in the space between your faces.

He didn’t hesitate to put it out when he saw your expression, waving the air to clear the rest of it and easily catching your weight when you leaned against him in thanks.

“You totally missed it.” Sarah was suddenly speaking up again and smacking a perfectly manicured hand down on the sticky table in front of you. “Eddies been trying to get the bartenders number all night.”

Your eyes went across the crowded bar to find the woman in question, definitely a few years your senior and intimidating enough that you quickly looked away before she caught you staring. You glanced at Eddie next to find him glaring at Sarah, eyebrows furrowed and his free hand turned up like he was questioning her

“Not going well?” You attempted to ask it as causally as you could, like you were just a friend equally as invested in your buddies attempt to pick up a pretty girl as everybody else.

You could feel his hand twitching against your side and you were suddenly hyper aware of the touch that normally came so natural to the two of you, stepping to the side just enough that he would have to awkwardly stretch to keep touching you.

He dropped his hand and gave you an almost guilty look before shaking his head.

“She’s just messing around.” He tried to smooth it over and that almost made you feel more upset.

You felt like this was the worst case scenario, Eddie somehow realizing you might feel something towards him and pitying you so much he felt like he needed to lie to keep your feelings from getting hurt.

“He’s been sitting here sulking all night waiting for you.” Alex was chiming in with an attempt to make things less tense but neither of the dismissals were helping especially now that your mind had gone to less than kind places.

“I’m going to get a fresh drink.” You managed to get out, sending them a tight smile before pushing your way back into the crowd. You vaguely heard Eddie saying something sharply, most likely directly at Sarah, but you were suddenly grateful for the loud music and voices to keep you from overhearing something you wouldn’t like.

You were leaning against the bar after requesting a drink, waiting patiently with your hands tapping on the wood, when you felt him behind you.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was and you had expected him to follow you regardless, sighing softly when you felt his arms go around you from behind. You let yourself get tugged back gently until your back was against his chest, your own hands reaching near your stomach to hold his wrist.

“Want me to get her number for you?” Your eyebrows raised as you looked at the bartender who was moving from section to section smoothly, feeling him tense behind you.

Now it was his turn to sigh and his forehead rested against your shoulder for a brief moment.

“Stop it, you know I wasn’t flirting with her. I don’t think I even talked to her.” He started to defend himself and you were once again wondering why he felt the need to, if it really just stemmed from pity and a friendly attempt to save you some dignity.

“It’s fine if you were Eddie.” You shrugged and you heard him let out another huffy breath at the words. “I mean it. You can have fun on a night out.”

“I have fun when you’re here.” He said back quickly and it was slightly muffled considering his face was now pressed against your shoulder like he was planning to hide in your neck.

Your drink got placed in front of you but you ignored it for a moment, turning to face him and rubbing your hand over his ribs and chest as he let out a deep breath of possible relief.

He’d told you before how much your touch made him feel better, whispered it in a quiet room when he was positive nobody was listening.

Your nose rubbed against his and his eyes fluttered shut when your lips brushed together, never fully touching but ghosting along just enough for the thought to cross your mind. His hands had moved to your lower back to keep you tight against him but you weren’t planning on going anywhere regardless.

You pulled back just enough so you didn’t accidentally kiss him, his eyes opening and looking a bit more dejected than beforehand.

“Let’s go back.” You said softly and he hesitated but nodded eventually, grabbing your drink for you and guiding you back to the table with a hand on your waist.

You and Eddie were always like that but you were suddenly unable to get used to it.

You were hyper aware of everything, including the looks Sarah and Alex would give each other whenever they saw the two of you standing closely or touching casually. His hands felt hot on your skin and you could barely stomach rubbing over his arms softly without feeling those nearly painful butterflies.

It was starting to feel that awful right now, sat on the couch together like you’d done dozens of times before.

Your legs were sideways over his lap, sides pressed together with one of his arms behind your back to support your weight and keep you from falling against the couch. His other palm was between your thighs right above your knees, just resting there in the warm skin of your closed legs.

You had one hand in his curls and the other on his arms. It was probably your most default position for watching a movie but you felt like it was beyond intimate right now, trying your best to try ignore the way it made you think and react so you could stay close to him.

The door was opening and you barely glanced up at Alex and Sarah coming in, grocery bags in hands and mid laugh like they always seemed to be.

She sent a look your way but didn’t say anything just yet although you tensed with the anticipation. It was a few more minutes before they got the food put away and came to join you in the dimly lit living room, plopping down on a loveseat and eyeing you curiously for a moment.

“Okay seriously, what’s going on with you two?” She asked abruptly and you sighed softly, already assuming she was going to pry as soon as she saw the way you were curled around each other.

“We’re friends.” You offer her the same line you always do even though you’re aware of how ridiculous it comes across when you’re holding each other like this.

Eddie doesn’t help much at all, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head that you’re half convinced he did just to drive her a little more crazy.

“This is hard to watch.” She sighs and sinks lower in her seat just in time to miss the handful of popcorn you throw in her direction.

Thankfully she doesn’t say anything else after the light teasing although Alex gives Eddie a wiggle of his eyebrows before getting his own spot for the movie, your eyes rolling once you catch it.

It’s almost constant lately but you really can’t blame them for their confusion considering you barely understand your relationship yourself.

The next week, you’re studying in his room, lying on your stomach in his bed and flipping through pages while you try to pretend you don’t feel him staring at you. He doesn’t even shy away when you glance up and raise an eyebrow, just giving you a soft smile and continuing watching you even when you go back to your textbook.

Eventually it starts to drive you so crazy that you have to set the book down to really stare at him.

“Hi Ed.” You keep your voice light and he finally leaves his place on the floor to come and join you on the small twin sized mattress, sitting up beside where you’re still flat on your stomach.

“Hey.” He sounds softer than normal, definitely distracted and maybe a little lost in thought.

His hand comes up to brush some of your behind your ear gently before he’s moving it lower, letting it rest on your lower back. He swipes his thumb right where the fabric of your tank top had ridden up, warming up your skin with his own.

You sigh blissfully and fold your arms in front of you so you can rest your head on them.

“You okay?” You nearly whisper and his eyes leave your back for a quick second to check your face before he’s back to staring at the area he’s touching.

“I’m… really really okay.” He says back and it’s still a bit far away sounding which makes you laugh lightly.

The air felt heavy and charged in a way you weren’t really used to and when he went back to watching your face, you almost thought he might lean down and kiss you.

You both jumped when the door swung open, intimate bubble popped immediately as Sarah and Alex burst in and barely acknowledged the fact they hadn’t even attempted to announce themselves before coming in.

Alex was sending you both a curious look and you focused back in enough after your shock to register that Eddie had taken his hand off of you rather quickly, still looking a bit suspicious with the off guard look he had on his face.

“Great news.” Sarah’s smile was bright and it was almost hard to be annoyed at her for interrupting when she seemed so excited, bouncing a little in her kitten heels and clasping her hands together in front of her. “I’ve got you both double dates for the poetry show tonight.”

“Sarah set it up.” Alex added on, she beamed like he was praising her but you figured he just wanted to shift the blame away from himself as soon as possible.

Neither of you said anything but you glanced at Eddie after a few long seconds to find him already watching you.

“No.” His voice was firm but calm, decisive despite not really having a reason to decline.

Sarah’s face fell immediately and she dropped her hands to her sides.

“But why not?” She asked desperately and shifted so she could kneel on the carpet beside the bed and really give you both a good view of her puppy eyes. “Please you know how much I love playing match maker and they’re both looking forward to it.”

“Alex.” Eddie spoke again in slight warning and your eyes went back and forth between each of your friends, trying to get a read on the silent conversation that seemed to be happy.

“I think it’s a good idea.” Alex shrugged and that made Sarah start to smile again. “And it makes her happy so.”

You didn’t realize you were frowning until you felt the familiar hand back on your skin, rubbing softly and drawing your attention right back to him. Eddie was staring at you in a way you really didn’t understand but you figured you could file it alongside the other mysteries you had surrounding him.

Sarah’s soft voice saying your name sent you spinning again, eyes meeting hers and slumping your shoulders in light defeat.

“You’ll do it?” She nearly gasped, hands reaching out to squeeze your arm.

“I mean I guess.” You sighed out, feeling terrible about disappointing her and also not being able to think of a legitimate reason you didn’t want to do it that wouldn’t immediately expose your weird feelings for the boy next to you.

Speaking of, he was getting up almost as soon as you voiced your confirmation. You tried to tune out Sarah’s excited squeals and the way she was squeezing your arm, watching as he left his own bedroom with a deep set frown.

Despite his initial refusal, the triple date ended up happening a few hours later.

You weren’t sure what Alex had said to get Eddie out of the apartment because you were too busy being dragged back to Sarah’s so she could give you a makeover.

Clearly it hadn’t been enough to get a smile on his face because he had been uncharacteristically stoic the entire night.

The bar had a much calmer crowd, soft spoken poetry replacing the usual loud music and sports television. Eddie still had never been this quiet during a night out and you felt overly guilty for agreeing to this arrangement and dragging him out in the process.

Your date was nice enough. He was supportive of the poets and asking you questions about yourself, putting your drinks on his tab and trying his best to get any type of positive response from you.

You’d given him your best attempt at a polite smile for the past two hours and your cheeks were starting to ache. You figured Eddie didn’t have the same issue because he hasn’t so much as grinned even once, instead awkwardly staring at you from across the table in an overly noticeable way.

His date was chatting his ear off enough that she didn’t even seem to notice his intense glare in your direction but yours surely did, shuffling in place nervously as he failed to understand the situation.

She was grabbing his arm and giggling obnoxiously every time she managed to get a small response from him even though they were few and far between.

“You’re liking the city so far?” Your date, maybe Zach something, was tilting his head to try and get your attention back on him and not the way her nails were curling around Eddies forearm.

“Yeah I…” You trailed off and cleared your throat, glancing at him and giving an apologetic smile. “I actually need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

You were pushing away from the table before he could manage out a reply, taking fast steps to the dimly lit hallway and pressing your back against the wall as you took a few slow breaths.

It wasn’t too surprising to hear the footsteps following right behind yours, the soft touch wrapping around your wrist as his frame moved in front of yours.

Eddie didn’t look at all like his usual goofy self, face far too serious for somebody as completely the opposite. You sighed in light relief when you felt him touching you and that only made him do it more, arm going around the small of your back and his forehead pressing against yours.

It was quiet for nearly a minute as you just stood there, your palms on his chest and the muffled sounds of a poem about grief coming from down the hallway.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was so quiet that you barely caught it but it still made you frown.

“Why not Eddie? She’s nice and she seems to like you.” It was hard to get out but you were trying your best to be supportive of him.

“Are you kidding me?” His eyebrows furrowed and he took a step back just enough so he could really see your face as you spoke. “I don’t care if she’s nice. I don’t want her.”

The word he chose to emphasize wasn’t lost on you and for the first real time, you let yourself think this might be about you. It was always in the back of your mind but that insecurity and fear of losing him kept it quiet, not wanting to let yourself feel any hope incase the disappointment that followed was too crushing.

“Ed.” You sigh softly and rub your hand from his chest to his shoulder.

He leaned down to bury his face in your neck and you fully wrapped your arms around the back of his so you could hug him tightly.

“I can’t watch this anymore.” He said eventually and that nearly confirmed it for you but you were stuck with that fear.

You couldn’t bear losing him, not while you were still surrounded by the city around you that he stemmed from. It would be a constant painful reminder of the good thing you had lost and you were in desperate need of this good thing.

Eddie was one of the best friends you’d ever had and you would happily, although torturously, never be anything more if it meant he stayed with you.

That fear was even more obvious to you when he was picking his head back up to really look at you, your noses rubbing together in a familiar way but with an unfamiliar tension hanging over your heads.

You could see the moment he decided to risk it all and your entire body locked up.

“Don’t Eddie.” You stopped him just as he was staring to shift his face closer to yours and his expression dropped.

He didn’t move away right away but you could see the way it stung him. You frowned with guilt and brought your hand up to cup his jaw, grateful when he nuzzled into it without any hesitation.

He may be hurt by your premature rejection but he still craved your touch and that made you feel much better.

“It’s okay.” You shift forward to kiss his cheek as you hold his face. His eyes are closed blissfully and his hands tighten around you at the contact. “Let’s go tell them bye.”

It was awkward to go back out there together and tell them bye as a pair, your dates sending you and each other confused looks while Sarah gave you a long disappointed stare.

You knew she didn’t mind the idea of you and Eddie together, in fact she encouraged it actively in the beginning, but she also was aware of your hesitance and she knew you well enough to know nothing had happened in that hallway. You were still choosing to waste the chance to spend a night getting to know a nice guy, just to go home with Eddie and stay in the same limbo.

You gave Zach a light hug goodbye but Eddie didn’t even bother with a parting wave to his date.

You waited until you got on the train back towards his apartment to bring it up, both of you standing on opposite sides of a pole.

“She was sweet.” You said softly and his eyebrows furrowed again for what felt like the dozenth time that night. “You could have been nicer.”

He winced and his shoulders slumped at your gentle scolding, looking a little guilty. Eddie wasn’t at all a rude guy, even when he got a little too rowdy to remember his manners. He was notably friendly and a good time so it was out of character for him to treat somebody so coldly.

“She was nice.” He agreed casually and now you took a long pause.

“She wanted to bang you.”

His face scrunched up at the idea of it as you both swayed with the sudden lurching of the train car departing.

“Yeah, no way.” He was shaking his head in disagreement and you eyed the way his curls had gotten a little bouncier after a long night. “She was flirting, yeah but.. I don’t know.”

“Why not?” You asked it with a tilt of your head like you were genuinely curious despite the fact you figured you knew his answer by now. He leaned back against the wall of the train car and crossed his arms, giving you a slightly disbelieving look. “How long’s it been since you hooked up with somebody?”

It wasn’t something you talked about even though you seemed to talk about everything else. You knew Eddie had a past of casual flings with a lot of girls, you’d heard it from Sarah after her first few times around Alex.

But you never actually saw the playboy antics yourself. He was at the college for a whole year before you even got there and either he had given up on the life style coincidentally as he became a sophomore or there was a secondary reason.

He looked just as thrown off by your question as you felt asking it although a little amused by the boldness.

“A while.” He admitted easily but he rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous, face just pink enough for you to tell he’s affected. “I don’t know exactly but maybe a year?”

Your eyes must widen because he lets out an embarrassed laugh that sounds nothing like himself, like he’d rather be the first to laugh than to wait for you to inevitably do it.

“Yeah I just… haven’t been into it lately.” His eyes land hard on yours and you can’t really find it in yourself to say anything in response, especially since you’re more than certain he’s lying with the weak explanation.

You lean against the pole and watch him carefully, suddenly very glad you had left the bar when you did.

“What about you?”

Your mouth parts a little in surprise, not at all expecting him to turn the question around on you. You haven’t to really think about it which he doesn’t seem to enjoy, frowning just enough for it to be noticeable as he shifts in place.

“A few months I guess.” You say softly with a light shrug, just a little bit shy with the answer.

You hope he doesn’t ask you to specify because you really don’t know how to explain to him that you’d been so pent up one night from the way he touched you that you had no choice but to go and seek other forms of release. It was somebody you didn’t even remember the name of which was evidence enough towards how good it had been, not at all satisfying that craving he’d built up and actually just making it much worse.

You’d heard stories about Eddie from random girls around campus, their faces flushing with embarrassment when they noticed you listening or passing by like you had some sort of claim over him.

You were curious about it both because you liked him so much and because you were his friend and wanted to know what exactly he did that made girls get so hung up on their time together in the bedroom.

He hadn’t replied since you spoke, staring a bit blankly.

“What’s on your mind?” Your head cocked.

He shifted at the sound of your voice and moved back towards you, hand wrapping around the pole you’d been leaning on. It was just above your head so you were slightly caged in by his arm, eyes turning upwards to blink at him.

“Have you… wanted anyone since?” His voice had gotten a little lower and you took a second to glance around the train car and ensure nobody was paying too much attention to two college kids flirting awkwardly.

You stared at him through your lashes for a few seconds before your hand was rubbing over his ribs, smiling a little. “Maybe.”

He sucked in a breath at the touch despite how often he felt it and you watched as his eyes very obviously dropped down to your lips.

The train car picked the perfect moment to rock violently and you made a small surprised sound as it nearly threw you sideways, too distracted by him to remember to brace yourself.

Eddie barely faltered, more than used to the abrupt stops. He easily slid his hands around your waist to steady you and you gave him a quick thankful smile before you were realizing you’d reached your stop and grabbing into his wrist to pull him out onto the platform before you managed to get the both of you lost again.

“Didn’t think you’d catch it this time.” He smiled softly at you as you walked and you rolled your eyes despite being overly fond of his habit to never give you directions.

“You’re not that distracting.” You teased back but you’re more than aware of how obvious that lie is.

He certainly is distracting you in the following weeks as you get closer to summer and the heat begins to rise and rise.

To only make matters worse, the AC goes out in the boys apartment and Sarah’s dad sets out a strict ‘no boy’ rule when he catches Alex sneaking out one morning.

You heavily consider just ditching all three of them in favor of your college funded air conditioned dorm that you’d barely used since moving to the city but you feel a little too guilty and you figured you’d miss Eddie far too much while sulking away next to your dorm mate writing her boyfriend obsessive love letters.

So you join them in their suffering, all lounging around the furniture in various states of undress as you try your best to catch anything that resembles a breeze.

It’s bad enough to be literally hot, sweat coating your forehead and making your hair stick uncomfortably wet to the back of your neck, but to also be a little warm under your skin from Eddie and his lack of a shirt was a new type of torture.

Alex was on the smaller side, body lean and just muscular enough to show some definition and you imagined he was the more stereotypical choice for the college girls surrounding you.

You however, felt naturally drawn to the way Eddie was built. He was so noticeably strong, defined arms and a round chest with enough hair on it to really make you start to sweat, and that was without taking in for account the slight softness of his stomach.

You’d been spending the entire day trying not to look at the trail of hair leading down into his gym shorts, staring up at the ceiling fan as it did its best to cool you off.

Sarah was practically stripped down to her birthday suit, using a bikini top to keep some modesty despite the boy short underwear she had below it doing the opposite. Alex wasn’t much better, giving up on real clothes completely in favor of some oddly tight boxers.

You weren’t exactly shy about your body but you were overly aware of Eddie being in the room so you stuck with a small tank top and some sleep shorts, trying your best not to abandon another layer like the others.

Eddie hadn’t moved in nearly half an hour, eyes closed and lying flat on his back like he was picturing himself floating down a lazy river. You glanced around the room at the other two who were also lounging out with soft heated groans, only the sound of Sarah’s magazine waving back and forth breaking up the silence.

Your hand lightly touched Eddies chest, still close enough to you that your knee was pressed against his arm as you sat with your legs crossed next to him despite the heat screaming at you to separate. It was a little damp under your palm but you figured you weren’t much better.

“Maybe we could go to the beach.”

The words had barely left your lips before Eddie was shooting up off the bed, looking a little dizzy from the sudden movement. “God yes.”

“Careful bubba.” You said softly as you lightly pressed on his skin to get him to lay back down for a second until the wooziness passed.

Sarah had perked up too at the mention of a trip to the beach, most likely already mentally picking out a matching bottom to go with her top. Eddie had taken your hand that was on his chest and pressed a light kiss to each of your knuckles, smiling crookedly at you when you sent him an amused look.

“I’m totally in. Beach day.” He nodded in approval and sat up again at a much slower pace, now face to face with you and rubbing your noses together until you let out a small laugh. “We can use my mom’s van.”

“Your mom’s van is a piece of shit.” Alex supplied from across the room, still refusing to move in the heat even when Sarah sent a sharp swat to his sweaty chest.

It was in fact a piece of shit so it was hard to argue, especially as you stood in front of it.

You weren’t sure how she had managed to keep her lot for as long as she had especially considering the van clearly hadn’t moved in the last few years, coated in dust and making an odd rattling noise when Eddie hopped in and started it up.

He looked too excited for you to rain on his parade and you were still internally trying to impress his mom, talking to her quietly in the kitchen while the boys dug around in Eddies old room for an extra pair of swim trunks that might still fit him after making sure the van started.

“He talks about you a lot. I figured he must be making you up.” She was clearly teasing and she immediately reminded you a lot of her son, down to the shape of the smile she gave you as she poured you all a glass of lemonade.

“All good things?” You mused and you relished in the way she chuckled lightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sarah scoffed from the kitchen table, you’d nearly forgotten she was there at all but the heat and unfamiliar sight of a rundown apartment had made her uncharacteristically quiet. “Eddie couldn’t even think a bad thought about you let alone voice one.”

Her teasing was already bad enough in general but worse in front of his mother, your cheeks turning red just as the boys came stumbling out in clear excitement for the road trip.

It was a bit of a chaotic start, all holding onto the prayer that the van would even make it to the first gas station stop. You felt a bit of relief as it rattled its way out of the city, especially since Eddie had confessed he didn’t have a license and let Alex drive, giving Sarah shotgun after she sent him a sharp glare.

He was pressed against your side in the second row, a little uncomfortably considering the AC was barely sending out a light breeze in your direction but the windows being down on the open road helped cool off your skin just enough for you to relax.

You turned to look at him just to find he was already watching you, your nose brushing his as you both mirrored the other’s bright smile.

“You excited?” You whispered, trying to keep your voice under the song playing from the CD Sarah had dug out from the middle console.

“Yeah.” He said it back just as quietly and you appreciated the imaginary privacy the volume offered. His hand came up to brush your hair behind your ear and then lingered near your jaw.

“I’ve never seen the ocean.” You admitted and you watched his eyes widen in surprise, multiple emotions passing over his face like he had suddenly decided this meant something different than just cooling off in the water. “Not from here, remember?”

Eddie nodded slowly but you could tell he was sinking into thought now, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours with something close to determination.

If his goal was to give you the perfect beach day then he more than succeeded. You couldn’t have had a better time with the three of them, barely getting the van parked before you were running into the water and falling into a pile of waves and splash puddles.

The chill of the ocean and the relief you felt had nothing on how magical it was to be with your favorite people, one in particular who couldn’t stop smiling and laughing as he watched you play around with Sarah and narrowly dodge water attacks from Alex.

Eddie didn’t last long before wrapping his arms around your middle and dragging you under the water with him, completely beaming when you resurfaced and pushed him lightly by his shoulders in mock upset.

It took hours for any of you to get bored and you stayed out there with him even when the other two had their fill and went to shore, opting for getting a tan and catching up on a book.

He didn’t seem to mind when you wanted to calm down, naturally gravitating towards each other as you let the water move your bodies together. You held onto his shoulders with your legs wrapped around his waist, his big hands rubbing over your lower back and keeping you from drifting off.

The sun was setting as you talked in soft voices and let yourselves float in unison.

It was perfect and getting even better as the sun fully set and you retired back to the van, laying some blankets on top of it and feeling the cooling metal under your back as you laid down. You’d almost forgotten how the stars looked outside of the city and away from the light pollution, lost in the sight of them and barely registering Eddie climbing the ladder on the side of the van until he laying down beside you.

You could distantly hear Sarah laughing softly at something Alex had said, growing more and more faint as you realized they were walking back down to the water.

“Think they’ll get married?” You whispered once you felt him settle next to you, his hand reaching between your bodies to grasp yours and let it rest on his chest so he could play with your fingers.

“Without a doubt.” He answered easily, not needing any clarification.

“Maybe we can be their maid of honor and best man.” You mused. “Walk down the aisle together.”

You looked at him after the comment just to see his reaction, to double check if the image of you together in a wedding scenario had any effect on him even if it wasn’t your own. He was always watching you with soft eyes, moonlight highlighting his freckles and the slight redness he’d gotten from the sun.

“You’re always staring at me.” You whisper.

“Can you blame me?” He sounded so sincere that you felt a little embarrassed and it took a lot to not look away from his strong gaze.

“What’s that mean?” You shifted so you were lying more on your side and facing him better, the ocean crashing in the distance offering a welcome break between the silences.

“Means…” He laughed a little at your curiosity and shrugged his shoulders, searching for the right words to use. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

You know you’re flushed now and you have to stare at the stars for a breath just to gather yourself, looking back and wishing you hadn’t considering he has the same expression he did the last time he tried to kiss you.

He’s closer than you realized, noses brushing again in that familiar habit of yours.

“Eddie don’t.” You whisper softly even though it pains you. “Don’t kiss me.”

He freezes immediately and it’s much more extreme of a reaction than last time, embarrassment rushing over his face as he awkwardly shifts away from you on the blanket to give you some space.

“Yeah okay.” He breathes out in agreement but it’s so clearly forced.

“Wait.” You frown and sit up a little so you can see his face still as he moves away. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

His face softened instantly like the idea crushed him and he also sat up, resting on his elbow and bringing his free hand up to cup your face and lightly caress your cheek.

“Hey.” His singular word was so full of affection that you almost fell on your stomach in relief. “I’m not mad at you. I’m never mad at you but especially not for that.”

“I’m just…” You have the sudden need for him to understand that you’re not meaning to reject him, a bit frantic as you finally sit up on your knees and touch his arm. “Nervous okay? I don’t want to mess things up so we just can’t… can’t kiss.”

He was silent for a long time as he stared at you like he was trying to understand, eventually nodding slowly but looking just a little bit frustrated and disappointed. You knew your reasoning didn’t make much sense and you felt a bit sick knowing he might be longing for something you’re not willing to give.

“This is why I wanted you to hook up with that stupid blind date.” You sigh and it’s a little bit of an over exaggeration because you probably would have cried for a month if he did but the meaning is still there. You didn’t want him waiting around for something you might not ever give him.

“I get it.” He says it slowly like you’re a live wire which you figure you probably seem like one right now, rushed speaking pattern unlike your usual calm demeanor. “But I don’t want her.”

“You want me?” You assume openly for the first time.

“God yes.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer, eyes staring into yours with devastating raw honesty.

You’re not sure if actually hearing him confess it makes you feel better or worse but your stomach lights up with interest anyways.

You both fall silent, you because of the admission and him because he’s clearly shocked you didn’t somehow already know that.

His hand is suddenly on your back and then you’re overly aware of how much skin you’re both showing. You lean closer to him when he starts to rub you in small soothing circles and then you let out a deep sigh.

“Can I ask you something?” You whisper and he nods before you even really finish. “You said you hadn’t had sex with anyone in a year. Is that because…”

You trail off but it’s obvious what you’re implying, especially given the conversation you’re having.

Because of you.

Now he’s finally hesitating and it’s a long anxious pause before he’s nodding his head.

You both don’t speak, don’t even breathe, as his hand slowly trails up from your back to your shoulder. You stare closely at his face as he toys with the strap of your bikini that rest against your warm skin, still slightly heated from the sun.

“Are you going to take it off?” You whisper and it’s clearly all the permission he needs, eyes meeting on yours as he notes the soft nod you give him, before he’s letting his fingers push it off your shoulder softly.

He moves to the other one at the same time he fully sits up so you’re both half kneeling in front of each other, slowly pulling the second strap down and lean in to kiss your collarbone as he does so. You suck in a sharp breath and he falters at that, glancing up at you to double check.

“You can take it off.” You say softly immediately, a little breathy. “You’ve been so patient.”

Clearly that patience had worn out because Eddie is quick to reach behind your back and undo the tie holding your top up, eyes locked on your chest when it falls in your lap.

He stares at you for so long you start to squirm uncomfortably and then he’s gently moving the fabric to the side and shifting closer so he can go back to kissing your skin. Your eyes flutter shut and your hands go to his curls, softly running your fingers through them as he kisses up your neck down to your shoulders.

“You can go lower.” You encourage and you feel him lightly tense like the idea is a little too overwhelming for him.

It’s brief though and he follows the light instruction soon after hearing it, his hands moving to cage both of your ribs in his big palms. He just barely grazes the top of your chest with his lips before you can hear a sharp laugh from Sarah down below.

You’re both hit with the sudden realization of where you are and what you’re doing, your eyes wide with panic and he sits up rigidly.

You hear Alex next and that snaps you out of it, scrambling to grab your top and pull it over your shoulders. Eddie is just as eager to get behind you and help you tie it back up, shivers down your spine when his fingertips touch your skin.

“You two okay?” Alex calls from below and you can’t bring yourself to answer, grateful when Eddie gives a murmur of approval before helping you climb down the ladder and get the blankets back in the van.

You stay quiet until you’re back in the van, tucking your face into his neck and groaning softly as the embarrassment fully hits you.

“That was humiliating.” You whisper once you pick your head back up.

“Yeah a little bit.” He agrees with a soft smile and that only makes you let out another disgruntled noise before resting your head on his shoulder.

The car ride back is mostly pleasant if you can block out the thoughts of somebody having seen you topless but you feel a large amount of relief when the city skyline comes into view. Sarah gets dropped back off at her apartment before the boys find street parking near campus for the van, calling Eddies mom on the pay phone down the road to let her know you’d bring it back tomorrow morning.

You linger around the dorms before opting for heading back to their place with them, ignoring the pleased smile on Eddies face when you catch up with him and wrap your hand in his.

Sleepovers aren’t that rare between the two of you so you can tell right away that he’s acting strange.

He’s taking twice as long as usual in the bathroom and hovering around his dresser like he’s looking for something. You’d changed into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts you’d left there before, the air much more chilled now that the sun is set.

You sit on his bed and frown at him as he stalls climbing in with you.

“Eddie.” You call after ten minutes have passed and he freezes, blinking at you. “Are you acting weird because you saw my tits?”

The question lingers in the air for a few seconds before he’s sighing and facing you fully.

“Okay yeah.” He admits with surprising ease and you continue to frown as he finally comes over to sit next to you. “I’m just thinking about it.”

“My tits?” You specify and now he winces at the vulgar phrasing.

“Not necessarily your… you know. Just the situation in general.” He supplies and you can only stare at the side of his face.

It’s awkward for a handful of seconds before you’re standing up to turn off the lights, leaving you in near darkness outside of the orange hued lamp in the corner of his room.

“Come on, let’s try something.” You say softly as you go and lay down on his bed, facing the wall as you rest on your side. “Get behind me.”

You can almost feel his hesitation but he doesn’t eventually, the position coming naturally to you both as he curves his body around yours. It feels more intimate than normal considering the conversation you were just having but you still reach back to grab his hands and bring them to the front of your chest.

You just hold them for a moment before you’re taking a deep breath and lightly pressing them against the fabric of your tank top.

He tensed behind you and sucked in air sharply through his teeth but it didn’t take him long to relax and follow the instinct to lightly apply some pressure.

“I-it feels good when you squeeze.” You whisper softly, face warming up instantly at how vulgar it sounded. “So don’t be shy.”

That was all he really needed to hear before he started to really touch you, big hands cupping your breast repeatedly as you both laid there and took shaky breaths. You were making soft whimpering sounds which really didn’t help the temperature as it started to climb against.

“Mm feels good Eddie. Is this okay?” You whisper.

“God yes.” He breathed out before pressing a few light kisses to your shoulders, his hands starting to get a little rougher now as he groped your chest eagerly.

“Should we take it off?” You nearly whine.

“Is that what you want?” He asks softly and keeps kissing your skin, moving onto your neck and lingering there as he waits for your reply. You nod immediately and he doesn’t waste any type before shifting your body and pulling the shirt you borrowed over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

He was back to touching you instantly and you both made a strangled sound at the skin on skin contact, his hands getting rough again as he pulled your breast apart before squeezing them together. His thumbs kept brushing your nipples in a way that made you start to pant and he shifted behind you.

“Fuck I feel you getting hard.” You gasped and he made a nearly growl like sound, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

His hips moved forward at the words on instinct before he was tensing and moving backwards like he was trying to avoid touching you like that.

“N-no I want you to feel good too. You can rub it against me.” You encouraged and it was mostly selfish, wanting to feel it so bad you could barely think.

He hesitated for a second before he was rocking his hips forward and going back to roughly groping your chest, his breath getting quicker in your ear as low grunts left his mouth.

You felt like you were on fire, stomach twisting in a coil of need as you tried to arch your back and rub yourself back with him as he moved almost feverishly.

The mixture of the two sensations was overstimulating in the best way possible.

“Say something. I love your voice.” You begged and you could barely recognize yourself and the high pitched tone you’d taken on in your pleasure.

“You’re so pretty.” He was quick to murmur it out, kissing your shoulder slowly again. “Fuck I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His hands were going back and forth between squeezing, lightly tugging at your nipples, and getting a bit more bold when he’d rest them on your neck.

You could really feel him now, your tiny shorts riding up so much there was barely any fabric to mute the sensation of him rubbing against you. He was hot and heavy, clearly large in size even if he wasn’t fully hard yet which you figured he was judging by the way he was almost whimpering into your neck.

“It’s so fucking good.” You gasped out and he full out growled now as he picked up the pace, bed rocking. “Oh god yes, keep humping me.”

Eddies movements were beyond frantic, moving a hand down to roughly grip your hips and keep you still so he could really grind himself against you. He swore under his breath and sat up abruptly, ignoring your whine so he could roll you over into your back and get on top of you.

You gasped and spread your legs for him instantly when you registered what he wanted, nodding his head and whimpering loudly when he rocked his hips against you from the new position.

Now you could feel his length right where you needed it most, your core so sensitive already just from the lewd way he was touching your body like it belonged to him. You loved the deep grunts he was making in your ear, foul words under his breath like he couldn’t contain them anymore.

You made a strangled sound and clung to him, arm around the back of his neck as he kept you pinned down with a strong hand on your stomach.

“Harder.” You whined impatiently.

“Fuck baby I’ll cum.” He groaned, shaking his head and kissing your neck so sloppily you got dizzy with the desire to have his mouth on yours.

He still listened to your request and started to really fuck against you, both of you panting and completely lost in the sensations as you chased the high of finally getting to feel eachother like this.

It was like you got thrown off the top of the mountain when you heard the familiar voice right outside the door, both of you stiffening as you tried to make out the words Alex was saying.

He sounded slightly panicked and definitely guilty but he was trying to tell you something about Sarah being in trouble with her dad and desperately needing a ride, asking Eddie if he could please take his moms van to go and get her.

Eddie sighed and flopped down ontop of you, waiting a long few seconds before he shouted out his approval. You listened to Alex walk away but you both already felt the side effects of being interrupted when you were potentially making a mistake.

You kissed the side of his face and he took the sweet cue, rolling off of you and tugging you against your chest while you tried to control your breathing.

“We can’t do anything with them around.” You whisper softly and you only realized after it left your mouth that it sounded like you intended to keep this up. “It’s too risky.”

He didn’t reply for a bit and you figured he had noticed the same thing, only confirmed when he softly hummed in agreement and rubbed your arm supportively.

That turned out to be a nearly impossible rule considering your friends were always around. Sarah had practically moved into the apartment after the disagreement with her dad and you couldn’t exactly give your opinion because it wasn’t necessarily your place either but the small space was getting a little too cramped.

You spent more time at the dorm just to get a little privacy but you missed Eddie too much to keep away for long.

Alex had currently turned the entire place into a full fledged party, no doubt welcoming a dozen noise complaints from the neighbors. You’d needed a break over an hour ago and you just now managed to get yourself away from the crowd, climbing out the window to settle up on the fire escape.

You were never surprised by how easily Eddie found you when you were disappeared so you barely blinked an eye when he was following behind you only a few minutes later.

He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth but he was quick to discard it as soon as he saw you looking.

“Hi.” You said softly once he was sat next to you, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Hi baby.” He whispered back, taking a sip from his nearly empty beer can before gazing out at the city with you.

“Can’t believe you grew up here.” You said in a bit of a daze, truly content to have him by your side like this while you admired the view you’d dreamt of for so long. “Does it get any less beautiful when you see it everyday?”

He was quiet for a bit so you dragged your eyes off the buildings to look at him, meeting his stare and smiling softly.

“Gets prettier every time I see it.” He whispered and you knew right away he wasn’t talking about the city, his gaze darting all over your face like he was committing it to memory.

You had to look away because you were suddenly feeling very emotional over the entire setting, resting your head back on his shoulder so you could avoid seeing his face again.

Eddie warmed you under your skin and it terrified you.

“I’m really going to miss it when summer comes.” Your voice is quiet and he tenses a little bit like he’d forgotten what looms around the corner.

You’d considered staying in the city during the months you didn’t have school, maybe asking Sarah to let you permanently room with her and even debating if you and Eddie were going to be at a place where you could just stay with him without it being weird.

You didn’t think you were, in fact you had decided that it would be almost catastrophic for the two of you to be around each other every single day, sleeping in the same bed and sharing a space like you were something much more than you were.

And you missed your home town underneath the awe of the big city, thinking about it often as you laid in bed and wished for a break from the constant noise pollution and busyness.

“You could stay.” Eddie whispered like he knew what you were thinking and he shifted so you had no choice but to look at him again, your knees touching and his eyes on your face while yours stayed downcast.

“Are you going to be here for me when I come back?” You tried to lighten the topic by ignoring his suggestion, not wanting to outwardly say that wasn’t an option to you.

“Of course I will be.” He answered earnestly despite your attempt at a joke, shifting and rubbing your noses together while his hands moved to squeeze yours. “I’ll pick you up the second you get here.”

“Not going to run off with any city girls?” Your tone was still teasing but you really hoped he would answer this one genuinely.

You were already depriving Eddie and even though it was his decision to not do anything with anybody else, you still felt guilty about your hesitance. Especially knowing you’d be far away and he wouldn’t even get the small relief of feeling you touch him, getting to have you close to him still.

It made you feel sick to think about him with somebody else, somebody more permanent with their feet caught in the concrete streets you couldn’t seem to get used to.

“Just you.” He says back and rubs your knuckles softly, bringing it up to kiss your wrist lightly.

You stare at him for a few long seconds with overwhelming fondness.

“Maybe you could come with me.” You whisper and he freezes.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t know if you’d like it. It’s a really small town and super outdoorsy.” You start to ramble to try and make yourself feel less embarrassed for the offer. It’s clearly not casual at all to try and bring him back to your hometown for the summer, surrounded by your entire family and the friends you grew up with. “I’d just… I would really miss you.”

He blinks at you like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying but the small smile on his face slightly eases your anxiety. He starts to slowly nod in agreement so you squeeze his hands and shift closer.

“You’d have to meet my parents.” You remind him before he can confirm, wanting him to understand the stakes of coming along instead of just impulsively accepting because he’s desperate to be around you. “And my siblings and be stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’d be with you.” He cuts you off and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth that almost makes you frown, a little overwhelmed by how much you like him.

You keep waiting for him to do something you dislike, to give you a reaction or even a quick glance that lets you believe he’s not this perfect guy. He’s never angry or judgmental, he’s friendly and calm when it’s expected but knows how to have a good time otherwise and you can never stop laughing when you’re around him.

You think of the way Sarah constantly seems to be laughing with Alex, less sharp and intense when they’re together. She loses the bite behind her teasing remarks like he steadies her internally.

It was on your mind now as you took the trip back home for the first time since you left it all those months ago, a nervous bounce of your knee that’s immediately soothed by the familiar hand rubbing over it gently.

Eddie gives you a soft smile when you glance over at him appreciatively and you return it.

You didn’t need to discuss the logic behind him coming with you because you both knew it was happening as soon as you mentioned it. Neither one of you wanted to be without the other for that long of a time and it soothed any insecurity of worry about what he’d be doing in the city while you were gone, although you were certain beneath the mean voice in your head that he would be on his best behavior.

He didn’t owe you any loyalty but he had offered it so consistently that you felt comfortable expecting it.

The three months you spent together in your hometown felt just as magical as that day on the beach had.

Eddie fit in perfectly and despite introducing him as your friend to everybody, you could see the knowing looks being sent your way and you didn’t bother correcting them.

It was a whole new experience to get to see him outside of the city he was born in, the furthest he’d ever been from it both in terms of distance and lifestyle. He’d wake you up in the morning with a soft whisper that he was going fishing with your cousin, come home around dinner time with dirt on his pants and a proud, nearly boyish smile.

You felt a jolt of happiness as you stood side by side with your mom in the kitchen and helped her prepare dinner, your dad talking to Eddie the next room over as they flipped through your childhood photo books.

He came in at one point to give you a soft kiss on the cheek and ask if you needed any help from him before he ran to town for some household items, telling him you were okay and then trying to ignore the fond look your mom was giving you.

It was a new side of your connection, getting to almost roleplay a domestic small town life as you navigated the warm days and his constant presence.

You kept up with your search for something you could dislike about him, expecting it to show itself now that you were together almost all of the time, but you realized pretty quickly that it was pointless.

You’d watch him interact with the older women at the farmers market politely, call Alex weekly from your home phone and update him on the more rural things he’d been learning with genuine interest, and play with your younger siblings endlessly until the sun went down.

It was pretty clear by the end of summer that you were in love with him.

There was still that frustrating limbo you’d put both of you in but you didn’t know how to break out of it yet. You had wished he would just disrespect your old boundaries and make the first move but he was too good of a guy for that, backing up whenever his hands would wander a little too intensely.

He kept them mostly off of you around your family other than a hand around your waist or brief greeting kiss to your cheek but you felt the heat that still lingered when you’d be back in your room each night.

Your parents thankfully hadn’t set any rules about the two of you sharing a bed even though you almost would have preferred that to the torture of having him that close but somehow still so far.

He’d let himself be a bit more bold then, his palms that had gotten rougher over the weeks of outdoor activities would run over your bare stomach as he pushed your shirt up higher.

You’d both stay quiet in the room any time anything happened like you were afraid to speak and scare the other, memories of that night after the beach where he’d touch you constantly on rotation.

His hands wouldn’t go past your ribs and you’d try to ignore the disappoint each time he kissed the back of your neck and settled into sleep instead of going further.

It was a rough adjustment to go back to the city but you missed it all the same, especially your friends who greeted you both eagerly at the bus stop once you arrived.

Sarah had made a cute sign with your names combined on it, shaking it and jumping up and down when she saw you coming with your luggage.

She’d demanded that you spend the night with her so you could catch up and you locked eyes with Eddie as she dragged you away, feeling the ache deep in your stomach as you separated for the first time in months.

“You guys didn’t even kiss?” She looked appalled at the revelation, pulling back the brush she’d been using to apply a face mask to your skin. She’d told you that the country air had made you look dry and ignored you when you said you lived in the suburbs. “Are you joking?”

“I don’t know okay?” You groaned and went to hide in your hands before remembering the sticky substance all over your skin and throwing them down into your lap instead.

She gave you that familiar judging look, perfectly tweezed eyebrow raising as she gave you a once over.

“You need to make a move.” She determined by the end of it and you sighed in defeat. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know if he’ll want it still.” You shake your head and now she scoffs in disbelief.

“Are you stupid?” Her voice is biting but you’ve known her long enough to know it’s from a place of support. “You’re hot, he’s horny and obsessed with you. Obviously he’s going to want it.”

You thought about it non stop after that conversation because you weirdly were able to believe her when she said it like that.

All four of you went out the next night for drinks, celebrating the end of a summer apart and the start of the next school year together.

It was ridiculous how much you had missed Eddie after only a day and a half apart, sliding comfortably against his side as soon as you and Sarah got into the bar. He seemed just as eager to see you, kissing the side of your head a handful of times and bringing both arms around your waist so you couldn’t go anywhere.

“Missed you so much.” He was saying it softly but it was loud enough for your friends to hear, groaning immediately while he flipped them the bird.

“How’d you two only get worse?” Alex teased but you were in too good of a mood to be annoyed, especially since he wasn’t necessarily wrong.

For the first time in a long time, you drank as much as they did. Typically you stayed sober and collected while they had their fun and you were quickly realizing how terrible of an idea it was to be drunk around Eddie.

You were ten times more wanting of his touch, constantly clinging to him and getting uncharacteristically pouty when he would leave to go to the bathroom or get another drink. He didn’t seem to notice how extra affectionate you were being due to his own tipsy state, easily giving you the attention you needed like it was second nature.

You both went to the bar together at one point and it was clear to you right away that it was risky to be without the buffer of your friends.

Your hands were sliding over his ribs and you could barely make out anything he was saying to the bartender, thankfully not the pretty one from all those months ago.

He finished ordering and turned to give you his full attention, your chest pressed together as he lightly kissed your temple.

“You know..” You were speaking before you even realized you were and his eyes locked on yours, a little less glossy than your own but still dazed. “I was thinking about that night in your apartment. The one after the beach.”

It had been months now but you both knew exactly what you were referring to, the unforgettable memory of his hands getting rougher on you and your whiny voice begging him to keep going before you were interrupted.

His eyes were darkening a little at the topic and you kept absentmindedly rubbing him, up his chest and then back down.

“Yeah?” He offered back and you were nodding in confirmation, gaze more hooded when he let out a shaky breath and slid his hands onto your lower back so he could tug you closer.

“It felt so good, didn’t it?” You whispered and he was quick to mumble out an agreement that you didn’t quite hear.

You pulled your lip between your bottom tip with slight nerves, the most you could still feel with this much alcohol running through you and offering up an abundance of liquid courage. He leaned down just enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth and your hands tighten where they’d been resting on his biceps.

The bartender was clearing his throat behind you and sliding your finished drinks closer to where you stood but you both ignored him, a small pout forming on your face as you rocked on your tiptoes to hide in Eddies neck for a second.

“You know I want you right?” You mumbled against his warm skin, thinking back on Sarah’s advice.

He tensed a little but held you closer, full on hugging you now as you rested against his shoulder.

“I want you too.” His voice was always so genuine when he was confessing something to you, a little innocent like he just desperately wanted you to know how much he liked you.

The bar area was getting a little too crowded and you felt a tinge of anxiety, sighing and pulling away from him to grab two of the four drinks.

“Let’s go back.” You encouraged and he hesitated before grabbing the remaining glasses and following you back to the booth you’d moved to almost two hours ago.

He set the drinks down before he was sliding into his spot and stretching his arm out like he expected you to sit next to him. You hesitated for a long few seconds, getting an eyebrow raised from Sarah that you took as encouragement.

You scooted along the wood until you were right beside him and then lifted yourself up and onto his lap, sitting sideways on his thigh and holding onto his shoulder so you didn’t sway backwards.

His eyes widened just enough for it to be noticeable but he was easily wrapping his arm around your middle to support you.

“Sorry. Just want to be close to you.” You explained to him and he looked a little choked up, nodding but not saying anything for a while.

You frowned as they all fell back into conversation even though Eddie was mostly just listening to the other two talk amongst themselves, his thumb pushing down the fabric of your jeans just enough to rub your hip.

Ten minutes passed before you were growing impatient again, taking a long sip of your drink before turning your body more and leaning down towards his ear.

“I want to talk more about that night.” You whispered and then pulled back to hold his gaze, his eyes curious and maybe a little bit confused.

Now it was his turn to lean towards you, lips brushing your ear enough to make a shiver run over you. “I think about it all the time.”

“Yeah?” You were desperately latching onto this information. “What about?”

“Just everything about you. The way you looked and the way you sounded when I touched you.” His eyes were leaving your face in favor of going up and down your frame repeatedly.

You shifted on his lap just to get more comfortable as you turned more to face him but his breath hitched, pausing the way he was rubbing your hip to instead hold it tightly and keep you still.

“I loved when you touched me.” You whisper next and he reaches up with his free hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face a little more in his direction so he can rub his nose against yours in that endearing habit of his. “Your hands felt so good.”

It was quiet for a few seconds and you moved in his lap again, not necessarily meaning to but still drunk and wanting so desperately to soothe that ache that was slowly building between your legs the more you spoke and thought back to that night.

“You got so worked up.” Your voice was getting a little whinier now and his breath was speeding up at the sound of it. “Probably would’ve came in your pants if we didn’t get interrupted.”

He nearly growled at that and you smiled, happy he was starting to crack a little bit the more you went on. Eddie was clearly doing his best to keep being respectful but you could tell how much he wanted to kiss you and speed things up.

You kept shifting and rubbing your thighs together and he swore under his breath, eyes going down to your lap. He snaked a hand between your thighs just to grip tightly and try to keep you from moving.

“Sorry.” Your pout was exaggerated. “Not trying to get you riled up.”

“Uh huh.” He kissed his teeth and sent you a playful glare, clearly not believing you considering the way you were acting.

“I wish I wore a skirt tonight.” You added and he let out a sigh at the idea, starting to rub your denim covered thighs instead of just holding them.

You were painfully wanting as he touched you, rubbing your nose along his jaw and closing your eyes to fully enjoy the way he was feeling you up under the table. It probably was overly obvious what you were doing but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the others around you.

He helped you move so you were straddling him instead of sitting sideways, an instinctive move you both did without thinking.

His hands kept rubbing you, this time moving up and down your back with one of his palms going under your shirt to feel the bare skin.

Now it was impossible to not shift your hips a little bit on top of him, whining softly and burying your face in his neck.

“I-I’m needy.” You confessed in a near gasp and he groaned.

“I know baby.” His voice was lower than you’d ever heard it and that only spurred you on, closing your eyes and kissing the warm skin you were hiding against as you started to really gently rock ontop of him. It just looked like two drunk people feverishly making out, or at least you hoped so.

You were getting more and more worked up the longer you sat there together, his big hands moving to your hips to help you keep moving.

“Is this okay?” His voice was shaky and you were quick to kiss his jaw lightly in encouragement.

He adjusted himself on the seat, sliding a bit lower to give you a tiny amount of privacy and keep you slightly more covered by the table top. The movement just pressed you closer against him and you tried to muffle your needy whine in his shirt collar.

“Touch me.” You were firm in the request and he didn’t hesitate once he heard the tone you’d taken on.

You sighed in relief when you felt his hands leave your back and hips in favor of grabbing your ass through your jeans, back instinctively arching to give him better access. He massaged it softly just like he’d done with your chest all those months back, tugging you back and forth in his lap to keep building that friction.

“Fuck you’re getting so…” You picked your head up to look down at where you were connected, seeing the clear evidence of his arousal and locking eyes with him so he could tell how much the was driving you crazy.

His face was flushed like he was embarrassed and you noticed how overwhelmed he looked, slowing down and feeling a little guilty for your boldness before you felt him grunt at the lack of movement and furrow his eyebrows.

You hesitated for a few seconds to try and figure out what he wanted and then decided you were sick of guessing.

“You want to rub it against me?” You asked softly, leaning back in to kiss below his ear.

“Yeah.” He said immediately and squeezed your back pockets again. “Fuck yeah.”

He started to slowly tilt his hips up to move against your soft rocks, trying your best to not be so obvious while also feverishly chasing after that feeling.

It felt so good to finally get him like this, under you and just as wanting as you were. You couldn’t even contain yourself long enough to get to his apartment or even the bathroom, you needed him right now.

He was clearly getting overwhelmed again because his hips would jolt up against you like he couldn’t control it, soft apologies leaving his mouth when you’d gasp or jump at the sudden movements.

Knowing he was just as needy as you was only making you burn hotter.

“Fuck I wanna make you cum.” He almost whimpered it out and that was nearly too much for you, speeding up and letting your lips brush against his for a second before hiding back in his neck as you started to whine louder.

The friction was perfect, building up to the point you could barely even think about anything other than making him feel good with you.

“Hump me more.” You whined, not sure it was even audible considering how hard you were pressing your mouth against his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.

His hands moved from your ass to the back of your thighs to keep you moving even as you got a little too desperate to function, the way you were bouncing growing sloppier now that he was pressing up against you at the same time.

It was getting to be almost too much, your entire body tingling with the need to get off.

You could vaguely hear Alex awkwardly announcing they were going to get a drink from the bar, forgetting they were even there and silently hoping they’d get the hint and not come back for a while.

Everybody else around you was either too drunk or too tired to care about some horny college kids in the corner booth.

“Feel good baby?” He was speaking in a voice you’d never heard from him and that only made you speed up.

“Yes Eddie yes.” You whimpered

One of his hands moved to tangle in your hair, forming a fist in the locks and making you gasp at the light pain that spread across your scalp. You expected him to immediately release it once he heard that noise but he was clearly too buzzed or too caught in the feeling to remember how gentle he normally was with you.

You couldn’t complain, not with the way pleasure instantly followed the stinging sensation.

“Keep going.” You encouraged with soft pants, kissing alongside his neck. “I’m dripping.”

That seemed to really drive him crazy, like the idea that he was making you feel good was better than anything else.

His hand slid up under your shirt, rubbing your back and playing with the clasp of your bra like he was heavily debating taking it off. You’d started to sober up from the drinks but you were beyond drunk on him.

“Uh guys.”

You both froze but you didn’t dare look behind you at Alex’s awkward cough, burying yourself in Eddies neck and hoping he could just teleport you home instead of having to deal with this conversation.

His chest was lifting and falling heavily below you and making your frame move in the process. You knew him well enough to know his face was bright red, only confirmed when you finally slid off his lap and glanced at him with mild embarrassment.

“Yeah. Just friends.” Sarah quipped and you sent her a glare as she smiled and winked at you, clearly internally proud you’d taken her advice and made a move on him.

“Sarah.” Eddie's voice was still low and hoarse, another shiver running over you at how affected he sounded. “We’re just… tipsy.”

It was a weak excuse and a few months ago it would have hurt your feelings but you knew how much he wanted you, drunk or sober. He was clearly just trying to ease the tension and make you feel better about your desperate actions, a soothing hand landing on your thigh.

“We should go.” He said next and this time it was specifically directed at you, facing you finally and squeezing your leg to try to encourage you to agree.

“Yeah.” You were quick to nod and scoot out of the booth, grabbing his hand once he was standing beside you.

You both lingered by the table like you were trying to think of an excuse to give your friends that didn’t make it so obvious.

“Oh my god please just leave already.” Sarah groaned and pressed her forehead against the wood for a brief second to really showcase her exhaustion. “Don’t talk to us until you’ve fucked each other.”

Your face burned again at the comment and Eddie opened his mouth like he was going to try and defend you, stopped short when you tugged his arm and started to move towards the exit.

You walked in silence for most of the way, the night air thankfully cooling off how heated your body still felt especially since you could feel him staring at the side of your face.

Eventually you slowed to a stop under a flickering street lamp, avoiding his concerned eyes when he stopped beside you.

“I’m really sorry about that.” You said softly with clear humiliation. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“Stop it.” He said immediately and he cupped your face, tilting it back so you had to stare up at him. “It’s okay, I get it. We both were drunk and we really like each other.”

You smiled softly at that, how convinced he sounded.

“Yeah? You really like me?” You whispered back and you were half thinking he was going to tease you back about your own feelings.

Instead, he was surging forward to finally kiss you.

It was desperate and full of all the pent up emotions you’d kept for the entire time you’d known each other, all the times you’d nearly connected like this but not quite gotten there.

His mouth moved against yours urgently like he thought he didn’t have much time before you were telling him to stop like you always did so you made sure to eagerly lick into his mouth to make sure he knew just how much you wanted this too.

The heat from the bar came back with a vengeance, one of his hands instinctively going down to grab your ass tightly and tug you closer to him before it was resting on your lower back.

His tongue was rubbing against yours, coating your chin with saliva from how sloppy and needy it was on both ends.

You liked Eddie beyond words but right now you didn’t have time for the big romantic confessions, not making love and taking your time with each other. You figured you could do that for the rest of your lives but right now you needed him to fuck you.

You told him as much between kisses and his eyes darkened, tugging you into one more deep makeout before he was whistling down a cab and nearly pushing you into the back of it.

You kissed like that the entire ride back to his apartment, barely making it out of the doors in your refusal to let go of each other.

Thankfully it seemed like Alex and Sarah had no plans to come home tonight because you barely got inside before your clothes were coming off, falling back on the couch and gasping when he was landing ontop of you.

Your hands were all over him as you undressed, running over his stomach and chest while he eagerly groped at your nipples again and finally took them in his mouth like he’d been so close to doing those months ago.

It was euphoric, feeling him rub against you for only a few minutes before he was getting too impatient and pulling your panties down your legs.

The way you’d been humping each other at the bar was enough to ensure you both were ready to go, your legs easily parting for him so he could line himself up and push deep inside of you.

It felt like more than just sex, it felt like a connection that you’d been waiting for all this time. You felt whole with him like this, filling you up so nicely and giving you that perfect stretch you’d been dreaming of.

You wanted to take a second to really appreciate him, get on your knees and worship his cock so he knew just how much you loved him and the way he was always so gentle with you. But you decided to wait until after he fucked you stupid, his hips already struggling not to move the second he bottomed out.

“Fuck me, fuck me.” You gasped in a pant as you tried to get him to move, soaking up the low grunts he was letting out in your ear as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder and tried his best to not hurt you. “Please Eddie, I want it so bad.”

“Are you sure baby?” His voice was still that cute nervous tone you liked so much, kissing your cheek so gently despite the heat of the situation. You were quick to nod your head and try to adjust yourself to feel him more and he swore lightly. “Fuck okay yeah. I love you so much sweetheart, tell me if it’s too much.”

You wanted to focus on his words and let him know how much you loved him too but you couldn’t pay attention to his sudden confession once he started to really move.

He was fucking you with shocking roughness considering how sweet of a boy he was but you couldn’t have been happier, needing that pace after the year of dancing around each other.

It was perfect, just like every other day you got to experience with him before that and every single one after.

You didn’t forget to make sure he knew just how loved he was by you afterwards when you were holding each other in his bed, soft kisses on his freckled skin as he flushed over your words.

You told him it constantly in the morning after, whispering it when you cooked breakfast together and writing it in each other’s notebooks while you studied in the library.

By the third time your card declined in front of Jack Abbot, you were ready to walk into traffic and let Pittsburgh finish what your bank account started.

Not dramatically. Not even with much feeling.

Just a clean, practical exit from the kind of humiliation that made your skin feel too tight over your bones.

The cafeteria at PTMC was too bright for this hour, all hard fluorescent light and polished floors and the faint, permanent smell of fryer oil losing a war against antiseptic. Behind you, the emergency department pulsed on with its usual awful rhythm—monitors chiming, stretchers squealing past, somebody coughing low and ragged, the sound dragging itself through the corridor, Dana Evans barking for someone to move their ass before she moved it for them. It was a living thing down here. Hungry. Overlit. Never satisfied.

You had a wrapped turkey sandwich in one hand, a bruised banana in the other, and that particular, skin-tight shame of being broke in public.

The cashier, who looked as tired as everyone else in the building, tried not to make a face at the register.

“Sometimes it’s the chip,” she said.

“It’s not the chip,” you said, because apparently your mouth had decided the truth was less embarrassing than optimism.

You could feel the line behind you growing restless. A respiratory therapist with a Diet Coke. A med student in wrinkled scrubs whispering urgently into their phone. Dr. Whitaker, gentle-eyed and awkward, staring at the ceiling like he was trying to give you privacy by force of will. Somewhere near the coffee station, Santos was talking too loudly about a procedure she “absolutely could’ve done faster if anyone had let her finish,” and Dr. Mohan was answering in that careful, measured way that made even a correction sound like she’d considered the whole person first.

You shifted the sandwich lower against your palm.

“It’s fine,” you said, already turning. “I don’t need it.”

A hand reached past your shoulder and tapped a card against the reader.

The machine beeped.

Approved.

You froze.

Jack Abbot stood close enough behind you that you caught the familiar edge of him before you looked up—the clean, medicinal bite of hospital soap, the stale warmth of coffee, the faintest trace of sweat under scrubs after too many hours on his feet. He didn’t look at you right away. He watched the cashier print the receipt with the same expression he wore when waiting for labs, jaw set, eyes tired, patience worn thin but not gone.

“Bag?” the cashier asked.

“No,” Jack said.

You stood there with the sandwich in one hand and the banana in the other, suddenly too aware of the bruised peel, the cold give of the sandwich through the cloudy plastic, the line behind you, and Jack Abbot’s shoulder beside yours.

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

He finally looked at you.

Jack Abbot always looked like he’d been awake since the Clinton administration. It should’ve made him less attractive. It didn't. The exhaustion sat under his eyes and in the lines bracketing his mouth, but there was something about him that made tired look like discipline instead of defeat. His hair was a little mussed, his scrubs were creased at the hips, and his stance had that slight adjustment you’d learned to notice after months of seeing him around PTMC—the subtle distribution of weight that came with his prosthetic leg and the old damage he carried without announcing it.

“What?” he said.

You lowered your voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“That’s my lunch.”

“Looked like it.”

“You paid for it.”

“Sharp today.”

You huffed, heat crawling up your neck. “Jack.”

That got you the smallest change in his face. Not a smile. He didn’t hand those out recklessly. More like one corner of his mouth remembered humor existed and gave a half-hearted twitch before giving up.

“Eat the sandwich,” he said.

“I was going to.”

“No, you were going to put it back and pretend you weren’t hungry.”

You opened your mouth.

Jack’s eyebrows lifted.

You closed it again.

Behind him, Whitaker looked down at his shoes like they might offer instructions, visibly desperate not to be part of this. Santos, unfortunately, had no such instinct.

“Damn,” she said, appearing at Jack’s shoulder with a coffee she had definitely not paid for recently enough to still be that hot. “Abbot’s buying lunch now? Is this a resident perk, or do I need to almost faint near the muffins?”

Mohan didn’t look up from stirring sugar into her tea. “You would never almost faint quietly enough to qualify.”

“I don’t faint,” Santos said.

“You got lightheaded during central line training.”

“That was low blood sugar and a hostile learning environment.” Santos pointed two fingers toward Jack. “But I’m serious. I want in on the cafeteria patron program.”

Jack looked at her.

Santos looked back.

The silence lasted exactly long enough for her confidence to thin at the edges.

“Or not,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “Noted. Very selective program.”

Dana passed behind the group with a stack of charts under one arm and a look sharp enough to split sutures. “If any of you are done loitering in my cafeteria like it’s a damn wine bar, I’ve got three beds backing up, a grown adult arguing with registration, a kid melting down in triage, and a Lego stuck in one of their ear canals.”

Whitaker blinked. “Who? Adult guy or kid guy?”

Dana didn’t slow down. “That’s the part that’s gonna disappoint you.”

Santos grinned. Mohan gave a small, resigned sigh. Jack, without looking away from you, said, “Eat.”

Your face was still hot.

The sandwich felt heavier now that it had been purchased by him. Not because it was expensive. It was hospital cafeteria turkey on wheat, overpriced and bland, the cloudy plastic crinkling under your fingers every time your grip tightened. But Jack had noticed. That was the part you didn’t know how to hold. He’d seen the little calculation you’d tried to hide, the quiet defeat of deciding hunger could wait until later, and he’d stepped in with no fanfare. No pity. No soft voice.

Just a card tapped against a reader and a dry order to eat.

“I can pay you back,” you said.

Jack’s eyes dipped briefly to the sandwich and then back to your face.

“Don’t.”

“I don’t like owing people.”

“You don’t owe me.”

“That’s not how money works.”

“It is when I decide I don’t care.”

You gave a small, disbelieving laugh. “That’s very generous of you, Dr. Abbot.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

You should’ve let it go.

You really should’ve.

But the humiliation had already burned off into something else, something warmer and more dangerous, because Jack was standing there with his tired eyes and that blunt, immovable steadiness, and you had never been good at leaving tension alone when you could poke it until it bit.

“Careful,” you said, tucking the sandwich against your chest. “People are gonna think you’re my sugar daddy.”

Whitaker made a strangled sound and turned toward the condiments with the strained focus of a man suddenly invested in ketchup packets, while Santos choked on her coffee hard enough that Mohan closed her eyes like she was choosing patience on purpose. Jack only stared at you, and for one awful second, you thought you’d gone too far.

Then Jack took the receipt from the cashier, crumpled it in one hand, and said, flat as a dead monitor, “People think a lot of stupid shit.”

He walked away before you could answer.

You watched him disappear through the cafeteria doors and into the arterial chaos of the ER, shoulders squared, limp controlled, already swallowed by the work waiting for him.

Santos leaned closer, grin wide enough to be medically concerning.

“Oh, that was not nothing.”

“It was lunch,” you said.

Mohan looked at you over the rim of her cup, thoughtful in a way that made you feel unfortunately examined. “He noticed before anyone else did.”

You pressed the cold sandwich wrapper against your burning face.

Dana shouted from somewhere down the hall, “Santos, if you’re socializing instead of working, I’m assigning you Lego ear.”

Santos snapped upright. “I’m not socializing.”

“Good,” Dana called. “Then you can do it faster.”

You stood there with Jack’s lunch in your hands and tried very hard not to smile.

It would’ve been easier if that had been the end of it.

But Jack Abbot, you learned, was not a man who did anything halfway once he decided it made sense.

He didn’t become flashy. He didn’t start acting like some rich asshole in a bad romance novel, throwing cash around and waiting to be thanked for it. That would’ve been easier to resist, probably. Less intimate, anyway. You could’ve rolled your eyes at that. You could’ve made fun of him. You could’ve called it ridiculous and kept your pride intact.

Jack was worse.

Jack was practical.

He bought your coffee the next morning because, as he put it, “I was already standing there.” He brought you half a container of pasta from the staff fridge because “Robby ordered too much and nobody here understands portions.” He left a protein bar beside your laptop during a night when the waiting room looked like every bad decision in Pittsburgh had agreed to arrive at once. He noticed when your left shoe started peeling at the sole and said nothing, which somehow made you more self-conscious than if he’d pointed at it.

Robby noticed before you did.

Or maybe Robby noticed everything and simply chose when to weaponize it.

It was just after noon on a bad shift, the kind where every hallway seemed to have sprouted a stretcher and every call light sounded like one more thing nobody had enough hands to answer. You were near the nurses’ station, trying to make sense of a scheduling conflict that had three departments blaming each other in increasingly creative language, when Robby came up beside you with a tablet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

His hair was doing that thing where it looked like he’d run both hands through it enough times to qualify as a cry for help.

“Is Abbot feeding you?” he asked.

You nearly dropped your pen. “What?”

Robby glanced toward trauma two, where Jack was leaning over a chart with Dr. McKay, both of them listening while Javadi spoke quickly and carefully, too eager to be casual. Jack’s attention was fixed, but his expression had that faintly skeptical set that made med students stand up straighter by instinct.

“Food,” Robby said. “Coffee. Whatever else he’s pretending is a coincidence.”

“He bought me lunch once.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And coffee.”

“Sure.”

“And maybe pasta.”

Robby’s eyebrows rose.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you have a point?”

“Not one worth putting in writing.” He took a sip of coffee, then winced like it tasted exactly as bad as he expected and somehow worse. “Just be careful.”

That killed the humor faster than you wanted it to.

Your eyes shifted back toward Jack before you could stop them.

Robby caught it. Of course he caught it. He was annoying that way, all ragged compassion and clinical perception, the kind of man who could call out a hemorrhage, a lie, and a panic attack in the same breath.

“He’s a good guy,” Robby said, quieter.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s uncomplicated.”

You swallowed. “I know that too.”

Robby’s face softened by a fraction. It made him look older, which was unfair, because he already looked like the hospital had been chewing on him for years and kept forgetting to swallow.

“Okay,” he said. Then, because sincerity seemed to physically pain him if left unbalanced, he added, “Also, if this turns into some HR nightmare, I’m denying I noticed.”

“There’s nothing to notice.”

“Great. Love that. Very convincing.”

You looked back down at your schedule so he wouldn’t see your face.

Across the department, Jack glanced up.

For a second, through the moving bodies and swinging privacy curtains and fluorescent glare, his eyes found yours.

He didn’t smile.

He just looked.

That was becoming the problem.

Jack didn’t flirt the way other men flirted. He didn’t crowd you with charm or drown you in compliments or make a show of wanting to be watched. He looked at you like noticing was a form of pressure. Like every detail went somewhere and stayed there. The coffee order. The bad shoe. The way you tucked your hands into your sleeves when you were cold. The way your voice got flatter when you were trying not to admit something hurt.

You wished he’d be less good at it.

You wished you liked it less.

The car thing happened on a Thursday.

You were leaving PTMC after a shift that had somehow lasted ten hours despite only being scheduled for eight, which felt like a violation of both labor law and physics. Your head ached from fluorescent lights. Your feet throbbed. The parking garage smelled like wet concrete, exhaust, and old rain, with the city beyond it slick and dark under a spring storm that had rolled in hard after sunset.

Your car made the noise again when you turned the key.

Not the cute noise. Not the “haha, she’s old but reliable” noise.

The expensive one.

A grinding, metallic cough dragged itself out from under the hood, followed by a rattle that sounded like several important pieces had started a fight and nobody was winning.

You shut the engine off immediately.

“Please,” you whispered, resting your forehead against the steering wheel. “Not tonight.”

The car answered by doing absolutely nothing, which was at least better than exploding.

You tried again.

The sound came back worse.

A knock hit your window.

You screamed.

Jack stood outside in the harsh garage lighting, rain clinging to his shoulders, one hand braced on the roof of your car. He looked unimpressed by your survival instincts.

You rolled the window down halfway. “Jesus Christ.”

“No,” he said. “Just me.”

“Do you always lurk in parking garages?”

“Only when cars sound like they’re about to die.”

“It’s fine.”

Jack looked at the hood. Then at you.

“That’s not a fine sound.”

“It does that sometimes.”

“It shouldn’t do that ever.”

You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. “I’m taking it in next week.”

“You’re not driving it until then.”

A laugh slipped out of you, brittle and defensive. “Okay, Dad.”

His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes sharpened.

Your stomach dipped.

Not fear. Not exactly.

Something else.

Jack leaned slightly closer to the open window. “Pop the hood.”

“I don’t need you to—”

“Pop the hood.”

There was a particular tone he used in the ER when people were bleeding, lying, or being stupid about symptoms that could kill them. Apparently, your car had been triaged into that category.

You popped the hood.

The storm pushed rain sideways into the garage, misting the concrete in silver sheets beyond the open level. Jack moved around to the front of your car and lifted the hood, shoulders hunching slightly as he looked inside. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just dark scrubs under a gray zip-up that had seen better decades, sleeves pushed to his forearms. The overhead light caught the tendons in his hands, the salt at his temples, the hard concentration in his face.

It was obscene, honestly, watching a man become attractive over engine trouble.

He checked something, frowned, checked something else, then lowered the hood with more control than the situation deserved.

“Do not drive this,” he said.

You were already shaking your head. “I have to get home.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Jack.”

He stared at you over the hood. “You got a better plan?”

You did not.

You had forty-three dollars in your checking account, a rent payment looming like an execution date, and a car making noises you couldn’t afford to identify. But admitting that felt worse than standing barefoot on broken glass.

“I can call someone,” you said.

“Who?”

The question was simple. Too simple.

That was the problem with Jack. He had no patience for the decorative lies people used to get through conversations. He stripped things down until you either told the truth or stood there bleeding around it.

You looked away first.

Rain ticked against the garage opening. Somewhere below, an ambulance siren rose and fell, dopplering into the wet city.

Jack’s voice dropped. “Get your bag.”

“I don’t want to be a problem.”

“You’re not.”

“I don’t want you fixing everything.”

“I’m not fixing everything.” He came around to your side of the car, opened the door, and stood back enough to give you room. “I’m stopping you from driving a death trap.”

You didn’t move.

Jack exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh.

“You can be mad in my car,” he said. “It has heat.”

That was how he won.

Not with softness. Not with a speech.

Heat.

You grabbed your bag and got out.

Jack’s car was clean in the way a person’s car got when they didn’t spend enough time in it to make a mess. There was an old coffee cup in the holder, a folded jacket in the back, a snow scraper on the floor, and a faint smell of leather, rain, and whatever soap he used that always made you think of hospital sinks and his hands.

He turned the heat on without asking. Then, after a second, he aimed one of the vents toward you.

You noticed.

You hated that you noticed.

Neither of you said anything as he pulled out of the garage. The rain blurred the windshield, smearing Pittsburgh into traffic lights and dark brick, ambulance bays and slick streets, the city looking bruised and alive under the storm. Jack drove with one hand low on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, fingers flexing once when his leg seemed to bother him.

“You okay?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

His eyes stayed on the road. “Yeah.”

“Your leg?”

“I said yeah.”

“Right. Sorry.”

His jaw worked.

Then, quieter, “Long day.”

That was as much as he usually gave. A door opened an inch, then locked again.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The wipers dragged water from the glass in steady, tired arcs.

At a red light, Jack said, “Where do you take the car?”

You laughed weakly. “To a mechanic who knows me by name and already looks tired when I walk in.”

“I’ll call someone.”

“No.”

“You don’t know who yet.”

“I know it’s going to involve you paying for something.”

The light turned green.

Jack drove.

You looked at him, incredulous. “You’re not even denying it.”

“Seemed like a waste of both our time.”

“Jack.”

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you know a guy.”

“I’m old.”

“You’re not that old.”

That got you a glance. Brief, sharp, almost amused.

“No?”

“No,” you said, and then because you had apparently decided self-preservation was for other people, you added, “Just old enough to have a guy.”

The corner of his mouth moved.

You felt victorious and doomed at the same time.

“I can handle it,” you said, softer. “The car. I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you can.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

Jack was quiet long enough that you thought he might not answer.

Then he said, “Because figuring it out shouldn’t mean hoping your brakes make it another week.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly.

You looked out the window so he wouldn’t see it.

The thing about being broke—really, really, broke—wasn’t just the lack of money. It was the math. The constant, grinding math of survival. A sandwich became a calculation. A repair became a catastrophe. A strange noise under the hood became a negotiation with God or luck or whatever indifferent force kept old cars alive for one more day. You got used to making everything stretch until stretching felt like living, and then someone like Jack came along and called it unsafe in that blunt, infuriating voice, and suddenly the whole thing looked different.

Not brave.

Not independent.

Just exhausting.

He pulled up outside your building and put the car in park. Rain ran down the windshield in crooked streams.

You didn’t reach for the door handle.

“Thank you,” you said.

Jack nodded once.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“I’ll pay you back if your guy does anything.”

“No.”

You shut your eyes. “Please don’t make me fight you in your car. I’m tired.”

“I noticed.”

“Stop noticing.”

“No.”

Your eyes opened.

Jack was looking at you now, body angled slightly in the driver’s seat, face cut by passing headlights and dashboard glow. Up close, in the dim, the lines around his eyes looked deeper. So did the restraint. He wore it like part of the uniform, like scrubs and a stethoscope and whatever pain he kept filed away under function.

Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Why?”

He didn’t pretend not to understand.

“I don’t know,” he said.

It was the first answer he’d given you that didn’t sound like a diagnosis.

That made it worse.

You tried to smile, tried to make the air lighter before it crushed you. “This is getting very sugar daddy of you.”

The joke landed differently in the dark.

You felt it. So did he.

Jack’s eyes dropped to your mouth for half a second. Maybe less. Long enough for your pulse to trip, not long enough to accuse him of anything. Either way, when he looked back up, his face had gone still in a way that made the warm air from the vents feel suddenly too hot.

“You should go inside,” he said.

You nodded.

Neither of you moved.

Then his phone buzzed in the cup holder, snapping the moment clean down the middle. Jack glanced at the screen, saw Robby’s name, and declined the call before typing something one-handed with the resignation of a man who knew better than to leave him unanswered too long.

You opened the door before you could do something stupid, like ask him to come upstairs.

“Night, Jack.”

His hand tightened once around the phone.

“Lock your door.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Yes, Doctor.”

His eyes lifted.

There it was again, that almost-smile. Faint. Dangerous.

“Don’t start,” he said.

You got out before your face could betray you.

The car repair cost eight hundred and sixty dollars.

Jack didn't tell you this.

The mechanic did, because you called behind Jack’s back after getting one text that said, Car’s handled. Pick it up Friday.

Handled.

Like it was a chart. Like it was a consult. Like it was one of the million things at PTMC that needed to be assessed, fixed, signed off, and moved along.

You stood in a supply hallway with your phone pressed to your ear, your grip tightening around the case while the mechanic cheerfully explained that Dr. Abbot had already squared it away.

Squared it away.

You were going to kill him.

Unfortunately, when you found him, he was in the middle of resetting a dislocated shoulder with Robby at the bedside and King handing over medication with careful, focused precision. There was a teenage patient crying, his mother pacing, Dana telling everyone who wasn’t useful to back up, and Jack looking exactly like a man who could not be murdered until after he finished being competent.

You had to wait.

That made you angrier.

By the time he stepped out, stripping off gloves and tossing them into the trash, you had worked yourself into something sharp enough to throw.

“Eight hundred and sixty dollars?” you said.

Jack stopped.

Robby, behind him, stopped too.

Dana looked up from the desk.

Santos, who had the survival instincts of someone convinced she could talk her way out of anything, immediately leaned over the counter.

Jack’s eyes flicked over your face. “Not here.”

“Oh, no, definitely here.”

Robby pressed his lips together and took one very deliberate step backward.

“Coward,” Dana muttered.

“Experienced,” Robby corrected.

Jack lowered his voice. “You called the mechanic.”

“You paid the mechanic.”

“Yeah.”

“Eight hundred and sixty dollars, Jack.”

“Would’ve been more if you kept driving it.”

You stared at him. “That is not the point.”

“That is exactly the point.”

“I told you I didn’t want you fixing everything.”

“And I told you I wasn’t letting you drive a death trap.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

For the first time, something like frustration cracked through his calm.

“No,” he said. “I don’t get to decide everything for you. But I do get to decide what I do with my money.”

Dana made a low sound. “Jesus.”

Santos whispered, “This is better than whatever I was supposed to be doing.”

Mohan, passing with a chart, said, “You're supposed to be working.”

You barely heard them.

Your whole focus had narrowed to Jack’s face, the stubborn set of his mouth, the tension in his shoulders. He looked tired. He always looked tired. But underneath it was something else now, something protective enough to be annoying and personal enough to hurt.

“I can’t pay that back right now,” you said.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“It makes it done.”

You laughed once, without humor. “You’re impossible.”

“Usually.”

“You can’t just—” You stopped, aware suddenly of how many people were pretending not to listen. Your voice dropped. “You can’t just keep doing this.”

Jack’s gaze held yours.

“Doing what?”

The question should’ve been innocent, but it wasn’t. Not after the lunches, the coffee, the rides, the mechanic, or the way Jack looked at you like you were a problem he wanted to solve with his bare hands. You stepped closer before you thought better of it.

“You know what,” you said.

For a second, the department moved around you, loud and bright and indifferent, but you and Jack were still.

Then Dana slapped a chart down on the counter hard enough to startle everyone within ten feet.

“Okay,” she said. “As much as I’d love to watch whatever this is turn into a workplace training module, Abbot, bed nine needs you. You—” She pointed at you. “Take a breath before you rupture something expensive.”

Jack’s mouth tightened, but he listened.

Of course he listened to Dana. Everyone did, eventually.

He stepped past you, close enough that his sleeve brushed your arm.

“Friday,” he said under his breath.

You turned your head. “What?”

“Pick up your car Friday.”

Then he was gone.

Santos waited exactly three seconds.

“So,” she said, bright-eyed. “How does one apply for the Abbot scholarship fund?”

Dana pointed at her without looking. “Bedpan in curtain three.”

Santos deflated. “Damn it.”

You hated how badly you wanted to laugh.

By Friday, when you picked up your car, there was a new pair of black nonslip clogs sitting in the passenger seat.

Not fancy. Not wrapped. Just sensible, comfortable work shoes in your size, made for twelve-hour shifts and the brutal, steady wear of the ER. A sticky note was pressed to the box in Jack’s blunt handwriting.

Your old ones were unsafe.

That was it. No apology, no explanation. Just another problem he’d noticed and solved before you could decide whether to be grateful or furious.

You sat in the driver’s seat for a long time, staring at the note, then laughed until your eyes burned.

The fundraiser was Robby’s fault.

At least, that was what you told yourself, because blaming Robby was easier than admitting you had agreed to attend a hospital donor event while quietly hoping Jack would look at you in something other than scrubs.

PTMC held one every year, apparently. A grim little ritual where administrators, donors, board members, and exhausted medical staff gathered in a hotel ballroom to pretend the emergency department wasn’t being kept alive by overworked staff, aging equipment, and the quiet fact that everyone had learned to make do with less. There would be speeches. There would be bad chicken. There would be wealthy people using phrases like “frontline heroes” while nurses calculated how many working monitors the cost of the floral arrangements could’ve bought.

You hadn’t planned to go.

Then Gloria Underwood’s office had needed extra administrative support for check-in, and Robby had said, “It’s easy money. Wear something nice. Try not to let the donors explain healthcare to you.”

You’d said yes before checking your closet.

That was how you ended up in your apartment three nights before the event, sitting on the floor in a towel, surrounded by every dress you owned and the creeping realization that none of them worked. Too casual. Too tight in the wrong way. Too old. Too funeral. Too “college career fair,” stiff in all the wrong places and not nice enough to pass under ballroom lighting. One had a broken zipper. One still had a stain from a margarita incident you refused to revisit.

Your phone buzzed.

Jack:

Car still running?

You stared at the message, then at the graveyard of dresses around you.

You:

yes, dad

Jack:

Don’t.

You smiled despite yourself.

You:

thank you, by the way for the shoes too even though you’re insane

Jack:

You going tomorrow?

You stared at the message for a second too long, then looked down at the heap of rejected clothes around your legs.

You:

maybe

Jack:

That means yes.

You should’ve stopped there.

Instead, with the fatal confidence of a woman sitting half-naked on her bedroom floor and losing an argument with formalwear, you typed:

You:

it means maybe now i just need a dress that doesn’t make me look like i wandered into the fundraiser by accident

The reply took longer than usual.

Jack:

Show me.

You stared at the message, suddenly aware of every inch of bare skin the pile of rejected clothes wasn’t covering.

You:

the dress?

Jack:

What else would I mean?

Your face went hot.

You:

don’t ask me that when i’m half naked on my bedroom floor

The typing bubble appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Jack:

You have tomorrow off?

You stared.

Then stared harder.

You:

why

Jack:

Answer the question.

There were several smart things you could’ve said.

You said none of them.

You:

yes

Jack:

I’ll pick you up at 10.

Your stomach flipped.

You:

jack

Jack:

10:30 if you’re going to argue.

You:

you don’t even know what i was going to say

Jack:

I’m learning patterns.

You pressed your phone facedown against your thigh and sat there half-dressed and mortified, thighs pressed together, waiting for your body to stop reacting like he’d put his hands on you.

The next morning, Jack arrived at 10:28.

Of course he did.

He drove you to a small boutique outside downtown, the kind of place you would’ve walked past without entering because the window displays didn’t include prices, which meant the prices were rude. Jack parked, got out, and came around to your side before you had fully finished spiraling.

“I don’t like this,” you said as he opened the door.

“You haven’t gone in yet.”

“That’s why I still have hope.”

He gave you a look.

You stepped out, hugging your coat tighter around yourself. “Jack, I’m serious. I’m not letting you buy me some expensive dress.”

“Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That was too easy.”

“You said some expensive dress.” He closed the car door. “Find a cheap one.”

You stared at him.

He headed for the shop.

“That is not a loophole,” you called after him.

“It’s exactly a loophole.”

Inside, the boutique was too quiet, too soft, too expensive in ways it didn’t need to announce. Pale wood floors, warm lighting, racks arranged with almost insulting confidence, the dresses hanging with more breathing room than your apartment closet could spare. The air smelled faintly of steamed fabric and perfume, and the woman behind the counter looked up with the calm precision of someone trained to know who was buying before anyone spoke.

You hated that. You hated more that Jack didn’t seem to notice.

Or he did notice and simply didn’t care.

He told her what you needed in a few clipped sentences: hospital fundraiser, semi-formal, comfortable enough to work check-in, not black unless you wanted black, shoes optional because you had shoes. He didn't mention size like a man trying to guess or gesture vaguely at your body like an idiot. He looked at you when that part came up and let you answer for yourself.

That tiny bit of respect did something inconvenient to your chest.

The saleswoman brought options.

You rejected the first three.

Jack rejected the fourth before you could come out of the dressing room.

“No,” he said through the door.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, startled. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“I saw the sleeve.”

“You can diagnose a bad dress by sleeve?”

“I’ve diagnosed worse with less.”

You pulled the curtain back just enough to glare at him.

Jack sat in a low chair outside the dressing rooms, one ankle braced carefully, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looked absurd there, too solid and worn-in for the soft gold mirrors and velvet hangers, like someone had dropped a combat medic into a room built for silk and champagne.

His eyes flicked to the sliver of dress visible through the curtain.

“No,” he repeated.

The saleswoman, traitor that she was, nodded. “He’s right.”

You shut the curtain. “I hate both of you.”

The fifth dress was the problem.

You knew it before you opened the curtain.

The fabric skimmed instead of clung, soft where it needed to be, structured where it counted. It made you look like you’d meant to be invited. Like you hadn’t spent the week calculating grocery money in your head and pretending exhaustion didn’t count if you kept moving. The neckline was tasteful, but not innocent. The color warmed your skin without washing you out. You turned once in the mirror and felt something low in your stomach shift.

Confidence, maybe.

Or danger.

“Let me see,” Jack said from outside.

“You’re bossy.”

“Yes.”

“You admit that way too easily.”

“I’m old.”

You smiled, then caught your own face in the mirror and watched the smile fade.

This was a bad idea. Not the dress—the dress was perfect.

That was the bad idea.

You opened the curtain, and Jack looked up.

For a moment, he said nothing.

The shop noise seemed to thin around you—the music, the soft movement of hangers, the saleswoman tactfully vanishing somewhere behind a rack. Jack’s gaze moved over you once, controlled enough to be deniable and slow enough to ruin you anyway. He didn’t leer. He didn’t smirk. He just looked, jaw set, eyes catching for half a second too long at your waist, your hips, the neckline of the dress, like the only thing keeping his hands to himself was the fact that you were standing under boutique lights instead of somewhere with a locked door.

His jaw shifted.

Your fingers tightened around the curtain.

“Well?” you asked, because silence was going to kill you.

Jack leaned back slightly, but it didn’t make him look relaxed. It made him look like restraint had become physical.

“No,” he said.

Your face fell before you could stop it.

Then he added, lower, “That’s the problem.”

The words landed low enough to make your stomach tighten. You looked down at yourself, then back at him. “Too much?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

His eyes returned to your face like it cost him effort.

“It fits.”

It was such a stupid answer. Controlled, careful, almost useless—and somehow hotter than a compliment, because you could hear everything he wasn’t saying in the rough edge of his voice.

You stepped fully out, smoothing your palms down the front of the dress because you needed something to do.

“It’s probably expensive.”

“Probably.”

“Jack.”

“You like it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It’s my point.”

You exhaled, trying to laugh, but it came out thin. “You can’t keep buying me things.”

He stood. Not quickly, not dramatically. Just unfolded himself from the chair and came closer, stopping at a respectful distance that still felt indecent because his eyes hadn’t left the dress, or you inside it.

“I can do what I want.”

“You sound like a nightmare.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You glanced toward the mirror, unable to hold his eyes. In the reflection, he stood behind you, hands at his sides, older and tired and steady, and you looked like something neither of you could keep pretending was professional.

The thought went through you too sharply.

You swallowed. “People are going to think I’m exactly what I joked about.”

Jack’s reflection didn’t move. “What’s that?”

You met his eyes in the mirror. “Your sugar baby.”

There. Said out loud in the warm boutique light, with the dress between you as evidence.

Jack’s gaze held yours. Then he stepped closer, just enough that his voice didn’t have to carry. “That what you want this to be?”

Your mouth went dry. The smart answer was no. The honest answer was more complicated, and the answer your body wanted to give had no business being spoken in public before noon.

So you made it worse on purpose.

“I don’t know,” you said, tilting your head. “Depends on the benefits package.”

Jack looked at you for a long second. Then the almost-smile appeared, brief and devastating.

“Change,” he said. “Before I regret asking.”

You spent the rest of the day pretending your hands weren’t shaking.

Saturday night came wrapped in rain and reflected light.

The hotel ballroom looked too clean, too bright, and too expensive for a fundraiser built around people who spent most days trying to keep the whole place upright. White tablecloths. Gold fixtures. Centerpieces too tall for conversation. A stage at the far end with the PTMC logo projected behind the podium, clean and official and nothing like the controlled disaster of the emergency department. Nurses and doctors looked strangely exposed out of scrubs, like actors at the wrong rehearsal. Dana wore navy and carried herself with the same brisk authority she had at the nurses’ station, like the ballroom was just another crowded hallway she intended to get under control. Robby had put on a suit, but he wore it with visible reluctance, one hand already tugging at his tie before the first speech had started.

Dr. McKay arrived with her hair pinned back, already checking her phone for updates about her son. King stood beside her, fidgeting lightly with her bracelet while listening to Whitaker ramble about how strange it was to see everyone with “normal arms,” which he then tried to explain and somehow made worse. Javadi looked polished and nervous, her mother somewhere in the room like a pressure system. Mohan was composed, elegant, and already listening to the opening remarks with the patient focus of someone rationing her tolerance carefully.

Santos wore a sharp dress and confidence like body armor.

“Okay,” she said when she saw you. “I’m going to say something, and I need you not to make it weird.”

“That’s never a good opener.”

“You look hot.”

“Santos.”

“What? I said don’t make it weird.”

Mohan, passing behind her, said, “You made it weird by announcing you weren’t going to.”

Santos ignored her. “Abbot seen you yet?”

You busied yourself with the check-in list. “Why?”

“Because I’m invested.”

“You need a hobby.”

“I have one. It’s being right.”

You were saved from answering by Dana appearing at your side with two badges and a look that missed nothing.

“You doing okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Dana’s eyes swept over your face, then the room, then the entrance where Jack had not yet appeared. “Uh-huh.”

“You too?”

“Me too what?”

“Nothing.”

Dana handed you the badges. “Honey, I’ve worked ER longer than some of these donors have been pretending to care about ER. I know when there’s a thing.”

“There’s not a thing.”

“Then stop looking at the door like you’re planning an escape route.”

You opened your mouth, found nothing useful, and looked back down at the check-in list.

Dana smirked and walked away.

Jack arrived ten minutes late in a dark suit, and something behind your ribs fluttered hard enough that you had to look away.

It wasn’t fancy. That was the worst part. No special tailoring, no flashy tie, no clean magazine version of him. Just a dark suit on a man who looked like he’d rather be elbows-deep in a trauma bay than standing under chandelier light, his hair slightly unruly, his face tired, his posture adjusted in that familiar way. The jacket sat broad across his shoulders. The shirt opened at the collar because of course he looked better slightly undone. There was a roughness to him the room couldn’t soften, something lived-in and disciplined and worn close to the bone.

Robby said something to him at the entrance.

Jack answered without smiling.

Then his eyes found you.

Everything else blurred.

Not fully. You were still aware of the check-in table under your hands, the murmur of donors, Santos whispering “oh my god” somewhere behind you with absolutely no attempt to hide it. But Jack looked at you in that dress, and the rest of the room slipped out of reach for one dangerous second.

He walked over slowly.

“Hi,” you said, which was embarrassing because you knew more words than that.

Jack’s gaze moved over your face first, then the dress, then back up slowly enough that your skin warmed beneath the fabric he’d bought.

“Hi.”

You tried for a smile. “You clean up okay.”

“I was going to say that.”

“You can still say it.”

“No.”

“Too generous?”

“Too easy.”

His eyes dipped again, just once, and something in your stomach tightened before he seemed to remember the room around you. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

You stared. “What is that?”

“Receipt.”

“For the dress?”

“For the car.”

Your stomach dropped. “Jack.”

“Relax.” He slid it across the check-in table with two fingers. “It says paid. That’s all.”

You looked down.

Paid.

Your throat tightened.

“You said you didn’t like owing people,” he said.

“I still owe you.”

“No.” His voice stayed quiet, but something in it made the word feel less like comfort and more like a line drawn in permanent ink. “You don’t.”

You looked up at him, and for a second the ballroom felt too bright, too crowded, too public for the thing trying to break open in your chest.

Before you could answer, Robby appeared beside Jack with the timing of a man either doing you a favor or robbing you of a bad decision.

“Abbot,” he said, “Underwood wants us near the front for the photo.”

Jack’s voice came out clipped. “No.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. She used the phrase ‘visible leadership.’”

“That makes it worse.”

“I agree.”

Robby looked at you then, eyes flicking once between your dress and Jack’s face. His mouth twitched.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Abbot looks like he’s about to be taken out behind the building and shot, but that’s formal for him.”

Jack gave him a look.

Robby clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, visible leadership.”

Jack didn’t move immediately.

His hand came to rest at the edge of the check-in table, close enough to yours that your fingers could’ve brushed if you shifted an inch.

“Don’t disappear,” he said.

Your pulse kicked.

“I’m working.”

“After.”

Then Robby dragged him away with a level of cheer that was clearly retaliatory.

You watched Jack go and tried to remember how to do your job.

For a while, the event was exactly as awful as promised.

Speeches about resilience. Applause that sounded expensive. Donors talking about “the Pitt” like it was a concept instead of a place where every decision had a body attached to it. Gloria Underwood spoke with smooth authority while Robby stared at the middle distance like a man practicing astral projection. Langdon appeared late and left early, moving through the edge of the room with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Collins was mentioned by someone near the bar, her name landing with that particular hospital weight of people who had been part of the machinery and then weren’t there in the same way anymore.

You checked people in. You directed donors toward their tables. You smiled until your cheeks ached.

And Jack kept finding you.

Not obviously. Not enough for anyone to call it hovering. But he passed behind your chair and set a glass of water near your hand. He appeared during a lull with a plate from the buffet because “you weren’t going to get one.” He stood beside you while an orthopedic surgeon whose name you immediately forgot talked at you for seven minutes about golf, his presence quiet and solid and just intimidating enough to make the man eventually wander away.

At one point, you leaned toward him and murmured, “This is very attentive of you.”

He didn’t look down. “You looked like you were going to stab him with a pen.”

“I was.”

“Bad idea.”

“Because violence is wrong?”

“Because you’d still have to finish check-in.”

You laughed into your glass.

Jack looked at you then, and the humor in his face faded into something warmer before he caught it.

You saw him catch it.

That was the dangerous part.

Near the end of dinner, a donor with silver hair and a smile like a polished blade cornered Jack near the bar. You recognized him vaguely from the check-in list, one of those names with a foundation attached, the kind of man who spoke slowly because he expected people to wait for the privilege of his point. His wife stood beside him in pearls, looking around the ballroom with faint disappointment.

You were close enough to hear because you’d gone to retrieve extra place cards from the side table.

“Dr. Abbot,” the man said, clapping Jack on the shoulder like they were old friends and not strangers separated by several tax brackets and a moral canyon. “Hell of a turnout. You ER people clean up better than expected.”

Jack’s smile was minimal and false. “We try.”

The man’s eyes shifted to you.

You felt it like cold water.

“Well,” he said. “Some of you more than others.”

Jack’s face changed by degrees. Anyone else might’ve missed it. You didn’t.

“This is—” Jack began.

The man cut in with a laugh. “No, no, let me guess. You’re the resident I’ve been hearing about.”

His wife made a soft sound. Not quite a laugh. Not quite disapproval.

Your fingers tightened around the place cards.

Jack went still.

The man looked pleased with himself, encouraged by his own cruelty. “Abbot and one of his young residents,” he said, eyes moving over you slow enough to make the dress feel suddenly too visible. “People do talk.”

Jack’s voice came out clipped. “Don’t.”

“Relax, Jack. I’m joking.” He lifted his glass slightly, like that made it harmless. “I just didn’t think you were going to start making public appearances with your little girlfriend now.”

The words entered you cleanly: little girlfriend. Not girlfriend—that would’ve been embarrassing enough. Little, like you were an accessory, a midlife crisis in a nice dress, something young and decorative Jack had brought out because he could. Something people could reduce in one glance and one ugly little adjective.

Heat rushed to your face so fast it felt like pain, and still you smiled automatically, hating yourself for it.

“It’s not—” you started, because apparently your first instinct was to make yourself smaller for the comfort of a man who had just insulted you.

Jack’s voice cut through yours. “Don’t call her that.”

The donor blinked. So did you. The room didn’t stop, not exactly—the music kept playing, silverware still clinked, someone laughed too loudly near the stage—but the air around the four of you tightened.

The donor’s smile twitched. “Easy, Doctor. No harm meant.”

“I’m not interested in what you meant.”

Jack didn’t raise his voice or step forward. He simply stood there in his dark suit, tired eyes gone cold, body held in a kind of controlled restraint that made the donor’s hand fall from his shoulder.

“If you’ve got something to say about me,” Jack continued, “say it to me. Leave her out of it.”

The wife looked away first. The donor’s face colored.

“No offense intended.”

Jack’s gaze didn’t move. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Your breath caught.

People were starting to notice. Not enough to make a scene, not enough for anyone to step in, but enough that the space around you felt suddenly brighter. Dana had turned slightly from the bar, her attention fixed and assessing. Robby watched from near the stage, glass lowered now. Even Santos had gone still, the eager curiosity wiped off her face by the look on yours.

You couldn’t stand any of it. Not the attention. Not the humiliation. Not the awful, sharp thrill of Jack defending you like he had any right to. Like he wanted the right.

You set the place cards down.

“I need some air,” you said.

Jack’s head turned toward you immediately. “Wait.”

But you were already moving.

You slipped out of the ballroom and into the corridor, then through a side door onto a covered terrace overlooking the wet street below. The rain had softened to a mist, silvering the railings and turning the city lights hazy. Cold air hit your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms where the dress left them bare.

You gripped the railing and forced one breath in, then out. In, then out. In. Out. It didn’t help. The door opened behind you, because of course it did.

You laughed under your breath because the tears were already gathering hot behind your eyes, making the terrace lights blur at the edges, and you refused to let them fall here—not in the dress Jack bought, not with your hands locked around rain-cold steel, not because some rich asshole had found the ugliest name for what you were already afraid this looked like.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said.

Jack let the door close behind him. “Done what?”

You turned on him. “Made it worse.”

“They made it worse.”

“Now everyone thinks I’m exactly what he said.”

His face changed at that, anger tightening somewhere beneath the surface, but not at you. Never quite at you.

“They don’t know what you are.”

Your chest pulled tight.

“And what am I?”

The question came out too vulnerable to take back.

Jack didn’t answer right away.

Mist clung to his suit jacket, darkening the shoulders. Behind him, warm light spilled through the glass door, all gold and soft edges, turning the ballroom into something distant and unreal. Out here, the air smelled like rain on stone, cold metal, wet city streets below. Everything was sharper than it had been inside. The railing under your hands. The damp hem of your dress against your legs. The silence between his breath and yours.

He looked so out of place and exactly right, a man built for crisis standing in the aftermath of one he couldn’t stitch closed.

You hated that you wanted him to say it.

You hated more that he looked like he wanted to.

Instead, he said, “Not that.”

A hard little laugh left you before you could stop it. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’ve got.”

“Great.”

Jack came closer, stopping beside you but not touching. The restraint was worse than touch. You could feel him there anyway, the heat of his body cutting through the cold night, the careful space he left like distance could still save either of you.

You stared out at the rain-blurred city. Headlights smeared over the street below. Somewhere, a siren rose and faded, thin and familiar enough to make your stomach twist.

“You bought the dress,” you said.

“Yes.”

“You fixed my car.”

“Yes.”

“You buy my food. You show up. You pay for things before I can even figure out how to say no.”

Something moved in his jaw, but he didn’t interrupt.

“What do you think people are going to call that?”

“I don’t give a shit what people call it.”

“I do.”

“Then tell me what you call it.”

The words took the air out of the terrace.

You looked at him.

Jack’s eyes held yours, tired and dark and unflinching. He wasn’t letting you hide in the joke this time. He wasn’t letting himself hide either. That was the terrifying part. The thing between you had been allowed to live as banter because neither of you had forced it to stand under direct light.

Sugar daddy. Old man. Doctor. Daddy.

All those little names you used to turn intimacy into comedy before it could ask something of you.

Now Jack was standing there asking.

Tell me what you call it.

Your mouth felt dry.

“I call it confusing,” you said.

His expression shifted.

You kept going because stopping felt worse. “I call it you being too good at noticing things I wish you wouldn’t. I call it you making it really fucking hard to feel normal around you. I call it embarrassing when someone says the quiet part out loud and I realize I don’t even know how to defend myself because I don’t know what we’re doing.”

Jack’s hands were still at his sides, but nothing about him looked relaxed.

You swallowed. “And I call it unfair that you get to act like this is all practical when you look at me like that.”

His voice dropped. “Like what?”

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“Like what?”

“Like you already know what I look like under the dress.”

The words left you too soft, too honest, and Jack inhaled slowly. Neither of you moved while rain whispered beyond the overhang and the ballroom noise pressed faintly through the door, muffled and useless, like it belonged to a different night.

Then he said, rougher than before, “I don’t.”

The words went through you slowly, leaving heat in places they had no right to reach.

His eyes lowered, not all the way down your body this time. Just to your mouth.

“But I’ve thought about it.”

The terrace went silent.

Or maybe your body stopped receiving sound from anything that wasn’t him.

You stared at him, suddenly aware of everything at once: the dress clinging where the mist had touched it, the cold air slipping beneath the hem, the damp railing at your back, the small, charged space between your body and his. Jack hadn’t touched you, but the way he looked at you made it feel like he’d already imagined where his hands would go first. The want in his face wasn’t polished or easy. It looked dragged out of him, unwilling and hungry, like every careful thing in him had finally started losing.

“Jack,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I do.”

You stepped closer, just enough to watch his control take the hit.

“What was I going to say?”

His eyes lifted.

“That we shouldn’t.”

The truth of it sat there between you, almost laughable.

You shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. The age gap was there, humming under the surface. The hospital. The money. The care. The fact that everyone seemed to have noticed before either of you had admitted it out loud. The fact that Jack carried enough damage to make most people step carefully, and you were standing there in a dress he bought, wanting him to ruin every careful thing about you.

“You’re right,” you said.

Jack nodded once, like the verdict had been delivered.

Then you added, “That's what I was going to say.”

His eyes sharpened.

You took one more step.

“But it’s not what I want.”

For the first time all night, Jack looked shaken.

Not much. He’d never give that much away in public. But you saw it in the slight part of his mouth, the break in his breathing, the flicker of something raw beneath the restraint.

“Say that again,” he said.

The words nearly undid you.

You lifted your chin because if you were going to tell the truth, you were going to do it with your head held high.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Jack looked at you for one long, unbearable second, then lifted his hand slowly enough to give you every chance to step back.

You didn’t.

His knuckles brushed your jaw first, careful in a way that made your whole body ache. Not rough. Not yet. Worse than rough, maybe, because he was still holding himself back and you could feel the effort in every inch he didn’t take.

“You’re not my little girlfriend,” he said.

Your chest tightened. “No?”

“No.” His thumb shifted under your chin, tipping your face up by degrees, not forcing you, just making it impossible to look anywhere else. “You’re not little. You’re not a joke. And you’re sure as hell not something I’m ashamed of wanting.”

The words sank through you, hot and low, settling in every place he still hadn’t touched. Jack’s eyes dropped to your mouth and stayed there long enough to make the choice for both of you.

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t frantic at first.

That would’ve been easier.

It was deliberate, a firm press of his mouth to yours, steady and devastating, like he had finally decided to stop lying but still hadn’t given himself permission to forget where you were. His hand held your jaw; the other stayed at his side, fingers curled tight like touching you anywhere else might finish what the kiss had started.

You made a small sound against his mouth.

That was what broke it.

Jack stepped into you, guiding you back until the rail met your spine, and the kiss turned filthy in one sharp, breath-stealing shift. His mouth opened wider, tongue pushing past your lips to lick deep and slow against yours, wet enough to make your knees weaken, sure enough to make heat pool low in your gut. His breath came rough through his nose, his hand sliding from your jaw to the side of your neck, thumb tucked beneath your chin like he wanted to feel the exact second you stopped fighting him and melted under his palm.

You grabbed his jacket.

He made a low sound, almost a warning.

You pulled him closer anyway.

The rail pressed against your back. Damp air cooled your bare arms. Inside, beyond the glass, the fundraiser glowed on with its speeches and donors and useless flowers, but out here Jack’s body cut off the light, his mouth hot and sure, his hand at your neck keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

When he dragged himself back, he didn’t go far.

His forehead hovered near yours. His breathing was harsher now. So was yours.

“This is a bad idea,” he said.

You laughed, breathless enough that it came out softer than you meant. “You kissed me.”

“I know.”

“So your professional opinion is hypocritical.”

His mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed dark, fixed on yours with a heat that made it impossible not to remember his tongue in your mouth. He looked like he was still tasting you, like he was one wrong word away from dragging you back against the railing and making a mess of that pretty, expensive dress.

“You keep talking,” he said, voice low enough to feel like it belonged between your legs instead of in the open air, “and I’m going to forget we’re still at a hospital fundraiser.”

Liquid heat shot through you, sharp and shameless. You curled your fingers higher into his lapels. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

Jack searched your face for one last sign that you wanted him to be better than this.

You didn’t.

His thumb dragged once along the side of your neck, slow enough to make your thighs press together under the dress, then he stepped back and opened the door.

“Come on.”

“Where?”

His eyes held yours.

“My car.”

The walk through the ballroom should’ve been humiliating. Maybe it was. You couldn’t tell. Jack stayed close without touching you, which somehow looked worse after what had just happened, like distance had become another form of confession. Your mouth still felt swollen from his, your skin too awake beneath the dress, your whole body lit with the kind of want that made every normal step feel rehearsed.

Robby saw you first, because of course he did. His eyes moved from Jack’s face to yours, then back again, and he lifted his glass slightly—not smiling, just acknowledging the inevitable.

Dana caught your eye from near the bar with one eyebrow raised. Santos looked ready to say something disastrous until Mohan turned her gently but firmly toward the dessert table. McKay glanced over, clocked enough to know better, and immediately pulled Whitaker into a conversation he looked relieved to have guidance for. Javadi watched for half a second too long, then looked away like she’d remembered curiosity had consequences.

Jack ignored all of them.

You loved and hated him for it.

The elevator ride down was worse.

Mirrored walls. Soft music. Your reflection beside his. His shoulder inches from yours. The phantom feel of his hand still on your neck. Neither of you speaking because speech had become a loaded weapon and you were both already wounded.

In the parking garage, the air smelled like rain and concrete again.

Jack unlocked the car.

You stopped by the passenger door, suddenly aware of the line you were crossing. Not the moral one. That had been smudged for weeks. This was more physical. More real. A door. A backseat. His face in the dim garage light, turned toward you with all that want and all that control and all the consequences waiting behind both.

He saw the hesitation immediately.

Of course he did.

“You can change your mind,” he said.

The words loosened something in you.

Not because you wanted to.

Because he meant it.

You stepped closer. “I’m not changing my mind.”

Jack’s eyes searched yours.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t want.”

“I will.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

He nodded once.

Then you said, quieter, “Do you?”

His face shifted.

“Do I what?”

“Know what I want.”

The garage seemed to hold its breath.

Jack opened the back door.

“Get in,” he said.

Not loud. Not cruel.

Just low enough to go through you like a match.

You got in.

The door shut behind you, and for one suspended second you were alone in the dark leather backseat with your heartbeat, the rain ticking somewhere beyond the garage, and the reflection of Jack moving around the car in the tinted window.

Then the opposite door opened.

He slid in beside you, too big for the space, too warm, too close. The dome light cut over his face for a second before it faded, leaving him in shadow and stray fluorescent spill. His knee brushed yours. His hand came up, not touching yet, braced against the seat near your hip.

“You still think this is about money?” he asked.

Your breath caught.

You shook your head.

“Words.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t think it’s about money.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth.

“What’s it about?”

You could’ve said care.

You could’ve said want.

You could’ve said every soft, terrifying thing his hands had been saying for weeks with coffee cups and repair bills and the new shoes you wore until they stopped hurting.

Instead, because you were trembling and stubborn and still you, you whispered, “Your sugar daddy complex.”

Jack’s eyes flashed.

Then he kissed you hard enough to knock your head back against the seat and it was nothing like the terrace—careful and slow and weighted with confession. This was hungry. His teeth caught your bottom lip, tugged, and the sound you made was swallowed by his mouth as his tongue slid against yours, wet and deep and tasting like the whiskey he'd barely touched all night. His other hand found your waist, gripping the silk of the dress, bunching it, pulling you across the seat until your hip hit his and you gasped into his mouth.

"Jack—"

"Don't talk." His lips dragged to your jaw, your throat, the spot behind your ear that made you arch. "Just—let me —"

His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the dress higher, and the leather was cool against the backs of your legs but his palm was hot, rough, callused from years of work and combat and things he never talked about. You spread for him without thinking. He made a sound against your neck—approval, hunger, relief—and his fingers pressed higher, found the wet heat through your underwear, and stopped.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're already—"

You bit his earlobe. "Your mouth on the terrace did that."

He laughed—a low, broken thing—and his fingers hooked the edge of your panties, dragged them down your thighs. You lifted your hips to help, and he dropped them somewhere on the floor mat, already forgotten, already gone. His hand came back wet.

"Look at me."

You did. His eyes were dark, half-lidded, his breathing ragged. The garage light caught the silver in his beard, the flush rising up his neck, the way his thumb was already circling your clit like he'd done it a thousand times before. He hadn't. But he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I tried to be careful with you,” he said, voice rough, his fingers sliding through your slick folds, gathering, teasing, “I tried so fucking hard. Then I walked in and saw you at that table in the dress I bought you, and I knew I was done.”

Your breath hitched as his middle finger pressed inside you, just the tip, just enough to make your hips buck.

"—and you knew, didn't you?" He pushed deeper, slow, watching your face. "Knew what it was doing to me."

You couldn't answer. His finger was inside you, thick and deliberate, curling, finding the spot that made your vision blur. Then a second finger joined it, stretching, and you heard yourself whimper—high and desperate and not caring who heard.

"That's it," he murmured. "Let me hear you."

He worked you open like he had all night, like the parking garage was empty, like the world had shrunk to the space between his fingers and your cunt. His thumb pressed your clit in slow circles while his fingers pumped—not hard, not fast, just deep and aching, stretching you until you were dripping down his hand, until your nails dug into his shoulder through his jacket.

"Jack—I need—"

"I know what you need."

He pulled his fingers out slowly, deliberately, and you watched him bring them to his mouth. Watched his tongue slide across his knuckles, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of it—this tired, controlled man in his undone suit, licking your wetness off his fingers like it was the best thing he'd tasted all night—made your hole clench around nothing.

"Get on top of me."

It wasn't a question. He was already reaching for his belt, the buckle rasping open, the sound sharp and final in the close air of the car. You climbed over him, the dress bunching around your waist, your knees finding the leather on either side of his hips. His cock was hard beneath his briefs, straining against the fabric, and you reached down and wrapped your hand around it.

He hissed through his teeth. "Fuck —"

He was thick. Hot. The head slick with something that might have been precum, might have been your imagination, but when you stroked him once, slow, his hips bucked into your palm.

"If you keep doing that," he said, his voice strained, "this is going to be very embarrassing for me."

You laughed—breathless, wild—and leaned down to kiss him. "Then stop me."

He didn't.

His hand found your hip, guided you forward, and the head of his cock nudged against your entrance. Wet. Ready. The two of you hovered there, breathing each other's air, and his forehead pressed against yours.

"Tell me you want this."

"I want this." Your voice was barely a whisper. "I want you. Please, Jack—"

He pushed inside you.

The stretch was a shock—full and deep and so much more than his fingers had promised. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, your head falling back as he filled you inch by inch, until you were seated in his lap, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt inside your tight, wet heat.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, you feel—"

He couldn't finish. His hands found your hips, held you there, and for a moment neither of you moved. Just the feeling of him inside you, the throb of his pulse through his cock, the way your body adjusted, accepted, wanted.

Then you moved.

Slow at first—a roll of your hips that made his eyes roll back, a tilt of your pelvis that drove him deeper. His grip tightened on your waist, guiding, and you found the rhythm together: him thrusting up as you sank down, the slap of skin loud in the enclosed space, the wet sound of your bodies meeting.

"Look at you," he said, his voice rough, his eyes fixed on where you were joined. "Taking all of me. Fucking yourself on my cock in a parking garage."

You moaned, riding him harder, the dress bunched around your waist, the silk skin-warm and bunched up. His thumb found your clit again, pressing, circling, and the pleasure coiled tight in your belly, hot and sharp and building.

"The dress," you gasped. "You bought me this dress—"

"I bought it so I could take it off you." He tugged at the strap with his teeth, the fabric slipping down your shoulder, exposing your breast to the dim light. His mouth was on it instantly—hot, wet, his tongue circling your nipple before he sucked, hard, and you cried out, your rhythm faltering.

"Say it again." His mouth against your skin. "Say sugar daddy again and see what happens."

You laughed, breathless, your hips grinding against him. "Sugar daddy."

He bit your shoulder—not hard, but enough to make you gasp—and then his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Then take what I give you." His voice was low and rough and it made your pussy squeeze around him. "Take this cock like you've been wanting to since I fixed your goddamn car."

You did. You rode him harder, faster, the leather squeaking beneath your knees, the car rocking with the motion, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His hand stayed in your hair, his other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, and he thrust up into you with a rhythm that was pure instinct—hungry, claiming, the restraint he'd held for weeks finally snapping.

"That's it," he growled. "That's my girl. Taking what she needs."

"Jack—I'm close—"

"I know. I can feel you. You're squeezing me so fucking tight—"

His thumb pressed harder on your clit, circling faster, and the orgasm hit you like a wave—sudden and overwhelming, your vision white, your back arching as your cunt clamped down on his cock, pulsing, milking, the pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. You heard yourself cry out—his name, a curse, something that might have been a sob—and he kept thrusting through it, drawing it out, letting you ride him through the aftershocks.

"Fuck—" His voice broke. "I'm going to—"

"Inside me." You grabbed his face, forced him to look at you. "I want it. Please."

He came with a groan that was almost a prayer, his hips driving up one last time, his hand gripping your hip so hard it would leave marks. You felt it—hot and thick, pumping into you, filling you, his cock twitching with each pulse, his breath ragged against your lips. The sensation pushed you into a second, smaller climax, your body clenching around him, drawing out every drop.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His forehead rested against yours. His breathing was harsh, uneven, mingling with yours in the close air. The car smelled like sex and sweat and the faint, stubborn trace of hospital soap beneath his cologne, and your thighs were slick and trembling, and his cock was still half-hard inside you, and it was the most real you'd felt all night.

Then he laughed.

A low, disbelieving sound, his shoulders shaking against yours. You started laughing too, breathless and giddy, and you kissed him—messy, open-mouthed, tasting salt and spit and the whiskey he'd barely touched.

"Well," he said, pulling back just enough to look at you. "That was—"

"Stupid," you supplied.

"Reckless."

"A really bad idea."

His hand came up to cup your face again, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "Worth it."

You kissed him again, slower this time, and you felt him smile against your mouth. When you pulled back, you were still straddling him, his cock still softening inside you, and the reality of it settled into your bones like warmth.

"We should probably—" you started.

"Yeah." He didn't move. "In a minute."

His hand found yours on his chest, lacing your fingers together, and the garage light caught the gray in his hair and the tired lines around his eyes and the way he was looking at you like you were the first real thing he'd seen in years.

"I'm not going to pretend this was casual," he said.

"Good," you said. "Because it wasn't."

He helped you clean up with the wet wipes he found in the glove compartment—absurd, practical, so perfectly him—and then he helped you rearrange the dress, his hands careful now, almost reverent, smoothing the silk over your hips like he was putting something precious back together. The fabric was wrinkled now, carrying the memory of his hands, and when you looked at yourself in the window reflection, you saw the flush on your chest, the bite mark on your shoulder, the way your hair had come loose from the careful updo.

You looked like someone who had been thoroughly, completely, indisputably wanted.

He watched you adjust the strap, his eyes following the small, careful movement like it mattered. You sat half-turned against him in the backseat, put back together enough to face the world again, though both of you knew exactly what had happened here. Jack’s hand rested at the back of your neck, thumb moving slowly against your skin, and in the dim garage light he looked less like the man everyone trusted in a crisis and more like someone who’d finally let himself want something he couldn’t triage.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Look like you’re about to disappear into your own head.”

That almost-smile moved over his mouth, faint and tired. “You diagnosing me now?”

“I learned from a very bossy doctor.”

“He sounds unbearable.”

“He is.”

The quiet settled, full of everything waiting outside the car: the fundraiser, the rumor, the receipt, the repaired car, the shoes, the dress, every careful thing Jack had done before either of you had dared to call it care. You looked down. “I don’t know how to let someone take care of me without feeling like a burden.”

Jack didn’t answer quickly. That made it worse. Better. Finally, he said, “Needing help isn’t the same thing as being helpless.”

Your throat tightened. You hated him a little for knowing exactly where to put the words. You loved him a little for it too.

“Jack,” you said softly.

He waited.

You smiled, small and shaky. “Do I get an allowance now?”

For half a second, he stared at you. Then his eyes closed, and the laugh that left him was quiet, rough, almost unwilling. It felt like winning something no one else got to see. When he opened his eyes, they were warm.

“You get breakfast.”

“That’s it?”

“And your car.”

“Already got that.”

“And the shoes.”

“Also already got those.”

“And whatever else you need,” he said, thumb brushing once at your neck, “if you stop acting like needing it makes you less.”

Your smile faded into something softer. “That sounds an awful lot like a boyfriend.”

Jack looked at you for a long moment, tired and undone and still there. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m working up to that.”

The fundraiser was still waiting upstairs, all polished glassware and polite cruelty, the kind of room where people could turn want into rumor before the night was over. You would have to go back to PTMC after this. You would pass Jack in hallways. You would hear his voice over trauma bays, see his name on charts, feel the weight of every title that should have made this impossible.

But in the backseat, with his thumb moving slowly against your skin, Jack wasn’t looking at you like a mistake, or a risk, or something he’d have to explain away in daylight.

He was looking at you like something worth keeping.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND, USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI OR USE AI TO TRANSLATE MY WORK. FUCK AI.

The first time it happens it's an accident.

There’s people in his house when there shouldn't be.

The music is too loud, the bodies too hot and sweaty.

He’s standing in the kitchen like a weirdo, even he can acknowledge it.

But he truly doesn’t know what to do. Where to go.

He’s been gone for three years. He doesn’t recognize anyone anymore. Where the fuck is he even supposed to start?

It’s your meek “excuse me” that breaks him out of the spell he’s under, gaze finally sharpening as he comes back down to the present moment.

Everything rushes back to him, overwhelmingly. He’s suddenly too aware of it all, especially your timid grip on his bicep as you try to move him out of the way.

The touch doesn’t linger. It’s fleeting, unlike the reality that Pope finds himself in.

You side step around his imposing frame, a shy smile on your lips, one that makes his head spin.

You shouldn’t be nice to him, hell, you shouldn’t be nice to any asshole you don’t know. Did no one teach you—

And then you turn on the kitchen sink, gently cleaning the glass you’ve been using unlike everyone’s disposable, plastic ones.

An air of familiarity courses through him. You’re…comfortable in his home. You’re taking care of the space that no one, not even his brothers, could give two fucks about.

He can’t help but stare, his thoughts rendering him unable to look the other way, to go back to being stoic and uninterested.

If you feel him glaring you don’t let him know it, your body language remaining relaxed all the way through wiping the glass dry and standing on your tip toes to place it back on the shelf above you.

That’s when he moves.

It’s instinctual. His mother’s voice clear in his ear, urging him to help a lady in need.

He steps up, crowds your personal space yet gives you room to escape if you feel uncomfortable.

You turn to him then, your bright eyes meeting his as your fingers barely touch. He instantly forces himself to look away, afraid that he’s going to let the glass fall if he loses himself in your gaze.

“Thanks,” you mumble, shooting him another smile as you settle back down on your feet, the movement shifting you closer against his chest.

It honestly makes Pope dizzy. Feeling your warmth, smelling the faint softness of your perfume.

You don’t turn to move for the millisecond it takes for him to finish pushing the glass into place, perfectly aligned with the others.

It’s only when he too settles back down that you turn to him expectantly.

“You’re welcome.”

Pope guesses that’s what you’re looking for and he’s proven correct instantly as you bless him with another blinding smile.

His stomach does another flip.

Who the fuck are you?

Before he can ask, what he believes to be your name is called because you instantly turn towards the sound.

He commits your name to memory, such a fitting one for such a—

“Angel! There you are!” Daren breaks through the crowd like a lifeline, one that you instantly take, stepping away from Pope and towards him like a magnet.

You settle against his side like you’re meant to be there, his arm leisurely draping over your shoulders in a familiarity that makes Pope’s blood boil with a flurry of emotions he simply cannot pinpoint.

“See you’ve met Pope,” Deran notes and you turn back to Pope with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you start, tone remorseful. “I had no idea you were Deran’s brother, I would’ve introduced myself.”

You genuinely mean it and it almost causes Pope to snap at you. You don’t owe him anything.

“’s okay,” Pope mumbles instead, his gaze piercing.

“Well it’s really nice to meet you,” you hold out your hand for him to take.

Pope’s jaw clenches. He makes no effort to move, to reciprocate your kind gesture. He can see the disappointment in your face, how it falls instantly. You’re not used to being denied, to being told no, and for a second Pope almost cracks.

But he can’t. He won’t let himself do it.

No, because he knows that the second you give him even an inch of familiarity he will devour you whole.

“Don’t take it personally, angel,” Deran practically glares daggers at him. “He’s not really into that.”

Your mouth curls into a silent oh and Pope shrugs in response.

It’s all he can do to not come across as a complete weirdo instantly upon meeting you, more than he already has.

You copy him, shrugging like you’re unbothered but he knows for a fact you aren’t as your hand instantly retracts back towards you, seeking Deran’s instead.

His fingers interlace with yours like it’s second nature, overly intimate. Pope’s brows scrunch in confusion, barely. Are the two of you…a couple?

“Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

Pope gives you one last grunt of acknowledgement before Deran is pulling you away, back towards the backyard where all the action is happening.

He obviously keeps his eyes trained on you as you leave, on how your jean shorts hug your ass, how your body is sun-kissed and a little burnt from the summer heat wave, how your hair flows effortlessly.

And then you turn to glance back at him for what feels like minutes, your eyes filled with nothing but curiosity. 

His eyes force him to blink then and he loses you to the crowd.

Fuck.

The next time Pope sees you, you’re back at the house for a pool day with his family. It’s a small gathering this time around, just their inner circle which apparently now includes you too.

You’re in a striking blue bikini, the color contrasting beautifully against your skin. You’re sitting on one of the lounge chairs, your legs open so a hyper Lena can settle in between them.

You can barely contain your laughter as the young girl tells you a silly story from school, your fingers working overtime to braid her long hair in one of those fancy styles that Pope could never name so that it won’t get too tangled from the pool.

Your laughter hits him like a disorienting grenade. It’s like he's never heard anyone feel joy the way you do. It's infectious, making him wonder if he’s ever actually felt a real emotion in his life.

“There, all done,” you tie up Lena’s hair and give her back a little pat before the girl practically bolts from your embrace, yelling a swift thank you before cannonballing into the pool as everyone cheers.

Andrew’s about to move forward, to settle down beside you, a pull to be near you clouding his senses.

But then Craig has to go and ruin it.

“Me next,” the oaf practically towers over you, settling down between your legs like Lena had, taking advantage of how you haven't moved.

You roll your eyes playfully but don’t complain.

Pope watches as you take his hair out of the messy bun that he’s got it in, gently scratching his scalp. His younger brother moans, causing you to stop and smack the side of his head.